#gotta draw some good Dee content to make up for it

[specialtysacrifice]

I think we could all use a good hug lately. Here's the charmac hug on its own <3 x

[cosmicgardencreative]

Some thoughts

Everyone's heard someone's own tale of woe of missing the old days of the internet. Never once during my 20s did I think about what kind of struggles NSFW artists would go through into the 21st century.

But after departing from y!Gallery for transphobic rules, then tumblr's poor handling of the porn ban, and now Twitter/X for just general wtf-ery, it's not easy uploading anything adult content nowadays and hope to build rapport.

Needless to say, I think tumblr is a fine platform if you toe the line just right. After Ismaire's sequel Halloween piece was hidden then red-flagged, it got me thinking about our experience so far on tumblr:

1) I follow #dark fantasy with the intent of seeing dark/gothic artwork, and yet somehow "dark fantasy" is conflated with dirty talk. I didn't think much on it cos whatever, everyone has their thoughts. Recently, though, the algorithm suggested a post where someone openly talks about masturbating to a porn vid and getting lost in their orgasmic headspace. It left me impressed when I realized how many people are willing to express their kinks with such explicitness -- without any mature labels. Surely Community Safety has bigger fish to fry, like those porn spam bots👍

2) An artist I follow shared a nsfw link to an old post with the Mature community label, and the image depicted an obviously explicit penetrative sex. Surprisingly, it's still hanging on because I guess a cleverly placed sticker was a good enough censor. You'd think this is somewhat encouraging that maybe we too can share some creatively drawn sexy times. The same artist also managed to hide an explicit pic of their OC getting finger banged under a "keep reading" link, and that was definitely not censored. I'm glad they're able to show it off, but personally, that's way too many mental hoops to jump through just to share the conclusion to the OC's horniness.

3) So then I post a drawing of a queer triad wearing scantily-clad costumes, no labels for potential mature content. We'll ignore that MyungJin was showing of their breasts, albeit no obvious nipples, and Vance's package was implied under the skirt. Meanwhile, Ismaire's sequel piece, labled as "Mature" + "sexual themes" gets hidden right after uploading. We were left confused why it wouldn't show on our dash or in the tags. After a few attempts of troubleshooting, then we saw why: Community Safety deemed Vance's hand going down Bidan's panties as sexually explicit, even though no genitalia was exposed. After meditating on it, though, we both figured it may as well have infringed the community guidelines🤷🏻 There's no reason why we should be confused by this, right? Especially after point #2.

While I'm on this topic, I need to point out that tumblr failed at being transparent how their Community Labels work. Yes, it works by helping people who don't want to see mature content. But was there ever a mention on how tumblr will hide your post from tag search if it detects infringement even with the Mature label? Maybe we're late to the party, but I guess it now makes sense how some posts are able to fly under the radar. Gotta get that visibility somehow.

For those that do, remember how some people's posts were randomly flagged for mature content before the purge? I had to wonder if tumblr was able to refine an automated bot/AI that can visually detect mature themes, and flag it for staff to review. Or maybe they just straight up queue in a mature post pool for people to manually review and release.

This happened to an upload I did on a fandom blog this year. It was a Leon/Ada pic that showed a lot of bite marks on Leon, Ada's skirt was hiked up exposing her butt, and the post was clearly marked "Mature". I contacted support about it, asking why it's taken more than a day for it show up in the tags. All I got in response was that I should give it time, but they'll also look into the community label for me.

The conclusion was laughably redundant: "We deemed your post as mature and labeled it for you." I mean, sure, I guess I needed their stamp of approval that it was indeed "Mature". Least I got a win when it was now allowed to be floating in the tags after a couple days of the initial upload 🙄

It's tiring to compartmentalize your art when sexuality is part of the experience. And to be clear, I'm not complaining. It's just discouraging thinking that you're being compliant, to put all this thought and energy into creating a piece, only to have it hidden with no communication that it's even being reviewed until you get an email saying the post has been flagged. Meanwhile, there are people out there who'll just explicitly talk about their kinks without the community labels, or have the post appropriately labeled, but then share the real spice under read more links.

Sure, we could've appealed, but honestly, we're just here to have fun and post. Neither of us care to spend the energy debating nuance and the subjectiveness of mature content with a company who didn't find solutions to not shaft their community from the beginning. Tumblr has evolved, and it's made it clear that queer artists just can't be true with their art.

That all said, we're planning to keep the blog, but just like Instagram and X, it's a lower priority to update when the engagement is already difficult to cultivate.

In a fit of frustration, I got us a key generated to Pillowfort because at this point, where else would we share our stuff? And man, am I glad I did. It's only been a few days, and honestly, we feel a lot better for it. We're not here for the numbers or clout, but it's a pleasant surprise seeing that we gained a few new followers in less than a day after we introduced ourselves to the community.

And I'm gonna be real: it's refreshing to have people actually like your stuff without worrying whether someone's gonna judge them for it, or that there's some pending horny jail waiting for them. The like function is pretty much like an AO3 kudos, and I think that's for the better really. If I liked something enough that I want to find it again, then it's more meaningful to share it so others can see it too.

If you've read this far, and are interested in participating on a platform where engagement and communication is encouraged, with an easy NSFW label system, hmu. I'm happy to generate keys for anyone to try out :)

[dustedmagazine]

Music for Films, Vol. II: Chick Habit

For good and for ill, Quentin Tarantino’s movies have been strongly associated with postmodern pop culture — particularly by folks whose reactions to the word “postmodern” tend toward pursed lips and school-marmishly wagged fingers. There for a while, reading David Denby on Tarantino was similar to reading Michiko Kakutani on Thomas Pynchon: almost always the same review, the same complaints about characters lacking “psychological depth,” the same handwringing over an ostensible moral insipidness. Truth be told, Tarantino’s pranksome delight with flashy surfaces and stylistic flourishes that are ends in themselves gives tentative credence to some of the caviling. Critics have raised related concerns over the superficiality of Tarantino’s tendency toward stunt casting, especially his resurrections of aging actors relegated to the film industry’s commercial margins: John Travolta, Pam Grier, Robert Forster, David Carradine, Darryl Hannah, Don Johnson and so on. There might be a measure of cynicism in the accompanying cinematic nudging and winking, but it’s also the case that a number of the performances have been terrific.

The writer-director brings a similar sensibility to his sound-tracking choices, demonstrating the cooler-than-thou, deep-catalog knowledge of an obsessive crate-digger. Tarantino thematized that knowledge in his break-through feature, Reservoir Dogs (1992). Throughout the film, the characters tune in to Steven Wright deadpanning as the deejay of “K-Billy’s Super Sounds of the Seventies”; like the characters, the viewer transforms into a listener, treated to such fare as the George Baker Selection’s “Little Green Bag” (1970) and Harry Nilsson’s “Coconut” (1971). As with the above-mentioned actors, Tarantino has sifted pop culture’s castoffs and detritus, unearthing songs and delivering experiences of renewed value — and thereby proving the keenness of his instincts and aesthetic wit. “Listen to (or look at) this!” he seems to say, with his cockeyed, faux-incredulous grin. “Can you believe you were just going to throw this out?” And mostly, it works. If the Blue Swede’s “Hooked on a Feeling” (1974) has become a sort of semi-ironized accompaniment to hipsterish good times, that resonance has a lot more to do with Tim Roth, Harvey Keitel and Co. cruising L.A. in a hulking American sedan than with the Disney Co.’s Guardians of the Galaxy (2014).

In Death Proof (2007), Tarantino’s seventh film and unaccountably his least favorite, soundtrack and screen are both full to bursting with the flotsam and jetsam of “entertainment” conceived as an industry. 

In just the opening minutes, we see outmoded moviehouse announcements, complete with cigarette-burn cue dots; big posters of Brigitte Bardot from Les Bijoutiers du claire de lune (1958) and of Ralph Nelson’s Soldier Blue (1970) bedecking the apartment of Jungle Julia (Sydney Tamiia Poitier); the tee shirt worn by Shanna (Jordan Ladd), which bears the image of Tura Satana; and strutting under all of it are the brassy cadences of Jack Nitzsche’s “The Last Race,” taken from his soundtrack for the teensploitation flick Village of the Giants (1965). Bibs and bobs, bits and pieces of low- and middle-brow cinema are cut up and reconstructed into a fulsome swirl of signs. And there’s an unpleasant edge to it; the cuts are echoed by the action of the camera, which has been busily cleaving the bodies of the women on screen into fragments and parts. First the feet of Arlene (Vanessa Ferlito), propped up on a dashboard; then Julia, all ass and gams; then Arlene’s lower half again, chopped into slices by the stairs she dashes up (“I gotta take the world’s biggest fucking piss!”) and by the close-up that settles on her belly and pelvis, her hand shoved awkwardly into her crotch. 

As often happens in Tarantino’s movies, furiously busy meta-discursive play collapses the images’ problematic content under multiple levels of reference and pastiche. The film is one half of Grindhouse (2007), Tarantino’s collaboration with his buddy Robert Rodriguez, an old-fashioned double-feature comprising the men’s love letters to the exploitation cinema of the 1960s and 1970s. In those thousands of movies — mondo, beach-cutie, nudie-cutie, women in prison, early slasher, rape-revenge, biker gang, chop-socky, Spaghetti Western and muscle-car-worship flicks (and we could add more subgenres to the list) — symbolic violence inflicted on women’s bodies was de rigueur, and frequently the principal draw. Tarantino shot Death Proof himself, so he is (more than usually) directly responsible for all the framing and focusing — and he’s far too canny a filmmaker not to know precisely what he’s doing with and to those bodies. The excessive, camera-mediated gashing and trimming is a knowing, perhaps deprecating nod to all that previous, gratuitous T&A. His sound-tracking choice of “The Last Race” metaphorically underscores the point: in Bert I. Gordon’s Village of the Giants, bikini-clad teens find and consume an experimental growth serum, which causes them to expand to massive proportions. Really big boobs, actual acres of ass. Get it?

Of course, all the implied japing and judging is deeply embedded in the film’s matrix of esoteric references and fleeting allusions. You’d have to be very well versed in the history of exploitation cinema to pick up on the indirect homage to Gordon’s goofy movie. But as in Reservoir Dogs, Tarantino doesn’t just gesture, he dramatizes, folding an authoritative geekdom into the action of Death Proof. In the set-up to Death Proof’s notorious car crash scene, Julia is on the phone, instructing one of her fellow deejays to play “Hold Tight!” (1966) by Dave Dee, Dozy, Beaky, Mick & Tich. Don’t recognize the names? “For your information,” Julia snorts, Pete Townsend briefly considered abandoning the Who, and he thought about joining the now-obscure beat band, to make it “Dave Dee, Dozy, Beaky, Mick, Tich & Pete. And if you ask me, he should have.”

It’s among the most gruesomely violent sequences in Tarantino’s films (which do not run short on graphic bloodshed), and Julia receives its most spectacular punishment. Those legs and that rump, upon which the camera has lavished so much attention, are torn apart. Her right leg flips, flies and slaps the pavement, a hunk of suddenly flaccid meat. Again, Tarantino proves himself an adept arranger of image, sign and significance. Want to accuse him of fetishizing Julia’s legs? He’ll materialize the move, reducing the limb to a manipulable fragment, and he’ll invest the moment with all of the intrinsic violence of the fetish. He’ll even do you one better — he’ll make that violence visible. Want to watch? You better buckle up and hold tight. 

Hold on a second. “Hold Tight”? The soundtrack has passed over from intertextual in-joke to cruel punchline. It doesn’t help that the song is so much fun, and that it’s fun watching the girls groove along to it, just before Stuntman Mike (Kurt Russell) obliterates them, again and again and again. The awful insistence of the repetition is another set-up, establishing the film’s narrative logic: the repeated pattern and libidinal charge-and-release of Stuntman Mike’s vehicular predations. It is, indeed, “a sex thing,” as Sheriff Earl McGraw (Michael Parks) informs us in his cartoonish, redneck lawman’s drawl. Soon the sexually charged repetitions pile up: see Abernathy’s (Rosario Dawson) feet hanging out of Kim’s (Tracie Thom) 1972 Mustang, in a visual echo of Arlene’s, and of Julia’s. Then listen to Lee (Mary Elizabeth Winstead) belt out some of Smith’s cover of “Baby It’s You” (1969), which we most recently heard 44 minutes before, as Julia danced ecstatically by the Texas Chili Bar’s jukebox. Then watch Abernathy as she sees Stuntman Mike’s tricked-out ’71 Nova, a vibrating hunk of metallic machismo — just like Arlene saw it, idling menacingly back in Austin, with another snatch of “Baby It’s You” wisping through that moment’s portent. 

For a certain kind of viewer, the Nova’s low-slung, growling charms are hard to resist, as is the sleazy snarl of Willy DeVille’s “It’s So Easy” (1980; and we might note that Jack Nitzsche produced a couple of Mink DeVille’s early records, connecting another couple strands in the web) on the Nova’s car stereo. Those prospective pleasures raise the question of just who the film is for. That may seem obvious: the same folks — dudes, mostly — who find pleasure in exploitation movies like Vanishing Point (1971), Satan’s Sadists (1969) or The Big Doll House (1971). But there are a few other things to account for, like how Death Proof repeatedly passes the Bechdel Test, and how long those scenes of conversation among women go on, and on. Most notable is the eight-minute diner scene, a single take featuring Abernathy, Kim, Lee and Zoë (Zoë Bell, doing a cinematic rendition of her fabulous self, an instance of stunt casting that literalizes the “stunt” part). Among other things, the women discuss their careers in film, the merits of gun ownership and Kim and Zoë’s love of (you guessed it) car chase movies like Vanishing Point. One could read that as a liberatory move, a suggestion that cinema of all kinds is open to all comers. All that’s required is a willingness to watch. But watching the diner scene becomes increasing claustrophobic. The camera circles the women’s table incessantly, and on the periphery of the shot, sitting at the diner’s counter, is Stuntman Mike. The circling becomes predatory, the threat seems pervasive. 

If you’ve seen the film, you know how that plays out: Zoë and Kim play “ship’s mast” on a white 1970 Dodge Challenger (the Vanishing Point car); Stuntman Mike shows up and terrorizes them mercilessly; but then Abernathy, Zoë and Kim chase him down and beat the living shit out of him, likely fatally. In another sharply conceived cinematic maneuver, Tarantino executes a climactic sequence that inverts the diner scene: the women surround Stuntman Mike, abject and pleading, and punch and kick him as he bounces from one of them to another. The camera zips from vantage to vantage within the circle, deliriously tracking the action. All the jump cuts intensify the violence, and they provide another contrast to the diner’s scene’s silky, unbroken shot. The sounds and the impact of the blows verge on slapstick, and our identification with the women makes it a giddily gross good time.

So, an inversion seeks to undo repetition. Certainly, Stuntman Mike’s intent to repeat the car-crash-kill-thrill is undone, and predator becomes prey. But, as is inevitable with Tarantino’s cinema, there are complications, other echoes and patterns to suss out. For instance: as the women stride toward the wrecked Nova, while Stuntman Mike pathetically wails, the camera zooms in on their asses. Bad asses? Nice asses? What’s the right nomenclature? To make sure we can put the shot together with Julia’s first appearance in the film, Abernathy has hiked up her skirt, revealing a lot of leg. Repetition reasserts itself. In an exacerbating circumstance, Harvey Weinstein’s grubby fingerprints are smeared onto the film. Rodriguez’s Troublemaker Studios is credited with production of Grindhouse, but Dimension Films, a Weinstein Brothers company, handled distribution.  

When the film cuts to its end titles, we hear April March’s “Chick Habit” (1995), with its spot-on lyric: “Hang up the chick habit / Hang it up, daddy / Or you’ll never get another fix.” And so on. Even here, where the girl-power vibe feels strongest (cue Abernathy burying a bootheel in Stuntman Mike’s face), there are echoes, patterns. Note how the striding bassline of “Chick Habit” strongly recalls the pulse beating through Nitzsche’s “The Last Race.” Note that March’s song is a cover, of “Laisse tomber les filles,” originally recorded by yé-yé girl France Gall. The song was penned by Serge Gainsbourg, pop provocateur and notorious womanizer. The two collaborated again, releasing “Les Sucettes,” a tune about a teeny-bopper who really likes sucking on lollipops, when Gall was barely 18; the accompanying scandal nearly torpedoed her career. Gall refused to ever sing another song by Gainsbourg, and disavowed her hits.  

