#this also doesn’t equate to who’s BEST driver

[graftisms]

JOSH & MILES & JUDE & JENNY — DAY FORTY

location :   party boat / bar area

featuring :   @heatwayve & @gotatext & @blondcs

MILES

"so, odds are, if there are aliens out there, they already walk among us," miles explains, sitting down to slide josh another beer. "and if that's the case, then statistically, someone here is a bona fide extraterrestrial. or maybe even someones." 

JOSHUA

"based on what statistic?" he huffs out a laugh, immediately taking a swig of the beer. "you think one in..." he looks around the boat, trying to see if he can count heads, "—like, twenty people could be an alien? if i was gonna bet on anyone, it'd be frankie." but then again, she is just from florida.

MILES

"science. the vast, unending possibilities of space, perhaps?" miles jokes, following josh's line of sight around the villa. "aw, don't say that," he groans, "already fancy the pants off her, i don't need you putting these fantasies in my head."

JOSHUA

"that's not statistics," he points out, a smile on his lips. it doesn't disappear at the mention of miles fancying frankie, though it does make his eyes roll good-naturedly. "oh please. you'd let her probe you any day."

MILES

"math and science are best buds, they go hand in hand. like beer 'n pizza," he argues. josh's eyeroll just makes his smile press into his cheeks harder. "realistically, alien medical tech is probably more legit than that," realistically, he says. "but that's not a mental image i'm hating, feel free to keep going. she looks fit tonight, huh?" it's barely a question, but now his eyes are wandering the room.

JOSHUA

"still not hearing any numbers," he points out, leaning back in his seat. "oh, i'm sorry, i didn't realize you were an expert on alien medical tech." josh takes a swig of his beer, used to conversations like this with miles. "she looks... fine. why's she wearing that giant ass jacket?" she'd look better with less clothes on, josh thinks. platonically. "you still have her in the doghouse?"

MILES

"at least one-in-fifteen chance someone's an alien on this boat. that's the drake equation, bitch," that's definitely not the drake equation. but close enough. "not an expert. just a...scholar," miles delineates. or a guy that's seen too many episodes of star trek. "'cause she's got that tiny skirt on. it's called balance," miles nods, as if he's also a scholar of fashion. frankie's legs are just about his favorite part anyway, plus he thinks she looks cool, like a fast and furious character or something. "nah, it's not like that. we're just not, like, all in committed or anything. has she been talking to anyone else?"

JOSHUA

"did drake make that up, seriously?" he actually has no idea what miles is saying, but he'll go along with it anyway. "i don't know, she looks like she took a wrong turn to go to a formula 1 race. but yeah, she's hot." because duh, frankie's a hot girl. "bro, who else would she be talking to?" josh asks, with a laugh. "c'mon, we both know that's not what's going on here. you're exploring your options, which you're well in your right to do, and she's waiting for you to make up your mind. am i wrong?"

MILES

"yeah, right after he wrote marvin's room," miles jokes, because he's sure josh was also kidding. "well, she can wave my flag any time," he says, far too confidently for an innuendo that makes no fucking sense. "shit, i don't know. at least half the villa's into her. but yeah, i kind of...am just curious to know if she meant it, when she said she felt sure about me," he explains. "so, yeah. i'm still 'exploring my options'," he adds, drawing air quotes around the words with a wide grin.

JOSHUA

he laughs because he probably understands a drake reference, even though his writer clearly does not. josh almost makes a reference about frankie being the one in the driver's seat, but he realizes that for once she's actually not. he'd be lying if he said he didn't get some entertainment out of their relationship, finding couple drama so much more interesting when it's not his. "half the villa is into her?" josh laughs loudly. "what villa are you in? who is into her? victoria? that girl wouldn't be caught dead dating someone from florida." she actually seems more uppity than naomi, but maybe he's biased. "how's exploring your options going, anyway? i saw you and eden yesterday."

MILES

"well, i thought eden was more into frankie than me up until yesterday, to be honest," miles admits. "our date was all friend vibes, and she asked frankie if she was open without asking me anything like that. so, i figured..." he shrugs, though his grin turns slightly sly, "but i guess i was wrong. and i'm not mad about it, she's really cool. knows all these weird facts about animals and shit. and she's proper fit...i'll probably pull her in a moment."

JOSHUA

"and you guys aren't friend vibes now, are you?" he asks, though it's mostly just egging —because again, he'd seen them kiss by the pool. "look at you and all these blondes," he laughs, bumping his shoulders. "you gonna go for jenny next? if so, i wish you luck."

MILES

"obviously not," miles grin widens at that, can't help himself. "what, you think i'd have a shot?" also obviously not.

JOSHUA

"yeah, totally," he lies. "i mean, as long as jude isn't around, because he'll try to kick your ass. actually, better yet... give it a go, why not?"

MILES

"if you think jude could kick my ass, i'm not listening to any of your advice ever again. that's way off," miles shakes his head, though he's grinning. granted, jude seems like the kind of guy to have a knife in his shoe or something.

JOSHUA

"i didn't say that," he laughs, "i said try. we all know you could take him." well, maybe not jude. or jenny, if the dick's that good to be delusional.

MILES

"okay, well...i could do try. about time someone besides you got in a brawl, right? gotta keep it interesting." miles sits up a little straighter, shouting across the deck, "oi, jude! got a question!" 

JUDE

jude's on the dancefloor, shamelessly body popping, when he hears his name, suddenly high alert, ears pricking like a doberman. turning, he focuses his attention on miles, "you what, mate?" asked as he ambles over towards him and josh. "sorry, lad. couldn't hear you over the fuckin' cure." he's not big into that rock shit, really. would prefer some edm or deep house he can two-step to, but he'll take what he's fucking given and be grateful for it.

MILES

"that's okay, we were just discussing," miles interjects. "if i hit on jenny, would you bust my dial right here?"

JUDE

jude's eyes narrow, crease appearing between his eyebrows as he scans from miles to josh and back again, trying to work out if this is a bit. "'bust your dial'?" what does that even mean? "mate, am not tommy fookin' shelby." (he does the brummy accent, anyway.) "do what you want, pal." jude says, shrugging despite a face like thunder — he's so not bothered! /j. "if you're gonna graft her, then all i'll say's good luck to ya." because honestly, he doesn't think miles has a chance. "but don't expect me to be mates wiv' ya no more, alright?"

MILES

he cracks up laughing at how pinched-up jude's face immediately gets. "i'm only joking, 'm not about to nick your bird," he laughs. though it's sort of disappointing to him that jude wouldn't want to have a brawl over it. "don't worry, judey, i'd rather be your mate," miles' grin is wide and cheesy. yeah, right, dude.

JUDE

jude's expression doesn't soften at the insinuation miles is only joking. like jokes don't hold some truth. a drunk mind, sober thoughts, or whatever. "you better be," is all he says, grabbing him in a one-armed headlock and rubbing his knuckles against his skull as he drops down into the seat beside him. "you're not her type, anyway. you're too soft in the head. she likes someone who's a bit of a dick an' that." why the fuck's he giving miles pointers? "haven't you got your hands full, anyway?" in other words, back off, pal.

JOSHUA

he's snickering as he watches this, but making little notes to himself that jude is too fucking easy to rile up. "right, because you're so hardcore, dude." the sarcasm drips from his tone. he won't say it, but he's pretty sure men is just jenny's type. "c'mon, do you think you could actually take miles in a fight? look at the guy." now he's just egging this on.

JUDE

"i wouldn't need to fight him," jude counters, chewing off the bite that josh's offering him. "my skull's proper hard, man. one smack of my head against his and he'd be out like a light."

JOSHUA

"i would like to see that, personally." it's not a punch, it can't be against the rules, right?

MILES

he basically headbutts for a living, so this also makes him laugh. honestly, he's just been sat here giggling and he thinks jude must be messing around too at this point, hence the noogie. "no fuckin' way, instant KO?" miles asks. "you're so full of shit."

JUDE

honestly, the fact the miles is laughing kinda makes jude even more irritable, head shaking as he starts fiddling in his pocket for a cig. "why you sayin' this shit for? alloooooow that." jude kisses his teeth, pissed. "you guys are tapped in the head, bruv." and he knows the group chat are pissing themselves right now, because this is exactly what it's like with scotty and gaz. "fuck sake, man."

JOSHUA

they've reached the part of this programming where josh no longer knows what the fuck jude is saying. "then prove it, dude."

MILES

for a second there's a look at josh like ??? but then he shrugs. "okay, yeah," he hops off the stool and spreads his arms out, "come at me."

JUDE

eyes are rolling as he rolls his cig, sifting his baccy along the thin lip of paper. "nah, fuck this. i'm not biting. you guys do your dick measuring contest some place else, bro. i am over it." he's being so mature about this!!!! someone give him a prize!!! 

JOSHUA

"i told you," he laughs in miles' direction, giving him a nod.

MILES

tbh if jude went for it, he would've given him a hug. which probably would've riled him more, so it's for the best. he sits back down, laughing. "the court rules..." miles bangs on the table, "he's full of shit." he reaches for his pint, "honestly, good shout not to set the precedent or you'd have to have a go at that 6-foot adonis over there, too." santiago, he means.

JUDE

"jesus christ. i'm six foot fucking one, mate!" jude counters, standing now, his pint almost spilled as he slams it down against the table. he knows that's not the point. santiago's still like seven foot or something, but if anyone here's short, it's fucking miles. "what are you, like five six? shut up! i'm not gonna hit a little guy." he's not gonna hit anyone, if he can help it.

MILES

"i'm six feet tall?" clutches his chest. "this is discrimination. you won't smack me because i'm shorter than you?"

JENNY

she was hoping to overhear some juicy locker room talk, especially with the voices coming into focus, but no such luck. she hangs back a minute anyway, listening in with increasing annoyance before the lights glinting off her dress can signal her arrival, rounding the bend. “what are we talking about, gentlemen?” she greets loudly, all accusing brows and narrowed eyes.

JOSHUA

his smile widens at the sight of jenny. "oh, nothing. jude's out here defending your honor. miles is looking to graft you."

MILES

"just wondering if jude could kick my ass. said he wouldn't anyways 'cause i'm hobbit-sized compared to–" there's a narrow-eyed glance at josh's estimation, but then he shrugs, owning it playfully, "oh, yeah. was just about to start pulling some moves. you come here often, jen?"

JENNY

she glances between them, josh’s wolfish grin, the shared look between him and miles, jude’s balled up fists and his drink still sloshing where he slammed it down on the bar. the whole scene is shady as hell and with their expectant attention suddenly turned on her, she feels like she’s about to be sucked into one of their games next. she doesn’t like this josh. at all. her eyes linger on jude’s, trying to decipher if he’s donning his usual tough guy bravado or if they’re pushing him too far. “why?” she says off-handedly, finally tossing her stony glare toward miles. “frankie wake up and realize you’re actually a huge asshole?”

MILES

his brow furrows, unsure where this is coming from. he's been pretty bad at reading the room up until this point, but this evil glare jenny's wearing is kinda unmistakeable. "what?" he's confused, "do you...have a problem with me or something?" feels like they should talk about it if so.

JOSHUA

and here comes jenny, ruining the good time with her own drama, per usual. he doesn't bother to hide an offhand roll of his eyes, reaching for his drink. he glances at jude expectantly, waiting for him to do something.

JENNY

“yeah, you guys are being dicks.” she’s not in the business of mincing words, shrugging combatively. “you’re pushing him. like, for what? a reaction? to piss him off?” her eyes roll. “it was the same shit when we were all downstairs before. like, the two of you guys together are just really fucking annoying, whispering and giggling and shit. you feed off each other and now you’re turning this nasty high school jock villain bullshit on jude and it’s kinda gross. sorry.”

MILES

there's a reason he's never actually been into jenny, and it's this – she makes him feel bad. his stomach twists, uncomfortable with this narrative that his intentions have been so horrible when he just considers jude a friend, and honestly, he thought he was friends with jenny, too. obviously he wouldn't have wanted to make jude feel shitty, and it stresses him out a bit to come across that way, especially when jenny puts it like that. miles has been the punching bag for 'high school jock villain' bullshit in some sinister ways, nearly career-ending. he'd never want anyone to feel the way he did back then. "what? no, i'm sorry, i thought...y'know, i called him over, asked what he thought since it came up, and he ragged on me that i wasn't your type and i'm all soft-headed and short," miles cracks a small smile at that, 'cause he thought it was funny at the time, though it fades quickly now. "so, i thought it was chill, y'know, banter." he glances over at jude sincerely, "but i'm sorry if it was fucking with you, i really didn't mean it like that." he doesn't think he's gonna be able to feel so relaxed around jude again, though.

JOSHUA

"we didn't even do anything downstairs with you, jesus. all we did was tell you to stick around. we were trying to be nice. none of this has anything to do with you, so why don't you just—" fuck off, he wants to say, but stops himself in the nick of time. josh shakes his head. "yeah, sorry. i didn't realize we were being bullies, and you needed your mommy to stick up for you," he tells jude, and he wants to walk away so bad but i'll let nora react since she's asleep before he does that.

JUDE

oh shit. jenny's here. on the one hand, it's cute as fuck to see her trying to stand up for him, a barking little chihuahua against a german shepherd and a newfoundland. (that probably makes jude like a whippet or some shit) but on the other hand, he can't help but feel like jenny's presence always makes shit escalate. the fact that she's even here sobers him somewhat, takes his pressure meter down a couple of pegs. "no, jen, it's... don't even worry about it, it's just messing," jude attempts, scratching at the back of his head. his hand moves to catch her wrist, thumb rubbing over her pulse point, a silent plea for her not to make a scene out of this. he doesn't want to lose the boys just when he's started feeling like he's one of them. "they didn't mean nowt by it, just lads being lads, innit." fuck sake. he should've just headbutted miles and this would all be done with by now. "you really don't need to apologise," he tells miles, alarmed and rendered sheepish by his sudden sincerity, embarrassed at his own reaction.  "i just got a bit het up is all, it's literally fine." or at least it is until josh has to comment, jude's eyes rolling as he kisses his teeth. "don't call her my mum, bro. that's proper grim, actually... she just... fuck. it doesn't matter. can we just leave our mums out of this?"

JENNY

there’s no part of her that wants to backpedal, even if it’s obvious she flung her insult at the wrong target. miles looks wholly sincere in his apology, enough that jenny thinks she might’ve read the entire situation wrong, though how wrong could she have been when jude was clearly riled and they were the ones pushing him? does intention really matter? but with josh looking at her like she just up and ruined all his fun, lashing out like a kid being sent to time out, she can’t help but feel like she read him, at least, exactly right. she’ll give miles the benefit of the doubt for now. meanwhile, jude is thrumming with embarrassment just beside her. she can feel it in the heat of his hands, see it in the slight flush of his cheeks, the bow of his head. she’s not gonna cause a scene… but… maybe she can get away with it if the argument doesn’t force him onto center stage. “why don’t i just what, josh?” she counters, pros and cons haphazardly weighed, then swiftly ignored. when he goes low, she’ll go lower. “there’s something seriously fucking wrong with you.”

JOSHUA

"something wrong with me?" he laughs. "you're the one making shit out of nothing. what, jude can't speak for himself, you need to grab him by the balls and pull at them like he's a puppet? grow up." the longer he stays here, the more he's sure he's dodged a bullet. he's got nothing against jude, but it seems doubtful the chance to ever have a friendship with him when jenny's in the mix. taking the rest of his drink, he rises to his feet, giving miles a nod. "i'm gonna go find naomi, if you wanna come. wouldn't wanna hurt anyone else's feelings."

JENNY

that shuts her up for a minute, a nervous glance over to jude. is that how he feels? emasculated? “no, i— what? no, josh.” a shake of her head to clear it. he’s wrong, not her. “no. people stand up for the people they care about. period. they show up. they sure as fuck don’t make plans to fuck someone else in the event the person they ‘care about’ and ‘trust’ screws up.” pretty bold statement from a cheater herself, but she’d always admired that when she was with josh they never really spoke about naomi, ill or otherwise. the idea that he was doing that with adela or that he could’ve been ragging on her with naomi this whole time is icky. “whatever, josh.” she’s tempted to say ‘run along to mommy,’ but she squeezes jude’s hand instead, mouth pinched in a hard line.

JOSHUA

"yeah, you'd all know about fucking someone else, huh?" he can't help himself.

MILES

he makes brief, sympathetic eye contact with jude, a nod of his head. he feels bad for the guy, watching jenny and josh have a go in front of him. there's a brief finger gun to say 'we're cool' as he quietly gets up out of his chair to sneak off.

JOSHUA

he leaves with miles. <3

[anorlondoarcheryclub]

Dark Souls 1 shows the undead as exiles. Thrown into the Asylum to go hollow, they seek their fates only upon escape. Reviled and mistreated by the living, at least one finds it a relief to continue his existence in Lordran. 

It's actually quite nice here, you know? The Hollows don't care for a skinny old twig like me. I've got Yulia... And nobody pelts me with stones anymore. You're Undead, you know how it is. I was treated worse back at home.

It’s not that the living humans in the equation are acting without reason. Undead go hollow, sometimes without warning. Hollows attack anything and anyone more lively than they are. The repeated tragedy of losing a friend to hollowing is central to the game.

Dark Souls 2 takes it further, with a pattern of punishing the undead. Some of the cruelty is laid at the feet of the Iron King, whose domain seems to stretch at least from the eponymous Iron Keep through the Earthen Peak and Harvest Valley, at least as far as the Huntsman’s Copse. Some too belongs to the Baneful Queen.

In the Copse, the Iron King appointed both the Skeleton Lords to capture undead, and the Executioner's Chariot to punish them. The Chariot’s boss soul has a tidbit: 

The chariot was created only to torment undead, and it took the form of a horrendous mad steed, a window into the soul of its master.

The ambiguous reference to a ‘master’ could point to the Chariot’s driver, or - more likely in my opinion - it could refer to the Iron King himself. 

It’s easy to imagine that the origin of these cruel policies may have been a futile reaction to an outbreak of undead that wouldn’t stop. Exile has been used as punishment for centuries, and it’d be easy to read the exile of undead as punitive even if it didn’t start that way. While it’s not helpful to escalate the punishment in hopes of deterring further transformations - after all, very few of them chose the condition - it’s also very human to see something going badly, try to change it, and then try harder by the wrong means when the first attempts fail.

Huntsman’s Copse

In any case, the Copse is full of hollow prisoners and their equally hollow tormentors - the whip-wielding executioners, the fearsome sickle-carrying huntsmen, and the guards who keep them all from escape. 

It leads me to think they have to be fleeing from somewhere, and the game doesn’t disappoint.

Moving closer to the Keep, we find out more about the Iron King’s hatred of the undead.

Harvest Valley and Earthen Peak

The player character opens a door that may have been closed for centuries, and descends into poison-filled mines thronging with hollow miners. Here too, the sickle-wielding huntsmen* arrive to inflict punishment. It seems the miners may have been trapped in their toxic labyrinth - was the Baneful Queen who ruled this region from the equally poisonous Earthen Peak using them for forced labor in the mines? For certain, if an undead is poisoned, they will eventually die - and eventually hollow, and eventually be unable to return even in that state. But what does the living queen care, if the undead still work the mines? 

Iron Keep

The Bearer of the Curse finds the Iron Keep transformed. That beautiful castle is awash in lava and filled with hollowed guards, who still keep their posts despite the wrath of their king.

The Old Iron King is horribly transformed into a massive demon. It would certainly fit DS2′s pattern of people becoming monstrosities out of their own desires, visible with the Covetous Demon and Baneful Queen. Why should a king be different? It isn’t longing or jealousy that motivated him, but perhaps his punitive wrath.

I’ll refrain from speculating more until I have his soul.

It’s easy enough to imagine the journey in the other direction - a servant of the Iron King turned undead, enslaved under the Earthen Peak or forced into the mines of Harvest Valley. Escaping, the unfortunate may only flee into the Copse where they are pursued by hunters, who will at best return them whence they came. At worst, they’ll be hunted for sport or given to the vengeful Chariot, sent to Undead Purgatory to face destruction.

Perhaps an escapee or two may make it to Majula, which seems safe enough from the wrath of the Iron King. After the harrowing flight, what a relief it must be to find only an exile, a mirror of the original fate of the undead.

-

* Curiously enough, the huntsmen of Earthen Peak are described as being artificial undead; twice as curiously, they seem to be able to hex without a catalyst. I’m not sure what to make of that.

[biblioflyer]

The Map is Not the Terrain: Institutional Power vs Individual Action in Star Trek Picard

In terms of its depiction of the Federation and the setting’s overall understanding of human nature and human rights, Star Trek Picard has continued the tradition of storytelling about the Federation as a place with an expansive state that is ready to free people from want and need, but is extremely cautious when it comes to violations of individual autonomy.

Yet while it is upholding this vision of the Federation, the series is also interrogating whether or not an expansive state is capable of the omniscience and omnipotence needed to guarantee a good life for every citizen and of empowering individual actors on the bridges of starships to know with absolute certainty what the morally righteous choice is.

This is part of a series of essays reevaluating Star Trek Picard and interrogating the widely held fandom criticism that Picard made the Federation into a Dystopia.

As discussed previously, I think the best interpretation of Raffi is that if we are to judge the circumstances we meet her in, the Federation has looked at the history of earlier states and their people and made a determination that it does not have the wisdom to know what’s best for Raffi. Trying to impose its view of what’s best on her is a moral hazard. As such the Federation is content to let Raffi figure this out on her own or until she affirmatively seeks assistance.

I’ve also written before about the challenges Picard likely faced in understanding the power of admiralship and using it correctly. Namely that the scope of the information available to you becomes more expansive but the finer grained resolution takes on limits. If you spend too much time on minutiae, you lose sight of the big picture. 

As an Admiral, it's the big picture Picard was responsible for. And a big picture is ultimately numbers. Ship numbers, timetables, manpower: all numbers to be plugged into equations to try to make the “good things happening” numbers go up: Romulans resettled, industrial replicators brought online. This isn’t being divorced from reality, it's a different, more impersonal relationship with reality where an individual has tremendous power to move resources around for the better of billions of lives, but a more limited capacity to see what that power is actually doing beyond making good numbers go up and bad numbers go down.

The dark side of abstaining from all acts that may inadvertently cause harm

Ultimately Picard’s Federation is a place where a Raffi can sit and stew for 14 years in her anger while still being afforded basic necessities. Through this, the state is also providing her as much dignity and autonomy as I think we can reasonably expect from a Federation that didn’t see a prestigious use for her worldview and could not supply an alternate means for her to obtain the validation she craved. 

Yet Picard’s Federation is a place that is extremely wary of bestowing its largess upon out groups. And let's be clear: it's always been this way. The Prime Directive is simultaneously an anti-imperialist mandate but also a means by which the Federation can duck responsibility for the galaxy outside its borders if it doesn’t feel like it. On a good day, it's more anti-imperialist than Social Darwinist, but sometimes when fear or suspicion are in the driver’s seat, it definitely has Social Darwinist outcomes, see also: Tasha Yar’s homeworld.

This is as good a time as any to talk about the philosophy of law. The central tension in the idealized version of the Federation hinted at by TNG and the more human “utopia is a process, not a destination” version that Picard is centering is that those of us who are more sensitive to disorder and untidiness in our systems crave utopia as a thing to be achieved. A final era of perfect law enacted by wise and fair administrators. A time in which the law itself would really and truly be just.

At varying times though, such as the “Drumhead” and gradually ratcheting up in DS9, what we start realizing is that even in the Federation the law is not justice. Federation law is usually just, but the law is not, has never been, and never will be justice itself. Justice is a condition, maybe it's even a Platonic form: a thing apart from reality that we are trying to reproduce out of the imperfect matter of a world forever distant from Source. 

What justice is not, is law. Law is a tool to try to create conditions of justice. In its most perfected form, law is a thing that provides a blueprint for justice to be followed by those who lack the inner purity and unlimited wisdom to do it on their own. Which, unless you’re a Bodhisattva, is most of us. Also if you are a Bodhisattva, DM me with some tips on how to start and sustain a good meditation practice because boy howdy am I bad at that.

In one of the earliest TNG episodes, Picard saves Wesley from execution for trampling some flowers. I can’t really think of another time where we see how law is not justice in its rawest form. It’s almost a strawman in how extreme the situation is, but it is useful in illustrating the broader point. The Edo and their maximalist approach to capital punishment is almost as far from justice as the law can get, but let's keep in mind going forward that laws that more closely resemble our internal Platonic Ideals of justice are still not justice itself.

