#<- not dunking on Trip it's just funny how easy it makes it seem - but!! He doesn't know all the facts

[bumblingbabooshka]

Thinking about marriage/women's rights on Vulcan Some may think that T'Pring not being allowed to divorce Spock was because he was going through the pon farr but if she were allowed to divorce him at all she probably would have done that a long time ago, confirmed by T'Pol when she's speaking with Koss, who isn't suffering from the pon farr. She says that he can choose another mate (without invoking a fight it seems: note the difference between a 'mate' and a 'challenger') and after he makes it clear that nothing she says will change his mind about marrying her, she finally threatens to declare a kal-if-fee. It's clear that Vulcan women cannot divorce/refuse to marry a man they've been betrothed to under any circumstances if A) He himself doesn't consent to ending their marriage or B) She doesn't have someone else waiting in the wings to be given to in his stead. Though, if the challenger she selects fails to win the fight, she'll have to marry her betrothed anyway unless (again) he decides he doesn't want her after the challenge. That seems like an incredibly unfair system, heavily biased towards men. SNW is an alternate universe in many obvious respects but most egregiously in that T'Pring has a lot of non-canonical agency over her relationship with Spock. It's interesting to me that Vulcan society has women in many positions of power and treats women as equal to men from what I've seen despite these laws. We don't really see Vulcans exhibiting a misogynistic attitude towards women in general but in TOS (perhaps because of its general writing style but it's still interesting to note) both Sarek and Spock take on patriarchal attitudes specifically regarding wives. Amanda says that 'of course' Sarek commands her because "he is a Vulcan and I am his wife." It's worthwhile in my eyes to note that she specifies 'wife' instead of attributing this attitude to women as a whole. Again, with TOS' writing style it wouldn't be out of place for her to say "he is a man and I am a woman." Spock, while in a pon farr induced irritation, states that it's "undignified for a woman to play servant to a man that isn't hers" - again implying that there's something specific about being a Wife in Vulcan society which is different from being a woman in general and demands subservience to a husband. This could perhaps stem from the extreme sense of ownership that Vulcan law has permitted men to have over women. A woman legally cannot point blank refuse marriage. There is no option which guarantees she won't have to marry her betrothed other than death. When T'Pau speaks of T'Pring she refers to her as being 'property' and Stonn, before being interrupted, states he's made 'the ancient claim' - we don't know what this is because he gets cut off but it's obvious they're both using the language of Vulcan law. Men are permitted true freedom to choose. If a woman wants to choose someone else to be with there is no option available to her other than the kal-if-fee which might result in the death of the one she wants to be with. And, if her lover fails, her husband can still just decide he wants to marry her and she'll be forced to. T'Pring gives two scenarios: One where Spock 'frees' her and one where he doesn't - it's still ultimately his decision which is clear when he ends the conversation with "Stonn, she is yours." This again isn't just because of the pon farr as T'Pol also goes through this. Koss can choose another mate and when the option is talked about there's no implication that this would result in any sort of fight (both by the casualness of its mention and by the fact that there's no formal word for it unlike the kal-if-fee.) Also, the fact that Koss does eventually grant T'Pol a divorce and it's all fine means that T'Pol isn't lawfully required to have another man waiting if her HUSBAND doesn't want her. It's ONLY required if SHE doesn't want her husband. Tradition must take precedence over individual desire UNLESS!!! You're a man. Then it's fine. Like, your parents might not be happy but legally you're golden.

[pluckyredhead]

The Arrowfamily Is Comically Terrible at Secret Identities

I’ve mentioned a few times that I headcanon that the Arrowfam doesn’t actually have functional secret identities but think they do, but that’s...basically canon. So I figured I’d share the evidence!

There’s a lot of evidence.

Ollie has never been stupendous at maintaining a secret identity, but the whole thing fell apart completely in 1989, when the CIA asked Oliver Queen to assist them with a case. Ollie agreed, but wanted to know how they knew he was Green Arrow:

Please note that he’s talking to a CIA agent here. This man deals in information, and Ollie’s identity was so obvious he didn’t even realize it was a secret. Incredible.

Absolutely one of the funniest things Ollie has ever said. Bless his heart.

And when Ollie finally suits up for the mission...

...he decides not to put on the mask. He continues to not bother with it until his death, so for another five years.

(Dinah also seems to drop her secret identity around this time, though it’s not commented on. She pretty much continues not to have one to this day.)

But what about his boys?

Well, Roy is a government agent in the late 80s and 90s, and "Agent Harper’s” former life as a sidekick is no secret:

You could argue that Roy’s file is classified and so no one outside of Checkmate/the CBI knows it, but that’s pretty clearly not true. First of all, every babysitter Lian has ever had has known both of Roy’s identities. Second, by 1998, he’s wearing this costume:

No mask. Just occasional sunglasses. Please note Vic dunking on him for them. (This whole exchange is golden. “You’re not supposed to say his name” lololol.)

And then there’s Connor, who wears a mask, but doesn’t seem to realize that it’s for anything other than decoration and tradition. Here he is introducing himself by name while in costume:

(This is one of my all-time favorite Connor panels, by the way. “Are you Robin Hood?” “I’m his son.” Just shoot me in the heart, why don’t you?)

And in case you’re thinking, well, that’s a child, who’s she going to tell...here’s Connor being totally unconcerned about being addressed by his real name while in costume while on television:

It’s hard to convey with just a few panels here and there, but I want to make this very clear: from at least 1994 to 2001, Roy and Connor simply did not have secret identities. They walked around in costume without masks, sometimes with a jacket on top if it was chilly but clearly not to hide the costume. They introduced themselves by name while in costume and by codename while out of it. Heroes with secret identities (Dick, Kyle, etc.) had to remind them to be discreet when they were hanging out together. Literally every supporting character in both of their books knew who they really were, including villains. They weren’t super public figures, but they weren’t hiding things, either.

(Connor’s existence also really reinforces that Ollie never had a good secret identity, because he always knew Ollie was his father, which according to the timeline of that era means that Moonday saw Green Arrow on TV one day and said “Huh, that’s the guy who got me pregnant.”)

And then Ollie comes back. Now, when he returns from the dead he has amnesia for basically everything after his road trip with Hal in the 70s, which means he doesn’t remember getting rid of his mask, and he certainly doesn’t know that Roy and Connor were running around identity-less for years while he was dead. None of that makes this scene any less funny:

Mia has encountered both Green Arrow and Oliver Queen exactly once each and she instantly knows they’re the same person. Like the scene with the CIA agent, this scene is important because it establishes not that Ollie’s identity is known, but that it is easy to know. HE IS OBVIOUSLY GREEN ARROW. IF HE DOES NOT CHANGE HIS BEHAVIOR, HE WILL ALWAYS BE OBVIOUSLY GREEN ARROW.

(Spoiler: he does not change his behavior.)

A couple storylines later, Ollie becomes inexplicably obsessed with his secret identity. You know, the one he doesn’t have.

This is Ollie standing at his own grave. [Insert Grant Gustin meme here.] He is there to meet Clark and ask him who attended his funeral. Clark provides him with paparazzi photos, and Ollie absolutely freaks the fuck out because he doesn’t recognize one of the attendees, and why would someone he doesn’t know be at his funeral? Maybe they know his secret???

Oliver. THERE IS AN ARROW ON YOUR TOMBSTONE AND IT SAYS “ALWAYS MADE THE RIGHT ENEMIES.” YOU DIED IN A HELICOPTER EXPLOSION. WHAT FUCKING SECRET?

Like. Archer’s Quest is an idiotic storyline and riddled with character assassination, but the fact that Ollie is upset that a stranger was at his funeral when the paparazzi, who are presumably also strangers, were also there is extra dumb. But my Archer’s Quest rant is a separate post.

Anyway, Ollie and Roy decide to go on a road trip to find various things that may or may not compromise Ollie’s secret identity. Before they set out, Ollie gives Roy a present:

This makes me laugh so hard. It’s so fucking stupid. Truly what do you think that is going to do, Ollie? Is it a magic mask? If Roy puts it on, will it give the entire world amnesia? That cat is FULLY out of the bag, my friends!

It’s also funny because eight months later, Roy switched to this costume:

This one doesn’t even have sunglasses! Screw you, Ollie!

Oh, and just in case you think that Mia is better about all of this because she’s seen how obvious Ollie is...nope.

That is Mia making a trick arrow IN SHOP CLASS while loudly talking to Roy about the Fortress of Solitude on the phone. And then Bart shows up IN COSTUME to take her to a Teen Titans mission and it’s pretty clear that she is not at all concerned about the impact this will have on her secret identity. So yeah, she’s just as bad as the rest of them.

(Yes, Roy did steal a Phantom Zone arrow from the Fortress of Solitude as a teenager and then gift it to Mia a decade later. I love him.)

But then Identity Crisis happened, and all of a sudden everyone had to be super duper worried about their secret identity, even people who had not had one since 1989. And thus we get a hilariously dumb storyline where the Arrowfamily’s house gets blown up and Ollie spirals into hysterics about it:

If the next words out of Hideous Wally’s mouth weren’t going to be “...have a secret identity,” I will be so disappointed in him. EVERYONE KNOWS WHO YOU ARE, OLIVER.

Connor is not exempt from the hysterics, which is in a lot of ways even funnier because he never had a secret identity:

Well, gee, Connor, maybe you shouldn’t have told every single person you met your real name for seven years! Maybe that would have helped!

(This is all triply funny because these histrionics are being written by Judd Winick, who was simultaneously writing Roy the Maskless Wonder over in Outsiders.)

I’m assuming this was all intended to be a soft retcon and we just...weren’t supposed to remember or notice that the Arrowfam didn’t have secret identities once they started caring about them again. But again: it was firmly established not once but twice that Ollie’s secret identity can be detected by literally just looking at him, Roy’s ID is a matter of public record, and the amount of government agents, supervillains, and utter randos scattered around the world who know at least one Arrowfam ID is literally uncountable. And Oliver is still publicly dating Black Canary, Green Arrow’s girlfriend. And yet they still think they have secret identities.

In conclusion: they’re stupid and I love them, your honor. And this is why I choose to believe that everyone in Star City 100% knows who every single member of the Arrowfamily is and they are just allowing them to keep their illusions out of affection for their dumb, melodramatic, ridiculous superheroes.

[tales-unique]

MEMORIES OF THE WEST V

Chapter 5

The only time Saint Denis seemed peaceful was early in the morning. The sun had barely risen an hour or so before Arthur found you descending the white steps into the street, dressed in a pale yellow pinstripe blouse and flowing black skirt. Scuffing your tapered boots in annoyance, you look about yourself with a scowl on your face. You have a delicate ornate fan in hand, swatting it ceaselessly to dispel the early morning heat that plagues you. “Mornin’ Miss DuBois,” he calls, tipping his hat in greeting, “you’re out early.” “Mister Morgan, good morning,” you chirp, regarding him with a tight-lipped smile. “I just had to get out,” you hiss, the beating of your fan a sharp tempo accompaniment to your words, “this heat is awful !” Arthur chuckles, motioning for you to walk with him. “Yeah, it is,” he agrees, feeling the sweat bead on the back of his neck where the sun beats down on him relentlessly.

You walk side by side on the cobblestone streets, taking in the relative quiet. A lone carriage rumbles by, a couple strolls past you and you greet them cordially. It's pleasant, but it won't last. "So, what’s the plan?" He asks, hooking his thumb in his belt loop, "how do you wanna approach this whole thing with Jebediah?" Not one to beat around the bush, Arthur wanted to have at least the bare bones of a plan in place. The last thing they needed was to create more problems, especially ones that would involve the law. That arrogant bastard probably had them all on his payroll. "Well, it's not going to be easy," you sigh, coming to a stop outside the tailor's shop, perusing the wares on display in the window. "Jebediah doesn't like you one bit , Arthur," you click your tongue, regarding his reflection. You can certainly see why. He's dressed in a simple white button up with the sleeves rolled up and a fitted blue waistcoat that shows just how broad and defined he is. The faded blue jeans and black cowboy boots complete the look, and you take extra care not to spend too long staring at the way the denim hugs his muscular thighs. He scoffs, shaking his head. If he notices you staring he doesn't say anything, much to your relief. "That so? I really couldn't tell!" He huffs, harsh sarcasm dripping from each word. Turning on your heel you simply smile up at him, you even dare to flutter your lashes. "Don't worry about that Arthur, I've got it handled," you tell him, your smile turning mischievous. "What are you up to?" He asks warily, narrowing his eyes at you. "It's nothing bad !" You grumble, fanning your face. Standing still let the heat cling to you and it was sending you dizzy. Arthur follows your lead when you start walking again, falling into line at your side. You casually make your way towards one of the gardens, trying to keep in the shade and the minimal relief it brings as much as you can. "I just commented on how safe I would feel if I had someone with me, and broached the idea of having my own personal bodyguard, is all," you comment flippantly, glancing at him, "and maybe I managed to convince Jebediah to hire you for just that very position." "Well I'll be damned!" Arthur exclaims, impressed you were able to pull off such a feat. "What can I say? I know how to play the damsel when I need to," you preen, rolling your eyes playfully. Not only was Arthur possibly going to get away with a large sum of money and other riches, but he was going to be paid for the privilege. It's almost too good to be true, but he bites his tongue. You look so proud of yourself and he can't bring himself to rain on your parade. If things go sour he can figure it out, he always manages to somehow. The flow of conversation comes easily as you continue to walk, taking your time leisurely to admire the botanical centerpieces in the gardens. Saint Denis always did have the most beautiful flowers and bushes and you often went there when you needed time to reflect and collect yourself. "We should probably get you back," Arthur hums, "or that brother of yours might send out the whole damn cavalry to find you this time!" The comment forces a snort out of you, hiding your snickering behind your fan. It's funny because it's a scenario you can definitely see happening, not that you'd blame him. William had been overly cautious ever since you had come back, terrified of letting you go out alone even for the simplest of things. While you could appreciate his fears it was becoming stifling and you didn't know how much you could take. "Come on," Arthur chuckles. Neither of you want to go back, especially knowing that you have to force yourselves to perform roles you didn't care for, but do it you must. That doesn't mean you don't take your sweet time doing it, though.

“Don’t walk away from me, William! We are not done talkin’ about this!” “Why do you have to turn everything into an argument?” “Oh, I do apologize! I suppose I shouldn’t be angry when somethin’ is arranged about me when I’m not even in the damn room !” You hadn’t been back in the apartment barely half an hour before you and your brother were embroiled in a heated argument. Arthur stood off to the side, leaning against the wall by the window, deciding right quick that he wasn’t going to get in the middle of it. You more than had this handled, if your imposing stance and downright mean glare had anything to say about it. Even Jebediah, as disgruntled over the whole affair as he was, didn’t interfere when you started biting back. “It’s just for a couple of weeks, sister!” William rebukes in a defensive hiss, throwing his hands up in the air, “Jebediah feels that—” “—Jebediah! So Jebediah feels like I should be plucked from my own home just because he says so! Why didn’t you say so? I’ll go pack my bags right now, shall I?” You snap, hands pinned tightly to your hips. Arthur can see the way you’re gripping the fabric there so tight your knuckles are turning white. You’re angrier than a wildcat with its tail on fire and it’s too much for William to take. He falters, all that built up bravado in front of the man he idolizes, the man who swindled him, suddenly wilting in the face of real fire. “I-I just think it’s a good idea, after everything that’s happened,” William tries to reason with you, but there’s no conviction to his voice, “you know Lady Kramer loves it when you stay with her, and it gives Jebediah time to get the wedding in order!” The mere mention of the wedding makes you bristle and you open your mouth to scream how there will be no damn wedding , but you hesitate. Your fiery gaze flits between William, Jebediah, and Arthur, the last of which regards you with a look of warning. It sobers you, making you think about the consequences of your actions. You inhale deeply, grounding yourself as best you can; you’re still brimming with anger, but at least you’re not ready to commit murder. “I’m not going anywhere , William,” you speak with a sense of finality that has William reeling from the vicious bite of it. The tension is still rife in your stance when you turn away from him to face Jebediah. His sharp eyes watch you closely through the smoke of his lit cigar, regarding you with an air of condescension that you return ten fold before striding towards the door. You stop just before leaving, your hand on the handle. “You coming, Arthur?” It’s subdued, nothing at all like the brimstone and fire you were spitting moments ago. The flames have simmered down until nothing but embers were left, your eyes imploring as they look at him. Arthur stands straighter, sizing up Jebediah as he passes him. The pompous snake seethes as he follows you, noticing the way you smile at him all soft like before shooting him a look of contempt as you leave. Outside the door, you let out a deep breath and rub your face. God, those men made you so mad. Arthur barely closes the door behind him before you’re stalking off, having to hurry his steps just to catch up with you. He matches your pace at the top of the stairs, eyeing you like you’re a coiled viper about to strike. “Well that was something,” he remarks. “Oh, go dunk your head in the river!” There’s no malice in your retort, just an annoyance that isn’t aimed at him. You descend the stairs with a swiftness that catches Arthur off guard, your dress front scrunched up in your hands so you don’t trip. “Don’t fall now,” Arthur mocks, a mix of sardonic humor and genuine concern. The last thing he needs right now is for you to trip down the stairs and break your neck because you’re all wound up. You curse him under your breath, feet hurriedly taking you out into the street without so much as a backwards glance. You just want to get away , but not under someone else's instruction. “What now?” He asks, coming to a stop at your side. A look of consideration crosses your face, your brow creasing

in thought. Then, you perk up, practically glowing. “I think it’s time you meet my Ginger,” you grin, excited as you bounce on the balls on your feet. “Ginger? Who’s Ginger?” “Just c’mon!” You roll your eyes at him, already walking ahead of him. You laugh that pretty laugh you do when you’re all kinds of excited as you quicken your pace to a playful trot just to keep ahead of him, causing Arthur to smile despite his grumblings. You were already feeling lighter now that your mind was taken away from the issues at home, focused instead on the true love of your life. When you come to stop outside of the Saint Denis Stables Arthur stares up at the big painted letters, perplexed. He feels like a goddamn fool ; who in their right mind would name their kid Ginger? “There she is!” You grin, hurrying up to a stall at the far end. The scent of hay and horses is rife inside, but it doesn’t seem to faze you. In fact, Arthur swears you look more at home here than you do in that dollhouse apartment of yours. Seems that country upbringing never left you and he wonders to himself just how you looked out there on the plains, young and spirited, wrangling wild broncos to bring back home. He coughs, the image a little too good for him to be imagining. Instead, he follows after you, noticing how the stable hands all greet you by name. You must spend a lot of time there, but that doesn’t surprise Arthur, given how animated you are about your horse. True to her namesake, a beautiful chestnut Kentucky Saddler mare stands to attention in the stall, ears forward and focused on you. There’s a bold blaze of white down her face that covers her muzzle and her eyes, dark and intense, follow your movements easily as you reach your arms to her. “There’s my good girl,” you coo, giggling when she whinnies in response. The gentleness she shows you as she trots up to you, pressing herself into your awaiting arms, is compelling; the nag truly trusts you, and you clearly love her just as much. Arthur knows how good it feels to have that trusted bond with an animal, feeling the same way about his own stallion. A snort to his right catches his attention; speak of the devil and he shall appear. The Ardennes paws at the ground of his stall, none too pleased at being ignored. Arthur chuckles, moving to scratch his neck as the large beast stretches his head over the gate. “I had him put in the stall next to Ginger,” you explain, smiling warmly at the display, “I thought he’d like the company.” “I imagine he’s grateful for the fine company, thank you,” Arthur chuckles, patting his horse's neck. The display of affection sends your heart aflutter as you watch, colour dusting your cheeks. If he were to ask you’d play it off as the heat, but you knew it was more than that. You could see that Arthur had a soft spot for his horse, treating the stallion with the respect and kindness that he deserved, and you liked that about him. In fact, you were finding a lot to like about the outlaw, now that you actually took the time to think about it, and the thought unsettled you — could you really let yourself fall for a gunslinger?

[halothenthehorns]

All in the Family

Chapter 123: Snape's Worst Memory

It finally happened, as it was bound to do. One of them took these continuous bad falls just a bit to hard.

Lily yelped in surprise to find herself on a branch, couldn't latch onto the trunk let alone another one for stability, and went crashing down so fast she couldn't guess at what was below. Her face was dunked into water, while her arm crashed into something much more solid, sending a white-hot shot of pain in all directions from her elbow.

She came up spluttering and gasping in pain, her hair plastered to her eyes leaving her blind, her wand arm throbbing so bad she couldn't have done anything even if her mind wasn't frozen in shock.

Only when she began whimpering at the movement but forced herself to use her other arm to push her hair aside did she suddenly realize she'd also lost her wand during the fall and she'd have no way to fix herself up, but then her eyes adjusted to see Potter was already leaning over her.

Even if she would have had the presence of mind to tell him to piss off she wouldn't have, her arm just hurt too bad and she'd be grateful for anyone to fix it. His wand tapped her arm so fast and lightly she didn't even feel it, and just like that the pain was reduced to a dull throb in seconds, and then a cool tingling replaced that, before she was flexing her fingers and rolling her shoulder like nothing had happened.

"I'm sure Madam Pomfrey would have you in the hospital wing overnight just to make sure it went perfectly," he told her with pure sincerity, "but it's not at that crooked angle anymore, so I think you'll live."

He just smiled at her. Not a grin, not a smirk, just a friendly smile as he offered both hands to help her up in a gentlemanly fashion.

She took a deep breath, and he was already lowering his hands in surrender, before she surprised them both by grabbing hold and hauling herself to her feet. Since he'd already started to pull back she barely had a good grip on his fingers as she did so, but she got back upright and released him all the same. His hands hovered for only a moment around her shoulders to make sure she was going to stay upright before he dropped them and took a step back, now with that familiar smug look firmly set in place.

For some reason it wasn't as grating as she remembered it should be.

She looked just as quickly away, and felt a swarm of feelings for recognizing every inch of this place. The little pond she'd landed in was ringed with four smooth stone pebbles that had broken her elbow, each had a different-sized handprint on them in a different color, the koi were all at the other end still. The rainbow awning gave shade to half the backyard, the sandbox on the opposite side of the tree nobody had looked at in years, and the kites left out, though long weather-damaged, gave a friendly enough sense of life. She was all too familiar with the tree she'd just fallen out of, because Petunia had once done the very same thing when she was seven and her collarbone had broken in three places. Lily had run over to help, placing her hands on her sobbing sister and easing her crying for only a moment, and her older sister had actually smiled at her in thanks, one of the very few times she'd seemed in awe of her magic rather than hating it.