Again, that’s all deeply embedded, somewhere in the film’s complicated play of pop irony and double-entendre and the sudden explosions of delight and disgust that intermittently reveal and conceal. Again, you’d have to know your pop history really well to catch up with the complications, and Death Proof moves so fast that there’s always another reference or allusion demanding your attention as the cars growl and the blood spurts. Too many signs to track, too many signals to decipher — that’s the postmodern. But perhaps we have become too glib, assuming that all signs are somehow equivalent. Death Proof insists otherwise. Much has been made of the film’s strange relation to digital filmmaking, of the sort that Rodriguez has made a career out of. Part of Grindhouse’s shtick is its goofball applications of CGI, all the scratches and skips and flaws that the filmmakers lovingly applied. They are digital effects, masquerading as damaged celluloid. Tarantino cut back against that grain, filming as much of the car chase’s maniacal stuntwork in meatspace as he safely could. Purposeful practical filmmaking, for a digitally enhanced cinematic experience, attempting to mimic the ways real film interacts with the physical environment and its manifold histories. Is that clever, or just more cultural clutter?  

Amid all the clutter that crowds the characters onscreen, and their conversations in the film’s field of sound, it can be easy to lose track of the distinctions between appearances and the traces of the real bodies that worked to bring Death Proof to life. Which is why Tarantino’s inclusion of Bell is so crucial. She provides another inversion: Instead of masking her individual presence, doing stunts for other actresses in their clothes and hair (for Lucy Lawless in Xena: Warrior Princess, or for Uma Thurman in Tarantino’s Kill Bill films), Bell is herself, doing what she does best, projecting the technical elements of filmmaking — usually meant to bleed seamlessly into illusion — right onto the surface of the screen. And instead of allowing one group of girls to slip into a repeated pattern, bodies easily exchanged for other bodies, Bell’s presence and its implicit insistence on her particularity (who else can move like she does?) breaks up the superficial logic of cinema’s market for the feminine. She disrupts its chick habit. There’s only one woman like her. 

Jonathan Shaw

[vintagedolan]

mixtape: the b-sides

welcome to mixtape, the b-sides! these are little blurbs/bonus content related to mixtape, which you can read here. these little snippets are just for fun, and you don’t have to read them to follow the story! but, if you want to see all of them in one place, check them out here

track: wildfire by ben rector

Author’s Note: this is gray and indy’s first morning in jersey :’) andddd it’s dedicated to the wonderful mar, aka @sunshineforgray because her sweet words actually broke me out of my writers block hope you enjoy!!

Indiana hadn’t slept in many beds with many boys. It wasn’t that she was opposed to it - the opportunity just hadn’t really risen. She was usually ‘married to her books’ as her dad always said, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have a few high school flings that fizzled out. But not before she managed to sneak them into her house at least once for some nerve-ridden nights under the sheets.

But damn if she didn’t know that she was ruined for any boy that dared come after Grayson Bailey Dolan as soon as she woke up. It took her a minute to orient to where she was as she looked around - unfamiliar walls, a tan dresser, a shirt. Grayson’s. She was in Jersey.

It clicked then, and she remembered the night before, coming inside from their sweet moment on the swing to a quiet house, her shower, climbing into bed with him. 

They’d made it under the covers at some point and fallen asleep - her hoodie had ridden up around her chest, Grayson’s warm arm wrapped around her entirely, holding it in place. His hand was tucked under her ribs to hold her against him, which made it difficult, but not impossible to twist around to face him.

He grumbled at her movements, brows knitting together as he shifted, arm tightening against her back and pinning her to him. She brought her hands to his chest, tracing her fingertips over his warm skin. There were a few spots, little white flecks across his skin that seemed to be fading away. She found a few scars in her search, little tribulations to moments passed. Her favorite discovery was the slightly coarse, short regrowth of his chest hair - had he shaved it? She wondered why, but only for a moment, because then he was really moving, his other arm coming up to stretch out as he buried his face in his elbow. 

His eyes were puffy when he finally opened them, and he blinked hard a few times - she could practically see the wheels turning in his head as the night before came back to him. And then he was smiling his sleepy smile, the one that only had the energy to lift the corners of his lips up a tiny bit and squint his eyes shut. She wiggled up, only managing to get where she wanted to be when he caught on and flexed his arm, pulling her up onto his chest as he rolled onto his back. She licked her dry lips before she pressed them against his, soft and welcoming as the song of the birds that were starting to rouse outside. 

“Good morning,” he hummed, chest rumbling a bit with the bass of it. “What time is it?”

She reached for his arm, turning his wrist and reading his watch. 

“8:34,” she mumbled, relaxing down against him, cheek on his chest as he breathed.

“So we’re both early risers. Good to know. Couple goals.” 

She scoffed against him, but it was for show. It was nice to have a subtle confirmation that she hadn’t dreamed up everything from the evening before. They basked in the silence for a moment and Indy found herself tracing letters again, feather light touch over his ribs. I-N-D-Y. And then D-E-E. 

“Dee.”

“Hmm?”

“That’s what you wrote, right? D-E-E.”

She nodded against him with a smile.

“Write something, I’ll try to guess,” she said. She went to roll her sleeve up, but he had other plans. His hand moved to her back, up under her hoodie to land on soft skin. She focused in on the feeling, tried to visualize what he was drawing.

W-A-R-M.

“I’m warm huh? That’s a first. It’s only cause you’re a space heater though.”

“Your turn.”

She wrote a bit faster against his chest.

C-O-F-F

“Hey, take it easy, I’m dyslexic. Gotta give me a chance,” he frowned, making her press a kiss to his shoulder quickly to muffle her laugh. She started over, slower this time. 

C-O-F-F-E-E.

“That can be arranged,” Grayson smiled. “You need it now? Or can we stay in bed a little longer.” 

“I could probably be persuaded,” she mused, scrunching her nose at him before both his arms snaked around her shoulders, trapping her there. He craned his neck forward to kiss her a few times before he thought of a better option, rolling her over so she was underneath him. She was pretty sure it was the best view that anyone could ever have - her shirtless boyfriend above her, chain hanging down, chilly against her neck when he leaned down and peppered kisses across her face. She eventually caught his lips and convinced him to stay there for a moment, long enough for her to get her hand into his hair, making him hum against her.

“We’re having sleepovers every night. No exceptions,” he breathed.

“My bed’s comfier,” she giggled, chasing after his lips as his hands roamed, so big that she felt like they could wrap around her.

Indy didn’t know how long they stayed like that, but eventually she was on her side facing him and his hand traced down to her hip. His eyes shone hazel in the light that peeked in through the window, showing off flecks of gold and green. 

“What do you have on the agenda today?”

“Gotta study for my medical terminology quiz, read for bio, and study for my anatomy exam. And then Bekah later.”

“Shit. So I need to get you back to your place then.”

Her knee jerk reaction was to say yes, but there was a disappointed understanding in his voice that had her resolve wavering. Sure, she’d have to grind to get it all done but…

“I can stay for breakfast. If you’re cooking.” 

“Really?” His eyes lit up, a wide smile stretching across his face.

“Depends on what you’re making.”

“I’ll make whatever you want, as long as it’s vegan.” 

“I’m not much of a breakfast person actually, so I’m down for anything.”

He mocked offense, bringing his hand to his chest dramatically.

“Oh you will be after my vegan french toast.”

“That a promise?”

“Fuck yeah it is,” he laughed, burying his face in her neck one last time before he rolled off, standing up and stretching out. She knew she was staring, but she didn’t care. The way his muscles moved under his skin was mesmerizing - she could have watched it for another hour, but he reached out for her hand and coaxed her out of bed. She headed down the hallway behind him, down the stairs and into the kitchen. 

There was a morning chill over the house that she tried to fight off by sticking close to Grayson until he started to move around the kitchen, gathering a bowl, a pan, bread, some vegan egg replacement from the fridge. 

“Is that oat milk?” It caught her eye in the fridge door. 

“Yeah, that’s the good shit.”

“You want coffee?”

He nodded, smiling as she snuck behind him and grabbed the bottle from the fridge.

Indy had always imagined this - an early morning with a boy, the whole throwing-flour-at-each other and over the top flirting trope sticking in her head from cheesy pinterest pictures and unrealistic movies. Still, she wanted it. But that morning, it wasn’t like the pictures, or the movies. She went around the corner and made the lattes, spending extra time on Grayson’s to make sure it was perfect. And he put a little extra cinnamon on her french toast, made sure it was prepped just the right way.

And somehow, it was better. 

Probably because when she came around the corner with the mugs and climbed up onto the counter, Grayson took his spare hand and rested it on her thigh, rubbing soft circles with his thumb. The conversation moved easily after that, only broken up by pauses for sips of coffee and toast transfers. 

Gray suggested breakfast on the porch, but not until he’d found an old blanket in the chest in the living room for Indy to put over her shorts-clad legs. They ended up sharing it, throwing it over their laps as they sat shoulder to shoulder on the bench with their plates balanced carefully. Grayson watched her take her first bite, a prideful smile spreading across his face when she groaned.

“Holy shit that’s good. Is that your recipe?”

He nodded, ignoring the nagging thought in his head that Ethan had definitely been a part of that development.

“Told you so.” He nudged her shoulder.

Grayson finished his toast before Indy had even moved on to her second piece, but he didn’t mind. He just sat there with her, leaned against her, laughed quietly to himself when she wiggled a bit as she ate - he’d heard that girls did that, but he’d never actually seen it. 

Eventually the plates were moved to the side and the mugs emptied, and they found themselves in each other’s arms again, watching the rest of the woods wake up.

“Do you like being out here? In Jersey?”

She nodded against his shoulder. “It’s a good break, from the city.” 

“Good, cause I like having you out here. It’ll be even better when I have my own place instead of being at mom’s,” he mused. Indy perked up at that with a frown.

“I like your mom.” 

“I know, it’s nothing against her. I just like having you all to myself.” 

Her cheeks were warm again.

“Well, you have me all to yourself right now,” she teased, quirking an eyebrow at him. He gave her a devious grin, hand moving down her thigh so he could pull her over practically into his lap. 

“I could get used to that.”

[nommy-thoughts]

Danger Noodles Epilogue

Wordcount: 4.4 K

Summary: You can’t just bring two giant nagas into town, even the outskirts of town, and expect that nobody will notice.

Breakfast, repercussions, and departure.

Cowritten with @that-prey-lounge​!