Laws may not be real but that doesn’t mean they aren’t useful

Minor spoilers, but Captain Shaw in season three is a perfect example of someone who is joined at the hip to laws because he himself does not feel confident in his own wisdom. He’s also an example of a type of personality that I think we would be wise to recognize more widely as existing as a default template for humanity.

Shaw is someone who is more sensitive to disruption of the status quo and the violation of rules. We owe the Shaws compassion not because they’re intrinsically right or more deserving of not being discomforted than anyone else, but because they are people too. Those of us who are a bit more inclined to look beyond the status quo and see unlimited potential owe it to ourselves to put a little effort into trying to talk the Shaws off the ledge when we suggest an update to the EULA for civilization. Assuming we can do so from a place of safety.

Admiral Clancy too makes extremely compelling arguments as well for why the Federation had to mind its own knitting after Mars. “The needs of the many” and all that.

When the Federation acts, sometimes it wagers entire ships and their crews, entire planets, entire civilizations. This was acutely felt every time Picard was in a standoff with a Romulan, especially Tomalak, who was in some sense also trapped in a standoff with Picard, having to calculate whether or not everything he had been told all his life about the Federation was true and when might he need to shoot first to save his crew but perhaps condemn his Star Empire to a war in which billions will suffer even if it wins.

This is where the Fenris Rangers and other independent actors (ahem, season three spoilers) come into play. Because they can operate outside the Federation’s rules and can react nimbly and more precisely to small problems.

Okay sure, but what does this have to do with episode four?

Herein I think is where I think we start seeing Picard get a taste of what true freedom of action might be like. The ability to represent only himself means he gets to follow his conscience and he alone owns the consequences. Was there a sort of giddiness in episode three where he tells Rios he’s not in the habit of consulting lawyers before he does something? On reflection, that’s obviously a half truth. As a Starfleet Officer, he was bound to a set of rules he dared not break lightly. Although generally he thought those rules were in the right, except when he broke them.

Picard is also being asked to confront the consequences of myopically focusing on Starfleet as the only valid mechanism through which positive change can be implemented in the universe. Something that he still seems to be grappling with in Season Three.

[girlindelusionn]

finally finished himym!! hated the finale (of course) so here's another "most likely to" but much longer to help me cope (negate, why lie to you) with how the most awesome couple ended

(also this probably has a million mistakes but im too lazy to do something about it, having to write in english is hard man, so please ignore it:D)

most likely to: swarkles version :)

Who spends almost all their money on the other?

barney, definitely. he's not exactly the best at actually coming up with gifts so sometimes for birthdays or stuff like that he just takes her to the mall and lets her pick whatever she wants (he also makes fun of her the whole time, but i don't think it's necessary to clarify that)

Which one drives the car and which one gives them directions?

barney doesn't know how to drive and is generally better with technology, so robin drives and he gives directions and prevents her fights with the gps to get really violent

also robin is a REALLY violent driver, she doesn't go really fast but if anyone has the audacity to get in her way shes going to definitely roast the fuck out of them

"oh i know you're not honking at me… LISTEN HERE YOU LITTLE SHIT, IM GOING TO MAKE THE TURN WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT ME TO DO? YOU WANT ME TO FLY OVER YOU? GET YOUR HEAD OUT OF YOUR ASS AND LET ME GET IN THE FUCKING L– there you go, thanks!..."

Which one gives the other a piggyback ride when they're tired?

barney to robin, one of the "corny couple" million things he swore he wasn't going to do. but then robin simply looks at him with a sad face, explaining how much her feet hurt and he can't say no

Who is the most affectionate?

barney, actually

it's surprising, cause he's always been someone who likes his space but there's times, mostly in private, when he just can't keep his hands to himself. and you would think it's purely sexual but no, in the contrary, most times it's just a hand in her hair or her back, or demanding hugs and cuddles

Who falls asleep in the other's lap and who carries them to bed?

trick question! barney is who carries robin to bed, but she falls asleep in his shoulder

and he is the one who falls asleep in robin's lap, with her running her hands through his hair

Who wakes up first?

neither of them is a morning person, but usually robin works out in mornings so her. on weekends they stay in bed as long as they can

Who apologizes first after an argument?

they're both stubborn as hell so they schedule apologizes and take turns on doing it

Who is the nerd?

both of them, in different aspects. like robin likes math to the point of doing problems and equations for fun ??? and well, barney is a huge star wars, lord of the rings, that kinda books, nerd

i like to think that they have harry potter in common, they've read all the books, make marathons with the movies, they even went to the universal park! and had a lot of fun there (of course they've never told the guys that)

Who makes the other one laugh the most?

barney, he knows robin cant be mad and laughing at the same time and he uses it as an advantage

Who sleep talks?

robin 🥺

Who hogs the blankets at night?

also robin, but barney doesn't care

Who is the neat freak?

neither of them, but they manage to keep the place decent

Who likes to surprise the other with random gifts?

barney! single flowers, tiny chocolates, etc

Who buys the healthy food in the house?

robin, but it's mostly barney who does the actual cooking

Who has better music taste?

robin 😎

Who takes care of the spiders?

they do it together as a team, and if that doesn't work (aka if the spider is slightly bigger than average) they just go whining to marshall and he fixes it

Who uses more nicknames?

barney is mostly sweetie but after the wedding robin is kinda obsessed with the word husband

"so how's the most handsome husband, huh?"

"did you buyed the milk I texted you for, husband?"

"hi, husband!!"

robin is babe or sometimes honey, and after the wedding barney keeps calling her his "ex-girlfriend" (don't tell anyone, but he also LOVES the term wife, he can't comprehend how is he so lucky to have her as his wife)

(update after actually finishing the show: r-train and b-nasty!!!)

Who's the little spoon?

first year of dating? robin

after that is barney, you can't change my mind

Who suggests scary movies for film night?

robin!! but they both like them

Who gets jealous more often?

both, barney is less dissimulated about it

Who brings up kids first?

no of them, lol

Who borrows who's clothes more?

robin, she has stole the few hoodies he had and sometimes for sexy times likes using his ties

barney secretly uses some of her giganteus t shirts (he makes fun of her for buying them but he's actually glad she does) for sleep when she's away for the night

...they smell like her, okay? leave him alone

(also he loves when she uses his underwear and sometimes the only way to convince her to do it is doing the same himself, so he has wore panties)

(don't tell ted)

(please)

Who cries more during sad movies?

barney, is hard for robin to cry for movies, also he loves villains and they hardly have a happy ending so...

Who falls asleep on the other more?

robin, she falls asleep very easily

Who says I love you more?

barney :)

Who initiates kisses more?

also blondie, again he's a little obsessed with his wife

Who initiates hugs more?

robin this time

Who takes more pictures of the other?

robin, for sure. at first it was cause she wanted that bad picture of him, but then his husband is really cute with his sleepy eyes and the sun on his face, or looks so excited to watch the next episode of some lame show, or he's bringing her breakfast at bed with a big smile or looks a little too good with his new suit and she can't help but take her phone out and snap a pic of him

Who leaves notes for the other one around the house?

barney, at first it was to annoy her, like writing "you lost the game!!" at random places (i'm sorry lmao, i just realized i made you lose too, lol) or "sorry, babe! i ate it all last night" at the empty wrappers of candy in the fridge

but then one day barney found one in a coffee mug:

"wow, you didn't put much imagination in hiding this one, didn't you?" he said, his girlfriend was in the bedroom finishing to get ready for work.

"read it!!" she shot back, a little… nervous?

"i love you", the note said.

"scherbatsky?"

"yeah...?"

"come here"

"what's up?" she finally showed up to the living room, looking all tiny and scared

"love you too, loser"

Who gets drunk faster?

barney? i don't know, they both handle scotch pretty well, so i'm guessing it takes a while for them to get drunk

Who gets hit on more by strangers?

robin, but she couldn't care less

Who makes food for the house more often?

barney, he's a surprisingly good cook

[hartigays]

Rafebarry from the POV of outsiders like the pouges and kooks who notice their relationship develop<3

doing this one out of order bc it called to me <3 the following povs include: jj, pope, kie, topper, and sarah!

side/minor pairings are jjpope and sarahkie

fic under the cut :-)

jj

the sun is hot on jj’s forehead as he sits in the passenger’s seat of luke’s truck, idling in front of barry’s trailer.

he hates these days. it’s never been jj’s favorite activity, coming along with his dad while he buys drugs with money they should be spending on food.

not to mention, it takes for-fucking-ever. luke tends to get real chatty after his first high of the day, and barry is the type of dealer who’s always just fucked up enough to allow it.

today, however, jj’s forehead is only mildly burnt when luke exits the trailer.

actually, he’s being ushered out by barry, who looks irritated in a way that jj has never seen before. though, to be fair, the only times jj has been around him are when barry’s high or when they’re trying to mutually kick each other’s asses.

luke is grumbling to himself as he climbs into the driver’s seat, fumbling with his keys. obviously already fucked up.

jj eyes him warily, before flickering his gaze back towards the trailer. he’s only a little surprised to see rafe cameron suddenly standing in the doorway with barry, looking like they’re arguing about something.

okay, maybe jj is a lot surprised to see the scene playing out before him. because despite the seemingly heated tone of their conversation, barry has a hand resting on one of rafe’s elbows. it’s almost a tender gesture, and jj has to look away, suddenly feeling like he’s intruding on something.

barry touches rafe the way jj touches pope. and that’s… that’s a bit much to take in, to be honest. because jj sure as hell doesn’t touch pope the way friends are technically supposed to touch each other.

it’s an information overload, and he has no idea what to do with it. jj decides to file the racing thoughts away for later, when he inevitably spills his guts to pope about just exactly what he’s seen at barry’s today.

luke finally gets the truck started, pulling off of barry’s property without even noticing the moment unfolding before them.

jj takes one last look at rafe and barry, crowded in the doorway of the trailer while looking at each other like everything around them has fallen away, like it’s just the two of them left in the world.

interesting.

pope

it’s a sunday afternoon when they come in.

they’re arguing about something, barry looking thrilled by it whereas rafe just looks like he wants to smash his head through the nearest window.

“you ain’t really fished, country club,” pope hears barry saying when they’re close enough, “not til’ you caught a gator.”

pope suppresses a snort. there isn’t a soul in the OBX who’s caught a gator and didn’t come away with a chunk of themselves missing, and typically always empty-handed.

not like he’s going to tell two dickheads like barry or rafe that. if they want to go get chomped to bits by alligators, by all means.

pope is curious about the nature of their relationship, though. it’s interesting, and interesting things never cease to draw him in. (see: jj maybank).

jj had mentioned a few days ago that barry and rafe have seemed… different, recently. ever since then, pope has wondered about it. it’s a curious relationship, so he doesn’t think it’s that weird that he’s been desperately trying to understand it from all angles.

pope also just wants to know if jj is right. if barry and rafe really do have a thing going on. because like he’d told jj, he’ll believe it when he sees it.

it’s not like jj needs to know that he’s been secretly agonizing over it for absolutely no reason for the last three days.

pope stays seated quietly behind the counter, casually flipping through a magazine without really reading it, glancing up every now and then to spy on barry and rafe.

they’re standing by the bait selection, quietly conversing back and forth. pope can’t make out what they’re saying, but based on their expressions, they’re probably just talking about bait.

that is, until rafe passes barry a certain kind of bait with a questioning glance, and barry accepts it with a proud smile. rafe’s cheeks turn bright pink, and when their fingers brush as rafe passes off the bait, his face takes on a nearly scarlet hue.

so, okay, yeah. jj was definitely on the mark. it still makes absolutely no sense, whatsoever, but at the same time, they seem to operate in sync. it’s almost natural, whatever flows between them.

pope watches them walk up to the counter, feigning wariness to hide his curiosity, internally noting that he has a lot of homework to do later.

kie

the wreck is unusually slow tonight. it’s a thursday evening, and usually more patrons show up, pre-gaming their friday night bash with a thursday kickoff.

there are only three families and a few scattered couples seated here and there.

that is, until they walk in.

kie can’t really say that she hasn’t been expecting this. she wishes she could say that, to be quite honest, but jj and pope have made it their personal mission to torment her with information about barry and rafe that she truly never needed or wanted to know.

not that they’re more than likely gay as hell - kiara doesn’t care about that. she’d be a bit of a hypocrite if she did, if she’s being honest. it’s the fact that they’re rafe and barry.

two people who’s fates the cosmos should never have aligned. if what pope and jj say is true, anyway.

somehow, kie hasn’t come up with any reason to doubt it. rafe is crazy, barry is pure chaos in physical form. she imagines they’re like a nuclear bomb waiting to go off, but she also sees how it works.

kie really, really hates that she can see how it works.

there’s another waitress working tonight, and she’s the one to seat the couple. or pair. or whatever they are. kie can’t remember her name - she’s only here for the summer, anyway. nevertheless, she has the inexplicable desire to drag the poor girl away when she attempts to flirt with rafe.

not only because rafe is liable to stab her in a parking lot or something, but also because rafe and barry are clearly on some sort of date.

she doesn’t know why, but after the waitress finally walks away, kiara keeps waiting on bated breath for more people to show up and join rafe and barry’s party. despite the fact that they’ve been seated at a table for two.

no one else shows up.

they spend the evening conversing quietly back and forth, their voices occasionally raising when they get into a little spat about something.

which happens about every ten seconds, if kie has been accurately keeping track.

not that she’s watching them, necessarily. it’s just a bit of a shock, seeing what jj and pope have been telling her for days play out right in front of her, in real time.

they don’t operate like the other couples in the restaurant, that’s for sure. or any sort of couple kie has ever seen before in her entire life. but pope was right, whatever flows between them is freakishly natural.

and that’s why kiara can’t stop watching. she can’t stop honing in on every movement - the way they steadily shift closer throughout the evening, first putting their elbows on the quaint table, scooting them closer and closer until they’re nearly touching, leaning into each other like they’re being pulled together by some magnetic force, unable to stay apart.

it’s like when kie knocks on sarah’s window and watches her come close, pressing into the glass as if she’s being sucked in by some invisible force, the same one that drives sarah across the room towards her, pulling her into her orbit.

kiara shakes her head, trying to shake off the thoughts. she really doesn’t need to be going around equating her relationship with sarah with whatever the fuck is going on between rafe and barry.

whatever it is, though, kie can’t help but note that it’s something light rather than dark. something almost like happiness - something she never actually thought rafe was capable of feeling.

but with the way rafe is looking at barry, their hands now linked together beneath the table where they think no one else can see, kie is starting to rethink just about everything she knows about rafe cameron.

well, maybe not everything. but some things. enough that her head will be full for the foreseeable future. all because of barry and rafe fucking cameron of all people.

what the fuck.

topper

“you’ve been gone for like, weeks, dude,” topper says, eyeing rafe from across the table.

they’re at the figure eight country club, having drinks (on topper, of course) and a light lunch. it’d been topper’s idea. rafe had merely reluctantly agreed, claiming he had nothing else going on today.

he’d sounded almost like he was pouting about something. now that he’s seated across from topper, he can clearly see that rafe is definitely pouting about something.

which isn’t unusual, per se. but it is unusual that rafe isn’t bitching about whatever it is.

to be fair, rafe has been different these days. topper doesn’t really know what’s going on with him at all, their lives having suddenly and unexpectedly diverged for reasons topper still doesn’t understand.

it’s not like rafe was his best friend or anything - the guy’s a dick more often than not. but they had been friends at least, and confided in one another from time to time. guy to guy.

topper still wonders what happened, to this day. he doesn’t think rafe will ever tell him, though. not fully. and that’s okay, topper isn’t, like, desperately interested or anything, but a bit of an explanation would be nice. even a half-assed one.

“i’ve had shit going on,” rafe finally answers, as vague as can be.

topper rolls his eyes. “obviously. come on, man. i just want to know what’s been up with you lately.”

“you mean you want to know what’s been up with sarah,” rafe corrects, taking a long sip of his beer.

and okay, yeah, maybe topper’s desire to get back in touch with rafe has a little something to do with wanting to know what sarah’s been up to. but he does want to know whats been going on with rafe, too. that wasn’t a lie. he’d just omitted some details, sue him.

“yeah, okay,” topper agrees, not bothering with lying. “but i’ve also been wondering about you, man. you just kinda. disappeared.”

rafe picks at his burger, before pushing it away with a sigh. “shit happens, top.”

it’s so far from an explanation that topper kind of wants to throttle him all of a sudden, but rafe doesn’t give him the chance. his phone starts ringing, and he pulls it out with a triumphant smile, like he’s just won something.

something he’s definitely very, very smug about.

topper thinks he hears something along the lines of ‘m fuckin’ outside you little shithead brat coming from the person on the other end of the line.

rafe just smiles wider, putting on an innocent look even though whoever he’s talking to can’t see him. “coming!”

listen. listen. rafe fucking sing-songs it. topper feels like he’s been punched directly in the solar plexus. his mind reels.

topper is nowhere close to catching up, but rafe is already standing up and excusing himself, saying he has somewhere to be and thanking topper for the lunch half-heartedly, not contributing anything towards the bill.

typical rafe.

topper latches onto that familiarity to get his brain working again, shoving himself back from the table and racing out of the club, tossing a few too many bills on the table as he runs out. he practically chases rafe down, tumbling out the front doors as rafe is crossing the parking lot.

rafe comes to a stop next to some guy on a motorcycle, and neither of them have seen topper yet, clearly. because in the next moment rafe is pulling off the guy’s helmet and kissing barry the fucking coke dealer right on the mouth, tongue and all.

topper almost blacks out on the steps.

instead, he steadies himself on the railing of the staircase, shouting across the parking lot, “what the fuck, rafe?”

the reaction topper gets is not the one he was expecting. rafe just grins like a shark, then climbs on the back of barry’s bike. he wraps his arms around barry’s waist, then he taps barry twice, and they’re speeding out of the parking lot.

“we are so fucking talking about this!” topper yells after them, his head still spinning.

the roar of the motorcycle drowns out the noise.

sarah

she isn’t sure what wakes her up at first.

for a moment, sarah thinks kie is at her window. she frowns in confusion, still half-asleep, wondering why kie would be here without texting or calling first.

they always text or call first.

when sarah sits up and looks over at her window, there’s nothing there. but she knows she heard something, something that roused her from her peaceful slumber.

there it is again. it sounds like a squeaking noise, like an old window or a screen door opening. a moment later, quiet voices, drifting through the vent in her bedroom.

sarah wonders if it’s ward, if he’s having some secret meeting that would be truly invaluable to overhear.

she scrambles out of bed, tip-toeing to her air vent and sinking down to her knees. she leans closer, then closer still. all she can here are soft voices - she can’t make out any words. whatever the conversation is about, it’s interspersed with giggles and gasps.

oh. oh my god. ward is cheating, he has to be. and wouldn’t that be such sweet justice? catching ward in the act of something he can’t deny? something that could potentially keep rose from continuing to feed his endless greed?

sarah stands up and races across her room as quietly as she can, poking her head out the door and looking around before creeping into the hallway. she quietly makes her way to ward’s office, stopping just outside and leaning close to listen.

silence.

if they’re done already, that’s pretty pathetic on ward’s part, sarah thinks. but then she hears it again, the soft cacophony of sounds, only louder this time.

sarah follows the noise, her curiosity getting to the better of her. it leads her straight to rafe’s bedroom.

she really should’ve known better than to open the door.

“oh my god! oh my god? oh my god.” sarah slaps her hands over her eyes, already trying to scrub the image of barry on top of her brother from her mind.

she just walked in on rafe. having sex. with barry.

sarah feels a little faint.

“jesus christ, sarah, would you get the fuck out?” sarah hears rafe snap, and she fumbles for the doorknob, slamming the door shut quickly.

she backs away in horror, practically bolting back to her room and flinging herself onto her bed. sarah grabs her phone, firing off a few texts to the group chat.

sarah: SOS!!! walked in on barry and rafe…

sarah: oh god

sarah: i can’t even say it

jj: were they? y’know

jj: like

jj: brokeback mountain style or

pope: jesus christ jj

pope: that’s disgusting

pope: ………

pope: but for real though were they?

john b: i’d also like to know

kie: you know what count me in too

sarah: oh my god.

sarah: i hate all of you.

sarah has the most useless friends on the planet, and the drug dealer is fucking her brother. frankly, she’s had enough for one night.

sarah tosses her phone onto the floor and puts a pillow over her face, drifting back into her blissful state of unconsciousness. she’s not awake to hear rafe and barry start up again.

thank fucking god for small mercies.

[infinitegalahad]

HOW TO SAY I LOVE YOU (WITHOUT SAYING I LOVE YOU)

Summary: Everybody in Easy Company can see that Shifty is like a love-sick puppy with a cute truck driver. He loves her, but he's too shy to confess. Popeye, his best friend, can no longer stand to see it. Floyd Talbert is the man of the hour and knows how to get Shifty, who can barely say I love you", to say those three words without actually saying the words. The way to solve this pining? A classic carnival date.

Word-Count: 7.4k

Notes: Howdy y'all! Once again, I am back from the dead! School has been a little crazy lately. I'm still working on requests and opening up some prompts, but I have two essays that are due in a month and aka-my life is a mess but...writing. I hope you guys will forgive me for dying and take this tooth rotting fluff of Shifty and cheeky tab! Shifty basically has a phd in being adorable. It's pure fluff, not a single ounce of angst! Once again, fem reader. Also unbeta read, we die like idiots. Enjoy!

Taglist: @tvserie-s-world @easy-company-tradition @liebgotttme @50svibes (add yourself to my taglist)

“Oh, it’s hopeless!” Popeye sighed, his face landing into his hands. It had gone on for too long. At that point, it was sickening to watch Shifty. As much as Popeye loved him, he couldn’t stand to watch him attempt flirting, or whatever he was doing with his crush. Something had to be done, and the infamous playboy Floyd Talbert was the perfect person for the job.

Floyd had a smirk sprawled across his face as he looked behind Popeye, seeing the interaction blossom between Shifty and his crush. Shifty towered over them, shining his pearly whites and saying something inaudible, earning a sweet chuckle. His sun tanned cheeks turned tomato red as he rubbed his nape.

“I love Shifty, but that poor boy doesn’t even know he’s in love with her.” Floyd remarked. Being a serial dater, he knew how to charm people, with his dashing looks and personality. Floyd studied the Virginian, struggling to hide his obvious affections. His bright smiles, rosy cheeks, spotting them within the crowds-the boy was enamored with her.

Not only was Shifty in love, but so was y/n. Shifty and y/n were both quiet, and shy people. They were adored by the company as being the nicest people alive. You were a truck driver assigned to the company in Aldbourne. Being the only girl donned in pants, the men of easy company were both intimidated and intrigued with you. When you weren’t driving trucks, you were either subjected to Floyd’s advances or the mortar trio attempting to flex their muscles. Y/n eventually eased her way into the company, becoming “Easy’s girl”. Even though you felt welcomed, you didn’t really have a friend you could rely on.

That was until you met Shifty Powers. You met him by accidentally running into him with a box full of mountains. He, being the kind soul he was, offered to help you reorder the thousands of bullets. In exchange, you offered him a ride to a location he was running late to. He introduced himself by Darrell, insisting that you called him by his real name with a smile on his face. He was an undeniable gorogues with sun tanned skin, a smile to die for, and chocolate hair that was golden in the sun. Not only was he attractive on the outside, but within. You were convinced that Shifty could do no wrong whatsoever. Heck, you also believed that he was legally not allowed to curse.

Ever since that encounter, you and Shifty had begun to hang out more. The two of you would talk for hours on end, explore the town of Albourne, escape the bars and find a little bookshop or peaceful space to talk. It was soothing to sit next to Shifty and simply hear him breathe, talk, or smile. It always makes your bleak world a tad bit better. But you were convinced that Shifty wasn’t interested in you, he was too innocent. So you decided that the farthest you would be is friends. And yet, it didn’t sit well with you.

Floyd had noticed that y/n was in love herself. Whenever she was around Shifty, she’d become a mess as well, being clumsy and blushing red. She’d twist a strand of hair in her fingers every time Shifty looked at her, batted her long eyelashes, and looked in the distance to find Shifty, intent on his target, letting out a dreamt sigh.

Floyd was in love with y/n. After all, it was rare to find a female in a company full of men. However, Floyd was Shifty’s best friend, and he wanted what was best for both of them. Popeye could see this too and he was sick of seeing two people who didn’t even know what they were in love with each other.

Floyd, Chuck, and Popeye watched Shifty and you say something to each other. It was pouring outside. Attempting to find your rain jacket, it was nowhere in sight. Shifty, seeing your frustration, took off his jacket and gently put it on your shoulders. You turned around and tried taking it off, but Shifty insisted that you stay warm.

