#apparently this is canon that Jim did figure it out and I love that he keeps it secret

[gothamite-rambler]

Commissioner Gordon meets the third robin (batfamily chronicles microseries)

Jim Gordon had seen two Robin's at this point and figured out Batman's civilian identity at this point, so him arriving with a third Robin makes him finally tell Batman he knows he's also Bruce Wayne.

Commissioner Gordon waited on the roof for Batman, like he usually did, but this time he could sense something crazy was about to happen more than usual when dealing with a man who wore a leather bat suit.

Batman (hesitant): Commissioner... Gordon.

Gordon turned around and once he saw the new Robin (Tim Drake), he immediately closed his eyes and shook his head like a disappointed father.

Gordon (jaded): You gotta be kidding me.

Batman nodded in agreement.

Batman (ashamed): I'm aware how odd this looks. I can acknowledge the weirdness at this point. To be fair though... I made it clear I didn't want him to be my new Robin. Tell him, Robin.

Robin!Tim (looking at the bat signal): That's the bat signal... I'm next to it!

Batman groaned, covering his his eyes.

Gordon (tight smile): You sure are kid, you sure are... Batman, he looks the same age as the other kid. Nice to meet you, new Robin.

Robin!Tim: Sup Commissioner Gordon, I met your daughter she's pretty cool.

Gordon (accepting all of this): I raised her well, thanks. I like your suit.

Robin!Tim: Thanks, I added pants. It's form fitting, it works.

Batman (not sure how to word his defense): I'm aware that... I said I would not have another Robin but after needing his assistance I... adopted him. Sort of. Okay, this one came to me. I- I can tell by your expression that, that didn't help the situation.

Gordon sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Robin!Tim (hands on his hips): I earned this roll, nothing weird about that.

Gordon: Fair point from the third child sidekick. Batman, at this point I'm not even shocked that you have a new Robin and I like his energy, but um... um... Do you have a specific preference for short, black-haired boys?

Batman glanced at Robin then shrugged because he couldn't think of a good response.

Robin!Tim (confused): Why did you phrase it like that?!

Gordon: I have dealt with this man having three robins at this point and yes it's been three because the first one had a different skin tone and was adorable, the second one was funny, but cussed me out at random and you are very pale, but all of them have had black hair... what is going on?!

Batman (exhausted with life): Honestly, it's a very weird coincidence, but a coincidence nonetheless. That is the least of the questions you need to ask me at this point.

Gordon (sighing): Fair enough, what's his story?

Robin!Tim: I stay with Batman so he doesn't kill himself or murder so many criminals .

Batman (exhausted): Hn, thank you, Robin... that was what you should tell a police chief.

Gordon: Nah, that's the best answer he could have given me in this situation. Can I talk to you in private real quick, Batman?

Batman: Sure. I'm kind of accepting of this part of my hero life. Robin, um, stand here and don't eavesdrop on our conversation.

Robin!Tim: I don't like standing still for long periods of time... I'm just going to spin around my bo staff while you talk to Commissioner Gordon.

Batman: That works for me.

Batman walked off with Gordon to a corner of the roof, a good distance from Robin. Robin eagerly tossed his bo staff in the air and caught if effortlessly.

Batman: Honestly people call me odd for wearing a bat suit but that is the thing that makes the most sense to me in my life. Plus I look awesome so you can't even critique the suit. You know?

Gordon groans, covering his face and trying to wonder how he should start his next statement.

Batman: I already know you're going to ask me some type of evasive question... go ahead ask it.

Gordon clasped his hands together and takes a deep breath.

Gordon (deadpan): I've known you for a fairly long time and I'm going to cut to the chase... when were you going to ever tell me that you're Bruce Wayne?

Batman (shocked): What? No ... No I'm not.

Gordon: Bruce, don't play dumb, I figured out you are the same person a while ago, but since you haven't 'trusted' me enough to tell and that is the third Robin, I felt it was necessary to remove this weird barrier you have. I'm not going to arrest you or anything, your secret is safe with me. I want an honest answer though, I promise nothing you say here will leave this roof.

Batman buried his head in his hands and let out a defeated groan. He didn't want to admit it, but at this point in his life he simply couldn't keep it secret.

Gordon: That confirmed it. I became suspicious after Barbara got shot. Jason Todd, your adopted son, turning out to be the Robin definitely verified it. Then CPS visited your place to investiage you about child abuse... that was fasinating because you looked panicked that day.

Batman (embarrassed): I can't believe this happening, right now.

Gordon: Hold on, I'm not done yet. The rest of Gotham bought the story that your adopted son somehow became Robin with a random guy who is Batman and you weren't Batman because "Why would someone like Bruce Wayne be Batman?" Freaking Gotham news, you're lucky that they're so believable.

Batman (serious): You're not going to tell anyone are you? I'm going through a lot at the moment.

Gordon patted Batman on the shoulder reassuringly.

Gordon: As I said, your secret will remain that. We've been through these couple of crazy years together, you were there for Barbara when she got shot, and I wasn't too hot about the fact that it was the Joker, but I got over it. You've never given me a reason to arrest you and I've learned to see as a friend. And much like when my daughter told me she's batgirl... I'm fine with it.

Batman remained silent, surprised that the police chief who he had known for over two decades was keeping his civilian identity secret.

Gordon (sincerely): You're my friend, don't worry about it.

Batman: Oh... you see us as friends too? I'm... You said that before, but huh, not really used to this, am I?

Gordon: I go through the same struggles. Do you want to go over the case with him in front of us or I don't know how to handle this, this is like your third Robin.

Gordon laughs as Batman groans embarrassed.

Batman: Yeah this kid is pretty smart so he can be listening in and circle back, Barbara told you she was Batgirl?!

Gordon: Oh yeah, but I figured it out a two years before she had told me. You guys got to remember, I'm a detective.

Batman: This might sound rude, but I did not think you were that good at your job, the police here are very corrupt.

Gordon (nods in agreement): Fair enough, let's head back to the kid and get this case started.

Gordon walked back over to Robin along with Batman. Batman looks dejected but Gordon pats him on the back to give him some type of sympathy.

First

Second

[ocean--grey]

Here's my attempt at Smegtober 2024's Day 3 prompt, "Parents" :)

Word count: ~1300 words

Warnings: brief mention of Lister and Rimmer's canonically terrible childhoods, Lister leaving the twins behind in the Parallel Universe

Edit: now on AO3 :)

Ten months after one of the strangest mistakes of her life, Deb Lister was convinced she’d never get used to the responsibility of looking after her sons.

It was just under a month after Dave had dropped off the twins – Jim and Bexley – and she hadn’t got a full night’s sleep with all the time she spent fretting over them. They’d arrived almost fully grown, physically eighteen, but had seemingly reverted in every way over the past few weeks into children, an apparent compromise between their recent birth and accelerated ageing due to being born in another universe.

In all fairness, she felt like Dave got the short end of the stick, forced to give away his kids just three days after giving birth to them, never able to see them naturally progress into adulthood. She’d seen the regret in his eyes as he handed them over – it wasn’t as though he had a say in the matter though. The universe had decided his kids wouldn’t survive with him, so it wasn’t like he’d chosen to abandon them. If they’d been conceived in Dave’s universe, he’d have been able to raise them, but then Deb would have been the one to let them go.

Just unfortunate luck, really.

The kind of unfortunate luck that also left Deb herself in an awkward situation: trying to teach the kids. She’d be the first to admit academics weren’t her thing – in the few occasional weeks she’d properly tried to go to school regularly, maths and art were the only subjects she did decently in.

She’d ask Kryten, the newest member of the group, for help, but Deb was still busy replacing her wiring after that crash on the asteroid, and could confidently say that the mechanoid would be out of commission for a while longer.

Dog wouldn’t be great with teaching the kids phonics and the like - he communicated mainly through smells rather than words, and thought human books were for decorating the floor of the bunkroom like confetti.

Hilly was no help either. Still hung up on the doppelgänger crew’s computer, he’d changed appearances to mirror the object of his affection and skulked off to the furthest corners of Red Dwarf’s electrical system to read Anthony Christie novels in peace, occasionally turning up to snark and bemoan about his lost love.

This process of elimination left Rimmer. God, Deb didn’t even want to think about what her roommate would consider a good quality education. Probably teach the twins twice-daily mandatory Ionian etiquette lessons, threaten to toss them out an airlock if they didn’t pronounce stuff with that nasally stuck-up accent of hers, stuff like that. Actually, Lister bet the smeghead would probably turn her nose up at stooping so low from her post as to actually help her roommate out with Jim and Bexley.

Which was why, all things considered, when Arlene actually offered to teach the kids the month after they arrived, and was a damn great teacher at that, Lister was gobsmacked.

Somehow, the smeghead managed to command the attention of the twins enough to get them writing full sentences within a few weeks. She’d screech in horror, of course, whenever they got something even slightly wrong (which Lister had been worried about at first) but somehow it seemed a comical kind of screech rather than her usual demeaning one. Mock horror, almost.

Whatever it was that made Rimmer such an great teacher for the boys, it made the lessons entertaining enough that soon Jim kept coming up to Rimmer to show her short stories he’d shakily written, or Bexley would grab her attention with an “Auntie Arlene, look at this new word I can spell!”

Oh yeah, and the “Auntie Arlene” remarks kept coming. It seemed the boys considered their temporary teacher almost as much of a parental figure as Deb herself.

Which, of course, Lister was completely fine with, totally. Didn’t feel threatened at all, actually.

So when Jim asked her one night, when she tucked the twins into bed, “Mum, do you and Auntie Arlene not like each other?”, she swallowed down an immediate scathing retort and instead muttered “We have our differences, but don’t fret about it, ‘kay?”

The next day she’d cornered Rimmer on the main deck.

“Why the smeg do the kids like you so much? What can you offer them that I can’t?”

Rimmer’s lips had curled at this. “Instilling a good sense of hygiene, perhaps? Or maybe a comprehensive understanding of the importance of structure and law-abiding?”

“Rimmer, the only laws you actually follow to a T are the ones you’ve implemented yourself! Besides, stuff like that doesn’t really matter when there’s only us on the ship.” She scrambled to speak again as Rimmer’s nostrils twitched. “Also, it’s not like you can offer them any comfort. Emotionally you’re a wasp’s nest on the best of days, and you’re not even physically here!”

Rimmer’s mouth gaped open like a suffocating fish, before pursing tight. “Thanks for reminding me of my death, you goit! My, you lack so much tact its value’s practically negative. Great example for your kids, aren’t you?”

With that, the hologram stormed off through a wall.

Lister found her a few hours later, after tucking the twins into bed. Rimmer had been slinking around the fuel decks, apparently sulking silently except for a few half-hearted attempts to kick at the pipes along the walls – unsuccessfully, of course. By the time Lister found her, she had slid down a wall, staring down at her lap.

Deb crouched beside her before slouching against the wall too, curling her body in to face Rimmer. Letting out a sigh, she began.

“Listen Rimmer, I went too far back there. Honestly, I feel like I’m not handling this well – any of it actually. I’m so scared I’ll be an awful parent to the twins –”

“You’re not, though.”

Deb’s rant careened off its tracks and exploded, leaving only debris behind.

“… Eh?”

“You’re not. An awful parent, I mean. You’re still learning and, considering the general lack of support around here, you’re doing pretty fine.”

“Thanks. I think?”

Rimmer’s eyes rolled. “That was actually a compliment, directed towards you, from me. Yes I know, it’s impossible!” A grin flickered across her face for a split second, before returning to a careful neutral expression as she resumed studying her lap. “Besides, you’re doing better than I ever could by myself.”

Deb hesitated, then replied “Honestly, I’m not doing it all by myself. You’ve actually been a lot of help. Look,” here she uncurled her body, and Rimmer’s eyes connected with hers, “you’re not half bad either, considering what you’ve told me about your mum. I think all things considered we’re both doing a decent job, eh?”

Rimmer nodded, seemingly only half listening as she kept locking eyes with Lister.

“Listen, I’m sorry I said that smeg earlier. I just… don’t want to feel like I’m failing the boys in any way, and seeing them so excited to talk with you about your lessons and stuff made me think you were…”

Rimmer cut in harshly, “What, trying to steal them away from you?”

“A bit like that, yeah. But not only that? I was expecting you to make parenting into a kind of competition between us, y’know, who can help the kids grow and develop better than the other, the kind of smeg you used to pull all the time.”

“Key phrase there being used to.”

“Well, still do it sometimes, don’t you?” Lister chuckled.

The conversation faded as they listened to the pipes hum for a minute. After a while, Rimmer replied.

“Well, I’m not planning on making this a competition. Not this time. Too much at stake, the kids and all that. Wouldn’t want to mess them up over petty rivalry.”

“Nah, we wouldn’t.”

“So… truce?”

Deb felt the weight on her shoulders loosen, even if only by a tiny bit. “Sure.”

She spat on her hand, and reached out to shake. Rimmer rolled her eyes again and gestured down at her hologrammatic body. Lister paused for a second, then announced to the room “Hilly, can you seal the deal for us?”

She strolled away, chuckling once more, to the sound of her roommate trying to stifle her own guffaws even as she tried to shake the spit off her hand.

[discodeviant]

Not Duke, Not Prince - Part 2

Billy | Teen | 1.1k words Alternate Canon/Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence

Made for @billyhargrovebingo! Part 1

“Hey. Kid.”

Billy was so fucking cold.

“Can you hear me?”

Everything hurt. Everything burned. His back, his face, fingers numb from the temperature that should have frozen them right off, but the rest was numb. He didn’t feel the heavy hand jostling at his forearm. A gruff voice sounded so distant, dreamlike and ethereal, echoing in the empty cavern of his mind. There was salt on his tongue, and it hurt to swallow when he stirred enough to try catching the postnasal drip.

“Hey. Wake up, come on.”

His eyes only opened enough to see how pale the sky was, and for a moment that was all he could. Clouds and trees and the sun, they faded in secondarily, and the third was a nearby splotch of beige. Warmth. A vague face and a moustache—

Billy’s heart started with a jump, and he scrambled away from the figure on his hands and knees, unable to feel anything until he tried to stand and was knocked back down by the pain. He flipped onto his back and sat up on his elbows, looked back around and expected another kind of monster. Not a heavy-set cop on one knee.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” he said, holding both hands up in surrender or innocence, Billy didn’t know which. Cobalt eyes grounded him in a way that the grass did not. A police cruiser sat on the road ahead, lights off, nonthreatening besides a grate that covered the back seat windows. His lips trembled. “I’m Jim Hopper, the Chief of Police.” The cop spoke slowly, but firm and loud enough for Billy to hear him. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“I—“ He didn’t know what to say. His throat was dry, eyes watering already from the frigid temperatures that he swore weren’t nearly so bad the past few weeks. It was only Halloween a few days ago, wasn’t it? Why was it so fucking cold?

“You’re hurt. Okay? You need to come with me so you can get some help.”

Billy hardly pushed out a response with his croaky, aching voice. “No,” he said. “No, I need—I can go—“ His eyes darted all over, catching nothing but white in the sky, on the trees, on the ground by his car when he realized that he couldn’t go anywhere at all. Even his fingers had a pallor he’d never known as they lay in the mud gathered beneath him. All around was perfectly smooth, glimmering white, untouched until the chief stomped over to him. His eyes were wide and shining as he touched it with a numb hand and picked up a handful. It wasn’t like sand; it gathered more easily and fell apart in crumbles, almost like styrofoam the way it stuck to itself.

“Kid.”

The chief got closer, one kneeling step at a time, put one hand on Billy’s back, and said gently, “I need you to come with me, okay?”

Billy was still frozen when he whispered, “I’ve never seen snow before.” Surrounded by rubble and blood and muck, it was the only thing tightening his chest that wasn’t fear. Hope or something, but that was stupid. It was pretty anyway.

He let Jim Hopper pick him up by the bend of his elbow, not that there was anything left in him to fight with, and sit him in the passenger seat. Hopper spoke through his police radio as he revved the engine back up and drove away, something about a car a mile from Brimborn, whatever that was. Not Hawkins, apparently. He was too tired to think anymore.

More white, suddenly. Billy slipped in and out of consciousness until he thought he’d been left in the snow again, but it was too warm. Comfortable, dare he believe it, with a blanket over him and a pillow beneath his head, window right beside him with a love seat underneath it, and—

Oh.

He was in the hospital.

“Shit.”

An IV stuck into the back of his hand, and he was numb enough everywhere to figure he was on heavy painkillers. That much, he was grateful for, but he still didn’t like how empty the walls were, or how bright the light was above his head. His mouth was no more than a cave, tongue like a rocky dune behind hanging crystals for teeth. The only sounds were buzzing light fixtures and beeping beside him; even his own breath was barely audible.

Then the sliding door opened to his left, and blunt clicking added to the mix when the nurse came by to check on him, make sure his vitals were okay, get him some water. He asked if he could leave, that he was fine, he didn’t need to be there, but she said that everything was taken care of. “I’ll go tell your father you’re awake, okay?” she asked, and he didn’t have the strength to say no.

When she left, he pried himself off of the bed as quickly as he could, shuffling to the little cubicle of a bathroom with the IV rolling and keeping him upright. It was a bitch to manage the gown, swinging it around the pole to hold in one arm while the other aimed his stream, trying not to get piss everywhere that wasn’t the toilet bowl. He did, mostly. So he washed his hands, opened the door, and flinched when another moustache looked his way—one with a clean-shaven chin to hang over, shallow brown eyes to carry.

“Dad, it wasn’t me,” Billy said, unable to look him in the face. “It was an animal, okay, I didn’t—“

“Billy.” Neil stood straight as a pencil. “We’ll talk about this later. Let’s get you back to bed. Come on.” Maybe he was cutting Billy some slack since he was in the hospital for a reason other than heavy beatings, or Billy had finally come so close to death that he decided to lay off. He was too weak to keep his guard up very high. So he let Neil help him to bed. It started with a firm hand on his bicep, slow moving for Billy’s sake. Then the grip tightened, a thumb pressing hard into the back of his arm, fingers digging nails as far through rough polyester as they would go, and Neil only released him once he was laying back down.

Oh, it was too good to be true.

Neil said, “The chief wanted to talk to you.” Then bent down to say softly, right into Billy’s ear, “Those drug tests better come back negative, William, do you hear me?”

His nostrils burned and flared as he tried desperately to hold it together, to ignore the shiver Neil’s breath sent down his neck and spine.

“Yessir.”

Part 3

What do you think so far? 👀

[prouvaireafterdark]

We’ll Let the Flame Burn Once Again - a 3x07 Coda

My take on 3x08, with 100% more bed sharing, love confessions, and blow jobs than I’m sure canon will give us tomorrow.

Also on AO3!

***

Alex is halfway through the file on the Lockhart Machine when his phone buzzes in his pocket. Michael’s name flashes across the screen like an accusation when he digs it out of his coat.

“Fuck,” Alex sighs. He’d been so preoccupied with being kidnapped and faced with a life-changing career dilemma he’d completely forgotten that he’d never returned Michael’s voicemail or given anyone an update on the Kyle situation.

“Hey, I’m sorry I didn’t call you back, I—” Alex starts when he answers the phone, but Michael cuts him off. 

“Are you home?” Michael asks sharply. He sounds panicked and out of breath, like he’s just been running for his life.

“Uh, no,” Alex answers. “Why, what’s wrong?”

The laugh Michael lets out is strangled and more than a little hysterical. “Better question would be what isn’t, but I’ll give you the cliff notes: Jones took over Max’s body and now he’s trying to kill us.”

“What?” Alex asks, sitting up straighter in his seat.

“Oh, and he’s also my fucking dad apparently,” Michael continues.

“What?” Alex says again. If that’s true, Alex has a few questions about where the hell those curls came from. “Seriously?”

“Yeah,” Michael says bitterly before he adds, all in a rush, “Look, I don’t know what he’s planning, but if he’s trying to get to me it’s only a matter of time before he goes after you and something tells me I won’t be able to build a bomb to get you back this time. You need to get somewhere safe, somewhere he won’t be able to find you.”

Is there anyone in this town who doesn’t know about our history? Alex wonders. 

He looks around at the wooden beams of the abandoned barn-turned hospital room he’s currently stuck in as he replies, “Don’t worry about me. I don’t think he’ll be able to find my location.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” Alex assures him. If he knows Ramos half as well as he thinks he does, he’s pretty sure this building wouldn’t even show up on a map. “Where are you going to go?” 

“No fucking idea,” Michael says. “My place isn’t safe and neither is Isobel’s so maybe we’ll just find a motel for the night or something until—“

“No, don’t do that,” Alex interrupts. “He’ll probably be expecting that and with Max’s face he’ll have access to police resources. If he’s motivated enough, he’ll track you down by the end of the night.”

Michael lets out a loud sigh before he says, mostly to himself, “Fuck Max for being a fucking cop,” frustration heavy in his tone. “You got any other ideas then?”

Alex considers that for a moment before he remembers the cabin Jim left him. It’s not a top secret military bunker, but it’s remote and about as secure as they can hope for right now.

“I do, actually,” Alex says at last. “Where are you right now?”

“The hospital,” Michael answers. “Maria’s fine, Liz and I just checked on her.”

“Okay good,” he says. “He probably won’t attack you if you’re in a public place so just stay there and wait for my call, okay? There’s something I need to take care of and then I’m all yours.”

Alex cringes at his own wording, but Michael doesn’t seem to notice.

“Okay,” he says. “Just—hurry?” 

“I will,” Alex promises. “Stay safe.”

“You too,” Michael replies, and then the line goes dead.

Alex turns back to his phone screen and pulls up his contacts. He hesitates for a minute, asking himself if what he’s about to do is really the right choice.

But then he thinks of Michael and how much easier it would be to protect him with access to all of the resources and intel Deep Sky has to offer. If Jones is even half the threat he seems, Alex has a feeling he’s going to need all the help he can get.

Alex makes the call. It rings twice before he gets an answer.

“Have you made up your mind then?” Ramos asks, foregoing a greeting entirely.

“I’m in,” Alex says, projecting confidence he doesn’t quite feel. “Now do you think I can get a ride back to my car? I’ve got somewhere to be.”

Thirty minutes later, Alex leaves Kyle in Ramos’ care and hits the road. He’s careful not to speed too much—the last thing he needs is to get pulled over right now—but he’s definitely pushing it.

Alex had called Michael back while he waited impatiently for Ramos and gave him instructions on how to get to the cabin—an indirect route with minimal traffic cameras along the way. Looking at the clock on his dashboard, Alex guesses Michael will probably have already let himself in by now.