[Danger Noodles Masterpost]

~~~~~

The two giant nagas woke at dawn, as was their habit. The others, unused to rising so early, remained asleep. Luckily for them, their scaled beds seemed perfectly content to be still and watch the little ones sleep. Remus gently stroked Patton’s hair, an extremely fond expression on his face.

Dee-Dee was the next to wake, stretched out over a few branches inside his tank. With a little yawn, he started to stir slowly, but jolted up at noticing the giant naga scent that had filled the house. He peered through the glass and soon spotted all three of his humans sleeping in the nest made out of the giant nagas’ coils.

They must have fallen asleep there since they couldn’t get to their bedrooms. Dee-Dee vaguely remembered Logan pulling him away from Patton at some point last night and putting him to bed in his tank instead. For his own safety, Logan had said, though Dee-Dee would have preferred to stay with Patton, to protect him.

Well, he would just have to go back to Patton again now. With that decided, Dee-Dee slithered up the ladder-like slope Logan had installed in the corner of his tank when they’d first gotten it, which allowed him to get in and out on his own.

A rumbling voice filled the air. “Hello, little one.” Dee-Dee blinked and peeked out over the rim of his tank. The red naga had turned, looking at him. “Sleep well?”

“As well as I could, with my humans in the coils of hungry giants,” Dee-Dee answered pointedly. He tugged on his capelet, adjusting it minutely.

The giant naga chuckled softly, while the other continued to pet Patton.

Dee-Dee huffed and lowered himself down to the table and then to the floor. It seemed he’d have to wake his humans up himself. He slithered across the floor, and froze when a shadow fell over him. He looked up to see the red naga — Roman, Dee-Dee recalled — looming over him.

“Where do you think you’re going? Hm?”

The micro naga couldn’t allow himself to be intimidated like this. He gave a fierce look up at the giant. “I’m going to get my human up so I can get some breakfast.”

“It’ll take ages for you to climb over to Patton, if you can even scale our tails.” Roman lazily draped his torso over the nearest bend of his tail. “Want a hand?”

“I can get him myself!” Dee-Dee determinedly slithered forward, but stopped short as he approached the nearest massive coil, thicker than he was long.

“Still don’t want that hand?”

“No!” Dee-Dee hissed softly. He reached out a hand, hesitating for a moment, and then pressed his fingers into a crack between two of Roman’s scales, trying to ignore how much larger than his hands each scale was. Using his grip for leverage, Dee-Dee pulled himself up an inch or so. He reached up with his other hand, feeling for another crack. As he felt around for some place to hold onto, his other hand slipped from where it had found purchase, and Dee-Dee landed back on the floor. He huffed in annoyance, readjusting his capelet once again.

Roman laid his stupidly big hand on the floor next to the micro naga. Dee-Dee glared at the offending appendage before glancing around for another option.

“C’mon, little noodle, I don’t bite.”

Dee-Dee still glared at Roman, but he did pull himself up onto his hand, climbing over fingers that were thicker than his entire body, and settled in his palm. “Bring me to Patton, and no grabbing!” he commanded.

“Yesssssir.” Roman teasingly flickered his tongue before carefully lifting Dee-Dee and moving him over their tails. Dee-Dee could not allow himself to be intimidated by the height. He was on a mission. He needed to get his human up.

“Oh em gee!” Remus suddenly loomed over Dee-Dee, who had to suppress a shudder. “He’s so liddle!”

“Yeah, so don’t bump me.” Roman glared at his twin.

“Right, can’t let Patton’s precious baby go ‘splat.’” Remus backed off and settled back down, resuming his petting of Patton.

Roman allowed himself a put-upon sigh before lowering his hand so his fingertips rested on Patton’s chest. Dee-Dee quickly slithered off. He brushed off his clothes once more, offended that those annoyingly big brutes had got their scent all over him. But at last he was where he wanted to be. “Patton. Patton, get up!”

Patton only mumbled softly, so Dee-Dee resorted to drastic measures. He slithered across Patton’s chest, up to his ear, and licked it, flicking his little tongue inside the ticklish opening.

Patton sat bolt upright, smacking his head against Remus’ palm in the process. “Ow!”

“Sorry.” Remus quickly pulled his hands back. “You okay?”

“’M fine.” Patton yawned, rubbing at his ear. “Dee-Dee, what was that for?”

“I’m hungry,” Dee-Dee said with a pout. “And I didn’t like this giant petting my human.” He wrapped his arms possessively around Patton’s neck as far as they could go and glared up at Remus, who only grinned back.

Patton gave him a fond pat on the back. “It’s okay, kiddo. We’re safe here.” He glanced around the nest of tails. Roman had started gently petting Logan instead, and Virgil lay tucked against a loop of Remus’s tail, arms and legs wrapped as far around it as he could reach. Patton yawned a bit. “I think I should make pancakes. What do you think, Dee-Dee?”

Dee-Dee relaxed with a smile. “I love pancakes.” He nuzzled Patton’s neck.

It was a slight struggle for Patton to get to his feet without upsetting Dee-Dee’s balance or stepping on a sensitive part of the twins, but he managed to get out of the impromptu nest without incident.

Patton stretched his legs and his arms out forward. “Could you wake the others? I’ll get started on breakfast.” He wandered into the kitchen, stifling another yawn. “Coffee first.”

Remus glanced at the sleeping humans. “Do we have to? They’re so cute all snuggled up.”

Roman heaved a sigh, and then gently poked Logan in the side. He didn’t react, so Roman did it again. Meanwhile, Remus pried Virgil off his tail, easily waking the young man.

Virgil scrambled for a second, trying to get to his feet, but he stumbled and fell right back into Remus’ hands.

“Morning.” The giant naga softly grinned and set Virgil on the couch cushion.

“Oh. Morning.” He blinked softly. “Sorry about intruding, we couldn’t get into the bedrooms.”

Remus waved him off. “It’s fine. I enjoyed cuddling, and you’re cute.”

By now, Roman managed to wake Logan, who grunted and crawled out of the nest.

“Well, good morning to you too, grumpus.”

“Logan normally doesn’t wake up well if he stays up late.” Virgil picked up the notebook left on the couch, glancing through the pages. “And looking at the details in these, he stayed up late.” He looked over at Logan, who was currently retrieving his glasses from the table to put them on his face. “I told you not to stay up too late,” Virgil scolded. “You promised not to.”

“I had the scale reference of not only multiple humans in their coils, but everyday furniture,” Logan pointed out. “It was an opportunity I simply could not pass up.”

Virgil gave him a Look. “Am I going to have to make you take a nap?”

“Virgil, you cannot force me to nap,” Logan answered, avoiding the question.

“I’ll get Patton to help me,” Virgil retorted. “If we both lie on top of you, we can probably hold you down.”

Logan frowned, then glanced towards the kitchen, from which the scent of coffee was beginning to emanate. He visibly perked up. “If you’ll excuse me.”

Virgil chuckled softly to himself before stretching. “That’s Logan.” He flipped a couple pages in the notebook. “Oh, wow. He’s just been a drawing machine.”

Remus leaned against the wall so he could look down over Virgil’s shoulder at the notebook, and he couldn’t help but be impressed. There was a lovely drawing of himself in the middle of eating prey. He softly touched his face, wondering if his scars really were that pronounced. Before he could ask Virgil that, however, his twin shoved at his coils.

“Hey, move.” Roman was trying to uncoil, but Remus had shifted and had too much weight on a part, so that they were tangled together.

It took a bit for them to uncoil from around each other, made more awkward by the close quarters of the humans’ living room. Virgil had to force himself to not be intimidated as red and green tails sprawled across the entire room. The twins were just so big, and Virgil felt very small beside them.

A little later, Patton came out of the kitchen with a stack of pancakes on a plate. Dee-Dee, playing scarf once more, had a silver dollar pancake in his hands and was contentedly munching on it. Logan followed with a mug of coffee in each hand. “Virgil, breakfast.” Patton set the plate down in the middle of the table. Looking up at the brothers, he added, “I’m working on getting a couple of big stacks for the two of you, so it’s going to be a bit of a wait.”

“You won’t be hearing any complaints from us.” Roman waved his hand. “Cook away, Patton.”

Logan set one mug of coffee at Virgil’s place and took a few long sips from the other.

“What’s that?” Roman asked curiously.

Logan looked up. “Hm?”

The naga pointed. “Your drink.”

“Coffee.” Logan took another sip, then asked, “Have you ever had coffee before?”

“No,” said Roman, shaking his head.

“Is it good?” asked Remus.

Logan shrugged. “I like it, but not everyone does. The main allure is the caffeine, which provides a burst of energy and allows one to wake more rapidly.” He looked down at his mug, then up at the twins again, lifting it. “Do you want to try?”

“Sure!” Remus said eagerly, reaching down.

“Careful, it’s hot,” Logan cautioned, handing his mug over.

Remus took it between two fingers, looking curiously at the dark liquid within. Then he poured the entire thing into his mouth. For a second, he was still. Then, turning excitedly to his brother, he said, “Roman, you gotta try this, it’s awful!”

“I’ll pass.” Roman shook his head. “That trick only works on me once.”

Logan had to suppress his offended look at Remus insulting his coffee before going to get himself a fresh cup. Virgil quietly snickered into his stack of pancakes before taking a sip of his own coffee.

“How can you guys drink that stuff?” Remus shuddered softly. “It’s so… bitter.”

“That’s because Logan likes his black.” Virgil set his mug down. “I’m not crazy and put creamer and sugar in mine.”

“My mental state has no correlation with how I take my coffee.” Logan sat down at his place with a fresh mug and started to eat. “For decades coffee was consumed by the masses with no additions.”

“Yeah, but we’re not cavemen anymore. We have technology… and flavored creamer.” Virgil took a long sip before returning to his pancakes.

“Can I try yours?” Remus asked, already reaching forward.

“Yeah, I guess.” Virgil handed it over, and Remus downed the entire mugful. He licked his lips, loudly smacking with his tongue.

“How is it?” Roman asked.

Remus shrugged. “Still weird,” he said, giving Virgil his mug back. Virgil got up to refill it.

When he came out, Patton followed behind him. “I’ve got another batch on the griddle,” he said, looking up at the twins. “It’d be barely a mouthful for you, though, so I figured I’d give you several batches at once.”

“That’s fine,” Roman reassured him again. “We appreciate any breakfast at all, since you originally only invited us over for dinner. You’ve been very hospitable.”

Patton grinned, sitting down at the table with his housemates. “Well, thank you,” he said.

The three humans and the micro naga ate, making casual conversation. Patton went back to the kitchen every so often to flip or pour pancakes, but rather than bring them out, he put them in his big roasting pan to keep them warm and soft.

Finally, it was full. Patton brought the heavy pan out, lifting it up triumphantly.

“Thank you,” Roman said, taking it from him. Remus leaned over, looking into the pan. They shook the pancakes out into their palms, half for each brother.

Logan, having finished his own meal, wiped his hands and mouth on his napkin, setting his dishes aside in a neat pile. “Roman, if you don’t mind, may I observe you eating?”

“You’ve already done that?”

“Apologies, I didn’t properly articulate my meaning.” Logan adjusted his glasses. “I’d like to physically observe how things pass through your body, preferably through applying small amounts of pressure to your torso to estimate the location of your esophagus in relation to your internal organs.”

At the bewildered look, Virgil translated. “He wants to Science you to find out more about how you eat, but it’s gonna take him getting in your personal space.”

“Oh.” Roman thought it over for a minute before nodding. “Sure. I don’t mind. Just don’t go sticking your hands in my mouth again. I don’t wanna accidentally bite you.”

“That won’t be necessary.”

“He is about to get pretty hands-on, though,” Virgil warned, taking another sip of coffee. “If he’s too much, you can tell him to stop. He doesn’t get nonverbal cues super well unless you’re an animal.”

Roman nodded. Logan approached excitedly.

The doorbell rang, and everyone looked over, startled. Who could possibly be visiting at this time of the morning?

“I’ll get it,” Virgil sighed, putting his mug down and getting up. He glanced out the window and saw a woman with a big hat at the door. He sighed again and opened up, holding the door mostly closed so that his body blocked the view into the rest of the house. “We’re kinda busy- oh.”

It was the park ranger they had talked to before going into the woods months ago, the one who’d warned them of the naga sightings.

“Hello,” she said. “Do you live here?”

Virgil nodded. “Yeah.”

The ranger glanced down at the clipboard in her hands. “I’m just following up on a call we got. Your neighbor says they saw a huge snake go into your house; they were concerned for your safety.”

Virgil winced. Right, they’d forgotten to warn anyone that the brothers were coming over, and that there was nothing to be worried about. “Uh. Yeah…”

“There is a giant snake?” the ranger asked, immediately concerned. She pulled the radio from her belt. “I’ll get animal control right away. Has it attacked anyone?”

“No, wait!” Virgil exclaimed, throwing out an arm to stop her. “It’s okay, they promised not to hurt anybody!”

The ranger froze. “‘They promised’?” she repeated. “There’s more than one? And they can talk?”

Virgil nodded, trying to think of how to explain this. “There’s two,” he said at last. “And they’re not snakes, they’re giant nagas.”

The ranger gave him an odd look, like she wasn’t sure whether or not to believe him. “You have two giant nagas in your house,” she repeated flatly, “and they’ve promised to go against their man-eating nature and not hurt anyone?”

“Yeah.”

The ranger scoffed.

“I know, it sounds ridiculous,” Virgil said. “But-”

“May I see these friendly nagas?”

Virgil hesitated for a moment. “Uh.”

“Otherwise, I’m afraid I’ll have to write you up for misusing a ranger’s time.”

“Fine.” Virgil opened the door the rest of the way, gesturing for her to come inside. “But don’t freak out, okay?”

The ranger walked past him into the house, glancing around the entryway. Virgil closed the door and followed. Then she stepped through the doorway into the living room and stopped short.

Looking over her shoulder, Virgil saw the twins, somehow taking up even more of the living room than they had before. Logan was sitting on the base of Roman’s tail, raptly observing and taking notes as the giant naga ate pancakes one by one. Remus was watching them, with an almost jealous look on his face. Patton and Dee-Dee were nowhere to be seen, but Virgil figured that they were probably back in the kitchen.

Going past the frozen ranger into the living room, Virgil cleared his throat, and the others looked up. For several seconds, there was silence. Then, before anyone else could break it, Virgil explained, “The neighbors called the ranger station, because they saw someone’s giant scaly behind going into our house and thought we’d all been eaten.”

Roman shook his head. “We wouldn’t eat you!” he protested.

“Yeah, but our neighbors didn’t know that.”

Patton popped back around the corner at that moment, carrying a plate with a big stack of pancakes on it. “I’ve got more pancakes!” he announced cheerfully. “Oh, hi Virgil, who was at the door?”

Virgil gestured to the ranger standing just behind him. “Apparently nobody remembered to tell the neighbors that you invited giant, man-eating nagas over for dinner.”

“Formerly man-eating,” Roman corrected.

“We haven’t eaten a single human in months,” Remus agreed. Patton offered him the plate, and the giant naga took it gratefully. “Thanks.”

The ranger seemed to find her voice. “You… gave up eating humans?” she repeated incredulously. “Just like that?”

The two giant nagas nodded.

“Why?”

Both glanced in Patton’s direction. “Patton would be sad if we ate humans,” Roman explained.

Remus nodded vigorously. “It felt wrong to try and hunt something that looks so much like him.”

The ranger looked at Patton, then back up at the two giant nagas, and then back at Patton again. He gave her a small grin.

“Want to join us for breakfast? We can talk it through.”

The ranger declined, shaking her head. “This is insane.”

Logan adjusted his glasses. “I can agree this is certainly… strange, but they speak the truth. I kept an eye on any news surrounding the forest since we first encountered the twins, and they’ve not harmed any humans since Patton here first convinced them not to devour us. Surely you’ve also noticed the recent drop in missing persons cases.”

Remus stuck his tongue out, poking Logan in the shoulder. “Aww, you kept tabs on us?”

She lifted her head, blinking owlishly. “They were going to eat you… but you convinced them not to? How?!”

Roman picked Patton up, ignoring Dee-Dee’s immediate protests, and dangled him directly in front of the ranger. “Just look at his face, and tell me you’d still try to eat him,” he said. “Patton, do that thing, the really cute one.”

Patton looked over his shoulder up at Roman, eyes widened and head tilted just slightly. “What thing?”

“That’s the one!” Roman beamed. “That’s the look that made me realize I couldn’t.” He set Patton down with a fond smile.

The ranger groaned and glanced at Virgil and Logan. “And you two?”

“Patton informed them of our bond,” Logan explained. “Something along the lines of ‘If you eat them, you’ll have to eat me too.’”

“And obviously we couldn’t do that,” Remus said, looking fondly at Patton. “So we didn’t!” He patted Patton on the head. Dee-Dee hissed up at him.

The ranger looked around the room and slowly rubbed her face. “Fine. Fine. I’ll call off animal control. I’ll explain everything to them, but I’ll be needing statements from the three of you to corroborate the story.” She pointed sternly up at the nagas. “And next time, you need to give prior warning before coming into town. We can work out the details later regarding what kind of warning and how much prior.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“That sounds reasonable,” Logan said. “Wouldn’t want everyone freaking out.”

“Again,” Virgil added softly, rolling his eyes.

The ranger glanced around the living room one more time. “Alright, well then. I should go, make sure nobody sends backup in here after me. Wouldn’t want anyone panicking and making rash decisions.”

Virgil glanced back the way they’d come. “Yeah, I’d prefer to not have the front door kicked down.”

She started back towards the door. “Can you three come by the station this afternoon to give your statements?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Patton nodded and glanced at Logan. “After we send the twins home?”

“Of course.”

“I’ll see you three then.” And with that, she left.

Virgil sighed and sank into one of the table chairs. Logan sat in the chair beside him. “I feel as though we should have foreseen this.”

“Sorry,” Patton said, heading back into the kitchen. “I forgot that they were scary.”

“With how we met, you think we’d remember.” Virgil shook his head. “Especially Logan and I.”

“Yeah, but they’ve been so nice since then, and it’s been months!”

Virgil looked up at the two nagas. “You’re gonna have to go home pretty soon,” he told them.

“Yeah, figured,” Roman chuckled.

“We probably ought to escort you back to the edge of the woods, to ensure your safety,” Logan mused. “I’d hate for someone to shoot at you.”

“I’ve been shot before,” Remus said. “Zero out of ten, would not recommend.” He scowled. “I didn’t even get to eat the guy! He got away while I was distracted by the pain.”

Virgil chuckled, patting him on the hand. “Poor baby,” he said, his voice somehow both sympathetic and teasing. Mostly teasing.

Remus pouted.

“Well,” Roman said reluctantly after a moment of silence. “We should probably be heading for home.”

“Yes, that would probably be best,” Logan agreed, just as reluctantly. He paused. “How did you get in here in the first place?”

“It wasn’t easy.” Roman rubbed the back of his neck. “We had to turn sideways and squish ourselves through your little entrance tunnel. The first part especially was really tight to get through.”

“I would imagine so,” Logan said, looking over at the entryway, then back at the twins. “Lucky we have a wide front door, or else you’d never have gotten your hips through.”

Virgil glanced at the door, then around the room. “D’you think they’d fit better going out the window?”

They all looked. The living room window took up most of the wall, and was certainly wider than the front door.

“They’d have to be more careful not to break it,” Logan said musingly. “Also, that would put them in our backyard.”

“And we’d have to take the screen out,” Patton pointed out, coming back out of the kitchen with another plateful of pancakes. “You still hungry?”

Remus perked up. “Yes please!” he said, reaching for the pancakes.

Roman was staring at the door, occasionally glancing down at himself. “Don’t stuff yourself, Ree,” he said finally. “It was enough of a squeeze getting in on an empty stomach.”

Logan nodded, giving Roman’s tail a significant glance where he had been palpating it. “You’ve certainly become much firmer than before you began eating,” he said. “I expect you’d have trouble fitting through as tight a space as you could slip through before.”

Remus begrudgingly put the stack of pancakes down. “Fine, fine.” He scowled briefly, then sighed. “I guess we’d better go, then.”

Virgil got up. “Door or window?” he asked.

They considered. “Door,” Logan said at last.

With a nod, Virgil went and opened it.

Roman went first. Virgil stepped out of the way as the big red naga slithered past. Roman had to duck his head to enter the hallway, and basically crawl to get through the door. However, despite having to turn sideways and wriggle awkwardly, he made it through without too much difficulty.

Remus stuck.

He got his upper half through alright, as well as about a foot of scaled tail, but just below that, it was thicker, and he jammed in the doorway like a plug.

“I’m stuck,” Remus whined. “Help.”

“Yes, we noticed,” Logan answered. He eyed the giant green tail. “How exactly are we supposed to help?”

“Push!”

“There aren’t exactly handholds, you slippery snake!” Virgil retorted. But all the same, all three humans clustered around, doing their best to push Remus through the door. On the outside, Roman took his brother’s hands, pulling.

Dee-Dee didn’t try very hard to hide his amused, smug smirk at the sight of the giant pest, stuck. But, at least he didn’t taunt him.

“C’mon, suck it in.” Virgil growled. “Logan, on three. One, two, three!” The pair gave an enormous shove.

There was a creak and Remus popped through the doorframe. He tumbled into Roman, and they made a tangled naga knot on the road.

“Are you okay?!” Patton quickly stepped out to check on them.

“We’re fine.” They dusted themselves off, untangling a little, but leaving a loop of tail entwined.

Virgil grabbed Patton’s jacket from its hook by the door as well as his own, following him out. Logan paused in the doorway to check for damage.

“If you get any bigger, we won’t be able to have you over,” Patton said sadly. “Are you done growing yet?”

The twins exchanged glances, then shook their heads.

“Sorry, Patt,” Roman said. “We’re not gonna be full-grown for a while.”

Remus patted Patton’s head. “Don’t be sad, little Patty,” he said. “You can still visit us in the woods.”

“Or get a bigger house!” Roman added.

Remus grinned. “Or get a bigger house,” he agreed.

Patton chuckled. Virgil dropped his jacket on his head. “Don’t catch a cold.”

Patton put it on, and Dee-Dee settled down around his neck again, huddling close for warmth.

“Do you wanna stay home, Dee-Dee?” Patton asked. “You don’t have to come.”

“No,” the little naga said firmly, snuggling down even more. “I’m curious.”

“Alright.” Patton touched him on the head. “But you should probably wear your hat, at least, keep your ears warm,” he added, reaching into his jacket pockets. He found the little soft, warm hat fairly quickly, and passed it over to Dee-Dee, who put it on. “C’mon, Lo.”

“I’m coming, I’m coming.” Logan closed and locked the door. “Looks like Remus didn’t break the doorframe,” he reported. “I’d rather not put that kind of stress on it again, though.”

“Remus, you glutton.” Roman softly punched his brother in the arm.

“Patton is good at making food!” Remus answered, not looking the least bit ashamed. “Come on, let’s go home.”

~~~~~

Fin

If you like this story, check out There’s a Snek in the Woods, a reversed AU in which we swapped the humans and the nagas!

[thekytchensynk]

Business Lunch (Fictober Prompt 15)

Prompt number: 15

Fanfiction Fandom: Ducktales

Rating: G

Warnings: No warnings

Read this story on AO3

The letter had arrived without a return address, which had set off some warning bells for Fenton and ALL of the warning bells for his mother.

"What is this?" She gestured to it. "What sort of fool thinks we'd-" She trailed off as Fenton just opened it the way he would any other piece of junk mail, giving him a look of disbelief mixed with anxiety that, once upon a time, would have meant he was grounded, big-time.

"No one would send me a bomb or something through the mail," he argued.

