#(I got a sock machine immediately before our last move so it took a while to learn to use it on account of the... everything.)

[kirby-the-gorb]

[fruitcoops]

hi eve! i was wondering if you would be interested in writing a coops shower fic, nothing smutty, just really soft and sensual and maybe comforting. i’m going through a tough time right now and your writing always cheers me up. thanks <3

Yes! This was combined with an ask for Coops' first day/ night living together--I hope you enjoy! SW credit goes to @lumosinlove

TW for showering together (nothing smutty, just fluff)

They tumbled through the front door in a mess of laughter and rainwater—Remus’ soaked sneakers slipped on the floor and he skidded into Sirius, who was still blinded by the damp hair hanging in his eyes. “Shit!” Remus spluttered around his breathless grin as they struggled to keep their balance. “Baby, baby, grab the door—”

The front door slammed shut and steadied them just as another bolt of lightning cracked overhead; they stood in the entrance, panting and drenched, before Sirius’ chest began to shake beneath Remus’ cheek once more. “Mon dieu,” he snickered, leaning his head back against the heavy wood. “Which god did we piss off?”

“I’m taking this as a good sign.” Remus shivered as he shook his raincoat out on the welcome mat. “A fresh start, and all that symbolism.”

“Okay, college boy.”

He peeled one wet sock off and snapped it at Sirius’ hip, but the extra water weight made him miss by a mile and Sirius just shot him a teasing grin while he wriggled out of his tshirt. “I told you to bring a jacket,” Remus said wryly as his head got stuck. “But oh no, sweetheart, it’s totally not going to rain today. The weatherman is always wrong, it’s been sunny all week—”

“Alright, alright,” Sirius grumbled from the depths of wet fabric, waving one hand in his general direction. “You’re very smart.”

“Do you want first shower?”

Sirius’ cheeks were pink when he finally freed himself, both from his efforts and their mad five-block dash home. His brows furrowed in confusion. “Aren’t we showering together?”

Remus shrugged. “Hey, it’s your house.”

“Our house,” he corrected, taking the hem of Remus’ shirt and helping him pull it over his head.

A little flurry of joy ran through Remus’ gut at his words; goosebumps broke out over his freezing skin, and he could feel a dopey smile spread over his face. Ours. Most of his stuff had been living at Sirius’ for a couple days, but he had only brought the last of it over and dropped his key off with his landlord that morning. The last six hours had been filled with delirious happiness every time he remembered. “Then lead the way, captain.”

Sirius kissed his chilly nose and took him by the hand—both their palms were clammy and half-numb from the rain, and Remus didn’t care one bit. Stripping down was significantly more difficult when every article of clothing seemed dead-set on becoming a second skin, but after a handful of minor mishaps and more than one muffled curse, they were finally standing under warm water.

Remus closed his eyes with a sigh, letting the steam wrap around every inch of him. His apartment may have been comfortable, but it was severely lacking in water pressure and heat compared to Sirius’ house.

Our house.

He hummed to himself and stepped back until his shoulder blades were pressed to Sirius’ chest; there was a low laugh, then callused fingers running through his hair. “What are you thinking about?”

“Our house,” he answered, turning to stand on his toes and place a kiss to Sirius’ lips. It was chaste and unhurried; there was no time constraint on how long they could spend there. Remus didn’t have to worry about getting home too late, or whether he had brought enough stuff to stay the night. Everything he wanted was within reach.

Sirius smiled against his lips and draped his arms over Remus’ shoulders, tugging playfully on the wet curls at the base of his neck. “Good thoughts?”

“Always,” he said immediately. “This is…it’s so good, Sirius. So good. I am so happy.”

Their next kiss was deeper, but there was no real heat behind it, even as Remus curled his hands around the sharp peaks of Sirius’ hips. “I love you,” Sirius murmured when they pulled back for air. He bumped their noses together. “And I can’t wait to have you here all the time.”

“You don’t have to wait at all.”

His grin widened and he kissed Remus again. “I know.”

Remus nuzzled into the side of his neck and relaxed into the soapy slide of Sirius’ hand down his spine. He hadn’t realized how cold he was until the hot water started pouring over him, and sudden sleepiness trickled into the edges of his thoughts like rain through a gutter. The steam turned minty fresh as Sirius washed the expanse of his shoulders, then his neck, then all the way down each arm; he dropped a teasing pinch to Remus’ ass, but moved right back up to rub his thumb in the crook of one elbow.

“Do you want me to wash your hair?” he asked quietly against Remus’ temple.

“Mmm, please,” was all Remus could muster in response.

He had never really understood the hype about physical affection before he met Sirius. Sure, hugs from his parents and Jules were amazing, and fist bumps from the guys always made him feel included, but the gravitational pull Sirius had was like nothing he had ever felt. It was impossible to be uncomfortable if Remus was within five feet of him—impossible to feel unsafe when he fit so neatly in the dip of one shoulder.

“Love you,” he said around a slow exhale as Sirius began combing the conditioner through his hair. It was almost long enough to flop into his eyes, something that seemed to delight Sirius any time he saw it.

Warm lips brushed the shell of his ear for a moment. “You smell like la lavande.”

“Lavender?” Sirius hummed his approval and Remus raised his head just enough to kiss the water off his collarbone. “Do you like it?”

“Love it.” Sirius glanced down at him with a sideways smile, making one dimple pop. “Love you. Where did you get this?”

“Walgreens.”

That startled a laugh from him, which set Remus off as well. “Walgreens? Really?”

“I ran out one day at, like, midnight and it was the closest place. It smelled nice, so I just kept on buying it.”

Sirius shook his head with the same awed look on his face. “The secret to illegally soft hair is Walgreens conditioner. Amazing. My hair would riot.”

Remus frowned. “Your hair looks incredible even after you swim in salt water all day.”

“And then it tangles, and frizzes, and—” He paused. “Comment dit-on une colère? Like a toddler?”

“A tantrum?”

“Ouais.” Remus tilted his chin back obediently to let him wash the conditioner out. “It throws a tantrum. See, this is why I need you around all the time.”

“I have never seen your hair throw a tantrum before.” Sirius’ cheeks flushed and he bit his lip around a smile; Remus poked him lightly in the chest. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“That’s an awfully big smile for nothing.”

His silver eyes shone as he placed yet another gentle kiss to Remus’ lips through the water running down both their faces. “You get to see it all the time now. No more going back to your apartment after we go places.”

“You’ll be subjected to my bedhead every morning,” Remus teased, resting their foreheads together as he reached for the soap.

“I love your bedhead.”

“I’m counting on it.” He took the bar of soap and ran it along the planes of Sirius’ chest, then around his back to trace every muscle. He could feel Sirius’ gaze on him with each movement and warmed from the inside out at the attention. Every bit of rainy cold that had snuck under his skin vanished in the minutes of comfortable quiet.

Thunder rolled through the sky when they finally turned the shower off and wrapped up in Sirius’ fluffiest towels—Remus’ own were significantly less fancy, but they remained in the linen closet on equal standing. It was silent things like that that made him love Sirius just a little bit more.

“Wait, wait, hang on,” he said as Sirius started pulling his sweatpants on.

“Hey!” Sirius protested when Remus took both the pants and his soft tshirt right out of his hands, winding the towel back around his waist with an awkward hop. “I’m going to get cold!”

“Five minutes!” Remus called over his shoulder as he hurried down the stairs with their clothes. “I promise it’s worth it!”

It would be a drizzly night; grand plans of takeout and a movie ran through his head and he did a small happy dance in the laundry room as he tossed their clothes in the dryer. His dryer. Their dryer. “Mine,” he murmured, running a hand over the top of the machine. It was a wild thought, and one he would have to get used to. He still instinctively checked the clock from time to time before remembering that he would be staying for—

Forever.

The thought came before Remus could really process it and he leaned against the dryer with an unsteady breath. It was only his first real day in the house, and already he was thinking about…that. About staying forever. It wasn’t as scary as he had imagined.

“Mon loup?” Sirius peeked around the doorjamb in confusion, still fiddling with the tucked side of his towel. “What are you doing?”

“It’s a trick that I learned from my mom,” Remus said rather than getting into the specific train of thought that probably left him looking like he had been whacked with a frying pan. “Do you want to do takeout for dinner?”

“I…kind of wanted to get dressed.”

Remus patted his hip as he passed. “Five minutes, baby. Where should we eat?”

“You pick.”

--

Forty minutes later, Remus found himself tucked under the blanket his mother had given him when he went away for college with his boyfriend and a box of takeout Thai food. Their clothes were still warm from the dryer—he would never forget the pure bliss on Sirius’ face when he got dressed and was instantly cocooned in heat—and Sirius’ hair was still half-damp from their shower, curling in little wings over his ears. It felt like worlds colliding. Somehow, Remus was just fine with that.

“Hey,” he said quietly as the exposition continued on screen. Sirius glanced over with his fork halfway to his mouth. “This is perfect.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He looked around the living room—their living room—that had seemed so empty the first time he saw it. They could put pictures on the wall by the back door, and one box of his books still laid unopened by the shelves. He could bring out his grandmother’s quilt in the winter. A month from then, two months, ten months. “I’m happy here.”

Sirius’ breath caught for a moment before a hoodie-clad arm slid between Remus’ back and the couch and guided him over to rest his head on Sirius’ chest. His lips were slightly spicy from the curry when he kissed him. “I’m happy when you’re here,” Sirius said, hardly above a whisper. “I miss you when you’re not.”

Remus breathed in the smell of his—their—laundry detergent and felt his heart give a hard thump. “You don’t have to miss me anymore.”

“C’mere.” There was a shuffle as Sirius set both their food boxes on the coffee table and paused the movie, then shifted around so Remus was laying on his chest. He pulled the blanket all the way up to their shoulders and slipped one warm hand up Remus’ shirt to rest on the small of his back; his eyes were bright in the semi-darkness. “Stay with me.”

Remus didn’t hesitate. “Always.”

[hazbbyhaz]

sleepless || harry styles

twenty five

pairing: harry styles x OC

synopsis: the new girls first day

disclaimer: making fun of someone’s appearance

They slipped briskly into an intimacy from which they never recovered

-F. Scott Fitzgerald

Avery entered the small café shivering from head to toe. It was raining cats and dogs outside, the light jacket she had thrown on in a rush was completely soaked. As agreed upon the previous day, she arrived half an hour early to work. She could hear Tom's distant chatter as she made her way behind the counter.

"Avery, there you are!" With a smile on his face, Tom rushed from the back office to where Avery is standing. Avery took note of how nervous and jumpy he was, almost on edge, and only a mere second later she understood why. Standing only a few feet away from her was the new girl. She looks very pretty, with her hair tied up in a french braid, her minimalist clothes, and her pearly white teeth adorned in her smile, she was the poster for the cafe's target audience. Young, hopeful, and high off of the feeling of being alive.

"This is Sarah," Tom walks towards the girl and gently nudges her towards Avery. "today is her trial run for the job. If she does well, she will get the position." He continues and Avery can feel her body go into flight mode. The uncontrollable thoughts and racing heart only a second away from taking over. What if she doesn’t take me seriously? What if she is so good that Tom fires me? What if- all of those thoughts cease as she hears Harry’s voice ring through her head. You’re okay, Ave. With his words repeating in her head like a mantra, she smiles at Sarah, takes a deep breath, and lets those other thoughts go with her exhale.

"Hey, I'm Avery. It’s really nice to meet you!" She extends out her hand to the girl in front of her, focusing all her concentration on stopping its incessant shaking,but instead of Sarah returning the gesture, she simply looks at her outstretched hand before turning her attention back to Tom.

"So. how often would I be working?"

With a sigh, Tom runs a nervous hand through his already ruffled hair. "We'd have to figure that out. During the week, Monday and Tuesday are the busiest, so it would probably be best for you both to work together. On the weekend we will definitely need two sets of hands on deck. As for the rest of the week, we will have to work that out once we get everything set in stone.”

She nods, letting her eyes roam through the room before retreating back to his figure. She looked at him as if she were waiting for something, like she was executing him to say something more. "Right... so Avery will be the one showing you around this morning! I have to make a few phone calls before we open up for the day... Avery?"

"Let's begin the tour!" She murmurs quickly. Avery links her hands behind her back to hide their shaking that has yet to stop. Tom sends her a thankful smile and disappears into the back room, leaving Sarah and Avery to the day's task.

"So... uhm... the first thing done every morning is to set up the floor, we need to put the chairs down around the tables.” Avery explains, her voice breaking after every few words. “Our outdoor seating is stacked in the back since… as you probably know, it is winter…”

Sarah does not move to do anything, opting to watch Avery clumsily remove the chairs from the tables. The sounds of the chairs being put onto the ground was, unknowingly, making Avery jump "And then I put the menus on the table and a little candle cause uhm… it adds a nice, comforting touch."

"You're very jumpy" Sarah’s comment comes off cross. With her arms crossed tightly over her chest and the look of near disgust on her face, she continues to stare Avery down, demanding some type of explanation.

"Pardon?"

"You're like..." The brunette proceeds to pull her shoulders up, recreating Avery's uptight posture and her quivering hands. "and you speak too quietly. I really can't understand you when you don't speak up."

"Sorry..." Even with Sarah complaining about her quiet voice, her apology came out in a whisper. She hoped, more than anything, that the girl would stop mimicking her. She couldn't stand looking at it. She couldn't stand it because she knew that it was accurate. She knew that she really looked like that, she knew it, and even she hated looking at it. How could anyone stand to look at her when she can’t even look at herself?

"What did you say?"

"I'm sorry." She repeats, this time a bit louder. With a sudden wave of tears, her vision is becoming blurred, and her words are beginning to shake. She has not been picked apart like this in a long time.

"Are you gonna cry?" Sarah asks, brows raised and a devilish smirk on her face. What is she trying to do? Why is she talking to me like this?

“I'm not. " Avery quickly wipes her eyes before retreating behind the main counter, starting to turn on the various coffee machines and checking over their delivery reports.

"Aren’t you supposed to be explaining what you are doing? That’s what Tom said, anyway. " Sarah questions, sitting down on a bar stool in front of Avery, resting her elbows on the counter.

"I’m sorry, but I am not in the mood anymore," She continues to face away from the girl, focusing her attention on putting their baked goods into their display windows.

"Oh, is someone upset?"

"Please stop talking to me like that!" Avery exclaims, but her voice is still so frail that the message holds no confidence. It was more of a plea than a real request.

"I just think someone your age should be able to handle things better. No need to get upset over a simple comment." Sarah shrugs, but before she can say anything else Tom comes back with a confident smile on his face. Avery assumes that his call went well. She’s glad that something did.

"Alright girls, how is everything coming along?" His gaze switches between the two, Sarah has a beaming smile on her face while Avery’s eyes are so focused on a report that she is sure she could burn a hole straight through it.

"Great!” Sarah grins, gracefully standing up. "Avery and I get along great. I hope you consider for me this job, I really adore this little café."

"Oh well that's great!" Tom smiles. "I will get back to you soon about the position. Have a good day!"

"Thank you so much! You both have a great day yourselves!" Sarah grins, shaking his hand. "It was really nice to meet you, Avery." She adds before grabbing her umbrella and walking out into the rain.

"So, what do you think? Did she get the hang of everything?" Tom asks, taking over Sarah's place and sitting down on one of the bar stools.

"She's really great, Tom." Avery could hear the hesitancy in her lie, but she was glad that Tom did not pick up on it.

"Great."

"One bite" Harry argues, taking the pizza piece out of the cardboard box and holding it out to Avery just to see her shake her head.

"I'm not hungry, Harry" She murmurs , sipping instead a bit of her peppermint tea and leaning back into the cushions of the sofa. The small lie fell from her lips without a second thought, but Harry noticed it right as the words hit his ears.

Seconds after her shift ended at the cafe, Avery was rushing out the door. More than eager to retreat back to the safety of her flat. She hadn't been settled for more than a minute before Harry was knocking on her door. The unannounced visitor had her on edge, but opening the door to his calming figure holding a pizza box was a nice surprise.

"You need to eat something, Ave" He sighs, placing the piece back in the carton before sitting down next to her. The first thing Harry noticed after arriving at her flat was her demeanor. Her spirits seemed dimmed, her hands shakier than he liked, all the light had vanished from her eyes. Their dullness and pale tone of her skin made her look like that of a ghost.

At the party she had seemed fine, tired yes, but overall okay, and now she looked far from it. Harry immediately regrets the cup of coffee he brewed her the previous night, he had helped her with avoiding sleep. feeding into the problem that is so desperate for a solution.

"When was the last time you got a few decent hours of sleep?" He asks quietly.

"I'm not going to sleep," Harry reaches his arm towards her, trying to ground her, but she rose up from her spot on the couch too soon. His arm falling back to his side. He watched as she collected empty teacups, their saucers, and put them into the sink. As the faucet was turned on, sponge lathered in soap, Harry made his way to Avery's side.

"You need to sleep," He sighs, carefully placing a hand on her arm in an attempt to lead her away from the dishes.

"You look sick, love."

"I can't," She shakes his hand off, stepping back towards the sink. In a drowsy haze, she stumbled over her sock clad feet, almost hitting her head on the counter. Before she can comprehend what has happened, two arms lace themselves around her waist, gently pulling her into the safety of a warm chest. "please just leave. I’ll be okay."

Her pleas are softly shushed, Harry gently swaying them from side to side. With her back to his chest, Avery clings to his arms, her head falling to his shoulder.

"Look at me please...." His whispered request brings tears to Avery's tired eyes. She's too scared to look at him. To let him see her like this. She knows that once he looks at her he will insist on sleep. Part of her wants him to leave, solely because she won’t have to rest. So she can clean the few dishes in the sink, listen to the quiet murmurs of the TV set, and let her tears run freely. But she can’t, she knows that.

Harry can sense her quiet contemplation, so he gently turns her around, puts both his hands at the side of her face, making her look at him. His thumbs caressing the soft skin of her cheeks.

"I'll be right here next to you, okay? As soon as I notice there's something wrong I'll wake you up. I promise."

"You don't get it."

"No, I don't, but I'm trying. I just want to help you, Ave. This is not how you should deal with this... this is not how you should deal with your sadness." Harry whispers, pushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She looks shocked at his words, their honesty too loud to ignore.

"I'm not sad, not always."

"I know." He places a kiss on her forehead before pulling her small frame to his chest, still swaying.

"I don't want you to leave, Harry" Her arms tighten around him. "I didn't mean to say that."

"It's okay, we're fine."

Avery is the first to step back, glancing over the kitchen before grabbing Harry’s hand. She leads him over to the untuned piano, silently signalling for him to sit on the bench before laying across it herself, resting her head in his lap.

"Before we go to bed can you play me something on the piano? please?"

He smiles down at her, her tone holding a sense of innocence he had never heard from her before. One he assumes was taken away far too early.

"What song do you fancy hearing this late at night?"

"Anything you like, but with lyrics, please. I like your singing voice."

"I think that can be arranged."

As his fingers card over the keys so effortlessly, Avery blocks out all thoughts. Her mind free from any fear, any worry. Her only focus being his voice.

Today I met a woman, I don’t think you know...

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[seacottons]

The Art of Mischief

pairing: wooyoung x reader

genre: disgusting fluff. absolutely disgusting

wc: 4k ( idk how that happened )

warnings: some foul language

five times wooyoung pranks you for his annoying tiktok videos, and the one time you pay him back.

“Baby, I’m home!”

You were greeted with the sound of oil sizzling, and the smell of spices and meat as you stepped into your shared home with your boyfriend.

You bounced happily into the kitchen, sock feet thudding gently onto the wooden floor boards as you made yourself over to where your lover was stirring a pot of stew. Wrapping your arms around his waist, you tucked your chin onto his shoulder and stood onto the tips of your toes to glance down at the concoction he was preparing.

“What’chya making, Woo Bear?” Your grip around him tightened as you beamed, nose grazing the shell of his ear. You blinked as you peered expectantly at the silent, black haired male. His airpods nestled comfortably in his ears, dark eyes trained expertly at the meat and onions over the stove. He made no move or sound to acknowledge your presence, “Babe?”

Releasing your hold around him, you stood by his side, hip bumping into his playfully as you carefully tucked your head down and over the pans to catch his gaze. Suddenly, the ingredient list of the spice mix bottle became so damn interesting, as he examined it with a piercing gaze. The naive smile on your face drooped.

You wondered if San gave him something strange to smoke today.

Blinking in confusion, you tried again, voice softer this time.

With a wave of your hand in front of his face, you were sure he would snap out of whatever spell he was under, “Woo Bear? Hello?” He turned his back to you and grabbed a pair of silicone tongs to flip the slabs of beef, head bobbing to the sound of music playing in his ears, “Love, what’s wrong? Are you mad at me?”

You leaned towards him, brows shooting up in worry as his eyes drifted from the meat to the soup, hands working to lower the heat under the two, all the while ignorant to your presence. You shook his shoulder rather forcefully.

Your patience wore thin at this point. This was very out of character for Wooyoung. Where was the ceaseless teasing and the loud howls of laughter?

He even had the audacity to whistle whilst ladling a small amount of the kimchi stew he was brewing to give it a taste. This fucker.

Your hand flew to give his ass a loud slap as you croaked out in disbelief, “Jung Wooyoung, why are you ignoring me!?”

If your actions and words had any effect on him at all, he made no sign of it, and instead decided it will be a good time to season the soup with more salt. Giving it another taste test, you watched with a suspicious glare from his right as he slurped the soup quite noisily. You stepped closer, frame flush against his side as you leaned your face to silently squint at him, the tip of your nose just barely grazing the side of his jaw as you made sure to huff to showcase your anger. His brown orbs flickered to the right, and his jaw tightened in an attempt to contain his giggle. The muscles in his face strained as he pursed his lips harshly, breath hitching in his throat as you practically glued your face onto his own.

Wooyoung choked. He threw his head to the left, a mixture of a snort and cackle escaping his throat. You eyed him suspiciously as he hunched forward, hand gripping the edge of the countertop as he practically wheezed at your fuming face, “What’s going on-“

Your jumbled thoughts came to an abrupt halt, brows quirking up in curiosity as he pointed to one of the shelves behind you. Your eyes met the sight of his phone safely tucked against a few cans, camera facing you. Your lips pressed into a thin line as you gazed at him in unamusement, rolling your eyes as you playfully smacked him with the nearest hand towel, “That’s not funny. I was really worried you were mad at me, you bum,” you pouted against his lips as he held onto your frame whilst pressing numerous apologetic pecks onto your face.

“I’m sorry, but I couldn’t help but try that one on you,” he uttered against your skin, “You’re so cute when you’re worried.”

Golden beams of sunlight streamed through the thin white curtains of your room, the faint sound of birds chirping and cars honking waking you from slumber. Nestling further into Wooyoung’s hold, you buried your face into the crook of his neck, leg thrown onto his side as you clung onto him groggily. Pressing a soft kiss against the expanse of his neck, you mumbled a raspy ‘good morning’, lids fluttering open just a fraction before quickly fluttering back shut.

An extra half hour of sleep won’t hurt, seeing as Wooyoung wasn’t even awake yet. You adjusted your position, bed sheets rustling gently as you clung onto the male.

A dreamy smile found itself onto your features as you instinctively gripped onto him tighter, your breath fanning out against the shell of his ear.

Since when did Wooyoung go blonde?

Your puffy eyes fluttered open to gaze at the blonde strands tickling your nose, head lifting up in confusion. You swore he had black hair last ni-

You froze in dumbfounded disbelief at the sight of San underneath your frame.

Seconds ticked by, and your head tilted in confusion whilst also leaning forward, silently doubting your eyesight for a moment.

Why was San in your house?

Why was San in your bed?

Why was Wooyoung not in your bed?

It takes a few seconds for you to fully process the sight,the reels in your mind slowly churning after a long pause.

A pair of innocent brown eyes met your gaze, “Good morning?”

You threw yourself off of him with uncalculated movements that left you struggling with the the confines of the comforter, your bum thudding hard onto the carpeted floor as you emitted a wail of shock. Your hands slammed against your frame instinctively, shoulders sagging and lips parting to emit a sigh of relief at the feeling of clothes. You shot up and grabbed the unsuspecting San by the collar of his shirt, tugging him forward and demanding to know what on earth he was doing in your bed of all places this early in the morning. He squawked in astonishment, face contorting with fear and worry whilst pressing his palms against your shoulders in a failed attempt to keep you at bay.

“(Y/n)! Calm down- it was Wooyoung’s idea! I swear, I didn’t do anything—”

Your head shot up, and ironically enough, the first thing to catch your gaze was Wooyoung’s phone blatantly placed onto the middle of your dresser, the culprit weakly wheezing against the doorframe of your room, pained eyes glazing with unshed tears and visage a bright red from his silent and uncontrollable laughter.

“Baby- I’m sorry!” his eyes widened while watching you grab onto one of the pillows, weakly attempting to scoot back out of the room.

“Jung Wooyoung, you rat, you’re dead!”

