#crazy idea you guys ​maybe i shouldn’t be in the fucking honors program if i’m like this already. four fucking weeks in

[lovelyirony]

 cosmetology anon: this is for you, although I tweaked the idea a bit. i hope you don’t mind! 

Acquiring Tony Stark as an Asset had been purely by chance; after all, he wasn’t planned on being in the car. He was still an insolent teenager, angry with the world and angry with his father. They didn’t think he would’ve gone to a business party. 

But his mother...well. They hadn’t thought that Tony Stark was a mama’s boy. 

Because there Tony is, gasping for air while glass glitters all around him, looking near about like an angel that was torn from heaven with how it surrounded him. 

They had thought he was dead.  

At least, up until the point when he had looked Winter Soldier dead in the eye, said “hey you fucking asshole” and got a pretty damn good shot in the thigh. 

Someone on the brink of death might have tried the gun, but never the insult. 

So Hydra gets a brand new toy. 

Not easily broken, which is a pain-and-a-half to deal with. At least with the Winter Soldier, he was too delirious with blood loss to notice who was operating on him, what they were attaching. 

Tony Stark is on a whole other level. 

He bites, he kicks, he scratches. Quite annoying, they just want him to tire himself out. 

“Stark Industries doesn’t negotiate,” he hisses, trying to kick one of the nurses in the teeth. 

“Who said anything about negotiating?” says the head doctor viciously. His teeth glint in the fluorescent lighting, scalpels reflecting brilliantly onto the walls. “As far as the media knows, you’re dead. No one is going to come looking, and no one even knows who we are.” 

They make him sleep on a cot nearby Winter Soldier. Which is terrifying, to say the least. Not that he can kill him. He can’t touch him either. 

He’s in a deep freezer. Eyes closed, thank god. But they put him there and they tell him all about how he came to be there. 

“Everyone thought Barnes hit a rock and died,” one of the techs says, checking the machine. “He nearly did, but Zola helped us fix him up. Course, that was after a couple of times where he got to someone’s neck, and that was even before programming.” 

“Programming?” 

The tech leers at him, grinning. He’s standing, Tony’s sitting. It shouldn’t be as intimidating as it is. 

“Oh yeah, Stark. They’re gonna fix you all up.” 

“I don’t need fixing.” 

“Tell that to Winter Soldier.” 

“And what if your little machine gets rid of me, hm? Kills me?” 

“We add you to the other disappointments, or we dig a shallow grave and hope you’re found decades later.” 

Not exactly promising. 

But here’s the thing: the tech was wrong. They won’t add him to the pile of disappointments. 

The last time he went to a therapy appointment, his therapist said he had a “deep-seated need to be liked and be useful, which could be dangerous later.” 

He’s assuming that Doc Chesterfield wasn’t exactly expecting Tony to be in the running towards becoming America’s Next Top Murder Machine, but Doc wasn’t really the kind of guy who was “in the know” about a lot of things. 

That need to be liked and useful was about to come in handy.  

Barely able to legally drink, he goes to the main doctor in charge. “You need me.” 

The doctor looks at him incredulously. 

“You think we need a kid to do all this shit? You think we haven’t figured it out?” 

“You can’t have Barnes-” 

“Winter Soldier, boy.” 

“Fine, your little toy soldier. You can’t keep him out longer than necessary, otherwise his brain realizes that all of you are shitty and tries to break out. Again. You need someone else to take a look at it, and I’m the best bet you got.” 

“And why would that be?” 

Tony grins, and they see a shadow of what he has had in his life, exactly just who he used to be. Who he still is, at the moment. 

“Whether you want to admit it or not--I’d say go ahead and admit it, I’m fun like that--I’m the smartest one in the room, maybe in the country. Maybe in two countries. I could swing the UK, it’s not like they’ve had anything interesting for the last hundred or so years--” 

“Get to the point,” the handler hisses. 

“I can help with arm maintenance. I’m not gonna do anything else to this poor guy, but I wanna stay alive and I’m not letting you erase my fucking mind because you want to have another toy soldier to march to your drum.” 

“You almost make a compelling case,” the handler says. “We do need a mechanic on the arm, so to speak. But if he only comes out when we need him...well. Maintenance is manageable.” 

Tony pushes his chin out. 

“I can do better than your best.” 

“Unfortunately, I don’t care. You’re too big of a liability.” 

It is at this moment that Tony realizes he cannot talk his way out, or fight his way out, but damn he gets a scalpel and tries. 

Manages to slice across the face of the handler. Nerve damage, tissue damage, quite potentially a very ugly nose. All very nice. 

That gets him moved up by a month. 

