#jimmy quit nodding while your twin is saying he saved you while feeling like he had a gun to his head jdhfjf

[dynamitekansai]

Y’all wanna know why I did it? Because I had to. I had to. I ain’t wanna do it. I ain’t wanna do it! I ain’t had no choice! I never had a choice, because HE is my BLOOD!  There’s one person I blame. There’s one person I blame, and that is you, Sami Zayn!

[dickspeightjrs]

It’s Just a Little Crush (au / 2.2k words) 

Prompt 7 from my ‘30 Destiel Prompts’ for @starclaire

ao3 link

“Okay guys, we got a little time to kill before the bell so talk amongst yourselves. But keep it quiet.” Dean warns. 

It’s an ordinary Tuesday morning in Dean’s home room class. He’s got a good bunch this year - a few interesting personalities for sure. 

“Mr Winchester?”

Ah, speaking of interesting personalities.

“Yes, Krissy?” He looks up from the lesson plan he’d put together for his sophomore class first period. He frowns when he sees the eyes of all twenty-something kids staring back at him. “What’s going on?”

Nothing would surprise him anymore. He may have only been teaching at this particular school for a couple of years but he’d been an auto shop teacher for going on ten. He’d seen everything. And that’s why he knew having his entire home room look at him, like his kids currently were, wasn’t always a good thing. 

“What’s the deal with you and Mr Novak?” She smirks. 

Mr Novak, Castiel, is head of the history department. He’d started at the school about a year before Dean. He’s a little dorky and doesn’t always get people’s jokes or references but Dean knows the kids love him. He’s had many auto shop classes that begin with students telling him all about the ‘totally awesome’ history lesson they’d just had with Mr Novak. 

Dean pretends not to understand the implication in Krissy’s question. “What do you mean?”

But Krissy isn’t letting it go. “It’s just that we’ve all noticed that you get into the same car with Mr Novak every day after school.” She shrugs, feigning innocence as if her words aren’t peppered with sly suggestions. “And we all know it’s your car because you never stop going on about it even though it’s old as hell and no one, except old men, drive cars like that anymore.”

Dean tries not to be offended on behalf of his baby. He wasn’t going to argue with a teenager about the merits of a well-kept classic vintage car. Not again anyway. 

“It ain’t any of your business, Krissy, but Mr Novak doesn’t have a car so I drive him home.” Dean explains. “Happy?”

Krissy seems to relent, realising she’s not going to get a rise out of her teacher today. 

“Nah,” comes a voice from the back row. “I reckon there’s more to it than that.”

The class shuffles around to reveal Claire Novak smirking back at the teacher. She has a mischievous look in her eyes that Dean doesn’t like. She has the rest of the students intrigued though. 

Claire’s sly look only gets bigger as she begins to speak again. “I think they’re secretly dating,” she says, never taking her eyes off Dean, watching for his reaction. 

Dean sighs. Where is that damn bell?

“No, Claire, me and Mr Novak are not dating,” he denies. “And you of all people should know that.”

Claire is Castiel’s niece. Her dad is Castiel’s twin brother, Jimmy. Jimmy came to school to pick Claire up once and it weirded everyone out seeing the exact replica of their favourite teacher stood right next to the man himself. 

“Okay, fine,” Claire relents, “but you like him, right?”

Dean is saved from answering by the bell finally ringing.

*  *  * 

Dean was foolish to hope that the details of the interrogation he’d received would stay in home room. 

By third period, he’d heard students from each of his classes whisper as they were meant to be working. He couldn’t make out everything they were saying but he kept hearing the words ‘crush’ and ‘Mr Novak’ in the same sentence. 

Crush? Dean is a grown man. He hasn’t had a crush since he met his first boyfriend when he was sixteen. 

He takes a deep breath. It’ll blow over soon. 

*  *  * 

It does not blow over. 

A week later and everyone is still talking about. Even some of the other teachers have been giving Dean knowing looks every time he’s sat next to Castiel in the teacher’s lounge. Though, Cas seems to remain none the wiser. 

By the end of the day, Dean is glad to see his baby. He couldn’t wait to get home and be distracted from the rumours of his feelings for his fellow teacher. 

As usual, Castiel joins him for the journey. Luckily, none of their students seem to be around when they get into the car. 

Once they leave the school parking lot, Dean breathes a sigh of relief. He can just be himself now, and not worry about what other people are thinking. 

The two men sit in silence for a few moments. Dean’s eyes are on the road ahead. Driving always calms him. 

“Dean, can I ask you something?” 

“Think you just did, Cas,” Dean smirks, not taking his eyes from the road. 

“You’re hilarious,” Castiel replies. Dean sees him roll his eyes from the corner of his own. His smirk just gets bigger. 

“I’ve been hearing some things around school recently,” Cas says, his voice changing to a more serious tone. “And, I just wanted to ask. Do you have a crush on me?”

It’s silent in the car for a few moments until Dean is the first to crack. 

He lets out a loud bark of laughter. “I can’t believe you managed to say that with a straight face.” He chuckles, shaking his head in amusement. 

The car pulls into the driveway of a modest two-storey house. Dean cuts the engine and turns to Cas. 

The other man is quietly laughing too. He looks quite amused with himself. He is honestly such a dork, Dean thinks.

But then his face turns serious again. “You didn’t answer my question. Do you have a crush on me?” He asks again. 

Dean thinks for a minute, taking in the man sitting in front of him. “Do I have a crush on my best friend, and husband of thirteen years? Yeah, I guess I do.”

Dean gives Cas a teasing smile and leans across the passenger seat to bring his husband into a smiling kiss. 

*  *  *

Later that evening, Dean and Castiel are laying together in their bed. Only a lamp on the nightstand lights the room, letting out a relaxing glow. 

Castiel reaches out to let Dean cuddle up to him. Dean rests his head on Castiel’s chest. He plays with the fingers on Castiel’s left hand. Castiel lets him and goes with the movement when Dean turns his hand over to reveal the small ‘18’ tattooed on the underside of his ring finger. 

They’d met on September 18th in their junior year of high school. From that day, Castiel had been Dean’s first and only crush. 

Castiel and Jimmy had just transferred from their old school. It was some old-fashioned super religious school but some bad shit had gone down and the school had to close. Dean’s school had been the next best thing according to Castiel's overbearing, church-going, Jesus devotee parents. 

Dean and Castiel became inseparable by the time it came for them to graduate. By then, everyone knew they were together but they didn’t care. The honeymoon phase never seemed to end for them. 

For obvious reasons, Castiel’s parents were the only ones who had never found out about their relationship. Given what they thought about anyone who wasn’t straight, the boys thought it was safer to keep it from them. They didn’t know what they might try to do to Castiel if they found out. 

The day after their graduation, Dean had packed up his car and they ran away. They went to college in another state and never looked back. Castiel had left his parents a note explaining everything and telling them not to try and contact him - though Castiel didn’t think they’d want to after they’d found out he was gay. 

Dean’s family knew where they’d gone (they’d always been supportive of their relationship since the beginning). They welcomed Castiel into their family and treated him like their own. They’d visit the boys for the holidays and eventually, once Dean’s brother, Sam, finished high school, they all moved to be closer to their boys. 

Castiel had felt guilty for years for leaving his brother but in their second year of college, Jimmy tracked Castiel down and told him he’d left too. (Turns out he’d got his high school girlfriend, Amelia, pregnant and their parents didn’t take kindly to it happening out of wedlock.) 

Dean and Castiel got married while they were still in college. Most people would warn them against getting married so young but their family knew they weren’t being naive. They were it for each other. 

They had a small ceremony on the anniversary of their first meeting. Sam and Jimmy had been best men and two-year-old Claire was their flower girl. (Despite what her attitude now might make you think, she was an adorable toddler who stole the show with her adorable presence.) 

Over the years, they’d kept their marriage on the down low. Castiel was a little paranoid that his parents would somehow find them and try to take him away from Dean and their family. They had a lot of connections and Castiel wouldn’t put it past them to use those connections to find him. 

So, when they both became teachers and ended up working at the same high school, Castiel had asked Dean if he could be called Mr Novak so as not to draw attention to them. (Same sex marriage might be legal now but it would still turn heads to have two husbands teaching at the same school, which was the kind of thing Castiel wanted to avoid.) Dean had agreed, he just wanted his husband to feel safe. They still went home together at the end of the day and that’s all that mattered to him. 

But it is that exact act which has led them to where they are now. 

“Dean,” Castiel speaks into his husband’s hair. “I think it’s time to tell everyone the truth.” 

Dean turns to sit up properly and look at Castiel. 

“Are you sure? We don’t have to. I know you love and I sure as shit love you,” he reassures Cas. “Plus, it’s only your teacher name that’s still ‘Novak’. Legally, you’re a Winchester,” he smiles. 

“I know, but I want to be honest with our coworkers and students too.” Castiel explains. “And maybe I want to show them that you’re not the only one with a crush,” he teases. 

“Awesome.” Dean beams. “We don’t have to make a big deal out of it anyways. We’ll just start wearing our rings tomorrow and they’ll figure it out.” 

Castiel nods in agreement. 

Dean could just burst with happiness. He’d finally be able to show Castiel off like he’s always wanted to. 

Currently, his wedding ring sat against his chest on a silver chain under his shirt. Castiel keeps his safely tucked away, only taking it out for special family occasions (hence why he got the tattoo - as a more subtle and personal token of his love for Dean). Dean couldn’t wait to feel the weight of the ring on his finger every day. And knowing Castiel would be walking around with his matching one makes Dean smile like a love-sick dork.

Suddenly feeling like a kid on Christmas Eve, Dean settles down into the sheets again, eagerly awaiting sleep to take him so it could hurry up and be morning. 

He’s just drifting into sleep when Castiel’s voice whispers against his ear. 

“Dean?”

Dean hums, not mustering the energy to turn over and face his husband. 

“Not that I’m not happy that it gave me the perspective to stop being scared, but where did the rumours of you having a crush on me come from anyway?”

Trust Cas to think of the semantics just as Dean is trying to sleep. 

Dean only has one word. 

“Claire.”

Castiel sighs. “I should have known. I’ll talk to her.”

Dean finally turns to look at Cas in the eyes. Green meets blue. “Don’t sweat it, babe,” he smiles. “She’s just teasing like all teenagers do. She would never actually tell anyone anything we’re not comfortable with.” 

Castiel shrugs and nods his head in silent agreement. 

“I’ll just get her back when we go to your brother’s for dinner on Sunday.” Dean yawns, cheekily. 

Castiel rolls his eyes. The joking rivalry between Dean and their niece never seems to end. 

Dean smirks and leans over to kiss Castiel. “Goodnight, Mr Winchester.”

“Good night, Dean.” 

*  *  *

The next morning, Dean walks into his home room class and begins the regular formalities of the morning. 

Claire walks in late a few minutes later. She says nothing to Dean until she sits down at her desk, puts her feet up on the table, and says in a nonchalant manner, “Nice ring, Mr Winchester.” 

The rest of the class look to Dean’s hand. Sure enough there’s a silver band on his left hand that hadn’t been there the day before. 

“I just saw a matching one on my uncle’s hand when I handed in my history project. Isn’t that a funny coincidence?” She smirks as the rest of the students’ mouths drop open. Dean’s known Claire long enough to know that it’s a smirk of love though. 

The news of his and Castiel’s marriage (and Castiel’s new teacher name) reaches his freshman class by second period. He should have known it wouldn’t take long. 

-

A/N: I hope you enjoyed it Mae! 

If you liked what you saw, REBLOG! and consider reserving a prompt from my ‘30 Destiel Prompts’ challenge, or just send me your own prompt you’d like me to fill! 

-

TAGS: @eccentriccas @starrynightdeancas @credentiast @imbiowaresbitch @starclaire @cockleslovesdestiel @bend-me-shape-me @destielfactory @dea-stiel @wendeano @wingsandimpalas @aggressivedean @flowersforcas @chill-legilimens @pancakesofthelord @saltnhalo @caslikescoffeeandfreckles @assbuttboyfriends @jhoomwrites @breathingdestiel @simplymisha @thekingslover 

(once again tagging my faves, let me you if you’d like to be removed from future fics - or added if you’re not already there!)

