#Never watched the wall or nc's version of it but my god this guy is just mean

[dumbasswhatever]

Don't know how some people can stand to be so outright and publicly cruel... Don't they get embarrassed

[ohblackdiamond]

curved air (ace/peter, nc-17)

They didn’t do it every single night on tour. Just a lot of nights. Peter wasn’t even sure when it had started—it had to have been early on, when they were still sharing rooms. But at some point, years ago, he and Ace and Paul had started showering together after the show.

Notes: For @planet-neun. Merry Christmas, and I’m sorry I’m a day late, as usual!

It had been a brilliant show. 

Even now, a month into the reunion tour, Peter couldn’t quite believe how brilliant. How invigorating. How many people. The kids—kids younger than Jennilee, out there on their dads’ shoulders, wearing their makeup. The college girls, their hair and clothes so different from all those years prior, but their wants the same as ever—he wasn’t as interested in them as he used to be, but it was still a thrill just to see them there. Five or six of them had tossed bras up at the stage, and Gene and Paul had collected them like trophies, gleefully hooking them to their mic stands during the show. Like they’d never seen them before, when Peter knew they had. Gene had even brought the bra with the biggest cups backstage, half-jokingly telling a roadie to find the owner, like a demented version of Cinderella’s glass slipper.

The want was more exciting than the money. Seeing so many peoples’ faces lighting up. No one had wanted to see him in so long. He remembered the clubs and bars he’d been reduced to. Even when he’d been on tour with Ace last year, the crowds were nothing, less than nothing, in comparison. Almost no one had asked for his autograph in years, outside of the convention circuit, and now—

It was surreal. A second shot. He wouldn’t waste it. He couldn’t.

The one thing he’d been scared would hold him back wasn’t yet. The pain in his arms hadn’t been bad enough to affect his performances. He was trying, desperately, to prevent it however he could. He’d started dipping his arms in big bowls of ice immediately after getting off the stage. He had all sorts of wraps, too. None of the cortisone injections like he’d had in the seventies. The idea was, these days, to try to treat the pain and stiffness as naturally as possible, and he hoped to limit himself to over-the-counter anti-inflammatories, if he had to take anything. He’d be really careful.

His arms were still a bit pink from the ice. He rubbed at them absently, rolling up the sleeves of his bathrobe. He hadn’t stripped out of the costume and paint yet, the sweat making both stick to him like a second skin. He was waiting. Next to him, leaning against the wall and nursing a can of what Peter hoped was actually Pepsi, Ace was, too.

“Where’s Paul?” Ace asked. Peter had only seen him backstage briefly after the show. Gene was gone, too, but that was expected; he’d always head straight back to the hotel to bang groupies. He’d never been part of their post-concert routine. “Isn’t he hanging around?”

“I thought I saw him talking to Pam earlier.”

“That’s been at least fifteen minutes.” Ace hesitated, rubbing at his mouth with the back of his hand. Peter watched him blink at the black lipstick smear left on his skin, then laugh quietly, almost to himself. “She didn’t look too thrilled.”

That was an understatement. Paul’s wife had looked mildly humiliated after every concert so far.

“He’s probably cheating on her.”

“Fuck, he’s been cheating on her. But now he’s got lots better pickings than he used to.” Ace put his finger to his lips again, smudging away the lipstick at the cener. “’S different.”

“Cheating’s cheating.”

“Nah, man, I mean… he’s different, we’re different.” Ace took a swallow of his drink. Peter stepped up closer, trying to get a whiff of what was in the can without being obvious about it. Ace needed to knock it off. For Monique’s sake if not for his own. Keep his addictions more than an arm’s length away. Pete had done it more than ten years ago now. But Ace just seemed to keep on and keep on. It felt worse now than it used to, now that he saw him every day. It was like watching a man drown in an inch of water. “It’s not just the crowds. The show makes us different.”

“What do you mean?”

“You think Paulie’d be smacking his own ass onstage if he didn’t have the paint on?” Ace didn’t give him a chance to respond. “Nah. Pam’s not, y’know, used to that side of him.”

“The only side I see of him onstage is his ass. He’s not turning around like he used to.”

“Aw, Petey. Lemme make it up to you.”

Ace set the drink down on the table. Peter grabbed it, taking a sip, relieved when the only thing he tasted was Pepsi. Ace’s expression was unreadable at first, before the right side of his mouth raised up just slightly in a smile.

“I ain’t doing so bad. I promise. You wanna wait on him?”

It took a second before Peter realized what Ace meant. He hesitated, uncertain. If Paul and Pam were really having a row, Paul wouldn’t be back, ritual be damned. Part of him wanted to wait despite that. The rest of him wanted to step out of his sweaty spandex as soon as possible.

“Let’s just go. Any longer and this shit’ll be glued to my skin.”

“Wouldn’t be that bad a look,” Ace said, and clapped an arm around his shoulder. “C’mon.”

--

They didn’t do it every single night on tour. Just a lot of nights. Peter wasn’t even sure when it had started—it had to have been early on, when they were still sharing rooms. But at some point, years ago, he and Ace and Paul had started showering together after the show.

It would get pretty stupid. They’d done all sorts of comparisons on each others’ dicks, hard and flaccid. Soap-dropping. Smacking each other with washcloths. And they’d fooled around—sure, they’d all fooled around. It was if the shower was just another barrier to the real world. Like the inverse of Superman’s phone booth. Painted monsters coming in, regular guys coming out, with no one aware of the process in-between.

Peter had been surprised when the band showers resumed. Thought Paul would demure out of ego, not wanting the other two to see him stripped bare sixteen years on. But he’d been all for it. They hadn’t screwed around, just teased each other about the gut that those workout regimens hadn’t gotten rid of, but that was all right. It was fun. Reassuring. It felt good to know there was still a piece of the old times that really was just for them, a piece that had nothing to do with summoning up someone else’s nostalgia. It felt really good.

They’d usually use the showers by the dressing room, rather than the hotel. Ace would step in first, tinkering with the temperature, and then Peter, with Paul following behind. Twenty minutes easy of soaping up and shooting the shit. Which reminded Peter—

“You bring a pack of razors?”

“Said they’re in the shower.” Ace crooked another small grin. “They got everything ready for us right here whether we used ’em or not. Even the cold cream. Rider’s a mile long.”

“I can’t remember the last time I had a rider worth anything.”

“I can.” The velcro made an almost itchy sound as Ace, as blase about nudity as ever, peeled away the vest of his costume, tossing it on a chair for wardrobe to gather up later before starting on his boots, socks, and the leotard beneath. Wardrobe. They actually had wardrobe. A month in and it was still unbelievable. Peter inhaled sharply, then tugged off his shoes and socks, his bullet-belt of a vest. Stepped out of the leotard. The relief was almost instant, the cool air a balm on his sticky skin as they padded barefoot to the shower. “Last time I was with you.”

--

They really did have the cold cream there in a huge, personalized caddy in each shower stall. Had regular makeup removal wipes, too, and a fat stack of white towels of various sizes. Six different shampoos. Body wash. Acne cleanser. Bar soap. Loofahs. Razors. Condoms. Lube. God, and this wasn’t even the hotel. They didn’t even know whether KISS would even use the showers on-premises. He would’ve expected all this excess sixteen years ago. Now, it never failed to impress him. Never failed at all.

He picked up a washcloth and the cold cream out of habit and preference, unscrewing the jar and taking it with him back to the sink. One illusion he could take care of pretty quickly. He could hear Ace turning on the shower, and he waited, half-expecting Ace to call him in, but he didn’t. Instead, Ace headed over to the sink just as Peter dipped his fingers into the thick cream.

“Hold on, man.”

“What for?”

“Lemme give you a hand.” Ace scooped up some of the cream and started to spread it across Peter’s face. Messy dollops on his forehead, cheeks, and chin, before Ace rubbed it in properly with his fingers, the cream smearing away the paint, gradually exposing his skin. Ace smiled a little bit as he traced the tips of his fingers against Peter’s cheeks, turning the whiskers into smudged, blotchy ovals, and then nothing at all.

“Paint doesn’t hide as much as I thought it did,” Peter said dryly, after a glance in the mirror. Ace was still working on getting rid of the makeup, casually, slowly.

“You still look pretty good under there, y’know.”

“I’m fifty.”

“We can round down.” Ace took the washcloth, wet it, and wiped away the excess on his cheeks. “Close your eyes for me.”