They send him to a chair that’s probably a lot worse than he’s imagining, give him a mouth guard, and tell him to scream all he likes. Sometimes it’s better to not have a voice later. 

They say it like they’re quoting one of those shitty articles from Cosmopolitan that discusses the top forty-five best ways to move in the bedroom or something. He and Rhodey use to read it all the time whenever they visited one of the sororities. 

(He misses Rhodey, more than words can say. The tears burn in his throat as the chair powers up, but he doesn’t dare cry. He hasn’t told them about Rhodey, and he doesn’t want him used against him. 

He doesn’t want to be used against Rhodey.) 

- 

Tony Stark becomes the Mechanic. He stares too long, moves a bit slow at times, and doesn’t like people touching his things. 

Hydra thinks it’s a success. 

-

Tony thinks they should’ve done more than three sessions of go-round for their little buzzy-chair. 

-

Just god, have none of them had to act before? Is that what this is? 

So long as he doesn’t show any aspect of any real personality, they think he’s a walking-talking robot. 

Should’ve just called him Chatty Cathy and attached a pull-string to his back with loadable phrases if they were just gonna call him the Mechanic and think his silence and weird staring habits were fine. 

Winter Soldier needs maintenance. 

Tony tries very carefully to keep his persona up. He thinks he’s doing a good job until the nurse leaves the room for her smoke-break and Winter Soldier gives him a look that’s so...different. 

"They think you’re like me.” 

“I am.” 

“No.” 

“And how can you tell?” 

“You’re not hurting my arm.” 

“Well I can, if you wanna be a masochist about it.” 

He blankly stares. 

“Why didn’t it work?” 

“Not enough rounds.” 

“We need to stop talking or they’ll watch the cameras.” 

“Got it.” 

Tony is not facing the cameras. They have no suspicion now, and if they can’t see him move his lips, then there’s no worry. 

He faces Winter Soldier. 

“You wanna get out of here? Tap once on your left, right on my thigh for yes. Twice for no.” 

Tap. 

There it is. 

“Well, it’ll take time. You okay with that?” 

Tap tap. 

“I can’t make wishes come true,” Tony says sarcastically. Soldier hides a smile. “But. I have someone who might be looking for me. Or he’ll know it’s me.” 

“A friend?” 

“Something better. Family.” 

It takes a little while. Despite Hydra’s incompetence at programming Tony out of his own system, they’re good at watching. They’re good at sniffing out undercover plans, so they set nurses to watch him and give him the worst food in his life. 

And he can’t say anything about it. 

They’re probably rations leftover from World War II, and here he is, pretending like it doesn’t bother him. 

The first mission they’re out on, Tony wants so badly to break free. It looks too easy, probably because it is. 

“The first time I escaped, they dragged me back and nearly gave me a matching leg to go with the arm,” Soldier murmurs in Russian. 

(Tony’s had to take Russian classes. God, he’s lucky he has an eidetic memory otherwise he’d be up a paddle with a slotted spoon.) 

“What, didn’t want to put more value on yourself?” 

“Something like that,” Soldier says grimly. “Pay attention. They’re gonna put you in a cafe, have you run surveillance. You report back to me. Call me Winter.” 

“Call me Mechanic.” 

“That’s the name they chose?” 

“Didn’t count my vote.” 

Winter snorts. 

“Time to get a move on.” 

Tony has never been good at hiding his emotions, but by god he’s learning on the fly. At least Winter has a mask, and they’re...well, they’re working on one for him. 

It’s not exactly priority, because everyone in the world thinks he’s dead. 

- 

Well. Shouldn’t say everyone. There is one guy who has decided that Tony didn’t die. 

James Rhodes is a very smart guy, graduated top of his class at MIT and has full honors. 

He also knows that Tony has fallen off of beds, out of chairs, down one flight of stairs, and tripped on just about everything. 

And he’s lived. He has defied near-death experiences before, and he’s been fine. 

Maybe Rhodey is crazy. He most likely is. 

But he doesn’t mind being crazy if no one can actually confirm that Tony died. The funeral was closed for the family, not even Rhodey could go. 

“Sorry kiddo,” Obie had said, not sorry at all. He’s never liked the kid, thought him too blunt about situations that he didn’t need to be blunt about. 

So Rhodey thinks that this is a conspiracy, only he doesn’t want his best friend to end up on a YouTube video five years later talking about the “tragic disappearance” and how “no one could figure it out.” 

He’s James fucking Rhodes. Sometimes goes by Rhodey. And he’s got this. 

- 

Winter Soldier does not “got this.” He is currently being thrown against a wall, and grunting as he looks at the target. 

Tony is currently trying very hard not to have a full-blown emotional show-off, because he is supposed to be fixing up some of the weapons and sending them out. 