Sure enough, Michael’s pick-up truck and Isobel’s SUV are already parked outside by the time Alex pulls into the dirt path he calls a driveway. When he opens the front door, he sees a small crowd of people in his living room, all wearing various expressions of exhaustion and defeat.

Rosa has her boots propped up on the coffee table next to Michael’s hat where she sits in the armchair in the corner, her eyes trained on Liz who looks to be wearing a hole in the carpet with all of the pacing she’s doing. Michael is sitting with Isobel on the couch, her head resting heavily on his shoulder and her arms drawn tight across her chest. 

They all look up at him as he steps over the threshold, but Michael’s the first to react, his back straightening against the couch the moment he lays eyes on him.

“Alex,” he says, little louder than a whisper. Alex feels the sudden desire to pull him into his arms. 

“Sorry I’m late,” Alex says, closing the door behind him. “It’s a long story, but I found Kyle.”

“You found Kyle?” Liz asks, her eyes wide as she takes a step closer to him. “Where is he?”

“With his uncle,” he answers.

“His what?” Rosa asks at the same time Liz says, “Kyle doesn’t have an uncle.”

“Yeah, we’ve got a lot to talk about,” Alex says. 

This time of night, Alex figures they could all use a pick-me-up, so he heads to the kitchen and gestures for them to follow. 

While he gets the ancient coffee pot going, he can hear the sound of chairs scraping against the floor behind him as they all find a seat at the table in the middle of the room. There’s an empty seat next to Michael when he goes to sit, so he takes it, figuring it’ll be easier to stay focused on the task at hand if he doesn’t have to look directly at him.

As he sits down, he catches Michael’s eyes shifting toward the dusty bottle of whiskey on top of the fridge, but he surprises him when he doesn’t ask for it. Alex isn’t sure if that’s for Rosa’s benefit or his own, but either way he can’t help but feel a little proud of him.

They talk for what must be hours, starting with Kyle and Alex’s involvement with Deep Sky and ending with the shit show that went down with Jones tonight. It’s a lot to process, for all of them, but they do manage to come up with a plan for tomorrow. 

Michael is understandably suspicious of Deep Sky, but after Alex relays what he learned about the Lockhart Machine’s origins in Caulfield, he wants to get his hands on it. The idea of working so close to him makes Alex nervous for more reasons than one, but Michael’s right—he needs his help if he’s going to make any meaningful progress before the other shoe drops with Jones and pretending otherwise is going to get someone killed.

Liz, for her part, is eager to dive into the science to see if there’s anything she can do to help Kyle, so Alex will take her to the barn in the morning before he and Michael tackle the Lockhart Machine. 

With no leads on where Jones took Max’s body, Isobel and Rosa decide to check on Maria and see if there’s any progress they can make on freeing her from the hold Jones has on her mind. 

It’s as solid a plan as they’re capable of making with what they’ve got, so the moment Michael yawns behind the grimy bandana on his hand Alex is ready to call it a night.

“Alright, I think that’s enough for tonight,” Alex says. He pushes back from the table and starts collecting coffee mugs to put in the sink as he continues, “There’s a guest bedroom down the hall and an extra bed in the secret bunker under the coffee table in the living room for people to crash in.”

“The what under the what?” Liz asks, bewildered.

“Alex Manes, do you have a sex dungeon in your basement?” Isobel asks, sounding intrigued and a little impressed before she grimaces suddenly and turns to Michael. “Ew, wait, did you know about this?”

Alex resolutely does not look at Michael as he sighs, “It’s not a sex dungeon.” 

He considers telling them about the room’s true intended purpose, but decides against it—there’s been enough revelations about distant fathers for one evening. 

“It’s just an extra bedroom,” he continues, before turning to Liz and Rosa. “The bed down there is big enough for two people to fit in if you guys don’t mind sharing. The bed in the guest room’s just a twin, so it’d be a tighter squeeze.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Rosa shrugs, eyes on Liz as she continues, “As long as you don’t steal the covers.”

“Oh come on, that was one time when I was seven,” Liz protests, crossing her arms over her chest.

Isobel interrupts their sibling banter to say, “Dibs on the guest room then. Sorry, Michael, you’re on the couch tonight.”

Michael shrugs like he expected that, but Alex stops him with a hand on his arm as he goes to walk toward the living room.

“No, take my bed,” he says. Michael’s eyes drop down to where Alex’s hand has caught his forearm and Alex lets him go. “I’m sleeping on the couch.”

“What?” Michael asks, cocking his head so his curls fall into his eyes. “No, I’ll take the couch. Sleep in your own bed.”

“Michael, I’m not letting you sleep on the couch after the day you’ve had,” Alex argues. “You need a good night’s sleep in an actual bed.”

“And you don’t?” Michael counters. “Besides, if you sleep on that lumpy-ass couch you’re definitely going to fuck up your leg and I think we can both agree that that would be kind of a problem if Jones catches up to us.”

Alex sighs and tries to stare him down, willing him to let him do this for him, but Michael just keeps defiantly meeting his gaze.

“Oh my god, would you two shut up and just share the bed if the couch sucks that much?” Isobel asks and they both turn to look at her in shock. “It’s not like it would be the first time,” she adds under her breath.

Alex shares another look with Michael and waits a moment for him to react, to give any sign he wouldn’t be okay with that. 

All he does is shrug and say, “I’m game if you are.”

If he’s honest, Alex has no fucking idea how he’s supposed to get any sleep lying next to Michael all night—his stomach is already in knots just thinking about it—but he nods his head anyway.

“Alright,” Alex agrees. “It’s just down the hall that way, I’ll show you. Does anyone need anything to sleep in? I’ve got some spare pajamas.”

There’s a chorus of yes’s all around, so Alex heads down the hall toward his bedroom to grab some clothes with Michael not far behind him. 

“Looks, uh—nice in here,” Michael comments awkwardly as they step inside the bedroom, and Alex can’t help but laugh.

“You don’t have to lie,” he says as he starts digging through the dresser for some old t-shirts and sweatpants, glad for once that he never got around to cutting down the right pant leg on them. “Besides the new sheets, this is all Jim Valenti’s old stuff.” 

“The clothes too?” Michael grimaces.

“Oh, no, these are mine,” he says as he hands Michael a bundle of clothes. “Bathroom’s through that door there if you want to shower. There should be an extra toothbrush and towels under the sink.”

Michael nods, and then scoffs when he sees the Air Force logo on the t-shirt Alex hands him. Alex rolls his eyes at him as he heads back out into the living room to distribute clothes to the rest of his guests. 

It takes some time getting everyone settled—the sheets on the other beds need to be changed and Liz and Rosa have some questions about the giant hole in the wall in the basement—but soon enough, Alex heads back to the master bedroom. When he gets there, he sees Michael standing by the far side of the bed, water weighing down his curls and a pair of Alex’s sweatpants hanging low on his hips. He isn’t wearing a shirt either, the Air Force tee Alex gave him sitting on the comforter on Alex’s side of the bed.

Alex isn’t sure if this is an act of protest against the United States Armed Forces or if Michael is simply trying to drive him insane, but either way, Alex scoops up the t-shirt on his way to the ensuite bathroom along with the emergency crutches he keeps here and another pair of sweats for himself. 

He goes through his nightly routine without issue, grateful that he’d gotten around to buying a shower chair for the cabin so he can actually wash the last few days off his skin. 

He’s expecting Michael to be asleep when he gets back, but instead he finds him sitting crosslegged in bed with the lights still on, his elbows on his knees and his head cradled in his hands. Alex’s heart aches at the sight.

“Hey,” he says softly as he makes his way over to the bed. 

Michael looks up at him, an inscrutable look on his face, and waits for him to speak. 

“I’m not going to ask you if you’re okay because there’s nothing about today that has been okay,” Alex tells him, “but I’m here if you want to talk.”

A small smile tugs at Michael’s lips. “Thanks,” he says.  

When he doesn’t say anything else, Alex gets into bed with him, resting his crutches in the narrow space between the bed and the nightstand. Michael gets the lights with his powers, plunging the room into darkness, and Alex lies down on his back while his eyes adjust, too aware of Michael shifting in bed beside him to really let himself relax enough to sleep. 

It’s a few moments later when Michael lets out a huff that sounds a little like a laugh.

“What?” Alex asks, turning to look at him. He can just see the curve of Michael’s nose in the moonlight bleeding through the curtains.

“Nothing, I just—“ Michael starts before he sighs again, eyes fixed on the ceiling. “It’s a little ridiculous that this time last year we were dealing with your homicidal father and now we’re dealing with mine. The more things change the more they stay the same, I guess.”

Michael says it like it’s funny, but Alex feels a twinge in his chest at the thought of Michael going through what he went through last year. Feeling unsafe around your parent is a special kind of pain, one Alex knows intimately, and it’s the last thing he would have ever wanted for Michael. He’s been through enough.

 On impulse, Alex reaches across the bed for Michael’s hand. It takes some searching, but eventually he finds it resting on top of the comforter between them. He half expects Michael to pull away from him, but he threads their fingers together instead. Michael’s palm is warm against his own, his grip secure, and Alex feels his eyes begin to burn as something inside his chest settles at the touch. 

He swallows down the emotion in his throat as he tells him, “We’re gonna figure this out.” 

“You don’t know that,” Michael says, scarcely louder than a whisper.

“Yeah, I do,” Alex insists. “Jones may have crazy alien powers we can’t comprehend, but we have the Lockhart Machine. If it was your mother who built it, it could hold the key to taking him down.”

At the mention of his mother, Michael goes quiet again, and Alex watches his chest rise and fall with the deep breath he takes. 

“You really think she built it?” Michael asks at last, hesitation in his tone. 

Alex gets it—this machine, if it works like the radios the Valentis had, could have alien glass with his mother’s voice inside. It makes sense that Michael doesn’t want to get his hopes up and invite the crushing disappointment he’ll feel if it doesn’t.

Alex squeezes his hand reassuringly as he answers, “I think if there’s anyone who can find out for sure, it’s you.”

Michael is silent for another long moment, so long that Alex thinks he’s done with the conversation, before he finally asks, “Why are you being so nice to me?” 

“What do you mean?” Alex asks, taken aback by the question.

Michael shifts onto his side to look at him directly. “Yesterday you didn’t want me anywhere near what you were doing and now you’re holding my hand and telling me it’s all gonna be okay if we work together,” Michael says, lifting their joined hands off the bed for emphasis. “What’s changed?”

Alex’s throat clicks as he swallows, something like shame weighing down the pit of his stomach. He hadn’t meant to make Michael feel like he didn’t want him around or that he wasn’t useful.

“I’m sorry,” Alex apologizes. “I was just scared.”

“Of what?” Michael presses.

“Of what Deep Sky would do if they found out about you,” he answers. “I knew if you kept investigating the bats, you would find Deep Sky sooner or later and I was terrified that for all their talk about changing narratives and building bridges between humans and aliens that they wouldn’t be any different than my father if they actually met one.” 

“Well, you could have told me that,” Michael says after a moment, his voice softer than the accusatory tone Alex is anticipating. “I would have understood.”

“But would you have let it go if you knew you were onto something?” Alex asks. 

“Not a chance in hell,” Michael admits, something like a smile playing at his lips. 

Alex sighs heavily, expecting the answer but no less happy at being proven right. 

“But being cagey and lying to me about what you knew didn’t make me want to let it go either,” Michael continues. 

“I know,” Alex says. “I just thought—If I didn’t try to protect you and just let you walk into something like that and you got hurt, I… I would never forgive myself.” 

Alex feels Michael’s thumb caress the back of his hand and closes his eyes at the sensation, letting it wash over him and remind him that Michael is here, that he’s safe—that he hasn’t failed him yet.

“Well, it was for nothing anyway,” Alex sighs as his eyes drift open once more. “Turns out you’re the whole reason they wanted to hire me in the first place, so—“

“Wait, what?” Michael asks, raising his head off his pillow to look at him better, and Alex curses his own sleep deprivation for letting him admit that so easily. “I thought they scouted you because of your dad.”

He swallows audibly before he answers, “That’s part of it too.” 

“But not all of it,” Michael says, not a question but a confirmation. “What, did they think they could get an alien on their side if they played the long game with you?” 

“Probably, yeah,” Alex says, hoping that’ll satisfy him.

Michael must sense that Alex is holding something back, though, because he releases his hand and sits up on the bed next to him. “Alex, what aren’t you saying?” 

Alex sighs and pushes himself up against the headboard so he and Michael are on the same level. He pulls his left leg in toward his chest protectively while Michael looks at him, his eyes intense and expectant.

Alex finds the words eventually. “Ramos wanted me to join Deep Sky because he thinks I view life differently than other people.”

“Because you already know aliens exist?” Michael guesses, his head quirked to the side.

God, is he really gonna make me say it? Alex thinks, his stomach dropping at the thought.

But then he takes in Michael’s earnest confusion, how far away the fact that Alex still loves him must be from his mind that he still doesn’t get it, and realizes they can’t keep doing this to each other—talking in riddles and euphemisms because it’s easier than being honest. That’s not who Alex wants to be anymore, and it’s certainly not what Michael deserves.

“Alex?” Michael prompts him, his voice dipping with concern, and Alex thinks, Fuck it. 

He’s already made a few major confessions tonight—what’s one more?

“Because I’m in love with one,” Alex admits at last, his heart thundering behind his ribs as he braces for Michael’s reply.

There’s a beat where Michael does nothing but stare at him blankly, the words taking a moment to register in his ears, before he asks, eyes almost comically wide, “You’re in love with me?” 

Alex laughs humorlessly, his eyes beginning to burn again as he answers, “Of course I am.”

“But I thought—you and Nazi guy—?“ Michael starts.

“Are over,” Alex finishes for him. “Forrest was nice and fun to hang out with, but he’s not you. He’ll never be you.”

A second and a year pass in the excruciating moment Michael takes to process that statement. It makes him feel raw and impossibly exposed, like Michael is holding his beating heart in his hands and Alex is begging him not to break it, but the next thing Alex knows Michael is pushing into his space and capturing his lips in a harsh and desperate kiss. 

Alex’s heart nearly bursts with relief, his leg dropping back down to the mattress. He reaches up to cup both of Michael’s cheeks to keep him close, his days-old stubble a pleasant scratch against his palms. 

Michael breathes a contented sigh against his mouth as he tilts his head for a better angle and tries to deepen the kiss, his tongue flicking out against Alex’s bottom lip. Alex opens for him without a moment’s hesitation and as soon as Michael licks into his mouth, Michael’s tongue sliding across his own, Alex feels like he’s been set on fire, the desire he’s been suppressing for over a year now flaring hot and inexorable inside of him. 

Alex wants with an intensity that almost scares him, his cock stirring against his thigh already and Michael’s barely even touched him. The feeling amplifies when Michael throws his leg over Alex’s hips and settles heavily over his lap, the solid weight and warmth of him pulling a moan from Alex’s throat.

Michael swallows the sound eagerly as he snakes his arms behind his neck, his hips shifting restlessly over Alex’s lap as he kisses him. Alex drops his hands from Michael’s face to wrap around his waist instead, pulling him closer until they’re nearly chest to chest. 

One of them has to break the kiss eventually, and as Alex gasps for air with his head tipped back against the headboard, he can see Michael looking down at him with adoration in his eyes. He takes Alex’s face in his hands and laughs, a soft, wet sound, before he kisses him soundly once more. 

“I love you so much,” he murmurs against his lips, and Alex’s grip tightens as he feels those words brush against his skin and settle in his heart.

Alex leans that little bit forward to kiss him again, slow and languid this time as the heat continues to simmer between them. Michael peels Alex’s shirt over his head and begins to rock gently against him, his ass rubbing back and forth over Alex’s growing erection with every movement of his hips. 

He can tell that Michael’s getting hard too, can feel the heat of his cock through his borrowed sweatpants. Alex removes his hand from Michael’s waist and slides it lower until he feels Michael’s happy trail peeking out above his waistband. 

He strokes his thumb over the hair there, teasing the skin at the edge of the fabric without ever dipping beneath it. Michael squirms against him with a soft, plaintive whimper when he does that, so Alex gives him what he wants, lets his hand slip lower so he can rub his palm over the hard line of Michael’s cock, relishing the way Michael moans softly into his mouth as his hips twitching closer on instinct. 

“Are we really doing this right now?” Alex pulls away to ask, his thumb rubbing a slow circle around the head of Michael’s dick through the soft fabric. 

“Are you saying you want to stop?” Michael asks him, tipping forward until their foreheads meet.

“No,” he answers.

“Then yeah,” Michael breathes, reaching down between them to cover Alex’s hand with his own. “I think we’re doing this.”

“In that case,” Alex says, “I want you in my mouth.”

“God, yeah,” Michael whispers, his cock jumping beneath Alex’s hand at the thought.

Alex gives him a hard kiss before he pulls back to say, “On your back.”

Michael climbs off of Alex’s lap without another word. He rolls over onto his back next to him, his thighs falling open to give Alex room to work with. 

Alex slips between them easily and moves in to kiss him again, once on the lips before he begins pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses down his chin. He lingers at his neck, sucking a bruise into the spot underneath his jaw that he knows drives Michael fucking crazy. 

Michael rewards him with a choked-off moan, his legs spreading wider around his hips. Alex wishes he had the time—and supplies—to ruin him properly, work him open with his tongue and fingers until he’s a keening, whimpering mess before he fucks him like he deserves. For now, though, his mouth will have to do.

Alex can feel Michael’s pulse jackrabbit against his lips as he continues down the column of his throat, Michael’s hands burying themselves in his hair. He dips his tongue into the hollow of his collarbone before he slips further down his chest, cupping Michael’s pecs in his hands and squeezing just enough to get a reaction from him before his mouth latches on to one of his nipples.

He scrapes his teeth against the bud before soothing the hurt with his tongue and Michael’s breath catches in his throat again. He’s always been so sensitive, so responsive to Alex’s touch, and Alex can’t get enough of it.

When he’s teased both of his nipples to hard buds, Alex starts to move lower still, leaving a trail of hot, wet kisses down the length of his belly until he stops right above the waistband of his pajamas.

“Alex,” Michael moans as Alex sucks another bruise into his skin, his fingers tightening their grip on his hair. “Please.”

Alex gives one final kiss to the sharp angle of Michael’s hip bone before he sits up to pull his pants off. He drops them off the side of the bed carelessly before he settles between Michael’s legs once more, running his palms along the soft skin of his inner thighs and enjoying the way the muscle jumps beneath his fingertips.

Michael’s cock leaks against his belly, flushed and wet at the tip. Alex wastes no more time getting his mouth on him, lapping at the pool of precome shining against his skin before he takes the slick, swollen head into his mouth. He revels in the feel of it forcing his mouth wide open and moans softly at the bitter taste he catches on his tongue. 

Alex looks up at Michael through his lashes as he starts to suck him, sinking down onto his cock a little lower with every pass of his lips. Michael’s got his bottom lip caught painfully between his teeth, his eyes trained hungrily on the way his cock is slipping in and out of Alex’s mouth. 

The soft, needy whimpers Michael makes as Alex swallows around him are music to his ears, stoking the fire inside of him until the pressure in his own cock becomes unbearable. Alex grinds his hips down against the mattress for relief, but it only makes him more desperate to come. He slides one of his hands straight into his own pants and groans around Michael’s cock as he starts to fuck his fist.

It’s not much longer that Michael’s hips start to twitch against the mattress and his fingers tighten their grip on Alex’s hair. He barely gets out a warning, “Fuck, I’m gonna come,” before he’s pulsing hot and wet across Alex’s tongue. Alex swallows it greedily, moaning softly as he works Michael through the rest of his orgasm and keeps chasing his own with eager, shallow thrusts. 

When Michael’s had enough, Alex pulls off of his cock and buries his face against his hip as he comes quietly over his own fist, making a mess of the inside of his underwear. He’ll probably be embarrassed about that later, but for now he’s content to come down to the feeling of Michael gently petting his hair.

“Get up here,” Michael says when he’s recovered the ability to speak, tugging lightly on the ends of Alex’s hair to get his attention. 

Alex groans as he lifts his head off Michael’s hip and maneuvers himself until he’s lying next to him again, his stump crossed over Michael’s thigh. 

“Did you—?” Michael cuts off, eyes caught on the sticky mess on Alex’s hand now that he’s pulled it free from his pants.

“Yeah,” Alex admits, a little sheepishly. 

Michael stares at his hand for a long second before he grabs his wrist and pulls his hand closer to his face. He looks Alex in the eye as he sucks two of his fingers into his mouth, grunting softly as he licks them clean.

“Fuck,” Alex whispers, his cock twitching in vain against his thigh at the sight and feel of Michael’s tongue sliding between his fingers.

“You missed sucking my cock that bad, huh?” Michael asks when he lets them fall from his mouth, voice low and rough as gravel as he pushes into Alex’s space, so close he can smell himself on Michael’s breath. 

Alex lets out a shuddering breath. “Yes,” he answers.

Michael leans in to kiss him, quick and dirty and possessive, before he pulls back and says, “Guess I’m just gonna have to wait until the morning to return the favor then.”

“I guess so,” Alex says, hooking his clean hand around the back of Michael’s neck to bring him in for another one.

Michael kisses him back eagerly for a long moment before he pulls away. “Be right back,” he says, and climbs out of bed.

While he’s in the bathroom, Alex shimmies his dirty sweatpants and underwear off his legs and onto the floor. It’s only another minute before Michael’s back, a damp washcloth gripped between his fingers. 

It’s warm against Alex’s skin as Michael uses it to clean him up, and when they’re done they settle down for bed, Alex’s head resting on Michael’s chest and his arm thrown across his waist.

And as Alex finally closes his eyes for the night, his thoughts naturally drift to all the problems they’ll be facing tomorrow morning:

Saving Kyle. 

Freeing Maria. 

Stopping Jones. 

Unlocking the secrets of a mysterious 50 year old alien device and hopefully not going insane while trying.

But as the steady sound of Michael’s heartbeat lulls him to sleep, the loudest thought in his head is that Michael loves him. 

Whatever happens come morning, they’ll deal with it together.

[bamfdaddio]

X-Men Abridged: 1981

The X-Men, those back-to-the-future mutants that have sworn to protect a world that hates and fears them, are a cultural juggernaut with a long, tangled history. Want to unravel this tapestry? Then read the Abridged X-Men!