But it didn’t turn out to be either junk mail or some sort of booby trap. It was, instead, a letter inviting Fenton to a “lunch meeting to discuss a potential scientific opportunity.” It didn’t even use a name, just starting “To the lucky resident” instead.

His mother’s eyes further narrowed. She didn’t even need to say anything -- he knew the contents made her even more suspicious. And to be fair, Fenton couldn’t blame her. To a detective, this had to look like step one in either a scam or crime.

But he’d already decided to check it out. The “meeting” was to be held at a fairly popular cafe called Serene Subsistence, so the chances of someone trying something were low. And if the person knew where he lived, they also probably knew he was Gizmoduck -- he wasn’t sure anyone in the neighborhood didn’t. So if they did try something, he had ways to handle the trouble.

So the next day, Fenton made his way to the cafe. Since it was a nice spring day and since the letter hadn’t specified any particular seating arrangements, he chose to sit at a small outdoor table in front of the place, shaded by a blue-striped umbrella and looking through the minimalistic menu.

Fenton hadn’t eaten at Serene Subsistence before, and now that he’d arrived, he sort of understood why. His instincts must have seen something in the decor, or in the sign design, and warned him off. Instead of describing the various options, the menu gave each one just a picture, a name -- something like “the Green Continent” or “the October Surprise” -- and a small list of icons to indicate whether the meal was low-salt, low-fat, gluten-free, all-organic or a host of other things. Huge swaths of white space surrounded each entry.

“You’d think they could put a few lists of ingredients,” Fenton mused out loud, squinting at the menu as though that might reveal hitherto unseen text.

“Awww. come on, where’s the fun in that?”

“You.” The word was out of his mouth before he could stop it, disgusted and angry and very out of place in this hip cafe. If that hadn’t drawn people’s attention, the way the glassware and silverware rattled as he slammed the menu to the tabletop would have.

Mark Beaks waved a hand at him dismissively as he pulled up the selfie camera on his phone and snapped a picture of himself in front of the table. “Come on, calm down, we’re not here to fight. We’re here to talk business.”

“I wouldn’t be here if I’d known I’d be talking business with you,” Fenton said, enunciating hard to prevent his full anger from leaking through.

Beaks grinned at him as though he were a kid who just got his times tables right. “Of course. That’s why I didn’t put my name on it. Uh-duh.” He pulled one of the other chairs at the table out and plopped into it without looking, eyes already back on the phone. “So, yeah, thanks for not looking into that too much, I would have felt really stupid if I get here and you hadn’t shown up.”

Fenton would have loved to have done that. He would have loved to be anywhere but here. Just showing up had given this arrogant tech addict a win, and this guy liked nothing better than wins. Which left him which the difficult task of trying to decide if leaving or staying would give this guy another win.

Or, which would be better for him. After all … what did Beaks want? Why would he be here? If he was plotting something, odds were good that just letting him talk would get it out into the air. Would that be worth dealing with a bit of Beaks to find that out? Maybe stop something before it started?

With a sigh that couldn’t even contain all of the disappointment he felt at doing this, Fenton sat back down. “All right,” he said. “What do you want?”

“Simple. I’m headhunting.”

For a brief moment -- blame too many supervillains -- Fenton thought he was talking like … literal headhunting. Like decapitating people. Luckily, before he could let his reaction to that get onto his face, the clinical part of his mind reminded him that this was a business meeting, and that in business parlance, headhunting had a whole other meaning.

“So, what, are you checking someone’s references?” Fenton asked, trying not-terribly-hard to cut the venom out of his voice. “Looking for recommendations? People who might be willing to build a body-bulking villain serum to-” His mind put two and two together and came up with an answer he did not like.”Are you trying to hire Dr. Gearloose away? Because whatever his reputation, he’s very loyal to the-”

“Gear wha?” Beaks finally looked up from his phone again, and he looked and sounded so puzzled that Fenton felt sure it had to be real. Any skill Beaks had at deception didn’t really center on fooling others with an act so much as just ignoring most people so you never had to worry about fooling them.

Despite that Dr. Gearloose not being the target was good news, Fenton found himself somewhat insulted on his mentor’s behalf. “He’s one of the greatest scientific minds on the planet,” Fenton said. “But you’d never get him away from his lab.”

“Ohhhhh! The guy whose stuff always goes evil!” Beaks said, looking pleased at having worked this out. “Yeah, no. Not interested. Scrooge can keep that stuff. Not good for the Waddle image when things suddenly go all…” He finished the thought by curling one hand into a claw-like shape and making a rasping sound that Fenton assumed was meant to personify “evil.”

But if he really, honestly didn’t care about Dr. Gearloose … “So why are you here?”

“For you-” something about the way he said it made Fenton think there was initially meant to be another word there -- his name probably. But Beaks had probably forgotten it. It was certainly on brand. “I said it in the letter, right?”

“The letter was vague,” Fenton pointed out. “And it’s not like the two of us are exactly on good terms.”

Again Beaks wave a hand, as though dismissing the entirely valid criticism out of hand. “Past is past,” he said. “Just let it go. I want to offer you a spot at my company and I don’t want any misunderstandings to get in the way of that.”

“Misunderstandings?” Fenton’s voice rose again, drawing more stares. Forcing his tone back to an annoyed murmur, he added, “Like when you put countless lives in danger just for your … your click count?”

“Clicks? What, no,” Beaks said, seeming scandalized. But Fenton counted in his head. Three. Two. One. “It’s likes, man. Engagement is key. Clicks. Who even clicks on something anymore…”

“Whatever,” Fenton said.

“But yeah, I meant misunderstandings like that,” Beaks added, almost as an afterthought. “We just need to move past that and see if we can come to a beneficial arrangement.”

The absolute nerve of this guy. “Listen,” he said, and this time it really was a bare whisper. “The suit will never go anywhere near you or your-”

“Wait, wait wait.” Beaks interrupted, shaking his head. “Not that. You. I got to hear some of what you showed off to Dee on that infiltration mission, some seriously interesting stuff in there. We could use someone with that sort of brainpower in our labs.”

That brought him up short. Him? The offer still wasn’t tempting, but that one reveal had changed the entire perception of their conversation. This was about him? About science?

And also about the info he learned from spying on what you thought was a date, the logical part of him mind reminded him unhelpfully.

“You want me to … invent things? For Waddle?” Fenton repeated, just to make sure. This felt wrong, like a trap. It seemed like something that might actually be part of a real business, not the sham that Beaks seemed to run.

Beaks was back on the phone again, and Fenton would have assumed he’d checked out entirely if he didn’t keep on answering questions and comments. “Well, yeah,” he said. “The awesome Waddle devices that trendy young influencers just have to have don’t invent themselves, you know. Slap our name and logo on them and boom! Instant must-have gear. Something for the shareholders to talk about. I gotta prove I can still bring in the cool -- and the cash, too.”

Ah. “So anything that the people in your lab, you take credit for?”

“Duh.” Beaks looked across the table at him, and for the first time in this entire conversion, it felt like he was actually being serious. “People don’t just want the goods, they want to feel like they’re buying into something larger than life. If I sold our phones under some other random name with a stodgy old buzzard as the CEO, you know what sort of market share that would get? None. Because people don’t just want a phone, they want a phone from me. It’s the same reason people react so strongly to you when the cops could usually do the exact same thing. Because they weren’t just saved, they were saved by a hero.”

He hadn’t thought about it that way before, and now, he sort of wished he never had. A hero? His mother was a hero. She’d saved as many people as he, probably more, and she also did the things needed to bring them to trial, to let justice do its work. All he could really do was stop what was right in front of him. Maybe Beaks was right about how it worked in business. But that was maybe the best reason of all to just stop listening to the idiocy that came out of his mouth. All it did was validate Beaks’ own sense of importance.

He stood. Started to leave. “Thanks, but I’ve got to go.”

A chair scraped. “Hey!” Beaks’ indignant voice followed him.

He felt the hand on his shoulder, trying to tighten with some degree of command or control, but it felt laughable. Weak. And then Beaks said, “Hey, amigo, hold on, tell me what the problem is. We can work something out.”

Whirling, Fenton said, “If I was interested, what would the starting pay be?”

Except he said it in Spanish. Not as fluid as his mother’s but still far more dancing than that one thudding word when Beaks has uttered it.

He expected the confusion -- the tech CEO wasn’t fooling anyone into thinking he could actually speak another language. But he got the other thing he expected to see almost immediately. The narrowing of the eyes. The darkening of the expression, as anger took the edge off Beaks’ carefree attitude. He’d been asked a question, he didn’t understand the question, and he thought not being able to answer it made him look foolish. That more than anything else told him all he needed to know.

“All right. Not interested, thank you.”

He didn’t even wait around to see if Beaks reacted to that. He just walked away.

[sonicringbond]

Sonic Ring Bond: The Journey - Scene 42

With character mindsets out of the way, it’s time to set the stage. Well, Blister’s mindset still needs to be set, but right now they have arrived at the peculiar city in the sky. What will they find there? Well, find out for yourself in...

    “Really, a creepy place like this would do a lot better with some ghosts,” Rosy teased as she jumped from Blister’s ship to the stretch of concrete and asphalt that they docked at, “then we could make a test of courage out of it!”

    “I’d rather not have more ghosts after the last time we met some,” Draw tried as per usual to put a damper on Rosy’s enthusiasm as he walked down the gangplank with Sonic and Blister. For his efforts Rosy stuck her tongue out at him.

    “You’re being no fun today,” Rosy teased her koala companion and he rolled his eyes.

    “Whatever, you weirdo girl.”

    “It’s Rosy!”

    There was a comfort that Rosy found in the exchange with Draw and she smiled brightly even in the dreary place. Sonic and Blister were both being more careful than Rosy was though.

    “Be careful while having fun,” Blister warned as she tested the weight of her backpack. “My instruments were acting weird as we approached. I couldn’t rely on them to dock at all.”

    “You were able to dock an airship on your own? That’s amazing!”

    “Well, I don’t really have any choice with a golem hunter on board,” Blister gave Draw a weary glance. “It’s not like I can use my autogolems if they just get broken for coming out.”

    “So, the Engineers do use autogolems too,” Rosy acknowledged thoughtfully, before switching gears and spinning over to place her hands on Draw’s shoulders. He gave her a look, but Rosy continued unbothered. “But I’m sure Draw wouldn’t break yours. Well, as long as they aren’t powered by fairies.”

    “Everything the Engineers make are powered by Rings or steam, so no exploiting any mythical creatures,” Blister assured Rosy, Draw, and the fairy in the group, Mote. “Besides, the way Preserver autogolems work is a total mystery. It doesn’t make sense how the energy of a living thing is converted into a kinetic energy.”

    “Sounds like the type of guys Eggman would get along with,” Sonic finally added his voice to conversation as he strolled off the gangplank and looked around.

    Rosy noticed Sonic was rubbing the underside of his nose with his pointer finger and wondered if he was sensing danger. She couldn’t leave him worried though and risked getting teased herself to lighten his mood. “Oh~, forget that mean old man. I’ve gotten over being embarrassed by you talking like that about us and want to hear more! Come on Sonic, say something romantic~♥”

    “Keep dreaming, kid,” Sonic winked at Rosy and made her puff up her cheeks as she knew exactly what he meant.

    “Ooh~! Why couldn’t you play along nicely this time now that I’m ready for you!”

    “Instead of play, perhaps we could get to work looking for a Ring Radio for my ship,” Blister suggested, walking away from her vessel. Sonic eyed her curiously and took up pace beside her.

    “I’m all for getting this over with, but I thought we were supposed to do the dangerous stuff while you stayed back on the ship?”

    “Don’t worry, I won’t slow you down.” Blister smiled at Sonic confidently. Her confidence did not last however as she lifted her left hand up and stared at it as she flexed the flat fingers of her clockwork arm. “Though I haven’t gone for a run myself since before I lost my arm. I hope I’m not too rusty.”

    “You don’t mean to say you can keep up with us, do you? Sonic asked having a hard time believing it. “There aren’t too many who can, and even out of those with my speed few who can match my pace.”

    “Just check your radio for a signal and I’m sure we’ll be fine. I think I might actually be excited for the first time in a while. A shame it’ll be best to split you flowers up for this little trip.”

    “Flowers?” Sonic asked while checking his wrist device. The detected signal on the device told Sonic all he needed to know, and he was distracted from his question. “Well, sure enough there is a signal here. And not one we recognize.”

    “I wonder if there’s anyone using it?” Rosy pressed her finger to her cheek and mused a moment. That moment was short lived and quickly followed up with her deciding to check as she worked her wrist device and cheerily called into it. “Hello~! Is there anyone home!”

    “You’re going to get us killed, you weirdo girl!” Draw snapped at Rosy.

    “Don’t say that!” Rosy chided him, but as her energy was spilt between her wrist device and him, she wasn’t overbearing. The lack of a response from her device though made her puff up her cheeks. “Phooey! I guess no one lives here either.”

    “Gotta admit, it’d be kind of hard too.”

    ~Sonic wasn’t wrong. For the first time since I had been exploring the lands under Yolk, there were no plants growing over everything. They had been at one point in time, but they had all withered and died, only a thick layer of yellowed leaves that lined the streets and building floors showing they had once lived. It was kind of creepy in a different way than the rest of the weird little city as well since leaves don’t usually last like this. They crumbled easily enough to the touch, but the wind left in our wakes as we ran through the twisted city streets didn’t seem to hurt them and they simply would settle back down were they had last been.

    ~The leaves weren’t the only creepy thing. Yolk seemed even bigger from the city than Blister’s airship, and no matter where I ran it seemed to watch me from behind the clouds just above the horizon. And the storm clouds didn’t bring rain and thunder, but rather a snow of ash. I’m starting to think this place might be cursed. At the very least, it’s weird and unnatural.

    ~How unnatural? I wanted to check the size of the city when we first set out, so I ran a lap all the way around it with Draw clinging to my back and the location of the horizon never changed. And I came back around from what should have been the city’s underside. It’s not right here. It really isn’t.~

    “What now,” Draw asked as Rosy stopped atop a skyscraper that tilted a full thirty degrees off its axis.

    Watching the storm clouds and the ash that fell silently from them, Rosy puffed up her cheeks and exhaled sharply from her nose. “This place is way to dreary to be any fun. So how about we see if we can’t find any beneath the surface. Does that sound good, Sonic?”

    -Just keep your radio channel open,- Sonic’s voice came across Rosy’s wrist device. -This place is a lot larger than it looks. Like several places are trying to fit in one spot and not pulling it off.-

    -I’ve also seen signs of golem activity,- Blister’s voice came across after Sonic’s. -Probably more than enough for our little hunter to earn his keep.-

    “Don’t talk like that about me!” Draw complained from Rosy’s back. “I’m not a kid!”

    -Yet you were clinging to Ms. Rose’s back when we agreed to split up…-

    “That’s because it’s the easiest way to not lose her.”

    “I’m not that bad,” Rosy laughed, but she smiled brighter as she looked down at the decayed city that awaited her challenge. “But at least it sounds like this adventure is going to be exciting!”

Scene 42 · CLEARED Snowflake, to be continued

-----

On the shorter side, but now the exposition is done and it’s time to start elevating the series of events. A Ring Radio is here, and it’s on, but why? And Golems here as well. Mysteries, mysteries. If I do this right, this set of “episodes” will be some of my most important at this stage of the story yet. I hope everyone is as excited for them as I am!

-----

Special Thanks to Cutegirlmayra Story by @JoshTarwater/SonicFanJ Inspiring Song – Lost in the Snow – Yoshitaka Suzuki – FINAL FANTASY XV Original Soundtrack (Volume 2【1/2】)

Fair Use Disclaimer

Sonic the Hedgehog and all affiliated characters and logos are the express property and Copyright© of SEGA SAMMY HOLDINGS used without permission under Title 17 U.S.C Section 107 of the Copyright Act 1976 in which allowance is made for “fair use” for purposes such as criticism, comment, news reporting, teaching, scholarship, and research. “Fair use” is use permitted by copyright statute that might otherwise be considered copyright infringement. The Sonic Ring Bond: The Journey alternate universe (AU) consumer written work of fiction is a non-profit transformative work primarily for personal use and can and will be taken down without warning or prior notice at the request of the copyright holder(s) should it not be recognized under “fair use”.

*Sonic Ring Bond logo created by DEE Art – twitter.com/daryliscute.

Sonic Ring Bond AU and Sonic Ring Bond: The Journey are the creation of Joshua David Tarwater/ynymbus/sonicfanj/@Joshtarwater and is to be, including all contents herein considered for all legal purposes the property of the Sonic the Hedgehog intellectual property (IP) and copyright owners, SEGA SAMMY HOLDINGS. All story contributors via prompt, suggestion, written scene, art, and all and every other contribution acknowledge that all contributed material is forfeit for legal purposes to SEGA SAMMY HOLDINGS upon official request from SEGA SAMMY HOLDINGS.

[jungle321jungle]

The Play

“Dad is this really necessary?”