She'd spotted that cat weather-vane from the roof of Snape's home. They were at her house. That tree had a direct view right up to her window, and while the branches didn't extend far enough for him to crawl over, he'd scaled it countless times with pebbles in hand to get her attention, and she'd ease open the window and bounce dangerously on the awning before bunching up the material and sliding the rest of the way down, landing just so over the table and the two ran free of the yard.

It seemed Potter may have done something of the same affect. Her window wasn't open, but the table was overturned like someone had landed on it, the glass surface had a crack down the middle.

A thrill of horror shot through her, the number of times they had shown up at someone's house was not a good omen for what was to come, and that was before she heard the chapter title, 'Snape's Worst Memory.'

Potter snorted and looked back towards the house where Frank's voice was coming from in surprise.

He spoke without thinking, "what would that be, his first bath?" Then he winced as he realized who he'd said it in front of, reminding himself too late she still wouldn't find that funny, and turning back to see her infuriated face meant he was still a pretty good judge of her character. He was unsurprised when she stormed into the house and slammed the backdoor behind her, and he sighed and gave her a few moments before following.

Walking in found a large, spacious living room. The ceiling was dark paneled wood and made it seem larger than he was sure it should be, and the floor was smooth marble tile in a wavy black and white pattern. There was an unlit fireplace with a brick hearth, with four different sofas along each wall. To his immediate right was an oblong table visible leading into the kitchen, across was the opposite front door, and to the far left was a hallway which probably led to stairs.

Longbottom was still reading, yet another ridiculous ministry decree, it was a miracle those weren't in the hundreds by now, and knowing he only had a fifty-fifty shot of avoiding whichever way she went and still trying to give her space, headed for the kitchen where he could hear his friends' voices coming from, she'd have more than likely avoided the same.

The kitchen was much more narrow, almost a hallway, with double doors at the end ajar. Longbottom was in there, leaning casually in a seat that squeaked in front of one of those machines that had electrocuted him last time. Alice wasn't anywhere to be seen, and it surprised him the guy was just apparently casually sitting around wherever he'd found the book to read, so close to Remus rummaging just feet away in one of those things that kept the food cold.

Sirius was unabashedly shoving cookies into his mouth and alternately flipping a noisy sounding device in the sink on and off for his own amusement, Remus holding his wrist protectively and James wasn't sure he wanted to know how close Padfoot had come to sticking his hand in that odd sounding machine before Moony stopped him. What would a Muggle even have blades down a sink for? Peter was at his back, presumably turning off whatever that thing was that made this whole place hot as an oven. It had four visible circles up top, each with little knobs above it, and though the door was closed, it seemed to be glowing on the inside.

Regulus was sitting on the counter beside Peter, looking around uneasily and chewing on his cheek as he eyed all of the available cupboards. If James had to guess, he'd almost say he was repressing the urge to open them all and have a look through, but something of this clearly Muggle house was still holding him back.

James had a very good idea whose home they were in, judging by Evans's face outside, and he was torn between encouraging this behavior to help loosen the kid up and giving her some privacy.

Lily went stamping up the carpeted stairs with so much frustration she expected dad to call after her any second to cool her temper. She was being ridiculous anyways, Potter's continued idiocies shouldn't surprise her any more than another fight with Petunia.

She reached the landing to see Alice holding a picture she'd very clearly knocked off the wall. It was the four of them on their first trip to the zoo.

She'd been sitting on her dad's shoulders, not even looking at the kind stranger as her eyes stayed trained on the multiple birds in the aviary. Mum had her arms wrapped around Petunia, who was giving a very posh smile that hid well how bored she'd been by that point and had been begging to go home.

"I bet your patronus would be that one," she told Lily as she glanced up, pointing at a red parrot, the blue and yellow plumage on its wings spread wide.

"I like to think it would be a bird," she agreed, "I've always loved them."

Alice immediately set the photo back on the wall, and looked to her in concern for the tone. She'd tried to sound happy about the easy topic, but it had clearly failed her.

"Want to talk about it?" She asked quietly, no judgement in her tone for whatever her answer.

Lily's automatic response wanted to be no, but that hadn't been doing her a lot of good recently, just bottling all this up. She still wanted to talk to Sev more than anyone, being back home only reinforced that. She hadn't come back during Christmas break this year, the two of them had stayed at Hogwarts to look after their newest pet project potion, claiming it as studying for the coming Potions OWLs, though they really needed no such thing. They could brew whatever happened next week by their fourth year, the two of them spent so much time looking, studying, and perfecting Eileen Snape's book.

They hadn't been interrupted once by any of those other horrible friends of his, it was the last good memory she had of him before the semester had kicked back in. It was always just the two of them during the summers here.

The chapter title still bothered her greatly though, even as that tosh about the Inquisitorial Squad was dumped on them, and Umbridge dragged Harry up to her office to interrogate him. The two stayed quiet and Lily began leading the way to her room as this went on, her hand tense on the handle until a massive BOOM interrupted all of her questions about where Sirius Black was.

Finally releasing a breath she'd deny she was holding, she pushed the door open and answered her just as quietly. "That chapter title, I'm wondering if his worst memory is meeting me."

"Oh Lily," she immediately stepped forward and wrapped her in a hug. Her clothes were still slightly damp, and she didn't even seem to be taking in the room. The walls were zebra-striped green and pink, there were posters hung all around of places she'd like to visit in the world and an old stuffed owl sat on her lions, and tigers, and bears bed sheets.

"He hates me so much in this future," she sobbed, sure Alice couldn't understand a word, her voice shook so much. "I think I pushed him too far, made him choose, and-" was that what his worst memory would be? Was Harry going to use Protego on him again and she'd finally hear of what she did to make him be such an intolerable person to everyone?

The fascinating description of Weasley's Wizard Wiz-Bangs did not distract her as she finally cried herself out, Alice just holding tight and rubbing her back until finally she had no more tears to spare and just fell onto her bed in exhaustion. Her face felt itchy and hot still from the dried tears, but as she kept swallowing and finally breathing normally again, she convinced herself she had to stop this. She wouldn't cry over him anymore. Maybe she'd find out and maybe she never would, but surely it didn't happen until far into the future. Maybe her finally agreeing to date Potter for whatever reason had done it and she'd fix this by that never happening, there was still time, right?

Alice still remained affable at her side, just sitting there like Potter had, it amazed her both of them had just instinctively given her exactly what she hadn't even wanted to ask for. She was inquisitively eyeing the room now, and when finally she caught Lily's eye again and she smiled, Alice was quick to grin back and say, "it still amazes me how opposite you two are in literally every way. I poked my head into Petunia's room, I didn't even know there were different shades of white. Felt emptier than the closed ward."

Lily wrung out her borrowed shirt, watching a few last droplets patter on the brown carpet, but forced herself to meet Alice's eyes when she answered. "It looked a little more fun when she was younger, but I think she started doing it on purpose recently, throwing out everything in preparation to move out as soon as she could. We've always been total opposites growing up, a lot like Sirius and Regulus." She frowned and realized she'd never retrieved her wand and got up to do that immediately, lest it get lost before this chapter was over, Harry was having another dream of that room You-Know-Who wanted in so badly. In fact, it was more elaborate than ever, even more rooms were being described as You-Know-Who got closer to his prize. She swallowed a very dry throat and kept addressing Alice instead of dwelling on what that could be.

"At least I've noticed they have some things in common," she continued to Alice as she opened the window. "I don't know though, after hearing all this, I don't think I can ever make up with her."

"I really can't blame you," Alice nodded, following her to the window, and leaning out in concern as Lily went over the side. She watched as Lily easily slid down the cloth, caught the end with expert skills, and swung to the ground, rummaging for a bit under the shade of a tree before finding her wand. Then, as if she did it every day, she propped a glass table back upright, tapped it to fix a visible crack, and jumped slightly to catch the edge, clinging easily to the material as she scaled back up, and happily took Alice's outstretched hand as she crawled back in her window.

She used a quick charm to dry her clothes, and tensed in unease as Harry went down for another Occlumency lesson. It was going to happen, she could feel it, and happily looking to stall she offered, "want to tell the boys to cool it and use the showers here while we can?"

Alice was distracted from answering by Cho stopping Harry on the way to said lesson, and the two having a pretty bad fight over Marietta.

Lily had forgotten her own question by the end anyways, she could see both sides to that. Merlin knew she spent more than enough time defending Severus's bad decisions, but Harry had nearly been expelled for that shite, she couldn't blame her son for not being as forgiving.

Then Harry arrived in a foul temper to find Sev putting memories into a Pensieve again, and she took an uneasy breath but prepared herself as much as she could. She had a feeling it would do no more good than preparing herself every time they were thrown around these insane timelines.

Then Malfoy barged in with some concern about a fellow Slytherin turning up in a toilet.

The roaring laughter from downstairs almost hid Lily's huff of frustration. She just wanted to get it done with now!

"I suppose you don't want to go down there and join them," Alice guessed, misinterpreting that annoyed expression, she'd had to bite her lip to stop herself laughing at the image herself.

Lily didn't really want to, but she also knew she couldn't just keep hiding away. They were all going to hear regardless, may as well suck it up and be there for them to gawk at when it happened, they all thought her a shrew anyways except Alice, Frank, and Potter, though Merlin knew why with him.

"Yes, alright," she agreed, the two going back for the stairs, but Lily scowled and sprinted down the rest so that she could stomp into the kitchen and blame Potter at what Harry did in Sev's absence.

"That's all your fault you know, nosey twat, you've no privacy."

"Don't be ridiculous Evans," Potter seemed delighted to be the rotten apple of her eye once more. "Yours is just as curious a nature as mine, smart as you are, like you could resist doing such a thing!"

"Have you ever heard the words private property?" She demanded back.

The two just kept going like that and Frank looked from the book to Alice, wondering if he was supposed to keep going while she was at least mildly distracted. She hadn't even seemed to notice James had been sitting at the table, not encouraging, but not joining the others either as the two Blacks went snooping through all sorts of Muggle kitchen things. Sirius had at some point put a strainer on Regulus's head, but froze that way to watch the show.

Alice finally waved Frank on, hoping the blow would hurt slightly less if Lily was already venting when it happened, but sadly all attention was diverted anyways as Harry jumped into the memory, and it started how nobody would have predicted.

James busted out laughing in surprise to hear, "his worst memory's the DADA OWL? What, does he find out later he only gets an E?"

He watched in concern though as Evans turned pale in shock and took an uneasy step away from him, she'd been so close during the fight her skirt had been covering his shoes, their knees almost touching. He bit his lip and decided there wasn't even a point in getting her to laugh for this next bit, as Harry easily spotted first Snape, then him in that hall.

What were the odds he wasn't going to be featured in whatever happened next to upset Lily? Admittedly he was still drawing a blank as to what that was, surely him and Snape having yet another fight after this test couldn't be his worst memory, considering this had been a weekly occurrence for years now. His son should get the enjoyment fixating on him now, before Snape departed for whatever reason.

At least Harry was excited as he got a real chance to compare the two, and he swelled with pride at his boy being all but the spitting image of him except with the best part. She wouldn't meet his eyes, but he'd memorized the beautiful green color long ago.

Sirius, then Remus, and finally Peter were all spotted in quick succession, and James sighed uneasily as he imagined this time next week. They hadn't been given their schedules for their OWLs yet, they wouldn't get them until that Monday morning, but he knew the next full moon would have been that Sunday night. Harry wasn't the best descriptor, but even noticing how pale Remus was made it a pretty good guess this had to be only a day or so later.

He didn't seem to spot Evans at all, but James felt an extra pang in his soul he didn't even recognize his mother's initials he scribbled on his paper, and he flashed said woman an innocent smile as she scrutinized him for that.

"Better than LP, I suppose," she finally huffed.

He just beamed at her flippant dismissal to hide the rest of his unease. Would Sirius still be avoiding them then, and Harry would wonder what they were fighting about?

The opposite in fact happened, as the four casually met up to begin discussing the exam! His heart soared as he wondered what had happened to change it then, had they won the cup and Remus and Sirius finally made up!

He met their eyes though, and knew that whatever the answer, this way was arguably better, and worse. He didn't know if the four of them would ever be able to do something so casually as just walk out to the lake again when they got back and really hang out, that was still really in the air, but at least the other four let out surprised snorts of laughter at Moony's self-deprecating joke.

He easily met Evans's eyes again and put up a mock-hurt face as he cried, "you think he's funnier than me! I can make plenty of werewolf jokes!"

"Shut up you idiot," she just rolled her eyes again, but not hard enough to suppress her still present smile.

"At least you now know to study for that question beforehand this time, I feel like I should be taking notes," Regulus offered sympathetically to Peter for that test fatigue.

Peter grinned at him, before giving Prongs an aggrieved look for the book's insult on him. "I'm sure I was too busy helping you study for Arithmancy you ponce, excuse me if I don't fawn over every detail of Moony's arse like Padfoot does!"

James grinned in surprise for the shot back like he hadn't in the book and finally decided maybe Regulus was a good influence if Peter wasn't going to take it all in stride anymore. He opened his mouth to retaliate, but stopped quickly when Evans snorted in disgust about him having the Snitch on him.

"You took a whole ruddy test with that in your pocket?" Longbottom asked him in disbelief. "I'd have gone mad, that thing messing around, distracting me."

"Guess we all can't be natural multi-taskers," he jeered, but then stopped laughing in surprise when Longbottom kept going, and Harry wondered why he didn't tell Wormtail to knock off the attention. He'd never told anyone to stop that, why would he? It was fun!

Peter didn't go as pink at Sirius's next jib at him, but he still looked mildly embarrassed at how obviously he was envying them. It really was no wonder to him they thought him an idiot, he didn't exactly hide it.

The Marauders actually left this group's center of attention though, when they got the crowd's notice of catching sight of Snape, again. The following back-and-forth of curses was familiar to even first-years by that point, Potter's crude sneer, and Sirius Black's twitching hands made it very obvious they wished they could have been doing this the whole time for as pent up and frustrated as they'd been for so very long now.

Lily cringed as she finally did make an appearance, though she'd apparently been there the whole time, just watching. She wondered what Harry thought of her defending him. He was not like his father, he didn't go around cursing Malfoy for his own pleasure, but she wouldn't be surprised if her worries came true now and he'd be upset at his own mother stopping his father's form of fun.

Potter interrupted his own crass comment of why exactly he was cursing Snape, she'd heard that too many times anyways and was almost grateful when he asked her, "I noticed that took two curses longer than usual actually. You two must be really fighting an awful lot to take so long to step in by next week."

She met his eyes with a blazing scowl, she did not need him analyzing her decisions!

He raised his hands in surrender and turned back to the book with open curiosity like McGonagall had just snapped at him to pay attention, then he flinched in surprise and covered his cheek when Snape finally got a curse back, and a dark one at that. Blood apparently went splattering around!

Sirius snarled in disgust and crumbled the last cookie up in his fist in disgust at that display, but at least Prongs got retaliation by stringing Snivellus up by his pants, and Evans even laughed at that!

They all looked wildly at her for that display, but she was already trying to quickly smooth her face out and pretend no such thing would make her laugh, that she hadn't wanted to do the very same to him the amount of times he'd been ignoring her since before Easter break.

James leapt wildly to his feet now, beaming at her and raising his fist to start shouting in glee he'd actually gotten her to laugh- when Frank had kept going, and Snape said it.

The rushing noise in her ear sounded as loud as thunder, but she knew that was all in her head for how deadly silent her house had gotten. She wanted to accuse Frank of lying, but there was no mistaking that ghastly look on his face for even uttering the word, let alone who'd just really spat it at her. She wanted to run up to her room, curl up in a ball and cry until he came over to her window and apologized, but that just wasn't going to be good enough this time.

It only left one available emotion to pour down on her, to drown her in tidal waves, and she acted on it purely from impulse, if she stopped to consider it, she'd explode. She turned on her heel and walked calmly to the front door, and while it opened, she couldn't even take the one lone step off her stoop. She was trapped in here still, encased in this bubble, and she couldn't go burn down their spot.

Then she snapped, and she screamed. She shouted every spell she knew at this thing, and when they all vanished with no visible trace, she dropped her wand and beat her fists against it until she was sure they'd come away bloody and raw. She just wanted out!

Alice knew there weren't enough kind words in the world to soften this blow, and a part of her mind branched off to wonder just what Lily had gone off to destroy next week. She'd mentioned her and Snape often brewed secret potions together, and she wondered if that would have been thrown through a wall somewhere in school. Then she went forward to stop her suicidal boyfriend in concern as he finally couldn't take seeing her like that any more than she could, and he came forward to grab her.

She reared back with a vengeance, headbutting his nose so that he was bleeding again, but he barely flinched as he half picked her up, half dragged her back inside and sat down on the nearest couch with her still trembling in his arms.

Alice darted forward and grabbed her wand, quickly pocketing it while Frank promised her, "just breathe Lily, you're going to hurt yourself. I'll hold him down while you kill him when we get back, but you can't keep that up forever."

She seemed to disagree, still pushing feebly at his arms and shaking her head over and over, still uttering through a now hoarse throat she wanted out of here. Alice's heart broke as she imagined Lily, all alone in the dungeons like this, and wanted to kill Snape herself.

Somewhere in the background, Remus had picked up the book and kept reading, though neither of them really thought the next location would make this feel any better. Then Alice's eyes brightened as she remembered something, but she bit her lip before she could act on it when the adult Snape finally appeared to drag Harry away.

This had been called Snape's Worst Memory, but what about it was the worst part? She wanted to believe it's what he'd called his best friend, but had it simply been Potter's arrogance once more in front of everyone like that? It's certainly what was implied when he actually shook Harry, and threw him from the room.

She wasn't sure if Lily was going to hit her for it, but Alice went over and hugged her as well, noting with relief her shaking was finally slowing and she was watching the wall separating her from the book. Alice didn't quite get a chance to register that expression as Harry's last line shocked them all, and they were torn away.

HPHPHPHPHP

To Sanne (Guest):

"Lily, whose furious expression had twitched for an instant as though she was going to smile, said, "Let him down!"

A quote from the book none ever seem to acknowledge that always fascinated me, Lily does get some sort of petty relish out of Snape's torment in this scene but doesn't ever let anyone see. Her reaction in this chapter is admittedly a fanon answer to this moment, but one I stand by, she did find it justifiably funny he never listened to her to stop fighting and this was his comeuppance.

No, I don't think James was a bully, as that statement involves malicious intent of someone else's pain on a repeated basis on a vulnerable other.  I never for once believed Snape was vulnerable, let alone never retaliated with just as many horrible things back. As Remus himself said, Snape never left an opportunity to curse him. I imagine all manor of unsavory retaliation, but individually to them if Snape found them alone. Did Snape laugh while he did that to them? I personally think so.

Fighting from both parties is not mutual bullying, it's a recurring battle that one side had to stop to make it right. James stopped first. Snape joined the Death Eater's.

This lone memory is Snape's worst because of what he said to Lily.  What James was doing was Harry's focus, but not even Snape's, as confirmed in Prince's Tale when the memory replays in conjunction with his other times with Lily, not all of what happened between him and James.

Considering Snape is a bully to the entire student population the past years already as a teacher I don't believe for a second he wasn't the same in his youth, and don't tell me it was to keep his cover as a Death Eater. That is a bull excuse for his behavior when he could have just been a passive nobody and kept his nose down to be in Dumbledore's good graces, hell it would make more sense for him to try to be the best teacher ever if his 'plan' was to infiltrate Dumbledore's school on Voldemort's orders. James' entire character should not be based around this sole instance as so many people do. Snape had years to change his behavior both before and after what he did to Lily; instead of hating a child for his parentage and making Hermione, Neville, and likely countless others feel tormented.

As always if you disagree I encourage you to tell me, I have no problems discussing differences of opinion and I hope you enjoy the rest of the fic.

[valkyrieofsmut]

Captive Love   23

UF!Sans x Reader (or Frisk if you wanna)

Summary: Sweetheart opens up about her past to show Sans that she's not afraid of him.

A/N: So, I debated back and forth on whether I should give the details of Sweetheart's past (why she flinches) in a flashback, or be nice and just have her talk about it... Yeah... I'm not nice... I did safety, though. ~~~~ at the beginning and end, and safe summary at the end..

Masterlist      Series Masterlist

Story

Fear of the past.

Sans woke up in the hall, pinned to the floor, his skull pounding. 

The bright light filling the hall made his skull hurt worse. He groaned as he tried to get up, but couldn’t. 

His eyelights darting to see what had him held down, he saw his brother’s long legs resting on him, keeping him on the ground. 

“GOOD MORNING, MORON,” Papyrus greeted from behind a book about puzzles and traps. 

“ugh,” he groaned. “uh, hey, boss…” 

He let his eyelights roam over the hall and tried to remember what had happened. 

Why the hell had he fallen asleep in the hall? And why the hell did his brother have his legs kicked up on him like a stool instead of yelling at him for being lazy and not going on his rounds? 

Where was his soft, cute little Sweet- 

The memory of (Y/n)’s beautiful eyes staring up at him, full of fear flashed in his mind. 

“sweetheart!” He cried out, trying to get out from under Papyrus’ legs, but his brother slammed him back to the floor. “bro! i-is sweetheart ok?!” Sans begged. 

“STRANGE HOW YOU WORRY ABOUT THAT NOW,” Papyrus commented uninterestedly. 

“bro- p-please-” 

His brother’s eyelights met his, and Sans felt the weight lift from his ribs as he closed his book. 

“IF YOU FUCK THIS UP, SHE WILL LIKELY HATE YOU FOREVER. SO. NO PRESSURE, OR ANYTHING,” Papyrus told him before turning and going downstairs to give them a moment. 

Now that there were no obstacles, Sans was just standing in front of the door staring at it. 

He took a deep inhale and let it out, his hand going to touch his smokes, but not taking them out of his pocket. 

He could really use a smoke right now, the release of the tension it would bring, along with the excuse to put this off- 

Sans lifted his hand away from his pocket and opened the door, cautiously looking around to see (Y/n) on his brother’s bed, looking like she’d had a restless night. 

“s-sweetheart,” he softly called, tentatively stepping farther into the room. “sweetheart, ya- ya ok?” 

(Y/n)’s eyes fluttered open and looked at him, looking slightly hollow, but also like they had big enough bags to carry a month’s worth of groceries. 