“My pa’ always made sure my ma’ would stay warm. It’s the best I can do,” He reassured.

“Oh Shifty, thank you. This is too kind. How can I repay you?” You offered, wrapping the jacket around your body.

He shook his head, smiling, “I don’t need a single thing from you, miss y/n.”

“Boy, the world truly doesn’t deserve someone like you.” You stated, standing on your tippy toes. “Let’s get out of here so I can sneak you a Hershey bar, or two. How does that sound?”

Shifty froze and looked side to side. It felt like the devil was tempting him. But he could never see y/n as a devil. She was a beautiful angel in his eyes.

“Well,” Shifty put a finger to his lips, “That does sound mighty fine, Miss y/n.”

You took his hand and dragged him to the door, your laughter echoing in the door. Shifty held the door open and let you exit first before closing the door, making your way to the supply room to eat chocolate.

Once Shifty was out of sight, Popeye turned back to Floyd. “I’ve tried to ask him, trust me. He won't say a dang word on it.” He explained, “He thinks miss y/n wouldn’t like a fellow like him. But I’m pretty sure she loves him.”

“You kidding?” Chuck added on, “She spoils him with free food, contraband, whatever. Anything he wants, he gets. She doesn’t do that to any of us.”

“Well, miss Y/n did give me hershey bar last week,” Floyd proudly smirked.

Chuck looked unashamed, “Yeah, because you were trying to convince her to go to the amusement park with her this weekend.”

The Boy from Kokomo playfully rolled his eyes, “Shifty’s not her only favorite.” For a second, he froze, a thought finally coming in his mind. “Wait...the amusement park…”

“She already said no to that one, and all the other dates,” Chuck said.

“I know that,” Floyd replied, rubbing his chin, “I got an idea. For Shifty and Miss y/n.”

Chuck and Popeye looked at eachother, and then Floyd. They could already see the idea forming, but it would take a lot of work.

“I’ve known Shifty all my life. He’s too shy to ask a girl out,” Popeye acknowledged, “He’s too scared of being rejected.”

“I know that.” Floyd pointed his finger as he stood up and fixed his belt, “I’ve got a plan.”

“For once?”

“Yes-be quiet,” Floyd teased, “All those two need is a little push.”

-----------

Shifty looked up and down at the brightly colored paper and at y/n, who was loading up the back of a supply truck. His mouth hung open as his eyebrows rose in diseablief.

Floyd, Chuck, and Popeye stood all in front of him, waiting for an answer. Shifty shook his head and shoved the paper back in Floyd’s hands.

“Oh, I can’t do that. No way.” Shifty denied, his cheeks growing red.

Popeye let out a defeated sigh as Floyd clicked his mouth, walking up to Shifty. “Yes way! Have you not seen the way y/n looks at you?”

Shifty looked in the distance and then back at Floyd, “What? No! She looks at me like I look at you-like a friend. Besides, you’ve seen miss y/n,” Shifty’s gaze turned back to you as the butterflies fluttered in his stomach, “She made it clear ‘dat she ‘dun needa’ man, and I wanna respect ‘dat wish. ‘Sides, she wouldn’t be into a guy like me.”

Popeye shook his head, “God darn it Shift! You gotta realize dat your-”

“In love. L-O-V-E.” Floyd teased, budding shoulders with Shifty. “Based on the dames I’ve been with in Kokomo, I know how women work. She looks at you like a lovesick puppy. The two of you are meant for eachother.”

Shifty looked at Floyd, blinking his eyes like a child looking at a math equation. He still wasn’t understanding. “But...oh, leapin’ lizards! Miss y/n would be into a guy like you. You get all ‘da pretty ladies...how do you dewit?”

Upon hearing Shifty’s pleas for help, Floyd let out a chuckle and slapped Shifty’s shoulder, who looked like a lost lovesick puppy.

“Shifty, Shift, my dearest friend,” Floyd reassured, giving him a double pat, “That’s why I’m here. You’re getting the best advice from your best man.”

Chuck rolled his eyes, “Fan-fucking-tastic Shifty, you boosted his ego. This is going to be great.”

Floyd looked at an unassumed Chuck, giving him a pout. “Oh come now, Chuck! Look at him, he’s in love.”

“But you like Miss y/n! I don’t wanna steal her. I mean, I want someone who can treat her right,” Shifty said, resting his hands on his cheeks.

“Shifty, as your friend, I’m pretty sure everybody in easy company wants Miss y/n to accompany them at the bar for a dance or two.” Floyd explained, trying to encourage Shifty. “I know how much you love her, and I think it’s fair to give you a shot. The only way you’ll get what you want is by working for it.”

He saw Joe Toye walk by you. And even Joe Toye, one of the scariest people in the company, gave miss y/n a subtle nod. She smiled back and gave him a wave, a bandanna in your hair and dirt smudged on your cheek.

Just your mere presence made Shifty melt like an ice cream cone on a hot summer’s day. No matter what you were in, your uniform or covered in pig guts, you always found a way to be absolutely gorgeous. When Shifty had first bumped into you, he was convinced you were a fallen angel. You were too beautiful and bright in the rainy, gloomy Albourne. Yet there you were, always by his side with a smile on your face and story to tell.

Shifty let out a dreamy smile, a crooked smile on his face. “I wanna say I love her…” Shifty added on.``...without sayin’ I love her.”

The boy from Kokomo cracked his knuckles, “Well, don’t I just got the plan for you too. How does nice and slow sound?”

----------

“What are you doin? Stop pushin’ me! I can’t dewit!” Shifty whispered in a hush as Floyd and Popeye pushed him towards the truck where you were loading supplies for easy company.

“Boy, quit being afraid of anything. Take that leap of faith!” Floyd called out before pushing Shifty near the truck before he and Popeye hid for cover.

Shifty turned around to find them before he heard a familiar voice call his name.

“Shifty?”

The Virginian sharpshooter turned his shoulder and hid his hands behind his back, smiling with a piece of his golden chestnut hair falling on his forehead. “Miss y/n! Pleasure to see ‘yah. I hope I wasn’t interruptin’ anythin’ too important.”

“Shifty, you’re too sweet. I was just finishing the last load of K-bars…” You explained, lifting a large box and shoving it into the back of her full truck, unable to see. Finally, done after a long day. Wiping the sweat off of your forehead, you walked towards Shifty only to be greeted by a variety of poppies.

“ ‘ere, got ‘em for you. You said you like the color red…” Shifty blushed, looking to the side. Floyd and Popeye hid behind the side of the truck, giving him a thumbs up.

You took the flowers and examined them, a smile growing on your face. “Oh, these are so sweet! Thank you..” You put the flowers in the pocket of your overalls to retrieve a few hershey bars from the back of the truck, “I’ll getcha’ somethin-”

“Wait, miss y/n!” Shifty announced, following after you as he grabbed your soft hand, pulling you back. You tripped on your own feet, almost falling to the ground before Shifty catched you, his hand on the small of your back. The two of you stared at each other, cheeks both burning with desire.

Shifty coughed and lifted you up, neating your ruffled shirt and cap with your hair messily tucked into. “S-sorry, I…would like to ask you somethin’. Not chocolate, ma’am.”

You raised your eyebrows, insisting that he go forward with his response, his hand still in yours. He didn’t even notice, but you did. You could recognize his soft, tan skin from anywhere.

“Would you go to the amusement park with me? As my date?” Shifty blurted out like word vomit, “I mean, only if you want. If you don’t wanna go with somebody like me, then I understand.”

“Yes, of course I would!” You also blurted out, your face red like a tomato. You took your cap off and hid your face, embarrassed by yourself. Inhaling, you let out an exhale before pulling yourself together. “Shifty, I would love to go with you. I wasn’t even planning on going at all until you asked me.”

Shifty’s eyes sprinkled with happiness, like a child on Christmas morning. “Really? You wanna?” He squeezed your hand, realizing that he was still holding it.

You looked up at him with a warm smile, placing your dirty hand on top of his. “Yes, I would love to.”

Shifty looked speechless. The rumors were true; his smile was infectious. Perfect and bright like the sun of a warm summer day.

“Sufferin’ succotash!” He cried, “Miss y/n? Can I ask you one last thing?”

“Yes, Shifty?”

“Can I give you a hug?”

It was definitely not what you were expecting. But then again, you weren’t hesitant. Shifty could do no wrong-he simply seemed over the moon about asking you out. You were as well, but seeing Shifty’s excitement made you smile and accept it. He was too cute for his own food.

“Yes, you can.” You opened your arms only to have long hands pull you up and spin you around. It was a quick welcome as you spun around, heartfelt laughter escaping from you and Shifty. Shifty could do no wrong, whether that be at shooting or giving the best bear hugs. They were bear-like, but affectionate and protective. He trapped his arms around your waist as you held the back of his necks, your fingers tangled in his soft hair which shined in the sun. Shifty looked amazing no matter what, always glowing.

Babe threw the clown nose off of his face along with the roses Guarnere had picked out for him. Eugene was walking by, mortified to see Babe dressed (apparently) as a clown and a disappointed Guarnere. Not an unusual sight.

“Heffron,” Eugene walked towards a sad Babe, scanning his figure. “What are you doing…”

“I’m heartbroken! Look at them!” Babe mourned, pointing at you and Shifty in an embrace, happily giggling. “I was gonna ask miss y/n out and give her these roses. I dressed up like a clown since I thought we could both be clowns together.”

Eugene simply blinked, perplexed by Babe’s logic. All he could think of was the word Yikes. He would’ve most likely scared away y/n instead of winning her heart over. “Pardon?” He looked at Guarnere for answers, who simply shrugged at him.

“Don’t look at me like that. I tried, the kid wouldn’t listen. He’s a lovesick puppy with that damn dame.” Guarnere explained, crossing his arms as he looked at the happy couple.

The Cajun medic, along with Babe the sad clown and Guarnere, observed you and Shifty. A small smile crooked at his lips. He normally wasn’t one for gossip or dating, but he was happy for the two of you. Even someone as quiet as him didn’t deny the obvious chemistry between the two of you. It was like the two you were destined to be together. Humble, adored, and both beautiful in your own, respective rights.

“Yeah…” Eugene slowly bopped his head, “There sure like lovesick puppies…”

-----------

The Carnival brought light into the gloomy Alborunte with it’s bright rides, laughing children, and joyful ambience. Shifty could recall his childhood with Popeye. Every year, they’d have a carnival during the dog days of August. He loved the shooting games, winning thousands of plushies and eating candy with Popeye until he was sick. He was sure his Ma still had the plushies tucked away in the attic.

But instead of feeling overjoyed, he felt like he was walking on eggshells.

He waited at the entrance with Floyd, Popeye, and Chuck. Chuck kept looking down at his watch, keeping lookout for y/n as Floyd gave Shifty a final pep talk. They were all dressed in fresh uniforms with showers and fine cologne. It was a refreshing change, even if it was for one night.

“Remember, play it cool. You’re sweating’ like a damn dog!” Floyd said, fixing a stubborn curl into his cap.

“Oh, I don’t think I can do this. I mean, miss y/n deserves a real man. I mean she’s so…” Shifty rambled on before Popeye swatted him on the shoulder, gardening his attention to y/n in the crowd. You were far away but to Shifty, you were still recognizable. The girls in the crowd wore plain and monotone colored dresses but you wore a beautiful floral button up with sheer sleeves and ruffles, your makeup done. It was the first time Shifty had ever seen you without your flap cap and dirt on your face, and he wanted a better look.

“Beautiful…”

Floyd smirked and patted Shifty’s shoulders, letting out a dreamy sigh, “God damn it Shifty, you’re lucky I’m being nice to you. Hottie on the dot. Go get ‘em, tiger.”

Giving him a push on encouragement, Shifty’s friends eventually faded into the crowd. Gulping, he began to walk forward towards y/n, who stood in the crowd, waiting in the exact location Shifty told her to wait in. Catching him the corner of his eye, she smiled with her red lips and walked over.

“Shifty!” Y/n exclaimed with glee, looking at his clean uniform and quivering an eyebrow. “Thank goddess I found you…and you look handsome in your uniform.”

“Says the pretty lady talkin’,'' Shifty commented back as he looked down at your tinier form. Now that you were up close, he could admire every little detail from your rosy cheeks, red lipstick, manicured hands, and glimmer in your eyes from the fairy lights. “I mean, you always look very nice but tonight you look stunning’.”

“Oh quit being’ nice to me, Shifty.” You playfully swatted his shoulder, “Every guy’s in the company’s said that to me. Not half of them even acknowledged me before I got dressed up.”

Shifty, like a confused puppy, tilted his head. How could someone such as y/n, who he considered to be the prettiest lady he had ever seen.

“Whaddya mean? You always have been very pretty, ma’am.” Shifty acknowledged, his hands fiddling behind his back. He could feel his palms sweating, seeing the moon reflect onto your glowing skin. “You always look beautiful. It’s just tonight that you look even more beautiful than you usually do.”

You shook your head as you looked down, fiddling with the sides of your dress. Nobody had said those words to you in years. They were truly heartfelt and not some cheap way of getting into your pants. “I may not see it, but thank you Shifty.”

“Well, my ma’ has always told me that I’m one bad liar. I like to say it how it is,” Shifty insisted with a finger in your face, “and I’m saying that you are one hecka’ ova’ pretty gal.”

You smiled at Shifty, amazed by how cute he was. He didn’t even have to try, it was all natural. “Oh Shifty….” You looked down at your shoes, seeing your feet brush against his boots. Clearing your throat, you looked up to talk. ‘I…”

Before you could say a word, you could see Floyd Talbetr in the back. He noticed you talking to Shifty and upon seeing you, had a devilish smirk sprawn over his handsome face. You clicked your tongue, shaking your head. “Oh goodness, doesn’t he see I’m on a date?”

Shifty turned around and bit his lip. He gently grabbed your hand. It felt natural in the moment too, his larger work in your pretty manicured hand. “That son of a gun! I’m sorry ‘bout him, miss y/n. ‘Ere, let’s go. I’m sure he’ll find another lady, but not as pretty as you. I mean she would be very pretty, but not the miss y/n typa’ pretty.”

The two of you walked side by side, hands together. You looked at Shifty, raising an eyebrow. “Are you gonna keep callin’ me pretty the whole night?’

Shifty nodded his head like an enthusiastic child, “Like I said, if it’s true, is true.”

---------

Once the two of you escaped the infamous playboy, you and Shifty walked around the amusement park. The two of you had eventually let go of your hands since something had caught your eye, causing you to mindlessly wander. Shifty followed you like a puppy dog, whatever you wanted to do he wanted. Besides, anything with you was time well spent. Carnivals were something he always enjoyed with their bright lights and shiny attractions, especially with a pretty girl he was in love with. He forgot he was in a raging war whenever he looked at you; with your soft smile and calming words. Just for one night, Shifty could escape into his fantasy world with you, which to his surprise was the reality he was currently standing in.

You were full of life in the park, dragging Shifty to every ride, whether it be scary or for toddlers. The two of you first stopped at the Haunted House, which Shifty was terrified to go into. You were scared, but it was the rush of adrenaline driving you. Shifty wanted to impress you, so he held your hand hand for “safe precaution” and walked in front of you. It was adorable to see him jump back at the slightest scares and mumble under his breath an alternative curse word, such as “leapin’ lizards” or “great scott!”

As the two of you exited the haunted house, lost in conversation, the two of you had been jumpscared. Shifty jumped and grabbed your waist, pulling you in for protection. You felt his stomach on your back and his firm grasp on your waist. You looked up and Shifty, who immediately realized what he was doing. The two of you broke into laughter, a few snorts in the middle. Shifty slowly let go of your waist, wanting to hold on longer.

“Sorry miss y/n.” He apologized, bowing his head. “Jus’ got a lil’ scared in the moment. I don’t mean to be a coward.”

“A coward? Nonsense,” You smiled in reassurance and grabbed his hand, “Your no coward to me. Now come on! There’s more rides to go!”

Shifty was distracted by your beauty as you dragged him along. Once again, the two of you trekked around the park. He was lost in your gaze. How did a guy like him end up with a lady such as yourself? It was hard to deny the butterflies in his stomach. He had never dated in the past. Yes, he had crushes, but they never acknowledged his feelings. He’d do anything for his crushes whether to be holding their books, walking them back home, anything for them, yet he never had his feelings returned. He always felt like he was the second choice. But with you, it was different. You were truly his best friend, and he wanted you to know it, but he still had no idea how to say it.

The two of you decided to take a break and ordered a sugary milkshake to boost your energy for another hour of rides. The two of you sat at a small table in the back, watching the happy couples and children in the distance. The waiter had brought over a milkshake, interrupting your peaceful little silence. Shifty wasn’t even looking at the crowds, he was simply staring at you. His long legs brushed against yours until they finessed each other, making his cheeks go red.

He looked down and saw one milkshake with two heart shaped straws. You raised an eyebrow and fiddled with the straw.

“Odd,” You remarked, examining the milkshake, “ I thought we ordered two…”

Shifty raised his head to see Floyd Talbert in the back, a smirk as he winked, two girls leaning on his shoulders giggling. Was he following them this whole time? Wasn’t he too busy with those girls on his shoulders?”

Shifty tilted his head back down and muttered a curse under his breath, “That son ova’ mother trucker…”

“Shift?” You questioned. He looked up at you, to see that you were already taking a drink. “You okay?”

Shifty rubbed the back of his nape, “Yes ma’am. Ma’ apologies.” He looked at the milkshake and your manicured hands holding the cup down. “Hey! Leave a lil’ for both of us.”

You cutelty giggled, “I haven’t had one of these in a while! I can’t help it. After all,”

“Strawberry, it’s the best flavor,” Shifty had said, and you had followed along in his words. The two of your eyes met, both leaned in close to the milkshake. To cut out the awkarenedess, both of you let out chuckles. A small snort emerged from your mouth, in which you soon covered in.

“Sorry,” You mumbled, hand over your mouth. Your chuckles became faint, another snort escaping your mouth, “It’s not very ladylike.”

Shifty looked puzzled, “Whatcha’ mean? What’s not ladylike?”

“My laugh,” You answered, “I always snort. It’s horrible. Whenever I’d laugh, these girls in my school would make fun of it. I can’t really control it, sorry.”

“Why would they laugh at you?” Shifty looked saddened at your insecurity. You were perfect in his eyes. You truly couldn't do anything wrong. “I think your laugh is very pretty, miss y/n.”

“As sweet as you are, you don’t have to lie.”

Shifty scooted up towards you, his hand sliding onto yours. He had a small smile in his face, his thumb caressing the inner part of your hand. “Well, I am bein’ honest. I ain’t a good liar, you know ‘dat. I’m sure ‘dose girls were jealous of you. ‘sides…” Shifty looked down and back at you with his hazel orbs, “I like your laugh a lot, miss y/n. ‘S pretty, ‘jus like you.”

Oh god, It was happening. Whether it was his cuteness, his Virgianian accent, he was luring you in. You looked up at him as your cheeks grew rosy. The two of you sat there, hand on hand, sipping on a milkshake with the lights glowing in the back. You always had the tiniest crush on Shifty, but it had finally hit you like a bus that it wasn’t some tiny schoolgirl crush-but it was truly love.

You had told yourself over and over that the only reason he liked you was because he was nice to you. You were a cheery person, but deep inside, you had been hurt in the past. Always feeling you were the second choice, you shut yourself out from love. Especially in war. Sure, you were friendly towards the men, but you told yourself you wouldn’t grow close to them. If they died, it would be better. As cruel as it sounded, it was kinder to them are you. It was for the better, right?

That fateful day you bumped into Shifty Powers changed your aspect. You were officially stupid with love, sitting there at a bright carnival, hand in hand as you sipped on a milkshake. He was too kind for you and the world you lived in.

“You’re not gonna stop being nice to me, are you?”

“No ma’am.”

----------

After the milkshake incident, you had noticed you clung onto Shifty more. You were a little taken aback when he asked to hug you. Not that you didn’t enjoy it, you truly did, and it was something that infected your thoughts. Your cheeks would go red and you’d cover the lower part of your mouth. Whenever Shifty walked into the room, it felt like the sun was shining in the dreary Albourne. Just looking at him made your IQ drop to single digits.

And Floyd had caught onto it before you had even noticed.

Instead of holding Shifty’s hand, the two of you walked arm and arm, chatting the night away. The two of you exchanged stories of your childhood, home, and how you ended up where you were. He truly was an angel with a bright smile. He wasn’t like other guys you had met who bragged about themselves. Whenever you would compliment him, he’d deny it with his cheeks all red from embarrassment.

“You’re the best shot I’ve ever seen!” You announced, in disbelief. You had seen him practice a few times, and he would hit every target with grace. “You make it look easy.”

“I’m not a good shot,” Shifty doubted, “But Pa was a good shot. The best shot I’ve ever seen. I think you’d like Pa a lot.”

As the two of you walked in the crowd, you noticed a shooting booth in the corner of your eye. It was a classic paladone duck shooting game. You smirked and pulled his arm to the side, “Well, prove it then.”

Shifty let out a sigh and stood straight, saluting like you like you were Sobel, but much less intimidating. “Yes ma’am.”

You saw him stand there, his fingers curled around the trigger and the butt resting against his shoulder. He took a breath and exhaled, and let the bullets blue. Every duck fell to the ground within a matter of seconds. A minute later, Shifty returned with a large stuffed animal and a smile on his face. He handed it to you. It was a tiny, stuffed bear with button airs.

“For you.” He commented, “I wish they had bigger ones. But I can get you more, if you want.”

You looked at the plusive. You felt juvenile, but it was Shifty. Besides, the two of you weren’t in the army in the moment; you were two lovesick puppies, running around a carnival without a care in the world.

“No, this is...perfect.” You held it close to your chest, “I’ll name him Popeye, a good luck charm.”

Shifty had taken you to every booth he could find, effortlessly shot the gates, and won you more stuffed animals. Whenever he’d give you one, you’d smile like a child on christmas. He loved to see you happy, so he kept doing it more and more. In his mind, it repeated like a broken record, “for y/n”. Wherever you went, Shifty went. Whatever you wanted, Shifty wanted. He was truly a lovesick puppy.

After Shifty’s a thousandth win, both of you walked side by side, arms full of plushies. Each of them were named after members of your company. A racoon named Luz, a black cat named Roe, a cub bear named Liebgott, a fox named Babe, a rabbit named Dick, and so many more. You held up a medium sized shark and nudged Shifty’s shoulder.

“Alright, this one?”

Shifty put some thought into it, “Webster. Doesn’t he like sharks?”

You let out a dry chuckle, “Yeah, he won’t shut up about it.”

The two of you giggled until hitting the next booth and running into a familiar playboy and his newest addition bound to be one night stands. Floyd noticed you and Shifty arrived. He crossed his arms and walked over, faking a cough.

“Look at what we have here,” Floyd scanned you and Shifty, the both of you with wide eyes and stuffed animals overflowing in your hands, “Y’know Shift, I’m proud of you. The whole company hates you for it, you lucky son of a gun.”

Shifty softened his eyebrows, “Wait, they hate me? What did I do wrong?”

Seeing Floyd’s cruel teasing, you interrupted the two. “Floyd, don’t be so cruel,” You put a reassuring hand on Shifty’s shoulder, “Don’t listen to him, he’s just being himself.”

Floyd did a fake pout, “Oh, come on hon. All due respects, but Shifty hit the jackpot before me. After all, he doesn’t miss.”

Shifty and you both went as red as tomatoes, looking sideways. Floyd’s armcandy giggled at his comment and playfully slapped him in the chest. He reassured his sweetheart and wrapped an arm around her, pulling her away.

After Floyd had disappeared to do god knows what, Shifty still looked perplexed and concerned. His thoughts were once again racing. Not about the company disliking him, but Floyd’s comment. Even though he and Floyd were best friends, the two of them were different. He was a playboy in the spotlight, and Shifty was in the back, always tagging along. Growing up, Shifty considered himself to have a loving family. He saw the way his pa treated his ma; giving her his coat, bringing her presents, and treating her like she was a queen. Shifty had never been with a lady before, and he considered you his first real one. Twenty years of age and this was his first rendezvous with a girl, he couldn’t believe it. And he wanted to make sure you were loved and not some jackpot, trying to be won like a competition.

“Miss y/n?” Shifty asked, gaining your attention. He cleared this throat, “I just wanted to tell you that I don’t think of you in ‘dat way.”

“In the Floyd way? That’s alotta’ guys, Shifty.”

“Well, I don’t want you to think I’m doin’ this because of him. Since you’re a very pretty lady, a lot of guys wanted to ask you, and be there arm candy. I just wanted to letcha know now that you're not some kinda prize to be won. I hope to god I ain’t makin’ you feel ‘that way.” Shifty exhaled, letting all his words come out like word vomit. They came out so quickie that he didn’t even know what he was saying.