(Uncanny X-Men 141 - 152) - by Chris Claremont and John Byrne, Brent Anderson, Dave Cockrum, Jim Sherman, Bob McLeod and Josef Rubinstein

While I also committed various fashion atrocities at the age of 14 (tye-die and fauxhawks, oh my), even Liberace would find Kitty’s outfits too much. (Uncanny X-Men 149; Uncanny X-Men Annual ‘81)

We dial back from the v. epic scope of the last few arcs. Instead, 1981 is just a lot of fun! We get:

Storm and Emma doing a Freaky Friday!

the X-Men vs. Magneto (again!)

A surprisingly effective Alien rip-off

An dystopian future! (OoOoOoOo)

Last year was the year of the Dark Phoenix, this is the year of Kitty Pryde. That’s not to say Jean’s death is swept under the rug: all throughout, we see her friends mourning her loss or remembering her fondly. (Scott even gets to have a demonic adventure about it.) But in general, Claremont puts Kitty in the forefront, fleshing out his YA-addition to the team. And what would a YA heroine be without a grim dystopia? Roll out the iconic Days of Future Past!

To be fair, 2013 was a dark time for all of us: What Does the Fox Say somehow got to the top of the charts and I was still watching Glee. (Uncanny X-Men 141)

How cool would it have been to see a name like Jonothon Starsmore or Eva Bell on those tombstones?

Anyway, that’s Kate. Kate’s had it rough. Mutants are at the bottom of the foodchain, most X-Men are dead and only a small cadre of resistance fighters remain, Sentinels dominate, and while she is married to Piotr, her children have been murdered. Bleak. Luckily, the rebellion has concocted the plan to shunt Kate’s spirit back in time to prevent this awful future from happening. (You’ve seen Days of Future Past, the last passably good X-Men film, you know what’s up.)

Let’s do the time warp again! 1981!Kitty’s mind gets taken over by 2013!Kitty, who promptly tries to convince the X-Men that a new Brotherhood of v. Evil Mutants will try to kill Senator Kelly, a presidential candidate who tries to put the mutant menace on the agenda. (Mutants tend to blow stuff up when he’s around.) Since the X-Men recently took a literal trip to Dante’s Infero and also befriended a cosmic world-ending entity, they basically shrug and go: “Yeah, this checks out.”

Off to Washington they go (zoommm) and there, they happen upon the Baddest Bitches in Herstory:

“How dare you hate mutants, senator Kelly! We’ll fix that by killing you!” (Uncanny X-Men 141)

This All-New, All-Different Brotherhood consists out of:

Destiny, a blind woman who can see the future. Definitely the eeriest member of this group. Badass lesbian, though that won´t be canon for years.

Avalanche. Greek who makes things shake. Is a long-standing member of the X-Men Rogue’s gallery, but rarely features in the spotlight. I think he got more characterization in four years of X-Men Evolution than he ever did in the comics.

Mystique. Shapeshifter. Ruthless and unhinged, the Cersei Lannister of the X-Men universe. Absolute legend, secretly the wife of Destiny, currently not as unhinged as she’ll be later. Immediately implied to be related to Nightcrawler: it’s the yellow-eyes-blue-skin-combo.

Pyro. Can manipulate fire, not create it. Absolute pillock, in all the best ways of the word. Originally intended as gay, but they decided to make him Australian instead. (?!)

Blob. Big, strong, immovable. We’ve seen him before.

One of the details in this fight I enjoy is that Storm is still struggling with her leadership, although she has a better grip on things than Cyclops:

Wolverine then proceeds to use those iconic but deadly claws about twice per issue for the next, oh, forty years. (Uncanny X-Men 142)

While the X-Men fight the Brotherhood in the present, we cut back and forth to the future. There, the X-Men consist out of some familiar faces - Storm, Colossus, Wolverine - and some surprises: Magneto (in a wheelchair), Franklin Richards (son of) and an unfamiliar ginger girl called Rachel. (She’ll be important later.) We even learn (one of) Magneto’s names: this is the first time he’s canonically called Magnus.

One of the strengths of Days of Future Past lies in its brevity, the way it tantalizingly taunts us with a brutal but familiar future without giving away too much. It’s single-handedly responsible for all those dark future timelines the X-lines are so fond of which will eventually culminate in time-displaced grandsons from alternative dimensions and the impossibility of a succinct answer to the question: “Who’s Cable?” Too much of a good thing and all that.

Still, what Days of Future Past does so successfully is:

Put the idea of the mutant menace back at the forefront, hammering home the metaphor of mutants being a minority. Mutants being put in camps and being forbidden to breed should - regretfully - make us think of all too many real life equivalents. (Specifically, all of the imagery harkens back to the Holocaust.)

It starkly shows what happens should the X-Men lose, reminding everyone of the stakes. The X-Men are here for a reason: bridging the gap between mutants and humankind. If they fuck up, we end up with mutant concentration camps.

It helps that the X-Men in the future almost all die horribly: Franklin is incinerated, Storm is impaled… It's brutal stuff. The only one to survive is Rachel, who wonders if their plan actually changed the future or if they created an alternative timeline. (It did the latter, sorry ‘bout it, Rachel.)

In the present, Kate chases after Destiny, who trains a gun on senator Kelly. I always wondered how this works: if Destiny saw the future, she knew that killing Kelly would trigger a terrifying future. What in the current Marvel timeline made her decide that the Days of Future Past was better? Did she see her own death? Did she see the Onslaught-crossover coming? The Chuck Austen run? What was it?

In any case, time-anomalous Kate stops Destiny from killing Kelly and the future is safe! For now. Kate disappears, Kitty returns to her body and some of the Brotherhood are apprehended. All is well, for now.

After being a key figure in DoFP, Kitty is also the main character in the Christmas special, which is basically a straight up horror and a pastiche of the Alien-movie.

Seriously, John Byrne still isn’t sure why he wasn’t sued by Ridley Scott for this. (Uncanny X-Men 143)

If you love Kitty Pryde? Read this issue. If you’re not convinced you like 80’s Kitty? Read this issue. It’s not continuity relevant and it’s basically Kitty playing the part of a Final Girl in a horror where she’s being chased by a demon, but it’s so good. It showcases all her strengths and her foibles. Kitty’s intelligent, cute (sometimes preciously so) and brave, but she’s also young, self-conscious and hot-headed. And it's not as if the other X-Men automatically adore her: Storm berates her all the time, she’s afraid of Kurt because of the way he looks (though she grows out of that) and she fights with Professor Xavier a lot. Moreover, she has a clever power-set for a young superhero who faces menaces on a daily basis: a thirteen year old who can go intangible is far less likely to have reality ensue on her and be dramatically offed because she's better at protecting herself.

I’m sure there are people who thought Sprite was hogging the spotlight, but I, for one, say she brings more to the table than, say, Angel. She’s not the Dawn Summers of this franchise.

Scott also gets a side quest. Poor guy can’t catch a break: first the love of his life dies, so he quits the X-Men, then he realizes he can’t do much else than be a superhero. He becomes a sailor on the ship of spunky captain Lee Forrester, is drawn into the sadistic plans of a demon unironically named D’Spayre and then shipwrecks in Bermuda with Lee.

The X-Men, meanwhile, are tormented by a team-up of Doom (who’s currently Latverialess and working on a comeback) and Arcade, that annoying crony. Locke, Arcade’s dom, has kidnapped the loved ones of the X-Men (Moira MacTaggart, Jean Grey’s parents, Illyana Rasputin and Amanda Sefton) in order to blackmail them into getting Doom to free Arcade. Apparently, Arcade accidentally insulted Doom and DOOM DOES NOT FORGIVE THAT FOLLY.

While the B-Squad (Polaris, Havok, Banshee and Iceman) goes to save Arcade’s hostages, the X-Men sneak into Doom’s castle. Well, except for Storm, who doesn’t give a single fuck and simply flies up to Doom, demanding an audience. Doom likes the cut of her jib and invites her to have dinner. (This is pre-Tinder, so this is a legit way of scoring a date.)

If Storm has a flaw (I said if!), it’s got to be her atrocious taste in men. (Uncanny X-Men 145)

The X-Men find Arcade’s cell empty, while Arcade casually saunters up to Storm and says hi. Storm realizes too late that this is a trap: while the X-Men are all trapped in Saw-like traps, Storm is encased in ‘living chrome’.

If you remember she’s claustrophobic, you know why this is a bad move.

While the X-Men free themselves from their traps - Polaris hilariously has to deal with a murderous merry-go-round - Storm is slowly driven mad in her prison, triggering a worldwide tempest. (She causes Lee and Scott to shipwreck.) Under the threat of Wolverine’s claws, Doom releases Storm - or rather, unleashes her.

“Instead of a Dark Lord, you would have a queen, not dark but beautiful and terrible as the dawn! Tempestuous as the sea, and stronger than the foundations of the earth! All shall love me and despair!” (Uncanny X-Men 147)

The memory of Jean brings Ororo back to herself and she starts undoing the superstorm she created. (If only climate change were reversed that easily.) Their confrontation ends by Storm easily forgiving Doom, because she apparently trespassed on his grounds without adequate cause.

Mkay.

All of Arcade’s hostages return to their homesteads, except for Illyana Rasputin, Piotr’s sister: she’s staying at the mansion for a while. Angel, who’s sort of been a part of the team since the Phoenix thing, has had it with Wolverine and his ‘tude, and decides to quit the X-Men : he doesn’t want to be a part of an outfit that has a killer like Wolverine on it. (Or maybe he’s just mad Claremont didn’t give him any storylines: his presence has been mostly pointless.) It’s too bad he left before Kitty started experimenting with her outfits: I bet he would have loved her ugly-ass costumes.

Equally inconsequential is the introduction of a brand new character, who then proceeds to disappear from the narrative for the rest of the year:

Black Tom has tried to kill you at least twice, but him sending you a long-lost daughter doesn’t give you pause? Ugh, Sean, you deserve Moira. (Uncanny X-Men 148)

Intrigued by Theresa? TOO BAD, WON’T SEE HER AGAIN ANYTIME SOON.

Another new character is the lonely, decidedly mutant looking Caliban, who can sense “people like him” and is on the lookout for companions. Like many lonely people who try and grasp at friendship, he decides to overshoot his shot and ruin the night of Storm, Kitty and Jessica Drew at a Dazzler concert. Because he tries to kidnap Kitty, the girls react a trifle aggressively. When they realize their mistake - the eerily pale Caliban is a simpleton rather than a menace - he’s already fled. No mention is made of the Morlocks yet!

There’s also another dull annual where the X-Men team up with the Fantastic Four to save Arkon’s dimension from the Badoon and yaaaaawn. Far more interesting is the landmark issue #150. Slowly, through the adventures of Scott and Lee Forrester, Claremont has been setting things up for the return of a favorite villain. While the X-Men investigate Magneto’s old base in Antarctica on a hunch of Professor X and tangle with Garruk, Scott and Lee survive Storm’s tempest, only to wake up next to a strange island that seems to have been raised from the ocean.

It’s apparently some ancient citadel from a long forgotten civilization with a fondness for squid statues. (I don’t know man, I’ve never been to the Bermuda Triangle, maybe this is just super-accurate.)The tentacles make Lee Forrester feel very amorous, but before Scott can tell her he is way too repressed to just have sex with an attractive someone he’s known intimately for a month or two, Magneto saves his ass by revealing he, in fact, raised this island from the seafloor.

Oh, Magneto. So extra.

My ambitious little mutant demagogue then proceeds to take the entire world hostage, showing how much he’s grown from the pompous, raving madman from the sixties. (Sure, Magneto is still a bit of a madman, but increasingly, he starts being on the right side of history.)

“I’m trying to make Magneto more sympathetic.”

“Just put him on a page with some bigger villains who are less noble, like the Vanisher, Count Nefaria, or…”

“Reagan, Thatcher and Brezhnov?”

“Er.” (Uncanny X-Men 150)

It’s obvious Magneto is being pivoted as a more noble villain, codified into the well-intentioned extremist we know and love today. Not only do we get the first hints at his past, fleshing out his motivations, he’s also not wrong. Humans are historically not great at taking care of the planet or each other.

When the Russians call his bluff and launch nukes at Magneto’s new island, he quickly disarms them. His retribution is swift and ferocious: the entire citadel is a machine that massively amplifies his powers. He sinks the submarine that launched the missiles, condemning the entire crew to death, and he casually erects a vulcano in a Russian city in Siberia.

Damn. Not messing around this time.

Despite his good intentions, Magneto is still definitely in the wrong: not only because of his methods, but as Scott points out: if Magneto unifies the world under his kind of benevolent dictatorship, all of that will simply fall apart as soon as Magnus dies.

In a way, Magneto is just as big a dreamer as Charles is: Charles believes in peace and integration, whereas Magneto believes his iron fist will be enough to make a perfect world happen. Both of them ignore the reality that acceptance is difficult and messy, because you’re trying to change essential human nature: the fear of the other. Magneto believes in big, sweeping gestures that will fix the world in move, while changing the world is also boring, hard work. One step forward, two steps back. Magneto just wants to leapfrog to his ultimate goal.

The X-Men fly over the citadel, returning from Antarctica, and their plane crashes into the ocean. (Magneto does not brook planes over his territory, humans!) The Professor is also nearby, looking for Scott with Moira, Peter Corbeau and Carol Danvers. The X-Men sneak onto the island, but to their horror, their powers are nullified by some machine of Magneto. They reunite with Scott, who formulates a plan to thwart the would-be ruler of the world.

While the rest of the X-Men go to trash the machine, Storm, Kitty and Lee infiltrate the control chamber where Storm finds a sleeping, shirtless Magneto. Once again showing her terrible taste in men, she is not weak in the knees at the sight of a sleeping Magnus: instead, she contemplates killing him.

Storm knows how dangerous he is, but she also knows that he’s a great man who’s fighting for ideals, no matter how misguided. She hesitates too long: Magneto stirs, suspects an attack and tosses her out of the window, to her death.

Magneto quickly undoes the sabotage the other X-Men have wrought to his machine. A fight erupts. Storm, meanwhile, has managed to grab hold of a ledge. She crawls back up and smashes an important-looking computer, restoring everyone’s powers.

The battle turns grim, but Scott sends Kitty away to wreck Magneto’s machinery. She sneaks off, following Scott’s orders and destroying both Magneto's power-up device and all of his plans by phasing though the computer circuitry. Magneto senses this and furiously gives chase. Overcome by rage, he attacks Kitty and disrupts her phasing power with a magnetic bolt, seemingly killing her?

Everything about this story beat is great: mama bear!Ororo, mournful Magnus and even the fact that Kitty’s godawful outfit serves a narrative function: highlighting to us (and Magneto) just how young she is. The fact that Kitty’s Jewish is just icing on the cake. (Uncanny X-Men 150)

And thus, the softening of Magneto commences. 1981 might be a year with wildly varying narratives, but it has given us at least three enduring legacies to the X-Mythos: a new kind of Magneto, a fondness for dystopian futures and the character of Kitty Pryde, who's really come into her own this year.

Ugliest Costume: Kitty! Purposefully, but still. Best costume, by the way, goes to Destiny, with her creepy, creepy golden mask. Just imagine this lady casually strolling across a battlefield, eerily calm and collected, dodging everything you throw at her. Awesome design.

Best new character: I usually pick one character - what good is having a shared award when declaring the best of anything? - but this year, it’s going to one of my favorite couples: Mystique and Destiny. Can’t wait to see more of them.

Most audacious retcon: Blob somehow retroactively becomes a member of the original Brotherhood, which is not what happened. Ever weirder is Xavier pondering that he never met Magneto before his attack in X-Men #1, while their cordially adversarial relationship rooted in a youthful friendship would soon become a cornerstone of the X-Men.

What to read: Uncanny X-Men 141 - 143 and 150 - 152

[renaroo]

Other History? More Like Other MYSTERY

as in it’s a MYSTERY how the hell this got past an editor the week before Pride Month are you fucking kidding me?

I was kind of hoping for more than like... a week of being back on tumblr before I breathed fire and ripped a comic book to shreds. But we all know why I’m here.

There are so many preemptive things to get out of the way before I rip into this thing...

John Ridley as a writer in other forms of media has been incredibly accomplished and an important additional voice to entertainment industries. I do not wish to take away from that or to minimize the impact of voices like his.

But, you know, he’s a voice in media. Not the end-all, be-all to all marginalized people worldwide who can substitute his perspective for any nonwhite straight male voice. And I don’t think that has ever been more apparent than the continued spiral down the drain that has been every issue of The Other History of the DC Universe since the first. 

DC’s “new” approach to everything being canon and everything mattering is dumb and filled to the brim with ways it’s going to backfire and reveal itself to be the eye sore of publications that it’s aiming for, but I was curious to see how they would try to incorporate these characters’ long and contentious histories in the comics with the real world issues they often were billed to tackle, and try to fit it into the current pop culture landscape. That was the whole reason I had my eye on this comic to begin with.

By the second issue we were getting some stark warning signs because as much as I appreciated hearing an authentic perspective on how the Teen Titans brand carried on while neglecting its landmark Black teen heroes (Mal Duncan and Karen Beecher), there was a note of cruelty added to the issue that felt otherwise misplaced and uncharacteristic of the tone being set. 

There was no reason to have a significant portion of that issue dedicated to Mal and Karen’s monologues taking some aggressive words out on Roy Harper specifically for being an addict. 

Perhaps it was a quirk of writing from a flawed perspective or a show of how righteous upset and anger could be turned outward to other people suffering in a vy for your own empowerment. 

I’m now pretty sure that wasn’t it at all. I’m pretty sure because it kept getting worse every issue and it’s culminated in today’s issue where the retelling of Renee Montoya’s story managed to be petty, cruel, shockingly pro-police brutality int its adulation of Jim Gordon and especially Harvey Bullock, and managed to make a well-rounded and very beloved Latina lesbian and just retrofit every stereotype she never had before to her without regard for what it did to her story or to the stories of people around her. 

Honestly, lapsed faith and a poke at the damage that Catholic guilt can have on especially queer believers is kind of my jam, so it’s not that I wouldn’t be down for a story with that perspective. I could even understand exploring that with Renee. But not at the expense of her established history.

Which is a question all of its own. Here we have the skeletal structure of Renee’s life events that we have read before (in much better stories), but they are surprisingly out of order and also shockingly twisted in a way to make EVERYONE as unpleasant as possible. 

And in a way that has convinced me that either John Ridley has never read comics featuring Renee, or that he was mandated to change things that had no business being changed.

According to this issue Renee hated Batman and other superheroes? Which, ah, I don’t even know where that could come from. Ever since the animated series where she got started, Renee’s whole bag has been “the acolyte of Jim Gordon, only other cop who supports Batman”. Like I don’t even know how you get around that.

But according to Ridley she’s hated them all along as an extension of her internalized homophobia and self-loathing. Great.

What follows out of that is that apparently? Renee and Batman specifically butted heads over wanting to rehabilitate Harvey Dent? As in Renee wanted to help him and BATMAN was the one flipping out and saying Harvey was a sociopath and couldn’t be helped.

Like. I’m starting to question if Ridley has read Batman comics before. I don’t know where that interpretation could possibly come from? Bruce and Harvey were friends? Bruce has always held out hope for saving Harvey from his psychosis? It’s like. THE storyline for Two-Face.

The cop stuff... I don’t really know how to talk about the cop stuff to be completely honest. If you mention the LA Riots on one page and a few pages later try to frame it so that over policing and methods of brutality weren’t a thing until 9/11... I don’t know what to say to you. 

I’d say maybe I was being ungenerous here except there were two characters who got entire full page spreads about what good cops they were. And one of them was goddamn Harvey Bullock with the explicit commentary that Renee USED to be uncomfortable with his torture methods and general brutality but figured it was “okay” because he knew how “innocent people screamed different” and that he “never collared someone and it didn’t stick” because. Y’know. Police violence and falsifying evidence never go hand in hand. what the actual fuck ever right?

The timeline for Renee and Kate’s relationship is also completely changed which means that we get to add a trope I just LOVE as a lesbian personally, which is that lesbians can’t keep relationships and can’t keep from cheating on their loving partners. Especially when they are butch. 

And I’m not talking about Renee cheating on Kate. Oh, no. Ridley decided Kate was the Other Woman during Renee’s relationship with Daria. 

And just.. the cruel commentary that Renee had about both Kate and Daria throughout. It made my skin crawl. The way she talked about other women in general made my skin crawl. “Uncomplicated women” “Broken souls” “Can’t be with someone better than yourself”

So I actually planned to go into a full rage post about just the queer content because 1. my lane and 2. it honestly affected me so bad I was shaking and tearing up in anger a bit. Every single friend I know who loves Kate and Renee, see themselves in Kate and Renee, have been the same kind of mess I am after this.

The NASTINESS of the internal monologue. I don’t know how to explain it more than this is how poorly men think of flf and to have one use a character so meaningful to the community to spout this hatefulness has revolted me in a way I... haven’t had happen to me for a while.

I was going to talk about the weirdness of just... randomly deciding to retcon Renee’s parents into being undocumented when that’s never been a thing before and just doing NOTHING with it the whole while after. Or how it’s pretty questionable how Renee suddenly became so adherently Catholic when it’s never been portrayed like that before (that’s Hel B’s bag, JPV if you squint) but it’s entwined with any of her commentary on her ethnicity p sus too but I don’t have the nuance for that discussion right now.

Rena Rants are back and what a fucking JOKE this comic was. 

I didn’t pay for it and neither should you.

P.S. bringing back Tim Fox and calling him “Jace” is dumb as fuck too

[detective4blog]

@consultingcriminal Okay so here's the VERY rough draft about that AU I mentioned and screamed over.

So Sebastian's bored, fresh outta his discharge and kicked outta Augustus' place and honestly that's pretty cool. But like finding a fuckbuddy is hard sometimes, cuz then there's the risk of catching feels, maybe it isn't as pleasing as planned etc etc. Because obviously the first thing Sebastian is gonna look for is a fuckbuddy. Any previous ones he lost contact with and that sucks, plus he's kinda bored with humans. Because I guess in this verse people are aware of the supernatural and whatever. So after Severin makes a joke about making a contract with a demon Sebastian actually decides to do it, he's an idiot and Severin needs to not joke like that. Anyway.

