#normally saying ‘you’re not my real dad!’ would be no-homo

[jaclynhyde]

jesus CHRIST

[goldenraeofsun]

There is Only Try, Part I

“Love spell,�� Rowena proclaims as she glides down the stairs to the Bunker floor like it’s her personal ballroom. Her midnight blue floor-length gown and elaborately curled hair look especially out of place - Dean’s pretty sure his shirt has pizza stains from at least three different pizzas. The shirt is red, so at least two of them don’t count.

Behind her on the stairs, Sam chokes.

Rowena turns around to face him. “And I thought this was going to be a challenge,” she chides. “Really, Samuel?”

“What do you mean, ‘love spell’?” Dean demands with a fleeting glance at Cas, who’s gone red in the face. Dean doesn’t blame him - between the hooker with the daddy problems and the stabby reaper, he’d be leery of anything vaguely love-shaped too.

“We called you because we need to translate the runes on a cursed box,” Sam says slowly. “We think it’s in some sort of cipher, since even Cas can’t get a read on it.”

“Well, did Tweety Pie touch the box?”

“No,” Cas says, offended.

Dean nudges him with his elbow, saying in an undertone, “C’mon, like it wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Dean.”

Dean takes in Cas’s unamused face and scowls at Rowena's tinkling laugh. “Okay, Sabrina, what the fuck do you mean by ‘love spell’?”

“I mean the angel’s been cursed with a love spell,” Rowena says with deliberate slowness, like she’s giving a command to a particularly stupid lap dog. “Was it not obvious?”

Dean glances at Cas, horror trickling down his spine. “No.”

“Hmph,” Rowena sniffs. “Men really are oblivious to matters of the heart.” She waves her hand again, eyes glimmering violet. “Like I thought,” she continues, placing both hands on her hips, “A jardin d’amour.”

“A garden of,” Sam pauses, clearly trying not to laugh, “love?”

“A very basic love spell,” Rowena says disdainfully. “The lass didn’t seem to have any imagination.”

“The witch we ganked two weeks ago was a dude,” Dean says. A beat. “A man witch.”

Sam snorts.

“There you go,” Rowena says, lifting her nose into the air. “Most men don’t have that innate knack for the magical arts.” She turns to Sam, giving him the most obvious come-hither look Dean has ever seen. “There are some obvious exceptions, of course.”

Okay, Dean needs Rowena and her heebs with a large dosing of the jeebs out of the Bunker, stat.

“It starts as a tiny seed, a wee obsession,” Rowena explains, “and grows and grows until it consumes you.” She squints, wiggling her fingers, and Dean just barely stops himself from jumping in front of Cas on instinct. “I’d say the spell’s gone about halfway through its course.”

Dean crosses his arms over his chest. He throws another calculating glance at Cas. “He’s not writing love songs or grabbing a boombox, so he’s obviously not cursed.”

Cas, still suspiciously silent, shoves both his hands in his pockets and stares hard at a spot of the floor between his feet.

“Oh, but he is, darlin’,” Rowena exclaims delightedly. “I can see it clear as day. Look!”

Cas sneezes as the magic washes over him for a third time, and now they all can see the purple sparkles - really, Rowena? - hovering in the air around him.

“Okay,” Dean makes a face, “Now I’m confused.”

“Not for the first time, isn’t that right?” Rowena says with faux-sympathy.

Dean glowers. He turns to Cas. “Come on, she’s making this all up. You’d know if you got dosed with Love Potion No. 9.”

“I-” Cas says, his gaze skittering from Dean to Rowena and back again. He looks… caught.

“Wait,” Dean thunders, taking a step forward, “You knew?”

“I,” Cas starts haltingly, “had suspected.”

“And you didn’t think you’d tell us you’d been whammied?”

Cas shrugs. “It doesn’t seem to be affecting me at all. My vessel is functioning normally.”

“Sure, because you’re such an expert on normal-”

Cas’s eyes flash. “It didn’t seem relevant considering everything else-”

“What d’you mean every-?”

“Kelly Kline - Lucifer, again - the British Men of Letters - take your pick,” Castiel retorts heatedly.

“We’ve got that under control-”

“Killing a child is not ‘under control’-”

“It is if the kid’s the literal spawn of Satan-”

“I never thought I’d hear Dean Winchester defending the murder of an inno-”

Dean throws up his hands. “Did you miss my ‘spawn of Satan’ comment?”

“No,” Cas says, his expression as stony as the Bunker’s foundations, “my hearing is excellent.”

Off to the side, Rowena mutters in a carrying stage-whisper, “I can see how a wee curse like this is the least of your problems.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Sam says, running a weary hand down his face.

Dean rounds on them. “What?”

“Do you want me to remove the love spell or not?” Rowena asks, eyebrows raised. “My time is precious, you know. I don’t live to be at the Winchesters’ beck and call.”

“For the last fucking time, it’s not a goddamn spell!” Dean explodes. “Whatever it is, he is not in love. He hasn’t been acting any different.”

Rowena beams. “Well now, if he were already in love, it would have no outward effects. He’d…” Her expression becomes stomach-turningly sly, “...function normally, so to speak.”

Cas’s mouth sets in a firm line. As Dean goggles at him, Cas demands, “Remove the spell, now.”

Dean swallows. Cas can’t be - she can’t be implying - that’s impossible. He’s an angel. They don’t feel things like that.

Do they?

“I’m going to need some ingredients,” Rowena says, looking up to Sam. “Where might they be?”

Sam gestures her forward. “Back in the store room, I’ll show you.”

Rowena pats him lightly on the arm. “What a gentleman,” she simpers as Dean pretends to hurl behind her back.

Dean can’t bring himself to speak until they’re both out of earshot, their footsteps fading off into the distance. He turns to Cas, trying to keep his voice detached and failing miserably. “So, you think it got you after all?”

Cas looks away. “I know it has.”

“Oh.” Dean picks up his empty whiskey glass. He runs a hand down his face, trying to scrub away whatever he’s feeling. It doesn't work. “I don’t know about you, but I could use a drink. Fucking witches.”

“I - I could use one as well,” Cas says to Dean’s surprise.

* * *

“So, uh, who’s the lucky chick?” Dean asks as he makes a beeline for the liquor cart in the library off the war room. He grabs an additional glass for Cas and the bottle of Jack, tips the bottle down his own throat to get them started, and pours them out a few fingers.

Cas takes his drink, jaw clenching. He doesn’t look like a dude head over heels. He looks like his normal sleep-deprived, tax accountant self. He stays silent.

Dean thumps heavily down into a chair. “Have we met her?” he prompts because he’s nothing if not a masochist at heart.

“You could say so, in a sense.” Cas raises his eyes to meet Dean’s, face softening, and Dean’s going to hurl for real this time. Cas continues, “There’s not much in my life I keep from you.”

Dean swallows against the ball of self-loathing and disgust clogging his throat. “Some lady angel, then? Been dreaming about plucking her harp strings?”

Cas scowls into his drink. “No.”

“Not an angel?”

“Not a lady,” Cas says, his voice almost unbearably stiff. “And not an angel, either. A human - a beautifully flawed human.”

Dean has no words to say to that, so he drinks. Cas has probably met thousands of people - nice, normal people who aren’t fucked up in the head from ganking monsters their whole lives - since he’s been on Earth. God knows, he hasn’t been plastered to Dean’s side the entire time. Lately, Dean can’t even come up with a good excuse to get him to stay for more than a day or two at most.

“A guy, then,” Dean says to make sure they’re on the same page - because last time he checked, waves of celestial intent cared less about acing a Gender and Sexuality 101 class and more about whether a meatsuit could withstand a holy oil molotov cocktail.

Cas nods, his eyes narrowing. “Your opinion on homosexual relationships is part of the reason I’ve never brought it up before.”

“Hey, I don’t judge,” Dean says, not entirely truthfully. He holds his hands up in a gesture of innocence. “Homo it up, man. Love is love.”

Cas’s nose wrinkles, but he doesn’t comment on Dean’s hamfisted attempt at proving his acceptance of ‘alternative lifestyles’ as Dad might’ve put it charitably one time. “It’s complicated,” Cas adds, like any part of this fucked-up situation could fit under a goddamn Facebook status.

Dean hitches a grin on his face that probably wouldn’t fool a blind person. “So, apart from that, how come you’ve never come to me for help? I don’t wanna brag, but I’m kind of an expert in hookups. Sam’s kind of hopeless. He can’t get a chick into bed without her dying on him.”

Cas knocks back his glass. “I didn’t want to bother you with my feelings.”

Dean automatically grimaces at the mention of feelings. But, hell, he’s not a teenage girl. He can man up and be there for his best friend.

He has to - Cas hardly asks him for anything anymore.

Sure, Cas didn’t exactly ask Dean for anything this time around, but Dean can read between the lines. Now that he’s copped to what’s going on beneath Cas’s still waters, he can see how deep those feelings run. Especially if what Rowena’s saying is true and a love spell is barely a drop in the bucket.

“And, regardless, your ‘hookup’ skills wouldn’t be relevant, anyway,” Cas says quietly, lowering his hands. “I’m not interested in… coupling.”

Dean wrinkles his nose. “That reaper really screwed you over, didn’t she? Look, just because you got shanked, doesn’t mean all sex winds up with an angel blade-”

“I misspoke,” Cas says over him. “What I mean is, I would rather have no sexual relations at all if I cannot have all of him: mind, body, and soul.”

Trust Cas to spout the most profound cheese Dean has ever heard.

And also, what the fuck? Dean can’t get behind that idea at all. Dean’s always been a take what you can get kind of dude. He had to be, with what he has to work with - a pretty face, a killer's instinct, and an inability to have a normal relationship if his goddamn life depended on it.

Like, if Dean had gotten the slightest whiff that Cas was down with gettin’ down and dirty with Dean as his last hurrah (which of course he didn’t), Dean would never have bothered with that stupid den of inequity. As hilarious as the outcome was, he would have gone for a little something-something for himself before the end of the world.

Of course, Dean wasn’t in love with Cas yet then. Whenever it came to mind, it was just a fun thought experiment, an idle what if for him to think about during a dry spell. Like his fantasies about fucking Ginger from Gilligan’s Island. Or hatesex with Bela Talbot.

But none of that mattered because every step of the way from Castiel, mighty Angel of the Lord, to Cas, their friendly neighborhood angel-man, he never hinted he’d be down for a quick roll in the hay... or something more serious.

Dean remembers very clearly: Anna fell to experience emotions, even the bad ones.

And Dean’s not an idiot - Cas obviously experiences emotions now. Dude’s been through too much not to feel something. But Dean’s never deluded himself that they could ever include all the romantic lovey-dovey, chick-flick moments crap.

Family love, sure. Cas might love all his haloed siblings. Cas has been around for all the Top 10 worst decisions that are the Winchesters’ version of brotherly devotion. Cas even said the big L-word out loud himself, when he was bleeding out in that barn a month ago.

But romantic love? The big kahuna L-O-V-E?

Dean always thought scaling Mount Everest with a plastic beach shovel would be easier than convincing an angel to feel that way about anyone. Cas is a wave of celestial intent; waves of celestial intent don’t do anything as human, as stupid, as fall in love.

But apparently they do.

So maybe that’s why Cas has always been so hard to pin down, so eager to leave Dean all the time. He’s been off pining after this mystery guy.

Awesome.

Cas heaves a weighty sigh and finishes off his own glass of whiskey. Without another word, he half raises from his chair, reaching around the table lamp, to pour them both a second round. “I suppose there is a bit of a relief in finally saying it,” he says in a low voice. “I can’t be with him, but there is a certain amount of happiness in it being known, just being seen.”

Dean wastes no time in downing half his new drink. Throat burning in warning, he forces out, “Why - why can’t you? You’re a freaking angel - thought you could have anyone.” Dean frowns. “He’s not a civilian, is he?”

Talk about a recipe for disaster: Cas plus normal person equals uncomfortable questions and fucked up babysitting gigs.

Cas’s eyes widen. Almost imperceptibly, he shakes his head. “Ah, no, not really.”

“So he knows about angels.”

Cas gives a slow nod. “He doesn’t have a very high opinion of them, though,” he says ruefully, staring down into his glass. “They’ve made his life very difficult over the past few years.”

Dean scoffs, “He can join the club.”

Cas flinches.

“Hey, no,” Deans says quickly, “Not you.”

Cas raises head, his eyes unbearably bleak. “Why not me? I was the one who set the Leviathans and angels loose on humanity to wage their wars, among a dozen other transgressions.” He adds morosely, “Sometimes I wonder if it would have been better if a different angel rescued you from Hell after all.”

Dean blinks at Cas, his stomach turning over with dread at the very idea. He tries to picture some nameless angel yanking him out of the Pit or marching into that barn with all the righteousness of Heaven on his heels. Dean can’t do it.

Or worse, not a nameless angel. Uriel, who was ready to kill thousands without a second thought. Zachariah, that dickwad with the mind games. Even Hannah, who Dean reluctantly liked - he still can’t see her sticking by their side, falling, sacrificing everything for them.

Cas is their third wheel, the stabilizer that keeps Team Free Will upright and moving forward. Without him, they’re a tandem bicycle, and nobody wants a repeat of that opening scene from Gabriel’s sitcom from Hell.

“Yeah, but at least you always tried to do the right thing.”

“There is no try, only what I did or did not do,” Cas answers with a strange, defeated expression.

“Okay, but,” Dean starts, rolling his eyes at Cas’s butchered Star Wars reference, “Yoda’s a lot of things, but applicable to the real world without space lasers, he is not. Sometimes the only thing you can do is try, dude.”

God knows, Dean could never have forgiven Cas for any of the shit he pulled if he hadn’t been 100% positive Cas had the best of intentions. Cas did all those things to save the world, and, sometimes, to save Dean personally. Which gives him the girliest, fuzzy feelings and also makes him want to punch a wall.

Cas throws him a pitying look. “Every time I ‘try’ to make things better, I fail.” He shakes his head. “When you were taken, I searched for months to find you. Kelly escaped on my watch, and I couldn't find her. I’m a… dumbass.”

“I thought you preferred ‘trusting,’” Dean jokes, and it only sounds a little forced.

Cas throws him an exasperated look. “Perhaps a few years ago. But now? I’ve made too many mistakes, and people have suffered - you and Sam have suffered - as a result. You don’t need to spare my feelings, Dean. It’s hardly what I deserve.”

Dean frowns, tapping his fingers against his glass as he takes in Cas's defeated air. “Hey, what’s with the pity party?”

“It’s not a ‘pity party’,” Cas counters. “These are basic facts.”

Dean leans forward, bracing his elbows on the table. “You aren’t serious.”

Cas stares back. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Dean rakes his gaze up and down Cas’s face, looking for a break, for a tell - even though he knows he won’t find any. “You saved the world. A couple of times by now.”

“I also personally put it in jeopardy more than once,” Cas mutters. “I trusted Crowley to steal Purgatory. I trusted Metatron to bring peace to Heaven. I trusted Lucifer to take out the Darkness.”

Dean’s heart sinks with every reminder of Cas’s greatest hits. “Come on…”

Cas’s mouth thins, lips pressing together as he raises his glass to his mouth. “You don’t need to stay to keep me company, either,” he says in a low voice. “I’m the one under the spell. If you have anything more pressing, I can wait here for Rowena.”

“Shut up,” Dean says automatically. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Cas exhales a weighty sigh, his shoulders losing some of their tension.

“Hey, what you need - hell, what we both need - is a win,” Dean says reassuringly. “Everything’s been such shit, you need a reminder to keep going.” He gets up from his seat, his legs itching to move. “Why don’t you tell me more about that man of yours?” he asks quickly, his words nearly tripping over themselves to get out before the regret sets in. “Maybe that’s the key to getting your head back in the game.”

Cas doesn’t say anything as Dean moves to peruse a row of books he has no intention of ever reading. Eventually, Cas protests without much conviction, “My head is in the game. I am still useful.”

Dean’s head jerks around so fast it nearly gives him whiplash. “That’s not what I meant.”

“It isn’t?” Cas asks, head tilting in confusion.

Dean makes a face. “I mean, if you’re feeling down, you… shouldn’t.”

“I don’t understand.”

Dean paces to the other end of the bookshelf, unbelievably annoyed at Cas for making him spell it out for him. “Forget it,” Dean says instead. “I still owe you for ganking Billie-”

“But the cosmic consequences-”

“Will suck, but in the meantime you saved our lives. I owe you.” Dean turns so he’s back to fully facing Cas. “So, tell me what this mystery guy is into.”

Cas’s eyes narrow at him. “I’d prefer not to talk about it.”

“Seriously?”

Cas straightens and nods.

“But,” Dean says, words failing as he wars with himself. He could push Cas for more info or keep on living in blissful ignorance. But if he has to choose between his own personal peace of mind or Cas experiencing the one pinnacle of human happiness (or so Dean’s been told in countless chick flicks he’ll take to the grave), it’s no choice at all. He starts again, “If you tell me about him, it’ll make this a lot easier.”

“I don’t want it to be easier,” Cas says, baffled. “I don’t want this to be anything.”

Dean gapes. “Why the hell not?”

Cas taps his empty glass on the table, irritated. “Please, leave it alone.”

“No,” Dean says mulishly. “I wanna help you, man.”

“I don’t want any help.”

“Well, tough shit because you’re getting it anyway. You’re family-”

Cas’s face does a weird spasm.

“-And that’s what you do for family,” Dean continues, a little confused and insulted. They are family; Cas said so, back when he thought he was dying in Ramiel’s barn.

“Drop it.”

“No,” Dean argues, shoving down everything else as his temper rises. “You’re hurtin’, and I can help. Why don’t you trust me? You trusted Crowley, Metatron, fucking Lucifer-”

Too far. Shit.

Cas whirls around, his face a mask of frustration and an emotion Dean has never seen before. “I did, and you know what? They screwed me. And, please forgive me, Dean, but I am tired of being used and used up, over and over.”

Dean blinks, his anger falling away to a raw hurt only Cas can dredge up. “I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Cas runs a weary hand down his face. He just shakes his head.

“C’mon, Cas, it’s me,” Dean says - pleads, really. “You know me better than anyone else, ’cept Sammy. I won’t do something like that.”

Cas glares. “I do know you, so I know that is exactly what will happen.”

Dean reels back, and he can’t save himself in time before an undoubtedly pained look spreads across his face.

Cas’s hostility cracks, but Dean’s already gotten the message.

So Cas’s one big happy loving family message was only a deathbed thing. That’s… fine. Dean’s done it himself, a time or two. Told Sam to live his life and not go looking for revenge or a way to fix it - all a crock of horse shit, of course. He should’ve figured Cas was more human than angelic with that poison pumping through his veins, making him all weak and sweaty. ’Course he wasn’t above feeling human sentimentality in his death throes.

Face hardening, Dean turns on his heel. “You were right about one thing. I guess I do have more important things to do than staying here with you.”

“Dean,” he hears behind him, but Dean doesn’t look back.

* * *

Dean always hides a spare bottle of booze in the bottom drawer of the desk in his bedroom. It's mostly empty, but, hopefully, by the time Dean's polished it off, Cas’ll be cured, Rowena will be gone, and they all can pretend this never happened - Dean can pretend that Cas stopped keeping secrets because he’s learned they always blow up in his face in the past six years.

Anyway.

First, the booze.

Dean’s barely wrestled the top off with shaking fingers of leftover anger when a knock sounds against his door.

“’S the witch gone yet?” Dean asks without lifting his head.

The door opens. “Dean, it’s me.”

Dean takes a long pull of whiskey.

Cas sighs, audible in the stuffy, tension-filled space between them. He doesn’t approach, instead hovering in the doorway, and isn’t that how it always goes? Always poised for flight, that’s Cas. “Dean,” he repeats, which only makes Dean's blood boil that much hotter.

“What?” he demands. “What do you want now? ’Cause I can’t think of a single thing you need from me, Cas.”

Cas presses his lips together. “You’re making this very difficult.”

“Me?” Dean barks incredulously. “You’re the one hiding things and not letting me help you.”

“You won’t accept this is one area in which you can’t help?” Cas asks quietly.

Dean makes a scoffing noise in the back of his throat.

Cas shakes his head, his gaze focusing on Dean’s face with his patented laser intensity. “You have no idea what you’re asking for.”

“Yeah, I’m just a jackass who can’t get a lady to stick around for more than a few hours. I get it.” He glances up to see Cas’s stricken expression. Frowning, Dean looks away.

Cas steps tentatively into Dean’s room, his face weirdly apprehensive. “That’s not what I meant at all.”

“Sure,” Dean says, tipping the bottle back like it’s water because he needs to be so much drunker to deal with Cas and his love spell bombshells right now.

Cas hovers awkwardly by Dean’s desk, his hands shoved into his coat pockets. “You’re so capable of love.”

“Cas-” Dean starts, but he has no idea where he’s going with this.

Cas keeps talking, thank God. “You don’t acknowledge that side of you very often, but I feel it every time we see each other, every time you’re with your brother. You care, you love, so wholly and completely.” Cas chuckles ruefully. “I didn’t realize it for a few years. I didn’t see how unique it was, how special you are, but you are the most selfless, loving human being I will ever know.”