“Shifty, I know you. You’re a sweetheart,” You kindly affirmed, “Any dame would be lucky to get a guy like you. This has been such a wonderful night, so thank you for that.” The two of you were close to each other, your hands hovering against his chest. His uniform looked perfect on him, you didn’t want to mess it up. Your fingers sucked in as they laid at your side, resisting the temptations that were filling your mind. “But, I do have one request.”

“Anything for you, ma’am.” He vowed, letting you take the floor.

“Teach me how to shoot.”

Shifty look behind you at the booth, a shooting gallery, and then back at you. It was an odd request for sure, especially considering the tender moment the two of you shared. “Like here, right now?” He coaxed. Out of the people, him? He was flattered. No lady had ever asked him something such as that.

You nodded, shrugging your shoulders, insisting, “You are the best shot in the world, after all.”

“Alrighty, if you insist.” Shifty grabbed the small of your back as the two of you walked to the booth. Once you were given the prop gun, you placed the butt on your shoulder and closed an eye, the other looking out of the iron sight. Shifty got right behind you, his chest against your back. He leaned on your shoulder and moved your hand to the trigger and bottom while getting a sniff of your perfume. He never missed, but being around you was definitely a distraction.

“Don’t aim for what you're shooting’, aim’ for where you shootin’,” He instructed, your eyes focused on the moving targets. Shifty hadn’t realized he had put a hand on your waits to turn you over slightly. It wasn’t like you minded his gentle touch.

The moving target came up, and with Shifty’s hand upon yours, you pulled the trigger. The bullet hit the middle of the target, slamming to the ground. However, the two of you didn’t stop. Every target that came, you shot and didn’t miss once. While you were focused on the red targets falling to the ground, you could also feel Shifty’s breath on you and his firm grasp on your hips. His fingers were on top of yours and the trigger. Whenever you were to get a target, he’d mutter “ ‘atta girl…” or “aim a lil’ higher, darlin’.” It made you lose focus, making you thankful that Shifty was right by your side. You lowered the gun, his hands still resting on your hips. When the clerk had announced you had won, you shook it off and walked over to claim your one hundredth stuffed animal. Shifty had a pout as you walked away. He truly enjoyed being close to you.

“Hey,” You called, a smile on your face, “Thank you. I’d like to do that again.”

“Shooting’ again?”

“Of course. I’d like to learn how to do it.”

“Oh miss y/n, I’d love to help, but I ain’t a good shot.”

“Stop denying it,” You affirmed, holding his hands in yours, bringing them to your chest. You looked up at him, the fairy lights glimmering in your eyes, “That you’re a bad shot and not a gentleman and that I deserve to be with someone who can treat me right. You are an amazing shot. This night has been amazing. You are someone who can treat me right. I…” Freezing on your words, the butterflies in your stomach crippled you. You knew what you wanted to say, but how could you word it into a coherent sentence. His hands scrunched in your chest as you still held them close, like a child with a stuffed animal.

“Well, stop denying’ you're not pretty'. Because I think you're the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen,” Shifty confessed as he moved closer to your tinier form, “Not only on the outside, but inside. You're kind, always putting others before yourself. You also sneak the company Hershey bars, even though they don’t need them. You're so interesting to talk to, you can just...light up a whole room when you walk inside of it,” Shifty’s cheeks were burning like a fire as he pulled you close to his body, both of your breaths heavy. “I...oh gosh darn it…”

You looked over to the side and turned back to Shifty, “Ferries Wheel.”

“Huh?”

“Let’s go. It’s the last ride of the night before they shut the park.” You exclaimed. Maybe the two of you needed a private place to talk. I love you, it was three simple words. You couldn’t say it and he couldn’t say it. Maybe it would work, maybe it would be a disaster. You had nothing to lose at

this point.

Shifty and you both walked over, seeing that there was no line for the ride. It was late at night. You only had an hour left on your night pass, and you wanted to make sure you used the most of it. What if always lingered in your mind. You knew not to get close to the men in the company, it was for the better. But now, with Shifty holding your hand, it was undeniable.

The two of you boarded onto the small cart, still hand in hand. No words were spoken between you two. You looked at the bright lights, which were getting smaller as you moved upwards. You could feel Shifty’s gaze burn into you. Although the two of you

“Miss y/n?” He broke the silence.

“Yes, Shifty?” You said, turning to look into his Hazel eyes. He smiled and shook his head, using one of his hands to cup the hand he was holding.

“I don’t know how to say this but, I want to be honest with you since we only got a little bit of time to do so. I remember when I first met you and I was speechless, and I still am. I’ve had feelings for you for a long time now but tonight...made me realize them more. It made me realize what a foot I am for not knowing’ sooner. But now, I know. I gotta say it. Miss Y/n, I love you.” Shifty declared, “more than anything in the world. If you don’t like me, ‘dat’s okay. But I can’t hide it anymore. I wanna help you learn how to shoot, I wanna go on more dates with you, I wanna be around you every single day.”

It had finally hit you. You looked at Shifty and chuckled, “You said it. I love you too. I couldn’t find the words for it...but now, I have. I love you, Darrell. ”

You moved to Shifty’s side of the cart and leaned on his shoulder, nuzzling into it as Shifty wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close to his body.

“Have you always loved me?” Shifty questioned, his fingers trailing against your bare arms.

You nodded your head, playing with his fingers. “Since day one. You?”

“Since I first looked at you,” Shifty confessed, “Floyd and Popeye always teased me ‘bout it. I didn’t have the courage to say it before, but they…”

“Helped you. I guess you're not the only one here,” You sighed, just knowing that Floyd had something to do with this. Of course, it made sense for the playboy to make a matchmaker. “I told Luz by accident and you know Luz. Floyd had overheard our conversation and had to include himself. He helped me get a dress and prepare for this all. So yeah, I guess we both liked each other...but we didn’t know it.”

“Well, know we do it. We both love each other,” Shifty said into your hair.

“Yeah…” You looked at the night sky, the stars and moon sparkling. “I like that a lot.”

The cart had stopped on top of the ride. In that moment, you felt on top of the world. Shifty had you in his arms, the temperature wa sprague, the sky was beautiful. It was all coming together now-but there was one missing detail.

Shifty’s arm pulled you in closer before he asked gently, “May I kiss you, miss y/n?”

That was it, the one missing detail. A kiss to wrap up the perfect moment. You turned your body towards him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. “Yes, you can Shifty. You can do it as many times as you like.”

“Yes Ma’am,” He chuckled like a child. Wrapping his arms on your waist, your lips collided with each other. Your heart began to pound as you felt a desire run from your heart, to my chest, and down toward my inner thighs.

Shifty touched your neck, and the hair as it was moved away nearly gave me the chills. His hands went from the sides of your head and down to your neck, out to your shoulders and down to your hands. He grabbed your hands gently yet firm. You felt safe, he spoke no words. Your heart is about to beat out of your chest as you shut your eyes and took a deep breath out.

Shift kissed my shoulder, and ran his lips on my skin towards my ear, but didn't quite make it that far. It doesn't hurt, it only makes me want more.

Shifty turns you around, and we are facing each other. He stares into my eyes and smiles. Shifty’s two hands grab your left hand as he places your open palm on his heart, and he holds it there. His eyes exude love, protection, security, safety, patience, and respect. You smile and he lets go of your hands, with one hand he runs his fingers through your hair and gently guides your face closer to his, eventually leaning me in to rest my head on his chest.

His other arm wraps around me, and you hope he never lets go.

And in that moment, the world was still. It was you and Shifty, on top of the world.

[five-rivers]

Long Night in the Valley chapter 12

The scene shifted the moment Tempest woke up. They were outside, on a street in the middle of the city.  Storm clouds circled overhead.  

Tempest stood in front of them, hands in her pockets, a bland expression on her face.  

“So,” she drawled.  “You’re Nine’s friends.”

“Uh,” said Ochako, taken aback.  Right after Four had said she wouldn’t talk to them, this was disconcerting.   “Yes?”

“I’m his teacher,” said Aizawa, stepping forward.

“Yeah?  You think you’re doing a good job raising up little child soldiers?”

“Excuse me?” said Aizawa.  

“You heard me.”  She shifted her gaze to Ochako, then to Todoroki and Iida.  “I bet Souma told you I wouldn’t be talking to you.”

“He did say something along those lines, yes,” said Iida, even as Ochako worked very hard to elbow him.

“I can follow why he’d think that,” Tempest said. “I spent most of my life fighting against the government.  Lord knows I wouldn’t have approved of him choosing a ‘pro hero’ to follow after him.”  She took her hands out of her pockets to make air quotes.  She was wearing brass knuckles.  “Whatever a pro hero is supposed to be.  Government lackeys.  Cops and war criminals with a different name.  I’m shocked he pulled a halfway decent person from the muck.”

“We’re not war criminals!” protested Iida.  

“Oh, yeah?  I forgot, the Geneva convention was nixed, wasn’t it?  They had this big meeting and decided none of it applied to metahumans, and then, bam!  Everyone’s a metahuman, so it doesn’t apply at all, huh?  Neat, right?”

“What we’re doing now might not be what you’re used to,” said Ochako, “but it’s the way society works, now.”

“And we’re not killing people, like you did,” said Iida.  Ochako winced at his combative addition.  

“I did what I had to, to get people out of the torture camps,” said Tempest.  “People like my little sister.  You know what they did to her?  They thought her power was just controlled by her voice.  So, they cut out her vocal cords.”

“They don’t do that anymore,” said Todoroki.  

“You think a government like that is just going to stop doing things?  Without people making them?  Without being forced?”  Tempest laughed and looked up at the swirling sky.  “Maybe you do.  You’re just kids, after all.  But tell me this, do you think they didn’t know exactly what was happening to your family, Todoroki Shouto?”

Aizawa cleared his throat.  “What’s your point, here?” he asked.  “What do you want from us?”

Tempest looked back at Aizawa.  The coldness in her brown eyes made Ochako shiver.  “We could have kept you out,” she said. “That Suzuki idiot, too.  Do you know why we didn’t?”

“Enlighten us,” said Aizawa.  

“Because the way we do it would cause irreparable brain damage.  We know, because we’ve done it before.  I thought it was worth it, but the others didn’t want to hurt ‘Nine’s friends.’”

“Are you implying that we aren’t Midoriya’s friends?” asked Todoroki, frowning.  

Tempest huffed and wind whipped down the road, making Ochako cover her face.  

“No.  To be honest, I’m not completely sold on Nine, either.  He wanted to part of the system so bad, and that’s not to mention—” she huffed again.  “At least he knows what it’s like to be on the other side of the equation.  You four, though… I’m stuck with Nine.  I don’t owe you anything and you’re causing all these problems.  What I want from you—”

Behind her, lightning snapped down from the sky.

“—is to prove to me you’re worth it.”

.

“Vlad, the police were able to find your car,” said Powerloader, holding his hand over the receiver of the staff room telephone.

“Oh, thank goodness,” said Vlad.  “I hate taking public transportation.”  He paused.  “I mean, uh, did they find Yagi?  Is he alright?”

“No, they didn’t find Yagi.”

“Great,” said Vlad.  “So, ask them when I can pick it up.  Why are you making that face?  Did Yagi total it?  I bet he did.  ‘Symbol of Peace,’ my—”

“No,” interrupted Powerloader.  “Yagi didn’t total it.  Or crash it.  It was parked in an alley near the Musutafu entertainment district.”

“Where Midoriya had that fight with Hawks,” said Vlad, putting his head in his hands.  “It got wrecked by one of them, didn’t it?”

“No,” said Powerloader.  “It was parked in an alley.  They found it on a security camera.  It isn’t there anymore.”

“They took it again?”

“The League of Villains took it.”

“You’re joking.”

“I wish I was.”

.

The bus felt empty with half the class missing. The remaining 1-A students (plus Shinso) were all huddled together at the front, mooching off of the teachers mobile hotspots.  

“Did my email go through yet, kero?” asked Tsuyu, leaning over her seat to look at Denki’s computer.  

“Not yet,” said Denki.  “I’ve got all the pictures you guys sent arranged, but I wish we had more video material.  Ashido was the one with the most…”  He sighed. “Ashido, gossip queen, when you wake up I will apologize for all my comments about your hobbies.”

“I have some videos of Midoriya.”

“Trust us, Mineta, no one want your videos,” said Yaoyorozu.

“Huh?  Why not?”

“Tell us this.  How many of your videos are actually of Midoriya and don’t just have him incidentally in the background while you try to film girls.”

“None of them,” said Mineta, obviously not seeing why this was wrong.  “Why would I film Midoriya?”

“Mic,” said Midnight, “please remind me to sign up the walking lawsuit for some sensitivity classes.  How did Eraser miss this?”

“Unfortunately, Shouta is about as sexual as the average rock, so…”

“Remind me to sign him up for some training, too, then.”

“Will do.”

“Walking lawsuit?” asked Mineta.  

Everyone else sighed.  Then Denki’s laptop pinged.

“Huh.  I just got an email from Principal Nezu.”

The adults, including Green Light, the bus driver, blanched.  Adults were bothered by the weirdest things.  In the end, Nezu was just a guy with a quirk, right?  A hero, even!  Principal Nezu, the Education Hero!

Okay, he’d scared Denki (Mr. Terrible Grades) a lot in elementary and middle school, but really.  

(Okay, the crane thing at the Final Exam had been high-key terrifying, but he was trying to get past that.)

“Huh,” repeated Denki, having read the email. “That’s interesting.”

“What is it, my electric friend?” asked Aoyama, drapping himself sideways across his seat.

“Aoyama-san,” said Midnight, “don’t put your feet on the windows.”

“Principal Nezu sent me a link to an ‘All Might adopt a kid’ fanfiction, and it’s by—”

“Midoriya writes fanfiction?” asked Shouji, evidently surprised into using his real mouth to speak.  

“That’s cute, kero,” said Tsuyu.  “It must have been before he met the real All Might, though.”

“No,” said Denki, “it was last updated just a couple of weeks ago, and, well… Midoriya didn’t write it.”

“So, who did?” asked Yaoyorozu.  

“Not Nezu, right?” asked Jiro, winding her earphone jack around her finger.  

“There’s no way, right, Kaminari-san?” asked Present Mic, nervously.  

“Uh, no, no, it’s, uh, it’s All Might. According to Nezu.”

A beat of silence.

“What?”

Denki inserted his pinky into his right ear, trying to clear it.  Man, if the Bakusquad had been here rather than the quiet half of the class…

“Yeah, it says here that this serves All Might right for working on this during school hours?”

More silence.  

“Green Light, the road!”  

“Oops, sorry!”

“Hey, guys, are we sure that All Might didn’t, you know, kidnap Midoriya rather than the other way around?  Guys?”

.

Gran Torino, also known as Torino Sorahiko, was an active hero.  That meant late nights and late mornings.  He was also an old man.  A very old man.  Late mornings often turned into noons and afternoons.  

Sometimes, during those noons and afternoons, he liked to ignore technology and the outside world for a good long while.  Maybe read the paper a little bit.  Or one of those terrible romance novels Nana had left him in her will.  

Still, he was a hero, one wrapped up in something best described as a two-hundred-year-long shadow war, so eventually he did turn on the news.  

Only to see Toshinori’s boy fighting Hawks on live television.  

Not to mention Toshinori hanging out in the background with a shaved head.  

And the ticker said UA student Midoriya Izuku kidnaps Symbol of Peace.

(Which was the dumbest thing he had ever heard, and under other circumstances, he would have been rolling on the floor laughing.)

Gran Torino was an old man, but, luckily, he only felt like he was simultaneously having a heart attack and a stroke.  His body was more than functional enough to place a not-at-all panicked phone call to one Tsukauchi Naomasa.  

.

Tsukauchi Naomasa was incredibly busy.  That busy-ness was divided mostly evenly between desperately trying to find his best friend (who had evidently decided to make a hopefully brief foray into kidnapping teenagers) and trying to figure out what the commission was taking, because it had to be illegal.  Oh, and putting together a complaint that the commission was infringing on police prerogatives.

Honestly, he wasn’t sure how much traction that last would get, since pro heroes had been steadily gaining more and more responsibilities even as the police were losing both them and the power that came with them.  Not to mention Midoriya’s stunt with Hawks… Which… Naomasa just wanted to know why?  What had the point of that been?  On either side?

(Sometimes he wished he were friends with normal people.  Like… he didn’t know… an accountant, maybe?)

(Not that he would give Toshinori up for the world. Just, some normalcy would be nice, too.)

He took a deep breath, remembered what he always told Toshinori about stress, and took a mouthful of room-temperature coffee.

In that thirty-second period, two more problems presented themselves to him.  

One, his cell phone began to ring, displaying the contact information for Gran Torino.  

Two, his email softly pinged, and a message from Principal Nezu asking for any images or videos Toshinori might have sent him slid into his inbox.  

Briefly, Naomasa considered ignoring both of them, but that wasn’t a realistic option and was irresponsible besides.  Contrary to his character.  

He picked the lesser of two evils and answered Gran Torino’s call.

.

Garaki was going to have a mental breakdown.  This was fitting because his car had broken down.  Midoriya Inko was asking him if he thought that his ‘friend’ might come pick them up, if it was safe.  If his ‘friend’ had a car.  

This last had almost sent him into hysterics. Gigantomachia in a car oh-ho!

Except it wasn’t funny at all, as this was almost certainly going to result in his death at the hands of All for One.  No matter that he considered the man his very dearest of friends, he was under no illusions about what All for One would do to him over this inexcusable error.

Perhaps he should just cut his losses and get one of the remote-activated noumu to come for them.  

Then, inexorably and inevitably, things managed to get even worse.

.

“Stop the car!” shouted Tomura.  

“But you said not to—”

“I know what I said!  Stop the car!”

Tomura twisted to see out the rear passenger window. Everyone else turned to follow his gaze, effectively blocking his view.  

“Get out of my way!” demanded Tomura.

There was some awkward, half-hearted shuffling.

“Does that look like anyone to you?” Tomura hissed.

“Yeah!  Like the doctor!” said Toga.  

“I’ve never seen him standing up, though,” said Spinner, dubiously.  “It seems out of character.”

“I didn’t know he owned a car,” mused Compress, rubbing the bottom edge of his mask.  

“Not him!” snapped Tomura.  “The woman!”  He pointed angrily at the rapidly approaching woman with green hair, narrowly avoiding dusting Mr. Compress’s top hat.  

“Eh?  What about her?” asked Spinner.  

“Doesn’t she look familiar to you?”

“To be honest, everyone without mutation quirks looks kind of the same to me.”

“Someone without face blindness.”

“Oh!  She looks like Izu-kun!  Do you think that’s his mom?”

The woman knocked on the window of the car.  Twice, unhelpfully rolled it down.  

“Thank you so much for stopping, we—Oh!”  She took a step back.

She apparently recognized them.  Joy.  He was going to unpack his feelings about this woman later.

“Hey, doc,” rasped Tomura, annoyed.  “What the hell have you been doing?”

“Ahem,” said Garaki, finally stepping out from behind the car.  “I didn’t expect to see you here, Shigaraki Tomura.”

“Because you blew us off and stranded us in the middle of Musutafu?”

“No,” said Garaki, in a way that absolutely meant ‘yes.’  “I knew you were resourceful enough to safely make it out of the city.”

“Oh, yeah?  Really?  You—”

Compress chose that moment to slam his face into the back of Tomura’s head.  Tomura steadied himself automatically on one of the car’s uprights, which cracked dangerously under his hand.  He pulled back as if burned.  

When he looked up, the gremlin’s mother was halfway to the tree line with – What was that in her hand?

He looked back over his shoulder.  

That was Twice’s goddamn mask.  

Compress, for some reason, was also missing his stupid mask (and covering his face like the dramatic weirdo he was), and Toga basically had hearts in her eyes.  Spinner was being Spinner, and therefore ninety percent useless.  He was lucky he was fun to play games with.

How to make her stop?

“Hey!” he shouted.  “We have your son!”

This was a lie, as far as he knew (unless Dabi had snatched him on his way back; it wasn’t impossible), but, he was a villain.

The green-haired woman stopped and turned back, allowing Tomura a full view of her expression.  

He decided that he regretted everything.

.

“Okay,” said Izuku, multitasking by letting Two pick the lock on the League’s safe, “considering Gigantomachia’s ability to track by smell and the questionable running water, we can’t just sneak out.  He’ll find us.  So… I think our best play is getting him to attack Shigaraki, and then when they’re both distracted, we run for it.”

Toshinori nodded and sighed.  “If only we had a giant jug of perfume.  We could throw it at his face and disrupt his ability to smell us.”

“I mean, I found a whole bunch of garbage a way back.  That isn’t perfume, but it does stink.”

“No, no, your plan is superior.  We’d draw too much suspicion if we attacked him like that. Perfume could be written off.”

“Yeah, I can see that.  Because perfume is a ‘nice’ thing.”

“Indeed.”

“It isn’t actually very nice to have it all over you, though,” said Izuku.  

“No,” agreed Toshinori.  “It isn’t.”

The safe popped open.

“I won’t ask if you don’t.”

“Deal.”

“But, anyway, assuming we do get away, what then? Where do we go?  And—Wow.  The League of Villains is broke.  I almost feel bad.”

“I was going to say Deika, but that’s too far, now, and we don’t know if Gigantomachia will come after us,” said Toshinori.  “Drawing him to a place full of civilians would be irresponsible.”

“Yeah,” said Izuku.  He frowned, pulling his head from the safe, and glanced out the window. “What about the Wild Wild Pussycats?”

“What about them?” asked Toshinori.  

“They’re near here, aren’t they?  And they’ve got that whole complex, so, I mean…  I don’t know how they feel about us right now, but it wouldn’t be a terrible place to hide.  Would it?”

“I’d hate to bring all of this down on them as well,” said Toshinori.  “But… That being said, I don’t believe they’re actually there.  They were taking some time off because of what happened to Ragdoll.”

“That makes sense,” said Izuku.  “Should we take the risk?”

“I’m unsure if we have a choice, my boy.  We could try roughing it, but that puts us in a very vulnerable position.”

“And we can’t stay here, with the League.”

“No, we can’t.”

“Okay.”  Izuku sighed and started to thumb through the League’s collection of fake IDs, looking for something he could use.  “Wild Wild Pussycats it is.  We’ve got to convince Machia to attack Shigaraki, and… then we sneak out the back while they’re fighting.”  He shook his head.  “It sounds really unheroic when I put it that way.”

“Under these circumstances, I think heroic is the set of actions where no one dies.”

His mentor was right.  Izuku still felt weird about this, though.  (The pettiness was completely different.)

Not to mention…

He put the last of the fake IDs away and massaged his temples.  “They’re doing something weird in there,” he said.  “I’m going to check on them.  I might be out of it.”

“Don’t worry,” said Toshinori, patting Izuku on the shoulder.  “I’ll keep an eye on things out here.”

(Perhaps all of this could have gone unsaid, what with their connection, but saying things out loud made them easier to organize.)

.

“Hey!” shouted Izuku over the roaring wind. “Stop that!”

“Are you going to fight me, Nine?  All by yourself?”

“No,” said Izuku, somehow contriving to look down his nose at her despite the height difference and the fact that Tempest was floating several meters in the air.  “I won’t have to.  Because I have a secret weapon.”

Ochako could almost see Tempest roll her eyes.

“And,” shouted Izuku, “do you seriously think I just wanted to be part of the system?  Are you serious?  I wanted to help people.  People the system failed.  It isn’t like they’re responsible for the system either!”  He waved his hand to indicate Ochako, Iida, Todoroki, and Aizawa.

“I’d argue about your hobo teacher.  Is this your secret weapon?”

“No, this is, Great-Aunt Miranda.”

Tempest opened her mouth, then closed it again. The wind began to die down.  “I’m – I don’t know what the point of that was—"

“Neither do I!  What’s the point of this?”

“The point is determining whether or not you have people you can rely on, or a bunch of backstabbers who’ll hand you over to a government lab as soon as it’s convenient!”  She stabbed a finger at Ochako.  “She’s just in ‘heroics’ for the money!”  She pointed at Iida.  “He’s only here because it’s traditional for his family.”   She gestured at Todoroki with her other hand.  “He’s doing it mostly out of spite.  And who knows what your hobo teacher is doing this for!”

“There’s nothing wrong with any of that!” protested Ochako.  “You must have your own motivations, too!”

“She does!” shouted Izuku.  “Considering what they are, you have no room to be criticizing Iida!  Besides, you don’t even like me!”