“Baby!” you called out happily while slipping into a comfortable pair of slippers as you screeched into the hallway of your home, “I got you the strawberry croissants you were craving last night!” You peeked your head into your bedroom, eyes searching for the black haired male, “Baby?”

You paused as you heard the sound of running water and Wooyoung’s singing emitting from the bathroom. Knocking on the door, you cupped your mouth and leaned against the wooden frame, “Baby, I’m home! Don’t take too long!”

You giggled as he continued to belt out high notes as he showered, and you shook your head while making your way over to the kitchen to brew a batch of coffee to go along with the pastries you bought. A chime from your phone caught your attention. Absentmindedly digging through the cabinets, your actions came to an abrupt halt as you noticed a message from Wooyoung himself.

‘Baby! I’ll be home soon. Might stop to get us take-out~’

You quirked a brow, glancing at the time the message was sent.

Peering at the clock against the wall and back to your phone, your mind spun in an attempt to find a clear and rational explanation. You texted him back in confusion, the sound of his singing still audible from the kitchen.

‘I’m home? Aren’t you in the shower?’

You paused minutes after you loaded the coffee machine with water and coffee grinds to check on your phone, lips pursing in annoyance at the lack of response from your lover.

The scent of coffee wafted through the kitchen and the soft click of a door handle caught your attention, your heart practically skipping a beat in wonder.

Who was that?

You took tentative steps to peek at down the corridor, visibly taken aback at the sight of your boyfriend, “Hey, babe! I grabbed some chicken pasta and-“

“Wooyoung!?”

He gave you a quizzical look at the sudden volume. Walking over to you with a wary expression, he prodded your nose and shot you a grin, “The one and only. Want an autograph, babe?”

“If you’re here, then who’s in the shower?”

“What?”

“Someone’s in our bathroom! Who did you let in!?”

“What are you talking about, baby?”

You feel an onslaught of a headache starting. Why must your days always be this chaotic?

You rushed towards the bathroom with heavy thuds, the pads of your finger working hastily to unlock the knob with the lock pick you kept above the door frame. Swinging the door open roughly, your hands immediately grabbed the closest weapon— Wooyoung’s frilled toothbrush–, your eyes narrowing in suspicion at the shower stall, arms extended and ready to aim.

You were met with an empty bathroom.

You glanced at the shower stall— dry and without a speck of water. The sound of running shower head and Wooyoung’s angelic singing blasted out from a small, portable speaker.

Of course.

Of-fucking-course.

The sound of laughter behind you ceased your train of thought, and you peered back in disbelief as you grabbed the device, rushing back to your amused boyfriend, who had the time of his life nearly choking with laughter. You shoved the device into his face in accusation, and your eyes darted frantically to find sight of the—

The video camera San lets him borrow sometimes, sitting innocently in the corner of the living room.

You should have expected it from this persistent fucker.

“You’re unbelievable, Jung Wooyoung!”

Wooyoung begged and insisted on you joining him on his Instagram live where he promised his online fans a mukbang and session of him answering questions.

You complied as long as you didn’t have to appear on camera, as you preferred to eat without the eyes of many watching your every move.

Peering through his round spectacles at the phone facing him, Wooyoung’s brows raised in curiosity as he read through the many comments rolling past the screen. His messy locks framed his chiseled face, cheeks puffing slightly as he chewed on the kimbap he picked up from a nearby restaurant. Your hands appeared on screen as you reached down to grab at a piece from his side of the table, happily munching on the roasted vegetables and eyeing him with endearment as he squints at the screen of his phone, “Are you planning on adopting any pets soon?” he reads after swallowing. Clearing his throat, he swirled his spoon in the bowl of miso soup, eyes flickering up to glance behind his phone to meet your curious gaze with a flirtatious wiggle of his brows, “Why would I? I already have (y/n)?”

The piece of pickled radish nearly dipped down your throat wholly.

“Wooyoung!” you cried in disbelief, nearly dropping the kimbap in the shallow dish of soy sauce. You sent a swift kick to his thigh from underneath the table, a loud cry leaving his lips as his hands immediately flew to wrap around your ankle, tugging up your sock covered foot to showcase it to the viewers.

“It’s not nice to kick your boyfriend, (y/n),” Wooyoung shot you a mischievous grin, brows wriggling teasingly. You grumbled underneath your breath, and he cackled and reached over the tray of food to pinch your cheek whilst cooing obnoxiously loud, “Don’t be mad!” Rolling your eyes, you pecked the inside of his wrist before you retracted his hand away from your face to sip on your warm soup. Wooyoung leaned towards his phone with a large grin plastered onto his features “(Y/n), my cupcake. What did the soup bowl say to the other?”

“What?”

“You make miso happy.”

“That was horrible, Woo,” you mumbled, a failed attempt at hiding your face with a piece of seaweed.

“It made you smile,” he shot back, an infectious grin taking over his features. Standing up, he stretched his arms out before walking over to the kitchen, “I’ll be back! What drink do you want, babe?”

“Just water, please.”

You paused mid-bite as the lights of the living room flickered twice. You glanced outside to check the weather, brows quirking up in confusion at the sight of the clear night sky.

The lights flickered rapidly just before Wooyoung walked back with soft, padded thuds.

“Is this one of your pranks?” you grumbled, eyeing him cautiously as he settled the cup in front of you.

He appeared taken aback, jaw slackening as he quickly defended himself, “What? The water? I swear I didn’t put anything in it!”

“No, the lights-“ As if on cue, the lights of the living room and hall flickered repeatedly, “Oh-.. I guess that wasn’t you. We should get them checked out later.”

Well, that was quite odd.

“They were working perfectly fine all day, though,” Wooyoung mused, his phone catching his attention suddenly, “You guys think it’s probably a ghost? Yeah, could be.”

You scoffed at the ridiculous comment, heart beginning to race rapidly, “Ghosts aren’t real.”

Wooyoung pounded his fists onto the coffee table, the soy sauce and soup rippling upon impact, before he raised his chin and bellowed loudly, “Hey, ghost! Make the lights flicker three times!”

“Wooy-“

One. Two. Three.

You feel a part of your soul leave your body, your voice meek as you spoke, expression pleading for an explanation, “That was merely a coincidence..” you drawled out unconvincingly.

“You try, then,” he chimed, leaning forward with a taunting smile.

“Absolutely not.”

“Let the lights flicker twice on the count of three! One..”

“Wooyoung, stop. This is silly.”

“Two,” he gestured for you to continue.

Sighing at his playful antics, you rested your chin atop your palm as you pouted at the ebony haired male, “Three. Now can we..” your voice trailed off as the lights flickered twice more. The smile on your face instantly fell and you gave Wooyoung a wary glance, eyes widening comically, to which he guffawed in response.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he squawked, hands reaching up to adjust his red hoodie. His eyes glimmered with mischief, “Don't tell me you’re scared.”

“I’m not scared!” you cried incredulously.

“What if the ghost turned of all of the lights in the house?”

The live video suddenly darkened as all of the lights in the house flickered off. The sound of your wail in the darkness and Wooyoung’s laughter rung out, and his phone was the only source of illumination within your dark house. You quickly dropped your chopsticks to crawl from the other side of the table to latch onto your giggling boyfriend, “This isn’t a laughing matter!”

“Baby, why are you shaking?” He cooed, pressing a kiss onto your cheek, “Dont worry, I’ll fight the ghos-“

“Don’t say that word!”

“(Y/n), but you’re always so feisty. Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a silly little ghost?”

You buried your face into the crook of his neck, brows furrowed, “You provoked it! Now shut up and protect me.”

“Babe, it’s okay- I promise-”

You both startled when the lights flashed on, your breath hitching in your throat as you whined fearfully, “Wooyoung, our house is haunted.”

“Can I come out now? You promised me you’ll save some kimbap for me!” a voice suddenly chimed in.

You stilled, head peeking up from Wooyoung’s neck to look over his shoulder where a grouchy Yeosang walked out of the laundry room. You shot him a confused glance, eyes then darting to your boyfriend, who couldn’t help but shake with poorly contained laughter, “See, babe? Ghosts aren’t real. Yeosang was just playing with the electrical panel.”

“You fucking little-”

Swiftly tugging the hood up on his head, your fists clutched the drawstrings and pulled down so roughly that his spectacles flew into the air. Only his nose peeped out of the small hole as he cried in surprise. His arms flew to clutch at your wrists, tugging you down with him and out of frame from the camera, his cackles still audible through the thick fabric as he wrestled you down near Yeosang’s feet. The blonde merely stepped over the both of you, making his way over to Wooyoung’s spot to munch on the rest of the food, ignorant to Wooyoung’s pleas and cries of help as you managed to place him into a headlock.

“Let me move so your viewers can enjoy watching you get your ass handed to you,” mumbled the blonde as he glanced back at the commotion, cheeks round with food.

Wooyoung adored your baking skills as much as he adored you. He would constantly beg you to make his favorite pastries and insist he must have yours because the bakeries don’t have the special ingredient that is your love, babe.

Humming quietly to yourself as you peeked through the glass of the oven, you added another minute to the timer just as Wooyoung’s two friends entered the kitchen, loud boisterous laughter drowning out the soft music playing in the background.

“Thanks for inviting us, (y/n)!” Mingi ruffled your hair with a large grin plastered on his face. He jutted his thumb behind him to Yunho, who stood with a gentle smile on his face, “Your cookies are the best.”

“Our cookies!” Wooyoung yelped, “I helped too, y’know!”

“Wooyoung challenged us to a cookie eating contest, so I hope you made enough this time,” Mingi snorted as he peered back at the pouting male.

“I won three times in a row,” Yunho added smugly, “Your tiny man is going down, (y/n).”

“Oh great, that’ll be fun to watch,” you smiled as Wooyoung cried indignantly from where he was preparing the table with glasses of milk and a timer.

“(Y/n)! I thought you’ll cheer me on,” he feigned a hurt expression, arms reaching out to tug you flush against his chest.

“I will, as long as you don’t vomit this time.”

Wooyoung spluttered at the remark.

“Or choke on your milk,” Mingi added, earning him a glare from the smaller male.

You gently pried him off to check on the cookies, removing the two trays and placing them onto the countertop to cool, “You can have those batches. I have two more to bake, so it’s fine. Just don’t throw up like last time,” you warned as you shook your mittens threateningly.

Whilst waiting for the last two trays to bake, you put away the ingredients back into their respective spots, glancing every now and then back at the trio who settled onto the table with a camera facing them as they argued amongst each other who the victor will be.

A sudden, shrill shriek startled you, the bag of chocolate chips falling out of your hands in surprise. You swiftly turned around at the sound of your boyfriend’s wails, hurriedly rushing over to see what the matter was, only to yelp at the sight of a bloody hand and a tooth laying in his palm.

“(Y/n), are these chocolate chips made out of rocks?” Mingi asked in astonishment as you panicked, your hands scrambling for a kitchen towel.

“Wooyoung! What the fuck!” you cried out in shock, fingers clutching his face whilst ordering him to remove his hand from his mouth, “Baby- open up, let me see! You need to stop the bleeding!”

“Wait, does this mean the game is paused?” Yunho piped from behind you, ignorant to your frazzled state of mind. You had the urge to smack the two over their heads as you growled back at them with such ferocity it made them pale slightly, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Forget the cookies and help me!” you barked before you kicked the legs of Yunho’s chair before turning back to your boyfriend, whose scrunched face was still hidden behind his hand, “Wooyoung! Open your mouth!”

The anguish vanished from his face within a flash, and the hard lines softened as he flickered his eyes up to you, hand peering away to reveal a perfectly clean smile, “Gotcha, again, sweetcheeks.”

You gaped, your last braincell struggling to process the stunt this little fucker just pulled.

The other two snorted in laughter at your flabbergasted expression, before hastily clamping their mouths shut as you tugged on his ear dragging him to the side slightly, “You’re sleeping outside tonight, you asshole!”

“You didn’t!”

“I did.”

“I’m the luckiest boyfriend in the world, I-” he rambled through the speaker of your phone as you put away the last of the laundry, “(Y/n), babe- seriously, you’re the best. Fuck- I love, love, love you.”

“I love you too. Now hurry home or else I’ll give the tickets to Yeosang and San,” you laughed at the angered cry that left his lips.

You were lounging on the sofa when you heard the familiar sound of keys jingling and door slamming open. The peaceful atmosphere was bombarded with the sound of heavy footsteps and wails of excitement from the ebony haired male who swooped you into a bone crushing hug and attacked your face with fleeting kisses. You chuckled at his antics, hands gently prying his face off of your own so you can meet his gaze, “How’d you end up snagging them, baby? I thought they were all sold out.”

“I know a friend,” you leaned forward to peck his lips, “Check underneath your pillow.”

A second later you were left alone in the living room. You trudged after him with a mischievous smile, peeking your head in just in time to see his shoulders deflate, a crestfallen expression finding its way onto his features. He picked up the two scraps of badly cut paper, turning them over to examine them.

‘You’re being recorded!’ one read.

He pursed his lips, eyes catching sight of your propped phone on your dresser as he released a soft laugh, struggling to keep a smile on his features, “Ah, I get it. This is for all the times I’ve pranked you, huh?”

“Yup,” you chimed, arms crossed as you made yourself over to where he sat on the edge of the bed dejectedly, “I don’t mind your pranks, y’know? It’s your charm I fell for after all, but I just need you to tone it down sometime. And no more pranks involving you getting hurt!”

“I’m sorry,” his lips were drawn into a subtle pout as he traced circles with his feet onto the wooden floorboard, “I deserved this, I know. It’s okay. I’ll try and tone it down, though, baby. You’re just so fun to tease.”

“You are too, cutie,” you reached behind you to grab at something in your pocket, before swatting his nose with the object. He startled at the contact, eyes bulging as he stared down at your hand.

“Are those...”

“VIP tickets to see BTS, yes. Only if you promise to stop—“

“(Y/n!)”

You were interrupted by a sudden screech and a flash of blue tackling you down onto the bed, your words muffled against a pair of plush lips. Your shared laughter rung through the halls of your home as you struggled to keep an overly excited Wooyoung at bay, his lips persistently pressing onto every inch of skin of yours on display.

[moonbeambucky]

Turn Back Time

Pairing: Lance Tucker x Reader Word Count: 2617 Warnings: fluff, embarrassing moments

Summary: Theo's embarrassing mistake makes his parents wish they could turn back time.

A/N: We're skipping ahead to the future! This takes place in October 2039 and yes this is another Theo-centric drabble but it's fine because we love him. There are more mentions of The Price of Astrophile universe collab with Allie so don't forget to read Astrophile if you haven't already. Thank you to my love @all1e23​ for beta reading 🍕❤️

It’s quiet in the house, silent mostly apart from the gentle hum of the washing machine that fills the background as your eyes gaze over the pages of the sturdy book that rests in your lap. Your focus is interrupted every now and then when Cashew lets out a deep snore you’re surprised hasn’t woken him.

He’s curled up beside you on the couch with his head resting against your thigh. The book can wait so you’ve set it off to the side, rubbing your palm in long, gentle strokes along his body. It’s hard not to notice how he doesn’t climb up as easily as he used to. You vividly recall the day you adopted him and it’s hard to believe that was thirteen years ago but just like Cashew isn’t a puppy anymore, your kids aren’t children. 

Ariel is living in New York and though you knew this was coming for a long time you still miss her every day. It made sense for her to be there with more opportunities in dance. She was loving every moment training at the American Ballet Theatre.

New York had offered more than just dance, Ariel’s heart had been there ever since she met Ollie. You understood the difficulties of a long distance relationship, having done so with Lance for a while. It still amazed you though how dedicated they were to each other despite their age. Their friends enjoyed the convenience of being face to face while Ariel and Ollie spent more time having “dates” over FaceTime until they were able to see each other in person again.

Now you’re the one that has to FaceTime her, thankful that no matter how exhausted she was after a long day of dancing she always has time to speak to her parents. Lance knew the rigorous training she was going through, reminiscent of his own Olympic training. “You don’t have to call us every night,” he would tell her and while Ariel knew she didn’t have to, she could see passed the smile on his face knowing how much her Dad misses his Starfish. If a few minutes a day made her parents happy she would give that and more without question.

Seeing her over the phone was good but in person was even better and last weekend you were able to do that. It was her twentieth birthday and you and Lance flew up to celebrate. It didn’t matter that you last saw her two months ago, both of you hugged her like it’s been forever.

She was more than settled in at the Barnes’ house and you couldn’t thank them enough as they offered to have Ariel stay with them. You were certain Cassie had a lot of influence on their decision, emphatically telling them all the reasons why Ariel should live there.

Truthfully she didn’t have a lot of convincing to do. You and Lance were as close to the Barnes’ as Ariel and Cassie. You had a long discussion with them and they kindly offered Orion’s old bedroom. She had been living in the apartment above their bookstore for the last few years so they did have the space. Plus they considered Ariel family and they wanted to make sure she was safe as she navigated life in a new city. 

It was sad that Theo couldn’t make it and no one was more disappointed than him. He would use any opportunity to see his friends in New York and it killed him to have to miss this trip. Theo was training to become a lifeguard and his classes were every Saturday; missing even one would disqualify him from the program. 

He was able to FaceTime as everyone sang “Happy Birthday” to Ariel, watching her blow out the candles on the cake Cassie made for her. The phone was passed around so Theo could say goodbye to everyone, heat forming on his cheeks when Ori told him how much he was missed. His smile curbed just a bit when Leo grabbed the phone and teased that he wasn’t missed that much.

Theo was only alone for a few days and while some seventeen year olds with a house to themself might throw a party Theo was focused on practicing. He stayed long after class was over to continue swimming laps in the Olympic size pool. With his test coming up he needed to practice as much as he could.

The sound of the door shutting puts a smile on your face. Before he even announces himself you know it’s Theo, you can tell by the way he shuffles inside, dropping off his bag near the front closet like he always does.

Cashew slowly lifts his head up as Theo plops down on the couch. “Hey mom,” he said quickly, smiling at Cashew who slowly got up to turn and face Theo.

“You’re home early. I thought you’d be practicing some more.” 

He looked up from Cashew to answer you, still giving the good old dog scratches behind his ears. “They had some private lessons so I couldn’t stay. Did you have lunch yet? I’m gonna make something before I get into our pool, unless you needed it?”

You couldn’t help the smile on your face knowing Theo had grown into a kind and considerate young man; not that you expected anything else. You and Lance worked hard raising him and Ariel with manners and to treat everyone with respect

“I ate already, thank you Pumpkin.” Theo dropped his head to Cashew as fond embarrassment came over him at the sound of his nickname. “And the pool is all yours though I do wish you would take it easy. You’re sure you haven’t been pushing your knee too much?”

His shorts are bunched just above the scar from the ACL surgery he had earlier this year and the injury, although common, was devastating to Theo. He loved being active so bringing all of his activities to an immediate halt hurt more than the pop felt in his knee. He was eager to get back into everything which made you worry. Then again, as his mother you would always worry about him.

“I feel good, trust me Mom.” Theo reassured you with a smile. He got up from the couch and stopped to plant a kiss on your cheek before heading to the kitchen. You helped Cashew down, his nails tapping slowly against the floors as he followed Theo, hopeful and waiting for some food to drop.

As you were folding laundry you didn’t expect Theo to be there, startling you enough that a pair of folded socks went flying out of your hands. He laughed as he went to pick it up, snickering still as he asked, “Do you know where the Bluetooth speaker is? Mine broke.”

Pursed lips held feigned anger for Theo laughing at you but you couldn’t keep it up. “It might still be in the garage from the last time Ariel was home.” 

“Thanks,” he said, tossing the rolled up socks your way. He turned on his heels before backtracking, flashing a smile as bright and white as the freshly folded towel he took from the pile, throwing it over his bare shoulder.

Theo was ready to swim again, and not long after you heard music blasting from the backyard. Your pool wasn’t large enough to accurately practice the timed laps he needed to complete for certification but he was able to work on other things, like perfect all of his strokes and practice retrieving a diving brick from the bottom of the pool. It was a little awkward and Theo supposes that grabbing a person will feel just as foreign. Then again he’s kind of done it before.

Last year when his friends from New York came to visit everyone was helping Ariel pack up things for her move. Ollie even brought an extra suitcase so he could bring back some things in advance to ease the trip she would have to make the following month. As her best friend Cassie was at her side, holding the list Ariel made and rightfully ignoring it as she pointed at random things in the room to see if it was something Ariel wanted to take. (And no Cassie, there was no need for Ariel to take the pink bowling pin from her seventh birthday party with her to New York.)

Leo was doing his best to help, at Cassie’s insistence. He would much rather be hanging out with Theo who is much luckier than him for not having to help pack up. His eyes shifted to the open door, hoping the sound of the person coming up the stairs was Theo, or Ori even. It was a good thing Ariel’s room didn’t face the backyard because Leo would have been running outside if he got a look at what was going on.

Theo can’t escape the memory of the day he taught Ori how to swim. Somehow he was lucky enough to be alone with her, without Leo’s disapproving stare weighing him down. His own nerves were doing that for him but he pushed them aside as much as he could.

Ori was embarrassed, thinking she was too old to be learning how to swim at twenty-three. Her makeshift doggy paddle was enough to fool others into thinking she simply preferred the shallow end to stay near her younger siblings when they were little. 

The truth was the deep end was unpredictable. There were too many what-ifs and if Ori could not solidly control a situation then she simply wouldn’t go for it. But things didn’t seem as scary with Theo there. Maybe it was the look in his eyes, honesty swirling in the reflection of the water below them; or his smile, with kindness pouring out from the soft pull of his lips. There was no need to feel shame and with Theo she never had a reason to. 

It was one of the best days of his life, not only because of the time he was able to spend with her but because Ori trusted him. He kept her safe and taught her as much as he could before the sky decided to open up on them. 

Every time he gets in his pool those memories wash over him. Theo can’t help the heat that creeps on his cheeks, a minor distraction he tries to shake off so he could continue practicing. But when he remembers her scent, fresh lavender that’s soft and pretty just like Ori, it has him swimming through the clouds. 

It was hard not to think about Ori, she’s been on his mind ever since they met. He was a child then with a big crush on that pretty girl with the big smile and gorgeous eyes; but with every passing year his feelings have grown and Theo knows deep down in his heart there's a reason why he can't shake this crush. His mind drifts with hope for the future. 

Eventually he was able to focus, staying out there until long after Lance got home. Dinner was quick and you and Lance could see how much Theo had pushed himself all day. He was exhausted, unable to control his yawning in between chewing his food. The sun had barely begun to set when he said goodnight to you both.

The rest of the night was spent in bed, cuddling up with Lance as you watched a movie hearing the gentle patter of rain against the windows. Cashew was resting at the end of the bed, surprising you when he lifted his head up at the sound of the toilet flushing down the hall. 

“Good boy Cashew,” you cooed, leaning forward to pat his head, “You heard Theo, good boy!” It was nice, for a moment, to believe Cashew wasn't as old as he really was.

You settled back against Lance, feeling him press a kiss to the top of your head. His hand rubbed up and down your arm gently, reaching down to squeeze a handful of your bottom.

As you lifted your head up towards him, Lance’s growing smirk told you that Cashew might have to temporarily move to his bed on the floor. He leaned in to capture your lips, your need for him growing deeper until everything came to a record scratching halt. 

“Mmmm just like that baby.” 

You pulled away, puzzled by the foreign sound of a woman whose pornographic moans grew louder and louder.

“What the fuck? Where is that coming from?”

Both of your phones were on the nightstand untouched and the movie was still playing so it was unlikely that the remote had been accidentally touched. Lance chuckled as he sat back against the headboard, wishing you would get back in bed so he could pull those same sounds from you.

You scanned your bedroom following the lewd sounds until you stopped dead in your tracks. On the bathroom counter your eyes widened in horror, staring at the sleek Bluetooth speaker, the same device Theo was using earlier. Lance must have taken it back inside before the storm.

Your feet carried you in a hurry, jumping back in bed in a frenzy, disturbing poor Cashew as you buried your face in the pillow.

“What?” Lance asked, first with a laugh which faded into concern as you shook your head, muttering a slew of “no’s” into the fabric. “Y/N what’s wrong?”

Your head turned to the side, peeking one eye open at Lance who couldn’t stand the anticipation any longer.

“It’s… Theo.” Your face cringed as you said his name. “He must have been too tired before to disconnect his phone from the speaker…” 

Lance’s lips pressed into a thin line realizing he would have to handle this embarrassing situation since there was no way you could. 

It wasn’t that Theo wasn’t open with you. He never shied away from bringing Amber over the house, asking for your advice on sweet things he could do for her especially when they got back together but there were some things he definitely felt more comfortable talking about with his Dad. 

Lance let out a heavy breath, closing the door behind him so you didn’t have to hear that awkward conversation.

“Cashew help me!” you pleaded, patting the spot on the mattress next to you for him to cuddle.

He plopped down beside you, licking your face as you gently pet him. The moans abruptly stopped and you felt some relief though a bit of sadness lingered. Although Theo would always be your pumpkin he was no longer a little boy. 