“Mhmm.”

“I understand the school play is important and all, but I don’t think I need to wear a tie... Though I’ll admit that it completes the look.”

“It’s completely necessary Logan.”

“How so?”

Dee turned so Logan could see the full view of Patton. “Because look how cute he is with his bow tie! And I haven’t even put Virgil in his outfit yet.”

“But no one looks better than I! Captain James Hook!” Roman announced hoisting his sword.

“I beg to differ you old codfish!” Remus replied drawing his.

Dee pulled out his phone to take a picture, “Truly dashing my Broadway stars!”

He heard as Logan gave a groan, “Don't feed their egos.”

~~~~

Dee had managed a good seat, Roman and Remus were backstage, Logan held Virgil (who was adorably chewing on his tie), Patton had already used the bathroom, and his camera arm was ready.

He was ready.

Now if only the curtain would open already.

“Well that was a disaster,” Logan muttered as the curtain closed and the children gave a bow.

He gave his son a warning look as he clapped along with the other parents and cheered for his sons. But he couldn’t deny the fact that his oldest was right.

The show had been a mess.

Wendy seemed to have a knack for knocking over the small amount of set that there was. And when John has gotten mad at her, the two kids had gotten into a war of shoving each other until Remus-Peter Pan got in the middle of each of them.

On top of that Dee wasn’t sure why they had let Mary-Lee take the part on Wendy anyway. The girl was bad to put it very lightly. Even for the standards of a child she couldn’t sing, act, and she could barely do the awkward dances assigned.

But at least Roman and Remus has done well.

Remus had remembered all the lines they had gone over a million times and Roman had finally found a way to hold his hook so it wouldn’t fall out during “battle”. So Dee may have felt a bit bad for some of the other kids performances, but at least his had done well.

Did he sound too conceited? Did that make him sound like a bad person?

His musings on parental etiquette were interrupted as Roman and Remus charged from the backstage and launched themselves onto him. Dee smiled as he hugged them both back tightly.

“You both were great!”

“Really?” Roman asked his eyes wide.

“Mhmm. You guys did awesome.”

“Yes!” Remus cheered. “I was worried ‘cause Mary-Lee is a bad Wendy.”

Dee gave a cringe as he glanced at the other people around him. “Remus that’s not a nice thing to say,” he chided.

“It’s true.”

Dee resisted a nod of agreement, “Not acceptable. But come on Mister Peter Pan, for I decree that this good job shall be celebrated with...” he paused so he could watch their eyes light up as they got excited. “Ice cream!”

The two gave a cheer.

“Your boys did great.”

Dee looked up enough to smile at Mary-Lee’s parents. As always, the two were dressed as if they were on a red carpet as opposed to an elementary school gym. The girl herself stood beside them looking more smug than a ten year old should be able to. “They all did,” he replied.

“Well yes,” Her mother smiled back. “But clearly Mary-Lee did a great job, don't you think?”

“Course! I really felt it when you were arguing with Tiger Lily.”

The girl’s eyes narrowed, “That wasn’t part of the play. She was just being mean.”

“Oh, um well-” Shit what was her mom’s name? Dee’s eyes instantly flickered to Logan (who was holding back Remus from speaking) who mouthed to him. “Well Loren, Daniel, we are off to grab some celebratory ice cream. Care to join us?”

Loren shook her head as if she had been insulted, “No, I must pass Damien. Sugar would absolutely ruin both my and Mary-Lee’s diet.”

She put her skinny ten year old on a diet?

“Right,” Dee nodded. “Well um, enjoy your evening.”

“She was terrible!” Remus complained once they were in the car and far from earshot.

Roman nodded in agreement. “She only got the part ‘cause her parents yelled at Mr. Sanders so much they gave it to her.”

Dee didn’t doubt that. “Well what’s more important is how you two stole the show.”

“Everyone else was terrible, so you both were good by default,” Logan chimed in.

“No, Remus is a great Peter Pan!” Patton disagreed. “And Roman’s a good Hook!”

“Someone likes us,” Roman replied sticking out his tongue toward Logan.

“At least it’s over right?” Dee asked trying to change the subject.

“Yup!” Roman nodded. “Now we gotta prepare for the Spring Concert! And to start karate!”

He gave a content sigh as he started the car, “It never ends, does it?”

~~~~

Read on ao3

[dr-gloom]

The Climax (Ch 1)

Commission Me (please)

Ch 2  Ch 3  Ch 4

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 4  Part 5  Part 6  Part 7  Part 8

Fandom: Sanders’ Sides

Pairing: Moxiety

Tags/Warnings: graphic depictions of rape, manipulation, abuse, arguing, angst, heartbreak

Read it on AO3

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Virgil shakes the memories off, wiping at his damp cheeks. He had no idea how long he’d been sitting alone on the floor of his and Patton’s shared apartment, but golden light was filtering through the windows as the sun began to set outside. Virgil’s entire body protests as he slowly gets to his feet, sore from his run-in with Dee and sitting on the floor for hours. The pain is something he’s used to though, so instead of succumbing to it and wallowing on the couch he uses it to push himself to look for his phone.

He finds it buried in his blankets on his bed, pressing the power button to light the screen up. There’s only one person he wants to talk to right now; Patton more than likely wouldn’t pick up and since he probably went to Logan, the intellectual wouldn’t be available. Even if he was, Virgil doubted he’d be able to deal with… any of this. Virgil’s thumb hovers over Roman’s contact. He would know what to do. If nothing else, it’d be nice to cry into his friend’s shoulder. To not be alone tonight. 

He taps the little phone icon and holds his phone to his ear. 

“Be More Emo! To what do I owe the pleasure of-”

“I ran into Dee in the park.” His voice is totally wrecked, hoarse and cracking, betraying the ocean of emotions warring in his heart. He can practically feel the levity draining from Roman before he responds. 

“I’ll be over in five.”

Virgil shuffles out into the living room, taking the blanket off of the back of the couch and wrapping it around himself before curling up in his armchair. He holds his phone in one hand, the ends of the blanket in the other, and he waits. 

True to form, Roman is there in five minutes, letting himself in and marching into the living room looking like a man on a mission. When he finds Virgil on the couch, hair a mess, cheeks tear-stained, eyes sad and haunted, the fight drains out of him. He sinks down to his knees in front of Virgil, looking up at him with a soft look. “Hey there, Emo Nightmare.”

“Hey,” Virgil croaks, wiping at his eyes. Sometime while he’d been waiting for Roman, tears had started to fall from his eyes again.

“How you doin’?”

“Not so great, Ro.” 

Roman frowns, clicking his tongue. “What happened? Can you… do you wanna talk about it?”

Virgil tenses, and he doesn’t release the breath he’s holding until Roman takes his hand.

_____________________________________________________________

Virgil had been trying everything to alleviate his anxiety, but nothing seemed to be working. He’d tried his fidget cube, TV, drawing, breathing exercises even though he was breathing fine, but he couldn’t quiet the voice in his head that insisted that something was wrong, that he was wrong. When Patton had asked if something was wrong and Virgil confessed to his struggle, Patton gave him a reassuring smile. 

“You could take a walk to the park! You always feel better when you come back. I could even come with you!”

Virgil smiles softly at his boyfriend. He did have a point, Virgil always felt better after taking a breather outside. “I think I’ll be okay. Besides, you gotta get that thing done for work, right?”

Patton’s eyes widen and he shoots to his feet, cartoons forgotten. “You’re right! Shoot!” Virgil chuckles softly as Patton races back to his room, the door shutting behind him. Right. A walk to the park. Virgil finds his earphones in his room and plugs them into his phone, making sure to grab his keys before heading out the door. 

As Virgil walks, he notes that he’s already feeling a little better. Panic! At The Disco plays in his ears, the sun shines down on him warmly, and the neighborhood is calm. He sighs contently, crossing the street to get to the park and sitting down just as the current song ends and What A Catch, Donnie begins. Virgil stuffs his hands into his pockets and relaxes on the bench, watching runners pass on the paths, people with dogs toss balls and frisbees, and a few kids run around in the playground. 

Virgil’s halfway through Don’t Threaten Me With A Good Time when he feels the presence of another person sitting next to him. A small thread of paranoia snakes its way into his mind, making him uncomfortable, but he refuses to look at the newcomer. Most likely it was just a jogger who wanted to rest, or someone else who was completely normal and wanted to enjoy the park just like Virgil was doing. He’s really gotta work on not catastrophizing. 

Those thoughts screech to an abrupt halt when a warm hand snakes up his thigh. Virgil tenses, turning to tell the stranger off for being a creep and invading his space, but his blood runs cold at the sight of the person next to him. It’s been a year and a half, but Dee looks the same as he did the day Virgil left. 

Well, he wasn’t red-faced and screaming, but still.

Dee leers at him as he shrinks into himself almost instinctively. “Hello, Virge.” The way Virgil’s name rolls off his tongue makes the anxious one shudder. This is his worst nightmare, come to life. What could Dee possibly be doing here? A year and a half of coming to this park, and Virgil runs into him now? 

Nausea claws at Virgil’s throat and lungs. He feels trapped despite the open space, suffocated despite the clean air. Dee’s mere presence shrinks Virgil’s world until it’s just the two of them and he’s feeling so cold and alone and afraid caught under the predator’s gaze. 

Dee squeezes Virgil’s thigh, the look in his eyes making Virgil feel exposed, naked. He pulls his hoodie closer around himself. “I’ve missed you so much,” Dee purrs. “How have you been?”

Virgil finally manages to find his voice, stuttering out, “B-better, without you.” He sits up, his hands clenching in the fabric of his hoodie. He has to show Dee that he’s not able to be controlled so easily, that he’s not some pathetic puppet anymore. Patton’s voice echoes in his head. ‘He can’t control you.’

Dee laughs, the sound grating on Virgil’s bones. “I know you’re lying, Virge. You miss me, admit it.” It wasn’t a request, or a question. It was an order. And for reasons he didn’t understand, Virgil wanted to agree with him. To tell Dee that he missed him. But that wasn’t right; Virgil had Patton, he loves Patton. 

“I-I don’t!” Virgil curses internally at the stutter. He can’t show Dee that he’s scared or intimidated. He can’t.

Dee tsks softly, his fingers brushing Virgil’s jaw. “Careful now, you’re going to draw attention to us.” His tone brings back painful memories that make Virgil shudder, his blood turning to ice. 

“I-I don’t. I don’t miss you...” He mutters, his voice dieing in his throat. No, Virgil, come on! Be strong! The hand on his thigh leaves, leaving behind the feeling that he’s been burned. Relief washes through Virgil, thinking he’s finally convinced Dee to leave when a hand on his chin makes Virgil meet Dee’s heated gaze. Virgil swallows, his heartbeat speeding up. 

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I- I’m sorry-”

Dee makes a face, a mix of disgust and anger, and grabs Virgil’s wrist tightly. Virgil gasps softly as Dee pulls him to his feet, trying to yank his wrist out of the other’s grip. Dee doesn’t budge, beginning to stride towards the sidewalk, away from the park, and Virgil gives up, his wrist aching. Virgil’s eyes don’t leave the sidewalk as they walk, too afraid to see where they’re going. Only once Dee’s pace slows does Virgil dare to look up, his eyes widening at the sight of his old home. His heart skips a beat, his breathing picking up, eyes darting around as fight-or-flight kicks in. Virgil digs his heels into the ground as Dee drags him closer to the door, his hand flexing as he tries once again to pull his wrist free. 

Dee whips around to glare at Virgil, pulling hard at his wrist. Virgil gasps in pain, his points screaming in protest.

“Do not make me angry, Anxiety,” Dee snarls in Virgil’s face, flecks of spit landing on Virgil’s cheeks. The nickname is like a bucket of cold water over Virgil’s head. His breath hitches and his muscles go lax, his eyes unfocused. Dee takes the chance to drag Virgil into the house, slamming the door behind them and making Virgil jump, eyes refocusing. Virgil opens his mouth to scream and Dee surges forward, silencing him with a harsh kiss.

Virgil’s mind clouds over, his eyes once again becoming unfocused as he retreats into his mind. He barely feels it as Dee manhandles him, groping him through his jeans before pulling him away from the door and down onto the couch. His eyes slip closed as Dee begins to undress him, the chill of the A/C barely registering in his mind. Dee makes quick work of Virgil’s clothes and then his own, pushing Virgil’ thighs apart and sitting between them. 

Virgil gasps softly as Dee forces two lubed fingers into his hole, retreating further into his mind. Dee preps him with little fanfare before slicking up his cock and quickly burying himself to the hilt inside of Virgil. He groans at the feeling of Virgil tightening around him, thrusting hard and fast. It isn’t long before he finds Virgil’s prostate and Virgil cries out, being forced out of his mind and back into the moment. Dee chuckles as he continues to fuck into Virgil, muttering obscenities and insults with ragged breath. 

Virgil’s only thought is about Patton. He wants to go home to Patton, to be held and have his hair pet and be told everything was going to be okay. He lets out small gasps and whimpers whenever Dee brushes that spot inside of him, robbing him of the relief of blocking out the world. Tears begin to leak from his eyes as the thoughts intensify. Patton. He wants Patton. He wants to go home.

Dee comes inside of him and Virgil nearly sobs with relief, thinking it’s over. When Dee continues to thrust inside of him instead of pulling out Virgil lets out a pitiful whine, daring to look up at Dee. 

“I’m not stopping until you come, slut. You should thank me for being so nice.”

The tears start to fall faster. Dee wraps a hand around his cock, shame burning in Virgil’s gut when he realizes he’s hard. Dee slams into his prostate on nearly every thrust. That coupled with the hand jerking him off has Virgil coming moments later, milking a second orgasm out of Dee. 

Dee finally pulls out, sneering down at Virgil. “You’re such an easy slut. You don’t deserve love, or happiness; you taint everything you touch. You’re not a person, you’re an object to be used and passed around.” Virgil doesn’t show any signs of having heard him, staring blankly at the wall with tears running down his face. Dee scoffs and gets dressed, speaking over his shoulder as he heads for the door. “You have five minutes to get the fuck out of my house.”

Virgil lays there for what feels like an eternity before he can bring himself to sit up, his body protesting the action. He moves like a robot with rusted joints, all his movements slow and jilted as he makes his way to the kitchen. There, he wets a dishcloth and wipes at the cum leaking out of him and drying on his stomach. He makes his way back into the living room and slowly gets dressed. He knows somewhere in his mind that it’s been longer than five minutes, but he’s also pretty sure Dee isn’t even home. He walked out the front door, after all. 

Once Virgil is dressed, he exits the house, feeling like a black stain on a perfect picture. He looks left, then right, and starts walking. 

______________________________________________________________

Roman looks at Virgil with wide, tearful eyes, rage burning in his chest. “Oh my God, V, I’m so sorry. Is- did you talk to Patton yet?”

Virgil nods. His eyes haven’t left his socked feet since he began his recount of events, his face completely blank and unemotional save for the tears dripping down his cheeks. 

______________________________________________________________

Virgil shuts the door quietly behind him, glad to finally be home. His feet throb, his eyes ache from crying, and his body hurts. He just wants to take a shower and cuddle up with Patton. 

“Virge? That you, baby?”

Virgil clears his throat. “Yeah, Pat.” His voice still sounds a little rough, but he doubts Patton will notice. He makes his way to his room and tosses his phone onto the bed. He debates taking his hoodie off, but… He needs it. He doesn’t feel right without it. Too exposed.

Patton’s door opens and he starts talking, his bright voice relaxing some of the tension in Virgil’s shoulders. “So I was thinking for dinner we could…” His voice dies off as Virgil turns around to face him. He takes in Virgil’s splotchy face, his red eyes, messy hair and clothes.

The hickeys on his neck.

Patton’s breath hitches, his expression turning to one of hurt. Virgil’s in contrast turns to one of confusion. “Pat…?” He asks softly, taking a step forward. Patton shakes his head, taking a step back towards the living room. 

“Virgil, w-... where were you?”

Virgil’s eyebrows furrow. He takes another step forward, and Patton takes another one back. “I went to the park like you said.”

Patton shakes his head again. “That’s- no, where were you really?”

“Pat, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Virgil’s heart starts to beat faster and he reaches out for Patton. Patton takes two steps back, now in the living room. 

“Don’t lie!” He snaps, anger mixing with the hurt. 

Virgil flinches back. “Pat, I’m not lying, what-”

“I can see the proof right there! On your neck! What’s their name?”

Virgil’s fingers unconsciously go to his neck and his eyes widen. One last vindictive act to ruin Virgil’s happiness. “Pat, please, just listen-”

“No! I don’t want to hear your excuses!” 

Virgil walks forward into the living room, Patton keeping two feet between them. The act crushes Virgil’s heart. “Patton-”

“How could you do this?! How could you just throw away everything we have! You’re so horrible! So selfish! I can’t believe you!”

Virgil’s breath hitches, the words cutting like knives at his already fragile heart. Dee’s words ring in his head. 