[wonkasmissstarshine]

The Chocolatier’s Rose {Willy Wonka x OC} Ch.39

GIFs not mine. Credit go to owners.

Summary: Rose and Willy make a decision about the next step in their relationship.

A/N: Only a little bit of smut.

Tagging: @holdmeicant​ @willymywonkers​ @sleepiesapphicxoxo​ @frozenhuntress67​

It was another morning and Rose's eyes opened. She smiled when she saw that Willy was beside her, still fast asleep. The memories of last night flooded her brain. Memories of their wedding and them making love for the first time.

Rose kissed Willy on the cheek and she was about to get up to go have a shower, but a mumble coming from her husband stopped her. "Starshine, don't go just yet. Lay with me a little longer" Rose laid back down. She caressed Willy's face and stroked his soft skin. Willy's eyes opened. "So last night wasn't a dream" He said.

Rose shook her head. "Nope. It was real, cocoa bean"

"Then why did it feel like such a dream?"

"Because that's what it feels like when you're with someone you love"

Willy smiled. "If being with you is like a dream, then I'll never wake up again"

Rose giggled at that. She inched her face closer to his and gave him a kiss. Willy's arm wrapped around her and he pulled her closer to him. Their naked skin was warm against one another.

"Last night was the most amazing night of my life, starshine" Willy confessed. He touched his forehead to hers and lightly brushed his fingertips along the silky skin of her back. "It wasn't just the...you know...which made it so wonderful. But I definitely liked that part" He giggled before continuing. "The whole wedding was wonderful"

"It sure was" Rose said dreamily. She kissed Willy once more. "I was about to pop in the shower. Perhaps you'd like to join me?"

"You know I would" Willy answered with a smirk. Rose hopped out of bed first. She walked around to Willy's side and held out her hands to him. He grabbed her hands and rose up from the bed. He let Rose carry him towards the bathroom.

******

Their shower was getting quite steamy and in more ways than one. Rose and Willy massaged shampoo into each other’s hair, and when it came to washing one another, they took their sweet time.

Willy lathered up Rose first. He carefully washed her arms, stomach, back, and legs. He spent some extra time when it came to her breasts. He didn’t just wash them. He groped, kneaded, and kissed.

While he was enjoying himself with her tits, Rose decided that she would start washing him. She made sure to lather every inch of skin. Of course, she saved a very special place for last.

Rose took Willy’s cock in her hands and started jerking him off. His lips left her skin so that he could moan. “Oh, truffle”

Rose leaned her face in close so that their lips were almost touching. “Will you make love to me again?”

“I will” He whispered so desperately. “Whenever you want me to”

“Mmm. Well, I want you right now” She teasingly brushed her lips against his. “Do you want me?”

“More than you know” He growled before grabbing the back of Rose’s head and pulled her into a searing kiss.

He pushed her against the tiled wall. Rose shivered at the contact. It felt cool against her back. Willy made sure to keep Rose steady as she positioned herself so that she had one of her legs wrapped around his waist.

Willy took his cock in his hand, and guided himself so that he was lined up with Rose. “Are you ready, starshine?”

“Yes” Rose gave her consent.

Slowly and gently, Willy pushed himself inside her. They proceeded to make such sweet love to each other, until they reached their simultaneous highs, swallowing each other’s moans in feverish kisses.

******

Rose stood in the kitchen as she worked on cooking breakfast for her and Willy. She was wrapped in a robe, and her damp blonde hair was sticking to her skin.

Willy soon joined her, dressed in a matching robe and wet hair. He came up behind Rose, wrapping his arms around her and tucking his chin on her shoulder. He pressed a kiss to her neck.

"Breakfast looks almost as ravishing as you, starshine"  Willy purred to her.

"Cocoa bean, if you keep talking to me like that, I'm just going to have to have you for breakfast instead"

"I wouldn't mind going again"

"Willy Wonka!" Rose gasped, a bit over dramatically. "Since when did you get such a dirty mind?"

Willy giggled innocently. "I think you had something to do with that" He pressed his palms flat against her stomach. "Starshine, do you think that you're...?"

Rose smiled, relaxing her body and leaning against Willy. "I don't know, cocoa bean. It might not happen right away" She went silent, her smile falling from her lips.

Willy noticed. "Tell me what you're thinking"

"Are you absolutely sure that you're ready to be a dad?" Rose asked, turning around so that she was facing her husband. "I mean, I'm not even sure if I'm ready to be a mom"

"Sure, I'm not sure if I'm ready" Willy cupped Rose's face in his hands. "But I'm absolutely certain that I know it is something that I want"

And Rose was certain that's what she wanted too. She wanted to have a beautiful family with Willy. Two children. Twins. One boy and one girl. Their names would be Fleur and Dulce. And they would be the spitting image of their father.

Of course, even if that's not quite how it works out, Rose would still be happy all the same. And she knew Willy would be too.

"Is it official then?" Rose wondered. "Are we officially trying to start a family of our own?"

Willy smiled. "I would like to think so"

Rose copied his smile. "You know that means we're going to have to keep making the baby"

"Everyday?" Willy asked, his eyebrow raised and his tone hopeful.

Rose answered playfully. "If that's what it takes"

"I like that sound of that!" Willy excitedly said before pressing his lips to hers. He untied Rose's robe and pushed the satin material off of her. It pooled at her feet.

"Willy, what about breakfast?"  Rose only pulled away slightly from Willy's lips.

He fell to his knees and pushed her legs apart. Her bare pussy was revealed to him. Willy looked up at Rose with an almost animalistic hunger in his eyes and licked his lips. “I thought we agreed we'd be having each other for breakfast"

******

It turned out to be quite the fun morning for Rose and Willy. Once they did get dressed and actually eat breakfast for real, they made their way to the Bucket house. The both of them talked it over and felt like it would be a good thing to inform their family of their next steps. Rose let out a shaky breath she didn't even realize she was holding. She went to knock on the door, but she paused, her fist hovering just above it.

Why was she feeling so nervous about talking to her parents about the possibility of them having grandchildren in the near future? What if they tell her things like, "It's too soon for you to even be thinking about children" or, "You're not ready for motherhood yet"?

Willy had noticed that Rose fell rather quiet. He peered in her direction. He saw that she was in mid-knock, staring blankly at the door. It reminded him of how he would stare off into space when he got his flashbacks.

"Starshine," He started. He grabbed the hand the remained at Rose's side and he gave it a squeeze. That knocked Rose out of her thoughts. She blinked a few times, turning to look at Willy. "Are you okay?"

"Yes" Rose pointedly said.

But Willy knew that she wasn't. "I know you, Rose. And you only stare blankly like that when something is wrong" He then wrapped his arm around her, bringing Rose into a hug. "So tell me starshine, what's got you so scared?"

"I'm.... I'm scared to tell mum and dad. What if we tell them and they tell us that we shouldn't have children? What if they say we're being young and naive?"

"Well that doesn't sound like the Mr and Mrs Bucket I know" Willy attempted to ease Rose. "If they thought that we were young and naive, would they have approved of us even getting married so soon?"

"I suppose not"

"My sweet and beautiful Rose, you may be young but you're certainly not naive. Now me, I may be a little naive, especially when it comes to family things, but I'm not as young as you are"

Rose suddenly realized that for as long as she has been with Willy, she never did catch his age. She tilted her head curiously. "How old are you?"

Willy stiffened and then his smile turned into a pout. "I... I really would rather you didn't know"

Rose smiled and nodded in understanding. "That's okay. I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable by asking. I was just curious"

"Forty" Willy suddenly blurted. He then instantly regretted it, scared that Rose would now reject him because of the fact that he was older than she was. But Rose wasn't cringing or wretching. She was still smiling. Willy repeated his age, more confident. "I'm forty"

"Forty" Rose repeated, implanting the information in her brain. "You definitely look younger than that. I would have pegged you for early thirties, at least"

"So you're not disgusted?"

"Why would your age make a difference with how I feel about you? Yes, there's a fourteen year age difference between us, but so what. Does knowing I'm younger make you any less attracted to me?"

"You'd be silly to think otherwise, starshine" Willy giggled so happily as he took Rose's face in his hands. "Nothing is ever going to make me change the way I feel about you"

Rose bit her lip as he scanned every inch of his face with her eyes. "You make forty look real good. So sexy" She winked at him. "And besides, I did always have a thing for older guys"

"Oh, do you?"

"Oh yes. First boy I had a crush on, Jimmy Wells, was fourteen. A full two years older than me"

And that was the end of that conversation as the door suddenly opened, revealing Mrs Bucket. "Thought it was you two we heard out here"

"Hello mum" Rose greeted her.

"Hi Mrs—" Willy stopped himself. He was married to Rose now, which meant that her mom was now his mom as well. So he greeted her as such. "Hi mom"

The couple stepped inside the house and were quickly greeted by the other Buckets. "Hello Rose! Hello Willy!"

Charlie immediately ran up to them, engulfing his sister and his new brother in a hug. Rose pat him on the head. Willy pat him on the shoulder.

"Well hello to you too, Charlie!" Rose said. "What's got you so happy this morning?"

"You two" Charlie answered, letting go of both of them. "I can't believe it. You two are married now"

"I'm still wrapping my head around it too" Willy said. He looked at Rose and smiled. "I was sure when I woke up this morning, it was all a dream"

"That's the honeymoon phase for you" Grandpa George said. "It doesn't last forever but I have a feeling with you two, it won't ever go away"

"Speaking of honeymoons, are you two planning on going on one?" Grandma Josephine inquired.

"We never discussed it. I don't think we'd need to go on a honeymoon. I'm quite content here in the factory" Rose explained. She then looked to her husband. "As I'm sure you are"

"Rose, if you want us to go somewhere special for a honeymoon, we can" Willy tried to tell her. He still wasn't all that comfortable with the idea of leaving the factory and being so far away from it, but he'd be willing to go away with Rose for a week or two.  She was more important to him than the factory anyway.

"Thanks cocoa bean, but a honeymoon isn't a priority to me right now. Something else is" Rose turned to face her family. "Willy and I have been talking and we'd like to share something with all of you"

All the Buckets leaned forward with anticipation, curious as to what Rose had to say.

Rose took in a deep breath before sharing with her family. "We've decided that having a family of our own is something that both Willy and I want. So, we're officially trying for a child"

The Buckets all broke out into smiles and cheers at the news.

"That's wonderful to hear!" Grandpa Joe said. "You'll make wonderful parents"

"See, starshine?" Willy said to Rose. He playfully bumped his shoulder against hers. "I told you they wouldn't get mad"

Mr Bucket raised an eyebrow. "Why would you think we'd be mad at you for wanting children?"

"Because we just got married. I mean, Willy and I haven't even been together a year"

"Did you know that when I became pregnant with you, your father and I weren't even married yet?" Mrs Bucket revealed. Rose's eyes widened in shock. She hadn't known that. "And even though we weren't married yet, we knew in our hearts that we were ready for you"

"Just like you two know that you're ready for your own children" Mr Bucket said. "You know you're ready because children is something you both want. And as long as you know that, that's all that matters"

Oh yes, the two Wonkas were absolutely, definitely, positively sure about their want of a child. And now matter how long it takes, they would have one.

[vydante]

Restart | Avengers x Male! Reader | 10

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Avengers x Male! Reader (romantically: multiple)

Plot: Dr. Strange said there was only one possibility of winning the battle against Thanos.

But when (Name) is forced into the past and into his younger body, he’s suddenly given the chance to start over and prevent the future from happening again.

So which route are you going to take? Are you going to risk the future and take preventative measures, or live life with the Avengers for the next 4 years, knowing what will soon come?

A/N: Important A/N at end. Short, but we get to see Rhodey!

Uncle Rhodey visited today.

You don't actually call him that- you're old enough now where, if you started, it definitely would be less endearing and a bit weird, but nowadays it was always either Rhodey or Jimmy. Besides, it's even weirder considering you're technically almost 30, so there's that. Of course, back then though, there were moments when you slipped up, much to your embarrassment and his amusement. 

You'd either be sleep-deprived or distracted most of the time. Mumbling a tired 'Hey Uncle Rhodey' and not noticing the grin on the faces of whoever was in the room with the two of you. It didn't happen often- maybe once every other blue moon- but it happened nonetheless.