Peter did. A second and Ace’s cream-coated fingers were carefully rubbing at the paint on his eyelids, spreading it out and up, towards his eyebrows and forehead.

“I never thought I’d be back to doing this at fifty. It’s… it’s far out, isn’t it? I still can’t believe it.” If the outdated turn of phrase bothered Ace any, he didn’t say anything, and Peter could feel the cloth against his eyelids next, just as gentle. “I can’t talk about it with Gene and Paul. They don’t get it.”

“They get it a lot better than you think.”

“Nah, nah. They…” Peter trailed, trying to come up with the right words as Ace kept wiping away his makeup. He wasn’t even mad at the other two for not getting it. He just wanted to explain. “They’ve been in that world so long. They dunno what it’s like to be down to nothing.”

“They’ve got a good idea. Maybe it was worse for them.”

“Worse? Are you serious? Come off it, Ace, they’re neck-deep in Hollywood bullshit and yes-men, they never—”

“This wasn’t just our last chance, Petey. It was theirs, too.” Ace didn’t elaborate any further. Peter opened his eyes, and saw Ace rinsing off the washcloth in the tap. The remnants of cream mixed with black greasepaint left a gray streak in the sink. 

“I’ll get your makeup for you, Ace.”

“S’okay, I’ll get it.”

“No, I--”

“Don’t want you holding your arms up anymore than you gotta.”

A slight warmth started up somewhere in Peter’s stomach as he shook his head.

“It’s not so bad. Nothing like it used to be. C’mon, let me.”

Ace bit his lip, then nodded.

“Okay. But in the shower, yeah? There’s something else I wanna get up to.”

--

He tried to be careful, taking Ace’s makeup off. Ace was still mixing up some kind of powder for the silver starbursts, one that bothered his eyes. The cold cream almost melted between his fingers from the steam of the shower before he could even get it on Ace’s face, sliding off easily. He didn’t look so bad under the greasepaint. Not so bad at all, but there was a tiredness along with that old eerie awareness now. It was too early in the tour for Ace to be tired. Too early for Ace to be worried.

Peter kissed him as soon as the last remnants of makeup were washed away, on down to the lipstick. Ace returned the kiss almost immediately, looping an arm around him, pulling him close. They lingered like that awhile, under the spray of the shower, quiet and warm and wet. Then Ace, less lethargic and lackadaisical than usual, mouthed along his throat while his hand reached for Peter’s dick.

“Takes longer than it used to,” Peter warned, as if it’d really been that long since they’d last messed around. Maybe it’d been years since the last shower ritual had ended in handjobs and blowjobs, but it hadn’t been more than three days since the last time Ace’s body had ended up against his. Ace just winked.

“I got the time if you got the money, Cat.”

His hand was familiar. It felt the same as ever wrapped around his cock, pumping absently. Only the backdrop was different. Peter grunted, let Ace slowly ease him backwards until he felt the cool wall tile against his skin. His breath hitched as Ace worked him up to full attention. No hurry. Never any hurry. Not even in those shitty motels from ’74, the ones that ran out of hot water less than five minutes in. He and Paul would hop out, cursing and shivering, but Ace would just cackle once it turned cold. He acted like they always had all the time in the world to come.

The onslaught of water wasn’t direct now, just stray droplets amid the steam. Ace’s grip slacked off almost as abruptly as it had begun, as he sunk down to his knees in front of him, hands tracing his thighs.

He’d watched Ace take him in hundreds of times before. More times than he’d watched Ace’s knees buckle to the floor during the show. Down-down-down. It didn’t mean anything there. It meant something here, here in this in-between space, where all the magic of spandex and greasepaint faded and left them as they were, flawed and ordinary. It always would.

Peter’s hands found Ace’s soaked hair, pushing the wet strands back from his face. He closed his eyes again, and smiled.

[serahsanguine]

School, Sex and Subterfuge NC-17

ao3

This story is based in 2018/2019.

Mulder is a teacher, Scully is a student. This story is an NC-17 rating. There is no underage sex in my story I researched this before even writing it.

Mulder is known to give extra credit of a sexual kind to Someone special in his class does this person turn out to be Scully? I will let you read and find out.

*******************************************

Notes:

The first Chapter is kind of Scully Pov but most of the chapters thereafter will be both pov and or third person. Also, the characters I am portraying may seem out of charter well one of them at least but as the story goes on this will sort itself out it had to be done this way for the story to work.

*************************************************

First Day, First Meeting

Scully was now in her second year at Stanford University getting her bachelor's degree in Medicine.

She was a sophomore, thank God, because she had hated being a freshman. At least now she was kind of settled. She knew where she had to be on campus and knew the best places to get away from everyone, when she needed time alone. She has mostly the same classes that she had last year, just more advanced versions of those classes. She wasn't much for parties or social gatherings, as she preferred to study and get straight A’s instead of headaches and awkward conversation with strangers. Anything less would not please Ahab, especially with Missy roaming the world. She knew her roommate Serah and a couple of her close friends well and even knew most of the people in her classes. Serah was in most of the same subjects she was, bar a few, like art and music for example.

Scully woke up in her room, the sun was just starting to peek through the musty brown curtains. She groaned to herself and forced herself to roll over, looking over at her clock which sat on her bedside table, moaning again when she read the time - 5 am.

She hated when her body did this to her when it didn't want to sleep or she couldn't get to sleep. She swung her legs off the bed, it wasn't like she was going to go back to sleep anyway and put on some comfortable yoga pants, with a tank top and some bright red Nike Air running trainers. She could probably fit in an hour or two at the gym before the rest of the campus even wakes up. Plus the benefits of being at the gym this early is that no one would be there; meaning no guys wolf whistling or giving her dirty remarks under their breath while exercising.

She exited her room quietly shutting and locking the door behind her trying not to wake Serah, as she definitely was not a morning person. Scully made quick work of getting to the main entrance and across the quad to the west wing of the campus which held the gym and entered the building saying a quick "Hello" to Jim the security guard, before heading straight for the treadmill machine area. She placed her eco-friendly water bottle in the holder, and then put her wireless headphones on before scanning her iPhone and hitting play on Fleetwood Mac and stepped onto the treadmill starting at a light jog then a full sprint. She was so focused on running and what she was listening to that she didn't notice a man enter the room and start running, three treadmills down from her, himself.

An hour passed and Scully had run the sleep deprivation out of her system, and her legs were starting to burn so she slowed her pace and started her cool down. That's when she looked over to see a man in his late 20’s, maybe early 30’s, running hard with sweat dripping off of his face. Scully covertly checked him out - he was about 6ft 1 with chestnut brown hair and tanned skin.

She had never seen this man before but as she studied his physique, she could tell he was athletic, he had brilliant legs and calf muscles. She worked her way up staring at his butt which was nicely shaped and stood out in the very short black workout shorts that he was wearing, continuing up further to his arms she watched his toned biceps and triceps flex and tense as he was really giving this run his all.

The man suddenly turned towards her, looking directly at her and she realised she had clearly been caught checking him out. She started blushing and then he smiled at her and she wanted to look away but she couldn't help but stare back at the man looking appreciatively at her. His eyes are what drew her in, they weren't green but neither were they brown, in fact, they were a lovely shade of hazel; so bright and deep at the same time, they were mesmerizing. She watched sweat drip from his hairline and run down his cheekbones and nose which she did admit was too big for his face but it suited him all the same and didn't diminish how cute he was.

Scully worked her way down his face to look at his gorgeous pouty lips so pink and full - Wow! What she would give to have that bottom lip in-between her teeth sucking and nibbling it. Wow, where did that come from? She smiled back at him and he took off his drenched mesh and cotton tank top, her eyes drifted down of the own accord she could not help but notice the muscles of his chest and the very well defined six-pack on his stomach.

Looking at this beautiful man sent her into a full body flush - her heart racing, her breath was ragged and uneven, a pool of desire building in her stomach. Why was she thinking like this? She had to stop thinking like this immediately but damn she just wanted to shove him up against a wall and have him fuck her senseless!

She had to escape quickly, hopping off the treadmill she walked fast towards the ladies locker room but he was still staring at her as she opened the door and only then did he turn away. She could not help but glance at this man once more before heading for a very cold shower (which desperately needed now), trying not to think of the man she had just encountered and spent no actual time talking to.