“You taint everything you touch.”

“I didn’t want it to be like this, but I had no control!” Virgil cries, his fists clenching at his sides. His nails dig into his palms, the sparks of pain making his already quick heartbeat speed up even more. He felt light-headed. He was going to lose Patton because of Dee. He didn’t want to lose Patton.

“Yes you did! Quit playing the victim, Virgil, and take responsibility for your actions!” Patton’s silhouette is intimidating; shoulders squared, brow furrowed and frowning like Dee did when he was about to punish Virgil. It scared him, his heart in his throat, taking a step back and flinching a little when his legs meet the couch. 

“What is that supposed to mean?” 

Patton cards a hand through his hair, Virgil watching as some of the curls stick out stubbornly. “Look, I get it, you- you’re messed up. You’ve had it bad, but at some point you have to stop blaming the world and what happened to you for the way you act and take some responsibility for yourself. You’re not a child anymore.” 

His words felt like a slap to the face. Virgil scoffs, fear melting into indignation. “Oh, really? Because you sure act like I am. Calling me ‘kiddo’ and babying me all the fucking time like I can’t do anything for myself!”

Patton throws his hands up, turning and taking two steps away before turning back on Virgil and coming even closer. “You were hurting, and I was helping you! I’m so sorry if that was inconvenient for you! Was I smothering? Did you think I was clingy? Were things so bad you felt like you had to- to- just to get a break?” Virgil notices the tears in Patton’s eyes and his already fractured heart shatters. 

“Pat, please! I’m sorry!” He pleads, taking a step closer to Patton, his hands out in front of him but too afraid to actually touch the other. Patton shakes his head and turns away, heading for the door. 

Virgil panics and surges forward, gripping the cardigan around Patton’s shoulders with trembling fingers. Patton stops, but doesn’t turn to face him. Tears clog Virgil’s throat. “I- I just-”

“You just what, Virgil?” Patton asks quietly, voice strained. Virgil can’t see Patton’s face, and he wants so desperately to hug him and apologize for everything. He rubs at the hickey poking out over the collar of his shirt self-consciously. 

“....I’m sorry.” 

Patton grabs his keys and wallet off the table by the door before leaving.

_______________________________________________________________

Roman is looking over Virgil’s shoulder at the door as Virgil finishes the story, his expression pensive and angry. “I’ll kill him.”

Virgil startles, finally looking up at Roman. “It’s not his fault! I-”

“No, you’re right, it’s that snake’s! I’ll kill both of them!” Roman rises to his feet, on a war path. Virgil’s eyes widen and he shoots to his feet, protests cut off by a pained gasp. 

And just like that, the fire dies from Roman’s eyes and he helps Virgil sit back down, squeezing his hand. “Have you... “ He grimaces, trying to find a way to phrase it lightly. “If we went to the authorities, would they be able to do a rape kit?”

Virgil’s cheeks redden in embarrassment and shame and he nods, his eyes burning. He never did get around to that shower. 

Roman nods, standing up. “Come on then. I’m not letting him get away with this again.” Virgil sniffs as he rises to his feet, following Roman out of the apartment and settling in his car, trying to keep his breathing even as Roman drives them to the nearest police station.

A/N: In case it wasn’t obvious, Part 2 - Part 8 were memories/flashbacks he was having while crying on the floor.

Taglist: @bunny222 @a-fander-named-skittles @eggy-boyo @ren-allen

[coffee-obsessed-writer]

When You Least Expect It: Part Three

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

Jensen x Musician!Reader

A/N: This is a slow burn fic that I have been working on for a while. Its a story I wrote for myself and just wanted to share with everyone. Yes, the “Dee” in the story is who you think, but there is no intended hate on her or their actual marriage. It is a work of fiction, that is all. Part three is from Jensen’s POV. There is also a playlist to go along with the series. 

Series Playlist: “When You Least Expect It” (Spotify)

Series Summary: After a hard breakup, Jensen decides to throw himself into organizing a Music Festival in Austin that is meant to raise money for a few of his most cherished charities and organizations. As he throws himself into planning it, he stumbles upon a spirited, undiscovered performer, who he convinces to come aboard to help plan and coordinate the event with him. What transpires after that takes both Jensen and his new friend, by surprise. But when their respective pasts come back just before the event kicks off in Austin, they will both have to decide if the unexpected feelings are worth perusing, or if they should just walk away and go on with their lives.

Series Warnings: Language, Break-Ups, Angst, Fluff, Smut (that’s it for now)

WC: 3.5K 

*Banner created by me; pics & gifs found online

Jensen was fucking cold.

He didn’t start feeling the chill set into his bones until they made their way back up the beach towards where he left his car. They chatted casually on the walk back, mostly about the festival, and Austin itself, but when they reached her front door he found it hard to say goodbye. Unless he was mistaken, he got the vibe that maybe she didn’t want too, either.

They stood outside her door for another three or four minutes and she finally noticed his body trembling.

“Hey, why don’t you come inside? After all, it is my fault that you’re shivering. I think I have some clothes here that may fit you alright since you’re completely soaked through.”

“It’s fine. I’ll make it back to the hotel alright,” he said through chattering teeth.

“Nonsense, come on. Besides, we’re going to be spending a lot of time together over the next year. Might as well start getting used to you being around all the time.” She winked and unlocked the front door.

Stepping into her bungalow, he felt instantly comfortable in her space. The furniture was older, but it was still in decent shape and very cozy. The couch was draped in oversized fleece blankets with a few plush throw pillows. There were nautical decorations, pictures of fishing boats all over the walls, and even the curtains covering the small kitchen window bore anchors and sailboats. A small hallway divided the room, separating the living room from the eat-in kitchen that led to the bedrooms and single bathroom.

“Cute place,” he said after looking around. “Not exactly what I would have imagined your taste to be.”

She laughed. “Not my taste, at all. This was my dad’s house, long before it was mine. I just never wanted to change it after he passed.”

“Oh,” Jensen replied, “I’m sorry.”

“Thanks. It was a long time ago, but, thanks…” she trailed off for a moment but came back around. “Let me get you those clothes so do you don’t develop pneumonia on my watch.”

Y/N disappeared down the hallway, and Jensen took the time to really look at the pictures that lined the walls. He saw a small girl, and boy slightly older standing with a man in his forties on the dock. Beside them was a fifty-plus foot fishing boat.

“That’s him,” she said upon her return and pointed to the man in the photo. “That’s my dad, Monty, and that was his boat, Song of the Sea.”

“Cool name. That’s you, then?” he asked, pointing to the girl beside Monty.

“Yep, that’s me, and that’s my brother Dave.”

“Is he a fisherman, too?”

“Nope. He’s a dickhead. I don’t know what he does for a living now. We haven’t talked in years.”

“Oh…”

“Clothes,” she said and handed them out to him. “If you’re hungry I have some leftover pizza in the fridge I can warm up. It’s from Saw Mill.”

“I am down for some pizza,” he smiled, feeling quite content with the direction the evening took, despite his dip in the ocean. “Is there a place I could change?”

“Yeah, down the hall, last door on the left.”

Jensen found the bathroom and stripped out of his clothes. The room was blessedly warm, allowing his skin to unfreeze the moment the wet clothes had been removed. He borrowed one of the towels that had been hanging on the back of the door and used it to dry his hair. Once he had on the fresh set of clothes, he paused and looked at his reflection in the mirror. It was the first chance he had to be alone with his own thoughts since arriving at the Bamboo, and as his own green eyes stared back he didn’t know where to begin processing it all.

Twenty-four hours ago he was laying in his hotel bed, dreaming about some mystery girl, and now he was standing in her house, about to gnaw on some pizza and discuss how she’s going to be working with him over the course of the next year.

Are you out of your fucking mind? He silently asked his reflection. He decided he must be, but he also decided that he didn’t necessarily care. When he searched his genuine feelings, the ones he kept very close to the vest, he was happy. He felt good about making her the offer and even better that she accepted it. The other ones, the tangled mess of clingy, fawning emotions that bubbled so close to the surface were the ones he didn’t want.

You can get to know her, be her friend, without it turning to sex. Certainly, no feelings. This is work. She’s smart and creative and will be an asset to the team bringing this to life, he said to himself, almost like a mantra.

Then, out loud. “It can’t be anything more… It. can’t. Whatever you think you feel… you don’t. It's just--”

A soft knock at the door interrupted his train of thought. “Yeah?”

“Sorry, I just wanted to see if you wanted a beer with your pizza. I have water and some apple juice, or--”

“A beer sounds great,” he replied. “Be out in a minute.”

It was quiet again, and he assumed she must have walked away. Remembering their earlier exchange on the word, he didn’t want to take the chance she would hear him. One beer, one slice of pizza, then back to the hotel and tomorrow back to Vancouver. You got this, his inner voice promised himself.

Two beers and two slices later, Jensen was sitting criss-cross applesauce on Y/N’s floor, with her next to him and a photo album depicting her years in drama club productions in front of them.

“Oh, this one,” she started and pulled it from its plastic sleeve pausing to look at it long enough for one of those soft, reflective smiles to touch her lips. “This is from when we did Grease.”

“That’s you there?”

“Yup. I was the understudy for Sandy. The lead they cast was a healthy specimen, so I got to play one of the Pink Ladies instead.”

“I bet you would have made a kick-ass Sandy,” he teased and took a closer look at the picture.

She snatched it from his fingers and returned it to the album. “Nah, I was way too wild to be Sandy. The girl they cast was purity defined. She did a great job. Frenchie, maybe, or Rizzo… I could have pulled off Rizzo.”

“Now we’re talking. Rizzo, she was my favorite. I always had a thing for the bad girls,” he mused with a devilish grin before finishing off his second beer.

“Want another?” Y/N asked and got up from the floor.

Jensen considered it and waved her off. “Nah, I should probably get back to the hotel.”

“Right…” she mumbled and opened the fridge to grab herself another beer. “I mean, it's after two. If you wanna crash in the spare bedroom, it's open.”

“You’d be okay with that?” He watched her reaction closely. Yes, they had grown close in the day they spent together, and he was oddly comfortable with the idea of crashing at her place. But he didn’t want to seem as if he was continually pushing himself on her.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t.”

“Not sick of me yet?”

“I was sick of you after you spilled the tea all over the table. But,” she paused to shrug and grab a second beer from the fridge. She handed it to him and continued, “now, I dunno, I’m kinda used to ya.”

“Alright, sleepover it is,” he chuckled and sipped at his beer.

He liked Y/N, a lot. Physical attraction aside, she was someone he enjoyed spending time with. She made things easy; the business talk, the ‘get-to-know-you’ banter, all of it. Y/N made just sitting on her floor looking at old pictures fun, and that wasn’t something he’d had much of in his life, as of late. All the drama, and push ‘n pull with Dee has sucked him dry. Fun and easy going hadn't been on his radar in a damn long time.

Jensen was growing more than a little curious about her. She was a mystifying puzzle that he felt compelled to put together so he could see the whole picture of who she was. Yet, he also knew that it wouldn’t be an easy task. Y/N didn’t strike him as the kind of girl that would give away all her secrets or feelings to just anyone. He was going to have to work on it, but if their day together so far had been an indication of her willingness to one day let him in, he felt pretty confident that they could be really good friends.

“So, I gotta ask…” he started, not exactly hesitant on asking, but on how to ask what he wanted to know. “Earlier, when you dared me to polar plunge… why add the song in?”

“Joy to the World?”

“Yeah.”

Y/N closed the album and drew in a subtle and slow deep breath, drawing her knees up into her chest then taking time to consider how to respond. In the quiet of the room, she found Jensen’s eyes and held on to them. He saw hers growing damp at the corners and watched her ignore the one, lone tear that slid down her cheek.

“When I was a kid, I had a bunch of phobias. Some were normal, some, not so much. It got really bad after a while, and my dad tried everything to help me. One day, we were going to the market, and for some reason I was so, so scared to go in. It was summer vacation, and I was gawky and awkward. A bunch of Bennies were hanging out in front and I was petrified to walk past them,” she saw the confusion on his face and clarified. “Bennies are what locals here call the people that come here for the summer.”

Jensen nodded in understanding and then unknowingly mimicked her position and rested his chin on his knees as he listened on.

“Anyway, he said to me… ‘they aren’t going to say a word. I promise’. I said that I didn’t believe him. Trust was scarce in those days. My mom had just left, and everything was upside down. So I even had trouble trusting my dad, the one person I loved more than anyone in the world. He said, ‘Y/N, I’ll bet you anything they don’t’. We finally came to the arrangement that if I was wrong and he was right, then I had to give him the benefit of the doubt the next time something like this came up.”

“And if you were right?” Jensen asked.

“Well, I then got to embarrass him in public by making him walk around and sing Joy to the World. It was the song he hated the most,” she laughed at some long ago memory that she kept to herself, and lingered in it for a while. “But, I don’t know, it just became our thing… he’d say trust me and when it was super important that I did, he would simply say, ‘I bet you Joy to the World that I’m right’.”

Y/N cleared her throat and tightened the grip she had around her legs. This time when she caught Jensen’s gaze, he noticed the tears had finished falling and that her soft smile was directed at him.

“That’s how I knew I could accept this offer and trust you. You did it without question. The fact that you sang the song and committed like you did… I knew my dad would’ve told me to trust you. He would have bet--”

“The world,” Jensen finished for her.

“Yeah. Exactly.”

“So, did he have to sing it that first day?”

Y/N chuckled. “Nope. They didn’t even give me a second glance as we walked by.”

“Did he ever have to sing it?”

She lapsed into her contemplative expression, but only for a moment before bringing up her alluring (y/c) eyes to meet his. “Only once. But that’s a story for another time. I think we should take the opportunity to talk about Austin and when this is all going to happen.”

For another hour Jensen and Y/N talked and planned her move to Austin. Exhaustion was finally setting in and neither of them could keep their eyes open. Y/N showed him to the spare room and turned to walk back up the hallway to her own room. Jensen said goodnight, and before he could turn to go it, he saw her pause at her door and look back at him.

“Jensen... I’m sorry if I was cold to you when we first met. I tend to put up a pretty high wall sometimes. I hope you didn’t take it personally.”

“I didn’t.”

“Ok, good. I’m glad the day went the way it did. You surprised me. Not many people can surprise me. I take back what I said earlier. You’re not a shitty actor,” she said with a playful twitch of a smile. “Night, Hollywood.”

Jensen woke a few hours after going to bed and while he wasn’t exactly rested, the four hours he got was enough to energize him to reach the airport. It was a long flight back to Vancouver after all, plenty of time to sleep then. He didn’t want to miss his last chance to see an East Coast sunrise.

Tiptoeing through the bungalow, so as not to wake Y/N, he quietly opened the front door and stepped out into the autumn air. The day was dawning bright with a cotton candy sunrise over the ocean and barely a cloud in sight.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he heard Y/N say.

He whipped around and saw her sitting on the small bench to the side of the house. She had a blanket around her shoulder and a steaming cup in her hands.

“Coffee?” she asked, holding it out to him.

“Bless you,” he sighed gratefully and took the cup. To his surprise, he found she took hers just how he liked his.

She moved over on the bench giving him room to sit and watch the sunrise. He closed his eyes and relished in the luscious taste of the coffee as it warmed his throat.

“Thank you,” he said, handing it back.

“Keep it, that was my third cup,” she chuckled, then reached over to the side of the bench and pulled up her guitar resting it on her lap and lightly strumming the strings.

“Won’t the neighbors complain?”

“They would, but there aren’t any. All these places are summer rentals. Closest year-round neighbors are the Sinatra’s down the beach.”

“Seriously? So, it's just you out here almost all year long?”

“Yup.” She nodded and continued to strum the guitar. The melody she was plucking was familiar, and after a few more beats Jensen came to recognize it.

“That song…” he started and then felt his heart start to beat faster as he realized where he remembered it from. “Its… shit!”

“Well, damn, tell me how you really feel,” she snorted, unsure if she should be offended or laugh.

“No! I Didn't mean it like that. I can’t remember the name of it, but it's familiar as hell. Actually heard it in a dream the other night,” he admitted without realizing how close he came to adding ‘a dream about you, in fact’.

“Oh! It's from Grease, You’re the One That I Want, but like, way slower,” she shrugged. “After talking about the play with you last night, it got stuck in my head. I couldn’t sleep, so I made coffee, grabbed the guitar and came outside to wait for sunrise.”

Y/N looked away from the guitar and over to Jensen. She watched him curiously for a moment, still playing, and with each passing note the song became clearer and clearer in his head. They held each other’s gaze for a moment, and he wondered if she felt whatever it was that sat between them. In the span of thirty seconds, he had at least a dozen “I wonder” thoughts cross his mind.

...if her heart is pounding, too

...if she dreamed the song, too

...if she couldn’t sleep because she was thinking about me like I was thinking about her

“I got chills, they’re multiplying, and I’m losing control,” she sang, in a breathy whisper that matched the volume of her guitar. “Cause the power you're supplying….”

