#just like. ‘goddamn that’s some weirdo fucking dude over here. what’s up with that guy. eyo blink motherfucker. you wanna square up?’

[bringerofdarkness-fancomic]

VERY INTERESTING NEWS: I FOUND SOME OF THE 2022 CONCEPTS FOR EXNIC/BRINGER OF DARKNESS.

honestly, personality-wise, he’s not actually all that different from who he is now. though i did forget his tongue was pitch black once. and that he didn’t bleed from the mouth at one point.

will let you know if i ever find the concept(s?) for when he had a tentacle for a tongue. that was funky.

[deceptivelydex]

Tumblr fame isn't exactly something that people flaunt, and hell it's one of the harder things to obtain. Though once you have it?- you become known around the internet pretty easily. Reposts to twitter and Instagram, people know your blog name. They'll know your face. If you post it that is;at times having you face online isn't exactly the smartest though.

I fumble my keys trying to get in my car, it's far too cold, and I didn't dress accordingly. It's 7pm, getting dark and the street is unnervingly empty. Once my car door clicks open, god bless this 80s fucking car, a startling noise is made.

A sort of awkward yelp, followed by "dexcel?- from Tumblr?"

I slowly turn on my heel. "Oh my god it is"

He's tall, tall well built. Arms defined and his body just made so well. He had the prettiest face, this guy knew my goddamn blog? He looks at me with big puppy eyes, tapping his foot almost at the tempo a tail would wag. He radiated some doggish energy. My mind already racing, sizing him up. Could I take him?- no. Could I easily win.

"Hello- uhm. Haha. You are?"

Flexing my hand. Fingers inching towards my pocket.

"Quinn, I'm Quinn- I fucking love your stuff-"

"I'm very flattered" I cut him off. I'm too distracted. He's not exactly bundled up either. Long sleeve shirt and jeans. His glasses are tucked into the collar of his shirt, so it pulls it down just enough to get a glimpse of his collar bones. He's got a literal dog's tag on a necklace chain, it says his name. This guy really was my peak demographic. Too hot for that though. Doesn't look the part of a degenerate.

"I watch all your streams— Dude, could you like sign my arm or something?"

"Hah- I can do you one better. Sign your ass?"

He kind of shrinks back and lets out a breathy noise, reluctant to respond

"Chill, man. I was kidding"

He tilts his head at my flat tone, forcing out a chuckle. So much for having an easy lay. You'd think some weirdo who's a fan, reads my blog, AND watches my stream would be an easy lay.

"Uhm-" he tilts his head the other way. Real puppyboy shit.

"C'mere. Give me your arm" I slowly pull my hand out my pocket, something tight in it. The other wraps tightly around his arm. I pull him in and give him a nasty punch straight to the side of his face. Before I can even pull back. He's yelling and reaching out to grab whatever part of me he can. He didn't even pull back. What the hell is his issue.

"Christ! Jesus just- ack!"

He grabs at the side of my neck, nails sinking into it- and I almost get riled up over that.

"You read my blog bitch! You think this bothers me?" I lean into his hand through my strangled words. Reaching both my hands towards his hair, immediately he pulls back to try and stop me. But once I've got a good grip, I put all my weight on one leg and move a hand to lay further on the back of his head. There's a loud crack when I slam his face into the side of my car.

I stand there to revel in my win. Laughing and rubbing over my neck, where he broke skin.

'Holy fucking shit.'

I step away to sort of asses evrything, scanning the area. No one. God- it's like this was meant to be- fucking no one is here.

And he seemed to be out pretty good. He'll definitely be in some nasty pain if he wakes up, i can help this if I take him home. Yeah, yeah ok. I reach down and hoist him up by his arms, propping him up onto the car so I can decently throw him over my shoulder. He's real light and I can feel muscle and bone against mine.

I struggle to open the passengers front door, but I do, and I basically cram him in there. Trying to set him up in a way that looks like he's just napping. This was risky shit I was pulling, but I guess he didn't consider that all my necro incel disgusting shit was genuine. There was blood on his face trailing from his nose, jesus this guy can fucking bleed. The door slams and I awkwardly shimmy to my side, getting in and letting out a shaky deep breath.

I never thought I'd act on my Fantasy, I'd always say I was anti-contact, that if I never acted on it then my weird kinks were fine. It just seemed so easy.

The drive home was short, anxiety inducing, the kind that makes me want to hurl. But there was also heat building up in my stomach, a nasty wetness pooling up in my boxers. Uncomfortable and putrid. I was fucking nasty.

It's all a goddamn blur, carrying him inside, pacing around. Closing the blinds, locking and chaining the door. Looking through drawers for rope. Grabbing pocket knives. Checking on him every few minutes. Throwing my pants off cause they're too tight. Feeling over his body. Looking through the drawers again. A collar i never used. Clipping it on him. Real leather. Taking my shirt off cause it's too hot. Will he think my scars are gross? You beat his face in a kidnapped him. Irrelevant. He reads about this on tumblr. It can't be that much of a turn off when he wakes. Touche. Do you know how stressful this is? He twitched. God. Ok.

He curls up to the side, letting out a groan and scrunching his face up "augh- ohh. Oh" his voice pitches up. "Ow- that fucking hurts" when he opens his eyes, we just stare. Then it hits him.

"Oh fuck- fuck what the hell. What the hell. You- no. No no- did you fucking-"

"Shut up! Shut up. Yes, are you dense? That's a stupid question to ask me. ME"

There's almost a disconnect between me and what I want to say. But I'm so frustrated and pent up. "Come on. Just. Let me do this- let me have this and you'll be fine. Ok?"

I step around the couch, grabbing my largest pocket knife off the coffee table. Ones of thos length are pretty illegal to take out. I never thought id be able to use it.

"No- no fuck no what is your issue. You're fucking insane. You're. You're a degenerate! A nasty piece of shit you're- good god"

He isn't sure whether to fight or give in, I can just imagine his tail tucked and ears pinned back. And he fucking whines. And I sweat. Hand so tightly wrapped around this goddamn knife. Blood flow straight to my dick, can't even fucking think.

"You'll take it"

"Whh-at?" His voice shakes

"You'll take it, it's what good puppies do" all that tumblr posting did me good. Cause he shifts, and it does something. He shakes his head

"No.." but I can see it.

I walk over and wave the blade Infront of him, using my free hand to unbuckle his belt. With a bit of struggle. "Don't fucking move, you do dumb shit you get what you ask for yeah?"

This time he nods. I yank his pants down and he winces, belt digging into his legs. I'm greeted with scars, scars and shaky thighs.

"You're really pretty. So gorgeous"

"Mfhmm"

"I thought you said no. About this"

I place the tip of my blade right against his buldge. I can tell he's big. But I don't take, it's irrelevant.

"Nasty mutt getting excited over his life being in actual fucking danger. That's sick you know? I mean it's expected for ME to be hard. But you? Some poor guy I napped?"

He whimpers and his legs twitch up, like he's humping into it.

"Yeah- yeahh. That's what I thought."

I crawl over, just in boxers myself, and spread his legs, slotting myself between them. Hardons and fabric separating us

"We'll start slow. I'll enjoy you alive, for now"

I lean to the side and claw at the rope til i can grab it, and i coo at him 'stay still' 'so good' 'it'll be done quick'. His wrists are tightly bound together. He's breathing hard and humping against me. He's so scared, i know he is, but he's desperate too.

"Oh- oh fuck yes. Good boy. Goood boy hahh"

We start moving, really moving. He's wrapping his legs around me, trembling as i trace my knife up and down his abdomen.

"Quinn was it? Yeah- good boy Quinn. Such a good pup"

He leans his head back and lets out a low "ohh". Almost embarrassed sounding, sort of muffled. He's bucking his hips like he just needs more, he can't wait.

"So impatient- fuck. Ahhah. God. I'm sure it'd feel better inside you-"

He squirms "no- no no I'm - not gay"

"Shh, that doesn't fucking matter now does it"

I push my blade into the top of his abdomen and drag it down. With just enough force to get a good open gash. Nothing too serious. He starts to shout but I shoot my hand up and cover his mouth.

"Shh shhh. Shh. Don't do that. You'll make me feel bad. Shhh. I know it hurts. But you'll take my dick and forget all about it"

He whines and his eyes well up, he blinks them away but they just trail down the sides of his face. I leave my blade on his tummy, his hands are tied anyways. I pull his boxers off, completely disregarding his cock. As big as it is. I can always put it to use later. Just pray he gets death's erection. I laugh out loud, he just gazes at me, all out of it.

I pull my boxers off next. I'm a little smaller, actually quite a bit smaller. It's embarrassing. I scoff and knee him in the thigh, he yips.

I make up for it in girth.

I push his legs up and look down, spitting on my dick and pumping it a few times.

"You'll be good yeah?"

He just groans and leans his head to the side.

Before he knows it, I'm pushing myself in and he's completely tense. It's a fucking strugle, he's so damn tight and he's thrashing and I'm trying to hold his legs.

"Jesus fuck dude!"

I lean forward and shove it all in, grabbing at his collar and punching him much gentler than i did before, but still enough to hurt. "Fuck! Fuck I'm sorry im sorry please" he starts to cry like a bitch. Crying doesn't do shit when this is the situation.

"You're so fucking disobedient. But so fucking sexy"

He's clenched around me, I'm already leaking onto him and making a mess. When I start moving, he gets antsy again. Whining and moaning and making stupid noises that are getting on my nerves. I try to put all my weight on him, he keeps on going. "Fuck- nghg- shut up. God. Ahh. Agh god. You're so tight. So small under me. Can you just. Mgh. Just let me have this"

He shoves his fists up against my sternum, trying to get me off. I grunt and push his head down. It lays flush against my couch. My thrusting getting messier.

"Fuck you. I mean- what happened to big fan huh? Huh? Fucking nasty annoying no good bitch. Can you just. God!"

It gets to a point, and my breaking point is when he winds his leg back and tries to kick me off. I'd be lying if i said the fighting back wasn't hot. But a guy needs to get off.

"No- no fuck you"

"Wa-it" he sobs, choking on spit and tears. He basically has snot running down his face.

"You had this fucking coming"

I grab the pocket knife and hold it as tight as i can, blade sticking out by my pinky. I reel back and he's kicking and crying and throwing his arms up. Scared and puppy eyed. His whines like a real dog. And to me that's what he is. Giving him the ol yeller. I'm the rabid wolf, gave him these nasty fantasies that sound so good in concept. Now I have to take him out to make sure no one else has him.

I go for his neck. Aim for the jugular, in all movies, books, media. Always aim for the jugular. Though that's not all true. You really aim for the cartoid artery. That doesn't sound as good though. The knife sinks in and it's euphoric. And he's fucking screaming. And It doesn't even really process. There's ringing in my ears and I'm picking up with my hips. And he's so shocked and it hurts so bad. He's wide eyed with tears and snot and drool and spit. "Ff-uck. Fuck" he's coughing and he can't even reach a hand to cover his neck "fuck- pl-ease . No. Ple-ase get help" i pull it out. Wind up again. "Call someone pllease i-" another wound right next to it.

"Good boy- so good. Such a gorgeous puppy. Did you know that? You're beautiful. I've never seen a boy as beautiful as you. Know that ok? I think you're beautiful"

I leave the knife where it is. I grab onto his knees and go at it. It's sloppy and messy and he's bleeding onto my couch, it's spurting with the pump of his heart. It's fucking grotesque. I'm nauseous and warm. I reach my hand back and yank the knife out. He can only let out air. I grab my shirt and put it snug over his neck, hand tightly wrapped.

"I don't think this will help. It wont help. But i need to see your darling expressions a little longer"

He whines, quiet weak ones. I feel the heat building up again. God. I'm a quick shot but how could i not. This is my biggest fantasy. He starts looking so out of it. Not really blinking, hardly breathing.

"It's hardly been 2 minutes. Stay with me baby"

He lets out a noise. Just barely loud enough for me to hear

"You-'re beautiful. I see you, pup. Fuck mgh- You're stunning"

My hand loosens up, and as I'm fucking into him. Nearing whatever fucked up orgasm I'm trying to catch, he goes limp. It's slow but you can tell. His head leans over and his hands are gently laid against his chest. He looks like a goddamn angel. I meant it when i said he was beautiful.

I lay my entire body on him, threading my fingers into his hair, kissing along his jaw and licking at the blood. And I'm noisy now. Whining and moaning and clinging to him. I bury my face into his neck, basically rutting into him like some animal. I start to get beyond dizzy, like I'm gonna black out.

"Oh god- oh god Quinn, oh fuck quinn. Oh you feel so good oh god. Oh I'm gonna cum. Oh god. I'm gonna cum inside. Oh- oh - "

And just like that, I'm cumming inside. Holding his face and basically making out with him, moaning into his mouth, tracing a hand down to tug his collar. Talking to no one. "Fuckk! Fuck ohh" whining and drooling onto him. I stay there, hardly conscious and dripping down my legs. Shaking and so out of it. I collapse and just wrap my arm around him. Using one hand to slowly untie his hands and snuggle up in his arms.

"Mghf. Thank you. Thank you" the clean up will be terrible

"I'll keep you around" he's so beautiful

"I'll use your dick later" he's the perfect guy.

"I'm so flattered that you're my fanpuppy"

It's quiet and he's cold, granted he had been cold the whole time. But he really is, and he's holding me and I'm content. I'm so content. This is perfect

[anonymous-dentist]

Part two of a series of oneshots set in @discduo ‘s mall au! I heavily recommend reading part one first. (Linked here)

-

Okay so, first off, Quackity is not moping. He is not. That would be ridiculous, and also stupid, to assume. Quackity does not mope. He sure can sulk, but he doesn’t mope, and he definitely doesn’t mope over some dumbfuck from the Disney Store. 

“You’re an idiot,” George astutely says, hitting the nail right on the head for once in his miserable life. 

George is not at work. George is, in fact, skipping work to hang out with Quackity. That means that he’s at the Spencers leaning against the wall of shelves sipping on some Starbucks abomination with a metal straw while Quackity works. He’s wearing his sunglasses today, the really nice pair that his sugar daddy, Dream’s weirdo cousin, got for him for their five-month anniversary the other month. (George forgot the anniversary entirely until Sapnap reminded him, because Sapnap is just such a nice person. He’s just so wonderful.) 

Quackity dutifully ignores him, instead focusing on doing his goddamn job. Unlike half of the people in this mall, he actually works. He does his job, and he sometimes even likes it. It’s easy to ignore your problems when you can just rot your brain by listening to shitty metal music and stock t-shirts plastered with Joe Biden’s face. 

George slurps at his coffee as annoyingly as humanly possible. “He won’t stop talking about you, you know.”

“Who, Dream?” Quackity asks, only halfway caring. He sure hopes it isn’t Dream; every time Dream wants to talk to him, the cops end up getting called. 

“No, Sapnap. He thinks you’re mad at him.”

“Why would I be mad at Sapnap for following his dick to work at the Disney Store instead of here like we agreed upon and leaving me behind just because some- some- some guy with nice hair pitied him?” Quackity lightly asks. His chest hurts. 

He grips the shirt in his hands so hard that it wrinkles. Fuck you, Joe Biden, stupid white piece of shit. Hey, Joe Biden, what’s your policy on heartbreak and megacorporations? You gonna solve this crisis? 

“So you are mad at him,” George surmises. 

“No. I’m not. Why would I be mad at him? I’m glad that he got a new job, really. It’s a lot quieter without him showing up and pissing me off.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Get new insults, dude. Your shitty old man brain is melting.”

“Oh my God, shut up,” George groans, throwing his head back dramatically. “Just listen to me, God. He’s moping, Quackity, you have to fix him.”

“God, who cares?” Quackity snaps, maybe harsher than intended. Maybe. “I sure fucking don’t. He’s your friend, not mine. You…” He waggles his hand in George’s general direction. “You fix him. I don’t care.”

Because maybe Sapnap hasn’t come by for lunch since getting hired at that fucking Disney Store three months ago. Maybe Quackity hasn’t even seen him in three months. It’s almost like that Karl guy upstairs is keeping him captive. Maybe Sapnap has actually been locked inside of the fucking- the puppet theater, or whatever the fuck. He looks enough like a Muppet. So does Karl Jacobs. They’re practically meant for each other. World’s best assistant manager and world’s best Sapnap, prisoners and wardens of The Mouse. 

They deserve each other. Disney is all about happiness and sunshine and whatever. How could Quackity compare with his weird emo store and his lackluster insurance benefits? 

“Riiiiight,” George drawls. He swishes his coffee around judgmentally. “Well, you’re going to fix it. I don’t know what you did-”

“What I did?” Quackity asks. “I’m not the one that ghosted his lunch buddy out of fucking nowhere just because some pretty boy waggled a job interview at me. I’ve been stuck eating lunch with Wilbur. Wilbur.”

Wilbur isn’t the worst to eat lunch with, mostly because he and Quackity can both bond over annoying Tubbo at work, but he’s still Wilbur. Either he’s waxing poetic about his marine biologist girlfriend, or he’s waxing poetic about his dad, or he’s talking about how he wants to punt Dream into the sun (he and Quackity can both agree on that last part.) 

But. But he’s no Sapnap. You don’t miss what you didn’t realize you had until it’s gone, Quackity supposes. All he can do is move on and try and find someone else to buy him milkshakes. Maybe they’ll actually get the flavors right. 

“Whatever,” George sighs. “When’s your break? I heard from Puffy that the Panda Express is giving out free samples around noon to the first people in line. I bet we could steal the whole lot before the public even gets to them.”

Quackity checks his watch. 11:50. 

“Now,” he decides. Fuck it, he’s the manager, he can say when his own breaks are. Who’s gonna stop him, Schlatt? Fucker’s dead! “Foolish! You’re in charge!”

He hears a vague “Yeah, ‘kay!” from The Back, but he doesn’t really register it. He’s too busy shoving the rest of the Biden shirts onto the shelves so he can get the fuck out of there and get some fresh air. You can only be in a Spencer’s for so long without reverting back to your emo phase. 

-

Tubbo’s working at the Burger King today. He sees Quackity and George and waves, looking utterly dead inside in the best way possible. 

Quackity waves back much more cheerfully. He even blows a kiss, which makes Tubbo’s entire body shudder in repulsion. One of the kids in line to order notices and laughs, making Tubbo shudder again, this time in embarrassment. 

Quackity makes a mental note of which child to drop a free sample on. Not that he would willingly drop a plastic cup full of steaming-lukewarm rice onto a child, because that would be ridiculous. He would never. George would, though, and he would even kick a kid if it looked at him the wrong way. 

There’s something in the air, Quackity thinks as he and George weave their ways through the crowd and to the Panda Express. It’s either salmonella, or it’s… 

“George!” 

Quackity’s face falls. It’s either salmonella, or it’s regret. It’s always one of the two with him. Half of the dinners Schlatt made him were uncooked, some kind of health food trend that he was trying because he saw it online. The other half were burned beyond all recognition, a pretty good metaphor for how their relationship was going at the time. 

George stops and sends Quackity a smug little side eye before turning around and waving over a cheerful-looking Sapnap. 

Sapnap looks… how to put it? He looks happy. His hair is pulled back and it’s shiny, his nails are painted, and his dimples are on full display. Quackity should stop looking at his face and should try and get the fuck away before he does something he might regret, like try and talk to him. 

Sapnap alone is bad enough, but he’s accompanied by the living embodiment of sunshine and fucking lollipops. They’re standing awfully close together. Suspiciously close, even. Bad vibes. 

Sapnap comes over. Quackity backs up and slips back into the crowd, more than happy for his relatively small size for the first time in his life. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be at work?” he hears Sapnap ask, like the idiot he is. Everybody knows that George doesn’t actually do his job. Why would he when he’s dating the guy that basically owns the mall? 

By the time that Quackity makes it to the Panda Express, he’s left George, Sapnap, and Sapnap’s annoying boss behind. 

Also by the time that Quackity makes it to the Panda Express, Tubbo has somehow managed to escape the Burger King and is standing by a small table wearing the Panda Express uniform holding a tray covered in samples. At least George wasn’t lying about the samples.

Quackity takes one with a fond eye roll. 

“What’s this supposed to be?” he asks. 

He doesn’t even bother with getting a fork as he picks the rice up with his fingers and shoves it into his mouth. It’s perfectly alright. Not bad, but not good, either. That’s mall food, for you.

Tubbo shrugs. “Dunno. I just work here, man, d’you think I actually know what we serve?”

“I thought you were working at the Subway today.”

“Nah, Susan called out sick earlier at the Burger King, right, and I stepped up to take her place because I’m an upstanding gentleman.”

Quackity snorts. Tubbo, ever-professional, tips the tray so that a couple of samples fall off and onto Quackity’s boots. He doesn’t bat an eye as Quackity swears and skitters backwards with all the grace of a limping spider. 

“But then,” Tubbo continues, mindlessly adjusting the samples still on the tray. “Right, see, but then Terrance over here called out-”

“Not Terrance,” Quackity gasps. 

Tubbo nods solemnly. “Yes, I’m afraid so. So I’m here handing out free samples while Lisa tries to find a replacement.” “So what’s going on at the Burger King?” 

“Well, technically I’m still on the clock over there, but I figured they could wait. Anyone who actually wants Burger King is a braver and more patient man than I.”

“True!” Quackity agrees. Despite his better judgment, he takes another sample and shovels that one into his mouth as well. Sue him, he’s hungry. He still isn’t quite used to taking care of his own lunches yet. 

“Besides, I figured you would need emotional support.” Tubbo gets up on his toes to look out over the crowd. Quackity turns around and follows his gaze. He can’t quite see over everybody, but he does make eye contact with some old guy throwing away his Auntie Anne’s containers on the other side of the court. “Y’know, it wasn’t supposed to be a free sample day. Technically, that’s against mall policy to avoid stampedes ‘n stuff. George just got his freaky boyfriend to sign off on it, and I figured that was sus as hell.”

“Please don’t say sus again,” Quackity says. 

“Sus.”

“You’re grounded,” Quackity says, fully knowing that that threat never works on Tubbo. He turns back around and gives his brother a Look. “But thanks, anyway.”

Tubbo shrugs. “Consider it repayment for dealing with Dream the other week.”

Quackity winces. “Yeah, ‘kay.”

That was fun. Dream, a security guard in training, has this fun habit of using his cousin’s mall as his personal playground. He’s either bothering George or Sapnap at work, or he’s trying to bust Tommy for working underage ‘cause he’s a freak. A couple of weeks ago and bored out of his mind, he had tried getting Quackity to sell Tommy out, and Tubbo had swooped in with some story about a shoplifter at the Lids on the other side of the mall. What a hero. 

“Y’know, I’ve been thinking-” Tubbo starts, probably about to start on some stupid little endearing little tangent. 

And then there’s an interruption from over Quackity’s shoulder, a dreadfully-familiar voice gleefully exclaiming, “Oh, shoot, free samples!”

Quackity lets out a long, drawn-out sigh as Sapnap slides into place next to him (where he belongs) and yoinks a sample cup off of the tray. 

Tubbo shoots Quackity a sympathetic look. They may not spend as much time together as they used to, but they still live together most days out of the week. Tubbo has seen more than his fair share of Quackity sulking, not moping, sulking on the couch over being ignored yet again by the man he didn’t even know he liked. 

Quackity inches away, fully intending on bolting like an idiot, but then Sapnap, with a mouth full of rice, glances over at him and freezes like a deer in the headlights. Mid-chew, he stands there like a statue staring at Quackity like Quackity is a ghost. Quackity, much to his own embarrassment, probably looks much the same way. 

Sapnap swallows and says, “Uh. Hi?”

“Yeah, hi,” Quackity flatly responds. He turns back to Tubbo. “Am I driving you home today?”

“Quackity,” says Sapnap. 

Tubbo seems to think on the matter. “I think Ranboo said that he wanted to go out for dinner.”

“Fuck Ranboo,” Quackity scowls. He sighs, “Am I driving the both of you, then?”

“Quackity,” says Sapnap, slightly more insistent. 

Tubbo nods eagerly, a bright smile on his stupid little face. “Yes, please! I’ll make him pay gas money.”

Oh, thank God. Ranboo is loaded, much to Tubbo’s indiscrete enjoyment. It makes Quackity wonder why he’s working in a mall if he can afford an entire house at, what, eighteen? But who knows? There are already so many weird people working at this mall, what’s one more? 

“Quackity,” says Sapnap. 

“I’m going to head back to work,” Quackity says. “Text me when you’re done.”

“Quackity!”

“Fucking- what!?” Quackity snaps, turning his full attention to the annoyed man next to him. 

Sapnap’s mouth flaps for a full second before slamming shut. He takes a moment to compose himself, then says, with a small, bashful smile, “Hi.”

God, why is he so endearing? He used to be annoying! Quackity used to be annoyed by him! Why did it take him leaving for Quackity to get attached? 

“What,” Quackity says. He doesn’t ask, no, because he doesn’t care. He doesn’t. 

“I just… are you okay?” Sapnap asks. He frowns, genuinely looking concerned, how dare he. “You look kinda rough, dude.”

“I’m fine,” Quackity monotones. “How’s the Disney Store?”

He really doesn’t care. He doesn’t! It’s just making polite conversation, that’s it. He definitely hasn’t missed talking to Sapnap. At all. And he definitely didn’t spend the first two weeks after Sapnap’s ghosting daydreaming of getting a chance to talk to him again. 

Dense as ever, Sapnap’s frown flips back around easily. “It’s great! I didn’t think I’d like working with kids this much, but it’s honestly really rewarding, y’know? Like they’re annoying little shits, but they’re sweet.”

“Cool.”

“And I know we were kinda worried about Disney bringing in a whole bunch of Karens and shit around, but it hasn’t been that bad. I actually had some punk girls come in the other day and ask if we had any Stitches.”

“Cool.”

God, Quackity can just about see the gross pink glow surrounding Sapnap. It’s like he’s a different person entirely. Well. It isn’t. He’s the exact same, actually, but it’s the vibes, man, the vibes are off. This isn’t Sapnap. It’s some kind of Sapnap clone. It’d make sense. The real Sapnap wouldn’t abandon Quackity to work in the fucking Disney Store. 