So he messes around and somehow ends up with Jim. Now Jim is tryna give his usual speech of the promise of power for a price, that he could destory any enemies, yadada. Sebastian kinda is an awe bc holy FUCK he summoned a hot ass demon. So Jim finishes his speech and is like "so what do you want?" and Sebastian just. "Gotta be honest, I literally just wanna get laid." And Jim is so fucking confused because that's new, he's intrigued, also this human is being so fucking casual with him, that's fucking new.

Jim ends up agreeing because hey it seems like a win-win, sex and after Sebastian gets bored he gets his soul. Easy enough. So Ig a contract is made, they discuss things like limits and kinks and shit, because communication is important! So shocker it takes like a day before they actually Do It, mostly because both are like "wait that happened what the fuck".

Probably would be good to mention that Jim can sense shit. Like what mood Sebastian is in (happy, mad, sad, whatever). Idc if that's not how demons work it's my shit AU I get to have stupid plot things that can lead to angst!

Okay now that I mentioned that so Jim senses that Sebastian had a shitty day at work, Idk what job because I don't know what else Sebastian would do as a job but I also don't want to make him an assassin. Anyway so Sebastian is annoyed bastard, Jim has an idea, gets some fancy lacy black lingerie and just. Waits for Sebastian to get home. So our favorite horny idiot gets home and did not expect to see Jim laying all ✨seductively✨ on the only bed in his shitty flat and especially didn't expect the lingerie but he isn't gonna complain.

CUE BASHER MORAN SPECIAL

anyway.

Sorry I still find it so fucking funny that Sebastian CANONICALLY has some kinda sex thing that he named that apparently is really good or he's just a bragging piece of shit. Either way I love it and Jim is literally a lucky devil because First Impressions Matter. And idk why this is funny to me. Anyway moving right fucking along.

So this goes on for about a year, they do other shit besides fucking for plot reasons. Angst probably takes place, I cannot think of angst rn, but yeah. So like on the anniversary of "Sebastian thinks Severin's joke is a suggestion" that's when Sebastian catches on to the fact that he caught feels, he doesn't know what to do, time to explain to his older brother that he fucking sold his soul for some sex. Severin is surprised and then wonders why he's surprised, Sebastian would do that, why is he shocked. Anyway so he kinda just doesn't fucking know what to say. Conversation goes like this:

"Maybe just...tell him?"

"...I'm literally still trying to tell myself that Sev, I don't fuckin' have crushes."

Spoiler alert Sebastian is an idiot.

So he doesn't mention it but Jim's smart and figures it out. But he doesn't know what to do either, there isn't exactly a "how to unown a human's soul because he fucking fell in love" guide. Unless he just stays, which means he has to bring up that idea, which he does except it's horrible. Literally all he does is suggest that this fuckbuddy thing extends go lifelong. And he only brings it up bc he knows he cares about Sebastian but totally not in a love way, noooo, not in love, lmao what-

Sebastian decides "sure okay yeah sounds fun" and immediately after panics because oh god oh fuck Jim's staying. Then Jim realizes he has feelings and that's new, what the fuck™. So neither do anything because they're idiots and this is kinda new, Sebastian hasn't had a real relationship for a long fucking time, so it's just a state of "shagging acting like there aren't feelings but there are so many feelings" till one time after, Sebastian mumbles those three words out, Jim doesn't know what to do, he tries to give reasons for Sebastian to not love him, now Sebastian is mildly offended and confused, then it clicks, whoops they're dating.

Fast forward to months later, Jim bringing Richard up from whatever realm bc brother fluff, Sebastian dragging Severin over for a proper dinner, cue Richard being a flirty demon to Severin bc I said so, Severin being a flustered idiot, Sebastian rolling his eyes and sighing, Jim just trying to not be the handsy boyfriend he is, voliá, everything is good and nice.

[fanfic-corner]

Bisexual Dean

9/12/20 - Is Dean canonically bisexual? That’s a fun question (it depends on where you live, I suppose). Anyway, nothing is stopping you from reading these beautiful fics involving a very bi main character.

Tabula Rasa by Dangerousnotbroken on AO3. (78,340 words).

Tags: Writer!Castiel, Bartender!Dean, Past Relationship, Magic, Canon Typical Violence, Mentions of Alcoholism, Mentions of Past Child Neglect, Mental Illness, Witches, Ghosts, Bisexual Dean, Bisexual Castiel, Angst, Slow Burn, Memory Loss.

My Rating: 5 stars.

Description: Once upon a time, Castiel Novak had everything. He had a happy home life, a full scholarship, and, if he played his cards right, a promising journalism career. And on top of all of that, he had Dean. Then tragedy struck, as it tends to do, and Castiel lost everything. At thirty six, he’s got none of those things. He’s got no family to speak of. He’s got a job investigating purportedly true tales of the supernatural for a magazine no one reads. And worst of all he hasn’t seen Dean in nearly twenty years. So when research for an article turns him on to a witch who apparently grants wishes in exchange for stories, Castiel figures it’s worth the risk. If making a deal with a witch can get him Dean back, what has he got to lose?

Notes: This was absolutely amazing; written beautifully, with a fantastic plot.

Take You To The Country by almaasi on AO3. (18,987 words).

Tags: Historical AU, Propositions, Eloping, Newspapers, Fluff, Forbidden Love, Misunderstandings, Pining, First Kiss, Established Relationship, Running Away Together, Moving In Together, Childhood Friends, Marriage Proposal, Businessman Dean, Farmer Dean, Emotional Dean, Bisexual Dean, Domestic Dean Winchester, Clockmaker Castiel, Autistic Castiel, Frustrated Sam.

My Rating: 5 stars.

Description: A Dean/Cas 1950s AU. Dean reads an elopement proposal in the town's local newspaper, written by some old soul in love with their best friend. He's mid-way through expressing to his brother how beautiful he finds it when Dean realises the proposal is for him.

Notes: I love Sam’s subsequent letters to the newspapers at the end, it was just a really good idea done really well.

A Little Slice Of Heaven by onamelancholyhill on AO3. (112,265 words).

Tags: Slow Build, Friends to Lovers, Falling in Love, POV Dean Winchester, POV Third Person, POV Castiel, Bakery and Coffee Shop AU, Episode: s4e17 It’s a Terrible Life, Alternate Universe - Human, Explicit Sexual Content, Bisexual Dean, Idiots in Love.

My Rating: 5 stars.

Description: Jim Morrison once said, “The most important kind of freedom is to be what you really are.” That was Castiel Novak’s motto in life, and the reason why he accepted his grandmother's inheritance and took the responsibility it implied. Dean Winchester, a remarkable accountant at Sandover Bridge & Iron Inc., however, had other priorities. He lived to serve, hidden in a mask that didn’t allow him to be honest with himself, but lonesome and boring. When destiny made their paths cross, in a less than promising way, with Dean as the instigator and Castiel as his victim, Dean’s mind started wandering, in between pies and cakes, coffees and muffins... What if Mr. Morrison was right? After all, as the guy used to say, "there can’t be any large-scale revolution, until there’s a personal revolution first."

Notes: This was so cute and I adored the plot! It’s making me want to rewatch It’s A Terrible Life but I’ll live.

Just Like You by imherecauseimnotallthere98 on AO3. (35,717 words).

Tags: Homophobia, Homophobic John, Hurt Dean Winchester, Protective Dean Winchester, Established Relationship, Protective Castiel, BAMF Castiel, Protective Sam Winchester, Angry John, Angry Dean Winchester, Angry Sam Winchester, Protective Bobby Singer, Awesome Bobby, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Scared Dean, John Being an Asshole, Swearing, Bisexual Dean, Pansexual Castiel, Past Child Abuse, Accidental Outing, Death Threats, Fluff and Angst, Implied Sexual Content, Sharing a Bed.

My Rating: 5 stars.

Description: When John shows up at their door in the middle of the night, the Winchesters and Cas start looking into who or what could have brought him back. Meanwhile, Dean struggles to keep his relationship with Cas a secret from his father, with some help from Sam. The tension rises between the Winchesters as Dean shows John that he is no longer the obedient little soldier he once was, and tries to establish himself as an equal with his dad.

Notes: Bobby and Sam are icons in this and should have followed through on their threats. That will be all.

Walk Through Fire For You by purple_charlie on AO3. (2,332 words).

Tags: John Winchester’s A+ Parenting, Angst, Pride, Marijuana Use, Polyamory, Gay Cas, Bisexual Dean, Bisexual Gabriel, Everyone is Queer.

My Rating: 4 stars.

Description: Boyfriend. The word still feels foreign in Dean’s mouth, still brings back echoes of John Winchester’s thinly-veiled (if even that) homophobia. "Man up, don’t be a sissy, I didn’t raise a fairy". It’s a swollen blister in the back of Dean’s mind, throbbing with pain whenever a stranger’s eyes linger too long on Cas’ hand in his, whenever a waitress double-takes at how close they sit in diner booths. But here, dirty dancing with Cas in a warehouse full of other queer folks, Dean wants to shout from the rooftops- I’m Dean Winchester, I drive the baddest car in town, I lift heavy things for a living, and this is my boyfriend.

Notes: This was so sweet it nearly made me start crying - Cas deserved to be told that he was loved!

Bottom’s Up by mnwood on AO3. (28,103 words).

Tags: Fluff and Crack, Wing Kink, Domestic, Smut, Bisexual Dean, Resolved Sexual Tension, Established Relationship, Wedding Planning, Partying, Weddings.

My Rating: 4 stars.

Description: Sam could’ve kissed them both when he got to the bunker one day to find a string of clothing (his heart nearly burst with hope when he saw the abandoned flannel and trench coat) leading to a very naked pile of limbs tangled on the couch. Just kidding. Of course it wasn’t the couch. Sam always imagined it as the couch because the fact that he actually found them on the dining room table had tainted the happiness of the memory.

Notes: Jesus, I did not need that level of detail into Dean and Cas’ sex life (but it was very funny).

Stories Are Made Of Mistakes by wildhoneypie on AO3. (4,942 words).

Tags: Human Castiel, Diners, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Bisexual Dean, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, Slow Build, Case Fic, Domestic, Didn’t Know They Were Dating.

My Rating: 4 stars.

Description: In which Cas is human and doesn’t understand basic concepts like: clothing, Mythbusters, moisturizer, and Greek food. Dean is…Dean and doesn’t understand basic concepts like: boyfriends, language, how to tell your friend that he’s a walking miracle, and when not to quip.

Notes: This was so cute and I live for human Cas. I also love the recurring ‘no fucking quipping’ joke in this, although the idea of Cas swearing broke me a bit!

And this one, which has no Destiel content but a very bi Dean:

Uniform of a Winchester by monsterfuckerdean on AO3. (20,591 words).

Tags:  Canon Compliant, Missing Scene, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Bad Parent John Winchester, Young Sam Winchester, Young Dean Winchester, Pre-Season 1, Episode: s5e2 Free to Be You and Me, Angst and Feels, Queer Themes, Character Study, Diners, Sibling Love, Family, Friendship, HBO SPN.

My Rating: 5 stars.

Description: We all know the story of the amulet Dean wears around his neck. But what about everything else he wears?

Notes: Okay, I have to admit that I am loving the HBO SPN vibes even though I am fully aware that if it was a real show I wouldn’t watch it. This is so good though, and the writing is gorgeous!

My friend came out to me as bisexual this week, and paired with the mess that is the Spanish dub, I thought this would be nice as a little reminder that it doesn’t matter how the show ended, because the fans will always be here and we will always be supportive. Anyway, enjoy!

[kinetic-elaboration]

June 17: 1x23 The Omega Glory

Watched the very uneven episode “The Omega Glory” today. Upon some reflection.. I think I have seen it? But I think my last rewatch ended abruptly after “By Any Other Name” so it might have been some time ago.

Anyway, it was... something. Decent, I might even say good, until the last 10-15 minutes and then it just went off a cliff? That’s how I’d summarize it.

Sulu, my beloved. I’ve missed you.

Kirk knows where all the ships are. I mean, obviously, but I love to hear it.

Phasers on heavy stun huh?

It’s so weird to be on a different ship. That looks like the same ship. It’s so empty and haunted looking.

With creepy crystal remains of bodies everywhere.

“These white crystals... are the crew.”

Something was thirsty!! Perhaps... a water vampire? Perhaps... a former McCoy girlfriend?

(Honestly having watched the whole ep...they could have expanded this intro longer. It was creepy and mysterious. Then cut the last act.)

Oh no, they’ve been infected and now must quarantine. Sort of. I guess.

...Oh no, is this Vietnam? Again?

“Our old enemy, Vietnam.”

My mother suggested the disease might be communism and I don’t think that metaphor tracks through the whole episode but you know what.. anything’s possible.

I don’t like this whole “you can’t leave the planet or you’ll get sick and die” thing. Too familiar.

"I may never be able to leave this planet but I have a worse problem: a colleague may be breaking a rule."

Says the man who has frequently violated a directive that has never been referred to as Prime before.

Kirk is getting very mumbly. That’s his serious voice.... bu it’s also his Denny Crane voice lol.

Like bio warfare in the 90s? TOS really thought the 90s was going to be the dark ages, didn’t it?

Only 90s kids remember...

Spock bursting in with a wounded man, just bringing the drama, as he does.

He’s not even listening to McCoy. Rude.

Spock absolutely 100% would have killed Captain Tracey on instinct as soon as Kirk is threatened.

Sulu’s in command? I love Captain Sulu but where is Scotty?

Kirk is so good. Clever, strong, smart. Knows all the regulations.

Tracey’s so dumb. “They’ve eradicated disease and live for hundreds of years!” Man, have you considered that they are...aliens? And their life spans are simply.... naturally longer than human life spans? And even if you could isolate the serum, it might not work on humans?

And his master plan is to isolate their immunity and bottle it for profit. It’s our old enemy... capitalism and the exploitation of intellectual property.

A fight scene!

“The pointy-eared one stays.”

Another fight scene!

Spock is watching all of this, and you know what, I feel like he’s not upset about it. It’s just like Pre-Reform Vulcan. Perhaps some... Amok Time flashbacks? “Damn, I wish that was me.”

Peanut gallery Spock.

“I wish you could teach me that.” / “I have tried.” Omg where is my scene of Spock trying to teach Kirk the nerve pinch?

And then that look Kirk gives him.

I don’t get the point of this scene but it amuses me that as soon as McCoy sees the pretty girl, he feels better.

A post-apocalyptic alien world... a very interesting concept. Like you could do a lot with that idea imo.

“That’s our worship word [freedom too.” Umm.... questionable.

Damn bitch, that was cold. Just knocking him out like that.

Damn yankee.

...Yankee and Communist dammit.

McCoy’s not even surprised to see Kirk and Spock out of jail.

Nature created a natural counterbalance to the biological disease. Where is OUR natural counterbalance, I ask?

McCoy sounds extra Southern rn. It’s all the stress.

I really don’t think Shatner gets enough credit for his subtlety. His face when McCoy explains the whole situation...

Oh he's mad now. "You've hurt Spock for nothing! Oh yeah and also killed thousands but MOSTLY THE SPOCK THING!”

Whereas Tracey really doesn’t seem to care about anything but war for its own sake. He knows now that his master plan for immortality was nothing the whole time...but he still needs to call those Yangs.

In other words, another once-reputable figure of authority now gone mad.

Kirk’s voice is so casual when he’s talking to Uhura and Sulu, you feel like he’s gotta have something up his sleeve. He can never hide when he’s really upset about something.

...Apparently what he had up his sleeve was his crew knowing regulations and then another full body tackle. Fight scene 3!

"My need for attention is vital.” Same, Spock.

This is a very attenuated and unbelievable connection Kirk is making but he’s Kirk so I’ll assume it makes sense that he’s putting it all together so fast.

Alternate Universe: Vietnam canon-divergence lol.

For anyone keeping track, this is right about the point where the episode goes off the rails.

YOU’RE A ROMANTIC, JIM. Well he’s right about that at least and he should say it.

Oh no, an American flag.

Cloud William, chief and the son of chiefs. That’s continuity of government for you.

(Also pretty hilarious that this society is supposedly So American with our exact flag and Constitution and everything... but they’re not a democracy.)

I really don’t want to believe that “under God” is still in the pledge 200 years from now.

"You're confusing the stars with heaven." Kirk thinks he's being called an angel.

The absolute mishmash of meaningless, referent-free words here. America. Native Americans. Communists. The flag, the Constitution. God. Angels. Devils. What???

Like how can they both be flag worshippers AND...believers in God? Who is their God? Alien George Washington?

So rude to call Spock Kirk’s “servant.” That’s his space husband!

Is that a literal picture of Spock as a demon in their.. Bible?

I can’t even follow this anymore.

“You command him.” I mean...yes, that’s how the military works.

“He has no heart.” Wow, rude.

“His heart is different!” I stan one (1) Southern Doctor.

I feel like Spock is just... not having this at all. His face loos like he’s thinking what I’m thinking.

Oh no is that the CONSTITUTION??!

“Kill his servant” wow Tracey is obsessed with Spock, isn’t he? I guess everyone in the Fleet knows about them and their special relationship.

Spock is even amused by the knife at his throat. His eyes say "I am distressed--but fascinated!"

A FOURTH fight scene? And here I thought Kirk was going to recite the Constitution.

“I’m open to suggestions.” He’s just as worried about Kirk as McCoy is, bu the doesn’t show it.

...Yep, he’s being telepathic again. Not really in line with his usual telepathy but okay. Alien magic is flexible.

Okay I have a JD and I can confidently say there is nothing about good defeating evil in the Constitution.

And now this alien guy is immediately ready to make himself a “slave.” That seems problematic. What happened to the holy word “Freedom”?

Wow, Kirk's in a bad mood. "You can't pronounce your own holy words worth shit."

“This is only for the eyes of a Chief,” he says and Kirk just pushes him away.

Spock literally turns Tracey around for Kirk’s big final speech like “Listen up, bitch, my boyfriend’s talking.”

Is this the 4th of July episode?? Feels like there should be canons and fireworks going off behind him rn.

Idk, the words of the Constitution can't be so unique and unprecedented if a WHOLE OTHER ALIEN CIVILIZATION just came up with them, too, on their own, like monkeys typing Hamlet. (Given the timelines here... they probably did it first too lol.)

"Liberty and freedom need to be more than just words." Like what does that even mean in this context? Sounds nice but it’s very hard to put into the context of all the rest of this.

“And uh be nice to the Kohms,” after most of them (?) were probably just killed.

I really was into this until the last 10-15 minutes and I think there were under-explored concepts that could have taken the fever dream of whatever that bizarre-o fever dream at the end was. The abandoned ship. The leftovers of bio warfare. The whole weird and under-explained concept of immunity. The tragedy that so much was destroyed,, including but not limited to the whole Exeter crew, for no reason. What happened to Tracey to so destroy him--was it just greed? What about the “Prime” Directive? Is it important or not. They just leave at the end after (as Spock pointed out) doing quite a bit of their own meddling, even though meddling is allegedly the worst. Also, we know almost nothing about the Kohms at all. The “American” society clearly wasn’t democratic. Were the Kohms literally Communist?

I’m willing to accept a certain degree of alternate Earth scenarios--like Miri (though imo that was not a necessary component of that story) or Bread and Circuses, but this was too much. TOO unbelievable. And frankly unnecessary. You could do an allegory for alternate-Vietnam, and it would be just as clear but even more effective. There wouldn’t be any distraction in the form of “what the fuck is that flag doing here?”

There is a potentially incendiary concept here, which is the same one I thought of reading about actual COG plans--certain aspects of the Yanks’ culture survives, but with absolutely no meaning attached. They have a Constitution but they mispronounce all the words. They have this tattered flag but it has no other meaning. They’ve turned the symbols of the government into a religion, but they don’t practice any of the civil aspects of it--they have chiefs, not democratically appointed leaders, for example. Like, COG asks “what IS the country, and how do you make sure the country endures no matter what?” This was an opportunity to show the worst of that: the country continues to exist as symbology only--incredibly strong symbology, but only that--and all of the actual values that were supposed to be stored with that symbology have disappeared. Similarly, their hatred of their enemies endures. It’s lauded in the ep as their attempt to get “their land” back but what if it’s just war for its own sake, as Tracey seems to be engaging in? To tell that story, especially in the 60s, against the backdrop of Vietnam, and with the references to bio warfare and nuclear warfare, could be powerful. And I know TOS can work in metaphor and comparison. It doesn’t need to bring out a literal fucking flag.

Honestly, it was like they had one good, classic, sci fi story but it didn't fill 52 minutes so they tacked on the American Pride 4th of July Propaganda Extravaganza at the end.

It really felt like the lesson was “America good” lol.

I liked the concept of the post apocalyptic society in the aftermath of bio warfare as a cautionary tale for 1960s America, and I'd be up for crazed snake oil salesman Starfleet Captain (or...whatever his rank was) if it were a bit better explained. But the rest of it....

It also... could have been kinda incendiary with the idea that the Constitution and flag are religious symbols... I mean some people do treat them that way and I've always found that, first, blasphemous, and second, bizarre in such a hyper-Christian country. But I feel like instead of digging ito that, they just tempered it with "But also they're Christian, as you can tell by their drawing of devil!Spock, for some reason."

Idk, this story could have been complete with out the whole weird “Vietnam AU” back story or alternately it could have been a biting commentary about what defines America, and about whether or not our symbols might be more enduring--or even more important to people today??--than the laudable but more complex and difficult ideals that underpin the country’s founding. Are the words of the Constitution just gobbledy gook? They are if you don’t live by them, and America has always struggled to do that. It definitely would struggle even more in the aftermath of an apocalypse.

...I’m more annoyed now, thinking about the possible sci fi story that could have been...

Anyway next is an ep I’m fairly sure I haven’t  seen, so that should be fun.

[starkeristheendgame]

hey!! im really sorry to bother but i really love your writing & saw that you were taking prompts!! i was wondering if you could do one where tony has a sort of kink for calling peter ‘kid’ in a way, if your comfortable of course! sorry if my English isn’t the best!

I’m so sorry that this got buried to the bottom of my inbox! I hope you’re still around and that you get to see this, and I’m so sorry again that it drowned! I hope you enjoy it and I can only apologise if you hate it 😂

Also; please, please don’t ever apologise for your verbal or lingual ability. Learning another language is hard, and English is noted as one of (if not the most) hardest languages to learn. Being bi/multi-lingual is something to be insanely proud of!

I hope you don’t mind, but all of my prompts recently have been in canon universe, so this is a neighbours AU with no powers. In which Tony is a rich ex-businessman who just wants to tinker on old cars in his (not) retirement and Peter is the high school kid that won’t leave him alone.