Her voice gave him goosebumps across his skin, running from his wrist all the way to his neck.

She trailed off with singing but continued the humming the melody as she plucked the chords and brought her gaze to settle out on the horizon. Jensen wished she had kept singing; he wanted to beg her too, but he was afraid that speaking would break the magic of the moment.

From the other side of the yard, a loud buzzing was coming from Jensen’s car. His brow furrowed trying to recognize what it was, then suddenly jumped up and put the cup down on the bench before jogging through the cold sand to the car. When he came back, his cell was in hand as he was scrolling through messages.

“Completely forgot about this last night,” he mumbled to himself. “Yiiikes.”

“Missed a lot, did ya?” she asked, still strumming.

“Yeah. Looks like there was a change in my flight again. Jared has called at least half a dozen times, and about five texts from work. Good times.”

“Sorry I took you off the grid. Just blame me,” Y/N shrugged.

He watched her for a second and realized how carefree and easy she could be when she was comfortable around someone. There was an aura of calm that surrounded her at times and he wanted to absorb it like a sponge. He felt settled around her, and that was something he could get used too.

“I’m not even a little sorry, though, I guess I should get my ass in gear and get back. But…” he trailed off and went back to his phone, pulling up his calendar, “let’s figure out exactly when I should book your ticket to Austin.”

Y/N stopped strumming and gently rested the guitar on the ground beside the bench. She thought for a minute before replying. “I would need at least two weeks to get my shit together and tie up loose ends. So, let’s say, the 18th?”

“Yeah, that works for me. I may be in Vancouver, but I will make sure everything is all set for you.”

Before Y/N could say anything else, his phone started buzzing again. He answered it and began pacing between the house and the car. To give him some privacy, Y/N grabbed her guitar and went back into the bungalow.

Not five minutes later, Jensen came back inside and began to gather up the rest of his stuff to change, but she waved him off. “You can wear those back. Just junk them when you’re there. They belonged to my brother. Doubt he’ll be here anytime soon.”

“You sure?”

“Positive,” she snarked, making it clear brother Dave was a sore subject.

“Alright, well, I guess I should head back. I got the 18th in my calendar, and I will call you when I have more details about the flight and apartment. I’m really looking forward to working with you on this.”

“Same here,” she said and boosted herself to sitting on her kitchen counter. “It's gonna be a good time.”

Jensen had hoped she would see him to the door, and maybe even get a chance to touch her in some way; a handshake, maybe a hug, even. But she didn’t budge from the counter and he wasn't going to push her boundaries.

“Thanks for last night, the whole thing was a lot of fun.” Picking up the car keys from the table he moved towards the door, pausing one last time in hopes she’d come to him,

“It was my pleasure. The guys loved having you at the Bamboo. Save travels, ok? I’ll see you in two weeks.”

And just like that, Jensen felt discouraged, like maybe he had imagined their connection this whole time… had he? He tossed the keys up and caught them, and gave her a firm nod.

“Yes, I will. Two weeks. Take care, Y/N. We’ll talk soon.”

When he was sure she wouldn’t budge, he slipped out of the house and exhaled a rush of air from his lips when he reached the car. He got in, started it up and quickly backed down the dirt lane. Pausing before reversing out to the main drag, he threw it into park and rested his head against the headrest.

“You’re a jackass,” he mumbled to himself. “A grade A, idiotic, jackass.”

Hours later, while Jensen was mid-flight, pensive and unsure, obsessively replaying their entire day and night together, his cell phone started to vibrate from way down in his pocket. When he unlocked it and saw the text notification, he smiled.

From Y/N: “Hope you landed safely. Don’t wanna lose the job before it starts. Take care, Hollywood. Can’t wait for the 18th”

And just like that, he was smiling again.

Good new is, you don’t have to wait long for Part Four!! Its already done and ready to post. Will have it up soon :)

Everything Tags: @kazosa  // @sorenmarie87  // @lefthologramdeer  // @his-paradox //  @letsby

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Series Tags: @winchest09 // @jerkbitchidjitassbutt // @aomi-nabi // @luciathewinchestergirl // @alexisxwinchester  // @moonxdance // @seppys-return-to-madness // @donnaintx // @deans-baby-momma

[roseamongroses]

In Just No Time At All

Summary: Creativity's split was only the first of many changes happening in the mindscape, with Sides adopting new roles, new names, a new sense of purpose.

Roman's not too sure about his own.

Characters: Roman Sanders, Deceit Sanders, (Every other revealed side is mentioned at least once/multiple times)

Pairings: Roceit (Roman & Deceit) 

Warnings: Self doubt, Internalized Homophobia, Cursing, angst (not the entire time its broken up throughout), some...brief suggestive conversations blame deceit 

Ao3

---

Roman’s cheeks burned as he sunk out into the imagination.

Well, it wasn’t the imagination, not yet at least. For now, everything was blank, it needed to be blank or else he might anger Thomas again--upset Patton again--make everything loud and loud and loud and not okay and he was---

He sank to his knees, squeezing his eyes tight. Gasping quiet, he curled into himself tighter and tighter. He wondered if he can snap away from the sickening lurch of his stomach, snap away from the feeling of the stares, everyone staring. Snap away himse-

He was okay.

He had to be okay, he had to be not that. Not those fantasies that apparently weren’t locked away with Remus. He was not that, it had to be a fluke. He was still reeling from the separation, still forming and solidifying, of course, it had to be a fluke. He’s a Creativity not--

“You’ve grown.”

Roman’s head jerked up, tongue still dry with cotton and eyes barely registering the shadowed crevice seeping into the starkness of the imagination.

Effortlessly, the Side stepped out, and Roman’s gaped, “What are you doing here, -”

The side held up a gloved hand and Roman’s mouth shut, “I go by Deceit now.” he drawled, not looking entirely pleased.

“Well..” Roman sniffed, wiping his eyes as he stood, “-Deceit, what, what are you doing here.” He huffed, crossing his arms trying to find interest in the blankness, “If you lost your way, I’m sure Dr. Gloom down the hall can direct you, cause Patton said--”

“We both know very well how much I love listening to Morality,” Deceit rolled his eyes.

“But after you left you said--”

Deceit’s eyebrow twitched, “I said a lot of things,” he said carefully, “But you see, I’ve changed,” he gestured broadly to his face,” I’ve made amends with my,” another twitch, “Function.”

“That’s-That’s nice,” Roman’s eyes darted away and he turned on his heel, “Nice chat-I’ll be going no-oof,” Roman fumbled back.

Deceit cocked his head, “You seem bothered, Roman?” he said, examining his gloves as if he didn’t just teleport to block the path, “Are you bothered?”

“Bothered? Who’s bothered not me, not me,” he coughed, taking a step back, “Not me at all…” he finished weakly.

“Well if that’s the case,” Deceit said, taking a step forward, “You wouldn’t mind if I talked a little about myself, would you? It’s been a while, and we didn’t have the most...smooth introduction when you split…”

“Patton said you didn’t agree with...me...existing,” Roman rubbed his arms, eyeing him warily, “I shouldn’t. You shouldn’t.”

Deceit’s composure broke at that, face a tad bit softer, “I did say that” he admitted, “I was fond of the King. Nothing was…” he frowned, “Nothing was wrong with him.”

Roman was quiet at that.

“But…” Deceit continued, “That doesn’t mean something’s wrong with you,” he said, his dark whisper making Roman almost believing him, “We exist as parts of Thomas,” Roman didn’t realize how close Deceit had gotten, clothed hands, tilting his chin up to meet their eyes, “If we exist, we exist as everything Thomas needs and is.”

“Good and Bad I suppose…” Roman said, forcing a laugh.

Deceit didn’t laugh, eyes narrowing, “Well I wouldn’t say that” he murmured, “Bad is...flexible, moldable--the same with good,” A hand rested on Roman’s waist, pulling him closer, “But I do admit you are rather...lovely.”

“R-really?” Roman stuttered, unable to stop the swelling in his chest.

“Yes really,” he said amused, “Would I ever lie to you?””

Roman’s brow furrowed at that, “You said your new name was Deceit.”

“If I was lying would you want me to stop?”

Roman did not tell him to stop.

---

“And he just has the prettiest brown eyes-- and then there are his dimples-- don't get me started on the little freckles dotting his ears and his smile,” Roman swooned, crashing softly into Deceit’s bed,” God his smile.” he sighed, “It lights up a fuckin’ room--he’s just so happy to see Thomas--everyone and lets them know. I want to let him know--”

Deceit flipped a page in his book, “Let him know what?” he said, not looking up.

“That I want--” Roman’s smile fell, “That... I’m glad we’re friends.”

“Thomas does love his friends unconditionally,” Deceit said, crossing his legs and getting comfortable in the chair, “He likes spending time with them..”

Roman nodded, relieved, sitting up.

“Hugging them, kissing them—all platonic of course, “ Deceits tone got sharper, him flipping a page each time for emphasis, “being swept off his feet, going to prom, getting married—“

“What’s your point Deceit,” Roman snapped, eyes cold, “Thomas can get all of those things—“

“With him?” Deceit pressed, “With a man?”

“No,” Roman said, “No, no, no with a nice...woman.”

“Even if it’s platonic?”

Roman deflated,” Even...even then…” he said, “It would make things...weird.”

“Naturally,” Deceit said, dry.

Roman’s face soured, “What’s your fucking deal, Deceit?” He said, “What are yo—Why do you even care—what do you even want.”

“I want,” He snapped the book closed, “What Thomas wants.” He said, voice low.

“So do I, and what Thomas wants,” he winced, “Is to date a nice girl in his class—and not draw too much attention.”

“Oh Roman,” Deceit crooned with a sneer, “I forgot-- you hate attention—absolutely despise it.”

“Do you,” His jaw ticked, “Do you ever shut up?”

Deceit licked his lips, smiling, “Maybe if you ask nicely.”

“You-you’re -ugh,” Roman threw his hands up, flopping back onto the bed with a series of strangled screams.

“Are those just for me? I must say I’m flattered— I haven’t even touched you yet—“ He easily caught the pillow flung to his face, as he strolled to the bed, "Who knew royalty was so ...sensitive.” He mumbled, loud enough for Roman to hear.

“You’re the worst,” Roman said, voice muffled by the pillow.

Deceit raised an eyebrow, “I try my best.” He settled beside Roman.

“You’re an asshole you know that? A talking asshole in a hat—“ Roman ranted as Deceit pulled him into their lap, “---doctors hate you cause here comes the asshat with his, gasp, opinions,”

“Gotta be careful with opinions--”

“--And you think that your presence alone is enough to chan--Are you even listening to me?”

“I always listen to you,”

Roman snorted, head lolling to Deceit’s shoulder, “Well that’s definitely a lie.”

“What makes you say that?” Deceit hummed.

“W-It’s, it’s an exaggeration, right? You can’t listen to me all the time. I’m Creativity, not much weight to throw around with that title...” Roman said, “Afterall Thomas is going to be an... uh-engineer. “

Deceit stilled, “Roman, surely you know that you’re not only Creativity?” he said,

“What kind of snake-oil a’you trying to sell me, Dee,” Roman rolled his eyes, “Remus is still creativity, why would I be any different?”

“Remus is the neglected trash goblin of the mindscape--” Deceit pressed his lips thin, “He’s a completely different issue---that Thomas is determined to ignore, you, however, have clearly grown from the specialized attention.” he said, hands holding Roman’s hips as his voice dropped again, “You do love the attention, don’t you?”

“Well, I--” Roman’s thoughts stuttered, “I-uh-well…”

“Don’t you?” Deceit said a bit sharper.

His cheeks felt uncomfortably warm, “It’s compl-Okay I do,” Roman shut his eyes, “I really--really like it, okay, You happy now?”

“I’m content,” he drawled, “So, with that aired out--When I lie to you, and I will lie, that feels good as well, right?”

“I wouldn’t say good…”

“But you crave it, never-the-less,” Deceit leaned back, braced on his forearms, “You actively seek me out, even when you’re not supposed to… Don’t you think that’s strange?” he said, “Where do you think that urge comes from-- Where do you think those...fantasies come from?”

“For someone who holds all the cards, you sure do ask a lot of questions,” Roman groaned, crossing his arms and avoiding Deceit’s stare.

“You still don’t know the answer yet,” Deceit shrugged, “Afterall we both know those fantasies aren’t coming from the imagination--the imagination feeds from them---and they aren’t the same thing as Remus’s intrusive thoughts.”

Roman shook his head, “It doesn’t matter if they’re not...intrusive,” Roman said, with a frown, “Thomas is...he’s really scared...He might… might hate me.”

“I know, but I can’t do anything--we can’t do anything,” Deceit sighed, “If he continues to lie to himself. He has those thoughts--he wants those things, for better or for...worse. “

“Yeah...I guess,” Roman rubbed his arms, “I’ll--I’ll try and bring it up again--maybe convince Logan to do some research...”

Deceit leaned his head back, “And I’ll do whatever it takes to protect Thomas.” he said, "To protect you Roman."

"And whys that? What do you get out of helping me--you don't exactly help the other sides this...directly, " Roman frowned, "I know what I... get out of it--what Thomas gets out of it... but you..."

Deceit's silted eye flickered, and he smiled, "I get to know Thomas' every desire, of course."

-

@daflangstlairde

[globrights]

iasip s5 rated by macdennis content

The Gang Exploits The Mortgage Crisis: This episode marks the first time Mac and Dennis pretend to be realtors in matching outfits. Hugh Honey and Vic Vinegar will always be iconic, and Dennis being super psyched and horny by Mac’s anger will always be... Jesus Christ. There’s no right way to describe it. It is what it is. Mac and Dennis pretend to be a gay couple, and they fucking dress up for it. They dress up for everything. I hate them. I can’t believe this episode exists. 69/10

The Gang Hits The Road: “We gotta do this old school baby!” Mac and Dennis get all excited over an old school road trip when Dennis convinces Mac that it’s a great idea. Mac rides shotgun, as usual, and they are both super fascinated by getting to barter with people at the Italian market. Mac finds a sofa by the dumpster and Dennis says “Nice! Toss that in bro,” because they’re both idiots. Mac and Dennis sleep next to each other and Dennis reaches out for Mac when he wakes up, groggy. Beautiful. 8.8/10

The Great Recession: Mac and Dennis are codependent idiots who can’t fucking function but only want to need each other. They fire everyone but each other, and it goes horribly wrong, but they’re still really clingy about it. Mac and Dennis go to T.G.I. Friday’s together on a regular basis and Mac always tries to use his Dave and Buster’s card and it annoys Dennis but he still... goes to T.G.I. Friday’s together with him. 9/10

The Gang Gives Frank an Intervention: Mac rides shotgun, checking off a box that gets checked constantly. Dennis gets real freaked when he thinks Mac is dating Gail The Snail. “You tend to be very emphatic and strong.” 7/10

The Waitress Is Getting Married: Mac and Dennis get really worried about Charlie going mad after finding out The Waitress is getting married and killing them both and decide to work together to get Charlie a new hook up. When Dee hears an unexpected knock on her door, she immediately assumes it’s Mac and Dennis wanting salad dressing, or condiments, or anything else that they want to “jam up into each other’s...” Dee been knew. 8/10 because there wasn’t anything too specific but they were stuck together like the honey that hornets don’t make

The World Series Defense: “Yeah, but you only work out your glamor muscles and you know it.” “I work out my core!” “No you do not work out your core, you’re totally arm-heavy. You’re all bis and tris and everything else is just fat and-and ribs.” Why is Dennis paying so much attention to Mac’s workout routine and his body? Let’s not think about that. You know what else we shouldn’t be thinking about? Their super dumb push-up contest. In which they were staring into each other’s eyes as they... pushed. 8/10

The Gang Wrestles for the Troops: Mac and Dennis join forces with Charlie to put on a wrestling show in which they sing and call themselves eagle men, and they draw abs on their bodies... 7/10

Paddy’s Pub: Home of the Original Kitten Mittens: Mac and Dennis come up with merchandise to sell for their bar. Dennis wears a thong to turn Mac on, and Mac makes a dick towel. Mac and Dennis also engage in a scene that can only be described as one-on-one bukkake. 9/10

Mac and Dennis Break Up: So much happened in this episode. Mac and Dennis have no idea how they’re essentially in a long term, very very clingy, romantic relationship. They spend every waking moment together, don’t go an hour without checking in, and they have movie nights! Dee makes them a lil scared of the Gay and they... break up. Oh god fucking damn it. This is ridiculous. Mac apparently has Dennis convinced that apple skin is toxic and peels all his apples for him. I don’t even know how to explain all this. It’s just very very gay. Dennis calls Charlie to secretly talk about Mac, and invites Charlie over, even though he’s not excited about that. Mac is also very interested in whether Dennis is talking about him to Charlie. And he makes Frank check out the Video Store Clerk Guy that Dennis was talking to earlier that day to see if he’s... hot. Oh god!! Oh my god!! Are you seeing this? Are you guys fucking seeing this shit? When Mac and Dennis get together they’re all smiles and full of love and I refuse! To get into the specifics! It’s too much! Too much! Too gay! Refuse to analyze this any further! “I’ve got some cash. I can get you out of this jam.” AHH!! MAKE IT STOP!! MAKE IT GO AWAY!! 10/10

The D.E.N.N.I.S. System: “Oh yeah, Mac has a very special place in my system.” Mac sleeps with every girl that Dennis sleeps with, and he basically worships Dennis’ very bullshit methods of seduction. He seems to worship Dennis’ mind in general, making him a morosexual because Dennis is an idiot. 8.5/10

Mac and Charlie Write a Movie: “He is good at coming up with awesome words.” Dennis spends the whole episode writing Mac and Charlie’s movie, because he actually thinks their ideas are brilliant. 7/10

The Gang Reignites the Rivalry: “I know you’re a legend, Charlie knows you’re a legend.” Imagine being such a pissy baby that ur boyfriend has to switch jobs in the scheme with you. 6/10

[mirrorjumper]

Paint Me

Word count: 1284 Pairing: Quicksilver/Dee Summary: @sketchyziedrak​: “DRABBLE TIME: Yes, can I get a "Get Me" "Paint Me" "Quiet Me"? Drabbles from whichever ship in BNHA and OW not limited to canon, OCs can be included B)” I got a prompt over on my main blog and wanted to write something to explore Dee and Quicksilver a bit more. So take this prompt, “Paint Me”  from my hands and enjoy! Hope you all are doing well and enjoy this little piece of writing!