“Karl’s nice, too,” Sapnap continues, not even noticing Quackity’s increasing displeasure and annoyance. “He’s… very nice.”

And now Sapnap is blushing. Great. Quackity wants to kick a child, now. (As if sensing this, Tubbo shuffles away.) 

“Wonderful,” Quackity sarcastically says. “I’m glad you’re happy, really. Now, if you’ll excuse me-”

He tries to duck out of the conversation, planning on heading back to work to sulk in the supply closet until his actual lunch break starts, but he’s stopped by a broad hand weakly grabbing his shoulder. Holding his shoulder, more like, because Sapnap knows not to actually touch him too suddenly. 

“Hey, no, where’re you going?” Sapnap asks, almost sounding hurt. The nerve. “I haven’t seen you in months! Let’s get lunch or something, on me.”

Quackity lets out a slow breath. He is calm. 

“No,” he calmly says. “I’m good. I’m not hungry.”

“Yeah, I saw how empty that try was. But c’mon, dude, I missed you.”

That’s it. 

“You missed me?” Quackity laughs. He looks Sapnap in the eyes and repeats, “You missed me? I haven’t seen you in months! What, just ‘cause you’re a Disney guy now means you can’t come and talk to me?”

Oh, and now Sapnap’s frowning again, great. “What?”

“I have been waiting for you to come and see me every goddamn day since you got hired,” Quackity growls. “Every. Day. Where were you?”

Something flashes in Sapnap’s eyes, but Quackity can’t tell what. He doesn't know if he wants to.

“But you’re always gone when I show up,” Sapnap says, like a goddamn liar. Why does he sound so upset? “I know when your lunch breaks are. That’s why I was so surprised to see you here now. Dude, you aren’t there.”

“Yes! I am! I am always there! I have my lunches in the goddamn hallway half the time! But I never see you,” Quackity spits. “Actually, fuck this. Fuck this, actually, goodbye.”

His therapist always tells him to step away from a situation if it’s stressing him out. If he’s paying her 500 bucks a session, she’d better be right. 

He easily pulls himself out of Sapnap’s grasp and storms off, not listening as Sapnap calls after him. What was George thinking? Bastard. They’re all bastards, all of them. Fuck having friends, actually, all they do is disappoint you. 

Quackity bumps into someone by the Burger King and almost apologizes before realizing who it is. 

“Whoah, dude, sorry,” Karl apologizes, looking as apologetic as a real life villain can. Because of course it’s him, because God hates Quackity and wishes him harm. 

To avoid causing a scene, all Quackity does is flip him off. His therapist would be very proud of him. 

But then Quackity very calmly says, “I’m gonna sneak so many dildos into your store that you get shut down, and there is nothing that you can do to stop me.”

Karl blinks at him, mouth curled into a neat ‘O’ shape. He’s seemingly shocked into silence. Good. 

And with that, Quackity continues his escape, and he continues his escape until he’s pushing Foolish away from the register so he can duck beneath it and break open one of the emergency packs of chewing gum. Stress relief. 

“That bad, huh?” Foolish asks, lovely, lovely Foolish. 

“From this point forward, Sapnap is banned,” Quackity says. “If you see him, get him out. If I have to see him, somebody’s getting fired.” 

He sniffs and scrubs at his stinging eyes. His chest hurts so fucking bad, and it’s not from the Panda Express. 

“Uuuuh, okay? What about his boss? The weird one?” Foolish asks, not even questioning it. Lovely, lovely Foolish. 

“Don’t bother,” Quackity sighs. “He won’t come down here, anyway. He wouldn’t dare.”

It’s painful, Quackity has slowly begun to realize over the past few months, being in love. It’s even more painful when you’re too slow to act on it.

[skellys-selfships]

New Recruit

{i hope this turned out ok!! im not the best writer and i plan on writing more and improving <3 here goes with a little oc x canon content}

New Recruit

"Okay, okay…where's the new little shit?"

Captain stood confidently in the middle of the room, staring down at his fellow Tankmen as they awkwardly stared back at him.

"The new guy? Who took a dump in your brains, where's the rookie?!"

Immediately standing up, attempting to match Captain's height, the newest recruit showed themselves. A hunched over posture and wildly sporadic fingers, twitching with anxiety, they chitter, "Mx. Stranger here-….Sir.". Captain cocks his head over, peering down at the wheezing mess of a creature below.

"Okay nerd, Stranger they call you? Today you're gonna see some action! And not like y'know, sex action. I mean war!"

Stranger, teetering from side to side, giggles, "You're gonna teach me shit? Just like that, Sir?"

"Yeaaaahhhh. Just like that you little weirdo. With your weird eyes, you look like a pile sticks. If I sneeze on ya, would ya collapse- do NOT answer that!".

The two struck out, mounting one of their many tanks. Blazing across the battlefield in a flame of decimation.

Captain awkwardly coughed, lowering his gun. Scratching his head, "So Stranger…what do you like, do? Y'know? What's your thing, everyone's got a thing, not like the thing in my pants.", he chuckled. Sparking a laugh from Stranger in response. They turn to him, resting their chin on his shoulder. "Between you and me, I'm the explodey guy. I love seeing people combust like a can of tomato paste, or a shaken soda left in the fridge-".

Captain let out a hearty laugh, gesturing towards them, "Hey everyone needs a guy that like, blows shit up. Every crew has a explodey guy, a bomb dude and all that fancy stuff that blows people apart into a small pile of shit! We got one now!".

Stranger tilted their head, staring at him. "The fuck are you talking to?!". Captain nodded, "One day….one day you'll get it, a forth wall break it's called, you little shitdisk.". The two's eyes met head on, staring at one another, ignoring the destruction and wails of agony in the battle around them.

"Y'know Stranger. You're disgusting, snotty, wheezy, and probably a maniacal murderer, and I like that. I think we can level with each other, so like.....wanna do some shit tonight?". Stranger's eyes lit up from behind their goggles, bouncing back 'n fourth in their seat, "Asking me? You?! That gets a FUCK yes from me here!". Captain grunts, clearing his throat, "So, you wanna go out and get shitfaced drunk or stay at my place? And watch something terrible on Netflix and eat microwaved popcorn?". Stranger scratched their head in thought, "Hrrmm. Coin flip?". Winking through his visor at them, Captain finger guns at them, "Yeah, let's coin flip this bitch-", his sentence was shortly interrupted by Stranger placing a kiss on his cheek. Looking back and away from them in shock, he awkwardly held a quarter between them as his flustered face lit up like a goddamn Christmas tree.

................

"Thanks soldier.....?"

The two riding off into a blood stained sunset past the war scene.

Who knows what else they did after the coin flip in there, whatever it was had to be something great.

[plush-froggo]

my take on a Destiel High School AU

Content Warning: language, and a slur

I feel like everyone expects for Cas to be the loner and Dean to be this really popular jock kid? But it would actually be like, the other way around? Like, yeah, Dean’s popular, but at the same time he knows he won’t be there for any longer than like, two months max because he’s in a military family and they’re constantly on the move, so Dean has basically said ‘fuck it’ to making any connections with anyone. He does get on the football team though, and he’s doing tryouts and stuff and that’s when he first meets Cas, because the coach put them head to head to test Dean’s skills. And Dean’s pretty damn good at the game, but Cas is better and Dean’s kinda just like “holy shit, this kid is hot AND he’s kicking my ass? holy fuck” 

Cas is only on the football team because it’s what his father is expecting from him, and he could really care less about playing sports and doing all that normal high school bullshit. Cas would prefer to go lounge about in the library, reading dramatic novels and going out to animal shelters to play with the cats, but instead he’s here on the football team because he’s still living the life his father always wanted for him. And then he’s face to face with Dean Winchester, some new kid who just moved into town and goddamn he’s pretty, but Cas isn’t about to let that make him put his guard down

Dean has made a friend, Benny, who knows a lot about the Novak family; he’s in the same grade as Castiel’s older brother Balthazar, and they talk together a lot. Cas and Benny aren’t close; in fact, Cas doesn’t really seem close with anyone other than his family—and even then, they don’t really seem all that close. Dean manages to get on the team(because he held his own against one of the team’s best players, and he damn near won a few times too)and afterwards, Dean chases Cas down just before they can get to the locker rooms and Dean asks Cas for a few pointers, because he’s never met anyone who could play like Cas before. Cas kind of hesitantly agrees and suggests they meet up later in a park where they can practice in peace and Dean agrees

When they get there, Dean’s dressed in a band shirt, a flannel, and some ripped jeans, meanwhile Cas is wearing like, this full on nerdy-ass striped sweater and Dean almost doesn’t recognize him for a minute. Dean’s like “dude, are you seriously about to play football wearing a sweater when it’s like, 80 degrees out” and Cas is like “ofc not” and takes off the sweater(he’s got a tank top on underneath)and he’s kinda fucking ripped and Dean’s kinda just bi panicking for a bit until Cas is like “are you going to fucking focus here or what” and Dean snaps out of it

Dean starts practicing with Cas like this every day, and they start talking a bit more in school too. It’s by doing this that Dean learns that Cas has basically no idea how to interact with other people; he’s the most social awkward dorky little guy anyone could ever meet. The only people who’ve ever really bothered to talk and get to know him are his family, and they’re all just as fucking weird. One time, after they’re finished practicing in the park for the day, Dean notices an ice cream stand and gets lowkey hyped before remembering he didn’t bring his wallet, and Cas just goes up and buys them both an ice cream. 

And they sit down and start talking. About anything and everything and nothing at all. And it’s around this point in time that Dean thinks he may be starting to fall in love with this weirdo kid and he ends up being way more honest than he ever meant to be with Cas—but how can you not, it’s almost like the guy can read Dean’s mind for Christ’s sake. Dean admits that he hates moving from town to town like this, that he hates never having any connections with people, no real friends. That he hates having to get up and move around over and over again, that he’s always the new kid and that he knows high school is never going to get better for him because of all this. And Cas does his best to comfort Dean, even though he’s not very good at it, but it doesn’t matter that he’s not very good at it—it means the world to Dean just the same

And it’s silent for a few minutes before Cas finally admits that he’s only playing football and on the honor roll and all that stuff because it’s what his father wants from him. He’s expected to be the perfect son, just like his siblings, and he’s scared of rebelling because of the way his brothers were treated when they rebelled, but at the same time he’s sick of not being able to live his own life. “These moments with you—they’re all I have,” Cas admits, and at this point their ice cream is gone and they’re sitting under the shade of a tree in 84 degree weather and they’re both still covered in sweat and a layer of dirt from their practice. “I wouldn’t…give them up for the world.” And it’s almost like Cas wanted to say something different, but he won’t tell Dean that. Not just yet. 

They never act on their feelings for one another, because they both know that Dean’s leaving and it’s only a matter of time before he’s packing up and sent away to another school, but they’re enjoying their time together as much as they can. During football practice, Cas cracks jokes that only Dean can hear, and Dean gets in trouble for laughing so hard, and Dean tries to explain himself but no one can believe that serious, stoic Cas would make a joke—a dick joke, no less—and Cas has the slightest of smirks on his face while Dean, still laughing, calls him a dick. Dean gets benched for disrupting practice, and Cas immediately follows him over despite the coach yelling for Cas to get back there. Cas and Dean crack jokes and laugh together on the benches as the other students practice drills, and they both realize that they’ve never had anything like this and that they’ll likely never have anything like this again once Dean is gone

A few students start talking about how close Dean and Cas are getting these days, and one is bold enough(stupid enough) to call them ‘fags’ as they’re walking down the halls together. Dean is ready to bash the guy’s face in, but he can’t even do anything before Cas throws his bag at the fucker and starts raining hell down upon this kid, who can hardly fight back due to the shock. It’s the first time Cas has ever gotten detention and everyone’s staring at him in shock, then he turns back to Dean who grins and says “That was awesome!”

Later, while Cas is in detention, Dean begs Benny to help him get Cas out. So Benny grabs Balthazar and says ‘hey, your kid brother is in detention and his boyfriend wants help bailing him out’ and Balthazar’s like ‘Cas never mentioned anything about a boyfriend’ and Dean’s all flustered and stuff, but then Benny asks “Wasn’t that what the whole fight was about? Whether or not you and Cas are dating?” And Dean says ‘no, it wasn’t, the kid called us a slur’ and Benny and Balthazar kinda just share a look

While Cas is sitting in detention, he’s bored out of his mind, and then all of a sudden, Balthazar comes in and starts absolutely berating the teacher like “how dare you put my brother in detention! don’t you know he’d never do anything wrong in his life! cas could never hurt a fly!” and the teacher’s sitting there arguing with him like “he broke another student’s nose!” and Balthazar just adamantly denies all of this. Benny comes in and starts the argument that if Cas was in detention, the other kid should be too, because he was the one who started in by throwing slurs around and the teacher can’t find any room to argue and Cas is all confused by all this until he feels a hand on his shoulder and he looks up and Dean is grinning down at him

Dean grins down at Cas and asks “Wanna get out of here?” and Cas takes a moment to register that Dean’s here, and he’s grinning down at Cas in this way that makes Cas’ heart flutter and he gives Dean a soft smile and nods. Dean grabs Cas by the shoulder and stands him up and then they run out of the room while the teacher is still distracted, and they keep running until they make it to the park and they’re both panting and laughing and they just barely manage to collapse under a tree(the same tree they shared ice cream under)and they just lay there in the grass and laugh for a little while longer. “I just saved your ass, Cas,” Dean says with a bright grin, and Cas smiles this smile that has Dean grinning even wider as his stomach does flips

“Thank you,” Cas says, before giving another laugh. “You saved me from perdition.” And Dean laughs as well, because of course Cas would say some weird, dorky shit like that. Cas just stares at him and that’s when he realizes just how in love he is with Dean Winchester, and he realizes how much more it’s going to hurt when Dean has to leave. The one he loves is so close to him and yet Cas can only have him for a little while before he’ll be ripped away, and Cas will be alone all over again. This is the one person other than his family who has gotten to really know Cas for who he really is, and Cas desperately doesn’t want to lose that, but he knows there’s no other option. And he silently resigns himself to that, not knowing that Dean is doing the same thing

They knew each other for a week before they fully fell in love, and everyone says that Dean Winchester is a bad influence on Castiel Novak, but Cas thinks he’s the best influence and he’d follow Dean to the ends of the earth if it just meant that they could be who they really are. They’re both aware of the feelings they harbor towards one another, and in some aspect, they’re aware that the other harbors feelings towards them, but neither one of them act on it. They’re both content to just be in each other’s presence for now

And then comes the day when Dean has to leave. 

Dean practically begs his mother to let them stay here, to even just let Dean stay there. He begs her day and night, he begs his father over the phone to let them stay, he screams into his pillow at night and Sam is the only one there who sort of understands what’s made Dean start acting this way. Sam might be Dean’s kid brother, but he’s also the only one who knows exactly what Dean’s going through, and he’s the only one who Dean talks to anymore—other than Cas, of course. The one thing he’s never told Sam about is Cas—so even though Sam understands, there’s still this disconnect between them. But Mary and John refuse to leave Dean there, and Mary tells them that they need to be packed up by morning because they’re leaving out by lunchtime. Dean locks himself in his room and calls Cas and starts ranting over the phone, but before he can really do anything Cas hangs up and Dean just stares at the phone, his heart hurting. Dean takes to throwing about the things in his room in his emotions, and he does this for a good few minutes before finally sitting down and he slowly just starts crying because now the one person who he so desperately wants to talk to just hung up on him and he feels so truly alone in that moment. 

Then he realizes that someone’s opening up his window and before he even has time to register what’s going on, Cas is in his room, wearing sweatpants, a loose band shirt, and tennis shoes, and his hair is a mess like he had just gotten out of bed, and he’s panting so hard and Dean realizes that Cas ran to get here. Dean doesn’t even have time to ask Cas what he’s doing there when Cas grabs him by the shoulders and hugs him. Dean hugs back and breaks down into tears, telling Cas he doesn’t want to leave this town, he doesn’t want to just up and move again. Cas holds him while he cries, and it isn’t until something warm and wet falls onto Dean’s shoulder that he finally realizes that Cas has been crying too. 

When Dean’s finally done ranting and crying, Cas holds on for a bit longer, before he pulls away. “Dean,” he starts, his voice raspy and his eyes ringed with red but still so vibrantly blue, “I told you that I wouldn’t trade the moments we shared together for the world, right?” Dean nods, a bit confused. “I told you I wouldn’t give them up for the world. I wouldn’t give you up for the world either.” Dean’s eyes begin watering up again and so do Cas’. “I know it’s probably too late to say this, but-” 

“Don’t,” Dean cuts him off, a tear sliding down his cheek. “Don’t do this, Cas. Not now. Please.” 

“I love you, Dean,” Cas continues anyways. He’s crying again, but he’s wearing this smile as he looks Dean dead in the eyes. “I love you, and I always have from the second I saw you. And no matter what happens, no matter where you go, I will wait for you.” Dean breaks down again, because he loves Cas too and that’s what hurts so much about leaving. He doesn’t give a shit about the town, and yeah he’ll miss Benny but he’s lost friends before, but with Cas, it’s different. He may have been able to convince himself before that Cas was just another friend, someone he could get over, but now he can’t. And then Cas kisses him and they’re both still crying, and the window’s open letting in cold air and Dean’s room is a mess and he still hasn’t started packing, and he feels like his world is falling apart around him. But Cas pulls away, and he’s still holding onto Dean, keeping him held together. The smile on Cas’ face shudders a bit as he looks Dean in the eyes, and begs “Tell me you love me too.” 

“I love you, Cas,” Dean croaks. And that’s why it hurts so much. To know that tomorrow morning, Dean will never see Cas again. To know that he’ll never know what it’s like to hold hands with Cas as they walk down the street looking through stores, to know that he’ll never know what it’s like to hear Cas’ laugh again, to know that he’ll never be there to ask Cas to Prom and that there’s no chance they’ll get to dance together like idiots because Dean has no idea how to dance. Dean tells this to Cas and more, and that’s when Cas stands up. He pulls Dean up with him and looks over to the stereo in Dean’s room. 

“So we dance here,” Cas decides. “We can’t have a Prom night? Fine. We can dance together here. One last hurrah before our worlds fall apart.” And Cas walks over and puts in a Led Zeppelin mixtape into the stereo and presses play, before turning the volume up. He turns to Dean, his eyes still red and puffy, but he smiles and holds his hand out. Dean stares at Cas for a minute, before he starts laughing. Cas stares at him in confusion before Dean takes Cas’ hand and pulls him in closely. 

“I was gonna give you this mixtape,” Dean says. They start dancing—swaying, really—and moving about the wreckage of Dean’s room. Dean laughs again as he looks into Cas’ eyes. “My dad, he, uh, he gave my mom a Zeppelin mixtape. So, I thought, uh-” 

“You’d make one for me?” Cas asks, a smile forming on his face once again. And with that they’re both laughing. “I hope you know you’re a sap.” Dean leans his forehead against Cas’ forehead, staring into those brilliant blue eyes. 

“I’m your sap,” he mutters, and Cas’ smile widens. 

“That you are,” Cas muses. “And I’m yours.” 

When the mixtape is over, they stop dancing, but they still hold each other for a few minutes longer. Finally, Dean pulls away and begins looking around at his room. “I guess I need to pack up,” Dean mumbles, and all at once he’s reminded that he’ll never get to have a moment like this with Cas ever again. 

Cas moves one hand from Dean’s shoulder and takes Dean’s hand into his own. He squeezes it tightly, getting Dean’s attention. “Let me help,” Cas offers. It’s more of a beg than either of them realize, a desperate plea to eke out as much time together as they can manage; even if it’s a reminder of the fact that Dean’s about to leave. 

Cas helps Dean pack, and they put on other mixtapes and sing along badly to the music. More than once, they catch the other with tears in their eyes as they pack away Dean’s belongings into a suitcase and a duffel bag. They finally get everything packed up and sit down on Dean’s bed in silence. Dean grabs Cas’ hand and holds onto it, trying to remember what it feels like so he doesn’t forget. 

Then Dean gets up and he takes the Zeppelin mixtape. He stares down at it for a minute before returning to Cas’ side and handing it to him. Cas takes it, staring down at the tape for a bit. Then he reaches up to the back of his neck and unclasps a chain. He pulls a necklace out of his shirt, before handing it to Dean. It’s a pair of wings, Dean realizes. “This is something that’s passed down in my family,” Cas says. “Your family has Led Zeppelin and mine has wings. So if you’re giving me what’s yours, I’ll give you mine.” And Dean nods a little, before putting on the necklace. 

They sit and talk until long past midnight. Long past time for the both of them to be in bed and sleeping away for their big days tomorrow. “You gotta promise me something,” Dean says. 

“Of course, Dean. Anything.” 

“You gotta promise me that you’ll stop living the life your dad wants you to live. You do what makes you happy, Cas. Don’t let anyone tell you how you should live your life other than you. I won’t be around to break you out of detention anymore, and I won’t be around to drag you out to the park for ice cream. You gotta do what makes you happy, not what makes him happy, you understand me?” Cas nods. 

“I understand.” There’s a bit of a silence after that. “Thank you, Dean. For everything.” 

They finally realize how late it’s getting and they’re both exhausted but neither one wants to leave, because leaving now means you’ll never see him again and they both so desperately want to stay—Dean, in this town, and Cas, in Dean’s room—but they know that can’t happen. It’s 3 AM when Cas finally sneaks out of Dean’s window, not before they tell each other “I love you” again, and not before a parting kiss, and Dean watches as Cas begrudgingly walks away from Dean’s house. Dean wants nothing more than to chase after Cas, to run out after him and away from his family, just to stay here with Cas. But instead, he closes his window and shuts off his light and curls up in bed and just cries, wanting Cas by his side. 

They’re gone before lunchtime. Cas quits the football team the same day. He skips the rest of school and instead goes to the park where he and Dean would practice, where they would talk and eat ice cream together, where they were free to be honest with each other. Where he realized he had fallen for Dean so hard, he wasn’t sure he could ever recover from it. And he just cries. For hours. Balthazar’s the one to find him and bring him home well after dark, when Cas is just mentally and emotionally exhausted. Chuck berates Cas for quitting the football team, for getting a detention, for skipping school, but Cas just walks past him and upstairs to his room. He gets out an old stereo—one he hardly ever used anymore—and he puts in the mixtape. Cas listens to it on repeat for hours on end until he finally cries himself to sleep. 

Dean never removes the necklace. Not to shower, not for football practice at another school, not to sleep. He keeps Cas’ wings just over his heart, always. They promised not to forget about each other, and they don’t. But they move on. Over time, they move on, and they don’t even realize it. 

Dean moves out at 20, when he’s saved up enough money for a decent house and he’s got a stable job. Cas is kicked out at 17, for causing problems in school and getting into constant fights with Chuck. He moves in with his older brothers, Lucifer, Gabriel, and Balthazar, who willingly welcome him in. Dean becomes a mechanic. Cas doesn’t know what he wants to do with his life, so he begins working at various jobs while he attempts to discover himself. They’d never admit it, but they both think of their first love every day—Dean, when he notices the silver wings in the mirror just before he goes to shower, and Cas, when he plays an old mixtape on his way to and from work. 

Dean’s 22 when he gets a new girlfriend. She’s beautiful and loves baking, but her eyes are such a vibrant shade of blue that Dean thinks of someone else before he thinks of her. They last a month before they break up. Dean tries again with another woman, and another, and another. 

When Dean’s 26, his brother is in college and Dean considers stopping by for a visit. He drops into town, stops by Stanford, and meets Jessica, who he really likes. She’s sassy, she’s a sweetheart, and she’s gorgeous; perfect for Sam. He’s sitting down with Jess and Sam for dinner one day, and he doesn’t even realize that the necklace is showing when Jess asks about it. Dean is silent for a bit. He runs his hand down his face as he thinks of a dark-haired, blue eyed boy who gave him this necklace ten years ago, and a somber smile grows on his face. “My first love gave me this necklace,” he tells her, and he’s not lying. And Jess smiles with him and asks about it. But he can’t bring himself to talk about Cas. To share what made Cas so goddamn special to him with anyone else, because no one could really get what made Cas so…Cas.

Dean and Sam get drunk later that night. “What was her name?” Sam asks. 

“Cas,” Dean says, and the name is somehow sweet on his tongue. “His name was Cas.” 

And Sam gets this look on his face. And Dean recognizes it, he thinks he does anyways. It’s the same look that was on his father’s face when Dean first considered the fact that he might be bisexual. A look of disgust. But that’s not the look on Sam’s face. “What was he like?” Sam asks. And Dean breaks down crying again, for the first time in 10 years he breaks down sobbing just like he did that night with Cas, back when he would have to leave Cas for good. 

All the while Dean tells Sam about Cas, Sam has this odd little smile on his face. One that Dean can’t really place. He can’t really figure if Sam is being condescending or not either, but he continues. He doesn’t share his and Cas’ more intimate moments, like the moment Cas gave his wings to Dean and when Dean gave a mixtape to Cas, but he tells Sam enough. Enough so that Sam gets an idea of who Castiel is—was. 

In the morning, Dean is very much hungover. Sam still manages to get up at the ass-crack of dawn, and he takes great joy in blaring Metallica right in Dean’s ear to get him to wake up. Jess leaves out for work not too long after Dean was rudely awoken, and he hardly has time to process the mind-numbing headache he has before Sam is throwing clothes at him. “We’re going out to get some coffee,” Sam tells him. 

“What, you don’t have coffee here?” Dean asks. Sam just shrugs on a jacket, giving Dean a small grin. Dean begrudgingly gets dressed and follows Sam out into the daylight. He follows him into a small cafe that’s practically empty save for the barista. Dean goes to collapse in one of the booths while Sam orders two coffees. Dean can hear Sam chatting with the barista as the coffee is brewed, although he hardly pays attention to it. He’s got one hand pinching the bridge of his nose, his eyes screwed shut as he attempts to deal with this hangover. 

