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formula-what · 3 years

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Brocedes time line for a very patient anon

Lewis quotes in orange, Nico quotes in pink, everyone else is blue.

okay first some background knowledge:

Nico is rich as fuck. only child, born in Germany, brought up in Monaco. son of world champion Keke Rosberg

Lewis was born on a council estate in Stevenage and his dad had to work multiple jobs for him to start karting

Honestly I think the difference in their backgrounds is one of the things that pushed them together, they were both isolated from the rest of the kids, but I’m keeping this purely facts rather than speculation.

2000

They’re both 15 years old and are karting teammates for MBB (Mercedes Benz McLaren) in Formula A

Robert Kubica: “there was always competition. But they didn’t fight. It was friendly competition. There was always laughing afterwards.” // “they would even have races to eat pizza”

They often shared hotel rooms at the races which was a “scene of many wrestling matches between them”

Dino Chiesa (their karting boss) – “many times I was called by reception about some problem in the room. It might be noise, or they might have broken something. They would never sleep so they were always tired the next morning”

“they both liked ice cream so much, particularly vanilla. During the night they wanted to eat ice cream always, so I had to go out everywhere to find some and keep them happy”

Lewis would often persuade Nico to buy him sweets

They would have competitions over LITERALLY EVERYTHING

Lewis: “we always had great competition whether on the racetrack or computer games or playing football”

“probably the first bit of competition we had was when Nico used to ride a unicycle everywhere so I thought, ‘I’ve got to learn how to ride this unicycle. Ive got to be better than him.’ I spent all my time outside the go-kart learning to ride this unicycle”

Apparently it only took Lewis 2 hours to teach himself how to do it

In maybe 2013 ish (when they were still friends) Lewis reflected with– “I have never laughed so much than when we were racing together. Nico was kicking everyone’s butt at that time. We had so great races together and built a great relationship”

“we were just arriving and enjoying go-karts and eating pizzas every weekend, fighting all the time and just having fun, whereas now it’s all business.”

many times they would talk about what they would do when they got to f1, made plans hoping to be teammates and become world champions together.

“Nico would say ‘when I’m in formula one’ and for me it was always ‘if I ever get to formula one’. Because obviously Nico’s dad was a formula 1 driver- he knew he was going to make it.”

Nico joined f1 in 2006 with williams, Lewis 2007 with McLaren. And man I WISH I knew what went down with this two when Lewis nearly one his rookie season (missing out by one point to mr fernando alonso) and then WON THE CHAMPIONSHIP in his SECOND SEASON (again by one point thank you mr alonso)

2008 Australia

Nicos gets his first podium, and ofc Lewis is there (he won it) and they are jumping around in the cool down room. Just, two kids who are literally living the one thing they have spent their whole lives dreaming about together. Lewis won the championship that year and oh wow I can only imagine their celebrations together.

2013

They’re teammates in Mercedes!!!

Nico: “every other day there are moments or things that pop up and I can smirk and thing, ‘that’s exactly the same as it was 15 years ago’”

2013 Malaysian Grand Prix gets an honourable mention. This is the race with red bulls good old multi 21 but merc also had their own team orders, stopping nico from fighting for his first merc podium, but Lewis disagreed with it so it didn’t really spark that much tension between them- more the team.

2014

the start of the turbo-hybrid era so y’all know this was good in terms of performance.

2014 Bahrain Grand Prix

They were both fighting for the win and had a collision which prompted a “mock fight” in parc ferme after the race (which I really hope there’s a video of).

Turns out, Nico won because he had used engine modes banned by Mercedes to get a power advantage in the closing laps. which kinda pissed Lewis off

2014 Spanish Grand Prix

Lewis’ fourth win in a row and took lead in the championship. They were fighting till literally the last second and Lewis crossed the line 0.6 seconds ahead of Nico, who says he could have passed him with one more lap.

Lewis defended using the same banned engine modes that Nico had used in Bahrain. Yeah.

2014 Monaco Grand Prix

This is IT. This is peak petty bitch. This is the one people still cry about.

It’s the end of Q3, both of them are out on a lap, Nico ahead of lewis. Nico’s already on provisional pole but Lewis is pretty close.

And then,, Nico just,, parks his car?? He says he made a mistake but the guy doesn’t even crash he straight up just,, rolls to a stop into a slip road. So the yellow flags come out forcing Lewis to abort a lap that was in the makings of pole.

The stewards say it was a-okay but Lewis was convinced it was intentional (and let’s be honest, yeah it probably was) and he even claimed that merc’s data proved it. (low key surprised he didn’t just tweet out the telemetry but I guess he got a stern telling off from mclaren last time)

But *this* is when Lewis tells the world that they aren’t friends anymore. An iconic interview.

Nico then wins the race too, ending Lewis’s four win streak and putting Nico in the lead of the championship.

2014 Hungarian Grand Prix

Lewis has an engine failure in quali meaning he starts from the pit lane, but he does good to make his way up the pack but THEN there’s a safety car which puts him ahead of Nico but on a different strategy.

Nico asks if Lewis can let him past as he needs to pit again before the end of the race, which will give him the place back anyways. Lewis straight up refuses, he’s on a role here. He started from last, and Nico started from pole, why should he slow down to let his title rival through.

Mercedes strongly suggest that his blocking fucked up Nicos race but Niki Lauda is on Lewis’ side so he doesn’t get punished (We stan a supportive father figure) even though he did blatantly refuse to be a team player.

And guys, this is the last race before the summer break so you know Nico was left seething for four weeks.

2014 Belgian Grand Prix

Second lap, Nico attempts a clumsy move and there’s contact, giving Hamilton a puncture and knocking him out of the race.

There’s a lot of controversy but basically it turns out he crashed with him intentionally, not backing out of the corner to “prove a point”. Nico ended up finishing second but was punished by the team, forced to apologise, and even booed on the podium.

2014 Abu Dhabi

For some reason it ran for double points?? The first time in History??? But idk???

Lewis had a perfect start and went on to win it and take the title, Nico had a problem and was told to retire the car but he kept going anyway and finished 14th. Nico went into the cool down room to congratulate Lewis on the championship win, which. cute.

Lewis claimed his second championship. Which not only was huge because of the inter team rivalry, but also because of the large gap between his first win. This guy had lost out on winning the championship in his ROOKIE season by ONE POINT, and then WON it in his SECOND season, and then there was like a FIVE YEAR gap before he won it again.

2015

Damnnn this car was fiiiinneeeeeee.

They do more laps in testing than any other car AND do it on a single power unit. And then. Australia. They take a one-two THIRTY FOUR seconds ahead of the third place Ferrari.

2015 Chinese Grand Prix

Nico is second in a one-two but claims that Lewis kept backing him up into Seb, trying to compromise his race (and help out his boyfriend).

Lewis gave zero shits: "It's not my job to look after Nico's race, it's my job to manage the car and bring the car home as healthy and as fast as possible. That's what I did."

2015 U.S. Grand Prix

If Lewis wins here he could also claim the title with three races to spare (you have to remember back then the title fight often went up to the last race so this was pretty cool)

Lewis very aggressively forced Rosberg wide at Turn 1 to claim the lead, and then there was some sexy fighting between the Mercs and Redbull all race. Nico led in the closing stages but made a mistake, running deep into a corner and letting Lewis past with only a handful of laps to go.

Nico finished P2 and had not only lost the race but the championship title. Nico was fuming, saying Lewis’ move at the start was “one step too far”.

This is the infamous cap throw in the cool down room. Lewis throws Nico his P2 hat, Nico straight up yeets it back at him. I tear up just thinking about it. They grow up so fast.

2016

Nico had came so close to winning and I guess this was just, the last straw. All or nothing. This year he literally gave it everything he had. Lewis and him stopped speaking, Nico gave up literally the rest of his life and even stopped sleeping in the same bed as his wife and taking care of his kids, instead spending every moment trying to get into Lewis’ head. Honestly, I think he might be the only one that could beat Lewis. Just because he knew him *so well*. He literally threw away like 16 years of friendship. But also it’s like, he had to be world champion. He *had to*. His dad was champion and his whole life he’s been preparing to win it too. Tough luck that he raced in the same era as Mr. Best Driver The Sport Has Ever Seen.

Nico won the last few races of 2015, and the first four races of 2016. Lewis had a couple car problems and Nico had a good lead on him in the championship.

2016 Spanish Grand Prix

Gentlemen. A short view back to the past. Nico had made a switch error on the formation lap causing the car to go into the wrong engine mode. So he was running a lot slower than Lewis, who was fighting to claim back the lead.

Nico closed the door to keep him back, and Lewis lost control on the grass, and spins into Nico and taking them both out of the race in the first lap. This is probably one of the most iconic crashes. I’m pretty sure there’s a clip of this somewhere in black and white with the titanic music over the top.

Niki Lauda blamed this one on Lewis (I guess even a supportive dad has to be critical sometimes) "Lewis is too aggressive. It is stupid, we could've won this race".

2016 Austrian Grand Prix

Nico had been struggling with a brake issue all race but was still on the way to win it. But in the last lap Lewis had caught him up and gone in for the overtake.

Typical Nico not taking any shit, refusing to be the guy that backs out and they collide. Lewis took the win and a damaged Nico dropped to fourth. From first. In the last lap.

Both of them blamed each other and tired dad team boss Toto Wolff threatened team orders in future races.

The stewards blamed Nico for the incident, issuing him two penalty points for failing to allow "racing room" and causing a collision.

2016 Abu Dhabi

In the final laps of the race, Lewis ignored team-orders from his race engineer and the technical director.

He deliberately slowed and backed Nico into the pack hoping they overtake him, and there would be enough of a points difference to win the title.

Nico finished second and won the title by five points.

And then,,, Nico announced a surprise retirement during the FIA prize giving ceremony.

Lewis’ response:

"This is the first time he's won in 18 years, hence why it was not a surprise that he decided to stop.” (We stan a petty king)

“But he's also got a family to focus on and probably wants to have more children. Formula One takes up so much of your time."

“In terms of missing the rivalry, of course because we started karting when we were 13 and we would always talk about being champions. When I joined this team, Nico was there, which was something we spoke about when we were kids. So it's going to be very, very strange, and, for sure, it will be sad to not have him in the team next year."

And now they are kind of on speaking terms but not really, they are both pretty private but I think they are at the ‘awkward small talk when we run into each other at the supermarket’ stage of the break up.

#this got a lot longer than it should have been #long post

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qqueenofhades · 3 years

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Modern AU Heartrender Husbands gives me the vibes of like they'll watch eurovision bc Fedyor wanted to and Ivan only begrudgingly agreed but in the end it's him who's standing really close to the TV with a bottle of beer loudly criticising the jury vote

Anon, your Mind. As 100% ever, I am so very easy to enable. As before, this is set in Phantom!Verse, and serves as a sequel of sorts to this (and as a further prequel to PEL).

Brighton Beach, 2014

It’s their first spring in their new home – they arrived in America in August 2013 and got this place, fittingly, right around Orthodox Christmas in January 2014 – and that means many things to them. Their apartment is in a formerly rent-controlled brownstone tenement right off the boardwalk, but prior to their arrival, it was occupied for fifty years by an old bat from Krasnodar Krai who apparently never, ever, threw anything away. (Fedyor is too scared to ask if she actually died in this apartment and her mummified corpse is lurking at the bottom of all the junk.) That is why he and Ivan were able to afford it, at least, but now that the weather is warmer, they have been spending all day cleaning, hauling boxes of crap to the dumpster, and trying in vain to get the smell of pickled cabbage out of the kitchen. It looks exactly like your Great Aunt Masha’s house, the one that traumatized you as a child and has never left your nightmares since. Home sweet home.

The upside is that the location is great, the apartment is surprisingly spacious and lovely – a big bedroom, a bathroom with two sinks and a deep claw-footed tub, a living room with high windows that let in lots of light, original crown molding and hardwood floors – and if it was located in the really chic parts of Brooklyn and inhabited by a tech-startup hipster rather than a Russian émigré spinster with definite hoarding tendencies, it would rent for some astronomical monthly sum. Fedyor has a three-ring binder full of paint swatches, sketches, furniture samples, and other plans to give it a total overhaul (he’s thinking a nice pale green for the living room?) But the one thing that spring definitely means is Eurovision, and it is just the ticket to relax from their grueling schedule of throwing boxes of junk away and hoping they don’t stumble upon a withered hand in a glass jar. He likes America and he’s excited for their new life, for all that they had no choice but to leave Russia in a hurry, but Eurovision is Eurovision.