Quicksilver sat quietly as he finished his second drink of the night; it was what Dee called a “Brandy” - a drink from the planet Earth. They said that if he was going to still be putting hover fuel into his system, then it might as well taste better than the vodka he got. Personally, he didn’t mind the burn of the alcohol. He wasn’t really drinking it for the flavor in the first place.He decided however, this drink was too luxurious for his taste and thought it would be best to find someone to share in the extravagance so he didn’t feel so under dressed simply by drinking a third round tonight. 

Of course, who else other than Dee, he thought, would be the first person to pop into his head. His hand tapped a few tabs on the holopad, a honing beacon showing Dee’s position in the bay they were in. He had expected them to be anywhere but the Outlook at this time of night, but he shrugged his shoulders as he grabbed the bottle and an extra glass, making his way to where he’d find his partner. 

“Yo stranger! Head caught in the stars tonight?” Quicksilver let the door slide open to reveal a view of the rainbow nebula in front of him. This view would never get old, he thought to himself.  “Mmm.... Somethin’ like that.” Dee responded absentmindedly, their attention focused on the screen in front of them.  “Well don’t mind me then, I just thought I’d deliver a glass of brandy since it’s way too indulgent for my tastes.” Quicksilver plopped down in the seat next to him, setting both glasses down on the hard light table between them and pouring them each a measurable amount of the amber liquid. “I don’t see why you still won’t let me have vodka. It’s cheap and gets the job done.”

“I told ya, If yer gonna get drunk, might as well not look like yer on the verge of dyin’ with each drink.” Dee casually picked up the glass, swirling it’s contents to release some of it’s aroma and taking a moment to appreciate it before taking a gratuitous sip.  “Eventually the burn isn’t so bad. Just takes a bit to get to that point.”  “No thanks. I ain’t a depressed old man like ya’ yet. Kill me if I ever get there.” Quicksilver took no hesitation in knocking back their drink, glass being refilled as he set it back down on the table.  “Dully noted. Care to go out by way of lightning shifter or light shifter?” Dee’s eyes never left the tablet, Quicksilver taking note of the stylus in their hand. “Oh fuck you ya’ ass. But for all intents and purposes, feed me t’the Taitons. Least I’d get a good fuck outta it before goin’.” “You really don’t stop thinking about getting laid, do you? I bet even right now you’re filling out one of those red night forms, huh?” Quicksilver leaned forward; his sense of curiosity, he admitted, was getting the best of him.  “For yer own information,” Dee tilted the pad out of Quicksilver’s line of sight as they smacked the stylus against the top of his head, “Sometimes I’m thinkin bout how nosy a certain brown, curly headed fuck gets about things they shouldn’t be seein’ yet.” “The hell was that for?!!” He rubbed the top of his head.  Dee finally met his glance, both eyebrows raised unamused as he took his glass, shooting the liquid back into his mouth before setting it back down with a sense of finality. “Let an artist work.”  “...Fair enough.” Quicksilver found a small blush heating his face. Dee was probably one of the most expressive people he knew. With most people you had to guess how they felt, but with Dee what you saw was what you got, and that was something Quicksilver treasured more than he would ever admit. However, It wasn’t very often that Dee looked at him like that, all pretenses dropped and a seriousness that burned with a kind of tone that you didn’t want to mess with. Of course it didn’t help that their teal and green colored eyes were that much more emphasized by stunning eye makeup.  Quicksilver waited patiently as Dee finished. Normally he’d have knocked back the next glass as he did the previous one but he noticed as he watched Dee, it hadn’t become that hard to do as he watched them. The way Dee’s face had become intent in what they were working on, the way their hand moved effortlessly over the surface, the way their expression would shift and change with each moment that passed by. Maybe it was the alcohol finally kicking in, but taking it slow, Quicksilver thought, might not be so bad at all.  “Well, ho-lyyy shit, y’can be patient...” Quicksilver was startled out of his trance as Dee stretched their arms above their head.  “As if there was any doubt...Pshhh...”  “Okay Mr. I’m-gonna-finish-almost-a-whole-bottle-a’-brandy-by-myself... Sure sounds like y’know how t’pace yerself... Come back to me an tell me that Celice can make water outta fire. That’s th’ day I believe ya.” Dee reached over to drink down the last contents of the bottle. 

Quicksilver tried to snatch the bottle away as he watched the contents disappear “HEY!”  “In my defense,” Dee licked their lips and gave a sultry grin, “I bought it. If anythin’ I should be th’ one makin’ a fuss over th’ fact that y’started without me. Ass. Anyways, calm down or else I ain’t showin’ you this thing I worked my hand over.” Quicksilver plopped back in his chair, arms folded as he let out a disapproving sigh. “Fine, whatever. But I’m getting that cheap vodka so you can’t say shit next time.”  “By all means, go for it. But don’t come cryin’ to me when.... Never mind. Y’ain’t gonna listen anyways.” Dee sat back as they handed the pad over to a smug Quicksilver. “Here. Now quit whinin’ ‘bout me not showin’ ya.” Quicksilver took the holopad in his hand and looked down at the picture that was displayed. His grin quickly fading as awe spread over his expression. To call the piece he had the privilege of seeing anything but a masterpiece, that would truly be an understatement and a half. “Is this... really something you painted?” “You saw me workin’ on it, didn’t ya?” Dee clicked his tongue in his mouth as he rolled his eyes.  His fingers zoomed in on the details, utterly amazed at how realistic it looked. “No. I... I just had no idea you knew how to paint like this... I only ever see you draw outfits, but portraits like this... Holy shit. It looks like you took a pic of me in the middle of a fight.” “Well, they say t’ draw things that inspire ya. So there y’go.” Dee looked over at Quicksilver with a smug grin. “B’sides, whats th’ point of tellin’ everyone everythin’ right away. Life’s like Poker. Gotta know when t’show yer hand an’ when t’ fold. Keep em’ guessin.”  “Well fuck.... I don’t know what to say.” “Y’could start off with a ‘Dee yer amazin’ and great an’ I can’t believe I got a good ol’ pal who’d ever wanna draw my ugly mug.”  “So you admit that you’re attracted to an ugly person? I think that says more about you than it does about me.” “Someone’s gotta stand there an’ make me look pretty.” Quicksilver handed the tablet back to them, a quirky smile playing across his lips. “Well, consider it an honor if it means you draw me as a masterpiece like this more often.” 

[jdmara]

for the sunny ask meme: 9, 7, 14

9. what’s your favorite kind of sunny fan content? (fanart, mixes, fic, etc.)

um honestly I’m a fic/headcanon kind of person, because I love reading and absorbing them and cherishing them in my heart, but I also LOVE mixes because I like to hear what songs other people associate with the show and add new songs to the list of songs I love. art mostly makes me intensely jealous because I’m no goooood at drawing real people and I want to get better. rip me.

7. what’s something that we haven’t seen in the show yet that you’d like to see?

well, if you asked me at the beginning of the season, it would have been mac coming out of the closet for good. now?

MAC KISSING BOYS! MAC HAVING A BOYFRIEND!! MAC CHERISHING AND VALUING HIS LOVE FOR MEN!!!

also like where are the mcpoyles. they need more episodes where they are being weird and gross and I can lust over gross n slimy jimmi simpson in peace.

I would also like to see a dee-centric episode where the boys don’t steal her spotlight, because we never get to see that!! (sick burn.) (thank you.)

14. do you have any theories about the show/characters?

wlw dee!! macdennis will ramp up as an ongoing subtextual will-they-or-won’t-they romance arc!! frank is probably going to die before the end of the series because (1) danny devito is like 72 and he’s not going to live forever (I know folks I’m sad too) so they gotta do it at some point, (2) being frank and the stuff there basically canonizing there’s something Wrong with frank, and (3) like he lives a really shitty lifestyle. also I’m really into this ongoing theory that something is wrong with dee and she’ll be revealed to be badly sick or something in the finale. also, like, dennis being a dad isn’t a theory anymore so I can’t claim that, but. dennis being a dad!! love that dad!dennis content.

thanks for sending me those!! y’all should send me more asks about my neverending opinions on always sunny!!

[airadam]

Episode 93 : (for small values of infinity)

"All that happy, 'let's be friends' shit? Yo, this is the opposite."

- Konny Kon

As usual, we pay tribute to J Dilla, Big L, and Big Pun this month, but also two giants from a previous generation who both made a massive impact on Hip-Hop; Clyde Stubblefield and David Axelrod, who both passed in the last few weeks. Besides that, we have some great recent tracks from Manchester, some US classics and a few tracks that may have passed you by! Let's get it going...

Twitter : @airadam13

Playlist/Notes

D.I.T.C. : Best Behavior (Showbiz Remix #2)

From "The Remix Project", we go heavy in multiple ways right from the jump. Big Pun may not have been a charter member of D.I.T.C, but Fat Joe certainly is, and it's via Joe that we end up with this connection to one of the fiercest MCs of all time. One verse each over this Showbiz beat which somehow manages to be even darker than the excellent Amed-produced original. 

David McCallum : The Edge

I'd imagine a good number of you thought this was about to be an entirely different record :) This track from the "Music: A Bit More Of Me" album is definitely the most famous track by the actor/musician David McCallum, and one of the most well-recognised by the producer, the brilliant David Axelrod, who passed away this month. That intro is just a monster.

Big L & Jay-Z : Freestyle

Given the origin and the content, I hope you can excuse the sound quality! This is one of the great freestyle sessions of all time, with the then-rising Big L and Jay-Z trading serious bars over the beat for Miilkbone's "Keep It Real"; as it turns out, they'd already battled off-mic earlier the same night! While that clash is lost to folklore, it's good to have this back-and-forth preserved for posterity, thanks to Stretch & Bobbito.

Ras Kass : Soul On Ice (Remix)

Diamond D remixes the title track from Ras' debut, blessing Ras with a David Axelrod-sampling instrumental that is probably better known than the original. Ras is in the political lyrical mode many people would associate him with here, but as always managed to blend that with just vicious battle lines. "The waterproof MC, you ain't wettin' me/You need to stop rapping and start robbing banks like Steady B"? *Ouch*...

SoundSci : The Remedy (Jonny Cuba Remix)

This one has just missed the cut a few times but it fit nicely here! Super relaxed vibe all the way through on this closing track from the "Dig For Victory" EP.

James Brown : Funky Drummer (Parts 1 & 2)

We join this track about a minute and a half in - the full track is seven minutes long. At 19:25 though, one of the most famous, sampled, re-used, re-formulated pieces of audio of all time appears to grace our eardrums. Clyde Stubblefield claimed to not particularly like this song as a whole all that much, but these few seconds of solo drumming when he was given his shine have immortalised it - and him. 

[Jay Dee] Slum Village : Climax (Instrumental)

Easily one of my favourite Dilla beats, from the "Fantastic, Vol.2" album - a fantastic blend of samples and that clap on the two and four are perfectly crisp and clean.

Busta Rhymes : Genesis

Busta was one of those MCs who caught on to J Dilla relatively early and the two artists combined for some excellent tracks over the years. On "Genesis", Busta's fifth album, Dilla contributed this title track and "Make It Hurt", which sounds like it was done by a completely different producer, which just goes to show his versatility. 

Gang Starr : Mass Appeal

It just seemed to go well with the Busta record, and it's a great single, taken from the "Hard To Earn" LP. What you might not know about it is that DJ Premier essentially put the beat together as a bit of a mickey take! The track is supposed to sound like catchy elevator music, in keeping with the lyrical theme of rappers simplifying their material for a popular audience - but it just sounds so good! 

Souls of Mischief : 93 Til Infinity (Remix)

Do I prefer this to the original? Absolutely not - however, that doesn't mean it's not a quality track in its own right. If you listen carefully, you'll hear that it's an actual re-record, with the lyrics being very slighly different and the delivery also tweaked to better fit this alternative beat by A-Plus. The easiest place to find this is on the original 12" single, though it has been released by itself as well.

Masta Ace Incorporated : Saturday Night Live (L.A. Jay Remix)

Staying in '93 for a remix of a track from the "SlaughtaHouse" album - an LP notable for largely being a parody which a lot of people either took literally or assumed wasn't about them! This particular track has its own dark humour, showing about how live a Saturday night can actually get, and feaures Uneek, Eyce, and Lord Digga on the mic. L.A. Jay from the Pharcyde crew rocks the same sample heard on Gang Starr's "Jazz Music" for a beat that manages to surpass the album version!

Pete Rock : Dilla Bounce (R.I.P)

A fitting instrumental to include this month. Dilla came up idolising the work of Pete Rock, so it's poetic that after his passing (as in life), Pete pays respect to him in return. I feel that "Petestrumentals 2" may follow the same path as its predecessor - underrated on release, and retrospectively hailed as a classic.

Run The Jewels ft. Joi : Down

The "RTJ3" album came out on Christmas Day and ensured that we all got at least one present :) This was the opener and a worthy one - a look back at Killer Mike and El-P's pasts, and a look forward to where they plan to go. There's a kind of warmness to the beat which isn't a word I'd usually use to describe an El-P track, but it envelops your ears and draws you in to focus on the lyrics.

Ellis Meade : Kings & Queens

Ellis was kind enough to send me a copy of this a few months back and I finally found a good place to showcase it in a mix. The flow is crazy over a double-timed, almost southern-style Pro P beat. Another win for the Room 2 Records crew!

Chamillionaire : You Gotta Love Me

"Mayn, let the truth free". That shout-out to the then-incarcerated Pimp C firmly dates this one, a longtime headphone favourite for me finally making it onto the show! From the DJ Whoo Kid (hence the annoying adlibs) collaboration mixtape "The Truth", Cham focuses his anger on Mike Jones ("who?", you may now ask?) - that beef lasted for several years. I haven't been able to find out who produced this but that sped-up vocal sample is a serious earworm!

Don Jagwarr : The Cure

I've had this one hanging around for a long while, not sure it's everyone's speed but it fit tempo-wise into this selection and I think was a reasonable follow-up to the soul sample in the previous track. Don Jagwarr is almost certainly best known to most as the guest on Ice Cube's "Wicked", but he did have his old LP, "Faded", from which this track is drawn. The beat and hook are based around a replay of Diana Ross' "Love Hangover", which is a chilled backing for Jagwarr to spin his tale over.

Jake One : Oh Lord

We go back to the gospel-themed "#PrayerHandsEmoji" beat tape for this instrumental, a perfect warm-up for this month's closer...

Children of Zeus : Crown

An anthem already (wow, alliteration)! Tyler Daly goes straight rhymes alongside the always-ready Konny Kon over a no-drums track based around a stirring gospel sample; both MCs turn it out in fine style! Absolutely huge track from the "Two Syllables, Volume Thirteen" compilation and one that deserves as much shine as possible - on top of everything else, it also has one of the best videos I've seen in ages, so no excuse not to share and share again!

Please remember to support the artists you like! The purpose of putting the podcast out and providing the full tracklist is to try and give some light, so do use the songs on each episode as a starting point to search out more material. If you have Spotify in your country it's a great way to explore, but otherwise there's always Youtube and the like. Seeing your favourite artists live is the best way to put money in their pockets, and buy the vinyl/CDs/downloads of the stuff you like the most!

Check out this episode!