It takes a few minutes before Dean hears Sam telling the barista “Why don’t you join us? There’s no one else around right now; you’ve got nothing better to do.” Dean internally groans to himself—he was in no mood to meet one of Sam’s friends, especially when it felt like his skull was splitting open. 

A quiet but deep voice responds, low enough that Dean can’t hear it over the sounds of the coffee machines. Sam continues trying to convince the barista to join them, while Dean rubs the rest of the sleep from his eyes. Finally, the barista seems to mumble out an agreement, which seems to please Sam. 

Sam joins Dean at the booth, setting down a plain black coffee in front of Dean. Rather than sitting across from Dean however, he sits next to Dean. Dean doesn’t have time to question it before a dark haired, blue eyed man sits down across from him. “I wanted you to meet my brother, Cas,” Sam says, smiling. Dean’s heart thumps loudly in his chest as familiar vibrant blue eyes swivel over to him, before lighting up in recognition. 

“Hello, Dean,” the man, Castiel, greets. Dean swallows thickly, and all at once, his hangover seems to be gone. 

“H-Hey, Cas,” Dean replies. 

“Oh, you know what?” Sam bursts. “I just remembered, I have to talk with one of my professors about something. I have to go if I want to make it in time for his office hours.” Sam stands up, taking his coffee with him. “I’ll see you later, guys!” Sam leaves, and Dean and Cas stare at each other. 

It’s a bit awkward at first. Dean hardly knows what to say. “I wasn’t expecting to run into you here,” Cas finally admits. 

“Yeah, me either,” Dean mumbles. He clears his throat. “So uh, what uh, what happened to you?” 

Cas tells him. About quitting the football team, about getting kicked out, and moving in with his brothers. About searching for himself and for what he wanted, and about wondering if he should ever try to find Dean again. But he had figured that it would be pointless. “Ten years had passed by—what happened with us was a long time ago. I figured that you would’ve forgotten about me, or moved on.” 

“How could I forget?” Dean asks, pulling the chain out from underneath his shirt. The wings sparkle in the sunlight, reflecting in Cas’ eyes. “You left me with a part of you, after all.” And Cas smiles, and Dean finds his heart fluttering again just like it had all those years ago. They talk, and it’s easier to slide into conversation than Dean first thought it would be. It’s only interrupted when someone enters the cafe again, and Cas is forced to go back to work. He tells Dean when he gets off work, though. 

Dean is waiting outside the cafe for Cas, and once Cas is out the door, Dean drives them to a park. They find a tree and sit under it and talk about anything and everything and nothing at all. Before Dean realizes it, it’s getting dark and he’s driving Cas back home. Cas moves to get out of the car when Dean stops him. “I’m leaving town tomorrow,” Dean says. He reaches over to the glove box and pulls out a notepad and a pen. “But I’m not leaving here until I can make sure we’ve got some way to get back in contact again.” He writes down his phone number, tears the paper from the notepad and hands it to Cas. 

Cas turns to him with a smile. “Thank you, Dean,” he says. “It’s been…wonderful to see you again.” Dean nods a bit. 

“Yeah, you too,” he says, unable to keep a smile off his own face. 

Dean leaves town, and Cas calls almost as soon as Dean arrives home. Dean saves Cas’ number in his phone immediately, and soon enough, they’re talking on the phone for hours on end after their work is done. It becomes a routine of theirs. 

When Dean goes up to visit Sam again, he visits Cas just as, if not more often. Sam teases him about it relentlessly, but he’s just happy that his brother is happy. It isn’t too much longer before Dean is reminded of why he fell in love with Cas in the first place, and it just so happens to slip out one night when he’s dropping Cas off at home. He blurts it out on instinct, and then immediately realizes how stupid it was to say that. But Cas just smiles and says “I love you too,” before shutting the car door and walking back into his house. Dean stares after him for a moment, before finally pulling out of the driveway. 

Cas finds the time to visit Dean down in Kansas, and eventually Dean convinces him that it would be a good idea for him to move in with Dean. Sam teases Dean even more about this. Dean finally realizes just how happy is he to have Cas by his side again. They dance to the Zeppelin mixtape Dean made so many years ago, and this time they don’t have to worry about the other one leaving. They fall into a routine together, although nothing is really specified until they’re out shopping for groceries one day and someone asks them if they’re together. Cas is a bit hesitant to reply at first, and so is Dean. Sure, they live together, they occasionally share the same bed and they kiss each other, but they haven’t really said anything about establishing a relationship. So Dean decides he’ll do it then and there, by grabbing Cas’ hand and intertwining their fingers and he tells the person “Yes, we are.” And he certainly doesn’t miss the smile on Cas’ face, because it’s mirrored on his own. 

Dean and Cas are invited to Sam’s wedding, although Cas is initially hesitant. “I’m not sure your father would want me there,” Cas says to Dean. 

“Fuck him,” Dean replies, before leaning over and kissing the tip of Cas’ nose. “You were invited, and no way in hell I’m missing my baby brother’s wedding. No way in hell I’m leaving you behind again, either. Besides, Sam wants you as a groomsman. How can you say no to that?” 

They attend the wedding, and they avoid John. Dean is Sam’s best man, and he gives a speech that makes almost everyone laugh(and Sam bury his head in his hands). Cas congratulates Sam and Jess, and Sam hugs Cas tightly. Cas is a bit taken aback at first, until Sam pulls away with tears in his eyes. “I want you to know that you’re like a brother to me, Cas,” Sam says. “And I’m so happy for you and Dean.” 

Dean gets a bit too buzzed on the margaritas at the bar, and Cas is dragging him away from the reception sooner than they thought. They make sure to pass by Sam and congratulate him one last time before returning to their motel though. Cas drives back to the motel and helps Dean into bed. He considers getting a coffee for himself when Dean sits up and grabs him by the sleeve. “Cas, I’ve been wanting to ask you a question,” Dean says. His tone is serious, and when Cas looks back at him, he looks dead sober. 

“Of course. What is it, Dean?” Cas asks. 

“We’ve been through a lot together. Hell, we’ve been through a lot apart, too. But ever since I ran into you again, I’ve been thinking about how much I want to spend time with you. I don’t want to risk letting you go again. The moments we have together, I wouldn’t give them up for the world.” Cas cracks a small smile and sits down next to Dean on the bed. “I’m just saying, you know…I love you, Cas. Leaving you was one of the worst things I’ve ever had to do. I want you by my side, now and forever. This question has been on my mind almost since the day we met at that cafe, I’ve just been waiting for…I dunno, the perfect moment, I guess.” 

Cas’ eyes widen as Dean talks. “There’s so many things I love about you,” Dean continues. He goes on to list them; the way Cas smiles, the color of his eyes, his bedhead, the careful way he tends to the flowers in the yard, the sound of his laugh, the sound of his voice, the way his eyes light up when he sees Dean, the way he wraps his arms around Dean so tightly when they hug, the way he’s learned to stand up for himself, the way he sasses off characters in the soap operas they watch, the way he falls asleep on Dean’s shoulder, the way he looks when he listens to Dean talk, the way he’s always willing to help even if he has no idea what to do, the way he always does his best to do the right thing, the way he broke out of his shell and carved his own path as a person, and so much more. Dean barely has the ring box out of his pocket and the words “Will you-” out of his mouth before Cas is kissing him. He pulls away briefly to say ‘Yes’ before he smashes his lips onto Dean’s again. 

They fall asleep in each other’s arms, like they had wanted to do so many years ago. They plan to dance to a Zeppelin song at their wedding, and their rings have wings engraved in them. Dean asks if they can have a pie replace their wedding cake, and Cas suggests they can have both. Dean considers inviting John, if it’s alright with Cas. Cas says it’s fine. Cas considers inviting his family, and his father. Dean persuades him to send the invites. 

All of Castiel’s brothers arrive to attend the wedding, even those who had seemingly disowned him. John does not attend the wedding, and neither does Chuck. But to Dean and Cas, it doesn’t matter. They have each other, and the family that really matters was already there. Sam is Dean’s best man of course. It’s Dean’s first time meeting Cas’ family, and all of them threaten to kill him if he ends up hurting Cas. Cas barges in between them, defending Dean from their threats, and growing exasperated when Gabriel ruffles his hair, saying “We’re just trying to make sure he treats our little brother alright!” 

A little while later, Balthazar and Dean are alone. “You’ve always made him happy, since the day you first met him,” Balthazar remarks to Dean. “I trust in you to keep doing that.” 

“I’ll do my best,” Dean replies. Balthazar smiles at Dean, patting him on the shoulder. 

“Good. It’s in your best interests.” 

Dean and Cas’ honeymoon is what anyone would expect. Steamy and hot, yes; but afterwards, they spent the whole night cuddled together in bed, talking. Talking about anything and everything and nothing at all. They’re both happy. They’re both free. They know they’ll never leave the other ever again. They fall asleep in each other’s arms, a Zeppelin song playing quietly on the stereo, a pair of wings over Dean’s heart, and a ring on their fingers. They’re at peace. And they’re happy. And it’s good.

[luvmxmh]

dad fit meets grandmacore

ADRIAN APPRECIATION WEEK

Day 2: favorite outfit / fake dating

Pairing: Adrian Chase/Reader

Disclaimers: gender-neutral reader but is described with traditionally-feminine clothing, a police officer interrupts adrian and reader making out

Word Count: 1.8k

Summary:

“—can you call me Adrian now?”

You blink, trying to reorient yourself for a second. How in the Vigilante logic did the pain not register for him?

You know what? Fuck this.

Grabbing him by his collar, you kiss him intensely.

“Sure thing Adrian.” is the last thing you say to him before making your way out of the car.

Is your life a goddamn sitcom?

Author's Note: i have accepted the fact that i can never be punctual a day in my life (unfortunately). so um i'll be double posting day 2 & 3 within today and day 4 a little more later than that

Cross-posted on AO3

Black ops meetings often mean you have to dress professionally—or as professional as you can get without drawing attention from other civilians.

It’s not exactly an inconvenience to you. You’re a bit on the meticulous side of things when it comes to conjuring an outfit of the day. But it does feel like a two-person household whenever you assess your closet.

On one end of the rack, there are clothes dark enough to be worn by Harcourt. They’re your go-to for whatever the hell ARGUS assigns you to. That is, unless they’re sending you undercover.

Then here’s the clothes you wear that made some kids from your block call you… grandma.

You really shouldn’t get agitated over this. These are the stuff you like to wear off-mission. So what? It was either this, or vintage housewife—which you’re actually relatively impartial about. At first you thought it would be funny to wear your grandmother’s hand-me-downs, then you realized how comfortable you felt in them and that fanaticism for old people-esque clothes spiraled from there.

You’re glad the team never hangs out at Fennel Fields anymore. Their penne is gamey and you can’t risk being associated with Chase at his other job. The only exception might be Peacemaker, who’s known to be the object of Chase’s shameless admiration.

You’re quite glad you hang out with a posse of weirdos, because you don’t think anyone else will tolerate a thirty-something year old hanging around the block in what looks like some Golden Girl cosplay. You’re the agent usually sent for infiltration missions, so it’s ironic and you like it.

“Do they always look this suspicious in casual wear?”

Speak of the devil.

“No, Leota.” You sit down between her and Economos, “I’m just fifty-years-old.”

Economos sighs, “Yeah that’s just how they dress outside missions.”

“I don’t think even young grandmas look this young!” Smith exclaims, his gloved hand referring to you as you remove your sunglasses. It’s not even that dark out, but you went with it because summer solstice basically chose your outfit consisting of a floral head scarf, a cardigan over a button-up and long, breezy skirt. It just made sense to you to wear it today, tripping over air aside.

“I was half-expecting you to show up in clogs,” Harcourt quips.

Okay, wow.

“So I’m resident grandma now?” You grumble. You don’t want to admit you did almost wear clogs because you couldn’t find your more comfortable doll shoes from the rest. “Don’t answer that. It’s rhetorical.”

“I think you look great,” Chase says to you from across the booth, “If I were a grandma I’d think you’re super fashionable.”

Smith scoffs and elbows him, “Stop sucking up to them, dude. You look like a single father who’s sworn to only go after cougars now.”

“I’m not! And I don’t! I’m bisexual and I don’t discriminate against gender, race and even age. Hypothetically, if I was a GILF hunter, I would proudly say it.”

“I appreciate the compliment Chase, but never say GILF ever again.” You sigh.

Adebayo nods in agreement and resignation while Economos already has his face in his hands.

Harcourt rolls her eyes, “Okay guys, that’s enough.”

It doesn’t take long for your group to get comfortable (if they weren’t already) as your meals get served. Dinner is as mundane as usual; it’s probably to offset all the other non-civilian shit you do on (mostly) weekdays.

The restaurant sends a waitress to politely kick you out once they’re nearing closing time. Adebayo and Harcourt carpooled here together while Economos, Adrian and Smith have their own cars.

It’s too late into the night to catch a bus ride, and you’re certain your feet will kill you if you walk. You really should’ve biked your way here. You spot Chase fiddling with his pockets

“Hey,” you say when you approach him, “Is it okay if I tag along with? I don’t have a ride home, and I’m too anxious to wait at any of the stops here.”

“Oh, sure I don’t mind. Just—just hold on a sec.”

It’s your usual summer night, and you’re glad most of what you’re wearing right now are modestly appropriate for the chill. You lean back to Chase’s car, trying not to imagine what his muscles look like beneath his wool sweater.

“You look like a Golden Girl, you know.”

For effect, you try to pose like they did. Unfortunately, their signature poses would consist of four people. You aren’t four people in the physical sense, but right now you don’t think undercover identities could be relevant to the conversation.

“Is this a good enough impression.”

He blinks and you quickly drop the dramatic stance. How embarrassing. You pretend to rummage around the messenger bag you’ve slung on your shoulder. Not in a across-the-body type of sling of course, lest it disrupts your aesthetic.

You didn’t even confirm if he’s watched Golden Girls. Goddamnit. You try not to remember how strangely you’ve inflected the word ‘impression’. Goddamnit. Oh man. Goddamnit.

“Sorry, um. Forget I did that.”

As if on cue, he grins at you brightly, like you actually made him forget on command. What weirdos, the both of you.

“Well, I think you look cute. Even for a grandma.”

“You look great yourself,” you say, scanning his outfit, “Dad.”

He looks down at his shirt-sweater combo before looking back up to you, “Do I really look like a dad?”

“You kind of stand like one too.”

“I’m not posing.”

You laugh. “Scared you’ll embarrass yourself like I did?”

“Yes to the first half and no to the other half,” he says, “I don’t think it was embarrassing. Maybe a bit awkward for your angles, though.”

Once he finally finds his keys he opens the car door for you and you attempt to get in as gracefully as you can manage with your skirt on.

This would be the first time you have been inside Chase’s Sebring. “Your bat-mobile’s nice.”

“Dude.” He looks at you incredulously as he gets into the driver’s seat. “It’s the Vigilante-mobile.”

You shrug, “Same difference.”

“I don’t know what made you think that, or what even was your thought process behind that, but—”

Throughout the ride he gets into multiple tangents from what you started the conversation with. You can’t exactly complain. His enthusiasm rubs off on you, magnified by the jazz playing on the radio when he put a DVD in.

It dawns to you how little you feel the time has passed when Chase parks by the curb to your apartment building..

“So… this is your stop.”

“I know where my house is, Chase,” you chuckle. “Nervous that the night’s ending?”

From what you could distinguish from his expression, he seems disappointed. His gaze remains fixed at the road, and you wish he would at least look at you as you take your leave. “Honestly, kinda. You’ve been great company.”

They orange glow of the nearby lamp post and the harsh shine of the moonlight paints a pretty picture on his face. Or maybe he’s just really handsome, you honestly can’t tell.

There’s a feeling in your chest that compels you to move closer to him—a leap of faith—, a tentative something that just feels right.

Just as you lean forward to press a chaste kiss on his cheek, he turns his head to you.

Chase looks as surprised as you feel. You probably look like a duck from his perspective right now.

You break the accidental lip-lock, ready to apologize when he dives in straight for your lips. He’s intense, probably out of practice but the way he’s holding down your thigh  and your face right now is oh my god—

You wrap your arms around his neck, desperate to feel him closer. He caresses the space between your ear and your jawline as he cradles your face in his palms. It almost feels too intimate, like you’re rushing into this but you lost all care in the world when he kisses you with such fervor you forgot this isn’t what you’ve planned for,

Chase pulls away to catch his breath. You can’t say you blame him, but his flustered face leaves you breathless in a different sort of way.

“I’ve been—”

A series of knocks interrupt him, catching both of you off-guard. You look behind him to see a police officer. Motherfucker.

Even through the window, his voice is audible. “My God, what are you kids doing in there?”

Oh, holy shit.

“It’s alright officer, we're divorced.”

After that awkward confrontation with the officer, it leaves you in a weird limbo of a situation with Chase.

“So what do we—”

“Hey, I think I’ve liked you—”

“You what?”

Chase does this weird thing with his lips where it scrunches along his nose. It’s strange but you wait for him to say his piece.

“I think I’ve liked you for a while and I just wanted to let you know that. I know I’m not the best at expressing my emotions but you just… bring it out of me.”

“... seriously?”

“If I was being sarcastic, I think I would say it.”

You stare at him in astonishment, so he proceeds to say, “I was about to ask you earlier if we could hang out, just the two of us this time. Then that cop just had to show up to ruin the mood—”

“I’d love to!” you say, more enthusiastically than expected, “I mean, yeah. I’d love to.”

“Okay,” he nods. “Okay. Okay. That’s more than great.”

You place a hand on his shoulder, preparing to lean in to kiss his cheek— for real this time—as a way to say goodnight.

“Oh, and one last thing—!”

The first time, it sent your mind reeling because of how romantic (albeit a bit dubious descriptor you have to admit) it was. The second time he accidentally fucking headbutts you.

“—can you call me Adrian now?”

You blink, trying to reorient yourself for a second. Is his head made out of stone? How in the Vigilante logic did the pain not register for him?

You know what? Fuck this.

Grabbing him by his collar, you kiss him intensely before making your way out of the car.

“Sure thing Adrian!”

Is your life a goddamn sitcom?

You flop on top of your comforter (“—ow!”), burying your face in them. It’s not even past eight yet but you feel exhausted already.

Adrian’s (Oh my goodness, Adrian. That’s half of his government name that you could say now) probably still driving to his place. You hope he’s touching his lips, thinking about yours, like some rom-com scene.

Sitting back against your pillows, you put on your bifocals to continue your progress in candy crush, using solely your index finger to move the colorful candies. For all your denial, you do act like a grandma. And for the sake of fashion stereotypes (and your amusement), you hope Adrian acts a little like a dad too.

[platypanthewriter]

Hook Possum 1/4

Art by @monsdasarah​ for Harringrove Big Bang!

Steve had told the manager of Camp Butternut Springs every year of his life that the mildewed, papier-mache-masked, six-foot-tall opossum mascot was terrifying.  The mask was chipped and patched, fixed with different colors of gray over the mangy glued-on fur.  Its long, stained rat tail had drug through the red camp dirt for decades, and by the summer of 85, the dirty thing looked like it had been dyed with blood.

Hook Possum looked more like a zombie than a possum, with its mesh eyes staring in their ragged, uneven sockets, its lovingly molded teeth half broken off and stained with grime.  Inexplicably—but later, retroactively, mythologized by a ton of camp folklore—it had a hook hand off a pirate costume, gleaming in the sun.

Every goddamn year the goddamn manager had the goddamn Hook Possum outfit on some poor camp counsellor, out greeting campers—the goddamn moron—and every fucking goddamn year one of the already-homesick and worried new campers burst into sobs at first sight of the horrifying thing.  Steve wondered whether the manager was actually in the huge, blank-eyed Hook Possum costume this year, like a prick, because it was even bigger than usual—as tall as Steve, with its ripped ratty ears, and broad-shouldered in a way Steve suspected wasn’t padding.

The hook hand didn’t exactly help.

Steve grabbed the first wailing child he saw around the waist, then two more, and stomped over to the damn possum.  “Here, look, Hook Possum’s not scary,” he said, and they all screamed, because it was so clearly a lie.  

Hook Possum, somewhat to his credit, dropped to a crouch, his shoulders hunched, and Steve thought maybe it wasn’t the manager, just some poor camp counsellor that got roped in, because the manager probably would have roared like a lion—just for fun—and the kids would have wet themselves all over Steve’s lap.  

“Hook Possum just lives here!” Steve told the screaming infants he was holding.  “If you get scared at night,” Steve shouted over their desperate wailing and struggles, “—away from home?  Hook Possum is here to keep you safe.  Right?”

Whoever was playing Hook Possum flinched, and its creepy head jerked around to look at him.

“HELP!” shrieked the kid under his arm, his voice nasal, because he was holding his nose against Hook Possum’s fug of mildew and B.O.

“Nobody has ever yet been murdered by Hook Possum,” Steve gritted out.  “Right?!” he prompted the moron in the mascot suit again, nudging a fur-suited leg with his shoe.  “Hook Possum is like a...camp guardian!  Right?”

Hook Possum stared at his face, which was chilling—after Steve’s first visit to Camp Butternut Springs, Hook Possum had featured in every one of Steve’s childhood nightmares, and the costume was even worse after nearly two decades of wear—but Steve was as tall as the thing now, and he set his jaw.  

“Hook Possum is friendly, right,” he growled, and Hook Possum gave a jerky nod, making a weird choking noise, like maybe it had already eaten a couple of kids.

“Y-ye-ahssss,” the thing hissed, and Steve was tempted to push the whole mess, including the person inside, under a bus.  “Safe as houses,” said the possum, just as strangled-sounding, but it was better than staring silently, so Steve grinned ruefully at the kids, who were quieting as they realized they weren’t murdered—not yet, anyway.  

“You’ll get used to Hook Possum,” he said cheerfully.  “We all do.  Eventually.” 

It had occurred to Steve one night when he was fourteen, and firmly over his terror of Hook Possum, that the perfect cover for an actual serial killer would be a terrifying full-body costume everyone was trying to ignore.  He and Tommy had followed the costume around every time it had someone in it, looking for suspicious behavior.  Years later, he’d donned it himself, and for the first time in his life didn’t fear getting murdered by Hook Possum.  He only worried he might die of heatstroke in padded fur boots, gloves, and a bodysuit in July in Indiana, except for a few startling glimpses of himself in the mirror over the sinks.  

His suggestion every week in the suggestion box was still ‘burn the Hook Possum costume and bury the ashes under a rock’, though, because he was a rational human being who understood what needed to be done.

When he’d talked Robin into applying with him at the camp instead of the video store, he’d snuck the costume on and leaned into her cabin.  She’d screamed satisfyingly, and nearly killed him with an oar.  She’d argued for burying the ashes of Hook Possum in seven different locations around the US, lest it rise again, and they’d put that in the suggestion box, to no response whatsoever.

 It was pretty obvious the current Hook Possum wasn’t used to the cheerful voice necessary to offset its...everything, so Steve did his best.  “Are you guys telling me you’re afraid of possums?” he teased, and the littlest kid, a girl, reached out and lightly batted its nose.  The smell of cigarettes wafted up.  

“I’m afraid,” said the boy, thickly, and Steve nodded slowly, feeling nothing but respect for a smart child.

“Hook Possum protects you guys,” he told them, sitting them on their feet.  “From whatever, you know, else.”

“What could be out there,” the scared boy whispered, his eyes widening, “—that’s worse than—”

“...yeah,” said Hook Possum, in a weird squeaky voice like a Disney mouse.  “Yeah, that’s what I’m here for, I’m here to protect you guys from...nightmares?” he suggested, glancing at Steve, who shrugged, nodding, because it was a pretty good idea.

“You’re soft,” said the littlest kid, grabbing one of the other snifflers by the wrist, and shoving it into Hook Possum’s fur.

“You stink,” said the boy, and Steve elbowed him.

“I’m a possum,” hissed Hook Possum, and the kid nodded.  

“That makes sense.”

Steve muffled his laughter, but he was pretty sure the possum heard, because his crooked, whiskery mask jerked up, and his terrifying mesh eyes stared into Steve’s soul.  He smelled like long winters in a damp shed, and cigarettes, and B.O.— because it was worn every year in the summer in Indiana—but the smallest kids were gathering around and asking questions about possums, and Steve had to call upon his knowledge from years past, and explain things like how possums were too awesome to get ticks.  

Hook Possum listened intently—or maybe just glared at him, smoke drifting from its eye mesh—until Steve was a little annoyed, and mentioned that mother possums carried babies around on their backs.  That was probably way too mean, because the whole horde of children grabbed hold of Hook Possum’s every appendage, and he flailed his hook only once before vanishing in the giggling pile.  

“Here, here, no—” Steve yelped, unable to watch a human being consumed by piranha, and he reached into the laughing, yelping pile and hauled Hook Possum up by the arm, dusting him off.  Two small children dangled from his other arm, and one had him around the neck.  “You have to be nice to Hook Possum!” Steve told them.  “Who’s he gonna stay up protecting, huh?  The kids who’re nice to him, or the little, uh, cusses that knee him in the...shins?”

“...the nice ones,” came a small, grumbly voice from one of the criers, and “Probably the nice ones,” from a little girl who sighed heavily, and another kid just said, “Fine.”  The dude in the possum suit just panted against Steve’s shoulder for a second, and Steve let him, familiar with getting dogpiled by small children with weaponized knees.  

“...jesus,” came a faint whisper from in the possum suit, and Steve pinched him, even though he was grimacing with sympathy.  He lifted the kids off Hook Possum—once the littlest ones had decided he was safe, they tried to drag him around and show everyone how brave they were—and the human in the suit tried to wipe his face, or something, and smacked his hook-hand into the head of his costume.  He sighed, and Steve squeezed his shoulder, and patted his back, ushering the kids away.

“What are you doing here,” Hook Possum wheezed, as Steve pushed him back to sit on one of the picnic table benches.  “What are you doing here,” he repeated, sounding bewildered.