“oh, stars, sweetheart,” he murmured, cautiously getting closer to her, like she was a frightened animal that would bolt if he got too close too fast. “nah- nah, i see ya ain’t… d-doll… sw-sweetheart… ‘m so sorry… i didn’t mean fer any a that ta happen… i was only…” He paused as he tried to remember what exactly had happened. “i was… drunk, an'... flirtin’ wit ya… that’s what i remember, ‘nyway… an’ then ya… started shakin’...” His voice was getting softer, like he was losing the will to speak. 

(Y/n) continued to stare at him, uncertain, and carefully watching for any signs that she shouldn’t trust him. 

Sans’ shoe scuffed the floor, and he watched as the carpet fibers moved. “i jus’… sw-sweetheart… d’ya even like me?” He asked on a breath. 

“What?” She gulped in shock. 

“d’ya even like me,” he repeated, his skull flushed a little darker, voice a little louder. “d’ya even like bein’ ‘round me?” 

“Of course I do… Why would you think I don’t?” She asked, perplexed. 

“ya flinch any time i get close ta ya, doesn’t even have ta be very close- just enough fer m’shadow ta fall on ya… an’ every time i touch ya… ya flinch like i dunked ya in th’ snow…” 

“Sans,” (Y/n) whispered, surprised, but feeling her heart twist that he thought she didn’t even like him when she was- 

… 

Having certain feelings for him… 

“Sans, I- I flinch, but that’s not because of you…” She tried to reassure him, but he didn’t look swayed. 

“S- ...Sans…” Her voice had dropped to barely audible. “You- you’re not the reason I flinch… I… I just flinch… I promise…” 

His eyelights slowly moved up to meet her eyes. “can... can ya… prove… it?” 

He wanted proof, something tangible that he could hold onto and shove in the face of that thought any time it surfaced telling him she was only placating him. 

He wanted to believe her. 

He wanted… 

He wanted her to want to be with him… on her own… 

(Y/n)’s eyes drifted to the floor, and Sans felt his soul ache. 

Was she saying that she couldn’t? That there was no proof she’d want to be with him? 

“Y-yeah… Yeah. I can,” she answered. 

She put her hands on her chest and lifted her elbows. One went nearly to her ear, like it would be if she was using it as a pillow while sleeping. The other… almost reached straight out, but didn’t quite. 

“It’s… the same reason I haven’t taken my shirt off in front of you…” Her hand went to the sleeve of the shirt and she managed to pull it out of the way, showing off a deep scar. It wasn’t long, or wide, but it was a bit jagged, and there were a peppering of smaller scars around it, including ones that would have been for the stitches.

It was situated just so that it was easy to cover with a shirt sleeve, even if it was a tank top, and the smaller scars were barely even visible. He'd probably seen them and just not noticed that they were scars- or just thought nothing of them; scars were common among monsters. Papyrus had scars over his eye socket, and Sans had many, many over his ribs, a few around his skull, and a few more on his tibias. 

Sans felt his soul twist again. “sw-sweetheart, what happened?” He asked urgently, even though the event that had caused the scars had obviously happened a long while ago. 

“Well… let’s just say I’ve had bad taste in men in the past… my last boyfriend, in particular…” 

Sans’ jaw clenched. He could feel that he was going to have a great time paying someone a visit in the not too distant future… 

“We met in school, senior year. It was the normal dating stuff, he was nice, funny, charming… until he wasn’t.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been months since (Y/n) had gone out, all of her time instead being used sitting at home, cleaning, making things… not talking to her friends, family, or anyone… 

She wasn’t sure when it had begun, when she’d been so far removed from everyone, but when her only contact was now her boyfriend, who had gotten her fired from three jobs in the past year, just because there were other people there that she talked to, any trip out to see anyone seemed exciting. 

Of course, he'd never admit that her socializing with others was the reason he'd gotten her fired, but that’s what it boiled down to. 

It was hard for her to even get a job anymore, so she’d had to stop looking, at his insistence, of course. “Why look, you’re only going to get fired in a couple of months, anyway.” 

She wanted so badly to yell in his face, “yes; because you keep fucking around and getting me fired!” Calling the cops to pick her up for shoplifting at the store she worked at, calling her boss and “letting them know” or straight out reporting that she was high off her ass on drugs, no matter how many times she came back clean, putting in so many anonymous complaints that the company was overwhelmed and couldn’t handle it, to just downright stalking by sitting next to her her entire shift, refusing to leave, telling her all sorts of cruel things in between customers. 

She felt like a little bit more of her was breaking every day. 

It felt like it had gotten easier after she had finally agreed to not get another job; she didn’t have to keep hiding the bruises, or field dangerous questions about where they came from, or why she couldn’t sit comfortably sometimes… 

(Y/n) looked out the window of the car, watching trees flying past the windows. 

“Hey. (Y/n). Look at me.” 

She obeyed, trained well, her chin tucked down, eyes carefully watching his shoulders, but not rising above his collar. 

“Remember, you stupid little slut, you belong to me.” His voice had an edge to it, a forcefulness that belied the neutral tone of his voice. “Your body is mine to whore out as I see fit, not yours to get dirty and full of diseases. If you so much as wink at another man, you’ll be sorry.” 

She’d swear she could feel her heart shattering, her soul straining under the weight of keeping her alive, attempting to shatter as well. 

But it refused. 

“Do you understand?” She nodded in compliance, but it wasn’t enough for him. “I asked,” he started, grabbing her face and shaking it. “Do you fucking understand, you stupid little whore?” 

“Y-yes-” 

“I have coworkers there that would love to get a shot at you, you know- they’d pay, too. I could always use a few more bucks in my pocket,” he told her threateningly, still squeezing her face. “Might actually earn your keep,” he spat, snapping his wrist to flick her face away. “Fix yourself, you look cheap.” 

They arrived at the party and parked in the large driveway in a line of other employees' cars. 

The party was at her boyfriend’s boss’ house, a large home with a huge backyard. It was large enough that there was space to mingle and have private conversations away from others, despite there being at least fifty people in the yard. 

"Hello! Welcome!" His boss greeted, giving a handshake and pat on the shoulder to her boyfriend, and a genuinely friendly smile to her. "Ah! And you must be the girlfriend!" He took her hand, lifting it to softly bump it against his cheek instead of kissing it, but it still made her uncomfortable. 

Was this considered flirting? She wasn't doing it. She wasn't participating. He couldn't put this on her, could he? 

Of course he could. He'd find a way. 

(Y/n)'s hand absently went to her top, checking that a bruise was covered. He'd be so angry if she tried to say anything, if anything happened to make his boss think even slightly less of him. 

She gave a light laugh as the others in the group did, but she didn't know what they were talking about, her anxious mind running a million miles a minute to make sure she took every step to keep the secret hidden. 

After a drink or two, her boyfriend excused himself and went to "meet with a coworker." 

(Y/n) wasn't stupid; she knew that he'd gone to go fuck one of his coworkers in the bathroom or somewhere. She'd even seen the one he'd gone off with, he wasn't subtle, he didn't try to be; he wanted to hurt her. 

The joke was on him, though. She was glad he went off, and mentally sent his coworker a thank you. 

Her heart rate slowed down the moment he'd gone off, her muscles relaxing. She was left alone, unsupervised, with people. Strangers, yes, but people that weren't him. 

It was like for the first time in months she could feel the way the soft breeze brushed across her skin, and could enjoy it. 

(Y/n) let out a deep breath, her shoulders relaxing and her smile becoming more genuine. 

"So! We've only heard a bit about you, but you know-" the speaker cut themselves off with a chuckle, "of course you do, he's your boyfriend, after all!" The boss' wife had come over and started talking to her, being a good hostess and trying to make her feel welcome. 

It was nice, wonderful, amazing! It had been so long since she'd had a full conversation! 

The friendly woman was good company, and eventually, her husband came over to check on her, ending up joining the conversation, telling stories about trips they had taken, interesting things they'd done. 

(Y/n) looked across the yard to where the table with drinks was, and her smile instantly fell as her muscles tense back up, her blood draining from her face. 

How long had he been standing there, watching them? It was long enough that he had a displeased glare pointed at her. 

(Y/n) turned back and excused herself. 

It was just conversation, just waiting for him to get down screwing anything that'd let him… 

It was just… 

He remained civil and even charming for the rest of the party, of course he could do that easily; how else would he have been able to trick her into thinking he was a good person until it was too late, and she was already tangled irreversibly. 

It wasn't until they'd started down the driveway that the eerie silence set in, followed by the fear of what he was going to do. 

"Why do you always act like such a slut?" He demanded, disgust dripping from his lips. 

Says the man sneaking off to fuck a coworker in his boss' house, she thought. 

"I saw the way you were throwing yourself at my boss," he accused. 

If by throwing myself at him you mean having a pleasant conversation for once in the last few months… 

(Y/n)'s teeth clicked as her head was snapped to the side at a sudden, unexpected impact. 

"I'm speaking to you, bitch, listen to me! Or I'll knock you one again!" He raised his fist threateningly, and she mumbled an apology. 

The fight that ensued was more of the same toxic bullshit that he'd been pulling on her for a while. 

He'd yell at her, make her the bad guy, like he was some victim of her horrible actions, threaten to hurt her to make her feel how he felt, threaten to hurt himself so she could see what she was responsible for, her all the while trying to talk him down and keep herself from crying, which only ever resulted in more punishment and him accusing her of acting like a victim- the only difference this time, is that he seemed to get a new idea for tormenting her. 

(Y/n) felt her nerves stretched as far as she could handle, practically feeling them fraying. She didn't know how much more she could take of this. She might die from the stress before she'd ever find a way out. 

"If… if I cause you so much pain… m-maybe… maybe we should think about-" 

She was cut off as the car sped up, definitely faster than what the speed limit was on this road. 

"Are you really about to suggest leaving me?" He demanded. 

The car was going so fast the trees were a blur. 

"Wh- what are y-you doing? P-please- please," her voice was starting to tremble, her fear rising in her chest. 

"Now you're questioning me? You ungrateful little bitch! You know how I feel about you questioning me!" 

Had the car sped up even more? Had he even taken his foot from the floor? Panic was rising in her chest now, making it hard to breathe. 

"P-please s-slow down," she begged. "W-we're going too fast…!" 

There was a click and (Y/n) felt her seatbelt loosen around her. 

She instantly reached down and buckled it again, pleading with him to stop, to think about it, appealing that he didn't want the cops to get involved. 

But he just raged that she was stupid, ungrateful, that she'd never leave him, that she wasn't even worth him… On and on, over and over, as he fought to unbuckle her seatbelt again and again, swerving the car threatening to run off the road. 

(Y/n) was panicking, terrified for her life, praying to any and every deity she remembered ever hearing about, fighting his hands to keep her seatbelt buckled, begging and pleading for him to stop. 

She didn't remember any of the words that had come out of their mouths, the last words she'd hear him speak, it was too loud, everything was too loud. The air around the speeding car, the engine revving as the gas pedal was still jammed against the floorboard of the car, the yelling in the car, her breath, her blood pounding through her veins, her heartbeat hammering in her head. 

The fear was bringing everything in, closing in around her, flashes of the outside world through the window, somehow there, but not actually existing, the asshole next to her, intent on her seatbelt being off and fighting to keep it that way. 

The fear and desperation making everything seem more intense. 

A jerk and squeal as the car left the road, bumps of uneven terrain as it plowed along. 

He spat rage at her, she thought she heard something about killing her and punishment as he managed to unbuckle her seatbelt again. 

Everything seemed to slow down, her hand grabbing for the safety of the belt, missing. 

Her attention was locked on the huge tree in front of them. 

She couldn't look away. 

She couldn't move. 

Everything was suddenly silent. The windshield had suddenly shattered and was flying toward her. 

(Y/n) closed her eyes tight to avoid getting glass in them, letting her body go soft, knowing a fall hurt less when you had less tension in your muscles. 

Everything in the car was flung forward, including (Y/n). 

Her arm caught on the seatbelt still around one shoulder, holding and yanking her back as the rest of her tried to continue forward. 

Pain shot through her, with multiple points of origin. 

She hurt… 

It was too much. 

Darkness swallowed her. 

. 

(Y/n) was in pain. There was so much pain. Her shoulder, her other forearm, her head, her legs, her body- mostly her shoulder, but everything hurt. 

There was some god awful buzzing that she couldn’t place, though it seemed familiar. 

Everything was dark. 

Her eyes were closed. That made sense why it was so dark. 

Reality snapped back into place. 

He’d knocked her unconscious again. 

He must have been really pissed off to hit her hard enough she couldn’t remember falling. 

She had to get up, or he was going to kill her this time. She hurt so bad, she was sure it was true; something was very, very wrong with her shoulder already. 

(Y/n)’s eyes snapped open and she was disoriented. 

She was in a car- why was she in a car?! What happened?! 

Her eyes flew around, finding her boyfriend in the driver’s seat next to her. 

Panic filled her and she moved to get away, but was so overwhelmed with pain that she almost blacked out again. 

He was going to be so mad. He was going to blame this all on her… She had to get away! She didn’t know what she could do, but she had to try to do something! 

Her eyes darted over to him, seeing that his neck was at an uncomfortable angle, his chest seeming to puff out a bit around the seatbelt across it. 

The door beside her was wrenched open, startling her, and she looked away choking down her cry of pain as she jostled her shoulder. 

After an ambulance ride, she was sent through a bunch of machines, and rushed into surgery to reconstruct her shoulder, placing pins and things, stitching, casting… 

She had to talk to police, but they thought her story was a bit farfetched. 

She was so afraid that any moment, he was going to walk in, drag her home, and punish her for speaking to the police. 

And then she finally got news of what had happened to him… when she was asked to come downstairs and identify the body. 

He had tried to punish her by crashing into a tree on purpose- maybe kill her, with how he kept taking her seatbelt off- but he was the one that had died. 

(Y/n) felt as though a weight lifted off of her the moment she checked that he was really dead, fearing for a moment that he’d suddenly get up off the table. 

He didn’t. 

She was free. 

Air came into her lungs easier. Her muscles didn’t ache from being so tight. 

She… 

She was free. 

(Y/n) packed her things, sold everything that was his, got enough money to start again in some city where no one knew her, found a job and a shitty apartment in not the best neighborhood. 

But it was hers. 

She was free to choose it, and she was in charge of it. 

She was out from under his thumb. 

It took a year to be able to sleep properly, to be a mostly functioning member of society, but she did it, reminded at every step that he wasn’t there, and never would be again. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sans stood in shock, eyelights gone, not moving. 

Someone had done that to his sweetheart? 

And he wasn’t going to be able to punish them? 

He wished he had the power to reach into hell and take that scum out for a real round of torture. 

“S-Sans? Are you ok?” 

Her soft voice brought him back to Papyrus’ room. 

“y-yeah, i’m good, sweetheart, jus’- …” His eyelights returned and he stepped forward. “‘m sorry, sweetheart- wish i coulda got th’ guy-” His arms reached out for her, wanting to have her close against him and protected. 

But she flinched. 

Sans’ arms slowly dropped. 

“ya… ya can’t even look at me, can ya?” 

Her eyes lifted from his shoes, where they’d settled. “Huh?” 

“ya- ya think imma do th’ same thing?” 

She was silent, eyebrow pinched as she looked at him in question. 

“ya do, don’t ya…” He clenched his fists. “ya think imma do th’ same shit that asshole did ta ya!” Sans stumbled back, a growl building in his chest, trying to hide the sound of his soul cracking. “ya think that jus’ ‘cause imma monster, imma hurt ya?” He demanded. 

“Sans- that’s not at all what-” 

But he wouldn’t listen. 

“i don’t gotta put up wit this shit,” he growled and turned, storming out of the room, down the stairs, past his brother, and out the front door. 

A/N: Safe summary: Sweetheart's ex was an abusive prick who'd isolated her and physically, emotionally, and verbally (and implied sexually) abused her. They went to a party, his boss spoke to her, he got jealous, and during a fight on the way home, decided to purposely crash the car into a tree, and unlatched her seatbelt, trying to at least severely hurt her, if not kill her. He died instead, and she needed reconstructive surgery on her shoulder. With him dead, she moved away and started a new life.

[beecherdrysdale]

Oh my godddddd I just wrote like 3 chem tests today 😒 but I did good on them so that’s an upper !

Lmaoo yesss Brigid has claimed “fuck you,little bitch” I’m more of a f-ing shit type of gal hehe.

Okkk you are official my swim instructor for me and the boys, get ready to be annoyed. Haha I can see you punching their shoulders if they called you that.I myself don’t like cutsie nicknames either. Yesss you and Dylan would dominate, I give you the win . Honestly whenever I play games I just burst out laughing and lose concentration. I kinda see you winning and then Dylan falling backwards lol. Water pics slay!

Yessss jet skiing is so fun! We could be a team, or you and dylan 😏😏 holding onto each other hehe. Ok, I like chirping people so that why I think all of our personality’s would get along ?.

Ya I still have some time before I apply, or get recruited soooo . But those seem like great choices !!

Ooo me too! I have the same sorta skin complexion like she does and I always get told that I look like her when I put my hair up lol. Haha no worries, I would laugh as well. I know it’s wrong of me but I laugh when people have small accidents like tripping, getting hit.

I would be laughing along side with you ! It’s to funny. I barely scream, so I would swear lol!. Like imagine going down and everyone just yelling “fuckkkkkk” hehe. I could not tell you why I didn’t show up lol . And yes I am making you and Dylan sit next to each other because it would be hot and really cute! #matchmaking. I’ll be busy holding onto Jamie or Jack hehe.

Haha pls send some over lol. I’m lacking !! Haha the hoodie is comfy I’m not gonna lie. I’ll send you a hockey hoodie as well. Do u wanna a hockey canada hoodie or a team themed one?.

I’m not really a dress or skirt girl either! I enjoy a good jean or pant type of look. I love your style ! I enjoy a fancy shirt! Or a cute graphic tee. I’ve been into cropped ish blouses, and wearing lots of necklaces 😍 haha yess if I see a cute skirt I’ll cave as well.

Yess the partners are great ! I would honestly dance w everybody ! But I think me and Ryan would have the craziest dances lol . I’m a bit of a crazy dancer hehe. I reserve a slow dance for u with either dyl or Jamie??. Haha yes, i gotta get quinner a bit drunk to teach him stuff lol . Haha that’s fun!.

I barely drink as well but I kinda got drunk on my bday lol . Apparently I laugh a lot, and am super crazy And loud 😜. Not gonna lie beer is really gross after the one sip that I had hehe. I’ve tried a white claw before it wasn’t bad:)) . One time my brother pranked me and gave me coke to drink and I was super thirsty so I drank it and after I drank it he was like that was a vodka-coke . Had some fun times there hehe. He also pranked my mom with that and she never drinks lol.

How can ppl hate chipotle it’s amazing! If I could trade any fast food we have in Canada for chipotle I would . We literally have no good fast food lol .

oh gosh i’m so sorry, i fucking hate chem. my teacher doesn’t even teach and then gives us ap level worksheets and it sucks

hahha yes i’ll be your swim instructor, i’ll only get annoyed if people ask me to teach them fly tho bc it’s so hard to teach. and yes i would definitely punch them in the shoulder if they try to call me any cutsie nicknames. yes me and dylan as a team will destroy, but then as soon as we win he’d try and dunk me lol

ok if i’m jet skiing with dylan, who are you going with? also yes we would literally all be chirping each other the whole time, but i think we could all take it too so that’s why we’d get along really well

yeah i still have time too, but my recruiting coach told me i need to start the recruiting process early so that’s why i already have a lot of schools picked out. and as much as i would love to go to umich i don’t think i’ll end up there bc their swim team is insanely fast so i probably couldn’t swim there

hahha yeah i don’t really think i look like her, i think it’s just the long hair that looks similar. and i always laugh when people get injured and it’s kind of a problem lol

lol yes everyone would be swearing and all the parents would be glaring at us lol. except i usually don’t swear or scream on any rides or anything, so my friends are convinced i’m not scared of anything. also kind of off-topic, but for my summer job we have to do inspections before the park opens in the mornings and the tallest tower is 12 stories high, so one of the hosts who worked there last summer told me if i did top rappel on the first day she would give me $100 and i was like ok easy money. also yes you can be the matchmaker for me and dylan, but then i’ll make you sit by quinner or jamie hehe

haha just tell me which one of my 20 hoodies you want and i’ll send it to you. and then you can send me a team themed hockey hoodie bc as much as i love the canada boys, i could never bring myself to wear a hockey canada hoodie lol

yessss pants girls unite. and cropped blouses are super cute too! i also love how wearing lots of necklaces look, but i just never wear jewelry except my chain with my saint brigid’s cross bc i always have to take it off for sports

lol i would love to see you and ryan dance together, you guys would be so chaotic but so good. aww you playing matchmaker again to get me to dance with dyl or jamie 🥰 also i feel like you’re right, once quinner is drunk it would be way easier to teach him stuff lol

hahha i’ve never gotten drunk, maybe a little tipsy tho. but i have to be super careful bc if my parents pick me up from somewhere and they smell any alcohol on me they would kill me. but i’m getting my license this year, so then i can just sleep over at my friends house after and then drive home the next morning and i won’t have that problem anymore. i actually like beer, what i can’t stand is wine lol. and yeah white claw is pretty good as long as you have the right flavors. my favorite is black cherry. omg that’s so funny that your brother did that, my mom would get so mad at my brother if he ever tried that lol

[whetstonefires]

i think what genesis did is a lot worse than mass murder, because he purposefully stripped away the wills and faces of dozens of people, dooming them to the fate he was trying so hard to escape. his motive is meant to be sympathetic, but he immediately voids it by doing that, but still actively demands to be sympathized with anyway.

sdkfjaslkdjf i wrote a super long reply to this and then went to bed, and my computer restarted like a bitch so that’s gone.

You’re correct! Genesis is so terrible, and the existence of the Copies is such a multilayered evil that his terribleness is kind of onscreen with him in a majority of his scenes.

It would be bad enough if he’d just betrayed them as their commanding officer, but indications are he talked them into abandoning their posts on the even of victory and deserting with him to his hometown, putting their lives in his hands in an act of personal trust…and then he did that to them.

And that’s not something you can reframe as like, an impulsive act either. That was a scheme, and one that took a long time to execute and would have been much simpler to Not at every stage.

But…certain parties have been known to argue that we don’t actually have any proof that all those SOLDIERs didn’t form a spontaneous Genesis cult and choose to become his braindead minions, and it’s snappier to call out the extermination of Banora anyway, so.

-

Genesis is actually a fascinating study on how the visual framing of elements in fiction tends to outweigh the actual content. He gets to be beautiful, and sorrowfully quote poetry against the sky, and impose his interpretations of events at length in a way no one else does; in a way he is handed control of the overall narrative. Meanwhile his victims, everyone he betrays and murders, never even appear on screen, as people.