Dean’s tongue finally unsticks from the roof of his mouth. Face flaming hotter than the inferno where he first met Cas eight years ago, he rasps out, “Cas - what the hell are you saying?”

Cas swallows, dragging his gaze back up to meet Dean’s wide eyes. “The reason I didn’t tell you about the love spell was because it couldn’t make me love you any more than I already do.”

Dean blinks, dumbfounded, at Cas, the words love you bouncing around his skull like a blocked radio signal. Cas said them; Dean heard them with his own two ears; but the meaning behind the words is getting lost in transmission.

As Dean’s brain struggles to make sense of just about everything, Cas nods once. “Well, now you know. I’ll go wait for Rowena’s cure in the kitchen.”

And then he leaves.

Dean slams the whiskey bottle down on his desk, cursing as it nearly topples over in his haste. He sets it right, swearing more as precious seconds pass by. He hurtles down the hall, half-convinced Cas lied to him to get a head start and is really halfway to Timbuktu.

But Dean finds Cas in the library, sitting more or less where he left him before Dean had his little wallowing session in his bedroom.

“Cas!” Dean blurts, skidding to a halt and grabbing onto the edge of the table for support.

Cas looks up, frowning. “I - “ he gives himself a little shake and starts again, “Is Rowena having trouble with the spell?”

“What?” Dean strides forward on shaky legs. “No - I mean, I don’t know. They could be fucking in a supply closet for all I care.”

Cas’s eyebrows shoot towards his hairline. For the first time today, he looks almost afraid. “Then why are you here?” he asks, his gaze darting towards the stairs to the exit. “I’m only going to stay in the Bunker until Rowena can finish. Then I will go.”

“Go?” Dean repeats, a spike of panic shooting up his spine. “You can’t.”

Cas inhales a sharp breath. “You want me to stay?”

“You want to bail?” Dean demands, his voice rising.

Cas pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger. “You’re upset. This is why I didn’t want to tell you.”

“I’m not fucking upset!”

Cas throws him an unimpressed look. “You clearly are. Your pulse is rising. Your pupils are dilated. I can smell your elevated levels of adrenaline.”

Dean makes a face. “Dude - lines - crossed.”

“Fine,” Cas says, his face set. He gets up. “I can coordinate with Rowena at a later date. She should focus on the cursed box, anyway. It’s clearly a more pressing concern and the reason we called her in the first place.”

“Hey.” Dean takes a step forward. “Wait.”

Cas’s mouth sets in a thin line. “What do you want, Dean? I did as you asked. I told you the spell could only latch onto my feelings for you.”

Dean falters, his words failing him.

Cas’s shoulders slump. “I did warn you, you know,” he murmurs, trying to pass Dean on his way towards the door.

Dean grabs onto Cas’s bicep before he can disappear. “Gimme a moment. What you said - it’s a lot.”

Miracle of miracles, Cas stops.

Dean can practically feel the power thrumming underneath the trench coat sleeve in his grip, but Cas wordlessly lets Dean guide him back to the library table.

“Okay,” Dean starts, his head still mercilessly void of the right thing to say, “So that guy, the one you’re - well, it’s - he’s me?” he asks, stumbling over his words like he hasn’t since that one time Rhonda Hurley opened her underwear drawer.

Cas nods once, his face impossibly solemn.

“Right,” Dean grunts. He rubs at his chin, Cas watching the whole while. “That’s - wow.”

“Quite,” Cas says wryly.

“Hey, don’t be a dick,” Dean shoots back. “I had no idea.”

“That was the point,” Cas sighs. “But now you do.”

“Yeah,” Dean says, feeling like a tongue-tied idiot. If only he could be more like Cas with the grand declarations.

Cas opens his mouth, pausing for a beat before saying, “I was never intending to leave permanently. I will still help you figure out how to deal with Kelly Kline. I will still assist with research, translations, anything you need.” His blue eyes bore into Dean’s face. “I can still be useful.”

Dean’s chest aches. “Didn’t I tell you it wasn’t about that?” he asks gruffly.

Cas’s earnest expression falters. “Of course,” he says, subdued. “Regardless, know that I am always willing to help the Winchesters.”

“Jesus,” Dean mutters, “This isn’t - it’s never been - about you being goddamn useful.” He huffs an exasperated breath, frowning harder as Cas doesn’t immediately get it and launch himself at Dean.

God, that would make this so much easier.

“What you want?” Dean says, glaring daggers at the tabletop between them, “That whole, mind, body, soul crap? You got it.”

Cas blinks. “I’m sorry?”

“You already have it,” Dean says through gritted teeth.

Cas cocks his head like a perplexed chicken, still as clueless as ever.

It’s clearly time to bring out the big guns. If Cas is going to spout pretty speeches that steal Dean’s breath away and leave him weak-kneed but not actually, you know, make a move, Dean will just have to do everything himself.

Fine. That’s how he’s always operated, anyway.

Face determined, he leans over and grasps the lapels of Cas’s trench coat.

Cas leans back a fraction, his eyes widening in alarm or shock. But before he can utter another word, Dean brings their mouths together.

Cas takes a moment to get with the program. There’s a split-second (that lasts several years) when Cas almost seems to push Dean off him, but he kisses back before Dean can yank himself away first. Cas’s mouth is tentative against Dean’s, like he’s waiting for Dean to end it all and yell, “Got ya!”, but he unseals his lips with a light sigh as Dean gently parts them with his tongue.

Dean unclenches one hand from Cas’s lapel. He reaches up to cup Cas’s jaw, the raspy stubble a physical reminder of the goddamn win he’s finally getting. His knees twinge from awkwardly leaning over, but rampaging Leviathans could burst into the kitchen and Dean wouldn’t give any less of a fuck.

He has Cas right where he wants him, and he’s going to fucking savor it for as long as he can.

When Cas pulls away, his face shows nothing but pure confusion. “Why?” he breathes, raising a finger to touch his lips.

Dean, still half-standing, half-leaning over him, frowns. He falls back to his seat with a thump. “Because you weren’t going to do it first?”

Cas blinks. “I didn’t think you wanted anything like that,” he pauses, “with me.”

Like there’s anyone else around who wants to get real up close and personal with the most dumbass angel in the garrison.

“Yeah, well,” Dean says, the faintest inklings of embarrassment creeping in now they’re not kissing anymore and Cas’s first reaction isn’t to look like he got free tickets to Disneyland. “I did. Do.”

“Oh.”

Dean swallows past the lump in his throat.

Cas looks away from Dean for the first time, and Dean dies a little inside. Stiffy, Cas says, “If this is some misguided attempt to show your sympathy for my situation. I don’t appreciate the gesture.”

“Gesture?” Dean echoes, “What the hell are you on, man? I don’t kiss random dudes because I feel bad for them, Christ.”

“Then why?”

Dean grimaces. “You’re really going to make me say it?”

“Yes,” Cas says quickly, his gaze raking up and down Dean’s face. “I have misunderstood your actions in the past, and I have no desire to do it again.”

Dean groans. “Look, I didn’t think angels could have feelings like that.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Or I would’ve… done something about it sooner,” he says, and that’s mostly true. Probably would’ve tried to seduce Cas, failed, and then jumped off a cliff, but Cas doesn’t need to know that.

“Well, normal angels can’t,” Cas says, “but there’s something broken in me.”

“You’re not broken,” Dean swears loudly, his anger flaring. “You’re… better. A new and improved God Squad, far as I can tell.” He narrows his eyes, daring Cas to talk shit about himself one more time.

Cas bites his lip. “You truly mean it.”

Dean tries for a mocking leer, but it comes out more like a dopey, hopeful smile. “You wanna get it engraved? Put up in neon in the Dean cave?” he asks, eyebrows raised as excitement courses through his veins. Cas loves him. Dean can make good on all those what ifs that have been plaguing him for years. “Tattooed on my ass?”

Cas chuckles lightly. “That would be a start.”

Dean lets out a bark of laughter. He can already feel the insecurities looming on the horizon. There’s always a catch: Cas never stays; Cas might want Dean now, but he’ll fly away the moment Dean fucks up because he has no idea what he’s doing.

But none of that matters right now.

He kissed Cas.

And Cas didn’t smite him. Didn't tell him to fuck off. Didn't flutter off to the moon for shits and giggles.

Cas knows him, knows him better than anyone except Sam. And despite all the fucked up shit in Dean's head, Cas is staying anyway, with his eyes wide open like nobody else Dean has ever been with.

Cas smiles in return. “If I had known a love spell would result in this outcome, I would have sought out that witch ages ago.”

And just like that, all Dean’s happy-ending fantasies come to a screeching halt.

Read Part II here!

[ssidesblog]

we’re reeling through the midnight streets

royality, multichapter, ao3

roman and patton have grown up in small town maryland, where people are shitty and the only people they really have is each other. one, fleeting night they decide to runaway together and even if it is a horrible idea, neither finds it in themselves to care because they're together. and when they're together, anything is possible.

chapter 1: you’re a werewolf and i’m a full moon (3,754 wc)

warnings for this chapter: underage drinking, drunk driving (nothing happens but still), use of the q slur and the f slur (shitty football player :/)

Patton could say, with full confidence, when Roman walked into his freshman year English class in the middle of the semester, that was the moment he started to believe in the idea of love at first sight. 

 Roman Prince stood at 5 feet 10 inches tall, wore a flannel too big for him that screamed ‘i stole this from my dad’s closet’, had an award winning smile, eyes like a forest where the sunlight leaks in through the leaves and there’s a house calling out to you that is oddly welcoming . 

“I’m Roman Prince, what’s your name?” And his voice warmed the skin like the sun on a beautiful autumn day. Patton could feel his heart skip a beat. Roman tilted his head and Patton remembered he’d asked for his name. 

“Patton,” He sputtered, “Patton Sanders.”  

“It’s nice to meet you Patton.” Roman said, grabbing his book from the bag at his feet.

“The pleasure is all mine.” Patton mumbled, head in a daze. Roman eyed him then leaned in. 

“Do you want to show me around? I get lost fairly easily.” Roman asked, the smile on his face was easy, effortless. Patton only nodded. After class, Patton showed Roman around campus and where each of his classes were. During lunch, Roman found Patton and decided then and there they would be friends. 

 Three years later, as fall break approached for their Senior year, Roman and Patton were best friends. Really, they didn’t have any other friends but neither saw why they would need to be friends with anyone else, they had each other and that was all that mattered. 

“Two weeks off, what are we doing?” Roman asked Patton, who sat in the driver's seat of his old pickup truck. Roman sat in the back, the top half of his body hanging in through the little partition window that separated the trunk and the cab. 

“We could go to the drive in.” Patton answered, chewing on the straw of his Capri Sun. 

“We always go to the drive in.” Roman whined, “We should do something fun, something we haven’t done before.” 

“There’s not a lot to do here, Ro.” 

“There has to be something…” Roman said, his sentence trailing off. He brought his thumb up to his mouth and gnawed at the skin around his nail as he thought. His face lit up with a realization. 

“Halloween is this weekend, there has to be somebody throwing a party!” Patton furrowed his brow. 

“How are we going to go to a party when nobody invites us?” Patton asked, folding his arms over the back of his seat and resting his chin on top. 

“I’m sure people will post the address on their Snapchat, I’ve seen people make stupid flyers and put them on their story.” Roman said. Patton opened his mouth and then stopped himself. Roman softened his expression. 

“What’s wrong, Pat?” Roman asked while moving Patton’s hair from his face.

“It’s nothing.” He answered quietly. 

“If you don’t wanna go that’s fine.” Roman told him, but Patton could notice the way his friend’s face dropped a little. Patton would do anything for Roman, even if it included driving him to a stupid Halloween party where he knew they’d stick out like a sore thumb. It made his friend happy and that was all Patton wanted. 

“No, it’s fine I think we should go.” Patton said with a smile. Roman gave him a questioning look. “Seriously, it’ll be fun going to a real life high school party.” Patton reassured him. Roman shone his thousand watt smile and Patton knew there was no way he could ever say no to him. 

That Friday, quarterback of their objectively awful football team, Tyler Smith posted a horribly made flyer advertising a Halloween party at his house. Roman excitedly showed Patton who had honestly warmed up to the idea. There was no harm in some stupid, stereotypical teenage fun every now and again. The advertisement stated it was a costume party, which meant people would vaguely dress up as something while looking hot as fuck. Roman insisted on wearing matching costumes, which meant he went as a vampire and Patton went as a werewolf. The vampire costume consisted of fake fangs, a white button down shirt with poofy sleeves that had the first three buttons open, black, skinny pants, and an air of seductive, homo eroticism that all vampires seem to have. Needless to say, Roman pulled it off well, a little too well in Patton’s opinion. Meanwhile, Patton wore one of Roman’s huge flannels that had rips in weird places, a pair of loose, black, torn to shreds pair of jeans, hiking boots, and black eyeliner on his nose and upper lip that semi- resembled a muzzle. 

“You look so much more attractive than me.” Patton complained as they looked at themselves in the mirror. Patton was already a pretty small kid, measuring up to 5 feet 6 inches (sometimes when he measured himself he swears there was another half an inch, Roman says it's just wishful thinking). He looked even smaller swimming in Roman’s clothes. 

“It only seems that way because I’m hot, you’d be described more as cute.” Roman said and pinched Patton’s face. He pouted and crossed his arms, which Roman argued made him look even more cute, and his face went a little red at that. They left Roman’s house and arrived at the party around 8. They walked; there wasn’t that much distance between houses and they both planned on drinking, so no driving.

 As soon as they walked into the house they heard the dull pounding of some song with the bass too high. People crowded each other, leaving almost no room to walk. Patton grabbed Roman’s hand instinctively, making sure they wouldn’t get separated. Roman still had a problem with getting lost even after three years. They quickly maneuvered their way into the kitchen where plastic cups the perfect size for shots sat next to way too much alcohol. Mixers were set out along with normal plastic cups. Roman poured two shots of Smirnoff and handed one to Patton. They downed the shots and each made a face of utter disgust. Patton coughed and grabbed a water bottle that sat on the counter. Roman rubbed his back as he sipped on some of the water. Patton poured himself half a cup of Orange Juice and filled the other half with some kind of vodka while Roman poured himself another shot. This wasn’t their first time drinking but it was the first time so many people in the room were drinking alongside them. The two left the kitchen, Patton holding his Screwdriver with both hands and Roman nursing a White Claw. They moved to the music and talked about something stupid. 

“Woah, never thought I’d see this.” Someone said next to Patton’s side, “The Patton Sanders at a house party?” Patton looked over to see Remy Sullivan, the closest person to a friend he had outside of Roman. 

“Hey Remy!” He yelled over the music with a grin. 

“Sup Babes.” They greeted, placing an arm around his shoulder. Roman eyed them up and down, he never did like Remy, Patton never quite understood why. 

“I’m drinking.” Patton informed them, holding up his drink as proof. 

“That you are.” Remy responded with a chuckle. “How much has he had?” They asked Roman. 

“Not a lot, but he’s not very tolerant.” Roman replied and took a long sip of his drink. 

“Are yall gonna be ok getting home?” They asked. 

“We walked, and I’m not drunk so yes I’m sure we are.” Patton responded. Remy gave a nod. 

“I’ll be right back.” They said before leaving in the direction of the kitchen. 

“Why don’t you like them?” Patton asked Roman, who choked on his drink by surprise. He hit his chest as he got done coughing. 

“What made you think I don’t like them?” He asked, looking away from his friend. 

“You always get annoyed when they’re around.” Patton said and leaned against him, “Are you just jealous someone else likes talking to me?” He teased. Roman knocked him with his shoulder. 

“I’m not used to sharing you.” Patton looked up at Roman’s face, which held a redder hue than usual. Patton smirked and hugged the blushing boy’s middle. 

“You love me.” Patton said, drawing out the word love. Roman rolled his eyes and pushed Patton off. 

“You’re impossible.” He said with a smile as Remy walked back over with six jello shots. 

“Two for each.” They said, handing Patton and Roman their two. Patton clinked his with Roman’s, then Remy’s and took them at the same time. He shook his head as they traveled down his throat in an uncomfortable way. He stuck his tongue out once they were fully swallowed. He downed the rest of his Screwdriver as a sort of after wash that just added to the gross taste in his mouth. 

“You’re gonna be miserable in the morning.” Roman said and plopped his chin down on Patton’s head. 

“But I’m gonna have fun tonight so it’s worth it.” He retorted and grabbed Roman’s White Claw, taking a sip before he could stop him. 

“Get your own.” He said, snatching the can away from Patton, who walked into the kitchen to do just that. 

 One White Claw later, Patton stumbled when he walked into the backyard with Roman, who was on his second can after finishing his first and three more shots of straight vodka. Suffice to say, both boys wouldn’t even come close to passing a sobriety test. They heavily sat on the back porch and leaned on each other for support. Patton laid his head on Roman’s shoulder and wrapped his arm around the other’s so they could hold hands. 

“You’re my favorite person.” Patton said matter of factly. Roman tilted his head so it was resting on top of Patton’s. 

“What a coincidence, you’re mine too.” Roman said, closing his eyes. They sat in silence, soaking up the night air that cooled down their faces. Alcohol and a full house made for a very sickly warm feeling. Patton looked around at the surrounding people. There weren’t too many people outside, mostly couples who came out to get some privacy. He rubbed his thumb across Roman’s knuckles, his way of communicating that he wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. Roman placed his free hand on top of their intertwined fingers. His way of saying ‘i feel the same’. There were many things unspoken between them; the longing glances, the way their hands ached if they were not being held together, the way Patton’s face warmed if he looked into Roman’s eyes for too long, the way Roman couldn’t sit still until his touch was on Patton in some way; all of this was to never be acknowledged, in the same way an eclipse is to never be looked at with the naked eye. Their love too precious to be recognized, as if noticing it would scare it away like a rabbit in a flower garden. Patton didn’t mind, he could be content just admiring from afar. 

“It’s those fucking weird gay kids.” Patton’s ears perked up at the sound of someone doing an awful job at whispering. “How the hell did they even get in here?” 

“I don’t know but they need to leave.” Someone whispered back. Patton felt Roman’s hand tighten around his own. 

“Excuse me?” A girl’s voice grabbed their attention. They looked up to see Tyler’s girlfriend, Katie, standing above them, a very forced smile on her face. 

“How can we help you?” Roman said, his voice painfully fake. 

“We’d appreciate it if you two wouldn’t do that.” She said, making a face and gesturing to their hands. Roman rolled his eyes. 

“And why is that?” He asked, voice full of annoyance. 

“Because it’s not pleasant to look at.” She said. 

“Seeing you and Tyler make out at lunch is also not pleasant to look at but yall don’t seem to care.” Roman argued back. Tyler stepped in. 

“Listen guys, I don’t want a couple of queers at my party.” He said, getting straight to the point. Roman stood up, dragging Patton up with him in refusal of dropping his hand. 

“What the fuck did you just call us?” Roman stood face to face with the football player. 

“Would you rather I say faggots?” He said, leaning close to Roman’s face. Patton yanked Roman back just as he was about to headbutt him. 

“Roman, come on let’s just leave.” Patton said, pulling him towards the fence that led to the sidewalk. 

“Patton I can’t just let him talk to us like that.” Roman said, pulling back. 

“Roman, please it’s not worth it, the dude is a football player.” Patton pleaded. Roman gazed over at Tyler then back at Patton and sighed. 

“You’re right.” He conceded, letting Patton lead the way out. They walked along the sidewalk, stumbling every now and again. After wandering for a bit, Patton pulled Roman over to a little park and set him down on a swing and hopped onto the other. They sat in silence, the breeze causing them to sway. After a few minutes Roman spoke. 

“I hate this stupid hick town.” He kicked the wood chips underneath his feet. Patton nodded in agreement. 

“This place sucks, I can’t wait to leave.” As Patton said this Roman’s face lit up and he looked over at Patton. 

“I have an idea.” He said eagerly, twisting the swig so he was facing Patton more. 

“Another one of your brilliant ideas?” Patton said in amusement. Roman bumped his swing to his. 

“Yes, another one.” He paused, probably for some sense of suspense, “I think we should run away!” He said wildly. Patton let out a nervous laugh, which Roman scowled at. 

“You’re serious?” 

“Deadly.” Patton bit the inside of his lips. 

“Where would we go?” He asked, humoring the other. 

“New York, of course.” Roman replied as if it was a ridiculous thing to ask. 

“Money?” 

“I’ve got a lot saved up! All the money I earned from that stupid lifeguard job I worked over the summer went right into my savings.” 

“How would we get there?” Patton asked desperately. 

“We could drive your truck, she may be a bit beat up but she’s still got an adventure in her.” With each question Roman answered more and more passionately. 

“Our parents?” Patton grasped at one last straw, one reason to stay. 

“My parents don’t give a shit about where I go,” Roman pointed to himself and then to Patton, “And your dad wouldn’t even bother.” Patton mumbled an ‘ouch’, because even if he was right it still hurt. Patton wracked his brain for some reason to say no, but a look in Roman’s eyes, which pleaded for him to say yes, made him stop. He knew there were plenty of other reasons; their education, shelter, where the money would go. But Patton ignored those and grabbed Roman’s hands. 