But despite being literal years since you've called him that, this was one of those moments where you just couldn't help yourself.

"What's up squirt? Looks like you've seen a ghost."

(Falling.

Falling.

Falling.

Fast. Oh God, why was he falling so fast?

"Uh, little," there's a strained grunt, "Little help here? I'm- I'm flying dead stick...!")

"Uncle Rhodey..."

Right in front of you stood Rhodey, who grins at you with underlying concern in his eyes. He looks good, no matter how much shit you always gave him for wearing polo shirts. Definitely less aged, too... Not as tired. There's a pep in his step you forgot he had as he moves in to give you a hug. 

("Rhodes!" Your ears strain as your dad yells into the commlink, though that was nearly drowned out by the drum of your heart thundering in your chest. High in the sky, you take to an instant nose dive and descend.

With each pulse, Rhodey's only falling and falling and falling, and he's not slowing down any time soon. He doesn't respond to your dad. Faint sounds of what may be him losing his breath make you scream out for him too.

You're opposite of Tony as you both try and catch up with the suit. In the corner of your eyes, you see Falcon diving down too. Mother fucker.

You fall and fall, and so does Rhodey. 

The distance between you and Rhodey gets closer and closer, but so does the distance between Rhodey and the ground. It's a race, you bitterly thought in hindsight. You vs. Tony vs. Wilson.

Only Rhodey wins first place.)

You knew it's been years since his fall. But even then, every time you looked at Rhodey, flashes of a falling metal suit lingers in the back of your head. The pounding in your head only gets worse when Rhodey's standing in front of you without leg braces on.

"Aw, guessed someone missed his uncle, huh?"

You know he's just teasing you, but God did you want to tell him how absolutely true he was. 

(You ignore DAHLIA's concerned whisper of 'elevated stress above normal parameters.')

Wordlessly, you hug him maybe a bit tighter than you normally would. You try to find the words to reply back, something snarky ("This 'squirt' can give you the smackdown of your life, Jimmy."), maybe even something honest ("Yeah, I did. I missed you. Fuck, I missed you so much."). Just anything would do, but the flashes of a human-sized crater with a red suit hovering over makes you want to hurl, so you just kept your mouth shut and buried your head in his shoulder. You feel him pat your head gently.

(The thud echoes in your ears. 

You're, what? Maybe 70 feet above him?

But yet you heard that thud as if you were dead center of the crater.

Time slows down to forever as you finally touch down and sprint over to your dad, ignoring Wilson's approaching figure.

Tony nods at you ("Rhodes is in critical condition, ambulance ETA 5 minutes...", says DAHLIA), but he says nothing as Wilson mutters an apology. Dad's fuming, and quite frankly, so are you.

You stalked over to him and socked Wilson right in the jaw, gauntlet still on, and took no shame in the satisfaction you felt as you watch him get knocked back a good distance. It's even better when he doesn't get up.

Good. 

As much as Rhodey would admonish you for your train of thought, you'd have no trouble forgiving Wilson if he was the one lying unconscious in the crater instead.)

"Oh yeah, did I not tell you?" You let go of Rhodey but keep in close proximity to him as your dad strides in holding a StarkPad. He greets you with a kiss to the cheek, and you weakly push him away with shaking hands. You pray no one notices your short breath and sweaty palms. He chuckles and stands next to Rhodey, who's already got an exasperated but amused smile as he looks at Tony.

"Rhodey-bear's got military leave- what was it, 2 weeks?"

"3, actually. For a so-called genius, you sure do suck at getting information right."

You stand there, still uncharacteristically silent as you watch them banter. They start walking but you stayed back, watching them strut out of the room as if no one else existed.

You didn't follow them as everything around you blurred; all except for Rhodey's legs. Legs that weren't being supported by a pair of Stark leg prosthetic. Legs that hadn't been completely detached of all feeling and movement from the waist down.

Legs that were still healthy.

You haphazardly leaned against the wall and tried to focus on the floor as the walls wobble around you. The pounding in your head is practically tearing your skull apart.

(The file haunts you.

You gaze at the hologram floating in front of you, and you desperately try to look elsewhere.

There are pictures of potted plants adorning the files. There's a bunch, and none of them really correlate with one another. There's also a series of pictures, remnants of an explosion and ashes of what used to be a pot sprinkled in there too. There are ones of humans- people you don't recognize save for a few. And again, there's also pictures of an explosion, black ashes covering walls with no remains next to them.

Your finger itches to reach out and open the file further, damn near desperate to do anything to rectify what happened to Rhodey. It burns in your soul, knowing that a solution was just this close to you, so damn near close, yet so far away.

You didn't need to open this file if none of this happened. If Rhodey hadn't been paralyzed from the fall. Rage seeps into your fingers as you grip the table painfully, knuckles white.

If only Romanoff wasn't so prone to Roger's baby blues and knew how to keep to aside. If only Rogers had just signed the damn Accords. If only Maximoff could just get it through her thick skull Tony only wanted to keep her safe from the public.

If only Barton just kept his head down and stayed in retirement. If only Wilson didn't dodge, damned what'd have happened to him.

If only...

(If only you had been faster.)

A scream erupts deep within you as you swipe everything off of your table. You slam your fist into the table repeatedly, not noticing the red smearing, the searing pain, or FRIDAY and DAHLIA's concerned voices as your wails drown the world out.

You don't notice how Pepper abruptly shows up to your lab, disheveled in her pajamas and hugging you from behind tight. You don't notice how she managed to bypass your blackout mode and how the glass window panes clear up again. You don't notice the wetness seeping into your back, or the slight shake of her trembling hands.

You don't notice how you stopped screaming and started shaking, sobbing into your mother's shoulder as she whispered nothing short of comforting words in your ears. 

You don't even notice Rhodey's gaze as he arrives, unsteady in his leg braces, looking at you and Pepper with a haunted, condemned expression.)

You jolted out of your thoughts as your dad calls out to you from down the hallway. You try to steady your voice, but with each sharp intake, it's not as easy as said.

"Uh, yeah, yeah, uh- comin'! Coming..."

Ignoring your shaking hands, you jog over to where they are, pushing and repressing those memories back deep into the corners of your mind. That's a whole can of worms you'd be more than happy to ignore indefinitely.

Now that you think about it, it’s kind of cruel being told that your death was necessary to win a war. Out of millions and millions of possibilities, you had to be taken out of the equation for it to work.

Alone in your lab, you lay placid among your beanbag chairs. It's been a few days since Rhodey's come by to visit, a few days since your sudden migraine that was your flashbacks. Nothing much's happened since then. You hung out with Rhodey, saw glimpses of the other Avengers here and there, but other than that... There wasn't anything that was urgent in your schedule.

And that deeply unsettled you.

Things've been moving at too slow of a pace, and quite frankly, you've only got so much time before the clock ticks to zero. And in hindsight, there was a lot that you had to be prepared for.

There was Project Insight, Ultron, the Accords...

And there were the individual people themselves you had to worry about. The twins, T'Challa and T'Chaka- along with Wakanda as a whole-, Peter, Strange, Danvers...

You already feel a dull thumping on your forehead just thinking about it all, and you didn't even mention everyone else.

Slowly getting up from your beanbag chair, you trudged to your main seat and rolled over to your tables. It's a mess; there are papers strewn about, some having to do with starting your senior year in high school, others are of mission reports. There are even stupid little sticky note doodles while you were procrastination once; a testament to how much time you've got, and how much of it was spent wasted.

You pushed all of them out of the way in one sweep, uncaring if any of it fell on the floor. 

"J.A.R.V.I.S., blackout mode."

“Of course, young sir.”

The window panels darken, and J.A.R.V.I.S.’ voice quiets. The accent lights in the corners of your lab change from a calming pale blue to a neutral white, an indicator you’ve set up within the past few days. It helps tell you which A.I. is currently in the room. You know that if J.A.R.V.I.S. knew, he wouldn't say anything to anyone else (particularly your dad) about DAHLIA, but just in case.

Eventually, you’ll introduce the two sometime. DAHLIA says she doesn’t care if she meets J.A.R.V.I.S. or not, so you pretend not to notice how much lighter her voice is every time you mention her ‘uncle’ of sorts.

"DAHLIA, you up?”

It was satisfying to watch the neutral white LED lights blink into lime green. It means ‘new beginnings���, or so DAHLIA says. It’s nice in a way- that was the same color you had assigned to her in the future, too. Only this time it was by her own virtue.

”I can't remember a time where I wasn't.”

You rolled your eyes.

The sass.

"You, start up a new project and title it 'Renaissance'. I think now's the time to kick it into high gear."

The holograms around you flicker back to life, a soft green illuminating everything in your sight. A distinct folder pops up with the right title and opens up to a blank file. You’re almost buzzing in your seat as you began creating and titling new documents.

”Sure thing, doll. Anything you want me to start beforehand?"

You pause.

There were lots of things you needed to get done first before you even thought about doing anything else. There were people to recruit, a whole nation you needed to get in contact with, and the drafts of the Accords to be written.

But, for now, you’ll start small.

"Yeah- I, uh, need you to start a global search for someone.”

She hums, and in the corner of your eyes, you see a new file pop up. There’s a rendering of the globe with millions of dots littering the countries visible to you- there are even ones around the planet as well. Cameras and available satellites, you realize.

Atta girl.

”Their name?"

A pair of blank steel blue eyes flash in your mind. Once did anger bubble in your throat when you saw them, but now only pity is what's left in you as you recognize nothing but emptiness behind his eyes. While this was for the greater good that he was found as soon as possible, you'd be lying if you said it wasn't also for the man himself.

The sooner you get to him, the sooner he gets the proper help he deserves.

Reeling yourself back in, you promptly ignored your shaking hands and the flashes of a gleaming arm wrapping itself around your throat, eyes cold and uncaring.

”James Buchanan Barnes.”

A/N: This chapter is the final chapter of the first 'arc', so I've decided. There is a high chance that this story will not be canon complicit from now on. (Also, this chapter is shorter compared to the last chapter, and not as high quality- for that, I'm relatively sorry, but not really.)

Word of warning, we might also get more Team Cap critical (as shown in this chapter), but I promise if that's the case, I'll try not to make it a reoccurring theme in this story. 'Resentment is corrosive, and I (live for it) hate it.' - T.S.

I'm planning on bumping up the speed at which the story is progressing- like, fast. My plan is that the next arc (10 canon chapters, maybe some special chapters) we'll deal with CA:TWS, AOU, and maybe CA:CW all in one go if I go with my current plans for AOU. (That also means each chapter will be significantly longer, too.) 

And as for the romance- I'll also try to include more scenes that aren't as subtle as hell (like the one with Steve and Thor before the last chapter). We'll see what goes on beyond that as we progress. Feel free to leave any suggestions as to how the plot should progress (or even suggestions for the romantic scenes lol). :)

Masterlist

Tagged: @unsolvetheheckoutofit

[curiousdamage]

Because of You

A/N: I Own Nothing!

A Careless Man’s Careful Daughter Universe

___________________

Becca hated having lunchroom duty. One hundred fourteen to eighteen-year-olds all talking about different things at once sent her senses into overdrive and set her nerves on edge. The only nice thing was that she had a free period after to relax in silence. She entered the cafeteria to a teacher's worst nightmare.  Two boys were squared off with each other with three other’s circling them. Kyler and his buddies were up to their usual tricks.

She quickly scanned the room, finding Lea Anne on the far side of the room from the boys. Breathing a sigh of relief, she started towards the boys to try to deescalate the situation when Kyler shoved the smaller boy into a table smirking about ''lame ass" karate.

She stopped. Even teachers weren't supposed to get involved once physical violence started.

She sent a student for security and Sylvia. She expected Kyler to rough the kid up to show off. What she didn't expect was for the boy to get back to his feet saying, "Its not lame-ass karate. It's Cobra Kai."

He blocked Kyler's next punch, pinned his arm and delivered a jab punch to Kyler's nose.

At first, it looked like the boy was going to be hurt before help got there and she was trying to decide how best to intervene as just shouting "stop," wasn't working.