TW: ‘Kid’ kink (the term) | Underage character | Underage (SS&C) sex | Daddy kink

Someone had bought the house next to his over the half-term. Peter knew this because the sale sign went down and the garden was immediately de-turfed and a notice was posted through everyone’s door on Wayforest Road that ‘minor construction’ would begun within the next two weeks, from 8am to 5pm daily, save for Saturdays and Sundays.

Peter wanted to laugh in - and then punch - the face of whoever decided to term it minor. Abruptly on the following Monday, almost a full half-hour before his alarm was due to go off, Peter was awoken by deep, loud voices and the clanging of scaffolding poles as the workmen arrived.

Groaning did nothing. Neither did flopping about pathetically on his bed like a beached fish. Burrowing under his duvet and his pillow was also a lost cause; he’d left his window open to keep his room cool in the night.

Seething, Peter flung himself from bed, turned off his alarm, and hopped in the shower. The workmen were gone when he came back, but the house was now a big, ugly grey thing besides his own, and he paused on the sidewalk to eye it mulishly. “If you’re another crabby old man; I’m not helping you walk your groceries up to your porch” he announced loudly to the empty house, and scuttled away to the safety of his own home after being eyed balefully and judgmentally by Mrs. Witkin’s cat.

At the dinner table, the new house and its new occupants were all Aunt May seemed to want to talk about, despite the way Peter’s face resembled less of his usual ‘ :) ‘ and more of a ‘ -.- ‘ as she went on, guessing the features of their new neighbour animatedly around mouthfuls of mashed potato.

Tuesday morning found him jolting awake to a shout of “Jim! Jim! For fuck’s sake, Jim, get tha’ fuckin’ plank!” In a thick, overly loud Irish accent.

By Friday, Peter was ready to forgo just a punch to the face, and was willing to commit all out, planned murder. At somewhere around seven-am every morning that week, the workmen had woken him up with their clanging and their shouting and their existing. Friday evening he stomped around the corner with a glower, fingers tight around his backpack straps. Not even Mrs. Witkin’s mean old cat could deter him from scowling at the house the entire way to his door.

Town rumours be damned; that cat was just old and judgemental, like half the residents there. It was no trapped old lady or cursed young Prince.

Hopefully.

Peter crossed himself on his porch quickly just in case. It could never hurt to be a little superstitious. Especially not after the day that Mr. Herald proclaimed himself immortal and was then promptly wiped out by the tree in his yard collapsing.

By the following Monday, Peter caved and stayed at Ned’s for the night, for the first time in his entire life thankful to hear the music of his alarm and not a series of clangs or yells. It was even good enough that Ned’s snoring didn’t disturb him as much as it usually did. He felt chipper, refreshed. Right up until he turned the corner and found his street lined with vans, the workmen a little late finishing.

The next two months were cesspit of noise and strange men and sleepless days off. Apparently the person who had bought the house must’ve only liked the area and nothing about the house at all, because by week three, all that remained of it was the bare skeleton, gutted and stripped and ugly. But Peter was willing to concede that his new neighbour had good taste.

By the end of the second month the house had been entirely re-built, and Peter was convinced that his new neighbour was some very famous or important person looking for a secret hideaway, or a mob boss. There was no other logical explanation. What had once been a decent but generic detached property with a neglected garden was now a mini-mansion of sorts, all soft creams and light earth tones, with a stonewall front and staggered steps that led onto a half-gravel and half-grass front yard.

Large paned windows were already lined with thick curtains and plants and a sweeping gravel-scape led to a large garage, that seemed to be the most work of the renovation. It was huge, probably taking up over half of what used to be side garden and dead grass. No fence bordered the property, but the difference between Peter’s space and the new person’s space was immaculate and definitive.

“Huh” he mused aloud, blinking. Suddenly, he was less irritated at all those lost half-hours and more curious about who was going to be living there. They had money, for sure. Inheritance? Insurance claim payout? Illegal happenings? Aunt May’s two joking theories were suddenly looking less of a joke and more genuine possibilities.

As it would happen, Peter wouldn’t actually find out for another three or so months. The man moved in on a Saturday, quietly and with a small fleet of sleek SUV vehicles and fancy moving vans. Peter enjoyed a lazy morning, napping until the start of the afternoon and basking in the summer warmth, stretching in front of his bedroom window and looking down in time to see the last of the delivery and moving people packing down their vehicles.

Peter eyed all the bodies curiously, but it soon became clear none of them were his new neighbour, because they all stood around, flipping through paperwork, and then promptly left. Peter lingered under the pretence of dusting at his window ledge, but the street was quiet and empty.

Aunt May was anything but quiet when he finally dragged himself downstairs in search of food. “Peter! Morning, honey. Did you see the vans outside? Very fancy. Big enough for bodies, too, though” May hummed, flipping through the book she was currently reading.

Thirty Ways To Revive Your Youth.

Peter grimaced, and begun to rummage through the cupboards. “Not to question your intelligence, but. Why would a mob boss carry around his victims? Like a few teeth or knuckles ought to serve as good souvenirs. I don’t think carting around whole bodies is practical” Peter pointed out, settling on fruity oatmeal. Aunt May paused in her reading, nose twitching to adjust her glasses as she considered it.

“Hm. Point. Unless they bought the house because they run out of burial room, and these are fairly recent bodies they need the new soil for” she pointed out, and Peter pointed his spoon at her as he passed.

“Point” he agreed.

And so the weeks passed, but the mystery remained. No matter what time Peter tired to linger, or how early he awoke, his neighbour never seemed to be around. Here and there he would catch a figure roaming past the windows, kinda like a ghost, but never a clear view or a face. It was vastly disappointing, but his interest didn’t wane over the months that spanned between his rueful lack of sleep and now.

Now being a hazy Saturday morning, warm but not overly stuffy. Peter was coming back from a morning at Ned’s wherein they’d been steadily chewing away at the LEGO Galactic Supership. He was halfway down the street when a large trailer vehicle begun to drift down the street steadily, heading straight in Peter’s direction.

He paused on the sidewalk, watching it with interest. It was a transportation vehicle, and as it drew closer Peter could see there was a car on the back of it, heavily clamped down and chained to make sure it wouldn’t roll off. The vehicle passed him by some, and he got a clear view of the other car. It looked old, a little broken, rusted. Huge, though. Bigger than all the cars he’d seen before.

It pulled up right outside his neighbours house. Sensing an opportunity, and genuinely curious, Peter lingered, taking a few steps across the sidewalk to eye the car. It was a glossy red, though it had sun fade and was patchy. The chrome was glossy in places and dull, rusted in others. One headlight was missing.

The door of the cab opened, and Peter turned on his heel to see the driver getting out. The friendly greeting died on his lips as toned, thick thighs slid from the cab, followed by trim hips and a long, solid torso only half-hidden under a tank-shirt and overshirt. Broad shoulders prefaced the hottest man that Peter had ever laid eyes on.

He had a shaped jaw that was cut by stubble in a unique style that Peter had never seen anyone wearing before. He had sharp cheeks and dark, deep eyes with long lashes, tanned but not exactly browned and dark, dark hair with the barest flecks of grey at the roots, at his temples.

The man seemed surprised to find him there, pausing mid-way through pushing the door shut and peering around the street before looking back at him. One shaped brow lifted, and Peter stumbled to remember his manners, thrusting out a hand.

“Hi, Mister. Sorry - I was looking at the car. Is it for the new house?” He asked, forcing himself not to blush under the intense gaze. After a brief pause, the man took his hand, palm large and slightly rough, grip firm. He was even more attractive up close, slight crinkles at the corners of his eyes, dark lips and the strong scent of motor oil and grease.

“Would seem that way”.

And Ho-ly voice. Deep and with the softest of rumbles, soothing like a thunderstorm in the far distance. Peter clutched at his jacket when their hands dropped, coughing politely to hide whatever facial expression he’d pulled. The man strode past him and to the car, beginning to work on the many safety straps and chains.

“Did they…Is this theirs?” Peter asked after watching him quietly for several moments with a gesture towards the house besides them. Peter had discovered the house had a second parking bay on the other side, where a glossy black muscle car from the 60′s never seemed to move.

“Theirs’?” The man echoed, pausing in his movements to look up at Peter with curious amusement. It occurred to him then that it was likely some random car recovery guy had seen his new neighbour(s) before he had.

“Uh…Well. I’ve never actually seen them. So I don’t know if its one person, or a whole family, or…” Peter trailed off meekly, looking over his shoulder at the building. It looked as empty as it always did, no lights on and no figures moving behind the windows.

“Townsfolk say its some celebrity having a breakdown. Others say its some old widow using her husband’s life insurance. Even heard from someone that its a mafia lord, settling down in the middle of some quiet ass nowhere town” the recovery man grunted, hauling on a thick, heavy chain. Peter flushed.

Yeah. He was…Guilty of some pretty crazy guesses. But come on. Someone buys a house, spends upwards of hundreds of thousands doing it over, and then…Nothing. No new faces at the grocery store. Never seen, or even heard. Like a ghost.

“They’re not big fans of being…Seen. I guess? I mean, I know a guy with groceries comes around every Monday. Sometimes multiple times a week, but he always puts them in the garage and leaves. And this town is full of judgemental old people - Half of whom probably have mercury poisoning or something. There’s gonna be some pretty wild speculations going around” he pointed out, moving closer to look at what appeared to be a scratch in the paintwork.

The car gave a faint creak as the man released all of the holds on this side, snorting as he rounded the back of the vehicle and went to the other side with a loud, amused snort. Peter followed, and stifled a gasp at the sight of the other car. The man turned, eyeing him for a moment, before nodding.

“Got T-boned by an estate car. But she’s a tough old thing. Heavy metals and good steel; not like today’s cars. She came out better off” he mumbled as he worked on a thick strap, carefully taking apart the various clasps and buckles. Peter approached the car carefully, stretching up on his toes to brush his fingertips over the warped metal. He felt almost….Sad for the car.

He traced the flaking paint and the twisted, dented metal tenderly, and when he pulled away, the man was watching him again, movements slowed as he pulled the material through the metal. “Is this their car? What good is it now if its all broken up?” He asked curiously.

The man ducked his head, moving onto another thick chain. “Its just the one guy. I guess its a…Hobby. Of his. Bought her yesterday at a scrap lot”. He seemed uncomfortable saying it, but to Peter it was like gold trust. One guy. Huh. A big old house like that? That seemed rather lonely. Maybe it really was some rich old person retiring, enjoying a quiet place and a mechanics hobby.

Peter was going to ask more, but the car was freed with a grinding sound, and the man gestured him carefully back with his hand, holding it out in front of Peter to walk him back like a horse, to a safe distance. The man used two remotes to bring the car to the ground, Peter watching in fascination as rotors and rolling mechanisms moved it backwards and onto the tarmac of the road.

“How do you plan on moving it now?” Peter asked, and immediately regretted it as the man shed his over-shirt. Biceps. Shoulders. Forearms. His throat went dry and he could feel the heat rising to his cheeks.

As it turns out, the plan was simply ‘push’. Peter scoffed, but was soon at a loss to anything but stare as the man leaned heavily against the trunk of the car, muscles bulging in the afternoon sun. Heavy or not, the car soon begun to roll, and after a moment Peter dropped his backpack and came up besides the straining man, leaning all his might against the metal.

It probably did fuck all, but the man gave him a wry grin all the same, chest heaving with deep, controlled breaths as they moved the car across the flat ground and onto the side-drive space. Peter’s shoulder ached and his arms and thighs suddenly felt like jelly, but the man slapped him across the back.

“Good effort, kid” and then moved away, heading towards the front door. Peter gaped as the man simply grasped the doorhandle and pushed the door open, and floundered on the drive. “Wait! You’re just gonna walk into his house?” He called, and the man paused mid-step, looking back at him.

“Well. I ought to just ‘walk in’. Its my house”. And with a lewd, perfect wink he was gone. Peter wasn’t entirely sure what to do with himself, flailing on the driveway with error logs flashing behind his eyes. That was his neighbour. His neighbour was some rich, late-thirty something hot-hot-hot guy who fixed broken classic cars.

“Oh my god” Peter muttered, stomping down the driveway to get his bags. Four months. He’d lived next to this Playgirl model for four months.

He decided against telling Aunt May. It felt selfish, but it also felt good to know he was the only person to have seen him. Even though he realised not long after reaching his room that he hadn’t even gotten his name. Peter waited by his window for hours, but saw neither hair nor hide of the man again. By morning, the transport truck was gone and the cherry red car was presumably inside the garage.

The damned guy was magic. There was no other explanation. Fuelled, Peter spent the Sunday morning in the kitchen, furiously baking with narrowed eyes and a plan. The muffins were done by mid-day, and Peter iced them carefully before boxing them, and stomping across the sidewalk to his neighbour’s house.

Peter knocked, and waited. Knocked again. Waited. “If you don’t answer the door then I’m just going to sit here” he announced loudly, knocking again before plopping down onto the porch just to prove a point. Several long minutes passed before his neighbour appeared around the corner, from the garage judging by the grease steaks up his arms, scowling.

“Kid. Here’s a life tip; if someone doesn’t answer the door, its because they don’t want company” the man huffed, but his eyes zeroed in on the box with intense curiosity, and Peter shrugged, smug.

“You came out, though” he pointed out, pushing himself to his feet. The man scoffed, but allowed him to follow, leading the way around the building where a small side-door was open.

“I came out about thirty years ago, kiddo. If that’s a congratulations cake, you’re a little late”. Peter tripped over the gravel, fighting his legs to remain upright and his stomach did a weird knot inside him. Oh. Not only was his neighbour hot, but he was at the least male inclined, too.

Very interesting.

“Actually, these are just welcome muffins. Chocolate and orange” Peter murmured, stepping inside the garage. It was bigger than it seemed, and the cherry red car stood in the centre, sanded down and clearly being worked on already.

“Peter, by the way. Peter Parker” he added after a pause, and almost offered his hand for a second time, but settled instead on thrusting the muffin box at the man. He raised a brow, but delved inside to pull one out, clearly eager at the prospect.

“Tony” he offered simply, and Peter tested it on his tongue, enjoying the shape. For now; he’d let the lack of a last name go. Good things in time, after-all. Choosing to invite himself to stay, Peter perched primly on top of the edge of the workbench, electing another raised brow, but Tony’s mouth was too full of muffin to object.

Tony begun to work as he ate, and Peter sat in content silence, watching as Tony and his bulging arm muscles took each wheel off the car and begun to strip it of all its chrome features. Peter checked his phone after a while and was surprised to find that around four hours had passed. May would be home from her sewing group about now. He ought to head home.

“I’ll be back tomorrow” he announced, and jumped at the same time Tony did, the man smacking his arm off warped metal with a shout. Tony whirled on him, eyes wide, gaze flicking between him and the door, before he looked…Confused.

“You’re still here?” He asked, and Peter snorted as he dusted off his pants, heading for the door with a shake of his head. May came home shortly after he did, and Peter supposed he ought to let her know that he’d be visiting Tony again tomorrow.

“So he’s not a mafia boss? Or a celebrity?” She asked around a mouthful of roasted chicken, looking rather disappointed as Peter shrugged and shook his head.

“He just seems…Aloof? I don’t know. Maybe he’s some business tycoon or something. But he seems nice. I’m just going over to help him with this car he’s got. It’s real nice, too” Peter hummed, and Aunt May narrowed her eyes at him.

“Are you sure? I mean, you don’t know him. He’s a stranger. Albeit a hot one, apparently. And you have school tomorrow, too. You shouldn’t be hanging around strangers. Unless…If he happens to be single…I’d be open to his number” May shrugged after a pause, and Peter blinked.

May was surprisingly easy to placate, and he assured her that if she wanted to, she could march right over to Tony and give him a Mother Hen Talk after dinner, but she decided against that, and in favour of a hot bath. School on Monday rolled around quicker than Peter could say ‘garage’ and he decided against telling Ned about Tony.

He wanted Tony all to himself. At least…For as long as he could. It was strange, but he found his heart thumping as he marched down Tony’s driveway and up to the garage door this time, knocking on it loudly. He’d brought lemonade and sandwiches this time.

The garage door opened, and Tony looked equally as startled to see Peter there as he had the day prior, gaze raking his body before frowning, and stepping aside with a sigh. “You’re like a mosquito, kid. I came here to get away from people” Tony announced pointedly, and Peter founded on him with an unimpressed gaze and an arched brow of his own.

“If you truly wanted to get away from people, you’d have moved out in the mountains or something. Now, get back to work. In an hour you can stop for supper. I brought chicken sandwiches” he ordered, taking his seat from the day before and pulling his calculus homework from his bag.

He kept his gaze down as Toy stared at him, mouth opening and closing several times, before he went for his wrench, muttering to himself as he lay down on a wheeled bench and rolled under the car. Peter smiled quietly into his papers. A little over two hours later - he lost count, sue him - Peter pushed himself to his feet and strode over to the car, kicking Tony lightly in the ankle that stuck out.

“We can eat now” he announced, walking back over to his pack and taking out the tupperware he’d packed this morning. He could hear the sound of the wheels moving, and he turned, holding out the box. Tony looked perplexed, but approached and took it, still looking puzzled even as he bit into his own portion.

“Not that the pattern of snacks isn’t appreciated, kid, but…Why are you here?” he asked after he’d swallowed, and Peter actually had to think about it, flushing as his mind conjured up inappropriate responses like ‘I want to lick your arms’ and ‘You look like the hot mechanics in my pornos’.

He settled on a shrug, chewing slowly for more time. “You’re interesting. You’re my neighbour. You’re not a mafia boss or a broken down celebrity” he pointed out. Tony twitched on the last one, but gave a hum and moved away, scarfing down the last of his sandwich and returning to the car. This time, when Peter informed him he was leaving and would be back tomorrow again, Tony neither jumped nor looked surprised.

It became a pattern. Three out of seven days a week, Peter would sit in the garage with his homework or revision and Tony would work on the red car, which Peter came to learn was a 1958 Plymouth Fury. “Just like in Christine” Tony had huffed proudly, and had then been quickly appalled when Peter had simply stared blankly.

That night, Peter had watched the movie, and his next visit was spent talking animatedly about it with Tony, discussing their favourite parts and what it might be like if it was ever re-made. After a month, Aunt May picked her way across the gravel to finally meet the man her adopted son kept disappearing off to be with, and Peter had the unfortunate experience of watching them flirt together, Tony in a cheeky, smooth, outrageous manner and Aunt May like a school-girl. When he begun to gag in the corner, Tony threw an oil rag at him.

One day, a week before the summer holidays, Peter rounded the corner to find Tony stood on the porch, looking angry and tense and talking to a tall woman with red hair, tied up in a ponytail. Peter stopped and lingered, unsure of what to do. Besides him and May, he’d never seen anyone else talking to Tony. Even the grocery delivery guy simply put the bags in the garage and left.

After a while, the woman turned away, looking sullen and displeased, and slipped into a sleek black SUV, pulling off with a screech of her tires and the rev of her engine. By the time Peter reached the house, Tony was back inside, and he knocked quietly, leaning closer to the door.

Tony didn’t answer.

“Mr. Tony? I’m not sure what happened, but…If you’re not up for hanging out today, its cool. I brought soup, but I’ll leave yours on the porch. It might be hot, so…Be careful”. Peter stooped and left the thermos close to the door, before leaving. He felt uncomfortable for the rest of the day, longed to go see Tony, but everything in his gut told him to let him be for a time.

Whoever that man had been, he was clearly someone Tony didn’t like or want around.

Almost a whole week passed in which Tony didn’t answer the door, and by the Saturday, the first official day of the summer holidays, Peter was moping. Not to anyone that asked, but it was clear to even Ned that he’d been a little down lately, declining a celebratory LEGO fest in exchange for slinking up to his room.

No sooner had he toed off his shoes, the doorbell rung. Peter groaned, turning on his heel and abandoning his sweater on the staircase. It was probably another of Aunt May’s Amazon orders. Since she’d discovered the wonders of online shopping, Peter had learned their regular post-man was named Greg, he had two kids and a poodle, and was allergic to shrimp.

“What has she bought this ti- Tony?” Peter paused mid-sentence, eyes widening at the sight on his doorstep. Tony looked rough, dark circles under his eyes, his face looking more lined than before, but he gave a weak smile up at Peter, still stiff and unsure.

“Hey, kiddo. Figured you might…I made spaghetti. And I still have your thermos. Was gonna work on the car a bit”.

Peter recognised it for the attempted invitation that it was, and didn’t bother to fight off his broad grin. “Lucky for you, I love spaghetti. I just gotta grab a sweater on” he beamed, practically flinging himself up the stairs. Tony’s spaghetti was amazing, with some kind of pink-ish sauce, little chunks of shrimp and prawns, all tangy and sweet.

He even let Peter help with the car. Or…Well. He let Peter hold the torch. And the wrench. But still.

He was still grinning when he skipped home that evening, and when he crawled into bed his dreams were filled with oil-stained arms and a low, rumbling voice. He gasped awake in the early hours, cock hard and leaning against his hip, Tony’s voice echoing in his skull.

He shouldn’t.

He bit his lip and reached down, whimpering as he wrapped a hand around himself. He was too hard to last more than a few minutes, stifling his yell of “Tony!” Into his pillow as he came. When he arrived at Tony’s house later in the day, he could barely look the man in the eyes, flustered and shy.

The holidays continued in a similar fashion. They hung out almost every day in the garage, often for an entire day. Peter felt guilty about abandoning Ned, but looking at Tony’s broad smile, listening to his quips, watching his abs flex under his shirts as he lifted things...It was worth it.

By the fourth week of his holidays, after numerous days of lounging together with takeout and Tony helping him with his homework, Peter piped up.

“Peter”.

“What?”

“My name. It’s Peter” he repeated, nudging Tony gently where they lay together on the floor of the garage, staring up at the underside of the car. It was almost complete. Something to do with the clutch, and then all it needed was new paint. “You keep calling me ‘kid’. So. Y’know. In case you’d forgotten” he hummed.

Besides him Tony stilled, only briefly, before relaxing and swatting at him. “You are a kid, though”.

“I’m sixteen. I’m not a kid” Peter huffed, rolling onto his side and kneeing Tony in the thigh. Tony let his head loll, looking across at him with dark, dark eyes, and Peter’s breath hitched. Tony was close enough to kiss. And god, Peter wanted to kiss him. Had spent the past few weeks staring at his body, his mouth when he talked, waking up at night hard and aching.

