You give me a time and a place, I give you a five minute window. Anything happens in that five minutes and I’m yours. No matter what. Anything happens a minute either side of that and you’re on your own. Do you understand? DRIVE, (2011)

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@onlydrive
You give me a time and a place, I give you a five minute window. Anything happens in that five minutes and I’m yours. No matter what. Anything happens a minute either side of that and you’re on your own. Do you understand? DRIVE, (2011)
the scene is all too familiar. ⠀ they were supposed to meet at 8. ⠀ but an hour earlier, ⠀ he gave her a call saying he may be a little later. ⠀ typical. ⠀ she’s used to that, ⠀ but she swallows her frustration. ⠀ around 8:05 she hears something outside her apartment, ⠀ but she can’t quite pinpoint what it is. ⠀ A SMALL PART OF HER HOPES ITS HIM, ⠀ arriving much earlier than she anticipated. ⠀ (she half expected him not to show up at all ⠀ — ⠀ like peter.) ⠀ she goes down through the garage, ⠀ standing outside the door. ⠀ her eyes fall on him first, ⠀ recognition prompting a smile, ⠀ red lips curving upwards. ⠀ though, ⠀ that warmth is ephemeral, ⠀ her body stiffening as she registers the rest of the scene:
she stands far away, ⠀ getting a solid look at the whole picture. ⠀ driver in the middle, ⠀ wading in a pool of blood, ⠀ posing beside a freshly dead body. ⠀ HER FIRST INSTINCT IS TO CRY. ⠀ but the idea of anyone seeing her cry (*off-screen) humiliates her, ⠀ and she can’t stomach the idea of him feeling bad for her ⠀ — ⠀ so, ⠀ she swallows that down and continues staring at him, ⠀ looking at the red that covers him, ⠀ her body beginning to involuntarily shake from overwhelm.
“ ⠀ what happened? ⠀ ” ⠀ she asks, ⠀ voice soft, ⠀ quiet. ⠀ maybe the quietest she’s ever been in front of him. ⠀ her mouth quivers for a moment as her eyes glaze over the blood and the teeth and the ⠀ — ⠀ “ ⠀ don’t you lie to me, ⠀ either. ⠀ ” ⠀a small crack in her cadence, ⠀ “ ⠀ i need you to ⠀ — ⠀ ” ⠀ her eyes start to water. ⠀ she quickly tries to rub any evidence of that away. ⠀ “ ⠀ was he going to hurt you? ⠀ ” ⠀ SHE’S NOT SURE SHE COULD BELIEVE HE’S CAPABLE OF VIOLENCE OTHERWISE.
Questions. Of course there’s questions.
He’s never really been good at answering them though — especially not now, when her expression tears a grotesque gash in the midst of his ribs. He’d rather have his teeth pulled one by one, bone crushed by the rust of old pliers, than witness MJ in distress. Yet here he stands, the cause of it.
It never works like it does in the movies. He should’ve fucking known.
“ I’m gonna take care of it.” Matter of fact in tone, and his face softens a half a degree, then hardens again. There’s no need to explain. There's no time to explain. It isn’t her problem — or it was never supposed to be her problem. And the raw smell of his violence cannot be excused away ( he wanted to hurt him. he can't hide that. ) . “ But you can’t stay here. You gotta leave.” Driver tucks the hammer into his jacket pocket, then gives their surroundings a cursory glance. Still quiet. He’s half offended Nino only sent the one. “ Go to the shop. Take one of my cars. ” His throat feels raw with the sudden uptick in use, cobwebs clearing in a deep guttural sigh. He pulls out a keychain from the other pocket.
“ Please. ” As in — please take yourself far away from me. From this. I shouldn’t’ve bothered you in the first place. I should’ve stuck to watching.
Thought about driver. Felt sick to my stomach
Why is Lowkey some of my best writing on this blog
— payin’ that red headed bitch a visit too, eh?
he can still hear it. the words ring in his ear, rattling around the inside of his head. it eats the sympathy concealed within his brain matter, the restraint — til his anger stands alone, a beautiful bride to his capacity for violence. they marry beneath the spittle and blood that splatters from the dickhead’s mutilated mouth.
driver, the sole attendee of the union, does not unclench his jaw, even after the action is done. even after he lifts his foot, his shoe covered in pink cerebrum. the guy twitches on the ground — his mouth still open against the curb, surrounded by splintered teeth. then he stops. and driver exhales through his nose. quietly. controlled. But he still does not relax. Because there never is just one guy. Especially not when they know about her. About them.