“My dad owns the place,” Steve said in a low voice, as the littlest boy ran back to the buses, screaming about how he’d met Hook Possum, and Robin and Nancy looked over, resigned.  “That’s why it pays so well.  We went to him and told him he could have a staff that would work hard, or he could have three underpaid girls who want it on their resume for becoming teachers, and the second week they’d all have nervous breakdowns.  Why, do...do I know you?” he asked, narrowing his eyes at the blank mesh eyes, and trying to place the weird squeaky voice.

Hook Possum nodded slowly, but Steve was pretty sure he was still staring.  Maybe it was just the mesh eyes.  “...oh,” he said quietly.  “Your...dad.  Owns...it.”

“Yep,” Steve said, shrugging.  “I mean, he owns the company that owns a bunch of camps, you know, but—anyway, you’ve never been a counselor before, right?  I can show you around, if you want.  What’s your name?  How d’you know me?”

Hook Possum stared at him some more, and then said, even higher, like Mickey Mouse, “He’s, like, the owner’s boss?” he asked weakly.  “...name’s Hook Possum.”

“What the fuck,” Steve muttered, staring back into the mesh eyes, but then he saw Robin’s arm fly up as she was consumed in a wave of children, and he clapped Hook Possum on the shoulder and ran off.  

 He saw the guy later, too, still in the costume, even though it was July in Indiana.  He was talking to Max Mayfield, so Steve wandered over.  “You need some help getting out of that?” he offered, because nobody would stay in a horrible hot stinking furry sweat bag by choice.

“No,” said Hook Possum, too quickly, and Max groaned into her hands.  

“Uh,” said Steve, who was starting to wonder if they’d found some possum-obsessed weirdo for a counselor.  “You must...really like possums.”

Max burst into giggles, laughing harder than Steve had ever seen her, and Hook Possum’s long face swung to look at her, then at Steve, then back at her, and then he stomped away.  Because the costume had big, dirty, saggy fur paw-booties, he had to lift his feet high, like a cartoon, and Steve started snickering too.

Hook Possum hunched his shoulders, and scuttled around the edge of one of the cabins, out of sight.  

“Oh my god,” Max cackled.  “He’s finally found his true identity!  Trash rat.”

“Is...is that...Billy,” Steve asked, the thought of Billy Hargrove, camp counselor, hauling off and punching kids, or murdering them, suddenly much less funny.  “What—isn’t he back in Hawkins?!  How’d he get here?!”

“Uh, no!  No, no,” Max said quickly, grimacing and waving her hands.  “Definitely, um, not, no.  It’s, ah, he lives on my street.  He’s, um, saving money to move out.”

“Oh,” Steve said, relieved.  

“The pay’s really good here,” Max explained, too fast.  “—and, uh, mmmm...hiiiis dad’s kinda shitty, so he needs money to get out of his house.”

“Well, he should be able to,” Steve told her, giving her two thumbs-up so she’d make a face.  “We’re practically all seniors, that’s what a lot of us are doing, that or paying for college.”

“...yeah,” Max sighed.  “He can...move away.  Finally.”

“Sounds like you’ll miss him,” Steve said, grinning at her, “—he the brother you never had?”

“...yeah, he um.  He sort of is,” she said, swallowing, and Steve patted her shoulder gingerly.  

“Uh,” he said cautiously, “Um, you...you know you can always give me a call, right?”

“Thought you had kind of a problem with my family,” she sighed, and he shook his head.  

“I’ve got no problem with you.”

“...yeah, that’s what we thought,” Max muttered, maybe, and Steve frowned at her.  “Go away,” she told him, sighing, “It’s fine.”

 They got everybody sorted into cabins, and Steve saw Hook Possum ducking into a bunk in the counselor’s cabin.  He stared for a long moment, watching the enormous possum negotiate its tail and its creepy, vacant-eyed mask and lie down on the lower bunk.

“It’s hot as Satan’s asshole in here,” he groaned.

“...what are you doing,” Steve hissed.  “They cannot be paying you enough to stay in that thing.  There is not enough money in the world to stay in that thing for more than a couple hours.”

“Ah, fuck,” said Hook Possum, sitting up and smacking his head on the upper bunk.  “Shit fuck,” he groaned, “—I can’t see in this thing—”

“Then take it off,” Steve told him, sitting next to him on the bunk and reaching in to feel for the ties behind the guy’s neck, but Hook Possum grabbed Steve’s hand, scrambling back.  

“No!  No, uh,” he stopped, then tried again.  “I need the money,” he said softly.  “I need it—”

“Okay, okay, did you agree to some—some massive bonus bullshit to keep this damn costume on?  Because you’re gonna die of heatstroke in there,” Steve told him.  “I don’t care how much he offered you, you can’t wear that thing all summer—”

“No, I did, I agreed to—to bonus bullshit to keep the damn costume on,” Hook Possum whispered, the fingers in his paw-glove squeezing Steve’s arm, hard.  “I can’t take it off.  He’s—he’s giving me a huge bonus.”

“Fuck,” Steve breathed.  “You’re gonna die in there, I’m not kidding.  You can stay in the shade, or—and we can bring you ice, lots of ice, you could try an ice pack on your neck—”

“I need this job,” the guy said, and Steve nodded, letting him go.

“Okay, okay.  We’ll figure this out, but if the manager comes out, I’m kneeing him in the balls, because—”

“No!  I need the money,” Hook Possum hissed, the weird cartoony voice even odder in a serious conversation.  

“Jesus,” Steve said, sighing.  “Okay.  I’m gonna check in with you, alright?  If you start to keel over, I’m taking it off, we’ll figure out something to tell the manager.”

“Don’t take it off,” said Hook Possum, like he was the last soldier holding the line, and Steve got caught up in it, like a moron.  

“I’m not leaving you in there,” he said, like the trenches were getting shelled.  “I’m not letting anyone die in a possum costume,” he said, to remind himself they weren’t at D-Day.  Hook Possum sighed, his shoulders slumping as he growled.  “And you can’t sleep in that thing, jesus,” Steve said,  “At least change at night.”

“You’d—somebody’d see me,” Hook Possum said, and Steve shook him, a little.  

“We aren’t possum spies, nobody’s gonna tell.”

“How do I know you’re not possum spies,” Hook Possum hissed back, and Steve started snickering.

“Okay, okay, um, curtain?  What about a curtain, we’ll just staple it up here and nobody’ll see your, uh, late night transformation.”

“Oh,” said Hook Possum, snickering a little, like he did realize how ridiculous it all was, and looking around.  “That...might work.”

“Gonna transform out of your outfit like a shitty Cinderella,” Steve sighed, and Hook Possum laughed harder.  “You’re gonna have to shower in the dead of night,” Steve told him.  “I’ll let everybody know it’s just, y’know, just our resident possum.  Creeping around.”  He started laughing again, and Hook Possum elbowed him.  “How are you gonna eat?”

“Shouldn’t be feeding the wildlife in the cafeteria anyway,” Hook Possum pointed out.  “There are signs everywhere.”

“...you know you’re a human, right,” Steve told him, trying not to giggle.

Hook Possum shook with laughter against him.  “I’ll just climb into a trash can and knock it over at three am.  It’s the way of my people.”

“Oh my god,” Steve wheezed.  “I’m gonna get in trouble for feeding the wildlife and letting a possum nest in here, aren’t I?  I’ll sneak you burgers, I promise.”

“Why,” Hook Possum laughed, edging away.  “It’s not your problem, Harrington—”

“Hey, Max likes you, you’re part of the weirdo family we got going on,” Steve said, clapping the guy’s shoulder, and the possum mask swung towards him again.

“...does she?” he asked, snorting softly.

“She does,” Steve confirmed.  “She said.”  Hook Possum stared like a creepy puppet, and Steve was unable to resist reaching up and patting the dusty, greasy fur between the costume ears.  “You’re one of us, now.”

“...once you feed wildlife, it can create a dependency,” Hook Possum said, batting Steve’s hand away, but he was laughing audibly now.  “I read that in a flyer.”

“I can’t believe they handed a possum a flyer about possums,” Steve said, and Hook Possum snorted.

“Right?  Like who the fuck deals with wildlife by handing them flyers, what a moron.”

“I didn’t know possums could read,” Steve said, and Hook Possum kicked at him, completely missing.  “What a smart possum you are.”

“Fuck you, if I could see in this thing—” 

“Oooo, you gonna murder me with your little—your plastic pirate hook hand?” Steve asked, and Hook Possum laughed harder, letting himself fall sideways to curl up on the bunk.  

“Fuck you,” he mumbled again, wheezing with laughter.

Steve wondered who he was—whether he’d defended Max from Billy, or just showed her some skateboard tricks.  Whether he was younger, maybe—Steve didn’t know most of the freshmen—and what he’d look like in about ten minutes when he gave up on the incredibly stupid idea of living in a possum suit for the whole damn summer.

 Steve got hauled into setting up the welcome dinner, sitting the tables out, and putting cleanish rocks on the stacks of napkins to keep them from blowing away.  Hook Possum was useless at it—he nearly dropped the plates, and then bumped into a table because he couldn’t see, almost overturning it, and finally Steve put both hands on his furry possum shoulders and walked him over to a group of smaller kids who were milling around, bored by the orientation speech.

As he wandered by later, he heard Hook Possum telling them “Possum Facts.”

“Possums are gonna be the next police dogs,” he was saying, as Steve stared over.  “They’re gonna yell ‘Fly, my pretties!’ and the perp will be overwhelmed by possums.”

“That’s good,” said one solemn little kid, softly.  “I’m afraid of dogs.”

“Hook Possum is here to protect us,” said another one.  “You can find him if you’re scared of dogs.”

The first kid nodded, wide-eyed, and Hook Possum stared at one, then the other.  “...uh, yeeeah,” he said, slowly.  “Sure.”

“He’ll fight the dogs, Robin said,” said the first kid, and Hook Possum’s mask jerked towards her.  

“Wait, what?!” he hissed, and Steve ducked away, smothering snickers.

 Dinner was uneventful, as usual, in that there was so much chaos Steve was deadened to it, automatically reaching in to stop Dustin from using his spoon to catapult peas at Erica Sinclair and starting WWIII.   

He snuck off when he saw Hook Possum tiptoeing away like a stealthy cartoon.  “D’you need me to feed the wildlife?” he asked, and Hook Possum yelped, spinning around, so his tail whipped Steve in the legs.  

“Holy shit,” he panted, in his weird squeaky voice.

“Sorry, forgot you were a possum on the edge, man,” Steve told him, clapping a hand to his shoulder, and Hook Possum started laughing again, cigarette smoke trailing out of the eyeholes of his mask.  Steve watched it.  “...you have no idea how fucking creepy that looks,” he said.  “It’s eerie.”

“Creepier than my big blank eyes?” Hook Possum asked, and Steve wished he could see the expression of the person in the suit—whether it was resigned, or entertained, or what.  

“D’you want me to get you some food?” Steve asked.  “I can’t see you using the tongs, or like...seeing the buffet very well.”

“Also, I’m filthy,” Hook Possum said, raising a dusty paw.  

“That too,” Steve agreed.

“...I can get something later,” Hook Possum said, laughing a little.  

“You still have to eat, man,” Steve told him.  “And drink some water, at least.”

“What’s going on back here,” came Max’s voice, and they both swiveled.  She had a tray in her hands, and her eyes narrowed.

“Harrington was offering to feed the wildlife,” said Hook Possum, and she snorted.

“You’re a camp counselor, set a good example,” she hissed, waving Steve away.  “Didn’t you see the flyers, Steve?  You can’t feed possums.”

“Everyone saw the flyers, they even gave them to him,” Steve said, pointing.  “Possums probably can’t even read.”

“I barely can, in this,” Hook Possum admitted.  “I had to hold it up over my eyeholes.”

“Hrm,” said Max.  “Okay, Steve, go away, Nancy said to tell you you’re on dishes.”

Steve sighed, and left them to it.

 When he was done, he found an old tatty camp flag in the storage shed, half faded and ripped—he remembered somebody getting in trouble, in years past, for leaving it up all winter—and nailed it up over Hook Possum’s bunk with pruny fingers from the suds in the cooking tent.  He put a hook where the grommet could lift it away, in case Hook Possum’s struggles with his mask caught on the fabric, and then stepped back to look at his handiwork just as Robin wandered in.  

“That’s...really something,” she said, raising his eyebrows.  “We all get one of those?”

“No, it’s for the possum guy,” Steve told her, hooking the flag’s bottom corner up to show that the bunk was slightly easier to climb into.  “He’s like...contracted to wear the damn thing 24/7.  He gets a bonus or something.”

“That’s bullshit.  He’s gonna die of heatstroke,” Robin said, and Steve nodded, shrugging.

“That’s what I said.  Anyway, I told him I’d hide the bunk so he didn’t have to, like, lie there in the costume all night.”

“Playing possum,” she snorted, and Steve grinned, imagining the dude in full possum array, sprawled on his back like roadkill.  

“Sexy,” he snorted, and she waggled her eyebrows.

PART ONE | TWO | THREE | FOUR

[just-call-me-the-intrusive-thot]

A Disasterous Loaf-Life

“Bread”

@weweregoddesses​

Pairings: Romantic Dukexiety

TWs: Swearing, Remus being Remus, Sexual Innuendos, Phallic Shaped Bread Creatures, some angst but not too much, Pretty Brief Heated Makeout, mentions of a parasite that affects humans, Implied Sexual Activities Post Fic End (no actual sex tho),

Summary: Two Pining Dumbasses Make Bread.

(This is so long I just got super carried away)

--

“Remus, is there a reason you’ve kneaded your dough into the shape of an ass?”

Virgil watched with a fond sigh as the man next to him proudly stood over the booty bread he’d lovingly crafted over the last ten minutes. 

“Not really,”, Remus cackled, raising his hands, “Except for this!”, and with that, he brought down his hands in a flurry of obscene slaps to the fake rear. Virgil maintained his composure for all of a minute before he had to physically restrain his snickering. 

God dammit, this fucking guy! Thirteen years and Remus was still the one person who could make him laugh like the world wasn’t watching. 

“Well, when you’re finishing pulverising your Glutenous Maximus, are you gonna finally tell me what you’re actually shaping your loaf into this time?”, Virgil snarked affectionately. 

Remus rolled his eyes; his emo dork was spending far too much time with Patton lately. 

“Same as the last time we did this, duuuh.”, he retorted, as if that were common knowledge.

Virgil’s eyes widened, “.... You’re not serious.”

“As serious as Naegleria Fowleri.”

“.. as what?!”

“Y’know, that fucked up brain eating amoeba that they found in that one Disney water park-”

“NEVERMIND!”, Virgil hastily shook the thought away as he tended to his own dough, “Don’t tell me, I’ll have nightmares for weeks...”

The hoodie clad mad looked Remus up and down as he folded his own purple dyed dough, “.... Are you really going to attempt the Cocktopus again? Seriously?”

Remus shrugged, already forming the eight ‘tentacles’ in stunningly graphic detail, “Why not? You’re making purple bread again, why don’t I do the same?”

Well, he had him there. Really, Virgil had gone to make his bread purple without even thinking about it. Perhaps just being next to Remus after all this time had subconsciously brought him back to that same summer day they’d spent in the kitchen side by side making bread together. Virgil could hear his mother’s old junkbox of a radio blaring Redbone’s Come and Get Your Love while he and Remus slung flour at each other and danced about in their socks trying not to slip. 

Being back in the same house - now passed down to him - making bread once again with Remus brought back so many memories and emotions. Most of them good, though as he looked over to the man he still loved absolutely going to town on his bread sculpting, Virgil couldn’t help but remember how much guilt he still harboured; he’d never expected Remus to kiss him out of the blue back then, but Virgil also hadn’t expected to silently run off to his room to calm down, only to find Remus had left. 

Not just his home, but his life. Virgil hadn’t wanted to face Remus, unsure of how to handle his feelings, but seeing the moving sign on the Duke family’s front lawn that next week as he watched the moving van leave just that little bit too quickly for Virgil to say goodbye had plagued his mind more often than he cared to admit. 

A gross, gooey wetness on his cheek hauled him back to the present, only to realise Remus had finished a surprisingly glorious cocktopus and had slathered some of the egg wash on his cheek.

“Earth to Tickle-Me-Emo, you good??”

Virgil would’ve socked him in the arm if Remus’ concerned smile didn’t send his heart racing too hard to consider it. He wiped the mixture off his cheek, only mumbling back at Remus as he formed his purple mix into little loafs, “I’m fine, just stop covering my face in slimy shit.”

“..... Okay, now I know something’s up. You never leave me room for innuendos like that.”

Not even waiting to clean the residual flour off of his hand, Remus softly reached out and Virgil anxiously awaited the touch on his cheek. 

But it never came.

He watched as Remus seemed to course correct and he used his thumb to draw a line down his forehead, whispering, “Simbaaaaa-”

“Okay, fuck ooooff!”, Virgil had snorted, fondly swatting at Remus.

“Come on, Virge! You looked like you were gonna blow a blood vessel, how could I not diffuse the tension a little?”, Remus snickered, though the silence that followed wasn’t so comfortable somehow. Virgil struggled to place it until he noticed Remus’ expression falter. He didn’t get the chance to ask what was wrong before Remus spoke up, 

“This was a mistake, wasn’t it?”

A cold jolt shuddered along Virgil’s spine, rattling each vertebrae as it went.

“What’re you-”

“Why’d you invite me over, Virge?”

Truthfully, Virgil knew exactly why he had invited Remus from the outset; he wanted to see him again, drown in his presence, hopefully find out that he was single and still just as in love with Virgil after all these years as he was with Remus. But once Remus was there, single and right in front of him, he’d panicked - what else was new? - and resorted to turning their meeting into a catching up between old friends. 

But people who are just friends don’t dream about being held by their friend at night, don’t fantasize about a future together, don’t lay awake at night regretting not having just taken the chance to be more when they had it.

They also don’t stare at their friend’s gorgeous toned body every chance they get, but that felt a little too pathetic to admit on top of everything else.

Virgil wasn’t aware of how quiet he’d been until Remus spoke again, “Here I am, thinking maybe you might want me back in your life for good, maybe even like me back if I was lucky....”, Remus paused forlornly, an expression that didn’t suit him in the slightest, “But even now you’re still anxious around me. Which, I mean, I get it. Why would you like me back after I just kissed you out of the blue like that-”

“But why would you want me-?!”

His voice wasn’t meant to come out so high pitched and whiny, but Virgil was more focused on trying to process what Remus had just said. Remus liked him still. After all this time. And yet, Virgil’s brain was still trying to ruin it.

“Remus, you… look at you!”, he gestured to all of him, “You’re still a fucking weirdo but you’re stupidly hot!”

Virgil kicked himself mentally, his hands raking through his hair and nails scraping his scalp, “Ugh, no! I mean! Fuck, Remus, I’ve been in love with you all this time! I haven’t even LOOKED at another guy in these last thirteen years, because whenever I even think about finding someone to settle down with, the only goddamn thing I can think about is how much I only want you-!”

The clattering of a knocked over kitchen table was the only warning Virgil got. Then all he could focus on was Remus’ arms wrapping around him, his breath cool against his neck. 

“Then why’d you never tell me, you asshole?!”, Remus murmured against him. 

Virgil wondered if he imagined the soft noise of relief Remus let out as Virgil hugged him. 

“Because I’m the worst-”

“No.”, Remus cut him off, pulling back a little to give him an unimpressed look.

“No-?”

“No. Try again.”

Ah. It’d been years since Remus took this approach with him. 

“,... Because I’m stupid-”

“Try agaaain.”, Remus droned, prodding one of the little purple loafs Virgil had lovingly been shaping from a circular loaf into a spider before all of this began.

“Dude, don’t poke my spiders-”

“Or what?”

Virgil narrowed his eyes, unable to stop the quirk of a grin, “Don’t you dare-”

Remus narrowed his gaze, grinning as he plunged a finger into another spider loaf. Virgil tried to stop him all the while Remus cackled and kept dotting them with holes. Finally, Virgil conceded, 

“Fine! I was scared, okay-?!”

The silence hung heavier than both men anticipated. Virgil would’ve found Remus stopping dead with his finger shoved into the spider loaf’s ass hilarious if he wasn’t too busy shaking with nerves. 

“I was scared.”, he repeated, quietly dropping onto one of the chairs around the table, “I liked you so much back then too, but emotions are the fucking worst when you’re a kid and I was still trying to work shit out.”

The scooting of a chair let Virgil know Remus had sat down too. 

“My anxiety just got worse the longer I couldn’t see you, but every time I thought about facing you, I just kept thinking “well, he deserves better anyway-!””

Sick of hearing Virgil self deprecating further, Remus all but hauled Virgil into his lap, their faces inches from touching, eye contact unbreaking.

“Virge,”, Remus purred barely above a whisper, “I mean this in the nicest way possible..” 

The way their lips brushed over each other send shockwaves along Virgil’s spine, “But shut the fuck up.”

The scrawnier man didn’t need to be told twice. The second Remus’ lips pressed against his own, Virgil had no intention of breaking the contact until he needed air. Not that he’d mind suffocation if it was Remus’ lips doing the smothering. His left hand threaded itself in Remus’ hair while the right held onto his firm bicep. Fucking hell, Remus had never been this solid when they were kids. Since when did real, unphotoshopped people have muscles like these-!?

All of a sudden, Virgil couldn’t care less as Remus’ hands caressed his hips, earning a gasp Remus was more than willing to use to deepen their kiss. He got no complaints from Virgil who reciprocated the intensity of their kiss with no hesitation. It’d already cost him thirteen years with the man he loved, Virgil wasn’t about to hold himself back anymore. 

…. Okay maybe he should have held back a little.

A surge of panic jolted him free of the makeout headspace when he felt himself tipping back. Right, they were on one of the kitchen chairs. A chair meant to only support one person. Thankfully, Remus noticed and leant back. Instead of Virgil toppling to the floor, he wound up on top of Remus on the floor, hissing as his knees made contact with the tiles. 

“Fucking hell-! Oh shit, Remus, you okay-?!”

Remus groaned and scrunched his eyes at the pain. Virgil immediately feared that Remus had done himself a serious injury, however the man he was using as a seat cracked an eye open and sighed theatrically,

“Well, at least I’m gonna die with a raging boner.”

Virgil sighed. He was fine. 

“Come on, let’s get these dumb loaves in the oven and then you can be horny all you want-“

Remus didn’t waste a second. He barely gave Virgil a second to get off of him before he was up on his feet. A gasp made Virgil take a break from dusting flour off of himself.

“MY COCKTOPUS!!! IT’S DEAD!!!!”

Well, that’s not a phrase you hear everyday. Sure enough, when Virgil followed Remus’ gaze, the poor phallic sea demon he’d constructed had deflated somewhat; it’s many ‘’tentacles’’ had fallen over and flattened while the head of the beast was beginning to sag. Virgil was about to tell Remus to leave it be when he noted how genuinely upset Remus was.

Sighing, Virgil rolled his hoodie sleeves up to his elbows once more, “Alright, you can fix it, and THEN we’re making up for lost time..”

------

... I have no excuses for this one, the idea came and I ran with it.

Special thanks to the ever wonderful and talented @accidental-sanders​ for helping flesh out this whole thing with me <3 Taglist: @somehow-i-got-an-account   @cateye-glasses   @fandomsofrandom @patton-cake @does-this-look-logicality-to-you @justalittlecorrupted @irritating-lady-knight @katlikethesword 

[idy-ll-ique]

Ethereal.

Pairing: Chris Evans x F!Reader

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: None

Requested: by @sushiinmidnight

How about reader x chris evans and they've met before and one day he is walking Dodger past a cafe and he sees her there and goes in to talk to her ends up raining so they go back to her place walking in the rain ....

Summary: Y/N has a job interview at a cafe near her house. As she is leaving after the interview, the interviewer asks her out on a date but before she could answer, Chris and Dodger interrupt her. What happens when Chris finds out that she said yes to the date? Will he try to win her over?

Author's Note: Hi guys, I'm back. first of all, @sushiinmidnight , thank you so much for the prompt! Many people were expecting the sequel to one of my other fics, Dogs (read it here). I decided to make it that (also, I'm sorry if the ending isn't what you required, I really am! hope you still like the fic 😚). Enjoy!

---

"I'm awfully sorry about this, Bet, but I have an important interview at the cafe and I can't keep Zeus alone at home," Y/N apologized to her sister again as she stood by her door. "Are you kidding? I love hanging out with Zeus, she is so friendly!" Bethany laughed, kneeling over to pet Zeus who sat by her feet. Y/N smiled.

"Thanks again, goodbye!" Y/N left and heard the door closing behind her. She walked to the cafe where her job interview was, nervously playing with her hands. Y/N had a degree in business administration, which she wanted to put to good use. Having been jobless for 5 years, she felt like she needed something to do.

She reached the cafe and a man waved her over. Immediately recognizing him as Oliver, her interviewer, she walked up to him. "Miss Y/N Y/L/N? Please, have a seat." She grinned at him and sat down. They exchanged greetings and proceeded with the interview.

In her opinion, the viva went great. Apparently, Oliver thought the same. "That was awesome, Y/N, you're good at this! I can't tell you this now, but I'm 95% sure that you're gonna get a call back." A relieved and excited smile bloomed on Y/N's face. "That is wonderful!"

"Hey, um, also off-topic, I wanted to ask you something." 

"Go ahead." 

"Do you wanna get a coffee with me sometime? I have another interview to take right now so maybe later?" Oliver rubbed the back of his head. She was about to answer him when a bark startled them both. They whirled around just as a dog jumped into Y/N's arms. "Dodger, stop both— Y/N? Hey, how are you?" 

"Hi Chris, I'm good. I missed you too, Dodger," Y/N laughed, kneeling and petting the dog's head as he happily wagged his tail. "Chris Evans?" Both turned to look at Oliver. "Hey, nice to meet you!" Chris smiled at the man. "Chris, this is Oliver, my interviewer." They shook hands.