“Let’s do it.” He said and before he could take it back Roman jumped up and hugged Patton as tight as he could. He pulled away with the biggest grin Patton had ever seen. Despite logic pointing in the opposite direction, Patton felt like he made the right decision. They ran to Roman’s house, where they snuck into his room. He took out his dumb fangs and slipped off the shirt, replacing it with a big t-shirt. He opened his closet and emerged with a suitcase. 

“How long have you been planning this?” Patton asked, a little breathless. 

“Too long.” He said before pushing Patton out of his room. He closed the door behind him and they carefully exited the rest of the house. They walked a few blocks over to Patton’s and climbed into his room from his window. He gathered up his essentials; his most worn clothes, a toothbrush, a couple books he’d been meaning to read, and his electronics. He stuffed them into a duffel bag he used mostly during play season to bring in extra costume pieces or props. He went over to his piggy bank and shoved it in, they’d count the money up later. He snatched his car keys from his desk and they slipped back through the window. They stuck their bags in the small space between the seat and the back of the cab. Patton wiggled his body out before starting the car. 

“Let’s stay at that Motel 6 just outside of Mayberry.” Roman said. Mayberry was a few towns over from where they lived, which wasn’t too far from the Maryland Pennsylvania border.

“We’re gonna stay in a room you’ve definitely had a hookup in.” Patton said with disgust. 

“Yeah, probably but it’s familiar.” Roman said, plugging in his seat belt. Patton made a face but turned on the car and reversed out of his driveway. Roman connected his phone to the aux cord and put on songs that could only be described as ‘coming of age movie’ music. Roman sang along to most of them and Patton tapped the rhythm on the steering wheel. Within an hour they were in Mayberry. Patton stopped at the first gas station they found. He unclicked his seat belt and grabbed some money from Roman. 

“Be safe.” He said as he handed the money over. Their hands lingered longer than they needed too. They pretended not to notice. Patton walked into the little building where a man around the same age as his father sat behind the counter. He walked over to the cold drinks and grabbed two waters, they needed it. He placed them on the counter. 

“Just this?” The cashier asked. 

“20 on 2 please.” Patton said and handed him the money. He grabbed his change and stuffed it in his pocket before he could put it in the little charity jar that sat on the counter like he would usually do. They would need to keep as much money as they could. 

“Thank you.” He said in lieu of a goodbye and grabbed the water bottles. He walked over to his truck and threw the waters inside. Roman grabbed one and drank about half of the bottle in one go. Patton filled up his gas tank. The night surrounded him and even though he probably should have been scared he wasn’t. Things felt strangely right. Maybe it was the stars that shone in the sky above them that could actually be seen, or the shadowed silhouettes of the trees, but Patton felt calm. He hung the gas pump back up and entered the car. 

“Do you want me to drive?” Roman asked. Patton looked over at him. Now that the adrenaline had worn off, along with the effects of the alcohol, Roman looked extremely tired. He was sure he looked just as worse for wear. 

“Nah, I’ve got it, it's only a few minutes away.” Patton said and turned on the car. Roman relaxed back in his seat and sipped the rest of his water. Patton opened his own bottle with one hand while he pulled out and onto the road. Roman didn’t turn on music, letting the radio play on whatever station it was set to. They shortly pulled up to the parking lot of the Motel 6 and Patton parked right in front. They each unbuckled and walked into the main building. A woman sat behind the desk. 

“Hello.” Roman greeted, “We’d like a room please.” He said with that lazy smile that Patton couldn’t get enough of. She looked between the two of them and then turned around to grab a key from the wall. 

“Room number 5.” She handed them the key, “That’ll be 25.” She said as she typed something into a boxy computer. Roman slid over the money and grabbed the key. She took the money and placed it in a makeshift cash register. The two muttered thanks and went to the car. Patton pulled around to their room. They grabbed their bags and opened the door to their shelter for the night. Motels always get a bad rep for being gross but their room was actually very clean. Of course, there were probably a million unseen germs on every surface but Patton couldn’t find it in himself to care. He dropped his bag on the side of the bed and plopped face down onto the mattress. He lazily kicked off his shoes and shimmied his way out of his pants, only using his legs. They got caught at his feet and before he could slip them off by kicking, Roman pulled them off for him. He joined him in the bed, laying on his back. Patton turned his head towards his friend. His hair was growing out, and looked like a mop on his head. His face looked calm, relaxed. He still held a small smile on his face. 

“You know how you said you were hot earlier, like before the party?” Patton asked. Roman looked over at him and smiled wider. 

“Yes, are you going to say you agree?” He winked. Patton rolled his eyes. 

“No, I was actually gonna disagree.” He said. Roman let out a noise of offense. “Ok yeah, that sounded bad, what I mean is I think you’re pretty, not hot.” Patton corrected himself. Roman’s face turned red and he turned his head back to the ceiling. 

“I disagree.” He said, hands fidgeting as they rested on his stomach. Patton reached over and hooked their pinkies together. They laid like that for a while, letting the exhaustion of the night catch up to them. 

“This was a good idea, right?” Roman whispered. Patton looked over and saw Roman already staring at him. Patton looked into those eyes; they seemed to say you’re safe, I’m here and nothing will hurt you. Or maybe that was just Roman’s entire presence. 

“I think it is.” Patton replied in a similar hushed tone. They slept on that bed that night, so similar to the way they would at sleepovers, but just different enough to be noticeable. Roman had turned on the shitty, old TV as some background noise to fall asleep to. Patton looked around the room until his eyes landed on Roman’s sleeping form. In this entirely foreign place, with Roman curled up next to him, an old rerun of Friends playing from a low volume from the TV, Patton had never felt more at home. 

[ask-the-phan-site]

Phan Cam: Thanks all around.

>November 26. Thanksgiving.

>The Virtual Track of Racer Academy. The Thanksgiving Day Race was now under way. The racers were ready.

Welcome, ladies and gentlemen! Happy Thanksgiving! This Thanksgiving is different due to circumstances. However, we decided not to let that stop us from celebrating. Which is why we will still be having our annual Thanksgiving Day Race. Now, let us introduce the racers in our race. First up, my oldest nephew, X!

I hope you’re all ready for this! This is going to be unforgettable!

Headmaster Spritle: Next up, my younger nephew, Speed Jr.!

NOTE: I apologize, but this is the only image that could work.

Thanks, everyone! I hope this race will light up your day!

Headmaster Spritle: Next, Jared and Jesse Deucey.

Slice: We would like to dedicate this race to our dad, Ace Deucey. Sadly, we could only spend our Thanksgivings with plait glass between us and can only see our races on TV.

Dice: But if he could be here now, we know he’d be proud of his boys.

Slice and Dice: Pops, this is for you!

>Meanwhile, in a prison, someone was watching TV in the prisoner lounge.

(with a tear hidden being his glasses) My boys...

>Back at Racer Academy.

Headmaster Spritle: Next, from one of our overseas schools and has just made her transfer here despite the pandemic, Annalise Zazic!

I know most of you have your doubts about me, being the daughter of a mechanical menace. But I can assure you that while I’m here, you won’t have to worry... (now sounding threatening) I mean it. I’m nothing like him!

X: (whisper) It’s here, alright. Not a robot this time.

Headmaster Spritle: Next up, our student lesion from Alpha Academy, Alpha Leader!

This race will be a victory for both Racer Academy and Alpha Academy. And since the twins were honorable enough to dedicate this race to their father, I also like to dedicate this race a couple of close friends of mine... Wish me luck, Bobby and Cameron.

Thanks, Alpha. You’re a true pal.

You bet! Hey, we should go to Superboy’s bachelor party as soon as they give they okay!

Alpha Leader: We’ll see.

Nearby Race Fan: Question... Why is there a supervillain here?

Relax, that’s why me and the merman came along. To make sure he behaves himself.

Icicle Jr.: (trying to sound innocent) Can’t I help it that Sterling jerk hurt my fellow ice-guy?

We’re not going to take that chance. Miss Martian and Superboy would kill me if you did anything to hurt anyone. Especially in these times.

Icicle Jr.: Okay, okay.

Headmaster Spritle: Moving on. We have in the Mitch-mobile, Mitch Mitchson!

Aww, I’m just doing this for the people who can’t come here... That, and I’m hopin’ to get more subscriptions for Mitch-Per-View. And more subscribers means more money in the back.

Headmaster Spritle: And now, for our special guest racers! First up, the young genius inventor who will be driving the Mach 60, Ronald Multon!

(in an obviously fake accent) Roe-nald! It’s Roe-nald Muu-tan!

Oh no. Don’t tell me in this timeline, Ronald is still...

Ronald Multon: ... (laughs and speaks in the normal accent) I’m just kidding. Still, it is a pleasure for you all time see me here.

Conor: (a bit relieved) Well, at least he’s using his real voice.

Headmaster Spritle: Our next guest was once a student here, but he’ll be participating in this year’s race. Trey Sterling!

>Everyone was surprised to see... Trey’s spot on the starting lane was empty.

Headmaster Spritle: Mr. Sterling, you did say your son was coming, right?

Well, when I found his bed empty this morning, I assumed he already got up and got ready for the race.

Headmaster Sprtile: Are you sure about that?

Mr. Sterling: I’m sure he’ll be here any- Oh, here he is!

>Trey appears on the commentator’s balcony with an almost depressing air around him.

Mr. Sterling: Ah, Trey, you’ve come! The question is why are you up here when you should be down there with your car?

... I have... something... to say...

>Trey goes up to the podium and Headmaster Spritle moves aside for him.

Trey: I... I won’t be in this year’s race.

>Everyone gasped. Especially Mr. Sterling.

Trey: The reason is... Because me and my father had the race fixed.

Mr. Sterling: (shocked) What!?

Headmaster Spritle: (grinning a bit) I figured as much.

Trey: I had some of the racers attacked or paid them to either lose or drop out... I especially attacked those who disagreed with me... I became a race champion through a lie... I’m not a champion... I’m a cheater... In both sports and in love...

Icicle Jr.: (grinning widely) I KNEW IT! I KNEW IT! JUST LIKE THE CALLING CARD SAID!

Kitty Pryde: (quickly) Yes, I know! Now shush!

Trey: I cheated on Bobby Drake and Annalise Zazic because I thought it would make me more popular... And I thought that because I was rich, I could get away with it... I treated them terribly... I even told everyone I would propose to Annalise at this race... But it was a lie just make more money...

Annalise Zazic: (shocked and enraged) WHAT!? You lying bastard! You never loved me, just my money!?

Bobby Drake: (smiling a bit) I know how you feel.

X: (thinking to himself) If Trey and Annalise are through, does this mean I have a chance at her? Wait, no, the race might still go on. I’ll think about this later.

Trey: But the one I need to apologize to most of all... is fellow Bostonian, Zack... Whose last name I never bothered learned... I treated him and his sister like like amatures when I myself was the real amature... (begins tearing up) They were a real professional team and I was just some spoiled brat living off his father’s money... I didn’t deserve that money... I’M THE REAL FAILIER! I’M SORRY! TO ALL OF YOU! (breaks down crying)

Mr. Sterling: (now sounding impatient, a first) Trey, my son, pull yourself together. You’re making a scene.

Trey: ...

Mr. Sterling: (now trying to pretend that this was all very normal) Come now, son, quit joking around, you have a race to win.

>Trey just sat silently without a response. Then, Mr. Sterling did something no one ever saw coming...

Mr. Sterling: (angry, real angry) Now you listen here, you piece of shit, I didn’t pull strings and bribed the board to let you back into this garbage school just to blow it! I swear... Sometimes I think I should have invested in Zack after all. At least he has real talent instead forcing me to fix races so I can bet on them to pay back Sharkhead Eddie for giving me the money start this wretched team!

Trey: (shocked) What?

Mr. Sterling: (realizing what he just said) !

Something tells me you have some explaining to do, Mr. Sterling.

Mr. Sterling: (trying to compose himself) You can prove nothing.

Are you sure about that? Because, we got this recording of you in our inbox this morning and we found the something very interesting about it.

>Mrs. Racer takes out a tablet wirelessly connects it to a holographic screen to show a scene of Mr. Sterling on the phone.

Holo Sterling: Relax, Eddie, I’ll get you your money. Me and my boy have this race in the bag. We fixed it. I paid some of the racers to go away for ‘certain reasons’.

Sharkhead Eddie’s Voice: Good. With this virus still going on, I think it would be best to gather up on old debts while I still can. So you better get me my money soon. Because if you don’t, then perhaps I should pay a visit to your mother at St. Terrence Retainment Home, unless she, like most of everyone else there may have COVID. Or maybe I should go see you sister, the beloved Dr. Sally Sterling, at her clinic in Chinatown, if she isn’t busy with the same virus. Or perhaps your brother, Samuel Sterling. I hear he could use more patrons at his restaurant. Or maybe your other brother, Professor Shelby Sterling, at Harvard University. Yes, I think we should visit him since his students switched to online learning. So, are we clear?

Holo Sterling: (scared) Y- Yes.

Sharkhead Eddie’s Voice: Good. Sharkhead out. (hangs up)

Holo Sterling: (nervous and enraged) That spoiled brat better now blow it.

>The recording ended and everyone stared at the nervous Sterling.

Mr. Sterling: Well, (nervous chuckle) I guess this is quite the predicament.

>Some security guards came and and cuffed Mr. Sterling.

Trey: (still sobbing a bit) I want to make up for what my father did. I will use the money I did earn and donate it. If that is alright.

Mr. Racer: Well, what you did was still a bit unforgivable, but I guess it’s a start. How about to us since the money your father donated to us is clearly not his?

Trey: I could. As long as I have enough for B.O.M.G.T.M. or W.E.B.

Mr. Sterling: (in disbelief) W.E.B.!? You want to give money to those idiots? Especially the fat homo who disappointed me by not rebuilding the school that I was actually hoping to invest in it this time, so instead, came up with that?

Trey: (getting upset) His name is Max Modell. And it was his old lab partner, Peter Parker, who came up with W.E.B.

Headmaster Spritle: He’s right. I think you should start there... But for now, all your attacks on the students and other racers could have gotten them hurt. Even killed. So you still have to answer to the police.

Trey: I... I understand.

>The guards came and cuffed Trey and lead both him and Mr. Sterling away.

>Down in the pits, we saw the whole thing unfold.

Yes! We got it.

We shouldn’t forget to thank Futaba for recording that conversation. We had a feeling something was up.

I just happened to be browsing the school security system and just happened upon this footage. I just thought that something like this needed to come out.

You did well, Futaba chan. I’ll see if you can get an extra helping of pumpkin pie.

X: Forget it. Grandmom says you only get one each. She said getting second helpings of anything wouldn’t be fair for the others.

Speed: It’s true. You should have seen her at the Easter Party. I’ve never seen anyone so mad just for asking for another chicken leg. But there might be some left-overs. We’ll see.

I call dibs on the left-over turkey and ham!

Oracle: Not before I get the turkey first.

Hands off the stuffing.

I would like try all of them. I remembered the last Thanksgiving Dinner we were invited to and liked it.

Yes. I miss that tofu turkey. And I should really ask Dogg what herbal spices he used in it.

If there are any left-overs, I wonder if Grandmom Racer will let me take some back to my father.

I doubt you can get any of it past customs. Especially during a pandemic.

Oh, we have our ways.

(on Carmen’s phone) I’m not sure what that means, but okay.

Oracle: Wish you could be here, Player. It’s way more better than having to see it from a “dark little cave”.

Player: Hey, I’m happy in my dark little cave. Besides, you know us Canadians have our Thanksgivings way earlier than Americans.

Hold on, I think they’re continuing.

>Back on the balcony.

Headmaster Spritle: With that out of the way, we should move on. Good thing we only have one left. And now coming all the way from Los Angeles...

>The sound of an engine can be heard coming. But sounded more like... the roars of flames.

Th- That car!?

That’s a 1970 Plymouth Roadrunner. And it appears to be in great condition.

I think they’re more concerned on who is driving it.

Joker: Fox?

Fox: It... It can’t be...

>The car opened... and the driver came out.

Here I am, Racer Academy. Happy Thanksgiving.

D- Dad...

REMINDER: This is a fanmade timeline. Fox and other Persona characters are not really related to characters from other franchises as according to ATLUS. These relations exist only in this fanmade timeline. Please do not hate or sue me for this. Thank you.

Everyone: (except Joker) WHAT!?

Shush! I don’t think he heard you guys!

>But he did. The man the Fox and I were going to see was right here. He turned to us. He seemed to have recognized Skull as an Idol, Panther as a model, and Crow as a famous detective. Then, his eyes fell upon Fox... He was slightly shocked.

Taro Kitano: ... Kitagawa Sensei?

Headmaster Spritle: It looks like the Leader of the Scorchers has seen a ghost. But let’s not cross into that thorny territory. Now, we shall-

If I may, Headmaster Racer, but now we have an empty space in the starting lane. This simply will not do.

Headmaster Spritle: But we’ve had races with one less racer before. I don’t see why that should be a problem.

Professor Aniskov: True. But this time, I must insist. We need someone to replace Trey Sterling.

>Back down with us.

*Chirp*

Conor: Chim-Chim’s right, Zack, this is your big chance to race again.

That’s great, Conor. You, too, Chim-Chim. It would be like a dream come true... But I’m gonna have to turn it down. My racin’ days are long behind me now. Me and Ivy got a new goal in life.

I’m sure we will race again someday. But right now, Carmen needs us and we need her. Until V.I.L.E. is down for good.

Carmen: And besides, Player says our little calling card got A.C.M.E.’s attention. They’re on their way here now, so we gotta leave.

Joker: I see. That’s a shame.

Carmen: Hey, we had a wonderful time with you guys. We should try this again some time.

Sophie: Will we see each other again?

Carmen: (winking) Sooner than you think.

Joker: Carmen, before you go...

If you ever cross paths with my favorite cousin, tell him I said “Hi”... Even if they will happen soon.

Carmen: I’ll be sure to do that.

Player: Hey you guys, they just passed the gates.

Carmen: Happy Thanksgiving. And Happy Holidays.

>With that, Carmen, Zack, and Ivy run off and were gone... Who knows when we’ll see them again. Then, a black car drives up to us and two people in suits came out.

La Femme Rouge! We just saw her here! Where did she go!?

Joker: I’m afraid we have no idea who you’re talking about, Agent Devineaux.

Agent Devineaux: (a bit surprised) How did... Never mind, I know you saw her!

Calm yourself, Devineaux! If we just saw her, then we should follow her where she might have went.

Agent Devineaux: ... I knew that. I just wanted to see if you knew.

Oracle: (whispering sarcastically) I’m sure.

Agent Zari: Happy Thanksgiving.

>With that, the two A.C.M.E. Agents leave.

Conor: I wonder if I should have told them that I put cloaking technology in their getaway car?

As detectives, me and Wolf frown that you aided and abetted a criminal...

But as Phantom Thieves, we say “Right on”.

Conor: Thanks.

Headmaster Spritle’s voice on the speakers: Speed, X, can you send our Japanese guests up here, please? We wish to talk to them.

Speed: Alright! You guys better go. We’ll meet up after the race. If we’re still having it.

Joker: Right. See you all later.

>With that, we leave Conor and the others for now.

>Meanwhile, with Taro Kitano, he goes back inside his car... He is not alone.

Taro Kitano: So the rumors are true. Aren’t they?

I am truly sorry you had to find out this way.

Taro Kitano: So what now? You want me to talk to him? To get to know him?

Goemon: (shaking his head) Yusuke's in no hurry to meet you. Right now, he is content with how things are. He’s in college, he’s a talented artist, he has many good friends... And even someone he can share his heart with.

Taro Kitano: You mean that frizzy-haired guy with the glasses? I see. They look so happy together. It definitely reminds me of... me and her. When I look at Yusuke, I see his mother. And when I see his boyfriend, I can’t help but see myself. And I don’t even know the guy... Except in the ring.

Goemon: You’ll know soon enough... Speaking of comparing yourself with Ren, I have a favor to ask you.

Taro Kitano: (confused) Me?

Goemon: Or rather, someone on your team.

>Up on the balcony, we meet up with Headmaster Spritle, Speed Racer Sr., his wife Trixie, and Professor Aniskov.

Queen: You wanted to see us, Headmaster?

Headmaster Spritle: Professor Aniskov insists we can’t start the race without someone taking Trey’s place... And he suggests one of you do it.

Phantom Thieves: WHAT!?

Professor Aniskov: If it’s not too much trouble.

Mona: Well don’t look at me, Ryuji, Yusuke, Futaba, Haru, or Sumire. We’re still learning.

Wolf: Me and Akechi were asked to assist things with the Sterlings. They thought having a couple of detectives would make things a little more smoother. So we’re out.

Queen: I don’t think Sis would be too happy for me to spontaneously join in a big race like this.

Panther: And I promised the modeling agency I would take a few pics here as inspiration for their next session.

Fox: Then that would just leave...

Me?

?????: Pretty much.

>Then, my parents arrived with the wheelchair bound Defensive Driving teacher, Professor Winn, and Speed and X’s grandparents, Mom and Pops Racer..