“Theo’s all grown up now huh Cashew?” His head tilted slowly, a reminder that he too was all grown. As the door creaked open you lifted your head to Lance, hesitantly asking, “Everything good?”

He pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a small laugh, “Yeah... he’ll be fine.” 

Getting back into bed, Lance adjusted his position since Cashew had taken up a good portion of the middle. With Ariel in New York and Theo graduating next year it made you both realize just how much time had passed and because of that Lance didn’t take it personal when you snuggled with Cashew instead of him. He threw his arm over both of you, flashing that same smile that spoke the words he didn’t need to say. 

You were both feeling the same thing, the yearning of wanting to turn back time and not let your babies (and puppy) grow up as fast as they did. Or at the very least, remind Theo to disconnect his phone from the speaker!

[elwenyere]

A Very Small Grease Fire (and Other Human Disasters)

(Thanksgiving ficlet for the Stony and Avengers fam; also on AO3)

The Avengers didn’t have the best track record with Thanksgiving. The first time the dinner had ended in disaster, it had been Steve’s fault. One rainy fall Sunday, just months after the Battle of New York, Steve had been picking at a bowl of mint-chip ice cream, feeling tired of getting looks of sympathy about the holidays and absolutely exhausted by feeling sorry for himself. If Bruce and Clint hadn’t chosen that particular afternoon to ask him whether there was anything special he wanted for Thanksgiving – raising the question with just enough gentleness to make Steve’s jaw tighten – he probably would have said, “I’m a sweet potatoes guy” and left it at that.

Instead, Steve had been seized by a spirit of mischief. Putting on his most morose poker face, he had proceeded to invent a series of Depression-era dishes, from “Hoover Rolls” to “Poor Man’s Potatoes,” the recipes for which he concocted out of the blandest ingredients he could imagine. By the time he was in the process of describing his third Crisco-based dessert, Steve was sure he had gone far enough to reveal the joke; but Bruce and Clint had continued nodding encouragingly and jotting down notes.

The results had been borderline inedible. And even though the sight of Tony doubled over with laughter when Steve finally fessed up had thawed out a part of his heart he hadn’t even known was still on ice, the experience of eating a holiday dinner in which half the dishes tasted like over-starched socks forced even Steve to admit that the prank had been a bit of a Pyrrhic victory.

The second time…well, Steve would have said the second time was his fault too – though he supposed the rest of the team would blame the extremists who tried to kidnap the governor. Clint had just started basting the turkey when the “Assemble” alarm went off, and the team had to pile in the Quinjet to deal with a hostage situation at the capitol. It should have been an easy job – in and out with plenty of time to take the butter for the piecrust out of the freezer – but then one of the extremists had pulled the pin on a grenade just yards away from a state senator’s eight-year-old son, and four hours later Steve was waking up in the burn unit at Walter Reed hospital with the anguished sound of someone shouting his name still ringing in his ears.

“You fucking idiot,” the same voice had greeted him, and Steve looked up to see Tony sitting by his bed, the lines around his eyes drawn tight over a surgical mask. “You’re supposed to be a tactical genius, and you haven’t learned a single new method for containing explosives since basic training in 1943? I’m going to equip your suit with goddamn ballistic plates.”

“Tony,” Steve managed, feeling a halo of pain radiate up his scalp. “Are you okay? Was anyone hurt?”

Steve thought he saw something mist across Tony’s eyes, but he couldn’t be sure. The more fully he became aware of his body, the more he noticed the pull of his skin cells contracting in uneven loops around the burns on his torso, and it was taking a considerable amount of energy to keep Tony’s face in focus.

“Everybody’s fine but you, Steve,” Tony assured him. “And the doctors said you should be able to move to the general floor in a few hours. So shut those baby blues and let the serum do its job, because there’s a whole team of keyed-up superheroes waiting to see you, and they’re emptying the hospital vending machines fast enough to cause a run on the Frito-Lay factory.”

Steve had drifted in and out of consciousness for a while after that, finally waking up long enough to eat a holiday dinner of contraband take-out, which Natasha had smuggled into the hospital using only Thor’s tendency to knock over delicate instruments and Bruce’s oversized jacket.

“When you sign up to be an Avenger, no one warns you about doing overtime as a falafel mule,” Bruce had mused, leaning back to let Natasha steal a fry off his plate.

“I still think we could have gotten that eighth kebab if you’d been willing to consider pant legs as additional real estate,” she told him.

"You should all be eating stuffing and pumpkin pie,” Steve grimaced. “I’m sorry you’re stuck here on Thanksgiving.”

“Listen, Cap,” Clint replied, waving a dolma at him, “if you’re going to apologize for anything, apologize for the purgatory potatoes you tricked me into making last year. At least this year we have food that doesn’t have the texture of fast-drying cement.”

“Those tubers had truly been abandoned by the gods,” Thor agreed solemnly. “But I maintain that the Big Band Banana Pie was actually quite delicious.”

“Just don’t make the third-degree burns and hypovolemic shock a holiday habit, Rogers,” Tony put in. “Some of us are trying to watch our blood pressure.”

Tony had leaned over to adjust the settings on Steve’s bed as he spoke, and by the time he finished, a dull tugging sensation across Steve’s chest had loosened – the pain subsiding almost before Steve could register that it had been bothering him.

So that was why, after two years of throwing wrenches in the Avengers’ Thanksgiving plans, Steve was determined to make sure that year three went off without a hitch. He’d drawn up an elaborate plan for maximizing the utility of the Tower kitchen’s two ovens and seven burners and for optimizing the team’s various culinary skills. The operatives had been briefed the night before, and by 10:30 AM on Thursday, Steve was fluting a pie crust, Bruce was stripping fresh thyme leaves into an herb blend, Clint was whipping up a roux for the mushroom gravy, Thor was mashing potatoes and parsnips in an industrial-strength metal vat, and Natasha was dicing carrots and celery with a speed and precision that felt vaguely unsettling.

After checking the team’s progress against his itinerary, Steve turned to the next task on his own list: bringing Tony Stark his emergency coffee. Bruce had just made a second pot, and Steve poured some into the largest cup he could find: a purple novelty mug, featuring a drawing of the Hulk and the words “You Wouldn’t Like Me Without My Coffee.” He paused to tuck a few biscuits into a napkin (Tony’s relief at sighting fresh coffee sometimes opened up a narrow window during which Steve could feed him breakfast without being noticed), and headed down to the lab.

He found Tony standing with both arms braced against his worktable, designs for what looked like the paneling of Steve’s uniform projected in front of him. Steve cleared his throat, and Tony whirled around, the slump of his shoulders morphing into a graceful lounge by the time he was facing Steve.

“I was just about to come up,” he said. “I have a few finishing touches left here and then I’m all yours, Cap. Give me everything that can survive being the tiniest bit overcooked.”

Steve walked over to put Tony’s coffee on the table and then felt his breath catch in his throat when Tony reached out and took the mug from his hand instead.

“There’s no need,” Steve responded to cover his reaction, flexing the hand that had brushed Tony’s as he let it fall back to his side. “We’ve got the schedule covered for now. I was actually hoping I could talk you into a snack break.”

He waved the napkin of biscuits experimentally.

“Are you cutting me from the Thanksgiving roster, Rogers?” Tony asked. “Just because one time I set a very small grease fire – which I contained almost immediately, by the way.”

“The vase I broke when I sprinted into the kitchen would beg to differ,” Steve smiled. “But it’s not that. I just wanted to do this for you: a big dinner and sitting down with family.”

“For me?” Tony blinked at him. “Why?”

Steve started to cross his arms across his chest before realizing that he would risk crushing the biscuits. He settled for clasping his wrist with his free hand instead, widening his stance slightly and taking a deep breath. Come on, Rogers. Take it on the chin.

“Because I wanted to tell you that I woke up in this century alone,” he said, “and that you were the first person stubborn enough to make sure I wouldn’t stay that way. Now I wake up to a kitchen full of people who tease me about my lists but who know why I need them – who will eat dinner rolls that taste like soggy chalk just to make me feel at home.” He paused. “People who stay by my side for eight straight hours at the hospital.”

Steve looked up and caught Tony’s eyes, his heart rate picking up speed as memories of those same eyes flashed through his mind in quick succession: tearing up with laughter over a plate of cornstarched bananas, pinched with fear over a surgical mask, narrowed in concentration over the remote control for an adjustable bed.

“Romanov has an awfully big mouth for a spy,” Tony said with a rueful smile.

“I think it was a tactical leak,” Steve acknowledged, “to motivate her mark. She knew I needed a push. Because I’ve messed up the past two years, and I needed to tell you: pretty much everything I’m thankful for in my new life is here because of you.”

Tony was staring at him, his eyes darting quickly across Steve’s face as if JARVIS were scanning it for data. Steve held up under the silent scrutiny as long as he could before letting out an explosive breath.

“Anyway, sorry to interrupt you,” he said quickly. “You’ve got work to do, and I’ve got to go make sure everything’s on track upstairs. I’ll uh – I’ll have Bruce come get you when dinner’s ready.”

He started to make an about face toward the door, but Tony caught his arm and held him in place.

“Give a guy a goddamn minute, Steve,” he said softly. “I’m having to do a major cognitive reboot over here. It takes a while for the operating system to come back online. Just…sit down? Let me show you the new flame retardants I’m adding to your uniform.”

Steve complied. And as he watched Tony run through the specs, gulping coffee and nibbling absently at the biscuits, he realized that he knew what Tony was saying even before Tony finally spoke the words: “I’m thankful every time you wake up.”

[nsheetee]

6 Shots of Tequila

Pairing: Doyoung x Reader

Genre: College AU | Crack, with some Fluff

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: implied female reader, lots of alcohol, doie throws up, some swearing

Summary: After Doyoung attempts to impress you by downing 6 shots of tequila, he throws up on your skirt. And confesses his feelings for you right after.

doyoung is not a party person

never in his 3 years of college has he ever stepped foot into a party, or even thought about going to one

and now, on his 4th and final year, he doesn’t want to go to a party just to spite his friends and keep his streak going

but when he hears that you are going to his friends’ first party of the school year, he thinks again

he honestly hates the way he’s a fool for you, and he’s sure you don’t even realize it

doyoung has gone through (almost) his whole college career without catching feelings for someone

but the minute you walked into the class we has TA-ing last semester, he was caught by cupid, an arrow forced through his heart

it doesn’t help that you're in the same major as him

he constantly sees you in with his other friends that are studying in the same classes

you frequently ask him about the best classes to take in your future years

there isn’t a day that doyoung doesn’t interact you

and he loves hates it

so, like a lovestruck clown, doyoung sits on his bed in his underwear and socks facing his open closet, wondering what in the hell college students wear to parties that are held on wednesday nights

why is the party on a wednesday night??

don’t these kids have class tomorrow morning???

doyoung decides to screw it and picks a random button up shirt, tucking it into some pants he found, and buttoning every button

he walks into the party, the stares of his friends who are standing around the kitchen island are almost worth dressing up and coming here

“do my eyes deceive me or is that our doyoung?”

“alright, who paid you to come here?”

“no, what possessed you and made you come here?”

doyoung rolls his eyes at the various over reactions of jaehyun, jungwoo, and haechan, meeting them at the island and awkwardly looking over the copious amount of alcohol cluttered before him

“I thought I might as well try this party thing once before graduation.”

“seriously. what possessed you? do we need to have a quick exorcism before other people get here? I know this guy-”

“haechan.” doyoung warns him, and he leans away with his arms up in surrender 

the party kicks into full gear in a matter of minutes, the music in the living room turning up to the max, people showing up and taking back shots as if their lives depend on it

jaehyun made doyoung a drink a while ago, but it only took doyoung one sip to realize he doesn’t like it

“sorry...” he whispers to a house plant, pouring the rest of his drink over its soil after being blocked out of the kitchen and too afraid to go to the bathroom

“doyoung?” he hears a voice over the loud music, almost knocking over the plant and dropping his plastic cup at the same time

he turns around to see you smiling at him, his heart doing he stupid “du-du du-du” thing over and over again

doyoung thinks he might choke on his own breath as he notices you’re wearing a skirt, not something he usually sees you in around campus 

it takes his whole might to not stare at your legs

get a grip doyoung! you’re not even drunk, yet you’re acting like a major fool already

“h-hey” he curses his stutter and then straightens out his back, noticing the clear cup in your hands, signifying that there is no alcohol in it, “you’re not drinking?”

it’s not the greatest conversation starter, but doyoung is curious as to why you’re drinking water at a party like this

“yeah, I don’t drink. I came with my friend to make sure she doesn’t do something stupid that she’ll regret in the morning.” you explain, shrugging

your small act of kindness makes doyoung’s heart melt, and he mentally cringes at himself

before he can think of what to say next, haechan appears next to you both

“what are you two doing all alone over here? come to the kitchen, jungwoo is about to do shots!” haechan drags you by the arm through the kitchen door, effectively pulling doyoung with him without even touching him

in the kitchen, jungwoo has 6 shots of alcohol in front of him, winwin (a friend of doyoung who is also in his major) has a phone out with the stopwatch displayed on the screen

doyoung’s body moves by itself, placing him between you and haechan and effectively breaking haechan’s hold on you

he doesn’t think either of you noticed his actions, and he could hit himself for acting like one of those jealous freshman he sees around campus

winwin counts down and jungwoo takes back the 6 shots in 19 seconds, the crowd cheering for him as he sets the last shot glass upside down 

“that’s the new record everyone!” the students in the kitchen go crazy and ruffle a drunk jungwoo’s hair, slapping him on the back for his amazing drinking skills

“wow,” you call out next to doyoung, “he’s gonna have a headache tomorrow, but that was weirdly impressive.” you mindlessly comment to doyoung

but doyoung is thinking

thinking hard

“is there anyone who wants to challenge that time?”

“me.”

okay, maybe doyoung isn’t thinking at all

half of the crowd’s jaws drop when doyoung steps forwards (including yours) and the other half laughs, thinking it’s just one of doyoung’s dry jokes

“really?” winwin asks hesitantly 

“yeah, how hard could it be?”

doyoung feels confident one moment, but when 6 new shots are poured out in front of him and more bodies pile into the kitchen to see the infamous stick stiff doyoung take back 6 shots in less than 19 seconds...

he doesn’t feel super confident anymore

“hey,” you appear at his side, “you don’t have to do this. you can back out now.” there’s worry in your voice and concern in your eyes, but doyoung doesn’t want to back down

if this drinking competition is a way to impress you, then he’ll do it

no matter how stupid it is

“it’s okay. I got this.” doyoung voice is surprisingly smooth, until your hand lands on his bicep to give him a supportive squeeze 

he almost melts into your touch, getting one last bit of energy to pull him through the next few minutes

doyoung rolls up his sleeves and unbuttons the top few buttons of his shirt

then, the crowd counts down, and the timer starts

doyoung takes shot after shot, the cheers of everyone in front of him drowning out everything else

his throat is soar after the first shot but he keeps going, almost like a machine, drinking all of the alcohol in front of him

you’re absolutely stunned by doyoung

never in a million years did you think he would do something like this

you have to admit...

...it’s kinda hot

the way his forearms flex with every kick back of a shot and how his silver chains underneath his shirt tease his chest

you grow a little dizzy from watching him

doyoung lands the last shot glass upside down on the countertop, winwin stops the timer and laughs before letting everyone know doyoung’s time

“17 seconds”

the crowd goes absolutely mad, the small kitchen becoming engulfed with students of all ages cheering for doyoung

he holds himself up against the counter, and unlike the rest of the people in the kitchen who pay no more attention on doyoung, you notice his swaying figure and bowed head

grabbing his arm and pulling him out of the stuffy kitchen, you find your way to the balcony, opening the sliding door and closing it behind you

no one else is here, and the fresh night air hits doyoung across the face like a pillow, alarming but harmless

he breaths deeply, now leaning over the balcony, eyes closed and hair ruffled by the wind

you rub circles onto his back, a reflex from when you take care of your friend while she’s puking up her guts after parties, and wait a few minutes while doyoung catches his bearings

he stands up as straight as he can, wobbling on his legs as he attempts to look at you

“you’re so pretty.” he slurs out of nowhere, and you’re immediately taken back, heat rushing to your face at the unexpected compliment, “seriously pretty. do you know how long I’ve been wanting to tell you that?”

“t-thank you, are you feeling better now? I can always tell when someone is about to-” suddenly, doyoung hiccups and you take a step back

unfortunately, stepping back does nothing to shield yourself from doyoung’s throw up

most of the contents from his stomach end up on the balcony floor, but some land on your skirt as you hold onto him to keep him from falling over

your eyes screw shut as doyoung leans over, resting his hands on his knees, seriously winded

“c-can I tell you something?” he asks, seemingly unbothered by how he just threw up on you

“what is it?” you squeak out, trying to keep doyoung talking so he doesn’t pass out, since you know from experience that that’s what usually happens after throwing up

“I like you, like, a lot. you make me a fool for you, I just took 6 shots of tequila because I thought you might be impressed. I think I might do anything for you if you ask me too.” your heart starts thrumming in your chest at the confession, you try to hide the smile coming to your face as you open your eyes

doyoung is bent at your height, eyes glossy and half-lidded, lips dry from consuming all the dehydrating alcohol 

“I know I’m severely drunk right now, but I’m being 100% serious. I really like you.” you laugh at him, at how he still hasn’t realized he just threw up on you, and take a moment to feel the giddiness in your stomach and the stutter of your heart at his words

“let’s get you home, and tomorrow morning we can talk more about us? yeah?”

“wait. us? d-does that mean you like me, too?”

“depends if I can wash your throw up out of this skirt. it’s my favorite.”

----------

doyoung wakes up, barely, to a pounding in his head

he thinks it’s the construction outside that’s causing it

but he instantly remembers all the alcohol he consumed in a short time last night

he sighs

this is the worst part of drinking

he tries to rack his memories for what happened after the drinking challenge, but nothing comes to mind, and he wonders how he got home

a dip in his bed startles him and he opens his eyes, squinting against the bright sunlight coming into his room

but he’s still able to see you sitting next to him, the button up he was wearing yesterday over your frame, and the now very obvious indent in his bed of someone sleeping next to him last night

“morning. here, take this. it’ll make your headache go away.”

doyoung jaw is unhinged and you can’t help but giggle at his confused state

how in the hell was doyoung only just thinking and hoping of spending mornings like this with you less than 24 hours ago, and know you’re here

with him

in his bed 

in his clothes

doyoung doesn’t know what he did last night for this to happen

but he sure as hell doesn’t regret it

(yet)

[wordsfromthesol]

Out of Place (5/6)

Author: @wordsfromthesol Pairing: Dick Grayson x Reader Summary: Meeting Dick, and the rest of the batboys.  You’re confused, since you are nowhere near Bludhaven or Gotham. Some tragedies, some battles, etc. Happy ending because I’m a sap. Warnings: Language, blood, rape Word Count: 2.0k A/N: I’m almost finished with the story and hope to post the rest soon.

Part 1   Part 2   Part 3   Part 4   Part 6

You opened your eyes, and everything was black. You screamed for Dick, but no sound came. Frantic, you looked around until you saw light. Rushing towards it, you see yourself. Well a much younger you, standing next to your dad. It was Christmas, and the day he gave you the necklace. You were only five at the time, but he began explaining what it was.

Y/N. You are the light of my life, my sunshine. This will protect you throughout your journey of life. It will also, be a source of great harm. People will try to take it, but you must never give it up. You would not be alive, and neither would this earth, if you ever take the necklace off. I can’t tell you exactly what it is but know that Dr. Fate entrusted me with it. Now, I am entrusting you. Too many people are after me, my time may be up soon.

You awoke in another unfamiliar place. Though, this time, you were not afraid. It was dark, except the small glass room you were in. You were attached to more machines than you cared to count, and finally dressed in proper clothes…not the swim suit you had donned during your capture. You grasped at your neck, the necklace still there. Your head began to clear, and you noticed the pressure against your hand; leaning up as much as you dare, there he was. Richard Grayson, asleep against the bed. You gave his hand a light squeeze and laid back. He immediately shot up.

“Y/N?”

Eyes still closed, “I’m here Dickiebird.”

They had you in a medically induced coma for two weeks, in order to allow your body to heal. While you were stuck in your own head, you figured something out. The necklace, your dad gave you the necklace. You always wore it. That had to mean something. To Dick’s surprise, you asked for Tim next.

“Tim, right. That’s the other one?”

“Uhm, yeah…he was there. Why?”

“Get him for me sweetheart?”

Dick rose slowly and soon came back with Tim and Jason in tow.

“Wow, asking for my replacement, and not me? That hurts.”

“Jaybird” you smiled softly. Turning towards Tim, you usher him closer. The boys both exchange confused glances. You reach up and take off the necklace and place it in Tim’s hand. “Find out for me.” And again, you were out.

“Well, what was it? Why did she want you?” Jason questioned his younger brother, slightly hurt that his best friend asked for his brother instead of him.

“I…I don’t know. But I’m going to find out.” Tim held up the necklace to both of the boys. “Any thoughts?” They were just as confused as he was.

Tim scoured the internet and every database he could think of. Finally, information on a similar piece surfaced. “Magic…” He immediately rang Zatanna. There within minutes, she glanced at the piece and immediate shock hit her.

“Where did you get that?! Who did you take it off of?! I need answers now Drake!”

“Damn, what the hell is it?”

“Now.”

Tim points to the med bay. “I didn’t take it, she gave it to me.”

“No no no no no…” Zatanna snatches the piece and raced over to Y/N, securing it back around your neck. “Why, why would she take it off? Doesn’t she know?” Zatanna held her face in her hands. “Read me in. Now.”

Tim called the boys to the cave and they explained everything.

“It is an amulet of Eshu. The proclaimed wearer is offered safety from death, but if they take it off…well they could be lost on one of the 256 paths to the underworld. And even if they find their way there, they must then challenge Eshu. If they lose, they set the god of death and chaos free. My hope is, since she gifted it…and it only briefly disconnected from her, she has not been set on her path. I need M’gann.”

The Martian soon entered the cave, as Bruce and Damian walked downstairs.

“When did we send out invitations to the cave?” Damian scoffed as he stalked to the corner.

“What’s the news?” Bruce knew this escalated quickly, for so many parties to be involved. The situation was explained, and a plan formed. The combined powers of M’gann and Zatanna should allow them into Y/N’s mind and make sure she has not begun her path to the underworld. Dick was insistent that his consciousness be brought along.

Zatanna and M’gann worked together and suddenly…darkness. It enveloped the trio as their bodies fell to the floor.

“Where are we? Why can’t we see anything?” Dick questioned the girls, wondering if this spell even worked.

“I’m guessing this is what her mind looks like. It’s being lost on the pathways to Eshu.” Zatanna’s fears had been confirmed. “We have to find her, quickly”

“Look! A light!” Dick began to rush to it, before even waiting on his ride back to his own body.

“M’gann, do you see a light? Can you sense where Dick went?”

“Nothing. I see nothing. I hear nothing. We can only wait and hope that Dick is enough to pull her out. Her mind, someone has tampered with it. Only Dick was permitted in.”

Dick looked back, and the girls were gone. Guess he was on his own. He couldn’t lose her, he just got her back. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t. Dick followed the light, and it was revealed to be a memory. The same memory Y/N recalled, that fateful Christmas Day when she received the necklace.  He followed the young Y/N, and another memory surfaced.

Y/N was sitting on her bed, crying. She was a bit older now, Dick guessed about 8.

Why, why do we have to move dad! I don’t want to! Alaska is cold, and all my friends are here. I DON’T WANT TO GO!

Y/N, it is important we leave this place. It is no longer safe for you. For…anyone.

He glanced down at the necklace and quickly walked out.

Dick noticed tears forming in her dad’s eyes. Almost like he never wanted to give her the necklace in the first place. There was definitely more to the story, more than her dad was letting on. Again, the young Y/N took him through to another memory. Y/N was about 14 in this one.

Let go of me!

Dick cringed, he hated that he could do nothing. He just had to sit back and watch the events unfold.

I said let go! I don’t have anything to give you! Money? Is that what you want? Newsflash, I’m a child! I don’t HAVE any.

Money is that all you think has value, girl? Pathetic. The man grabbed her by the hair and threw Y/N on the ground. I want that. He pointed at the necklace.

Yeah, well you can’t have it. Y/N spit at his shoes.

Dick had to chuckle at that, guess she was always stubborn and snarky.

And just like that, the sound of a gunshot reverberates through the memory and everything goes black. A few seconds passed and the light returns. Y/N is still in the same alley, intact, with blood soaking her shirt. She didn’t know what to do except run. Y/N ran home, but afraid to go in looking like this, she climbed through her bedroom window and took off the shirt. There was so much blood everywhere, and a bullet wound still dripping blood from her abdomen. Panicked, she searched everywhere for a needle…and some fishing line.

Dick stood staring at the memory in shock. She should’ve been dead. She said she didn’t even know that fishing line would work.

A knock on her bedroom door interrupted his thoughts.

Y/N! You’ve been missing for days! Her mother ran in and embraced her child. Her father and sister quickly followed. Where have you been? Your father wouldn’t even let us call the police!