"Oliver, nice."

"Hi, it's nice to meet you, too. Unfortunately, I have to leave now, so Y/N…?"

"Yes?"

"The coffee…"

Y/N considered her options. She had an obvious crush on Chris, but like, come on, as if he's ever going to like her back. Plus, Oliver was hella good-looking. "I'd like to go on a date," she smiled at him. "Awesome! I already have your number, I'll text you later, okay? Bye!" Oliver left.

Chris, meanwhile, sported a huge frown on his face. She was going on a date with Oliver and not him? No, he decided, he was going to convince her to acknowledge her crush on him and go on a date with him. Not Oliver. "Chris? Everything okay?" He looked at Y/N and an automatic smile bloomed on his face.

"Wanna have coffee?"

"Damn, what is it with handsome men asking me for coffee today? Do I look that good in this suit?" Chris laughed at her joke. "You look ethereal. Let's go inside." Chris and Dodger entered the cafe, leaving Y/N to gape after him. Wait, what? She looked ethereal? No, let me rephrase that, he thought she looked ethereal?

Feeling butterflies in her stomach, she walked in. She saw him sitting in a corner with Dodger's leash tied to the table. She went over and sat in front of him, unable to contain herself. "Do you really think I look ethereal?" she blurted out. "Of course, I've thought that ever since I first saw you at the park 2 months ago."

"Holy fuck, Captain America thinks I'm hot."

"Language." 

She burst out laughing at his joke, which caused him to smile. "Folks, what will your orders be?" They turned to look at the waitress, who gave them an amused smile. "Um, a Frappuccino, please," Y/N mumbled, embarrassed. "Same." She nodded and left. 

"So, what's up? What was the interview for?" Chris asked, leaning back. "Nothing, just a tech company. I'm gonna work from home; I have lots of free time but I can't go out because of Zeus." At Zeus' name, Dodger let out a mighty bark. "Dodger has missed Zeus a lot," Chris chuckled. "Yeah, Zeus misses him, too."

"Now you're gonna be too busy to hang out with me," Chris pouted. Y/N blinked, since when did they decide hanging out was normal? She had only gone out with him 2 days and hadn't even seen him for 2 months! And suddenly they were best friends? Something was fishy…

"It'll be a 9-5, so I'll be free in the evenings," she shrugged, playing along with whatever he was suggesting. "Great! We can continue hanging out at the park, with Dodger and Zeus." Ah, she should've guessed. He was suggesting it for Dodger, not himself. I mean, there was no reason for him to hang out with her anyway, except for the fact that their dogs liked each other.

"Here you are." The waitress placed the two cups in front of them. Y/N picked hers up, hearing a loud rumble outside the room. "Hm, look at that," Chris commented and both looked out of the window. The sky was dark, laden with rain clouds. "We need to get out of here quickly," Y/N sighed, sipping her coffee.

Just as she said that, they heard raindrops hitting the window. "Too late," Chris laughed. "Looks like the storm will last a while…" The intensity of the rain soon increased and it started thundering. Y/N took out her phone and called Bethany, keeping the call on speaker and placing it on the table. "Y/N, still at the cafe?"

"Yes, I'm trapped with… with a friend," she answered, doing her best to not glance at Chris. "Okay, I get it. Don't come walking in the storm, you fall sick too easily. Remember when you fell sick that one time when you were 16? Took you quite a while to recover." Chris snickered as Y/N went red. "Yes, yes I do remember. I just called to ask if Zeus can live a while longer with you?"

"Bro, she can live with me forever!"

"Shut up, she's mine. Why do you younger sisters always steal stuff? Anyway, I have to go now, bye!"

"Bye, broski." Y/N ended the call, playfully glaring at Chris as he wheezed. "What are you laughing about?" she chided. "You have got to tell me the story of when you were 16? What happened?" Y/N sighed and rubbed her forehead. They had to spend a while here, she might as well become friends with the guy she was stuck with.

"Nothing. I got diarrhoea and it's disgusting so… live with it." He pouted and crossed his arms. "Fine, only because it's disgusting." All of a sudden, a news anchor's voice filled her ears and she turned to look. The receptionist had switched on television there. 

The news reported that this unexpected storm was most likely going to last for hours. "Looks like we're all stuck here," she laughed seeing Y/N's expression. "I guess we are!" Chris said joyfully. Why was he so goddamn happy today? Y/N rolled her eyes at his cheerfulness.

Dodger hadn't barked in a while, so she glanced at him. "Aw, Chris, he's asleep," she crooned, clasping her hands. "He always sleeps during storms. The thunder scares him and when he's asleep, he can't hear it so that's good." Y/N laughed. "Zeus is the same, she's scared of storms too." 

"Our dogs are so alike, no wonder they like each other so much," she sighed, finishing the last of her coffee. "Can the same be said about us?" Y/N blinked and looked at Chris, who intently stared right back at her. "Uh… pardon?" she stammered. "What things do you like?"

"I… Marvel, I guess."

"Oh, I love that."

"You know my likes and dislikes, dude, we've met before," she deadpanned. "That I do," he winked, resting his head on the table. "Hey, can I ask you a question?" Y/N didn't want to be blunt, but she had to be. It was the only way to get some answers out of Chris' big, beefy body.

"Sure, love."

"Why are you doing this?"

"Doing what?" He sat up, frowning. "It's obvious you're flirting with me, I mean, I'm not dumb. I just… why? Why me?" He remained frozen for a few minutes before speaking. "I obviously like you," he spoke quietly, "I just want you to feel the same. I really do like you, Y/N. Ever since you offered me your water bottle the day we met. Remember that?"

She did, indeed, remember that.

"But it's just… I like that you are doing this… just… I felt like it was sudden."

"Do you want me to tell you the truth?" He looked at her with such innocent eyes that she found herself nodding involuntarily. "Please don't go out with Oliver today." Before she could stop herself, she started laughing. "Chris—" She took his hand and clasped it with hers, "—were you really jealous of Oliver?"

He pouted. "Not— not jealous…" he grumbled, reaching out with his other hand. "Aw come on, you are totally jealous of Oliver!" Y/N giggled, getting up. She sat next to him, resting her head on his shoulder. She liked him, he liked her, all was well and they were happy.

"Fine, maybe I am," he countered loudly, "Don't go out with him?" This time, it was much softer. "I won't, silly. I just had the best date ever." Y/N reached up to kiss his cheek, but pulling a pro-gamer move, Chris tilted his head so that his lips touched hers instead. Y/N wanted to pull away but she gathered herself and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Mm, you're mine," Chris mumbled when she pulled away to breathe. "Whatever you say, weirdo." He shoved her, rolling his eyes before quickly pulling her back to him, tightly wrapping his arms around her. "Your weirdo, right?"

"God, who would've thought Chris Evans would be so goddamn possessive," Y/N joked. "All the fanfictions about me correctly predict it…" Y/N looked at him with wide eyes. "What? You read fanfictions?" she asked loudly. "I've only read a few… they were somewhat accurate and somewhat not, but mostly fun. And surprisingly well-written."

"Hey guys, congrats!"

Chris and Y/N turned to look at the lone waitress and the receptionist. "Thanks! Just don't tell anyone, okay? People will come in mobs to kill me," Y/N snorted. "Come on, we've been hiding our relationship for a long time now, what's one more?" The waitress and the receptionist shared smirks. "Wait what? You're…?"

"Gay!"

"That's awesome!" Chris guffawed as the receptionist and the waitress shared a kiss. "I wish you both well," Y/N beamed at them. "As us, you!" the waitress grinned. 

---

"Y/N, I have to ask you something…" The rain had now cleared up, almost 3 hours later. Y/N, Chris and Dodger were now preparing to leave. "What is it?" She looked at him. "Tell Oliver you're not meeting him today." She good-naturedly rolled her eyes and took out her phone. "Okay, I'll tell him in front of you so you'd finally leave me alone."

"Babe, we're dating now, I'm never gonna leave you alone," he smirked. "Okay, you sap." She texted Oliver hi, I won't be able to make it today, I'm sorry :( and kept her phone away. "I am a sap and proud of it. Anyway, wanna come over later?" She considered her options. "I'll get Zeus from my sister's, change my clothes and be at your place soon, okay? Just text me your address."

"Great! Bye!"

"Chris, don't—" Too late, he gave her a quick kiss before she could remind him they were in public. As they walked in the opposite direction, Y/N shook her head.

No way today had just happened.

But it had.

And by God was it amazing.

---

A/N: Please leave a like, thank you for reading!!!! :)

[luckydejected]

Y’ALL WANNA FELL/RED TIMELINE INSIGHT FROM A HELLSITE OG?

WHEN I FIRST GOT HERE, ONE OF MY FIRST CONVERSATIONS LITERALLY OPENED WITH “OH, YOU’RE ONE OF THOSE GUYS” ‘CAUSE I’M A FELL, AND FELL WAS A DIRTY WORD. THE FIRST SERVERS I JOINED, PEEPS IMMEDIATELY HAD AN ISSUE WITH ME ‘CAUSE OF THAT, ‘CAUSE FELLS WERE AN OUTLIER BACK THEN, A BUNCHA FUCKIN’ WEIRDOS IN A BLUE POOL FULL OF GOODY TWO SHOES PERSONALITIES WHO LOOKED DOWN ON ANYONE WHO DIDN’T FLINCH AT DEATH. THOSE OF US WHO SCRAPED THE FUCK BY THE SKIN OF OUR TEETH TO NOT DIE BY THE HANDS OF OUR OWN TIMELINES WERE SEEN AS SOME KINDA WEIRD LESSER FUCKIN’ CLASS ‘CAUSE OF THAT SHIT, ALWAYS HELD OVER OUR HEADS AS SOME KINDA FERAL ASS ANIMALS WHO GOTTA BE WATCHED ELSE WE MIGHT HURT SOMEONE. A FUCKIN’ TON OF FELLS WHO I USED TO BE FRIENDS WITH LEFT AND NEVER CAME BACK, ‘CAUSE IT WAS EASIER TO LEAVE THAN TRY TO JUSTIFY ANGER AT BEIN’ TREATED LIKE VILLAINOUS SCUM FOR HAVIN’ EMOTIONS WHEN OTHER USELESS ASS PEEPS WOULD SAY WE AS A GROUP DIDN’T DESERVE KINDNESS ON PRINCIPLE OF OUR ORIGINS

I HAD ISSUES OTHERWISE, SURE, PEEPS CAN’T HANDLE A LOUD-ASS GUY WHO WILL CLAP THE FUCK BACK WHEN BARKED AT, AND I ABSOLUTELY DID NOT GIVE A FUCK ‘BOUT OTHERS WHO OPENED THEIR MOUTHS AT ME, BUT A LOTTA MY PROBLEMS WERE BASED ‘ROUND THIS IDEA OF ME BEIN’ A ″VIOLENT-ASS UNDERFELL” AND NOT ‘CAUSE OF ANYTHIN’ I’VE EVER DONE TO SOMEONE. OTHERS WHO DIDN’T TOLERATE BEIN’ YELLED AT GOT A GOLD PASS, BUT IF I STOOD UP FOR MYSELF, GODDAMN CRIMES WERE COMMITTED, EVERYTHIN’ BAD THAT’S EVER HAPPENED TO ME IS DESERVED ‘CAUSE FUCK ME FOR BEIN’ A FELL

PEEPS WARNED OTHERS THAT I’D GO AFTER THEM AND HURT THEM ALL THE DAMN TIME. ON RECORD, THAT’S NEVER HAPPENED. I’VE NEVER WENT AFTER ANYONE, I’VE NEVER LAID MY HANDS ON ANYONE WHO HASN’T ASKED ME TO (SEXUALLY OR SPARRIN’), I’VE NEVER WENT OUT OF MY WAY TO DESTROY SOMEONE OR RUIN THEIR LIFE OR ANYTHIN’ OF THAT SORT, BUT THE SHEER VOLUME OF PEEPS WHO HAVE TOLD OTHERS I AM THE SPAWN OF SATAN HIMSELF IS MORE THAN I HAVE FINGERS TO COUNT ON. I HAVE BEEN BARRED FROM SERVERS OUT OF FEAR BY PEEPS WHO LATER ON ENDED UP BEIN’ MY FRIENDS WHEN THEY ACTUALLY SPOKE TO ME, ‘CAUSE OF A LONG-STANDIN’ FEAR OF ME FROM THAT OG “FELL-SCARE” BULLSHIT THAT A LOTTA OUTSIDERS AND NEWBIE-FELLS HAVE NEVER EXPERIENCED

NO ONE EVER TALKS ‘BOUT THE FACT I’VE REEPAIRED PEEPS TIMELINES, THAT I’VE PROVIDED MY LITERAL BODY AND SOULS TO GIVE PHYSICAL BODIES TO PEEPS WHO HAVE BEEN TORN APART BY M!AS, WHO HAVE BEEN KILLED AND NEEDED TO COME BACK. I’VE BLOWN MYSELF UP AND BEEN SCATTERED INTO NOTHIN’NESS MORE THAN ONCE BREAKIN’ BARRIERS FOR DUDES I JUST MET, I’VE ADOPTED KIDS WHO HAD NOWHERE ELSE TO GO, I’VE BEEN THE SHOULDER FOR PEEPS WHO HAVE LOST THEIR FAMILIES AND TIMELINES TO HELL, AND NONE OF THAT EVER COMES UP

KNOW WHAT ALWAYS COMES UP, THO?

THAT I’M A VIOLENT, AGGRESSIVE, AND HOSTILE SKELETON AND IT’S ‘CAUSE I’M A FELL. IT’S NEVER GIVEN FROM MY SIDE, NO ONE CARES THAT SOME CHUCKLEFUCK INSULTED ME OR MOUTHED OFF AT ME, NO ONE GIVES A FUCK ‘BOUT WHAT WAS DONE TO ME, ONLY HOW I REACTED TO IT. IT’S ALWAYS SCARE-STORIES ‘BOUT ME WITH SHIT THAT’S NEVER FUCKIN’ HAPPENED, I HAVE A REPUTATION TO A TON OF PEEPS FOR THINGS I’VE NEVER SAID AND NEVER DID, AND IT ALL STARTED IN THE “FELLS ARE ALL VIOLENT” CROWD. 

[tellywoodtrash]

immj2 30.10.20 lb

lol ishani is suchhhhhhhhh a messy bitch. not even pretending to look less than outright gleeful.

le, iska rona shuru. god sis, you knowwwwwww these bitches have it out for you, then why do you give them the satisfaction of seeing this reaction???

yeh aadmi hai ya bhagwaan? koi bhi jagaah koi bhi time marzi se prakat ho jaata hai.

THAT FUCKING STUPIDASS SCARF IS RUINING THE WHOLEEEEEE LOOOK. GOD WHY DO THEY DO THIS TO HIM?????????

TUMNE JITNE TELLYWOOD FANS KO KHOOOON KE AANSOON RULAAYE HAINNNNA SHIRALI, BHAGWAN TUMHE IN PAAPON KE LIYE KABHI NAHI MAAF KAREGA!!!!!!!!!!

also, just noticed the set and production design credits and finally have names to put on all the hate mail i wanna send.

naaaah jk, i think it's really nice that they got employment in this pandemic, even with their OBVIOUS lack of taste. so much so, that it seems to be a medical condition! 

anyway, he said he got this sargi for ishani on behalf of angre, but since she's got hers anyway, this one can be given to riddhima. noice. this fucker be worming his way into my heart with shit like this.

inka phir se popat bann gaya.

mummy biting out and giving the worst blessing of all, “sadaa suhaagan raho.” which is just an elaborate way of saying "hope you die before your husband does, because life without a man is worse than death itself!!!!!!"

“thank you mummyji. aapne ~~sachchi neeyat~~~ se sargi taiyyar kii thi toh dekhiye, mere haath khaali nahi hain!”

lmao nice. where was this riddhima allllll along?????? i've been waitinggggg for this snarky bitchhhhh who doesn't take shit!!!!!

le, aadarsh bahu mode is back on. sab ke liye koi paath ka intezaam kiya. chanchal chachi was right, she's suchhhhh a annoying suck-up to dadi, honestly.

husband is like here, no one's looking; sneak some almonds, come on. yes, i approve. this the kinda man* you want ladies. one who's willing to have a few hours taken off his lifespan so you don't get hangry.

(*T&C strictly apply: only in this feeding waala criteria wrt this dude. baaki sab toh disaster hi disaster hai iss mein.)

“kaisi baat kar rahe ho??? vrat sachchi nishtha se kii jati hai. koi nahi dekh raha par bhagwaan dekh rahe hain!”

lmao, the most appropriate response. 

wait you guys genuinely need a gif of this moment, coz it’s priceless:

i can't believe they don't let this dude move his face in this show when he is the MOST ENTERTAINING when he doessssss.

he's like dude i'll adjust with the 2 hours less in my life, but dharampatni is i won’t let you escape a minute of suffering existence in this flesh prison we’re all trapped in, so help me god!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

who the fuckkkkkkkkk is this????? and you know you didn't need a needle on the syringe for this whole thing, don't you???

vansh's "baaz ki nazar" toh i've long given up on, but riddhima's peripheral vision also seems to be completely shit if she didn't notice a wholeass person wrapped in all black skulking around directly in her eyeline, not 10 feet away.

lmaooooooo dadi is like tf you doing here, and the hasty retreat he beat. scaryass men soft for their sweet old grandmas is a trend i really do love in tellywood.

oh i like ishani's outfit.

blah blah blah KC gyaan idgaf.

riddhima has lit diya and instant cough attack from the smoke.

it's her. she's the one who did this. looks like she's okay with bhai dying a few days earlier than fated, as long as it means she knocks riddhima down a few pegs.

mummy rubbing it in saying dekho yeh akhand paath hai, beech mein rukna nahi chahiye, apshagun hota hai. godddddddddddddd.

I HONESTLY CANNOT WATCH HER COUGH AND CHOKE THROUGH THIS THE SHEER RIDICULOUSNESS OF THIS IS FUCKING KILLING MEEEEEEEEE

yeh lo ji, parmeshwar prakat ho gaye to save the day and read the paath himself.

all dudes in the world should be in whatever business this guy and angre are in. ki biwi mil gayi toh it manages itself while he devotes himself to her.

lmao the sheer earnestness with which he's narrating the KC paath. both wholesome and fucking hilarious. looks like those primary school kids at their first public speaking contest.

i am ishani. god, why won't this scene just endddddddd already, i'm dying of cringe.

whoooooooooooops. bhai is pointedly asking ki how riddhima's throat got messed up when she was fine like 3 min ago.

behen is giving earnesttttttt excuses and he's really "sure jan"-ing her.

dadi's all no matter what issues crop up in these two's lives, i'm sure they'll win over it with their lurrrrrrrrrrrrrrve. yeah, it looks that way rn, but i wouldn't be quite so optimistic yet, dadi.

literally no one is surprised by this revelation.

oh god, she has something more planned. man who are these ppl with so much energy in their lives WHILE PREGNANT, to do such scheming and plotting??????? just my period cramps have me taking 2 hours off work to curl up on my heat pad and cry about ouchieeeeeee.

great. ragini ko ab daure pad rahein hain.

and poor angre is saddled with getting her treatment. WHY DOES HE HAVE TO DEAL WITH ALL THESE TROUBLESOME WOMEN IN YOUR LIFE VANSH?!?!?! EK ADIYAL BEHEN ISKE SAR PE BAANDH DI HAI WOH KAAFI NAHI THA, KI AB INVALID EX KO BHI ISKE HI HAATH MEIN THAMAA DIYA. i know you got your hands full with that disaster wife of yours, but come on man.

oh god is he gonna blow up at her again for eavesdropping!?!!?!?!?

thank the lord above, she had airpods in. (also lmao, ofc she's literally the airpods meme.)

isn't HE supposed to give HER a gift today???

i liked his other watch better. but this watch is supposedly riddhima “ke dil ki dhadkano se judi hai” so........ i'm no expert in cutting edge watch technology, so sure. sounds like something that would be available for the wives of billionaire gangster’s wives to buy.

oh man she got herself a matching one. which ofc is “tumhare dil ki dhadkano se judi hai.” lord, she CHEESY CHEESYYYYYYYYYYYY. and i'm mildly lactose intolerant, so 🤢🤢🤢

this dude is not though. he falling for this hard and fast. which is....... unexpected. nice, but also suspicious.

“yeh ghadiyaan chahe rahein naa rahein riddhima, lekin tum mere dil mein hamesha rahogi.”

that's sweet. and i'd believe and squee over it if this was any other show. i would. but in this show, literally everyone other than dadi/siya is out to fuck each other over and i don't trust a single goddamn word out their hissy snake mouths.

aaaaaaaaaaaaand ofc he's vrat-ing for her too. BECAUSE THIS IS A FEMINIST SHOW WITH THIS VERY FEMINIST HERO OK?!!!!!!?!?!!!!?!? THIS ONE EPISODE ABSOLVES ALLLLLLLLLLLL THE OTHER 98 EPISODES FILLED WITH HOT FLAMING TRASH!!!!!!!!!!!!

“apni umar badhaake kya karoonga main, agar tum saath nahi ho. main chahta hoon ki tum meri zindagi ki aakhri saans tak mere saath raho.”

again, very very sweet and all, esp. with these soft melty eyes; but it's this show. and we saw the upcoming promo. sooooooooo, kill bill sirens in my head, i'm afraid.

both mann hi mann mein deciding to tell each other the truth about their backstories after the vrat. which should work out splendidlyyyyyyy.

lo ji dream sequence shuru. voot blocked the music but colors put up the scene with bol na halke halke on instaTV so i watched it there.

yesssssssssss you messy trainwrecks. get it onnnnnnnnnn.

this is literally alllll i am watching this show for. the moment y'all bang in canon, i'm outttttttttttt. it's always the best time to quit a tellywood show. always. take this protip from wise, old TT. quit the show the episode the lead couples fuck. just trust me on this.

idk WHOSE dream sequence this is, but lmao it's got the vibes of a not-that-great wedding "promo" thing ppl have got going on these days. which one of y'all is binging these on youtube and thus has their subconscious filled with it/??? it's gotta be riddhima, but it would be absolutely fucking hilariousssssss if it was in fact, vansh.

yup. it was her dumb ass. i bet she had the exact video in mind for kabir and just cut-copy-pasted vansh's face in there from the last week onwards.

oh chachi's back from maayka for vrat kholing.

mans literally do be looking like the chand today. because they eased up on his yellow foundation, thank god.

poor ishani. god, this is why we need feminism. so our sisters don't get pushed into shit like this against their willllllllllllllllll.

dadi and siya shipping riansh to the point of making ppl uncomfortable. what next, you gonna be writing mature fanfic about them on IF????? BACK THE FUCK OFF, YOU WEIRDOS.

“humaare plans kamyaab hote toh vansh iss waqt riddhima ko zeher ki pyaali pilaa raha hota. hmph.”

lmaoooooooooooooooo mummy is an eternalllllllll mood.

this one is getting overly emotional about her first completed karwachauth vrat. eat a snickers, bitch.

dadi overpromising and saying shit like evennnnnnnnn god himself can't shake your love for each other, tumhari prem kahaani billlkulllll pooori hogi and what not. oh dadi, did YOU not see the promo?????

this one got the footage she needed and has duly handed it over to bhai. both of vansh's sisters have the trait for going straightttttt to him with their sordid discoveries, albeit for completely polar reasons.

lmaoooooo the way she peaced out.

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaand he's started growling about how all this KC naatak was fake and and vowing revenge and games for her dhokaaaaaaaaaa. i hate to say it but............ i told you so.

also abbe oh gobar ganesh. itna CCTV footage mila hai kahin se, toh baaki ka bhi toh dhoond, where you see how she got into the bloody dickey?!?!???! nahi, 2 out-of-context second hi dekh ke paagal saand ki taraah bekaabu ho jaana hai. shit for brains, literally everyone in this show has.

anyway, if i was vansh’s murti maker, i’d be expecting a call righhhhhht about now. riddhima yahaan rahe na rahe, uski murti zaroor rahegi, which vansh and his next paramour will demolish together as a bonding/foreplay exercise.​

[yikesharringrove]

Billy gets turned into a cat because he pissed someone off. Max brings this stray to Steve's house because of Neil. Billy doing all the terrible cat things at first and not letting Steve touch him but warming up to him. Just follows Steve around, learns about them. Then he jsut does the dick cat hing to other people. Keeps sneaking into family video. The curse only breaks when Billy admits to himself how much he cares about Steve.

No monster au I guess? I honestly don’t know anymore but Billy never got possessed.

-

“Hey little dude.”

Steve picked up the little cat. It’s fur was thick and a light color, with big bright blue eyes.

He had found it screaming in the backyard.

It was squirming in his arms as he brought it inside.

“Where’s your home? You have no collar. You’re naked.” He put the cat down in the kitchen, opened a can of tuna for him. The cat sniffed at the tuna, tucking in to it slowly. “Naked cat, what should I name you?” Steve sang at the cat.

It turned it’s big blue eyes on him, looking at him judgmentally.

“Wow. You’re a rude naked cat.” The cat hissed at him. Steve pretended to clutch at a set of pearls, gasping dramatically. “Mind you language in my home, young man.” The cat seemed to roll his eyes at him.

He spent the night playing with the little cat, learning he was kind of an asshole, didn’t really like to play much, and would knock shit off any surface it could get to. (Which was all of them. All surfaces).

But it was nice having something to take care of, and he woke up with the little thing curled into his neck.

-

Billy doesn’t know what the fuck had happened.

He was standing by the Camaro, having a cigarette as Amy Whatever-her-name-is was sucking him off. He had closed her eyes, pretending the soft lips around him belonged to one Steve Harrington when she pulled off him, started yelling at him for not being into her. He had driven her home mad and told her she was a slut.

She had pointed a finger in his face, told him until he got his head out of his ass and admitted how he felt he would be stuck. He didn’t know what the fuck she was on about and told her she was a crazy bitch before peeling outta her driveway.

It was not his finest moment, and he was seething while he drove around.