Joker: Mom, Dad, so glad you guys decided to stay.

You didn’t think we’d actually miss this, did you?

Nor I. This is proud day for all of us.

Jonny: And who knew it would be on Thanksgiving.

Mrs. Racer: What do you mean?

As some of you may not know, but Mr. Amamiya here had just taken his driving examination with me as the supervisor.

Jonny: I’ve been helping him, too. Ever since last summer.

Professor Winn: Well, after much evaluation and seeing how well you managed your driving, whether it be regular, casual, cruising or even racing, I can honestly say... You passed.

For real!?

Queen: Congratulations, Ren.

Crow: Well done.

Mona: That’s our Joker.

I’m very proud of you, Ren.

Thank you all... Especially you, Yusuke.

>Me and Fox embrace each other lovingly.

Professor Winn: (taking a camera from her chair) Okay, smile!

>Everyone and Fox moves aside as Professor Winn takes my picture. Then, something prints out and she gives it to me.

Jonny: (smiling) You did good, kid.

Mom: Yes, well done. We’re so proud of you.

Thank you all.

Professor Aniskov: (clapping a bit) Now that that’s settled, I think we can get this race started.

Joker: I’m still not sure about this. I don’t even have a car. I mean, I do have one, but I don’t think it’s meant for racing.

Jonny: Professor Aniskov says he has that covered.

???? ??????: Hey, down here!

>We look down at the track. We saw that members of the Scorchers were hauling in a car.

Taro Kitano: Everest is letting you borrow his car for the race! So you better get down here, now!

Mom Racer: Well I’ll be.

Pops Racer: Yeah... (We finally have a speaking role here.)

Speed: (calling from down below) I have something for you, too! Chim-Chim!

Chim-Chim: *Chirp*

>Chim-Chim takes a package up to the balcony and give it to me. I open it up to find it had a white racing suit with some black and two patches on the chest. One a red circle with a white 5 on it that looks like it came from the logo our game. The other patch had a picture of a white coffee cup with some steam coming out with a fancy CL on the cup. There was also a white helmet with a large black stripe in the middle with a red line on each side of it.

Speed: (calling through Chim-Chim) It’s my old racing suit. I don’t use it anymore, so you can have it. But I did change the patches. Consider it an early Christmas present. And a thank you.

Joker: You’re welcome.

Mr. Racer: (a little confused) Thanks for what?

Speed: (awkward) I’ll tell you later, Dad. Right now, we have a race to get going.

Pops Racer: (looking stern) You better tell us later.

Mr. Race: (also looking stern) You bet.

>Chim-Chim climbs back down to Conor. Panther snaps her fingers and I magically change into the racing suit.

(this is the only picture that could be found that is similar) How do I look?

Headmaster Spritle: A bit like Speed when he first started here. Seems only yesterday he first started here... Wait, hasn’t he always? Never mind. It suits you well.

I think my heart just skipped a beat. If only I had my sketchpad, I would preserve this moment for life.

Joker: (smiling) You can do it later. I’ve got to head down.

Wolf: And me and Akechi have to deal with the Sterlings.

Crow: I just hope Trey will be cooperative.

Panther: And I have some pictures to take.

Queen: The rest of us will be at the stands if you want to join us. Text us when you’re ready to join us.

Mom: We will join you.

>We leave. Then, Professor Aniskov stops me for a bit and does something no one would ever think he would do... He gave me an encouraging smile... And a wide one at that... Wait a second.

Professor Aniskov?: (whisper in a very familiar voice) Good luck out there... Favorite cousin. (wink)

Joker: ...

(also whispering) Thank you, favorite cousin. (out loud) It’s showtime!

>We leave the balcony.

Headmaster Spritle: Ladies and gentlemen, filling in for Trey Sterling is one of our Japanese visitors, Ren Amamiya!

>I get in the Thunderbird. Then, I get a call from Speed, X, Slice, and Dice.

Dice: Good luck, Leader!

Slice: You’re gonna need it.

X: Hope you can keep up.

Joker: Can you?

Speed: Pretty bold. Let’s race!

>With that, we begin our engines. A holo-screen shows staring lights.

>Ready... Set... GO!

>We drive off. We go around the regular track once before the arch to the Virtual Track opens.

Automatic Voice: Virtual Track, activated!

>We drive into the Virtual Track. The track was made to look like we were on a giant table where a giant Thanksgiving Dinner was set up. The dishes, foods, and drinks were the obstacles, including a gravy boat spilling gravy around.

>In the stands, Fox, Mona, Skull, Queen, Noir, Oracle, Violet, and Sophie were watching the race when Bobby Drake, Kitty Pryde, Icicle Jr., and Lagoon Boy come to them.

Bobby Drake: Enjoying the race?

Queen: Well, Ren is still in 7th Place. But all in all, it’s going great.

Icicle Jr.: I don’t know about him, but I’m rooting for Alpha Leader. Look, he’s already in 4th.

SPLAT!

Oracle: (laughing) Until he drives into the mashed potatoes.

Commentator: Oh, right into the mashed potatoes.! Hope Alpha Leader can dig his way out. Now, Annalsie Zazic has passed him, narrowly missing the yams! But can she get by the slicing ham?

Kitty Pryde: (cheering) Don’t give up, Alpha Leader!

Yeah, you can do it, Alpha Leader! Keep going!

Skull: (surprised) Yoshizawa san, just who’s side are you on?

Violet: (a bit surprised herself) Sorry, senpai. I can’t just disagree with my favorite X-Man when she’s sheering for her favorite racer.

Kitty Pryde: (smiling a bit) I’m your favorite? I’m quite honored.

Violet: I’m so glad to hear that, Shadowcat san.

Kitty Pryde: Oh, you can just call me Kitty, Sumire Yoshizawa.

Violet: You know about me?

Kitty: I know a thing or two about the world of gymnastics. Plus, we know Spider-Man and the Future Avengers and they told us a lot about you guys.

Bobby: Yeah, we recognized you guys from what they told us, the past two Dream FESs, and those Dancing in Starlight videos.

Lagoon Boy: Yeah, Nightwing and the others told me about you as well. And a certain connection.

Queen: I see. So you have also been having dreams.

Lagoon Boy: How do you think we came to know Alpha Leader and each other?

Icicle Jr.: Yeah, we’ve been having dreams about him and each other for a long time. Ever since the last Dream FES... Along with that guy.

Skull: What guy?

Bobby: Well, maybe it would be better to show you. If you don’t mind.

Fox: Actually, I wish to stay and support Ren.

Sophie: I can record the race for you so you won’t miss much.

Mona: Thanks, Sophie. Okay, we’re coming.

>With that, Mona, Skull, Queen, Noir, Oracle, and Violet follow Bobby, Kitty, Icicle Jr., and Lagoon Boy.

>In a parking garage, they arrive at a black SUV with the X-Men logo on it. It was parked next to an old fashion roadster. Then, Lagoon Boy knock the back of the roaster with the “Shave and a Haircut” rhythm.

??????: Finally! I thought we were gonna die in here!

??????: Hurray! This lovely bear can become the prince he was meant to be! It was getting cramped in here.

??????: Only because you were wearing the suit when we got taken! You should have taken it off when we were leaving!

??????: But I lost my mask! I needed something to protect me from the virus!

??: I’m sure you were only doing what you needed to do.

??????: Thank you for that, Sensei.

??????: Kiss up.

??: Don’t worry, Yosuke, you’re still my best partner.

Yosuke?: (happily) Thanks, Partner.

Kitty: Okay, enough with the shouting, we’re getting you out now.

Bobby: Just try not to kill us when we let you out.

>Bobby opens the trunk. And out comes...

Ah, at last, fresh air! You guys know we can’t get to close like that, do you? We might get the virus.

I feel like an can survive anything with Sensei around. Even in enclosed spaces.

What!? You guys!?

Ryuji san? And the others? You’re here, too?

Queen: Yes, but how are you three here?

Yosuke: (unhappy) Ask him. (points to Icicle Jr.)

Icicle Jr.: (putting his fingers together) Well...

>Flashback.

>Junes Department Store, Electronics Department in Inaba. Yosuke had just finished work for the day. However, it was a slow day.

Teddie: Not many customers today, huh, Yosuke?

Yosuke: What did you expect? Because of the virus, only essential businesses are allowed to open. So the customers are only going to parts of the store that sells the essentials. And I doubt they include electronics unless they need replacing or if they want to do some early Christmas shopping.

Teddie: I see. (sighing sadly) I sure miss playing with the kids that come here. I haven’t even seen Nana chan in a long time. I miss her.

Yosuke: You just video chatted with her this morning.

Yu: (coming in with three take-out bags from Aiya) Talking to each other on the computer and talking in person are very different from each other.

Yosuke: Yu, you’re here?

Yu: I didn’t have time to make dinner tonight, so I picked up some take-outs. I would have ordered it, but due to the lockdown order, Aika’s really busy with other deliveries... There should be some left over to take to Nanako and Dojima san. So I guess we can visit them after all.

Teddie: (dramatically) Thank you so much, Sensei!

Yosuke: (unimpressed) Don’t get too excited, bear. We need to save some for Nanako and Dojima san.

NOTE: Before we go further, let me explain. By this point and time in this fanmade timeline, Yu, after graduating, moved back to Inaba. This time, for good. Yosuke had also moved out of his parents’ house. However, Mr. and Mrs. Hanamura didn’t want to be left alone with Teddie because of the messes he always leaves behind, so they convinced their son to take him with him. Yu, Yosuke, and Teddie all move in together in an apartment that was just a block away from the Dojima residence so they can visit each other whenever they want. Yu and Yosuke attended college in Okina City, though, Yosuke continued to work part-time at Junes and Yu started work as a gas station attendant at Moel. After they finished college, they still work their jobs because Yosuke is still trying to figure out what to do with his life. Though, after a long time of always listening to music on his headphone, dancing at the Love Meets Bonds Festival, and performing at the Dream Festival, he might consider something in music. As for Yu, he wishes to work in Psychology, but that requires him to study a little more into it, so he’s still works at Moel. And Teddie... Well, he does have an “exclusive contract” with Junes.

>Yu, Yosuke, and Teddie make their way through he parking lot to Yu’s car where Yosuke’s scooter was also parked. Then suddenly...

?????? ??: Hey, are you Yosuke Hanamura?

Yosuke: Yeah, who wants to-

>They turned and are surprised by who they saw.

Yosuke: Y- You’re...

Icicle Jr.: Sorry about this. Don’t worry, I’ve been training with Iceman.

>With a blast of ice, Icicle Jr. froze Yosuke and Yu. Luckily, they were both still alive.

Teddie: (boastful) Ha! Betcha didn’t know that ice doesn’t work on moi!

BANG!

>Teddie is suddenly knocked out by a wrench. He didn’t see who did it.

>End of flashback.

Teddie: So that explains the small bump on my head. Good thing I was wearing my bearskin or else it would have been serious.

Queen: So you kidnapped three people from Japan and smuggled them across the sea to America in the middle of a global pandemic?

Yosuke: I think the real question is... Why?

Icicle Jr.: I just wanted to confirm some stuff... Like that you guys are the Phantom Thieves. Besides, do you have any idea how hard it is to book a flight overseas in a global pandemic?

Noir: So you know who we are, huh?

Lagoon Boy: Don’t worry, we won’t tell anyone. This is out of respect for your friends. And we warned Icicle Jr. that we would send him off to Belle Reve this holiday season.

Icicle Jr.: I’m really hoping to spend it with an old friend of mine... To help her get over that her boyfriend isn’t around to spend it with her.

Kitty: (unsure) I don’t think she’s ready to go back into the fray yet.

Lagoon Boy: It’s true.

Icicle Jr.: (shrugging a bit) I don’t know. If Superboy and Miss Martian can even get engaged, there maybe hope for me yet.

I think we got bigger issues here. Like how you brought these guys here without even testin’ ‘em first.

Kitty: Got you covered. (takes a scanner from the SUV) We bring some with us whenever we go looking for new mutants. We may have powers, but apparently, we’re not immune to COVID. (scans Yu, Yosuke, and Teddie) They’re good.

Yosuke: Well that’s a relief. (rubbing some sore spots) But even though I’m not sick, I’m hurting all over from being stuck in there. Why couldn’t you have just kept us in the nice roomy SUV instead of the tiny trunk of this antique? Who owns this thing anyway?

Bobby: Another good friend of ours... Including you, Yosuke.

Yosuke: (confused) Mine? Who would... Wait, now that you mentioned it, I have seen this car before... in a dream.

Yu: Same here. When I think about that dream, I have the oddest feeling that I should thank you. But for what? I know you helped me a lot, Yosuke, but what I should thank you for is something else.

Yosuke: Yeah. But I just can’t remember. Then again, that dream isn’t as clear as... No, we should think about that one.

Yu: I agree.

Teddie: (confused) I don’t get it.

Yosuke: If this car is what we think it is... Where’s the owner?

Lagoon Boy: Most likely outside watching the race.

Yu: Race? What are you talking about? And where are Joker and the rest of the Phantom Thieves?

Sophie: (on Oracle’s phone) You’ll meet Fox, Panther, Crow, and Wolf in the stands. As for Joker, you should see for yourself.

>Sophie was now showing me now neck and neck with Annalise on a bridge over a casserole.

Yu: Is that a casserole?

Violet: We’ll explain later. Right now, they’re waiting for us.

>With that, they all head back to the stands.

>Back on the stands, Fox, Panther, Crow, and Wolf were surprised to see Yu, Yosuke, and Teddie here. They explained what happened.

Wolf: (whining) Please, one crime at a time. We already just dealt with the Sterlings, and we’re celebrating here.

Icicle Jr.: I just said I was sorry.

Queen: By the way, where is this friend of yours?

Bobby: I guess he stepped away for now.

Yosuke: Can you blame him? It would be awkward for a French guy to be at an event for an American holiday.

Violet: Hey, Senpai’s catching up to Taro!

>In the Virtual Track, I was catching up to Taro Kitano with rows of glasses of sparkling cider surrounding us. Some of them kept falling to try and drown us.

Commentator: Ren is gaining up on Kitano. Can fresh college student pass a seasoned pro?

Just so you know, I’m not going easy on you just cause you and my son are dating, kid.

Joker: I don’t expect you to. I wanna beat you fair and square. We’re all equals here.

Taro Kitano: Good. Hope you’re ready for this.

Announcer: This is it, folks! Speed, X, Kitano, and Ren are at the final part of the race. The man course itself: THE TURKEY!

>Before us was a giant cooked turkey the was guarded by robot turkeys with titanium drills for beaks.

Speed: Time to carve this bird!

You bet! It’s showtime!

>We managed to tear are way through the robot turkeys. They drill hard, we be are harder. Then, some of them were now ganging up on Speed and X.

Joker: We can’t let them get drilled by robot turkeys, will we?

Taro Kitano: I guess. Fine, we’ll save them from the robot turkeys... Now that’s something I never thought I’d say.

>We managed to drive up and beat the robot turkeys with the cowcatcher on the Thunderbird and Taro Kitano with his car’s hook. Finally, they were gone and Speed and X drove up ahead.

X: Thanks for that.

Speed: Now let’s go!

>We make it to the end of the rack. The exit portal arch looked like an eaten-through pumpkin pie. We drive in and back into the real world. Once out, Speed was the first to cross the finish line, then X, then Taro Kitano, and I was the last one. The remaining racers followed.

Commentator: And that’s that! Speed Racer Jr. comes in a spectacular 1st Place! His older, brother, X, in 2nd! Taro Kitano in 3rd! And Ren Amamiya in 4th!

>The crowd was cheering loud. I could see my friends in the stands. Wait, why are Yu, Yosuke, and Teddie here? Actually, never mind, this is a great moment for me. Then, I look up to the commentator’s balcony. The Racers were smiling and waving that Speed and X came in 1st and 2nd. Then, I look to my parents who are waving to me. Then, I looked to “Professor Aniskov” who was also waving to me. Finally, I turn back to the stands and see Fox.

????????? ???????: WHERE IS HE!?

>Uh oh, the jig is up. I see the real Professor Aniskov wearing nothing but his boxers, a white tank-top, and a very angry look on his face. With him is my favorite cousin’s favorite every-vigilant inspector.

Excuse me, Racer Family, but I found this man tied up in a closet somewhere. You wouldn’t happen to know where to find a man who looks just like him, would you?

>The other Aniskov was already gone.

Jonny: (smiling) Not at all, Inspector.

Mr. Racer: ... Not me, either.

Headmaster Spritle: Nor me.

>The other Racers just shook their heads.

Professor Aniskov: (upset) Are you serious!? He was just here!

Inspector Zenigata: Don’t worry, Professor. I’ve been chasing Lupin for the longest time. Knowing him, he can’t be that far.

>You don’t know that half of it, Pops.

>In the same parking garage, the other Aniskov had just come in when a car shows up.

Cutting it rather close, aren’t we? I’m not sure Fujiko would want to spend Thanksgiving alone this year.

Professor Aniskov?: (laughing) Don’t forget, Jigen, I have family, too.

Jigen: Even though he’s not related to you by blood?

>Then, the other Aniskov removes his disguise.

True... But do you want to tell his Persona that?

Jigen: ... Good point.

>Suddenly, someone comes running in. It was Pops Zenigata.

Inspector Zenigata: LUPIN, YOU’RE UNDER ARREST!

Lupin III: Took you long enough, Pops. Probably because ACME came here looking for my rival and told you to stay back. But I’m afraid I have other plans to get to. Happy Thanksgiving!

>Lupin III gets in the car where Goeman was already seated and Jigen drives them off. Pops tries to chase after them... But the car they my friends were just at drives up and blocks him. Lupin, Jigen, and Goemon get away.

Inspector Zenigata: (angry) Hey, what’s the big idea!?

>Icicle Jr. walks in.

Icicle Jr.: Sorry, Inspector! My friend was just leaving.

Inspector Zenigata: I should have known crooks like you and him stick together.

Icicle Jr.: Hey, don’t blame me for that thief’s escape. I was just seeing my friend off before I go to the feast with my other friends.

Inspector Zenigata: Grr! Fine. But you better watch yourself. One of the heroes you face is here today.

Icicle Jr.: (smiling) Who do you think invited me?

>The inspector just stood silent with his teeth gritting. Then, he ran off after my favorite cousin. Then, Icicle Jr. goes over to the driver of the car.

Icicle Jr.: Hey, thanks for helping Lupin and his friends escape... And thanks for helping me bring Yosuke and his friends here. I really appreciate it.

Anytime, Cameron. Anytime.

>Another successful heist.

NOTE: I apologize that this post was a bit long, we tried to cram as much of this day in as possible.

[verus-veritas]

Senior Picture

By Cris Kane

Shawn had looks. He had a killer body. He had mad skills on the football field.

What he didn’t have was a lot of money.

So while other members of his class were hiring top-notch photographers to take their senior pictures, Shawn had to search for whoever could do it cheap. Around here, the cheapest shutterbug was “Navajo Joe”.

That’s what all the kids had been calling the short, skinny Native American kid from tenth grade since he and his family moved to town a few years back. Navajo Joe’s real first name was indeed Joseph, although no one knew if he was a Navajo or even bothered to ask what his background was. In general, he was just ignored, although behind his back, many of the jocks referred to him as “Nava-homo”. Not only was he small, thin and frail, sometimes staying out of school for weeks at a time for unspecified illnesses, but raised suspicions by excelling at anything artistic. While he never did anything overtly gay (besides being artistic), he did show up with his still camera at nearly every sporting event held at the high school and he seemed to focus his camera most intensely on the handsomest, hunkiest boys. At every football and basketball game, every swim or track meet, every wrestling match, Joseph could be found, hovering on the periphery, zooming in for the best angles. He used a vintage camera that still took photos on actual film and, after he developed the pictures, he would bring them in to the school newspaper for publication.

Shawn didn’t know much about art – or about much of anything besides football, to be honest – but he did know that, whenever his photo showed up in the school paper credited to Joseph, Shawn looked really cool in it. Not that any photographer could mess up terribly when taking a picture of the well-built senior with his shaggy brown hair, intense eyes, boyish upturned nose, firm lips and strong chin. But Joseph seemed to have a knack for snapping his shutter when Shawn was at peak awesomeness. Shawn’s girlfriend Madison had started keeping a scrapbook of all the photos of Shawn that appeared in the paper, so she could feast her eyes on Shawn during those rare waking moments when she let him out of her sight. Her favorite was probably one of Shawn at quarterback during the homecoming game, his facial features in perfect profile against the stadium lights, his right arm cocked back to throw, revealing just how pumped Shawn’s biceps were. Further down, Shawn’s spandex football pants embraced the bulging curves of his glutes and did nothing to hide the generous endowment lurking behind the laces on the front.

Madison was the one who urged Shawn last week to ask Joseph’s services for his senior portrait. When Joseph returned from one of his frequent absences on Monday, Shawn tracked him down in the hallway between classes. At first, Joseph acted afraid he was going to get beaten up when he saw Shawn walking quickly toward him in the hallway. Shawn grabbed Joseph by the arm so tightly that the skin indented and turned white, not returning to its natural cinnamon brown shade for a full minute after Shawn let him go.