We do meet Gillian briefly, before the suicide she chose over being forced to contribute to Genesis’ fucked-up incoherent science plot, but the story doesn’t make that link explicit. Genesis is probably the largest single contributor to Angeal’s suicide, too, unless it was Hollander, but this isn’t centered.

His parents are safely buried before we reach Banora; no player never met those Turks; afaik no civilian murders are shown when he hits Midgar, even though he targeted civilian areas and Zack fights Copies there.

Even stuff that’s just low-key depraved, like tripping Zack when he’s rushing after Angeal, having jumped to conclusions afer finding him with his mother’s corpse and assumed that, like Genesis, he decided to Do A Patricide, and treating this as An Funny Joke and gloating even as Angeal walks away verbalizing suicidal ideation and Zack lies in the dust and cries out to him…the game chose not to use any standardized visual language to show this was evil. Like, personally I think that’s an easy conclusion to reach! I’m surprised it needed to!

But a lot of people seem to have come away from that cutscene with just the impression that Genesis is prone to childishly petty acts of spite, and in some cases find this sort of charming. The fact that he prioritized gloating at a distraught teenager about having monopolized influence over Angeal when his lifelong best friend is coming apart at the seams after his mother’s suicide right in front of him is just…not parsed.

(Seriously on top of every truly appalling crime, I come back around to what an incredibly shit friend he was. Like, if you aren’t capable of empathy get yourself some fucking ethics, you towering fungus of a toxic narcissist.)

So even though he is the main villain, his evil can easily be treated as an informed trait despite technically being plastered all over the screen, but his pain is front and center, along with his good looks. Lingered on, and articulated clearly, with visual aids.

And then the resolution of his storyline treats his feelings as being at least as important as anything he did–and, in fact, treats the realization that he done fucked up as in itself redemptive. 

…all of which, in conclusion, is why I’ve been told in the past that I’m clearly incapable of empathy, since I’m willing to condemn him for his life choices. Like, I don’t think this dude needs my pity. He produces so much and lavishes it all on himself. He is amply supplied.

Due to past events I tend to be restrained in dunking on him, lest I start a drama. But here we are. 😅

[wonderlandleighleigh]

A Kitten in the Sarah Rogers Memorial Community Garden

I promised @toenail-stink-hate-echo-chamber a fluffy fic involving Steve Rogers and a Kitten. 

Takes place in my Just This Once, Everybody Lives universe (Steve stays, adopts a little girl named Maggie, and nobody dies).

Title: A Kitten in the Sarah Rogers Memorial Community Garden Characters: Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, Maggie Rogers  Ships: None Genre: Fluff, Kidfic, AU Summary: Steve finds a visitor in the garden. 

Fic is under the cut!

It’s May, and beautiful. There’s lemonade, there are new mint plants to find homes for, and nobody is calling his phone. 

Today, Steven Grant Rogers is fully enjoying his retirement. 

It’s easy to get caught up in the garden, and he does it often. Watering and weeding; soil checks. Making sure animals haven’t swiped the literal fruits and vegetables of his labor. It’s also a great way to keep his mind off of the fact that Maggie is now attending preschool. 

‘How the hell did that happen, anyways?’ he thinks as he keeps weeding, and decides it’s time to give up on a particularly unhappy strawberry bush.

There is a rustling sound in the rose bushes, and Steve’s ears perk up immediately. It’s getting late now, and he should be wrapping things up; Maggie will be home soon, and he’s gotta be at the bus stop.

But that rustling. 

He stands carefully, moving quietly across the garden, grasping a hand rake tightly. If it’s a raccoon, this could end with a trip to the hospital and a lot of jokes from Sam about Captain America getting rabies. 

When he pulls the bushes aside, though, it’s not a raccoon at all.

It’s a kitten.

Small, less than a year old, probably, and orange.

It gives a tiny meow, and then runs off, trotting away quickly in fear. 

Steve frowns. 

“Aw.” 

***** 

Sam shakes his head as he watches his friend carefully set down a small bowl of cream. “Okay. This is definitely the softest thing you’ve ever done.” 

“You know, you say that, but you’ve never seen me wear onea Maggie’s flower crowns,” Steve tells him as he dusts off his hands. 

“Yeah, okay, Mr. You get killed, shake it off.” 

Steve grins ruefully and sits down on the bench swing. “Go away before you scare the kitten.” 

“There isn’t a kitten.” 

“There might be soon.” 

Sam shakes his head and laughs. “You better send me a picture of this thing, otherwise it might be time to send grandpa to the funny farm.” 

“Bye, Sam.” 

After he leaves, Steve sits back and waits. It’s another nice day; a little hotter, but fine. 

He waits for about an hour, tapping his booted foot gently in the dirt, before he hears the rustling again, and freezes. 

The kitten - the same kitten - stumbles out of the rose bushes again, looking around. It’s tail is a little matted, but it seems okay; happy to sniff the air and follow its nose to the bowl of cream. 

Steve lights up when the little thing starts lapping some up, dunking a paw in and licking the cream off.

He watches for a little while as the kitten eats, before he slowly, carefully bends over, and scoops it up.

It yelps and writhes and Steve barely keeps hold, before the little sucker is gnawing on the meat between his forefinger and thumb. 

“Gah,” he says, but doesn’t let go.

The cat pees on his jeans and frowns. 

“Yeah. Okay. I get it. If a big scary monster grabbed me, I might pee too.” 

Which is not at all true. He’s been grabbed by plenty of big, scary things (Thanos. Ultron. That one time with the Hulk...), but he’s trying to relate.

***** 

The local vet is nice. An older man whose office walls are covered in photos of dogs and cats and birds and ferrets and hampsters and guinea pigs of all shapes, colors and sizes. 

Steve watches calmly as he checks out the kitten. 

“Well, he’s definitely a he,” the vet says. “And he seems pretty healthy for a kitten who hasn’t spent much time with his mother.” 

Steve nods. “He okay to adopt?” 

“Oh, I don’t see why not,” the vet grins. “He’ll need to be neutered and we’ll have to do some blood work. Check him for worms and fleas and diseases. Why don’t you leave him here overnight, and I’ll call you in the next day or two with a status update.” 

Steve hesitates. 

“I promise I’ll call, Captain.” 

He nods. “Yeah. Okay.” 

***** 

“A kitty?!” Maggie squeaks as they eat dinner that night. “Really?!” 

“Yep,” Steve grins. “He was in the garden. He’s hangin’ out with the animal doctor right now, but if he gets a clean bill of health, I can bring him home.” 

“We’re gonna have a kitty?!” Maggie cries, so excited that she knocks over her sippy cup, which Steve catches quickly. 

“Yep!” Steve grins. “We’re gonna have a kitty.” 

“What do we name him?” Maggie asks. “Where will he sleep? Does he get his own room?” 

Steve chuckles. “He can sleep on the couch.” 

Maggie frowns. “Where will Uncle Bucky sleep when he visits?” 

“They’ll just have to share,” Steve grins. “As for a name, we’ll have to think on it.” 

“What about Buttercup?” Maggie asks. 

Steve chuckles. “Let’s keep thinkin.” 

***** 

Steve picks up the kitten two days later. Little guy’s got a clean bill of health, and Steve watches him as he explores the apartment, jumping on tables  and wiggling his way underneath the couch.

Steve grabs a chair and settles down, just watching. It’s nice to have a pet. He never had one as a kid, but he fed neighborhood strays all the time.

His mother had always liked animals. Sure, she was a nurse for people, but there were plenty of days the neighborhood kids would come to Sarah Rogers with wounded dogs and cats and she’d fix ‘em up, feed ‘em water. 

He can almost hear her voice, giving firm but kind instructions on animal care.

“Not so different from people,” Sarah Rogers would muse when Mrs. Grossman next door would chide her on wasting food and resources on injured dogs and sickly cats. “And if God put ‘em on Earth with us, he didn’t do it just for us to ignore their pain.”  

Steve smiles sadly, and blinks, looking down to find the kitten sitting at his feet, wagging his tail. 

“Hungry, Buddy?” Steve asks, getting up. 

The cat’s butt wiggles and he pounces suddenly, gripping onto Steve’s jeans. 

He chuckles. “Okay. Let’s to a trip to the kitchen. I gotcha some nice Fancy Feast.” 

***** 

When Maggie gets home, the kitten suddenly has another playmate, and it’s clear that they’re going to be attached at the hip. 

“Still needs a name,” Steve reminds her after dinner that night. 

She lays on the floor with the kitten lying on her chest. “What about...Tigger.” 

Steve considers. “Maybe. He did pounce on my leg earlier to hitch a ride.” 

Maggie giggles. “I hope he does it again, I wanna see.” 

Steve grins, and reaches out, petting the kitten’s head. “Hm. What about...Ralph?” 

Maggie light up. “Like Wreck-It Ralph? We watched that movie it was funny!” 

“Yeah. You like that name?” Steve asks, smiling at her. 

Maggie beams at the cat. “Kitty your name is Ralph now. Is that good?” 

Ralph gets up, turns in a circle, and then settles back down on Maggie’s chest, tucking his little head into his arms and purring. 

“I think he likes it,” Steve grins. 

***** 

When Maggie goes to bed that night, Ralph follows her and settles down on the bed, curling up again.

Steve grins and snaps a picture with his phone before sending it to Sam.

“Who’s the crazy old grandpa now?” he texts. 

“It’s still you,” Sam responds.

Steve smirks, and heads to bed.

[varietydisco]

Bunny in a Bunny Suit

Characters: Arthur Morgan & John Marston, Hosea Matthews, Dutch van der Linde, Susan Grimshaw, Mac & Davey Callander Rating: Teen and Up Tags: Pre-Canon, Family dynamics, Trans Male Characters, Vague descriptions of non-sexual nudity, Silly but not technically crack Word Count: 3k

Description: Arthur tells young John an unfortunate lie. (Namesake: Bunny in a Bunny Suit by Simone Whittaker)

Part 3 of the Coming of Age series

1885

The first thing Arthur was greeted with upon riding into their temporary home— an abandoned, but well-off ranch on the plains— was Susan trudging over. She wore a lemon-soured expression that made Arthur briefly consider turning around and heading back for the mountains.

John leaned to one side and looked around Arthur’s shoulder to see what was happening.

“Afternoon, miss Grimshaw,” Arthur greeted. He touched the brim of his hat as he brought his horse to a slow stop beside the pasture fence.

As he lifted his leg, about to swing himself off the horse, Susan hurried her pace and waved her arms.

“Oh, no you don’t!” She exclaimed. “Don’t you boys even think of coming in here.”

“What? How come?” Arthur asked. “Did we get evicted while we was gone?”

Susan’s war-path came to a sudden stop and she huffed. With one finger held up at the boys, she turned back on her trail and went for a bucket of supplies hanging on a fence post a few feet away.

“…What’s she got?” John whispered.

“Somethin’ to beat us with, probably.” Arthur replied.

Bucket in hand, Susan stormed her way back over to the boys. Her expression never shifted once.

“I could smell you both comin’ a mile off,” She spat. “Just take one look at yourselves— you’re both disgusting.”

“I missed you, too.” Arthur said. “And why yes, we are safe and sound. Thanks for askin’.”

Susan huffed. “Take this down to the pond and go wash yourselves, before you even think of comin’ into the house.” She shoved the bucket up towards John, who awkwardly took it. The boy shot Arthur a quizzical look, his brows furrowed, then set it in his lap.

“You can’t be serious.”

Susan crossed her arms firmly. “Don’t test me, Morgan.”

Arthur groaned. He took his hat off and hooked it onto the horn of his saddle. His face was caked with dirt and sweat, and so were his clothes.

“We just finished a three-day huntin’ trip gatherin’ food for you lot, and we don’t even get a thank you.” He waved his hand back at John. “Marston here even caught his first rabbit. Not that you cared to ask any.”

“Good for him, doesn’t change that stench that followed you both home,” Susan made a shooing motion with her hand. “Leave what you caught here and get your asses down to the pond to wash. Don’t bother coming back until you’ve scrubbed every inch.”

“Lord Almighty,” Arthur mumbled. He reached back and elbowed John. “Hand that bucket over and unload the horse.”

John furrowed his brows.

“Why me?”

“‘Cause you smell the worse, and I want Grimshaw to get a good whiff.”

Susan scoffed and rolled her eyes. “Oh, grow up, Arthur.”

Arthur chuckled at that, while John eventually forked over the bucket and slid off the back of Boadicea. Silently, Arthur got a kick out of watching John fumble to untie their kill from the wagon and less silently did he enjoy watching Susan pluck at strands of John’s greasy hair while shaking her head in disgust.

Once the whole ordeal was done, John climbed back up, and the boys hit the trail again. As they approached the pond a few minutes later, John spoke up and said, bitterly, “That Grimshaw sure is a spitfire, isn’t she?”

“Not exactly the word I’d use to describe her most days, but that’ll work alright,” Arthur replied.

He rode Boadicea down a small, grassy slope which lead them to the pond’s bank. Mosquitoes and other bugs danced over the water’s silky-smooth surface. A frog leapt over a lily pad, and some birds chirped from the surrounding trees. The scene was pretty enough to have been a painting; Arthur only felt a little bad that they were about to use this pond to wash their asses.

Arthur pulled the horse to a stop and motioned his hand to John.

“Alright, let’s get this over with. Jump in.”

John faltered a second. “You ain’t serious. Clothes an’ all?”

“Naw, you’re right.” Arthur swung his leg and slid off the horse’s back. “Take your clothes off. We’ll have to burn ‘em at this point anyway, no sense in gettin’ them damp.”

John’s cheeks reddened. “Not you, too.”

“Yeah, me too. Now that Grimshaw’s mentioned it, and I’m standing down-wind of you, I can’t help noticin’ how ripe you are.”

Arthur swaggered towards the water. He made swift work of his coat and his shirt, both of which were promptly tossed aside onto some rocks. He scanned the water all the while and savoured the feeling of the early summer sun on his body.

He figured this place wouldn’t be too bad of a spot to stay for a while, assuming they didn’t plan any big commotions yet. The law was getting stricter about things like that and people like them, and frankly Arthur could have used a little peace and quiet for a while.

And there was that sweet girl he met in town— Mary Gillis. If nothing else, Arthur wouldn’t mind sticking around just to see her again. If he kept a low enough profile for a while, he might even have the chance to ask her out for a dinner, or something to that extent.

Caught in his own thoughts, Arthur stopped paying any attention to John, who was slowly taking care of his own clothes. Arthur only came back to reality when John announced, “Don’t look, okay?”

Arthur scoffed and rolled his eyes. “I don’t even wanna look at you dressed. I promise you, I ain’t lookin’ now.”

Keeping good to his word regardless, Arthur turned halfway to the side, putting his back fully to John. He kicked his boots off, then draped his pants over the rock with his shirt. Eager to get washed and return to camp, Arthur took off for the water.

It was warm at first against his feet as he waded in, though the farther in he went, the cold seemed to creep up his hairy thighs and straight through his bones. Instead of lingering on it, Arthur took a dive into the shallow water. He swam for a bit, letting the water rush over him and clear his senses; when he needed to breathe again, his toes found the soft, muddy bottom of the pond and he stood upright. Arthur burst to the surface, water cascading down his heavy-set body. He glanced around, wiping the water out of his eyes, and then fully turned to the shore.

“Hurry up and get in, Marston.” He called out.

John clutched the bucket to his chest unsurely. He still had his underwear on, but if he wanted to ride back to camp with a chapped ass, that was going to be his own issue. After a few long beats, John started wading out into the water.

He got to about his knees before stopping.

“It’s too cold,” he complained.

“S’ not so bad once you get in further. Also, shut up and throw me some soap.”

John rooted through the bucket with a grumble. He then tossed a bar to Arthur underhanded; Arthur lurched forward to catch it, but just barely.

“Christ!” Arthur scoffed. “What a shitty hand you’ve got.”

John frowned hard. His cheeks went red again as he dumped the bucket of its contents— another bar of soap and a wash brush— then filled it instead with water. He poured it over his head while Arthur started soaping himself up.

“Can’t throw, can barely shoot… It’s a wonder what Dutch sees in you at all.” Arthur called out. “Guess he likes projects.”

John’s cheeks flared hotter as annoyance built inside of him. Soaking wet, he threw the bucket aside and snatched up the soap instead.

“At least I’m not a butterball,” John snapped.

Arthur snorted a laugh. Quickly, he dunked his head underwater, then worked the soap into his hair.

“Butterball, huh? That’s a big word for you.”

“Would you just fuck off already?”

Arthur laughed again. It was so easy to get on John’s nerves, it almost made him understand all the grief Hosea and Dutch used to give him.

“I oughta wash your mouth out with soap. Save Grimshaw doin’ it herself.”

“I’d like to see you try, fatty.”

Arthur cocked his brow. For a long moment he stared at John, quietly sizing him up, before a smirk took his lips. John busied himself with scrubbing and soaping, so he didn’t notice Arthur approaching at first.

“I reckon you should come take a dip with me, Marston.”

John’s eyes widened with fear. He took half a step back, his hands going up.

“Don’t you dare. I can’t swim, you know that.”

“Oh, I’m well aware,” Arthur grinned. “Promise I won’t throw you out far… Just enough to let the eels get a bite in of your toes.”

“That ain’t funny.” John warned. He took another step back.

“Sure it is. At least to me.”

John stared at Arthur for half a moment, then turned and bolted for the shore.

Arthur gave immediate chase, laughing.

“Come on, not afraid of a little water, are ya?”

John was quick to scramble ashore, crying out, “Don’t you dare!” all the while. Arthur could have easily chased him the whole way, and maybe even caught the little bastard, but he started laughing too hard to make it far.

Arthur stopped a few feet from the shore, hands on his knees, while John scampered away to go hide behind an indifferent Boadicea. Arthur took a long moment to catch his breath, before he stood back up straight. He pushed his wet hair out of his face, then cleared his throat.

“Goddamn, you’re somethin’ else, boy.” Arthur laughed. He paused, smiling, before noting the weird expression on John’s face.

John’s head poked out barely over the top of Boadicea’s saddle. His brows were knitted tight together and his mouth was slightly open with disbelief.

Arthur’s smile slipped off. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure something wasn’t coming up behind him; sure enough, all he saw was an expanse of water and the swaying, shady trees around its edge. He looked back at John, lips pursed.

“What? You got a problem?”

“Where’s…” John started, his voice slow and confused. Maybe a little scared. “Where’s your dick at?”

Arthur glanced down, mostly confused himself. The water came up to the middle of his thighs, gently lapping at the back of his legs. He took half a second to process everything, before he realized. John was so fresh in the gang, he didn’t know a damn thing.

Immediately, Arthur knew the right thing to do. He should sit down, give John the whole spiel Hosea had given him years ago, about people and norms and bodies…

But he wasn’t going to do that. Instead, Arthur gasped in fake terror.

“Oh my god. It must’ve fallen off.”

John’s voice cracked as he exclaimed, “What?!”

“I can’t believe this,” Arthur continued, voice taut with faux panic. “I had it just a second ago— oh my god. One of the eels must’ve taken it.”

John’s face went white as a sheet. His body was stiff.

“All these years, I thought Hosea was pullin’ my leg when he said your dick would fall off if you played with it too much, but he was tellin’ me the truth this whole time!”

“You ain’t for real,” John managed, weakly. His own voice was high-strung with panic he tried to keep control of.

“Look, you can even see for yourself. It sure as shit ain’t there!”

That much was true. Arthur had a mat of hair that went down from his large chest to his stomach and between his legs, but there was nothing else to be seen. John desperately wanted to believe that this was a practical joke, but there was no conceivable way he could think of for Arthur to pull it off. Literally.

Except, after a few long, dramatic pauses, Arthur cracked. He barked a laugh, one which made John’s shoulders tighten and his cheeks flare cherry red. Before he could snap at Arthur, Arthur pushed all his hair back away from his face and waved his hand.

“Ah, I’m just messin’ with ya,” Arthur drawled. “That old thing fell off years ago.”

The annoyance at being laughed at evaded John’s face. In its wake, his eyes snapped open wide again as the colour flooded from his cheeks.

“Yessir, probably when I was about, oh… Twelve, thirteen.” Arthur turned around, trudging back to the water. “I shook it too many times whenever I went to take a piss and one day the damn thing just popped right off in my hand. But never mind that.”

Arthur splashed around, rinsing the soap out of his hair and off his body. Dropping the topic altogether, he said, “Best hurry up an’ finish washin’, Marston; supper won’t wait on our accounts.”

Uneasily, John trailed back to the water. He didn’t have an appetite for supper any more.

                                                     —30—

“If I may,” Dutch announced, as he stepped from the stairs to the open main-floor of the cottage. “I’d like to call a meeting for a moment.”

Hosea, Susan, Mac, and Davey sat around the big dining table in the center of the room, caught amid a poker game. Arthur was across the room, in the kitchen corner, digging through one of their boxes of liquor. Oil lamps burned on the walls, lighting the room in a flickering glow. Smoke hung heavy in the air.

Hosea was the first to look up first from his cards to Dutch. He waved him over.

“Only if you make it quick,” Hosea replied. His eyes returned to the table. “We were having an intellectual and in-depth conversation about politics before Arthur returned, so he didn’t feel left out for not understanding.”

A couple chuckles came from the table. They continued to play as Dutch came around and slid into what was presumably Arthur’s empty spot between Hosea and Davey.

“This involves you too, Arthur, so pay attention,” Dutch said.

“I can hear you just fine. Go ahead.” Arthur grumbled, as he pawed fruitlessly through a rattling box of empty bottles.

“Alright. Now I want adult, honest answers here,” Dutch began. He picked up Arthur’s cards, looked them over, then showed them to Hosea. “I just spent an hour painstakingly talking to the boy, John, about something he was told recently.”

Hosea scanned the cards quickly and nodded silently. Dutch turned them to Davey.

“Alright. What was it?” Hosea asked. He pushed a sizable number of coins into the pot in the center of the table.

Arthur, notably, was silent in the background.

Dutch placed Arthur’s cards back down. He kept his face stony as he could. “Someone, supposedly, convinced the boy that his pecker was going to fall off.”

Davey laughed first, loud and hard. Mac quickly followed with his own chortle. While they both got a kick out of the idea, Susan bit back a grin and Hosea smirked, nodding to his cards. Arthur, in the background, didn’t even try to can his snorting laughter.

Dutch fought hard to keep a stern expression. His lips twitched.

“This ain’t no laughing matter. That boy was scared shitless.”