Y/M/N, there is a reason for that. One which I now must discuss with our daughter, in private. Y/N’s mother and sister quickly left the bedroom. Tell me.

Well…I…I don’t know. Someone was trying to rob me. When I had nothing to give them, well they wanted my necklace. Then all I know is there was darkness and then I woke up, covered in blood.

So, you don’t remember anything? Your time on the pathways to Eshu.

I don’t even know what that is dad.

You’re not ready. I knew you weren’t ready. I’m so sorry my sunshine. He calls out for Dr. Fate. Appearing almost instantly, he murmurs an enchantment and is gone as quickly as he came. Her father looked back at her. You got off on the wrong bus stop, Y/N. You were lost, but finally found your way home three days later. He turned and walked through the door. Y/N’s mother and sister came bounding in.

Y/N! What happened! How could you leave me here alone with mom and dad!

I got off on the wrong bus stop. I was lost, but I finally found my way home three days later. Y/N shook her head back and forth and crawled into bed.

Dick found the young Y/N tugging at his sleeve for the next trip down memory lane. But his mind, it was still in shock. How could her father do such a thing? Had Y/N relived these memories as he was doing?

Last stop. The young Y/N said just before she disappeared.

College, this was where Y/N went to college. Dick remembered the diplomas hanging on your wall. He was always so proud.

Michelle, I don’t want to be here anymore. This party is so not fun. Can’t we just go get wine drunk and watch a romcom?

Y/N this is a once in a lifetime party! We can’t leave now…that’d be like…a crime or something.

Fine. I’m going to find a drink that’s not disgusting. Y/N wandered through the party and finally found a passable drink. Or so she thought. Soon she was completely out of her mind, loosing clothes left and right. A sock there…her top on the counter. Dick didn’t know if he could bear to watch what was going to happen, but soon a sign of relief came as the drunken girl he loved so dearly wandered up the stairs and found herself a bed. She even locked the door, he was so proud. Until he noticed the memory wasn’t ending. Soon two guys knocked down the door.

Fuck man why did someone lock my damn door. He glanced at the helpless girl on the bed. Dude, she’s out.

Imagine what we could do. I’ve always wanted to try the handcuff thing.

You go for it. I’m going to find an open bed. As the man walked out, he screamed back to his friend, handcuffs are in the bottom right drawer!

Dick didn’t want to watch, but it seemed like every time he closed his eyes the memory stopped. Just to restart once they were open again.

The man fastened her wrists to the bedposts, just as she was starting to stir.

Fuck. Dick thought, he didn’t want her to wake up. He didn’t want her to have to remember any of this. He cringed through the rest of the horrid memory, his fists balling up…urging to punch something, or someone. Yet, all he could do it watch the love of his life struggle and cry against the assailant. The man finally passed out and you watched Y/N dislocate her thumb against the bedpost and pull her wrist through. She did the same with the other wrist. Finally, the memory faded to black. Dick saw Y/N, his Y/N sitting on the floor.

“Y/N! It’s me! Sweetheart, I’m here. I’m never leaving you, I’m here!” Dick raced towards her. He found her bloodied and battered, just as he had so many weeks ago in Ra’s al Ghul’s personal torture chamber. He bent down and held her close. “I’m never leaving you. We are in all of this together.”

“Good. I don’t want to remember this. Any of it, I only want you.” You sobbed into his chest.

“And you have me.”

[kittypeas]

An Agreement of Sorts

Summary: When Rey rejects Kylo’s offer, he has no one to turn to … and they say that an old enemy is better than new friend. Together with Hux they come to a certain agreement.

A fanfiction in which Hux and Kylo have sex but both ship reylo.

Warnings: dubious consent I finished it two years ago but somehow couldn't bring myself to translate it. Then, a week ago I just felt a need to UPLOAD THIS BEFORE IT IS TOO LATE.  A BIG "thank you" to @shadowlass​  for beta-ing this one for me literally in the last moment. You are amazing! <3

Hux was his first lover. He knew it the moment Kylo Ren looked him in the eyes.

He watched Ren take off his shoes and his many layers of clothing and waited until he stood before him completely naked. Hux would remember this sight. Supreme Leader had the body of a giant and a boy’s face; his strong arms shivered from the cold. Then he lifted his head and their eyes met, and Hux could see that he was afraid.

Never before had he seen Kylo Ren so unsure. Ren was quick and didn’t hesitate when he gave orders to drop bombs, or when he decided to negotiate, or even when they were forced to give up a planet and retreat. Hux had to admit that Ren has fared well in his role as Supreme Leader. Especially his decision to create an intergalactic network of orphanages and schools seemed promising, even though it had already consumed billions of credits; now, in addition to an extensive health care plan, psychotherapeutic droids were purchased for every school, each machine assigned to no more than fifteen students. It had cost them a fortune, but Ren’s intent was unwavering. It was a great PR move; people would see that First Order had something to offer, something far more valuable than the promise of freedom, a beautiful but hollow idea that cannot protect anyone from cold or satiate hunger.

But when Hux and Ren meet, they don’t talk about politics; in fact, they almost don’t talk at all.

Experience had taught Hux how to recognize signs of interest from a potential partner. But what he suspected from their first meeting and what became apparent not so long later was the fact that Kylo Ren wasn’t particularly attracted to men. Hux wondered why he visited him at all, if that was the case; of course, he wasn’t excessively concerned with Ren’s well-being. Simply, Hux liked puzzles, and this particular one still lacked a satisfactory answer. Also—he could openly admit it—he wanted him; when Ren proved to be such a treat, Hux didn’t see a reason why he should deny himself. They were both adults, and he assumed that each of them could take care of his own needs. Yet Ren’s needs were peculiar.

That first time, Hux thought that he had misheard him. They were lying in his bed, covered in sweat and still breathing heavily; Kylo was facing the wall and Hux looking at the ceiling when, suddenly, Ren said:

“Could you scratch my back?” After a long pause, he added, “Please.”

That was how they came to this special agreement. Ren walks inside his apartment without a word, passes him by, and heads straight to the bedroom. They both undress and Ren kneels or lays himself on the bed, exactly the way Hux had instructed him first the time, and he waits. He doesn’t look at Hux or try to change the position; usually at some point during the act he would grab his penis and start jerking off. Hux then moves his hand from Ren’s hip and places it between his shoulder blades—he learned this quite quickly—and slides it along his spine; when he grabs his neck and holds him tight, Ren responds with a moan or sighs, and comes. But sometimes he just lays there, completely inert, and lets Hux fuck him as long as Hux wishes; then they both collapse on the mattress, and Ren asks him to touch his shoulders or his back, an odd but harmless whim that Hux can easily satisfy.

Kylo says, “You can go to the bathroom first,” or he asks, “Where are the towels?” but every now and then he says other things. When he said, “My mother was on bridge of that ship,” Hux didn’t know how to react. But it turned out that this question didn’t need an answer, nor do the others.

Ren says, “How could someone who grew up on a desert planet know how to swim?” or “Could the First Order technicians track a smuggler’s ship?” Then he stays motionless for some time before getting up and dressing as if nothing has happened.

It had been like that for weeks. Ren always took the initiative: During meetings he looked in Hux’s direction, waiting for him to notice, or casts him a fleeting glance when passing by in the corridor. Sometimes he doesn’t do anything at all, but Hux knows anyway, like the last time, when their spies brought bad news about the “new Jedi,” that filthy sand rat. Ren smashed every object in the conference room into pieces, and two soldiers were sent to the hospital wing.

Hux awaited him that evening. He was finishing his third glass of brandy when he heard the whizz of the automatic door. He got up immediately, catching Ren in the doorway. He grabbed his tunic.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!”he roared into Ren’s ear. He would never dare to address him that way in public, but in this room, under his touch, it was as if Ren were on his leash. “These are my troops, Ren. Supreme Leader or not, you must understand that!”

“She was here, inside our ship,” Ren mumbled.

“Enough of this nonsense!”snarled Hux. He could feel his head spinning. “You pissed me off, and I don’t want to listen to you! Undress, now!”

But instead of waiting, he seized Ren by the neck and shoved him forward to the bed. He thought that Ren would fight him, but he didn’t; he fell on the edge of the bed and dropped to the floor. Hux approached him, knelt, and slid Ren’s trousers from his hips; he tried to remove them completely and he struggled to take off his shoes, but after the first one he gave up.

Hux took his penis into his hand and began stroking it urgently up and down. He looked around for the lubricant, cursing when he saw the tube standing on the dresser out of reach. Fuck this. He spat in his hand and hastily rubbed his saliva on his own cock. Then he grabbed Ren by the hips and entered him without any warning. Kylo breathed in sharply, but remained otherwise silent. All his muscles were tense, his spine twisted like wire. Hux pushed into him fast and hard until his breath became ragged and shallow, sweat dripping from his brow. Finally he came.

When he withdrew he saw a pinkish fluid oozing down Kylo’s thigh.

“Kriff…” he said with start. “Ren… you should have told me…”

But then Kylo started getting up from his knees and Hux saw his face;blood was trickling from his nose. Hux felt himself sobering immediately. How did this happen? He must have hit the bed frame when he fell.

“Get up, sit on the bed,” Hux said, and went to the bathroom. He took one of the towels, rinsed it in the sink and squeezed it out. He returned to the bedroom and sat beside Kylo. He sighed.

“It was not my intention to hurt you.” Hux said. Gently, he put the towel to Kylo’s lips and watched the white cotton turn red. “Causing you pain was never part of the deal. An apology is in order.”

Kylo sniffed, a wet, gurgling sound, and swallowed what must have been blood; Hux felt his insides turning. Instinctively he reached into his pocket for a cigarette. He picked one, fired it, and, laying down, took the smoke deep into his lungs.

“Do you want some?”

Kylo nodded and laid down next to him. His fingers were trembling as he took the cigarette. He brought it to his lips, but as soon as he inhaled he started choking and coughing. He returned the cigarette to Hux.

They stayed silent for some time. Hux saw that one of Kylo’s socks had come off together with his shoe. His trousers were still tangled around his ankles.

“Hux…” he said, looking at the ceiling. “Do you think I’m ugly?”

Hux glanced at him. He saw the scar on his cheek, wet, tousled hair not quite covering big ears, swollen, bruised nose that seemed to take up half of his face.

“Where did you get this idea from?” he said.

“Do you think…” Kylo tried again “That I could be considered handsome by some… be considered handsome by some girl?”

“I’m not an expert, but I would say that girls like emperors. Well, not all girls…” he added, thinking of Rey planting bombs in the cargo deck of their freighter. “Although I think that the idea to open new orphanages should help in this matter.”

“That’s exactly what I was thinking.” Ren murmured. “Hux, could you…”

“Massage your back?” he finished for him. Good, no more talking. Hux didn’t wait for the response. He put out his cigarette and slipped his hand under Kylo’s shirt. He put it just under his shoulder blade and felt Ren’s ribs lift abruptly with an intake of breath and fall shortly afterwards.

“No… could you hold me? Just for a while.”

For the first time in his life Hux was lost for words. Slowly he moved closer and embraced him. Ren smelled of fresh sweat and something that reminded Hux of either laundered cotton shirts or milk, but underneath he could also sense this indistinctive scent of hair and bare skin, similar to every person that he had ever held in his arms.

Although Kylo was now breathing calmly, half asleep, Hux still remembered his giant palms clenched into fists and that horrible sound when soldiers’ necks were being crushed by the grip of the Force. While Hux used to show a studied disregard for Ren’s special powers and most certainly wouldn’t admit it to anyone, he also had tried once to lift an empty glass from his desk with the sheer power of his mind, to no avail. Of course such silly ideas were excused by the late hour and the considerable amount of alcohol he had drunk that night. But truth be told, Hux had never understood the Force, and it was probably the only thing in the galaxy that he was afraid of.

At the same time he knew that it was not the Force sensitivity that made Ren truly dangerous.

When he closed his eyes a memory came back to him. He was maybe five years old then, and he was watching his father feed his dogs. In order to stir their ferocity, father would starve them for days. He was a cruel man, and the poor beasts howled and wailed at nights.

One of the hounds was chewing on a bone when small Armitage extended his hand to pet it. In a moment its jaws were clutched tightly around his wrist.  

The wound was later sewed up and bandaged, and his father said “Don’t touch a hungry dog. It may bite your hand off.”

Now, lying in the bed, he tried to keep some distance. He could feel Ren’s heart beating wildly in his chest and hear Father’s words ringing in his ears.

And, Hux thought, if it weren’t for this girl who seemed to preoccupy all of Ren’s attention, most likely he would go for his head instead.

Hux closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep.

[thatmultifandomhoe]

Strawberry Cream and BBQ - 19

Pairing: Hybrid Hoseok and Human Reader

Overview: Your best friend knows she can count on you for anything, so when she asks you to watch her hybrid while she’s gone for a study abroad trip for four months, you can’t say no. But when these four months are over, things have changed in a way no one expected.

Word Count: 2,283

Genre: Hybrid AU, Fluff, Future smut, Angst, Best friends to Lovers

Warning: Fluff, a little itty bitty angst.

Master List

Sneak Peak - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12 - Part 13 - Part 14 - Part 15 - Part 16 - Part 17 - Part 18 - Part 19 - Part 20 - Part 21 - Part 22 - Part 23 - Part 24 - Part 25 (Final) - Move in Day: A SC&BBQ Drabble

©thatmultifandomhoe Do not repost, translate, or use my stories without permission.

You held the laundry basket against your hip, arm stretched out to the side as you walked down the hall to the last room at the end of the hallway. An earbud was in one ear, listening to your favorite music, occasionally nodding your head to the beat of it.

Hoseok’s heat had ended the other night, making it the first time in three days that you got to sleep longer than a couple hours. True to his word, he hadn’t been able to control himself after marking you, showing you another side of him that you never expected but you greatly enjoyed.

Entering the room, you hurried the best you could to the only empty washing machine, setting your basket on top of it to claim it, wincing while doing so. The only down side to rough sex meant that you were sore, and having a mate who enjoyed seeing you covered in hickeys, also meant that underneath your clothes your skin was dotted with various purple love bites.

Inside the laundry room, there were six washers and six dryers, five of which were already taken. The complex provided the machines, but the tenants had to use their own detergents and softeners, which you didn’t see as a hassle as some of the older tenants did. Against the left wall was a six-foot table in length, and a handful of black folding chairs incase anyone wanted to stick around. But there wasn’t anyone else in the room despite the machines running, so you didn’t feel guilty about setting your basket on the table.

You hummed along to the song as you got the water running, turning to separate the clothes. For the last three days, Hoseok and you were stuck to staying in the bedroom for the sake of keeping the rest of the furniture safe from your sexcapades. He already lived up to his promise of needing a new headboard, and you weren’t even positive if the sheets were salvageable at this point. With a shudder, your nose scrunched up at the thought.

As the washer filled with water, you tossed in a load of dark clothes, a mix of yours and Hoseok’s clothing. This was perhaps, the least exciting thing you’ve done since he came to stay with you. But it was the like nothing had changed. You were still you, the same woman who hated throwing all her laundry in the wash at once, unlike your neighbors who would rather toss it all in instead of separating them.

Since the task was so simple, your mind wandered to Sue and your friendship. You weren’t ready to say that it was dying, but you knew that it was nothing like it used to be. It felt like you were seeing her in a new light, one that painted her in a new light. During the last three days, your phone and Hoseok’s had taken turns with receiving messages from Sue, sometimes only minutes apart as she alternated between texting you. For obvious reasons you didn’t respond back. The only time you even touched your phone was when Hoseok went to go get snacks and food from the kitchen for you during the breaks. He didn’t let you leave the bed unless it was for the bathroom, but that was because he saw how sore and exhausted your body was.

You couldn’t help but shake your head, remembering how he had whined when you tried to go to the kitchen the first time after the first couple rounds. He knew exactly what was going to happen but you were being stubborn. It was a good thing he was right behind you when you stood, legs giving out at your attempt to stand. You had to reassure him more than once that you weren’t in pain.

Speaking of pain. Reaching up, you gently touched the bite mark on your neck with your fingers, only flinching a little. It was still sore and needed time to heal. How long it would take, you weren’t entirely sure. A sense of pride rushed through your body knowing that his mark was permanently there. You spent years, trying and failing to find the perfect man, only to realize he had been there all along. Tossing in the last shirt, you closed the lid. Maybe watching all those romance movies was starting to reflect on your life.

“Oops, I didn’t know someone was in here.”

Turning to look over your shoulder, you watched as two women entered the laundry room. They appeared to be a mother and daughter, sharing the same brown hair and thin nose. You knew the mother; her name was Mrs. Whitney and she lived three doors down from you.

“How are you doing hun?” Mrs. Whitney asked, adjusting her teal framed glasses as she went to the dryer against the right wall.

“Pretty good.” You answered, smiling when she looked your way. “Just trying too find the motivation to get a majority of the laundry done today.”

Mrs. Whitney chuckled as she put a basket on the floor. “Mind sending me some of that motivation when you find it?” With a glance over her shoulder, she gestured to her daughter who was sitting on one of the chairs, her eyes glued to her phone. “Better yet, send it to my daughter instead. Somebody doesn’t know when to set her phone down and help her mother.”

You pressed your lips together to keep from laughing. Instead you grabbed your own basket and tapped your fingers against the handle to give your hands something to do.

The daughter, realizing that she was being spoken about, lifted her head and forced a smile when your eyes met. She appeared to be around your age, young enough to have pink highlights in her hair and get away with it, but you didn’t immediately recognize her.

“You asked for company,” she told her mother.

“Yes, I did,” Mrs. Whitney agreed. “But I was hoping that you’d put the phone away too, Beth.”

Beth rolled her eyes, but she did put her phone in her pocket. “What would you like me to talk about?”

Leaning against the washer, you felt a pang of sympathy for Mrs. Whitney. You weren’t extremely close to her, but you were friendly enough to stop and have a conversation with each other if you weren’t press for time.

“Well, I think we have a new tenant living on this floor. I’m not sure what his name is, but I’ve seen him coming in and out. He’s a hybrid.”

You tilted your head to the side, biting back the smile that threatened to take over your face. No matter where you went, Hoseok managed to be the main story to any conversation as of late. “Actually,” you softly interjected. “That’s Hoseok. He’s staying with me while Sue, our friend and his owner, is away on the study abroad program offered at the college.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed that Beth suddenly straightened up, her gaze focused on you.

Mrs. Wright on the other hand, just smiled. “Studying abroad? Well that’s exciting. Wait, Beth, don’t you have a friend doing that too?”

“Yeah, I’m friends with Sue too,” Beth explained. “She’s over in Hong Kong.”

If a dark cloud had the ability to form inside a building, you were willing to bet there was one hovering over your shoulder. You couldn’t recall ever seeing Beth, but the longer you look, she did seem familiar. She probably was friends with Sue. Even though it was a small town, the college attracted students from all over the state. If anything, you might have seen her in passing on campus.

There was just something about her that made your pulse race. Not like how it did when Hoseok was near. No. She gave you the same feeling you experienced every time you had to lock up the bookstore at night and had to walk around back to the parking lot where you kept your car. You felt nervous around her.

“Well isn’t this a small world,” Mrs. Whitney spoke, capturing your attention again.

You gave her a shaky smile, quickly nodding. “Yeah, small world.”

Shutting the dryer, she moved her full basket on to the table, pushing it against the wall to have space to fold her clothes. From what you could tell it was mostly whites and a dozen or two socks.

“That Hoseok, he seems around your age,” Mrs. Whitney sent you a knowing grin, obviously missing the mark that was on your neck. You knew that she meant well – things tended to go over her head sometimes – but she truly was a sweet woman. For the first few months after you moved into your apartment, she was the only one to say hi to you and offer help when you needed it. “Is he seeing anyone?”

Beth snorted, drawing her mother’s attention. “Might want to clean your glasses mom and take a look at her neck. He’s seeing someone alright.” As if to prove her point, she pointed at your neck, her eyes narrowing when you reached up to cover the mark with your hand. But Mrs. Whitney saw it before you could hide it.

“Oh, I didn’t realize…” Mrs. Whitney’s hands grip tightened on the washcloth she had been folding. “I’m sorry hun, I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.”

“It’s alright, Mrs. Whitney.”

The room went silent for a moment, the atmosphere so tense that it felt like it would suffocate you at any moment. Beth sat back in her seat, a smug grin on her face as she pulled out her phone.

“You know, he seems like a really nice man,” Mrs. Whitney softly said. “And as long as he makes you happy, then I don’t see any reason to dislike him.”

Looking up, you saw the gentle smile on her face that was meant just for you. “Thank you, Mrs. Whitney. Hoseok’s about the sweetest man you could ever meet.” Her smile widened as she began to fold her clothes once more, and you took that as your cue to leave.

You rubbed the mark once more before uncovering it, feeling Beth’s stare on it as you wished Mrs. Whitney a good day, hurrying out of the laundry room as fast as possible without drawing attention. Taking a shaky breath, your body moved on autopilot, the steps to your apartment already ingrained in your mind as your thoughts went elsewhere.

This wasn’t what you were expecting when you went to go do laundry. Obviously, there were still people who didn’t see hybrids as equals, but you didn’t think you’d run into someone who thought that way so soon. Especially someone who was a friend of Sue.

It didn’t change your mind or your feelings for Hoseok, you didn’t want to bother with people like Beth. What hurt was that she already had her mind made up about hybrids, and despite how sweet and understanding her mother is, she didn’t seem to be changing her mind anytime soon.

As you walked back into your apartment, you were still thinking about Beth when Hoseok walked out of your now shared bedroom, dropping a black garbage bag on the floor.

“Bad news,” he announced, scratching the base of his dog ears.

Raising an eyebrow, the corner of your lips curved into a smile as you guessed what was in the bag. “We need new bed sheets?”

“I’m thinking we should buy a bunch, that way if they get ruined, we don’t have to constantly go out to the store.” He had the decency to look partially guilty, but it was still amusing. Walking around the bag, he went to take the basket from you when he frowned, his tail stilling as he took in the not so happy look on your face. “Strawberry, is everything okay? If it’s about the sheets, I’m sorry. Ripping them was the last thing I planned to do.”

You shook your head though, effectively cutting him off. “No, it’s not that. Do you recall someone named Beth Whitney?” You asked, setting the basket on the floor. “Pink highlights, apparently a friend of Sue?”

He frowned as he thought about it, moving closer so he could slip his hand into yours. “The name sounds familiar, but I can’t picture her. I might’ve met her at some point, Sue and Colin always had people over. Why do you ask?”

“I ran into her and her mom in the laundry room,” you answered, stepping into his embrace. His arms went around your back as he looked down at you. “She was very interested in the fact that you were staying with me. Beth, that is.”

Hoseok tilted his head. “Well, that’s weird.” But he kissed your forehead and your body relaxed at his touch. These three days had been amazing, and to see you suddenly so sad didn’t sit well with him. “I wouldn’t worry about it though. She’s probably someone who’s nosey. Sue always had a few friends who couldn’t mind their own business. We on the other hand, have to go shopping for a new headboard and sheets.”

That made you chuckle, and as you went to retrieve your purse, you couldn’t shake the strange feeling. It was like a cold breeze that never died down. You tried not to think about it, and when the two of you left, Hoseok wrapped an arm around your shoulders as you headed for the elevator. His touch warmed you up, but you could feel a pair of eyes on you that didn’t go away until the elevator doors closed shut.

[defiblover27]

Head On

Chloe is a cross country runner and often goes on long runs when the sun is setting due to it being cooler.  She is a 20 year old 5 foot 4 with blonde hair and slender build.  When she was lacing up her shoes and putting her hair in a ponytail she had no idea that it was the last time she would perform these actions.  She left her house as the sun was setting and set out on her three mile run.  By the time she was two miles into her run the sun was already set and it was growing dark.  Suddenly a car came over a hill and came speeding towards her.  Before she could jump out of the way she was being thrown by the impact of the car.  She now found herself lying on the concrete in shock.  She tried to move her legs and get up but each movement caused her more pain.  A man who had just arrived home heard the prolonged honking of a car horn and went to investigate.  What he saw when he opened his door was something out of a nightmare.  There was a car crashed into a tree and a woman lying on the road not far from the car.  He called 911 as quickly as he could and begged them to hurry.

He approached the woman who was lying in a puddle of her own blood.  She tried to ask him for help but she could barely make a sound.  Chloe stared at him in fear.  “Please, I don’t want to die, please help me.”  The man was still in shock he tried to reassure her and then went to see if the driver was alright.  There was a 30 year old man behind the wheel and unconscious from the crash.  In a matter of seconds a police officer arrived on scene and first assessed Chloe.  “Ma’am I’m with the police department.  Can you tell me your name and where you are?”  Chloe was still struggling to breathe “Chloe... I.. I don’t know what happened.  Please, save me.”  The police officer could see a large gash in her abdomen and her right leg was bent behind her.  He grabbed the medical bag from his trunk and applied pressure to the wound on her stomach.  All the while his partner was attending to the driver of the vehicle. After banging on the window several times the man awoke. Dazed and confused he stumbled out of the vehicle and dropped a bottle of whiskey. The police officer made sure he wasn't injured before placing him in handcuffs. He was placed in the back of the police car and waited as the two police officers tried to save Chloe.   