“This isn’t about liking you or disliking!  You’re the—” Tempest visibly cut herself off, then took a deep breath.  She set herself down on the street.  “Knowing what we do now about certain things, a fourteen-year-old would not have been my first choice.”

“Excuse me!  We’re all sixteen!” said Iida.  

“You’re sixteen now, it’s – The fact of the matter is that you’re children.  Naïve children.”

“Oh my gosh, you were younger than I was when you—”

“I was kidnapped and tortured—”

“I know, but why are you taking it out on—”

“By the government that you are trying to lick the boot of—”

“Did you see what they did to Suzuki?”

Ochako felt like she was spectating a very passionate tennis match.  

“If it means anything,” said Aizawa, dragging himself out of the pile of rubble he’d been thrown into by the wind, “I’m just trying to keep my kids alive as long as possible.”

“Then expel them!  Stop them from becoming literal child soldiers!”

“I do,” said Aizawa.

“He does,” confirmed Ochako, who was well acquainted with Aizawa’s reputation.  

“He really does,” seconded Todoroki.  

“I used to see Tensei’s group chat, and every time he expelled someone…”  Iida shivered.  

“Huh,” said Todoroki.  “Is that why you’re so… insistent about rules?”

“Of course not!  Rules are important regardless of why so many students were expelled during the first month of school!”

“So, why didn’t you expel these ones?”

“If you honestly believe the problem child wouldn’t have flung himself at the first villain he saw after that and dove straight into vigilantism, you don’t know him very well.”  He sighed, standing, and brushed dust and pebbles out of his tracksuit. “That goes for these three as well. They’re insane and it’s not my fault.”

“Isn’t saving others what heroes do?” asked Izuku, walking closer to Tempest.  Ochako wanted to run out and grab him, but this whole ordeal had just shown how useless that would be.  “No matter what?”

“Not no matter what.  This is why I…”  She shook her head, sighing.  “Not no matter what.”  She leaned forward, her hands on her hips.  “Don’t die. You do realize what will happen if you die, right?  I don’t have to spell it out for you?”

“N-no,” said Izuku.  

“Besides which, I’m not a hero.”

“You saved people,” protested Izuku.  

“And, as your friends pointed out, I’ve killed, too.”

“I know,” said Izuku.  “But you aren’t a bad person.”

“Lots of people kill during wars,” said Ochako, going to stand by Izuku, “and that’s what you were fighting in, wasn’t it?  I mean, I don’t know a lot about that time, but…”

“You wouldn’t.  It’s been over a hundred years.”

Izuku nodded.  “This fight isn’t doing anything, though.  None of us want them here if the vault opens.”

“The what?” asked Iida.  “The vault.”

“Hopefully,” said Izuku, “you won’t have to worry about it.”

“The fight did do something, though,” said Tempest.

“What?” asked Izuku.  

“For one,” said Tempest, “it made you think. For the other…”  Her eyes flicked over Ochako and the others.  “Everyone you fight will have their own reasons. Remember that.”

.

As they walked down the street, storms still brewing overhead, Ochako kept catching glimpses of children in the alleyways and cross streets.  

“Who are they?” she asked, unable to help herself.

“My sister and I,” answered Tempest, brusquely. Ochako, watching the back of the woman’s head, saw her twitch slightly towards one of the alleys.  “About the time we were taken.”

“Taken by who?” asked Todoroki.  

Tempest laughed.  The sound was entirely humorless.  “That government you’re so eager to serve.  You’ve noticed, I hope, that my sister and I aren’t completely Japanese?”

“Yes?” said Todoroki.  “I’m not blind, after all.”

“Todoroki,” said Aizawa in a warning tone.

“Good for you.  Our mother was Japanese.  Dad was American.  We went back and forth to see the family.  Problem was, everyone on Mom’s side quirks.  We didn’t even realize it.  The government tracked the weather disturbances to our movements and raided our family reunion.  Never saw my parents again.  Never saw anyone, for that matter, except my sister and my aunt – Dad’s side – who tried to smuggle us out and got shot for it.  We spent four years in that hell before Ryuji rescued us.”

“You’re more open about this than I would have expected,” said Aizawa.

Tempest sneered.  “Why wouldn’t I be?  I’m a terrorist, and people only become terrorists if they want to make a statement. Which I did.  Trust me when I say this, Nine, if the hero commission took you into ‘custody,’” she spat the word like it was dirty, “you’d be in the same boat. What do you children think they do to all those high-profile criminals in Tartarus?  The ones that are held indefinitely in a private prison without even a show trial?”

“I know, Three,” said Izuku, far more calmly that Ochako would have been able to.  “That’s one of the reasons I wanted to be a hero.  It’s easier to change systems from the inside.”

“Not this system.”

“No,” said Izuku, “but then I had no idea this part of the system even existed.  They do a lot to hide it, after all.”

“Hm,” grunted Tempest, skeptically.

The buildings began to thin out, interspersed with wilderness.  The road rapidly graded narrowed into a one-lane road, then gravel.  

“Is this normal?” asked Ochako.  

“We have more control over our environments than the other ones.  You’ve noticed that only Eight and Nine had multiple versions of themselves running around and being confusing.”

“I didn’t do that on purpose,” said Izuku.  

“Exactly.  Any of us could send an army of ourselves against you.  Only those two don’t have a choice about it.  Amateurs.”

“Shouldn’t they have had the same amount of time as—” started Ochako.  She broke off as a series of concrete walls topped with barbed wire rose up in front of them, scraping at the surrounding trees, shedding clumps of dirt.  

The trees fell away, leaving a clear, baren space between the walls and the trees.  Slightly beyond the structure moonlight glinted off the surface of a lake.  

“Well.  Welcome to Jinoshi Lake Camp, kids.”  Tempest turned, putting her hands on her hips.  “This is where I met Ryuji.  And…” She glanced up at the walls.  “This is as far as I go.”

“You aren’t going to show us where to find this ‘Ryuji?’” asked Aizawa.  

“I promised myself I’d never go back there.” She jerked her head over her shoulder. “I’m not revisiting it for you.” She started walking away.  “Have fun.”

[dearest-kibble]

If ur doing korra requests too, how about Amon hcs?

Yknow now that you’ve put that thought in my mind, I uhhh love it. (Also I love Amon’s voice like Amon and Zuko/General Iroh have,,, the best voices. also take a wild guess at who doesn’t have any gifs?)

So let’s say you were an equalist.

A really devout equalist. You were born a nonbender and were more than tired of being pushed around by the triple threats. Injustice had already plagued your world and though you weren’t around for the hundred year war, you’d heard your fair share of stories from your grandmother and father. And the things you’d seen.

Metalbenders making their own money while you had to get by with whatever you earned that day.

Waterbenders who were fabled you bend people to their will.

And there was nothing you could do about that. You were one person, trying to tell others of the injustice you had seen.

So when Amon rose to guide those who have been oppressed? To knock the benders down a peg? Oh you were all for it.

You attend the first rally, then the next and the next. Revelation after revelation. Watching as Amon — the man who’d been scarred by a fire bender who’d been so wronged in the past — make everyone equal. Benders should not have more privileges than the average citizen and if the equalization or numbers was needed to illustrate that?

Well you were all for it.

Amon had even been spirit touched so your siblings-in-equality said.

“Just like Avatar Aang,” excites whispers proclaimed as you watch in satisfaction.

Of course he deserved to be equated to Aang, he was truly trying to make peace and bring balance to a still unbalanced and unjust world.

He rarely speaks with others to hear out stories.

But so your Brothers, Sisters and siblings day, he’ll speak to his followers.

It’s here where you meet him.

In the boiler room of an abandoned Sato factory.

“Thank you, you’re doing something truly amazing for this city. I’d been trying for at least,” You pause to think and stare into his mask. He has deep, blue eyes. “A year before you started to make a difference. This cause, it means a lot to me. If I can do anything to help-”

“Tell me, what have the benders done?”

His voice which you’ve heard carried by a microphone, was much quieter up close. Calculated, volume measured carefully. Words chosen with tact to glide over a silver tongue and rich voice, iced with precision. Iron gravels somewhere in his throat.

It sounds unnatural.

He truly was sent by the spirits.

“They’ve counterfeited money, firebenders - do I even have to explain? Waterbenders, bloodbenders! Yakone terrorized people! The sheer amount of power plant jobs that are given to firebenders! Earthbenders who don’t need to keep a job! And no one will say no to a waterbender after Yakone!! None of it is okay in this world, but you, you strive to make things right in the world again.”

“Join my team. Your experience will prove quite useful to our efforts.” Icy eyes bore into your own. “You are quite useful.” You dip your head in respect.

“I aspire to be of use to this cause. I will devote myself fully to helping you.”

“It will be quite beneficial, I assure you.” If you could see his face (can he even smile?) you were sure he was smirking under the mask.

“Of course Amon, I hope it will be!”

“We have much to discuss. Please, follow me.” He walks to his microphone, places his hands behind his back and speaks with authority. “Brothers and Sisters, soon we will have yet another revelation. One that will make the benders tremble. Soon, we will have true equality, just as Aang intended!” Amon steps back slowly and stands proud as the equalists cheer and roar in approval. He waits for two chi-blockers to flank his sides before beckoning you over with a flick of his wrist.

“Tonight we discuss our ideas for our campaign. Follow me.”

He leads you through a heavily guarded back door.

You suppose being hunted by the (all bender) police would give reason to having so many guards stationed. You walk through doors that part at Amon’s appearance and are greeted with the sight of motorcycles and one truck.

“After you.” He gestures to an open truck and you walk towards it with no question. The interior is bare save for two uncomfortable benches and it occurs to you, this is probably a stolen vehicle.

“So, where are we going? You have got to have a hideout or something, right?” You have no problem stealing from those who steal from you on a daily basis.

“You will see. It’s a quick drive.” There it is again. The hint of a smirk in his voice.

The ride passes in a silence. What do you say to the leader of a revolution?

“Sir, we’re here.” A man in a mask opens the front door. “We will leave you now. Our eyes are still watching your position.” The man nods as he gives a small salute in the form of a bow.

“Very well. Dismissed.”

“Thank you brother!” You give the man a bow back as he leaves the doors open.

“Make sure to return the vehicle to its rightful place.” Amon’s voice calls to the driver as you jump out of the truck.

You expect to find yourself in a dark cave or forest. Not a dark, secluded part of town.

“It makes sense that you’d be here.” It’s a little less climactic than you thought. But hiding in plain sight always did help far more than going out of your way.

“Come inside, we have much to discuss.” Somehow without your noticing, his good is down, his mask away from his face, though he was apparently prepared with a scarf.

“I suppose with your burn, a facial scar would be far too easily recognizable. They’d figure out it was you right away.”

He just nods as he fiddled with a set of keys.

He’s just like everyone else. He just happens to be leading a revolution.

You hear a click, and the door opens to a very bare, sterile room. Masks line the walls, along with various plans and writing utensils.

He waves his hand in a motion for you to enter. Stepping through the door it becomes about five degrees cooler, at least. The scarf might not just be to cover his face.

“Sit.”

“Thank you,” you look around for a place to sit. There is only one chair and you look at it for a minute before realizing Amon’s deep icebergs of eyes are looking into your back. You walk to the chair and sit. It’s uncomfortable being the only one sitting and Amon towers over you.

“I guess I shouldn’t tell other Equalists where you live, I’m sure you’d have fanatics at your doorstep,” You attempt to crack a smile and realize that, yes, He can smile despite the burn that covers his face in a diagonal stripe.

“Hey! Even the spirit touched Amon can smile!”

“Yes, he can.” He allows himself a modicum of uncalculated speech. And it’s quite drastic how much a difference it can make. He quickly shifts back to the leader of a revolution and asks you how you’ve been wronged. You two talk for the better part of two hours. The equalists are going to take away all bending they can, only a select few are allowed to keep it if any. Amon is going to highlight you as a source of what imbalance there is between benders and those who are born without the gift.

“So we are going to get my story out?”

“Yes, I believe it has great value to our cause.” Burned lips curve into a larger smile.

“I never thought I’d see this day,” You are aware of the tear that’s in your eye, but this was something you’ve long since dreamed of happening.

You deserve a good few tears.

“I hope that my story can help bring to light the reality of Republic Cities treatment of nonbenders.”

“It will. You will help me to eradicate Republic City of benders.” His voice is water smoothing rocks.

“Is there anything else I can do for the cause?”

“Indulge me in a story,” Amon turns away from where you sit, still inches taller than you as he walks towards a window you didn’t know was there. It’s been covered by a curtain.

“My brother and I grew up years ago, before the Fire Nation wiped our family out.” He takes in a breath. “We has been playing out in the rain, a good omen for a good harvest, when we smelled smoke. My younger brother started to run. I begged him not to go,” You hear another labored breath make it through his nose. “Smoke in the rain only meant one thing.” You both knew what that thing was. “Once I realized that he wasn’t going to come back, I followed him back to our house, tripping in the mud as I ran, desprate to catch up.” You’re aware you’ve shed more than a few tears. “I was too late. My family was gone, Mother and Father died at dinner and My brother had been crushed by a beam on fire. I tried to lift it but it was too much. I couldn’t and it fell on my hands. I leaned down to talk to my brother, but he was already dead. I screamed at the flames, unable to come to terms. I went numb and my face, came away like this.”

Amon turns around for emphasis, sliding the curtain on his window aside.

It’s a full moon.

“I-I’m so sorry,” You wipe a tear only to realize it wasn’t there, it must’ve fallen. “I can’t possibly imagine what that must be like to lose a family. Benders should Pag for what they’ve done. To you, to your family, to anyone.”

“Was it an effective story?”

“W-what?” His blue eyes, cold like the night sky behind him do not blink.

The blood vessels seem angry.

“I take it from your tears that my story was an effective one?”

An orb of water, hovers above his right hand.

Veins bulge from beneath his gloves.

“You’re,” tears should be falling down your face. They’re not. “You’re a waterbender. Let me-“ You’re voice is going dry and you have a good idea of why. “Let me g-” the words stop in your throat which is quickly growing patches of water. A hand moves to claw af your throat to remove the words you’re choking on before it stops midway up to your jugular. Your fingers curve and flex before your whole arm is forced to your side.

“Bloodbender.” He laughs, cruel and deep.

He plays with the orb of water - your tears.

“You look a little parched.” He gives a dark laugh and flicks his wrist again, and your arm twitches uncomfortably as you feel a rush of blood shoot through your body. Your tears move oh so slowly into your forced open mouth.

You can’t even swallow as the liquid your tears that endlessly fill your throat slides down into your stomach.

“I’m glad you offered to help the Equalists. You will be so useful.” His smirk returns, a cruel thing when not hidden by a mask. “I already feel better being able to bloodbend normally.”

He releases your mouth and you shut it closed, the ache in your jaw painfully acute.

“Please- please let me go, I won’t-” Is it better to report the man who is a bloodbender or to let him make all equal? “I won’t report you.”

“You won’t” The moon makes his smile glint. There’s something wrong in it.

“I won’t,” you try to nod but your neck is stuck in a permanent lock.

“You’re staying here with me pet. You’re too fun to let go of.”

--

so guess who got a little carried away? me. it was me. i’m guilty also now i love Amon. (Maybe it’s just his voice also oof... me writing only in clipped sentences oh you bet.) anyway thank you to the requester and thank you all for reading! I hope you enjoy!! also thank you to @animetrash420 for uhh beta reading my stuff,.... please ya’ll check her out she does haikyuu fluff and Free! fluff and its,,,, it’s so cute ya’ll

[julieandthefandoms]

Housefull 2 MDZS/The Untamed AU

HELLO THERE MY LOVELIES! I’M MAKING A WILD TUMBLR REAPPEARANCE AND I BRING WITH ME SHINY NEW SHOWS I’VE WATCHED AND PERHAPS THE GREATEST AU I’VE EVER WRITTEN DOWN! 

Okay, so, I’m going to preface this by saying that I finally watched the Untamed over the past summer and now am slightly obsessed. I am also in the middle of reading the novel and watching the animation, so... that’s something.

Anyway, today, I decided that it would be a good idea to rewatch my favorite childhood film, a little Bollywood comedy titled Housefull 2. Upon rewatching this, I realized that the MDZS characters would fit really well into the convoluted mess of this plot and so I wrote a little bullet pointed AU idea thing. 

(I don’t think I’ll have the time to write this, so if anyone wants to use this concept, pleaseeee tag me/tell me about it. Also, if anything like this is already written, pleaseee tell me too, I need the crack content.) (I’m also desi, by the way, so I don’t know much about Chinese culture, so please tell me if anything is offensive or just plain inaccurate.)

So, without further ado, I’ll be presenting this Housefull 2 MDZS/The Untamed AU! 

-As per canon, JZX is emotionally constipated and couldn’t communicate until after his engagement with JYL got split up. Having made their sister cry, JC, WWX, and NHS (who gets roped into it) plan to crush JZX for hurting JYL. 

-They send WQ to crush JZX by breaking his heart but give her such vague instructions that she accidentally falls for Mianmain. 

NHS: “So... who’re we supposed to use to crush this Peacock. I mean, it can’t be any of us.” 

WWX: “I don’t know about y’all, but I’d be great at this mission.” *wiggles eyebrows*

JC *rolls eyebrows*: “I think you forgot that mom will have your head if you do something like this.”

JC: “Hey, you remember her from university?” 

WWX: “Who?” 

JC: “You know, *her*, the one with the needles who could murder anyone and get away with it” 

WWX: *laughing* “Holy hell, the Peacock doesn’t know what’s coming for him!” 

NHS: “And who might this mystery lady be?” He says, knowing exactly who this mystery lady is. 

JC and WWX: “Wen Qing.”

-All the while, JGS thinks that WQ and JZX are engaged because the Idiot Trio sent an envoy ahead that claimed WQ was a head disciple of Jiang and is a replacement for JYL. JGS has now set the engagement of WQ and JZX in August. 

-They find out about Mianmian/LQY and WQ too late, and now JC, WWX, and NHS send someone else, LWJ, to crush JZX’s heart. 

JC: “You can’t continue to do this, what happened to our deal?!” 

WQ: *death glares* “What our deal said was that I needed to woo someone vaguely in relation to the nickname “Peacock” and happened to be in Lanling as payback for JZX breaking your sister’s heart, I don’t think I’m the one who forgot our deal here.” 

JC: “And your first thought was that Mianmian/LQY was Peacock?!” 

WQ: “She’s pretty and a Jin, so…” 

Before there would be a throw down in this place, WWX interrupted: “Okay, WQ it’s alright that you feel for Mianmian/LQY, but who is supposed to help us teach JZX a lesson now?”

NHS: “I don’t know, but it could maybe be someone who’s already close to JZX.” 

JC: “That sounds like a horrible ide- Wait, that’s lowkey kinda genius. Do you remember him from university?” 

WWX: “Him?” 

JC: “Yeah, you know, him, the one who’s entire vocabulary was the syllable “Mn” and whom you pined after for years.” 

WWX *blushing like there’s no tomorrow*: “We can’t send him, he’ll probably send me off to do 50 handstands” 

JC: “Please, he’s do anything you ask him to” 

NHS: *flutters his fan while knowing to an extreme degree what’s going to happen*

-They send WWX as LWJ’s ‘driver’ for him to make sure the plan is on track, but it just ends in LZ/WY pining. JC is also sent there as a businessman since he needs to make sure JGS doesn’t suspect anything too suspicious. At the same time though, because JGS thinks WQ and JZX are engaged and since LWJ spends most of his free time talking to Mianmian/LQY about his hopeless pining, JGS starts to think that Mianmian/LQY and LWJ are to be engaged and plans another engagement. JGS is quick to inform LQR about this and now LQR thinks that his nephew is married to Mianmian/LQY and that they’re getting married in August. 

-At some point here, LXC is in Lanling to visit his bud Meng Yao and that’s when JC and LXC begin talking and stuff. (This can be platonic or romantic, I don’t have a personal preference). 

-Additionally, this is also when WWX and LWJ begin investigating the happenings of Lanling and discover the extent of an asshole JGS is. They'd probably be reported sporadically and NHS definitely sent this evidence to detectives XXC and Song Lan. 

-So far, no one has gotten to properly executing this plan, and JC & WWX are beginning to question things. Because things couldn’t possibly get worse, this is the moment when Madam Yu decides that it’d be a good idea to visit the Jins in order to remind them of their arranged marriage between JYL and JZX. So now, JC and WWX have to drag both LXC and JYL into this convoluted plot because otherwise everything would go horribly wrong. JC, WWX, NHS, JYL, LXC, WQ, LWJ, and Mianmian/LQY (WQ directly told the boys that if they don’t let Mianmian/LQY in on this, she’ll personally shove a needle where it hurts) are in this room together, attempting to processes the absolute mess that has occurred. (Poor JZX is still living obliviously, his father didn’t even tell him that he’s technically engaged to WQ now. JZX is just vibing in confusion and thinks he’s just being buds with LWJ because LWJ is horrible at flirting with anyone that’s not WWX so his job of breaking JZX is... not going well.) In the end, after being on the receiving end of many of JYL’s disappointed looks, JC and WWX convince her to help them with their plot just this once. (She wouldn’t tell anyone that she was secretly pleased, but hey, JYL kept her vengeance deep, deep down low and deserved to exercise it just this once.) 

-(it is important to note here that in this AU, Madame Yu doesn’t know what JZX looks like) 

-The plan would be that LXC would (reluctantly) pretend to be JZX in front of Madam Yu. Additionally, Madame Yu thinks the actual JZX is NHS (because JC panicked and that’s the first name he could come up with when Madam Yu asked who was that kid if LXC was JZX). This was to drive JGS off their tails as he still believed that WQ is engaged to JZX now. (He did email LQR about this as well who now thinks his nephews are now engaged to JYL and Mianmian/LQY, respectively, and are going to be married that August.) This is the part where WWX and LWJ finally start realizing that their feelings are mutual after a pep talk from Mianmian/LQY, LXC, and WQ (who’s pep talk sounded more like a shovel talk) for LWJ and from JC, NHS, and JYL for WWX. This is also when Mianmian/LQY and WQ grow closer and also decide that the rest of the group is useless and team up with NHS to knock some sense into JZX. Finally, JZX becomes less emotionally constipated and confesses to JYL, and because WWX, JYL, and JC think that an intervention from the scariest trio (WQ, Mianmian/LQY, NHS) is apt punishment, they call an end to their payback. (Also partially due to JZX having character growth as different characters grilled him throughout this AU). While this is great for our mains, it can only cause a bunch of shenanigans because of the way the parental figures interpret this situation. 

-JGS and Madame Jin think the pairings are: WQ/JZX, LQY/LWJ, LXC/JYL, WWX/NHS

-Madame Yu thinks the pairings are: JZX (except it’s LXC’s version of JZX)/JYL, LWJ/WWX, LQY/WQ, and (maybe?) JC/NHS (except it’s JZX who got confused for NHS)

-LQR thinks the pairings are: WQ/JZX, LQY/LWJ, and LXC/JYL

-Meanwhile, the pairings actually are: JZX/JYL, LWJ/WWX, LQY/WQ, and (maybe?) JC/LXC

-In conclusion, they’re all utterly fucked. Therefore, they have to bring everyone into this convoluted plot now, and finally JZX’s experiences over the past months make a little more sense to him. While discussing this mess they’ve created, WWX has an idea. 

WWX: “Okay, so, looking at the actual chart of who everyone thinks is who, the biggest disparity is between Madam Yu and JGS’s viewpoints, right? What if we just removed Madam Yu from the equation, make Madam Jin and Madam Yu have a falling out so that Madam Yu won’t be invited to the wedding so that we can focus on one of the false interpretations of all the relationships happening.” 

JC: “Madam Jin and Madam Yu have been the best of friends, how are we supposed to make them hate each other?” 

JYL: “I mean, we could stage something, a betrayal of some sort.” 

NHS: “I’m liking the way you think.”

-So through this plot and NHS’s concerning amount of connections, our group succeeds in breaking apart Madam Yu and Madam Jin’s friendship. JC and WWX also manage to worm their way into convincing the Jins to let JYL marry LXC to “spite Madam Yu’s wish of combining the Jiang and Jin families.” Because of JGS arranging and emailing parents throughout this fic, JYL, JZX, LXC, Mianmian/LQY, WQ, NHS, WWX, and LWJ are basically set to be married in August, except it’s to the wrong person! Soon enough, the wedding day arrives and the gang has a plan: they’ll dress the exact same and have the most elaborate and disruptive headpieces so that their faces are covered. 