Then the boy found his feet and managed to throw off Kyler's choke hold, using his hold on Kyler's arm to pull him into a kick.

Becca was stunned. He slithered. It was Cobra Kai. But how? She knew her Dad was not in the area and Uncle Terry, well, he wasn't starting any dojo's. She couldn't have stopped the fight anyway as the new kid had knocked down Kyler's whole group in less than three minutes before security could even get there.

She took the boys getting up from the floor to the nurse while Sylvia took the other boy to her office.  As she had the next period free she was tasked with sitting with the new boy, who she learned was named Miguel Diaz, while he waited for his grandmother.

“You know, karate was a really big deal in West Valley when I went to school here," she said.  "But I didn't think anyone was teaching locally anymore. Where did you learn?"

''Oh, my neighbor, Sensei Lawrence, teaches me," he replied softly.

"Sensei Lawrence? You mean, Johnny Lawrence?"

"Yes, ma’am, do you know him?" Miguel asked.

"I was in school at the same time he was," she answered, neutrally.

"He's great, isn't he?" he asked excitedly.

Becca wasn't sure she would describe him that way but Miguel didn't wait for her to answer.

"Those guys have been hassling me since summer. They tried to beat me up outside our Mini-Mart. Sensei Lawrence stopped them, but then they did beat me up another time. I guess he decided it would be easier to teach me to defend myself than to keep saving my behind all the time," Miguel said.

She didn't ask why he hadn't reported the bullying. Reseda kids never came out on top when dealing with Encino kids. But this left her with a dilemma.  When Uncle Terry had died the year before, she'd made sure that everything to do with Cobra Kai was in her inheritance for a reason.  The twins didn't remember the poison that damn snake spread like she did. She had never wanted to see it started back up.

But Johnny was just teaching this kid in self-defense. She learned Cobra Kai karate in self-defense and she never  became a giant asshole. Not that she knew of anyway. Bobby hadn't become an asshole, the tournament aside. Tommy was a decent guy. Jimmy had seemed to be doing well at their class reunion. If he hadn't changed in thirty years, she doubted that three more made a huge difference.  She hadn't seen Dutch in decades and the last time Bobby had seen Johnny, Angela had been a baby.  So she couldn’t speak for them.

Johnny was trying to help the kid. That had to mean something, right?

She knew what Bobby would say.  Just hearing the name would have him insisting that they go down and shut Johnny down right away. But even if she did own the Cobra Kai brand, she didn't own the knowledge in Johnny's head. Who was she to say he couldn't share it with Miguel? It wasn't like he'd started the dojo back up.

She’d wrestled with her decision for hours, especially that she couldn't tell Bobby just yet, but for now, she wasn't going to say anything to Johnny. Teaching one kid wasn't worth her starting a fight, was it?  Especially if said fight would pit Bobby against Johnny.

A month later, she couldn't ignore the talk anymore. Everyone had been talking about Miguel's fight and Cobra Kai Karate. Half the school was claiming to be taking lessons or were going to. There was even a website for it, for goodness' sake.

She had to do something She knew she did.  She decided to go talk to Johnny alone at first.Maybe he'd quit and just hate her and leave Bobby out of it. It took her another week to get up the courage to go.

She checked the website to make sure he would not have a class going on when she arrived. Miguel and Eli Moskowitz were there but if she waited, she knew she might not have the nerve to do that again.

The bells jingled as she opened the door and stepped inside. On the wall of the entrance was the large Cobra Kai emblem. As poisonous as it was to her past, she couldn't stop herself from reaching out and running her hand over the snake, her mind rushing back to that night so many, too many, years ago when she had helped her Dad and Uncle Terry paint the same emblem on the walls of the old dojo. She'd felt so grown-up helping them, like she was really apart of things. In all likelihood, it was just because Daddy had nowhere else to leave her while both he and Cara worked, but he never made it seem like that. They'd made her feel needed and important even though she'd gotten more paint on herself than the walls. She closed her eyes and swallowed hard. She hadn't expected a painting to have that effect on her.

"Welcome to Cobra Kai. Are you ready to learn to kick some ass?"

She turned towards the voice and smiled. "Oh, really, Johnny? You gonna teach me how to be a Cobra Kai?"

He dropped the paper he was holding, his face a mask of disbelief before a smile lit up his features. In seconds, he crossed the room, lifting her up in a hug and spinning her around.

"Hell, no, Becca," he laughed, "You could probably still teach me a thing or two." He kissed her cheek. "What are you doing here? You're probably the last person I expected to walk through that door. Is…, is Bobby with you? God, I haven't seen you in what? Twenty years?"

"Closer to thirty," she laughed.

"Really?" He looked shocked. "Damn, we're old." He hugged her again.

''Bobby's at work," she said. "He doesn't know I am here. I..., I wanted to talk to you alone, and I just realized how that sounds.  If you make a dirty joke, I will beat you in front of your students."

"Eh, I know it takes Luke Skywalker to get you all hot and bothered," he smirked.

''Johnny!" She playfully swatted at him.

“Oh yeah. It was Han Solo," he grinned, leading her to the office.

"Johnny, those are my students," she laughed motioning to the boys. "Well, Eli is anyway."

"Eli?"

"Kid with the mohawk," she replied.

"Hawk."

“So, you gave him that ridiculous name. That tracks," she nodded.  That was also why he was so ridiculously proud of it, too.

"Want a beer?"

''Aren't you teaching?"

“And?" he shrugged.

"I still think it taste like vomit," she replied.

"You drink enough, you won't care," he grinned, leaning back  in his chair.

She laughed. "God, Johnny, we've missed you. He's missed you. You should come by sometime.  Have dinner or something."

"Maybe I will." he nodded. "You still live in that rinky, little apartment in North Hills, right? The one that you both couldn't fit in the kitchen at the same time.  The one that you had to stand in the bathtub to take a piss?"  He poked fun at their first apartment together.

"It wasn’t that small," She shook her head.  ''And I'm pretty sure Angela was conceived in that kitchen so...," she laughed again.

"Well, I guess you found a way to make it work," he smirked.

"We actually live in Encino. Not far from his house growing up. Lea Anne walks to her grandpa's every day.”

“I haven't seen the Browns in years.  How are they?"  The Browns were like a second family to him. And he treated them horribly.

"Dr. Adam is great, but we lost Mrs. Lea in two thousand four, right after our Lea was born."

"Damn," he said again. He hadn't even known. "I hate to hear that." Bobby had taken a week off from school to stay with him when he lost Laura. "So, what can I do for you?  We both know you didn't come all the way down here to ask me around to dinner or shoot the shit about things that happened thirty years ago."

"Well, when I woke up this morning I was coming here to tell you to shut down," she admitted.

"Why would I do that?" he asked, sounding offended.

She looked around, nervously, "I own the Cobra Kai karate brand and all that entails."

"Cobra Kai brand?" He sounded confused.  "How do you own the Cobra Kai karate brand?"

"I inherited it," she replied. "Johnny, didn't you look into all this before you opened?"

“Yeah, duh," he scoffed but she could tell he totally had not. "So what? You want me to pay you or something? What are you getting at?"  He could never get ahead. Every time he got something good, life kicked him in the teeth again. This time it was a double kick coming from someone he had been thrilled to see That he’d thought was a friend.

"Come on, Johnny,”' she snapped. "I wouldn't do that to you. I didn't inherit the brand so I could make money. I did it so I could make sure it stayed shut down. You boys weren't the only ones whose lives were poisoned by that damn snake. I came to bring you this." She threw an envelope on his desk. "And I don't want a damn dime for it."

“What is it?" He looked as if the envelope would bite him.

"My permission to legally use the brand," she replied. “I think you're doing good here and I don't want you to get hung up again. The man who owns this building is an asshole and if he thinks he can make a buck, he will have you out anyway he can.  There's one less way now."

"Thank you," he said humbly as he read the paper. "What changed your mind?"

“Eli Moskowitz." She looked out the window at him and Miguel roughhousing in the main room. "I've been teaching him music all the way back to Mommy and Me. Today, I realized that I could hear his voice for the first time ever. For the first time ever, he laughs out loud. He smiles. He doesn't sit like this anymore." She slumped down and covered her mouth with her hand before sitting back, up. ''Aisha Robinson. She used to try to make herself as small as possible, as invisible as possible. Now, she's proud of herself, of her strength, she doesn't try to disappear any more. I can tell who your students are. They are the kids who always tried to hide and not be noticed.  Now, they walk with their heads held high and their shoulders back. They're proud and confident and they don't care who notices.  That has to be because of you and your Cobra Kai."

Johnny swallowed and shook his head in disbelief. "You know I'm going to have to hug you again."  No one had said anything that nice to him in years.

"I'll take it," she said. "If you'll accept that invite to dinner. You know, for real with a date and a time and everything. And you don't have to stand in the tub to take a piss now."

He was laughing as he walked around the desk and hugged her.  It wasn’t until later that night that he realized that if she inherited Cobra Kai Karate then the old man was really gone and it hurt more than he’d ever imagined it would.

[aion-rsa]

Superman & Lois Episode 1: DC Comics and Movie Easter Eggs Revealed

https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

This article contains Superman & Lois episode 1 spoilers. We have a spoiler free review here.

Superman & Lois episode 1 does it all! Callbacks to the comics that go all the way back to 1938! A visual reference to the character’s very first onscreen appearance! Random and obscure nods to comics from the ’90s! Oh, and a whole bunch of love for the granddaddy of all superhero movies, 1978’s Superman: The Movie.

Basically, if you’re a Superman fan, the first episode of Superman & Lois is like a love letter to nearly every era of the comics. Here’s everything we spotted…

The Origin Story

The fact that Kal-El is depicted as being “born” on Earth when the rocket opens seems to be something taken from both John Byrne’s Man of Steel origin story, as well as Zack Snyder’s Man of Steel film. Essentially, these versions of the Superman origin state that the rocket that brought him to Earth wasn’t just carrying him as a baby, it was carrying a gestation matrix for baby Kal-El. In other words, he never touched Kryptonian soil or breathed Kryptonian air, and the moment we see that rocket open on Earth is essentially the moment of his birth.

The Kents driving a red pickup truck (especially when they find baby Kal-El) has echoes throughout Superman history. It was most notably deployed in Richard Donner’s Superman: The Movie, and has been homaged in Smallville and again here, as well as in other places.

The Fleischer Superman Costume

When we see an early appearance of Superman in action, his suit (especially the emblem) looks like the version from the Max Fleischer cartoons. It’s a nice nod to the early media days of the character.

Incidentally, his “my mom made it for me” line was used in the pilot episode of Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman in 1993. It also speaks to a piece of Superman lore that often switches back and forth in the comics and elsewhere. For years, it was generally accepted that Clark’s costume was made by Martha Kent from the blankets that came with the rocket. In some recent interpretations (notably the Man of Steel film), it’s a piece of Kryptonian ceremonial wear of some kind, and is alien in nature.

At least we know that in this version of the story, Ma Kent made it.

Action Comics #1

When Superman makes his early appearance wearing that cool vintage costume, he’s catching a green car and setting it down gently, an inversion of the character’s first appearance in Action Comics #1 from 1938, where he is smashing a green car to bits against the side of a rock.

This isn’t the only Action Comics #1 nod in the episode, as on the memo board in Lois and Clark’s Metropolis home there’s a reminder to “Call Siegel and Shuster.” Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster are the creators of Superman. Their phone number (on this board) is 418-193-8000. Action Comics #1 was copyrighted (and possibly published) on April 18, 1938.

Later in the episode, the kids of Smallville are partying at “the old Shuster mine,” another shoutout to the creators. On the Superboy TV series from the ’80s, Clark and Lana attended Shuster University, as well.

Richard Donner and Superman: The Movie

Speaking of that memo board…there’s also a reminder for “Dr. Donner.” Richard Donner directed 1978’s Superman: The Movie, the first truly great superhero movie, and still considered one of the greatest of all time.

Clark’s crack to his kids that he was the “team manager” for the football team is something of a callback to Superman: The Movie, as well, because in one of the only scenes with a teenage Clark in that film, he’s in charge of keeping the football team’s equipment in order.