Actually watching it, of course, is easier said than done. For one thing, Fedyor can’t find a blasted station that is airing it, when he could have just switched on the TV and found it right away back home. For another, Ivan is deeply dubious of the whole endeavor, having watched five minutes of it once when he was eighteen and turning it off in disgust, never to return. Fedyor spends a lot of time wheedling him to give it another chance. “Come on, Vanya. It’s fun!”

“It is a lot of homosexuals gyrating in leather to very bad music,” Ivan snaps. “They look ridiculous. And sound even worse.”

Fedyor glances at them – the fact that they’re sitting on the couch, he’s on Ivan’s lap with his legs draped over Ivan’s thigh, and Ivan’s arms wrapped around his waist – and coughs. “I’m not sure how to break this to you, darling,” he says, “but you are also a homosexual.”

“Maybe, but you would never catch me dead up there.”

“Of course not.” Fedyor rolls his eyes. “You might actually have to smile.”

Ivan makes a scoffing noise. Then he notices the full-on puppy-dog face that Fedyor is now giving him, and says, “Oh no. Oh no, Fedya. Do not look at me like that.”

“Why not?” Fedyor shamelessly snuggles closer. “Is it working?”

The predictable outcome is that Ivan grudgingly agrees to watch it with him, though they’re on American time now and Eurovision Song Contest 2014, held in Copenhagen, Denmark, is six hours ahead of them. Ivan thinks that it’s stupid to sit down and watch a lot of gyrating homosexuals in the middle of the day, when there’s still so much work to do, and tries to demand that they just watch the recording later. Fedyor says this is nonsense, you simply cannot watch a recording of Eurovision, and after a lot of investigation, finds the online streaming channel on his laptop and hooks it up to the TV so they can watch it there. Then he prepares his popcorn, his alcoholic beverages, and his glitter glasses, corrals his recalcitrant husband, and readies himself to experience pure joy. No wonder Ivan doesn’t get it.

However, the effect is both swift and remarkable. By the end of the first semi-final, Ivan is put out about the fact that Russia came seventh in the popular vote but was knocked down to eleven by the jury (this is evidence of an anti-Russian conspiracy, according to him) and when only Moldova, a tiny no-name non-EU former Soviet state, deigns to award them the full twelve points, he is openly incredulous. “Moldova?! That is all we get?! MOLDOVA?!”

“Well,” Fedyor says delicately. “There is that little situation in Ukraine, so I’m afraid we are not that popular right now.”

“That is bullshit,” Ivan grouses. “This is a song contest. The Tolmachevy Sisters are not Vladimir Putin. I am sure they have worked very hard to be here.”

Fedyor glances at him and wisely decides not to say anything. He is likewise a little peeved when the Russian contestants get booed by the Danish audience, but Ivan looks like he’s about to leap through the screen and throttle every single one of them. He thrusts out a hand. “Give me a drink, Fedya. I need it to suffer this indignity.”

Fedyor cracks the lid off a cold one and hands it over – there is the Brighton Bazaar just a few blocks away, stocked with Russian goods, so they are spared the ordeal of drinking Yankee beer – and Ivan takes a long slug. He thinks they can skip watching the second semi-final two nights later, since Russia isn’t in it, but Fedyor puts it on anyway. They both like Austria and “Rise Like a Phoenix,” sung by the bearded drag queen Conchita Wurst (there have been a few dumb comments about her from the usual suspects), but Ivan hits a fist on the arm of the sofa. “She was not better than the Russian girls,” he says loyally. “I still think that they should be the ones to win.”

“Right, well,” Fedyor says. “I think the only ones less likely to win are the Brits, and they never win, so we might be waiting a while.”

The grand finale, on May tenth, is an inadvertently hysterical exercise. They get up early and put on the pregame show, like the Americans do with their bewildering fixation on the Super Bowl, and Ivan gets even more furious when the Tolmachevy Sisters are booed again. “Are they not supposed to love everyone at this glitter bacchanalia? So much for the Scandinavians being tolerant and accepting people! The song is nice! They are nice girls! What is wrong with them?!”

“Come over here and give me a cuddle, Vanya,” Fedyor suggests. “Otherwise you will blow a blood vessel long before the show starts.”

Ivan growls like an escaped tiger from the zoo, but consents to sit down next to Fedyor. They both drink copiously once the festivities get underway, singing along loudly (and not that melodiously) to the various entries, Fedyor’s arm draped around Ivan’s neck as he sits on his lap and critically judges the acts before the official results pop up. Once again, the only twelve-point awards Russia gets are from former Soviet countries (Azerbaijan and Belarus) and Ivan looks like he’s going to have a conniption before Fedyor kisses him and he gets distracted for the next three minutes. “This is disgraceful,” he mutters, when they break away. “Not you, Fedya. Just the horrible way they have clearly rigged this show against us.”

“You know,” Fedyor says. “That’s Eurovision. You declare war on your neighbors when they don’t give you twelve points. Now they have the EU, they’re not supposed to fight anymore, this is the only way they can get all those old rivalries out. Just be glad that Australia isn’t in this year. You might have really blown a gasket.”

“Australia?!” Ivan shifts Fedyor to a more comfortable position on his lap and grabs for his third bottle of beer. “AUSTRALIA IS NOT IN EUROPE! It is not even anywhere NEAR Europe! WHY DOES AUSTRALIA GET TO BE IN EUROVISION!?!”

Fedyor laughs out loud. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” Ivan says. “But this is still the stupidest thing I have ever seen.”

“Shh.” Fedyor nuzzles him. “Just give in, Vanya. Just give in.”

Ivan consents to turn his grumbling down to a simmer, and is somewhat mollified that Russia comes in sixth overall, which is better than even Fedyor thought they were going to do. Austria takes the champion’s crown, they can both agree that Conchita Wurst deserves it, and get up and dance around their still-junk-cluttered living room as she gives her bravissima performance. A few things have been thrown during the judging, but they can’t add much to the existing mess, and in Brighton Beach, “damage caused to the apartment because Russia got shafted during Eurovision finals” might actually be a legitimate excuse. As he leans against Ivan’s chest and grins into his neck, Fedyor has to admit that this place may just feel like home yet.

#ivan x fedyor #heartrender husbands #fivan #pel asks #henchmen deserve happiness too okay #anonymous #ask #fivan ff

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wrestlingisfake · 3 years

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The CM Punk Saga

It's almost time for AEW's "The First Dance" show, and everybody's still prefacing their hype with "if CM Punk isn't there it'll be a huge disaster, but..."

I'll be in the building. They could've booked CP Munk and I'd still be there. But obviously the Punk tease makes this special. If he's there, it'll be historic to witness the reaction in person. And hell, if he's not there, it'll be historic to witness the fiasco in person. I find that kind of funny--after all these years, it's not the man that sold me a ticket, it's the drama surrounding the man.

Punk had wrestling fans in the palm of his hand after the 2011 "pipebomb" promo, in which WWE allowed him to air his real grievances with the company to build tension for a world title match with John Cena. I get the impression WWE expected it to cast him as a whiny heel. But Punk tapped into the fans' frustrations with WWE, and they embraced him as someone who would fight to change what they resented about the company. He was "the voice of the voiceless."

The problem with that kind of role in WWE is that you can only "fight the power" as far as Vince McMahon lets you on his TV show, and then he'll book his side to win the argument. Within a couple of months a lot of the edge was taken off the storyline. Fans still wanted to believe in him as a rising force for change, but the product didn't reflect that. That dissonance came to a head at the 2014 Royal Rumble, which happened to be the day before Punk quit WWE.

In hindsight, Punk's departure had nothing to do with the fans' frustration with the Daniel Bryan vs. The Authority storyline. But at the time nobody knew what Punk's problem was, and neither side was talking. So the two issues sort of got blended together--Bryan's crusade against kayfabe management and Punk's beef with the real thing. I'm sure a lot of fans figured, if Bryan wasn't going to defeat the Authority at Wrestlemania, then Punk was the logical alternative, and WWE must've screwed that up too. Unless...maybe it was all a work, a storyline to make things seem hopless for Punk and Bryan before slamming them into key Wrestlemania matches.

The buildup to the March 3, 2014, episode of Raw was surreal. Stop me if you've heard this one: The show was booked in Chicago, weeks away from a big pay-per-view, and CM Punk wasn't advertised, but it felt like the perfect opportunity for him to make a surprise return, so the live crowd was ready to go apeshit if he didn't appear. When he didn't appear, I think fandom truly started to accept that he was gone for good. But the saga shambled on.

When it was clear Punk wouldn't be fighting for their cause in WWE, fans nevertheless clung to him as a symbol of resistance. The "CM Punk" chant became a potent and controversial tool for disruption. If you just boo at the show, WWE can play that off like you're mad at the bad guys, but if you chant the name of the guy that walked out on their bullshit, there's no good way for the company to spin that.

A lot of people came to hate the Punk chants, but here's the thing: They mainly happen during an absolute dogshit Raw segment. If you listen to your audience and keep them entertained, then they're easier to control, and it's less of an issue. WWE instead prefers to control the audience by telling the them how to be entertained and refusing to listen if they dissent; the Punk chant puts the lie to that approach.

Punk's next move outside of WWE was a huge topic in 2014. Again, fans wanted to believe he'd continue to fight for them somehow. Remember, this was back when Global Force and Lucha Underground had just been announced, and before Impact had gotten thrown off Spike TV. It felt like it wouldn't take much for a serious alternative to WWE to emerge, and give Punk a way to quit WWE without quitting wrestling.

Months of silence led to increasingly wild speculation. A friend of Punk's wrote an editorial about how fans were hanging around outside his home waiting for him to throw out the trash. I'm pretty sure I know what they wanted to ask when they met him. His appearance on Colt Cabana's podcast and his UFC run helped clear the air, but not enough. Fans never gave up trying to find out when he'd come back to save pro wrestling. Punk's comments on the matter were rare, and never seemed to be enough to get people to leave him alone about it. He'd gone from wrestling's Che Guevara to wrestling's JD Salinger.

The rise of NXT and the ROH/New Japan alliance in the mid-2010s seemed to almost be enough to distract fans from their CM Punk fantasies. But then in 2018 Cody Rhodes and the Young Bucks decided to run their own indie supercard, and picked Chicago as the location. You could almost hear the Punk in fans' heads saying, "At last, a non-WWE US show big enough to be worthy of my star power. This is what I have been waiting for!" Punk denied that he would be there; of course, to wrestling fans that just means he's swerving us and he will be there. And he wasn't there.

But this is the turning point in the story. I was at All In. I heard like one guy try to get a Punk chant going, more out of ironic self-awareness than anything. Nobody was into it. They'd have been glad to see Punk on the show, but they were there to see the Young Bucks, Kenny Omega, Cody Rhodes, Kazuchika Okada, Kota Ibushi, etc. That's probably when it hit me: Everyone had been waiting for Punk to lead the revolution, because they thought no one else could, but these guys had gone ahead and done it without him.

As All In led into AEW, speculation about Punk remained high. But then another funny thing happened, when Jon Moxley dramatically exited WWE in 2019. Moxley didn't immediately announce his future plans, and lots of people figured Moxley must be done with wrestling. The Punk saga had clearly taught fans to manage their expectations. Rumors about both Punk and Mox appearing at Double or Nothing were all over the place, but were generally dismissed as wishful thinking. Then, out of nowhere, Moxley ran in at the end of the show. Then he was announced for a run in New Japan. Fuck, I thought, who needs CM Punk?

And so, I've spent the past few years being over this whole thing. I'd given up trying to figure out CM Punk, or what it would take to bring him back to wrestling. I had a whole array of big names trying to play the part everyone wanted him to play, in a promotion that I thought would never exist without him. Let him enjoy his retirement, and I'll enjoy AEW. So of course he'd decide now is the time to come back. Allegedly.

I'm excited about the possibility of seeing Punk blow the roof off the United Center. It'd be fascinating to see some satisfying closure to this whole thing. And yet, I have no idea what CM Punk means to pro wrestling in 2021. What does "the voice of the voiceless" do in a company full of people listening to their audience? Will fans be into him when they realize he can't/won't be exactly like they remember him from seven years ago? At 42 years old, will he need to play a bitter old heel to stay relevant? How will fans respond when they realize this isn't the big comeback they always dreamed of?

It's those questions that are the real draw for me, regardless of whether The First Dance lives up to expectations. And it's strange to think that's the main attraction to Punk, as if we're talking about an Ultimate Warrior comeback or something. Seven years ago I just wanted him to return to wrestling so I could see him wrestle. Now I kinda just want to see if he looks totally different from the last time I saw his picture.