It is rather stress-inducing, once you start thinking about it. 

He tries not to. 

God, he’s not even getting pizza after that. He’s probably going to get some bullshit like a vanilla nutritional protein shake. 

Out everything he’s been put through, and that’s the thing that makes him retch.

 - 

Barnes is looking...rough. He got shoved a lot, the mission didn’t exactly go to plan, which turns out to be quite the large problem. 

Because Tony took over. They found out that he can actually assemble weaponry and aim with nearly-one-hundred-percent accuracy. 

They think it’s because they fried his brain and injected some sort of back-alley-serum. 

It’s not. 

He’s not even sure if their serum worked, if he’s being completely honest.

But this? Oh god. 

The doctors look at him with an almost giddy joy. 

“We’ll have Soldier train you.” 

"He is not going back into the cryogenic chambers?” 

“No, not...not until you prove yourself.” 

“I have proven myself accurate with mechanical fixes.” 

“Always best to diversify your skills.” 

“Expand.” 

(Tony’s been messing with them a lot. They’re not positive he knows advanced vocabulary. He does, he just hates them.) 

Barnes is...not exactly excited that he’s not becoming an ice-pop. 

“I’m...training you?” 

“Yeah, looks like it. You wanna teach me how to choke someone with my thighs?” 

“Only when they send the Widows.” 

“Who are they?” 

“Best damned assassins you’ll ever have the displeasure of experiencing.” 

“Aw, you’re learning how to curse!” 

“Shut up, they’re onto us.” 

- 

Winter Soldier and the Mechanic have a...cordial relationship. At least, out of the ring. 

In the ring, they don’t rather like the other that much. Mechanic much prefers to avoid Soldier at all times. 

“You can’t just run from every opponent,” Winter hisses. 

“You’ve been doing it since 1948,” Tony responds in a robotic tone, nearly missing a kick to the shins. “I don’t see why not.” 

He smiles at that one, looking at Tony. 

He was...Tony was unique. He would whisper stories in the dead of night, mostly about a man named Jarvis and a boy his age named “Rhodey.” 

“His parents...they didn’t actually name him that, did they?” 

Tony has to bury his face in his pillow to hide his face from laughing. 

Winter got a good look at that smile. 

It’s chillingly nice to look at it, and maybe that’s because he hasn’t smiled in years, or maybe it’s because he’s never seen another person smile with joy in it for decades. 

- 

For a couple more months, nothing on their side happens. 

Rhodey, however, learns how to use Tony’s homemade AI for illegal purposes! 

He’s figured out lots of things. 

Tony was never confirmed dead. Technically, he’s a missing person. 

Which means they don’t know if he’s dead because they never found him. 

Secondly, there’s a strange email to someone who goes by Zola. 

Well, Rhodey and Tony didn’t stay up until three a.m. to solve impossible codes for nothing. 

James Rhodes figures out that the Winter Soldier isn’t some whispered about myth, and so he decides to try and find him. 

He’ll need to ask Mama if he can use the sedan, but it should be fine. After all, he has a friend to find. 

- 

Hydra is getting too used to having them out. Tony’s been coaching Barnes on not letting his reactions be at the front and center. 

He’s remembering a lot more. Starting to become a bit more human-like. 

He actually doesn’t like the food now, which is a tasteful improvement. 

“When we get out,” Tony whispers in night. “I’m going to make sure that you get the best goddamned pizza the earth has ever seen. And we’ll celebrate your birthday.” 

“When is my birthday?” 

“I...huh. I don’t know. That’s not the fact I remember from school.” 

“So you remembered that my favorite movie star was Hedy Lamarr, but not my own birthday?” 

“In my defense, Ms. Lamarr is far more memorable than a simple date on the calendar.” 

Barnes smiles. 

“I can’t wait to see a picture of her.” 

“You will, soon.” 

- 

Rhodey is getting close. 

The only barrier is convincing his mama to use the sedan. 

“What for?” 

“A trip.” 

“To?” 

“Washington DC?” 

“Why are you questioning that, young man?” 

“Um, because of gas money? Maybe?” 

Mrs. Rhodes stands up to her full height of five-foot-two and stares. 

“What’s the real reason? I didn’t raise a son who could lie to his mother successfully.” 

Rhodey sighs. 

“Tony’s alive. I think. I’m, like, ninety-five-percent sure.” 

Her face softens. 

“Oh baby, you’ve talked about this with your therapist, and-” 

Rhodey glares. 

“It’s not about the therapist’s opinion, mom. I broke into some records. There was a closed-casket funeral, and technically? They didn’t have a body for Tones. I know he’s out there, and I think I got a lead with the help of Jarvis.” 

“I thought Jarvis was dead.” 