The doctor who (unsuccessfully) treats Martha Kent here is Dr. Frye. “Doc Frye” was mentioned by Martha Kent to Jonathan Kent in Donner’s Superman, warning him about his heart condition, in a bit of foreshadowing.

Storing the old rocketship in the barn is nothing new, but it had particular significance in Superman: The Movie. It’s unclear if a teenage Clark in that film had ever fully understood/embraced his heritage until the ship “calls” to him one night and he pulls one of those strange crystals from it.

“The sunstone crystal” that Jordan pulls out of the rocket is very much like the crystals that were embedded in the rocket that brought Kal-El to Earth in Donner’s Superman. It was the first instance in Superman lore where these crystals were such important sources of information, and it was only relatively recently that they were adopted in the comics (and that’s where they were finally named), as well.

Clark lifts the old pickup truck to show the boys that he’s Superman. In Superman: The Movie, one of his first acts on Earth as a baby is to lift the Kent pickup truck, letting his foster parents know that he wasn’t your average little kid.

“Stick with Lane, she’ll show you the ropes.” It’s always been a tradition in Superman lore that Lois is the more experienced (and better) reporter than Clark. But Clark’s first day on the job being paired up with Lois to show him around is another nod to Donner’s Superman.

When Superman is chasing the mysterious “Captain Luthor” there’s several moments that feel like when Supes chases the west coast missile in Superman: The Movie, as well.

Superman III

Superman III isn’t anyone’s favorite Superman movie, but there are elements of it that seem quite relevant to Superman & Lois.

For starters, Superman III is all about Clark returning to Smallville and reconnecting with Lana Lang and seeing how things changed. That’s a big deal here, although unlike in that film, Lana and Clark don’t appear to have ever fully lost touch. But also in that film, Lana is romantically involved with a local, and while Kyle Cushing is something of a prickly character here, he’s far better than the alcoholic former Smallville High quarterback Brad Wilson from Superman III.

The scene where Superman saves a nuclear reactor by freezing a lake and using that to cool it off is very similar to one of the best scenes from Superman III (and honestly one of the best scenes in the franchise) where Superman uses a similar trick on an overheating chemical plant.

Incidentally (and unrelated to Superman III) later on Clark and Sam Lane (more on him in a minute) discuss a similar incident at “Oyster Creek.” Oyster Creek is a real power plant, located in New Jersey, which probably places Metropolis on the east coast in the Arrowverse. Where it should be.

Steve Lombard

The “Lombard” that Lois disparagingly refers to is Daily Planet sports columnist Steve Lombard. Lombard was a staple of Superman comics in the ’70s and ’80s, a former football player turned sportswriter who delighted in making Clark the butt of his jokes. He doesn’t appear quite as much these days.

Before Lombard worked for The Daily Planet, he was the quarterback of the Metropolis Meteors, and we get several references to that team throughout this episode, from posters in the Kent home to the boy Superman saves in the car sequence wearing a Meteors hat. And, of course, this explains why Lombard is such a good source of Meteors tickets for his co-workers.

The Death of Martha Kent

Clark at his mother’s deathbed mirrors an oft-repeated scene from the comics, where young Clark speaks to his father as he dies.

Sam Lane

General Sam Lane has been a fixture of Superman continuity since 1959, and the idea of Lois being an army brat has been increasingly played up in recent years. Generally, Sam has usually had a more adversarial relationship with his future son-in-law than what we’re seeing here, but this is a nice change of pace, and one that will certainly make for some good storytelling opportunities down the road.

The signal device that Sam (and Lois) wield is similar to the watch worn by Jimmy Olsen. Here, it almost looks like it could have been designed by Jack Kirby, doesn’t it?

Jonathan and Jordan Kent

Young Jon Kent is a new addition to Superman lore, having only made his first appearance in 2015. There, he’s an only child, not a twin. After being a young kid for most of his time in the comics, he was recently aged up to a teenager (thanks to some space travel and relativity shenanigans). He is, of course, named after Clark’s foster father. Jordan is a new creation for the show and has no comics counterpart.

You may remember that Jon was initially an only child in the Arrowverse as well, but the reality altering effects of Crisis on Infinite Earths changed that.

Anyway, in the comics, Jon has powers. Lots of ’em.

Injustice 2

When we first meet Jordan Kent, he’s playing the DC/Mortal Kombat crossover video game Injustice 2. That’s certainly…an interesting choice considering what the actual storyline of the Injustice games entails (it involves the Joker and a pregnant Lois Lane…as you can imagine, it doesn’t end well). Anyway, needless to say, that probably isn’t the story in the Arrowverse.

Batman?

The Sequoia movie theater in Smallville during the flashbacks is showing a film called Rory’s First Kiss, which was the codename that Christopher Nolan’s The Dark Knight filmed under. This scene, in which Jonathan Kent dies, must take place earlier than 2008, though, so it’s unlikely that Rory’s First Kiss was a Nolan production in this universe.

Jonathan Kent dying of a heart attack has happened several times, but most notably in Superman: The Movie and on Smallville.

Who is Captain Luthor?

No, he isn’t Master Chief. All his talk about how his world was destroyed would seem to indicate he’s from an Earth that didn’t make it through Crisis on Infinite Earths, though. We’ll have to wait for future episodes to see how this one pans out.

And no, this doesn’t mean this doesn’t take place on the main Arrowverse Earth or that Jon Cryer’s brilliant portrayal of Lex is no longer canon. We’ll get answers soon enough!

Sam Foswell

Overbearing and overeager Daily Planet assistant editor Sam Foswell is just like that in the comics, too. He’s made a handful of appearances since 1991.

We also hear that Ron Troupe has been fired, and he’s a dedicated member of the Superman comics supporting cast, as well.

Morgan Edge

We’ll have more on Morgan Edge in the coming weeks, as he’s set to play a major role on this show. For now, just know that he’s got a 50 year history and is one of the few supporting Superman characters created by none other than Jack Kirby. His arrival in the Arrowverse bodes big things for the future.

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Miscellaneous Cool Stuff…

There’s news footage of Superman saving a space shuttle at one point, referencing multiple comics stories, but also the first episode of Lois and Clark: The New Adventures of Superman, once again.

There’s a banner for the Smallville Crows in one of the bedrooms of the old Kent home. The Crows were also the football team on the Smallville TV series, so this is a neat detail.

Superman falling to Earth after getting stabbed by the Kryptonite mirrors a moment in Superman Returns, when he’s been poisoned by the Kryptonite continent he hurls into space.

“When your father first told me I didn’t understand either.” In 1991’s Action Comics #662, Clark finally told Lois his secret. She wasn’t exactly thrilled to learn that he had been lying to her all that time.

Clark and Lana attended a Soul Asylum concert. Ladies and gentlemen, we have our first Gen-X Superman! But more specifically, Lana references how they got in an accident and nobody was hurt. 1990’s Adventures of Superman #474 was a flashback to a teenage Clark and friends partying and getting in an accident. It didn’t end as well as Lana’s anecdote, if my memory serves.

Spot anything I missed? Let us know in the comments!

The post Superman & Lois Episode 1: DC Comics and Movie Easter Eggs Revealed appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[acsversace-news]

1957, Calabria. Gianni Versace's mother fits a dress to a client as, in a corner of the shop, little Gianni watches and works on a sketch of the dress. After the client leaves, Mama confronts Gianni: she sees him observing her, and "there is no need to hide." She asks to see his notebook; seeing the drawings inside, she smiles fondly and tells him -- in English, idiotically the language in which this and the other Italian scenes take place, leavened only with the occasional "ciao" and a handful of offensive Chef Boyardee pronunciations, which we will get to -- that as a girl, she hoped to become a doctor. Her father told her that's not a job for a woman, so she became a dressmaker, and promised herself she would never tell her children what job they should do. Gianni should do what he loves, what he feels in his heart. Not how I think parents talked to their kids about their future careers in the fifties, but okay. She goes on that it will take hard work, practice, educating himself about sewing and the fabrics…she'll teach him if he wants her to. Gianni nods happily.

In a classroom, a teacher is reviewing Latin verb conjugations, and naturally she's using the verb "to love," which is both the standard and on the nose. Less standard, again, is that a language lesson in an Italian classroom would be conducted in English, which might explain why young Gianni is doing another dress drawing instead of paying attention. Walking the rows of desks, the teacher spots Gianni's sketch and snatches it up, Super-Mario-ing, "What arrrre you, a perrrrverrrt?" Fuck's sake, show. "Not a pervert, miss -- a pansy!" another kid chimes in, because we could have assumed a pervasive homophobia and claustrophobic gendering of everything in this time period, but sure, underline it, if only to distract us from the Hey Mambo caricature of Italian accents. The teacher tears his sketch in four and puts it on his schoolbook as the class continues droning the plurals. "We love; you love; they love."

At home, Mama gets Gianni to admit that he's downcast because the teacher called him a pervert. Mama sternly reassembles his drawing, tells him it's beautiful, and hands him a piece of patterning chalk: "We make it for real, yes?" He starts to trace, then stops, saying it's too hard. Mama takes his shoulders and gives him the Jimmy Dugan "the hard is what makes it great" speech from A League Of Their Own, basically, the script emphasizing that success is special because it comes from hard work to point up the contrast between the lessons Gianni learned as a child and the lessons we'll see Andrew Cunanan learning. …Just in case you didn't get it, which I'm sure you did, because the whole scene was in English. Mama tells Gianni to try again. He does, with more confidence this time.

1980, San Diego. Modesto "Pete" Cunanan is presiding over the family's move out of a modest house on the edge of town, and by "presiding" I mean he's expounding on how they can save five hundred bucks doing it themselves, a five hundred he can turn into ten thousand, while his older children heave items into a truck and roll their eyes at him. Mary Ann and her mom jeans chuckle indulgently. Pete asks where Andrew is.

Andrew and his teddy bear have parked it in a lawn chair in his room to read Brideshead Revisited. Very interesting choice, given what I remember of the Waugh, including but not limited to a barely subtextual relationship between Charles and Sebastian; the narrator on the outside looking in, at a family, at a system of inherited influence, and feeling like he could, and also must, belong to it; Sebastian's teddy bear. It's been a long time; mostly the beautifully evocative prose stayed with me, so if you've never read any Waugh, quit hanging around my workmanlike shit and go get you some Decline And Fall. Andrew finally responds to his father's calls, marching out of the room with that odd Starman gait -- the casting of Edouard Holdener as young Cunanan is stellar, and Holdener and episode director Matt Bomer have done a great job capturing certain bits of Darren Criss's portrayal, but just enough of them -- and is told to say goodbye to their squatty home. "This is not for you."

The rest of the family is then closed into the back of the truck. Andrew and his Izod shorts and his bear get to ride shotgun with Pete.

The truck pulls up at a noticeably grander home, Benzes arrayed on the street out front. Pete takes Andrew's hand and leads him upstairs as, outside, the others haul their belongings off the truck. Mary Ann wonders where Pete is. "With Prince Andrew," Christopher snarks. "He's being given the tour," Elena adds (she's played by Isa Briones, daughter of Jon Jon, the longtime Miss Saigon actor playing Pete here). Mary Ann's smile fades, but she only urges the other kids to keep unpacking. Upstairs, Pete is introducing Andrew to the biggest bedroom, the master bedroom -- his new room. It's his because he's special. Pete wants him to remember that he's special every night before he goes to sleep, and every morning when he wakes up. If he feels special, "success will follow." Pete will need the closet "for all [his] suits," but otherwise, it's all Andrew's. The camera moves to a ground-level shot to show them surveying it in all its empty, beige-wall-to-walled glory.

Nighttime. The other kids sleep crammed head-to-foot in another, tiny bedroom. Mary Ann, kneeling by a twin bed in a spartan room, says a rosary (I think? she's holding one, in any case), then cries. Alone in his king-size bed in his king-size room, Andrew sits waiting, then clambers down to investigate a noise: Pete, raising the American flag in front of the house, up a pole lit by little spotlights. I was under the impression that this was Not Done, but according to a quick Google, it's okay to display the flag after sunset if it is lit, which it is. Pete spots Andrew watching him and salutes. Andrew salutes back. A breeze picks up the flag and blows it out straight, in reverse, obscuring Andrew from view. Nice shot comp, Bomer. I see you.