(Note: Instead of NHS being part of the people getting married as it should be, JC is replaces him for the actual ceremony. Since the our marrige folks have their faces covered, nobody really notices that JC replaced NHS and is marrying LXC. This can be either because of a marriage of convenience to combine companies, or out of actual feelings. I’m cool with either interpretation in my head. Meanwhile, NHS is out in the crowd and People didn’t him because of his surprisingly useful camouflage fan.) 

-And so, the group sets NHS as their distraction while JC pretends to be NHS for the wedding ceremony. NHS basically knocks into the most expensive vase he can find so that most of the parental figures turn around, giving the group getting married the opportunity to switch places with one another until they’re in the right spot. So, a bunch of stuff happens, Madam Yu barges in to yell about how disgraceful it is for the Jins to go on with this marriage even though they broke the engagement in the first place and betrayed the trust of the Jiang corporation. Madam Yu also just, airs out JGS’s dirty laundry in a real badass way. 

-It’s all chaotic. Hell breaks loose. JGS goes batshit crazy and starts bringing our firearms. And so, basically, everyone ends up hiding behind pillars and stuff, though, eventually, after everyone has to run out of their hiding spot’s because Su She cannot shut the fuck up and keeps getting the other’s exposed, they all pile behind JGS in the world’s worst game combined game of Hide & Seek and Slither.io. It all finally ends when JGS gets arrested for a shit ton of crimes, and everything finally ends with a joint wedding between 8 people, except this time it’s with the right partners. 

So, yeah, that’s the AU that I wrote in a dazed craze in the past 2 hours. I hope it was at least partially understandable. I hope y’all have fun with it! Again, if you know of a fanfic that’s got a similar energy or want to write something similar, please tell me, I need more fanfiction. Also, that last scene is basically a direct copy of this scene from the movie Housefull 2. (I’m sorry though, I can’t find an english subbed version of the scene. :(

[arcanadotcom]

𝕄𝕒𝕚𝕟 𝟞 𝕒𝕤 𝔻𝕣𝕚𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕤

⊱ ────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────── ⊰

(Hi everyone! I came up with these when me and my sister went out for a quick little drive after feeling sick of staying home 😘✌🏻 my driving skills got rusty. smh!)

(This is my first time writing so i’m sorry if they’re all over the place!)

⊱ ────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────── ⊰

☆ Asra

owns an old used car from the 90’s that makes you feel nostalgic

it kinda reeks of weed sometimes...

has random shit laying around the back including a blanket because he totally takes naps in the car between his classes

he’s a pretty slow driver (goes 23mph slower than the rest of traffic)

but as soon as he sees a yellow light he FLOORS IT

this lil shit never uses his blinkers...smh!

giggles when people cuss him out. he don’t give a fuck!

will always give you the aux cord because he vibes with whatever. any tunes you like, he likes too 🥰

often misses freeway exits because he’s too busy chatting with you (“wha..? oh haha...anyways!”)

he easily gets distracted with anything really, so you have to remind him to keep his eyes on the road all the time (it’s cute at first...but after a while it’s just annoying)

always offers to pick you up but never asks for gas money (pretends to forget but he just doesn’t care because it’s you and he care you <3)

overall he’s a cautious driver, he just has very erratic speed patterns and takes really shitty turns

★ Julian

has had the same old black car for about 8 years (hates that it’s a stick shift, but he got over it already)

he’s actually quite a responsible driver. doesn’t break transit rules

never got his license though, but it doesn’t really matter (u gotta do what u gotta do)

he never arrives on time, always late (super apologetic about it)

loses parking tickets and misplaces his keys all. the damn. time. so you usually end up carrying them instead

makes a HUGE fuss over your safety. please wear your seatbelt or else he will go bonkers

but at the same time will not hesitate to be your designated getaway driver (if you need to gtfo of somewhere, he will get you the fuck out of there)

he actually has to use glasses because his vision sucks and can’t read road signs. he looks so cute

his car doesn’t have an aux cord outlet, so he has a bunch of cassettes of different kinds of music ( 70’s rock, jazz, some obscure russian band, etc ) lying around. he can’t drive without music!

has a bit of road rage; if he’s with you he’ll mutter curses under his breath trying to keep composure

but when alone he will absolutely yell at people, but his way of doing it is somewhat.....endearing?

will occasionally bump into things, but has never caused any serious damage

has never been pulled over and only gets tickets due to expired parking meters in downtown (somehow manages to talk his way out of them all the time)

he’s had enough experience around the city so he talks to you about places no one really knows about

he will literally take you a random phone booth that is actually the entrance to a secret undergroung café that looks like a place where academics would hang out and conspire new literary movements

☆ Nadia

doesn’t drive, she has a chauffeur

but if she did, she would own one of those beautiful, modern, pearly off-white cars.

it’s perfectly clean, well kept and smells great

no food or drinks allowed inside. periodt

you’d probably be afraid of ruining the seat when you first get in. she assures you everything is okay

totally drives around wearing a pair of gloves, headscarf, and gorgeous sunglasses to protect herself from the sun. also because she’s so classy <3

she excels at everything in driving

flawless breaking and parking, but thinks that going around looking for a spot is a waste of time so she’d rather just pay extra for valet parking

her only flaw is that she gets super impatient with how long it takes for a red light to turn green

and she almost never stops for pedestrians

would usually call you to see if you’d like to go shopping with her or just accompany her for some errands (pls go with her she adores having you around 🥺)

doesn’t have a problem with giving you rides, but she’s always busy with a tight schedule, so rides from her are very rare

probably feels bad about it so she’ll send you an uber black instead

★ Muriel

hates going out because it means he has to drive ://

he just wants to get from point A to point B without any issues really

you’ll notice that his car always has a layer of dirt on it since he never really uses it (he doesn’t bother to give it a little wipe before hoping in)

would probably own a normal, practical car that gets the job done and doesn’t need much maintenance. nothing too fancy

.......but i really want to see him with a jeep so i’ll make him own a jeep ☺️

highkey anxious and hyperaware of his surrounding drivers

he looks too tense and grips the wheel hard....tell him to relax pls

if someone tries to pass him, he will absolutely give them a Look through the rear mirror

not one to listen to music (will sometimes turn on the radio but slams it off eventually because it’s annoying)

used to be terribly afraid of highways

mumbles and grumbles about how dangerous and stupid it is to carelessly swerve lanes just to go fast and look cool

☆ Portia

drives all the time so she’s definitely the most experienced on the road

owns a cute convertible beetle that she takes care of and loves very much ❤️ (has so many cute ass bumper stickers)

will not hesitate to change the tires on her own if needed

music is always loud and top is down most of the time

she’s got anything you might need in her glove box (hand cream? tissues? sanitizer? pocket knife? she has it yes ma’am)

when she’s by herself, laws simply do not exist

lowkey a threat to society. get her off

she goes so fucking fast like she zooms💨 down the road (mainly because she’s always on a hurry)

basically breaks whatever law she wants but once she spots a cop, citizen of the year

ohh but if you and/or anyone else is with her, it’s a whole different story

she drives carefully and slows down, would hate to put your safety at risk (same as julian)

road trips with her are THE BEST. going on drives with her always feel like a scene from a coming of age film 💕✨🧚‍♀️

★ Lucio

not necessarily an irresponsible driver, he’s just reckless and obnoxious

owns a restored, fancy vintage car that’s either red or white (his license plate is personalized, bedazzled and borderline opulent). genuinely proud of it

revs the engine just to piss people off

is always willing and able to be there for you if you need him

when he’s there to pick you up, he will absolutely make a scene for you to notice him. simply giving you a call is out of the equation!

the backseats are full of white hair...you know he brings his adored babies everywhere he goes

blasts music at an ASTRONOMICAL VOLUME and he just sits there like 🤪✌🏻🎶🕺🏼

but believe it or not, his music taste is actually really good....it slaps. so it’s okay

likes to drive fast (“oh you want to see some speed? i’ll show you some real speed”)

cannot stand traffic and slow drivers make him go batshit crazy

honks at everyone for everything but gets offended if they honk back >:(

you’ll still see him at the red light despite him doing 84 lane changes

tells you he LOVES the attention he gets because of the car, but then feels super self conscious if people stare too much or too long......although he will never admit it

this guy loves to gossip with you and likes to make fun of random pedestrians... you gotta admit he makes you snicker quite a bit. who am i kidding he’s funny as fuck of course you’re gonna laugh

doesn’t slow down for speed bumps, will blow quick kisses at the little fake cameras on top of the traffic lights, and has definitely scratched the lower sides of his car on curves more than once (*frantic wheel stirring* “not my fault not my fault!!”)

this man’s biggest struggle is parking. he cannot park for shit (secretly embarrassed about it)

it takes FOREVER for him to parallel park. might as well snooze while he’s at it

genuinely tries his best, going as far as to do the “arm behind the seat to look back” move (he wants to impress you dammit!!), but gets frustrated and gives up

so most of the time he ends up taking two spots despite trying so hard not to

gets tickets all the time (“now they’re ganging up against me! and for what?? what the fuck did i do!!”)

cannot comprehend street signs (“lucio you will get a $650 fine” “darling wdym?? it costs $650 to park here”)

going on a drive with him can be stressful and a bit crazy, but it’s always entertaining and you get the best stories to tell

[lovelyirony]

strawberries & cigarettes by troye whatshisface but it's winteriron (idk if this is a prompt or just a statement you can take it as either)

Bucky doesn’t like the fact that he’s going to a stupid fucking private school. He doesn’t like that this is his mother’s sacrifice, that she stays up late with the bills and works another job so that he can go there and make a living. 

He doesn’t even know what he wants to do in life, that’s the thing. Mom thinks that he’s going to be a really good businessman and she doesn’t know that he smokes outside his window and sometimes just doesn’t retain any sort of information at school because he has to be good. 

“I sacrifice so much for you,” she tells him one night. “You need to make a good living for yourself. Promise me.” 

And he does. Hell if he knows how he’s going to keep it, but that’s the promise. 

- 

The one kid that he absolutely hates at school is Tony Stark. Born with a silver spoon in his mouth and a whole silverware drawer at the ready in case he doesn’t like the spoon. 

Tony’s kind of wealth is the kind that is so astronomically high that at some point you have to wonder what it means to him. Because it doesn’t seem to mean anything. 

He shows up in the shittiest sneakers he’s ever seen, held together with tape and drawn on by someone else. His hair is never styled, his uniform is never washed, and yet he just exudes that kind of confidence that comes with knowing that your life is better than anyone else’s, kind of. 

He’s also an ass in class. Correcting teachers, derailing the topic, and acting like it all is beneath him. 

They say he’s a genius, going to take over his father’s company. He has his future set in stone, and so there’s nothing else for him to learn. Bucky’s not really sure if he’s a genius or not, because he’s pretty sure a genius could figure out when to leave shit alone. 

Everyone at St. Anthony’s knows that Bucky is an individual who does well on his own. At most, you say hello and move on. He doesn’t talk to anyone, he makes sure he doesn’t look like he talks to anyone, and he’s said multiple times that he doesn’t want to talk to anyone. 

Tony Stark, however, talks. Doesn’t matter what the subject is, he talks. 

Bucky gets nicknames. Because of his...frigid demeanor, this means that Tony calls him shit like “Ice Pop,” “Icicle,” “Mr. Freeze,” and any other nickname that’s applicable to cold. 

“Hey Snowball,” Tony says in class. “You finished with your presentation for English class? Mine still sucks, although I’m sure it’ll be better than Hammer’s.” 

“That’s not saying a lot,” Bucky mutters. “At all. Now shut up. It’s class.” 

“We all know it’s going to be boring,” Tony says. “Sitwell has the personality of a tumbleweed, and you’re so much more interesting to talk to.” 

Bucky doesn’t respond to that. 

“Ah, so we’re at the no-talking stage, darling. I’ll make it up to you. Ice cream? Dinner? Elaborate cruise trip in summer?” 

Bucky rolls his eyes, and Tony quiets for roll call, but says one last comment. 

“I think I’m going to do the presentation in Comic Sans. Thoughts?” 

“I wish you didn’t have thoughts, then maybe you’d leave me alone.” 

Tony laughs. 

“You’re cute, Barnes. Cute. You know I don’t leave anyone alone.” 

- 

There’s a bad day. Bucky gets those sometimes. Every day of his life is a bad day, almost, but this one? The absolute worst. 

He had nightmares, barely got any sleep, and found out that his little sister used up the last of his shampoo, so he had to use his mom’s and now he smells like “Strawberry Paradise.” 

He hates the day, and it’s not even eight o’clock yet. 

Tony Stark, of course, makes it worse. He talks incessantly about something related to robotics or the weather or music or whatever, and Bucky just sees red. 

"Can you shut up for one fucking second of your life?” he hisses at him. “Oh my fucking god, it doesn’t matter. Nothing you say matters at all to me.” 

- 

Tony’s heard a lot of shit like that. Like, a lot. Probably worse. 

But for some reason, it’s hurting more coming from Bucky Barnes. 

Tony doesn’t shut up. He knows that. Everyone knows that. He has legitimately given people headaches. His dad has timed his talking and limited him to about two minutes. It would’ve been even less, but at family therapy they’re trying to work on “empathy for others.” 

(A crock of bullshit, because Tony’s fairly sure his dad doesn’t know what that is.) 

Bucky’s...he’s different. Sure, he hates Tony. Everyone does, and to be completely frank, Tony likes it that way. You know where you stand, how you can be interpreted if people only feel one thing about you. 

But Bucky is perhaps the only interesting person Tony knows at this hellhole of a school. He works really hard on his assignments, has more to work on than other kids. He looks frustrated at math equations, but stays and pores over textbooks after school. 

He brings a peanut butter and jelly sandwich every single day. Tony thinks the last time he had one was at a birthday party when he was twelve, and even then it wasn’t really a sandwich but more of a deconstructed concept thing that probably cost two hundred bucks a plate. 

- 

Now that Tony’s ruminating on it, it’s probably because no one has exactly told him that what he says doesn’t matter. They just say they don’t wanna hear about it. The two concepts are honestly very different. Tony has a sneaking suspicion that he is going to go into a tailspin about this on a Thursday night at two in the morning. 

Ha. On a Thursday night at two in the morning. What odd phrasing that is, why is that so weird? It’s night, but it’s morning and you’re supposed to be asleep but morning is a wake-up time, so--

Oh, there’s the meaning. 

Why would you discuss a night and a morning? Why does it matter? On a Thursday? 

Tony wonders how much shit he’s said that just ultimately doesn’t matter. 

This gets him thinking about how much nothing in his life matters. Don’t get him wrong, he knew it. 

Knew it in the way everyone tells him he’ll be the next Howard Stark. 

Knows it in the way that his own father isn’t exactly all too fond of him and Tony has a problem looking at anything with dear old Captain America because of comparisons that his father makes and honestly he probably almost named Tony “Steve.” 

Could you imagine him having the name of Steve? God, he’d barf. 

- 

For some reason, this is the worst he’s ever felt. Sure his father hates him and his mother could be considered an absentee at best, but what gets him to cry into his pillow and rethink his entire existence is a guy who has eye circles darker than anyone else’s and thinks that wearing any bright color is “branching out into alternative fashion.” 

God, he wishes he had a break. 

Nothing you say matters to me. 

This is the phrase that gets him. Tony is pretty sure it’s because it’s what everyone thinks. 

- 

Ever since then, Tony doesn’t talk to Bucky. Ever. 

And that’s...that’s weird to Bucky. It was routine. Tony annoys him, he snaps a bit, and then it starts all over. 

Tony looks at him, sometimes. As if he’s some sort of impossible problem he can’t figure out. 

When Bucky actually thinks about it, Tony hasn’t really talked to anyone. He’s still himself, which is irritating, but he’s not talking about anything and everything and filling up space. 

It’s...odd. 

He feels a little bit bad because what he said was super shitty and he shouldn’t have said it, but now it’s too late to just kind of awkwardly apologize, and Bucky’s already shit at apologizing anyway. 

- 

Summer arrives with a bang. School is let out ,and in comes the ninety-degree-days that melt your damn head off. Bucky’s apartment doesn’t have AC, so their windows are permanently open and fans are blasting as they swear they’re melting. 

Bucky needs a job. Preferably one with air conditioning. 

He finds one as a driver. Rich people hate taxis, it’s a huge health hazard or whatever they wanna say. He’s not gonna ask. But a nice man named Edwin hands him keys to a damn Cadillac and tells him not to drive too close to the other cars and be careful, because he wasn’t supposed to start the job quite yet, but “something came up.” 

- 

Tony fucking Stark. That’s who he’s fucking driving. 

“Oh my god,” Bucky groans. He sees Tony get into the car. 

“Hey, Jarvis told me I had a new driver, it’s really nice to--oh my fucking god.” 

“Where are you driving to.” 

“Queens.” 

“Queens, seriously?” 

Queens isn’t the type of place for someone like Stark to go to. He’s supposed to say Saks Fifth Avenue or Gucci or wherever the hell rich people go when they’re not vacationing in Europe or elsewhere. Not Queens. Especially not Queens. 

“It doesn’t matter where I’m going so long as you know where to drive,” Tony says. 

“Sheesh. Okay.” 

The rest of the drive is silent. It’s not like Bucky can do small-talk. Jesus, he’d rather take his other arm off than do that. 

And Tony, obviously, is not going to say anything. Not after hearing that stellar set of remarks from school. 

It’s a school. There are kids out front, who practically swarm the vehicle. 

“Should I be concerned?” 

“No, they do this every week. If you drive the car back home, Jarvis will explain more. You were kind of an ‘on the spot’ hire for us.” 

“Got it.” 

- 

Jarvis is a kindly old man who Bucky would trust with his Social Security number. 

He is also extremely loyal to Tony, at least. 

“He helps out with some after-school program at one of the local schools,” Jarvis says, smiling softly. “Has a spot in his heart for the children.” 

“What’s he do?” 

“Oh, helps them with schoolwork. I think he does some improvement type jobs around there, but he won’t let us know. Secretive, that one.” 

Bucky sips his tea and doesn’t say anything about how Tony once told everyone in the class that he was wearing neon yellow boxers and they were the comfiest damn boxers he had. It’s just not pertinent to this conversation. 

“You know him, Mr. Barnes?” 

“Um, yeah. We go to school together. I’ve seen him around.” 

“He’s a good student. Always getting straight A’s. Doesn’t always seem like it, but he listens well. Just has a different method.” 

“That’s for sure.” 

- 

For the next two weeks, it’s silence. Always. Bucky will turn on the radio and that’s it. The only thing that Tony has said is to “please change the channel to literally anything” when Belinda Carlisle’s infamously terrible “Heaven is a Place on Earth” came on. 

And that’s it. Seriously. 

When it is two weeks and four days, Bucky can’t take it anymore. 

“Look. I have this job for at least two more months. I’m talking to you. So tell me what you’re doing today.” 

“Teaching.” 

“Wow, way to be descriptive,” Bucky says sarcastically. 

Tony knows he shouldn’t throw it back in his face. But honestly, truly, this is pissing him off. 

“Oh I’m sorry, does what I say matter to you now? Is that what this is?” 

“Oh come on. That was months ago.” 

"Not the point!” Tony says. “I’m getting out now. Feel free to pick me up or not. I don’t give a fuck. But don’t you pretend for a damn minute that you give a shit about my reaction since you’ve already made your point.” 

The car door is slammed. 

Bucky is in somewhat of a pickle. 

- 

Sam tells him that he’s, quote, “the stupidest motherfucker on the planet.” 

And then hangs up. 

thank you for being such a good friend sam. really appreciate it. 

aw look at the little bitch boy mad because i called him stupid. shut up i’m on a date and don’t care once about you. at all. 

i think what i really like about our friendship is how open and empathetic you are to my feelings 

do you know how unattractive you are? on a scale of one to ten? prussia.  

you can’t count now? 

no i can count i’m just saying you shouldn’t exist. 

god i hate you. i’ll talk to you next month

(Yes, they have a time limit to texts. Once a month. And Bucky used his to try to get advice like an idiot. He should’ve just asked Steve. Steve probably would’ve sent him money for a milkshake.) 

- 

Sharon, upon reading his text, sends him back one message: 

so i read this but i’m not emotionally invested. can u make a playlist and send it to me? 

oh my god. you have got to be kidding me. 

i’m not. i told you that u need to b more creative in life. b spontaneous!!! 

He leaves her on read after that. 

- 

Bucky has to figure out how to apologize. Genuinely. Because nothing’s worse than having an apology made but knowing that the person isn’t really meaning it, they’re only saying it to make people more comfortable. 

(He wonders how many times someone’s apologized to Tony because of this reason.) 

He’s not exactly sure how to go about apologizing. 

But he figures it’s sooner rather than later, so he takes the subway to Manhattan and then gets a bike (that’s not exactly his, but he’s bringing it back) and starts the trek to the mansion. It’s a good and solid thirty minute bike ride. 

- 

Tony is having a rather uncomfortable family birthday dinner. Howard’s, to be specific. He’s not sure why they didn’t just go out, but maybe his father is tired of acting like a happy family in public. God knows Tony is. 

(“What’s your favorite thing about your son?” An interviewer had asked cheerily, blush lipstick stretching widely as she smiled. 

“Well, it’s certainly not his sense of style,” Howard had joked. 

He didn’t know what his favorite thing about his son was. He couldn’t answer the fucking question.) 

Jarvis mentions that “Sir Anthony” has a visitor at the door. 

“Are you serious, kid?” Howard says, hissing. “You told someone to come over? During a family event?” 

"No, of course not,” Tony says hurriedly. He doesn’t have anyone over to the house period. Too much risk, not enough payoff. There was also the fact that the house is basically like a mausoleum because both of his parents would rather be caught dead than spend time in one another’s company anymore. 

“I’ll go...I’ll go check who it is.” 

- 

Bucky. Fucking. Barnes. 

“What are you doing here?” Tony hisses. 

“I came to apologize.” 

“For what?” 

“For telling you that your words don’t matter?” Bucky says, more of a question. “I don’t know what else I would apologize for. Maybe for mean-mugging you. I don’t know.” 

“Why?” Tony asks, tiredly. “Why would you apologize for that?” 

“Because it’s obviously affecting you and also I know I was in the wrong? That’s why people apologize?” Bucky answers. “What I did was shitty. What you say matters, I was just having a shitty day and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. It obviously stuck with you a lot longer than I thought it would. So now I’m apologizing.” 

No one besides Jarvis has ever apologized to Tony. Ever. Not in a genuine way. 

“Did you...did you bike here? You have a bike?” 

“What? No.” 

“You walked here?” Tony asks, incredulous. 

“Of course not, then I’d be arriving, like, an hour later. No, the bike isn’t mine.” 

“Who’s is it?” 

“I don’t know, some hipster’s from Brooklyn.” 

“You stole a bike?” 

“The circumstances weren’t ideal, but I don’t have a car to drive to your freakishly large house,” Bucky said bluntly. 

Tony grins. 

“Well then, Buckster, welcome. Let me give you a ride home.” 

He pokes his head into the dining room, where the plates are already being cleared. 

“Hey, I gotta give my friend a ride home. Car broke down a couple miles from here.” 

“Why don’t you just fix it?” Howard asks. “You’re a Stark.” 

“A Stark who would need to order a part for a 1980 Ford Crown Victoria.” 

“Tell him to get a better car.” 

“Sure, pops.” 

“Don’t call me that.” 

“Alright, Dear Father of Mine.” 

“Just go, damn it!” 

- 

Bucky is led to a garage full of luxury cars that probably cost more than his whole block put together. 

“Which one you wanna go in?” 

“Am I allowed in one of these? Holy fuck these are nice.” 

Tony grins. 

“Best part about having a car is driving it. Choose one.” 

Bucky chooses a bright red car, a smooth Cadillac. 

“Holy hell, this is cool.” 

Tony drives. 

He’s a good driver once you get past the fact that you will fear for your life for at least twenty minutes. He is also notoriously terrible in the city traffic, yelling at drivers and pedestrians alike. 

“How are you still alive with the way you drive?” Bucky asks. 

“We made it, didn’t we?” Tony asks, grinning. “Now go return your bike and don’t try to walk to my house again.” 

“See you tomorrow?” 

“Naturally.” 

- 

Tony talks a lot. But Bucky finds himself listening. It still takes a while, but he talks. 

Tony really is smart. His mind just works quickly, and that’s why at school he never really seems to absorb anything. 

Bucky tells him about his neighborhood and how much he hates his neighbor because she keeps blasting music at one in the morning. 

“So? Blast it in the morning,” Tony says. “That’s what I’d do.” 

“Ma would say no.” 

“Then don’t tell her!” 