He decided to take a walk, was chain smoking through Loch Nora when his vision whited out. He felt like he was hurdling through space for hours or maybe seconds before he came to his senses.

As a fucking cat.

He was outside of Steve’s house, and needed help, only to find that Steve was useless, gave him some fucking tuna and said weird shit to him.

The next day he went out for some time, coming home with cat toys, food, and a fucking litter box.

Billy was goddamn appalled.

He was expected to shit in a box and Steve was gonna clean it up.

That is not fucking happening.

-

He had been spending the week with Steve, had so far he had learned Steve Harrington is an adorable fucking weirdo.

He likes to sing at Billy, likes to pick him up, watch tv with the little cat curled on his chest.

He talks a lot, fills up the empty house around with sound, plays music and leaves tvs in different rooms on as he moved through them.

He would laugh at the asshole things Billy did, like pawing at the record player until it turned off when he played music Billy didn’t like.

And Billy learned that Steve didn’t sleep much. He would stay up late, lights flicked on around the house.

The first time Steve had a nightmare, Billy pawed at him, meowing as loud as he could, trying to get Steve back from whatever nightmare he was having.

Steve woke up, looking at Billy before bursting into tears, pulling the little cat close.

Billy purred loudly, trying to help, absolutely hated the way he his chest heaved, the way he curled into himself.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Billy purred louder, didn’t want Steve apologizing.

-

Steve had named the little cat Diablo.

The first few days were spent with the cat hissing and swiping at him, not letting Steve touch him and pushing expensive vases to the floor.

But the little cat seemed to warm up to him, had stopped doing little asshole things and spent most of it’s time following Steve around.

Robin came over after work one Saturday to meet the little fur ball Steve had been cooing about for weeks.

“He’s really cute, Steve.” Diablo did not like Robin, was curled in Steve’s lap, glaring at her. “Even if he hates me.”

“He doesn’t hate you. It took him a few days to trust me.” He scratched the little cat behind it’s ears.

“Billy hasn’t been in Family Video in a few weeks.” The cat perked up at her sentence. Steve shifted it over to rub at it’s belly.

“Yeah. I know.” Diablo purred. “I don’t know what to tell you, Rob. I don’t think he feels like that about me.” Diablo twisted around, curling back into Steve’s lap, looking at him intensely, pawing at his chest.

“He flirted with you all summer at Scoops, Dingus.”

“I think he was just being an ass.”

“I know a closet case when I see one, Popeye. Hence why we’re friends.” Diablo stopped pawing at Steve, trotted to sniff at Robin’s knee, looking at her with big eyes.

“I’m not a closet case.”

“You were when we met.” Diablo swatted at her shin, staring at her. “He’s like a little person. He’s so expressive.” Diablo headbutted her knee. She smiled at him before looking back to Steve. “I mean, when I met you, you were fully lying to yourself.”

“I wasn’t really, I mean I always knew I like guys, I just never really acted on it.” Diablo came zooming back to him, batting at him, making little yowling noises.

“You didn’t let yourself act on it.”

“It just didn’t really matter. I like girls and don’t wanna get fucking killed for being a queer.” He picked up the screeching cat, holding him up to eye level. “What’s up with you? Do you hate me because you know I’m queer?” Diablo licked his nose. Steve smiled at him. “I’ll take that as a no.”

-

Steve Harrington liked guys, and by the sounds of it, he liked Billy.

Billy had tried to get as much info outta the two, but it was hard when he couldn’t use actual words.

He had thought Steve and Robin had been dating, had scratched at her a few times, only feeling bad when she waxed poetic about Heather Holloway, and Steve called her a useless lesbian.

But Steve was an option, if he ever figured out how in the fuck he was gonna get back to himself.

He ended up sneaking into Steve’s car when he went to work the next day, screaming at him from the backseat, making Steve jump and swerve a little, swearing as he pulled Billy into his lap.

He brought Billy into work with him, placing him in a cardboard box under the counter so he could reach down and scratch his ears.

“Why’d you bring the little demon?” Robin’s hand was rubbing at his neck.

“He snuck into my car at started fucking screaming at me.” Robin laughed.

“What a little hellbeast.”

Billy sat curled in the box, quiet as he listened to Steve work. He was asleep when the box started shifting.

“What the fuck is this cat doing here?” Billy blinked up to see Keith, Steve’s jackass boss.

“Shit, sorry Keith, He’s mine. He followed me to work today.”

“Jesus, Harrington. You can’t bring your pets in here.” He went to get Billy out of the box. Billy swiped at him, scratching his wrist. “Fuck,  get your asshole cat outta here.” Steve reached in with gentle hands, picking up Billy, hissing and spitting.

“I’m sorry, Keith-”

“Just get out, Harrington. I am so fucking close to firing you.” Billy went still.

Steve rushed out to his car, placing Billy in the passenger seat as he pulled out. Billy made a little noise at him, trying to get in his lap. Steve pushed him away.

“I am hanging on by a fucking thread with Keith. You can’t do that shit.” Billy made a sad sound. Steve sniffed.

“I just, I’m so shit at everything. Robin got me that job, and I almost ruin it all the goddamn time. It’s pretty much the best I can fucking get.” Steve let Billy slowly climb into his lap.

“And just, if I lose this job my dad’ll kick me out, and then I’m really fucked.” Billy pressed his head into Steve’s stomach, nuzzling into him. “Thanks for that. You’re kinda sweet sometimes.” Billy meowed back at him.

-

Steve had another nightmare that night, had curled around Billy and cried into his fur.

Billy had licked softly at his cheeks. The tears there. He wanted Steve to feel safe and happy.

These few weeks living with him, he had learned so much about Steve Harrington, learned that he was weird and sweet and lonely and sad and loud and so much more than Billy ever thought he’d be.

He had come to really care about Steve, maybe even, maybe even love him-

His vision went out again. He couldn’t feel his body anymore as his mind shorted out. His ears were buzzing when he came back to himself, breathing heavily.

“Um, what?” He turned over, saw Steve looking at him with huge eyes. “What the fuck.”

“Hey, Pretty Boy. I was the cat.” Steve shot outta bed.

“What the fuck is going on? What do you mean you were the cat? Why are you naked?” Billy looked down, putting a pillow over his dick.

“I was an asshole to this girl, and she apparently, apparently like cursed me or something, to be a cat. So I was the cat. I was Diablo.”

“And you, were you like, aware of everything that happened while you were a cat?” His face was red, no doubt thinking about all the little things he had shared about himself in the time.

“Oh yeah, Stevie. I know you pretty well now.” Steve flushed even more. “Know you have a crush on me.”

“I, I do not have a, a crush on you.” Billy raised an eyebrow.

“Would you quit lying to me if I told you I had a crush on you?” Steve opened and closed his mouth a few times.

“Uh, maybe. If you, if you said it again.”

Billy stood up, slinking towards Steve, smirking As Steve looked panicked, eyes darting anywhere that wasn’t Billy.

He pulled Steve’s hips, bringing their bodies flush together. He pressed a wet, open-mouthed kiss to his jaw.

“I’ve got a big fucking crush on you, Pretty Boy.”

Steve lunged, connecting their lips together.

“God, me too. I’m, I like you a lot.” He sighed into their kiss, his arms around Billy’s shoulders.

[artificialqueens]

Tree House Kisses, Chapter 38 (Adorney) - Scorpio and Veronica

A/N: Click here for previous chapters. And thank you so much to @saiphl for the beta help!! XO!

Chapter Summary: The girls spend a summer apart, but then start their senior year, closer than ever.

Chapter 38: Feelings

Courtney’s dad had moved with his girlfriend to Berkeley earlier in the year, and both of her parents unilaterally decided that she should spend the summer with him for some “quality time.” She’d argued, she’d protested, she’d pleaded with Karen, she’d even cried; but in the end she had no choice but to go along with the plan, sullenly packing her things and boarding the train, defeated. Her only solace was that Roy was doing a summer program in Stanford for a month, which meant that at least they could still see each other on the weekends for part of the time she was there.

COURTNEY: JFC I’m gonna be sleeping on a goddamn fold out couch all summer. This is shit.

ADORE: Awww, so sorry, princess. Xx

COURTNEY: Lol, fuck you. You have no idea what this is like

ADORE: That’s true. I haven’t seen my dad for like ten years

COURTNEY: WAH WAH WAHHH YOU ALWAYS HAVE TO WIN

COURTNEY: ;)

ADORE: lol

The truth was, Courtney hadn’t really spent much time with her dad since the divorce. Sometimes it made her sad, thinking about how close they used to be. She tried to keep an open mind, but a big part of her was still angry about him having an affair, turning their lives upside-down, leaving her mom...leaving her.

Adore was right, though. As far as absentee fathers went, things could be much worse. One night, while he sat on the sofa (the one that doubled as the least comfortable bed she ever had) watching TV, Courtney wandered over and sat down next to him.

He looked up from the TV, surprised, a smile spreading across his face.

“Hey, kiddo.”

“Hi.” Courtney shifted slightly, tried to shake the horrible feeling that she was sitting next to a grown man that she barely knew. “Whatcha watching?”

“Just the news...if things go well this year, we can take both the house and the senate,” Peter told her. “And in 2008, that fucking shit-for-brains will finally be done and we can get the White House, too.”

“That would be awesome,” Courtney agreed, letting her head rest on her father’s shoulder. He wasn’t perfect, that was for damn sure...but when it came down to it, she supposed she was lucky to have him.

-

Meanwhile, Adore had gotten a summer job as a counselor at an arts day camp, and soon began spending her days surrounded by loud, attention-seeking child star wannabes. Every day, she came home and collapsed in exhaustion, vowing to never, under any circumstances, ever have children.

COURTNEY: How’s camp?

ADORE: The worst

COURTNEY: I’m sorry

ADORE: It’s all good. How’s the homewrecker?

COURTNEY: Weird

ADORE: Is she teaching you any good stripper moves?

COURTNEY: No, she just like, chain smokes and talks to her birds

ADORE: She has BIRDS?

COURTNEY: Yeah man, I told you. WEIRD

ADORE: What are the birds’ names?

COURTNEY: Something in Russian, I dunno. I just call them Boris and Natasha

ADORE: Lol you’re so corny

COURTNEY: I did meet some pretty cool anarchist guys down the block  

ADORE: What’s their band called?

COURTNEY: Who said they have a band?

ADORE: What’s their band called, Courtney?

COURTNEY: Pussy Whisper

ADORE: LOLOLOLOL

-

COURTNEY: Okay, so...this is going to shock you…

ADORE: ???

COURTNEY: The Pussy Whisper dudes?

ADORE: Oh jeez, what?

COURTNEY: They’re gross

ADORE: Yeah, no shit

COURTNEY: i just really liked what Tristan had to say about late stage capitalism

ADORE: Right

COURTNEY: And Grant said I was smart

ADORE: Well, that was your first clue

COURTNEY: HEY!!!

ADORE: Lol, not because you’re not. Because dudes in a band called “Pussy Whisper” that call you smart are up to some no-good shit

COURTNEY: Right. Ugh

ADORE: Bird lady still a fucking weirdo?

COURTNEY: Yeah. Although she did take me to a yoga class this morning, so that was nice. She’s actually maybe not the most vile person on the planet

ADORE: Awww, look at you, falling in love

COURTNEY: Shut up

-

Once Courtney got over her initial resistance, she had to admit that Berkely was somewhat cool. Certainly more her speed than the bland suburban wasteland she was used to. She spent most of her days wandering around used book stores, head shops, or combing through racks of cute vintage dresses. One afternoon, sunbathing in the backyard of her dad’s apartment building (which was a converted Victorian house that she also had to regretfully admit was pretty charming), she made friends with a very affectionate marmalade-colored kitten. Turned out, the cat belonged to their downstairs neighbor, and soon Courtney found herself fully enchanted with the older woman.

COURTNEY: Okay I found a much better new friend than the PW boys. She’s our downstairs neighbor and she’s like 70 and so cool. She has pink hair and all her clothes are made of hemp. She’s gonna take me to an Iraq War protest on Saturday.

ADORE: Oh jeez. You’re gonna come back with white person dreads, aren’t you?

COURTNEY: lol it’s a nice look

ADORE: IT IS NOT

-

ADORE: Abortion should be legal until the kids are like...12 years old, at least

COURTNEY: Campers getting on your nerves?

ADORE: If I snap, will you visit me in prison?

COURTNEY: Of course! I’ll bake a nail file into a cake for you and everything. XOXO

ADORE: Good cake or some bay area bullshit?

COURTNEY: Gluten free agave-sweetened carob cake, courtesy of Patsy

ADORE: Fuck off

COURTNEY: Don’t insult Patsy. She’s been protesting since Vietnam, she’s awesome.

-

ADORE: HEY CHEERLEADER THIS IS WILLAM! YOU’RE A SLUT AND WE MISS YOU!

ADORE: AND I’M VERY DISAPPOINTED THAT YOU DIDN’T FUCK THE PUSSY WHISPERERS

COURTNEY: Sorry bunny

ADORE: He’s high

COURTNEY: And you?

ADORE: Meeee? Whaaaaaat?

ADORE: Yes lol

COURTNEY: Lol, have fun

-

COURTNEY: Would it be really bad if I liked Katya?

ADORE: Omg are you gonna start calling her Mommy?

COURTNEY: Shut up!

COURTNEY: But seriously...it would be like, disloyal to my mom if I liked her, right?

ADORE: Are you gonna start adopting birds?

COURTNEY: No, I just think she’s kind of funny sometimes. I’m a terrible daughter

ADORE: Well, your mom IS the one who sent you up there for the summer. So…

COURTNEY: True

-

ADORE: So. Something happened last night that was...uh…

ADORE: Very

ADORE: ...

COURTNEY: ???

ADORE: Give me a minute...I’m processing...

COURTNEY: Tell me!

ADORE: Well, we started in Violet’s basement, drinking, and I’m not sure how but somehow it ended up being like 10 people

COURTNEY: Aww, was Violet sad I wasn’t there? Did she cry?

ADORE: lol, totally

COURTNEY: So what happened???

ADORE: Yeah, so...I went out to the backyard to smoke and Trin came and like...I’m not sure exactly how it happened, but I think I made out with her

COURTNEY: WHOA

ADORE: Yeah

COURTNEY: Is she gay???

ADORE: No, definitely not. We were just like, drunk and high

COURTNEY: Is everything cool between you??

ADORE: Yeah, I think so. We were laughing about it this morning. But like, I still feel a little bad.

COURTNEY: Why do you feel bad?

ADORE: I mean, I dunno. I don’t want people to think that I’m like, some predatory asshole, you know?

COURTNEY: No one would think that

ADORE: My track record might disagree

COURTNEY: The only thing your track record shows is you’re a ho

ADORE: WOW

COURTNEY: I WAS KIDDING!!!!

ADORE: lol, I know

COURTNEY: XOXOXOXO

-

As much as Courtney tried, and as much as she made her peace with her summer surroundings, by the time August rolled around, she began to get increasingly homesick. Missing her mom, her bedroom, even Grandma Muriel. But especially, missing Adore.

COURTNEY: I really miss you

COURTNEY: Like so much

ADORE: Me too

COURTNEY: No like SO much

ADORE: Are you high?

COURTNEY: No, are you?

ADORE: A little lol

COURTNEY: I’m not high. I just love you.

ADORE: Aww, thanks babe

-

“DORY!!” Courtney squealed, practically leaping from her car the second she pulled into the driveway. She’d texted Adore from her last stop for gas, but she was thrilled to see her best friend actually waiting for her.

She wrapped Adore into a tight hug, her excitement causing her to pepper Adore’s entire face with wet kisses.

“Hi, okay, stop it,” Adore giggled. “Nice car, by the way.”

“Oh yeah, I know, it’s pretty great. Peter gets a gold star for that one.” Courtney glanced back at the car, her dad’s old Honda Accord, shaking her new bangs out of her face. He’d surprised her with the keys just last week, and it had almost made her forgive him for leaving in the first place...almost. “It was kind of scary to do that whole drive alone, though. I’m very thankful to have made it in one piece.”

“Me too,” Adore said, with a grin that told Courtney she was home. “Now that you’re back, it’s gonna be a fuckin’ party.”

Courtney laid a head on her shoulder, sighing happily.

“You’re going to Darienne’s goodbye party on Wednesday, right?”

“Yeah, of course. Omigod! Dory! I wanted to make those peanut butter cupcakes that she loves, but you know I’m just absolute shit at decorating, can you help?”

“What on earth makes you think I’d be good at cupcake decorating?” Adore laughed.

“I dunno, you’re better at art than me,” Courtney said. “Plus, it’ll just be more fun with you.”

Adore pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Count me in.”  

-

School was going to be starting back up soon, and as Adore looked around the party at her friends, she couldn’t help but feel a little ambivalent. Summer had just been so nice, and having that small taste of freedom made her long to be done with school altogether.

Tonight, there was a big group at Pearl’s house--her usual friends as well as a bunch of the neighborhood kids, enjoying the pool and the warm evening air. Violet, Fame and Trinity lounged in the hot tub with April, watching the sun set. Pearl was standing at the grill, living her butch fantasy as she cooked up food for her guests, swatting Bob away with as he peered over her shoulder, trying to “help.”

It was a little bittersweet--Darienne had already left for Pepperdine a few weeks earlier, and Jamin for Cal Poly. Even though they weren’t as close as they used to be, it still felt strange, somehow, for them to be missing. Hell, it was even weird for Alyssa to be gone, the loudmouth head cheerleader now torturing people at UC San Diego, probably already sorority president.

A handful of people were dancing, including Courtney and Willam, twirling until they were dizzy and laughing.

“Ugh, I don’t want school to start!” Willam suddenly whined, reflecting Adore’s feelings exactly.

“I know, but this year we’re coming back as seniors, and we’re gonna rule the school,” Courtney said, imitating the line from Grease perfectly.

“Oh really? You think you’re Rizzo?” Adore challenged her.

“Why can’t I be Rizzo?” she demanded.

“Bitch, you are Sandy and you know it,” Adore laughed, grabbing a beer and sitting down on the back steps.

“I can be Rizzo if I want! Fuck you!”

“Yeah, lesbian! How dare you put cheerleader in a box! She can be whatever she wants!” Willam cried.

“That's right,” Courtney added, “I mean, I did spend all summer hanging out with a prostitute. What did you do? Day Camp?”

“I was a counselor,” Adore replied, laughing. She reached into the cooler and pulled out a bottle. “Here, have another drink. And I thought Katya was a stripper, not a prostitute.”

“You don't know her. It's a very blurry line,” Courtney explained, taking the offered wine cooler.

Willam grabbed Courtney’s hand and pulled her away, spinning her around and around. “Less talking, more dancing!”

Adore shook her head, watching them with a smile, lighting up a joint. Roy sat down beside her--the last of his class, since UCLA didn’t start for a few more weeks.

“Hey, Delano. How ya doing, man?”

“Good...bro.”

Roy flashed some dimples at her, then just sat for a minute, unusually quiet, as they both watched their friends dancing like fools. Willam dipped Courtney low to the ground and she shrieked and giggled.

“God, she’s so fucking beautiful,” he said.

Adore wasn’t sure if he was talking to her or himself. She nodded, leaning against the banister and sighing slightly.

When Roy spoke again, it was quiet. “I know, you know. How lucky I am.”

Adore looked at him, considering her reply. Finally, she just nodded and said, “Good.”

Roy gave her another smile.

“Make sure she stays outta trouble while I’m away.”

“I think I’m probably the least qualified person for that job,” Adore laughed, then held out the joint.

“Thanks, I’m cool.”

“Debatable,” Adore retorted, taking another hit.

Roy shook his head, chuckling.

“I’m gonna miss you too, Delano.”

“Aww...shut up.”

-

On the first day of their senior year, Courtney and Adore walked out of their fourth period economics class together, giggling over Laganja’s unfortunate new haircut.

“I feel bad for saying so, but it’s just so...”

“Hideous?” Adore supplied, and Courtney giggled some more.

“Yeah. Poor thing. Although it’s hard to say whether her hair is more or less tragic than Mr. Sutton’s awkwardness. He’s like a baby deer.”

“I know! But like, imagine trying to get the respect of students who are pretty much your age,” Adore laughed.

“How old do you think he is, anyway?”

“Uh, I don’t know, but I’m pretty sure he graduated with Kim and Angie. I think I remember him from when Angie did show choir.”

Courtney grabbed onto Adore’s arm, eyes wide.

“Omigod, you’re right! I knew he looked familiar!” she exclaimed.

It wasn’t until they were halfway down the hill that Adore noticed Courtney still walking with her. She hadn’t split off to go sit with the neighborhood kids like past years, simply walked beside her towards the oak tree, where Trinity and Willam already sat, sword-fighting with breadsticks.

“Are you...planning to join us?” Adore asked curiously, and Courtney bit her lip.

“Is that okay? I mean...it’s just a little weird without Roy and Darienne, so I thought…you can say no if-”

“Of course it’s okay!” Adore pulled her in for a side hug. “Everyone loves you, you know that.”

“Everyone?” Courtney asked, one eyebrow nearly to her hairline.

“Almost everyone.” Adore smiled ruefully. “And anyway, I want you here, so she can just deal with it.”

As it turned out, Adore was right. Everyone welcomed Courtney enthusiastically with open arms. And even Violet was unusually cool about it, containing her disapproval to some muttered asides to Fame, who promptly thumped her on the shoulder every time, akin to bopping a puppy on the nose with a newspaper.

Courtney didn’t seem to mind either way, cheerfully trading barbs with Willam and letting Fame “fix” her eyebrows, which were deemed “just too pale.”

“Are your pubes blonde, too?” Willam asked curiously, and Trinity began choking on her sandwich from laughter.

“Gross,” Courtney said, wrinkling her nose.  

“Actually, are they? I’m kind of curious,” Trinity said.

“Come on, cheerleader, just tell us!” Willam urged.

“You know, I quit cheerleading almost a year ago,” Courtney said.

“So?”

“He still calls me ‘New Girl,’” Pearl explained.

“Why are you stalling? Show! Me! Your! Pussy! Hairs!” Willam said, and Fame put her whole head in her hands, letting out a horrified groan before going back to Courtney’s eyebrows.  

“Careful, Bill, or you might get what you wish for,” Courtney sang, staring him down. “You really wanna see my pussy?”

“Uhh...no. Well, maybe...but no. Or…” Willam’s brow furrowed.

“Shit, you broke his little gay brain,” Pearl said, laughing.

“Omigod, that’s so much better!” Fame sat back on her heels, holding up a compact so that Courtney could see her new defined eyebrows.

“Oh wow, that is better! Thank you!”

After snapping the compact shut and handing it back to Fame, Courtney caught Adore’s eye, both of their faces melting into a grin. As Adore buried her smile into her sandwich, she couldn’t help but think about what a change it was from last year.

Maybe a sign of good things to come...or maybe the calm before the storm.

[thomas-reynolds]

CAUGHT UP // 001

WHO: Griffin x Jamie x Thomas WHERE: The apartment. TW/NOTES: Nsfw. Griff and Tommy-boy come home early from the bar thanks to Griffin’s heavy drinking, and catch Jamie in the act with some dude. Things get heated and not in the fun way, and they end up a little worse for wear.

JAMIE ::

"My place doesn't work." Those four fateful words would normally leave Jamie shrugging and moving on to the next guy. It was a night out, after all, and he didn't have to take home the first hot guy he found. But this one was so hot. Taller than him, but just slightly. Bright blue eyes and a come and get me grin. Maybe it was more the attitude than the looks, and maybe James had downed one too many gold rushes. Maybe it was the fact that it was the beginning of summer, and hot was taking on multiple meanings here. James couldn't put his finger on what the hell it was that made him say these bolds words, but he heard himself saying them all the same. "Let's go back to my place." A husky whisper in the other guy's ear, and the two of them tumbled out of the club and into a cab.

Jamie lost his shirt at the front door, a solid thud echoing through the place as he was backed against it, and then a moan as his hookup- David? Daniel? kissed along his neck, his hands moving lower. "Don't leave a mark." He was already living dangerously. Odds were that Thomas and Griffin wouldn't randomly end up coming back home, but you could never be too careful. Now that he'd gotten that one stipulation out of the way, it was all too easy to let go and focus on the feelings. This would only ever happen once, and since he was already damned anyway, he might as well make the most of it.

More clothes were shed as they made their way to a bedroom. He didn't stop to shut the door, his hands too busy roaming Daryl's body to think of such a mundane detail. He didn't need to prepare himself much before he situated himself on top, sinking down onto the beautiful man's cock and thoroughly enjoying the view. He was close when everything went south. It was nice, having the place to himself, not needing to bother with being quiet. He was breathing hard by this point, choosing expletives that he wouldn't be caught dead saying in church instead of accidentally moaning the wrong name.

GRIFFIN ::

Getting kicked out of a bar was not new for Griffin Rollins, but getting kicked out just after nine o’clock was impressive. Or embarrassing, if he had any shame left, but he didn’t seem to, not with the way Thomas’ lecture was just rolling off his back. He could probably recite the speech back to him at this point - y’know, when he could string a sentence together without slurring. It probably meant something that the barkeep knew to call Thomas - his roommate, yes; his buddy, sure; but decidedly not a loved one, not his significant other - but that was the nice thing about being this hammered: Griffin could blissfully ignore all the flashing neon signs from the universe that he was, in fact, still a fuck-up.

That same universe was spinning by the time the men reached their front door, the dark-haired one making a valiant effort to retrieve his keys only for his hand to be impatiently batted away. As they stepped into their place, Griffin moaned out a curse - or, he thought he did, but it didn’t sound like himself. And it was coming from the wrong direction.

His eyes flashed over to Thomas’ face, trying to decipher what the fuck was going on, and he looked as far from happy as he had when he’d showed up at the bar, but now the daggers weren’t being directing at Griffin. The blonde was looking past him, and it took a carefully-executed turn to discover what he was looking at: a naked hottie riding a cock in Pearson’s bed. Griffin’s liquor-fogged mind took what felt like an eon to realize that was bad, for two reasons. 1) The naked hottie was not Thomas’ sister, and 2) The naked hottie was Pearson.