#aew #cm punk #the first dance

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coldflasher · 3 years

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Title: don’t threaten me with a good time Chapters: 1/1 Length: 7.7k Fandom: The Flash (TV 2014) Rating: Gen Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Minor/Background Relationships: Cisco Ramon/Kamilla Hwang, Barry Allen/Iris West Characters: Barry Allen, Cisco Ramon, Kamilla Hwang, Caitlin Snow, Killer Frost, Iris West, Leonard Snart, Original Male Characters Additional Tags: Alcohol, Drunken Shenanigans, Bisexual Barry Allen, The Flash 7x12 Good-bye Vibrations.

Kamilla leaned forwards to read the front page. “The Barry Allen Drunkenness Scale.” Bemused, she looked up. “What’s this? “This,” said Cisco, “is the result of a great deal of research and a number of hard-earned lessons.” He pulled up a chair and sat beside her, pulling the folder towards them. “There are eight stages of Drunk Barry, each one with a varying level of severity. It begins with stage one.”

Inspired by the Santiago Drunkenness Scale from Brooklyn-99. Team Flash are throwing a party to celebrate Kamilla and Cisco’s departure from Central City, and Kamilla wants to make sure they go out with a bang. But with great power comes great responsibility, and sometimes responsibility means making sure your friend doesn’t break the sound barrier by doing the worm at Mach 2.

Read on AO3

@dctvgen (i hope this is okay!! didn’t really use any prompts but i had this one saved up and seemed like a good time to post it, lmk it’s not suitable!!)

Life came at you fast. After seven years being besties with a speedster, working to save the world, Cisco knew that to be true in more ways than one. But apparently despite everything he’d seen, it still had the capacity to surprise on him.

One minute the thought of leaving Central City had been a vague, abstract thought – a ‘what-if’ or a ‘maybe’ he dwelled upon whenever yet another crisis announced itself with a shower of broken glass raining into his Vibeuccino, or when he’d compared the news in Central City, which was all doom and gloom and murderous metas, to somewhere nice and peaceful like Keystone, where the biggest news story of the day was some kid winning the national Spelling Bee Championship. Then the job offer came in, and Kamilla had tested the waters with wanting to leave – and now their stuff was all packed and in boxes, he had a start date at ARGUS, and what had been a daydream was now a very clear reality. He’d hung up the gloves, said a final goodbye to Vibe.

It was the other goodbyes that were going to be the hard part.

“It just feels weird, you know?” he said, pausing in the middle of hanging bunting from the corner of the cortex. “We’re saying goodbye to everyone we know. This has been my life for almost eight years now. Team Flash are my family. It feels weird to celebrate leaving all that behind.”

“Don’t think of it as a celebration of what we’re leaving behind,” said Kamilla, who was sat at the desk, partway through ordering pizza. “Think of it as a celebration of everything we’ve accomplished. Making friends and building inventions and saving the world! I know it’s difficult and change can be scary, but it doesn’t have to be. We’ve done amazing things, and I think it’s important to honour that.”

Cisco sighed as he successfully stuck the flags to the wall. He climbed down from the table he was stood on and joined her at the desk in his usual chair, pushing himself back and forth with his foot. “You’re right,” he said. “You’re always right. I’m not getting cold feet, I promise. I’m excited. We’re going to make this work. We’ve done amazing things, and we’re going to do even more. Together.”

Kamilla beamed. “That’s the spirit.” She held out her hand for a fist-bump.

Grinning, Cisco returned it. “You’re such a dork.”

“Which is exactly why you love me,” Kamilla countered, with a few final clicks and a flourish as she placed the pizza order. She consulted the list on her phone. “Okay, so we’ve got the cake, the decorations, the drinks, and the pizza is in transit. There’s just one more thing we need.”

She slid past him and made her way towards the small metallic fridge tucked away in the corner. Kamilla typed in the passcode 05-20-80 – the release date of The Empire Strikes Back – and the fridge unlocked with a clunk, revealing two test tube holders – one containing a single emergency vial of Velocity IX, and another that held eight tubes of liquid a few shades lighter than blood.

Cisco glanced over, bemused. “Babe, did you stash your Kraft beers in my security fridge? Because that seems a little excessive.”

Kamilla eased the second rack of tubes off the shelf like a tray of freshly baked cookies out of the oven. “No, I’m just getting a couple of vials of 500 proof for Barry. I didn’t want him to feel left out of the festivities.”

Cisco had met a lot of speedsters in his time, but in that moment he was pretty sure he moved faster than any of them as he sprinted across the room to intercept. Startled, Kamilla jerked back and the test tubes clinked together like champagne glasses mid-toast.

“Sorry, can we just back up a little bit – you’re what now?” said Cisco.

“I’m grabbing some drinks for Barry,” Kamilla repeated slowly. “This is his special speedster booze, right?”

“Uh, yeah,” Cisco said nervously. “It is, but…”

“But…?” Kamilla prompted.

“Listen,” he said, hands up in a pacifying gesture. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, but that is a highly controlled substance and it’s really in everyone’s best interests if you put it back.”

Kamilla grew wide-eyed. “Why? Is it dangerous?”

“I mean, if any normal person drank it, it’d pretty much liquidize their insides, but that’s not the problem.”

As he spoke, Cisco headed over to the shelf on the wall, ran his fingers along the various binders tucked onto the shelf, and pulled one off. Cisco carried it over to the table, pushed aside the keyboard and laid the folder flat in front of her.

“The problem,” he said, flipping it open, “is this.”

Kamilla leaned forwards to read the front page. “The Barry Allen Drunkenness Scale.” Bemused, she looked up. “What’s this?”

“This,” said Cisco, “is the result of a great deal of research and a number of hard-earned lessons.” He picked up the metal test tube rack and returned it to the fridge, his fingers flying across the buttons to input the code before he slid the vials back into place. “It’s also the reason why this stuff doesn’t leave the lab except in dire emergencies, including but not limited to break-ups, deaths and severe metahuman disasters.” Decisively, he closed the fridge and it locked again with a clunk and a beep.

“I don’t understand.”

“That’s because you are fortunate enough to have never before encountered an inebriated Barry Allen,” said Cisco. “Let me walk you through it.” He pulled up a chair and sat beside her, pulling the folder towards them. “There are nine stages of Drunk Barry, each one with a varying level of severity. It starts with stage one.”

1 DRINK BARRY: A LITTLE CLINGY

One of Barry’s many wonderful qualities is his propensity for affection. Unimpeded by the bounds of modern-day toxic masculinity, 1 Drink Barry generously bestows physical affection on everyone he encounters. To put it plainly: he’s a hugger.

Standing outside Barry and Iris’ front door, Cisco checked his watch.

Usually at this time of night, he’d be hanging out in the cortex watching the red dot darting around on the monitor as Barry did a lap of the city, or in his lab tinkering with some new invention. Tonight, though, was different. They’d all agreed work was off-limits – time to take a hard-earned break. Cisco had been looking forward to it all week, but he guessed the rest of Team Flash didn’t share his enthusiasm, because they were late. That wasn’t like Caitlin at all. Shrugging, he lifted his hand to knock.

The click of heels made him turn just in time to see Caitlin bouncing up the stairs in her heels. “Hi, I’m here! Sorry I’m late; Frost and I couldn’t agree on an outfit.” She leaned in. “Did you bring the, uh…”

Cisco slid a silver flask out of his pocket slightly. “Sure did.”

“Then I guess we’re ready to go!”

“Damn right. …Ladies first?”

Caitlin knocked. They waited, listening to the rattle of six locks being unfastened one at a time, until the door opened to reveal Iris standing on the threshold wearing a tight red dress and a leather jacket.

Cisco whistled. “Damn. You look good.”

“You’re not so bad yourself,” said Iris as she stepped back from the door to allow them entry. “Barry will be down in a second, he got held up at work, so he’s a little behind –”

There was a whoosh and a crackle of lightning, and Barry skidded to a stop beside her with windswept hair and a grin. “Here! Hey, guys.”

“Oh. Famous last words.” Iris reached for her purse and swung it onto her shoulder. “Well I’m also running late, so I’d better get going. You guys have fun! And try to stay out of trouble, okay?”

“I’m afraid we can’t make any promises, cos everybody knows there ain’t no party like a Team Flash party!” said Cisco. “You sure you don’t wanna come with us? It’s gonna be one hell of a night.”

“Thank you, but I’m going out with a couple of the girls from CCPN tonight, so… rain check?”

“I’ll hold you to it,” Cisco warned.

“You’d better.” She rested her hand on Barry’s arm. “I’ll see you later, okay? I love you.”

“I love you too,” said Barry, and he leaned in for a kiss.

“Boo! Get a room!” Cisco hollered.

Iris rolled her eyes fondly. “Goodbye, Cisco,” she said, and headed out.

Cisco sighed. “And then there were three.” He looked from Barry to Caitlin and back again, stretching out on the sofa. “Okay, drinks!” He headed into the kitchen and returned with a bottle of wine in one hand and three glasses in the other.

“Uh, isn’t the drinking supposed to start after you leave the house?” asked Caitlin.

“Only if you’re an amateur! You always have a drink or two before going out on the town. It’s financially savvy.”

“Thanks, but I’ll pass,” said Barry when Cisco offered him a glass. “No use wasting perfectly good alcohol when it doesn’t even touch the sides.”

“That,” said Cisco, “is why you’ll be drinking this.” He pulled out a silver flask from inside the breast pocket of his blazer. “I call it 500 Proof 2,” he said, and held it dramatically aloft like Frodo holding the one ring.

Caitlin wrinkled her nose. “Really?” she said.

“The name’s a work in progress,” he admitted. “But the drink itself…” He kissed the flask. “She’s ready to go.”

Barry eyed the flask warily. “I don’t know…”

“Oh, come on, you’ve earned it. The city can manage without the Flash for one night. Go on, live a little.” When Barry continued to look skeptical, Cisco started to chant. “Barry, Barry, Barry–”

Grinning, Caitlin joined in. Barry endured it for all of thirty seconds before he rolled his eyes and snatched the flask. Caitlin and Cisco both cheered.

“That’s what I’m talking about!” said Cisco.

He splashed wine into his and Caitlin’s glasses, and passed one to her. She took it with a twinkle in her eye.

“All right, Team Flash!” Cisco whooped, and they clinked their glasses against Barry’s flask before they all drank.

Barry pulled a face. “Jesus! That’s – that’s potent.” He coughed, eyes watering.

“You’re welcome,” said Cisco. “We made a couple of tweaks to the formula. It should stay in your system longer instead of just burning off in thirty seconds flat like the first batch.”

“It tastes like rocket fuel!”

“Don’t worry about it. It’ll put some hairs on your chest,” Cisco said dismissively.

“You can say that again,” muttered Barry, massaging his chest.

“Speaking of hairs on your chest,” said Caitlin, curling up comfortably in her seat. “Did they grow back yet?”

“Not entirely,” admitted Barry. “It’s sort of a peach fuzz.”

“That’ll teach you not to get so close to my experiments,” said Cisco.

“Maybe it’ll teach you to label them better,” said Caitlin.

“Really? Don’t do me like that!”

“Sorry, it’s true.”

This triggered a bout of good-natured bickering as they debated the results of some of Cisco’s more disastrous experiments. Before long they were all laughing, loosened up by the drinks. Barry, who was perched on the arm of Caitlin’s chair, leaned against her.

“I love you guys, you know that?”

“We love you too, Barr – ooof! Oh. Okay,” said Caitlin, bewildered. Barry had slid off the arm of the chair and squeezed up next to her, taking up half the chair like a Great Dane still trying to sit in its owner’s lap.

“Look at him, he’s getting tipsy already,” Cisco teased.

“Shhh.” Barry rested his head contentedly on Caitlin’s shoulder. Amused, she patted his knee.

Cisco downed the rest of his drink. “All right, let’s get this show on the road.”

He offered Caitlin his hand – only to have Barry grab it instead. Then he grabbed Caitlin’s hand too.

“Oh, we’re holding hands?” said Cisco. “Is that a thing we do now?”

“It is when we’re running,” Barry said, grinning.

Caitlin’s eyes widened. “Oh. No, no, no runni–”

The rest of her sentence was lost to the wind.