- 

When it all changes, it’s when Bucky picks him up from a gala. He gets the following text: 

pls come pick me up!! please! i’m begging! 

It’s eleven at night, but Bucky sighs and goes to get the car and goes to pick him up. 

Tony’s swaying outside. Bucky gets out, getting a pack of Marlboro out of his jacket. 

“Shouldn’t smoke,” Tony says. 

“You drunk?” 

“No, can’t risk it when Howard and Maria aren’t here--mom and dad.” 

He almost never calls his parents mom and dad. Ever. Only in public settings. 

Bucky lights up anyway. Tony stares at the orange embers flaring up. 

“Why did you need a ride?” 

“Kind of avoiding an old...enemy. Slash ex-boyfriend.” 

“The worst kind of enemy to have. He trying to talk to you?” 

“It’s been an all-night event, so--” 

The doors burst open. 

Out walks the sleaziest guy that Bucky’s ever seen. His suit is garishly designer, the kind that borders on being confused for a tacky suit that you find in a thrift store for two dollars total. 

“Tony, baby! Where have you been? I wanted to discuss things with you...in private.” 

He gives Bucky a once-over. 

“And who are you, catering?” 

Bucky immediately wants to clock this guy in the damn mouth. 

“Actually this is James, my boyfriend,” Tony says, snaking his arm around Bucky’s waist. 

At this point, he’ll just have to go with it. It’s not the worst thing that’s happened. 

“And who are you?” Bucky asks. “Sweetheart, you never mentioned you knew someone with such a...unique take on style.” 

“I’m Ty, an old and close friend,” he says. He sticks his hand out. Bucky makes him switch hands by holding out his metal hand. 

“Nice to see you,” he says. “But unfortunately, I have to take my guy back home. Plans and all that, you know how it is.” 

“Bye Ty!” Tony says. 

Bucky throws an arm around Tony’s shoulders, bringing him close. A ghost of a kiss to the forehead completes the lie, and Bucky looks back towards Ty, who has his eyes narrowed. 

He flips him off with his right hand. (It’s satisfying.) 

“Thank you so much for going along with that,” Tony says, looking up. 

The cigarette is still in his mouth. He takes a drag, letting embers fall down and disintegrate into the pavement. 

“He seemed like a shitty kind of person.” 

“Not the best of people, that’s for sure,” Tony mutters. “You wanna go get ice cream?” 

“Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that.” 

- 

Getting late night ice cream is like going into a different dimension. Bucky’s not sure if it’s the overbearing, fluorescent white light that gets to him, but Tony seems tired. At ease, but tired. 

He gets strawberry ice cream, and Bucky gets chocolate. 

They sit and eat for a moment. 

“Why do you go to St. Anthony’s?” Tony asks. “It’s clear you hate it.” 

“You don’t?” 

“Not the worst school I’ve been sent to.” 

“You don’t want to be there either?” 

“There are a lot of places I don’t want to be, but this isn’t about me, I’m asking about you. You wanna share with the class or get a hall pass?” 

Bucky snorts. 

“Geez, okay. My mom really wants a good education for me.” 

"She know that you don’t know what to do?” 

“And how do you figure that?” Bucky asks, eyebrow raised. 

“You wouldn’t be working as a chauffeur for the rich kid if you knew what you were working towards,” Tony says with a shrug. “Seen it happen before. Usually I don’t know who they are, but you figure out commonalities pretty quickly.” 

That makes too much sense. 

“I have no fucking clue how I’m living my life and my mom wants me to become a businessman.” 

“You wanna do that?” 

“Do I look like the kind of guy that wants to wear a suit?” 

“You look like you’d look good in a suit, not that you’d wear one.” 

Bucky laughs. Takes a bite of ice cream, and readjusts the pack of cigarettes in his pocket. 

- 

Over the summer, he and Tony get closer. They take walks in the park and Tony drags him into overpriced shops to look at clothes that are the ugliest goddamn things they’ve ever seen. 

At some point, they hold hands and discuss secrets of the world of theirs that is unique to them. 

Bucky kisses him one night while they’re just leaving perhaps the worst restaurant in the entire state of New York and god Tony didn’t think he’d ever not mind being wrapped up in fake-strawberry scented hair and cigarette smoke clinging to clothing, but he doesn’t mind it. 

The whole summer, they’re inseparable. Tony chatters in the front seat of the car, now, and Bucky smiles a little bit more. 

They walk in parks together and show each other funny little jokes and make inside understandings and look at sunsets and sunrises and get coffee and look at each other across the room. 

- 

It’s love, honest and true. But it’s not love like the never-ending kind. The thing about love is that it is not included in any toolbox, physical or mental. There is one thing that everyone knows regardless of whether it is admitted or not: 

Love does not solve everything. It does not fix everything. And one should never rely on it to do anything but exist and work through your person to the best of its ability. 

- 

Howard comes back from a business trip. Sees Tony kiss Bucky goodbye, and that is that. 

You can’t something like that as a son. It just...it won’t work for business. 

Tony is sent to a boarding school upstate. Stricter guidelines, more controlling. 

Bucky only hears one thing from Tony: 

I’m sorry. 

And he doesn’t believe it. 

When you’re young, you think love is invincible. You think it survives through everything if you really want it to. 

Love doesn’t do that. 

Bucky writes letters, calls Jarvis, and mourns the loss of young love. He smokes a little bit more, leaves it clinging to his skin as a reminder that Tony would always wrinkle his nose in that adorable way, but it served to show Bucky that he had a bad habit. 

He was in the middle of quitting. 

His mother notices it. 

Tells him that he needs to get his own shampoo. 

“You can’t just use mine all the time,” she says playfully. 

He remembers Tony’s hands gently threading through his hair in disbelief as Bucky kissed the living hell out of him. 

Now there’s barely any trace. 

He stops in his tracks when he sees an old coffee cup of Tony’s in his kitchen cabinet. 

“When did you get this one?” Becca asks. She’s drinking out of it. He remembers Tony smiling over it at their little coffee shop that was hidden away. “I love it. It’s so cute.” 

“From a thrift store,” Bucky says. “You can have it.” 

“Really? Thanks!” 

- 

Tony pauses at the smell of cigarette smoke. Remembers blue eyes blazing along with orange embers, smoke curling around long hair and long summer nights. 

His roommate at this new school asks if he smokes, if he can get him a pack. 

“Uh, no. Just used to know someone who did.” 

“You think they could get me a pack?” 

“They don’t go here.” 

“You can’t call them?” 

Tony doesn’t respond. 

You can’t call them? 

He’s almost texted him about twenty times. Called him about thirty. 

He knows the number by heart. 

But he knows that Howard made him get a new phone, and now the memories are fading. He wishes he still had the pictures. 

- 

Love does not always last. Sometimes it is not meant to. Tony tries to tell himself that as he wakes up with tears streaming down his cheeks. 

You always wish it would. 

[shinylugers]

tw; n*zi mention and stuff. if you don’t like it, don’t read???

Let’s talk about Rockfort and Steve. Looking back on a few consistent files and timeline of the game, it could have been about a year’s worth of time which would have had Steve taken from his home by Umbrella when he was about sixteen. He would have served his days out in the detention center with other inmates as well. That’s a long fucking time for someone underage to be serving with a bunch of possibly dangerous male-only criminals. I use the term ‘criminals’ actually lightly, due to the nature of Steve’s imprisonment. He was simply in the wrong place, the wrong time, and was involved. He knew too much.

It’s any wonder why he was allowed to keep his hair while the other prisoners were shaved down. Maybe it’s because of his age they found some modicum of mercy.

More deliberation forces me to think that Alfred, in his SENSITIVE STATE of mind, might have had more torturous plans in store for someone with vigor and youth. Naturally, the anatomist could have some sphere of influence too - as a ‘man’ of science and distinguished taste (ie; torture). There could have been differentiated experiments forced on a person Steve’s age, or there could have been a form of conditioning involved that resulted in different turnabouts.

The actual implications that Steve got off easy compared to the rest of the prisoners sits with the proof that he retains his hair, while the other zombie inmates you see have their heads shaved. Most look malnourished. They all bear the same uniforms while Steve manages to cloth himself with mildly different materials. Vest, a nice cotton shirt, camo pants and combat boots. Its also possible he managed to snag these during his escape, but it seems highly unlikely.

Sidenote, he wears these... which are essentially bondage cuffs? These aren’t found on any other inmate in the game, zombie or not. Both versions (DSC and CV). It seems to be capable of binding one’s arms behind their back.

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

The little differences didn’t leave Steve without some wear and tear of his own. Burnside was still tagged with both a numerical collar and a ‘branding’ of a barcode by the facility’s militia -- (or in the worst case scenario, Alfred himself). Much like N*zi concentration camps, this is a form of perma identification. ( NOTE: DSC is the only version of Steve with a branding. But both have the same collar and issued vest with the tagged uniform. )

[ please defer to myrmecitis’ post found here for a better overview of rockfort and viral analysis ]

Moving along ... one of the interesting files that you find in the barracks is from a prisoner that mentions another cellmate called “Bob”. Suspicions point to it having belonged to Steve Burnside. Code Veronica doesn’t give a huge amount of insight on where he’s placed beforehand, alas, it seems DSC does a better job at this despite removing other key components of the lore.

You find out that room with the security computer and tables with a separate bunk-bed room is where Steve was kept and escaped essentially right after the explosion happened on the island.

However, in the original game there is no computer, and where it was in DSC, there is a second level where another set of tables magazines, an old tv, and some uneaten food sit. Interestingly enough, you also find a small kitchenette area where Claire states that the soup is still warm; indicative that the outbreak must have rapidly infected those still within the detention center.

The Prisoner's Diary is found in the prison building bedroom on the left-hand side bunk bed from the door.

May 13th This room stinks of death. Based upon the information I've found, I believe that I'm far south of the equator. Lucky for me that Bob in the bunk below me, is one of those interesting types of guys...

May 16th Today Bob told some crazy story of why he was put this place with me. Bob said that he used to be an attendant to the head of this place. This "boss" named Alfred supposedly placed him in here because of a tiny little mistake.

What does that mean? What's going to happen to me?

May 20th Without warning, a group of military men took Bob to the building behind the guillotine stand. At midnight, I'll sneak out of here to see him.

I've been hearing that anyone taken to that building never comes back. On top of that,there are these REALLY large plastic bags constantly being removed from that place. I'd better pray for Bob...

May 21st I was wrong. I shouldn't have gone there. What is going on in there?! All I could hear was some insanely creepy laughter and the sound of Bob screaming! I don't know what to do. I can't stop thinking about it...

Is that going to happen to me?! I can't let it... I just can't...

May 27th Since my last entry, all of my fellow inmates have been taken to that building! I know that I am next... It's obvious that we were all here to be used as Alfred's guinea pigs. There's no way out! What am I going to do?!...

It makes a little more sense on how and why Steve is able to shoot a gun, knows how to fly a goddamn plane, and understand military coordinates to find the basic location of their island versus Australia, where they eventually aim to hit in the escape measure at the ripe age of seventeen.

He had help from good ol’ Bob and probably some of the other inmates. Rockfort was both a military training facility and later a camp that held Umbrella’s transgressors captive. It wouldn’t be a shot in the dark how many knew about planes, guns, and the like. A gear-head isn’t hard to find in those ranks.

Striked out above was what I initially believed -- but if you’re a person who thinks that some portions of the written novels are canon, you’re like me. Let’s be real then. According to Steve, he’s been in the cockpit several times of private planes. It’s also stated by Steve that his father was a private truck driver that distributed/brought Umbrella’s products to their labs. For the longest time I believed he was a techy and was datamining information, but this works too.

But ari-- how the hell did Steve manage to be avoid infection with the air-borne T-virus strain? Yet again, I tell you to reach out to myrmecitis’s post regarding the virus. But the best explanation that sits in the lore is that Steve had a natural immunity, as do the STARS members. Certain chemical and DNA reactions issue different results and it’s possible that Steve was immune to that particular strain. Herd immunity or the game of chance.

However, we know for a fact that directly implementing a higher potent virus such as T-alexia in an injection results in something far different for our unfortunate Steve. I’ve got more brewing but that’s for another time.

[asterekmess]

1-2 If you know what they think some of those traits/mannerisms are, I’m actually curious // Quoting Scott/Posey stans’ own words: “Scott has waaaaay more traits that are seen as female than Stiles does. Scott is the one who provides the emotional labor for the characters surrounding him. Scott pretty much is the Mom figure in the pack. His strengths go not towards the physical, but to mental strength, diplomacy and healing. All of which are things that are generally pushed towards female love

2-2 interests. Scott is the one who makes Allison embrace herself as a girl, instead of letting her put herself down for it. In big part by making it clear he does those ‘girly’ things too. And he’s the one who proudly accepts the monniker of the hot girl.” They also claim that Scott McCall is totes bisexual and queer coded and that “he demonstrates direct emotional concern, flirts sexually, and experiences intimacy with men on multiple occasions” throughout the series

(You’re so good to me, numbering these. <3 <3)

I have no clue what you’re quoting, but I take issues with like...all of it.

At what fucking point does anyone in the show go to Scott when they’re upset and get comforted? Isaac goes to scott for advice that one time, but it’s only because Scott’s the only werewolf he knows that isn’t running away or Derek. or peter, I guess. How about when Erica is trying to explain to him why she took the bite and he tells her he doesn’t care? Or when Boyd is trying to explain that he’s lonely so he took the bite and he says that’s a bad reason? How about when Derek tells Scot that his entire family was burned to death by the Argents and Scott says “They must’ve had a reason?” Oh, OH, is it maybe when Stiles tries to tell Scott he’s scared he’ll be the next virgin sacrifice, and Scott laughs at him? Or maybe it’s when Stiles tells Scott that he thinks he had something to do with the bomb, and begs his best friend to believe him, and Scott refuses? Is it when Allison is trying to break up with him and he refuses to listen  or accept it and insists they’ll get back together, both guilting her and implying that he’s not going to move on and he’s going to bother her about it in the future? Was it when he found out a man who’d been brutally attacked happened to die in a hospital and he ran to Derek’s house to accuse him of being the one to kill both the driver and Derek’s own fucking sister whom he’d tried to bury on their property? OH. is it when he tells Derek he’s going to leave him strung to be electrocuted and beaten unless he agrees to save Scott’s girlfriend? Is it when he lies to Allison (omission is still lying) about why her mother died and lets Derek take the fall? Is it when he duct-tapes Liam to a fucking bathtub? Tell me, is Scott the one who tries to comfort Lydia when she’s freaking out about losing her mind to Peter’s spell? Is it Scott that she goes to and sits in the bedroom of because she’s hoping to talk to someone? Is it Scott who sits in a van with Jackson and has to explain to him that he’s been murdering people and last night he tried to kill his best friend? Is Scott the one who goes to Derek after Boyd dies? Is Scott the one Allison breaks down with in the elevator? Or the one she cries with after her mother dies? WHO THE FUCK do they think sits next to Scott every time he complains about not getting to be with Allison, about not getting to be normal. About how Derek is So MeAn. Who listens to him ramble about having sex with Allison? Who does he call when he bites Liam? Who does the research to tie him up on full moons because he can’t do anything himself? Who teaches him that love gives him control instead of making him weak? Who takes him out to talk about/get drunk after his breakup? Who TELLS him he’s the hot girl because they’re encouraging him to ask someone out that he likes and get over his ex? Who STEPS INTO FUCKING GASOLINE FOR HIM? I”M GONNA SCREAM. Who actually goes to Derek after Boyd’s death? Who teaches Malia what FEELINGS are? Who actually tries to talk to Lydia? Who actually talks to Jackson? WHO DRESSES Jackson? Who defends Derek from the Argents? Who comforts and supports Lydia while she tries to get a handle on her banshee powers? Who is DEREK’S ANCHOR? If someone wants to tell me that telling Liam, the kid he bit, that he isn’t a monster and hugging his best friend while Stiles sits outside an MRI machine and waits to find out if he’s gonna die like his mom did counts as being Emotional Labor for everyone, they can fucking bite me.

ALSO. Allison has no issues with being a girl? Does anyone see her rejecting skirts or dresses or jewelry or makeup? Does anyone see her saying “I can’t do that I’m a girl?” Nobody remembers her telling her mom that she should get to be strong AND go to prom? Just because she says “I freaked out like a total girl” and you say “I’d probably cry and freak out like a total girly girl” doesn’t mean you helped her accept that “it’s okay” for her to be a girl. It doesn’t make you feminine. It means you emphasized the whole fucking issue by playing along with the narrative that ‘girly girls’ are weak. In fact, it makes you even more of a dick because you equated crying with weakness. Doesn’t matter if you said you’d probably do it too. Fuck you.

Mental strength? Like saying the Risk versus Reward wasn’t worth it to retrieve Erica and Boyd (they didn’t know about Cora yet) from CAPTIVITY? Like not recognizing the scent of a werewolf that just stepped in the fucking elevator with you? Diplomacy like asking sweet little Matt if he’s okay after his bump on the head? Diplomacy like working with serial killers not once, not twice, but over and over?

Healing like sticking your claws in someone’s neck without their permission when everyone is telling you not to? Healing like holding someone’s mouth open and forcing them to bite the father of the woman who raped them?

A straight boy saying “I’m the hot girl” in reference to possibly dating/having sex with other girls, IS NOT a sign of being queer. It’s a sign of someone who watches lesbian porn. (I’m being fucking facetious.)

Please please tell me when Scott flirts sexually with a guy. Tell me. Someone. And it can’t be one of those incredibly awkward scenes where he gets uncomfortable because he thinks someone else is flirting with him. *Spongebob face* “Are we still talking about Danny’s lacrosse equipment?” That’s just “dude, I’m not into guys, stop staring at me.” straight male narcissism.

[365days365movies]

February 2, 2021: Pretty Woman (1990)

ALL RISE FOR THE KING AND QUEEN OF ROMANCIA!

First, we bow to the Actor King of Romancia, Richard Gere. Gere is a DYNAMO of romantic movies, having starred in The Second Best Exotic Marigold Hotel, American Gigolo, An Officer and a Gentleman, Sommersby, Autumn in New York, Chicago, Shall We Dance?, Runaway Bride, and of course, Pretty Woman. He was crowned king of this fictionation both because of his film prowess, and because DUDE HAS DATED A LOT OF FAMOUS PEOPLE GODDAMN

Second, we bow to the Actress Queen of Romancia, Julia Roberts.

Roberts’ resume is equally romantic, including films such as Notting Hill, My Best Friend’s Wedding, Eat Pray Love, Steel Magnolias, Mystic Pizza, Runaway Bride, and of course, Pretty Woman. She was crowned queen of this fictionation because, I mean...it’s Julia Roberts, man. Who else was gonna be queen, Meg Ryan? She’s too busy ruling the Holy Romance Empire.

Yes. Yes, I will be visiting the Holy Romance Empire soon.

Anyway, one of the advisors to this great land was the now sadly passed Garry Marshall, a seasoned romantic movie director, responsible for The Princess Diaries (and its terrible sequel), Beaches, Runaway Bride (shit, should I watch this one?), and those bad holiday romance movies from the late 2000′s. You know, Valentine’s Day, New Year’s Eve, Mother’s Day? Yeah, that’s the guy.

Marshall was appointed an advisor of Romancia because of his role as director of the film...you know.

Enough navel-gazing; let’s get into Pretty Woman, shall we? I, for one, am looking forward to venturing further into the land of Romancia! SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap

We start at a party where...George Costanza?

Huh! Phil Stuckey (Jason Alexander), a lawyer and kind of an asshole, is romancing women at a party, held on the behalf of Edward Lewis (Richard Gere), a businessman from New York. However, he’s currently in California away from his unhappy girlfriend back east, who’s feeling a tad neglected by the constantly busy Edward.

Meanwhile, on a less-than-great side of town lives Vivian Ward (Julia Roberts), a prostitute working the mean streets of Hollywood. Making her way to the red-light district, she enters the Blue Banana Club (which is...a name, that’s for sure), where she finds her roommate Kit De Luca (Laura San Giacomo). Laura’s unfortunately spent their rent on drugs, during the height of the cocaine epidemic in Hollywood.

The two meet each other on the street, where Edward’s lost, and struggling with Phil’s stick-shift Lotus Espirit. She offers to give him directions for money, and he reluctantly accepts. She gets in, and guides him back to his hotel. As he struggles to drive, she displays her knowledge of cars from back home. He then offers to drive the car for him, and also shows her prowess as a driver. Which...is pretty neat.

He asks how much she makes in her profession, as the two roll up to his hotel. As they begin to part ways, he asks her instead to accompany him into the hotel. She’s about as charmed and gawky as I would be going into a sick-ass hotel like that. The elevator in it has a FUCKING SOFA INSIDE, YES PLEASE

Edward’s a little embarrassed by her gawking, but they quickly get past it. Edward’s graveyard-still complacency is contrasted by her manic pixie energy. Not that she’s a manic pixie dream girl...I think. It’s more of a “rock-and-balloon” relationship deal. When Vivian busts out the condoms (she’s a “safety-girl”), Edward instead says he wants to “talk.”

During this talk, it’s revealed that his girlfriend has officially broken up with him, leaving him conspicuously single. He asks if she can stay the entire night, and she agrees for a price, to which he gladly agrees. They spend the night getting to know each other, although Edward is doing business during much of it. And she’s watching TV, and it gives off these kinda weird daddy-daughter vibes (not kink-shaming, mind you), and it’s...mildly uncomfortable.

This quickly progresses into her beginning to seduce him, and the two presumably have sex. We cut away just before anything happens, though. Afterwards, Edward takes a shower, as Vivian falls asleep, taking her wig off for the first time.

The next morning, Edward talks to Phil about an upcoming business purchase, when Vivian walks into the room. He’s ordered breakfast for them. ALL OF THE BREAKFAST. Seriously, everything on the menu. Motherfucker, do you KNOW HOW EXPENSIVE ROOM SERVICE IS? WE GET IT YOU’RE RICH

He reveals just how rich he is, noting that he buys companies on the brink of failure, and then sells pieces of the companies he buys. Vivian equates this to a chop-shop, which seems extremely accurate. On another call, Phil tells him that it would be better if he had a date. And it looks like...he already has one.

Yeah, Phil “hires” Vivian to be his girlfriend for a week. For $3000, she accepts, and I feel just a little icky. And yet...I dunno, we’ll see. He’s doing this purely to avoid romantic attachment, which is a little weird, but understandable? Maybe?

At this point, we get one of the most iconic scenes in the film, as the uptight women at a Rodeo Drive store tell her to leave, like assholes. They’ll get their comeuppance, though. OHHHHHH, THEY’LL get it. This compounds when the hotel manager, Barnard “Barney” Thompson (Héctor Elizondo), questions her presence there. And while it seems that he’s going to kick her out, he actually helps her out with an outfit.

Meanwhile, Edward’s business deal begins to go somewhat south, until Edward takes advantage of GOVERNMENT CORRUPTION. Anyway, Vivian goes to a local department store, where Barney’s friend Bridget (Elinor Donahue) helps her out with a cocktail dress. When she heads back, Barney acts like a bro once again and teaches her proper etiquette, Emily Post style.

Edward heads back to the hotel, where Vivian is waiting for him. And she looks cuuuuuuuuuuute. Edward thinks so, too, and they head to the corporate dinner. There waitselderly businessman James Morse (Ralph Bellamy), and his grandson David (Alex Hyde-White). We get a taste of just how vicious of a businessman Edward is, and Vivian makes a much better impression on the Morses than Edward does. Also, Eddie’s kind of a sociopath, huh? Or, at least, he has some sociopathic tendencies. I dunno his pure emotionlessness is rubbing me a weird way.

After the dinner goes VIOLENTLY south, the two begin to relate to each other a bit more. He notes that he prefers not to bring emotion into business, although he apparently does like Mr. Morse. He also notes that his father died a month ago, but it doesn’t appear to affect him much. Still he heads downstairs to get some air. Later, Vivian gets the bellhop, Dennis (Patrick Richwood) to help her find him, and she does. He’s playing piano like a GODDAMN MANIAC HOLY SHIT! Just like, “Don’t mind me, I’m just playing an operetta to PUT THE KNIFE FEELINGS TO SLEEP IAMTHEZODIACKILLER.” This manic performance is followed by the two just...fuckin’ on the piano. They just FUCK IN THE LOUNGE RIGHT ON THAT PIANO JESUS CHRIST GUYS

The next morning, post-musex, they go to get outfits together, in which Gere buys a massive set of outfits, and we get the first makeover montage this month! He also flashes even more sociopathic flair with a clothing store owner, goddamn. And that’s...when we get the song.