Griffin’s fingers immediately fisted in the front of Thomas’ shirt, partially in an attempt to keep him exactly where he was, and partially to keep himself upright. “Hey, hey, Tommy, hey -”

THOMAS ::

Getting the call shouldn’t have come as any sort of surprise. After all, Thomas took more phone calls regarding Griffin’s health and well-being than he’s sure Griffin’s own mother ever took. Picked him up from enough bars, enough gutters, even football practice when they were teens and his mom conveniently ‘forgot’ him at the school. Typically, Thomas wore the eternal baby-sitter badge like a medal of honor - used it to badger and annoy Griffin into some semblance of shame when he was even a modicum of sober. Now though, when Thomas himself had been getting his feet wet at the bar, a young brunette with too dark lipstick and overly straightened hair, but big enough breasts to be worth his effort practically hanging off of his arm - now it was annoying.

Even when it was more tolerable, Thomas didn’t let Griffin think otherwise anyway, but still. The point still stands, he thought, staring at the doors of a crusty old bar that screamed ‘burn your clothes when you leave here’ and definitely had enough bikers and hookers outside to make your grandmother faint on impact. Convincing the bouncer to not knock his friend’s head in was simple enough, it was actually the waitress whom Griffin palmed on the way out that seemed to cause the most trouble - and by the time they were on the way back to the apartment, drunken hands pulling at the collar of Thomas’ shirt (and stretching out the goddamned hole), Thomas had almost begun his ranting on auto pilot.

A little, “You’re a real piece of shit, you know that? Like a fucking gutter rat. What the fuck were you drinking anyway? You smell like fucking paint-thinner --” The words died on Thomas’ lips, cheeks, ears and chest heating in a way that would make him worry that he’s finally going six feet under (and maybe he is, if his blood pressure could go any higher), and it reminded him of the time he got incredibly crossfaded at Brittany Deering’s party back in 10th grade and blacked out in her bathtub for a few hours, barely avoiding being puked and pissed on by fellow students in the same position as him. It took him entirely too quickly, Thomas’ body moving on its own accord, Griffin’s hands pawing at him like a cheap stripper, and Pearson’s wide open door looked like a gateway to Heaven, or at the very least a convenience store with the automatic slider-doors jammed.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Thomas’ voice didn’t sound like his own, but he supposed that it was difficult to even hear properly with all of the blood rushing through his ears, “I will kill you.” The thump in his chest had nothing to do with the fact that his best friend was clearly cheating on his sister with some...some fruity weirdo with floppy hair and stupidly blue eyes, but he was bound and determined to ignore that little fact - ignore the voice that said just tell him already and instead, encouraged the one that said, he’s got a nice neck for strangling.

“This is what you do when we’re not here? Fool around with discount Matthew McConaughey?” It definitely wasn’t a snarl, if you asked Thomas, but the clenching fist at his side, the one not hanging onto Griffin’s half-dead body, promised something lethal.

JAMIE ::

“Fuuuuck-“ turned into “Oh, fuck” entirely too quickly for Jamie’s liking. He was off that dick quicker than he’d moved in a long time. Hastily looking over his shoulder and seeing Thomas’ face twisted in rage should have killed his hard on in an instant, but it didn’t. He’d blame that on how hot Damon was and how far along into their hookup they’d been. “Fuck off Thomas, you two were supposed to be out, anyway!” He stepped into his underwear quickly, pulling on a pair of pants hastily as well. “What the fuck?” Danny was dazed, understandably confused that all of the sudden their hookup for two was now a foursome. Then, “Is that your boyfriend?”

“No!” James replied immediately, forcing a look of disgust at the mere thought of it. Or at least, his best attempt. “You need to go.” There was no salvaging this hookup, unfortunately, and he was just glad that he’d managed to make it to his own room so sweatpants were readily available.  Damian had apparently gotten the point and was quickly getting redressed as well. Thomas was still mad, and honestly it was probably best to just let him be mad instead of trying to placate him. Trying that would only make it worse. Nah, he was gonna let the anger run its course and then let it go. But then it hit him, and all the color drained from his face. “You can’t tell her.” The thought of that happening made him want to throw up, and he moved a little closer, eyes wide and a little scared even as he tried to hide it. “It was nothing. Just blowing off some steam, and it doesn’t even count, you wouldn’t have known because you two were supposed to be out!” His gaze turned accusingly to Griffin for a second, and it didn’t take long to piece together what had happened. “And besides, Griffin is drunk, clearly we have bigger problems to worry about.” Yeah, pull focus. Dawson could sneak out while the two of them had a serious talk with Griffin about substance use. Jamie’s gaze flashed to Griffin again. He couldn’t decide which one of them to look at at this point. Griffin was most likely to take his side here, so he probably shouldn’t have just thrown him under the bus.

GRIFFIN :: 

Griffin managed a small, two-finger salute to Jamie’s date as he passed by, clothing in his arms - or maybe it looked like he was putting a gun to his own temple, which also seemed applicable. His eyes followed the stranger’s naked ass until it disappeared into the bathroom, just in time to detect his name tumbling into this shitshow. “‘m always drunk,” he shot back in what he genuinely believed to be a solid defense. “Dsn’t count.”

God, he just wanted to be on a horizontal surface, even if it was Jamie’s bed of iniquity, and he considered making a move toward it until his last brain cell insisted that his deadweight was likely the only thing keeping Thomas anchored in place. If he could just defuse this disaster of a situation, he knew the blonde would get him into his own bed. Or the couch. Or at least onto the kitchen floor with a towel for a blanket.

“Tommy, Tommy, TommyTommyTommy, listen ... listen t’ me ... your sisterdsn’t have a dick!” he offered, finally releasing the other man’s shirt in order to wave his hands in a messy what’re-ya-gonna-do gesture. By his incredibly flawed, alcoholic logic, if Pearson wanted to fuck a dude - and understandably so, dudes being as hot as they were - he couldn’t go to Thomas’ sister. No harm, no ... whatever.

THOMAS ::

Thomas steadily ignored his own feline-reminiscent hiss as Hunky Brewster walk-of-shame’d his way out of their apartment, passing it off as some sort of controlling his temper, or silently letting out a prayer to the God he didn’t believe in but heard enough about from Jamie. The heat turned to ice in the pit of his glorious, god-like abdomen after every single ‘Tommy’ that left his friend’s mouth, “Griff, shut your fucking mouth -- and you,” He practically spit, pulling both himself and Griffin closer to the blonde in the bedroom like a boat and a buoy toward the middle of a storm, “It’s not cheeeeeeating as long as you don’t get caaaaught.” Thomas mocked his friend as the storm seemed to settle inside of his own chest, thunder and lightning begging to be let out through some sort of violence.

“I’m going to kick your ass - and then, I’m going to call my sister, and she’s going to come over here and kick your ass, you stupid, useless moron.” The dark feelings seemed to bubble and burst all in one quick second, and if Thomas could have taken a breath and really looked at the situation for what it was, and the jealousy that seemed to eat at him, the conflict likely could have been avoided. But the thick stench of sweat and alcohol from Griffin, and the same aroma from Jamie’s room seemed to override any sort of consideration that Thomas could have provided. And with that, he dropped Griffin like a sack of fucking potatoes and darted for Jamie’s face, hissing when his hit landed. Thomas was too busy cradling his knuckles to know if he’d even hit his damned target, but the swelling would be worth it if he’d gotten to cause Jamie some sort of agony he’d have to live for the next few days too. Once the blind rage passed and Thomas was left shaking, clutching his wrist like grandmother’s prized fucking pearls, he finally bit words for Griffin instead, “I don’t care that my sister doesn’t have a goddamned dick - she’s - he spouts all of this holier-than-thou bullshit that he doesn’t even follow! He just committed sodomized, pre-marital sex! And he wasn’t even on top!”

The words felt hysterical, and the laughter that left Thomas wasn’t one filled with any sort of joy; it was hollow and empty, or maybe not empty, but only filled with envy and anger. He darted for Jamie again, hissing between his teeth.

JAMIE ::

James wasn’t sure when he realized that there wouldn’t be any coming back from this. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Thomas this pissed, and that was saying something. Hell, in the past, he’d helped talk Thomas down from being this pissed at someone else. Now the fury was totally directed at him, and he fought the instinct to move back as Thomas dragged himself and Griffin closer. He wasn’t a coward. “It’s not cheating if I don’t even know his name!” It was. It absolutely was, but he’d learned from the best how to navigate with a broken moral compass. This was quite literally a situation of how what someone didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them. He’d done this for years, from hurried hookups behind the bleachers to an empty dugout, sneaking out at midnight and meeting someone he’d used to go to Sunday school with. It was a sin, sure, but he wasn’t gay. He went to confession after every incidence, and he was forgiven. It was just that simple.

“Don’t,” he warned, his expression going from worried to murderous. “Tell her, Thomas, and I swear to God.” Might as well add taking the Lord’s name in vain. Today couldn’t possibly be any worse. In that moment, the bubble burst. It occurred to him briefly that Thomas could have set Griffin down nicely, but then it was too late as he felt pain exploding across his cheek. Thomas packed a pretty decent punch, even if he didn’t much look like it. For the moment, he resigned himself to it, didn’t hit back even though his fist balled up by his side and he wanted to. He’d stumbled back after the initial punch, but he regained his footing. And then Thomas was talking again, listing off all the big sins, sins that were meant to be kept in private, in the confessional booth, just him and the priest. That alone made him itch with rage, but he held back. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he didn’t really want to hurt Thomas. But then he laughed and it all went to hell. He surged forward at the same time Thomas did, and they collided. “Fuck. You!” He threw the next punch, hoping to land a matching shiner, putting his full force behind it. He didn’t care anymore. “It doesn’t count as pre-marital,” he growled, “if it’s not a possibility to marry.” He still couldn’t make himself use the right pronoun.

GRIFFIN ::

Now, granted, he had been wanting to lie down, but hurtling to the hardwood without any warning hadn’t exactly been ideal. Griffin laid there, still more or less grateful to be off his feet, listening to an argument that probably would have seemed a fuckton more intense if it hadn’t sounded so underwater. He even missed the first punch, arm thrown over his eyes as he willed the room to knock it off with the spinning - but he did here the telltale sound of two bodies colliding, and forced himself up onto his elbows. And then onto his knees. And then onto his feet.

“Hey, hey, hey, hey, hey, hey -“ The man had exactly one word in his vocabulary at the moment, which he repeated as he stumbled over to a mound of limbs made up of his two best friends. He was already pushing it, with the walking, but the attempt to pull one of the guys off the other almost knocked him right back of his feet. He survived, though - until a rogue fist that may or may not have been meant for him caught him right in the gut. He reeled back, taking one, two, three steps towards the door before doubling-over and vomiting in the corner of Jamie’s room.

Well, it had been inevitable. At least now that part of the night was over. “HEY.” There he was. Still just as unsteady on his feet, but with renewed frustration, Griffin threw himself back into the mix.

THOMAS ::

"You probably wish you could! I'm pretty fantastic!" Thomas screamed over the man, attempting to shove Jamie, and petulantly ignoring Griffin until the guy practically took an arrow for him, projectile vomiting in the same space as them. "Nice fucking job - punching the fucking drunk. Want to talk to God about that too? You like things in your ass and you hit your best friend!" 

Griffin managed to get between them and Thomas couldn't help the muttered, "You fucking reek, dude-" that left him, his arm reaching out to swing wildly at Jamie over the other man's shoulder. How ridiculous, they must have looked, three grown men throwing punches and shouting expletives at one another in the middle of the night. If the neighbors banging on the wall were anything to go by, they probably agreed with him. 

"Don't touch me - don't you fucking," Thomas hissed as a spare slap managed to get him right in the nose, rust immediately dripping over the bottom portion of his face, "I'm going to tell her so fucking hard, you son of a bitch," He whined around the hand cupping his nose and mouth, practically shielding himself with Griffin's larger body. "I can't stand you two - I - it smells like shit in here," The babbling continued, even though he really couldn't smell anything with his nose full of blood clots.

JAMIE ::

“I was on top!” Jamie insisted, shoving back at Thomas. He really hadn’t intended to punch Griffin, but he was the one who’d ended up throwing himself in between the two of them. What did he think was going to happen. “I was aiming for you, asshole!” His blood was really boiling right now, and Jesus, how had this night managed to go so horribly wrong? It had started out hot and fun and devolved into, well, whatever this shit show was.

“Oh, come on,” he groaned as he heard Griffin lose his dinner in the corner of his room. Add that to the list of shit that he didn’t want to deal with. He’d be cleaning it up, of course, because Griffin clearly wasn’t in any state to, and he didn’t want his room to smell like puke while he waited for Griffin to sober up and handle it. The one last slap was admittedly satisfying, but he had to calm down. He had bigger problems on his hands. He had to convince Thomas not to tell her.

It occurred to him way too quickly what he had to do, the only way he was going to appeal to Thomas’ sense of reason. “Fine!” He shouted numbly. “Tell her. But who else do you think is going to be with her? We break up, she ends up an old fucking spinster for the rest of her life. Is that what you want for her? Huh?” He gave one more shove to prove his point. “You tell her, and you break her fucking heart. And for what? Because I’m getting a little on the side that she can’t give me? I’m the perfect boyfriend, Thomas. She won’t get better than me, and you know it.”

GRIFFIN ::

Somehow managing to dodge what could have been a really unfortunate elbow, Griffin was perfectly content with standing between his roommates now that things had boiled over and resolved into a simmer; still hot, still able to burn, but not quite as active. The shouting, he was pretty desensitized to. Between the three of them, someone was perpetually shouting at the other two, or two were shouting at each other, or two were shouting at one (he was usually the one, and he was usually inebriated). It was a special occasion when the trio were all shouting, though, which is normally what got the neighbors involved. Griffin reached over to land his fist on the wall three or four times, acknowledging their neighbor’s participation.

His back was turned to Thomas, who, though taller, was probably less of a real physical threat. As a result, he missed the bloody nose, but he did catch sight of Jamie’s split lip and the scarlet mark that was going to bloom into one hell of a bruise. “Better tell ‘er ya got mugged,” he suggested, finally throwing over a glance over his shoulder to survey the damage that was Thomas’ face. “Botha you. Ah, fuck, are you bleedinon my shirt?!”

Griffin was quiet for the rest of Jamie’s tirade, mostly because this was not his fight, but also because he was on both of their sides, so far as thinking the other was a royal fucking asshole. Kate was the closest thing he had to a sister, and he didn’t love the idea of her getting fucked over, but he would have been smart enough to not let an asshole like James anywhere near her to start with. And furthermore, he’d mean what he’d said, inarticulate as it may have been; monogamy was a societal construct, sexuality was a spectrum, and this was probably the best case scenario for both of them, really. Kate got to seriously level up in the boyfriend department, and Jamie got a doting woman on his arm for the sake of appearances.

“I think,” he opined on a big sigh, running a hand through his hair as though he was going to lay down some actual wisdom - but that wasn’t his brand. “I think that we should get nachos.”

THOMAS ::

Clicking his tongue, Thomas swished the copper around in his mouth, glaring daggers at his roommate. He probably looked like he'd been bobbing for apples in fake blood at this point, but it felt oddly satisfying to look a little deranged compared to his normal well-kempt state. "Should I let her be with a cheater and a liar anyway? Yeah, real fucking smart, asshole --" Even with Griffin's knocking effectively breaking the tension, the neighbors yelling back through the wall, there was something still boiling under the surface. 

Something volatile, something that went by the name Jade. 

"You don't need any nachos," He murmured, somewhat numb, yet manic. Auto-pilot had taken over, his palm running over his face, and Thomas wiped the mess on the back of Griffin's shirt. Eyes never leaving Jamie's, Thomas slowly slipped forward face impassive, blank. "One more thing," Oddly calm, Thomas reached out with a gentle, blood-smeared hand and laid the palm of it on Jamie's shoulder. He let the moment settle, let the silence take over for a moment, until it was bordering on confusing, before throwing himself forward and headbutting the man in turn, immediate pain blossoming behind his forehead, and spraying them both with his now-unclotted nose. "Bitch," he snarled under the waterfall of blood, before groaning and taking a hasty step back toward his drunken friend, ready to use him as a shield again if need be.

JAMIE ::

"Why, so you can throw 'em up in a different part of my room?" He usually had the decency to at least make it to a communal space, and yeah, James was still a little pissed that he needed to be taken home at all when the two of them had planned to be out and about for the night. It was a valiant effort, trying to get the two of them back on the same side so they could stop with the arguing, but deep down, Jamie knew this wasn't the kind of fight that Thomas would just get over. He'd fucked up, big time, and now instead of facing the music, he was doubling down. It had all seemed so innocent, harmless even, when it was just him and the flavor of the night. If what's his name that started with a D hadn't been so fucking hot, maybe this whole thing could have been avoided.

He ventured a glance at Thomas, partially hating himself for the fact that he'd messed up such a pretty face, but a small little part of himself was satisfied at the damage done. Served him right. How fucking hard would it have been to just turn around and go somewhere else for ten minutes? By that point, the hookup would have been kicked out, and they could all pretend that it had never happened. Jamie could have been blissfully ignorant, and honestly, that was one of the most underrated states a person could be in.

When Thomas put a hand on his shoulder, he tried to keep his expression neutral. As much as he hated to admit it, that hand on his shoulder had grounded him many times in the past, and its presence was all tied up with feelings of comfort and safety, feelings he definitely wasn't getting just now. Sure as shit, next came the sucker punch in the form of a headbutt, and the "Ow!" was almost equal parts pain and surprise. "Asshole!" he groaned, and he couldn't even get to him without Griff getting involved again. "Griffin, just get out of here. This is between me and him, and some of us can't take a hit." Unfortunately for him, all of the hits were starting to take a toll.

GRIFFIN ::

“Ahhrgh, God damn it,” he growled as he felt Thomas’ hand smear his bodily fluids down his back, rolling his shoulders in discomfort before yanking his shirt off, rolling it into a ball and tossing it out into the hall. At least the blonde’s shirt was just as fucked, he noticed, attention on the slightly taller man as he approached James. Good, fine, Thomas would say his final piece and then everyone could just - “Fuck!”

Before he could fully process the sudden movement and the accompanying spray of gore, Thomas has slipped behind him and he was staring down Jamie, the youngest of their dysfunctional little crew. “C’mon, Jay, jus-go lay down,” he muttered, intending to give a good-natured push to the kid’s chest, but still intoxicated enough to not know his own strength. The adrenaline he didn’t realize had been streaming through his system turned it into a fully aggressive shove, and Griffin felt the muscles in his shoulders tense as some part of him anticipated retaliation. Blue eyes flashed. “Go ta’ bed, Jamie.”

THOMAS ::

"Suck my dick, Pearson--" Dark pupils dilated at the shove, watching with intense interest. It wasn't often that Jamie and Griffin disagreed wholeheartedly, or at the very least enough to get into a physical altercation. Usually it was Thomas gravitating toward the violence, toward harsh words that stung and bit at insecurities - usually he was the flint and steel basking at either of his friends' heels.

Still, it ignited something in him, to see Griffin shove the younger man, even if unintentionally. While they all agreed to disagree at who really was whose best friend, Thomas liked to believe he was just as much of a fire as he was the glue keeping them together. "You shoved him, man," The words were weirdly tense, odd even to himself, in the quiet of the room. "You gonna take that?" Blue eyes flick to Jamie's.

JAMIE ::

For a second, he considered it. He wasn't going to just lay down, but getting himself to a different room, where they kept the cleaning supplies probably, and doing something else was probably the best way to handle this. But then he shoved him, hard, as if to make sure to drive his point home. "Seriously?" he demanded, his own gaze accusing.

"You're seriously gonna take his side? I woulda come to get you too, and then none of this would have happened." He shoved back, not knowing or caring if Thomas was close enough to catch him. "You go to bed. I have someone else's mess to clean up, as usual." The puke in the corner of the room wasn't going anywhere, after all.

GRIFFIN ::

As he stumbled back into Thomas, Griffin’s ego maintained that he never would have budged if he’d been sober. Maybe it was true, maybe it wasn’t; really, how often was he truly sober, so there wouldn’t be exactly an opportunity to find out. If he’d been sober, he also probably wouldn’t have lunged for Jamie, taking him out at the waist and forcing him to collapse onto his own mattress. “Said, LAY DOWN,” he repeated, scrambling to straddle the man’s hips, and trying to grab at his wrists. “Enough!”

The word was paired with a death glare to Thomas, who may not have been pinned under him, but only because it was physically impossible for Griffin to sedate both of them at once. “You’re both douchebags!”

“I called you,” he muttered after a moment, still slap-fighting James for submission. “You were busy.” It was completely lost on the brunette, of course, that his current position wasn’t terribly different from the way they’d stumbled upon Jamie a few minutes before.

THOMAS ::

Despite the urge to cover his throbbing nose from any more of the crossfire, Thomas stood back from the other two men, eyes dark and irritable. Thomas was the reliable one - was the man you called when you needed someone to get you out of a mess, or pick you up at the bar on a Friday night at 9pm because you were so drunk you couldn't see straight. He was the ultimate provider, the best friend any guy could ask for. Clearly, Griffin appreciated that more than Jamie.

"Am I interrupting?" He blinked his eyelashes prettily, words mocking as they left his lips. His shirt was the only one left on, and it was...incredibly sticky at that point, if he was being honest. With a grimace, he plucked at the collar, hissing when his hand came away sore. He would be bruised and battered, and rough the following day - no amount of cover-up was going to suffice to hide the giant bowling ball of a bruise on his head, or the massive swelling of his nose. He'd talk like a fucking Lollipop Guild member for a week at this rate.

"I went to pick up this clown while you were out here blowing some guy." Thomas stuck his chin up, defiant despite the angry look sent to him by Griffin, who was oddly being the sensible one (not that Thomas would ever admit that. To anyone. Ever.)

JAMIE ::

James was honestly taken aback by Griffin's sudden lunge in his general direction. He was stupidly effective for being drunk, and Jamie wanted to be mad about it, but he was suddenly distracted by how Griffin was just on top of him like this. He blamed that on the surprise of it all as well. Griffin never would have gotten him into this position if James had seem him coming.

Ignoring the insult, he frowned when Griffin mentioned that he had called him. "Well, what the hell." He could have sworn he would have noticed a phone call from his best friend, but apparently hookup's dick game was too strong. Usually he was much more reliable than this. "Shut the fuck up, Thomas," he said, and the only reason that Griffin was still on top of him was because he didn't want to hurt him on accident. Again.

His face hurt and he wanted to either drink or take some ibuprofen or both and clean up the fucking mess that was still in the corner of his room. "Christ, get off me, Griffin." Why was he the one being restrained instead of Thomas? Thomas started this shit. He gave a considering expression before going for Griffin's ticklish spot instead, hoping the sudden distraction would give him some leeway to get out from under him and back toward his original target who couldn't keep his mouth shut to save his own damn life. "I didn't blow him, I was on fucking top!"

GRIFFIN ::

If he’d been able to read the other man’s thoughts, he probably would have chuckled, the low one that was particularly disarming when it was paired with his trademark sideways smirk. Sure, they’d blame it on the “surprise” and not the decade of running tackle drills before and after school, five days a week. Drunk as he was, muscle memory was a hell of a thing.

That, and puking up a stomach full of bourbon.

“Wash up, look like a fuckin’ horror movie,” Griffin ordered in Thomas’ general direction, not moving a muscle, not just yet. If the two of them were going to lunge at each other again, he could sit right there all night - or at least until the hazy, spinny kind of sleep that went along with being this sloshed came to claim him. “You, jus’ stop talking,” he muttered, quieter considering that James was only so far away from him. “Nobody cares ‘fya sucked a dick, Pearson.”

When he eventually slid from the younger man’s waist, Griffin moaned in relief at the feel of a mattress beneath him, bribing his body to move with the promise that if he stretched out just the slightest bit, he’d finally be able to close his eyes. “Why’s yer bed so nice?”

THOMAS :: 

A flash of something dark flickered over Thomas' face, his struggle with authority desperately trying to rear its head. With a calming breath, he tried to pull that little voice inside of his head that sounded like his dumb, quack sister that reminded him about breathing exercises and adrenaline. After counting to 10, Thomas gingerly pulled his collared shirt over his head, the polo wet with moisture and a stink of dried blood. Scrunching his nose, he dropped the offending garment into Jamie's hamper, on top of clothes probably covered in some dude's jizz. "Looks like you have a roommate tonight," He pointed out helpfully, making his way toward the bathroom.

He was back a quick moment later, having procured the small cleaning caddy from under the bathroom sink, including the hand-held spot cleaner. It was uncanny, how many times they'd had to clean up 90% alcohol-vomit, and Thomas hated that he'd grown so used to it after 15-odd years of knowing these morons. "Take your shoes off, you heathen," Thomas spit at Griffin without much effort behind it, focused instead on cleaning the puddle out of the corner of Jamie's room.

After scrubbing for a few odd minutes, and one glare in Griffin's direction later, Thomas picked himself back up, knees aching with the effort of the movement. He was getting old. He stored the cleaning products back in the cabinet and found himself leaning against the doorframe when he re-entered the room. "What food do you want, Griff?" Thomas asked, placated and quiet after the fall-out of so much drama. Getting his face bashed in was a reset button, apparently. Annoying, but effective. "I'm not dealing with the whininess when you're hung over tomorrow."

JAMIE ::

"He started it," James muttered in response when Griffin told him to stop talking. It was juvenile, but he couldn't help it. This whole thing could have been avoided about six ways to Sunday. If Griffin hadn't gotten drunk, if Thomas hadn't immediately started raging about it, if he hadn't brought someone home in the first place. It was pretty clear that they were all partially to blame for this shit show, but the petty side of him wanted to be the one that ended it.