Sirens in the distance got louder as an ambulance arrived on scene.  Sara rushed to Chloe and did a preliminary assessment as Dave retrieved all the bags from the back.  “My names Sara, I’m a paramedic, can you tell me how old you are please?”  Sara said in a calm voice.  “20, I’m 20 years old.  Please I don’t want to die.”  Chloe pleaded.  “Don’t worry we are going to help you sweetheart.”  Dave put the bags next to Chloe and retrieved the shears and began cutting away the tank top she was wearing.  He then cut off the athletic shorts to leave her only in a bright pink sports bra and black compression shorts.  Once the leads were attached the monitor whined to life.  Sara started an oxygen mask for Chloe and secured it to her with the green strap.  “We’re going to have to move your leg.  It’s going to hurt so I’m giving you something for the pain.”  Sara placed an IV in her right arm and gave her pain killers directly into the drip.  Sara grabbed her lower leg and Dave kept her hips in place as they slowly straightened it out from behind her.  Chloe screamed in pain as they moved it.  Once it was straight they had to put a orange brace wrapped around her entire leg.  Chloe was still in excruciating pain and the monitors showed an erratic heart rate.  They placed a blue and yellow C-collar around her neck before placing her onto the backboard.  Dave took the two orange blocks and secured her head to the board to make sure she couldn't move at all.The placed her on the gurney and loaded her up in the ambulance.  One of the police officers decided to ride with Sara in the back while the other stayed behind and investigated the accident. 

Chloe was still moaning in pain as the journey to the hospital began.  Sara was doing her best to stabilize her patient and keep her comfortable.  She knew she couldn't give her any more pain killers since she needed to be awake and alert during a trauma accident.  Despite being on an oxygen mask her O2 stats began to drop and she began fading in and out of consciousness.  Sara attempted to keep her awake and put the oxygen mask to the side and began bagging her with the ambu bag.  She squeezed the blue bulb every 3 seconds.  With each hit of air it let out a faint wheezing noise.  Chloe was not completely unconscious and her stats began to drop further.  Sara began to wonder why her O2 stats were still dropping and decided to intubate her.  She grabbed the largynscope from the drawer and opened up her mouth.  She slid the metal blade down her throat and intubated Chloe in a matter of seconds.  She secured it with a blue tube holder.  The police officer sat off to the side waiting for any orders.   “Shit.  She’s in V-fib”  The green line on the monitor started bouncing around as Chloe’s heart went out of normal rythm.  “Take this and squeeze it every three seconds” Sara directed the officer.  Sara took the shears from her pocket and cut away her sports bra revealing her C cup breasts.  She placed her hands inbetween her breasts and started CPR.  Each compression caused her entire body to shake except her leg that was in a brace.  After thirty compressions she placed two orange gel pads on her nude chest and charged the defib unit.  “Charging to 200.  Stand clear.”  The unit whined to life, Sara removed the two paddles and placed them on the gel pads.  The alarm went off indicating it was charged and Sara pressed the button to discharge the paddles.  Chloe shook on the gurney as the electricity coursed through her chest.  The monitor spiked for a second and then returned to V-fib.  Sara set the defib unit to 300 joules and resumed compressions.  Sara knew that a traumatic cardiac arrest with injuries like Chloe were usually fatal.  Once the unit was charged she swung the paddles onto her chest again and shocked her.  Chloe’s chest came off of the gurney a little bit more this time from the increased voltage.  The heart monitor showed asystole as Sara resumed CPR.  The police officer was clearly in shock as he was a rookie and had never seen such a young patient being resused.  He continued to do his task of providing her with air.  Sara pushed a round of epi into Chloe as she tried all she could to save this young girls life.  Each compression caused Chloe’s belly to extend slightly and her breasts to shake.  After another minute of CPR Chloe converted back to V-fib as Sara charged the paddles for the third time.  “Charging to 360, stand clear, shocking” a low thud was heard as Chloe was shocked and bounced on the gurney.  Sara stared at the monitor.  Finally it showed a regular heart rhythm.  “There you go kid.  Stay with us we’re almost there.”  She hung another bag of fluids as the officer continued ventilation.

The ambulance whipped around into the trauma bay as the doors swung open revealing two nurses that were waiting for their arrival.  The loaded up the monitor and the IV and then rolled her out of the ambulance.  The ER department was bustling with noise as they rolled her down the hallway.  They took her into the Trauma unit where the medical was waiting.  “20 year old female struck by a car going at an unknown speed. Laceration to the abdomen and an open fracture on the right leg.  She went into cardiac arrest en route.  Currently responding to pain stimuli.”  Dave informed the team as he removed the straps from the gurney in order to move her to the bed.  “Let’s hook her up to our monitors, lets hang a bag of O neg and get x-ray in here stat.”  Dr Micheal began barking out orders.  His team worked in almost silence as they each knew their own roles. One nurse took over bagging, another removed all of her clothing so she was nude with only her bright pink socks on.  They removed the bloody clothes that remained and threw them into a hazard bag.  Dr. Micheal moved back the bandages they had put on her abdomen to assess the damage.  “Looks like she may have some internal injuries, also concerned about blunt force trauma to the head and chest.”  As the x-ray technician readied himself the rest of the team backed away or put on a vest to protect themselves.  They moved the large machine over the bed and took images of both her chest and leg to get an inside view of the skeletal damage.  In a matter of minutes they put up the images on the light board on the wall.  Her right leg was completely shattered in three places and she had multiple broken ribs.  Dr. Micheal took his stethoscope and listened to Chloe’s lungs and heart.  “Diminished breath sounds on the right side, she has a collapsed lung.  Get me a chest tube kit.”  A nurse ripped open the kit as Dr. Micheal squirted betadine all over the right side of her chest.  He took the scalpel and made the first incision as blood started to rush out of her chest.  He inserted the tube and controlled the bleeding.  A large amount of blood began pouring out of the chest tube and Dr. Micheal immediately knew there was an issue.  “Start the rapid blood transfusion protocol” A nurse hung two more bags of blood as the team watched Chloe deteriorate before their eyes.  The heart monitor began showing an erratic heart rhythm and quickly went into V-fib.  Without anyone asking a nurse already started chest compressions and another readied the defibrillator.  With each compression Chloe’s breasts rocked from side to side and her belly extended.  A nurse put on two new gel pads as they had disposed of the ones Sara had used.  “Charge to 300, everyone prepare to shock”  As the unit sounded off the nurse backed away and Dr. Micheal placed the paddles on her chest.  “Shocking” Chloe jolted off the table momentarily before crashing back down.  V-fib stayed on the monitor as the nurse resumed chest compressions.  Another set of medications were pushed into Chloe’s IV.  Wires and tubes covered Chloe’s naked body as the team did everything they could to save her life.  “Charge again to 360″ the defib unit whined to life, he swung the paddles around “Clear!” he discharged the unit as she shook on the bed.  “Still V-fib start CPR again, push another unit of epi. What’s her down time?” Dr. Micheal commanded the room. “4 minutes” the charge nurse replied as she took down notes on all the resuscitation efforts.  The floor had already become littered with empty medicine boxes and the large amount of blood Chloe had loss.  A strong male doctor took over CPR and each compression made her entire body shake.  The only part of Chloe that didn’t move during the procedures were here head and right leg in the brace.  The defibrillator sounded off again indicating it was charged.  The paddles were placed back on her nude chest and shocked as her bloodied body jumped off the table.  The resus team hated what happened next as Chloe’s heart completely gave out and showed asystole on the monitor.  The screeching of the flat-line sent a chill throughout the room.  A young woman in peak physical condition was covered in blood and wires as her life gave out.  CPR was continued for another 6 minutes without any change in rhythm.  Dr. Micheal took his pen light and shined it into Chloe’s blue eyes.  “Pupils sluggish but still reactive.”  A ultrasound as brought in and used to find any cardiac activity.  The search showed that her heart wasn’t active at all but there was a large amount of blood surrounding it.  “I need a cardiac needle”  A nurse rummaged through the crash cart and gave the large needle to Dr. Micheal.  He placed the needle just between her breasts and directly to her heart.  He slowly pulled back the plunger as the needle filled with blood.  After draining the blood around her heart they push another round of meds and continued CPR.  Chloe had now been in cardiac arrest in the ER for 12 minutes.  “V-fib on the monitor, charge the unit to 360.”  Dr, Micheal placed the paddles once again on Chloe’s chest.  “Clear” Chloe’s arms jerked outward as her shoulders shrugged in with the shock.  “Charge again, all clear” The team backed away, some of them started to lose faith in saving this young girl.  “Shocking”  Chloe jerked again as her left leg slightly came off of the bed.  “Still in V-fib, resume CPR and push adrenaline.”  The team continued their efforts and shocked Chloe another two times.  “V-fib on the monitor, whats our down time?”  Dr. Micheal asked as her ordered his team around.  “19 minutes doctor”.  Thoughts began coursing through Micheal’s head again.  How could something like this happen to such a young girl?  Why is she covered in her own blood and dead on his hospital bed?  He had to push these thoughts aside as he refocused on the task as hand.  The defib unit indicated it was charged once again.  “Come on girl come back to us.”  Time always seemed to move slow during a trauma code.  He placed the paddles on Chloe.  The nurse in charge of ventilations let the bag hang next to her head from the tube.  “Clear”  There was a low thud as the unit discharged and Chloe sprung into the air once again.  Her entire body shook as she crashed back down onto the bed.  The piercing scream of asystole once again filled the room.  A nurse resumed CPR without having to be asked.  Dr. Micheal took his light pen and checked her pupils once again.  Her once glistening blue eyes were now glossed over.  Her right pupil was blown and here eyes were fixed and dilated.  The no longer responded to the light.  It was at this moment Dr. Micheal knew this young woman was truly dead.  He ordered the nurse to stop CPR and took his stethoscope and listened to her chest.  The rest of the team felt for a pulse in her foot, femoral, and carotid artery.  “No pulse, her pupils are fixed and dilated.  She has been down for 22 minutes and has blunt force trauma and large blood loss.  Does anyone object to calling this code?” The room fell silent as they looked down at Chloe. "Time of Death 11:27 pm. Thank you all for your help" Dr. Micheal left the room as two nurses stayed to clean up the code. They detached the several wires from her chest leaving only the electrodes. They weren't allowed to wipe off any blood as the police department had to take photos for the case against the driver. They took off her two pink socks and placed a toe tag on her left big toe. It dangled in front of her small foot. They removed the two orange gel pads from her chest and noticed a dark purple mark in between her breasts from all of the CPR. Finally they draped a white cloth over her nude body which quickly showed the blood soaking through. The monitors were shut off and she was left alone until the police and her parents arrived to discover the terrible news.

[elizabethrobertajones]

14x04 watching notes

Happy Birthday, Davy!

-

Mittens just ominously warned me to warm up this notepad while I waited for the episode to finish downloading.

The nice guy from the phone provider has recently restored our internet after 4 days of radio silence from me, but it's only about 4'o clock on friday, so really some good timing!

Expectations: pre-mittens warning, Davy back on his nonsense with the scary episodes and expected nonsense of sinking back into MotW after mytharc but in capable hands because, you know, new writing team is aces and all.

post-mittens warning: idk but I should get a stuffed toy?

-

That's a suspicious amount of ghost lore.

Has Heaven started dumping the spirits out now and if it really IS a ghost it's not going to behave properly?

-

Oh my god it's a Hell Hazers poster.

There was something I would have talked about pre-episode but had no internet so didn't, but the focus on Dean and nerds and the expectation that this episode would be about a comic book store, did remind me of 9x07 and the action figure which was all "i clobber evil!" and was a strong Dean mirror, including that he needlessly burned it on the stove to try and get rid of the ghost of the mom but it turned out she needed to be talked into letting her son let her go in a scene which has all sorts of shades of Dean vs Mary in 12x22 now and also Dean's entire mark of cain arc was in the self-destruction of his self as an action figure that clobbered evil. A reminder that Dean is this figure seems fairly timely with him coming down from being possessed, as of course he has been used as an action figure. And his willingness to turn himself into one in 13x23 was very much turning himself into the Michael Sword, which in this cosmos is practically like the rarest collectible action figure of the universe. This harks back all the way to the first season and Dean's issues with John's control and the whole blunt little instrument arc, also something that fed directly into demon!Dean, and is being reflected this season in Nick, who murdered a guy with a hammer, after his family was murdered by a hammer, and said yes to Lucifer because of all that angst about hammer murder. Subtle.

Anyway, this is sort of the emotional background to me for action figures in the show.

A Hell Hazers poster also reminds us that Dean is a horror fan, his own connections to the genre, a CLASSIC episode, and a time when he was living his best life briefly.

You know, before he sold his soul for *waves at previous big paragraph* reasons

Fitting for how season 13 ended with Dean this close to happy world peace retirement living his best life :P

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Awww the fake movie the MotW comes from is called All Saints Day. Davyyy :')

People I know who are born on like October SECOND consider themselves extra spooky halloween people. I can only imagine what it does, as a 23rd Oct. birthday person, to the psyche to actually be born ON it.

This episode's subtitle is just "Lol I have the best birthday, fuckers"

-

ACTUAL CLIP FROM 2x18!

And the fucking racist truck >.> Which in-universe was teased as another different movie using the footage in the trailer for Hell Hazers II.

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My mum has that exact Wonder Woman figure

-

This guy is wearing a trenchcoat-featured jacket with a maroon t-shirt under it. I could not tell you what he represents but the trenchcoat part is amusing.

I can't *actually* start saying everything is party!Cas symbolism though so I'll just shush

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Er this rando that people were saying was dressed like Sam from the promo images literally is called Sam, and she's wearing a very very loud checkered shirt, of course featuring a lot of orange. I'm guessing with that info it's next to impossible to say she ISN'T in some way a Sam parallel :P

Comic Book Guy is possibly caught in the middle of stealing an action figure, and I can't work out if he is just nervous about that or has a crush on Sam because his behaviour was so suspect, but from the promo scene where he looks a lil worse for the wear he talks about breaking up with his goth gf, and Sam is very clearly a nerd, not a goth.

(Goth nerds are things. The media will get there one day :P)

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Oh okay after a few lines of the exchange, yeah this guy is a dick, I have NO clue why he's wearing that coat symbolism wise, and Sam really ought to fire him because wow, uncool and also he seems to be a stereotypical nerdbro gatekeeper who would literally rather scare off customers but be right than just enjoy what they all enjoy together.

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Then he apologises for getting angry for saying he just gets spun out sometimes. Honestly, this seems to be crossing over into Dean territory considering the last thing from the recap was Dean being told he was like Michael by Bad Kaia and being really angry when he said he was nothing like him... He also used "spun out" about himself in 12x20 but in rather more tragic lost-Cas circumstances but obviously this parallel has a different lesson to tell than just making them equivalent. This guy is so awful and is using his anger in a petty way over things that don't really matter. He's getting spun out over made up battles rather than real angst, and whether he has his own underlying trauma that makes him behave that way or not, the straight white nerd is one of the secondary main villains of the century so far after the literal alt right, with some overlap of course. Think Kylo Ren as one of the dominant critiques of this behaviour :P Compared to the open of 8x11 for example, where the nerds were harmless weirdoes despite also being straight white and obsessive, the aggression and obsession are played not just as a harmless trait of people who like LARPing and collecting toys, but gatekeep, yell at kids over superman facts, and refuse to have their own dominance challenged.

Thinking he could fight superman might actually explain the Cas like jacket - it's too short to be a coat - that he idealises these heroes, is wearing Batman (who in pop culture most recently was around "v superman") and Cas of course has all his superman comparisons from both 6x20, and his rebirth in 12x01 where he came back to earth as a fiery comet and was immediately mistaken for a spaceman. There's some dark idolisation/mirroring here, that he's debating how to fight the guy (krytonite gloves = the BMoL knuckledusters) and at the same time mirroring the show's Superman in his dress. Only much, much lesser. More subtextual mockery about his weakness and how he doesn't really measure up.

I think in a lot of ways the discourse about nerds in pop culture is moving on now to  make this difference clear, that the ones who will be mocked are the ones who deserve it for being too cruel to respect, while in many other ways the mainstreaming of nerd culture into pop culture, meaning a large amount of it is no longer mockable, that everyone had at least SOME nerdy indulgences, means that in general nerdom is more accepted and exalted than ever. SPN obviously having its own deep roots into nerd culture has some direct room for commentary here, and this is also a way of reminding its own fans to be cool and not to be this guy.

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Oh, huh, he safely exited the shop. I did not see that coming.

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LOL he has batman bedding on a fold out bed in either a shed, garage or basement where he lives.

(This detail was tragic in Attack the Block but it's quite clear in this case the guy is fully grown and is being used as a detail to show his forward progression in life)

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Wow, you really have some rage issues here. Especially trying to wrangle free pizza i mean dude. Talk about a line that personifies him 100 different ways in one go :P Who shouts at their pizza delivery place?? They remember your number! This is how to get extra toppings.

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Oh my god please get beaten to death by this lil guy

(I know I know he survives he's in the promo)

Is this like... haunted kidney episode... but better?

Actually, Fallen Idols plus Mannequin episode but better.

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You know how we saw in the last new year? Watching Small Soldiers for the first time since like the 90s or whenever it came out

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The show's animation is so much better

Than Small Soldiers and itself from past years

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Oh DEAN

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I mean he totally deserves a day off.

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I can't believe he owns these socks. Who got them for him for Christmas?

Okay, well first we have to work out which was the last Christmas they had where they were not in prison or in an alternate dimension or dead or -

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Cas. It was Cas.

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He literally had no idea this wasn't just a cute commentary on how much Chinese take out Dean eats

-

Anyway as far as I can tell Dean is living out the bisexualdemondean header just to spite Michael for defiling his temple. He's filling it with noods and pizza (and I am sure he didn't yell at the delivery guy, but tipped him well instead for making drop offs at a shady street corner miles from where anyone lives)

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Honestly it's been 12 years since Hell Hazers II... What took them so long

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Dean's drunk a full thing of Margiekugle mom beer, which is a lil worrying just in terms of him using it instead of comfort from her like in 12x02, now that she's back.

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God I want Dean to meet the asshole from the comic shop and for him to get into a dick measuring contest about Hell Hazers II and Dean to be like uh I WORKED on it you ass

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Er, does that vending machine contain the nougat of choice of your consumptive son on the other side of the wall?

(who may be out with Cas concealing his consumption on a case so not bothered by all this TV noise)

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God I love and have missed Dean, my trashy guy who is sitting hugging a pillow like a teen girl at a sleepover to watch his hatchetman slasher to celebrate being back to himself and get the much-needed R&R, since, you know, last time we saw him he threatened to "break" Kaia and was in a very very bad place (lol)

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This guy about to get murdered for trying to snatch a nougat bar is dressed like the unfortunate bandmate (Tommy?) to Vincifer. Is this an oblique Ladyheart reference to set up a weird scenario where Hatchetman is punishing a Lucifer-adjacent asshole for trying to steal Nougat?

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I can't believe there's a red exit sign behind him which means Wanek is Waneking in multiple dimensions at once

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"Mint Condition" flashes up over Dean indulging in his pizza, saying, hey look it's our guy back in shape. Or, you know, ironically so. Either because Dean being Dean means eating junk food and wallowing because his husband has wandered off with the kid and isn't home to snuggle him while he does this mandatory bedrest, or because, of course, Dean is not Mint Condition at all. He's literally and emotionally scarred.

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I am pretty sure this shirt that Sam has on is 12 years old.

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Statistically, they're gonna get murdered in each and every one of their original Kripke era shirts until none of them are available to be murdered in later.

I say for no particular reason.

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Leave Sam alone. He doesn't shave you mock him, he does shave, you... also mock him. He was doing really well while you were gone! No one got even slightly stabbed who didn't deserve it! This is an all-time record. A beard is a price to pay for that.

-

Honestly I think Dean is stoned but they're not going to say so but I am treating this scene like it is.

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"I wanted to check up on you," Sam says, pulling over a chair. This is so like how he was in 14x01 when he was powering around the Bunker being the boss, and given Dean's been on bedrest, again, much-needed, Sam is treating him like another one of his charges, and once more is in a position of authority... But now, despite shaving to act like nothing has changed a bit more, he is the one in charge of Dean as one of his wards. Everything has changed. Your dynamic is actually wobbling in a weird way.

In season 10 when Dean was laid up with the Mark blues especially around 10x12, which this intro also reminds me of, re: Dean spending a week in his room and Sam popping in to check on him, Sam was still keeping a very wary eye on Dean more that he was a bomb that may explode, and that while he needed to be managed, the power dynamic was extremely, extremely horrifying in that if Sam messed up Dean would murder him. Not an ongoing implicit threat between them, but the knowledge that Dean could become a demon again and demon!Dean would attempt to kill Sam, and so Sam had better do his utmost to keep Dean in a good place. Even if it eventually meant a series of convoluted secrets to try and fix him against his wishes.

Obviously, things are different here. Sam has developed a LOT since then, with season 11 beginning a recovery of his character in tentative little steps which actually kicked off in season 12, and, specifically, in 12x04 under Davy Perez in American Nightmare heralding the new era of Sam focus and lovingly stroking his hair and lavishing him with Sam-sculpted episodes the like of which we hadn't seen all through Carver era.

Now when Sam comes into Dean's room and pulls up a chair and sits down to check up on him, he actually radiates a comfortable, competent authority to do so.

... however he is doing it in that pink shirt which I honestly love the concept of but just wish that I couldn't see Sam in 2x06 showing up in it for the first time, like, my brain is just screaming at him to go get a bunch more pink shirts and refresh his wardrobe

I'm so certain of it but now I have to check because 12 years is such a long time but

http://www.homeofthenutty.com/supernatural/screencaps/albums/SPN2x06/SPN_0060.jpg

Mittens yelled "OH MY GOD" when I sent her the link so I think I'm right

Like, conceptually in every way it's great because it's this long pink shirt that fits him well, fuck toxic masculinity, blah blah action heroes in pink shirts, love it love it love it, but also: it's another fucking plaid shirt Sam has owned since he was a gap-toothed child six years younger than Jack presents as

-

Dean is lacking his second bedside table, as he has been for seasons, but I'm just staring at him lying sideways on his bed, wondering about his set up, and if this is in any way similar to how he watched all those cowboy movies with Cas, since Davy, of course, was the one to suggest that they had been watching movies together.

-

"And... not that I'm complaining... House is full of strangers"

Yeah, we know you hate it, Dean. God, it's tragic. In a wonderful way. Sam's built this little empire for himself and it's on top of Dean's old nesting spot. Dean's been forced into his room not just to hide away because he's ashamed but because he doesn't want to be seen and there's too many strange eyes out there. However this resolves, it's going to force some growth. Honestly, as much as Dean loves this room and it means to us, it's also a bleak lonely spot and in the like 7 years they've had the Bunker, Dean's never hooked up in that bed, while it has come to be very much like, well... The bed of an angry nerd living in a basement still using Batman sheets. Again, dark parallels, but of Dean in a dark place.

I'd love if he moved out and got a house in the suburbs.

I mean.

Cas has a house in the suburbs.

(Re: long-running Lizzy watching notes in-jokes about where he stashes a bunch of stuff like demon tablets, first blades, metatron's grace, etc etc)

But yeah, no. I like the idea of Dean nesting, of course. But aside from the obvious conveniences, the Dean Cave, etc, there's no reason it HAS to be here except that this is their inheritance and it's safe. But as I constantly talk about with the library abutting the war room, the work/life balance is always in question and filling the Bunker with strangers is a great way to shove all the life balance out, and leave the only spot left of that to Dean in this room.

If the AU peeps don't all get sent home but remain at least in part a hunter community and maybe even network and grow as the Winchesters finally open up the Bunker's resources and share them and stop being all isolated like Carver era fiercely protected... Dean might have no choice but to move his nesting down the road to somewhere with a sofa where he can park his car out front, and choose to commute in to work.

-

Awww they have the "our lives are a scary movie" argument again, in a well-worn way. So well-worn this is repeating dialogue from somewhere or other... 2x18? 4x07? God I don't know, implicit in Sam's eyerolling at Halloween in 1x01? All of the above? I am not looking that up. But anyway their stances haven't moved, possibly because this is something that has never really been challenged before. If Sam didn't hate scary movies already, watching 18 hours of Hell Hazers II dailies probably did in any remaining sympathy he would have had towards them, while Dean thrived there.

I guess he may finally have had time to watch it?

And of course stay for the credits to see his name.