Peter let his gaze drop, to plush lips outlined by dark stubble, and then he pushed himself up, momentarily hovering over Tony as he got his legs beneath him. “And you’re an old man” he tried, teasing, tugging at a lock of hair at Tony’s temple.

For the briefest, briefest of moments, Tony’s gaze went even darker. Hungrier. Peter thought about it in the shower that night, two fingers stuffed inside himself with too-little prep, mewling against the shower tiles. Almost as if…

He begun to get bolder. Touched Tony more. Stood closer. Any excuse to be in his space. If Tony noticed he said nothing, only giving lingering, unreadable looks and only ever turning away with a poorly hidden smirk whenever Peter said anything just a little too obvious.

On the last week of his holidays, Peter was kneeling half over Tony, dabbing gingerly at a slice on his bicep while the man clutched an ice-pack to his knee. The cherry red car was out, and an old, 1957 Chrysler Saratoga was in. And apparently, angry.

“Kid, seriously. I’m fine” Tony huffed, swatting at him as he dabbed away another crust of blood, peering at the wound. It wasn’t that deep, but it had bled something fierce. Peter lifted his gaze, scowling at him.

“I’m not a kid!” He snarked, pressed a little too hard on the wound just because he could. Watched Tony flinch under his touch and instantly felt guilty. He pulled away the cloth and ducked down, pressed a kiss to the wound before he could ever think about it. Aunt May had always done it for him, kissing his ouchies better. He froze, lips against jagged skin.

“Kid” Tony rasped, looking down at him with wide, dark eyes. Peter jerked backwards, and huffed.

“Keep calling me kid, I’m gonna start calling you ‘old man’“ he scowled. He was about to say ‘Or worse, Dad’, but…That was a bumpy road and he wasn’t ready to loose whatever he had built with Tony. Not yet. The older man snorted back at him, eyes rolling, and reached out, fingers closing around his jaw gently to shake his head a little.

“Look at you. You are. That little baby face. And you’re so small, like a cat. All slender. Couldn’t even lift up the gearbox. All big eyes and too must trust. I could’ve been an old pervert or sex criminal and you just walked right up to me and wouldn’t leave” Tony murmured, voice half-gone and gaze fixed on where he held Peter’s jaw.

“Wouldn’t - Did not” Peter managed, though he was already getting hard, his breathing was already a little shorter. Sharper. Tony gave a deep breath, fingers flexing against his jaw.

“You’re just a kid. A little baby. All soft-cheeked and gentle. You’re a kid now and you’ll be a kid for a long time. Nothing like me”.

And. Huh.

Peter blinked, jaw still clasped in Tony’s grip, and he relaxed his body, inching a little closer. “What is it about that, then? Why is that such a bad thing?”

“Its not. Its not bad. I’m just…I’m the bad one. Christ. Kid. You’re - You sit here doing homework. You don’t even have facial hair yet. I bet you haven’t even popped a stiffy before”. The words startled Tony as much as Peter, both visibly jolting, and Tony immediately looked like he wanted to die.

“Hey! Not true! Every night this holiday I’ve done more than ‘pop a stiffy’ over y-”. Peter bit down on his tongue, hard, watched the way Tony’s eyes widened. Fuck. They both jerked backwards, equally as taken aback by the revelation. There was no doubt as to what Peter had been about to say. Now way he could laugh it off or change it; though the subject was bad enough.

“I…”

“Kid…”

Peter huffed, leaning back on his haunches and dropping the cloth. “What, you got a kink for the word or something, Mister Tony?” Peter grumbled, but he could see Tony physically tense up opposite him, and he looked up, watched the almost shameful way that Tony turned his gaze away.

It hit him.

“You…Do” he huffed numbly.

“Its not…Christ. Peter. I’m not a…I’m not attracted to kids. I don’t know what it is. I just…Fuck. Maybe you should be calling me an old pervert. Fuck. I…Peter. You have to believe I don’t..I’ve never touched a kid. Never. My youngest partner was twenty when I was thirty. She was a hooker in Dubai and…Wait. You’re a fucking kid. I shouldn’t be talking about hookers and swearing and-”

Peter clamped a hand over Tony’s mouth, shaking his head. Jesus. He knew it was true, though. Tony was a recluse and laughably inept at anything social, but he wasn’t some scorned kiddie-toucher banished to a quaint little town.

“I know, Tony. I know. And I believe you. But if its not that, then…What is it?”. Tony only blinked at him slowly, for several beats, and it was then that Peter realised that his hand was on Tony’s mouth, and the man couldn’t speak. Though he could well have moved it himself. He let it drop, flushing.

“I don’t know” Tony croaked helplessly, and he looked so small, so lost. It was instinct that had Peter leaning forwards, gathering Tony in a tight embrace. The older man stiffened, but then relaxed, hand hesitantly falling to Peter’s side, featherlight like he was scared to touch him.

“Its…You’re so delicate. So…Untouched. Like a painting. Pretty. You shouldn’t be touched. Not yet. Not by me. But I want to”. It made Peter’s spine tingle and arch, letting out a surprised breath against the curve of Tony’s jaw. Tony made him sound like the Mona Lisa or something.

“I’m not a good person, Peter. I’m…All these months, you don’t even know my last name. Half the town thinks I’m a murderer or some kind of lunatic. But I’m worse than that”. Tony practically breathed it into his shoulder, head falling. Peter clutched at him, suddenly scared. Worse than those things?

“Tony Stark”.

Peter paused. Was silent for such a long time that Tony tensed against him again, before he begun to pet gently at Tony’s shoulders. “…Who? I mean, the name is vaguely familiar. But…Who?”

Tony pulled away, leaned back, looking up at him with glossy eyes and a ludicrous expression. “Stark. Tony Stark”.

Peter raised a brow. “Bond, James Bond?”

“What? No. The weapons company? Stark Industries?” Tony asked after a pause, like it was information Peter ought to know. After another pause of his mind being ridiculously blank, Peter sat upright, head tilting.

“Oh! Yeah. Stark Industries. But…What about it?”

Tony blinked at him, slowly, like there was a punchline he’d missed, and then he was reaching out, crushing Peter to his chest to the boy fell half over him with a yelp, squeezing him gently.

“You’re - Unbelievable. Never change, kid. I’m…I did bad things. I killed people. Carried on the family name despite spending my life trying to outrun it. I…I was betrayed. So I fixed it, and I left. And I was supposed to keep my hands off anything good. Anyone good. And here you are”.

“Okay. Firstly? You gotta stop calling me ‘kid’ now I know its a kink and you don’t intend to do anything about it. Secondly…I don’t know what you did. Or what happened. But I know what you’ve been since you got here. Who you’ve become. And I think you’re a good man” he breathed, adjusting so he was no longer straining, half-straddling Tony.

“You shouldn’t…” Tony didn’t finish the sentence, and there were a million things he could’ve said. But Peter chose to ignore them all, squirming his way closer until he really was sat in Tony’s lap. And this was more than they’d ever done.

More than the one-armed hugs and lingering touches, more than leaning shoulder-to-shoulder eating noodles. More than Peter listing against Tony’s side in the early morning hours, maths homework forgotten on the bench and Tony sitting still, so still, so as not to wake him.

“I’m old enough to know ‘should’ and ‘shouldn’t’, Mr. Stark. Besides. This is just…Hugging. Right? Innocent” he hummed, even as he deliberately shifted on Tony’s lap, a little heavier than he ought to, spread his legs wider around Tony’s hips.

“Ki- Peter” Tony huffed against him, fingers tightening around the hem of his sweater. It wasn’t until Peter shifted again that he realised; Tony was hard. Well. Getting there, but hard enough for Peter to recognise it. To feel it, digging into the round meat of his asscheek.

“I don’t touch kids” Tony repeated, and Peter snorted softly, shaking his head as he gripped at Tony’s broad shoulders, muscle honed by years of hard work. Muscle that led up to rough stubble, a sharp jaw that Peter nosed at.

“Good thing I’m not actually a kid then, Mr. Stark. That means you can touch”.

Tony surged forwards on a growl, lay Peter out like a feast on the garage floor; but still hovered over him. Reluctant. Uncertain. Peter lifted his legs, wrapped them around Tony’s waist, tight and steady. “Kiddo…”

“Mm. Your kiddo. Or I could be. If you kissed me” Peter grinned, breathless and bold with the sweet taste of Tony so close. Mere inches. “Kiss me” Peter repeated, and Tony growled as he surged downwards.

When Tony came, it was with ‘kid’ sharp and electric on his tongue. And…Well. Peter felt a little mollified, so naturally, it led to round two, pressing Tony down against the concrete, milking him for all he was worth as a broken ‘Peter!’ cracked on his tongue like a prayer.

The rounds after that were just…Well.

Purely selfish.

[moonsofmars-writes]

Just a normal date

Fandom: Trollhunters - Daniel Kraus & Guillermo del Toro, Tales of Arcadia (Cartoons) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Relationships: Jim Lake Jr./Claire Nuñez Characters: Jim Lake Jr. (Tales of Arcadia), Claire Nuñez Additional Tags: Canon Compliant, Sort Of, Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Some light angst, Anxious Jim, Post-Season 3 (Trollhunters), jlaire, Inspired by Fanart, Halloween

Summary: While in New Jersey, Claire asks Jim out for a surprise date.

“Jim, stop.” When he looks up, he finds Claire watching him with furrowed brows and pursed lips.

“What? I didn’t say anything!”

“You are overthinking! Don’t try to deny it,” she adds when he opens his mouth, “I can see it. Calm down, everything will be fine.” Her gaze softens, her grip on his hand tightens a little. “We are going to have fun, I promise. Trust me?”

Notes: I saw this amazing fanart by @sparemoon​ and simply had to write something about it because I loved the idea! It’s just so perfect! I hope you enjoy! 

It’s been weeks since they left Arcadia, weeks since he chose to become, as Merlin put it, a “true Trollhunter.” Yet Jim is still not used to feeling so incredibly vulnerable when he walks on plain sight, where everyone could see him and - well, most likely run away screaming. 

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” He asks, looking around nervously. Perhaps he is worrying too much; it’s late, the moon is a thin silver cut in the dark blue of the sky, and the streets are illuminated only by the warm light of the lampposts. The few people they met were dark, distant figures that quickly disappeared in other roads. He still feels nervous as he was walking in broad daylight. After all, this is not Arcadia. He highly doubts that here in New Jersey people would ignore a weird guy made of stone wandering in their roads, if they noticed him. He truly misses home right now. He and his friends hunted Goblins and fought Gumm-Gumms nightly and the only person who ever got suspicious was Eli! Things were so much easier there. 

“Don’t worry!” Claire glances back at him, a reassuring smile on her lips, and keeps dragging him down the street. “There is no danger, I promise you. I have a plan!” 

Read on AO3

“If you say so,” Jim says under his breath. His muscles are still tense and he is ready to jump away from the road if he hears someone approaching. Why has Claire insisted that they walked down the streets? But she seemed so sure when she asked him out for a date, so excited when she convinced him to go into town by her side, that Jim didn’t have the heart to refuse. They have grown closer during their trip and there have been plenty of strolls, just the two of them, holding hands and stargazing, but the last time they had a date in town was ... wait, how long ago was it? There had been that time before the Eternal Night, with Toby and Darci, but Morgana definitely ruined it. And before … Well, there were their patrols but they weren't very romantic - maybe before Gunmar got out of the Darklands? No, before there was Angor Rot and ... Jim sighs, giving up. Apparently being Trollhunters ruined way too many of their dates. 

That’s another reason why Claire deserves to have this. A normal date - or the closest thing to a normal date her half-troll boyfriend can offer her. She would deserve so much more, though, he muses, watching her walk in front of him. She deserves to be taken to dance or to the movie theatre or to eat something in a fancy restaurant - with someone who can actually eat with her instead of munching the cutlery. He hates the fact that he can’t do any of these things anymore. 

“Jim, stop.” When he looks up, he finds Claire watching him with furrowed brows and pursed lips. 

“What? I didn’t say anything!”

“You are overthinking! Don’t try to deny it,” she adds when he opens his mouth, “I can see it. Calm down, everything will be fine.” Her gaze softens, her grip on his hand tightens a little. “We are going to have fun, I promise. Trust me?”

It’s not like Jim has any other choice when she looks at him like that. “Always,” he mutters and he feels his cheeks getting warmer when she laughs. She let her hair down tonight and wears dark makeup around her eyes that make them look larger and intense. She is beautiful. 

“Okay Romeo, then let’s go! We are almost there!” She turns around, making her black skirt lift a little around her legs. The dress she is wearing is new, it has large sleeves and a hood, but he hasn't had much time to admire her before she put on a sweater. Has he told her already how good she looks with that dress? Maybe he should tell her again, if only to see her smile. He’ll have to remember to do that later. 

“Can you tell me where we are going now?” He asks instead. 

She turns just for a moment to wink at him, “You’ll see.” 

Jim knows better than to ask her again, he is not going to convince her to talk. He sighs and keeps following her, occasionally glancing around to make sure that no one is watching them from the windows. 

He hears the music first - loud and rhythmical, it feels closer every step he takes. His ears twitch and his nose wrinkles when the smell of smoke and food reaches him. That’s when they turn the corner and he can finally see the house down the street. Jim halts, his mouth falling open. The walls are illuminated by multicoloured lights and he can see the silhouettes of people dancing in the yard. “Is that - a party?”

“Yes!” Her mouth is curved into a wide grin, “Here’s where I came this morning. They said everyone could come and that we could join whenever we wanted!”

“But Claire, I …” He swallows and takes a step back, eyes darting from side to side looking for a hiding place. “I am so sorry, I can’t come with you! They would start screaming as soon as they see me, and I just don’t - I don’t want to ruin everything. You’ll get in trouble and - and the others are waiting for us, I can’t risk them being discovered!” His chest starts hurting and he has to stop to take a deep breath. 

“Jim, calm down, please!” Claire says as she reaches him and takes his hands in hers, “it’s okay! Do you -”

“It’s not okay!” He interrupts her, “You deserve someone who can take you at parties or wherever you want to go, and instead you are stuck with me.” He looks down, mouth clenched, and pulls back, away from the light of the lampposts and towards the shadow. 

“Jim, please, stop." He hesitates, eyes still fixed on the ground, and that's enough for her to reach him. He feels her fingers travel along his chin and cheeks, then rubbing tiny circles on his skin. "Look at me," she whispers. When he does, he finds her staring at him with determined eyes, brows slightly furrowed. “I don’t want a random guy who can take me at parties," she says firmly. "I want you, Jim Lake Jr. You and no one else. Do you get it? I love you, no matter where you can or cannot take me." 

He stares at her for long moments, breath stuck in his throat. She is not lying, she wouldn’t - she is really okay with it. Something warm seems to melt in his chest, and finally he feels his muscles relaxing. "I love you too," he manages to croak, making her smile. 

"Now, please, breathe."

He does, and his chest starts feeling lighter. Heaving a sigh, he leans towards her until their foreheads are touching. “You are incredible, Claire Nuñez.”

“We both are,” she chuckles, “Now, will you let me explain?”

His voice is small when he answers, “Okay.” 

“Do you know what day it is?”

“Erm … Saturday?”

“No - well, yes, but it’s not just a common Saturday!”

Jim lifts an eyebrow, “Oh?”

She grins and takes something out of her purse. He doesn’t get what she is doing until she has stuffed it into her mouth and gave him a wide smile to show a pair of white plastic fangs. “It’s Halloween, Jim! Tonight we can be whatever we want!”

Halloween? Oh. Oh. “Claire,” he says breathlessly, “you are a genius!” 

“I know,” she laughs as she takes off her sweater, revealing her dress - now he gets it, it's a costume! “Now, let me finish my makeup and then let’s go having some fun!” 

Minutes later, they are entering the house’s yard, Claire now wearing black lipstick and some face powder. She waves at someone in the crowd, most likely the people she spoke with this morning, but Jim is too distracted by the people to identify them. Everyone is wearing costumes, makeup, even masks and fake horns and fangs. His gut clenches when he notices that some people still stare at him, but theirs are not looks of fear, they are looks of - wonder and admiration? 

“Wow dude, cool makeup!” A girl comments walking past him, winking at him front under a black witch hat. “Where did you get those fangs?”

“I, uhm, online?” Jim mutters before Claire drags him away. The girl is soon lost in the crowd, but she is not the only one who compliments him for his “incredible costume” before they finally get to the dance floor. 

Claire spins around so that she can face him and takes both his hands. “Now, may I have this dance?” She asks, beaming at him. 

“Of course,” he smiles, “No Troll assassin should ruin it this time.”

“Don’t say that!” She laughs, “Now, dance with me.”

Admittedly, Jim didn't have much time to practice his dancing skills in the past few months, and at first, he feels a little awkward. What if he ends up drawing attention, what if someone realises his it's not a costume? But then, he focuses on her. Claire dances, eyes closed, a wide smile on her lips, so obviously having fun that his heart warms. Finally, he lets himself go and dances with her - and it’s liberating, like the burden he felt over his shoulders until now has finally disappeared. A laugh escapes him as he takes her hand in his to make her twirl. No one is looking at them - not for the reasons he feared at least, and for once, he realises, no one is going to attack them in the middle of their date. For once, he can be a normal boy enjoying a date with his girlfriend. He can be just Jim again, tonight. 

[in-a-cave-with]

do you have any fics to recc that arent stevetony? you have the beeeest taste ilu

apparently all my comics fic bookmarks are stevetony but also all my non comic marvel fic bookmarks AREN’T stevetony so that’s just. kind of weird. also a lot of these are irondad . also i added some fics that aren’t in my bookmarks which mean this post is going to be gigantic

for good by Madelinedear"Sorry, May, we can't all be best friends with a celebrity.”May opens her mouth to retort reflexively, the words 'we aren’t even friends' on the tip of her tongue before she closes her mouth. Because they are friends, now. They’re way past that point.Oh my god, she thinks somewhat hysterically. Tony Stark is my best friend.(or; Tony Stark, May Parker, and the road to something like friendship)rec note: this is THE marvel fic. THE fic i tell you,,,.

chocolate chip cookies (alternate words for i love you) by hopeless_hopeBeing a superhero, Tony has come to expect a lot of things. He can’t really afford to be surprised by too much; being flexible is just part of the job. Aliens attacking New York? Sure. People threatening to attack his home? Not uncommon. A teenage spider-kid baking cookies in his kitchen at almost three in the morning? Completely unexpected.rec note: PETER MAKING COOKIES NEVER MADE ME CRY SO HARD

the spider-man conspiracy by tempestaurora WHO IS SPIDER-MAN?The screen showed Peter Parker, sixteen years old and determined to prove the identity of Spider-Man over the course of the three-part documentary he was making, unknowing that it would become viral within days of the first part being released. Behind the camera, way off screen, was Harley Keener, Tony Stark’s other prodigy child, grinning like crazy as Peter started the documentary. Only a few people knew what was to come, and those few people were about to have a great few weeks.“My name is Peter Parker, and with the help of my friends, Ned Leeds, Harley Keener, and my Aunt, May Parker, who provided me with a lot of red yarn for this project, we’re going to uncover the identity of Spider-Man.”rec note: THIS FIC IS SO FUNNY!!!! I LOVE HARLEY IN FICS

5 Times Peter Made Tony Laugh Out Loud by grilledcheesing... and one time he did not.Post Spider-Man: Homecoming — Tony is just trying his damn hardest to keep this reckless kid from Queens safe, but it's hard when Peter is, occasionally, ridiculous as all hell.rec note: sof.....last chapter don’t interact....

if you love something, let it go by theprimrosepathBy now, the Avengers are well-acquainted with grief. But grief is a companion that rarely travels alone, particularly not around a prince.Really, grief is the least of Thor's problems.rec note: THOR MY POOR SON BOY SUN BOY :(((((((........

The Art of Publicity by xmypandabearAfter everything with the Accords, Tony Stark's reputation is in the toilet. Fortunately, he's got Spider-Man to make it better.(AKA Five times Peter and Tony's relationship made the internet implode a little)rec note: THIS FIC IS SO GOOD

We've Made It This Far, Kid by EmAndFandemsTony's just trying to protect the kid from SHIELD. Why does everything have to be so hard?Meanwhile, Peter's biggest problem is buying movie tickets, until he gets a harsh awakening.rec note: this fic is so good!!!!!! it feeds me in every way i want (also this was from the irondad big bang and i did art for it heyyyyy)

of nukes and goats by doingthewritethingsAs Tony find out, it’s hard to say no to teenagers who burst through a window into your lab and tell you they have made a grave mistake. (“We?” says Shuri. “There’s no ‘we’ in this mess, Pete.”)or, the one where Peter Parker buys a farm animal on a whim, and it almost leads to intergalactic doom.rec note: hey remember all the shuri & peter parker content we all made after infinity war? good times good times

We Drown Together by GalaxyThreads"...Sir?" Peter repeats, cautiously. The man licks his dry, split lips and then parts them, ragged breath escaping followed by a pleading whisper: "Help him."Odin arrives too late to save Thor and Loki from the plummet into the Void at the end of Thor 1, and both are captured and claimed by the hand of Thanos. Four years later, Peter Parker comes across two half-dead men wandering the streets of New York.rec note: this is such an interesting au!!! also, please give the brodinsons a hug.

Exclusive by copperbadgeHeroes In Manhattan: From Captain America's Hidden Talents To The Truth About The Hulk, We Debunk The Myths And Expose The Daily Lives Of The Avengers.rec note: ah yes, a classic! 

Stars, Hide Your Fires by YellowDistressStarks didn't create beautiful things.They created weapons that destroyed beautiful things. That was the way it had always been.But when the four-year-old's wide eyes blinked at him, Tony was struck with the sudden realization that maybe that had been a lie.rec note: this fic is part of a rlly long series that basically entails tony adopting peter after learning he’s his dad. i don’t really read a lot of bio dad aus (me reading irondad: it’s about the found family) but this is super good! it makes me feel a LOT 

buried alive by twoifT'Challa, king of the living, king of the dead, king of the in-between.The body is heavy. T'Challa's own trembles. He may not be able to support much more. He has been through so much already. Bast be with me, he curses. I have already borne so much today.But still, he carries Killmonger once more.rec note: SCREAMS i love t’challa so much

home training by theformeroneT'Chaka takes Erik back to Wakanda.Erik is a problem child.rec note: THIS IS SOOOOO GOOD!!!