“Not Edwin, Mama. Tony’s creation, an AI named Jarvis.” 

Mama looks at him carefully. 

“You sure this is what is going to make you happy?” 

“I don’t care about being happy, I want to see if I can bring him home, Mama.” 

She dangles the keys. 

“If you scratch this car up, I will not hesitate to tell every single aunt at church about this and have common sense walloped into you.” 

“I promise I won’t,” Rhodey says. “I know what I’m doing.” 

“I’ll pack you a bag. And you need your church clothes.” 

“Ma...” 

“Don’t Ma me, I’m your mother, I know what’s best,” Mrs. Rhodes says, sweeping into the kitchen. “Don’t tell your daddy what you told me, you’ll give him a heart attack.” 

“I thought I was gonna give you a heart attack,” Rhodey says. 

She turns, eyes twinkling. 

“You got a lot of learning to do, young man. But go on to DC for me.” 

First stop: gas station. 

Next stop: saving Tony. 

- 

If Tony had known that his friend was so dedicated to saving him that he would drive his mama’s sedan five miles above the speed limit, perhaps he would have stayed put and played nice. 

But Tony did not know this, so he was currently working on fixing Barnes’ arm to shoot projectile missiles that looked like screws to the security cameras. 

“You think they’re counting each screw when none of them even know what your arm can actually do? Not like Zola is physically around anymore,” Tony mutters, holding a screwdriver in his mouth. 

“What’s your plan for escape?” 

“Element of surprise, my dear Watson.” 

“Don’t like that,” Barnes mutters. “What’s your plan once we’re out?” 

“New York City.” 

“That’s it?” 

“You underestimate exactly how much you can hide,” Tony says. “Believe me. We’ll live in an apartment in Queens.” 

- 

Rhodey is about ten minutes away. 

Tony and Bucky have eventually decided to break out, and are having a lovely time shooting a base and putting people through the walls. Really, they shouldn’t have made it out of drywall. Too easy. 

“What fucking vehicle are we taking?!” Barnes yells. 

“I...I will work on it!” 

“You didn’t think about that?!” 

“I was thinking about escaping from a shitty Hydra base!” 

- 

Here comes the sedan! 

- 

Rhodey thought there was only one person, so now the ex-assassin is sitting on his little sister’s school folder, and getting pink glittery on his military pants. 

This was not the plan. 

He is also still only going five over the speed limit, because this is Mama’s sedan. 

He forgot about the little sticker at the back that says “My Son is on the Honor Roll at MIT!” 

“Rhodey love of my life, please go faster than forty miles an hour,” Tony hisses. 

“I can’t believe you’re alive, let me do one thing at a time,” Rhodey stresses. “I bought you hot fries, they’re on the floor in the green bag.” 

“You thought of road trip snacks?” Bucky asks. 

“Yes! And who are you?” 

“Bucky Barnes.” 

Rhodey whips his head around. 

“You lived?” 

“I’ve been told. Eyes on the road and turn left.” 

One tire barely is on the road as he whips the wheel, slamming onto the curb. 

“We are not allowed to fuck my mama’s car up!” Rhodey yells. “Tony, Bucky...do whatever you have to.” 

“How amenable are you to me paying for a new back window?” Bucky asks, left arm already raising. 

“What do you mean-?” 

And...there goes a projectile! 

- 

After twenty minutes of driving around, ten of that being avoiding police blockades, they finally are out on the highway, no one in sight. 

Tony finally breathes. 

“Put on your seatbelt,” Rhodey murmurs. “To New York?” 

“To New York.” 

- 

By all accounts, the table of three men who look slightly rattled and in danger is not actually the worst table that waitress has ever had. 

In fact, the only odd thing that she’s going to say about it is that the young man on the left is wearing a polo shirt, and it is not Sunday, so no church services. A personal outfit choice. 

The man in the middle seems to know this. 

“Rhodey, seriously?” 

“What? It’s laundry day!” 

“I know you had other shirts. I know you did.” 

“Just because you hate polo shirts doesn’t mean you get to hate on me, especially after the shit I just pulled.” 

“He has a point,” says the man on the right. 

“You have no opinion on this. I just met you.” 

“Are you guys ready to order?” She asks nervously, tapping at her notepad with a chewed-up pen. 

They all stare blankly at the menu, and then back at her. She taps her pen one more time. 

“I’ll...um...give you some more time.” She shakes her head. She’s not gonna ask, she doesn’t get paid enough. 

-

Rhodey looks at the two of them. He knows that things...well. 

Tony probably isn’t going to be playing Jeopardy! with this experience. 

Hell, he probably won’t want to see a therapist about this, and Rhodey will have to play Jeopardy! or some obscure dating show simulation with Tony to even help. 