After Scully had showered and changed into some light grey jeans and a flowy peach coloured tank top blouse with spaghetti straps, she grabbed herself a coffee and grabbed Serah one while she was at the on-campus coffee shop before walking back to her dorm room.

She arrived at her room and unlocked the door; Serah was already awake and dressed in black stretchy jeans, a black tank top and cropped burgundy hoodie, her long blonde hair was in a messy ponytail and away from her face, making her blue eyes stand out more than they already did.

"Hey Dana’ Serah said cheerfully.

"Wow, look who's up early!" Scully replied sarcastically, with a curiously raised eyebrow.

"Oh, shush you. Is that coffee for me?"

"Well, I don't see anyone else here to give it to, so you might as well have it," Scully said, handing Serah the coffee cup.

"Well, it looks like someone is in a sassy mood on the first day back. Anyone, I know?"

Scully was still surprised at how easily Serah could read her sometimes.

"No. Just some guy I saw at the gym this morning... I didn't even speak to him."

"You may not have spoken to him, Dana, but he has you all hot under the collar I can tell," Serah smirked, then took a sip of her coffee.

Scully could feel a slight redness in her cheeks and a small smile creep across her face.

"Maybe... but you know me and you know that I have no time for men."

"Well, my dear friend. All work and no play makes life very dull indeed. And sometimes you need to play hard and be free... and let go every now and then."

"Maybe I will, sometime"

"Yes but the sometime may never come, Dana"

"What classes do you have today anyway?"

"Mostly same as you Biology and Chemistry but when you have your free period I have Art class then lunch we can meet back up at say two for psychology?"

"Sure, that sounds about right."

"Oh, have you heard the rumours about our lecturer?"

"You know I don't listen to rumour and speculation."

"Well, I know THAT! But they are pretty good and sound rather juicy so do you want to know or not?" Scully nodded, and so without hesitation Serah carried on with her story "Well as I hear it our teacher Mr F. W. Mulder takes one girl under his wing a year and gives her ‘extra credit’" Serah raised her eyebrows as if willing Scully to get the hint but Scully just looked at her friend standing across from her and gave her a sceptical eyebrow. "Anyway, it so happens he purposely fails them so he can take them back to his office and have his way with them. And nobody minds because apparently from what I have heard from the older girls, he is very good looking and fantastic in bed"

"As I said I don't believe in rumour or speculation, and if what you say is true surely he would have been found out and got fired by now."

"You would think so, wouldn't you? But apparently he is from a wealthy family that donates a lot of money to the school... so they look the other way."

"Hmm… we really should get going or we’re going to miss out the first lecture."

"Changing the subject are we?"

"Why yes, I am." They both started laughing.

They casually wandered to their first class sipping their coffees on the way.

Several hours and a number of boring "Welcome back" lectures later. Scully was sitting in her favourite little, off-campus, cafe eating a small Caesar salad with a strawberry and banana smoothie just enjoying the scenery. The weather was warm for Autumn, a good 78 F but there was a light breeze flowing through the trees and flowers offsetting the unusual heat.

What Scully liked most about sitting here was being alone and the peace and serenity of it all - that was until the guy she saw earlier at the gym started walking in her direction. She watched him walk across the small cafe, his hair caught the sun coming through the large windows and his eyes glimmered in the sunlight, he was wearing dark blue jeans that rode low on his hips and a white shirt rolled up on his arms.

"Excuse me, is this seat taken?" He looked at her directly in the eyes now, and she could feel him burrowing his way into her soul, gesturing towards the empty seat next to her.

"No, it is not." Scully smiled sheepishly at him and watched him sit down across from her.

"It’s nice here. Very open... and yet rustic"

"Yes, it is" Scully felt herself going shy, and was unable to form long sentences.

"I'm sorry to be so forward. I'm not normally like this," he took a short pause before completing his train of thought "You just looked lonely. My name is William, by the way."

"Hello William, I'm Dana" she took his hand and shook it, she felt unable to breathe because of this man sitting in front of her.

"I was wondering if you attended the University?" Scully simply nodded, William took the chance to express what he really wanted to say "Look, I really came over to say that you are a very beautiful woman."

"Thank you," Scully was covered in crimson blush now and she didn't know what to say, she could feel her heart beating hard in her chest, could hear the blood pumping and thrumming in her ears.

"I really must be going, sorry to interrupt your day. It's been nice to meet you, Dana."

"It was nice meeting you, too," Scully answered managing to stumble out the words.

She watched him walk away (eyes distracted by his firm butt). No man had made her lost for words before, no man had really taken an interest in her or at least been so forward about it. She was shocked, to say the least, but very flattered by his attention.

She finished her salad (and smoothie) and made her way back to campus to meet Serah by the water fountain.

"Dana!"

"Hey Serah, are you ready to head to class?"

"Yeah"

Serah picked up her bag and bottled water, said bye to her group of friends and walked alongside Scully. It took about ten minutes to walk to the lecture hall, when they arrived it was already half full. Scully thought two things at that moment It is either a popular subject or he was a very popular man! Serah looked at her as if she knew what she was thinking and grinned.

"It could possibly be both, there a couple of seats over there"

They shuffled through the row of seats to find their spot.

"So, what did you get up to at lunch? You came back a bit flushed."

"I'm fine! Nothing happened." Scully stated, staring off into space and trying not to look at her friend.

"Yeah, right. I heard some more details that should interest you... details about what kind of women he picks for his little game"

"Is that so?"

"Apparently he goes for long haired brunettes and quite tall... or so I have heard."

"Oh, well thank you for the reassurance. Since I'm nothing like that he wouldn't even look at me twice." Scully mumbled while getting her notebook out of her bag.

"Anytime!"

Suddenly the whole lecture hall went quite as Professor F. W. Mulder himself stepped onto the stage at the front of the room. Scully looked up and recognized the man that was about to teach their class, it was William in his blue jeans and white shirt. Their eyes locked onto each other... Shit, she thought.

This was going to be one very long academic year.

[julesplanb-blog]

Don’t cross the themes!

The following note contains heavy spoilers about the plot of both 1984 & 2016 Ghostbusters movies, and a tiny one - a line of dialogue - from Ocean’s 8.

“Having only girls in the new Ghostbusters movie makes no sense and is as sexist as having only males, you -”

Ok so, this is where I’m gonna cut that quote from about 78 random dudes sharing their opinion on Paul Feig’s Ghostbusters with me (so much love I did not ask for <3), because this is usually where said opinion goes from PG to NC-17. I said in a previous note that arguing with people about movies was one of the greatest things in life... provided that people’s opinions were at least a tad respectful, and a tad built on something, ANYTHING, beyond basic casual hatred for women (oh hello, guys who want to remake The Last Jedi!). That being said, I’m going to be the bigger person here and still take time to answer those 78 gentlemen with a little piece on why, in my humble opinion, having women in the Ghostbusters reboot not only makes sense, but makes it a more functioning movie when it comes to characters and even themes. Ok, let’s do this.

First things first: while I’m interested in comparison, I don't think it's relevant to try and rank the 2 movies: I personally enjoy the 2016 more, but I can acknowledge its weaknesses. It’s just than what works in it is way more compelling to me as a viewer (and, yes, as a female viewer). On the other hand, I’ll admit the qualities of the original, mostly to be an effortless piece of good writing, but it’s weaker where the 2016 shines, and vice-versa. Ultimately, those are 2 different movies, actually telling two different stories. Yes, I know, both are about a team of semi-misfits chasing ghosts. But one story focus (1984) is around a philosophical idea, and the second is about human/women condition (2016). One is built around a (fun, entertaining and functioning) concept, i.e. busting ghosts, the other is about characters paths. To the point where I think there’s close to no character arc in the original Ghostbusters. I mean think about it: how did the characters changed between beginning and end? When the film starts, they already know each other’s, have a functioning relationship and it turns out all along that they were pretty much right on everything from the start. They’re not exactly challenged on their beliefs, way to see the world, behaviours or just plain personalities, not even Bill Murray’s Peter Venkman, when this character is actually both a jerk and a fraud. Sure, Sigourney Weaver’s Dana calls him a fraud at some point, but this is a Tchekov gun being flashed without being shot, since from there, Dana is possessed by Zuul and kind of written off the movie (which is a shame). Now, I won’t make this piece a full digression on why Peter Venkman is a jerk and how this fact could make us file the movie itself under “lovable but still a bit problematic”, yet this still deserves a couple lines because when you look closely: Peter Venkman is a jerk, borderline creepy (and the movie never gives us fuel to think otherwise, for real). Actually, Peter Venkman is pretty much what the bad guy of Ghostbusters 2016 (Rowan) could have become if he had any kind of power. We see Peter act just the way Rowan would if he had the upper hand on someone: he cheats on his own experiment, abuses a student as a faculty, make creepy innuendos to women who did not ask for this...  I make this point because as the 2016 bad guy, Rowan makes perfect sense. Meanwhile, there’s no actual human big bad in the 1984 version, because there’s no specific reason for the events to happen when they happen.