Anyway Dean has historically cited movies as research or job adjacent, or vicariously enjoyed watching monsters at work from the safe remove of a screen, while Sam throws it all in to that box where of course it goes to 1x01 where he's running away from ALL of it and has his oddly specific choices to avoid halloween in his day to day as Lawboy. He's struggled to indulge in the weird as a hobby, likes serial killers as, as far as we can diagnose, an outlet of darkness but purely human, and keeps the work/life balance in a rather unhealthy way of denial and boxing things away, because so much of his early seasons arcs were about resisting the life and refusing the call. This harks back to their literal first episode characterisations of Dean being all in and Sam being all out and it's interesting to have us back here in season 14, in a period of such deep reflection, when Sam has finally sort of accepted the life, found a niche in the work that suits him as the boss, and Dean is struggling now with retirement questions, and taking a week off, not liking his home full of strangers, etc etc.

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"More Michael Monsters?" Dean asks immediately quick fire when Sam says he has a case.

He may have taken a week off to indulge in pizza but that obsession lurks under his skin. He's in no way done, though I think perhaps better prepared to enter this case than he had been, though of course he's billed as still struggling.

-

Dean also instantly recognises the Thundercats name, and I'm afraid it's something I'm just not familiar with, that I clearly missed some wave of it when I was younger and it hasn't come back around as an adult... I can't wait to read stuff by people who know more about it and say tragic things about Dean's connection to it. But the important thing here is the dark mirror to the guy who got beat up by the toy, because Dean is being shown as also an enthusiastic nerd who knows the franchise and is excited by this concept and is leaping into a case about it with a "strippers, Sammy. Finally!" level of enthusiasm.

Healthy nerds and unhealthy nerds. But at the same time, Dean might be a better nerd, but his anger last episode is still being examined through this guy.

-

I love that for Sam and Dean, dressing up for Halloween is dressing up like total nerds in a totally different pop culture way - the old appearance of geeks which is wildly outdated but damned if they aren't putting on pocket protectors anyway. It's a caricature but it's one that is at total odds with who they are as people... More of a traditional halloween thing where normally Sam and Dean are really scary people with weapons, so when you make them dress all topsy turvy, they dress like this instead. They ARE halloween costumes, in their day to day.

-

Dean continues watching in the shop, Sam eyes up the Red Hood.

I watched that a million years ago with no idea that Jensen was in it, though I had watched the first couple of seasons at that point. I think it was during my "aww the show was cancelled" phase where it was completely off my radar. It's hilarious to me now, because I don't think I COULD watch it, now I know Jensen's voice so disproportionately well. It would be so off-putting.

-

"She's like your twin."

Sam and Sam both tuck their hair behind their ears at the same moment.

"What are you talking about?"

So. This is going to be extremely subtle.

I hope New Sam survives the episode D:

-

Sam points out the other guy who people were saying based off the promo pics would be the Dean to this girl's Sam with no idea what was to come. He and Dean in this case are both eating lollipops purloined from the halloween candy.

I guess this guy in the All Saints Day t-shirt shares Dean's love of the same franchise, and seems to represent the bizarre venn diagram with Dean on one side and Andrew Dabb on the other. Their nerdy overlap.

-

I feel like Sam is just pointing out this character mirror to be an annoying sibling and wow do I love seeing them like this.

I also feel like there is no way Davy would do this if he wasn't about to troll the fuck out of us with these parallels in some terrifying meta way and pointing out that character parallels are a thing this blatantly is about to be Awful somehow.

-

The Red Hood is staring disapprovingly at them through all of this

-

Anyway of course Dean Parallel immediately recognises Dean's enthusiasm for Hatchetman and encourages him to press the button, which Dean does with glee. I CLOBBER EVIL. Wait no.

Sometimes we do bad things.

Oh dear.

Oh deeeeeeeeeeear.

Yeah, Hatchetman is like... idk, michael!Dean or something. Or some dark part of Dean where all his violence is and this twisted version is almost like the burned result of the I Clobber Evil hero being melted by Dean and - too meta, I am in pain.

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"Vintage hot wheels!"

I know what you want because I have a smol 67 impala on my shelf. Nyoom.

-

He has an eeny weenie mystery machiney so he can make them race.

-

Okay guy who got beat up by a toy is called Stuart (I am so bad at names, honestly.)

Of course he got kicked out by his roomie for being insufferable about something as pointless as subs vs dubs, and Sam is already apologising for him before they even go meet him.

Considering there's 3 people working at the shop and Stuart had a trenchcoat, but is also being mirrored to Dean, darkly, I feel like there might be some serious shuffling going on here that surface level, Stuart had that Cas marker, but... yeah

-

Heeee Dean stealing the Flash mug and making Sam have the one with the cats all over it. One mug representing Stuart, one representing his mum.

I mean it is Sam's turn to have a relationship with THEIR mom this season. Idk if the mugs are actually symbolic over anything other than Dean living his best geek life right now.

I mean he's added the glasses to his ensemble, he's really living it up.

I hope he's still wearing Send Noods under this

-

Awww it's hot apple cider. What a good mom. This is a perfect halloween drink.

-

*Stuart Rage Sounds from below*

Wow this is subtle that he has some rage issues.

-

"Campbell and sons insurance" Hey remember when I said that this whole season's emotional set up with Sam's ownership of the AU peeps reminded me of season 6 and the Campbells? They also literally are the sons of Mary Campbell, so.

No lies, at least, with some serious stretching of the truth.

-

God, the detail that Dean has played Zelda.

He's being nerdy out loud constantly, and without much fear of judgement. It's wonderful. I guess he's been jostled up enough by Michael that he doesn't really care to hide this random pointless thing that in the grand scheme why should he be ashamed, and also he feels so much worse about other things that this is just an escape to have fun. It also reminds me of last season when he was mourning Cas except that this indulgence Sam is allowing him is co-sponsored by Dean and he's throwing himself into enjoying the smaller things and being more openly Dean-ish than he has in a while. Like, I don't think character comparisons to 8x11 for the nerds is the only way the episodes link :P

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In 8x11 Dean's initial reaction to LARPing is that it looks awesome, then he corrects at a look from Sam to being more judgy. In 9x04 as scripted, Sam is surprised that Dean want to read Game of Thrones. So idk if that's just Robbie character interpretations since my 2 surface level examples are from his episodes or if that's just been where open nerdery has lived in past years, but anyway. Sam isn't stopping Dean from indulging in the same way - it seems he also recognises Dean's nerdiness and is less threatened by it than before, in the sense that he doesn't feel like Dean isn't acting himself, but now accepts the nerdiness is a part of Dean.

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"Who needs goth girl drama" dude you are the most awful over-dramatic asshole on the show now Lucifer is dead

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LOL he's trying to lie about being attacked by a toy now, and Dean points out that he got whooped so thoroughly he was beaten on the back and genitals - so yeah we look at his face and wiiiiince

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"Lady you wasn't kidding."

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"Big Bang in there..."

Goodness are we calling out the Big Bang theory for its toxic nerdery? Love it.

-

Sam and Dean halloween costumed as total nerds, still driving around in the Impala. The reverse of someone rolling up in a boring old modern car and, like, a bunch of Draculas get out.

-

Sam can shave off the beard but it can't stop him Bobby-ing

Dean side-eyes this

-

"Yeah, it was Riley, he'll be fine."

"I don't know who Riley is, but cool."

God, I am so into this whole dynamic.

Tell me more, Davy.

-

"So seriously, what is your deal with halloween?"

"I don't like it"

Dean, I am watching this episode on November 2nd, just so you know.

Anyway. This is literally. 1x01's opening adult Sam moment. But Dean's going back to poke Sam about it since he's someone Sam won't lie to in the same way that Sam was concealing his entire being from Jess. I mean this isn't subtle - in 1x01 Dean calls Sam out for doing this. But then, Sam doesn't exactly develop beyond it - in season 8 he does this with Amelia.

Because obviously if Sam is going to move forward and develop there's still things which are not addressed. And if Dean is having his idea of home and work challenged, and his nest disrupted until perhaps he will fly it... Sam has never ever actually addressed his work/life balance in the meaningful way where... like... this was how his difference was introduced when we first ever meet lil babby Sam smiling innocently at us on screen as a kid who has the whole future ahead of him and no idea what torment he's gonna go through. 14 years later, if he's ever going to be a grown up who can handle himself in a relationship and know what is work and what is life and how he can watch halloween movies and not feel personally offended by them but enjoy them as a fantasy and a way of boxing off their world into a safe place they don't have personal responsibility for...

Maybe he might just get a girlfriend who he can tell he is a hunter. Like. Dude. Dean was past that step before the show ever STARTED thanks to his time with Cassie.

-

Sam, also, metaphorically is an angry guy living in his mom's basement, but perhaps in a more metaphorical way where it's to do with living his whole life under the shadow of his mom horrifically dying as a result of the supernatural and being brought up feeling like a freak and just wanting to be normal and all

wheeee

-

Anyway Dean is probing for actual answers so I assume Davy will give us a solution to this this episode, but this is my take on it before we get into it properly.

-

Alternative hypothesis: Davy is personally offended that Sam doesn't like halloween despite it being the best holiday, is determined to fix that and fuck canon, characters can change even 14 years later.

-

"Don't give me this 'every day is halloween' crap because one it aint, we don't eat that much candy"

I have missed Dean and I love him with every fibre of my being, brb I need to vibrate out of existence at the sheer joy of knowing him

-

That was the worst "we aren't here staking out your house" move I have ever seen.

You are professionals who have been doing this together for 14 years

why was that so laughably bad?

-

The youtube comments are so cutting and a bunch of them are unfortunately true. It's self-awareness of using the loser nerd trope but also, cutting in a way because of course Stuart is coming across so much as someone who deserves it - and we're starting to see his mom is sweet and doesn't seem to have caused any trauma in a surface read, and that he was the one who dumped his online gf, and he starts other fights at work or with roomies, so this is getting more and more into territory where he seems fully to blame for his own situation, and therefore you CAN mock him for living in mom's basement, because he PUT himself there, and is single because he chose to be, and so on. The pervading sense that if he was a nicer person, none of this would be happening to him, right down to him stealing the toy in the first place.

-

Oh boy, the bloody handprint on the wall... We are back in handprint territory, and, you know, maybe because SOMEONE walking past it has been scarred on the wrong shoulder by the actions of an angel or something

-

There's a chinese take out carton on the shelf in this basement. I doubt it's a collectible.

Send noods.

-

Okay, that's sort of weird.

-

If the mom is in costume I don't get the reference. I hope someone else has handled that.

-

We're going to get her POV on her loser son now, I guess.

-

"Everything's fine :)" *leaves the room* "everything is not fine!"

Are we calling them out for using "fine" so loosely again too huh?

(Side note: Jack saying he's fine while consumptive, and yeah I am still upset about that. What are you doing to the boy????)

-

Dean and Sam split up and as Sam walks off a nurse eyes him up and smiles. No idea how intentional that was but I mean, can you blame her? :P

-

You know, I don't know anything about this franchise, but Sam just jumped to see a toy of a guy who looks weirdly similar to the vampires that ATE HIM a few weeks ago.

He checks over his shoulder in case Dean manifested at his side just in time to see that

-

Awww Dean and New Dean meet. "he must have awesome insurance"

He calls Stuart's mom "Babs" which is hilarious. They seem close.

New Dean has issues with his dad and Stuart lets him crash with him no questions asked. I suppose Dean isn't going to think too hard about how Sam's choice for his parallel has issues with his dad.

This forgiveness for Stuart's behaviour because he's kind to his own people is a very TFW trait, which makes New Dean more like Sam or Cas forgiving Dean his outbursts, as he's by far the ragiest of them, with Cas trailing in second and Sam the zen fucking master.

-

Lol Dean and New Dean are both dragged into the room to watch All Saints Day 3 like they're being pulled in on a line

-

Oh dear, they're bonding.

Davy isn't usually on top of these things but he's channeling a lot of Edlund today and Edlund always had these sort of guys like Andy or Aaron who are so Dean's type in a harmless shared interests and getting stoned together way. This is a bit extreme with the guy's tininess and scruffiness but you know, we'll see how this develops, if it's an accidental twins or a missed connections soulmate dealio.

... You're taking to someone who's still bitter that Andy and Dean would have been perfect together, so.

-

Also this New Dean guy is demonstrating how to be a Good Fan - he may be as intensely nerdy as Stuart, but he and Dean can compare movies and even though they don't share a favourite, agree that the whole series is great and can see the merits both in each other's favourites, and in another movie that isn't either of their favourites but could be if they happened to be inclined that way.

So healthy :')

-

"It was always nice to check out. I like watching movies where I KNOW the bad guy's going to lose"

Ow ow ow. But yeah, there's Dean's pro-Halloween rationale, that the tropeyness of the genre has its comforts that every ridiculous horror thing is entirely safe and no one is ACTUALLY going to get eaten by any of these things. Which is also how normal people enjoy horror but at the metaphorical remove of being scared by things we may not literally meet but still represent anxieties we might have in our real lives.

Catharsis, yo

-

Sam barges in on New Sam to ask her the usual series of increasingly weird questions which get the "are you really insurance?" eyebrows.

"Downtown Salem" - are they in Salem as in the witch hunt one?

-

I kinda love how New Sam is talking with a speech bubble beside her. So meta.

-

I think New Dean is called Dirk.

-

Oops Stuart wasn't one of the co-owners because he kept getting fired for stealing D: Stuart, dude.

-

"And you hired Stuart back?" "he's my friend"

I think there is commentary appearing here about not just Stuart's unhealthy explosive rage, but that the people around him enable it - even Jordan fired him TWICE rather than banish him forever. The cycle of coddling him without encouraging him to change... Again, this speaks rather more of season 10 and a critique of Sam n Cas from there rather than much currently ongoing with Dean. Sam was complicit in originally abducting Kaia and he and Jody didn't move to stop Dean with Bad Kaia, so though it's in the focus as a critique on Dean's reactions, I feel like the real bad cycles were in Carver era. Though the behaviour still somewhat exists in Dabb era, the overall unhealthiness has declined so much, there isn't a constant oppresive blanket of it as there is here in this shop with Stuart being so awful to everyone and self-destructive.

(It's probably also not a coincidence that this thing has latched onto Dean as well, a la 4x06 I'd guess... Sam got no ghost vibes in the basement, Dean did, and was attacked... To me this is seeming to suggest that his current state has picked up the ghost's ire in the same way in 4x06 he was vulnerable. Loops and loops of things going on so I'll unpick that later if it does turn out to be the case clearly.)

Anyway. This seems to be more about destructive cycles and abusive dynamics, and I would hope a nudge for Dean, though his exile at the start of this episode also suggests to me he knew full well after threatening Kaia that he'd overreacted and needed to take 5, even if there was also a layer of sulking until news of Michael. Her call out was clear enough to make him self-reflect. So I would hope that this episode is here to try and steer Dean's reaction through various pathways, ideally to keep him from falling into anything too awful, as a reminder of where this may lead?

-

Sam sees the glass case freeze over, and pulls out the EMF, playing it off and being like "nothing... carbon monoxide detector" even as New Sam is understandably a little freaked.

Is this messing with Sam's refusal to tell Jess about monsters by having him keep the truth from New Sam until she's physically endangered?

-

I mean, carbon monoxide in enough quantities to make the blatantly homemade gadget go "WHEEE" and light up every single LED is a good enough reason to flee the room

-

"I think you're in danger -" Sam is smacked around the head by Hatchetman because he delayed too long and now he has been knocked out

-

"Samantha?" Sam determined not to let New Sam out-Sam him

-

I mean if she is you then she has been knocked out

-

How does this keep happening to you

how much head trauma has Cas healed over the years?

This is why they have to keep him an angel...

-

"Is this expensive?" "Wha - no don't!" *BOING* *silence* "yeeeah it's shatterproof glass"

HA

-

If Jordan really just wants to kill Stuart for getting them a 1 star Yelp review then this also has a weird shade of 11x07 where the ghost was getting revenge and took a few attempts to kill that one guy, eventually succeeding as the clown.

Except the clown was tuned to freak Sam out

and Dean's probably gonna be thrilled to fight Hatchetman

-

Dean having movie night with new Dean (probably stoned but we can't see it) with comatose Stuart in the middle

incredible

-

2 dudes watching horror movies 5 feet apart with a comatose guy in the middle because they aren't gay

-

Dean is thrilled to fight Hatchetman

I feel like this can't last

-

Davy throws in a gratuitous Halloween moment of Hatchetman walking through the park which is just bedecked in Halloween nonsense

no one cares about him wandering around because it's Halloween

It does make you wonder just HOW much nonsense happening on Halloween really is monsters and stuff out there enjoying themselves because it's expected, which, again, like Sam n Dean dressing up as nerds for this whole episode, having monsters mixing with regular folk and being treated as equals is literally the whole Halloween thing. There's less threat than in 4x07 because we're assuming at this point in the episode that the ghost does have a pretty one-track mind about killing Stuart because with all the characterising nonsense filling the episode the actual plot has been pretty sparse considering we're getting to the final 10 minute run now. So, yeah. This Hatchetman ghost is just out there being a part of the festivities, because that's what happens on Halloween, man

-

LOL And like Sam not telling his double until it was too late, Dean gets this call and is really open in answering in front of new Dean, and now he's filling in New Dean on everything instead of trying to get him to leave or protect him not just from the monster but from knowing about it at all.

-

Davy like, hey, remember when ghosts used to do loads of freaky stuff on this show just to be scary? And maybe it seemed like you all were getting bored of it or something, but hey this guy has no idea after 14 years that he shouldn't leave the salt line when everything starts thumping in the room despite having been warned the ghost is coming...

-

Hehehe Dean gets an axe... The moment of him going to smash it then not and checking if it's open... Whether that was improv or not, it's a good character thing in the sense that Dean is being encouraged not to smash first and ask questions later by the meta plot of the episode

-

Omg New Dean is as brave as our Dean in some ways... He sees Babs in trouble, and immediately is like "HEY" and starts confronting Jordon in Hatchetman

-

"He's MY friend. He's OUR friend." That's an interesting take on my/our, because that statement works on both levels - both that Dirk is protective of Stuart because he cares about him, but also that Jordan has his own investment in not killing Stuart that he should remember. In terms of emotional appeal, the first is confrontational while the second is the deep appeal to the ghost.

Filed in the deep deep deep deep deep flips of the crypt scenes, this moment demonstrates about 3 different kinds of flips, while still holding true to possessing thing out of its right mind confronting loved one

-

Omg the hospital security guards watching the Hatchetman chase a damsel through the hospital while New Dean is chased through THEIR hospital. Talk about dramatic irony and a whole commentary on the metaness of Dabb era in the story reversals and extractions to new levels and repurposing of scenes and narratives...

-

And despite it playing out scene by scene, the guards are laughing at the bad dialogue and pointing out how Hatchetman is so slow, so how can he even catch them, while the damsel slows herself down and badly fakes a trip so that he can catch up to her...

-

"We killed you! You're dead!" "We all do bad things sometimes"

And there we get the context for the cool quote the Hatchetman model can recite - just as how in fandom often things are quoted out of context as lines which seem emotional or special but are actually awful. Just for starters, all the Sam n Dean fans using "there aint no me if there aint no you" when Dean didn't even SAY that. Now we see the context of this line, we see that while Hatchetman really isn't deep, he's at least not just saying it to sound cool and talk about himself, he's judging the protagonist for her behaviour, as well as invoking relative morality. Which brings up some interesting ideas about what Hatchetman considers good and evil, in regards to seeming to have a concept of it but not including kill himself as a good thing to do. Obviously completely wild in context but in the philosophical language of the show, the nature of monsters and all is one huge question, along with if Sam and Dean are murderers themselves, and of course how they have done bad things for good reasons and vice versa.

-

Also I think Sam is about to blow up the door?

-

"I had a messed up childhood" he says, about to blow up a vintage SCOOBY DOO lunchbox to freedom.

SAMMY. Stop destroying symbols of childhood.

At least he's talking freely to New Sam about himself, which is probably already more than he ever let on to Jess. He really wanted to pretend to be well-adjusted to her, that he probably, like, would have rather waited for a locksmith with her than just pick the door to their apartment if they were locked out, you know?

-

RIP Scooby Doo.

-

"Cool" they both say, and share a smile.

It's probably weird to ship Sam and Sam just because the shipname is Sam

-

Dirk went to hide in the fucking Morgue

well done

-

Okay I need the security guards back to comment on how the fuck Hatchetman knew New Dean would come to the morgue with enough time to beat him there AND cover himself in a sheet and play dead.

-

Also before that happened Dean grabbed New Dean by the correct shoulder, and made him jump but aw don't worry it's just your new best friend.

-

Ghost Jordan is still a fucking nerd even in death because rather than talk to them, he presses the button to summon a catchphrase

It's good to know some things never change even when you are a murderous shell of your former self.

-

UGH SIGH DAVY ARE YOU REALLY GOING TO DO THIS TO ME?

(The director might also be to blame)

So now they are cobbling together a fake trailer for Hatchetman, using footage from the show

That is to say, Hatchetman is set on Oct. 31st, 1983, or, of course, 2 days before Azazel ruined everything.

I'm not sure if this shot is from the show because we have so few Halloween episodes that an exterior shot with Halloween elements would have to be faked up, but the house looks very much like the old Winchester house, but with a bigger porch and more dramatic features. It does, however, strongly feature the tree branch shadows over the appropriate wall to make it look exactly like the opening shot of their story, while this is the opening shot of the Hatchetman story.

"David Jaeger was an honest man making an honest living" *generic shot of something being worked on*

*shot of the back of John Winchester's head walking into his garage in 5x13 to discover his boss out cold because Anna is about to attempt to murder him, said boss hilariously visible in the shot if you know he's there*

So. That happened :P Hatchetman is John. That ain't subtle if you recognise the back of his head in a split second. Even if you don't they're casting him as a car mechanic which is of course directly connected to Dean and John.

"Until one night when a practical joke turned deadly"

*footage of the wife spectre-rage killing her husband in the cold open of 8x06 because she was still pissed he slept with someone else on prom night*

I think the burning vehicle was the car from 10x13 that Sam and Dean burned early in the episode, where it was violently reminiscent of them burning the memory of John for some meta reason I can't remember at the time, but definitely inspired a lot of frantic fandom typing.

Of course the ghost in that episode was the classic ragey vengeance ghost which was blatantly paralleled to the path Dean was on with the Mark of Cain, complete with being crypt scened out of it by a trenchcoat-wearing widow.

They're implying he was then burned alive and left for dead and I don't recognise the footage of the burned feet but I assume they're from some episode or another.

Anyway then they go to more new footage from the "actual" hatchetman movies. This one is set on Nov. 1st so it's not even a "Halloween" movie but ACTUALLY All Saint's Day (All Hallow's Eve being what Hallowe'en is a corruption of), Nov. 1 being of course a meta nod to the fact the episode is not even airing on Halloween but Davy just really really really really wanted his halloween episode so shut up and enjoy it :P

Oh, it's All Saints Day III The Reckoning. Because of course it's a reckoning. That's all that happens in Dabb era, reckonings.

-

I am so upset.... I made a joke about 5x05 waaay back, and now it's true because of the whole random thing about Dean's random Axe that was John's that Paris Hilton was going to use to Reckoning him but then Sam murderered her before she could. Now Dean's being reckoned.

-

Okay Dean is a lil dark right now but his come at me bro of "I was hoping you'd say that" and the preceding speech is incredible. I can't believe this show has Jensen except that I CAN believe that with Jensen we go 14 seasons because FUCK he's scary and intense when he wants to be.

-

But he delivered that chilling speech and then had the ghost use a red button to talk to him and then was badass at it

I mean

he can put the terror into ANY situation

-

I am a hysterical laugher, I could not have stood where Dean stood in that moment and taken Hatchetman seriously, even under threat of mortal peril. I once nearly got expelled for hysterical laughing over an untied shoelace that started a rapidly spiralling incident.

-

I love the new fight guy

I love how Dean is spoiling for a fight, and really enjoying how he can push back against this ghost, in a really, really scary way. But in a cold way, not the red hot Mark of Cain way he was dark last time. He's grinning and enjoying this nerdy ass fight, but it's got a vicious streak.

-

I especially love the choreography of Dean smashing Hatchetman around the head with clashes in time to the music followed by an elevator ding as Sam and New Sam emerge in the next scene.

Poetic cinema

-

New Sam guesses the key thing for ghost attachment and Old Sam is impressed.

Careful buddy, they're lining you up for replacement.

-

Dean seems not to have won this fight with the Hatchetman. I bet if Stuart was awake he'd have some useful advice for how anyone could beat him in a fight but especially Stuart, if they knew the correct thing to do.

-

New Dean saved Old Dean! Maybe we can teamwork distract the Hatchetman and win together. Possibly this is a metaphor for... working with yourself...

Is it foreshadowing for a fight later in the season of plot significance, just like in 11x07 Sam got beat up by a clown in a cage, as a not too subtle metaphor for Lucifer? I'd love an in Dean's head kinda nonsense with Mikey.

-

"Dean, key chain!"

TEAMWORK BROS ARE THE BEST BROS

-

New Sam chips in for her part with fuel for the fire.