“What do you want?”, Joseph mumbled, casting his worried gray eyes up at Shawn.

“Chill, Nava…Joe.” Shawn grinned disarmingly, but Joseph looked suspicious. “I just wanted to say I liked the pictures of me you’ve been taking for the school paper.”

“Oh. Uh, thanks.” Joseph indicated relief that a jock was actually being civil to him, but he still stood with his limbs tense, ready to bolt if necessary.

“My girlfriend loves the pictures too, and she was wondering…well, I was wondering too…if you’d be willing to take my senior picture for the yearbook.”

Joseph’s body relaxed and he smiled with relief. “Why, sure, I’d be happy to.”

“I can’t afford to pay you much. Both of my folks are out of work right now, and I don’t have much saved up, but…”

Joseph waved off his apologies. “I’ll do it for free. It’d be a great opportunity.”

Shawn’s grin widened, revealing a movie-star smile. “For serious? Awesome! When?”

Joseph started to get excited. “How about after school today?”

Shawn shook his head. “Nuh-uh. I got football practice.”

“We can do it after practice is over. We can go out by my house. There’s some great scenery we could use as a backdrop.”

Joseph’s extreme eagerness was starting to give Shawn second-thoughts. He looked down at what he was wearing: a long-sleeved plaid shirt with jeans and work boots. “I’m not sure I’m dressed right for photos today.”

“Are you kidding? You look fabulous!” Inside his head, Joseph was kicking the shit out of himself. Fabulous? He never said that word, but suddenly it fell out of his mouth as soon as he found himself talking to the school’s number-one stud. He knew the jocks’ secret nickname for him, and knew how accurate it was, but he didn’t want to blow this chance by acting like a cliche. He backpedaled. “What I mean is, you don’t want to be in the yearbook looking like some douchebag in a suit and a tie with your hair all fussed over. You want to look normal. You want to look the way you really look. Like you do right now.”

Shawn couldn’t argue with that. He didn’t want to look like some pretty-boy model posed in a studio. “You promise I’ll look bad-ass?”

“How could you not?” How could you not??? Way to go, Joseph, you’re sounding less and less like a regular guy the more you blather on. Just shut up before it gets any worse. “So, after practice tonight?”

“After practice tonight.”

---

Not wanting to be taunted by the jocks, Joseph didn’t hang around the football field or the locker room, but waited in the parking lot until Shawn was done with practice. When Shawn finally emerged, his hair was tousled, his shirt untucked, its top two buttons undone. As Shawn unlocked his rusty 4x4, he asked Joseph, “I don’t know the way, so I guess I’ll need to follow you.”

Joseph looked sheepish. “I don’t have a car. I take the bus.”

Shawn had forgotten how young Joseph was. He unlocked the passenger door and said, “Okay, hop in.”

Shawn swung by his house to grab a few cans of Bud from his dad’s mini-fridge in the unfinished basement. He offered one to Joseph, who politely declined. Shawn chugged two beers as the truck bounced along the dusty backroad that led to Joseph’s place. Shawn had hoped the beer would loosen him up, since he was self-conscious about the idea of posing for pictures, particularly for someone who was probably a fag. Not that he had a problem with gay people. At least not as much as some of the other jocks. Hey, maybe fags take the best pictures because they like what they’re seeing, Shawn thought. Although if that was the case, then Madison should be able to take the best pictures in the world, because she couldn’t keep her eyes or her hands off Shawn whenever they were together.

Shawn liked Madison a whole lot. With her wavy blond hair, big green eyes and porn-actress lips, she was definitely the hottest of the cheerleaders, and she worked just as hard to keep in good shape as Shawn did. She wore her cheerleading sweater to school as many days as possible because she knew just how spectacular it made her boobs look, and it never failed to get him hard when she would leap in the air and her skirt would fly up to reveal her panties and her great ass. It was true she could get clingy sometimes. For the past couple of weeks, it was like she wanted to be with him 24 hours a day. Fortunately she had mellowed out in the last day or two. Musta been her period or something. But mostly, he was happy to be her boyfriend and he knew how jealous the rest of his teammates were that he was the guy who Madison pursued.

They finally reached the top of the hill, where Joseph said meekly, “This is my place. It doesn’t look like much on the outside, but the outside keeps you from seeing how bad it looks inside.” Poor as his family was, Shawn suddenly felt like a millionaire compared to anyone who had to live in a dump like this. It had a sagging roof, a ramshackle porch, windows repaired with duct tape and a front yard consisting of dirt and rusty car parts.

A haunted scarecrow of a man with long white hair and the skin of a brown elephant opened the squeaky screen door and stepped onto the dilapidated porch. He eyed the strange truck with suspicion until Joseph leapt out of the passenger door and shouted, “It’s okay, this is a friend of mine from school.” Joseph smiled over at Shawn. “That’s my father. He’s scary at first, but when you get to know him…he’s terrifying.” Shawn had no doubt. “I’m gonna run in and get my camera. Be back in a minute.”

Joseph dashed swiftly across the pitiful “lawn” and into the house. Shawn was impressed by Joseph’s speed, especially for someone who’d just been so sick he couldn’t go to school. Maybe he should encourage the kid to join the track team next spring. Clearly he needed something positive in his life, and if Shawn vouched for Joseph, he was sure he could get the other jocks to lay off on the razzing and the mean jokes.

Shawn waved to Joseph’s father and called out, “How you doing today?” The old man merely stared, coolly appraising the young man and his truck. As a wind swept through, creating a cloud of dirt between them, Joseph stepped back outside carrying his camera and a tripod.

He sprinted over to the truck and told Shawn to follow him. “Bring your football.” Shawn jogged back to the truck and grabbed a ball from the cab, then cast a look back at Joseph’s father, who remained stern and unhappy.

Joseph scrambled easily up steep paths, increasing Shawn’s admiration for the wiry kid’s athleticism. He had assumed Joseph was just a wimpy art geek, but get this kid in a weight room and give him a year or two to grow, he might even be football material.

When they reached the top of the hill, Shawn was amazed by the natural beauty of the valley around them. “Shit, it’s awesome up here.”

“Yeah, I like to come up here and stare at the horizon and think about my future. The sunsets up here are spectac…they’re awesome.”

“I bet. So what should I do?”

Joseph pointed Shawn toward a rock outcropping near the edge of a cliff. “Stand over there. I can get all the hills and the trees behind you.”

Shawn set down the football, walked over and stood stiffly, facing directly at Joseph, arms hanging awkwardly at his sides. Joseph placed the camera on a tripod and looked through the eyepiece, then frowned. “No, I need you to relax. Be natural.”

Shawn tried but he was still too self-conscious. He fidgeted with his arms, having no idea where to put his hands. Joseph realized the problem and grabbed the football. “Here!” He gave the ball a wobbly toss more or less in Shawn’s direction. Shawn easily snagged it with one hand, although it sent him slightly off balance. A lesser athlete might have toppled over the edge. “Sorry! Sorry! Sorry!”, Joseph yelled.

“No problem,” Shawn grinned back. Okay, maybe Joseph wasn’t football material.

“I want you to grip your ball and stare at the horizon like you’re looking downfield.” Shawn did as he was told. Giving him a prop to hold had made a world of difference. “Turn a little to your right.” Better still. Joseph risked making another suggestion. “Could you maybe unbutton a couple more buttons of your shirt?”

Shawn hesitated. Was this all part of Joseph’s plan? To get him out here and have him take off his clothes so he could have pictures to jack off to? Wait, he was the one who asked Joseph to take the pictures. Stop bein’ such a dick, Shawn thought. He loosened two more buttons, offering a peek at the pecs he’d spent so much time perfecting in the gym over the summer.

Joseph grinned approvingly. “That looks awesome. You ever thought of being a model, Shawn?” Shawn laughed off the suggestion. “I’m serious. I don’t think you appreciate all you’ve got going for you.”

Shawn was starting to feel uncomfortable again, and the buzz from those beers was really kicking in. He just wanted this over with. “Quit stalling and take the pictures, okay?”

Joseph nodded and looked through the viewfinder. “Did you ever hear that old story about how when the first Native Americans saw cameras, they refused to let anyone take their picture because it would steal their soul?”

“Yeah, I think I heard something about that. I always thought it was just bullshit.”

“Yeah, me too. Funny thing, though. I asked my father about it. And you know what? He told me it was true.”

Joseph snapped the shutter on the camera and the clicking sound reverberated in Shawn’s ears, repeating and repeating like it was caught in a loop. Shawn’s skin tingled all over while his muscles stiffened. Inside, he felt panicked as he realized he couldn’t move any part of his body. It was as if he had become frozen in time at the moment Joseph took the photo. His eyes remained fixed on the horizon and he couldn’t move them in any direction. He suddenly felt an incredible desire to itch his nose, to lick his lips, to scratch his balls, to do ANYTHING physical, but he was powerless. As if that sensation weren’t disturbing enough, he suddenly felt as if he were drifting out of his body – almost as if he were seeping out of his pores and becoming a vapor. Eventually, when he felt his entire being had escaped the confines of his body, he seemed to coalesce, his spirit – his soul – shrinking, becoming denser until it seemed to converge into a single particle that zoomed at light speed toward the lens of Joseph’s camera. He was disoriented as his very being was warped through the heavy glass of the camera’s lens until he was finally trapped inside the camera itself as a shapeless entity.

“Can you hear me, Shawn?” The voice was booming and echoey, like Joseph’s voice but heard from a long distance away in a deep canyon.

Shawn’s trapped being, or whatever you wanted to call it, could somehow hear the voice, and he discovered that he could psychically “speak” back to the voice, despite no longer having a tongue or a mouth. “What did you do to me?”

Joseph’s camera remained on the tripod, while Joseph sat beside it on the ground, eyes closed in a meditative state so he could communicate with Shawn’s trapped soul.

“My father taught me how to capture the souls of others in my camera, then teleport my own soul into their bodies.”

“Are you shitting me?”

“You’re stuck in a camera, Shawn. Does that seem like I’m shitting you?”

Although his soul had no eyes, Shawn could somehow look out through the lens and perceive his body, still standing frozen in position on the cliffside. “Why are you doing this?”

“First of all, because I can. I mean, if you had a choice to be either me or you, wouldn’t you choose you? Second of all, so that I can support my family.”

“Doesn’t look like you’re doing a great job of that so far,” said Shawn’s snide disembodied voice.

“I’m still only learning. But I’ve been on the lookout for a body that I could really do something with.”

“So all those pictures you took at the games, you were stealing people’s souls?”

“No, I have to concentrate to make it happen, so I only steal the souls that I really want. Like Madison’s.”

“What? You did this to Madison?”

“Yeah. A couple of weeks ago. I got her alone after cheerleading practice and asked if I could take her picture. And, zap, she was trapped in the camera just like you are now, while I took over her body.”

If Shawn’s soul had a head, it would be swimming. "So, wait, for the last two weeks, Madison…”

“Has been me, that’s right.” Shawn could hear a wicked smile in Joseph’s voice. “Every time you kissed her, every time she jerked you off, every time she blew you, that was me.”

Holy shit, Shawn thought. He had wondered why Madison had been so eager to give him blow jobs lately. “That’s sick.”

“I got the impression you enjoyed it at the time.”

“You did that just so you could have sex with me?”

“Not exactly. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed being so close to you, but being stuck in a straight girl just felt…icky. No, I had to use her to convince you to let Joseph take your picture. You would never have asked ‘Nava-homo’ to take pictures of you if your girlfriend hadn’t said how hot you looked in his photos. Once I – well, Madison – had planted that idea in your mind, Madison’s soul went back into her body, with no memory that anything unusual had happened to her, and I returned to school in as my dumb old self.”

Joseph’s body began to shake violently, as if something were escaping it at a rapid speed. Instantaneously, Shawn’s body began to vibrate. Joseph felt his spirit overtaking Shawn’s frame, his lifeforce oozing its way through Shawn’s bones, his muscles, his brain. The transition from his own scrawny body into Shawn’s was overwhelming to Joseph. While his training period had allowed him to enter other bodies that were larger than his, including his own father’s, none had previously possessed the strength, the poise and the confidence of Shawn. As Joseph acclimated to his new shape, the body began to move, balancing itself quickly before it could topple over the cliff. He clutched the football in his hands and had a comforting sense that Shawn’s body mechanics and agility were still intact even without Shawn’s soul. He glanced down at the gap in his open shirt and admired the well-honed musculature underneath. He lifted a mighty fist and appreciated how the folds of fabric stretched and strained over the pumped biceps. Taking over Madison was a means to an end. Taking over Shawn was Joseph’s wet dream. Shawn’s cock expanded to a rock-hard eight inches just from Joseph’s thoughts about what he would be able to do in this body.

Joseph looked over and saw his body collapsed on the ground beside the camera on its tripod. He walked over, enjoying the swagger that came automatically with this body, and spoke softly into the camera. “Shawn, I can’t hear you any more, but you should still be able to hear me. I’m not sure how long I’ll be in here, but don’t worry, my father will make sure nothing happens to you until I return. And I promise, I would never let anything bad happen to this body.” Joseph placed one of Shawn’s hands under his shirt and rubbed his smooth tanned skin.

Joseph, as Shawn, easily flung Joseph’s inert body over one shoulder and grabbed the camera and tripod with the other. He walked back to the house and left the camera and his old body with his father, then strode manfully back to the 4x4. He got into the driver’s seat and roared the engine to life. He had driven in enough other bodies by now that he could practically take a driver’s exam if he wanted to. He waved goodbye to his father, who could psychically make out the muffled screams of Shawn’s soul inside the camera.

Shawn did not show up for school the next day, and his parents told the school that he had never come home the night before, although his father did note that some cans of Budweiser had gone missing. No one had seen Shawn when he drove off, and his 4x4 was missing. Shawn’s girlfriend was questioned but she couldn’t think of anything that might have caused him to vanish, although the police found it suspicious that her memories of the past two weeks appeared to be astonishingly vague.

Joseph also did not show up for school the next day, but nobody noticed much. People were so used to him being out sick that this attracted no undue attention. He wasn’t a very memorable kid.

About a week later, Joseph’s father received a letter from California, in which Joseph described his adventures so far. He had ditched the 4x4 fairly quickly, to avoid being spotted, and with the help of family members scattered across the country, had made his way to the coast via various forms of transportation. He had already had meetings for possible representation as a model and hoped to be able to start sending checks back home soon. (There were other things Joseph planned to do with this body to make some extra money – things that Shawn would never have done and which Joseph’s father never needed to hear about.)

Just in case the police ever connected them to Shawn’s disappearance, Joseph’s father burnt the letter as well as a photo that Joseph had enclosed. It showed “Shawn” lying on a California beach in white shorts, hair clipped into a buzz cut and newly bleached to platinum blond, his softball-sized deltoids and biceps practically bursting through his golden skin.

In the photo, he was staring at the horizon, pondering the bright future ahead of him.

Source: “Senior Picture” by Cris Kane on Gay Spiral Stories

[the-sanders-sides]

Hey, Professor!

Summary: based on this vine and this post.  “Ooh, you're blushing, do you have a crush on Patton, you nerd?” Virgil joked. Logan shook his head.  “I’ll just say it's not Patton I have that's making me, ugh, feel things,” Logan replied. Virgil's eyes widened just a smidge at that statement, but he soon pushed down the flicker of hope of Logan liking him back and returned to normal. There was no way a guy as great as Logan was going to like a guy who was as much of a mess as Virgil. Tags: Analogical, Virgil, Logan, Roman (mentioned), Patton (mentioned), Deceit (mentioned), Kissing, Crushes, Get Together fic, Homophobia, Fluff & Humor Word Count: 1016 | read it on ao3

Virgil caught his laugh with a hand over his mouth as Logan accidentally made a dad joke for the third time in one conversation.

“Jeez L, Patton's really rubbing off on you, isn't he?” Virgil teased, nudging Logan's side with his elbow as the two walked through campus. It seemed like there was an event going on up ahead, but the two paid no mind to it.

“Shut up,” Logan said curtly without any real bite behind his words. His face was red from embarrassment and from a stupid, useless infatuation he didn't want to admit. Virgil poked Logan's cheeked and smiled coyly, almost like a cat.

“Ooh , you're blushing, do you have a crush on Patton, you nerd?” Virgil joked. Logan shook his head.

“I’ll just say it's not Patton I have that's making me, ugh, feel things,” Logan replied. Virgil's eyes widened just a smidge at that statement, but he soon pushed down the flicker of hope of Logan liking him back and returned to normal. There was no way a guy as great as Logan was going to like a guy who was as much of a mess as Virgil.

“It’s Roman! Haha, I can't believe you like Roman , you guys always argue!” Virgil exclaimed, certain he found who it was.

“Why yes, I do like Roman… as a friend.” Virgil playfully punched Logan in the arm.

“Well, as long as you're not dating our resident snake man, I approve.” Virgil decreed. Logan laughed at that, but his laughter died down and the friendly conversation cut off as the two realized what the big ‘event’ they were nearing really was. A professor and numerous students were holding signs that read ‘Gays Go To Hell’ and ‘Homo Sex Is Sin’ and the like. They were spewing hate and yelling for all gay students and faculty to leave the university. Another group of students was fighting against the hate and trying to shut them down. Overall, it was a messy conglomeration of people shouting over each other and pushing each other with the fight getting bigger every second.

“Shit,” Virgil mumbled as he started to tense up. Logan stopped walking and turned to face Virgil.

“Are you alright?” Virgil shrugged.

“I-I don't like being around all this. It sucks and I wanna make fun of them or prove them wrong, but I-I’m- wait is that Roman and Patton?” Virgil pointed behind him. Logan turned around and saw Patton and Roman posing and taking a selfie with a sign that said “Homo sex is sin” while covering the S so it says “Homo sex is in.”

“Hey, Ro, Pat! Nice job!” Virgil called out to them. Patton gave a thumbs up back and a wide smile.

Logan turned back around and asked, “Virgil, I simply can’t stand the new knowledge that my calculus professor really doesn’t know anything and that I shouldn’t be learning from him. Do you want to show him how ignorant and unworthy of teaching he is?”

“Shit, that's your professor? Lo, that could end badly for you,” Virgil said, hunching in on himself to make himself smaller.

“You want to show everyone what's right, correct?”

“I do, L, I'm just- I'm scared of getting hurt. I'm scared of you getting hurt,” Virgil confessed. Logan smiled softly.

“I can't guarantee that everything will be okay as Patton would say. But I can say that no matter what consequences, fighting for what's right is worth it.” Virgil nodded.

“Yeah, yeah, you're right…”

“I always am,” Logan smirked. “Anyway, just follow my lead, okay?” Virgil agreed and Logan grabbed Virgil's hand and pulled the two of them over to directly in front of the math professor.

“Hey Professor!” Logan shouted making sure his teacher was watching. He held Virgil's face who understood what was about to happen and nodded. The two pressed their lips together, and as they leaned into the kiss they heard Roman and Patton cheering them on and the professor shouting “Step back, I think I'm gonna vomit!” They both pulled away after that, not wanting to aggravate the situation they put themselves in even further. Virgil stared at Logan's flushed face and bit his lip.

“Would you like to show these losers what's right back in my dorm?” Virgil asked. Logan nodded, and the two walked away from the crowd, their hands brushing against each other as they walked.

“So, it really wasn't Roman you had a crush on. Haha, you loser, you like like me. I can't believe you have feelings,” Virgil teased.

“I didn't ask for them!” Logan exclaimed as they neared the entrance to Virgil’s building, “Do you have the same feelings about me?”  Virgil laughed.

“Of course I do dummy, why else would I invite you to kiss some more in my room?” Logan’s eyes widened.

“Oh, that's what you meant. I thought we were gonna destroy more homophobes from your dorm room. But the kissing would be a better use of my time than trying to change the mind of those obstinate asses,” Logan and Virgil entered the dorm building, “Feelings are so… icky.”

“Oh yeah they are. You better not tell anyone I had a crush on you, it'll ruin my reputation,” Virgil responded, walking up the stairs with Logan in tow.

“Virgil, you’re a self identified emo. Emo is short for emotional.”

“Shut your mouth hole. I won't tell anyone you like like me if you don't tell anyone I like like you,” Virgil proposed.

“So boyfriends who don’t have feelings for the other?”

“No, no, you've got it all wrong. Boyfriends who have feelings for each other, but don't let anyone see those gross feelings,” Virgil said as they turned into a hallway. Logan snapped his fingers.  

“Like Holt and Kevin from Brooklyn Nine Nine!”

“Exactly L, we're gonna be the dream couple.”

“Oh, I can so get behind that,” Logan smirked, “Well it seems we've made it to your dorm room.”

“Indeed we have,” Virgil said with a wink, shutting the door behind them as they walked in. “Let’s destroy some homophobes.”

a/n: hey! i hoped u like this! it was fun writing it!

[romanthroughthestars]

Safe Place~Chapter 5

Characters: Roman Prince, Virgil Dubh, Virgil’s mom who doesn’t have a name because I’m lazy, VInce Dubh (Virgil’s dad)

Pairings: future prinxiety, future logicality (maybe?)