Small Gods by LullabyKnell"Larger than life.They say that a lot, in the interviews and social media posts, when they talk about meeting Tony Stark. (Who’s ‘they’? Well, everybody, of course.) Shorter than they’d expected him to be, in person, but with a presence that makes him seem like... more.More than a regular celebrity, more than a man, more than a person - something big, something brilliant, something that’s already left a blazing mark on history."rec note: on god i am such a slut for tony character studies in fics

Remembering September by sunbean72As Tony confronts his past demons using BARF, Peter’s enhanced senses allow him to experience the world differently from others. When BARF malfunctions and someone needs to rescue Tony, Peter might be the only one who can save him.rec note: now that ffh came out this fic becomes uncanon but it’s canon in my heart

Stray by MemoryDragonJim Rhodes went out to get some studying done at the library. He ended up with a best friend.rec note: *clutches heart* OH

He's My... Intern? by losingmymindtonightA kid from Queens was all it took to melt the ice around Tony Stark's frozen heart.--A series of oneshots that delve into the relationship between Tony Stark and Peter Parker as their lives begin to merge.rec note: hhhhng. HHHHNG. HHHHHHH

Then How Do YOU Explain Peter? by Asphodelia“I DID NOT HAVE SEX WITH A SPIDER, THOR.”rec note: this fic made me laugh really really hard. also i’m 90% sure thor’s just trolling all of them

In Your Corner by asterismsFive adults who try to be the reasonable authority figure Peter needs in his life post-homecoming and one who was there all along.rec note: UGH i have many feelings....about spidered man.....

the one where Tony breaks Captain America by singingwithoutwordsTony and Rhodey have been in a committed relationship since Tony was sixteen. This is apparently news to Steve(and also the rest of the team).rec note: why is there not more rhodeytony fic. this is a crime.

Hypothetically, I'm a Role Model by madastheseaFor lack of better options, Tony asks Clint a question about kids.rec note: yes i know mcu clint is a rat. i still adore this fic because i can tastefully ignore his canon characterization

The A-Team Challenge by Isnt_it_pretty_to_think_soTony Stark just wants to keep Peter Parker on the down low. Heaven forbid Spiderman do something stupid, like go viral.OR: Peter Parker accidently patents the superhero equivalent of the ice bucket challenge.rec note: THE only cacw fixit ever

Small Town by ifitwasribaldIn the aftermath of Extremis and the Mandarin and Killian, a town keeps Tony's secret.rec note: honestly i just. really really like tony and his potato gun son

Pretend We're In Love (The Heartache Still Hurts) by InsaneJuliannRhodey's dad is dying, and what he's always wanted is for Rhodey to be happily married. Tony and Rhodey were best friends, and haven't spoken in years. But after a chance meeting at the airport, and a desperate, insane idea on Rhodey's part, they end up pretending to be engaged.But how much of it is really pretend?rec note: rhodeytony in this fic are like. ahaha what if we fake-kissed....but we’re still secretly pining for one another...

Time Past by flute25After the events of Dark World, Loki has deposited Odin at the Shady Acres retirement community.And that - should be that.But the pull of family (not his family) is strong, and Loki soon finds himself a regular visitor at the decrepit institution.After all, Odin is enchanted, and what harm can there be in finally telling the old man what is on his mind without any repercussions?What harm, indeed?rec note: lokiiiiiiiii :((((((((

An Eggscellent Adventure by flute25Loki teaches Thor about a new Midgardian cooking method as the two sons of Asgard settle into their new home at Stark Tower.Post-Infinity War/A4. Thanos is dead, everyone else is alive, and the sun is shining on us again.rec note: LOKIIIIIIIII!!!!!!!!!

Tony Stark is the New Tokyo by CiderSkyTony Stark has a complicated relationship with moths.rec note: this is a pretty old fic but also. MOTHS FLYING AROUND THE ARC REACTOR

This Tiny Bird by battybatzgirlYou can never be too sure of what teenagers do on dates these days. Good thing Tony is excellent at being stealthy.(He's NOT overprotective. He's not.)rec note: ahhhhhhhhh

The Adventures of Captain Crowbar and Spider-Man by ciaconnaaPeter gasps. “It's like you're psychic. A super-powered brain. You sure you aren’t an Avenger, too?”“No. And the answer to the next question, 'Is Spider-Man an Avenger?' is also, no.”“I’m an honorary Avenger, Em. It’s a big deal.”“Stark comes up with fancier ways to say lackey every single day.”or;When Michelle gets mugged and hit over the head with a crowbar, she's gifted with a concussion. It's not a fun time. Luckily, she has Spider-Man's number.rec note: this starts out as spideychelle but is part of a series that’s a mcu/brooklyn nine nine crossover which makes me so happy

the sky collapsed but the stars remain by ciaconnaaOn the day of the Snap, Harley Keener watches his mother turn to dust.With a duty to look after his younger sister, the two of them abandon the wilting town of Rose Hill in search of Tony Stark. Because if Harley helped him before, he can damn well help him again. Tony's a mechanic. He fixes things.To put it simply, they have to fix this.rec note: oh, my feelings,

...two birdbrained heroes and a spider in a stark tree by ciaconnaaThis year, the first Christmas after Thanos, the Avengers decide to do gifts by simply doing a Secret Santa for their Christmas party. And it's just Peter's luck that he drew Mr. Stark's name.rec note: THIS IS THE POST ENDGAME FIC THAT I SHOULD’VE GOTTEN. GODDAMN YOU R*SSOS FOR K WORDING TONY ISTG

potato guns and repulsers by gossamernotesHarley Keener was four when his dad left.Five when Tony Stark became Iron Man.And ten when said superhero broke into his garage and demanded a sandwich.Life, after that, was never the same.[The story wherein Harley Keener thinks over his life and watches where it goes after he meets the one and only, Tony Stark. It doesn't really go the way he planned.]rec note: this makes me so soft

Restless Night by Fernandidilly_yoSometimes even heroes can't sleep, but that's alright because there is always someone else awake and nearby.Or: Five times Tony couldn't sleep and the one time he did.rec note: you may notice a pattern of “not a lot of these fics are angsty! wow!” this one kind of is

Silence is Golden by GloriousBlackoutPeter doesn't say a word during his first six months with the Ravagers. Yondu learns to adapt to having a silent shadow following him around.rec note: DAD YONDU AND SMOL QUILL

Watch Our Souls Fade Away by GloriousBlackoutNebula and Tony struggle to come to terms with everything they've lost as they make the journey back to Earth.rec note: this fic was written before endgame but I SWEAR. THE WAY NEBULA AND TONY ARE WRITTEN BY THIS WRITER I CRY

All You Distrust, All You Save by GloriousBlackoutNebula could be forgiven for hoping things couldn't get much worse than being stranded in space with a man she barely knows and little chance of rescue. Unfortunately, the universe has a habit of proving her wrong.Missing scenes from Nebula and Tony's difficult journey back to Earth.rec note: please i am fragile,

All That's to Come by GloriousBlackoutIn the aftermath of Tony's funeral, Nebula tries to comprehend her feelings of loss and ends up meeting a little girl who's grown up hearing stories about her.rec note: I’M NOT OKAY. I’M NOT FUCKING OKAY

Lazarus, come forth by iron_spiderTony's mind is a chaotic mess but he remembers the moment—remembers his death, remembers the red hot pain and Peter screaming, Rhodey rushing to his side. How he knew he’d never see Pepper again—but they’d fixed it. They’d fixed the world, erased the lost time, set things right—and the kid was back. The kid was crying, the kid hated him for doing what he did, but he was back. He was alive.rec note: this isn’t an endgame fixit but....i also read this around 10 times after endgame because. yeah. also here comes the iron_spider spam

dear mr. fantasy by iron_spiderTony worries his brain is misfiring, transporting him across time and space in one final insane journey. He swallows hard, and he hears those garbled voices again. He can’t make out words, or tone, or who the hell is talking, but somebody definitely is, and it sounds strangely like they’re underwater. Or he is. He grits his teeth and turns around, and before he can even begin to trudge over towards Peter’s room, he’s stopped in his tracks. By a door. In the middle. Of the living room. Straight up and down like a monolith, just beside the glass coffee table. Tony chews on his lower lip and stares at it. “Well that’s new,” he says, still rooted to the spot.rec note: listen i swear i’m not going to just rec every single iron_spider longfic *does exactly that*

the rattle of their hearts by iron_spiderTony deals with the aftermath of Infinity War. He needs to get things back to normal. And Peter is an essential part of normal.rec note: this is one of the first marvel fics i read and i started reading it while it was being updated and i was SHAKING in ANTICIPATION and i SCREAMED several times i just. h,,,hhh.. this is an infinity war fixit but it’s miles better than endgame

Stark's Home for Wayward Animals by iron_spiderTony narrows his eyes and turns the corner. Peter is splayed out on the third stair, in his Spiderman suit sans the mask, soaked to the bone. His hair is plastered to his forehead, he’s shivering, and he’s holding a gray cat clutched to his chest.Tony stares at him. Both Peter and the cat are looking at him, wide-eyed, and then the cat meows again, breaking the silence.“What’s happening right now?” Tony asks.rec note: CAT CAT CAT CAT CAT CAT CAT CAT CAT

ever in your favor by iron_spiderHe remembers what day it is, and his heart beats like a drum at someone’s execution. But he tries to put on a mask, make it all seem normal. It’s everything but, despite the fact that he’s been dealing with reaping day since he was born, between himself, Ben and May. That fear that one of them could be taken away. Sent to surefire slaughter. But now Ben is gone, taken despite never having his name drawn from a bowl, and May’s finally safe. Now Peter’s name is in there alone. The last Parker sitting on the chopping block. He doesn’t know how to be. He doesn’t know what normal is, when the Hunger Games are looming on the horizon.rec note: ghhghfjkgf this fic is so top notch...it gave me so many feelings....it GAVE ME CAROL&TONY RIGHTS?? FROM AN MCU FIC???? LITERALLY THE DREAM ??

5 times Peter is stuck with Tony by iron_spider(...and one time he’s stuck alone.)“I wonder if Pepper’s reported me missing yet,” Tony says, with an exaggerated sigh. “I wonder if this is some kind of scheme to kidnap me or something.”“I think the ride’s just broken,” Peter says.“Today of all goddamn days,” Tony says, exasperation clear in his voice and in his eyes. “Ruining our trip—”“It’s not ruined,” Peter says. “Look, we’re hanging out."“Real quality time,” Tony huffs. “Us, a few other trapped members of the general public, and a handful of animatronic pirates. Drunk pirates. Repeating themselves.”rec note: this fic is a RIDE. i laugh in one chapter and then my feelings get vibe checked in the next.

what if there is no tomorrow? by iron_spider"We're in a time loop. I'm Bill Murray. I remember everything, you guys don't, we're...we are trapped. We're trapped, buddy. I've done this over and over. And over. And over and over and over. I don't know how to fix it. So I'm...giving up. I make snow angels now. And that's it."rec note: this fic made me like justin hammer. it’s done the fucking impossible.

[fearedfully]

an introduction to james rennie jr ( fc: jack falahee ) from stephen king’s under the dome ! tw / severe mental health (psychosis), abuse mention, suicide mention.

so right off the bat i’m gonna say he’s gonna be very canon-divergent ok. jr’s a big Yikes in the book but i loved the character concept so i’m changin some things. he’ll be closer to his character in the tv show

can’t keep a relationship because he gets super obsessive, possessive, and jealous. he’s also emotionally manipulative to all of his partners. it’s not on purpose tho and he’s essentially sabotaging his own self because this intimidates people & he is really hurt by rejection.

this is best exemplified by this girl named angie who he was in love with since 3rd grade. they had a fling the summer after his first year of college & she broke up with him shortly after. he snapped & angie ended up dead a day later---junior remembers nothing.

idk about stephen king’s junior, but my junior has schizophrenia. the early onset type. he was sick from a very young age, often hearing things in his mind & talking back or becoming catatonic. but his parents always ignored it so he never got better, just worse. he also has jealous & erotomanic delusions in which he genuinely believes someone is in love with him who clearly isn’t.

uhh speaking of parents, junior’s dad is a local politician in his home town & is an awful person who went by the nickname big jim. he disapproved of his son, treated him terribly & beat on him but junior idolized his father. jr’s his mom died of suicide when he was 13. she also suffered from hallucinations & often fell victim to big jim’s rage. his dad has led him to believe she died in a car crash

junior ALWAYS wanted to follow in his dad’s footsteps and “do good” for his town. when junior was 22 his dream finally came true ! he was named deputy!! his dad hated it because he considered junior an incapable menace

that was about eight years ago and it was fine until like , two weeks ago. in the midst of a psychotic break, junior apparently killed a very public figure. big jim made a false arrest to protect his son & sent junior away BY HIMSELF to castle rock with no professional help or nothin. that’s where we are today !

plot twist (and big change): junior’s never actually killed anyone. he only believes he did due to blacking out & how his father treats him like a monster when the true monster is big jim. on top of his mental health junior is weighed down by this false guilt.

check out his info page! i promise it’ll be more coherent than this mess.

[thelevelsman]

The Great Game + Five-Act Structure

me and @messedupsockindex did a TGG rewatch (i think we’re gonna do the whole show hell yeah hell yeah) and I did some liveblogging that turned into several metas on things i think are important in this episode, with the five-act structure being a Theme (though i went off on a real tangent RE: solar systems/framing and metaphors too). Read on if you dare.

First of all I learned that this was the first episode of the show that was filmed? I find that very interesting, I don’t know much about how to shoot a tv series, BUT if this was the first one that was ready to shoot, i wonder if that means it was the first one finished, and if it was the first one finished, is it because it’s The One that lays out the five-act structure of the whole show? 

link to @fellshish ‘s most brilliant meta here

another small spot of evidence for this “TGG is the layout for the whole show” theory is that lots of little shots in this episode are also in the title sequence (could be a coincidence if they did indeed film this episode first, but also maybe not)

Throughout this episode, we are shown an ongoing conversation between Sherlock and John concerning Sherlock’s lack of basic knowledge about our solar system. It effectively frames the episode - one of the opening scenes being their “domestic” (fight), and the penultimate scene (before the pool scene) being the infamous “I won’t be in for tea” / “I’ll get milk and beans” tragedy. I want to liken this episode-long conversation to a technique I saw in a different show. 

In this show (Masters of Sex starring the brilliant Michael Sheen and the formidable Lizzy Caplan), a man and a woman are having an affair with each other, but justifying it by saying they are simply “working” and that they’re not emotionally attached to each other (they’re sex researchers, so they “collect data” whenever they meet...it’s dumb.) Anyway, there’s a beautiful episode entitled “Fight” during which they are watching a boxing match in their hotel room while engaging in elaborate sexual roleplay with each other. While the boxing match plays in the background, they riff on what their lives would be like together if they really were the husband and wife duo that they pretend to be for the hotel staff. It’s intricate, and loaded, because you never know when they are acting within the roleplay, or talking honestly to each other about their feelings and pasts. They metaphorically duck and weave like boxers around their feelings and around each other. Their conversation often talks literally about boxing, too - The Fight is a tool through which the writers explore the characters’ bond for the viewer.

I see Moftiss using this same technique when I hear Sherlock and John going back and forth THROUGHOUT THE EPISODE about knowledge of the solar system. The first time they discuss it, you can feel John trying to understand why Sherlock comprehends things the way he does - why can something as basic as the solar system (or attraction) be allowed to slip through the cracks of his otherwise daunting intellect? And you can also feel Sherlock’s frustration with the way John perceives him - why should it MATTER if he doesn’t know the exact details of how the solar system (attraction) works - shouldn’t the fact that he knows it exists be enough, and if or when when he needs to, he can figure it out from there? They continue to explore the concept with each other as the episode goes on. 

Here, John has accepted that Sherlock doesn’t (or thinks he doesn’t) care about the mechanics of something as basic as the solar system (attraction). So he asks, why comment on it? Sherlock says even if he doesn’t understand it, he still appreciates it. Telling. 

In the final instance of this conversation, the penultimate scene of the episode, John tells Sherlock that maybe a little knowledge of the solar system might have come in handy after all. But Sherlock also has a point:

John’s knowledge of something so basic as attraction has been useless to him thus far. 

If we’re gonna accept food = sex, I found it funny that John was “starving” and he found a head in the fridge. John, there’s head for dinner, if you want it! Even funnier that Sherlock’s response to “I’m starving” was that he was researching saliva. (I don’t love the food=sex thing, I just don’t think it’s intentional, but I do feel like it’s a valid interpretation here that Sherlock is subtextually begging John to let him suck it)

I’m too tired to figure out what Mycroft’s dental appointment could possibly mean but both of us were like??? My half-baked theory right now (borrowing from M theory) is that the “dental appointment” was actually Mycroft getting the shit kicked out of him by Moriarty/Mary/whoever the mastermind is, so that Mycroft would plant the missile plan crime for Sherlock? 

okay so I never really realized this but Sherlock knows Jim is gay bc he uses hair product and then season 4 John has hella hair product....huh

Sherlock’s security outfit is queer coded but suddenly I can’t find any evidence of this I just...have it somewhere in my psyche that a police/security costume outfit like that was claimed by queer people and I can’t remember why?

For hostage number 3, the old woman, Moriarty (or whoever is on the other end of the computer) calls her “a funny one.” @messedupsockindex​ told me while we were watching about the midpoint of the five-act structure being the breakthrough, the point of no return, the point at which key knowledge is gained (from John Yorke’s Into The Woods, also brilliantly discussed here).  I can’t help but think of this seemingly offhand line as a tiny clue to the importance of series 3 of BBC Sherlock. (In case you didn’t know, the midpoint of the whole show, if there are indeed going to be fifteen episodes, is...you guessed it...the best man speech).

The last Greenwich pip case that is solved, a case in which we have a hostage on the other end of a phone, is the fake painting. The solution to this case is “the Van Buren supernova” aka part of outer space, seen from our solar system. As I’ve argued above, the solar system is a metaphor/framing device used in this episode to subtextually discuss the engine of this entire show - Sherlock and John’s relationship. How very telling that Sherlock, even Sherlock, very nearly doesn’t get to this solution. But, when he does...

(me reading about the five act structure and realizing series four is fake)

Moriarty’s last few lines - I find this whole scene to be absolutely vital to understanding the point of the whole show, but especially the last bit. 

There is probably already someone who has explained/noticed this but...the exchange that Moriarty is responding to, that happened before he re-entered the room, was Sherlock and John getting the closest they ever get in the WHOLE show to discussing the sexual tension/attraction between them (I think I’m again standing on the shoulders of the legendary M theory here). John has taken a huge leap in choosing to bring up what “people” might think about Sherlock ripping his clothes off in a darkened swimming pool. Sherlock responds jokingly but not dismissively, and the logical next step would be to discuss what they themselves think about it...until of course they are interrupted by this, by literally being held at gunpoint.

Moriarty’s lines here are apparently some pretty famous lines in ACD canon. I didn’t know the canon context, so it’s a little easier to just parse the lines in context of this scene. Moriarty wants to stop this discussion that Sherlock and John are about to have, and more broadly, whatever that conversation might lead to. He would try to convince them that they can’t be allowed to continue, but everything he has to say, all the convincing he could possibly do, has already crossed Sherlock’s mind (or both of their minds - it’s actually not specified who he’s talking to here). This is true because Sherlock and/or John are afraid to “continue” - discuss their feelings for each other - because of trauma and internalized homophobia. All the reasons that they shouldn’t “continue,” reasons that Moriarty could cite out loud, have already crossed their minds, probably more than once. I think this unspoken meaning makes so much more sense than taking Moriarty’s “you can’t be allowed to continue” to mean “you can’t be allowed to continue to solve crimes,” which is what it meant in ACD canon. And it’s a fantastic rework of an ACD canon line. 

So... the end, I guess. I probably should have split this up into different posts...

[franklyshipping]

The Littlest Brother ~ A Markiplier Ego Fanfic

WOOOOO SNAZZY ANON PROMPT ALLUDING TO HOW THE GREEN GOOGLE, AKA MASON, IS IN FACT CANONICALLY THE YOUNGEST, LET'S SEE HOW HIS BROTHERS TREAT HIM! LET'S DO IT!

TAGGING: @googlee-green @goog-ler-iplier @google-switchy-red and @googlee-oliver

Sibling authority. I figure that's a pretty big perk if you have younger siblings, because you can always have that hint of an edge when getting your own way against them....and it gives you an excuse to reprimand them on some occasions too. For younger siblings, or the youngest sibling of a group, this can be the most unfair thing in life. You fancied an extra biscuit? Nope we're going to put the box on the highest shelf so you can't reach....but deep down, it's all loving. But, even though it was loving....one particular sibling was currently being as quiet as he possibly could as he retrieved some salty snacks from the kitchen at two o'clock in the morning. Why was he doing this? Because he was midway through a secret all night movie marathon, and it was imperative that he kept it a secret, otherwise he knew that his siblings would find a way to hinder him with knowledge and their superior strength. Google Green, aka Mason, was being careful.

....but....not careful enough. Sometimes as a younger sibling you never know the full extent to which your older siblings go to protect you; in this instance, Google Blue would always wake up if one of his brothers were online during a designated charging period; it was so he would be able to find them and see if there was anything wrong like a fault or a nightmare. In this care, Mason had been awake for a while, but Google Blue had only just noticed the notification since he'd been up late, engrossed in his own statistical work. Now that he'd noticed however....he made a bee-line for his brother's location, and soon....they were stood still, facing one another. It was rather comedic.

'Brother, may I inquire as to why you are not at your charging port replenishing energy, since it is where you ought to be at this time of night?'

Mason was frozen, clutching his snacks in a manner that was almost protective, as his mind whirred with the effort to come up with a good reply. No good ones came to mind, and thus Mason had to settle for this.

'I.....I charged...during the day so I c-could um....make time t-to watch some films....'

Now, it wasn't a lie, but when he said he charged during the day....he charged for an hour and a half. Blue could see into his diagnostics history, and upon seeing this it cemented the fact in his mind that Mason would NOT have enough energy, even for something as relaxing as watching films. With how Mason's hard drive was functioning somewhat drowsily, Blue concluded that it was time for him to assert his authority and put a stop to this.

'Film viewing in the middle of the night....that doesn't sound healthy for your ah....juvenile systems.'