Everyone high five the Sam or Dean/Dirk to your left

-

Oh, COOL effect of a ghostly spirit burning out of a model Hatchetman, who is unscatched by the ordeal

-

I mean, good, he's probably a really expensive collectible

-

He falls over with a thud, and goes out on a warbling "time to slice and diiiiiiiii" much like "I clobber evil" died on the fire with a last gutteral noise.

Hopefully bookending each other in terms of models with representations in their voices that haunt Dean and all.

-

Dean, unprompted, thanks Sam for getting him out of his funk and giving him an easy ghost hunt to win. I guess what 13x05 was supposed to be is what this actually turned out to be.

(Honestly, giving Davy episodes post-drama to let us all unwind is turning out to be an extremely good idea with 13x06 as well)

-

I am MAJORLY concerned about the time stamp on this episode. It better end in a few seconds and go to a full 3 minute trailer for Hell Hazers III or else.

-

"It was awesome!" "it wasn't really," says Sam, who burst into the room in time to see his brother pinned and choking

-

Sam moves on to confronting Dean with the concept of not just hiding in his room when they get back.

He gives Dean the "OI, CHEER UP" talk we've all been yelling at the screen. Good. Good Sammy.

Dean turns to the camera. "I'm never going to get over it. I'm just not."

Look, Sam, just because Dean stabbed Lucifer for you, and now you are sleeping without fear, doesn't mean everyone has that luxury :P

-"

elizabethrobertajones Oh dear, there's still 4 minutes left er I guess I keep watching .... *grimaces nervously*

mittensmorgul :D just watch it in context with the rest of the episode

elizabethrobertajones um what I didn't get far enough into what happens next to know what you mean so that's super ominous Sam is still psychoanalysing Dean in car NOW yo uhave me REALLY worried.

Hey, remember how I started this episode with a vague warning from Mittens? Why am I now getting the feeling that I still haven't watched whatever that was about?

-

"I'm not doing any good cooped up in my room. So whatever you need, I'm there." ("Chief"?)

-

"Alright, Chief?"

Oh, man. I'm turning into Dean.

-

Also Dean appears to have, finally, ceded power over to Sam. Again, the reversals of season 10 - Sam was put in this position of power he just was not ready to cope with and not with the stakes that were laid against him. But here, Dean might be driving the car but he's putting all the real power into Sam's hands.

-

elizabethrobertajones Is it why Sam hates Halloween because Dean turns out to have set an alarm on his watch to remind him to bug Sam about it again the intrigue you have spun is starting to get to me more than actually watching the episode :P

mittensmorgul oh gosh, I should've just kept my mouth shut. It was seriously just an innocent comment for a nice BM scene :P

-

I am more horrified about the concept of Sam telling an embarrassing story than I am about any amount of slasher and gore. Look, I can Not handle social squickiness and I love Sam and that is going to make this extremely hard to hear.

Dean's gonna love it though, I can tell.

-

Please. Protect. Sammy.

-

"It was soooo bad" he says with a haunted look of a man who has been tortured by the devil

-

Andrea's party got there first

-

"Next year, we're doing halloween right"

Oh no, don't you dare start talking like you're going to be alive and ready for a party next year, Dean Winchester. I will perish in your place to make it happen.

-

BAHAHA Dean coming up with matching outfits and suggests Bert and Ernie, before rejecting that one as too weird.

Yeah, you might not remember but we do

We are never going to let you live it down, in fact.

-

Also, listen, his mouth runs miles ahead of his brain, that was not suggestive until he realised it was and backtracked

-

You also can't go as Shaggy and Scooby unless you go to a party WITH them and they go as you and Sam

-

Thelma and Louise... Dean, stop.

Okay it's hilarious that Davy managed to get both Bert and Ernie and Thelma and Louise into this like... somewhere riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight deep down Dean's consciousness is putting things together. It doesn't remember half the shit he says, but like. Hey. Why ARE those two sets of on screen pairs connected, huh, Dean?

-

Oh, whatever, he's just trying to annoy Sam now

-

Nyoooom

-

IT'S THE SECURITY GUARD

RUN, MAN, RUN

-

Ew, I left it playing to type that and it told me to watch Legacies

-

Well that was the one wrong note in this whole episode so I suppose something had to happen like that :P

[oopsimpregnant]

Triage

For those of you following this blog extra close, you know I’m around eight months. So it might not surprise you folks that recently, I had my first trip to (and then back from) triage. 

For those of you that don’t know - if you go to the hospital and you’re pregnant, unless you have something unrelated obviously wrong such as a snake hanging off your foot, this is where they send you. It’s a strange, small emergency room ripe with hugely pregnant people all shuffling about in the polyester sticky bottomed socks they give you when you waddle in. It is quiet, and then it’s not. And then, very quickly, it’s quiet again. It’s a waiting space. It’s not really, necessarily, an emergency room.

Let’s start from the beginning.

I woke up last Tuesday morning with a low, dull back ache and the absolutely Insatiable urge to organize all the baby things. It was five am. 

I waddled quietly into the baby room, trying not to wake my boyfriend, who had work later that day. I actually also had work later that day, but it paled in comparison to this emergency - the baby stuff. The baby stuff was not, necessarily, all in its proper place. Upon reaching the baby room, it dawned on me that this was not even the beginning of the problem. The beginning, quite frankly, was the books.

My boyfriend and I are two different kinds of bookworms. He attended (and finished) several years of upper schooling dedicated to books, and has a vast collection of thick paperbacks he never returned to the school bookstore after the semester was done, either out of love or forgetfulness, both are equally likely. But with him alone - we have a library, casually academic and currently stuffed into an enormous duffel and a series of boxes of various sizes, all large. 

With me, we have the fun section of the library. I attempted college several times, but never finished. Instead of reading what I was supposed to be reading, I read apocalypse novels, urban fantasy, fairy tales, alien lit. 

Where is our library, in our tiny new apartment? In the baby room, of course. Still half packed away, despite the bookshelf my sister so lovingly trash picked for us, sitting empty in the living room. Or like - sitting, empty of books, stock full of magic cards, empty mugs, my boyfriend’s lost keys, and various papers.

This was ridiculous and had to be handled immediately.

I probably shouldn’t have done all that heavy lifting, but when my boyfriend awoke a few hours later, it was to me in the living room, organizing our books. He pointed out that I shouldn’t have done all that heavy lifting, and I insisted (somewhat truthfully) that I’d dragged most of the stuff out here, not ‘lifted’ it. Whatever. Whatever! The day went on.

I went to work, back still hurting, a strange pressure cradled heavily in my hips. I probably shouldn’t have done all that heavy lifting.

The work day progressed. Still pain. A deep, horrible pain, in fact. Nap time! Not for me of course, for the kids. Good. Time to sit. Sit the pain away. Because surely, that’s what would happen, right?

As soon as I had been sitting for a half hour, I finally had time to notice it - the strange, recurring clenching. My belly - there’s no other word for it - contracting around its wiggling contents. And the pain in my back, as if -

As if -

I could imagine her, suddenly, intensely. Feet on my ribs because I knew they were there, knees slightly bent, absolutely poised to rocket down and out of me, all her practice springs colliding her soft noggin with my spine.

I texted my doctor. She, I’m guessing, in an effort to cover her ass, insisted I go to triage. “That sounds like it could be premature labor” is what she actually said, in a text that clouded up my consciousness, brought cotton down over my ears and muffled the soothing snores of my preschoolers. 

I went to my boss. Told her what was going on. She sighed, said, “We’re very short staffed,.” and then insisted I try rolling my back on a ball first, as if back pain was the real problem, here. Being all cotton eared, I took the ball she offered and walked in a daze back to the classroom. My coworker stared at me. I explained the ball. “You gotta be fucking kidding me,” she said, right there, in the middle of our classroom.

I went back to my boss. Told her, this time, that I was going to triage. Called my aunt. Cried in the car. Felt Sookie wriggling in my belly, and it was definitely different, how had I not noticed that today it was different?

I wasn’t ready for this.

“Do you want me to pick up Jacob?” my aunt asked.

I shook my head immediately. Jacob was working. Jacob was working and this would be nothing, nothing, nothing. I was insisting to myself already that it was. My aunt sighed. Pointed out that I should text him, at least, so I did - a calm, totally not freaked out text of “Hey everything’s probably fine but Teen’s taking me to triage,” essentially.

We got to the hospital. Parked. Spent around ten minutes wandering around asking to be directed to triage, yes, prenatal triage, do you see the hugely pregnant chick behind me? No problem.

Soon as we got there, I think the nurses behind the desk diagnosed me with ‘false alarm.’ They didn’t jump to their feet immediately, at any rate, which calmed me down immensely. We were guided past a series of small, curtained off sections to our own small, curtained off section, where a hospital robe and a pair of socks waited neatly on a cot beside a series of large, intimidating machines. Also, a pee cup. I did that, and we waited.

It was at this point that Jacob must’ve gotten my text, as both our phones exploded with responses, and then he immediately called. My aunt Teen calmed him down, I told him it was probably nothing, and that’s when the nurse came in and we had to hang up.

“You look scared,” she said to me, in an accusing kind of way. 

I stared at her. “I’m scared shitless,” I responded. Her face softened.

My dudes - this nurse - and, in general, everyone I met in triage - helped to calm me down immensely. Upon hearing my response, she immediately began to, oh so successfully, distract me, as she hooked me up to various monitors. 

She told me first about how most of the people that come here leave an hour or two later, diagnosed ‘perfectly fine.’ When that didn’t calm me down (when it comes to bad things happening, my family’s known to assume we’re not ‘most people’), she switched tactics. Suddenly I was hearing all about all these preemie babies, all way less cooked than my Sookie, all of whom popped out, spent a little bit of time in nicu, and then went home fine. After that had calmed me down a bit, she started in on the real wild stories. Folks who had come in too late and had ended up giving birth right there in triage - babies and parents all fine, of course.

When she was done hooking me up to five different monitors, she left. And no one came back for a solid half hour.

This is apparently normal! Even in cases like mine, when labor is not imminent, they need to monitor the baby for at least a half hour before the ultrasound tech can come in and tell you what’s really up. I honestly think it was more nerve-wracking for my aunt, who was watching little Sookie boop on and off the monitor. 

“She’s just moving around,” I said, when my aunt jumped at the sudden swoosh and silence. She was moving around. She must’ve gotten my burst of adrenaline at the beginning or something, cuz she was trying her best to do her old backflips within her shrinking confines. 

When the ultrasound tech finally came in, she apologized for the wait, explained the half-hour thing, took me off all the monitors, and set up a grainy little ultrasound machine that would immediately tell us the real situation - the baby had dropped. Not gradually, the way I’d been told it would happen. All at once, overnight. Yup. Sookie now rests squarely on top of my bladder, head down, ready for launch. 

Not only that, but she’s about twice the size I was thinking of her as. Before this point, I’d known, generally, that her feet were probably right under my right ribs. You can guess how I’d guessed that. I also kinda figured she was head down as sometimes after a little rib tap tap boosh something clearly head shaped rolls beneath the surface of my belly, down below. I think I’d been imagining her stretched out sideways, exactly that length. No.

Sookie is curled up tight in her tiny home, feet under my right ribs, head down against my bladder, knees bent, and butt under my left ribs. During the ultrasound, she held one hand over her face and the other out, as if to say ‘No pictures!’ She’s fine. Very fine. Doing everything right. We’re both fine.

I was embarrassed, but would’ve been more so if everyone hadn’t been so understanding and considerate of how nail biting of an experience this thing had been for me. In the end, it was good to confirm what I’d already known, kinda, about her positioning. It was really good to see her again, even though it was just on a grainy little ultrasound. And while the back pain and stomach clenching is just a fun new part of this experience, it’s good to learn it doesn’t mean she’s on her way to an early delivery.

Not that that would be, like. The worst thing ever. So long as she’s fully cooked, honestly. 

[siriuslymoon]

May I request 89 for ThorBruce? I love your writing btw ❤️

Thank you so much! Of course you can 💕💕 89. We’re having a movie night and you fell asleep so in confessed my love to you and what do you mean you’re awake?

-

Bruce was not prepared for a social interaction.

And while that statement could be used to sum up his entire existence, on this particular evening it was referring to an avengers movie night.

Tony was still hell bent on introducing Steve and Thor to ‘all the classics’ and everyone else had just been lured in with snacks and comfy sofas.

Bruce liked his friends, he did, and he liked spending time with them- but he was close to finishing a project and every second that he spent away from the lab filled him with guilt and an over all feeling of unease.

So when he stumbled into the kitchen, lab coat singed and overall appearance in disarray; the last thing he needed was to be hauled into a five hour film event.

“I just,” he pointed over at the machine “I just came for coffee”

But Tony shook his head, “cmon Bruce we’ve got a full house tonight, you can’t be the only one left out” he wrapped his fingers around Bruce’s wrist and began to pull him towards the sofas.

Bruce noticed the only available seat would be next to thor and stilled.

He hadn’t showered for a few days and he currently smelt like burning cloth and various chemicals, something he didn’t feel like wafting up the nose of the guy he was crazy about.

“Can I um- can i at least change?” He gestured to his ruined appearance, and tony was about to say he looked fine when Thor cut in.

“Bruce should be comfortable if he is to fully enjoy the movies” everyone nodded and the blonde sent him a small wink, accompanied by a soft smile; Bruce didn’t know which made his heart stop first but either way he couldn’t breathe.

“I guess- alright you’ve got the minutes til we start without you” Tony threw himself down next to steve in the sofa and stole a handful of popcorn.

Bruce began to grin causing Tony to quickly cough around his popcorn and wave his arms.

“No! Bad wording- ten minutes until I come get you and drag you in here” he smiled at the correction and Bruce nodded, turning and heading for his room, doing everything he could to ensure he didn’t trip as he walked out.

He showered quickly using as much scented body wash as his hands could hold, roughly drying his hair afterwards so that it wasn’t dripping down his torso but leaving it damp enough to avoid frizz. He pulled out a sweater he didn’t know he had and a pair of sweat pants, before evaluating himself in the mirror.

His damp curls hung round his face and the sweater slipped from his neck and dangled past his hands, the sweatpants hugging tight in places and sitting looser in others.

He shrugged, and headed back out to the living room, happy to see the seating arrangements hadn’t changed.

“See? Told you he’d be back. And aw bruce you look adorable” tony pointed to where the grey knit skimmed his finger tips and Bruce flushed, mumbling a thank you and scurrying Over to Thor’s side.

The man was warm, even sat at a distance Bruce could feel the waves of heat rolling off him, mixing with his natural scent of rain water and rich royal spices to create a tangible aura.

Bruce leaned in closer, damp hair brushing Thor’s dry jumper, the cotton soaking up the moisture immediately.

“What are we watching?” He adjusted his glasses, smiling lazily at Thor, choking when he returned it.

Thor leant in closer to reply, “I believe we are watching time travellers”

Bruce nodded, turning to see Tony mouth ‘back to the future’

They started the movie, Bruce shuffling to sit as comfortably as he could next to Thor, ignoring the constant hammering in his heart and pulling his knees to his chest; sock covered toes stretched across the free space beside him.

He enjoyed listening to Thor laugh every few minutes, or gasp at the crucial points. It painted a natural smile on Bruce’s face and worked to relax him.

He made it through one film, blinking heavily every few minutes to try and force away the tiredness overcoming him. But when everyone yelled for the next one to be put on he sighed; not wanting to seem like a kill joy he sat there and tried his hardest to stay awake.

But he had gravitated closer to Thor throughout the first film, and the gods steady breathing worked as a lullaby that had Bruce off to sleep within minutes.

No one noticed at first, not until Bruce’s position fell and he slumped against the gods shoulder, inching over into his chest- Thor’s arm immediately curling around him to steady him.

“Should we wake him?” Steve asked, everyone’s eyes now on the sleeping scientists, face so relaxed in slumber it had them all smiling.

“No- he doesn’t get enough sleep. Just turn the volume down a little” Thor told them, pleased when they took his instructions and went back to watching the film.

But Thor couldn’t bring himself to look back at the screen, finding the man in his lap much more interesting.

He moved to take off Bruce’s glasses and brush a curl from his face, laughing softly when He twitched and scrunched his nose up before breathing out and burrowing deeper intoThor’s chest.

Thor ran his hand up and down the mans back following the lines of his spine, finding comfort in the steady rhythm of his breaths, the gentle fluttering of his eyelashes as he dreamt luring the confession out of him.

“You’re so beautiful” the declaration slipped past his lips, his friends too engrossed in the movie and each other to notice.

But Bruce noticed.

He had began to wake up after someone sneezed, and when he heard thor talk he froze, focusing on keeping his breathing even and his eyes shut.

But then Thor was playing his his hair, fingertips grazing his scalp and letting his curls loop around his fingers.

His breath caught in his chest, heart building with the urge to scream but he did not move.

“You’re so smart, so wonderfully smart” Thor’s hand move this his cheek, cupping his face and running a calloused thumb over his cheekbone.

“I’m so in love with you Bruce” he whispered, not even sounding like he meant to say it, as though it was no natural to him, but then quickly finding comfort in the mans unconscious state and knowing that he couldn’t hear him

Except he did.

“You what?”

Thor screamed, the sound ripping from his throat and causing everyone’s hearts to thud uncomfortably.

“Jesus point break, this isn’t a scary movie!” Tony cursed, hand resting over his chest.

Bruce sat up, wiping sleep from his eyes and watching his friends calm down.

“Ahhh dude you woke up Bruce” Clint sighed, scowling lightly at Thor.

“My apologies” Thor mumbled before excusing himself and running from the room.

Why did Bruce say anything, why couldn’t he have just stayed quiet- let thor have his moment.

“I’m gonna head to bed if you guys don’t mind, enjoy your movie” he made sure to blink slowly, and move as though sleep still plagued his body; when in reality he had adrenaline thrumming through his body and had never felt quite so awake.

They muttered a chorus of “nights” and “later’s” and Bruce hurried from the room.

“Jarvis where did Thor go?” Bruce asked, waiting for the reply.

“Mr Odinson is currently on the rooftop, and when asked if he wished to be disturbed- he said he did not”

Bruce nodded, making his way to the rooftop entrance, and finding the door locked.

“I told you” Bruce grinned and how much of an attitude Jarvis could have at times, the whole thing screaming Tony.

“Open the door Jarvis”

“But he-“

“I’ll tell Tony that you let steve in after their fight despite him telling you to lock all the doors” Bruce retorted, smirking to himself and at Jarvis.

“Sir was being a stubborn fool” came the reply, to which Bruce said “and so am I- open it up buddy”

He swear he heard a sigh as the door clicked open, and Jarvis wished him good luck.

Bruce found Thor on one of the chairs Tony had put out there, over looking the sky, the odd bit of stray lighting running through the sky.

“I thought you were asleep” Thor told him, not needing to turn around to know Bruce was stood behind him.

“I was,” bruce nodded “I think Clint sneezed- it woke me up”

It was Thor’s turn to nod.

“I apologise if i have made you uncomfortable, I will leave promptly and forever carry the horrible burden of knowing I caused the destruction of our friendship” his voice was low and heavy, the sky clouding over as he spoke.

“Woah, wait what? Thor I’m not mad at you!” Bruce moved closer, sitting beside him on one of the chairs, though the god still refused to look at him.

“Did you mean it?” Bruce asked, and Thor’s features contorted “why on Midgard would I lie?”

Bruce deflated “I don’t know..”

“Even unconscious- I’d never lie to you bruce I hoped you’d know that” Thor looked sad again, heart broke at the thought of Bruce not trusting him.

Without thinking Bruce grabbed Thor’s hands, squeezing them in his own smaller ones as he rushed out “I do trust you! With my life, I do. I just- didn’t think you’d feel like that”

“Why ever not?” Thor raised an eyebrow, finally looking at Bruce, though now that his gaze was on him Bruce kind of wished he’d look away.

“Because,” he laughed “I’m me and you’re- god Thor you’re… well a god for one thing. And you’re the sweetest person I’ve ever known, no matter how harshly any world treats you you’re always smiling and you make me smile and you’re stunning and…. and you deserve better Thor. You deserve someone like you- if anyone else that perfect even exists”

Thor laughed.

“Why are you midgardians so caught up on what people deserve? Do you think I deserve to be happy?” Thor asked, moving so that his hands cupped Bruce’s instead”

“Of course”

“Then let me be happy with you, you who is just as perfect, more so if anything”

Thor grinned, so wide and bright that Bruce had to look away for a moment to catch his breath.

Until Thor tilted his head up to look at him, an eyebrow raised in question, a question Bruce answered with a nod and then he felt Thor’s smile pressed against his own.

And if Bruce caught an explosion of lighting across the sky before his eyes fluttered shut, well then he must just be imagining things.

[wildefiction]

Of Course...Mr. Collins

THIRTEEN

Thursday came and went with little excitement, Misha leaving you to your own devices as he was briefed on that weekend’s convention schedule. You spent the day sun-bathing, napping and texting your sister about your first day in Hawaii.

Friday morning, you woke to the incessant buzzing of your phone. Cracking one eyelid, your vision slid into focus as you noted the annoying black device vibrating towards you along the table. Groaning, you winced as the backlight blinded you. It was six in the morning. 

“So much for this trip being a vacation, hah.” 

The six text messages surprised you and you began to scroll through them, expecting them to all be from Misha. Only that man would wake up six hours before the convention was due to start.

To your surprise, only five of them were from your boss. The sixth, was from Norman.

“Hey [Y/F/N], how ‘bout that ride today? ; )

Your heart fluttered for a moment, chills running down your arms. Sure, he’d said he’d text you - but you hadn’t actually expected him to. Your hands shook slightly as you typed out a quick response.

“That would be awesome! Let me get back to you after I check in with Mish. Woke up to five messages from him!”

Switching back to the group of messages from Misha, you sighed in relief when you realized they weren’t urgent. There was a picture of the sunrise and the beach where he’d gone running. The third was him letting you know the cast was getting together for drinks that night, asking if you wanted to go. Then one mentioning he was on his way back to the hotel, and finally one asking if you wanted coffee or tea since he was stopping anyhow.

The last message had been sent five minutes ago. Hurrying to respond, you asked for an earl grey latte before throwing the phone down on the bed and moving to find clothes for the day.

Fifteen minutes later, a dull thudding sound coming from across the room had you pulling the door open to see Misha, two paper cups in hand and a brown bag clenched in his teeth. Laughing, you grabbed the bag from his mouth and moved back, allowing him to join you in the room. 

“I grabbed some of those bantam bagels and a breakfast sandwich for you to go with your tea.” We’ve got a few hours of work ahead of us, but I figure if we get done by lunch, you can have the afternoon off. Did you want to go tonight?” 

Realizing you hadn’t answered that text, you quickly agreed. 

“Of course! I’m super excited to meet everyone!” Clutching the warm drink in your hand and raising it to your lips, you drank deeply of the caffeine before eyeballing the paper bag you’d set down on the table.

Misha wandered into his room to grab the laptop from his bag. 

“Here [Y/F/N], I’d like you to book us tickets to San Francisco for the first week of December and make the travel arrangements. I’m due at the convention Saturday morning, so we should probably get in Friday afternoon. The convention takes care of our hotel, but you should send the co-ordinator an email if you want your own room, they usually need a bit of notice for that kind of thing.”

With a bagel stuffed in one side of your mouth, you nodded in understanding as you pulled your tablet out and began writing a list of the things you needed to do.

“When you’re finished with that, do you think you might be able to find me something to wear to the luau tomorrow night? A fun shirt or something? I’m thinking my usual just isn’t going to cut it. Pick something nice up for yourself too while you’re out.” 

As you opened your mouth to protest, Misha held up a hand, effectively silencing you. 

“Before you say anything, just consider it a signing bonus.” “Think you can be ready by, say, nine?” 

Nodding as you scribbled the notes on your list, you moved out onto the balcony, deciding to work on booking flights in the sunshine. 

“Sounds good Misha, want to meet for lunch later?” 

“I’ll actually be out most of the day, if you need me feel free to send me a text.” Reaching into his back pocket, Misha pulled his wallet out before rifling through it for a moment and then selecting a card and handing it towards you. Taking it from him, you were surprised at the heaviness of it. The black and cobalt gradient running over the front wrapped around the metal rectangle. Flipping it over, the card number and identifying information were printed neatly in the bottom corner. 

“Kindly send me a screenshot of the flights you find before purchasing them please.” 

“How much do you want me to spend on your shirt, sir?” You were still writing notes and didn’t look up to see Misha’s body language quiet as he watched you at your task. 

“Whatever you like. I’m sure you can figure out what is and isn’t appropriate.” Snapping your head up, you rose from the chair as Misha turned from the room. 

“Uh, no. You just gave me a credit card and I’d have a hard time spending thirty dollars on a shirt, so, I mean, can I at least have a range?! And, I don’t even know your style, what are you looking for?” 