Warnings: Mentions of car crash + side character death, family troubles, Deceit (mentioned in an actual human form now as Devon) is brought up a little bit, homophobia, slurs

Sum. – Roman sees Virgil wandering down the street around midnight. He quickly catches onto what’s happening when Virgil refuses to accept a ride home, so he invites him over and does everything in his power to make him feel safe and comfortable before Virgil has to go back and face his chaotic household.

Word Count: 4,476

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 (Sorry about how ch.4 is linked, my laptop kinda hates me and won’t let me do it correctly.) (jk fixed it)

Roman woke up with an unmistakable weight on his back. He smiled, knowing that that meant that Virgil hadn’t woken up and moved at all. He checked his phone to see that only about half an hour had passed.

“Hey Vi.” He whispered over his shoulder. His goal was to wake him without startling him, but knowing Virgil that seemed highly unlikely. Virgil just grunted in response.

“Did you do the English homework?”

“Dammit Roman.” Virgil chuckled through the bunched up fabric of Roman’s hoodie

“Come on, we gotta get up.” Roman tried to roll over to push Virgil off, but Virgil just flopped down again on his chest. Roman shook his head in defeat and dropped his arm over Virgil’s shoulders.

“Geez, are you always this cuddly or are you just exhausted? It fits your whole ‘dark and brooding’ look pretty well.” Virgil knew that he was being sarcastic when he felt Roman pull him a little closer.

“Hey Roman, guess what.”

“What?”

Virgil shifted to look up at Roman with a stupid smile. “No homo.” He whispered before resting his head on Roman’s shoulder again.

“Of course. Never, God forbid.” Roman absentmindedly rubbed his thumb over the back of Virgil’s shoulder blade.

“So do you ever plan on doing that English assignment?”

“Uuuuuuuugh, Roman~” Virgil rolled off of him and fell back dramatically, throwing his arms out when he landed. Roman sat up and stretched, then slid off of the edge of the trampoline. He leaned over to give Khan some love, then held out a hand to help Virgil up. Virgil took it and pulled himself up.

“Why can’t we just watch more movies? That seemed to go pretty well last time.” Virgil still seemed tired. Roman had started to think that it was just normal for him to be exhausted, no matter how much he’d slept.

“Alright, I’ll make a deal with you. We can swing by your house and get your backpack, and you can work on the stupid grammar thing in the car. You can just work on it while we watch a movie if you want. I don’t really care, as long as you get it done. I don’t want your grades to suffer just because I accidently distracted you with my ineffable beauty.”

Virgil scoffed and rolled his eyes, but still smiled. “Ineffable, nice. And alright, it’s a deal, but I’ll have to find a way to get inside without my mom seeing me.”

Roman nodded. They let Khan back inside and then headed out to the car.

“Okay, so there’s a window in my room, but I keep it locked. There’s no other way to get into my room without walking through the living room.” Virgil quickly described the layout of the house as he tried to map out a game plan.

“So basically, I have no way of knowing right now how she’ll react. Last night she was totally fine, but this morning she seemed kind of on edge. She’ll either ignore me or yell for a few minutes, but I can obviously survive that.”

Roman gasped and tapped the wheel excitedly. “Can I go in and meet your cat?”

“What? Did I tell you I had a cat? I don’t remember that.”

“I definitely heard you talking to it this morning when I called you.” Virgil scrunched up his face and closed his eyes for a moment.

“Yeah, you can come in. Just try not to… I don’t know… Don’t draw attention to yourself.”

“Got it.”

“Shit. Shit. Oh shit no no no.” Virgil slid back and grabbed onto the door and the center console for stability as they approached the house. Roman quickly pulled over and turned to him to see what was wrong.

“What? Are you okay?”

“My dad’s home.” Virgil whispered.

“Okay, you’re alright, it’s okay.” Roman hesitantly placed his hand on Virgil’s arm. Virgil was eager to set his own hand over it and fidgeted with Roman’s fingers while they thought of a plan.

“Okay, okay. So usually my dad just ignores me like my mom does, but if she’s upset then he’ll be pretty angry.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be right behind you. If anything goes wrong then we can leave and come straight back out to the car. You’ll have somewhere to hide this time.” Roman smiled at him. Virgil nodded and squeezed Roman’s hand before taking a deep breath and stepping out. As soon as they got to the door, Virgil could see that his parents were in the living room. He looked back at Roman, who gave him a reassuring nod. They quietly stepped inside.

His dad stood to face him as soon as he came inside.

“Thought you weren’t coming home until tomorrow.” Virgil mumbled. He tried to walk straight down the hall to his room, but his father strode across the living room and roughly grabbed his arm. Roman took the obvious hint that Virgil was going to be in trouble, so he brushed his hand against Virgil’s as a reminder that he was there if he needed him.

“Why didn’t you tell your mother where you were going?”

“I did.” Virgil slipped his hand into Roman’s.

“Well what did you tell her? She had no idea where you were all day, who you were with, when you’d be home.”

“I told her I was hanging out with Roman. I didn’t know what time I would be home.” He sounded bitter, but still spoke with some amount of respect. Roman knew that was more than he would ever be able to do at a time like this. He would’ve snapped in seconds, and this guy would’ve been decked.

“Well who the fuck is that? I’ve never heard of him.” His dad tightened his grip on Virgil’s arm, so Roman in turn held tighter to Virgil’s hand. Virgil glanced over his shoulder before continuing.

“That’s Roman. He’s just a friend from theatre.”

“Theatre?” His voice rose. “You and your brother were already enough. We don’t need another fag in this house.”

Virgil could see his mother tearing up at the mention of Remy. He bit his lip and held back tears of his own and glanced back to look at his hand that Roman was holding onto. His father followed his gaze. He went bright red and shoved Virgil back. VIrgil fell back against Roman, who did his best to steady him. Roman set his free hand on Virgil’s back above his hip, just far enough back that Mr. and Mrs. Dubh wouldn’t be able to see it.

“Remy wasn’t-“

“Just get out.” Everything stopped. Virgil, Roman, and Mrs. Dubh all snapped their heads up to watch him.

“Vince, is that really necessary?” His mother asked with a shaking voice. She was standing now, but made no real effort to stop him.

“Of course. If he wants to be like his brother, that’s fine by me, but I’m ready. I’m not just going to deal with it this time. If he want’s to go out and sleep around with fags, that’s fine by me, but I’m not going to support a whore.”

Virgil didn’t respond. He just quickly stumbled down the hall to his room, pulling Roman along behind him.  The second the door closed, Roman spun around and grabbed onto Virgil. The latter held onto him like a lifeline. Roman started humming something along the lines of When You Wish Upon a Star as he swayed slowly. Virgil pulled desperately at Roman’s back to get closer to him, so Roman brought a hand up to run it soothingly through Virgil’s hair.

They slowly sunk down to the floor. Roman pulled Virgil over to let him rest his head on his shoulder, then lifted him slightly and pulled him over to sit across his legs. Virgil curled his knees up against Roman’s chest as Roman continued the calming swaying.

“You’re going to be okay. He was just mad, he didn’t mean that.” He carded his fingers through Virgil’s hair again as he softly shushed him. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Remy didn’t either. You’ll be alright. I’m here now to protect you.”

Virgil wrapped his arms around Roman’s neck and sobbed into his shoulder. Roman continued to do his best to comfort him, being thankful that Virgil had somehow managed to not have a panic attack.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-“ Virgil hiccupped, and Roman moved his hand from his hair to his back. He rubbed small circles between Virgil’s shoulder blades to soothe him. Roman was never one for clichés like that, but now didn’t seem like an appropriate to be so pretentious.

“-to upset him.” Virgil finished. He moved away enough to look up at Roman, who at this point looked completely heartbroken.

“It wasn’t your fault. There’s nothing you could’ve done.” He had a comforting smile, but seeing Virgil so hurt was killing him on the inside. “Come on, lets get you out of here.”

Roman grabbed Virgil’s backpack from his bed, then came back to help him up. His father was gone when they got to the living room, but his mother ran to meet them.

“Honey, you know he doesn’t really think that. He’s just still upset. He feels guilty about Remy. You know how it is.” She tried to smile at him, but Virgil kept his gaze firmly on his shoes.

“You know I love you, right?” He nodded. She kissed the top of his head, then turned to Roman, completely lost as to what she should say to him.

“I’ll take care of him, don’t worry.” Roman smiled at her and looked over at Virgil as he slid an arm around his waist. Virgil closed his eyes and leaned into Roman’s side.

“Can you make sure he’s home by 10:00?” Roman just nodded in response.

“We’re driving, you know.” Virgil mumbled. Mrs. Dubh pursed her lips together.

“I… I know honey. That’s… It’s…” She looked to Roman for an idea, but he didn’t have any idea what she was trying to say.

“I’m so sorry Virgil. Just be safe, please.” She said softly.

“Don’t worry Mrs. Dubh, I’m an excellent driver.” Roman said confidently. Virgil chuckled and looked up at him.

“You sound pretty sure of yourself.”

“Hey, you’re scaring your mom.” They both looked up at her. She had an unsure look on her face, but she forced a weak smile.

“He’s a good driver, I promise.” Virgil set his hand over Roman’s that rested on his hip. “I’m in good hands.”

They gave her a quick goodbye, then headed down the street toward the car. Roman dropped Virgil’s bag in the backseat before he got in.

“You gonna be okay?”

Virgil nodded. “Sorry about being so… clingy.” He laughed awkwardly. “And sorry that you didn’t get to meet Dee.”

Roman waved away his apologies. “I can meet him some other time, and that’s what I’m here for. You don’t have to apologize.”

Virgil went straight to the couch when they got back to the house. He fell back onto the sectional and pulled out his grammar assignment. Roman perused the movies, popped in The Greatest Showman [because who needs accurate, real world dates and timelines. That movie can exist already in this universe], and laid against the arm of the couch. After a few minutes, Virgil set his English homework down and crawled over next to Roman. Roman gladly shifted over to give him room.

“This morning you were hesitant to even hug me. What is this, Romeo and Juliet? Am I going to die tomorrow?” He joked as he wrapped an arm around Virgil’s shoulders.

“Oh please, if this was Romeo and Juliet, we would’ve made out already.” He rested his head on Roman’s shoulder. “I’m just touch-starved and exhausted, I’d be acting the same with Thomas or even Logan right now if the situation was different. I just need someone close by incase I freak out or something.”

Roman nodded and hummed a quiet response. Virgil set his arm over his stomach and then looked up at him for confirmation.

“Is this fine? I can move if you want me to.”

Roman smiled. “Nope, perfectly fine. You can go to sleep if you want.”

“I think I’m too anxious for that now.”

“I’ll be right here when you wake up, if that helps at all.”

“Yeah, that actually does a little bit.” Virgil lifted his head to tuck it up next to Roman’s neck.

“Is this fine?” He asked again.

“Totally fine.” Roman whispered. He was blushing like crazy and he was worried Virgil could feel the heat from his neck because of it, but if he noticed he didn’t seem to care. He let out a long sigh, and Roman felt the warm breath on the side of his neck. He wrapped his other arm around Virgil’s shoulders and thought back to his personal goal to protect him.

Until Virgil woke up, Roman refused to move for anything. He wouldn’t get up to change the movie, so at this point he’d watched The Greatest Showman twice. He was going on the third time when Virgil started moving around. He paused the movie when he heard Virgil mumble something. Roman couldn’t make out what he was saying, but he sounded worried. Virgil curled up and wrapped his arm tighter around Roman’s waist before settling again. Roman watched him for a few more seconds before starting the movie again and going back to playing with Virgil’s hair.

There was a few more minutes of peace before Virgil moved again. This time, though, he tried to push Roman away from him, which didn’t exactly work with the way that he’d wedged himself between Roman and the back of the couch. Roman slid off and onto his knees so he could see Virgil from a safer distance.

Virgil quietly started mumbling again, but this time Roman could hear multiple ‘no’s in the jumble of words. Virgil curled in on himself, and Roman was about to wake him when he saw his eyes snap open. Virgil looked around frantically before his eyes settled on Roman. He took a deep breath before he went on with explaining himself.

“Nightmare.”

Roman smiled patiently at him, tilting his head slightly to see Virgil better. “Well I guessed that much.”

“I got kicked out.” Virgil whispered. He started to tear up, and Roman, being quick on his feet, was ready to fix it.

“Hey, c’mere.” He stood and held his arms out. Virgil sat up and pulled himself over to the edge of the couch, giving Roman a questioning look. Before he could ask any questions, Roman wrapped one arm around his shoulders and slid the other under his legs. Virgil was in his arms in less than a second.

“Here’s the game plan. I’ll get you some food, and while you eat I can call your mom and ask if you can stay the night. I’ll just say you’re afraid of driving at night or something.” He carried Virgil into the kitchen and set him down in a chair before heading over to the pantry.

“You can stay here again so you won’t have to worry about seeing your dad. Heaven knows whatever apology he musters up will be awkward.” He sifted through the items in the pantry before pulling out a box of macaroni noodles. “We can swing by tomorrow to get your stuff before school. I usually drive Patton on Mondays, it’s his mandatory bonding time, so we’ll have to pick him up. Don’t worry though, I can tell him to leave you alone if you want. I can drive you home too tomorrow if you can’t get a ride.”

As he spoke, he gathered everything he needed to make macaroni and cheese. He turned to Virgil and confirmed that he was okay with eating it (and wasn’t allergic to any of it) before he started cooking and continuing his planning.

“Or, plan B, I can take you over to Logan’s house. I’m sure he’d be willing to take care of you if you’ve had enough of me. If not, Thomas is quite a hoot. He’s mentioned you before, so I know you wouldn’t mind staying with him.”

Virgil curled into a ball again as he spoke. He was smiling, but he pulled his knees to his chest and rubbed his arms as he spoke.

“Rad, hoot, when will I ever hear the end of this?”

“Oh, trust me-“ Roman paused to pull his hoodie off over his head and toss is to Virgil. “I could go on forever.”

Virgil was amazed at the fact that Roman had offered to take his hoodie off without Virgil even having to ask. It was his theatre hoodie. When they were sophomores, the theatre club had done a tradition that they’d done every four years for who knows how long. They had a section day. Yeah, they might’ve stolen it from the band, but who could blame them? It was genius. Everyone got to bond with other people in their same general section. A lot of groups made shirts or jackets to remember it by.

Roman and Thomas’s group, all of the actors, had made hoodies. They were bright red, and each one had a personalized name on the back and space for a number if anyone wanted to add one. Roman had of course gotten his with “Princey” written on the back, but underneath it in the open space he had embroidered on a large crown. Since the day he got it, he had refused to part with it aside from washing it. It was almost always in his backpack if he wasn’t already wearing it. No one, aside from Patton sometimes, was allowed to touch it. It landed in Virgil’s lap, and he stared at it in stunned silence for a moment.

“What? You seemed cold.” Roman went back to his cooking, turning away from Virgil to hide the inevitable blush. He was getting better at hiding it, but Virgil definitely could’ve been catching on by now.

“Thanks.” Virgil said quietly, still shocked. The hoodie was only about a size too big, but Virgil was used to his jackets and hoodies being a little baggy. It smelled like chamomile and lavender, Virgil’s new favorite scents.

“So you can stay in my bed if you sleep here tonight. I’ll just sleep on the floor.” Roman turned and leaned back against the counter as he let the noodles cook.

“You’re definitely not sleeping on the floor. How big is your bed?”

“Queen.”

Virgil shrugged. “We can make that work.”

Roman, now mortified, nodded slowly before realizing his embarrassment and spinning back around to the stove.

“So do you want to call your mom, or do you want me to?” He asked without looking up from the pasta. He heard  Virgil sigh and saw him, out of his peripheral vision, saw Virgil pull out his phone.

“I’ll call her, it’s fine. I’ll be right back.” He stepped out onto the back porch with Khan following close on his heels. He leaned over to say a quick hello to Khan before taking a deep breath and tapping his mom’s number. Roman couldn’t tell if he’d intentionally left the door open some or if it was a mistake, but he listened anyway.

“Hey. Yeah, I’m okay… Yeah, we’re eating now… Can I stay here tonight? I think I need a break from dad… No, mom, he’s not my boyfriend. For all you know, he could be straight… He’s just a good friend, and he’s kind of protective… No, he just didn’t want me to get hurt… Mom…”

Roman could hear the tone of Mrs. Dubh’s voice faintly from where he was in the kitchen. He couldn’t hear her before, so he was assumed that she had been getting louder as they spoke.

“No… He’s not-… Mom he’s-…” He struggled to speak for a few more seconds before he gave up and completely interrupted her.

“I thought you were going to try to help me. He’s not my boyfriend, he couldn’t be farther form it.”

Well that stings a little bit.

“I’m staying here tonight, or at least until dad gets his shit under control, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me… Yeah, sure you do… I’m not saying it back, and if you forget to feed and water my baby, I will literally move out and take all of Remy’s old memories and crap with me.”

Roman thought for a moment that he might’ve been joking, but there was an edge in his voice as he spoke.

He must really love that cat.

Virgil hung up without another word and stepped back inside. He slumped back into the chair again and sighed.

“M’kay, I’m staying here. I can leave at any time if you want me too though. I’m pretty sure I was kinda clear about the fact that I don’t mind sharing a bed.” He laughed softly, but it was less awkward than Roman had expected it to be. “Logan and I usually share a bed when I stay at his house, so I’m used to it by now.”

Virgil pulled the collar of the hoodie over the bottom half of his face as he slid back and relaxed again. He played it off as just being cold, but he was secretly loving the scent of whatever it was that Roman used to smell this good.

“Is it really that cold in here? Maybe I’m just used to it or something because I live here, but damn.” Roman chuckled as he poured the macaroni and cheese into two bowls. Virgil dropped the hoodie off of his face and smiled casually, but Roman could see him starting to blush.

“I just get cold easily.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Roman carried the bowls over and set them down on the table. “I don’t consider myself an expert cook or anything, but I can make some good mac’n cheese. With how much my parents travel, I’ve probably had to make this same thing like five-hundred times by now.”

For a few minutes, they just talked about whatever came to their minds. They talked about Roman’s parents and where they’ve gone, Virgil’s parents and their weird worldviews, just anything that they happened to think of. When they finished eating, Roman cleaned everything up and led Virgil back into the living room.

“Ok, so lets talk about the plan for tomorrow.” Roman said as he sat down in the familiar corner of the sectional. Khan was next to him in seconds.

“Right. I think all I need from my house is clothes since I have my backpack here already. I’ll have to shower, though.”

“That’s easy. You can shower here, and you can just borrow some of my clothes for now. I can shower first in the morning so you can have some more time to sleep, if you want.”

Virgil agreed and gave him a quiet thanks.

“You should probably head to bed. After the day you’ve had, I’m actually kind of surprised that you’re still awake.”

“Don’t forget that I’ve slept for like five hours so far today. Never underestimate the power of naps.” Virgil grinned at him. “Pretty good naps, too. You’re a good pillow.”

Roman chuckled and shook his head. “Whatever. You just need to get some sleep.”

It took a few minutes of convincing, but they’d managed to come to a compromise. Virgil had told him that he’d go to sleep as long as Roman did too. He’d claimed that it was because he was used to sleeping with Dee, but Roman knew that he just didn’t want to be alone.

Roman tossed Virgil a pair of sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt. He left him alone in the bedroom to change while he went to let the dog out again.

Virgil set Roman’s theatre hoodie on the edge of the bed before he changed out of the pajama pants and t-shirt that he’d been wearing since that morning. Roman’s sweatpants hung loosely on Virgil’s slim figure, and the fabric was almost long enough to cover his feet. He hopped onto the bed and waited for Roman to come back, taking advantage of the time to get a better look at Roman’s room.

He looked behind him to see the mural again, then turned back to look at the other walls. The wall behind Roman’s desk was covered in rainbow sticky notes, but Virgil was close enough now to read some. A few had cliché motivational quotes, some had reminders, and other had random ideas on them.

“If you never learn to drive, would you still get an ID? Google that later.”

“Any day that you don’t give up puts you one day closer to success”

“The greatest pleasure in life is doing what people say you cannot do”

Virgil smiled at the neat, scripted calligraphy of some of them next to the quick, scribbled text of others. He picked up Roman’s hoodie up again and held it in his lap as he looked around at the rest of the room. He jumped and nearly dropped it when he heard Roman clear his throat from the doorway. Virgil threw the hoodie onto the bed behind him. He’d definitely gotten much less shy around Roman since they’d started hanging out, but there was no way in hell that he’d let Roman believe that he felt anything more than friendship.

“You can hang onto that if you want.” Roman walked over and sat down on the bed next to Virgil. He reached behind him and grabbed the hoodie, then dropped it back into the other’s lap. Virgil stuttered out a confused response, so Roman went on to clarify.

“You know, until you can go home and get your hoodie back.” He smiled at Virgil’s still shocked face.

“Right, right. That makes sense. Thank you.” Virgil look up at him and smiled back.