After the title card, we find father and son laying out their suits, then carefully armoring up with jacket, fancy cufflinks, neatly tied neckties, and suspenders. They're both en route to interviews, Andrew at the Bishop's School, Pete at Merrill Lynch. We cut back and forth between the paternal and filial hustles, Pete taking in the founders' wall of photos, Andrew the case of athletic trophies; Andrew contemplating his hopeful future classmates, Pete the forbidding row of dark-suited white dudes who want the same job he does. Mary Ann covers Andrew's hand with hers, though he doesn't really respond. Pete corrects his interviewers on his name, the Americanized "Pete" and not the other-sounding (and inaccurate) "Modesto"; he's told they don't call in many prospective hires like him, night-school bootstrap-pullers. As Andrew's called in for his interview, Pete says he knows there's a long line of Ivy Leaguers waiting to talk to them, but he's unique in that he came from nothing.

Andrew's asked why he wants to come to Bishop's. He chirps that it's the best school in the state, one of the best in the country. "Who told you that?", one of his interviewers asks skeptically. "My father."

Said father isn't trying to hear the interviewer who wants to talk more about business and less about his biography. Business is biography, Pete slicks, starting a showy self-selling monologue with, "My life is a tale told in dollars." Good line, but that's what it is, and he goes on about his poor upbringing in the Philippines, serving in the Navy so he could live and work in the U.S., etc. The interviewers suppress eye-rolls and thank him, as they clearly feel cornered into doing, for his service, but Pete's all, nooooo, I thank this great country, and talks about going from a 12K house to an 80K one: "Now, is that biography? Or business?" It's boring and studied, is what it is, but Pete goes on about growing investors' money and taking it to new lands.

Meanwhile, his equally studied son answers a question about what he'd do with one wish. A house with an ocean view, two Mercedes, four "beautiful children," three "beautiful dogs," and a good relationship with God. The ladies interviewing him know that smell.

"Is that one wish or five?" one of them asks gently. Andrew immediately asks if he made a mistake. No, not at all; she'll give him another crack at it. It doesn't take him long to come up with a single wish, which he delivers with that signature arrogant chin tilt. "To be special."

Andrew and Mary Ann come home, Mary Ann teaching Andrew some rudimentary Italian, to find Pete scowling at a pizza. Mary Ann's confused that he heard so soon, and says she's sorry, and Pete whips around, glares at each of them briefly, then busts out a scary ringmaster smile to say that he's joking -- he did get hired. It's Andrew he hugs, congratulating himself on his arrival in corporate America and bragging about his salary. He unveils a luxurious spread, including lobster, and announces that every night from now on, "we eat like kings." Mary Ann is also celebrating, but Pete's ignoring her to serve Andrew. Well, until a couple of the other kids wander in to ask what the commotion is and Mary Ann yodels that Pete got the job. Then Pete's like, but you didn't think I did. You believed my joke. There's no right thing to say here, which Mary Ann clearly understands, but she tries to put her hands to his face and say how happy she is. Pete swats her away and continues setting the table for Andrew, saying Andrew knew, before Pete even played his "joke." He sits down and begins loading Andrew's plate, wondering if maybe he shouldn't check Mary Ann's medication again, "see if your thoughts are confused." They don't want her going back into the hospital, do they? "Modesto," she says, and takes a breath. The older kids watch nervously. Mary Ann settles on "let's celebrate," waving the other kids towards the table and grabbing plates for everyone else outside the charmed circle. "Like kings, just like you said," Mary Ann says breathlessly. Andrew studies his father.

At bedtime, Pete resumes reading to Andrew from Amy Vanderbilt's Complete Book Of Etiquette. Andrew asks if they have to read the whole thing. Yes, Pete tells him. "It's not enough to be smart. You need to fit in." He begins to read about the art of conversation -- "there are two types of conversation: polite, and real" -- but Andrew blurts, "What happens if I don't get accepted to Bishop's School?" Don't be ridiculous, Pete says, adding that they moved to that house so Andrew could be close to Bishop's, so of course he's going to get in. This failure-is-not-an-option answer isn't comforting, and Andrew stares into the middle distance as Pete digs into the topic of polite conversation.

Andrew does get in, but only after a typically self-absorbed display of snatching the mail from the letter carrier, dumping items not addressed to him on the floor, and ripping the envelope open like an animal. He's so relieved to have gotten accepted that he's weeping, a reaction Mary Ann somehow doesn't understand despite the abuse Pete's evidently heaped on her for years now. Pete comes in, snatches the letter from her, reads it, and breaks down in an unsettling mixture of victorious laughter and tears, and kneels to kiss Andrew's feet, literally. Andrew tolerates this, expressionlessly, a tear still clinging to his cheek.

Pete comes onto the trading floor at Merrill; he's feeling the pressure, having beaten out 500 other guys for the job, but feigns cockiness to a colleague. It doesn't translate to his sales call, which is more of the same hitting the Navy-service button, then following up with a self-help money-management book cliché, to wit: if the customer feels comfortable about a stock, it's probably one everyone already knows about. The customer's like, good point, but no thanks, and hangs up. Pete pretends he still on the line and performatively bellows over the din of the floor about needing to get started with the customer's financial information, a "HEY LOOK LOOK AT ME NOT FAILING" look we've seen on his son many times in the series to date. Nobody hears the ernh ernh ernh of the disconnected line in Pete's ear, but then, nobody pays Pete much mind at all.

To self-soothe, Pete comes in to undermine Mary Ann's authority while she's helping Andrew with homework, and to show Andrew the gold Datsun ZX he's bought the prince. Andrew is still a tween in these scenes, mind you, but is notably not terribly surprised that his father has bought him a car. Mary Ann's like, fuck out of here with that, he's like eleven, and Pete grits that he's "not an idiot," he knows Andrew can't drive it but he can learn to dream, which is just as important. "You can't give him a car!" Mary Ann exasps. Pete advances on her; she backs away, babbling that he should think of Elena and Chris, who are old enough to drive. Focus pull to Andrew watching from the driver's seat as Pete ask-snarls if Mary Ann has gone mad again; when she makes the mistake of asking what the car is a gift for, that getting into Bishop's is a beginning, not a goal, Pete grabs her around the neck and tells her he's trying to make sure Andrew doesn't end up like her. He releases her with a shove, and she falls between a couple of hedges. "Don't overreact," he mutters, then turns back to Andrew with his customary showman's grin.

He hops into the passenger seat all, "Let's play!" Neither of them acknowledges what just happened. Pete muses that, while he loves the other kids, they aren't special like Andrew, who is the best friend Pete ever had. Andrew blinks, discomfited, and if this is what it was between them, it goes a long way to explaining how Andrew became what he did: inordinate pressure to live up to his father's ideals, no ability to manage normal setbacks or disappointments, set against/apart from the siblings who could otherwise integrate his expectations but understandably have little use for the little one-percenter in their midst, and taught that the way to meet any challenge to your version of reality is to cow the challenger, not to adjust your own thinking. Pete is still talking, poisoning Andrew with tales of Mary Ann's post-partum depression cast as a "weak mind." Pete looked after him when he was an infant. "I was your mother and your father." He fiddles smugly with the radio as Mary Ann comes around to Andrew's side of the car and rests her hands on the windowsill. Without looking at his mother, Andrew rolls up the window against her, nearly catching her fingers in the mechanism.

At bedtime, Andrew works a Rubik's cube -- a comparatively unsubtle signifier, for this show -- and asks if Pete always wanted to become a stockbroker. Pete half-answers that he took the opportunities that came his way; he's "the world's greatest opportunist." It's the only way to get ahead, he says mostly to himself, taking off his pants. Andrew says he likes reading, and stories: "Maybe I could write books!" Pete snorts that if someone gives him a million dollars to write a book, that's one thing; otherwise, no. He turns off a bedside lamp and sits in his underwear beside Andrew, whose grip on the Rubik's cube has tightened. Pete pries it out of his hands and croons that, when Andrew was little, he burned his foot on a heater. "I picked you up, and kissed you better. And you didn't make a sound." Pete reaches for the other lamp's switch. "Not a sound." Click; darkness.

If the implication is that Pete molested Andrew, a theory I haven't seen elsewhere (although some sources suggest Andrew was assaulted by a priest, during his time as an altar boy), I'm even happier than I'd otherwise be to linger on the next shot, a mouth-watering row of vintage Benzes in the Bishop's parking lot accompanied by the opening strains of the Bangles' version of "Hazy Shade Of Winter."

When the guitar kicks in, we're told it's 1987, and Andrew wheels into a parking spot in the Datsun and alights, in slo-mo, slinging his blazer over his shoulder with a little Foley whoosh. It's picture day at Bishop's, and Andrew's being a noisy theater kid in the line for the photographer, wake-up-sheeple-ing showily to his schoolmates about all doing the same thing for their photos. A football douche wheels around to eye-roll, "Shut up. F**." Andrew is unfazed by this, unbuttoning his shirt and snitting, "If being a f** means being different." He brushes to the front of the line and seats himself in front of the camera, tie still tied but shirt open. "Sign me up!" He strikes a pose. "Take a photograph, my good man!" he shouts at the photographer, cocking a hip. Sixteen: it's exhausting. Not least for the 16-year-old.

Pete stews in the car, then goes in to his current office, a boiler room operation running out of a repurposed furniture store. A wan piano line follows him into a cube warren to his desk. His cubicle wall is festooned with pictures of Andrew, and Andrew only. He gets on the phone, using the same patter that clearly didn't work at Merrill, only this time he's apologizing for "world events" fouling up their last trade and selling the client on liquidating her late husband's pension. The client, hooked up to an oxygen tank and frowning silently as she listens, is in her nineties, and her grandson comes upon the conversation and is not having it. Pete hangs up hastily when the grandson gets to the threatening part of the kiss-off. He wrenches his jacket off, his eyes darting, looking for a way out…or up.

Mary Ann puts down a plate of food and asks when she gets to meet Andrew's "special lady." She's no fool, she knows Andrew doesn't "smell this nice" for her. Andrew, leafing through a Vogue, weighs whether to scandalize Mary Ann, then asks what if "she's" "older than thirty"? Mary Ann pours him a glass of milk and says a young man should "always be" with an older woman. She teaches him how to be a man, Mary Ann adds, asking how they met. "Babysitting?" Andrew lies.

Later, he puts a Samantha Fox tape into the stereo and blasts it while guzzling from a flask and dancing self-consciously around the master bedroom he's still occupying. He goes through a few shirts in the closet, then comes upon an outfit that makes him twinkle.

Cut to Andrew emerging from the house in a black raincoat, which he's clutching around him to hide what's underneath. He climbs into an older man's Benz coupe, and is greeted with a smooch, but refuses to show what he's wearing underneath. There's a gift for him in the glove box, a bottle of cologne, and Andrew stagily announces that he knows the guy buys him things, but that's "not what this is about" for Andrew. The guy's like, Andrew, chill out, and asks where they're headed. To the IMDb and Google image search, in my case, because the screener I'm working with doesn't have end credits and the guy playing his boyf cannot be Michael Badalucco, yet really looks like him.

Y'all tell me who this is, it's driving me nuts. Andrew, meanwhile, isn't telling Fauxdalucco where they're going, and Faux isn't happy when he finds out it's a house party. It'll be fun, Andrew tries to shrug, but Faux isn't about it; he's married. "We're a secret." Andrew doesn't want them to be a secret anymore, and Faux has to tell him how shit is, namely that their thing is "strictly on the side." Did Andrew think it could be more, Faux asks kindly, just as a couple of dingles on their way into the party pound on the hood, at which time Faux has had enough, and hands Andrew some cash and tells him to get out, now. Andrew ignores the money and stalks into the party, whipping off the trench to reveal a red pleather sweat-suit/suit situation underneath. As Devo orders him to "whip it, whip it good," Andrew does so, sending the trench into the bushes next to the driveway, and stalks into the house, where he finds the dance floor and grimly and immediately dominates it, driving the other partygoers to the sidelines with his big movements. As the friend we saw in the first episode, the one who tried to sell Andrew on being with a nice guy like him, tells another friend that he's gearing up to ask Andrew out and worries that he doesn't have the right look, Andrew continues dancing, not-that-surreptitiously checking to see who's watching him and why.