Misha turned as your cool fingers touched his skin and he smiled at the apprehension on your face. Grabbing both of your hands in his, he looked straight at you, demanding eye contact as a smile spread on his face. You stilled as you looked back at him - damn if those eyes weren’t easy to fall into…

“I have complete faith in you [Y/F/N], pick something that you’d like, doesn’t have to be fancy. And keep it under two-hundred?” “You’ll do fine.” With a final squeeze to your hands, he turned again and disappeared back into his room, leaving you with your assignments.

Settling into the table, being warmed by the morning sun you dove into searching for flights immediately, comparing the differing airlines and seat arrangements. As simple as it seems, you enjoyed this kind of work. It kept you busy while placating the organization skills that you couldn’t function without. Within the hour you’d found suitable flights for a pretty decent price and took a screenshot to send to Misha. Your phone notification sounded almost immediately; “Well that was fast,” you mused - sliding the menu screen open.

“Busy, busy eh? How about that ride?”

At first, you were confused, thinking it was Misha that had responded so quickly. Realizing it was Norman, you cursed to yourself. You’d completely forgotten to text him back. Glancing down at the clock, you noted it was only almost eight.

“Wanna meet for lunch around eleven?”

Another text. This one from Misha. 

“Try again [Y/F/N] - how can I utilize your assistance properly if you’ve put yourself in coach?” “Dates and times look good though, just update your seat and send me the confirmation.” 

He’d included his email address in the message. You sighed, but made the changes he requested anyhow before clicking on the checkout button. Buzzing twice in a row, you picked up your phone and saw that Misha had received the confirmation, and Norman had responded:

“It’s a date” ; )

Crossing the flights off of your list, you moved on to making travel arrangements. Several driving companies surrounded the airport you planned to fly into and you quickly made reservations with the best reviewed. After shooting a quick email to the convention organizers requesting two hotel rooms, you closed your laptop and gathered everything before heading back into the dim, air conditioned room.

After taking a quick shower and blow drying your hair, you stepped back into your room to get dressed. Settling on a pair of cut-offs and a Zeppelin t-shirt, you pulled a pair of boots from the closet you’d finally managed to unpack now that it was halfway through the week and laced them up over your socks. While the warm weather made wearing heavy boots less comfortable, one thing you’d remembered from growing up on the back of a bike was that you had to wear good shoes. Technically, you should’ve also worn pants, but you needed to be at least a little comfortable.

As the last hour ticked by, your nerves began worrying at you, and try as you might to calm them, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t startle when a heavy knock sounded on your door. Wiping your hands against the denim covering your thighs, you rose to answer the door.

“Hey, hey sweetheart, ya ready ta go?” Norman stood before you, dark Ray-bans wrapped over his eyes; a black hat pulled down over his shaggy auburn hair. 

Grinning widely you turned to grab your phone and wallet before closing the door behind you. 

“So, where ya wan’na go? Throwing an arm across your shoulders, he led you down the hallway.

Walking out to the parking lot, you waited as Norman swung one of his long legs over the seat of his bike, slowly backing the machine away from it’s parking spot. Looking up at you, he smirked as he waited for you to join him. Stepping up to the edge of the curb, you straddled the now rumbling monster, balancing yourself with one hand on Norman’s shoulder before seating yourself behind him. With a twist of the throttle, the bike lurched forward, and you pressed yourself against his broad back, gripping his waist with only your thighs as he accelerated out onto the main road.

Pulling into a Hawaiian barbeque place fifteen minutes later, you steadied yourself on his shoulders as you stood up from the bike. 

“Ya like bar-ba-que lady?” The deep voice reminded you of the bike you’d just stepped off of and it sent a chill through your body as the smell of smoked meat drew you to the front doors. 

“Uh, does a bear shit in the woods?” Norman laughed as he held the door open to let you pass through. 

Sitting down at the outdoor patio, you attacked the brisket and pulled pork you’d ordered from the run-down little establishment. 

“So, where’d ya learn ta ride?” Norman sat across from you, momentarily taken aback with the obscene sounds that drifted from your body as you savored the food before you, eyes screwed shut in concentration. Opening them at the question, your face reddened as the man across from you removed his sunglasses and fixed you with his light blue eyes. 

“Blue, just like Misha’s, but lighter.” You mused to yourself before answering. 

“My dad. I spent a lot of time on his bike growing up. He was a Harley guy too.” Norman grunted in appreciation as he continued eating. Eyeing your t-shirt, he rose an eyebrow, “ya like Zeppelin eh?” 

Grinning, you nodded enthusiastically, launching into an animated discussion of your favorite songs and how you liked a lot of classic and modern rock.

Over the next hour, you talked about everything from the weather to relationships - good and bad and your hobbies. You learned that, while they filmed in Georgia, Norman actually lived in New York and spent a lot of time sculpting and painting when he was home, which wasn’t very often. 

“I always wan’na be doin’ sum’thin.” “Get kin-a res’less if I’m in one place too long, ya know?” 

“Sounds like a helluvan adventure actually.” 

Rising from the table, the two of you made your way back to the front of the establishment before climbing back on the bike. 

“Ya can hol’ on ya know. I ain’t gonna bite cha…” 

“Oh, but biting’s excellent - it’s like kissing, only… there’s a winner!” You laughed, but wrapped your arms low around his waist, sliding your hands under his vest to splay your fingers over his muscled abdomen. 

“Well then, darlin’ I’ll hafta keep that in mind.”

The next several hours flew by in a blur, you and Norman spent the time driving along the coast, stopping occasionally to sit in the sand and watch the waves crash over the beach. At one point, you stopped to pluck a plumeria blossom from one of the fragrant trees that dotted the park you were walking through, carefully tucking it behind your right ear. The yellow and white flower striking against your [Y/H/C] hair. 

Reaching into your back pocket, you took your phone out and flipped on the camera, taking a picture to send to your sister back home. This island was so amazing, you almost didn’t want to go back. 

“Hey, Norman, can we take a picture? My sister will never believe me if I try to tell her what I’ve done with my day.” 

Chuckling, he ambled over, throwing an arm around your neck and pulling you harshly against his side. Taking your phone, he held it up in the air before releasing the shutter a couple of times. 

“Alrigh’, one more.” Turning the camera sideways, he squeezed you closer into his side and as you looked up into the screen, he turned and pressed his lips to your cheek right as he hit the button. Blushing to yourself, you took the phone back from him and mumbled a thank you as you busied yourself with sending her the pictures.

Upon returning to the hotel, you checked your phone again as you said goodbye to Norman, with the promise to text him later. You were surprised to see there were no messages from Misha, he must be busy you thought to yourself before heading for the outdoor shopping area.

Drifting in and out of several shops trying to decide what to pick up for Misha was pretty challenging, but you ended up settling on a blue Hawaiian print shirt that was nearly the same color as his eyes. Gods that man had beautiful eyes. You’d never seen anything like them. Perhaps you were a bit biased, but you’d always been attracted to guys with dark hair and light eyes, and that rough stubble peppered over his jaw certainly didn’t hurt.

Checking the time, you noted it was nearly seven thirty and you still had to find yourself something to wear. After trying on several things you finally asked for help from one of the sales associates in a store filled with dresses. 

“Hi, I’m looking for something to wear to a beach party tomorrow night, something nice but not too formal? Your [Y/E/C] eyes searched hers and she smiled back before bustling out from behind the counter to dig through the racks.

When your phone began ringing, you quickly answered Misha’s call, holding the device up to your ear. 

“Hey, [Y/F/N], you  gonna be ready soon?” Pulling the phone away to glance at the time, you cursed under your breath when you noticed it was quickly approaching eight. You’d never been more happy that you had showered that morning. 

“Uh, yeah, give me twenty? Oh! Wait, that stuff you wanted me to buy is for tomorrow right? Not tonight?!” He laughed through the phone and assured you that was correct. 

“Come in whatever you’re wearing now, we’re just going out to a few bars after all.” 

Promising to meet him at the room, you spent another ten minutes choosing between a couple of dresses the woman had suggested and paid for your purchase before flying back through the shopping center and up to your room.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

TAGS: @jamielea81 @wings-of-a-raven

[disinvited-guest]

12/31/2018 Philadelphia Recap

The wait for this show was absolutely wonderful, as I got to reunite with old concert-going pals (in case you were wondering, @monopuffstan and @integrityproject remain as wonderful as ever) and meet several new ones.  Even if the concert hadn’t been absolutely wonderful, hanging out with all of these awesome folks would almost have been worth the trip itself.  

We had a wonderful, if cold and soggy, wait.  Flans walked right through our line to get to the venue with a polite “excuse me.”  I happened to be one of the people in his way and I shuffled to the side, mortified.

Once we got inside, things became a bit less jovial.  I did not get along with the people to my right, who were more than a little drunk. I’m not going to include their antics in the recap, but they did have a negative effect on how much I could hear and see of what was going on onstage.  Reminder:  there is a bootleg of this show floating around, so you can listen to what I missed.

JoCo came onstage at 9:20 sharp  wearing a tuxedo with a very stylish bow-tie.  After playing Artificial Heart, he commented faux-disapprovingly on what the crowd was wearing “I thought this was a party!”  He told us he had never played a show in a tux before and was worried for two reasons:  that it would restrict his range of motion, and that he would sweat through it in 5 minutes.

He played Shop Vac, then mopped his face with a towel and warned us that it was happening.  Someone shouted at him that he should take off his suit, and he responded that there was “nothing underneath.”

The crowd cheered at this, but JoCo responded that we were cheering now, but “after, you’d be disgusted” and that he’d be all over the internet the next day as a “weird asshole.”  

Introducing Future Soon, he told us that instead of looking back on 2018 we should look forward into the Future.  Afterwards, he took of his bowtie, warning the crowd that this was “As far as I’ll go.”  He introduced the next song as being about getting old and being sad about being old “but that’s okay,” which led into Glasses.

“I have a new album,” he told us after the song ended, “It’s called Solid State and that’s all I’m gonna say about that.” When the crowd cheered in response, he gave a world-weary sigh and continued in a grudging voice. “Of course we need a concept album about sci-fi.”  He sighed again, then added “And how the internet kind of sucks now.”  Another sigh “And how technology will either destroy us or save us.  One last huge sigh and then “And I’m sorry, but there’s a companion graphic novel.”  With the crowd cheering counterpoint to each on of his sighs, it was truly hilarious.

While messing with the laptop he had onstage, JoCo told us that “The album makes a lot of bleep bloop sounds.  This is just a normal acoustic guitar.  It doesn’t make bleep bloop sounds, so I brought out this.  This is a computer.”

The computer made excellent bleep bloop sounds as JoCo played All This Time.  Putting his guitar down after the song was over, JoCo picked up the machine with knobs and buttons all over it (If you haven’t seen him play Fancy Pants on this thing, my description isn’t going to do it justice. I’m begging you to look it up on YouTube.)  He warned us that on this machine “Even when I’m well-rehearsed, I’m barely hanging on.”

He immediately put the lie to his words by showing off a bit of what the machine was programmed for.  He then explained the song, verse by verse, before actually going into the song.  I was unprepared for just how glorious it was.  He added a bit of Auld Lang Syne into it, singing along a bit before declaring that no one knew the words anyway, and a bit of Single Ladies, and topped it all off by having the machine tell us “Gonna be the best in everybody’s pants.”

After returning to his guitar, JoCo brought up his wife, which got a cheer from a few people in the crowd.  “Some fans of my wife here,” he said, bemused, before moving on with his story.  

Apparently, before he met his wife, she wanted a tattoo, but didn’t have a particular one in mind.  “Which I later learned was typical of her, to have a goal in mind without considering the steps in between.”  She looked through the books in the parlor, “like

at a barbershop” JoCo explained to us, and picked out one she liked.  She got the tattoo, but regretted it.  Once he and his wife had started dating- “and I had an opportunity to see it,”  he added in wickedly, getting a cheer from the crowd-  he asked her about it and she grumbled that it was stupid, and she had just wanted the idea of a tattoo.  Recently though, his wife went in again and got quotes put around the tattoo, so now it is actually a tattoo of the idea of a tattoo.  All this talk of tattoos led, of course, into the song Your Tattoo.

JoCo mentioned that They Might Be Giants would be on his cruise, but that it was too late to buy tickets because it was sold out.  He told us it was a missed opportunity and that we should have followed his blog.  He then introduced the next song, I Feel Fantastic as a “song about how you’ve all made me feel tonight, but it’s also about being on drugs.”

Afterwards, he left the stage as we cheered.  After a few seconds, Flans came onstage, a scrap of paper in his hand.  The crowd’s cheering greatly increased.  He came up to the mic and announced “The owner of a blue Dodge Neon double-parked in front of the venue. Move your car or you will be towed.” The paper in his hand did say something about the car, so I have no doubt it was there, but somehow the context made it hilarious.  Having gotten all car-related news out of the way, Flans announced “Jonathan Coulton, everybody!” leaving stage as we cheered JoCo back on.  

JoCo thanked everyone, then had us practice our “part” for Re: Your Brains.  The first time around was too good.  He explained “Zombies get distracted.  They can only think about how much they want brains.  Some weren’t good singers to start with and rotting doesn’t help.”  Our next attempt was much better/worse, so he started into the song.  Afterwards, he thanked everyone once more and left the stage.

Immediately, that same stage was swarmed by the crew.  I got a glimpse of Fresh’s socks, which were full-color prints of a basketball player in the middle of a slam-dunk.  There was no riser for Curt, confirming that he wasn’t there.

The intro music came on quickly, followed by the band.  There was very little banter at this show.  I think they were worried about what point in the show they would take their break for midnight.  They played their first several songs without pause, starting out with The Communists Have The Music, then Twisting and I got a mouthed  “hi!” and a smile from Danny.  During Why Does the Sun Shine, Linnell told us that everything on the sun was a gas “copper, things that aren’t gas, iron, and even gas.”  He told us he was doing a voice so that “the tone of voice makes you think I’m condescending and impatient.”

They played Birdhouse in Your Soul, then went into Particle Man pausing only long enough for Linnell to grab his accordion.  He didn’t add another song into the interlude, simply switching into a minor key for a description of triangle man.  During the Famous Polka, Dan and Linnell executed a wonderfully in-synch kick (though not nearly as high as the Flans kick photo that’s been going around from that evening).  The audience all contributed to the song, chiming in with a fair imitation of the “doop-doop”s the bridge has in the recorded version.  It was one of those crazy-beautiful moments of serendipity you only get at tmbg shows.

After Famous Polka ended, they had the first banter of the evening.  Discussing his day, Flans told us all a story about his stop at a Popeyes next to a museum he had visited.  At the Popeyes, he was waiting next to two women and a man speaking “not-from-this-country” Italian.  He then pointed out to the guy that Popeyes! also spells ‘Pope yes!’ and the group found it hilarious (after the guy translated the joke to his companions).  Flans felt like it was a great start to the the year, and was about to say more but broke off to add to his story.  Apparently one of the women “the only English word she knew was ‘leg’” had done the Pope blessing thing with a chicken leg.  Flans demonstrated the motion to us, then said that in the new year he wanted “less of this-” miming pushing something away, “and more of this-” repeating the chicken-leg blessing.

Linnell decided that there were “little dramas like that going on at every stop on the turnpike.”  He decided that at the Molly Pitcher stop they were chanting “We want a pitcher not a chicken-leg itcher”  This prompted them both to start listing stops on the turnpike, some real and some decidedly not.  Eventually, they decided they were losing the crowd with all of their outdated references.  Flans asked Linnell if he was still jetlagged.  Linnell responded that he was, then explained to us that he was still on Scotland time, where “it is very late at night right now.”

“That’s what this next song is about!” and they started into Memo to Human Resources.  I was so excited that it took me a few lines to calm down enough to actually pay attention to the song.  I’d been chasing it all year and honestly thought I’d never hear it live.

Flans introduced the next song quickly “We have a new album out.  It’s called I Like Fun and this is I Left My Body.”  From there they went straight into Science is Real.  It was the first time I’d seen them play it without Flans using a cheat-sheet for the lyrics, and he did mumble a few of the words he forgot.

I believe it was here Linnell brought up Clara Barton as another potential stop on the turnpike, and both Johns began asking the crowd about the nature of the stops; if there were criteria for naming them, if there was a list of stops, etc.  

Eventually, Flans introduced Dan Miller on the keyboards “anything is possible!”  Dan extended his index finger like he was going to play a note, then pulled it back, shaking his head.  Danny watched the whole process with extreme interest.

“Don’t mess with those dials.” Flans told Dan.

They played Let’s Get This Over With and Doctor Worm, during which Flans was a bit distracted, looking of stage a lot, and even heading off once or twice.  During the Doctor Worm solo, Danny had to cover a bit of his part.  

Flans came back downstage and they played Robot Parade, starting slow and gradually becoming more and more rocking.  Flans attempted a human theremin during this song.  He gave the audience 15 seconds “for people who know what a theremin is to explain to people who don’t know what a theremin is.”  He then counted down the 15 seconds.  I’m not sure how much explaining was done, as a large portion of the crowd counted down the 15 seconds with him. He then gave a brief explanation and began.  It didn’t work super well and he wrapped things up quickly, but it was fun to be a part of.

Next up was a quick introduction to Trouble Awful Devil Evil, and it was also when my asthma started acting up.  I used my inhaler and when I refocused on the stage Danny was watching, presumably to make sure I was okay.    After Linnell put down his little clarinet for Trouble Awful Devil Evil, Flans briefly introduced him on the Contra Alto Clarinet before they played All Time What.  

Flans had Dan play a note on his guitar to show off the synthesizer, which Linnell claimed could “make a guitar sound like any instrument.”  Dan made a face and Flans amended “Well, any instrument purchased at a Radio Shack.”

They played We Want a Rock, then went straight into Bills Bills Bills.  During the start of the song, Dan posed next to Danny, guitar held at a precise angle, foot tapping.  He then nudged Danny and demonstrated the pose for him until Danny copied the pose and played that way together for a few bars.

Afterwards, Flans told us that the count-offs for the evening were “provided by Al Gore.”  He then proceeded to explain to us that they had seen other bands start without count offs and had been really impressed, but then “we switched and no one noticed.”

“Until now,” Linnell told him.

The two debated whether or not it was too technical for the audience to understand, but then Flans decided we were pretty smart “Three-fourths of them knew what a theremin was,” and they played Letterbox.  

They moved from Letterbox into Spy.  The ending was as fascinating as always, with Flans and Linnell each adding their bit, but rather than actually ending the song, they simply transitioned straight into Dan’s intro to Istanbul.  It was great to see the song getting the full Dan Miller treatment once again.  He was truly amazing.  At one point, he was playing one-handed, just plucking at the frets, at another point, he pointed to the crowd for a cheer before continuing on.  He even attempted to trick the rest of the band into thinking he was wrapping things up (they all got ready to start) before continuing on for another several seconds.  The whole thing was glorious.

During the song itself, Danny gave me a goofy look, and I snorted in response, then immediately covered my nose, embarrassed. Danny cracked up laughing and walked away.  During one of the fake endings, in the space where Dan and Curt had ‘battled’ in other 2018 shows, Dan and Danny did the same for a bit, switching off for a few lines, which was amazing.

As the song was wrapping up, Flans went around getting everyone's attention and wiggling his outstretched fingers at them.  This marked their departure from the setlists and led, accurately and amusingly, into Fingertips.

During I’m Having A Heart Attack, Flans did his boy band bit, but instead of facing the audience for it, addressed off stage right, where I had noticed Robin hanging out in the wings earlier.  I don’t know if she was still there, so I’m not sure if it was intentional or not.  

Dan did the first of the two whispered “Fingertips” without incident, but as he was about to repeat himself, a guy in the crowd shouted “Fingertips!” in the near-silent room.  Dan pointed in his direction and steps back from the mic and the band moved on to I Walk Along Darkened Corridors.

They went straight into The Guitar from there.  Trying to get close enough to midnight, they ended it with a big solo for Danny which was absolutely amazing!  Danny never gets enough time to shine in my personal but admittedly biased opinion and this was an amazing chance to see all that he could do.  Dan and Linnell stood next to each other behind the keyboard to watch Danny.  Dan looked over to Marty, keeping time on his set, and motioned to him that he stunk, pinching his nose and grinning.  Marty must have responded with a worried look because Dan immediately waved it off and gave him a thumbs up.  Linnell did the double point to his eyes and then to Marty in an ‘I’m watching you’ gesture.  

Danny’s solo was truly amazing, it was well over a minute in length and just when you thought it couldn’t get more awesome, it did.  The whole thing was made even more interesting by the fact that, since it was somewhat to stall for time until midnight, every so often Danny would glance over at Flans to check how much longer he wanted him to keep going.  Eventually, they wrapped up the song and a sweat soaked Danny accepted a new water bottle from Fresh while toweling off his face.

There was still more than a minute before midnight when The Guitar wrapped up.  Linnell decided we should “take a moment to remember the people in the crowd we lost along the way.”  The Johns went back and forth on this idea for a while, with Flans mourning “the people who were brought by their friends and are never coming again.”

Eventually they brought up a projection that had instructions for counting down, screaming for 2019, the words to Auld Lang Syne, etc.  The countdown was started at 15 seconds to midnight, but the crowd started out too slow, and in trying to catch up began counting too fast.  We overshot our goal and began celebrating the New Year a second or two too early.  They played Auld Lang Syne into an absolute explosion of confetti as things onstage devolved into an absolutely beautiful chaos.  Fresh, who was helping the confetti tech load the cannon, was eventually pushed out of the process by an incredibly enthusiastic Flans, who loaded the cannon at double speed and moved it back and forth so it would hit everybody.  The confetti got absolutely everywhere, covering the stage and the crowd for the rest of the show.  

Onstage was an absolute hugfest.  Danny hugged Dan, then went over behind the drum riser to hug Marty.  Fresh got a hug from Marty then ran offstage pumping his arms like he’d just won a prize.  Dan lifted Marty off of his feet while hugging him.  There was evidently champagne offstage as someone later set the bottle on an amp.  Flans chugged some directly from the bottle.

As the last of the confetti settled, Flans took the fan that was set up onstage and began using it to clear off some of layer of confetti coating absolutely everything, making a joke about needing a clear stage.  Danny scooped up big handfuls and ran around throwing them over people in the crowd.  At one point, Marty saw him at it and asked why he hadn’t thrown any confetti over his head.  Danny eventually obliged, although he waited until the encore when Marty wasn’t expecting it.  Linnell had the opposite problem, seeing Danny carrying a handful of confetti and worrying it was meant for him.  Danny saw his worried expression and indicated it was meant for the crowd and Linnell relaxed.  The crowd itself was also throwing big crumpled handfuls of the stuff, which packed a bit more of a punch than the drifting flakes, and just about everyone, onstage and in the crowd, got hit by one of the clumps.

Eventually, Flans brought the show back into motion.  He thanked the band, the crew, and the crowd then told us they had a few more songs.  They played Dead, a poignant counterpoint to the beautiful insanity preceding it, with Dan Miller watching from the wings.  At one point he waved to someone in my general section of the crowd, but when I turned around to look, I couldn’t see anyone looking in his direction.  He came back on for Man It’s So Loud In Here, which was introduced as the last song of the night.  They left the stage after that, leaving us to cheer for their return.  You could tell that people were tired.  While the crowd kept up it’s cheering before each encore, a lot of the wild enthusiasm usually present was lacking.

The first encore began with Mrs. Bluebeard, which I’m always happy to hear live.  Dan Miller got the bit he had been so frustrated with in the fall without any problems, and was clearly pleased with himself.  Flans thanked everyone once again and they played Damn Good Times, with Dan wow-ing the crowd with another amazing solo.

Flans, Linnell, and Marty were the only ones returning to the stage for the second encore, soon followed by John Carter and Fresh carrying out the glockenspiel.   Fresh and Marty had another mallet spin-off, with Fresh having improved his game since the Buffalo show, but Marty still the clear victor.  

They played Shoehorn With Teeth, with all due decorum going into the playing of the glockenspiel. Flans forgot which verse he was starting at one point, starting partway into the first line.

After the song was over, Flans told us that they didn’t know where the other tassel was.  Linnell decided that the number of tassels showed how skilled the glockenspiel player was, and that you had tassels removed as you moved up the levels.  Marty, he explained, was a one tassel player, but would eventually have the other tassel removed.  Fresh, back onstage to remove the glockenspiel, made a big show of acting like he was removing the remaining tassel and then ‘changing his mind’ and leaving it.

By then, Dan and Danny had returned to the stage.  Flans told us all that this was the last song “for real now.  Last time we were lying.”

“This is the song we like to do last.”

They played the Mesopotamians, then left the stage for the final time.

As soon as they were gone, Fresh was out onstage, assisting the girl next to me who had lost her glasses over the railing towards the end of the show.  Her efforts to retrieve them had made me feel less than charitable about the whole situation, but it was wonderful how prepared Fresh was to help her.  While Flans, Danny, and Marty were passing out stickers and setlists, Flans even brought over his fan to blow away some of the confetti from the spot and make finding the glasses easier, eventually handing the fan to Fresh so he could continue the search.

I didn’t quite cry leaving, but it was a near thing.  I hope for many more concerts to come, but since have to take a break from my touring habit, this show was a wonderful high note to end on.