2 DRINK BARRY: KINDA CLUMSY

When Barry became a speedster, he gained a massive boost in motor functions, including enhanced reflexes that have massively improved his coordination. Prior to this transformation, his ability to walk unhindered across a flat surface was roughly equal to that of Bella Swan from Twilight. Two-Drink Barry is harmless, but he must be kept at a safe distance from breakable objects.

Okay, so travelling at super speed sucked – Cisco would stick to breaches from now on, than you very much – but he had to admit it had its advantages. They’d beaten the evening rush by minutes and found themselves a table, where they had been comfortably situated for the past half hour. Since then the bar had filled rapidly, and now they were surrounded by people. Glasses clinked, bodies gyrated. All around them was laughter and the throb of music; he could feel the buzz of the bass against his elbows where they rested on the table.

“This is nice, isn’t it?” asked Caitlin. “No monsters, no metahumans… just the three of us having a few quiet drinks.”

“Don’t jinx it,” Cisco said darkly. “Also, I don’t know that the ‘drinks’ part is entirely accurate. The fastest man alive is about to lose his title. Where the hell is he?” Barry had offered to get the next round, but that was ten minutes ago and they hadn’t seen him since. Frowning, Cisco and scanned the room.

Just as he had started to get concerned, the crowd parted and Barry appeared with three glasses in his hands.

“It’s about time! What took you?”

“I’m so sorry,” said Barry. “I got held up at the bar, there was a huge li–”

Whatever he’d been about to say next was cut off as he abruptly tripped over his own feet.

All three drinks spilled everywhere. Lightning flickered as he lurched forwards to try and intercept, and he managed to right the glasses, but not before the majority of their contents had ended up all over the table.

Cisco’s plastic cup floated across the tabletop in a puddle of dismally fizzing coke, which dripped steadily into his lap. Caitlin looked down at her soaked sweater, hands held up in shock. Her eyes flared white.

“This,” snarled Frost, “is a cashmere sweater.”

Barry’s eyes were wide. “Oh my God, guys, I am so sorry.”

With a jerk of her head, Caitlin regained control. “It’s fine,” she said, then winced, presumably in response to whatever Frost snarled in the back of her head. “Really. It happens to the best of us.” She pulled the sopping wet fabric away from her with a grimace. “Um… does anyone have a tissue?”

“Let me get some paper towels!” said Barry.

Cisco reached out to stop him. “Actually, Barr, maybe you should –”

But it was too late: Barry had already turned around and crashed into a guy going in the opposite direction, who slopped beer all over himself. Cisco winced sympathetically.

“I’m sorry!” Barry said, while the guy glared and shook his wet hands.

“Maybe you should take a seat,” said Cisco.

Still apologising profusely, Barry sank onto his stool and shrank in on himself, nursing what was left of his drink while Caitlin went to get something to clear up the mess.

“So I guess those adjustments we made to the 500 proof are working, huh?” Cisco said with a smirk.

“Oh, they’re working,” said Barry. “Speaking of which, can I get a top-up?”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Caitlin asked, returning with a wad of paper towels. She started to mop up the table.

“What? Oh, yeah, I’m fine. I’m not even buzzed, seriously. Tipsy at best. Come on, hit me.” He waved at his drink.

Cisco and Caitlin exchanged looks. There was a slight flush to Barry’s cheeks, and his eyes were a little brighter than usual, but other than that he seemed stable.

“I have wanted to study how the speedforce interacts with alcohol,” Caitlin admitted. “Metabolic processes aside, I am interested to measure the effects.”

“What the hell,” Cisco said. He unscrewed the cap of the flask and tipped it in to Barry’s glass, pouring a generous measure. “Knock yourself out.”

Barry beamed and picked up his drink. “Cheers,” he said, and they all clinked their half empty glasses.

Three Drink Barry: Barry Dance-Pants

This Barry is able to flawlessly replicate the choreography for every single Britney Spears music video unprompted. So far we have been unable to determine where he acquired this information.

They all agreed that it was best if Cisco got the next round. He didn’t retrieve the next lot of drinks any faster than Barry had – if anything, he was slower; people kept shoving in front of him every time he got close to the bar – but at least the glasses stayed upright this time. When he returned to the table, though, Caitlin was alone.

“Where’d Barry go?”

Caitlin frowned. “I thought he was with you.”

“Nope.” He passed her drink over to her.

Caitlin worried at her lower lip.

“Hey, don’t stress,” said Cisco. “Barry’s a big boy, he can take care of himself.”

“I don’t know. He’s been gone a while, and he wasn’t exactly steady on his feet. He might hurt himself.”

“Good thing we have a doctor on call,” said Cisco, sipping his drink.

“That’s not funny. Seriously, I’m worried about him. I’m not sure he should be left unsupervised.”

She had a point. Speed and immense clumsiness wasn’t a great combination – they’d learned that the hard way. Cisco downed the rest of his drink with a grimace. “All right, let’s go look for him.”

They got up and headed out onto the dancefloor. The music was so loud that the entire room vibrated, Britney Spears’ Womanizer throbbing through the room. Caitlin pulled back and made a face as she almost inhaled a mouthful of some stranger’s coarse blonde hair. She batted it away like cobwebs.

“Ugh. Remind me why we decided to come out on the busiest night of the week?”

“Seemed like a good idea at the time,” muttered Cisco, craning his neck. “Man, I can’t see him anywhere. It’s like playing Where’s Wally? Hey – hey, excuse me! Can I just squeeze – guys?” He attempted to slide past a knot of people, only to give up with a frustrated sigh. “Jesus, it’s like talking to a brick wall. What the hell are they looking at?”

Caitlin stood on her toes. “It looks like...” She stopped. “Oh, no.”

“What?”

She grabbed his arm and steered him through the crowd, using him as a battering ram to force her way through. Eventually, breathless and sweaty, they made it to the outskirts of the dancefloor, where Cisco finally got a good look at exactly what had captivated everyone’s attention.

Barry was in the middle of the dancefloor, tearing it up. He strutted up and down, squatted and slut-dropped before he arched his back and pumped his hips forward in several lewd thrusts. The crowd cheered.

“Oh my God,” said Caitlin.

“He is killing it!” Cisco cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, “Yes, Barry!”

Barry winked and blew a kiss, rolling over to air-hump the ground with an alarming level of enthusiasm.

“Should we maybe go over there?” asked Caitlin.

“In a second,” said Cisco. He held his phone up, pressed record and zoomed in on Barry’s gyrating body, careful to keep his face in shot. “I wanna get this for posterity’s sake.”

“Cisco!” Caitlin scolded, and reached out to cover the camera.

Cisco jerked the phone out of reach. “You are aware that his ringtone for you is still thirty seconds of you butchering Summer Lovin’?”

Caitlin pursed her lips. “On second thoughts,” she said. “I hope you’re getting this in HD.”

Cisco grinned and went back to recording.

“Okay, that’s a little embarrassing,” Kamilla conceded.

“That? That was iconic,” corrected Cisco. “The man has moves. I swear he was a professional dancer in another life. I still have that video; I’ll show you later if you ask me nicely…”

“I’ll hold you to it. But none of this explains why this stuff has to be so rigorously controlled. I mean, being clumsy, affectionate, kinda sloppy, tearing it up on the dancefloor… that sounds like pretty standard drunk behaviour.”

“The first three drinks aren’t the problem,” Cisco said darkly. “It’s what comes after that you have to worry about. See, drunk Barry is insatiable. One drink is never enough. Once he’s had a taste of that sweet, sweet 500 proof concentrated speedster juice, he won’t rest until he’s had more. And while he may be an icon, three-drink Barry soon gives way to…”

FOUR-DRINK BARRY: LOUD BARRY.

Barry Allen is a hero in every sense of the word. Time and time again he has sacrificed everything for the noble goal of making the world a better place. Barry doesn't save lives for the glory or the recognition; he does it because it's the right thing to do. But four-drink Barry… he thinks a little recognition might be nice.

The final chords of Womanizer faded out into a sea of applause. Beaming from ear to ear, Barry took a series of bows, flapping his hand as if to say, ‘oh, stop it!’ After a few more moments of thoroughly enjoying the spotlight, he disengaged from his loving admirers and headed back towards Cisco and Caitlin and slid breathlessly back into the booth. His sweaty hair stuck to his forehead.

“Where did that come from?” Cisco asked, impressed.

Barry shrugged. “I’m full of surprises.”

“Clearly. I think you just earned yourself another drink!”

Cisco handed him the flask, and Barry clinked it cheerfully against Cisco’s beer bottle before he tipped it back and swallowed with a grimace. His eyes watered.

“Damn. That never goes down any easier.”

“Well it is just concentrated alcohol,” Caitlin reminded him. “Speaking of which…” She pulled her testing kit out of her purse. “Four drinks should be more than enough to start showing some side-effects. Let me take a quick blood sample.” Before Barry could object, she stabbed a lancet into his finger.

“Ow!” Barry put his finger in his mouth and sucked on it.

“Everything okay there?”

They all turned. A blond man in a grey t-shirt stood a short distance away, looking at them in concern.

“What? Oh, yeah, I’m good. Just hurt my finger.” He held it up ruefully.

Blondie moved closer. “Well it’s your lucky night: I’m a nurse. Why don’t you let me take a look?”

Cisco plastered on a smile. “That’s real nice of you, but our friend here is actually a doctor, so –”

Barry held out his hand, overriding Cisco’s objections. Blondie took it and examined it, tracing his palm with the tip of his finger. Cisco rolled his eyes hard and took another swallow of his drink.

“I was just watching you out on the dancefloor,” Blondie said. “Those were some impressive moves.”

“Oh, it was nothing,” Barry said modestly.

“No, it was definitely something. If I busted out a routine like that I’d be laid up for a week. What’s your secret?”

“Funny you should say that, cos…” Barry leaned in and said impishly, “I’m actually the Flash.”

Cisco choked on his drink. It went straight up his nose; his sinuses were on fire. He coughed hard, eyes watering.

“Are you okay, man?” the stranger asked concernedly.

“Great,” Cisco managed.

Satisfied, Blondie’s attention returned to Barry. “Well, I think your finger’s okay.” His thumb pressed against the inside of Barry’s wrist and his forehead creased slightly. “Your pulse is pretty fast, though.”

“Is it?” Barry said, resting his chin on his hand. “I hadn’t noticed.”

Caitlin rolled her eyes.

Blondie released him, but he showed no signs of leaving. He looked Barry appraisingly up and down. “So you’re the Flash, huh?”

“Yep,” Barry said. His eyes twinkled. “Fastest man alive.”

“Mm. Maybe we’ll have to test that.”

At this point, Cisco decided, enough was enough. He slapped Barry on the back hard enough to make him stagger and complain, “Ow!”

“Ha!” he said. “This guy. He’s a kidder, right? A real riot. Hey, uh, Barry, can I talk to you for a second?”

Before Barry could object, Cisco had grabbed him by the back of the shirt and pulled him out of the main bar area into the corridor, where there was a line of people waiting for the bathroom. Out here it was cooler and while he could still feel the throb of the music through the sticky soles of his sneakers, at least he could hear himself think.

“Dude,” he said. “Seriously? What the hell?”

“Oh, come on. It’s just a little harmless flirting. Iris and I, we have an agreement–”

“I’m not talking about the flirting! You can’t just –” Cisco stopped and made himself take a very deep breath before he lowered his voice. “You can’t just tell people you’re the freaking Flash!”

Barry gave a slow, confused blink. “But I am the Flash.”

He didn’t say it quietly. Several heads turned their way.

Cisco gave an uncomfortable laugh and rolled his eyes, before darting them at Barry like, ‘this guy, am I right?’ After a moment, the bystanders lost interest and went back to their conversation, and Cisco lowered his voice. “I know that, Barry, but it’s a secret, remember?”

“A secret?” Barry’s eyes widened and he clapped his hands over his mouth. “Oh! Right, I forgot. I’m sorry.”

“You know what? It’s all good. Just a little misunderstanding. But uh, let’s keep that one under wraps from now on, okay? Lips…” He mimed zipping up his mouth.

Barry nodded dutifully. “Got it.”

“Okay.” Cisco exhaled heavily. Jesus. Babysitting a drunken speedster was hard work.

Barry patted him on the shoulder. “M’gonna go to the bathroom. I’ll be back in…” He held up two fingers. “Two seconds.”

“You’d better be. And remember –” He made the zipping motion again.

Barry imitated it, pretending to lock his mouth up and tossed away the imaginary key. Then he went to join the queue.

Feeling like he’d just aged a decade, Cisco made his way back to their booth. Mercifully, Blondie had gone to chat up some twink at the bar. Cisco sank back onto his stool and buried his head in his hands.