“Alright, now let’s get some sleep.” Roman hopped up to turn off the light, then rolled onto the bed to avoid Virgil’s baffled look. Virgil dropped the hoodie down onto the pile of his clothes, then slowly crawled over to other side of the bed. He laid on his side, facing away from Roman.

Roman pulled the comforter up over them, then shifted so he was closer to Virgil’s back. He snaked an arm around Virgil’s waist and pulled him closer to his chest.

“You’re going to be okay. I promise.” Roman whispered. With that, Virgil broke down again. He rolled to face Roman’s chest and quietly cried. Roman held him close, running a hand through his hair as he had done before, and softly soothed him until they both drifted off to sleep.

taglist:  @ab-artist @hexdream18243 @thisbisreadytoyeet @queva8 @a-time-traveling-whovian @raygelkitty @bunny222

[anti-anti-a-la-bi-bi]

So ok, first of all, I'm straight so my offense to this story is about the bullying and not really cause it personally affects me. Me and my mom used to go to this shop together. They sell stuff cheaper than in other places and the people working there seemed friendly (they're late teens-early 20's in age and they work part-time). One day my mom left me there for a while and I saw some of these teens making this little kid cry by continuously calling him gay and that they'd tell his dad so(1)

(2)he'd get in trouble and that scared the kid even more. (dunno whose kid it is btw) I'm too much of a coward to help and no one else is doing anything except one of the other workers whose trying to tell them off but he's busy with another customer. When the kid was crying real loud is when they stopped and told him to stop crying, they're just messing with him and that he's not gay. It felt terrible cause he's not their kid and it was cruel, also by making 'gay' an insult, that kid might end(3)up hating himself if he does turn out to be one in the future or if not, turn into a bully cause he'd think being gay is bad if people are making fun of him and because 'he's gay' and would do the same to actual gays. Like the kid is 5 or something. I still go to that shop every time my mom ask me to but that place makes me feel uncomfortable now cause of that incident. Like, these friendly people would bully a little kid like that and stuff. (thanks for letting me vent, sorry for long asks)I see. In the Netherlands Homo/Gay is used as an insult on the daily, so I come across it quite often, though, usually they grow out of it. Lets just hope that the poor kid received good education later down the line. Bullying is never acceptable. Whether it comes from adults or from other kids. Adults often get away with this shit as 'it's just a joke!'Whenever someone tries to use that excuse, say 'jokes are funny, this is not.' Because that excuse, as well as "I'm normal and you're not"(and many other things among the same lines) enable blatant abuse/bullying.(It's okay, anon. I know that it's relieving to vent at times, so feel free to drop into my asks at any time. I'm also fine with being sent a message if you'd rather keep it private. I use an old version of Tumblr which won't let me toggle asks between private and public.)

[thatmademadej]

congrats on your milestones and on completing your exams! for the shyan prompts how about them just having a good time on a road trip? -cctinsley

Wow so this took its sweet time…I started out writing an American version, then got fed up of googling stuff and decided I would write them taking a trip around Scotland, then realised that I was still googling stuff bc I just don’t know shit. @cctinsley I hope you enjoy! I did everything in my power to only do the bare minimum of research. 

—-

“Hey, what if we drove there?”

“What?” Shane turns to face him, pulling his headphones off. “Drove where?”

“To Texas.”

“Why?”

“Because…we can?”

“Ryan, that would take, like, 20 hours.”

“Yeah.” Ryan shuffles his chair closer. “That’s the point. Road trip!”

“I’m the wrong shape for road trips,” Shane says, kicking his legs out to illustrate the point. “I can barely stand the plane.”

“Don’t be a baby,” Ryan says, poking the back of his chair with his foot. “It’ll be fun. I’ve got loads of places to see on the way there.”

“Ghost places or normal places?”

“Normal places, dick.”

“How are we gonna take time off work?”

“You know neither of us have taken a holiday in two years,” Ryan scoffs. “We deserve this!”

“You think I deserve folding myself into a car for 20 hours? 21 hours!” He’d googled it whilst Ryan was distracted.

“We’d stop at things, obviously.”

Ryan pouts, and there it fucking was. Shane can not say no to him.

“Okay, whatever,” Shane says. “Let’s be a cliche.”

They leave early on a Wednesday morning, before Los Angeles has a chance to get really hot and trafficky. The highway east is practically empty, and Shane rolls his window down to get a breeze. Ryan notices him closing his eyes, leaning back against his seat, and smiles.

“Oh god, are we gonna go to Vegas?” Shane says.

“I thought about it, but then I also thought that you would definitely end up getting murked,” Ryan says, hands loose and easy on the steering wheel. “I’ve got something so much better.”

They speed through Arizona, Shane getting out and flapping his limbs around like some eldritch horror whenever they stop for gas.

“Can you…not do that? You’re scaring those children,” Ryan says, pointing his thumb at a car whilst jamming the pump into his Prius with zero mercy.

“Gotta keep my circulation going,” Shane says, shimmying his shoulders. “If my hands fall off I won’t be able to film you huntin’ ghosts.”

Ryan takes them to the Kartchner Caverns, a state park in the south of Arizona - it’s the first real stop after eight hours drive. And he’d been right; Shane would far rather see this than Vegas.

They book a twin room in a motel on the edge of Arizona, right before it becomes New Mexico, and Shane turns to face Ryan in the darkness.

“We could veer a right and just…go to Mexico.” He said.

“We could. We do have to be in Texas on Wednesday, though.” Ryan said, lying on his back and staring at the ceiling.

“Could go back to the Island of the Dolls.”

“Noooooo,” Ryan huffs a laugh, chest rising and falling under the covers.

“But it’s your heritage, Ryan.”

“If it is, then I’m just Japanese,” Ryan chuckles, and then goes still.

“But then you wouldn’t be you,” Shane says, and it must be the right thing to say, because Ryan turns to face him with a soft smile on his face.

“Nah. Wouldn’t be me.”

They leave early the next morning, crossing the border into New Mexico with a cheer from Shane and an exhilarated laugh from Ryan. They hang a north on the I25 and find themselves by the Very Large Array, Shane suspects on purpose.

“If we find aliens, this is how we’re gonna do it,” Ryan says, planting his hands on his hips and staring out across the radio dishes. It’s a weird, weird clash - the tech sat on land that feels older than time itself. The sun is beating down on Shane’s back absolutely mercilessly.

“If we find aliens? Is Ryan Bergara doubting?” He calls, and Ryan punches him lightly in the arm.

“Don’t be a doof,” He says, achingly fond. “They might find us first.”

“Sure,” Shane laughed, shoving his hands in the pockets of his cargo shorts. When it got hot, Shane went full Dad.

The AC in the car is on full blast, all the windows down, and Shane is still melting into his seat. Ryan’s forehead has a light sheen of sweat on it, trickling down over his bare shoulders. His tank top is sticking to his chest.

They stop at a diner, just in hopes that it’ll be colder than the car. It’s not, but Shane orders two ice cream floats and then plants his face in his.

“Jesus Christ!” Ryan says, jumping backwards. “God, I thought you’d died.”

Shane lifts his head, ice cream sticking to his half-beard (he hasn’t shaved since Saturday) and blinks up at him. “What on earth gave you that impression?”

“It’s too fucking hot,” Ryan grumbles, buckling himself back into the Prius. “This was a mistake.”

“Nah,” Shane says, flopping down next to him and kicking his shoes off. His feet are gonna swell up, but he doesn’t care. “It was a good idea. I’m having a good time.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah!” Shane exclaims, flailing his hands around at the desert. “Look at all this! I don’t think I’ve ever seen this much of America.”

“Nah, me neither.” Ryan says, staring out at the road through his sunglasses. “Before Unsolved, I hadn’t really left Cali. Except to go to Mexico.”

“I hadn’t even done that,” Shane says, reaching out and slapping him on the shoulder. “We’re growing as people.”

“Ha,” Ryan says. “You’re too old.”

“You’re never too old,” Shane insists. “Even ghosts can have character growth.”

“OH SHIT” Ryan yells, and Shane cracks his head off the roof of the car.

“What the fuck, Bergara?!” He demands.

“Roswell!” Ryan shouts, slamming his hands on the wheel of the car. “We have to stop in Roswell. SHIT!”

“How did you forget that Roswell was in New Mexico?” Shane laughs, intoxicated by how hyped Ryan is.

“I was too fucking excited about the VLA!” Ryan says.

They screech into Roswell in the late afternoon, as the sun dips in the sky. Ryan knows where the spaceship landed - of course he does - and he leaps out of the car, almost forgetting to turn the engine off.

“Ryan, chill.” Shane laughs, unfolding himself at a more leisurely rate. “You’re not gonna be the next person to discover aliens.”

“Nah,” Ryan says, hotfooting it over the desert. “The government are far more vigilant now, especially here.”

“So we’re just - we’re doing conspiracy theories all the time now? IRL?” Shane keeps up easily, taking one step for every one and a half Ryan takes. He suddenly comes to a screeching halt, Shane running into his back with a grunt.

“There’s nothing here.” Ryan says.

“That’s literally what I just said. It’s what you said.”

“I know. It’s just…desert though. Anticlimax.”

There really isn’t anything to see, for miles and miles. For a moment, Shane worries that they’ve lost the car, and they’re doomed to wander the desert. It wouldn’t be too bad, if it was with Ryan. They’ve done just about everything together for the last three years, and Shane still isn’t tired of it. He’s still waiting for the day Ryan gets tired of him being a goofy piece of shit.

“Come on,” He slings his arm around Ryan’s neck and leaves it there. It’s too hot, really, but he wants to feel Ryan underneath him - solid and real, in the scorching desert.

They continue on into Texas where they stop for the night. Tomorrow, they need to reach San Antonio by evening, where TJ is waiting for them. Tonight, it’s just the two of them.

The motel only has two singles, so Ryan awkwardly bids him good night and disappears into his room, leaving Shane alone in the hallway staring at a closed door.

Shane is awoken in the middle of the night by someone lifting up the covers and sliding in next to him. He reaches out a hand and feels soft hair, sharp cheekbones, a stubbled jaw - probably Ryan. Hopefully Ryan.

“Dude, what are you doing?” An indignant voice mumbles. Definitely Ryan.

“I was tryna feel your face like blind people do in movies,” Shane says. “Also, you’re the one climbing into my bed in the middle of the night.”

“I missed you,” Ryan says, and Shane laughs even though it didn’t sound like a joke.

“I feel like this entire trip didn’t happen.” Ryan says, lying with his hands awkwardly crossed over his chest. Shane doesn’t understand why he got into bed with him if he was gonna no homo the whole thing.

He feels like he’s half asleep, a strange lethargy falling over him and tempting him to do something like reach out and brush his thumb over Ryan’s stubble.

“Maybe it didn’t. Maybe we died on the highway out of Los Angeles and this is Purgatory.” He mumbles, crossing his arms to mirror Ryan.

“You say. Such weird, morbid shit.” Ryan says, reaching out and shoving him lightly on the shoulder.

“Someone woke me up in the middle of the night,” Shane says, shoving him right back. Ryan giggles - actually giggles - and Shane’s soul is…fizzing. It’s fucking late, okay.

He wakes up the next morning to the back of Ryan’s head, a back slowly rising and falling. They drive to San Antonio, a heavy silence in the car between them.

“Hang on,” Shane says right before they reach the city bounds. “We still have to drive back again.”

“Oh, yeah.” Ryans says, brightening. “The trip’s not done.”

They film. It’s the same as always. They get back in the car, and Shane folds his legs up with anticipation. Ryan reaches out and takes his hand

In Arizona, Ryan hangs a left. Wait, right, Google Maps has got him all turned around. Ryan won’t tell him where they’re going, but Shane works it out soon enough.

“You won’t be able to look over the edge of that,” Ryan says, as they meander from the Prius to the edge of the canyon. Shane has nothing to say; for once, the witty comebacks die on the end of his tongue.

“You okay, big guy?”

“What are we doing?” Shane asks. “Driving around? Pretending like we’re just - just friends? I dunno, dude, I feel…I don’t know.”

“Are we pretending?” Ryan says. “I’m not pretending.”

Shane sways, scuffs at the dirt with one worn boot. The temptation to just leap over the side of the canyon lingers over his shoulder.

“Shane?”

“I’m worried that we’re gonna go back to LA and just…carry on like we were before. Teetering on the edge of something else. In denial about all of it.” He says to the landscape, unable to face Ryan.

“Me too,” Ryan says, and a rock goes flying past Shane’s ears and over the edge.

“Cool it, dude.” Shane grumbles. “So what do we do?”

“I dunno. Stop pretending, I guess.”

And Ryan steps up behind him, slipping a hand into his and squeezing it tight. Later, they’ll drive back to Los Angeles, the final day spent with his knees up around his ears, the final day of lingering glances and bonds unspoken. Well, not the final day of that. Hopefully, the first day of something new.

----

Send me prompts!

[vmfx]

#1 ANSWER.

It was my first week into my new job that I meet Barney. It didn’t take long for me to realize how much of a low-art asshole he was. One thing they didn’t tell me about being hired to work in this place was to not be myself or have dissenting views.

Only a couple of weeks went by and I started to see how bullish and intrusive Barney was. Ordinary conversations became interrogations. Barney became easily fascinated when he asked me about myself, my point of view, or what my stance was on certain people or subjects. So fascinated that it got annoying real quick. For instance, my co-workers were talking about this since long-forgotten reality show The Jersey Shore. As usual, I could care less about pointless things. I was minding my own business doing my job until I was caught in his crossfire.

“So, tell me. What do you think about Snooki?”

“No thanks.”

“What?You’re kidding me. Tell me you wouldn’t want a piece of Snooki.”

“No.”

“What?! You’re serious!”

“No. I don’t care for her.”

“C’mon! You’re serious, right? Everyone thinks Snooki is hot! You don’t think Snooki is hot?”

“I don’t.”

“So…you’re saying that you don’t find Snooki hot.”

“No.”

“C’mon. What are you? A homo?”

Let’s take the time and run through this. Barney asked me a question and I gave him an answer. Simple as that. He wasn’t happy with my answer because he expected me to say what he wanted to hear. I shattered his expectations. Instead of letting it be, he kept on persisting me for re-assurance because his small implosive mind couldn’t take it. He also assumed to speak for everyone that some non-factor was hot, confusing opinion with fact. When I ultimately refused to give in, he insults me. As the old saying goes, ‘the television is always right’.

Because of this, Barney the One-Trick Pony™ constantly (and falsely) accused me of being gay. He went as far as trying to set me up with one of his lady friends. He even went further in lecturing me on why I needed to be married and why I should carry on the family name.

That was my mistake. I should’ve kept my mouth shut. I leave myself open to this and Barney turns into this Long Island ‘muthuh’ who endlessly criticizes others because they don’t live up to their standards. But he was no normal muthuh, he was a six-foot-three 350-pound 45-year old has-been who lived alone, had no girlfriend, and was very much into queer jokes, six-packs of beer, and phone sex which he openly disclosed to me while I was having lunch.

Perhaps if I criticized Barney on wearing an old, faded, crackling football jersey because they’re pathetic legendary losers who consistently fail to make the playoffs, he would be greatly offended. But I don’t do that to people. Unlike him, I have some sort of respect for others. I also can’t imagine if I called him out on his low-brow world of 1-900 numbers, bathroom stall writing, and online porn; because no one should ever put another person’s manhood in question of someone who watches sports, guns down a twelve pack, and relies on cheap obvious women. God forbid.

**********

Another Sunday, another weekend to disrupt my life and throw away beautiful blue skies, green grass, and white clouds to go to work; to deal with the curious public and an even more curious group of co-workers. When I mean curious, I mean ‘violating my privacy to the point it’s disgusting’ curious.

As usual, anything and everything about everyone working behind the counter is mined, revealed, sensationalized, and talked about for weeks if not months at a time. Whereas cameras are everywhere where I work; their plastic domes, tinted lenses sophistication, and inability to talk have absolutely no effect. But human nature is so cunning and so complex that my co-workers are an even bigger threat. They do everything they can to make other certain co-workers uneasy and destroy whatever sense of boundaries, privacy, space, or etiquette they were supposed to have all for a laugh or two. Our. God. Given. Right.

Elvis, who is best friends with Barney, is one of the most insipid, obnoxious, and mentally bankrupt individuals I have ever met. He always seems to strike up random conversations with me at the worst possible moment, which is usually when I’m working. If it’s not about something I’ve gotten over or experienced days, weeks, or months ago, it’s always the same stale repetitive boring questions. “So, how’s your dad? Is he still staying home? Still watching Maury? Does he go out? What does he eat? Do you guys go out? Where do you go? Do you have fun with your dad?”

Sometimes as I’m having lunch alone in the break room in complete silence, he would sit down with me, uninvited of course, and start asking me those rapid-fire series of pointless questions that are below me because I moved on from that game decades ago. “So what’s in today’s paper? What happened? Anything good? What’s this headline say? Hey, would you fuck Amana Bynes? You wouldn’t? Why not? Are you OK? Why are you feeling annoyed?”

This is pretty much the level of stupidity I endure every day working with Elvis. As if I don’t get enough unwanted unsolicited dumbstruck comments and unneeded questions from customers, I end up having Elvis’s display of genius come to me. It’s very hard to avoid. We’re only a few feet from each other at all times but somehow dumb is so generous where I live that there’s always more to go around and share. It wasn’t until very recently that a red card was pulled right in front of my face that made me dismiss him and write him off totally.

One Friday morning before work, I took Cath- to a salon to go get her cut for her sister Cheree’s graduation in Pennsylvania. My assistant manager Alphonso gave me a very rare Saturday off. It would have been ideal for both Cath- and I to get together for Saturday but it wasn’t possible because that was Cheree’s graduation day. Take one in the loss column. The following busy Sunday at work, Elvis once again pitches for conversation towards me.

“So, uh, how was work yesterday?”

“I didn’t work yesterday. I was off.”

“Oh, really? Off on a Saturday?! How did you end up getting off on a Saturday?”

“I don’t know. Alfonso just scheduled me off for Saturday, I guess?”

“Really?”

“…yeah.”

“So what did you do on your Saturday off?”

“Well, nothing really. I just went to the gym then stayed home for the rest of the day to relax.

“Wow, you went to the gym and that’s it?”

“Yeah, it was miserable out. Then again, all that didn’t matter as my friend was in PA for a graduation.”

“Was your friend a guy or a girl?”

“…it didn’t matter. Nothing really happened that day.”

“Was your friend a guy or a girl?”

“Why are you asking me this again? Why does it matter who I hang out with?”

“Was your friend a guy or a girl?”

I shook my head at Elvis, exhaled, and walked away from him. Next week we will play this game again, but for now I just saved myself from another round on endless embarrassment and unwanted humiliation.

That is why I can no longer talk to people anymore. It mattered so much to this fucking stumble. Elvis was looking to once again take something personal of mine and turn it into a front-page headline for the entire department to throw around, make fun of, and blow up as the workplace news story of the week. Because we’re so needy for excitement and self-gratification that we have to know every little thing that goes on in other people’s personal lives, in this case for my co-workers to use it against me.

This seriously took off on me. Our own mini-NSA-in-training Elvis was really that fascinated as to what gender my friend was. That meant so much to him. He really wanted to get off on the fact that I spent time with a female since the only things that take up real estate in his mind are getting plastered on weekends and “hot girls”, according to him. OK, so what else does he want to know? Did I sleep with her last night? What was she wearing? Was she a Ginger or an Asian? What positions did we do? How long did it last? What exact words did she scream out? Was it good? And did I kiss her goodnight, make her breakfast, or just get dressed and run out of her house? Do I get $100 for every correct answer?

How would Elvis like it if I would stop his world every five minutes to ask about his everyday mundane life of nothing? Would he appreciate it if I would distract him endlessly with pointless questions and ‘yes’ and ‘no’ answers? Would it annoy him to no end if I intruded into his personal life only to ridicule it along with all of the other co-workers around? Should I ask him about the photos his friends took when they drew cocks on his head while he was plastered drunk at a party? Or when was the last time he touched a girl or when had any female gave him eye contact? I wouldn’t think so, either.

**********

Questions. I gave up on them. I no longer have the time, care, or patience to tend or answer them anymore. I don’t deserve to stand in one place with my life being put under a microscope as undeserving people around me are dying to know a lot of things about me that will never pertain or affect them.

I mind my own business doing what I need to do for the day. I only focus on the bigger, more important things at stake. They stand there and start asking me questions about my personal life as it is so special or urgent. It’s not, really. It’s just a little different than others. What could I tell them? They feel unusual enough to stop at every answer and act like they’re so surprised. Really, what is such a big deal about the mundane things in my life that catch them off-guard? Obviously they’re un-accepting and shallow-minded, the blinders they wear have not been widened.

I had gotten tiresome of their interview sessions. I stay away and I do, but only for a while. I have been told to ignore them, to not answer them. I do take the advice but these downturns push harder. They ask and ask and ask and persist to no end until I give up and hopelessly answer because I know they will never stop if I don’t. Somehow my answers complicate things even more for them so the hits just keep on going. It’s a lose-lose situation.