The friend, Jerome, watches him with an eloquent combination of terror and turgidity. Elsewhere in the room, Lizzie Coté comes upon this performance and pulls a "well will you look at this guy" face, but the longer she observes, the clearer it becomes that he's drowning out there,

so she plunges in to join/save him, telling him he looks fabulous. "What, this thing? This little thing?" Later, on the couch, they bond, although she has a secret to share. "Can we only ever speak in secrets?" Andrew asks, probably not entirely joking. Lizzie reveals she's an impostor -- a married lady the owners of the house, the DeSilvas (hmm), asked to keep an eye on things. He's fine with that, saying he gets on far better with older people; they can still be friends. She confides that she missed this whole scene thanks to being home-schooled, but Andrew can't wait to get out of school. What will he do? Seek out his heroes, he says: Basquiat, Keith Haring…Versace.

At Pete's job, a secretary who seems to have a crush on him gets up to tell him, "They're waiting for you." In a conference room, Pete tries to joke with his three interlocutors about whether he's getting promoted, but it's actually about an accusation from the grandson that he took Nana's life savings and, well, just took it, telling her he'd lost the money on a non-existent stock. That's illegal, Pete is reminded, and his protest that it's just a misunderstanding doesn't go over well either; there have evidently been quite a few of those over the years, not to mention his frequent job changes, and the fact that guys don't tend to come to this outfit from Merrill "voluntarily." The feds are on the case now, and the company is cooperating, because they have nothing to hide. Does Pete? He says that he does not. He walks as casually as he can to his cubicle, then begins frantically shredding, crumpling, etc., although it seems like if the issue is that the equities didn't exist, he should be creating a paper trail saying they do, not destroying spreadsheets that are irrelevant in that case, but what do I know. The shredder jams on him anyway, and when he realizes his colleagues are prairie-dogging in his direction, he sinks into his chair and freaks out quietly to himself, trying to come up with a plan. What he lands on: booking a flight for that day.

The FBI -- not the SEC? You know what, who cares. It doesn't matter which agency "should" show up to handle the Pete situation; the point is, one of them is coming in the front door, and Pete, tipped by his crush at the front desk, is bolting out the back.

At school, Andrew is basking in his yearbook triumph:

He's thrilled. His friend teases him that nobody cares about yearbook awards. "Says the man that didn't get one," Andrew shoots back, but he's not mad. The friend looks at Andrew's real page, not the semi-shirtless Most Likely To Be Remembered snap, and asks of the caption, "Apres moi, le deluge?" "After me, destruction," Andrew translates, shrugging that it sounded cool.

Pete screeches up to the house and dashes inside, then upstairs, where he pries up a board in the closet and grabs a Ziploc of cash and passports from underneath. Mary Ann comes in to ask what's happening, and is shoved to the ground once again as Pete dashes towards the front door…only to find the FBI already there, announcing a warrant for his arrest. Back up he goes, out what I guess is an upstairs porch door, and over a side wall into a neighbor's property. Outside, Andrew pulls up and gets out down the street, frowning at the FBI cars and commotion, as Mary Ann opens the door to the agents, who demand to know where he is. She just stares at them. Andrew, walking back to the car, sees Pete hurdling a fence. "Dad…?" Pete grabs Andrew's car keys, tells him not to believe a word they say, and takes off in the Datsun. Andrew watches him peel away, completely unable to incorporate this turn of events into his understanding of the world and his life.

Mary Ann is telling Andrew the extent of Pete's deluge: he emptied the bank accounts, sold the house out from under them and transferred the money…he knew the feds were coming. Andrew stares into space, in forlorn shock…

…then does the same at the ceiling in the master bedroom that night, before getting up and packing. He's going to find Pete, he grimly tells Mary Ann, who wails that he's gone -- he fled to Manila, "like a dirty rat." She goes on that she knew he was stealing, and should have said something, but Andrew quickly writes a note and holds it up to shush her: "They're listening." He scribbles that "Dad has money hidden," with "hidden" underlined, and she has to tell him that there is no plan, no secret stash. Pete left them, left them with nothing. Andrew isn't going to believe that, and when she starts screeching that he can't go, Pete's dangerous, she's scared, he clamps a hand over her mouth and tells her she's "wrong about him." He pushes past her…

…and after the break, he's getting a cab at the airport in Manila. The driver's like, you sure you want to go to this address? Maybe a nice hotel? Andrew's sweatily insistent, even when they pull up to a nondescript and overgrown address on a dirt road; he doesn't even ask the driver to stay, just gathers his nads and knocks on the front door. His uncle answers. He's thrilled to meet Andrew, but Andrew's focused on finding Pete, so Tito directs him through heavy underbrush to an outbuilding, just as overgrown…with metaphor, what with the palm fronds and mosquito netting obscuring everything, nature too strong to keep at bay. Andrew knocks the door open and steps hesitantly inside his father's lair, which is sizable and well kept under the circumstances. Pete is behind a newspaper, and gets up to hug Andrew, laughing, "I knew you'd come." Andrew relaxes into his embrace.

Pete puts down a plate of chicharrones, apologizing for their frumpiness, "but with a cold beer…" Andrew is rigid at the table. "Long flight?" Pete asks. Andrew nods. Pete says Andrew must have questions. "Mom says there's no money," Andrew blurts. Pete grouses that Mary Ann has "a weak mind," always did, and explains selling the house by saying he had to move assets "out of reach" so the feds wouldn't get it. "So, there's money," Andrew confirms. "Millions!" Pete says. Andrew's like, great, so…where is it? "I told you," Pete says, beginning to darken. "Did you?" Pete glares. "Out of reach," he repeats. "Oh," Andrew says, his face falling. Pete exclaims with a salesman smile that he's so happy Andrew's there.

Andrew's not; he can't sleep. He gets up and turns on the light next to Pete's bed; Pete startles awake, into a defensive posture, and says he's not surprised Andrew can't fall asleep. His "body remembers" the heat there, but Andrew isn't used to it, didn't grow up in it, playing in it. Pete doesn't move his gaze from Andrew's as he says that you can pretend you belong somewhere else, "but the body knows." There's no money, is there, Andrew grunts. Pete allows that no, there isn't. "No plan. No…millions," Andrew snarks, and is told to watch his tone; Pete's still his father. "My father. My father," Andrew muses, and here's where the dialogue gets rull stagey and over-externalized, so I'll boil it down: Andrew calls Pete a thief and a liar; Pete delivers a monologue about his "real crime," that he didn't steal big enough, that if he'd stolen hundreds of millions they'd have given him a corner office but the grubby amounts he took meant he didn't get it, didn't belong (and this is not a bad insight; nor is his note that, actually, going to America with nothing and making it big is a lie too; this is just a little Death Of A Salesman in the execution, and in a way that's landing more "needed another draft" than "homage" to me).

"I can't be this," Andrew says bleakly. Pete is offended that Andrew doesn't want to be him, but Andrew points out that he bragged to his friends about Pete -- and it turns out everything he said was a lie, and he can't "be a lie," he just can't. He's nothing but, of course, and nothing about that is going to change for him, but it's how badly he wants to be a true thing, one of substance, that turns everything upside down for him and his victims. Andrew then delivers a monologue of his own, not terribly credible in my opinion at least as far as 1) how people are with damaging information they've found or 2) how kids deal with their parents' humanity, about going to the library to research Manila and finding out that not only is Pete not in the top 500 stockbrokers in California; that list, as I posited in a previous recap, isn't even a thing. Criss acts it very well, but is told to pair it with a bit of business chopping up some fruit or something that's a little much, and mostly an excuse to get a knife into the scene. Pete doesn't respond to the accusation, turning Andrew's tears around on him instead and calling him weak, like his mother -- who, Pete bitterly notes, didn't care that he stole "as long as there was money." Why didn't Andrew bring up the book earlier? Because he thought there was money. He's not upset that Pete stole; he's upset that Pete stopped. Not a bad point, but not one Pete really has standing to make, either. Pete must have not finished that polite-conversation chapter, though, because he snarks that now Andrew has to work, "a sissy kid with a sissy mind!", and punctuates it by spitting in Andrew's face. Andrew doesn't get to come there and judge him; he judges Andrew. He's ashamed of Andrew, his "special sissy boy."

Andrew couldn't get from one street to another, never mind from the Philippines to America. "And back again!" Andrew snits, and gets slapped across the face, so he grabs the knife, but Pete has his number: "Do it. BE A MAN! FOR ONCE!" Andrew flinches away from him; he's clinging to the knife, the blade slicing into his palm, his face a childish mask of pain and paralysis. No, Pete smugs as Andrew sobs. "You don't have it in you." Blood drips onto the floor, and Andrew drops the knife and whispers that he'll never be like Pete. Pete stares at him, utterly disgusted.

Back in San Diego, Andrew arrives to find the house getting packed up by a collection service. He slowly counts out the cab fare with a bandaged hand, reluctant to part with what's left of his money. Looky-loo neighbors watch the movers. Andrew heads inside, ignoring his mother, to find the master bedroom emptied, except for the bare-mattressed bed and a few stacks of books. He stands at the window for a moment, then attacks the books, strewing them about. The Amy Vanderbilt undergoes an especially vicious attack, as he rips it apart and hurls the pieces around.

At the pharmacy, Andrew asks for a job application. Mercado asks if he's Filipino, and presses him on his family name and where they come from; Andrew is barely polite, but that doesn't stop the quizzing, and when Mercado asks what Pete does with his days, Andrew lies blandly that Pete owns "multiple pineapple plantations." Mercado is skeptical, but merely says, "Is that so." "As far as the eye can see," Andrew says.

[impishnature]

Life Aboard The Stan’O’War

AO3

Sequel to The Light Keeper  The Adventure of A Lifetime,

Rating: T

Summary: The Stan twins are finally setting off on the adventure of a lifetime, both ready to face whatever the sea has to throw at them. Though, sometimes…. it might not be the sea they have to worry about. At least the Stan’O’War will weather whatever storms they find themselves sailing through. Lighthouse Keeper AU.

A series of oneshots.  

AN: There were too many cute conversations about this AU. I will write all the things. The next chapter is already up on patreon here. Come check it out!

Part 2: Casper

.

For the most part, their sibling antics and arguments were just that - purely superficial and utterly playful in nature.

Neither of them meant any harm, Ford knew Stan was taking great glee in having him back to rile up in any way, shape or form and really, he couldn’t fault him for that.

After all, as much as part of him had to groan and roll his eyes at Stan’s mischief, he really did love being there with him too. And hearing Stan’s amazingly terrible puns was just part and parcel of the experience.

Not to mention as much as he would deny it to anyone listening, he gave as good as he got when he could.

It wasn’t one sided, the sibling banter and childish teasing that sent them both into almost affronted shock before the laughter set in. It was like they were children all over again, reliving the humour and antics they had once had then.

Two small kids left alone to their devices.

Of course they were going to get into trouble, egging one another on.

Of course they couldn’t help just trying to push the limits and tease relentlessly when nothing else was occupying their minds.

That was the way with siblings. Even ones that got on like a house on fire had their moments, their own inside jokes and silly remarks that no one else understood.

Unfortunately, in most instances, his nose was deep into his research giving his brother ample opportunity to come up with small quips and jabs that he really wasn’t expecting.

Even if in a lot of circumstances... he really should have seen them coming.

Stan had old favourites, after all. Ones that he just couldn’t seem to help himself from using especially when Ford left himself wide open.

“Are we almost there yet? You’ve been making me hike up this god damn mountain for hours now.”

Ford rolled his eyes for the two seconds he could afford to before his gaze darted back to the compass in one hand and the scribbled map in his journal in the other, trying to pinpoint the landmarks that he had noted down in miniscule writing wherever he could on the same page. “Stan, we haven’t even been walking for an hour yet, don’t exaggerate.”

“Exaggerate? You’re the one that’s gonna get us lost in the mountains looking for a place that doesn’t exist! So remind me again, who exactly is exaggerating?”

Ford huffed, turning to his brother with an irritated noise that was on the crest of being a snarl of a remark before he saw the soft smile on his face. He deflated with another roll of his eyes. “You know this place exists as well as I do, Stan.”