Caitlin, who was squeezing a few droplets of Barry’s blood onto a testing strip, made a sympathetic sound. “Not having a good time, huh?”

“I’d be having a great time if Black Canary over there could quit singing about his secret identity for five freaking minutes.” Cisco snatched the silver flask off the table and screwed the cap back on with a sharp twist. “We’re cutting him off right now, before we get into any more trouble.”

“Oh, come on, cut him a little slack. He doesn’t exactly get to let loose very often.”

“There’s letting loose and then there’s whatever the hell this is.” Cisco shook his head. “It’s like –”

A high-pitched shriek cut him off, and Cisco grimaced as it rang throughout the room. Everyone turned to the source of the commotion – and Cisco’s heart sank. Barry stood on the stage, fumbling with the microphone stand.

“Is this thing on?”

“Oh God,” said Caitlin.

Cisco launched himself at the stage, fighting through the crowd. As he did, Barry continued to ramble into the mic.

“Hi. My name’s Barry, Barry Allen, and I just wanted to say something real quick. Because I love this city. It’s like… my favourite city. And I love all of you. Especially you.” He pointed unsteadily at someone in the crowd and gave a clumsy wink. “Anyway, I’m gonna tell you a secret while I’m here. You guys can keep a secret, right? Shhh!” He put his fingers on his lips. “See, I’m not supposed to tell you this, but…” He leaned in so close that his lips brushed against the mic. “I’m the Fla –”

Just in time, Cisco jerked the mic away from him. “Flaaa–ha! Okay, that’s quite enough of that. I think my buddy here needs some air. Come on, Barry, let’s go.”

Luckily, Barry didn’t resist. He whooshed cheerfully as Cisco shunted him back to their booth and into his seat, then lolled sideways against Caitlin, who – with reflexes well-honed from constantly grabbing flying paperwork – managed to save her testing kit from being swept off the table.

Barry giggled. “I’m fast,” he said.

“Okay,” Cisco said resignedly. He turned to Caitlin. “Got any better ideas?”

She shrugged. “Pray that six-drink Barry is a little more tight-lipped?”

It sounded like a terrible idea. But when had that ever stopped them? With a shake of his head, Cisco withdrew the flask from his pocket.

“Hold on.” Caitlin’s voice had dropped an octave, and silver began to creep down from the roots of her hair. “I wanna see this,” said Frost. “It’s gonna be a total shitshow.”

Unfortunately, Cisco suspected she was right. He splashed more alcohol into Barry’s glass. “Here you go, big guy. Drink up.”

Barry looked down at his drink and frowned. “Can I get ice in this?”

Frost passed her hand over the glass and a chunk of ice dropped to the bottom with a clink.

“Awesome,” Barry said, and downed it.

“Oh God,” said Cisco. “We are so gonna regret this.”

“Okay,” said Kamilla, looking up from the binder. “I think I’m kinda starting to see the problem. But we won’t have that issue tonight. Everyone at this party knows Barry’s the Flash.”

“Listen,” said Cisco. “Four-drink Flash is a cake-walk. The worst is yet to come.” He flipped the page. “Let me introduce you to five-drink Flash.”

5 DRINK BARRY: THERAPIST BARRY

Five-drink Barry got a little too invested in Iris’ Intro to Psychology textbook in college. He’s all heart, zero clinical training.

Leonard Snart lay back on his bunk in Iron Heights, one leg resting lazily over the other, flipping through a nudie magazine. At least, that was how it appeared from outside the cell. Tucked between the pages was a blueprint of the prison, which his sister had smuggled in during her last visit. The bed creaked as he shifted his weight.

One of the guards struck the bars with his baton. Len glanced up.

“Snart. Get your ass out here. We’ve got a phone call for you.”

“Who from?” Lisa didn’t usually call so soon after a visit, and Mick never called at all; the signal on the Waverider was terrible.

“What do you think I am, your PA? Just get your ass out here.”

Interest well and truly piqued, Len tossed his magazine aside, careful to make sure the blueprint stayed safely tucked between his pages as he crossed the cell and waited for the door to be unlocked. Given his status as a high security prisoner, the guard cuffed him before leading him to the payphone booth in the reception area, the walls marked with grease stains and graffiti. With some difficulty, Len picked up the phone.

“Hello, this is Leonard Snart speaking. How may I be of service?”

The quality of the call wasn’t great. He could hear the throb of music, people talking and shrieking and laughing in the background.

Then a familiar voice said, “Snart? Is that you?”

Len’s forehead creased. “Barry?”

“Shmart. Snart.” Barry cleared his throat. “Hi. Are you okay?”

“…Peachy.” Len flicked a glance over his shoulder. The two prison guards stood watching him with folded arms and distinctly unimpressed expressions. “Can I ask if this is a business or a personal call? Because this isn’t exactly a secure line.”

“I just –” A loud, deep burp echoed down the line. “Wanted to check in n’ make sure you’re doin’ okay.”

“What?”

“Because I wanted you to know,” Barry said, his voice thick and indistinct, “that it’s okay not to be okay, you know? You shouldn’t bottle up your emotions. You gotta let ‘em out, you know? After everything you’ve been through with Lewis, I just wanted you to know that if you ever needed to talk…” He choked up, before recovering. “I’ll be here.”

“Barry, are you drunk?” Len said incredulously.

“See, there you go again, changing the subject. Have you ever noticed that you often use de… def… deflection as a way to avoid talking about difficult subjects?”

“I’m hanging up now,” said Len.

“No, no, no, no, wait! Wait!” Barry said urgently. “You need to talk about what bothers you. Don’t just bottle it up. Your emotions are a beautiful thing. Emotions are what make us–”

“Barry?” came another muffled voice on the other end of the line. “Who are you talking to?”

“No one,” Barry said immediately.

“Barry, give me the phone.”

“No.”

“Just give me the god damn –”

The sound of static and scuffles crackled down the line, and Len grimaced, lifting his head as far away from the speaker as he could to keep from being deafened. Over the commotion and the continued music blasting in the background, he could hear Barry shouting.

“You can be anything you want to be! Your past does not define you!”

“Okay,” said Len, and went to put the phone down.

“Wait!” said Barry. “Before you go, do you have a number for King Shark? Because I wanted to check in and make sure he’s doing okay. I know he looks scary, but underneath that slimy exterior he has the heart of a –”

Len rolled his eyes and hung up.

Sober Barry was a seasoned fighter, with speed, agility and hard-won experience on his side. Fortunately for Cisco, however, Drunk Barry’s combat skills comprised of slapping and some half-hearted attempts to bite, which meant that he was able to wrestle the phone away from him fairly easily. As he hung up, he glanced at the caller ID and blanched.

“Seriously? You’re making phone calls to Iron Heights? Are you gonna tell all the bad guys your secret identity too?” He held Barry’s phone up. “You know what? I’m keeping this; you clearly can’t be trusted.”

“My phone!” Barry said, and made a pathetic grab for it.

“Nope. Not happening, pal.” Cisco tucked it into his back pocket.

Barry pouted.

“Hey, don’t give me that look. I’m going to give it back later, I promise. I just need you to sober up first.”

“Okay,” Barry said sorrowfully. His bottom lip started to tremble.

“Oh, no,” Cisco said. “Not the lip – oh God, Barr, you’re breaking my heart here.”

“What’s happening?” asked Frost, returning to the table with two more beers, frost creeping down the side of the bottles. She gave a disinterested look at Barry, who was staring at the table with tears brimming in his eyes. He sniffed hard.

“Uh-oh,” said Cisco. “Six-drink Barry must be…”

SIX-DRINK BARRY: SAD BARRY

Shortly after his fifth drink, Barry loses his well-honed ability to repress and crumbles under the weight of well over a decade of trauma. In times of crisis, he can be medicated with chicken wings or, in a pinch, large servings of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream.

Cisco turned to Frost for help, but she inched away, rapidly shaking her head. Great, thought Cisco. Super helpful. He rubbed Barry’s back tentatively.

“Hey, Barry. You doing okay there, bud?”

Barry looked up. “I just got off the phone with Snart. He’s having a really hard time, you know? I mean, some people just can’t catch a break. He had a crappy abusive drunk for a father; he practically raised his sister. In and out of juvie, never graduated high school – and in spite of all of that, he comes up with these brilliant heists – like seriously impressive – and then the Flash comes in and totally ruins every single one of them. I mean, come on. The guy’s gotta make a living somehow, am I right?”

“Uh,” said Cisco.

“I always said to him, you can do better.” He poked Cisco clumsily in the chest to emphasize each word. “You have what it takes to be a hero. So the guy joins the Legends, becomes a hero, and then he freaking dies in an explosion. Kaboom! And then he comes back, returns to Central City to start over, robs one lousy bank and gets thrown straight back in prison. How is that fair?”

“Jail time seems like a fairly reasonable consequence for grand larceny,” said Frost.

“It’s just a bad habit,” Barry said forlornly. “He deserves help and compassion, not a prison cell. Do you know what it’s like in Iron Heights? The food is terrible. My Dad spend a decade in there and he always said…”

He trailed off. For a moment Cisco thought he’d gone into a trance, as he stared down at the table, forehead slightly creased. Then he saw the haunted look in Barry’s eyes. The face of a man who had seen terrible things.

They needed a distraction. Luckily, Cisco had just the thing. “You know what?” he said. “Maybe the food in prison isn’t great, but you know what’s awesome? The food you can get delivered right here. Nice, starchy, alcohol-absorbing food. Let’s look at a take-out menu and see what we’ve got.” He pulled up JustEat on his phone. “We could get you a pizza… maybe some fries… a couple of burgers; that sounds–”

“Chicken wings,” Barry said distantly.

They both turned to look at him.

“Chicken wings?” said Frost sceptically.

“Chicken wings,” Barry insisted.

“Okay!” said Cisco. “We’ll get chicken wings.” He added one portion to the basket. Then took another look at Barry’s face and hit the plus button several times. “Lots… and lots… of chicken wings.” He locked the phone. “Okay, food should be with us in a couple of minutes. So what now?”

“More drinks!” Barry said.

“No! No more –”

It was too late; there was a crackle of lightning and then the flask slammed back down onto the tabletop.

Cisco closed his eyes in defeat.

8 Drink Barry is a Michelin-star chef

Sober Barry’s cooking is average at best, but 8 drink Barry reveals a deep inner passion for the culinary arts.

It was a little past two am when a breach opened at the top of the stairwell, pulsing and flickering with pale blue light. Frost and Cisco staggered out of it, each holding one of Barry’s arms to keep him from escaping.

“Okay, almost there,” said Cisco. “You’re doing a great job. Can you let us in?”

Barry patted himself clumsily down until he found his keys and tried to open the first lock. He kept missing the keyhole. After his third attempt, Barry sighed and collapsed forwards, head resting against the wood panelling. Then he started vibrating.

Cisco suddenly realised what he was trying to do. “No, no wait, don’t–”

There was a buzzing sensation, a sickening lurch, and then all three of them fell straight through the front door.

Frost gave a full-body shudder and released her hold on Barry’s shirt to rub her arms.

“Never do that again! It makes my skin crawl.”

“I feel like we should have a rule about phasing under the influence,” Cisco muttered.

Together, they managed to get Barry onto the couch, where he lay blinking up at them, floppy as a rag doll, barbecue sauce smeared down his chin. More of the wings had ended up on his face than in his mouth, but Cisco hoped the restorative properties would kick in soon.

“Hey, Sad Flash. How’re you holding up?”

“I’m hungry,” Barry said. He clawed his way to a standing position. “Gonna make food.” Yellow light blazed as he sprinted into the kitchen.

Frost turned to Cisco. “He’s still hungry? He had like, eight servings of chicken wings!”

“Just go with it,” Cisco muttered, and then the alarming sounds of crashes and bangs came from the kitchen. “Barry? Do you need some help in there?”

Lightning crackled erratically as Barry sped around the room. Within seconds, every available surface was strewn with culinary equipment: a chopping board; a stained knife; various ingredients. A knife flashed as he rapidly diced an onion and swept it into the pan too fast for the eye to follow, and then the burner came on with a click and a whoosh. Oil sizzled as Barry dropped a steak into the pan. He grabbed a wine bottle off the side, yanked the cork out with his teeth and spat it across the room; it missed Frost by inches, and she recoiled in disgust. Barry sniffed the wine, and after a moment of consideration, he sloshed a generous amount into the pan. Flames leapt skyward, and Barry expertly tamped them down.