Exactly, why is New York infected by ghosts in the original Ghostbusters? Ok, I wasn’t alive back in 1984 and maybe there's something I miss, a reference to a historical “mood” if you’ll have it, maybe an “end of the world vibe” I don’t not know about. But between some obvious referencing to Exorcist and the general comedic tone of the film, I’ve always watched Ghostbusters as some kind of parody or reappropriation of a genre, and not a reflection of its time. And it’s okay. All of the above (well, maybe not Venkman never being called on his jerkiness): the lack of proper character arcs, human villain or symbolic reason for the infestation to happen. First, because, thanks to great dialogues & great acting by already beloved actors, we still care for those guys. But more important: because you can have great stories without it. Stories propulsed by something else than character development, such as... a theme. And 1984 Ghostbusters statement is a pretty damn interesting one: science beats superstition, well, science can explain supernatural, science beats ghosts, science beats freakin’ Gods, so man can beat god. Seriously, This is a great theme, and the script is nicely built around it, up to an ending where we see nerds vanquish a god with scientific tech. 1984 Ghosbusters makes writing choices and works, and as a movie about defeating incarnations of both childhood and adulthood fears (monsters and gods) it turns out to be a smart and timeless piece of pop culture. 

Now you can argue that if it’s timeless, did it really needed to be rebooted in the first place? But see, the beauty of this reboot is that it does not try to redo the same thing. Because the 2016 Ghostbusters makes completely different writing choices, revolves around something else entirely, and if its theme also features some universal / timeless aspects, its treatment makes it a very relevant piece to the time it came out. So let’s break it down: 

First, I believe its writing to be deeply entwined with characters’ flaws and development. What they want, what they lack, is the main propulsion for the story. And if we agree to say Kristen Wiig’s Erin Gilbert is our main character here, what she wants is consideration by her pairs. You can argue she has that at the beginning: teacher in a decent university, about to get tenure, but remember that to get this far, she had to leave behind her best friend and what she actually believed in. She had to fit. Meanwhile Abby is still working on what she wants but in a D-list school and only because the dean has no idea who she is. Both have to hide what matters to them to be included. And this theme as well as Erin’s relationship with Abby is one of the pivot point of the movie: the past and the complicated present of the characters weigh into the script, introduce conflict, propulsion and ultimately, resolution.

But this quest for being legit really works for the 4 of our characters: Abby & Jillian get their a** fired as soon as the dean actually remembers what they’re working on. Patty too: while she works un ungrateful job below the surface, she actually knows the city above ground better than any other character, not only places and localisation but historical perspective, arts... (It’s also interesting to note, if we want to compare the 2 movies that in 1984, Dana sees a ghost and become a client of the Ghostbusters (then a victim of said ghost). In 2016, the woman who sees a ghost, i.e. Patty, joins the team as a Ghostbuster herself. Women are no more plot devices here: they have they own agendas & needs, they’re the engine of the story.)

So you have this characters trying to be acknowledged as professionals, which works perfectly with the concept “scientists turning into ghosts hunters”. But what’s even better: it works perfectly with an all-female group of characters. Why? Well, because in real life, you can totally be denied the legitimacy you deserve just. for. being. a. woman.

It’s also completely in resonance with a movie about sorority and the way girls have to stick out for each other (Abby & Erin reconciliation). Sexism could actually be seen as the villain here. It’s a picture paint with small brushes (and that’s something to add to the film credit) but it’s there: the little jokes about online comments - an obvious yes short nod to the guys who managed to troll the movie notation before it even came out (isn’t it grand though? I mean those douchebags are so freaking predictable Paul Feig managed to write them in before they even manifest themselves) - the dean behaviour... Apart from that, 2016 Ghostbusters does not state out loud the fact those women are depreciated for being women, for it doesn’t need to. Because you know what? Women knows. And it's their freaking film.

Of course the clearest illustration of that idea has to be the bad guy. Rowan is indeed a misogynist jerk, but beyond that, is the perfect incarnation of those women antagonist in 2016. So in 1984 Ghostbusters, we don’t know exactly why the wall between the worlds is getting thinner right now: the guy behind it is a god and well, gods work in mysterious ways. But in 2016, the grand master is a human. Because that version is not about god vs men, it’s about men vs men. Because not all men / humans are equal. 

It makes perfect sense her to have the ghosts being summoned by a villain who happens to be a persona of entitled jerks feeling they’re not recognized for their true value (hey! theme again!). Except Rowan / those guys are not denied respect on an essentialist aspect of themselves (being a woman, black, gay...) but because they’re actually not as good as they thing they are.

It's a (lighter, more comedy-compatible) version of that awfully sad and way too real guy who randomly shoot at people because one girl turned down his advances one day, the guy blaming his lack of acknowledgement by the society on society being unfair to him, but deciding that the best course of action is to destroy said society instead of proving it wrong. While Abby, Erin, Jillian and Patty decide to take action and working their a** off on proving they ARE RIGHT (to extreme extend too, with Erin releasing the ghost to prove a point in her need for legitimacy), Rowan just wants to burn it all, to no one’s benefit but his own crave for power and destruction. Do you see why that guy nemesis needed to be a Erin Gilbert and not a Peter Venkman?

Having women serves the movie all the way, up till the end. And as a character-driven movie, its script does the best possible thing: giving characters, not what they wanted, but what they needed. For in the end, it’s not that much about acknowledgment (though the skyline scene is heartwarming <3) for the city still ask the theam to be super discreet, it’s about doing what you want regardless of people’s opinion, knowking yourself that you are good at what you’re doing, and doing it because you are good at it. Trust me boys, that speaks to every girl here.

In fact everything in the new Ghostbusters makes sense for the viewers of its time. Which is exactly what a good reboot should do. It’s all in the details, and mostly in the references to the previous one.

The Ghostbuster 2016 doesn't aim at telling the 1984 one is bad, but states that things have changed. The references are smart and symbolic but not too obvious that a new viewer would miss a plot point for not knowing it. It’s the perfect balance: taking what worked and was good and put it in a different time. And the times, they are a-changing, people. Sometimes for the better, such as Bill Murray being again a jerk but getting punished for it, sometimes for worse.

For instance : the brownstone that the guys get at the beginning of 1984 but the girls can’t afford before the end, stating, maybe, just maybe, that women or in this instance, that this new generation will have to work harder for stuff such as rent. And take the biggest symbol / reference to the original: the giant Stay Puft Marshmallow Man.

In this movie, he’s not being defeated by high tech, but by the Swiss army knife “every girl should have on her” (because, yes, being a girl is a source of danger just by itself). While the cast of the new movie is literally being smothered by the incarnation of the previous movie, by the “good old times”, the girl who finally came to believe in herself defeats it by "being a girl" If this not exhilarating metaphor, what is? This is both an homage and refusal to say "original is better because it's the first!" Nope, times change, women are here to claim their places in movies, in the real world, and that new Ghostbusters wasn't gender swapped for nothing, it was because it fits tis day and age, and it was because it fits the theme

Ghostbusters 2016 is grounded in its time, thus being not a useless reboot but a reappropriation of a great idea, playing it across a different era in terms of economy, society, women position...

It's not gratuitous. It's better this way.

Now, I’m aware this piece comes out a bit late to end it on “go see the new Ghostbusters ladies, it rocks and those trolls are just petty men realizing the world is not ENTIRELY them anymore”.  So I’m going to end it on “go see Ocean’s 8 ladies, it rocks and those trolls are just...” you get the point. Truth is: Ocean’s 8 is a decent summer movie, functioning, fun, witty and supported by a great cast.   

It also acknowledges, in *one line*, why the team is only women, in a very clever, resonant way: it’s smarter to make a heist with women, because women are ignored. That’s it. The movie doesn’t say more, doesn’t need to say more. Because women know that’s true, know they’re not as visible and considered as their male co-workers even when doing an equal or better job. Women will get it just hearing that line. And it’s their freaking movie. You know what’s the narrative justification for Ocean’s 11 (11!) or original Ghostbusters to be all male? Well, there isn’t any. Because that was just default setting. And boy am I glad to see this changing. Even if it’s just line by line.