Mac’s hand shot out to grab onto Hosea’s shoulder. He gripped it, while the rest of his body shook with laughter. Hosea laughed himself, though quieter and more contained.

“You boys are awful,” Susan chided with a smirk. She swatted Davey on the shoulder. “You should be ashamed of yourselves.”

Davey kept laughing. He had already been hitting the bottle since noon, so his laughter carried farther and longer than anyone else’s. “Don’t hit me! I didn’t do it. Wish I had, though.”

“Here, here.” Mac replied.

Dutch turned to his left. “Hosea?”

Hosea patted Mac’s hand, shaking his head. “I would’ve told you already if it were me.”

“And it wasn’t me,” Dutch said, “So it had to have been one of you unlawful bunch.”

Dutch’s eyes roamed across the table and then settled on Arthur in the corner. Innocently, he continued to root through the box with one hand, while he used the other to wipe his mouth.

Dutch narrowed his eyes a little.

“Was it you, Arthur?”

“Me? No, never.” But Arthur couldn’t keep his straight face this time. His cheeks split with a crooked smirk behind his hand.

Dutch scoffed.

“Your poker face is laughable, son. That’s why you’re losing so badly.”

“Actually, it’s ‘cause I’m playin’ with a room full of cheaters… But sure. We’ll go with that.”

Dutch waved his hand.

“Go up there and apologize to the boy, will you? Hell, apologize to me, too, because I spent an hour trying to convince him otherwise and speaking on behalf of topics I am not qualified for.”

“I’m sorry you had to be in the same room as him for that long.”

“Arthur!” Dutch snapped. “Get going! Be the bigger man.”

Arthur had a little, stupid smirk about him as he left the kitchen and crossed the room instead. He slapped Dutch’s shoulder as he walked by.

“You know, if Hosea had done this to me, you wouldn’t have said a word,” Arthur commented. “How come Marston gets all the special treatment?”

“If Hosea had done it, I wouldn’t have to handle it.”

That was all Dutch had to say on the matter, so the rest of the group quieted around the table. Arthur trudged up the stairs, feet pounding the whole way, and eventually they disappeared. Once he did, Dutch tossed Arthur’s cards aside.

“You’re handling the next crisis,” He said to Hosea.

“I figured about as much.”

Then, with a smile, Hosea laid down his winning hand and reaped his rewards from the middle of the table.

[thepenisparker]

Mob!College!Tom Holland AU - Part One.

teaser ✵ part 1 ✵ part 2 ✵ part 3 ✵  part 4 ✵ to be continued...

summary: Tom Holland is quick and in a hurry to prove himself to his family business, so when his final mission before his dad hands him the torch is to protect some college girl by any means necessary. It should be easy. Right?

words: 2769

Summer was finally over, and if 15-year-old you had heard you say such a thing surely you would've stabbed yourself. But the end of summer meant all your friends would come back. People would refill the small college you wanted to go back to. Home wasn't the same when you came back from college, right when you started to get used to it, you got thrown back home where most of your friends you didn't talk to anymore or just plain didn't have many to begin with.

Kingston University was your home now, it was a private, selective and put students in cohorts that would then be categorized by their major. Yourself, you considered yourself a writer. But you weren't exactly keen on getting an English degree and went for a communications degree. Don't ask why, it was flexible. Going into your second year excited you, getting out of the house again and away from the toxicity at home.

"Welcome back!" you heard leadership teams yell with signs and covered in school spirit, truly it looked like your mascot threw up on them. What was funny was you knew some of them, and their school spirit wasn't as high as they led on. Remembering when the guy in the cut up school t-shirt took a piss on the statue in front of the junior housing.

You drove your car to a parking space in your new sophomore housing. You didn't really have any friends in your cohort, so you were nervous about meeting who would be your randomized roommate. Instead, you had friends who were all creatives with film and performing arts majors. You found them rather quickly, they had a tendency to be quite loud and outgoing.

"(Y/N)!" You were attacked with a hug walking out of the parking lot and into sophomore housing court. It was your one of 2 of your very best friends you gained in school, she was apart of the performing arts cohort with majoring in commercial music and all, Annika.

"Hey, babe." You hugged her back, excited to see her after so long.

"Where are you staying? Do you know yet?" She asked, "Sarah isn't here yet, but we're living on the bottom floor, so you better be above us. Then we know who to kill if there's too much noise."

"I don't know yet, where do I go?" You asked, she pointed over to a table with a long line, flipping her long dark hair over her shoulder. She had the most incredible big blue eyes that seemed to have flecks of green in them. She also had just recently gotten her nose pierced, which really suited her face.

"How was your summer?" Annika asked you, waiting patiently with you.

"Long, did a lot of working at the pub. I think I saved up enough money to get me through a day of school." You joked.

"I feel you, dude." Annika laughed, "Have you tried for any scholarships?"

"Every single one they'll let me apply for. I got emails back on 2 of them for next semester. This semester I'm getting only a quarter paid for though. It's looking like my graduation will just be me celebrating my life of debt." You said, rubbing the back of your neck with how far in it you are.

You continued to talk about Annika’s trip to Ecuador, where she did some charity and life-changing work with a group of friends. She invited you to it, and you wanted to go if it wasn't so expensive. You were used to not having that kind of money now, your family was always well off but now that you went against everything they believed in you don't have that source anymore. The home you came from made you grow up really quickly, this was just the last thing you had to take on.

"Next!" You heard a voice come from next to you, and you stepped up to the table quickly.

"Hi!"  You happily looked up to see one of your upperclassmen friends sitting there, Sav.

"Hey! How was your summer?" They asked you,

"Long, lots of work." You sighed, having just telling Annika the same.

"That's good you're working though! Getting that cash." They smiled, looking over their list, "And I know exactly where you're staying, I'm your RA!"

"No way!" You squealed, reaching over to hug them.

"Yeah, here is your key. Room 209, and our floor meeting is tonight in the lounge at 10 PM. Don't be late." Sav said, handing you your key.

"Thank you, do you know who my roommate is?" You asked.

"It says, Victoria Reinhart?" Sav told you, tentatively, "I'm sorry I haven't met her."

"All good, thanks Sav. I'll see you later!"

"See you!"

"Well?" Annika urged, seeing you approach her with your key.

"Room 209?" You offered and she frowned.

"136." Annika said, "But I think Tony and Jacob are in 109, at least I think that's what they said."

"Oh, great." You rolled your eyes, knowing full well how loud those two were going to be.

"Speaking of—" Annika started but was cut off by the yells of two boys, so covered in school colored paint they were practically unrecognizable. They were yelling for you, and then suddenly you were thrown over their shoulder as they ran across the quad with you.

"Hey!" You pounded on their backs, scared of what they had planned, "Guys hold on! Put me down!"

“Okay.” The one on the left said and you recognized him as your friend Jacob. Typical.

Then you found yourself being dropped into the fountain on campus. It wasn’t particularly deep, but you were definitely soaked, with one of the spouts falling onto your head when you sat up.

“Are you okay?” You heard a voice, overall the laughter and heard the splashing of feet. You got yourself up out of the torture of the water pouring on your head to open your eyes to a boy who voluntarily got into the water. The bottoms of his jeans now soaked from coming in. His hand outstretched to you, and his face soft with big brown eyes and the cutest bunch of curls falling over his forehead.

“Yeah.” You replied simply and quietly, you didn’t take his hand though. Following him out of the fountain as people whispered, wondering who the boy nobody had seen before rejoining a friend of his with aloof blue eyes on the side of the fountain. The boy with the blue eyes wasn’t happy with your friend in the fountain at all.

You lost him in the crowd, being overwhelmed by your spirited friends laughing and offering you a towel after their prank.

"You guys are dead." You splashed the boys who waited aside from the fountain.

"We told you last semester, you were just waiting to be dunked!" Tony laughed, you groaned remembering their jokes.

"Give me some kind of warning!" You said, holding the towel around your shoulders and wringing out your shirt. You kept looking around, admittedly searching for your brown eyed attempted savior.

"You're no fun." Jacob laughed, "Hey, come to our housewarming party tonight! Room 109, we're inviting the whole building."

"Won't you get in trouble?"

"Not if the RA's are down to party too." He laughed, "And they are, let me clear that up—they are."

"Yeah, well since I'm your upstairs neighbor I might as well." You rolled your eyes.

"That's what I like to hear! And (Y/N), if you have any hot friends—please—I beg you—bring them." Tony added, putting his hands together in prayer.

"I'll make sure to bring Annika and Sarah." You laughed. Tony mouthed a thank you.

"I hate them." Annika rolled her eyes, rubbing your shoulders.

"Annika, did you know that guy?" You asked.

"That guy who got into the fountain? No, I've never seen him before." Annika said, "Whoever he was he was hot though. I hope he's at Jacob and Tony's party."

"Yeah, me too." You said, looking around then finally landing on Annika in front of you, "Now, give me a hug?"

"Stop!"

✵

Later as you started bringing your things in, leaving your door propped open, you watched and waited for your roommate to make an arrival. Your room was quite nice, a front living space and kitchen attached, with a short back hall that had a bathroom on the left and on the right would be your shared bedroom. It was going to take a lot of getting used to and moving stuff in. You needed to get some furniture for the living space if Victoria didn't bring any.

You had already changed into dry clothes, but your hair was still damp. You decided you'd leave it like that until you would go over to Annika and Sarah's to get ready for tonight. You sat in your kitchen, fixing up a decoration on the wall.  

You heard a door slam and a key fumble before you saw a familiar flop of brown hair walk past your doorway. You ran to the doorframe, not really thinking through your actions. Your curiosity pulling you closer. But if your first year of college taught you anything, it was not to wait for people to make friends with you.

"Hey!" You called, catching him just a few feet away. He turned around and the longer you looked at him, the more attractive he became. He had a bag slid across his chest, clinging his t-shirt to his body.

"Hey." He said back to you.

"A-are we neighbors?" You looked to where he must've just come from.

"Looks like it." He said, shortly and patting his thigh.

"I'm (Y/N), I just wanted to introduce myself." You extended a hand, and he took it, "I swear I don't always get pushed into fountains. They mean well."

"Tom." He said back, "I don't know why pushing you in a fountain would be meaning well, but hey that's all you."

"Yeah," You continued, feeling wary of his judgemental tone, "anyways, thank you for down there. That was very sweet of you."

"Your welcome." He said, making a thin line with his lips and turning them up at the corners. His eyes looking over your face.

"Uh, there's like an all building party tonight that my friends are hosting. Apparently, all the R.A's are in on it, don't ask. But you and your friend are welcome to come."

"Thanks, I'll pass on the message." He said, nodding and then started backing up. You smiled, backing up too.

"Ok, cool." You shied away, giving an awkward wave before stepping back into your room. You shut your door after that. That was enough awkward interactions for the rest of the year. You put your hands over your eyes and decided to turn up your music until your roommate would hopefully arrive.

Hey, Sav! Is it possible I can get my roommate's phone number? Just curious as to when she's coming.

Delivered 5:07 PM

You texted Sav. Then waited, and waited. They were probably busy, it was move-in day after all. Maybe Victoria asked to come a day late? You decided not to dwell on it for too long. You unpacked all your clothes into what you assumed would be your side of the closet. Grabbing out something you could wear for tonight.

Your friends were all a lot more riskay than you were, always able to find themselves dates for the night from how beautiful they always looked. You could if you wanted to maybe, and the occasional flirt here and there was sweet. But you had never gone home with someone. Tonight, that wasn't going to change. In high school, that's who you were, and had no judgment toward one night stands. But that wasn't what you wanted to do anymore, limiting yourself. You just wanted to get a little tipsy, socialize, and get back to your room and watch Netflix until you fell asleep.

But that didn't mean you couldn't look good. You grabbed one of your favorite heather gray knitted halter tops, with a pair of high waisted black skinny jeans, and a matching suede black jacket over your shoulders in case it got chilly outside, which usually it did. Grabbing your hair products and makeup, you left your room, praying you wouldn't run into Tom or his roommate, running to find room 136.

They had left the door open, and your reunion with your curly haired friend Sarah was a joyous one. Hugging each other, then her grabbing your sides at how attractive you looked in your outfit. You thanked her, before sitting on their new couch.

"How's the move-in been?" Sarah asked, sitting across from you with her own makeup mirror.

"It's been fine, my roommate hasn't come yet though." You frowned, "Oh, and Annika!"

"Huh?" Annika answered from the back bedroom.

"Guess who my neighbor is?"

"Is it the hot guy from English last semester?" She asked, half thinking.

"No.." You dragged out your answer, "It's the new hot guy."

"Shut up!"

"What hot guy?" Sarah perked up at the sound of a hot guy.

"Did Annika tell you about how Jacob and Tony finally threw me into a fountain?" You asked and Sarah's face scrunched up in confusion.

"What do you mean finally? But yeah."

"Long story, but there was a guy who came into the pond all cute and offered me a hand up." You said, "I think he's a transfer, he's my neighbor."

"Oo I wanna see him." Sarah said, "Are you gonna go after him?"

"I don't know-" You started,

"If you won't, I will!" Annika called.

"I just said I don't know cuz he acted kinda weird in the hall. Like sorta rude, I don't know. I invited him and his friend to the party but I don't know if they'll come. I'm telling you, something was off."

"Something being off means nothing as long as the dick’s good," Annika said, finally revealing her outfit, which consisted of: a black bralette, fishnets, high waisted distressed and cut up jean shorts, red thigh high boots and a jean jacket to finish.

"You look so hot, I guess you'll probably find out faster than I will." You smiled at your friend.

"Let's hope, I'm trying to celebrate the new year." She stuck her tongue between her teeth and went to a mirror in their hall to put her hair up.

"(Y/N), are you gonna try and find someone tonight?" Sarah asked.

"I doubt it." You rolled your eyes, "If a guy comes up to me that isn't trying to get to you guys or that one of you didn't put him up to it, then maybe. But that's never happened so let's not hold our breath. I wouldn't be surprised if everyone thought I was lesbian, and I'm okay with keeping it that way."

"Whatever you say, just know if you wanted to, any guy would be happy to have you. Trust us." Sarah said, getting up for her setting spray.

"Whatever, my lesbian ass is getting us a pizza though. Last time I drank without eating first I threw up on the hot guy from English last semester. And that's not happening again."

✵

You ran up to your room, wanting to throw your stuff in there before it was locked in Annika and Sarah's room for the upcoming day. Cautiously walking in wanting to see if your roommate had gotten there, you shut the door behind you, only hearing the party starting below you. There was no one else in there, just that you could hear Jacob and Tony excited to be finally able to host their own parties.

But you also could hear something else. You didn't realize how thin these walls were going to be. There was a bit of yelling next door, you heard muffles bits.

"That's none of our business!" You heard an unfamiliar voice and couldn't help yourself putting your ear to the wall. It was coming from Tom's room, "You know that's not what we're here for!"

"We're here to protect her..." there was something else but you couldn't hear it. Protect who?

"From afar! We're not supposed to get involved." You heard the other voice again, it was stern and close like he was sitting in a chair right on the other side of the wall.

"... my dad trusted us with this. I know what I'm talking about, promise."

"Fine, we'll go. But just watching. I don't want this to get fucked up, Tom. This is a big deal for us. I'm just trying to look out for you." You heard the close voice again. And felt more confused, and guilty for listening. Who the fuck were these guys?

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[forged-through-trials]

Despite Ruin’s misgivings, I managed to convince him to chill in a room at the Merchant’s Inn, while I saw to business that night. Ruin: “Stay out of trouble, this time.” Trials: “No promises!” Ruin: “...” He shook his head. “Then try to keep the body-count to a minimum. Or at least, don’t join the body-count.”

Once I had Nanny-Ruin off of my back, it was late enough that I could make for the Garden of Daeraloth to meet up with Armand Christophe. Surely, by now, I’d moved enough hot merch to get in the guild’s good-books. Armand: “I’m glad you stopped by. I have a... situation that you might be able to help with.” Trials: “If it’s about an alchemy accidnet; it’s the same advise they give for eating beans; snuff out your torch and crack a window.” Armand: “...” He eyed his torch briefly, before shaking his head. “No, this is about Hieronymus Lex. He actually collected taxes from everyone living here in the Waterfront!” Trials: I snorted at him with disgust. “Did he also call us all freeloaders while he did it?” Armand: “Yeah, and he talked about Bootstraps, too. Anyway, we need you to recover the money he stole from the poor.” Trials: “I’m totally on board, but may I ask why we’re doing this? I thought thieves were all in it for themselves.” Armand: “It has been tradition for a long time that the city not collect taxes from the poor of the Waterfront. It wouldn’t be worth the effort, and it would draw the ire of the Gray Fox, who has promised his protection to those of the Waterfront. Lex has broken that tradition, and thus tripped the Fox’s protection. We are thieves, but we are true to our word. So we ask you to do this task, as it will show the Elite who really runs this city. It’s a matter of pride.” Trials: “Huh.” I clicked my tongue, pensively. “Never had much pride. Never had much use for it. But I can understand wanting to help people. I’m in!” Armand: “Good. Find out where he’s keeping the taxes, and bring them to me. I’ll also need the tax records of what each citizen paid so we can return it.”

I had my job, and good ol’ Puny Ancus was sleeping on a bedroll near the Garden. It was a quick matter to hit him up for info, and after gracing his hands with a little gold, he pointed me in the right direction. The ‘South Watchtower’ in the Temple District.

Oh boy! Breaking into a guards’ tower seems like a really, really bad idea for a thief. But it’s the job the Fox has charged me with, and besides that, it’s to help people in need. So, in I go!

...yup, this really was a bad idea. And apparently these guys never sleep. Thankfully, I was born under the stars of the Shadow, and in my surprise, my Birthsign’s power kicked in, and rendered me invisible. The guard was confused. Understandably so. I’m sure he thought he’d seen a dorky Argonian just a moment ago, but now there was nothing there. He stomped around a bit, searching for me, but I was able to slip passed him and head further up into the tower.

At the top of the Watchtower, I found Hieronymus Lex’s private quarters. The man himself was asleep in the bed nearby. I thought briefly to dunk on him by picking his pocket, but thought better of it. I had a job to do, and robbing his desk right under his nose was probably just as good of a dab as picking his pocket while he slept. It only took a little jiggle of the locks to crack open Lex’s desk, and after that, I was plundering the pittance he’d collected in taxes, as well as the records. It’s actually pretty sad; I think the largest sum was from someone named “Ormil”, who got shaken down for a mere seven coins. And someone named “Hillod” apparently got roughed up for being broke! Because, apparently, having no money is a crime is this Hist-forsaken city! Huh. Someone named “Myvryna Arano” was listed as ‘exempted’. I wonder what that’s all about? But I had what I needed, and quickly I slipped back out the way I came in, rushing my way over toward the Waterfront and the Garden of Daeraloth to report my success to Armand. Armand: “Have you recovered those taxes?” Trials: “Sure did!” I handed over the records and the bag of gold. Armand: “Ah! The Gray Fox will be very pleased. We will make sure this gets back to the people!” Trials: I hold up a fist and beat my chest. “Yeah, power to the people!” Armand: “Can you believe that fool, Lex, even bothered to collect this paltry sum? You can keep it. I merely wanted the Watch to know they went too far.” Trials: “And your way is a much more effective strategy than my plan; making snarky comments behind their backs about how they’re all fat and lazy.” For my efforts, Armand promoted me to “Footpad”... kind of a crap title, especially considering how many bandits and highway men have threatened to ‘turn me into a pair of boots’. Well, I’ll just need to hurry up and get promoted out of it. Armand: “Good, glad you’re eager to move up the ranks. We have another job for you. The guild has received a ‘request’ to obtain a unique statuette. It is a bust of Llathasa Indarys, the recently slain Countess of Cheydinhal.” Trials: “...’Luh-Lah-Thah-Sah’? You mean the extra ‘L’ isn’t silent?” Armand: “No, and neither was she. Why do you think someone wanted her dead? “Anyway, we need you to go to Cheydinhal and pinch it. You’ll be paid a modest fee for your efforts. Now get to it!” Well, now I know where I’m headed after Bravil. But for now, I reasoned it was worth it to, first, get some rest. Then, the following morning, I went about to see if there was anything else to do in the Imperial City. I still had some hot merch to move, but with Bruma, ironically, too hot to travel to, I needed an alternative to Ongar.

Huh. A shop in a back alley, next to a Bathhouse? Looks like the kind of place that might move merch without asking too many uncomfortable questions. Worth a shot, I think. In, I went, and I met the proprietor, Derrien Venoit. Carefully, I broached the subject of moving some of my ‘wares’. Of course, I normally wouldn’t dare show hot-stuff to any usual merchant. Even I’m not that silly! But he had that kind of face that told me he was cool, so I offered him one of my specialty items.

Derrien: “Now, ain’t it funny? A little bird just told me that some of this stuff here was stolen, and now you stroll right into my shop and sell it to me.” Trials: I sweated. “IDidn’tDoEet!" Derrien: “It’s cool, my scaly lass. In fact, I’d certainly have no qualms about buying other things you’ve ‘acquired’. Quite on the contrary. I might even have some tips for you about where to find worthwhile loot.” Trials: I furrowed my brow at him. “...whoa, we talkin’ some kind of deal, here? Because I might be inter--are you a guard!?“ I got in his face, and jabbed a finger into his chest. “Because you gotta tell me if you are! That’s the rules.” Derrien: He reeled back, but smiled, and brushed my hand off of his chest. “Oh, I’m no guard, believe me. I’m on the level, babe. “Here’s the deal; you pay me for information. I tell you about a hot score. You pinch the item, and sell it to me. You get what you can haggle for it, plus a modest Finder’s Fee. Then I turn around and sell the item to an interested buyer for a profit. We both win, wouldn’t you say?” Trials: I considered the offer for a moment, scratching my chin, before laying gold on the table. “I’m in. Whatcha got for me?” I know I promised Ruin I’d stay outta trouble, but this is just too good of an opportunity to pass up. He laid out the first gig for me; Talos Plaza resident Ulen Athram bought a big, gaudy ring for his wife. It’s a bit too heavy and cumbersome to wear all of the time, so the pair keep it in their house. Derrien’s buyer wants that ring... because apparently they just like trashy baubles that are more showy than practical. Whatever. It’s none of my business. I just need to pinch the item and get it back to Derrien for sale. Who knew that taking a risk on selling so stolen props to some random bloke would pay off with more work? The job in question was pretty quick and easy. I arrived just in time to see the man of the house, Ulen, leave the home. Even though it was broad daylight, no one was looking my way save for a few beggars, and I already knew the beggars were cool, so I broke in. The lady of the house was still in, but she hadn’t noticed me. I moved like a shadow, and was upstairs in short order. Searching room after room, I found a locked jewelry case... with an especially complex lock. Curses! Even with the new picks I bought from Shady Sam, this lock was, perhaps, beyond me.