He turns, pulling his keys out of his jacket pocket; and the door to the garage stairway opens. MJ — brilliantly dressed, her red hair tumbling over her exposed shoulders — strides out, then pauses. He watches the scene register to her, the blood splattered upon his clothing that outs him as responsible. He grits his teeth.
He isn’t sorry about what he did. No. He’s sorry that MJ must bear witness to his violence. That MJ must see what he really is; that he cannot shield her from what he tries so hard to overcome. @aspotlight
He makes me so sad like he didn’t want do this getaway driving shit anymore bro. He did it for Irene basically and then the “one last job” gets unbelievably fucked and suddenly any hope he had at ever having a normal life is GONE
so like can we plot .
super important to note that driver actually does not smoke or drink and his only vice is copious amounts of coffee
he uses excess violence with bad people is that okay
RYAN GOSLING as DRIVER DRIVE (2011) dir. Nicolas Winding Refn
the shop runs like its own functioning ecosystem, ⠀ and she’s enthralled for a brief minute as she looks around, ⠀ taking it in. ⠀ (character work, ⠀ she thinks, ⠀ as a justification.) ⠀ “ ⠀ you sure? ⠀ ” ⠀ she asks, ⠀ looking between him and shannon. ⠀ she adds a smile ⠀ — ⠀ that ‘movie star smile’ ⠀ — ⠀ the one that gets people to look at her, ⠀ to listen to her.
⠀ ⠀ she’s used to people teasing, ⠀ comments buried under compliments, ⠀ but this feels different. ⠀ blood rushes to her face as she hurries to explain, ⠀ but Driver beats her to it, ⠀ leaving her to respond with a smile and a nod. ⠀ … ⠀ she can sense the embarrassment in his expression, ⠀ so she changes the subject, ⠀ her voice smooth, ⠀ slightly warm. ⠀ “ ⠀ sorry to interrupt your work. ⠀ i hope you weren’t too busy. ⠀ ” ⠀ she says, ⠀ trying to meet his gaze again.
“ ⠀ well, ⠀ i brought the magazine. ⠀ ” ⠀ she laughs, ⠀ shrugging. ⠀ “ ⠀ i kinda figured it would. ⠀ and i don’t have any plans, ⠀ so ⠀ … ⠀ i’ll stay ‘til it’s done. ⠀ ” ⠀ she offers, ⠀ gaze lingering on his longer than it should.
the driver shrugs, digging his left heel into the crumbling asphalt. it’d been a slow morning anyways; the los angeles sun melding t-shirt to shoulders, leering as he did two oil changes. shannon’s radio had been stuck on the weather broadcast.
mj’s arrival brought out something else. a sharp prick between his ribcage, a pain he was unused to.
“ should come with you after. make sure it’s running right. ” his tongue slides the toothpick to the side of his mouth, biting down til it started to snap. driver can almost feel shannon’s eyes burning holes in his spine, and he shifts nervously — suddenly aware of their close proximity. he tilts his head to the side, finally breaking eye contact, and steps towards the shade of the garage.
“ if y’want. ” i'd love to drive with you again. to glance over at you, and see your red hair caught in the wind. i shouldn't want to, but i can't help it.
hi
𝓐sk. ⠀ ⠀ ✶ ⠀ ⠀ … ⠀ ⠀ i like how i feel when i’m with you. ⠀ ⠀ @onlydrive
vulnerability is a bleeding wound, ⠀ and she’s never sure how to patch it up. ⠀ how to express her feelings without sounding like she’s the least serious candidate for the grand prize on a game show. ⠀ hesitant and never quite sure how to answer any statement presented to her: ⠀ responding instead with a deflection or a joke.
the worst part of it all is she feels the same way. ⠀ she doesn’t normally feel this way, ⠀ completely willing to lay herself emotionally bare in front of him. ⠀ / ⠀ her breath hitches over the line, ⠀ waiting for him to follow up, ⠀ for another statement that she could latch onto. ⠀ [but she knows him well enough to know that he won’t.]