[bananashemmo]

When We Collide (Part 38)

Pairing: Assistant!Y/N/CEO!Luke

Rating: NC-17

Masterlist: Here

Summary: He is the definition of high class smart ass, swimming in Dom Pierre Pérignon champagne and has never seen the shadow of poverty. She is underprivileged, lives in a messy dorm room on sale and struggles working as an assistant after being thrown out of college. But how will they collide when Luke makes Y/N pregnant after a drunkenly one night stand

When We Collide on Wattpad

“Welcome to Sydney. My hometown and the place I was born and raised.” 

“You’re kidding, right?” You had to blink twice just to make sure Luke was telling the truth. The colorful lights coming from the small water fountains in the middle of the entrance to the mansion was eye catching. 

“Don’t act like you’re surprised.” Luke blinked with his right eye and made a motion with his hand to get Patrick to help you carry your luggage. 

He was stating the truth but you still couldn’t avoid feeling your jaw falling just a tiny bit. 

The place was huge. Bigger than any of the three mansions Luke owned back in New York and it definitely wore a different style here. Palms were everywhere and not to mention the insane heat that was nothing compared to the cold back at home. 

You looked over your shoulder just to make sure Patrick didn’t needed any help and smiled softly when he gave you a nod and walked forward. 

You were almost too afraid to walk on the stones beneath you. They pretty much looked like they were made out of diamonds and because of the flashing lights they showed your reflection.

Luke seemed pretty comfortable to be home. Almost excited, he was biting down on his lip with a wide smile as he walked up the long pair of stairs.

A hand came from his front and you grabbed it politely to get the extra help it needed to get up without problems. Safe to say you could feel your knees starting to shake.

You weren’t sure if it was because of the nervousness or if it was because of the small pain from having to walk more than necessary. 

Luke on the other hand seemed so comfortable. It was like he wasn’t nervous for anything but that was also a bit of a sigh of relief. You were nervous that he would grow worried about the smallest things.

The ride over here was okay. Not to mention the flight was alright and you didn’t have any aches or pain during the trip. You were only nervous once during turbulence but it was quickly over and you could snooze off again.

In fact you looked pretty tired. It had been a long day and you had arrived at night so it was right after dinner services. You and Luke, on the other hand, did eat because of the food being served at the plane. 

You shook away the nervous feeling and held your breath carefully when Luke grabbed the handle and was welcomed inside.

“Welcome to the Hemmings Family.” 

The instant sound of jazz music filled your eyes and faintly you could hear glasses of champagne being clinked together. Voices and chats were filling the house but you could tell it wasn’t coming from the entrance you were standing in. 

You looked up at Luke not really understanding what was going on but by his expression he did neither. 

“Sounds like mom and dad are having one of their social gatherings.” He spoke under his breath and took off your jacket after giving his to the butler of the mansion. 

“Tonight is your parents’ 31 years anniversary. They’ve celebrated it by inviting friends and family.” The butler explained and Luke’s eyes widened.

“Oh my-,” He commented and looked down, “I totally forgot about that.” 

He looked a bit bummed about the situation but then he shrugged and headed towards the large stairs that to upstairs. You weren’t sure of what to do so you did the exact same and followed him behind the many steps.

He was heading towards a special direction you could tell. He knew exactly well where he was going and as he turned on the last corner you came to a door.

“This used to be my old bedroom.” He explained and opened the two doors to let you inside. 

You walked into the room and tried to scan it as much as possible. It was much smaller than you had expected but with the large balcony door by the end of it you could tell that it was bigger than expected.

With the bed in the middle and books everywhere you could tell that he still kept his style classic. It was inspired from something simple like his hometown bedroom.

He walked forward and with the help of Patrick placed your suitcases to the left side of the bed.

You weren’t sure of what to do so you headed towards the end of the bed and took a seat down onto the mattress. Just as soft as it looked like, you could feel there was at least three different sheets beside the heat. 

“I’m not sure if you want to sleep in here, if you’d like I can lead you to one of the guest rooms.” He suggested but you shook your head.

“It’s okay,” You smiled and held your fingers between the sheets. “I don’t mind sharing the bed as long as you stay on your side and you don’t snore... I know you have a habit of that.” 

Your comments made his eyebrows lift and you couldn’t help but giggle by his reaction. 

“And how do you know I snore?” He asked a little bit serious but you could tell it was only for the act.

“Please, if it was possible you would be able to hear it on the security cameras hanging outside on your balcony to your bedroom back at home. I’m sure even the ones on the first floor are able to hear your rumbling noises because god that is one hell of a sound you make.” 

He looked shocked by his words but deep down he was aware of what he was doing.

It wasn’t often he did it but when Luke did snore, it sounded like the building could crash any passed second. 

You watched him head towards the balcony and grabbed the top locks of it to pull it open.

You weren’t sure of what to say but you could tell that he wanted you to join the outside so you did after jumping up from the mattress. 

The balcony looked much bigger than it did from the outside. Along with a few chairs and a small table the rack all around the balcony was covered with different kinds of plants. It also twisted up the wall of the house which gave a cozy affect.

He was standing with his hands on the top of the rack that was available to touch and be seen and you stood beside him. 

The view allowed just a small peek down to the beach. In fact you could hear the faint sound of the waves crashing ashore but it was almost gone because of the jazz music coming from downstairs. 

The music was pretty catchy and familiar but you couldn’t recall where you’d heard it before. 

“You see the man over there?” Luke asked and leaned his arm forward to point.

In the crowd of people standing with glasses of champagne around the turquoise blue pool with balloons and lights in the middle of it with fountains you spotted the guy he was pointing at. 

“It’s the one and only Andrew Hemmings. The master behind the Hemm Productions and alternatively known as my father. He was the one starting everyone and the one who carried everything in his shoulders. You can kind of call him my idol if you ask me.” 

You focused extra carefully and looked up at Luke to see him watch his father pretty proud. 

“He must be the one planning everything tonight,” He explained and pointed at the guy standing next to his father speaking with a glass of champagne.

“That’s my brother Ben.” The guy had similarities to Luke but it couldn’t compare as to when he pointed towards another guy standing with his arm hooked around a tall brunette. 

“And that’s my brother Jack with his wife Celeste. They are the managers when it comes to the Hemm productions regarding clothing lines. They produce everything from simple t-shirts to most of the dresses people are wearing for tonight. It’s kind of a family thing.” 

He was so passionate about his family. The way his eyes were lightening up and it wasn’t because of the lights around you because they weren’t bright enough to do so.

He truly loved speaking about this, you could feel it fully from his heart. 

“Do uh-, I mean, do they know?” You weren’t exactly sure of how to ask the question so it came out a bit hesitant. 

He looked over at you at furrowed eyebrows not catching up but then softened. 

“They’re aware. I explained everything to them over a Skype call to prevent any drama to happen. They’ve all been aware from the start that I wasn’t truly dating Holly but it’s for the PR. What they didn’t know on the other hand was the fact that my pregnant assistant was carrying my baby.” 

You nodded your head silently and felt a lump form in your throat. 

“You know how parents react when they hear how things aren’t going the path they expect their child to follow. Getting an assistant pregnant and being out of marriage? It wasn’t really in the safe hand but after explaining for a full hour they got to understand and now... I think they’re dealing the way my family does it the best.”

You took in every word and looked up at him just to make sure that he was telling the truth. It was easy to come up with something stupid just to cover it up.

You were, after all, going to live with these people on hold for the rest of your life. 

Even if you didn’t want to admit it, you just wanted to blend in somehow. 

“Don’t worry about them. I know just exactly well how to impress them.” He made a small wink in the eye but you weren’t sure what he was hinting at.

You didn’t even know what to ask because you could sense he would spoil it later. He went back to explaining a few people here and there but you had noticed he was missing out someone. 

“What about your mom? Shouldn’t she be here as well?” You tried to spot someone looking like Luke in a female version but it was impossible. 

“She should be here somewhere.” Luke scratched his small beard and looked extra carefully trying to spot his younger. 

“She has been spotted.”

You looked over your shoulder by the sound of a female voice singing from your behind and Luke turned around as well with a wide smile on his face.