“Uh… what are you doing?” said Cisco.

Barry flipped the steak with a flick of his wrist. “Cooking.”

“Yeah, I can see that, but I thought you were going to make pasta, or fries, you know – normal drunk people food, not –” Cisco inhaled. “What even is that?”

“Braised steak in a red wine sauce, with asparagus on the side,” Barry said.

“…Right,” said Cisco. “Sorry I asked.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” said Kamilla.

“It isn’t,” said Cisco. “It’s goddamn awesome. The problem with 8-Drink Barry is that hot on his heels is –”

9 DRINK BARRY – SLEEPY BARRY.

On the night the particle accelerator exploded, Barry went into a coma and remained unconscious for nine months. During that time, his score on the Glasgow Coma Scale was a 5. Rumour has it that nine-drink Barry scored even lower than that.

“This is the worst night out I’ve ever been on in my life, and I share a body with Caitlin. Her idea of fun is wearing hideous pyjamas and watching documentaries on Hulu,” Frost hissed.

They stood on the doorstep laden with plastic bags while Cisco searched through the assortment of keys Barry had given him, trying to find the one for the first lock. “Look,” he said, inserting one into the lock with a crunch, “I know it hasn’t exactly been smooth sailing, but hopefully he’ll have got the rest of it out of his system while we were out breaching to every grocery store in the city.”

“Right, because Gordon Ramsay in there had to have…” Frost slid the bottle of wine out of the grocery bag. “Whatever the hell this is. Chateau Belair Mona–whatever. As if a hundred-and-fifty-dollar bottle is going to taste any different than the fifteen-dollar fifty bottle from the liquor store.” She rolled her eyes. “What the hell is he even going to do with it?”

“To be honest, as long as he doesn’t drink it I could care less what he does with it. Just keep him distracted for long enough to get some more food inside of him and make sure any breakable objects are out of reach before he gets down to the two-drink level.” He shook the keys in frustration. “Jesus, how many keys do they have?”

“I still don’t see why we had to–” Frost paused and narrowed her eyes. She sniffed sharply. “Is something burning?”

They looked down. Thick grey smoke billowed out from underneath the kitchen door.

Seconds later, the door burst off its hinges in a cloud of icy fog.

Inside the loft was total chaos. Barry slumped at the kitchen table, dead to the world, his hand still loosely clasped around the flask of speedster booze. A small puddle of drool on the table shone in the firelight. Behind him, his frying pan lay abandoned on the range, smoking violently while flames leapt towards the ceiling.

The piercing shriek of the smoke alarm tore through the room. Frost blasted the frying pan with a thick stream of ice and cold energy crackled from her palms, barely making a difference in the temperature of the room. Cisco grabbed a damp tea towel off the side and beat at the flames, trying frantically to extinguish the blaze. Behind them, Barry didn’t so much as twitch, his snores drowned out by the alarm.

“Okay, I think I get the gist,” said Kamilla, looking up from the folder. “No-booze Barry is the way to go.” She hesitated. “But just out of morbid curiosity, what about nine-drink Barry?”

“Unchartered territory,” Cisco said darkly. “We figured eight drinks was enough.” He closed the folder conclusively. “So yeah, it sucks that Barry can’t drink with us, but with great power comes great responsibility. And sometimes responsibility means making sure your friend doesn’t accidentally break the sound barrier by doing the worm at Mach 2.”

Cisco went to slide the folder back onto the shelf. As he did so, his gaze caught a framed photo on the countertop. He paused and picked it up, smiling sadly. It was a picture of himself, Caitlin, Barry and Thawne – or Wells, as they’d believed back then – from the early days. They all looked so young, grinning at the camera, hair tousled where Barry had sped out from behind the phone before the shutter clicked. His chest ached.

Kamilla put a hand on his arm. “You’re going to miss them, aren’t you?”

“Always.” He put the photo down. “But we gotta keep moving forward. Speaking of which, it is beyond uncool to be late to your own party, so we’d better get shaking.” He held out his arm. “Ready?”

“You go,” said Kamilla. “I just have a few last-minute things to take care of. I’ll catch up.”

“Okay.” Cisco kissed her on the cheek and slipped out of the room.

Kamilla glanced over her shoulder, bit her lower lip. Then her gaze slid over to the fridge.

Tiptoeing across the room, she approached the container and input the code again. Her hair tossed as she glanced over her shoulder to make sure that no one was watching. Then she slid out a single blood red vial and tucked it into her purse.

Just in case.

#DCTVGenPrideMonth #the flash fanfiction #my fics

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bisluthq · 3 years

Note

omg @ the anon who asked about margot and tom, the person you're looking for is ME! their story could be made into a romcom I swear! to sum it all up:

they met in mid 2013 while filming suite française, she has a role in it and he was assistant director. she really hit it off with him and some other crew members and they all moved in together into a tiny flat in london (m&t + 5 friends). they were just friends for a while, margot's said she's been in love with him since she met him but hid it from him because she wasn't looking for a relationship and she was scared he wouldn't love her back (I know, hard to believe). she eventually found out he liked her too and they started their fwb era in mid-late 2014. they didn't tell their roommates at first cause they thought it was no big deal and their roommates freaked out lol. they were scared the relationship would ruin their group in case it ended. they eventually calmed down though and margot and tom soon stopped with the bs and started dating fr. they continued living there until they got married in dec 2016! they have a production company together along with two of their ex roommates and it's been pretty successful, it produced a bunch of margot's movies like i, tonya, bop and earned an oscar nom with promising young woman this year. they currently live in cali with their two dogs boo radley and belle. 😌

this is my margot&tom lecture anon, if you wanna know anything else lmk cause I love them so much omg. margot mentions him in interviews all the time, here are a few cute ones: x x x x x (this one is so cute, he once filled their whole freezer with her fav ice cream when she came home after being away for ages. I want a tom in my life).

I knew someone would deliver this is fucking ADORABLE. V into it.

#nat talks margot

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rebelcap · 3 years

Text

No, no, no, yes.

Bucky x oc. (Luna Vega, woc, slightly enhanced)

Sweetheart, I’ve been checking on you since 2014.

Luna does and Bucky knows, she’s been there since the beginning. When the winter solider becomes Bucky again. Even before Steve and certainly after Steve.

They start to wonder if…

PART 2

One.

The TV was silent, illuminating the little living space that goes up to the little kitchen, the light of the door was on. Bucky was lying on the floor, absently watching the TV, the news, and all going to shit since everyone came back—and some left.

His eyes perk up to the door when he hears the elevator door opening up and steps walking towards his apartment. Bucky stood up and heard a voice speaking from outside.

“It’s me, open up.” Luna talked from the back half of the hallway, knowing that he had already heard her coming. He groaned, annoyed as he looked around from some of his clothes. “Bucky,” she spoke again as she reached the door.

“One second!” He shouted and grabbed a shirt and some sweatpants from the one-seat couch beside his bed.

“Are you with someone?” She asked and Bucky opened the door and found her staring with a shit-eating grin. “Are you flipping your wig with some broad?” Luna wiggled her eyebrows at him, hitting him with the forties slang.

Bucky took a deep breath and stared at her face for a moment and declared. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t. You need to get laid,” She exclaimed as Bucky moved to the side to let her in, he went back to the floor as she sat down on the couch.

“I tried, online dating is… overwhelming and weird.” He mumbled, looking at the muted television.

“Like Tinder?,” She asked, looking around for the remote, Bucky hummed. “You’re too old school for that.”

Bucky rubbed his face and observed the woman sitting on his couch, slouched and absently changing channels. “How did it go?” He asked referring to her latest mission.

“Could be better,” She said and Bucky rolled his eyes.

“Explain.”

“Intel was shit, my package got shot—he’s fine though.” She said without taking the eyes from the TV. “I tried to link up with the other guys,” Luna said looking at Bucky, talking about the rest of the Avengers.

“Had any luck?"

"Well, the kid, hulk and Clint, and the ant dude are doing okay and I don’t know about the ones in space because SWORD revoked my level 9 privileges that I had on SHIELD. And Wakanda is all good.” She made a face of disgust. “I can’t find Wanda or Strange. Probably doing weird shit around, whatever.”

“Now you’re checking on me?"

"Sweetheart, I’ve been checking on you since 2014.” She joked but they knew that it was real. They have history, the first time they met was obviously when Bucky was the winter soldier. She was a black ops operative on SHIELD, worked along with Steve, Natasha, and the STRIKE team. On her last mission, she started suspecting SHIELD was compromised by Hydra because her target had expressed it.

“You’re another HYDRA puppet, thinking you’re doing the right thing. SHIELD is not more.”

Before she could even press the issue and ask questions, her orders came through. No prisoners and was forced to terminate him. They sent her home on obligatory leave because she had sustained severe injuries in that mission. After Nick Fury was shoot, they brought her back, Secretary Pierce gave the order to put her on a wash down super-soldier serum to heal her injuries, something that she had no idea and they did that without her consent… but it worked perfectly and increased about a 25% her strength, stamina, and abilities —a little above average than the regular men.

All the pieces fell into place as soon they gave her orders to capture Steve, Natasha, and Sam. That’s when she knew that HYDRA had infiltrated SHIELD, at first she was only going to play along with them to gather intel that she planned to feed to Steve to bring them down. But it all cemented it together when she met The Winter Soldier, realizing that it was Bucky.

So she stayed for Steve.

But when Bucky pulled her out of the Potomac, injured and lost, feeling that he could only trust her—she helped him to get back on his feet and leave the country with a promise to not tell Steve that she knew about him.

“I won’t tell anything but keep in touch, Bucky.” She told him. They were in her car after she arranged a safe passage on a fishing boat to Europe.

“I will, Luna, I will.” He promise.

And he didn’t break that promise, even though she knew that Steve would never forgive her about it, not until after the shit that went down with the accords.

“I miss him,” She said almost in a whisper. They never talked about Steve, it’s been six months since he chose to leave their asses. “I still can’t believe he left us stranded here.”

“You still mad at him?,” Bucky asked.

“Yes, he just… left, no goodbyes, no explanation. Just…” She shrugged. “I know he loved her, I know. But we went through so much—” Luna cut herself off. “And then leave me with your traumatized ass.” She joked, Bucky laughed.

“Ah screw you, I’m doing therapy. Mandatory but still,” He rolled his eyes and turned around to look at the TV again.

“And how is that going?"

"It’s going. I…” He took a pause. “I’m making amends."

"That’s good,” Luna said and noted the expression on his face and knew what he meant with amends. “Who you killed?” she deadpanned.

“I can’t do anything illegal, I can’t hurt anyone—But I’m taking back the power I gave them, maybe bruising them a bit.”

“Hell yeah, do you boo. Hunt those sons of bitches,” Camila Smile, hyping him up. Bucky actually smiles as they high-five each other. “I’m on your make amends list?"

"I don’t have amends to do with you.” He frowned.

“You pushed me off the helicarrier.” Camila pointed out, which was true.

“You were annoying me,” Bucky said, which was also true.

“You almost killed me.” She made a solid point and Bucky shrugged it off.

“Sam grabbed you mid-air.”

“Yeah, then he dropped my ass too,” Camila explained and pointed out. “Because someone plucked the wing off his suit.”

Bucky rolled his eyes at her, again. Shaking his head and Camila smile.

“I ain’t telling you sorry.” Bucky smiled, playing along.

“I’m talking with your therapist.”

“She’ll put you on therapy.” Bucky looked at her, smiling. “You’re fucking crazy, you know that.”

“It’s a character trait, Bucky.” She laughed. “Besides, you like me a little crazy.” Camila teased a little.

“You know I do.” He agreed, looking at her with a smile on his lips. They both fell into a comfortable silence until Bucky blurted, without even thinking of the ramifications of saying something like this to her.

“I have a date tomorrow, at ten."

"What did you say?” Camila explained, turning her body to Bucky to hear him more correctly. “Did you say date?” Her short Bob fell exactly to her shoulder and bounced around as she hopped on the couch, kinda excited—acting like a freaking chihuahua.

“Yeah, I’m already regretting telling you. You’re gonna jinx it—

"What?,” She shouted, interrupting. “Aren’t I the one who’s been trying to get you laid all this fucking time?"

Bucky rolled his eyes once again, acting like a grumpy old man—well he technically was and said nothing. That was okay because Camila was going to answer it herself.

"Me!, so no… I’m not gonna jinx it,” She threw the remote at his chest and Bucky glared at her.

“That fucking hurt.”