Stan shrugged, glancing around the landscape with a look of boredom. “Who knows, none of the people we asked at port had ever actually seen it. All word of mouth from their ‘great grandmas’ or ‘grandpas’ or whatever even older relative had managed to somehow tell the story.” He hunched his back over, glaring reproachfully at Ford with a pointing finger, eyes sparkling playfully behind the mock scowl. “Remember what I told you! You stay away from those woods at night, otherwise you might find the-” Stan paused, frowning thoughtfully before shrugging and continuing. “You might find the ghost town and never return! Just like your long lost Great Great Cousin Jimmy- or whatever his name was.”

Ford couldn’t help the bark of laughter that escaped him. “Really? You’ve forgotten the name of the town already?”

Stan’s grin only widened as he shrugged again, his entire demeanour playful and teasing. “What can I say? I didn’t see the point of remembering the name of a place that doesn’t exist. That’s for your storybook.”

“Oi! It’s a journal and you know it.” Ford scowled, clutching the item tight to his chest. “Besides, you’re one to talk.” He smirked, amusement bubbling up at his brother before with that final utterance, he turned back around, continuing his hike into the foliage.

“Wait? What? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Hmm? Oh, nothing.” Ford looked over his shoulder with a grin. “Just you seemed pretty serious when you listened to those ‘old wives tales’ when someone’s Grandma was actually there to tell you about them herself. And I’m also pretty sure you wouldn’t act so flippantly if it was Soos’s Abuelita who was telling you those stories. You seemed to take her stories to heart when you took me to meet her before we left.”

He turned forward yet again, hearing a defeated little huff of a noise from his brother.

“Yeah well, her stories about the lighthouse always hit a bit close to home. Wouldn’t have much common sense if I ignored her other stories, now would I?”

Ford hummed in agreement, letting the matter slide, done with his teasing now that Stan had admitted defeat. His brother came up to walk beside him, nudging his shoulder as he looked down at the journal between them.

“So? How far to this Imber then?”

“Oh? So you do remember then?” Ford raised an eyebrow as Stan nudged him again with a roll of his eyes.

“Of course I do, you haven’t stopped going on about this place for the last week. It’d be hard not to.” Stan sniffed, looking away from him. “Didn’t want you thinking I didn’t listen to ya. Even if I don’t always understand it all, I do try and listen.”

Ford hummed appreciatively, nudging him back. “Oh yeah? So what was that all about then?”

“Bored.” Stan’s grin turned cheeky, teeth gleaming brightly in a way very reminiscent of times when he’d stopped Ford from studying in a similar manner when they were a lot younger.

“Really? You’re bored? We’re about to find a ghost town that nobody has seen in decades and you’re bored?” Ford almost stopped but his feet kept propelling him forward, even as his face scrunched up in obvious confusion. “How on Earth can you be-”

“You stopped rambling not long after we started the trek.”

Ford did stop them, thrown for a loop as Stan continued to walk forward without even noticing. “I- what?”

Stan shrugged, stretching as he looked around the area. “I mean, not that I always get what you’re talking about but you stopped answering most of my questions a while back. Too engrossed in that map of yours. Thought something like that might pull you back to the world of the living again.”

Ford seemed lost for words as he glanced at his hands. “I- but I need to keep track of where we’re going.”

Stan hummed, smirking slightly as he shook his head. “Sure you do. So, come on Poindexter, which way are we headed?”

“North?” Ford blinked a few times owlishly as Stan nodded and continued through the plant growth, following the gesture that had accompanied Ford’s words. He shook his head, jumping to catch up and make sure they didn’t miss their next landmark as Stan hummed under his breath to himself, his boredom obviously sated. He waited a few more moments, running over the conversation in his head. “I take it that was a hint to interact more?”

Stan snorted at his choice of phrase. “What am I, a science project? It got quiet and I got bored, that’s all.” He eyed up Ford’s journal with a small amount of amusement. “Feel free to go back to your storybook now. I just wanted to make sure you were actually capable of hearing me.”

Ford shook his head, closing his eyes for a second in endearing irritation. Sometimes he forgot that Stan’s interests lay elsewhere and the thrill of a ghost town that by assumption could be completely and utterly empty held little in the way of intriguing his brother like it did himself.

Stan liked the hustle and bustle, the liveliness of their adventures- the monsters, the creatures, the treasure. This probably sounded as stuffy to him as them sitting in a library all day.

No monster in sight, no cursed treasure or people to save.

Just a mystery to solve, one long past and not quite as present as Stan needed to hook him in.

Though Ford was sure that even in these cases, usually his own enthusiasm could rub off on him if he worded it right, if he explained the mystery in the right terms to get Stan thinking about it instead of shutting down to his ramblings without even attempting to follow his train of thought.

He frowned thoughtfully, skimming back over their interactions over the last few days at port.

…Perhaps he hadn’t done enough of that this time round.

Sure, Stan had accompanied him as they spoke to people around town, listened intently to their warnings and half-forgotten tales, but he hadn’t been through the nearby records to find the other written accounts, the ones that added more and more mysteries to the remarks and made him all the more curious to get to the bottom of it all.

He shook himself when he felt Stan’s eyes on him, his face now slightly concerned and nervous, as if he thought he’d done something wrong and Ford couldn’t have that. “Noted.”

“Noted? What that you’re carrying a storybook? Cause you never usually agree-”

“I’m pretty sure you’ve used my research in the past, thank you very much.” Ford straightened his back, the snarky comment slipping through without help though he was glad for Stan’s returning grin at the words.

“Yeah- for the Mystery Shack, I needed some good fairy tales for that.”

Ford gave him a scathing look over the top of his glasses. “You know that’s not what I meant, Mr Lighthouse Keeper.”

Stan bit his lip, obviously trying not to laugh at the successful rise he was getting in response. “Alright, alright… one of your stories turned out to be real.”

Ford took a deep breath, biting down on his tongue as he looked back down at the compass to check they were going the right direction before walking straight ahead again, head held high as he brushed past his brother.

The silence didn't last long however, the words at the back of his throat refusing to be quashed. “And for the record, yes I am perfectly capable of hearing and getting us there at the same time.”

“Noted.” Stan parroted back good humouredly before going back to following behind his brother.

There were a few beats of silence before he spoke again, amusement in his words as if he wondered if Ford had zoned out again.

“Well I guess there’s only one way to find out. Next time I get bored I’ll just get the harmonica out instead of striking up a conversation.”

“Oh god no.” Ford turned to him, a look of almost horror on his face at the evil grin residing on his brother’s. Stan was actually quite good at the musical instrument if he put his mind to it.

‘If’ being the crucial part of that statement.

“Oh, you can hear me still. Good to know.”

Ford bit down on his lip to stop himself from joining in the childish antics and sticking his tongue out triumphantly. He instead threw the compass to his brother, watching him flail with it for a few seconds in perplexity before explaining. “Here, I’ll have the map, you have the compass. Good way to keep you occupied?”

As much as Ford expected some kind of annoyed response at the sudden responsibility, his brother seemed taken aback by the notion, eyes going between the compass and Ford with little twitching movements.

“You really trust me with that?”

Ford’s eyebrows furrowed. “What?”

“I mean, I’m not actually trying to distract you from navigating or anything. Just-” Stan gestured widely albeit uselessly before looking down almost hopefully at the compass. “You know?”

“Yeah, I know.” The quiet didn’t suit Stan. “And yes I trust you to use a compass. So, how about I get out of my head and you stop being a distraction and we both work towards us getting there?”

Stan beamed, the most genuine smile of the day. “Sounds like a plan! Lead the way, Sixer, what are we looking for?”

“OK, so, we need to go North until we see…” Ford stood close to him, pulling the map out for both of them to see as he pinpointed the trail they needed to take and the next landmark they needed to keep an eye out for.

He knew the journey would be slower going this way, even with the extra pair of eyes.

But really, even he had to admit, it was a lot more fun from that point onwards.

“Is this it? Are we actually here?” Ford could feel the excitement coming off of him in waves, could hear the snort of pure amusement from his brother as his eyes no doubt lit up as they ran gleefully over the derelict old buildings covered in thick trailing vines that seemed to bend and crack them further into distorted versions of their former selves.

A sight no one had seen for so long and here they were, ready to document everything possible. To shed light on everything that had happened there.

When there was no response, just a warm good natured amusement beside him, his mouth ran away with him.

“Come on, Stanley! This is it! This is the Ghost Town we’ve been looking for! Aren’t you even the tiniest bit intrigued?”

“It’s not a Ghost Town.”

Ford blinked, taking a quick step back. His mind raced ahead, eyes now scanning for forms of life, expecting to see whatever Stan had seen. Nothing seemed to catch his eye though, no movement, no lights. He opened his mouth to say as much, his face scrunching up in confusion as he tried his best to gather whatever Stan had.

But before the words had even made it up his throat he felt a sudden sharp shove to his back.

He stumbled forward a few paces, past the threshold into the town, his demeanour changing instantly. Due to a few of their fast paced adventures already he caught himself quickly, spinning around as he slipped to find the culprit, eyes narrow and face serious, hand twitching to the weapon at his hip.

Until all he found was a pondering, thoughtful Stan, whose mouth kept twitching into the grin he was so desperately trying to hide. “Stan? What-?”

“Oh, guess I was wrong.”

“What?”

Stan’s pondering mask cracked even further, a rumble of chuckles escaping him along with the words. “Well, now it’s a Ghost Town.”

Ford continued to stare at him for a few moments, lost to his brother’s whims until it all hit him in one fell swoop, his body relaxing even as a deep disappointed groan escaped him. “Really? How long have you been waiting to use that particular joke? Since we started looking for this place or on the walk up here?”

Stan shrugged, eyes alight with mischief. “Who knows, I’ve always got a joke up my sleeve, you know that.”

“Well I hope you didn’t spend too long thinking up that one.” Ford did indulge in some childish behaviour this time, sticking his tongue out petulantly, though it only seemed to add to Stan’s glee.

“Aww, don’t be like that. Casper’s a classic joke!”

“If you say so.” Ford grumbled under his breath, tuning out the near constant giggles that were now erupting out of Stan. Instead he focused on his equipment, getting out the anomaly detectors and other small creations he’d fashioned just for the occasion.

They walked deeper into the town, finding a small well-trodden path through the buildings that had become overrun with brambles. The entire area had been lost to time and though he itched to enter the buildings, he thought it best to give the entire place a quick scan first, marking down a crude map to find their route back the way that had come again if need be as they went.

The small machine in his hand gave a sudden sharp beep, Ford stopping in his tracks as he waited for it to continue. A hushed excited whisper left him as he turned back to his brother who was giving him a small curious tilt of the head as he waited expectantly. “Stan.” He could almost feel himself buzzing at the thought as he brought the piece of equipment up for his brother to see, his voice still quiet and exuberant. “There’s a presence nearby!”

“A ghostly presence?”

Ford nodded happily, exasperated by Stan’s slow uptake. “Yes, if you like. A ghostly presence nearby.”

“There’s always a ghostly presence nearby, Casper.” Stan spoke at a normal volume though it sounded loud and reverberating through Ford’s hissing words. “You made sure to set your equipment accordingly, right? Don’t wanna skew the findings with your own ghostliness, now do you?”

“God damn it, Stanley!”

“What? I’m just saying-”

“Will you take this seriously?!”

“Now, why would I do that? You’re taking it seriously enough for the both of us.”

As much as he really wanted to be annoyed at the constant barrage of jokes, he couldn’t seem to stop his mouth twitching upwards at Stan’s booming heady laughter behind him, slap bang in the middle of the echoing stone cold atmosphere of the abandoned place they’d found themselves in.

Stood in the middle of a possibly haunted town and Stan was giggling like they were at a terrible tourist attraction.

Trust Stan to take it all lightly, it had kept them going for this long.

And really, he’d rather this outright refusal to be serious than the cautious nervous shell that his brother had been when he’d asked him to go sailing in the first place.

It was good to have him back, in all his childish glory.

Even if that meant dealing with his frankly terrible jokes.

.

AN: ALL THE FLUFF! ALL THE PUNS 8D HAPPY GRUNKS