But I wasn’t going to be stone-walled. Not by some stupid lock. So I tried, and tried, and tried, continuing to rattle those tumblers. Jiggling my pick around in the lock, I got a feel for it, little by little learning a thing or two about how the locks were structured, what it felt like when you hit them in juuuuuust the right spots... asking the locks out for coffee and Sweet Rolls this Friday, that sort of thing. Finally...! [Critical Success!] I’ll be the first to admit, I got lucky. I slipped that pick in exactly the right spot, bumped the tumblers in just the right way, guessed the right kind of coffee the lock liked best, and it all just clicked, and the jewelry box popped open for me. Within, I found the ring... by the Nine was it a big’un. It weight a whole pound! I think you could melt it down and get a whole brick of gold out of it. I swiped it and stole out of the building quickly. Though after buying my hot goods earlier, Derrien didn’t have the gold to pay for the ring, so he told me he’d hit up the bank tonight and pay me tomorrow, and to just sit on it for now.

[aion-rsa]

Conan: Ranking the Best Remote Segments

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WarnerMedia announced on Tuesday that Conan O’Brien’s long-running TBS talk show, Conan, would be coming to an end next summer. Thankfully, however, the late night pioneer isn’t leaving television altogether – just trading the network world for the streaming one. In addition to his Conan Without Borders travel series already airing on TBS, O’Brien will produce a new weekly variety show for WarnerMedia’s streaming platform, HBO Max, to premiere at a yet-to-be announced date. 

“In 1993 Johnny Carson gave me the best advice of my career: ‘As soon as possible, get to a streaming platform,’” O’Brien said in a statement. “I’m thrilled that I get to continue doing whatever the hell it is I do on HBO Max, and I look forward to a free subscription.”

At first glance, this appears to be bittersweet news. O’Brien has been a late night talk show staple for decades. Following an excellent writing career for The Simpsons and Saturday Night Live, O’Brien took over for his hero David Letterman on NBC’s Late Night in 1993 and stewarded it through 2009. That was followed by a measly half-year as host of the venerable Tonight Show before NBC got spooked about not having Jay Leno on TV anymore. For the past 10 years, O’Brien has continued his late night talk show format for TBS’s Conan. 

Though it’s sad to lose O’Brien as a late night talk show titan, the reality is that the comedian was never much of a talk show host to begin with. That’s not to say that he wasn’t good at the job, because he was. But it’s always been evidently clear that O’Brien succeeds the most when not tied to the restrictive talk show format. This is something that the host himself has increasingly realized over the years, cutting out an interview segment slot from Conan to bring the running time down to a breezy 30 minutes, and producing the acclaimed Conan Without Borders series to capitalize on his already popular remote travel segments

The best comedy that O’Brien has throughout his impressive run has very rarely been delivered in-studio. Every time O’Brien left the confines of his desk, whether it be for Late Night, The Tonight Show, or Conan, viewers could be confident that they were about to witness something truly hilarious. The longtime comedy writer quite simply thrives being out “in the wild.” There he is able to put his gangly comedic physicality to use and truly relish his ability to make people uncomfortable.

In honor of O’Brien finally making the long-awaited jump back to variety comedy, we’ve gathered together our 10 favorite remote segments the comedian has ever done. The only qualifications here are that the bits have to have occurred on one of his three major shows and they have to feature him away from his studio. Also, we won’t be counting any official Conan Without Borders entries as that is a distinct entity and would muddy the waters too much.

Without further ado…

Honorable Mention – Triumph the Insult Comic Dog Attends the Premiere of “Star Wars: Attack Of The Clones”

(Original airdate: 5/17/2002)

Sadly, Triumph the Insult Comic Dog is not Conan O’Brien and therefore cannot appear on this list of Conan’s best remote segments. But it would feel unfair not to take time to highlight Late Night with Conan O’Brien’s other remote segment superstar. As created by SNL’s Robert Smigel, Triumph is a Eastern European-accented, cigar-chomping insult comic…who also just happens to be a dog puppet. Triumph’s trips outside the studio are almost always hilarious, but the rude canine hits an absolute comedic high with his trip to the Attack of the Clones premiere. Perhaps the most amazing thing in that clip isn’t the numerous cutting, hilarious, and utterly cruel nerd jokes, but how rapturously the audience responds at the beginning upon learning that Triumph is the correspondent Conan sent to the premiere.

10. Conan’s Trip to Ireland

(Original airdate: 3/17/1999)

Here, as far back as the 20th Century (before “the year two-thousaaaanddd”) we can see Conan began to realize how much fun he, and his audience by extension, had when he hits the road. Sending a red-haired individual named Conan O’Brien to Ireland is about as easy a slam dunk that a late night comedy writer can find. There’s a lot to love here, but nothing will top the photoshopped portraits of all of Conan’s ancestors. 

9. Conan Delivers Chinese Food in NYC

(Original airdate: 11/1/2011)

Late in 2011, just under a year after Conan premiered, Conan returned to New York City where he had spent his Late Night tenure to film a week’s worth of shows. And what better way to ring in the return than with a stellar remote segment? In this bit, Conan serves as an inept delivery boy for Manhattan Chinese restaurant King Wok. It’s apparent early on just how excited he is to be back in New York when he’s already purring at one of the employees 10 seconds in. Conan gets the full New York experience in this, from one standoffish deliveree angrily denying that he’s her delivery guy to him being served Argentinian tea from a beautiful woman leaning out her window. The citizens of New York City are often Conan’s best comedic collaborators and they show why once again here.

8. Conan Goes to Trucking School

(Original airdate: 7/18/1997)

“Conan Goes to Trucking School” benefits from having the thinnest of setups. Conan wants to be a truck driver. Why? Well, who cares, the Jersey Truck Driving School is up for it and we’ve got some time to kill. Into that conceptual vacuum steps Conan just having the time of his life. You know you’re in for a good remote segment when Conan and a trucker he just met are singing a country song less than two minutes in. 

7. Conan Tries to Sell His Ford Taurus 

(Original airdate: 5/6/2004)

Conan O’Brien’s reviled puke green 1992 Ford Taurus is one of Late Night’s most enduring non-human characters (right up there with the Masturbating Bear). This segment serves as the first time we get to see the damnable machine in the chrome and it doesn’t disappoint. “Conan Tries to Sell His Ford Taurus” is among the best Conan remotes ever because it’s pretty clear that Conan actually loves the stupid thing. Of course he’s joking when he says things like “the wolf is on the prowl” or calls his stick shift the “Cone Bone”, but he doesn’t have to fake much pain when car experts give in an assessment in the $1800-3000 range. 

6. Conan Visits The American Girl Store

(Original airdate: 12/18/2013)

“Conan Visits The American Girl Store” is perhaps the best argument you can find for giving Conan O’Brien alcohol and putting him on television. The first half of this bit is undoubtedly solid as Conan plays up the creepiness of him visiting a store designed for young girls. But things really take off when he finally chooses his doll (Potential Nazi war criminal Agnes Schweitzhoffer) and settles in for dinner in the American Girl Store’s shockingly lush dining room. As the chardonnay goes down, Conan (and Agnes by extension) are increasingly unable to hide their annoyance at the garçon and all his stupid riddles. 

5. Conan Goes to Houston to Find Viewers

(Original air date: 5/1/1997)

In the first few years of Late Night with Conan O’Brien’s run, Conan and his team of writers had plenty of fun with how little people seemed to enjoy their dumb show. This segment takes that concept to its extreme. When Conan discovers that the Houston television market doesn’t air Late Night until 2:40 a.m. local time, he takes a camera team to Texas to find some fans after hours. The journey takes him from a bail bonds office, to a hotel basement, to an emergency room, and all the way to a bus terminal at 3:21 a.m. where he meets a man who is decidedly not a fan. “I was just almost murdered,” Conan says as he sits down for comedic effect…but also probably to catch his breath. 

4. Ice Cube, Kevin Hart, and Conan Share a Lyft Car

(Original airdate: 12/10/2013)

The apparent success of Conan’s remote segments can be charted over the years by the level of talent that wants to get in on them. In this segment, Ice Cube and Kevin Hart are unambiguously big gets. And instead of any studio nonsense, they were more than happy in 2013 to check out this strange new service known as…Lyft? Are we pronouncing that right? Something about getting Conan, Cube, Kevin, and their Lyft driver Anthony in an enclosed space brings out the madness in them all. Hart and Ice Cube have a blast trying to turn Anthony against the gangly Conan as he runs into 7/11 to get everyone swisher sweets and a DVD of Ghosts of Girlfriends Past. Highlights here include Conan’s absurdly burdensome beatboxing and Kevin yelling “I’ll cut his shins off!” to Anthony’s friend over the phone. 

3. Conan Plays Old-Timey Baseball

(Original airdate: 6/25/2004)

When Conan signed off of Late Night for what would be an unexpectedly brief Tonight Show tenure, he brought back this 2004 skit as an example of the kind of absurdist humor he felt the show did best. And it’s clear to see why. Conan’s trip to Old Bethpage Village Restoration where reenactors play old-timey baseball is in many ways the goofy platonic ideal of a Conan segment. The absurdity of the premise is funny enough as is, and then Conan’s buy-in only enhances the proceedings. “What is that demonry???” a 19th century Conan cries as a plane passes overhead. But the not-so-stealthy MVP here is the reenactor who is truly committed to her role as the dour village woman with a dead father and a soon-to-be-dead husband in the Civil War. “You know that guy ain’t coming back. I was down in the Civil War. I saw him and he was acting very cowardly I have to say,” Conan says in an attempt to woo her.

2. Dave Franco and Conan Join Tinder

(Original airdate: 7/17/2014)

Just about every moment of “Dave Franco and Conan Join Tinder” is joyously, ludicrously hilarious. Conan gives viewers all the set up they need for why he’d want to browse Tinder with Dave Franco, saying “Naturally, because I’m a creep, I’m intrigued.” Conan and Dave adopting their Chip Whitley and Dgenghis Roundstone (the “D” is silent) personas is wonderful. As is an unexpected cameo from Conan’s assistant Sona and Conan and Dave’s competition over the 74-year-old Gloria. But per usual, this thing really gets moving when Conan and Dave hit the road in their creepy panel van. Conan assures Dave that the van is filled with duct tape solely to hold the cameras up. “I wish I could say I saw duct tape on any of these cameras,” Dave responds. Once Chip and Dgenghis finally meet their Tinder date, this segment evolves into its glorious final form where Dave and the citizens of L.A. bond over what a weirdo Conan is.

1. The Jordan Schlansky Saga

(Original airdate: 9/1/2008)

Our number 1 entry is a bit of a cheat. For starters, this is not referring to merely one remote segment but a whole genre of them. And the first entry is not even technically a “remote.” Still, we must highlight it all the same for the saga of Conan O’Brien’s associate producer Jordan Schlansky is among the best comedy that Late Night/Tonight Show/Conan ever produced. During the writer’s strike in 2008, Conan tried to keep Late Night going without his usual bevy of writers to help out. This meant segments in which Conan would meet with some of the people behind the scenes of his show which brought him into contact with his eventual archnemesis Jordan Schlansky.

Schlansky is just an aggressively strange person. Always dispassionate and rarely smiling, Schlansky fancies himself a Bohemian renaissance man with his breakfast shakes, mastery of the bullwhip, and vespa. The best part of their original meeting is when Conan realizes just how hilariously bizarre the gestalt of Jordan and can’t help but collapse into laughter as he chokes out “You’re just not like other people.” Later Jordan would join Conan and many remote segments to aggressively annoy and vex him, including one dinner that is among the best things the show has ever done. That lead to Conan’s truly chilling villain monologue:

Conan: I promise you this, I will not kill you myself. But I will have you killed. I will have you wiped out. 

Jordan: I am subject to the same winds, the sun, the air that created the wine that I am drinking. 

Conan: There will be nothing that links me to your murder. There will be no physical link between your dead body and myself. But you will be murdered. I will order it. I will pay for it. But I’ll have no- I am blameless in the eyes of the international court, that I promise you. (laughs) I’m gonna kill you. (laughs) You have to go.

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BONUS – Conan Checks Out the Christmas Lights in Dyker Heights

(Original airdate: 12/22/2000)

Here’s a bonus entry for purely sentimental reasons. This is nowhere near the best of Conan’s hundreds of remote segments, but it holds some personal value to your dear author. Once upon a time I was a child celebrating the Christmas season a month after my family’s 400-mile move to a new home. My parents had a Christmas party that day and I severely overindulged on chocolates, finishing them off with several clementines before bed for some reason. Suffice it to say, sometime around midnight, I puked all over a brand new sleeping bag I received as a gift and ended up on the couch, full of chocolate, clementines, and regret. My mom flipped on the TV to distract me while she hauled off the sleeping bag to be cleaned…or burned. On TV was this very segment “Conan Checks Out the Christmas Lights in Dyker Heights.” I was enraptured by this strange orange-haired man making fun of people’s garish Christmas decorations…even as I tasted the foul acidy sting of rancid citrus in my throat. And thus is the perfect Conan O’Brien watching experience. Best of luck at HBO Max, Conesy!

The post Conan: Ranking the Best Remote Segments appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[afterspark-podcast]

G1 Episode 38: Transcript

[This can also be found on AO3!]

[Stinger]

O: Just be screaming at the top of his lungs the entire time.

[Intro Music]

O: Hello, and welcome to the Afterspark Podcast, an episode by episode recap of the Generation 1 cartoon.  I'm Owls.

S: And I'm Specs.

O: And today we are joined by my husband, Chezni cuz uh, we're going to be talking about his favorite episode, which is episode 38: Decepticon Raider in King Arthur's Court! 

C: Hello.

O: Let's talk about giant robots today, shall we?

S: Yep, let's do it.

O: What's the worst that can happen?

C: We all die.

S: I can think of any number of things.

O: [laughter] Wow, guys!

C: [laughter]

O: It’s like that Marge Simpson meme: “Can you lighten up a little there, kids?” You’re just, like: “We could all die!” Okay then. Anyway-

S: We open in yet another fire fight between the Autobots and Decepticons.

O: Starscream is apparently really hungry as he complains about the lack of energy.

C: Ramjet is still gunning to go and attempts to ram Warpath, who instead sends Ramjet flying into Starscream, Ravage and Rumble.

O: Starscream is ready to flee but Rumble senses some energy inside a cave.

C: Ravage just goes barreling past and into the cave and the rest follow him-

S: Because when Starscream has the munchies it's everybody's problem, I'm afraid.

C: Warpath with his whole “Zip! Powie! Wowie!” normal sense of self collapses some rocks onto the entrance trapping them inside the cave.

S: And the interior of said cave looks, um, vaguely like a temple for some reason?

O: Starscream decides he's going to be all dramatic about it and calls it, “Their tomb!,” when the entrance is blocked, too.

C: I mean, how much do you want to bet he acts like this anytime he hasn't had lunch?

S: Seems like a really easy bet.

O: He definitely does. Rumble then points at a rock slab and says, “Hey, there's energy here!” 

S: This rock has, uh, some weird writing on it and some sort of touchpad functionality. You know, for robots, apparently. 

C: Starscream just runs over and knocks Rumble completely out of the way.

O: With ye old wonderful bonk sound effect. Also, poor Rumble, I hope Soundwave gets mad at Starscream when they get back.

C: Man, he hit him pretty hard. What happened to faction loyalty? 

O: Please, Starscream? Loyalty, what loyalty?

S: Starscream then says some bullshit about, uh, because he's their leader he needs to take the risk if the slab is dangerous.

C: Besides! He's hungrier than Rumble! 

S: Yeah, never mind if there are any negative consequences to this he'll definitely be using Rumble as a robo shield.

O: As you do. Outside, Hoist is trying to clear the rubble from the cave entrance with Warpath providing his normal colorful commentary.

C: Inside, Starscream finishes highlighting the text on the tablet- I mean, ancient stone. 

S: It's- it's a super old-gen tablet, don't you know.

O: You know, made of rock. Ramjet turns around and points out that the entrance is magically not blocked anymore?

S: And they are all just like nyoom out of there without any critical thinking whatsoever.

O: Critical thinking? In this show? When’s that a thing?

C: I mean, they literally had reality change around them and they didn't stop to think about it. Like, I'm surprised Starscream doesn't think this is some sort of Autobot trick or something considering how paranoid he is.

S: Yeah...

O: No, that would be a logical thing to do.

S: Mm-hmm. 

O: Outside we have one lone human female, uh, who sees all the Decepticons- that some says something about, “Big ass knights coming from the dragon mound.”

S: This'll be coming back later. 

O: Ha! Yeah, yeah! I'm sure this won't be relevant at all.

S: Two human knights on horseback attack Rumble. All the Decepticons think they're just some really weird looking Autobots.

C: Up until Starscream just sort of pushes one of them over and Ramjet headbutts the other off his horse. 

S: [Sighs] That's Ramjet: solving all his problems with his head.

O: He's got one talent and that's it.

S: Yeah, it's in- it’s all in the name. Ramjet then offers some constructive criticism as the knights appear to fall into two pieces when they fall off their horses.

O: Starscream picks up a piece of armor and comes to the conclusion that these are humans pretending to be robots. 

C: The main knight takes offense at this as well as when Rumble calls his armor outdated.

S: Leading our intrepid idiots to realize that they have traveled to the 1500’s, apparently.

O: The question is: Have they also teleported? Were they fighting in England? Or were they in the US somewhere?

S: Or somewhere else all together. And we will get absolutely zero answers on this.

O: Yep, that's normal. 

C: Then our lone female hiding in the bushes and eavesdropping flees to warn her father about the magical men, naturally stepping on a stick which immediately alerts everyone to her presence.

O: Because some cinematic cliches are timeless. 

S: The knight uh, the Decepticons are talking to comes to the very quick conclusion that the noise came from a spy and Ravage immediately chases after her. 

C: I mean, not only is it hilarious that, ah, Ravage immediately outpaces the horses but he just hears the word “spy” and seems to reflexively go after her with no context. He's just, like, “What? A spy? I must go!”

O: Fetch! 

S: I think he's probably thinking about when Spike’s spied on them a few times and, i mean, the general idea is probably to catch her first and ask questions later. He's- he’s clearly been traumatized by how many times Spike has fucked shit up for them. 

O: Speaking of Spike, the lady runs smack into him while running away from Ravage. 

S: They dodge and Ravage runs smack into Warpath.

C: Or vice versa.

S: Regardless, Ravage- Ravage skedaddles. He flees. 

O: Smart move. The lady leads Spike, Warpath, and Hoist away, back to her father's castle.

C: Is she just not concerned that you know two more giant metal men have stepped out of the dragon mound? I mean, how does she know these ones are allies? 

O: The color coding, my dear, color coding. 

C: Oh, okay.

O: That doesn't even begin to make sense but-

C: These are good colored ones-

O: Yeah- yeah, but Starscream is actually in some pretty traditionally heroic characters [character’s colors] if we're going by kind of the normal color coding in cartoons.

C: Yeah-

O: This is why it's kind of funny that she's like, “Ah, yes, the giant, angry red one is totally fine or-”

C: Those meta ones: Suspicious. These metal ones: A-okay. 

O: These are friend-shaped.

S: Well, they- they chased away the thing that was chasing her so-

O: I'll give you that.

S: I don't know. It's provisional, I guess and, at any rate, Hoist is clearly a history fiend as he's able to accurately date the girl's clothing.

C: Someone's a history nerd! 

O: A bot after my own heart.

C: She finally introduces herself as Nimue and confirms we are, as the title would suggest, in Camelot. 

S: So, she's named after the Lady of the Lake.

O: We presume, because she's clearly not the actual Lady of the Lake. She asked for our- the Autobots help to defeat the Decepticons to which the Autobots agree to help.

S: Then Hoist transforms and Spike and Nimue get inside. 

C: I mean, how did she know to get in there? Like, she just straight up sees that open door and jumps right in. 

S: Well, I guess they could have carriages? She might have also assumed that, I don't know, maybe It's just a weird ass magic portal. 

C: I mean that's true but why wasn't she surprised when the giant metal man transformed into one? 

O: They’re in Camelot, dude, they've seen some serious shit. 

C: [Sighs] It's only a model.

O: Later at Nimue’s father's castle, Spike is trying on some armor.

S: Some very ugly looking armor. 

O: That he can barely walk in. 

S: Hoist is obviously the fashionista of the Autobots, at least when it comes to human clothing. He knows armor and dresses, alike, and makes some better fitting armor for Spike. 

C: We can build it better, stronger, faster-

O: Spike? No, we can't. 

C: [Laughter] 

O: While Hoist is working, he asks the king why he and- or I don't know if he's an actual king or if he's just a lord? Anyway, he- he asks Nimue's father why he and the black knight who allied with the Decepticons are fighting to which the king responds with: Cows.

S: Cattle raids were quite common at the time.

O: Which is not the reason he gives, instead it's that they got through a- break in a fence and ate his garden and he apparently took, you know, personal offense at this but, well, wars have been fought over less.

S: Look up Washington State's Pig War. It's educational.

O: [Laughter] 

C: Hoist finishes up the armor, dunks it in some water to cool it, and then just hands it all in one piece to Spike.

O: I'm pretty sure that should still be way too fucking hot for a human to touch.

S: Yep.

C: Hoist is also apparently getting low on energy.

S: I have to wonder how much energy went into making that armor. 

O: I mean-

S: I guess-

O: Yeah, I have no idea.

S: [Sighs] So Spike gets his armor on, trips immediately, and then Nimue fawns all over him which seems kind of silly.

C: Ugh, yeah... and Spike gets a kiss out of the deal for, like, no reason.

S: Mm-hmm.

O: All right! What is the number one rule for time travel? Don't fuck with the past and, by that, I mean don't fuck in the past! 

S: At least not with anyone you didn't bring with you.

O: Yes! Yes, good point! Good point!

C: I guess that would make them safe. I mean, after all, what is the statistical likelihood of this being one of Spike's distant ancestors?

O: Look, if the universe doesn't care about the possibility of Spike doing the horizontal mambo with this great- great- great- something grandma, who the heck are we to judge? 

S: Well, the further back you go the more likely you are to be related to random famous people, I guess.

O: [Laughter]

S: I don't know, I mean it happens. The next day Nimue's father, Sir Aetheling is hosting a jousting tournament.

C: We see Spike getting ready with Hoist lowering him onto his horse with his hook, while Warpath gives him fighting advice.