“Don’t be a pussy. Who is she?, I know her? Is she cute?"

"It’s the girl from Izzy,"

"You asked her out?” Bucky looked at her and made a face and proceeded to tell her how Yuri set him up. Camila made a face and then laughed. “Look at you, finally you’re out of your millennial old dry spell.

” It’s just a date.“ He quickly interrupted her.” I haven’t had one since 1943.“ Bucky panicked a little, shuffling on the floor.

"Nah,” She hummed and shook her head, quickly getting up from the seat. “Come on,” Camila said waving his hand in front of him. Bucky frowned as he looked at her, confused.

“What?"

"You’re taking me on a date, I won’t let you go unprepared. You’re my friend I won’t let you fail.” She extended her hand at him and Bucky didn’t bulge. “Buck, come on” Camila pouted a little bit, giving him a little flirt and Bucky’s face got red. “Please?” She batted her eyelashes at him.

#bucky barnes x poc!reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x y/n #bucky fanfic #Bucky Barnes #Sebastian Stan #the falcon and the winter solider #The falcon and the winter solider fanfic #anthony mackie #The falcon #sam wilson #Bucky Barnes x OFC

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lovingthereign25 · 3 years

Text

Never say Goodbye

Chapter 4

I knew I had to go back to my parents house, but I couldn't face everyone, and there was no way I was gonna let Joe and his new girlfriend see me breaking down.

So I walked around a while. I needed to clear my head. I decided to go to our spot... except for the fact that it isn't our spot anymore since there isn't an "us" or "our" anymore. I sat on a rock for a minute just thinking how something so perfect could go so wrong. All those love songs gave me such an unrealistic belief on love, it totally sucked in reality.

"You still come out here?" I snap around seeing Joe

"Y-yeah, it's quiet and good place to think" I say jumping down from the rock

"How's school?.. heard you got into a top one in Boston?" He says

"Yea..it's going good" I say turning to walk away

"Y/n, stop let's talk for a minute...catch up" he says

"I can't..I really got to go early flight tomorrow" I say

"You're leaving already?" He asks

"Yea, bye Joe" I say

*6 months later*

I was flying home, the first time I've been home since Thanksgiving. But I wasn't alone. I had started dating an amazing guy named Derek. Derek was incredible, he was funny, smart, caring, I was head over heels for him and to be honest I haven't even thought about Joe in months.

My parents were having a huge memorial day cookout so I decided now was the perfect time to have them meet Derek.

We get to my parents house and I'm greeted by my sister and Josh. Josh and Derek hitting it off straight away.

" Now that you're here I can show you this." My sister smiles raising her left hand to my face flaunting a gorgeous diamond ring

"Oh my God..no way... you're engaged!" I smiled"

"Yes"

As I hugged my sister I heard familiar voice that of Patricia

"Y/n, sweetheart it's so good to see you!' she smiles hugging me tight.

"I'm good. How are you?" I say

"Good, and who might this be?" She asks looking at Derek.

"This is my boyfriend Derek, Derek this is my second mother Patricia.

"Nice to meet you Miss Patricia" he smiles, shaking her hand.

We finally made it to the back yard and I introduced Derek to everyone. They all loved Derek, especially my father, which I think was because Derek was going to school for criminal justice..he wanted to work for the FBI.

I was in the pool with Derek and a few relatives and friends having a good time. I wrap my arms around Derek, when I hear his voice. Joe was here .

His eyes met mine as soon as he got into the backyard, my arms tightened around Derek, who now was the target of Joe's stare.

I tried to avoid Joe at all costs, until I couldn't I was in the kitchen grabbing drinks for Derek and I when he stopped me

"Hey, longtime no see" he smiles

"Hi" I say trying to get passed him

"What you got a new boyfriend and can't talk to me now" he says grabbing my arm

"Joe, Don't I'm happy. Finally. You moved on for fucks sake you're about to be a dad any day now….please just leave me be" I say.

Just as Joe let go of my arm Derek came in

"Everything okay?" He asked

"Yeah, just asked Joe to open the door " I smiled.

Just as we were about to leave the kitchen Joe stops Derek

"Take care of her man, she's a good one" he says

"I know, and believe me I will," Derek says shaking his hand.

*18months later*

I wake up from an incredible Valentine's day with Derek, the sun shining through our bedroom window, I reach for my phone when I notice a ring on my finger not just any ring.. an engagement ring and oh my was it beautiful.

"Derek?,Derek what's going on?" I ask heading down to the kitchen where my boyfriend was making breakfast.

" I know you don't believe in fairy tales. But, if you did, I'd want to be your knight in shining armor. You've been through so much. I don't want to see you hurt anymore. I don't want you to worry about anything. You just wake up in the morning, that's all you have to do and I'll take it from there. There's one condition. You have to be my wife."

I was speechless and sobbing.

"Baby you have to give me an answer ….I'm dying here" he laughs

"Yes, yes Derek.. I'll be your wife! I smile kissing him

"And see? And that... that... That smile. Y/n, when you smile like that, my world... It's all right.I am in love with you." He smiles. I couldn't explain how happy I was but at the exact moment I told Derek I'd be his wife Joe's face popped into my head.

*4months*

Today was my and Derek's engagement party, my sisters and mom went all out as did Derek's mom and sisters. My mom had invited everyone we knew..which included almost all of Joe's family. Which was obvious being that Josh and my youngest sister Lyndsey were married now.

Joe sat at a table with Josh and Jon having drinks. His eyes never left me once since the moment he arrived with Galina and their daughter.

"One more sister left, might wanna snatch her up bro!" Josh jokes with Jon "We always said we were gonna marry sisters"

"Damn we sure did, didn't we" Jon laughs

" I just can't believe Y/n is marrying him" Joe says

"Well Derek's a really good dude, treats Y/n well and she's happy" Josh says

""Why you mad uce, you have a whole family" Jon laughs

"I just think she can do better" Joe shrugs

"And by better you mean you?" Josh asks

"Yeah, we were supposed to be together, this should be our party" he says

"You had your chance uce, you fucked it up, deal with it" Josh says getting up

"Whose side are you on here?'' Joe asks

"Y/n's" Josh says walking away.

Derek was off talking to my dad which I loved, I loved their bond, I was sitting on the front porch swing when I hear a familiar voice

"I guess I should probably say Congratulations" He says

"Thank you" I smile

"Y/n, are you sure you want to get married?" Joe asks sitting beside me

"Yes" I say

"Look I still love you, I think I'll always love you, and I know you still love me, so if you're doing this just to get back at me for getting Galina pregnant, Y/n it's working. Seeing you with him drives me nuts" he says

"Joe, I love Derek, I'm not in love with you anymore, I'm happy and I'm getting married. Please just be happy for me" I say

"Y/n, we belong together, you know that" he says

"Joe, we don't. You have a family, a girlfriend, a baby girl and I have Derek. " I say getting up "I love him Joe, and I'm going to spend the rest of my life with him".

*2014*

It's crazy how fast life passes. One day you're 21 planning your wedding and the next day it's 7 years later you're married and expecting your first child. So here I was sitting in my husband's office waiting for him to get back from talking to someone so I can tell him the news.

"There's my queen" Derek smiles entering the room greeting me with a kiss

"Hi,my love" I whisper back

"What brings you all the way down here, can't be missing me already I just left last night" he smiles joking about his long hours

"One: I miss you as soon as you walk out our front door, and two: no I came down to tell you something important" I say

"Important huh?, What's so important?" He asks, flashing me his perfect smile.

"I'm pregnant" I smile

"No way, are you serious?" He asks jumping off the corner of his next bringing me into his arms

"Yeah" I say

"Baby, I'm so happy we wanted this for so long" he whispers into my hair as the door to his office opens his partner Kevin coming in

"You guys good? Everything okay?" He asks

"Yeah, I'm just gonna be a Dad" Derek smiles

"For real? , Finally. I'm happy for you guys!,but unfortunately we got a case we need to get on" Kevin says

"Okay, baby I'll see you at home, go solve this case, be safe and come home to us" I say kissing him

"I will. I love you. Both of you" he smiles leaning down to kiss my stomach.

As soon as I got home I called Lyndsey since we were the closest.

"Hey favorite sister" she answered

"Hi boo-boo, I have something to tell you" I say

"Oh no, I don't wanna know you're always giving me bad news" she laughs

"Oh you'll wanna hear this.. I swear" I smile

"Fine, hang on I'm gonna put you on speaker Josh is here we having a pool day" she says "okay go"

"Are you sitting down?" I ask

"Yes" Josh and her answer in unison

"I'm pregnant" I shriek

*On the other end*

"I'm pregnant," Joe heard through the phone as he walked into Josh's backyard with Jojo and Galina. He felt his heart drop, he immediately felt sick dropping Galina's hand which he was holding and turning around leaving.

#roman reigns fanfiction #roman reigns imagine #roman reigns x reader #roman reigns smut #never say goodbye

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jyndor · 3 years

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You know, the conversation about sea shanties is just another chapter in what seems like the endless story of people of color, in particular black and indigenous people, telling us to learn the history of the things we like and white people hearing that it means we have to lock those things away forever and burn our books and stamp on our records. As if that isn’t what white people have done to black and indigenous stories, to black and indigenous cultures, to black and indigenous arts, wealth, etc for centuries. As if that is what the people of color who are educating us on the things we like are actually advocating for. News flash: part of the history of oppressors is fearing the tables turning, when that is never been the goal of civil rights and social justice movements. Ever.

So fun fact: I grew up loving good ol’ classic rock n’ roll. My first concert was the Allman Brothers Band, which is one of the most interesting rock bands of all time imo. I really love a good southern twangy jam, the way the guitars sing, the bluesy sunny vibe. Ramblin’ Man? Jessica? Simple Man? Carry On Wayward Son? Hotel California? Perfect fucking driving music if you ask me.

If you know anything about southern rock, you know the iconography - the Confederate Flag is everywhere, in the crowds, for many bands it’s in the album covers and the photoshoots, etc. You know what you get when you wade in the Southern rock water*.

The lyrics from Lynyrd Skynyrd’s Sweet Home Alabama have been parsed and interpreted in all kinds of ways -

In Birmingham they love the governor (boo-boo-boo) Now we all did what we could do Now Watergate does not bother me Does your conscience bother you?

And yeah, you could read this as ironic or satirical. In fact, that’s what guitarist and co-writer Gary Rossington says according to NPR -

"A lot of people believed in segregation and all that. We didn't. We put the 'boo, boo, boo' there saying, 'We don't like Wallace,' " Rossington said. But he also added that there were "a lot of different interpretations. I'm sure if you asked the other guys who are not with us anymore and are up in rock and roll heaven, they have their story of how it came about."

And yeah, maybe they didn’t like George Wallace or Nixon. Sure. Whatever. I could buy it, actually. Because this song actually is indicative of how many privileged people feel when they perceive being called out, even if the criticism isn’t about them. Call it wjhat you want - white fragility, white liberal sensitivity, etc. This song was written in response to Neil Young’s Southern Man, which goes:

Southern man, better keep your head Don't forget what your good book said Southern change gonna come at last Now your crosses are burning fast

Southern man I saw cotton and I saw black Tall white mansions and little shacks Southern man, when will you pay them back? I heard screamin' and bullwhips cracking How long? How long? How?

Yeah, writer Ronnie Van Zant was so bothered by Neil Young talking about l*nchings, abject sl*very and reparations in Southern Man, a song that isn’t even about them or Alabama in particular, that he wrote Sweet Home Alabama.

Well I heard Mister Young sing about her Well I heard ol' Neil put her down Well I hope Neil Young will remember A southern man don't need him around anyhow

Sweet home Alabama Where the skies are so blue Sweet home Alabama Lord I'm comin' home to you

So ironically, even though Neil Young was just talking to racists in the US South, someone who ostensibly didn’t agree with segregation took that song as a personal attack because he liked “southern culture” and his home state of Alabama, despite its flaws.

But Young never says that the South is irredeemable. He just says white southerners need to come to terms with their history (and yes make reparations). In fact, according to NPR he has some issues with his lyrics. “I didn't like my words when I wrote them. They are accusatory and condescending.” I don’t agree. It needs to be said.

So Van Zant and the Skynyrd guys heard a criticism of white Southern racism and at BEST thought, “well that’s an unfair portrayal of me, a southern white man.” Van Zant can’t answer this question for himself since he died in a plane crash with two other band members and their manager in 1977.