“Mom! Hiding in the shadows.” He commented and you followed him along back into the bedroom where she was standing with an expensive white fur over her shoulder. 

“Come over here gorgeous oh my god it’s been months since I’ve seen that pretty face of yours.” It was luck she was wearing high heels because with her short height there was no way possible she would even be able to touch his cheeks. 

He kissed her politely on the cheeks and afterwards gave her a welcoming hug. 

“Your hair has been growing so long I almost didn’t recognize you from behind. Maybe you should order a time at Fleischman any time soon.” 

“I’m rocking the new look mom. Looks amazing with a lot of hair-gel pulled back with a comb.” He replied politely, it wasn’t the first time someone had made a remark about his hair. 

“And would you take a look, oh my god. She’s gloating.” Attention was drawn towards you by her and your eyes widened. 

“I cannot believe I’m going to be a grandmother. May I?” She asked and before you could say yes she was caressing the top of your bump. 

“I think you already are.” You smiled back not really knowing what to do, but you had to make a good impression so it was just about keeping on the track. 

“When does my first granddaughter see the light of life? I mean it can’t be long from now you can almost press her out on Luke’s expensive $800,000 floor carpet.” 

The leaves didn’t fall tall from the trees and you could literally shape her from Luke’s personality too.

“We’re expecting in the start of April.” You explained and she nodded her head amazed. 

“Have you considered residential schools already? I’ve spoken to a member of the family who has a friend saying that one in New York is specialized in the financial order?” 

“Easy, easy mum.” Luke was quick to say and stood beside you. “We haven’t really considered things like that yet. First mission is to get her born.” 

“Well yes, that is very well true.” She nodded her head showing that just a little bit of wine could mess up her mind very quickly. 

“It’s time for me to let go of the mother role and return it to someone else. And how I must admit I’m proud that my granddaughter will not only have one but two families in the 50 of the riches in the world.” 

Your eyes widened in confuse by her words and your eyebrows furrowed in confuse, “Sorry?” 

“I you know I mean you probably don’t talk about it much in Maine but you know from a rich person to another. We always think the best way forward is that money will never become a problem to cause troubles.” 

“I think that’s enough for the wine mum.” Luke quickly interrupted and took the glass out of her hands to place it on the nightstand.

“Why don’t you let me and Y/N get changed quickly and we’ll come meet the family.” 

“Of course, of course. I will wave myself out.” She giggled and was quick to grab the glass before Luke looked at her and disappeared out of the door.

You still didn’t understand what in the world was going on and by the look on Luke’s face you could tell something was up.

“Luke what did you say before we came? What did you say about me?” You asked and took a step forward just exactly as he took a step backwards.

“I uh-, I may or may not have told that you’re-, You’re uh-,” He was stumbling over his words not really getting anywhere.

“Lucas Robert Hemmings spit it out.” The hormones took over and you looked at him with wide eyes. 

“I may or may not have told my whole family that you’re in the category of the riches people in Maine along with your family. Please don’t kill me because it all came out caused of panic!” 

“You told them I was rich? Why the hell did you do that!?” You screeched, eyes wide but you it almost didn’t come as a shock to you when you thought about it.

“I panicked Y/N and I’m so sorry I did but try look at our story! Trying to explain everything would honestly take forever and saying that you were rich kind of helped on the situation we were put in. I was just trying to make a good impression on your behalf already.”  

“By saying something I’m not?” You spat and crossed your arms, “What a way to go Luke! You’ve outsmarted yourself.” 

“Y/N, please.” 

You could tell that he was desperate both by his tone but also the way he was looking at you. You shrugged your shoulder unsure because you were still somehow very pissed at him.

“Fine. I’ll do it but just this one time.” You finally managed to say and he sighed heavy in relief. 

“Good. And now that we’re at it you need to change into this dress.” He spoke and your eyebrows lifted in surprise, ready to come up with the questions again.

“Hurry.” He said fast and ignored the way you were looking at him and felt him push you in the shoulders to get towards the nearest bathroom. 

You rolled your eyes deeply because of the situation but in the end, you did as you were told.

When coming into the living room and outside to the pool area so many people were there you were amazed. From what Luke had explained it wasn’t only family that had showed up but also close friends and business partners.

You didn’t have much to say when you walked around and greeted people. It was more like Luke saying something funny when he met someone, they would laugh and you would give a small wave as you walked past and by.

Only sometimes when you were asked something you opened your mouth to speak a little.

But it was hard to come up with something because mostly you had no idea what they were talking about but one thing was for sure and it was about money.

You had also been standing with his brother and wife for a while. She seemed to be the only one standing out a little bit along with you, not that she wasn’t rich because she was but she was much more lowkey and the rest of the guests for tonight.

You on the other hand only stood out because of the massive bump that was pressed into a size smaller dress than you were normally. 

So much for having Luke to pick out your clothes in such a hurry. 

“Oh my god Luke! Look at how grown you look! I haven’t seen you since one of the business meetings your dad held when you were around this height.” 

A woman with a reddish grey hair caught your attention as you walked by with a glass of water and champagne.

You would have imagined Luke would want to roll his eyes because he had been walking around like this for almost an hour without getting the chance to stop for a second and breath. 

She was standing with her hand flat down by the height of her knees and illustrated how small he once was.

It could barely compare to now with his 6′4 tall frame hovering over you. 

“Mrs. Cologne. Always a pleasure to see you again.” Luke politely said and gave her a gentle handshake followed by you doing the same. 

“I didn’t know you were going to a father.” She commented when she noticed your bump and you looked up at him expecting for a conversation to happen which you had been avoiding all night. 

“Yes, yes I am. A little girl is ready to grow big and become a diamond inside.” Luke caressed happily on your stomach which only made you nod your head in agreement. 

“A girl? A change in the Hemmings family for once. I think you could also need a girl that gets a bit of control so your mother can gain back a bit of the respect in the family.” 

“I think we all know that Liz is the head master out of the whole family. The head of the family and most importantly the one in charge.” As he was speaking Luke looked over his shoulder to see his mother happily laugh with the glass of almost empty champagne. 

“Liz definitely knows how to carry all of you boys in one piece.” Mrs. Cologne winked and lifted her glass in the air. 

“You sure are right about that.” Luke nodded his head in agreement and lifted his glass as well, eyes glancing down at you to make sure you followed along with your water. 

“Speaking of diamonds.” Mrs. Cologne started after taking her sip and looked up at Luke, “I heard the gold digging you’ve been doing. Liz showed me some pretty impressed pictures of the ones you had bought recently. I must say you’ve really stood out from normally, I thought you were into rubies.”

“Nah, I thought we needed an upgrade this time.” Luke quickly shook his head in disagreement and gave her a wink. 

“Are you into diamonds too, Y/N?” Mrs. Cologne asked and you had to blink twice just to get back into the conversation. 

To be honest your only attention was towards the many trays of mini food standing over by the staircase to upstairs. 

“Oh yes sure! Maine’s got a lot of them, we basically collect them with shovels and such. My dad owns a company. My mother does too! She’s the boss.” The words flied out of your mouth every time you got an idea and by the tone of your voice it didn’t sound the least convincing if you asked Luke. 

“Oh really?” Mrs. Cologne asked interested and you nodded your head in agreement. 

“Last time in the mine was a pretty bad season, mostly coal and such but my dad has raised the states and I most probably assume we will find some good old jade.” 

“Okay that’s enough.” Luke whispered under his breath and hooked his arm around yours. 

“It was good to see you again, Mrs. Cologne. Maybe if I have the time we can discuss diamonds later in the weekend.” His words flied out quickly at once but Mrs. Cologne didn’t seem to mind.

“It was nice talking to you.” She took a sip of her drink again, “Good luck with everything!”

Luke finished the conversation by giving her a nervous nod and turned around to walk away with you.

You barely got a word said into the situation before he had pulled you towards the table with food much to your delight. 

“What was that all about?” He asked when you were away from others and you looked up at him with wide eyes and a sandwich in your mouth.

“What?” You asked back and tried to chew so you didn’t have to speak with your mouth full.

“Coal and jade? Y/N for god sake we made a deal you weren’t supposed to speak!” 

“What, let me just try to be rich for once and act like it! I didn’t even get the chance to argue with someone and afterwards shove a check in their chest just to make sure I would get my will.” You knew you were slowly teasing him but he was still too confused to catch up.