O: It's actually quite sweet how supportive Hoist and Warpath are being during all of this.

S: And when did Spike learn to ride a horse?

O: I was wondering-

C: How-

O: -the exact same thing. Sometime, maybe when he was not living on an oil rig?

C: Heh.

S: Maybe-

C: Another life?

S: I mean- I mean, Sparkplug's the most interesting man in the world, maybe he did a- maybe he did a patch of work at a ranch or something?

O: [Laughter] Ranch-hand Sparkplug! 

C: So Spike fights very bravely and is defeated very quickly.  His horse sparing him no dignity as it drags him off the field. 

S: Yep, uh, considering that Spike is hanging onto the horse's tail it's a pretty well-tempered horse, cuz you really don't want to be on that end of the horse it will kick the hell out of you.

C: Well, it just- it doesn't need to consider insignificant things.

O: [Snorts] So the Black Knight, Sir Wigend of Blackthorne, finally shows up and due to the rules of 80s cartoons, uh, both him and Nimue's father decide that whomever wins a jousting match will be the ruler of the land.

C: Well, that seems completely unnecessary therefore, I agree! 

O: Of course, so Wigend being, you know, evil-ish is like, “Aha! But you will have to fight my champions, not me!” 

S: [Sighs] Uh, I'm going to conveniently stand out and leave you with some giant metal men.

O: Those giant metal men being Rumble and Ramjet. Rumble’s holding a lance and it cracks me up.

C: Then literally the greatest thing ever conceived in any children's show happens! My inner nine-year-old is just screaming in delight as one robot mounts a jet [while] holding a lance and shield, preparing for a joust of the ages!

O: [Laughter] Okay, you now- you know why we had to have Chezni on this episode with us.

S: Mm-hm, mm-hm, my question is: We see Ramjet’s thrusters go on now, um, so how are they maintaining a speed of 5 to 15 miles per hour? Even rolling on tarmac jets a rather quicker than that.

C: It's- it's, uh, it's the grass. [Laughter]

S: God, this must be such a bumpy ride.

O: Rumble’s had worse, and besides they're trying to intimidate the humans, not blow them away with a sonic boom.

S: True.

O: Of course, in response to, you know, uh, Ramjet and Rumble, Warpath transforms and the red knight mounts him. I mean that in the least sexy way possible. [Laughter] God, this is ridiculous!

C: It's not ridiculous! It's art! 

S: [Sighs] Starscream is pretty pissed to realize the Autobots have followed them into this time period.

O: It's his world, dammit! He thought he was finally gonna be in charge!

S: He had plans and nothing is going according to them.

O: [Laughter] Isn't that just a normal day for Starscream? 

S: Yeah.

C: Yes. Yes, it is. Simple physics dictate that Warpath is the quick victor over Ramjet as Ramjet has his cone bashed in. Wait, how does Ramjet live through this?

S: I don't think his brains are in his head.

O: Or at least not that part of his head. Uh, Nimue goes full Karen on Sir Wigend, telling him he'd better apologize to her father.

S: Yep and Starscream hits his fuck-all point and decides to kidnap Nimue to get what he wants.

C: Yoink! 

S: He wants to color coordinate his hostage with his colors.

C: [Laughter] 

O: Starscream-

C: Oh my god-

O: Drives off with Nimue in his cockpit telling her dad that he'd better surrender his kingdom if he wants to see her again.

C: Ah, typical Starscream.

S: Clearly, the Decepticons are suffering from lack of energy as they are unable to take flight and the Autobots aren't able to maintain their vehicle modes, transforming back into robots.

O: So, Hoist and Warpath have ended up in a pile. 

C: Uh, guys? Uh, wha- what are those two robots doing? 

O: Well, you see, when a daddy robot and a daddy robot love each other very much-

C: Oh, dear lord, I need an adult.

O: You are an adult!!

C: It's still not enough to prepare me for this!

O: [Laughter]

S: You weren't ready for the cogs and sprockets talk.

O & C: [Laughter]

C: I don't understand, what are they? They're robots, Harold. 

O & S: [Laughter]

O: ...Yes.

S: Aside from all this madness, we see an owl spying, you know, on the, uh-

O: Chaos.

S: Yes, the chaos. The hazards happening down below before returning to a man in a green cloak.

O: Naturally, as we are in Camelot, this is Merlin. Merlin exists in this universe, guys! 

S: Yep, yep! 

C: Oh dear.

S: [Laughter]

C: The owl apparently communicates this whole kidnapping situation which Merlin somehow understands and responds with, “Make some idiot 20 feet tall and he thinks he rules the earth.”

O: And then made some cryptic comment about getting singed by a dragon and walks off. 

S: [Laughter] Elsewhere, at the black knights castle, Rumble does us all a favor and shoves Nimue into a tower.

O: Sir Wigend protests but Starscream pops up and is like, “Surprise! You're my bitch now!”

S: It's Starscream, he wants everyone to be his bitch.

C: And then immediately after he just falls over from lack of energy. 

S: Wolfe, who works for Sir Wigend, shows up and hands starscream a whole treasure chest full of gold.

O: Starscream compliments him and Wolfe gives the camera the most coy look i've ever seen in an 80’s cartoon.

C: It is so coy.

S: Does he have his hands clasped?

O: I- I think so? But I might be misremembering that so don't quote me. 

C: It's very strange looking regardless.

S: Uh-huh.

C: Then Starscream just sort of crushes the jewelry in his hands, which somehow immediately turns it into a fine gold wire.

S: Which apparently leads him to creating some sort of energy device that requires a bunch of humans to move around and basically, um- [Sighs]

C: Like, aren't they generating some kind of electromagnet? 

O: Something like that?

S: Yeah, but it- honestly they'd get more energy if they just went and found a river and stuck it in the- in the river. Paddles in the river.

O: Please, the Decepticons are, like, on principle allergic to green energy, dear.

S: It just seems like it would be less waste and effort-

C: But there’s no servitude in that!

O: [Laughter]

S: Yes!

C: Starscream needs servitude with his lunch.

O: Starscream's a talking jet, he wants servitude!

S: It just seems like less effort to have to go and kidnap people to do the servitude-

C: [Laughter]

O: They’re not kidnapping, they're just making Sir Wigend’s staff do it, duh! [Laughter]

S: Yes-

C: That’s true.

S: But eventually they're gonna drop dead.

O: [Laughter] 

C: Uh... Rumble and Ravage attempt to step into the machine to recharge but Starscream steps in front of them and says he needs it more than they do.

O: Rumble is just not allowed to eat today. 

S: [Sighs] And back at the Red Knights’ castle, Spike is whining about it being all his fault that Nimue got kidnapped.

C: Spike, you need to have some chance at succeeding before you can take any responsibility for the failure of the situation.

S: He's been parentified by a bunch of giant robots.

O: [Snorts]

S: I don't know. Warpath encourages Spike to attempt to save Nimue himself while he and Hoist continue to prep a different rescue plan. 

O: Well, he encourages Spike's ill-advised rescue attempt, anyway.

S: Uh-huh.

C: Is it just me or is he just trying to get Spike out of his hair?

S: That is very possible, so, maybe. 

O: He was moping a lot. I would find that annoying, personally. 

S: Spike, er, he just sounds so pissy when he is like, “Yeah, fine, yes.”

O: So now back with, you know, Sir Wigend and company-

C: The other Cons are like, “Are you done yet?” to Starscream. 

S: Yeah, yeah, he just sounds so pissy when he was like, “Fine, yes.” 

O: Starscream steps out of the little energy field thing and is apparently having everyone retrieve items from his grocery list next.

S: Ramjet is working on charcoal and Starscream orders him to go get some rock salt. Rumble and Ravage have been tasked with getting sulfur. 

C:They literally only got charged for a few seconds before Starscream told them to get out to go get the ingredients.

S: Rumble grumbles and says they also need some potassium nitrate.  As a bird poops on Starscream, instead he tells Rumble that he- that Rumble now needs to go get the potassium nitrate.

O: For everyone as confused as I was about why a bird just pooped on Starscream and why that was relevant, apparently you can get potassium nitrate from birds droppings, so when Rumble grumbles about, “Oh, are you gonna go get this, then?”

C: Funny you should mention.

O: And Rumble's like, “Well, crap.” Literally. 

S: Mm-hm. Sir Wigend attempts to apologize to Nimue but she chucks the stool at him, as well as attempts to hit him.

O: With her fist. 

C: The sexual tension in the scene rises.

S: Well, she is not taking any of this lying down.

O: So, instead, the two of them fall on the floor together rolling around for a bit.

S: They're rolling in the hay.

O: Sir Wigend admits that he's been, “An idiot.”

C: What do you know, a white male character admitting he was an idiot! Michael Bay stole so much from this episode to make his fifth movie. Why couldn't he have taken that? 

O: No! No more Bay movie talk! [Laughter] He so- he then flatters her- telling her that her eyes are beautiful and she immediately drops him on the ground and says, “They are?!” 

S: And Sir Wigend just flops like a ragdoll.

O: [Laughter]

C: It's pretty hilarious. Outside, Spike is attempting to climb the tower in his full plate male armor!

O: He gets to the top but falls down into the moat, sinking because of said armor.

S: He proceeds to take it off with no issues- underwater- so how is it staying on?

O: I think all of this begs the question of, how did he get over to the tower in the first place? Because it was on the other side of the moat!

S: Yep.

C: He ducks underwater as the drawbridge lowers above him.

S: And Rumble walks across completely covered in bird shit. 

O: [Laughter] At least he got plenty of potassium nitrate. He also clearly made a new friend, as the pigeon is just sitting on his shoulder.

S: He must miss being around birds that don't create droppings. 

O: He will never complain about Laserbeak or Buzzsaw again.

S: Ramjet tells him, “Good job!” and even calls him “little buddy.” 

O: Ramjet seems, like, not horrible in this. Good to know.

C: Spike, from underwater, hears them talk about the sulfur, potassium nitrate, and so forth.

O: How!?

C: It's the opposite of mansplaining: it's Superman hearing! 

O & S: [Laughter]

O: Oh, and then we cut back to Starscream who's now stirring a bunch of stuff in a giant fucking cauldron like a goddamn witch's brew.

S: Where did they even get a cauldron that big? 

O: Ye old cauldrons are us?

C: That had to be a thing.

O: [Laughter]

C: All of this has been to create gunpowder which Starscreams demonstrates by casually tossing some at a nearby wall.

O: You know, it strikes me he doesn't have very much respect for other people's property.

C: I mean, he's basically just in a giant, like, toy house as far as he's concerned.

O: True. 

S: Yeah, Spike arrives at the top of the tower but Nimue cheerfully tells him she doesn't need rescuing because her and Sir Wigend are getting married. They're gettin’ hitched.

O: Outside, the Autobots and Nimue's father are trying to lay siege to the castle. 

S: The Cons and their human allies start catapulting, uh, barrels of gunpowder into the- onto the Autobot forces, destroying their mobile siege tower.

O: Nimue's father asked how they're going to scale the wall?

C: Oh, no! If- if only we had some sort of large, mobile metal construction that could reach that height! Like a- like a man? Like a giant metal man? 

O & S: [Laughter] 

O: So Hoist uses his body to span the moat as Ramjet and Rumble continue to attack from the castle walls.

C: Rumble just starts punching parts of the tower wall down onto the forces below. 

S: Rumble, that is a terrible idea when it's your castle and then Warpath is protecting some soldiers who are so insignificant to this scene they didn't deserve color.

O: Or actual spears!

C: It's true, they're just- they're just not colored in this scene. 

S: Yep, Sir Wigend asks Wolfe for help but, instead, Wolfe yeets him off the tower. He's purple, so of course he does that.

O: Don't worry, he's fine, he landed in the moat!

C: They had parachutes, they all survived.

S: Spike walks out, stool in tow, and tells Wolfe that he has to deal with Sir Spike now.

O: Oh, you knighted yourself now, have you?

S: Fittingly, Nimue is actually the one who takes Wolfe out with the stool to the head.

C: Remember kids, it's not violence if, in place of guns, you use household objects instead. 

O: Hoist acts as their forces’ siege tower and the knights use him to scale the wall.

S: Hoist will happily assist but does not particularly want to do the demolition himself.

O: He does take some offense at Warpath using him as a step stool, though. 

S: Well, I think I would too. Warpath and Ramjet start beating on each other with big, ol’ wooden sticks.

C: Just like any schoolyard brawl between two boys.

S: Unfortunately, Ramjet wins this round because he's been able to charge more and, because Warpath runs out of energy, he gets tossed on top of Hoist.

C: In another scene, Ravage attacks Spike but is chased off by the owl from before, running away.

O: Ravage is super small here, like the actual size of a dog or jaguar compared to the episode where he kidnapped Chip and was as tall as Chip.

S: Merlin shows up and zaps Hoist and Warpath with lightning, which recharges their batteries.

O: Oh, yeah, magic fucking exists in this universe by the way!

C: Starscream just screeches about how, “Magic can never defeat science!” 

S: Oh, Starscream, you're about to be real disappointed real soon. 

O: Hoist and Warpath jump over the moat in vehicle mode, destroying Starscream's machine and defeating the Decepticons.

C: Afterwards, Spike laments that he didn't get the girl. 

S: What about Carly, Spike, what about her? [Specs Note: I keep forgetting that he’s supposed to be, like, 14-15 years old? Maybe 16? Dunno how much time’s passed since the Autobots woke up on Earth. It makes the entire situation weirder. How old is anyone in this episode?]

C: Ooooh.

O: Well, at least we don't have to worry about the time paradox of being your own great- great- great- great- great- grandfather now, presumably. 

S: Merlin tells them that they can get back home the same way they came here. 

O: Oh! But you remember that nugget from before? It's called a “dragon mound” because a dragon has moved in!

C: And with this revelation I feel the need to mention that this means that Transformers, G.I. Joe, and Jem all exist, canonically, in a world where magic, dragon[s], and time travel exists!

O: Don't forget Inhumanoids.

S: But apparently Mertin created it originally because- well, the time travel doohickey, because he needed a time travel device to get his fancy 20th century doodads.

O: As you do.

C: They arrive at the dragon mound and the dragon comes out pissed but don't worry, because Merlin's got a totally magic-based solution for this problem: Dragon's Bane.

O: Starscream is not happy about having to trust “unscientific superstition.”

C: But as Merlin lists off the ingredients of this ‘Dragon's Bane,’ it quickly becomes apparent that Merlin's 100% magical solution is actually just gunpowder again under a different name.

O: [Laughter] Warpath chucks the Dragon's Bane at the dragon, which explodes, and the dragon flies off. 

S: Then Warpath and Hoist go for some, you know, low fives. 

O: I legitimately think this is because they cannot raise their arms over their heads. One or both of them, I'm not sure. 

S: The Cybertronians, plus Spike, walk back through and arrive in the present.

C: Getting shot at almost immediately. 

O: Spike and Co retreat.

S: Starscream runs over and tackles Megatron asking if he's happy to see him. [Laughs]

C: And Megatron just screams and the episode ends.

O & S: [Laughter]

O: Yeah, yeah, I mean, that's what I would probably do if Starscream showed up, uninvited, and destroyed my victory or something. So join, at least, me and Specs, next time for The God Gambit. Everyone bow to your new god: Astrotrain.

S: And your new idol: Cosmos!

O: [Laughter] Yeah! And I believe Specs has some, uh, fanfics for us today.

S: Yes, I do. So the first fanfic recommendation is “The Human Condition” by Wayward. It's based on the G1 cartoon continuity. It's rated T, there's some minor slash, um, there are some very there's various pairings, it's- none of it’s explicit. Characters: Mainly the Decepticons, there's a few original characters involved, and also Merlin shows up.

O: Again! [Laughter]

S: At least once or twice, um. In summary, “The Decepticons have been struck by a terrible curse: They've been turned human. But will they look for a cure or use it to their advantage?” And recommendation, it's kind of a direct callback to this episode because of-

O: Merlin, I assume. 

S: Well, Merlin and also Starscream- well, how the episode starts off and, basically, why they end up cursed.

O: All right.

S: So, it's multi-chapter and it's complete, but it's in the middle of a series, so there might be some stuff that happens in it that ref- references stuff earlier in the series but it's been such a long time since I've actually read it that I'm not sure if you'd need to read early in the series but I think this can be read, um, on its own and enjoy it. But it's some of Wayward's earlier work and she’s still got it up on fanfiction.net but it's not the stuff that she's got on her AO3 account.

O: Gotcha.

S: So, I enjoyed it- it's fun, it's- it's just- it's a good read. And the secondary recommendation is “Novikov Principle” by Spoon888. It's also in the G1 cartoon continuity. It’s rated T, it's slash, uh, the pairing is Megatron/Starscream, and the characters are Megatron and Starscream with-

O: Double the amount of Starscream. [Laughter]

S: Yeah, double the amount of Starscream. And, in summary, “Starscream uses time travel and messes up yet another assassination attempt by accidentally jumping into the future instead of his past. He learns that his life to come involves a lot less universal domination than he would have expected and somehow that's worse.”

O: [Laughter]

S: So the rec is- ah, recommendation theme- it's time travel and also Starstream schemes, and it's a complete one shot.

O: Um, this one's great. I actually read it, um, I- I think an alternate either- either the author said this or somebody in the comments said it an alternate take is “Starscream traumatizes himself.” 

S: [Laughter] Oh, I didn't look at any of the comments but it was one that I enjoyed reading. And that about wraps it up for us today.  Remember to check us out on Tumblr or Pillowfort as Afterspark-Podcast for any additional information, show notes, or links we may have mentioned.  You can also find us on Facebook and Twitter at AftersparkPod (all one word) and various other locations by searching for Afterspark Podcast such as AO3, iTunes, Spotify, and Youtube, just to name a few.  And feel free to send us questions on Tumblr, or Youtube, or AO3!  Till next time, I'm Specs.

O: I’m Owls.

C: I’m Chezni.

S: Toodles.

[Outro Music]

[actutrends]

What to get your favorite NBA player for Christmas

NBA players are just like us — hoping and dreaming for the perfect gifts this holiday season. Here’s what your favorites are pining for.

Klay Thompson

A life-size, topiary chess set where each individual piece is also on wheels so that Thompson may shuffle them around on his own, or with a friend.

Nikola Jokić

Permission from the Denver Parks Department arborist department to go and chop a branch off a stately oak tree on Christmas Eve to burn as the badnjak in the Serbian holiday tradition. Why does he need permission if he’s such a bad boy, you’re probably wondering. Because bad boys care about conservation.

Kevin Durant

A night’s stay at the Plaza Hotel’s Eloise Suite.

LeBron James

Seriously? It has to be spelled out for you? He drops hints about it every single week on the exact same day. The trademark license for Taco Tuesday, signed and sealed by the USPTO, preferably on a heavyweight eggshell paper and inscribed in gold, how you get it to him his your prerogative but he would prefer it had delivered by Kia Silverbrook, the greatest inventor of the modern era with 3,847 patents filed and counting.

Giannis Antetokounmpo

Either a little mailer to go out to the wider population of Milwaukee with the phonetic spelling of his last name or for the Bucks organization to fund a series of robocalls out where his last name is repeated slowly, again and again, like a friendly incantation so people learn to say it already. He’s been playing there for over six years now it’s the least they could do.

Joel Embiid

A slide whistle. Don’t you think he seems like the kind of person who’d get right into that? Blocks somebody into oblivion — slide whistle. Dashes the hopes of a team — slide whistle. Watches Ben Simmons clank another jumper — slide whistle.

Kyle Lowry

A back support brace for when he needs to place the entire Raptors roster atop his.

Kawhi Leonard

The same thing he wishes for every year, a reasonable sense of accomplishment.

The Lopez brothers

Though of wildly different tastes, the Lopezes share everything, making them simultaneously easy to knock off your list but challenging to shop for. Brook wants glass blowing lessons, Robin will smash each and every molten creation. Robin wouldn’t mind a trip to Scotland, Brook is deathly afraid of the Loch Ness Monster. What to do, what to do? The answer is, and always will be, matching monster trucks.

Russell Westbrook

It has been a dream of Westbrook’s to walk down the tunnel in a full spacesuit, pantomiming that he’s left earth’s orbit and is free from its diminutive restrictions of gravity. Now being so close to Houston’s Space Centre, it seems this simple holiday wish may finally come true.

Ja Morant

A team of trained and certified firefighters to stand guard under the opposing basket with one of those nets for saving people who have to leap out of tall buildings so that his precious, spring-loaded legs may be spared from harm.

P.J. Tucker

A homemade, pancake of the month calendar.

Jonas Valanciunas

For Domantas Sabonis to realize he’ll never be able to out-tan the self-bronzed god himself and to stop hitting the beds so hard. It’s one thing to pass a deep tan in December in Memphis, entirely another to pretend it’s natural in early winter Indianapolis. Respect yourself.

Kelly Oubre Jr.

An array of masks he can wear to escape the scourge of being too beautiful all the time. He was thinking something silicone and realistic, but in a pinch would settle for Scream and Ronald Reagan.

Serge Ibaka

For once, someone to ask how hungry he is. That or a hat with a brim finally as big as his own ambitions.

Kevin Love

Have you noticed at all that Love seems to have his mind in another place on the court? And I don’t just mean “anywhere but Cleveland”. Truth is, after getting a taste of that life this summer, Love wants to be a cowboy. The wide-open spaces, the little doggies getting along, the mainly bean diet, the hats, the belt buckles, the fringe — Love loved it all. Still, best to ease into a total lifestyle change so for now, a cupboard full of beans will do.

Donovan Mitchell

Considering his public-facing penchant for them, Mitchell is actually terrified of spiders! He would like a day trip to Utah’s Hogle Zoo to visit with the arachnid keeper and get this phobia under control.

Kyrie Irving

While first avoidant of NYC’s iconic bagels due to their spherical, globe-like resemblance, he would now like to try one.

Jimmy Butler

A show where he goes to a new retirement villa in southern Florida every week and whips folks trying to enjoy their golden years in peace into shape. It’s called Going For Golden, Mark Wahlberg is the producer, and Wahlburgers are what’s on the menu, exclusively.

Damian Lillard

A cool motorcycle.

James Harden

He may be sponsored by BODYARMOR but this Christmas, Harden wouldn’t mind a drip of the real stuff. Like chainmail, Roman lorica hamata, or a full set of plate armor, or samurai scale armor, he isn’t picky but it has to be completely historically accurate so best to get a scholar involved and a gift receipt.

Evan Fournier

Where to find a decent bowl of beef bourguignon in central Florida.