He still had no idea if Thomas was going to tell Kate, but that seemed like a problem for future Jamie. For now, he just wanted to wallow in his failed hookup. He figured that since he hadn't even gotten the chance to get off from this one, there wasn't really a need to do any sort of confessional. Jamie scoffed at Griffin's next words. God cared if he sucked a dick, which also, he hadn't. "Don't tell anyone." These words were directed at both of them, quiet, yet deeply meaningful. He didn't know what he'd do if people found out. Hell, his two best friends had just found out, and he wasn't exactly sure what to do about it.

Jamie had no idea where Thomas was going when he headed out of his room, and a part of him wondered if he was going to make that phone call. Anxiety prickled all over his body, and he had to remind himself to breathe. A moment before he was going to get up and follow him, Thomas came back with the cleaning supplies. A begrudging "Thanks," rolled off his lips as he sat up in bed to address Thomas' next words. Rolling onto his knees, he took off one shoe and tossed it out into the hallway, landing with a thunk. The other came next, tossed in the same general direction. "PB&J?" he asked Griffin, knowing that it'd be best to go for something easier on the stomach.

GRIFFIN ::

This was how the world worked for Griffin Rollins, the way it had always worked. He did what he wanted to do, it made a fucking mess, he smiled and fumbled his way into some unintentional wit, and it all ended up being taken care of ... usually by one of the two bloodied men who were currently milling around the room, no doubt accomplishing just that. He didn’t open his eyes to check. That was the way he preferred it, really; if he never fully noticed just how much other people did to save his ass time after time, he never fully needed to thank them.

“Nachooooos,” he moaned at the mention of food, knowing full well he’d likely pass out before anything that required delivery would arrive at the apartment. As it was, he was already slipping in and out of consciousness. The bed smelled like sweat and Jamie’s shampoo, the sortakinda expensive stuff he got frustrated at Griffin borrowing when his own had run out. It still came from the drug store, but from the higher shelf; not the 3-in-1 body wash bullshit that Griffin smeared through his own hair.

“Go shower,” he mumbled to both and neither of them.

THOMAS ::

With narrowed eyes, Thomas turned to retreat into the kitchen, slapping together a few hastily made sandwiches (which were still entirely too neat, cut diagonally into two separate pieces) and brought them back to the bedroom, just in time for Griffin to begin bossing him around again. "What, this isn't doing anything for you?" Thomas pointed to the bloody mess on his face, chest, and arms.

Rolling his eyes, Thomas passed Jamie the plate, their hands brushing as he released the paper to him. Always something unbreakable, when Griffin was involved. Thomas would have loved to frequently use real plates and cups, but when a bumbling, drunk idiot was constantly falling around your apartment, it was better to have something that couldn't accidentally kill you. "If anyone needs a shower here, it's you. The landlady lives 5 miles away and I'm sure she can smell you from here."

Despite his deflections, Thomas really did need a shower. His blood had become caked and sticky on his skin, drying into flakes that made him want to scratch at his skin like a mangy dog. "Just...eat." With a tired sigh, Thomas ran a bruised hand through his hair, closing his eyes for just a moment. How did he always end up back here?

:: END ::

[keen2meecha]

a creature of despair

There was a ghost haunting the streets of New Demington and everyone knew it.

Not a literal ghost. That would be much more convenient - and much less stressful. Ghosts could be caught, exorcised, shot with rock salt and sent back to wherever they belonged.

This ghost, though.

This ghost had yet to be seen, although the trail of bodies they left in their wake was unmistakable. Some with premortem wounds, some without - but all of them with their throats slashed from behind, and a length of purple ribbon left behind to cover the wound. It was a very specific calling card, but investigators had yet to determine the significance. And this had been going on for months.

Even Amadeus Black was pricklier than usual lately, and that was quite the feat. He was prickly on the best of days, but it took a lot to push him further.

And yet, despite the tension in the air and the worry on TV, Falks’ freshmen class remained as bright and oblivious as ever.

“We should go shopping!” Briony El-Hashem declared.

At the opposite end of the table, Kyran Cinege snorted as he speared his broccoli. Sure, he’d known since he stepped foot in this place that his classmates were idiots, but it was nice to have tangible proof. He looked up to catch Vera’s eye. She was an ice-cold bitch, but they had a certain understanding. She was a lot more tolerable than the others, for one thing. And she didn’t try to be his ‘friend’ - in fact, she seemed to migrate to his side most days specifically because he had no interest in friends.

She also didn’t talk, which meant she didn’t ask questions.

“What about you, dude?” Ibrahim asked eagerly, leaning closer to Kyran - and then immediately leaning back away at the sharp glare he got. “You in?”

“Of course I’m not fucking in!” Kyran snapped. “You’ve either got a goddamned death wish or your idiots - or, more likely, both.”

“Don’t be like that,” Dimas said, rolling his eyes.

“I’ll be however I fucking please. Unlike you imbeciles, I’m not taking my chances when there’s a damn Villain roaming the streets.”

“We don’t know they’re a Villain!” Larue protested immediately. “They could just be a serial killer!”

“Oh, right, yeah, that’s so much better - congrats, Strawberry! You’ve changed my mind!”

“It’ll be fun,” Rocco interrupted, and Kyran choked back a swear. “C’mon, please? We’ll make it worth your while!”

There was only one person who could possibly make it worth his while. He had red-hair and stupid pretty eyes and was currently pouting up at Kyran, said pretty eyes pleading with him. Don’t fall for it, don’t fall for it, don’t fucking-

“Fine, whatever.” He grunted, tearing his eyes away from Rocco. “If it makes you assholes leave me alone for once.”

“You know we won’t! Hey, Vera, what about you?”

“No,” She said flatly, not even looking up from her book.

“Aw, come on, not you too! Please?”

Unfortunately, Vera didn’t have the same weakness that Kyran had. She gave Rocco a flat look, then returned to her book once more. Rocco wrinkled his nose at her, then returned to the others to help the planning of the apparent shopping trip.

Kyran scowled and flicked her book as he said, “Oy, Princess, if I’ve gotta suffer through this bullshit so do you.”

She gave him a flat look, then stood up, shouldered her backpack, and started to walk away. Kyran reached out and grabbed her wrist before she could get far.

“Let go of me,” She snapped, yanking her wrist out of his grip as whirled on him. He was out of his seat and standing across from her in a second, shoulders squared and hands raised. He had seen what she could do with her Gift. She wasn’t going to get the drop on him.

“Guys,” Elora protested uneasily from the table. 

“Shut up, Pinkie,” Kyran told her, not looking away from Vera. “You too, Glasses.”

Zahir snapped his mouth shut.

“I said. I’m not. Going.” Vera gritted out. Despite the tension in her jaw, her hands were loose by her sides.

“And I said you are,” Kyran countered, not letting his guard down that easily. “Because there’s a killer roaming the streets, and we’re pretty much the only ones who can keep these idiots alive if they really insist on leaving campus.”

There was a full tense minute as she stared him down. He was starting to wonder if she would just forgo the Gift and punch him in the nose-

And then she huffed, nodded, and left without another word.

“Was that a yes?” Ibrahim asked into the shocked silence.

 ***

“We’re going shopping this weekend,” Kyran announced suddenly.

Across from him, the devil herself blinked and adjusted her glasses.

“We were discussing your childhood?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve got daddy issues, blah blah blah,” Kyran waved a dismissive hand. “Been there, done that, old news.”

“Alright.” Tuliana gave an infuriating smile. “Who all is we?”

“The whole class.”

“Including you?”

“Obv-fucking-iously.”

“Don’t make me get the swear jar out again, Kyran.”

“Obviously.”

“Why did you agree to go? I was under the impression that you hated everyone.”

“Dunno.” He flopped back in the cushy armchair and glared out the window.

“These sessions won’t do you any good if you stonewall me.”

He huffed and drew a frowny face on the icy window with his finger, then said, “I… thought I saw her. Yesterday. Up on those mountains or whatever.”

“It’s not… unheard of for people to think they’ve seen loved ones that they’ve lost.”

“So I’m not going crazy?”

“No, we’ve been over this.”

“Even though it’s been, like, a year?”

“There’s no timeline for grief. It happens differently for everyone.” When he didn’t say anything else, she jotted something down on her notebook and said, “Is that why you agreed to go? Because you think you’ll see her again?”

“No, that’d be stupid.”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

He scowled and shot her a glare. The worst part was that her serene expression didn’t even waver. In the almost two months he’d been attending Falks, he’d managed to get under every adults’ skin except for two: the headmaster and Tuliana Nagi. The former simply because he hadn’t had enough opportunities, the latter because he was sure there were more annoying things in Hell than him.

So far, at least.

“Maybe…” He returned to the window. “Maybe because it’s what she would have done.”

“Gone shopping?”

“Protected them.”

There was a long beat of silence, then she sighed and rubbed at her eye. She did that sometimes. Their sessions were always at the end of the day, and he was pretty sure she had chronic dry-eye. Her eye drops were in her drawer, but she never used them while they were meeting. Probably because it was impolite or some shit.

“Kyran, it’s not your job to save everyone.”

“It will be soon.”

“Yes, after you’ve been trained.” She dropped her hand and leaned forward. He shifted uncomfortably, but couldn’t seem to break eye contact. “Kyran, you couldn’t have saved her.”

“If I hadn’t left her with him-”

“You didn’t leave him.” They had been through this so many times that she felt comfortable interrupting him, which was infuriating. “You got separated while the museum was collapsing.”

“What difference does it make?”

“You know that it makes all the difference.”

He snarled at her, but had nothing to say to that. She was - probably, unfortunately - right. But if he had just had the instinct to dive back, not forward, if they had lingered just a second longer, or sped up just a little-

“That kind of thinking won’t bring her back, Kyran.”

That was the whole problem, wasn’t it? 

Nothing was going to bring back the one friend he’d ever had.

***

The mall was way too big, and way too loud. The moment they stepped inside, he regretted agreeing to come along. 

It didn’t help that Vera was practically radiating smugness at his discomfort, even as she too winced at the light and the noise and the smell. The rest of their classmates barely seemed to notice the terrible everything of the hellhole posing as a mall. They laughed and shouted and went through store after store after store. Why did a mall even need five separate shoe stores? Wasn’t one enough?

“Capitalism,” Jerilyn whispered gravely to him when he voiced his complaint.

“Fuck that,” He replied, turning away.

“Dude, where are you going?” Ibrahim shouted.

“Anywhere that isn’t here!”

He made it all the way to the boba stand before he realized that he was being followed.

“Fuck off, Princess.”

“You dragged me on this trip,” She replied evenly. “Actions have consequences.”

It was the closest to sarcasm he’d ever heard her get, so he begrudgingly didn’t protest further. The ghost everyone was afraid of preferred secluded areas, after all. They wouldn’t strike in the middle of a brightly lit, crowded as hell building.

“Hi!” The Chinese girl behind the counter chirped at their approach. “What can I get you?”

“What’s good?” Kyran asked, scanning the menu and trying hard not to scowl. His classmates deserved his ire - retail workers didn’t.

“Depends on what you like - the lavender is pretty interesting.”

“Sure, that.”

“Great! And you, ma’am?”

“Er, same thing.”

The girl didn’t notice the hesitance as she put their orders into the computer, but Kyran glanced back as he passed her the money. He’d had his suspicions, of course, but every time she opened her mouth he grew more certain that the weirdo had never had a real childhood.

Maybe they could start a club.

“Here’s your change!” The girl said, dragging him out of his thoughts.

He turned and accepted the coins - and found his gaze drawn to her pin-laden denim jacket. More specifically, the white pin with the thick purple line in the middle.

“Nice pin,” He said, jutting his chin out towards it.

“Huh?” She glanced down, then beamed up at him with excitement. “Thanks!”

“I’ve got a friend who had something similar,” He added, his throat tightening as the words clawed their way out. 

“Oh, nice. I can give you the website that I got it from, if you want to buy them a present!”

“Uh, no, thanks. She hasn’t got much use for gifts anymore.”

The girl snorted, and then the man who was also working at the booth called, “Jing, come help me!” and she hurried away.

Kyran heaved a sigh, then turned to see Vera staring at him.

“What the fuck is your problem?”

“Nothing.” Unruffled as ever - she was almost as obnoxious as Tuliana. “I thought you didn’t have friends.”

“I don’t,” He snapped, already regretting the moment of weakness. At least Vera wasn’t the gossiping type. “Not anymore. What do you care?”

“I don’t.”

She said that, but she also kept stealing glances at him for the rest of their little shopping trip. By the time they left, just before the mall closed as the sun was setting below the horizon, he was ready to commit arson just for some kind of release.

The city buildings cast long shadows in the fading sunlight, and his classmates at least had the common sense to lower their voices as they walked. They were still in a populated part of the city, but they were fast-approaching that time where it was too late for the day crowd to still be heading home, but too early for the night crowd to start leaving home.

“Oh, hey, come on!” Briony said suddenly, her voice leaping half an octave in her excitement. “It’s a shortcut - it’ll get us to the nearest stop just in time for the next bus!”

“Wait, I’m not sure-” Zahir tried to protest, but she was already taking off down the darkened alleyway.

Kyran swore and took off after her, and the others followed close behind. 

Luckily she hadn’t gotten far - barely halfway down the alleyway before she stopped, apparently waiting for them to catch up.

“Do you want to fucking die?” He snapped, grabbing her shoulder and yanking her around to face him. “We need to stick together, or-”

“Well, well, well. Who is it that’s flown into my web this time?”

Or that.

Kyran shoved Briony behind him and pivoted, searching for the source of the crooning voice. It didn’t sound like it belonged to anyone much older or bigger than them, but it had just enough of an edge to make the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

“Oh, could it be?” The voice continued, dancing with delight. “A little herd of Falkers, out and about in the city? All alone, and so late at night - I thought you were supposed to be smart!”

“Who says we’re alone?” Kyran snarled, putting a hand out to keep his classmates from doing anything stupid. 

There was the sound of sharp metal scraping against stone undercutting a breathy, unsettlingly girlish giggle, and a figure stepped into what little light was left. 

They weren’t what Kyran was expecting. Short, shorter than him, wearing jeans and sneakers and a faded purple hoodie that was missing the sleeves, leaving the person’s brown arms bare. They could almost be mistaken for a normal teenager wandering the streets - albeit a fucking jacked one - if not for the machete in their outstretched hand, resting against the wall of the building. That explained the scraping noise, at least.

“We don’t want any trouble,” Zahir called, earning a hissed shut up from Kyran.

“You don’t?” The person asked, almost sounding disappointed. “But don’t you know? That’s all you Falkers are. Little troubles, that grow up to be big strong Heroic troubles.”

“Back the fuck off now,” Kyran snarled when they took a step forward, raising his free hand in preparation. An explosion in such a tight space wasn’t ideal, but if push came to shove it would be worth it. “And no one will get hurt.”

The person paused and tilted their head. He could see the faintest flash of clever dark eyes studying him. There was something about this person, something hauntingly familiar... 

“Why don’t we make a deal?” They crooned, pushing their hood back. 

They were wearing a paneled black mask over the entirety of the bottom half of their face, but that still left the top half of their face exposed. Golden brown eyes with heavy bags under them, freckles, their dark brown curls shaved in an undercut. A scar through their thick eyebrow. Kyran narrowed his eyes. It was right there, staring him in the face, why couldn’t he figure it out-

“You give me your jacket, and I’ll let you go.”

“My jacket?” He glanced down at the leather jacket he was wrapped up in, worn to comfortable softness and right on the edge of being too small. “No fucking way.”

“Kyran,” Ibrahim whispered urgently.

“I said no,” He snapped, lifting his hand a little higher and curling his finger into the beginnings of a flick. If they made even the slightest of moves, kaboom. “I’m not giving some whacko my jacket.”

“Oh, but it’s not your jacket, now is it?” They said softly, taking another step forward. They were within arm’s reach. He needed to use his Gift, or throw a punch, or run, or something - but he was paralyzed, mesmerized by those far-too-knowing eyes. “You stole it from your friend, didn’t you? That night in the hospital? You chased her out, blamed her for your own damn issues, and then stole the jacket she left behind?”

“How do you know that?” He whispered.

“Oh, I know all about you, Kruze Cinege.”

She - because the only person who would ever call him that was a ‘she’ - smiled and pulled the mask down around her neck. Her nose was broad and freckled, her chin rounded and soft, her lips stretched in a smile he’d seen a hundred times before - but this one was mangled and bitter and empty, a fucked up facsimile of the original.

She’d gotten a haircut, gathered a few more scars, lost the spark that used to make her shine so bright - but she still managed to be unmistakable. 

No wonder they called her a ghost.

“Sofia?”

[squidprinceofwinterfell]

Stick of Truth Commentary

Intro

Intro cut scene is a nice touch! The animation is nice, and it adds story and stakes to the game the boys are playing. Reminds me of “Lord of the Rings.”

I like how the boys see the stick as a golden staff, but it’s literally just…a stick.

Create your character

Fighter, Mage, Thief, Jew – which is the best and why?

Intro to New Kid and family

Dialogue between parents creates an ominous backstory. Who is looking for New Kid and why?

New Kid is a mute weirdo and I love it.

The first quest (making friends) reminds me of “The Sandlot.”

The shitting feature is awesome.

New Kid meets Butters and is brought to KKK

What exactly is the power of diabetes?

Chekov’s Clyde!

It’s cute how cool everyone is with Princess Kenny.

I like that every player is called Douchebag, but I wish every player didn’t have to play as a boy.

Elves attack

Funny how Cartman’s alarm is just Butters yelling “Alarm!”

Cartman has pretty good commentary when New Kid is fighting. I actually miss that later on.

How did the elves snag the stick? Either Clyde is a bad watchdog or Kyle is super strategic. I choose both.

New Kid must find Token, Tweek, and Craig

Token

I never knew Token was so rich that he had security! It’s probably to keep Cartman out.

I love that Token’s property is calling Dark Meadows.

Token: “The elves took the stick again?” Haha!

Tweek

Tweek is the only employee at Tweek Bros.? That’s called child labor!

I love that Mrs. McCormick thinks the meth heads in her garage are just nice renters. Is she being paid in meth?

Why would a 10-year-old boy be an undercover cop? Only in South Park.

Tweek was totally named after the word “tweeker.”

Craig

Craig is in detention for (of course) flipping off the principal. Is Principal Victoria still principal at this point?

Craig’s alias is Feldspar the Thief? I refuse to believe this isn’t a reference to Malcolm in the Middle.

On the “thief” option at the beginning, Cartman says he’s never seen a white thief before, yet Craig is a thief. Hmm…

“Heeeere they come…I’ll be outta here in ten minutes.” Smug, snarky Craig is the best Craig.

I like that Mackey seems to know he’s in a video game (by referencing the boss fight). It’s very Deadpool.

The Bard

The Inn of the Giggling Donkey is just Jimmy’s house. His living room is convincing as a bar/lounge/hangout.

Twitter = carrier raven

“There once was a maiden from Stonebury Hollow / She didn’t talk much, but boy did she swallow / I had a nice lance that she sat upon / The maiden from Stonebury who was also your mom.” I love Jimmy’s songs!

Butters: “No hurry, Douchebag. The princess is just being raped.” OMG

An elf was jumping on the bed to simulate raping Princess Kenny? The boys are really committed to this game.

Cartman: “Good job, Princess Gone Wild. Double D buddy powers.” Kenny flashing his man boobs is the best distraction tactic.

The Brown Note is Jimmy’s best attack.

“Welcome to the KKK!”

Alien abduction

Cartman’s fart lessons finally come in handy! New Kid’s ass is too strong to be probed.

I love that alien abduction is viewed as just another annoying part of living in South Park.

The guy from the recordings is the hobo hidden onboard, right?

The Nazi zombie hobo is the game’s first instance of the Nazi zombie plot. It tells us that the aliens are responsible for this when the ship crash lands to Earth and green goo gets in the sewer.

New Kid crashed an entire spaceship. He’s kind of a badass. And he gets to keep the alien probe!

The big bad government is involved now to deal with “another UFO crash.” How often does this happen??

Only South Park would try to pass off a UFO as construction of a Taco Bell. And only South Park citizens would believe it.

Recruitment (pt. 1)

All New Kid has to do to get the goth kids to join is put on black clothes. I’m glad to see they still have low standards.

New Kid finally meets Stan and Kyle! I’ve been waiting for this.

According to Kyle, Cartman lied about the stick being stolen and is hiding it. According to Cartman, Kyle is lying because New Kid can’t retrieve the stick if Kyle claims he doesn’t have it. It’s a game of “he said, she said” but I’m inclined to believe Kyle. This is Cartman we’re talking about…

PTA meeting

I’m disappointed no one yelled “Rabble, rabble!” at the PTA meeting.

Is no one else alarmed that Randy lured a young boy into the bathroom alone?

“That’s all you’ve got is a sign? At least crap on a desk or something!” Mr. Garrison is speaking highly of Cartman, I see.

She-Ogre

“Give me back my iPhone, DEMON!” This is an accurate depiction of a brother-sister relationship.

It’s adorable that Stan uses Sparky in battle.

Taco Bell

I love that the big bad government agents are such bad liars that they killed a guy asking about encharidos.

“Goddamn it! I’m so tired of Nazi zombies. It’s so…overused!” Haha!

I’m surprised the adults actually took the bombing threat seriously and weren’t bummed about no Taco Bell.

Recruitment (pt. 2)

The final goth test is DDR?? That’s so conformist.

Once you win the goth kids over, you can recruit them to either Cartman’s side or Kyle’s. I always pick Kyle’s side when I play this. I’ve been itching to betray Cartman since this game started!

South Park Elementary

The huge battle scene takes place at the school because it’s where Cartman supposedly hid the stick. South Park Elementary is busted and makes a great setting for a battle scene. More “Lord of the Rings” vibes!

New Kid’s farts help Kyle’s side get the upper hand. Take that, Cartman!

Another reason choosing Kyle’s side is better: New Kid’s battle against Butters is more impactful because he was New Kid’s first friend. If it was a face off against Stan, it wouldn’t be as emotional.

The final battle gives New Kid one last chance to pick a side. Like Stan says, “I can’t believe this is even a choice.” Kyle vs Cartman is like Chanel vs Walmart.

Yet another reason choosing Kyle’s side is better: Cartman’s farting fire at the end of this fight is one of the best scenes of the whole game.

Clyde

I love the twist where neither Kyle nor Cartman was lying. Clyde really punked the fuck out of everyone.

Kyle is the only one to acknowledge he’s aware of the green goo and how dangerous it is.

Stan: “Clyde, but why?” Cartman: “I banished him to be lost in space and time and now he’s all pissed off.” Haha!

Clyde’s fortress is so badass. I can see the appeal of the dark side.

How the hell does Clyde have control over the Nazi zombies??

I love that Clyde’s power move is keeping his friends out past their bedtimes. The stakes are higher now, but this reminds us this is still a kid’s game…or it started as one.

Underpants gnomes

Gnomes: “The kid is awake! What do we do?” “Oh, fuck, I guess we gotta kill him!” Me problem solving.

Since when do underpants gnomes have warlocks?? I thought they were all failed businessmen.

For some reason, high pitched gnome voices yelling “Oh, fuck!” is really funny to me.

New Kid fighting underneath his giant parents mid-coitus is another iconic fight scene. How many times must New Kid dodge his dad’s ballsack?? The kid is hardcore.

The girls

Kyle convinces everyone to team up against Clyde. I’m continually impressed by Kyle because of his leadership, intellect (he spent all night researching), and open mind (he doesn’t balk at teaming up with the humans or inviting girls to play). I’m totally Team Kyle, if you haven’t noticed.

I love that the girls blindfold New Kid when they bring him to their lair. That’s some Mafia shit.

Annie: “He…doesn’t really talk.” Bebe: “That’s hot!” ME

Sunshine, sparkle, glitter…I wanna talk like this all the time.

Heidi Turner was the two-faced bitch! That’s very Mrs. Cartman of her.

Abortion clinic

New Kid’s abortion doctor is named Dr. Poonlover because of course he is

The big bad government is doing Plan B at the abortion clinic. Clever joke!

Where did Randy get that blonde wig from?? The men in South Park cross-dress so much.

Khloe Kardashian’s aborted fetus as a Nazi zombie is also a legendary fight.

Canada

New Kid didn’t get that his photographer was a pedophile even when he was almost butt naked?? Also, who was that guy who jumps out from behind the boxes?

The layout of Canada is clearly a parody of Pokemon games, right? Either way, I love it. The shitty jpeg videogame look is very Canada.

“They’re like wolves, but they’re dire.”

Getting trained by Terrance and Phillip makes all this back and forth bullshit worth it.

Clyde’s fortress

Of course Cartman butts in when Kyle’s trying to give an inspirational speech. What an attention hog!

It’s funny to me how easily Craig switched to Clyde’s side. Loyalty much??

“I really found myself relating to Clyde’s views about darkness and enslaving the world.” Jesus, Craig!

Cartman’s negative reaction to electricity is a callback to the chip put in his head in Bigger, Longer & Uncut.

“It’s my favorite kid!” WOW, RANDY

“Who could it be?” I love how long New Kid lets them all wonder before he steps up.

Stan: “Dude, that’s not Taco Bell sauce.” Clyde: “Then why’d I find it at the Taco Bell?” A+ logic

How dare you, Clyde! Let Chef rest in peace!

Government interruption

“Whenever aliens are spotted, vampires run amok…” Vampires exist in this universe??

I love that the boys don’t care about the big bad government’s scheme.

So New Kid’s special power is making friends on social media! I should’ve known.

Princess Kenny’s betrayal

Princess Kenny planned to steal the stick all along! This game is full of betrayals.

Kenny makes a pretty cute anime princess. Nazi zombie? Not so much.

Princess Kenny is a badass final boss. And I never saw it coming!

I’m glad the “never fart on someone’s balls” joke meant something in the end. I can see why it was banned – it’s super deadly!

End

The boys unite to save friendship and love…by chucking a stick into a lake.

New Kid stole Cartman’s catchphrase!

Why did Al Gore appear so ominously at the end?? What are you gonna do to the kids, Al Gore??