counting one, two, three...

[egregiouslypink]

LOOK IT WAS THE ONLY SONG I COULD THINK OF OFF THE TOP OF MY HEAD THAT HAD COUNTING IN THE LYRICS. Don't judge my Brit-Brit love.

It's meme time, Taxon. WITHOUT FURTHER ADO:

THE FIVE THINGS MEME

We've all seen the fic, right? 'Five Times ________ Did ____________' and so on. We're gonna ~adapt~ that sucker, aw yis.

Here's how it goes:
→ COMMENT

Comments

[midwesten]

- MINT
- ORANGE SHERBET
- PEACHES AND CREAM
- CORNSILK
- MAUVE PINSTRIPE

Uhh, I mean, midwesten/Michael Westen. Hi.

[egregiouslypink]

Five Regrets of Michael Westen, give us them.

[midwesten]

OKAY. You get brief meta-answers because writing drabbles would be an emo-deluge, on account of Michael Westen is an emo-deluge kind of man.

1. Leaving home without a word and not contacting Maddie or Nate for the longest time. As much as he sucks at apologizing, it did really hurt their feelings and damage his relationship with them; he may not realize easily that people actually do care about him and worry about him and worry about him if he drops off the face of the earth for long periods of time, but they do, and he comes to this conclusion eventually. If he could have a do-over, he might've made a couple more calls home and maybe sent a postcard or two.

2. Abruptly breaking things off with Fiona the first time, or letting them be broken off. Michael is, again, a complicated boy, and it's hard to say what exactly he wants out of his relationship with Fi -- or what his relationship with Fi is exactly -- but like with his fam, he's beginning to realize people actually get hurt when he up and blows away with the next set of

[smecker]

FIVE TIMES MICHAEL KISSED SOMEONE WHO WASN'T PAUL

This may get broken up into five comments.

[midwesten]

1. This was always the problem with revolutionaries: they always had things on their mind that weren't you. Specifically, they were prone to not give a damn for you, your offers, your demands or good sense in general if their own insurrectionist causes where on the line -- or their own insurrectionist egoes, for that matter. At twenty-five Michael Westen had decided he'd seen enough insurrections to deem that it was generally the egoes that mattered. He was a pretty arrogant twenty-five, in retrospect.

Nonetheless, they were holed up in a building and here was the IRA woman not paying attention to him again. "Ms. Glenanne," he tried to get her attention. "Ms. Glenanne."

She had headphones on, but he suspected that wasn't why she was ignoring him. She squinted through her scope, stilled a moment -- then pulled the trigger for what had to be the fifteenth time since he was pretty sure he'd told her not to be pulling the trigger so much. Okay, something had to be done about this.

"Glenanne," he said, crossing his arms

Okay #2 once more with feeling

[midwesten]

2. Michael was no good with boozy games. Michael was no good with boozy anything. But Michael was no good with backing down, either, and he was twenty years old, and truth-or-dare seemed adult when you turned it into a drinking game; adult enough that the Navy guys were taking part too, for the hell of it. Mostly it was an excuse to try and get the Marines or the sailors or whoever else you didn't like to try and light their own farts on fire. For Michael, it was an excuse to glower at all the older guys (and the young redneck douchebags) and take a shot every time

#3 not as funny

[midwesten]

3. The difference between living and dying was not blowing a cover. The difference between living and dying, sometimes, was ten seconds.

"Who the fuck are you?" demanded the kingpin, already rummaging for a gun somewhere beneath his gold chains and silk-or-polyester shirt; probably tucked into the back waistband of his slacks. Sometimes they didn't bother with the action-movie threatening you execution-style. Sometimes they just shot you.

Michael straightened up from his place by the guy's bed where he'd been searching for the promised coke brick but staggered, a little, and blinked his eyes a little off-focus. "Oh, hey," he said in his best unworried-high-person voice, trying to think of the best possible cover, and fastest, before the situation hit terminal velocity and he had to dive for the floor

#4, hit the floor

[midwesten]

Some kids hit their growth spurts early, others hit them late. Michael Westen was always trapped in some kind of dull middle ground: generic white teenager, looked fourteen at fourteen, looked fifteen at fifteen. Not being too distinctive did him a lot of favors as a spy, but at sixteen -- well

[just_axe_me]

Five Careers Young Michael Westen Considered Taking Up

[midwesten]

1. Policeman

2. Astronaut

3. Optimus Prime

4. Racecar

5. Palaeontologist

[smecker]

optimus prime <3

[midwesten]

How do you narrow that to just five :( okay i will do it

[just_axe_me]

HEY NOW

[midwesten]

1. That time Sam flip-flopped over marrying Veronica like Bush supporters accused Kerry of doing in the 2004 Presidential election.

2. That time Sam thought the opening lyrics of Toni Basil's "Oh Mickey" were an appropriate body for a drunken text message.

3. That time Sam flirted with his mother. And that other time. And that other other time.

4. That time Sam compared his shirts to doll clothing.

5. That time Sam got himself captured and tortured and tried to get him to back off and stay away.

[just_axe_me]

oh mickey you're so fine

you're so fine you blow my mind

hey mickey