I mean, we had to get this song in here at some point, right? She also engages in the most iconically HUGE moment of the film. You know what I’m talking about, and it’s beautifully cathartic, my Lord.

Meanwhile, at work, Edward’s starting to...lose it, I guess? As Phil’s encouraging him to close in on Morse for the kill, Edward’s beginning to grow a heart. And may I note that he’s been in this relationship for TWO DAYS. Jesus, buddy, you’ve really never had a meaningful relationship, huh? They eventually go to a polo match for business reasons, here Phil finally meets Vivian. Vivian also notices that none of the high-society people here seem like, well...friends.

Turns out that David Morse is one of the polo players, and Vivian starts to speak with him. Phil, meanwhile, notices this, and suspects her of being a corporate spy. And Edward, like an ABSOLUTE ASSHOLE, tells her that Vivian’s a prostitute. Phil LITERALLY IMMEDIATELY GOES AFTER HER, and solicits her like a fucking CREEP.

This obviously very much upsets her, and she chews Edward out back at the hotel. And the argument that follows IMMEDIATELY puts me on Vivian’s side, because Edward’s being a sociopathic douchenozzle. Goddamn. She rightfully wants to leave, and he just lets her. And here’s the real kicker; she doesn’t take the money.

And that’s when Edward sincerely apologizes to her, as best as he can. And yeah, he’s a little sociopathic, but I can see that the dude is trying? The two make up, and once again open up to each other. Edward starts to realize, in turn, that he legitimately has feelings for her. And we head into the third act of the film.

The next day, Edward leaves work early to go on a date with Vivian, and Phil asks if the date is with “the hooker.” And Edwards flashes him a look that’s just...knifey. I’m still not convinced he isn’t the Zodiac Killer. He takes her to an opera in San Francisco, before which we get this scene.

Adorable. God, I love Vivian. Also Dennis and Barney are the best, and they’re super fucking invested, and I am HERE for it. Their date to the opera is...sublime. Understand, my girlfriend and I watched this entire film together, and we’re both in love with Vivian and the opera after it. Imma take her to the opera on a date one of these days, I swear it.

That night, they play chess together, and Edward actually takes the following day off. He also actually sleeps in a bed for once, instead of going to work. And this is when my girlfriend the following phrase:

Is he sculpting her, or is she sculpting him?

OK, that fantastic question is one of the reasons we’re together, but also a very interesting point. Lemme explain here. This is very much a Pygmalion story in a few ways. While not a straight adaptation by any means, this film is definitely taking a few ideas from the Pygmalion trope. See, if you don’t know, Pygmalion’s a Greek myth about a sculptor who falls in love with his statue. It’s been adapted multiple times throughout the history of the arts, but the most prominent version of this was the stage musical My Fair Lady, famously adapted into a film starring Audrey Hepburn in 1964.

And again, a lot of adaptations of that, too. While Pretty Woman isn’t explicitly an adaptation of either work, the themes are still present in the work. So, yeah, it’s a good point. In this version, she’s changing him as much as he’s changing her. The sculpture is sculpting the sculptor. Which is cool.

And then, as we had that cute little revelation, Vivian tells Edward that she loves him. And OH FUCK. It’s the last day. And when he says he doesn’t want this to be the last of them together, she takes it as romantic. But when he essentially proposes making her a beck-and-call girl, putting her up in an apartment and hooking her up with dresses...she’s understandably not interested. She says that, as a little girl, she dreamed of a white knight that would sweep her off her feet and take her away. But Edward isn’t that knight.

Have I mentioned how much I love Vivian? Because Vivian’s fuckin’ fantastic, Jesus Christ.

Edward decides to leave, and says that he’s done all he can at this point. He leaves, and she’s shattered. Kit, meanwhile, comes to visit her at the hotel, and she admits that she’s fallen in love with him. While Kit’s initially worried about it, she says that they could maybe settle down and buy some diamonds and a horse. I also love Kit.

Meanwhile, at the meeting with Mr. Morse, Edward turns the tables on Phil and his yes-men, and asks to speak with Mr. Morse alone. Phil’s gobsmacked by this, but agrees. Once they’re alone, Edward admits that he no longer wishes to buy his company and destroy it. Instead, he wants to help him rebuild his company. And Morse agrees, telling Edward that he’s proud of him.

Phil, EXTREMELY irritated by this, and decided to make his way to talk to Edward at the hotel. And that’s when he finds Vivian. FUUUUUUUUCK. As expected, Phil tries to r*pe her, and that’s when Edward shows up, and BEATS THE FUCK OUT OF HIM.

Edward tells Phil off, calling him an EVEN BIGGER sociopath than he is, and kicks him out. Friendship ended with Phil. Now Vivian is his best friend. But despite this, Vivian still realizes that their relationship, at least the one she wants, seems impossible. Conceding, and on his way back to New York now, Edward pays her, and tells her to call him if she ever needs anything. 

But he asks her to stay one more night with him, not because of money...BUT BECAUSE OF LOVE. And she replies that she can’t...and they part ways. Vivian goes to say goodbye to Barney, who still rules. He calls a cab for her, and says that she can visit them anytime. My girlfriend says that she would leave me for Barney, and I agree. I agree so much, because she deserves the best, and the best is Barney, and I could never BE Barney. 

I could never be Barney.

It’s over now, as the song in the background says, and Edward laments his lost relationship as the thunder rolls in. Vivian decides to finally go to San Francisco, and finish high school, inspired by Edward’s love and faith for her. She passes that faith onto Kit as she says goodbye. Fuuuuuuck, man, this goodbye hurts as well.

Edward goes to the lobby, and talks to Barney one last time. AND BARNEY TELLS EDWARD WHERE VIVIAN WENT, LIKE A GODDAMN CHAMPION. WHY CAN’T I BE AS PERFECT AS BARNEY????

He makes his way to her apartment, and buys flowers from a woman with a Cockney accent, WHICH IS A MY FAIR LADY REFERNCE! HOLY SHIT! He arrives in a white limo at her place, overcomes his fear of heights and climbs a fire escape in a metaphorical tower to rescue his princess. 

THAT’S HOLLYWOOD, BABY! And it’s Pretty Woman as well. That was a very heartwarming film, and I’m very glad that I watched it! Is it perfect? Ehhhhhhhh, see you at the Review.

[swordandquill]

Title: Winter Break

Fandom: Leverage

Summary: The team find themselves snowed in in a little town in the middle of nowhere.

Ch 3: Hope it’s Hallmark - The team reaches the cabin, and Hardison tries to figure out what genre of movie they're currently participating in.

Author’s Note: I might have to steal Hardison's line about the worse kind of horror move to use as a title for a Leverage ghost story someday.

You can go here to read this on AO3 instead.

Hardison knew why the light took on a red tint at night when it snowed, knew how light refraction worked, even knew the right equations to calculate the wavelengths. He still thought it was the stuff of horror movies.

“Maybe we should have slept in the airport,” he grumbled, squinting through the snowfall at the dark cabin.

Eliot stirred on his shoulder, shifting around enough that it must have jarred something, because Hardison felt him suppress a flinch before lifting his head muzzily and rubbing a hand over his face.

Hardison had lost the argument with Nate over who was driving, leaving him to switch places with the mastermind as the designated Eliot pillow. As much as he had argued, once they got going he was glad not to be the one at the wheel. The roads had been terrible, and it had taken them three times as long as it should have to get to the cabin. They had almost gotten stuck on the long drive leading up to it.

Somehow, Eliot had managed to sleep through the majority of the trip. Hardison would have loved to have said that gave him the warm fuzzies, because Eliot was not a man who gave his trust easily, but mostly it just made him worry that the hitter’s injuries were significantly worse than he had let on.

“We here?” Eliot asked groggily.

“Yeah,” Nate turned in the driver’s seat to look back at them, “Sophie and I will help Parker do a security check. You stay in the car with Hardison.”

Eliot tensed up against Hardison’s shoulder, like he was going to protest, then huffed out an irritated breath and dropped his head back down.

Hardison gave Nate a pointed look, gesturing towards Eliot with the arm that wasn’t slung around the hitters shoulders.

“He’s fine,” Nate reassured him, “the meds just took enough of the edge off for him to sleep.”

Hardison opened his mouth to argue, but Parker chose that moment to climb over all the bags and groceries piled up in the back and haul open the side door of the van. The open door let in a burst of cold wind and snow, and Hardison curled away from it, ducking his face against Eliot’s beanie.

“I’m going to pick the lock,” Parker announced cheerfully and hopped out of the van, closing the door behind her.

“Parker, I have the key code,” Sophie pulled her hat hastily down over her ears and followed her out into the snow.

“I think supervision might be in order,” Nate pulled his own hat on, “sit tight. We’ll be back to unload after we check everything.”

Nate let in another burst of cold when he opened the door, and it didn’t escape Hardison’s notice that he locked the car behind him. Eliot’s paranoia was rubbing off on everyone, it seemed.

Hardison wanted to grumble and complain, or at the very least, narrate what was obviously the start of the worst kind of horror movie, namely the kind that they had to participate in, but Eliot’s breathing had evened back out into sleep, and he didn’t want to risk waking him.

The only light besides the eerie red snow reflection was the headlights of the van pointed at the front porch. The porch was high enough that the beams hit Parker and Sophie at the knees. It looked like there was some kind of problem with both the lock and the lock box, and they seemed to be struggling with getting either of them open.

Nate was standing to the side of them on the porch, just outside the narrow beam of light. He was hunched against the cold, shooting the occasional furtive glance at the dark trees ringing the cabin. This was the part of the movie where the monster sprang out of the forest and ate the idiots stupid enough to venture out into the open.

Although, they were still pretty early into the film. They had only just gotten to the cabin, and they had yet to run into any cooky locals who regaled them with stories of the monster or ancient tomes that conveniently fell into their laps warning them of the beast. This early in the film, they would get the door open just in the nick of time, slamming it in the monster’s face as they scrambled to safety.

Leaving he and Eliot in the car to be eaten.

Monsters lurking in the dark seemed a lot more possible with their resident monster slayer not at his best. Hardison didn’t care what Nate said, it wasn’t like Eliot to just fall asleep when they were somewhere weird and unsecured. Excessive sleepiness was a sign of head injury.

Or blood loss, or severe inflammation, or internal bleeding, or some other weird medical condition. Or, the rational part of his brain pointed out, barely sleeping at all the last week because the job had not got smoothly. Short of someone dying, everything that could have gone wrong had gone wrong. And yet, the bad guy had been beaten and the client was sufficiently safe and cared for. So they would count it as a win. Unless Eliot had a brain bleed or something. Then that definitely canceled out the win.

Parker got the door open finally, and Hardison watched through the front windshield, holding his breath as Parker stepped into the dark cabin, followed by Nate, then Sophie. It felt like it took hours, but suddenly the porch lights flipped on, and a warm glow lit up the front windows, reflecting golden sparks off the falling snow.

Hardison let out his breath, glad to find they had made the transition from b-level horror movie to hallmark Christmas special. Too bad Christmas had been like a month ago. Still, if they didn’t run into a Christmas tree farmer with an emo past who turned out to secretly be Santa’s long lost son, Hardison was going to be disappointed.

Eliot stirred again, turning his face into Hardison’s shoulder to escape the cold that was leaching into the van now that the engine was off. Hardison drew him in closer and rested his cheek on top of Eliot’s head.

“No brain bleeds,” he murmured into Eliot’s beanie, “we have rules about things like that.”

“Who’s bleeding?” Eliot mumbled into Hardison’s jacket.

“No one,” Hardison reassured him, “as long as you’re not.”

Eliot seemed to consider that for a moment before shaking his head and settling again, “not right now.”

“You know, El,” Hardison grumbled, “answers like that are why we worry about you all the time.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of Eliot’s head and went back to watching the porch through the front windshield. The longer the others took inside, the more things felt like they were sliding back into b-movie territory.

Hardison knew what they were doing. They ran perimeter and security checks on every place they stayed. Usually Eliot did them, but if he was already busy doing something else for the job, Parker would take care of it. She had the dubious distinction of being the second most paranoid member of the team. She also had a vast and impressive understanding of how building security worked, or how it didn’t work, since figuring out how to get in and out of places was both her job and her favorite pastime.

She had already been applying that to her own safety when the team had come together, and it had only taken a few conversations with Eliot for her to see how to apply it to assessing the security of wherever the team was staying. If she said the cabin was good, Eliot would be satisfied with it.

Hardison would sweep for bugs and any other tech weirdness once they got their gear inside. Hopefully, if everything came back clear from both he and Parker, Eliot would feel safe enough to get some rest and actually take care of his “not bleeding right now” self.

Right around the time Hardison started thinking they were going to freeze to death instead of get eaten by a monster, the rest of the team finally came out of the cabin. Parker hopped down the steps, landing two footed in snow that came up to her mid-calf, then turned to head to the corner of the building, taking exaggeratedly large steps through the snow drifts. Nate followed her, walking like a normal person and hunched against the snow and wind.

Sophie left them to it, coming back to the van. She pulled open the side door, letting in a gust of snow and wind. Eliot sat up with a start, blinking blurrily at Sophie and the open van door.

“Everything looks good inside,” Sophie smiled, “Nate and Parker are just going to do a quick walk around the outside, but we can start unloading.”

“Took you long enough,” Hardison grumbled, sliding out of the van. He pulled his scarf up over his mouth and nose and stepped aside to let Eliot out.

“The lock and lockbox were both frozen,” Sophie shrugged, “it took some fiddling from Parker to get it open, then she had to open every door in the place and climb the banister railing, for some reason”

“She’s Parker,” Eliot shrugged and started reaching for the nearest bag, “she hasn’t really seen something until she’s climbed it.”

“People who don’t tell us they’re hurt don’t get to carry in bags,” Sophie’s tone indicated that this was a punishment, somehow, “go inside and get warmed up. We've got this.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Eliot grumbled at her, but he left the bags and headed towards the cabin anyway.

Hardison watched Eliot go up the porch steps, then turned to Sophie, who was pulling bags out of the back row.

“He didn’t even argue,” Hardison hissed.

“Let him get some food and sleep,” Sophie shoved an armful of grocery bags at him, “then worry.”

“That is not how worry works,” Hardison complained as he trudged through the snow to the cabin.

******

Sophie grabbed Eliot’s bags from the back seat first, almost over balancing with the weight of the duffel before she managed to get it over her shoulder. What did that man pack and why couldn’t he put it in two or three bags that didn’t weigh as much as an elephant instead of cramming it all in one?

She passed Hardison as he was trudging back to the van. He started to reach for the bags she was carrying, but she waved him on. It was in Hardison’s nature to worry constantly, and there was something endearing about that, but worrying wasn’t going to get Eliot settled and resting. Maybe even sleeping if the ride here was any indication.

She dumped Eliot’s bags on the bed in the back bedroom, the one farthest from both doors. The blankets on the bed were a bit light for how cold it was, but they had cranked up the heat as soon as they had gotten inside, and everything was starting to warm up. She would get Parker to help her hunt down the extra blankets the owner had told her were here later.

First though, Sophie had a hitter to cajole into bed.

She dug through Eliot’s bag until she found his stash of ice packs, then headed to the kitchen. She was not at all surprised to find Eliot there, poking half-heartedly through cupboards and peering into the grocery bags piled precariously on the counter. He was holding his left arm stiff and close to his body and moving slow, but at least he was carrying around a water bottle, and looked to have drunk about half of it already.

“At least the stove is gas,” Eliot grumbled, even as he gave the knife block a disgusted look, “if we lose power we’ll still be able to have hot meals.”

“I hadn’t even thought of losing power,” Sophie admitted, “we might have to give the fireplace a once over to make sure it’s safe to use.”

Eliot glanced over the breakfast bar into the living room where a large stone fireplace had pride of place across from a comfortable, if dusty, looking couch,

“I’ll…”

“You’ll go take a shower,” Sophie nudged him away from the counter so she could start putting groceries away.

“Later,” Eliot shook his head stubbornly, “everyone’s got to be hungry, and I should get something started.”

He started to pull open grocery bags, and Sophie shooed him away again, “we’ll take care of dinner.”

Eliot gave her a dubious look.

“Nate will take care of dinner,” Sophie corrected, “he’ll enjoy it. It will remind him of his prison days.”

“What am I doing?” Nate asked, dumping a pile of luggage in the middle of the living room.

“Making dinner,” Sophie supplied.

“Yeah, sure,” Nate paused to give the kitchen a once over before trudging back out the front door for more bags.

“So go take a shower,” Sophie pushed him in the direction of the bedrooms and bathroom with a hand on the small of his back, “you’ll feel better, and I won’t feel guilty about using all the hot water when I take mine.”

“You never feel guilty about that,” Eliot groused, but he headed in the direction of the bedrooms.

“Your bags are in the second bedroom,” Sophie called after him.

She watched long enough to see him duck into the room, then turned back to the kitchen, trying to decide if actually getting Eliot to take a shower instead of haul luggage entitled her to not spend the next quarter hour trudging through the snow to unload the van.

Probably not. The sooner they could get everything inside and everyone out of the awful weather, the better.

Sophie pulled her scarf up around her nose and ears and headed back into the snow.

******

“I’m hungry,” Parker announced, “Sophie said you’d make us dinner.”

She was sitting cross-legged on the breakfast bar because Eliot was still in the shower and couldn’t tell her not to.

“Once we get the groceries put away, I’ll put something together,” Nate tossed her a box of cereal without bothering to look at what it was.

Parker pulled it open and was delighted to find it was the kind with the grainy rainbow marshmallows. She had no idea where the spoons were, so she started eating it by the handful.

“We should do something about the doors,” Parker said with her mouth full, which wasn’t as fun when Eliot wasn’t there to shoot her disgusted looks.

“What about the doors?” Nate asked absently as he started pulling everything out of the fridge that Sophie and Hardison had stuffed into it.

Sophie was giving him that funny look that she had said meant he was being a micromanaging jerk. Parker thought that was a useful thing to be able to do most times, but she didn’t like it when he tried to micromanage her, so Sophie maybe had a point when she complained about it.

It seemed mostly useful right now though and meant they would be able to fit more stuff in the fridge.

“They were too easy to open,” she told Nate.

“I’ll get everything alarmed once I finish setting my stuff up,” Hardison said from where he was unpacking his electronics and starting to set them up on the coffee table in front of the fireplace.

Sophie had told him he couldn’t use the big table near the kitchen because they needed somewhere to sit and eat, and he was still sulking about it. Parker hadn’t told him yet that there was a big desk up in the sleeping loft, because she hadn’t decided yet if she wanted to share the loft.

“I think the blizzard is going to be pretty good security for us,” Nate didn’t look up from his efforts to use the fridge space as efficiently as possible.

“We got here through it,” Parker shrugged.

“Well, we are rather exceptional,” Sophie offered, “and we barely made it here, but what do you have in mind?”

Parker considered the options. The front door and the back door both pushed inward, so the easiest way to secure them would be to put something heavy in front of them to block them from opening, but they would have to do it in a way that didn’t mess up Hardison’s alarm system. It would be good to do something about the downstairs windows too. They were easy to access and would be easy for someone to break into, but they were also easy exits for the team if they needed to leave in a hurry.

She would usually ask Eliot what he thought, but he was hurt and tired and would come up with better ideas after he got some sleep.

“I think after Hardison gets his system set up we should reinforce the doors,” Parker decided, “then maybe try to do something to secure the downstairs windows.”

“Why don’t we just stick a chair under the door knobs for tonight,” Nate finally turned away from the fridge, having managed to fit everything that needed to be refrigerated in it, “we can do a more thorough job of securing the place tomorrow. It looks like we’re going to be here a couple days, at least.”

Parker nodded her agreement and shoved another handful of cereal in her mouth.

“How do we feel about spaghetti for dinner?” Nate asked, “I think I saw green beans and cherry tomatoes around here somewhere that we can have as a side.”

“I got some of that garlic bread you just toss in the oven too,” Hardison had moved on from connecting cables to actually sitting and working on his laptop, an assortment of small sensors and cameras spread out on the table in front of him.

“Great,” Nate said briskly, then looked back to Parker, “what kind of sauce do you want?”

He gestured to the four jars of pasta sauce lined up on the counter with the other pantry goods that hadn’t been put away yet. There was extra cheesy alfredo, basil marinara, vodka, and four cheese marinara. Sophie and Hardison hadn’t been able to decide, so Parker had dumped them all in the cart. None of them were going to be as good as Eliot’s.

“That one,” Parker pointed to the alfredo; it was white like marshmallows even if it tasted nothing like them.

“Done,” Nate said, then guided Sophie out of the kitchen area with a hand on her back, “we can finish putting the rest of this away after we eat. Go somewhere else so I can cook.”

Sophie huffed, but went to sit on the couch next to Hardison. He handed her the remote to the flat screen tv hung over the fireplace, and she flipped on the weather channel, which seemed a little silly to Parker. It was snowing; they knew it was snowing.

Parker watched Nate in the kitchen for a while while she munched on her cereal. Watching Nate cook wasn’t at all like watching Eliot cook. When Eliot cooked he was focused on the food and he noticed everything about it. He was always tasting things and adjusting things as he went. Parker liked to watch him cook because he always seemed like he was happy, or at least that cooking made him feel better when he wasn’t.

It wasn’t like that with Nate. Nate just made food. He didn’t seem to dislike doing it, but it wasn’t anything special to him. His food wasn’t terrible, but it didn’t taste like Eliot’s. It didn’t taste like it mattered a lot to him, and he wanted it to matter a lot to them.  

Parker heard the water shut off in the bathroom and closed up her cereal, then hopped down from the breakfast bar. She left her cereal on the counter; she could always come back and hide all the boxes of cereal where she wanted them later.

**********

Eliot did feel better after taking a shower, and after giving the diclofenac time to kick in, and after dozing most of the way to the cabin, and he was kind of disgruntled about it. Had his flight not been rerouted twice and the safety of the team abruptly called into question, he would have done all those things much sooner and in the safety of one of his boltholes without anyone else to worry about.

As it was, he was still tired and achy, but at least he felt like he was tracking better. He was content to let the team struggle through figuring out dinner without him, but he did want a better look at the layout of the cabin before he tried to get a little more sleep. There were always things that needed to be taken care of when they first got into a space, especially with Eliot still feeling uneasy about how they had ended up there.

Parker was sitting at the foot of the bed his bags had been on, scribbling away in one of her notebooks. Eliot’s bags had been tossed haphazardly in a corner, but a clean hoodie and a pair of mis-matched wool socks were laying on the bed.

Eliot almost went to find the matching socks, but he was tired still and digging through his bag after Parker had rearranged it probably wasn’t the best use of his limited energy right now.

“Do you want to hear about the cabin?”  Parker asked, turning her notebook so he could see her detailed sketch of the cabin’s layout.

“Sure,” Eliot sat heavily on the edge of the bed and pulled his socks on; at least they were the same type of sock even if the colors were different.

The heat had gone a long way towards loosening up his shoulder, but he should probably get some ice on it soon. He would have to dig his ice packs out of his bag at some point so he could get them in the freezer.

“There are two doors, the front one we came through and one half way down the side of the house the fireplace is on. It goes out to the back porch. I don’t think the locks on them are very good, but Nate said we could stick a chair under the handles for tonight and fix them tomorrow. There are seven windows downstairs, double pane, latch locks that are really flimsy, but we don’t have anything to change them out with. Hardison is putting up cameras and sensors tonight though…”

Eliot shrugged into his hoodie and gave into the urge to lay back against the pillows while Parker talked. She was always thorough with building layouts and security weaknesses, and there was only so much they could do tonight anyway. Hardison’s security systems were always good, and he knew how to maximize the coverage of any space, although the snow and ice were probably going to cause problems for any cameras or sensors he wanted to set up outside.

“...from the outside it looks like there’s a crawl space under the cabin, but I couldn’t find any way into it from the inside, and Nate wouldn’t let me go into it from the outside. He said I’d get too wet or dirty or something, which is kind of stupid because I have clothes and a shower in here,” Parker kept going.

“It’s not good to get wet in this kind of weather, even if you think it will only be for a little bit,” Eliot murmured, “we can take a better look at it tomorrow when it’s light out.”

He really was tired, and there was something soothing about listening to Parker go through every detail of the building; it wouldn’t hurt if he closed his eyes for just a minute or two while he listened.

**********

Parker grinned when she saw Eliot’s eyes close, but she finished telling him about the sleeping loft before she stopped talking. His breathing was deep and even, and it looked like he really was asleep.

When he didn’t push her away while she was covering him with a blanket, she knew he really was asleep. She kissed him on the cheek the way Sophie did sometimes and turned out the light on her way out of the room.