“Where do you even know what Jade is?” He asked instead and you wiggled your eyebrows. 

“You don’t think I’ve been playing The Sims 3 and collected gems for simoleons?” You answered the question with a question and crossed your arms. 

“Okay, fine. It doesn’t even surprise me.” He shook his head and finished his drink to place it on the empty tray of a coincidentally waiter walking past him.

“Let’s just do something that doesn’t contain speaking with anyone or such thing like that.” He explained and folded his hands together in front of his face in thought. 

“I don’t want you to start talking about more fake Sims 3 adventures while speaking to my family and friends.” 

“Okay.” You nodded your head in agreement and that was when an idea came to your mind when you looked into the middle of the massive room.

“Let’s dance.” 

Before Luke could get a say in the suggestion you grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the dance floor. Not that it was many but it was enough to blend into the crowd and they were all swinging in pairs to the slow jazz music. 

“You know I don’t dance.” He tried to say but you only made him stay quiet. 

“I know you can.” You spoke and wiggled your eyebrows again.

“I’m not continuing that High School Musical pun.”  He shook his head but still decided to go with the suggestion you had by letting you place your hand in his. 

“So you’ve watched it?” You asked impressed and moved your head back to look up at his tall frame. 

“I’m from 1996 who do you think I am Y/N. Of course I’ve watched those lame movies.... And they’re actually not lame.” 

Smiling brightly by his words you looked down at the floor and was pretty impressed by his skills. He was swinging you around slowly like it wasn’t a problem that a huge stomach was separating you.

“You’re quite the dancer.” You commented and he smirked by your words.

“No, let me guess.” You were quick to react and looked at him with teasing eyes. 

“You’ve taken dance classes before. Most probably when you were a small child and that has caught up until now.”

“My whole family always participates in dances or masquerade balls. Dancing have been something shared since I was a little man in a suit and to make sure we always stayed at the top we all took dances.” He explained, cheek pressed against yours to say it loud enough for you to hear.

You moved back to look up at him and see his reaction. He nodded his head just to make sure that he was right and in confirmation. 

“But you know this is something different.” He whispered and moved away to swing you around. 

“How come?” You asked, following his steps slowly and blinked twice.

“Because I haven’t had a dance like this before.” He gently said and swung you around one more time, your eyebrows furrowing but you were still smiling regardless of what he was meaning behind his words. 

[ohblackdiamond]

little t&a (paul/gene, nc-17) (part 5 of 29)

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   part 26   part 27   part 28   part 29 Four weeks before KISS gets back on tour, Gene discovers that Paul’s been cursed by a groupie. For the sake of KISS’ finances, Paul’s comfort levels, and Gene’s libido, this crisis must be resolved. Sexswap fic. In this chapter: Gene tries to reason out some deep-seated denial, and Peter defends Paul.

           Normally, Paul could spend hours in clothing stores. Tight jeans, platform boots, designer blouses and ascots. Feathery jackets and animal print coats. He’d dressed as wildly as possible from the time he was twelve or thirteen on, saving up every dime to buy new clothes, always hoping they’d be the ticket to feeling—oh, like they did. Like other people must. Confident and swaggering. Gene had been like that from the very start, even though, when he’d met Gene, Gene had been easily forty pounds overweight and was wearing overalls that only emphasized his gut.

           That had been a pretty rude awakening for Paul. He’d realized it wasn’t in looking the part. Confidence was something inherent. Offstage, he couldn’t ever seem to purchase more than small slivers of it. And he didn’t think he could purchase it now (well, on Gene’s dime), in a mid-tier boutique, self-consciously shoving his way through racks of bras. Gene hadn’t told him to pick one up, but he hadn’t had to, either. He’d known he needed one from the start; it kind of hurt to run up stairs without any support, and the nightclub would be fucking awful without a bra, but he’d just kept putting it off. As if this female body would go away if he refused to acknowledge it, like a groupie left to linger in the Coop until morning.

           Speaking of groupies, he was still wondering about the one who’d cursed him. He could sort of remember her face as Suzie had described her, but it was puzzling. The S&M bit had been relatively light, no whips or toys, and she hadn’t come across like a nut. She’d said he’d had her before. That didn’t mean much, either. Especially in certain areas, he’d end up with some of the same groupies again. Sweet Connie, for one—the only girl Paul knew for a fact had fucked every single member of the band, and half its roadies—and there were plenty others. It was almost a wrestling circuit; the girls all knew each other, even if he didn’t know them.

           But what could he really have done to make that girl that mad? He couldn’t remember promising a chick much of anything in several years. Sometimes he’d get a bit sloppy with it, toss the girl some cab fare as he asked her to leave (she’d think he meant it as a tip, and throw it back at him), but he didn’t get off on humiliating them like some guys did. They came with the room, that was all. Stress relief. God knew he’d heard of plenty of rockstars and movie stars who’d Quaalude the hell out of whatever girl (or guy) they wanted. But he’d never done something like that. Fuck, his chicks were actually sober.

It really didn’t add up. Gene was triple the cad than he was, and he still had his dick. Peter and Ace cheated constantly on their wives, but Lydia and Jeanette hadn’t joined forces and sent a sex-changing demon after them. Whatever. He exhaled, taking four bras of slightly different sizes back to the dressing room and trying on each in turn, wishing he’d let the shopgirl help. The clasps were annoying enough that he ended up having to fasten the bras in the front, squashing his chest in the process, then turn the whole thing around just to put it on. The third bra out of the stack seemed to fit the best, a cream-colored underwire one that wasn’t too padded or too heavy on the lace and flowers. It looked okay reflected in the dressing room mirror, if a little stupid, paired with the boxers he was still stubbornly clinging to.

           After another ten minutes or so, he’d also picked out a few pairs of underwear and a pair of fishnet stockings. Another half an hour and he had a fake leather jacket, graphic tee, cut-off jean shorts, and a pair of boots. He didn’t really dig the ensemble in the mirror. More that he didn’t dig the unhappy girl in the mirror any more than he dug the unhappy guy he usually saw there. But maybe he’d look punk enough for CBGB. Would he need more clothes than that, though? On the chance that she didn’t show, or, worse, didn’t reverse the curse? Paul’s stomach churned at the thought. He got another dress, two blouses, heels, and a pair of jeans, deciding he’d write Gene a check for everything once this was all over.

           By the time he headed to check out, Gene was already waiting for him with his own bag of already-paid-for clothes. Paul tried to get a peek—he didn’t think Gene could go believably punk without intense help—but Gene held his two bags closed, pulling out a credit card to cover Paul’s purchases.

           “Hey, that’s not fair. I could use the laugh, show me what you bought.” Aggravating enough to have Gene watch the clerk ring up the bra and underwear.

           “Later.” Gene looked positively amused. Paul grabbed his own bags of clothes as soon as they were paid for, oblivious to the raised eyebrow the clerk threw Gene’s way for not carrying the bags for him.

           “If you won’t show me, don’t expect me to drive you anywhere for lunch.”

           The clerk perked up.

“Your girl’s driving? She’s got you by the balls.”

           “You have no idea,” Gene said.

--

           They ended up going through the McDonald’s drive-thru for lunch without Gene having to divulge any of his purchases. Paul had dug up enough change from the middle console to pay for it, and he was chatting up a storm about CBGB’s semi-resident bands—Blondie, apparently, was a pretty good act—between handfuls of French fries.

           “It doesn’t hold a ton of people, either, so if the groupie’s there, we’ll know pretty quickly. It’s not wall-to-wall like at Studio 54.” Paul shook his head. “Have you gone over there yet, Gene?”

           “Not yet.” He’d meant to. The disco had just opened when they’d gotten off tour. The big stars had already marked it as their territory, people like Mick and Bianca Jagger, Diana Ross, and Liza Minnelli. The prospect of being in their league was its own intoxicant. “Have you?”

           “Yeah, once. Y’know, I saw Andy Warhol there. He said he wanted to paint me.” Even through the food, Paul sounded pleased. “I kinda blew him off, I think he was just trying to come on to me, but hell, it might be fun.”

           “Getting with Warhol?”

           “Getting painted by Warhol. Jesus, Gene.” He paused. “He’s not my type.”

          “You’re not his type, right now.”

          Paul looked a little stung, but didn’t retort for a second or two.

          “What do you care, anyway?”

           Gene stuffed about a third of the burger in his mouth and shrugged.

          “I don’t.”