And then there’s the matter of a man who’s supposed to be dead. 

That and...Rhodey decided to finish up college with a master’s degree. 

No one ever said life was easy. 

But. 

It might be fun. 

[wesofmaldonia]

Not Getting Married Today | Weslie

Who: @charlielabouff and @wesofmaldonia

When: Saturday, June 22nd

Where: A New Orleans police station

What: After a bachelorette party gone awry, Wes has to bail his fiance out of jail the morning of their would-be wedding. 

Charlie felt terrible. Not only was she more hungover than she had ever felt in her entire life, she completely screwed up their wedding. She knew her name was gonna be all over the news about how she was drinking and that there was a fight -- and she'd ended up locked up for a few hours. For Serenity it was easy, she was okay with that. She was a princess. People would forgive her. Charlie? She had stuff that she had to prove. Maybe that was why she let go so hard for her bachelorette party. They were sitting in the car, her eyes were closed as she leaned against the tinted window. She puffed out her cheeks, her arms folded across her chest. She sunk her teeth into her cheek and she kept quiet. She dropped her hands onto her lap and fiddled with the ring on her finger, letting out a soft sigh.

Wes was still trying to figure out exactly how they got...here. He’d just gotten back from a pre-wedding spa day with Tia (turns out having her as best man was the best idea he’d ever had), and had been enjoying a relaxing post-professional-massage sleep when his phone started ringing incessantly. Thank God he’d woken up right away, or he might have missed Charlie’s one phone call. At first he thought it may have been a prank, but he knew Charlie we’ll enough to know when she was being completely serious. And now they sat in the backseat of his driver’s car, and he knew she was tired but so was he, so he wasn’t thinking clearly when he simply sputtered: “Charlie, what the fuck[/I]?!” It had a laugh behind it, so it couldn’t have sounded too angry, because he wasn’t, he was just....perplexed. “I spent my bachelor party at a spa, getting a clear coat on my nails. You...got into a bar fight?” Just saying it out loud sounded so dumb, he had to laugh.

Charlie ‘s face wrinkled up when he spoke, unsure if it was because of the laugh behind it or the pounding she in her head. She was so tired, and all she wanted to do was sleep. She dragged her hands down her face and she let out a soft breath of air. “I don’t know! He was being a dick and deserved it,” she mumbled, rubbing off the make up that was still leftover from the night before. She sighed when he laughed, dropping her hands into her lap and she shrugged. “He was a dick and he fuckin’ — he deserved it! You shoulda heard some of the things that he said.” She puffed out her cheeks and she wrinkled her nose, looking over at him. She let her eyes flick over his obviously tired face and she puffed out her cheeks. “M’sorry. I can only imagine[/] what everyone’s gonna say.”

Wes gave what could only be described as the 'white guy blinking gif' face upon discovering that the person Charlie punched in the face had been a man. Not that he would ever put it past her, but the mental image of his finace in full bachelorette party mode going off on a guy in a bar...it was bizarre, to say the least. "...About me? Were you defending my honor?" Wes teased with a smirk, before reaching his hand out and taking hers, sighing. The gesture wasn't grand, mostly he just wanted to hold her hand as he leaned his head back against the headrest of the car. "That I'm marrying a badass? Maybe," Wes mumbled with his eyes closed. When he opened them, he noticed the sky was turning an orange-y pink color. The sun was coming up soon. "We can't get married today," he sighed. "Can we?" He turned to her, his mouth pursing up into a straight line while he waited for her response.

Charlie let out a sigh, glancing over at him and she shook her head, wrinkling her nose. "He was just being gross and rude and he needed to be put into his place." She let out another soft sigh when he took her hand, gripping onto it tightly and she looked over at him. Her tired eyes flicked over his face, desperately wishing that she had her glasses so that way maybe her eyes wouldn't hurt so much. A laugh fell past her lips and she shook her head. "Or you're marrying a crazy person," she mumbled, letting her head fall back against the headrest. She inhaled sharply at his question, feeling her chest tighten slightly and she swallowed. She opened her eyes, looking over at him and sinking her teeth into her cheek. "We can. I can -- I dunno, get a banana bag or something," she stated, wrinkling her nose and she puffed out her cheeks. She gently pulled her hand away from him, rubbing at her face and she let out a soft sigh. "We spent so much time on this. It'd really suck if we didn't."