In my opinion, knowing how white people can be when confronted with the reality of racism, this feels a lot like every other time a well-meaning white person (myself included) has said, “but not all white people.”

Not all Southern whites supported segregation at the time, but most did - and all white people benefit from the legacy of sl*very. I might not be a descendant of people who enslaved others, my ancestors might have come here as refugees, but after they fled Ireland for New York, they threw black people under the bus for whiteness.

Rock is a genre that owes everything to Black musicians - to blues and spirituals and gospel and yes, Black work songs. Black history is in the DNA of rock music. That I grew up thinking it was white music is mortifying to be honest.

But I don’t really like Sweet Home Alabama and I never have. It’s kind of just meh to me. Not a big loss.

And that takes me to the Allman Brothers Band. As far as I am aware, ABB (through many, many iterations - this is another band plagued by tragedy) has never been cool with racism. According to Vulture:

The Allmans respected not just black art but black players; as kids, Gregg and Duane got lessons from an older black guitarist their mother once refused to allow into her home, and later, they caught hell having Jaimoe and bassist Lamar Williams in their ranks in their adopted home state of Georgia. “If a musician could play, we didn’t look at his skin color,” Gregg wrote in his 2012 memoir My Cross to Bear.

“Nobody around here had seen guys who looked like them,” soul food legend and friend of the band Mama Louise Hudson said in Alan Paul’s 2014 oral history One Way Out: The Inside History of the Allman Brothers Band. “A lot of the white folk around here did not approve of them long-haired boys, or of them always having a black guy with them.” Southern rock occupied a peculiar axis of Mason-Dixon pride and reverence to blues and soul veterans who were hampered and harangued by the politics of the South. Gregg always pushed back. He didn’t placate audiences’ blind patriotism and racism the way Charlie Daniels and Hank Williams Jr. have. Last year, he spoke out against North Carolina’s transphobic “bathroom bill,” and when asked about the confederate flag in 2015, he told Radio.com, “If people are gonna look at that flag and think of it as representing slavery, then I say burn every one of them.”

And that is great.

But.

Whipping Post. Written by white ally Gregg Allman, bluesy and wild and passionate on a level that is hard to imagine, this is... one of the greatest songs I have ever heard. And it also makes me wonder if it’s maybe belittling a part of slavery.

My friends tell me, that I've been such a fool But I had to stand by and take it baby, all for lovin' you I drown myself in sorrow as I look at what you've done But nothing seemed to change, the bad times stayed the same, And I can't run Sometimes I feel, sometimes I feel Like I been tied to the whippin' post Tied to the whippin' post, tied to the whippin' post Good Lord, I feel like I'm dyin'.

Honestly? I don’t know. I’ve researched it, I’ve used google. There isn’t a lot the internet has to say about this song that isn’t “this song fucking slaps man!!!” Maybe part of it is the larger context - Allman was staunchly against racism and was taught by a Black guitarist and played with Black musicians and loved Black music. A white man comparing an emotionally abusive relationship with being whipped might feel different without that context.

(Whipping posts being used for people besides enslaved Black people does not mean Allman wasn’t referencing what Black American slaves experienced, so don’t even go there. I know. The Romans also had slaves. It’s different.)

But if some people of color on the internet critique this song someday, the appropriate response is not to act as if “hey here is where this comes from, please be mindful about historical context and get educated” means “never listen to that devil song again,” folks.

It’s about learning our histories so we can do better in the future. Not canceling entire genres of music. Some things are best left in the past but mostly it’s just about understanding what the things we love mean. And these things are more than their aesthetics.

*I also really, really love African American work songs. Always have.

#cait uses her musical knowledge for once #work songs #sea shanties #this discourse is like one side saying read a book or wikipedia and the other side thinking they are being burned at the stake #history #southern rock #music #racism #colonialism #slavery tw #lynching tw #neil young was right he shouldn't have back tracked #but he's also canadian so like fix your glass house honey

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crackheadh0urr · 4 years

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Puppy (Audrey Rose x AK/VK!Daughter of Maleficent and King Stefan)

(If you've seen the 2014 Maleficent, you'll get where I got Stefan from)

As Audrey walked throught Jane's party, Adriene couldn't help but notice how much finer she looked as a villain. She and Audrey have always had a rocky relationship. One minute, they're cool. The next, their at each other's throat. It might have had something to do with Adriene being half AK, half VK. Audrey hated it, but at the same time, she knew Adriene was a good friend to her. As Audrey was about to cast a spell, Adriene slowly walks up to her, "Whoa! Whoa." She laughs nervously, her semi deep voice catching the attention of the magenta haired girl, "Ya know, um. You think you might need a um sidekick? A companion?" Adriene says while still walking up to Audrey who just glares at her with a slight smirk and a raised eyebrow, "A loyal best friend? Hell, even an errand girl?" Adriene asks with a lip bite. Audrey hums followed by an evil laugh, "Hm, maybe I do. But, why should I give that position to you?" She asks in a baby voice, batting her eyelashes. Adriene chuckles slightly, "I um... Maybe, not trying to be rude, I'm one of the ONLY people that can put up with you," She starts making Maleficent's staff gem glow, "A-And, don't want you to be lonely. I can also provide a lil extra protection." The curly afro-haired girl says. Audrey laughs, "What protection?" She asks. Adriene walks up to her and touches the staff making her eyes glow an eerie greenish yellow, "I am part Maleficent." She whispers as her lips ghosted Audrey. The shorter girl let out a shaky sigh, "You... You could be useful. Get behind me." She says plainly making Adriene nod rapidly and stand behind her.

"Happy birthday, to you..." Audrey sings as pink dust appears making a bunch of people fall asleep, "Happy birthday, to you..." More people fall. Jane looks around, desperately trying to find a place to hide, "Happy birthday... To you..." Audrey finishes. Unbeknownst to her, Jane dived into the enchanted lake as pink clouds appear to take both Audrey and Adriene away and hide them somewhere safe.

~~~

Uma flips through Audrey's diary with furrowed eyebrows, "You fucked up her life completely, Mal." She laughs out making Mal glare at Uma. The green haired girl laughs again, "But, you also made it better in a way..." She replies catching everyone's attention, "What do you mean?" Celia Facilier asks with curious eyes. Uma shakes her head, "Seems as though Ms. Goody Goody is bisexual." She replies making the group of VKs gasp, "Really?" Carlos asks. Uma nods, "She said, and I quote, Mal took everything from me. My future, my crown, my Benny-boo. But, there's someone that made me forget all of that. It's like I hate her, but I like her," Mal's eyes widened as she muttered something making Carlos and Evie shush her, "I admit, I started off disliking her when she came from the isle and when Mal took Ben from me, I started to eventually hate her because of what another VK did. Unfortunately and fortunately, she kept following me like a lost puppy. She kept trying to cheer me up. Make me understand that what her Mal did was not her fault. Her persistance and flirty nature made me unconsciously grow to like her as a good friend, considering she put up with a lot of my bullshit," Uma continues, evntually making all of the VKs sit around her as she read,

"When she hugged me, I just wanted us to stay like that. She's a little bit taller than me which I hated because she always made fun of my height. In such little time, she put so much admiration and love in my heart for her. She made me feel a lot of things Ben never made me feel. She even complimented me all the time and I would blush because she would give me a certain look when she said something about me that she loved. I hated feeling this way for a girl. My grandma would never accept it... So, I pushed her away. I picked fights with her just to get her away from me. It hurt me so bad because she was the only person who really tried to become my friend. She put up with my mood swings and constant complaining.

The only thing about my situation is that she saw right through me. She knew that I didn't want to push her away. But, she didn't know the reason. Just like that, I went from the Audrey she knew to the Audrey everyone hated. And I started to treat her as I treated everyone else." Uma finishes. Jay was in shock, "So, let me get this straight. Audrey likes a VK, but she's afraid of what her grandmother might say so she pushes her away. Who is this mysterious girl?" He asks. Uma flips back a few pages, "Right here." She says,

"I feel as if my world is crashing. Nobody but me knows that Mal gave Ben a love potion cookie. Ben and I were destined to be together... At least that's what my grandmother and parents say. Why did I let some VK take my whole life? I can't bare to take anymore mental abuse from them. Why me? There's one girl though. A VK and AK mix. I hate her with a burning passion, but she makes me oddly happy. Do I really hate her? She was there for me the exact same time Mal potioned Ben. I should know, because I sat next to her and she kept whispering sweet things into my ear. Who is she and who gave her the right to make me blush? The words she said to me were enough to block out any mental abuse my family dished out. She voice was smooth yet raspy. It was feminine with a hint of deepness.

She kept complimenting me on little things she noticed that I didn't know. I was gonna accuse her of being a stalker, but reality hit me hard before I could. Ben never really took time to notice any little details about me. But, this random girl, this VK took the time to point out stuff that I didn't notice about me. Instead of yelling at her or being bitchy like I usually was, I just smiled. A flashed a real smile and took in all of her compliments. The girl was honestly stunning. She had curly orangeish blonde hair that was black as you skimmed it. Her skin was relatively tan and she had tattoos littered all around her body which made her look a little more sexy in my eyes. What made me confused is that she looked so bad ass, but when she smiled, her face became more baby like. It was adorable. And god knows I can't forget those eyes. Her greenish eyes.

Her name is Adriene. And I think I might've made a new friend. One of my first true friends." Uma reads and gasps when she sees the picture. Mal looks at Uma, "Well, what is it?!" She asks impatiently. The dark skin girl turns the book around, "Is-... Isn't that your younger sister, Adriene?" Carlos asks,

Mal's hands slowly formed a fist, "So, you mean to tell me... Audrey has a crush on MY sister...?" She asks through gritted teeth. Uma nods while looking at the purple haired girl. Evie nods her head, "Maybe, just maybe... I have an idea..." She says softly.

~~~

Audrey sighs softly and sits down on a couch while staring Adriene down. Adriene grins, "Ya need anything, princess?" She asks. Audrey scowls, "It's Queen to you!" She snaps. Adriene raises her hands in defense, "Ight ight, My Queen." She says in a certain tone making Audrey turn red and blast her with the sceptre. Adriene clutches her arm, "OW! What the hell?!" She asks Audrey with a slight glare. The magenta hair girl glares back, "Stop being cute!" She says with an eyeroll as she sees a wide smile form on Adriene's face, "Or what?" She asks while tilting her head. Audrey glares making Adriene sulk, “Fine fine, i’ll stop.” She says, mumbling a couple of profanities afterwards. Audrey stood up and walked over to Adriene slowly. The curly haired girl tilts her head. She was about to voice her confusion until Audrey placed her head and right hand on Adriene’s chest. Something Audrey would usually do when she’s mad, upset, or needs comfort.

Adriene didn’t question Audrey. All she did was wrap her arms around Audrey’s waist, “I don’t know what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours, but it’s gonna be okay, Drey.” Adriene says softly. Audrey grips the taller girl’s shirt, “Promise?” She whisper asks. Adriene shook her head, “I can’t promise you that, but I can promise you this... I’m going to protect you no matter the cost. Don’t worry, lil mama.” She reassures making Audrey nod. Adriene kisses Audrey’s forehead, “I’ll be back.” She says and walks towards the front door. Audrey stops her with the sceptre, “And where are you going?” She asks. Adriene chuckles, “Calm down, queen. I’m bout to start a fire. For some reason, i’m craving smores.” She answers truthfully. Audrey furrows her eyebrows before letting her leave.

it’s been almost an hour since Adriene left and Audrey started to visibly get worried. The magenta haired girl checked her sceptre and instantly got angry,

“So, you left us to be with Audrey?!” Mal shouts in a tied up Adriene’s face. Adriene had a deep scowl present on her face, “Yeah, I did. And i’d do it over and over again, bastard child.” Adriene spat calmly earning a hard backhand against the face. Adriene’s spat out blood and a tooth as Mal hit her real hard, “IF YOU ARE LISTENING AUDREY, GIVE US THE STAFF OR ADRIENE GETS IT!” Mal shouts.

Audrey breathing became heavy and her eyes teared up “Adriene...” She whimpers,

“DON’T LISTEN TO HER, AUDREY! IT’S A FUCKING TRAP! I CAN HOLD MY OWN, BAE, KEEP THE SCEPTRE!” Adriene shouts earning another smack from Jay this time, “Shut up, bitch!” He shout. Blood ran down Adriene’s chin as she struggled to get up.

Audrey balls up her fist, “NO!” She screetches and disappears.

#descendants #Audrey Rose #audrey rose x reader #gxg imagine #gxglesbianlgbt #gxg

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