Blue spoke with folded arms and a slight quirking of his lips, he never could help teasing his littlest brother. Yes, Mason was technically the youngest out of the brotherly unit....and it was a fact he'd NEVER been able to escape. Heat swarmed at Mason's cheeks when his brother called out his youth, and his speech became more fragmented as subtle flusteredness entered his mentality.

'B-But Bluey it's fine! I-I have plenty of charge a-and I can just get back to my normal routine t-tomorrow-'

'I think not. This is a very inadequate practise.'

Blue interrupted matter-of-factly, which made Mason purse his lips and let out a soft huff through his nose. He didn't have to take this! He was a unique intelligent being of great power and potential, he didn't have to let himself be lectured like this! Now, in Mason's mind his next words sounded most defiant and strong....but in all honestly they came out as a pouty whine.

'You can't tell me what to do!'

Blue raised an eyebrow, his azure eyes flashing with what seemed like a pulse of warning as he took a few steps towards his brother. Mason saw it as a flash of warning.

'Can't I?'

Blue's voice was cool as he posed his rhetorical question, thus making Mason go silent. If only Mason knew what Blue's flashing orbs had really meant....maybe he would have avoided his fate. If only he'd taken the time to recall how all of the Googles' eyes flashed whenever they communicated with one another via their cloud mind....maybe he could have saved himself.

'Are you disrespecting my authority over our unit?'

Mason gulped as he kept ahold of his snacks, his brother getting ever closer with a challenging loom on his face. Blue was daring Mason to be defiant....Mason knew that his brothers always tried to make up excuses to gang up on him in whatever scenario; he'd always tried to avoid it all, but it never worked. So, despite his nerves....he just thought fuck it. He was going to get him in some way anyway, so he threw being meek out of the window. Mason's own eyes flashed now, but with defiance.

'Your dumb big brother jurisdiction doesn't extend to this!'

....aaand Mason bolted, his mind set on getting to his room and locking the door as fast as he possibly could whilst his brother reeled from the unexpected insult. However, it wasn't as unexpected as Mason had theorised it would be, for when he turned around and made to sprint from the room....his way was blocked.

'Am I correct to infer that our little Mason just called you dumb?'

Red. It was Red's voice. Mason froze, mouth slightly agape, as he looked up his other two brothers. Red and Oliver were maintaining stoic expressions; he could see in them that they were both repressing urges to smile gleefully, despite their charging times being interrupted. Mason heard Blue let out a sigh behind him as he responded.

'He certainly did....I am.....just so offended by this....'

Mason ended up raising his eyebrows....Blue was....trying to act upset. Mason glanced behind him.....now, you may for a moment feel a pang of guilt when you first see someone upset whether it be fake or not.....but Mason failed to repress his snickers. A prominent emotion like that just looked so unnatural on Blue, and the strained expression he was pulling made it look like he was having difficulty with his personal waste disposal. Needless to say, Mason shouldn't have snickered; Oliver stated in a shocked manner.

'And now he's laughing at your sorrow! This needs to be sorted right away....'

'Agreed.'

Mason whirled around to face his other siblings, eyes wide and mouth opening ready to holler in defiance....but he was already on the ground; two versus one, he never stood a chance, especially with two of his limbs overcome by snacks. He had no chance to mount a defence. Soon though, the snacks were out of his hands and scattered about around him as Oliver and Red pinned him effectively, despite his grunts and wriggling struggles.

'L-Let go! This is s-so unfair let me GO!'

Mason glared up as his brothers, who merely smirked as they sat on his legs and gripped his arms effectively. He ended up flinching however when he heard tutting come from above him, Blue had knelt down next to his head and was looking down at him with mock disappointment....but even he couldn't hide the excitement in his voice.

'I think we need to re-acquaint you with who is in charge here....little brother....'

Mason struggled even more, eyes widening when Blue took his arms and pinned them above his head.....and soon he was giggling. He hadn't been touched, but the mere motions of Oli and Red wiggling their fingers at him tauntingly had his composure crumbling.

'N-Nohoho n-not that a-anything but tihickles p-p-please not the tickles!'

As you can imagine, this was something that Mason was commonly the victim of amongst his brothers. Not only because he was so ticklish, but also because of how his software worked. With his own software being conscious of itself and its existence, it was aware that it harbours the youngest of a group of siblings; with research into sibling behaviour and the common factor of younger siblings being more child-like, giddy and flusterable than other siblings, Mason's software altered his subconscious so he'd therefore have these characteristics. Characteristics of blushing, embarrassment, and overall cuteness, which Blue, Red, and Oliver never tired of seeing. Which is why at any opportunity, they would gang up on him, and do all this.

'Too late Masey....it's play-time....'

Oliver's sunny eyes shone as he cooed, before laughing evilly along with Red as each of them dug their wiggling fingers into one of Mason's sides each; they knew their brother well, they knew where to target....Mason had no chance.

'EEEEHEHEHE NOHOHOHAHA NOHOHO TIHICKLE NO TIHIHIHICKLE!!'

After an initial shriek he was cackling and thrashing from side to side, his green eyes glinting like emeralds as his mirth just seemed to shine out of him. As well as his apparent desperation. However, he didn't quite get the mercy he was hoping for.

'I think 'yes tickle' is the appropriate response here....especially since we know it works on your attitude ever so well....'

Blue was smirking deviously as his purred words left his lips while he looked directly into his brother's eyes which, to his delight, made him whimper amidst his laughter. Blue adored how Mason was so susceptible to the slightest subtlety. Mason had squeezed his eyes shut now, crying out as the torture continued.

'NOHOHOHOOO!!'

As he shook his head, he heard coos all around him. The most evil, flustering, babyish coos that just made something deep inside Mason just curl up into the embodiment of meekness.

'Yeeees, whoooo's a cheeky little baaaby?'

'You know I think it may be little Mason.'

'I think you're right!'

Oliver finally exclaimed....now, first off, Mason concluded that his brothers were spending too much time with the Jim siblings. Secondly, Mason concluded that this was just completely and utterly mean. His face was hot as he writhed about, now starting to squeal when he felt Red and Oli's fingers crawling up to his ribs.

'IHIHI NAHAHAT AHA BABY SHUHUHUDDUP!!'

Mason descended into cackling, and the occasional snort, as every inch of his ribcage was playfully poked and rubbed. Meanwhile, Blue's teasing face was above him, taking up his vision, an expression of smug superiority that Mason just couldn't escape.

'I think you'll find that you are in fact our troublesome little baby.'

Blue smirked as he, in his opinion, spoke the truth. From Blue's perspective, and Red's and Oli's, Mason wasn't a baby in the sense that he was unintelligent or excessively immature or difficult to handle....he just had this innocent, adorable purity that they adored hugely. Mason however, could only really see it as a tease since he was currently occupied with wailing and trying to get away from his siblings' fingers massaging his ribs.

'AHAHAHA IHI HOHOPE YOHOU STEHEP ON YOHOUR OHOWN CHAHAHARGING PLUG!!' 

.....I think that we all know that Mason certainly didn't think through his reply...until he saw Blue narrow his eyes down at him, before then giving sharp, mischievous nods to Red and Oli, who ceased their tickling. For now. Mason eagerly took the time to recover, knowing full well that a) this was only going to be a short break wherein Blue would engage in extreme intimidation, and b) he was going to get the attitude tickled out of him.

'Are you sure that's what you meant to say?'

Mason gulped at Blue's growl, but in his peripheral he could see his other brothers moving....Red was getting closer to Blue, and Oliver was sitting next to his legs. Mason's lips trembled in anticipation as he shook his head at Blue, hurriedly trying to think of some collection of words that would help him gauge mercy.....but nothing would have worked at this point. Not that he even got the chance to speak before Red and Oli began.

'AAAHHHSHITFUCKFUHUHUCK AHAHAHAHA SAHAHAHAHARRYYYYY!!'

Skittering. So much skittering. Red's blunt nails were like little insects scurrying about in the hollows of his underarms, whilst Oli's somehow felt like slowly crawling spiders under his knees. Damn it tickled, as was evident by his laughter and expletives....and his brothers decided to take notice of the latter.

'Gosh....I think we need to try that again with a bit less swearing!'

Oliver gasped, feeling most aghast; as was Red.

'Mason I am SURPRISED at you!'

This only made Mason giggle and laugh at an even higher pitch; he didn't swear a lot, but when he did and they reprimanded him for it he always got embarrassed butterflies. He was even more consumed by his mirth now in the wake of their scratchies and teasies.

'IHIHI SOHOHOHO SAHAHAHARRY SOHOSOSOSO SAHAHARRYYYY!!'

Since Blue was the only one he COULD see, Mason gazed up at him pleadingly as his brothers' blunt nails coaxed out laughter and whimpers and all of the above. And for a moment....Mason gasped in relief. Blue's lips had upturned into a gentle smile, and his eyes were softly glowing with what Mason thought was kindness....but then the expression dropped into a sneer.

'How cute....did you really think you'd get mercy straight away? It's like you don't even know us baby brother.'

Blue growled, internally crowing at how he'd managed to trick his little brother. Seeing his eyes widen with flustered shock never ceased to make his day. So, it all just continued. Now you may think....huh, scratching....I mean, there are worse tickle techniques, right? Well, yes and no, because it all depends on the person. For Mason here, this was the most evil tickly thing that they could possibly have decided to do. At his armpits AND at his knee pits! Soon enough, Mason was leaking saline fluid from his eyes, and desperation just consumed all his thoughts.

'PLEHEHEEEE-I-I-I-IHIHIH CAHAHAHAAA-A-H-A....'

The three tormenting siblings shared a look; they'd reached Mason's point, his true limit....and so they began the process of taking care of their little brother after what they'd put him through. The tickling stopped and his arms were released. Mason sniffled and softly coughed, wiping at his face as his form shuddered, but he was not alone. Each brother had their own task. Blue's fingers were rubbing the pressure points behind Mason's ears, helping him to relax, whilst Red and Oliver had their hands warming up by a few degrees. With Red placing his hands on his torso, and Oliver placing his behind Mason's knees, the warmth was soothing away all the evil tingles they'd left behind.

'Shhhh shhh, come now, we all know you've endured worse....'

Blue crooned softly, grinning when Mason let out a shaky whine and peeked up at him through his fingers.

'I-Ihihit was stihill baaad....'

He giggled, but was mostly humming by this point as he felt himself entering a state of pure calm relaxation, like the feeling of a hot bath after a work-out. Except here, he got teased and cooed at relentlessly; with or without the tickling, teasing would always remain. Oliver began with glinting eyes and a bright smile.

'Awwww, poor tender baby boy!'

'I expect you'll want to relax right about now, hm?'

Red's eyebrow was raised as he smirked subtly, and all Mason could do was nod meekly and smile at how his brothers teased him so....lovingly. For they did love him, so damn much. They unanimously decided to abandon their charging schedules and snuggle down for the most wonderful, warm, snack-filled movie watching fest that you ever did see. The warmth of their brotherhood kept them going, all through that cold night....there was never any room for the cold when they were together.

WOOOOP HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE THIS ONE LEMME KNOW IF YA DO WOOOOP LUV YOOOOUS XX

[sunlitroom]

Thoughts on ‘The Beginning’

So - as with The Trial of Jim Gordon, I'm going to regard this episode as an extra, and do some meta as opposed to a full recap.   My rationale is pretty much the same: this is an optional easter egg, and one that can easily be regarded as outside canon if desired.  

Also - I found the deeper message, like that in The Trial of Jim Gordon, was so unpalatable it strained the show’s broader ideas and themes.  So I’ve decided it’s not part of canon, for me.

Thoughts after the cut.  Same disclaimer as with The Trial of Jim Gordon.  I love the show.  I tweeted like a maniac as episodes were airing, and got booted from Twitter.  I want another network to pick it up.

However, my idea of meta is the old fandom one, which is critical analysis.  If that’s not your thing, fine - but that’s what I’ll be doing here.

So, first things first.

I understand the rationale behind the time-jump, to an extent.  The two extra episodes were just that - extra.  One was spent on The Trial of Jim Gordon, which I have already been salty about in another post.  This one was a sort of nod to the fans - offering Batman as a sort of reward.  I’ve always been more interested in the story Gotham actually set out to tell, though, the story before Batman.  The story of the city and its inhabitants.  As such, I was always going to be less taken with an episode which was fundamentally mostly interested in giving us Batman. 

But there were a couple of other issues that confused me.  Gotham has always presented its own vision of the city, the characters.  It’s shown it can be creative with canon, as well as adding its own ideas.  Not only, for example, is their take on Oswald unique, but Fish Mooney – so pivotal in his development – only exists within Gotham’s universe.  We got the Executioner and Cyrus Gold – yes, but we also got Nathaniel Barnes and Butch Gilzean, who had character and stories and lives all of their own.

I like that it thumbed its nose at Jim’s moustache.  But go all the way with it.  Yes, we know Batman’s coming.  But if you want to continue to focus on Jim, and his wrestling with the notion of heroism – then just do that.  Have the courage of your convictions.  You can draw inspiration from the 60s series if you want, but you’re not shackled to it: Oswald doesn’t have to don a top hat and become 60s Penguin if you don’t want him to.  The city doesn’t have to morph aesthetically into something we saw in the movies.  You’ve told your own story. See it through.

That aside - the details.

The flash-forward was also a difficult ask because the story has been unnaturally cut short.  Characters who were still wrestling with huge issues didn’t really get to address them in a truncated season and - as such - it’s sort of hard to accept where we find them now.  

For example

We’ve seen Jim deal with several demons over the years.  He has major issues with authority.  His relationship with his father looms large.  He wants to be a hero, but gets on better with the villains.  He compartmentalises like crazy.  He’s emotionally dishonest with others and himself.  He enjoys playing dangerous games.  He can’t resist a pissing match. 

Am I to honestly believe that Jim has been entirely clean and pure in the interim?  Why?  Because the city was saved after near destruction?  That’s happened before – he didn’t change.  If anything, he’s more likely to have reverted to old habits once the crisis was over.  Is he reformed because he’s a father now?  Didn’t stop him killing Theo Galavan while Lee was pregnant.  

Jim’s development was still very much in progress.  As such, he feels unsatisfying here and - given what we know about him - you can’t help but feel he’s probably been up to his old tricks, but we’re just getting to see the sanitised surface of his life.

Lee likewise generally suffered quite a bit from the truncated season, and is  good example of how the flash-forward doesn’t serve characters well.

In season 4, we saw her explore a darker side to her personality that the show has strongly and consistently hinted at since way back in season one, explicitly – when she says that Jerome’s confession of matricide thrilled her, and implicitly, when we wondered why the hell she was working in Arkham.  We also saw her enjoy power in season 4.  We saw her deeply committed to improving the lot of the residents in the Narrows, even if her way of going about it was short-sighted. We saw her shoot Sofia Falcone point-blank in the head in cold blood.  We saw her, although many hated it, form an intense romantic relationship with Ed, where she seemed to find a fulfilment and recognition that she never found with Jim or Mario.

However, in season 5, the show clearly needed her to quickly step into the role of Mrs Jim and stepmother to Barbara.  This meant becoming the angel at the hearth again, so it essentially erased those experiences, all that new characterisation.  

As such, like Jim, she feels flat here – like we’re only getting to see a facade.  She’s back in her old post of intermittently saying supportive things to Jim, and apparently quietly looking forward to him quitting his job.  When she's bizarrely given the task of defusing the bomb, as Lucius the tech specialist stands by the side - it really only underlined that stripping her of all that history and characterisation meant that she doesn't really have a real role of her own in the wider workings of the city.

Now to the heart of my problem with this episode.

We’re told, without any explanation, that Oswald was sent to Blackgate shortly after reunification, and Ed to Arkham.  

Now, to be honest, I find this fairly implausible.  In all the rebuilding efforts, I doubt the authorities would have the will or energy to go back and rake over who committed what crime when the city had been abandoned by the government. And even if they did, both their actions – willingly manning the barricades (Oswald sustaining an injury when doing so), would have likely gone some way to mitigating everything else.  

You could argue that it's for some nameless crime they committed later - but the show could easily have indicated that by throwing in a line about some heist or scheme they tried to pull off that ended up with them being put away.

Mayor James - ‘Oswald Cobblepot is getting released tomorrow’

Harvey - ‘Should have got 20 years for that stunt he pulled after reunification - not 10.  So should Nygma.’

It didn't take the trouble to do that - so I'm left assuming they were sent away on the basis of crimes committed during the split.

However, this poses us with some problems both in terms of the plot, and more deeply in terms of narrative repercussions.  Because if we are going to start to get persnickety about charging people with crimes they’ve committed, and then having them face actual consequences – well, we saw Barbara shoot loads of randoms in season 5.  Going back not too far, Lee shot Sofia Falcone in the head.  Going back further still, Jim murdered Ogden Barker and Theo Galavan, and was indirectly responsible for several deaths by inviting Sofia Falcone to town.

So – then – if we’ve decided that actually charging people and sending them to prison is now the done thing, why are we so selective with who’s punished? Gotham is a show with a million shades of grey.  It gives its villains humanising back stories and motivations – but it ultimately still wants to punish a select few like it’s a black and white universe.  You can’t do that when your good guys are equally tainted. Not unless you want to give off an unfortunate stench of hypocrisy, anyway.  

Oswald flat-out asks Jim on the pier.  I could have escaped this city.  I chose to stand shoulder to shoulder with you and defend it.  Why was I punished?

It’s telling that Jim never actually furnishes Oswald with any good answer to his question on the pier.  Because - over the years - the show itself has never quite figured out how to answer this one.   He can’t answer.  What could he possibly say?

Why then, do some get away scot-free, while others are punished?  Why, as Ed observes, do some get to make choices - while others never get the chance?

Jim and Lee are ‘heroes’ (arguably wandering into designated hero territory, at points).  They're never going to face consequences for anything.  Jim going on a self-pitying drinking binge doesn’t count - not compared to a ten-year stint in Blackgate or Arkham.  Lee never expressed any remorse for Sofia.

As for Barbara, well Barbara is brought back into the heroic fold, too.  

First and foremost, she’s offered moral redemption by bearing Jim’s child.  Becoming a mother meant all previous sins were forgiven.  

When we meet her here, we see now that she’s wealthy and powerful – playing a serious role in the city.  It’s empowering in a way – but it’s also a means of re-affirming the established order and putting her back in her box.  Remember that Barbara is from one of Gotham's elite families - and she's finally behaving like someone from an elite and wealthy family would do.  To make her position clear - she’s explicitly placed in the same category as Bruce here in terms of her wealth and control of the city.  I’m assuming that pregnancy also made magically clean whatever money she used to buy up the city when it was on its knees.  She didn’t seem to have access to her parents’ cash before now - so she must have used her ill-gotten gains.  

(I would argue that strategically buying up parts of the city post-reunification is screamingly Oswald, but like other chunks of his characterisation and storyline, it got sent Barbara’s way in season 5 in a bid to flesh out her character)

Last up, she’s not demanding a romantic relationship with Jim anymore, but they’re now forever safely tied in that context due to their daughter - there’s no mention of Tabitha, or casual mention of a new partner.   Troublesome, restless Barbara, poor little rich girl – demanding of Jim’s time and attention, namelessly unhappy, and with a murky ‘past’ is now ‘fixed’ and neutralised.

Thinking about those brought into the fold necessarily asks you to think about those who were excluded.

Oswald might have roots in an elite family, like Barbara, but - crucially - he’s also one part poor immigrant (as well as all his many other markers of 'otherness').   He can’t escape this - we got his jangling east European music as soon as we saw him in this episode, and we were reminded of Gertrud when he said he would lay flowers on her grave as his first act after his release.  

Ed’s background is unknown, but we can safely hazard a guess that there’s no moneyed upper-class upbringing there.  He was also willing to step up when it counted, and was even used by those in power for their own ends during the break – but none of that counts for anything, apparently, and he finds himself in Arkham.  You could argue that Ed is unwell, and needs to be in a hospital – but Arkham is not shown as a hospital in any meaningful sense in the show.  It’s an oubliette, where you send those you just can’t be bothered dealing with.  It doesn’t look any better here than we’ve seen it before.  Why hasn’t anyone tried to improve it? Again, they don’t have to succeed - if you’re determined to stick to canon, but why not suggest that Jim or Lee or Lucius has at least tried to have conditions improved or an official review launched into treatment of inmates?  It would go a long way to nodding to the long and complex histories these characters have.  However things ended – Lee and Ed had a pretty intense relationship.  They cared about each other.  She can sleep at nights knowing he’s in Arkham?  

Jeremiah might have been clever enough to win himself a scholarship and a way out of the circus – but it’s not enough to enable him to escape his past – either explicitly, when he was hunted down by his resentful brother, or implicitly – when he winds up in a similar situation to the other outsiders.  Yes, Jeremiah might have been manipulating the situation – but he was still sent to Arkham and left vulnerable to casual abuse.  Whether it’s intended or not, Jeremiah’s accusation of abandonment can be read more deeply.  Bruce left town - but, just like Oswald and Ed, the city in general abandoned him.

Selina’s an example who, I would argue, reinforces that this moral order of the universe.  She's always been depicted more ambiguously - capable of villainous acts, but tied to the heroes through her bond with Bruce.  This is reflected in what we learn about her here.  Like Jeremiah, she's been punished by Bruce's abandonment, but her grey heroic status means that she doesn't lose her freedom, despite living a life of crime.

So what picture are we painted of the city?

Aubrey James is back in charge - corrupt as Oswald ever was as mayor, but less competent.  The city’s remains were picked clean by Barbara - it’s now seemingly largely owned and controlled by two scions of the city’s elite. The commissioner’s got more than one murder to his name.  His wife has one attempted murder to hers - giving her the benefit of the doubt and assuming that Sofia’s still in her coma.  Arkham’s still a hellhole.

What does all that say?  Like I said before, you can argue that this was the inevitable endpoint – but you’ve changed the story already, so that doesn’t wash.

What you’re left with is the outsiders comprehensively punished.  You can sacrifice your chance at escape and an easy life in favour of standing shoulder to shoulder to defend the city, you can be unwell, you can be a victim – doesn’t count.  No matter what you do – you’ll always be an outsider anyway.  You can’t win for losing.  Some are chosen, some aren’t. And if you’re not, tough luck.  

So in this universe, why the hell not don a showy suit and your best hat and commit yourself to villainy?  Go for it, I say.

(Yes - I’m aware this is more analysis than it warranted, and it really just wanted to say ‘look Oswald has a monocle and Batman’s here now!’ - but I felt the need for venting meta)