Wes wrinkled his nose, getting her drift and didn't pry any further. "Well sounds like he deserved it. You did good," he reassured her with a smirk. He probably shouldn't have been encouraging this behavior, since it is what got her kicked out of her soccer program, but he was too tired to be a good influence right now. "I already knew I was marrying a crazy person, though!" he teased with a laugh before letting it dissolve into the seriousness of the conversation that he knew was to follow. He shook his head, laughing at her suggestion. "A what?! Isn't that like...a speedo?" he chuckled. "It would suck but like...It was so fast. Did we make half of these decisions cause we really wanted them or because those were the fastest options? I know my tux is for sure way too lame for my liking. And not gonna lie....I don't love the venue." If it were up to him, they'd have gotten married right on the bayou. But they had been thrust into this wedding so fast that he said yes to things just because they'd be ready by June 22nd, and that wasn't fair to his extremely unique and expensive taste, in his opinion. Obviously if he thought everything was what Charlie wanted, too, he'd bite the bullet and do it, but he had a feeling neither of them were content with their decisions.

Charlie ‘s eyebrows pressed together at his support of her actions. Then again, they were both exhausted, so it was to be expected. She licked her lips, giving him a shove and a wrinkle of her nose. “You’re lucky I’m hungover as shit right now, or I’d kick your ass for callin’ me crazy,” she mumbled as she rubbed at her eyes, attempting to wake herself up once more. She laughed and she shook her head. “No! It’s a thing that helps people sober up,” she stated, wrinkling her nose, “I think what you’re thinking of is a banana hammock.” She let out a sigh at his words, resting her head on his shoulder and letting her eyes flutter closed. Her grip on his hand tightened. She knew that he was right. That this wasn’t the wedding that they wanted. It wasn’t the wedding that they deserved, but she knew it would be letting so many people down. She opened an eye, looking up at him once more. “Since when did you become the smart one?” she teased, giving him a gentle nudge with her shoulder. Another sigh fell past her lips, her eyes closing once more and she shrugged. “What are we gonna tell them?”

Wes chuckled. “Hey, I was just agreeing with your sentiment,” he defended before feeling her head on his shoulder. He raised a hand to stroke her hair with a sigh as she explained what a banana bag was. Whatever it was sounded grosser than a hangover. He shrugged, thinking of their guests — friends and family, people who loved them. “We’re gonna tell them...that things got complicated, but there will still be a wedding eventually. And for now, we can still party...?” He shrugged, hoping his suggestion of keeping the reception wasn’t stupid. But it would be a waste of a venue and food if they didn’t. And while his tux wasn’t what he wanted for his wedding, he’d so wear it for a summer bash.

Charlie felt herself relax when he stroked her hair, letting out a soft breath of air and she wrinkled her nose. "That's definitely better than the bride decided to get too drunk and kick someone's ass," she mumbled, letting her eyes flutter closed. She wrapped her arms around him, nodding at his suggestion at keeping the reception. "But that's definitely gonna require some Tylenol and more time to get ready, because I look like a disaster," she breathed, gesturing to her smudged makeup and messy clothes. She relaxed against him, tipping her head back slightly to look up at him and opening up her eyes -- her nose wrinkling at how dry her eyes were from her contacts. "Maybe we should -- y'know, live together before we actually get married. I need to make sure I'll be able to handle your snoring for the rest of our lives."

Wes nodded, laughing. "I know," he agreed, squeezing her closer. Wes looked out of the car window, at the rising New Orleans sun in the distance. "You've got plenty of time. Reception wasn't supposed to start til 6 anyway," he smirked. "Tylenol, though, I can do." He reached into the pocket behind the passenger seat of the car -- where his driver kept all of the essentials -- and plucked out two brands of painkillers for her to take her pick. He listened to her suggestion, then, and his brows quirked up. He hadn't even thought of that. "...That...Is a brilliant idea. Challenge accepted." He grinned, and placed a kiss on Charlie's forehead. Taking things at a #Weslie pace was definitely the right way to go. 

Charlie let out a relieved sigh. “Means I can get in a nap. After we make our announcement,” she stated, wrinkling her nose. That backlash was something that she wasn’t looking forward to, but at least they had more time to make their wedding even more perfect. She hummed when he produced Tylenol, sitting up and taking a bottle from him and opening it. “My hero,” she mumbled, giving him a gentle nudge before she popped two of the pills into her mouth and swallowed. She put the bottle back where he had pulled it out from before she settled back against him once more. The blonde smiled when he kissed her forehead, looking back up at him once more and she hummed. “Your aim is way off,” she stated, quirking an eyebrow at him, “Unless my lips moved and I didn’t realize it.”

Wes chuckled at the idea of them announcing their very small step toward happily ever after at what was supposed to be their giant step. "Sounds like a great idea. I'll even join you on that nap, I think." He started to lean back in his seat and catch some Zs on the rest of the ride home, but heard her quip and chuckled. He leaned over and placed a kiss on the correct spot this time, grinning the whole of the way. "Better?" Wes smirked.