“ ⠀ listen, ⠀ you’re pretty great yourself. ⠀ ” ⠀ she says, ⠀ quieter than usual, ⠀ biting the inside of her cheek. ⠀ “ ⠀ hey, ⠀ you’re still swinging by later, ⠀ right? ⠀ ”
He bites back a groan of pain, steadying himself against the payphone door with a shaking arm. “ Thanks. ” Is all he can manage, because it hurts to laugh, to smile. She’s not any better with this stuff — matters of the heart, that soft beating thing hidden in between their ribs. It makes him feel better. He’s never really understood what it meant to be human, but he thinks she’s given him some sort of idea.
“ Yeah.” Because it’s easier to lie. To plant that withering seed of disappointment, so that when he doesn’t show up, she can be angry instead of worried. He can be hated, and she can be safe. “ Yeah — I’ll be there. ” Crimson pools beneath his shirt, sticky & wet on his skin, and he hangs the phone up.
driver and that fuckass toothpick bro
the head of his hammer lodges itself into the back of the skull, a sickening crack as it passes through bone and meets with pink tissue. the iron smell fills his nostrils — and the animalistic screams fill his ears, echoing against the alley walls.
I don’t want to do this, he thinks, tugging the hammer out with a huff. I want to be good. But the sins of his past have forlorn his future, dragging him beneath the murky surface of his violent nature. I want to be good.
driver finishes with a kick to the teeth, blood spurting onto his work boots, bits of white enamel decorating the crimson like stars. then there’s nothing — no more screams, no more pleads. the guy’s gun lays abandoned, and driver eyes it with a displeased grimace. fuckin’ nino and his shit for brains goons. how does he always get mixed up in the wrong thing?
he wipes his hammer clean on the guy’s obviously expensive shirt, turning to exit — when he sees her. driver stills, his expression unfathomable. his hammer hangs loosely at his side, silver metal gleaming. @timehaunt
who wants to witness driver doing fucked up shit .
at least she had the next day off. ⠀ the whole thing was easier than she expected: ⠀ the towing company willing to take her and the car all the way to northridge. ⠀ she should’ve gotten his number, ⠀ she thinks. ⠀ ask if he’d be there. ⠀ she tried to manage her expectations ⠀ — ⠀ most movies are car movies. ⠀ it’s just as likely he’d be on some other set.
she spots him as soon as she leaves the truck and tries to grab his attention, ⠀ waving at him for an awkwardly long time. ⠀ he’s engrossed in fixing something, ⠀ and she can’t help but drop her hand, ⠀ staring for a moment longer than she should. ⠀ she gives up on the idea of him seeing her, ⠀ so she walks up to him, ⠀ thumbs hinged through the belt loops on her jeans. ⠀ “ ⠀ so ⠀ … ⠀ who do i need to talk to to get my car fixed ⠀ ? ⠀ ”
“ ⠀ it’s okay if you need to finish that first! ⠀ i’m off today, ⠀ so i’ve got no plans. ⠀ (…) ⠀ i brought a magazine. ⠀ ” ⠀ she offers up a smile, ⠀ eyes glistening briefly. ⠀ the california sun’s reflection, ⠀ probably.
living machinery, he feels somewhat calm with his hands deep within the metal guts. problems that he can fix, without the mess of human interaction — everything is easier when he's in the garage. lighter. shannon's radio plays steadily in the background, and he can confine himself to the day's project. that is, til a familiar voice tilts his head upwards, already pavloved by the sound of MJ.
a half-smile, something fished from his surprise. he didn't really expect her to come. thousands of other auto shops line the boulevards, all begging to be graced by the likes funds of a movie star. but instead she came here. she came to him. " Nah, Shannon's got it. " He tosses the rag towards a stunned Shannon, who shakes his head with a laugh.
" Kid's got some nerve, I tell ya. Y'gotta be something special little lady." Shannon teases, flashing MJ a smile of his own. Driver seems embarassed — gaze cast down towards the floor, and simply shrugs in response. " I told her I would. " Shannon's eyebrows raise assumptively, but he doesn't continue on. Instead, he gives them a wave of the hand, and busies himself with Driver's abandoned project.
" Might take a while. " As if saying; you don't have to stay. I don't want to bore you. But his eyes tell a different story, staring down warmly at her, hoping for something else. Hoping for her company. Selfish — he knows.