Buddy Hield

Just once in his life for someone to be faster than him. Humility is a gift.

Paul George

Audiobooks. He listens to them when he warms up. The longer and more arduous the better. Think, every volume of the encyclopedia or the My Struggle series by Karl Ove Knausgaard, pretty interchangeable.

Steph Curry

A big, novelty-sized card signed by every player in the league thanking him for bringing about an entirely new era of gameplay. The holidays are a time to be gracious, after all.

Anthony Davis

A gorgeous, 7-foot tall vase.

Kent Bazemore

He would like a custom decal for his kitchen window, which looks out on Mount Hood, of a tiny little flag that looks like it was planted atop the mountain’s summit and says “Mount Bazemore”. He climbs it every day in his mind. Also, funny right?

Malcolm Brogdon

A six-point set of buck antlers mounted on a handsome, polished walnut board to hang on his wall.

Alex Caruso

A time machine so he can go back to 1947 and the inaugural season of the Los Angeles Lakers franchise, of which he was a crucial part.

Terry Rozier

A new nickname. “Scary Terry” worked in Boston, where success and fear go hand in hand, but now that he is in Charlotte he wouldn’t mind something a little more relaxed. Extraordinary Terry? Fiduciary Terry? Interdisciplinary Terry? You could maybe hire a poet or a copywriter, you could probably find one employed as the other in this economy.

Kemba Walker

The NBA has been spoofing these a bit already leading up to the holidays, which is where he got the idea, but a Rise of Skywalker poster where the Sky is removed and it’s Walker’s face, but on every character except Chewbacca.

Devin Booker

The only thing a permanently petulant, and permanently 16-year-old boy who has everything would or could want, the skin of the Suns Gorilla as a coat.

Andre Drummond

For Blake Griffin to no longer include him in his workshopping exercises. Drummond doesn’t have the stomach for roasts, comedic or large slabs of meat cooked over many hours. He doesn’t think the human body was meant to digest either.

Andrew Wiggins

An apology from Jimmy Butler. (Sorry Andrew, this is going to have the same result a kid wishing for a dog in a house full of people who are deeply allergic will).

Zion Williamson

In an attempt to keep Williamson’s holiday spirits up, his teammate Derrick Favors made him a little coupon book of “Derrick’s Favors” that Williamson can cash in whenever he likes. Some of Favors’ Favors include: “Smoothie King smoothie in Favor’s Favorite Flavor”, actually, the whole book is just Smoothie King coupons Favors cut out of local flyers. Most of them are expired.

Jayson Tatum

For Bill Simmons to stop sending him edible arrangements. He can’t get through that much cantaloupe in a week, week after week, no one can.

Steven Adams

Ever since Chris Paul gifted his teammates with custom-tailored suits, Adams has been finding the fits of his other clothes — the free ones he’s been given over the years — to be less than flattering. He would love for someone to custom tailor all of it. Custom-tailored t-shirt cannon t-shirts, custom-tailored flip flops, custom-tailored track pants, custom-tailored Rumble the Bison discarded jerseys because they wear the same size.

Seth Curry

World’s best brother award.

Jakob Poeltl

For “someone” (Patty Mills) to dress up like his beloved Krampus and chase him around until he’s screaming like his parents used to do back home in Austria.

Zach LaVine

He wouldn’t mind entering another Dunk Contest. It would be his third and he thinks that has a better ring to it. It’s not like he’s that busy with his day job. He just wants to be asked.

Tobias Harris and Boban Marjanović

Custom friendship necklaces that combine to make a basketball-shaped pendant, one side says, BE FRI And the other says, ST ENDS

Trae Young

Vince Carter keeps looking at him like he wants to transfuse his blood, so maybe a subtle screen of some kind he can put up around himself in the locker room.

Vince Carter

A transfusion of Trae Young’s blood.

Miles Plumlee

New shocks for his unicycle.

The post What to get your favorite NBA player for Christmas appeared first on Actu Trends.

[idolizerp]

[ LOADING INFORMATION ON MSG TRAINEE EUNJU…. ]

DETAILS

CURRENT AGE: 20 TRAINEE SINCE AGE: 15  SKILL POINTS: 04 VOCAL | 03 DANCE | 03 RAP | 05 PERFORMANCE

INTERVIEW

her trainers poke and prod and evaluate her every other week, with keen eyes and a familiarity with every aspect of her existence that she both fears and admires, and realize that what you see is what you get. it’s not a bad thing.

she learns her greatest gift is her charisma. she’s a beagle: naturally funny and generally easy to like and get along with - infectious. she’s upbeat and relatable, hip to fan culture and aware of what it’s like to be someone cheering in a sea of thousands of others, so they figure she’ll be well-suited for fan service and variety shows, a natural at aegyo and quick-witted to boot amidst her whimsy and coltish inconsistency. making people happy makes her happy and her stubborn temperament makes her eager to succeed - a rascal with a fighting spirit and an unshakable optimism. she’s youthful and approachable, nerdy and boyish but also bashful and feminine; paradoxical in her lack of poise and natural grace. visually, she promises conceptual versatility, but is generally consistent in her brightness during performances.

off-stage, they fear that her weakness is her sincerity, her reactions too authentic and raw, her emotions clear as day in any given situation. she can’t help but be herself and that’s dangerous. she practices, trains herself to be a closed book and only partially succeeds - she’ll do better, she tells herself, knowing all too well the backlash that idols get for breathing the wrong way in the public eye. she’s not quite poised and polite enough, perpetually the fifteen-year-old girl that walked through the doors those years ago. her parents warn her early on not to give too much of herself away.

it’s hard to look at herself critically, the way other people might interpret her; her only fear is coming off the wrong way.

BIOGRAPHY

one. she grows up in downtown buk-gu, gwangju, the first and only child born to a scrappy boy from seoul and a country girl who’d been born and raised in south jeolla. it’s fate, really, that brings them together or - rather, the fall semester at le cordon bleu, sookmyung academy. they fall in love over fine dining and the course of six months that are spent in bliss. they’re are engaged, young and dumb and expecting, before they graduate that same year. it’s fate.

she’s born a month early, just shy of the new year, frail as anything but loud. when the nurse checks her vitals, her dad sleeplessly jokes that she’d been sick of missing out on all the fun. her parents name her eunju and she falls in line as their pride and joy, a happy accident. oh eunju is a healthy baby, despite being premature, and save for a few allergies, her lungs are strong. she screams her way through infancy and comes out on the other side, spoiled rotten and utterly loved.

two. as a child, eunju thinks she’ll become a chef like her parents but they all quickly learn through trial and error that she’s much better with crayons and paper than she is with sharp knives and fire. she creates, with a passion matched only by her restlessness, shaky masterpieces that hang proudly on the entrance walls of her family’s restaurant. her grandma commissions paintings for pocket change and eunju glows, validated. she’s young but she flourishes, already a glutton for praise.

she’s raised on sunny summer afternoons shooting baskets with her older cousins, getting hoisted up on her dad’s shoulders to dunk balls into the ten foot hoop that had once upon a time seemed so impossibly high up while her mother and aunties titter over buckets of kimchi - red paste up to their elbows as they call her back inside to help with dinner; cold winters spent at the ice rink that quickly turn into every-other-week days where she gets lost in the sound of her skates on ice weaving through the candied beats of the stale pop music that plays on the speakers overhead. she sings along, remembers hearing stories about her aunt’s failed attempts at getting picked up by agencies in seoul in her prime. she boasts with little modesty that she’d been too much: too big, too loud, too imperfect to make it in a world like that. she’s proud of it, her failure. eunju thinks she suits nursing better anyway.

still, she watches music shows and buys merch and watches the idols glow and wonders what it’s like, mostly wonders what it’d be like to lock eyes with kim heechul.

three. things have a funny way of working out. it happens at a convention.

aside from being talented chefs, her parents have a passion for fan culture that eunju inherits. for her father, it’s his extensive collection of old foreign funk records, groups like the condors and the spinners that served as the soundtrack to her upbringing alongside the likes of kim nam mi and min hae-kyung; for her mother, it’s an extensive knowledge of male actors in dramas that eunju’s never even heard of. for eunju, it’s idols - and anime. she goes to fan meetings and cries over new hair colors and comebacks and learns the lyrics to ensemble anime openings, cosplays and does covers at school talent shows with little shame.

by now, she’s taken her passion for art and honed it into making fan content for the internet. she posts her tablet drawings and animations on tumblr, twitter and youtube under the pseudonym jubean_17 and gains a modest following for it, basks in the praise of strangers and builds a portfolio. her hard work comes to a head when she gets a table in the artist alley of an upcoming convention. she accepts the opportunity with the mindset that it’d look good on college applications; her eyes are set on seoul national university. (it’s a longshot.)

still, she’s anxious. eunju had made it a point to maintain her anonymity online, save voice acting in some of her original mini-projects, not just to keep her content as the focal point of her social media activities but to shield herself from the negativity that comes with having a public presence regardless of how small and to hopefully avoid the prying judgmental eyes of her schoolmates. she’s a young and insecure fifteen year old - and despite her ambition to make a living doing what she loves, she’s hesitant to put a face to the art. she’s personable but she’s shy and she frets over making conversation with strangers the entire trip.

regardless, the convention happens without any real hiccups. her best friend tags along for moral support and her mom comes along as a chaperone, hesitant to let her teenage daughter take a trip into the big city for the weekend on her own, and she does alright. they decide to celebrate a job well done with beef and it’s on the way to the restaurant that she’s scouted by a company recruiter.

eunju auditions with her friend on a whim when the convention comes to a close, waits in line for hours just to see if they could even make it. they do. it’s a once in a lifetime opportunity. things change.

four. she’s sure belting songs in the car with her friends and learning the dances from popular kpop groups doesn’t count as experience and it shows in the way she performs in her early days as a trainee. she’s sloppy and unrefined, a pretty face with pretty eyes and a personality with little else in the way of actual indisputable talent. her nights are spent with tireless rehearsals spent to catch up with her peers, she cries her eyes out but pushes forward determined to prove that she was worth the opportunity despite not working toward it her entire life. years on, she tries to find a balance but art takes a spot on the backburner while she works to become a better, more marketable version of herself, though she tries to maintain her abilities. it’s nice when she finds the time for both.

she wonders if it’s worth it.

the friend she’d come into the company with has long since parted ways, not fit for the critical evaluations, the diets, the deconstruction of old habits. it becomes expensive in more ways than one and eunju has to ask herself why she’s doing it all. life changes, she grows up quickly but hardly at all. it’s worse than she’d thought it’d be, but not impossible. she wonders a lot, but mostly if her stubbornness is the only thing keeping her here or, naively, if it’s fate. she wonders but then she gets her answer when she sings and dances and gets nods of approval when she shows growth, potential to be more than a sub member. her confidence grows with every bound she leaps and she’s learned by now how to make them like her. she’s mostly herself.

better, she loves who she’s becoming.

[flauntpage]

DGB Grab Bag: Three Stars of Comedy HOF, Ugly X-Mas Blazers, and RIP Johnny Bower

Three Stars of Comedy

The third star: Radko Gudas – We've all been there.

The second star: Tyler Seguin vs. P.K. Subban – It's the ol' last-off-the-ice superstition stalemate. Stick around for the twist ending.

The first star: Peter Laviolette and the Predators' coaches – The players bet the coaches that they could take at least five of six points on a tough Western Canada road trip. They did, so Laviolette and his staff had to wear these:

And yes, they made them wear them during an actual game.

The Inaugural Class of the Three Stars of Comedy Hall of Fame

Last week was the 200th edition of the Friday Grab Bag. The column has been running for nearly five years now; it dates back the Grantland days, made a brief stop at ESPN, and has lived here at Vice Sports for the last two years. Based on extensive customer research, for many of you it remains your Very Favorite Hockey Column to Read in the Office Bathroom After Lunch on Friday.™

That milestone, mixed in with the slowest week of the NHL regular season, would seem to make this a good time to unveil the first ever Three Stars of Comedy Hall of Fame. The three stars actually predates the Grab Bag itself, having launched as a monthly feature way back in 2011. And despite my occasional attempts to kill it when nobody is looking, the section continues to hold down the leadoff spot in the lineup.

Some weeks, finding three picks is easier than others. But certain personalities have done their best to ease my burden. That's where the Hall of Fame comes in. We'll do this HHOF style, with room for four picks per year. Ladies and gentlemen, the inaugural Class of 2017.

Ilyz Bryzgalov – The first star of the very first edition, Bryzgalov dominated the early days so thoroughly that at one point we tried to retire his number and eliminate him from future consideration. It didn't take, and even though he hasn't play in the NHL since 2015, he still finds a way to make periodic appearances. He's one of two unanimous picks for the inaugural class.

Phil Kessel – The other slam dunk pick, Kessel has appeared in the Three Stars section more than anyone else. Granted, some of those are cases where he's the butt of the joke, as everyone from Ilya Kovalchuk to Ryan Reaves has taken their runs at him. Sometimes he'll accidentally own himself. But in recent years we've learned that Phil can give as good as he gets, and then some. Here's all you need to know about why he's in on the first ballot: He's the only person to ever sweep all three stars in a single week. And he's done it twice.

P.K. Subban – Unlike Kessel or Bryzgalov, when Subban makes the Three Stars he's almost always in on the joke. And that's fine, because lord knows the NHL could use a few more guys with a sense of humor who aren't afraid to show it. Whether he's stealing The Rock's catch phrases, playing dress-up, or kissing Pierre McGuire, Subban's almost always fun. Even when he's sucker punching guys, he finds a way to make it funny. How this guy isn't the face of the league's marketing efforts in the U.S. right now, I'll never understand.

Roberto Luongo – Luongo is the Howie Morenz of funny hockey players, blazing the trail for the generations to come. It's easy to forget it now, but when Luongo first started using Twitter to make jokes, the idea of an NHL star trying to be funny was controversial enough that he had to pretend it wasn't him. But he's made regular appearances in the Three Stars ever since, with his best tweets often being the ones that poke fun at his own controversies, including his tire-pumping feud with Tim Thomas and his never-ending trade saga. And also, um, poop.

And that concludes the Class of 2017. The big omission here is Jaromir Jagr, who falls victim to the four-pick maximum. It was a coin flip between him and Luongo for the last spot, but I figure Jagr will be a unanimous first-ballot pick in the real Hall of Fame, which will probably slightly dampen his disappointment at missing out on a bigger honor here. Also, Luongo once let me play in (and win) his fantasy football league, so I feel like owe him.

Others receiving votes: Brian Burke, Joe Thornton, Wes McCauley, Taylor Hall, Darryl Sutter's face, Brent Burns, and Evgeni Malkin. Better luck next year, everyone.

Obscure Former Player of the Week

It's World Juniors time, with this year's tournament being held in Buffalo. It's always fun to browse through the list of the tournament's all-time top scorers; the list features plenty of future NHL superstars, like Peter Forsberg, Pavel Bure, and Eric Lindros, as well as some European players who never made it over to North America. But if you keep going, you get into the sweet spot of vaguely memorable NHL quasi-stars, like Michal Pivonka and Ulf Dahlen and Reijo Ruotsalainen. And you also find this week's obscure player: Finnish forward Petri Skriko.

Skriko was a teenage star in Europe, winning rookie honors in the top Finnish league in 1981. This was back when many European stars never made it over to the NHL, but the Canucks used an eighth-round pick on him in that summer's draft. It turned out to be a good gamble, as Skriko would have the second biggest impact on the Canucks of any 1981 eighth-rounder, just behind a defenseman picked by the Blues a few spots later.

That impact would have to wait, though. Skriko stayed in Finland until 1984, starring in a pair of WJCs along the way. But when he arrived in Vancouver, he fit in instantly, scoring 21 goals as a rookie and then following that with four-straight 30+ goal seasons. That included one stretch in 1986 in which he recorded three hat tricks in a span of eight days.

His production faded during the 1989-90 season, and he'd be traded to the Bruins the following year for a second-round pick. That deal ended up helping the Canucks down the line, as they used the pick on Michael Peca. Skriko helped the Bruins get to the 1991 Cup final before being traded to Winnipeg for Brent Ashton, had short stints with the Jets and Sharks before heading home to Finland in 1993 and then finishing his pro career in Denmark. He ended his NHL career with 541 games played, scoring 183 goals and 405 points.

Also, he had fantastic hair.

Be it Resolved

Last week was a big one for the Toronto Maple Leafs. Not only did they celebrate their 100th anniversary by pounding the Carolina Hurricanes 8-1, but they did it while scoring the 20,000th goal in team history.

Or did they?

Here's how the 20,000 breaks down. See if you can spot the problem.

Yeah, "shootout winners" aren't goals. I mean, they are, according to the league. For reasons that have never been entirely clear, the NHL awards the team that wins a shootout one "goal" in the goals-for column of the standings. That makes sense when you're describing the results of a game – you'd rather say "The Rangers won 5-4 in a shootout" than "The Rangers won 4-4 in a shootout," even if the fifth goal wasn't scored during the actual hockey portion of the game. But there's no reason to pretend that it was a real goal for deeper record-keeping purposes.

The NHL's always been weird and inconsistent about this. For example, they consider the shootout winner to be a goal, but don't give the guy who scored it credit for one in his personal stats. (A cynic might suggest that teams don't want their star players padding their stats with an extra half dozen goals a year and then expecting more money.) So it's a goal, but nobody scored it. That makes no sense. And they go the other way too, counting a shootout loss as a goal against even though, statistically, nobody let it in.

And it's not like this is all some sort of semantic argument, since goals for and against can come into play as a tie-breaker in the standings. That hasn't happened yet, but we have seen the league's weird shootout goal math decide the Jennings Trophy, so it's been etched into the record books already.

Needless to say, people who pay attention to this stuff were quick to point out that the Maple Leafs' stat wasn't what it seemed.

As with just about everything that doesn't involve bicycles, Dellow is right. Shootout goals shouldn't count towards a team's historical totals. So be it resolved: The Maple Leafs are well on their way to 20,000 but they're not there yet. Maybe they heard the complaints because they took a big chunk out of it with seven goals last night, but they're still 35 goals away. Real goals.

Classic YouTube Clip Breakdown

This week's YouTube clip isn't really a video; it's more of an audio file. But it's a good one, and under the circumstances I hope you'll indulge me.

This week's clip is Johnny Bower singing "Honky The Christmas Goose."

The hockey world lost Bower this week, as the Hall of Fame goaltender passed away at the age of 93. The rest of the week became a chance to mourn the loss of a legend, while celebrating a life well-lived.

Bower was one of the greatest goalies of all time, and quite likely the best of the 1960s, period. But somehow, that fact ended up being way down the list of what most people remember him for. In all of the many stories and tributes that poured in this week, the point that kept coming home was what a wonderful guy he was. For pretty much his entire life, Johnny Bower was just a very, very nice man. He didn't have to be, because he was a famous athlete and people were going to like him no matter what he did. But it seems like everyone in the hockey world has a story about Bower staying late to sign one last autograph or shake one more hand, or donating his time to a good cause, or having an encouraging word for someone going through a tough time. That's just who he was.

It sounds strange to say it, but it's almost impossible for a hockey player to be a universally beloved figure in Canada. The game just means too much to us up here. It gets too personal. We don't like to see fans of other teams get to be happy, so we instinctively dislike anyone who plays well for someone else. And it takes a lot to get us past that.

Put it this way: If I'm talking to a Habs fan who's getting a little too smug and I decide I want to knock them down a peg or two, I can come up with bad things to say about just about all of their beloved legends. Rocket Richard? He started a riot. Patrick Roy? He quit on the team. Guy Lafleur? What, you mean the guy from the Nordiques? But there's one ironclad exception: Jean Beliveau. No matter how much you hate the Canadiens, you can't find a bad word to say about Beliveau. That's just how it is. And Bower was the Maple Leafs' version of that. That's about the highest compliment you can pay a player.

On the ice, he really was one of the best, as this piece does a good job of showing. He ranks high on just about all of the all-time lists, both traditional and analytics-based. And while many have since been broken, he retired holding several goaltending records.

And of course, he left behind one record that will never be topped: "Honky the Christmas Goose."

You're listening to the story of Honky, a Christmas goose who struggled with his weight until he learned how to blow his nose. No, that doesn't really make sense, not least of which because geese don't have noses. Just enjoy the song and don't think about it too hard.

Honky was the creation of a CBC producer, and in 1965 he approached the Maple Leafs about having a player record the vocals. As Bower recounts it in this Toronto Star article, "He came into the dressing room and wanted to know if anybody on the team would be interested in singing these songs. I’ve never seen so many guys undress and get into the shower so quickly in my life!"

Bower ended up agreeing to do the song because, as the producer said at the time, he was basically "the friendliest man in Canada." There was one minor problem: Bower couldn't sing. But as longtime readers of this column know, that's never stopped a hockey player before, and the rest was history. (The children on the track are apparently Bower's 11-year-old son and some of the neighborhood kids.)

The song tells the story of Honky saving Christmas after Santa gets spooked by all the air traffic that's suddenly clogging up the skies. Continuing his long history of selfishly exploiting animals for their nose-based magic powers, Santa hires Honky to clear out a path.

"Rockets, kites and satellites." Yeah, I'm no aerospace engineer but I don't think there should be too many kites at that elevation. I'm pretty sure nobody in history has ever successfully got a kite twenty feet off the ground for more than six seconds before it nosedived directly down onto Grandma's head, so chill out Santa.

Luckily, the plan works and Honky saves the day. Finally, he'll get some respect, right?

"Though he is fat he is still some use." Holy smokes guys, Honky just saved Christmas for the entire planet, maybe ease up on the body shaming for one minute.

The record came out in November 1965, with proceeds going to charity. It was reportedly a big hit, selling 40,000 copies. They tried to get Bower to record a follow-up a year later, pitching something about "a pelican with a broken wing," but he knew how to quit when he was ahead.

For years, the song was lost to history, with only a handful of copies circulating in the pre-Internet days of the early 90s. But it's resurfaced since, and a new generation has had a chance to enjoy to story of Honky the Christmas Goose. If you can't get enough of the song, here's a clip of Bower performing it on stage at a children's benefit concert years ago.

RIP Johnny Bower. An all-time great goaltender, an even better person, and a passable singer. Not necessarily in that order.

Have a question, suggestion, old YouTube clip, or anything else you'd like to see included in this column? Email Sean at nhlgrabbag@gmail.com and follow him on Twitter @DownGoesBrown.

DGB Grab Bag: Three Stars of Comedy HOF, Ugly X-Mas Blazers, and RIP Johnny Bower published first on http://ift.tt/2pLTmlv