[funnythingshere0-blog]

Jimmy Kimmel's 35 Funniest Jokes From ABC's Upfront

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Jimmy Kimmel's 35 Funniest Jokes From ABC's Upfront

Jimmy Kimmel delivered a welcome respite from the nonstop network shilling, show promos and ratings spin during this year’s TV upfronts.

In keeping with tradition, the ABC late-night host took the stage at the Lincoln Center in New York on Tuesday afternoon to skewer his  network. He spared no one during the 15-minute set, taking jabs at all the other broadcast nets, Roseanne and Shonda Rhimes’ departure for Netflix.

He kicked off the set on a more serious note, however, addressing the reason he was absent during the 2017 presentation. “On behalf of my family, I want to thank you for the outpouring of support and well-wishes for my son,” he said, noting that his son Billy, who had heart surgery during last year’s upfronts is now a year old. The Jimmy Kimmel Live! host then quipped, “You’ll be happy to know he’s doing much, much better than network television.”

Below, The Hollywood Reporter has compiled Kimmel’s best lines.

1. This year’s upfront is going to be a little different because this is our first ABC-Freeform presentation. I’ve been a big Freeform fan since, uh… 20 minutes ago when I learned what it was.

2. We have a new slogan this year at ABC: Forward Together. Hillary Clinton had a yard sale and she let us have that for almost nothing.

3. Somehow we have more people watching this upfront right now than most of our 10 o’clock shows.

4. I’m proud to say that unlike last year, we’re not in last place. I’m proud to say that honor belongs to Fox — I mean, New Fox. Now with jazz pods. What a week it’s been for you guys. NBC gave you jazz hands, Fox gave you jazz pods. Jazz pods sounds like something you’d use to wash leotards. But the reason Fox is calling them jazz pods is that they wanted to find a way [to offer] shorter commercial breaks and appropriate black culture at the same time.

5. Fox needs help. They canceled Lucifer and The Exorcist. They can’t even make a deal with the devil.

6. As you know, Disney, our company, is in the midst of negotiations to buy Fox. It seemed to be a done deal but then last week, Comcast did, like, the surprise ex-boyfriend who shows up on The Bachelorette right before she’s about to get engaged. Comcast shows up and weasels their way into our business. We got peacock-blocked is what happened. So now, it looks like there could be an epic bidding war. But mark my words, if there is a war, Bob Iger will prevail. He can just charge it to his Black Panther card.

7. How this will work if the sale goes through, nobody seems to know. All we know for sure is someone is buying Fox, the Murdochs are getting richer and everyone is redoing their kitchens with a motherfucking pasta faucet.

8. We have a lot riding on this merger. We can’t lose Fox and Shonda Rhimes in one year. As you know, Shonda has decided to part ways with ABC. She’s moving on and it’s a shame. Shonda is an amazing talent and person who changed the face of this network. Now that she’s leaving for Netflix, I can honestly say on behalf of everyone here at ABC who have worked with her for so long, we hope she rots in hell.

9. No, we’re very sad to see Shonda leave, but as the saying goes: When one door closes… you’re fucked.

10. So we’re saying goodbye to Shondaland and we’re going head-first into Roseanne-istan with no exit plan. Our bigly-ist hit of the year is Roseanne. Roseanne is the No. 1 show as you’ve heard repeatedly in total viewers and the demo. So everyone who says Hollywood is out of new ideas, we’re not; it’s just that one of our new ideas was to Google, “What were our old ideas?”  

11. No one at ABC expected Roseanne to be a big hit. Although, to be honest, we don’t expect any of our shows to be hits. But Roseanne‘s success proves that the older and crazier you are, the more today’s audience likes you. And that’s why we’re so proud to announce our new series, “Gary Busey Proves 9/11 Never Happened.”

12. Our new strategy is resurrecting old crap, and with that said I have three words for you: “Who’s the Boss?” I mean, literally — who the hell is running this network?

13. We’re not the only ones doing our greatest hits. Will & Grace; Fuller House; Murphy Brown is back at CBS. That’s right, CBS knows what millennials want and they’ll be damned if they give it to them. Maybe I shouldn’t say this but I have to admit, I’m kind of excited about Murphy Brown. I think it’s refreshing, really, to see anything brown on CBS.

14. NBC privately has been talking about rebooting The Cosby Show. But for obvious reason, they’re not going to call it that. They’re calling it “The Bad Doctor.”

15. We’re also recycling shows that other networks throw away. Fox is reviving canceled ABC shows; ABC and NBC are reviving canceled Fox shows. This is what’s known in the industry as a failure orgy. You cancel a show and it doesn’t even mean anything anymore.