          “Remember when he did the Marilyn Monroe screen prints? Everyone in my class was trying to make their own versions, and our teacher…”

          Paul kept trailing off about his art magnet high school. Gene was only half-paying attention. Something strange and almost possessive had curdled in the back of his throat. He took a swig of his cup of Coke, but the feeling persisted. Maybe it was the dissonance. Girls worth talking to didn’t dismiss fucking so casually. Paul wasn’t really a girl, sure—well, he was, but—

          “You’re not listening.”

          “I don’t know anything about art, Paul.”

          “You do. You draw. You used to show me your comics. Everybody knows something about art. Everybody knows what they like about it.” Paul exhaled. “Look, you’ve gotta be getting tired of my place. I’ll take you home, meet you at the club tonight?”

          “You really want to do that?”

          “Yeah, of course I wanna go to the club. I’m not losing my whole life because of one groupie.”

          “You’d be okay getting there by yourself?”

          “I—yeah, I’d be okay.”

          “Just take us back to your place.”

          “I’d be fine, really—”

          “No, take us both back.”

          “What, you think I can’t drive over there by myself?”

          “Maybe I like your company, Paul.”

          Paul reached for his soda cup. The edge of his mouth was starting to twitch up.

          “Yeah? Maybe I like yours.”

--

           By the time Paul pulled into the driveway, Gene was feeling a little sluggish. Two Big Macs, French fries, Coke, and most of Paul’s Sprite sat heavy on his stomach. He figured he’d take a nap on Paul’s couch or in his guest bedroom. Maybe play some records after, if that didn’t tear at Paul too much. Maybe get a quick dinner at a restaurant before heading to that nightclub—he almost thought he could talk Paul into it now.

           Paul seemed to have about the same idea. He kicked off the tissue-stuffed heels and headed to his bedroom, leaving the door open. Gene watched him hang up all his purchases before doubling back to the door.

           “I’m gonna sleep for a bit,” Paul called out. “You can turn the T.V. on if you wanna, I don’t care.”

           Gene nodded, and Paul shut the door, leaving him alone with his thoughts. He shucked off his own shoes and stretched out on the orange velour couch in the living room, feeling weirdly nostalgic. The last time he’d really been at Paul’s place for more than an afternoon, Paul’s place had been his parents’ place. They’d be at the kitchen table, talking about records, bumming their way through Beatles songs on their acoustic guitars, while Paul’s baby niece squalled in the background. He’d never admit it, but he envied the noise in that apartment. The coiled-up tension Paul assured him lay just beneath the surface was something he never saw.

           Paul had rarely gotten past the door of Gene’s house when his mother was around. His mother thought Paul was the Lampwick to his Pinocchio, eagerly leading Gene into a world of sin he’d already partaken in and a world of drugs he’d never touched. Paul’s ego had been sufficiently bruised by the assumption that he never tried to convince her otherwise. But Gene was sort of wondering now. If Paul had been a chick instead of a guy when they met, some mousey, bitchy friend-of-a-friend that played a little guitar and wanted to start a band, would his mother have liked him any better? Would Paul being a Jewish girl, if nothing else, have been enough to save him, her, whatever? Probably not.

           Would he have gone after Paul then?

           Probably.

           Anyway, it didn’t matter. He didn’t plan on going after Paul now. They’d get this reversed soon enough, and once the tour started back again, he’d be up to his neck in Playboy Playmates and groupies, all way easier on the eyes and the wallet and the brain than a girl with a gap tooth and a terminal case of nerves. Yeah. Yeah.

           He watched the cuckoo clock on the wall for a while, the one that Paul had gotten during their last Europe tour, waiting for the bird to pop out from the little hatch. But it, like everything else, seemed to be taking its time. Gene sighed, getting up from the couch and heading for the T.V.—what was on this time of day, anyway? Gunsmoke reruns? The only thing that stopped him from finding out was a knock on the door.

           He opened it without thinking, figuring it was the mailman delivering another of Paul’s occult books. Instead, he was met with Peter, wearing his version of casual—jeans, a vest, a pinstripe shirt, and a handful of necklaces—and a bewildered look.

           “You’re still over here?”

           “How’d you know I was over here?”

           “Ace told me. Where’s Paul?”

           Shit.

           “He’s not in right now.”

           Peter looked him up and down suspiciously.

           “Then are you gonna let me in?”

           Despite himself, Gene’s glance went to the bedroom door almost on automatic. If he could get rid of Peter fast enough, Paul wouldn’t wake up.

           “C’mon,” he said finally. Peter stalked in without hesitation. Gene had half-expected him to take a seat, but he didn’t, looming in the living room like he was certain he was being let out of the loop, without being told.

           “Look, maybe Ace can write off all sorts of shit, but I can’t.”

           “What do you mean?”

           “He won’t see anybody, he won’t talk to anybody. He gets into fucking voodoo. He has you call up Ace for his psychic. Says you’ll make sure Paul calls me back and he doesn’t. But everything’s cool, everything’s great—”

           “Pete—”

           “Something’s the matter. Paul ain’t that kind of a nut! Now, either he lost his mind or you’re pulling one on him, but either way, something’s screwed-up here. I’m not leaving until I talk to him.”

           “You’ll be waiting awhile.”

           “I’ve got time.”

           “Pete, really, he’s gonna be out until pretty late, don’t you think—”

           “No, I don’t. I’m staying. You want me out, call the fucking cops. Get a real nice headline going—"

           The bedroom door creaked open. Peter turned around immediately, Gene following suit. Paul was standing in the doorway, still in that floral dress from earlier that afternoon. Gene bit his lip.

           “It’s you again!” Paul seemed to cave in on himself with every word out of Peter’s mouth, stepping back. “You—I see how this is!”

           “Peter,” Gene started again, “Peter, listen, it isn’t—”

           “You fucking asshole!” Peter grabbed Gene’s arms, oblivious to or maybe just not caring about the weight and height Gene had on him. “How the fuck could you do that to him?!”

           “You’ve got it wrong, I’m not—listen, Pete, I—”

           “You’re fucking his girlfriend! Your best friend! Paulie’s fucking losing it and what do you do, you move in on his girl! Move in on his house! You motherfucking pig!” Pete advanced, or tried to. Gene twisted away his grip, grasping his wrists. Pete yanked himself free easily, stalking forward, forcing Gene back, closer and closer to the wall.

           “Pete, calm down.”

           “I won’t! This ain’t stupid band shit, Gene! This ain’t fucking solos! You got no right to do this!”

           “Stop it.” It was Paul. Gene stared, stunned, as Paul stepped out of the doorway and into the living room, face pale. Peter was watching, too, looking disgusted. “He wouldn’t do that to me.”

           “He wouldn’t?” Peter started to laugh. “Baby, he’s done it to every chick that got within three feet of him.”

           “Pete, please.” Paul was biting his lip, breaths hard. “Pete, I’ve gotta tell you, listen—”

           “Don’t,” Gene cut in, but Paul didn’t listen. God only knew why. Gene could tell Paul was scared as hell, even as he stepped between them, taking Peter’s arms. Even Peter had about an inch on him now. Surprisingly, he didn’t pull back. “Don’t do it, you don’t need to.”

           “I’ve got to. Peter, I—” He let go of one of Peter’s arms, pulling down the right shoulder of his dress to expose his tattoo. “I’m... damn it, Peter, you know who I am.”

           Peter’s face contorted.

           “What the hell are you doing? What’s that supposed to prove?”

           “You and me, w-we went on vacation together last year. To Hawaii.”

           “Bullshit, I went with Lydia! I’ve never gone anywhere with you in my life!”

           Paul was staring at Peter like he’d just been slapped, but he kept his grip on Peter’s arm like a lifeline. Gene didn’t know how to help him. Part of him wanted to just go straight between the two of them and scream at Peter to get out of there, never mind the fallout on both sides after. But he didn’t. Instead he just watched as Peter tossed away Paul’s hold like it was nothing at all, shoving him back, hard enough Paul stumbled backwards, hitting his leg on the coffee table. Peter turned to Gene.

           “You think you can do anybody any fucking way, don’t you? Fuck Paul, right? Fuck him and his crazy broad. That’s the way you are. Loyalty don’t even matter to you.”

           “Peter—”

           “Forget it. I’m out of here.”  Peter stalked to the door, shouting as he yanked it open. “Don’t think I won’t tell him what you’ve done! I don’t give a shit if it splits us up!”