16. Sometimes we have high hopes for a show and they don’t pan out. For instance, America will not see a fourth season of Quantico, in the same way they also didn’t see the second and third seasons of Quantico.

17. We canceled Deception, a show about a magician who used magic tricks to help police solve crimes, which is a shame because it was such a good idea.

18. We even canceled Marvel’s Inhumans. ABC did something remarkable with that. Somehow we managed to have the only unsuccessful project with “Marvel” in the title — ever. It had never been done before.

19. But look, this year is going to be different. This year is going to be so great.… That was a joke.

20. We’ve got three new comedies and five new dramas. And I should warn you, some of the comedies aren’t that funny. But some of the dramas are hilarious.

21. We also have a new reality dating show called The Proposal. The idea of this show is contestants compete to marry someone they haven’t met. It’s like The Bachelor without The Bachelor. I haven’t seen this yet but it sounds to me like this isn’t a dating show so much as it’s a thinly veiled sex-trafficking operation. The Proposal is actually very similar to these upfronts because you guys are opening your hearts, or wallets, to a slate of shows you know literally nothing about. Will they be good? Will they be terrible? You really won’t find out until you’re already fucked.

22. Nathan Fillion is back with a new cop show called The Rookie, which is great news if you were worried your Aunt Joanne wouldn’t be horny enough this fall.

23. We’re also picking up a show called Whiskey Cavalier. It took a while but we finally came up with a title that’s worse than Cougar Town. Whiskey Cavalier is described as a high-octane hourlong action dramedy that follows the adventures of tough but tender FBI super-agent Will Chase, whose code name is “Whiskey Cavalier.” Should we cancel it now or should we wait until you leave the room?

24. NBC is touting an all-Chicago Wednesday — Chicago Med, Chicago Fire and Chicago PD — all in one Chicago night. Hey NBC, I have an idea for a show. It’s called Chica-go to another fucking city already. You ever heard of Denver? They have a fire department, too.

25. NBC also says they’re cutting back on commercials. Their plan is to add 10 percent fewer ads on primetime. They need that extra time so Law & Order: SVU can have one more cab driver per episode who says, “The victim was a nice lady.”

26. Fox is cutting their commercial time, too. I mean, Netflix cut their commercial time down to none and they’re doing great, I guess. But everybody goes crazy binging all these programs. I’ll tell you something — maybe I’m old-fashioned but I don’t like watching a show straight through with no commercials. I need a break every nine minutes so I can breathe and learn about Chobani yogurt.

27. More people are streaming content than ever before. According to a new report from Nielsen, adults aged 25 to 54 watch two hours and 28 minutes of streaming content per day. What they don’t mention is that at least an hour of that is porn.

28. Young people are abandoning traditional television in droves. They’re not just cutting the cord, they’re eating the placenta. We are definitely not down with OTT. We need to bring these millennials back to television. Millennials, by the way, are the people responsible for the smell of strawberry vape smoke in every Uber. Those are the people we need back.

29. Millennials have no idea how good they have it with all these choices. We didn’t have choices. Remember when we didn’t give a shit what was on TV? Frasier again? Fine. What am I going to do, read?

30. But what they didn’t have back then was the ability to target specific types of viewers. Now, more than ever, we have so many ways to reach your customers. You’re going to hear a lot about “blockchain” this week. And here’s what’s important about it: Nobody has any idea what it is. You don’t know, we definitely don’t know — but what we do know is that we’re going to charge you up the ass for it.

31. Our technology gets more advanced every year. We are on the verge of having data that is so specific, you will be able to blackmail viewers into using your products. Imagine how many cases of Budweiser your customer will buy to stop you from revealing that they actually watch Man With a Plan.

32. If anyone in this room has used the words “retargeting,” “grand purpose” or “vertical anything” today, please raise your hand, stand up and walk out into traffic.

33. We promise you this: At ABC, our programmatic ad-tech attribution models are retargeting SSP using AI and omnichannel blockchain algorithms to offer hyperlocal content amplification with an optimized CTR and ROI that will make you S-H-I-T your P-A-N-T-S.

34. I don’t know what I just said but it seems to have resonated. Let’s be honest, this is all nonsense. Our ratings are going down and our price is going up. Too bad, eat it. We’re four years from having our brains digitally infused to our Instagram accounts, OK?

35. So here’s what I think we should do. Just let these stupid shows wash over us, clap politely and then let’s just get blackout drunk together. Our president is a lunatic and we’re all going to die. And if we keep this up, with these buzzwords, you know what it’s going to say on our headstones? It’s not going to say “RIP” anymore, it’s going to say “KPI.” You want that? I know I don’t. Let’s not do this again next year.

Jimmy Kimmel