The difference between me and them is that I understand and they don’t. I respect people for who they are because I understand. I have it all figured out so I don’t need to ask any further. Barney and Elvis’s child-like fascination with my life want me to “get with the program” because they don’t get it the first time. Conversations aren’t worth having with certain masturbatory people when they clutch and pull themselves over the answers they are given.

I’m not a celebrity and I never asked to be one. I never asked for them to make me special. I never asked for a circus surrounding my life and I never asked to be put on the hot seat. I don’t need them questioning every move I make in my life when there are better things during the day I need to focus on. I don’t have to answer to anyone if I don’t want to. I don’t need to pay attention to the feeble-minded and uneducated to constantly disrupt my day and waste my time. I have way more important things to worry about other than to satisfy simple minds who can’t figure it out and worry about things that have nothing to do with them. They truly don’t deserve the attention, therefore they will be forgotten about.

[theliterateape]

Microsoft Teams is the Devil’s Tool

By David Himmel

“THIS IS NO WAY TO PRAY. This is no way to send our loved one off to the Great Beyond. To Heaven? I don’t know. I’m not sure anymore. I’m not even sure I was ever so sure at all.”

Typical Fr. Harrington. Always starting his sermons with a sense of existential dread and confusion. Topped off with a sprinkle of self-doubt. He’s the Woody Allen of Catholicism. He even had a questionable relationship with an ingénue at his old parish in Portland, Maine. That’s how he ended up here. In my church. The only reason he wasn’t defrocked was because his sordid relationship was with a young woman, not a young man. The Church loved saying, “See, they’re not all homos!”

It was December 18th and the electoral jury was still out on who would be the country’s next president. Fr. Harrington was speaking to me and I don’t know how many others via Microsoft Teams. That, right there, was a big point of contention among the congregants. I’d seen the church’s Facebook page—stuffed with complaints. “Why can’t we use Zoom, like at work?” “Teams is awful.” “Bill Gates should have died. LONG LIVE STEVE JOBS!”

This was the eighth funeral I had attended since March when the coronavirus really took off. But it was the first that had nothing to do with COVID-19. This death was something else. A young man, age 36. Wife, two young kids. One of his great grandparents was even—somehow—still alive. Cancer. It came and made itself known fast then devoured his insides and his life and the hope and comfort of his friends and family in a month’s time.

It was fast, ugly, painful. And then, just like that, painless. 

“It’s been a long year of pain, uncertainty, and frustration,” Fr. Harrington said through stupid Microsoft Teams. “As if enough of 2020 wasn’t enough, God saw fit to take our beloved Michael with some random, unexpected, totally normal illness. Why? Oh, why, indeed…”

I thought for a second that Fr. Harrington’s computer had frozen. He just sat there, with the rhetorical question dangling. His face posed in painful contemplation. Like he was putting all his concentration to farting without shitting his pants. And then…

“I see little value in any of this. You come her for hope, for guidance. The truth is, there is none of that. Not here. Not anywhere. Because what you’re really looking for is control. And most things are out of our hands. Most things that happen to us belong to the whims of the universe. And the universe doesn’t give one goddamn whim or shit about us. Any of us.” 

Mariel Copnick chimed in: “Father, you can’t possibly—”

“I’m gonna stop you right there, Mariel,” the priest said. “You’re muted. This is my time. I’ve placed so many rules on you—on all the Catholics I’ve preached to and worked with over the years. Rules bestowed by the higher ups in the Church. Rules commanded by God. But faith doesn’t need rules. Faith, by definition, is operating without facts. Putting rules around faith is just an effort to control others. Well… the cancer controlled young Michael laying before us. Despite the prayers and the hope and the lighting of the candles and all the silly parade of rule-following and traditional, dogmatic handwringing… Enough. Michael deserves better.

And with that, Fr. Harrington stood back the altar. He dramatically ripped off his collar and threw it to the ground. “Michael deserved a better funeral than this. His kids deserve to grow up with their dad. But that’s not God’s plan because God has no plan because God isn’t real. God is false hope. And hope, as Nietzsche said, in reality, is the worst of all evils because it prolongs the torments of man.”

I saw Mariel Copnick mouth something that I’m sure was chastising Fr. Harrington for not adapting Nietzsche’s words to be gender neutral. But she was still on mute, so thankfully, no one heard her idiocy.

And then Fr. Harrington did something even more surprising than everything 2020 had thrown at us. He yanked his pants down and took a shit right there under the giant crucifix at Michael Metcalf’s funeral.

The following week, I was sitting through a Shabbat Service at Temple Am Shalom. Clearly Catholicism wasn’t for me. And despite what Fr. Harrington said, I still believed in an involved God. I had to. My faith was the only thing that was keeping me from taking my own massive dump in a public place that would cost me all future employment opportunities. Forget Nietzsche. I needed hope.

And apparently, so did Mariel Copnick, because I saw her a few rows ahead of me at temple wearing a yarmulke. She was fully into it already. When I saw her after the service, I didn’t have the heart to tell her women don’t wear yarmulkes. And that she should tuck her crucifix necklace back into her cleavage before she blows our cover.

[zanybohbot]

The Outsiders: A Stupid Night Out In London

A STUPID NIGHT OUT IN LONDON - The Outsiders (1st Episode)

Published: 10-10-19 - Updated: 10-15-19

Warning: Rated R for Strong Language/Sexual References

Enjoy!

Part 1: The Plan

(Squit N/R: In case you're interested, at the walking with da bros' day in L.A. began 'with prayers, followed by hymns and then an inspirational reading. Here it began with Pinky and Pesto showing us a pornographic video.)

Pinky: Watch this.

Wakko: This is tame.

Brain: What the hell? Pinky, they're not even naked. Oh, wait a minute, is she gonna?

(they all gag at the video)

Brain: Oh, my God, that can't be real!

Squit: That's got to be chocolate.

Pinky: They should've got a bigger cup.

Pesto: Yeah.

Squit: REALLY! How tame is that, dafuq?! (gasp) Oh, Christ, I'm gonna heave.

Wakko: Jesus wept! Don't lick it! She's gonna vomit.

Squit: I'm gonna vomit.

Pesto: This is the best scene, look.

(they gag again, loudly)

Wakko: Ohhh! Oh Is it possible to un-see things? I don't like girls anymore.

Squit: So you get a new laptop and the first thing you did was find that?

Pinky: No, it wasn't the first thing.

Squit: This was the first thing.

(WOMAN MOANS) Oh, y'all such saddos.

Wakko: I AM NOT A SADDO...I'm a man!

Squit: That's it, we can't carry on like this!

Pesto: Carry on like what?

Squit: We can't spend another day treading water, being the same old sad cases.

Pesto: (confused) Whaddaya mean by dat?

Squit: Nothing, we can't be the same old sad cases.

Pesto: (furiously) Are you calling me crackers? Are you saying that I am a large sodium covered square here to amuse you? IS THAT WHAT YA SAYIN'?!

Squit: NO! You idiot, you not a sad case!

Pesto: HA! That's what I thought. I'm not a sad case.

Pinky: Yo dad's gay.

Pesto: Fuck off.

Squit: Look, the point we've got to do something else.

Pesto: What do you mean?

Pinky: Carpe diem that puh?

Wakko: Piss off my siblings?

Brain: Seize the world, do something unexpected?

Squit: No. Reinvent ourselves, show the girls and everyone else who we really are. Like clubbing in London.

Brain: No, thanks. I'm not taking my car 'coz the insurance company will kill me.

Squit: Awww, what?

Wakko: Well, I could drive us. I got a car last weekend.

Squit: You've got a car?! Have you passed your test already?

Wakko: Yeah, I have.

Pesto: Now we don't have to drive around to the airport in Brain's ol' bitch mobile.

Brain: Good 'coz I'm not going.

Squit: Look, you don't have to drive, will you come, please?

Brain: It's not the driving. It's more that we won't get in anywhere, won't get served and might get robbed, stabbed or killed.

Pinky: Bullshit! I go up to London all the time.

Brain: When do you ever go to London?

Pinky: I went 5 times, I fucked some girl up there.

Squit: Did you? Where was that?

Pinky: It was in the Tower of London.

Squit: (sarcastically) The Tower of London? What did you do after you'd fucked her, cut her head off? Showed her the crown jewels?

Pinky: Maybe because she'd already seen the crown jewels, smartass!

Squit: Whatever. (looks at Brain) Brain, please come along.

Brain: But it'll be expensive.

Squit: C'mon, now you're just making excuses.

Pinky: Plus, don't some of those clubs charge? I've already told you, I know the homie who runs all the doors. He'll slip us in.

Brain: And when that turns out to be bullshit, then what?

(Billie walks to Brain.)

Billie: Hi, B!

Brain: Bills!

Billie: How's your stomach?

Brain: Oh good.

Billie: I have some great news to tell you. We're going to London on Saturday, clubbing. Do you want to come?

Brain: Sounds fun, we'd love to go. Which club are you going to?

Billie: Erm Spearmint Rhino.

Brain: Wait, Isn't that a strip club?

Billie: Yeah, sorry, Buster Bunny made a mistake. We're going to one of the big ones, one of the big cool ones right in the middle of London.

Brain: Cool which one?

Billie: Erm the Land of The Sound. And that's exactly where we're going.

Brain, Pinky, Pesto, Squit and Wakko: NICE!

Wakko: I'm driving if you want a lift.

Billie: Nah, we'll probably head up early. A lift back would be great, though.

Wakko: No problemo.

Pinky: So do you go clubbing a lot?

Billie: Me?

Pinky: Uhhh...yeah, you.

Billie: Erm Yeah, yeah, course. Anyways, dancing on the podium probably or up by the speakers, where it's, if anything, too loud!

Brain, Pinky, Pesto, Squit and Wakko: NICE! OOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHH!

Brain: See you there.

Billie: See ya.

Brain: Great.

Billie: See you later, then.

(she leaves)

Pinky: What did I tell you? London and pussy go hand in hand.

Brain: Fuck yeah, I'm going on a date with Billie!

Squit: It's not really a date ya know.

Brain: I think it is.

Pinky: Shall we go and get ready for tomorrow night?

Brain: Yep, good idea.

Part 2: Trip Gone Wrong

(All 4 were walking to the Warner's siblings' house to pick up Wakko.)

(Squit N/R: I had no idea how we'd actually get into a club, 'but I wasn't taking any chances and wore my smartest shoes, 'something Brain didn't do.)

Squit: Uhhh. Why are you wearing sneakers, B?

Brain: Because they look good. Everyone wears sneakers you know.

Squit: I specifically said no sneakers, not if we want to get into clubs. Pinky hasn't got sneakers on, Pesto hasn't got sneakers on, I haven't got sneakers on.

Pinky: Yeah. Ewww...you've got fucking flippers on! What size are they anyway?

Brain: Well duh, Pinky. I am size 8, my size.

Pinky: Yeah, Ronald McDonald called - he wants his shoes back. (Laughs)

Brain: Just shut up, Pinky.

Squit: Well there's nothing wrong with these, they're 1970s French. (looks at his own 1979 Dior's he's wearing)

Pesto: Hey! Where are my-a flippers? At least you'll be all dank if yo stupid-ass fall in the mafia.

Squit: Yeah, very funny. Look, all I'm saying is would it have killed you to wear "normal" shoes just to be on the safe side?

(They saw Wakko's 1975 Ferrari)

Pesto: Whoa, check out Wak's car!

Pinky: Yeah! It's shit-hot!

Squit: I'd say half-right. (The car looks half-damaged and brown) Yep, it's shit.

(Pinky knocks their door and Dot opens it as she is smoking weed and wears emo-pink hair.)

Brain: Hi, Dot! I was…

Dot: Don't ask. He's already upstairs getting ready.

Pesto: So how's things with you?

Pinky: Yeah! I feel like I haven't seen you in ages.

Dot: Wak! Those assholes wanna know if you're coming out to play or not.

Wakko: (upstairs) Coming!

Pinky: (carefully stares at Dot's boobs) So D, would ya came to tha club wit us?

Dot: Yeah, will you stop staring at my tits, please?! (leaves)

Pinky: OK, I'm thinking it's a big N.O.

Pesto: She must be on the blob.

Wakko: (comes downstairs to go outside) All right? What do you think of the car, then? It's like a tractor beam for fanny.

Brain: (nervous) I love it! Good job, buddy!

Wakko: It's got a Piper exhaust and a well smart body-kit. My sister's boyfriend is helping me do it up, he's a mechanic.

Pinky: Well it will be nice for Pesto's dad to have a man about the house, Wak.

Pesto & Wakko: What does that mean?

Pinky: It means, "Does Pesto's dad suck dick?"

Pesto: No! But your sister does.

Wakko: No! Well, I mean, she might do. Oh who am I kidding anymore, she definitely does.

Brain: Oh nice Porsche Engineering sticker by the way. (looks at Wakko's Porsche sticker on his car)

Wakko: I know. I put that on myself, it's gotta be worth at least a hand-job.

Squit: How fast does it go?

Wakko: Who knows? I ain't got it going yet.

Squit: This'll be the first time you've driven it?

Wakko: Nah, it don't work, it ain't got an engine in it yet. Dave's still trying to find me one.

Pinky: But, motherfucka, I thought you were driving us up to the airport.

Wakko: Yeah, so did I.

Brain: (getting angry) Oh, god. Why...why did you...why haven't you told us that before.

Wakko: Well, I'm sorry. I thought you knew.

Brain: So how do you plan to drive us up there without a car?!

Wakko: I thought I was going to drive your car.

Brain: But you're not insured to drive my car, Wakko!

Wakko: (pondered) Ohhh. Whoops.

Brain: (sarcastically) WHOOPS! That's it, a fucking "whoops"?! Hey, Larry. Did you hear that guy without an engine saying "WHOOPS"!?

Wakko: God, I said I was sorry.

Squit: Oh, well, since Wakko had one job but clearly FAILED, I guess there's only one last solution. (They look at Brain about his car)

Brain: What? (They still look at Brain until Brain gasps realising what's gonna happen next) Oh no! Nope! Sorry, not gonna happen.

Squit: But, you have to.

Brain: No! I already said no, and the insurance company will get pissed if they find out I've driven that car to London.

Pesto: Oh, don't beat yourself up. They won't find out.

Pinky: And even if they do, you'll have far too many fingers up Billie to care.

Squit: Please, Brain?

(Brain finally realized he knew what he had to do.)

Brain: Oh, Christ, thanks a lot, Wakko!

Wakko: You need to be clearer about things, I reckon.

Brain: (furious) OK, is this clear enough? (Brain hits Wakko with a pencil) You're a fucking idiot!

(They walk to Brain's car)

Pinky: Calm down! I'll get some beers for the trip.

Brain: I can't drink and drive!

Pinky: Course you can, it's just a saying!

(Squit N/R: So Pinky, Wakko and Pesto already brought lagers from the gas station and we were gone. But I feel like the episode is gonna take to long while we're in the plane sooo...let's just cut to the chase in England, shall we? The plan was simple - get to London, get into a club and pull Billie and Amber. I said it was simple, not realistic. Meanwhile, we can enjoy the enlightening conversation in the car.)

Pinky: OK, newsflash, who would you rather fuck, Squit's mom…?

Squit: (facepalms) Great.

Pinky: ...Wakko's sister…?

Wakko: ASS!

Pinky: ...or Pesto's homo dad?

Pesto: FUCK OFF! (silence) Maybe...Squit's ma.

Squit: Don't join in, Pesto!

Pinky: Well, I dunno about dat. Wakko's sister would have the tighter snatch, I guess.

Wakko: Leave her out of this!

Brain: But Squit's mom has got huge tits.

Wakko: They are amazing.

Squit: (sarcastically) Thanks, Wak.

Brain: Although Wakko's sister looks like she'd be better at sucking dick with Pesto's dad.

Pinky: Like father like daughter. I could see her going at it like a dog eating hot fries.

Wakko & Pesto: Shut up, Pinky!

Pinky: I'd like to put my cock in them both.

Squit: That's a touching sentiment.

Pinky: I'd touch yo mama's sentiment.

Squit: That doesn't mean anything.

Pinky: It means I'd touch her puh - with my diugh.

Squit: (sarcastically) Nice one!

Wakko: I've thought about it, and I'd definitely rather fuck Squit's mom.

Brain: Are you sure, Wak? What about your sister's tight snatch?

Wakko: No, totally sure.

Pinky: Nice, slow down a minute, B! (Pinky opens the window to shout "Bus Wankers!" to all the British people waiting for a bus.)

Brain: (laughing hysterically) Bus wankers! Where did that come from? Bus wankers!

Pinky: I dunno, it just felt right! Remember, this is England. You could see their little faces drop as they thought, "We must be the bus wankers."

Pesto: Pull over, B. I need a piss.

Brain: I can't pull over, there's a bus lane.

Pesto: Please, I'm desperate, c'mon.

Brain: You'll just have to hold it, Pesto, we're late enough.

(Pesto found an empty can so he can pee in here as he was laughing like a villain.)

Squit: What are you doing?

Pesto: Ayy, coo off.

Brain: Are you pissing in my car?

Pesto: Nah.

Brain: Then, what's that noise?

Pesto: I'm pissing in a can.

Brain: What the fuck?! You'll get piss on the floor!

Pesto: Ayy, coo off. It won't overflow. I've got mah chap's-eye right in there, so I can't miss. No problemo.

Pinky: It stinks, Pesto!

Pesto: (gasp) Uh-oh, it don't wanna stop.

Pinky: WHAT?!

Brain: What do you mean, "it"?!

Squit: Just stop pissing yourself, P!

Pesto: Quick, pass me another can!

Wakko: That's not happening.

Pesto: It's filled up to the top, I've got to get it out and...OH SHIT! (gasp) Oh, my helmet! (gasp) I've cut it on the can! (gasp) Oh, I think it's bleeding!

Brain: Fuck bleeding! Is it still pissing?

Pesto: Oh, it stings!

Squit: Does anybody wanna swap seats with me?

Pesto: I will!

Squit: Not you, Pesto!

Brain: Get rid of it, Pesto!

(Pesto threw it out the window but somehow got 25% piss on Pinky.)

Pinky: Ah, Pesto!

(Squit N/R: So high on the smell of Pesto's urine, 'we headed for the bright lights of London.)

Part 3: Bus Wankers Gone Wrong

(Squit N/R: Look out, ladies, phase one was complete. We had finally made it to London. And we even managed to see all the sights 'Because Brain got us totally fucking lost.)

Brain: It must be somewhere round here.

Pinky: Well, duh. How should we know? I knew we'd get lost.

Brain: Thanks a lot, you idiots!

Wakko: What did I do?

Squit: Lemme see. Wakko has a car without an engine and Pesto pissing IN THE CAR!

Pesto: Ayy, coo off! Is it our fault you're a shit driver?

Brain: Look, I don't want Billie to be pissed off if I'm late, OK.

Wakko: Ha. You need to grow some balls, I reckon.

Pinky: Why not pull over and ask someone where the club full of clunge is?

Pesto: Wait. (Gets out his laptop from his suitcase) I've got Google Maps on my laptop. Should be able to find it no problemo!

Brain: Pesto, will you just shut...

Pinky: Aye aye!

Brain: No, Pinky! DON'T!

Pinky: (Looking at the people waiting for a bus) Bus wankers! (HE LAUGHS)

(Brain pulled over because of the traffic.)

Pinky: Why are we stopping?

Brain: I tried to say! Oh, Christ, Pinky!

Pinky: Well it's not my fault if I...oh shit! (He saw an angry person from the bus coming.) Oh, shit! Oh fuck, they're coming! Shit! Drive!

Brain: Where?! Where am I actually gonna drive to?!

Squit: Anywhere!

Wakko: Oh, shit!

(Brain drives to the pavement.)

Squit: No, Brain, anywhere but the pavement! ANYWHERE BUT THE PAVE…!

(The car is on the pavement)

Squit: ...ment. I specifically said anywhere BUT the pavement.

(A black man comes to Brain)

Brain: Greetings, British people, I… (Brain is getting choked by a man) Sorry, I'm sorry. I'm really sorry, I...

Man: Who's a wanker? I'm a wanker, am I? Yeah?

Brain: I'm sorry, I'm sorry.

Man: Yeah? Yeah?

Squit: He said he was sorry.

Brain: I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm really sorry

Man: I'm a wanker, yeah?

Squit: He's sorry. He's really sorry.

Brain: I'm sorry. (The man let's go of Brain's neck.) Sorry.

Man: (HE LAUGHS AND LEAVES) I'd rather be a bus wanker than drive that piece of yellow shit with those fucking Americans!

(silence)

Pinky: Holy fuck, words cannot describe how you two pussied out.

Brain: (angrily) Oh, what now?!

Pinky: Don't "what now" me! (mimics Brain) Ooh, sorry, sorry! Ooh, I'm sorry, don't hurt me, sorry.

Brain: 'Coz you got me fucking throttled!

Pinky: Ooh, sorry!

Brain: Oh, fuck off!

Wakko: (mimics Brain) Sorry I'm on the pavement.

Pesto: (mimics Brain) Sorry, sorry, sorry for my little shit-ass car.

Pinky: I'm sorry I'm alive and a bender!

Brain: JUST FUCK OFF!

(Brain rotates his car back to the road continued driving)

Wakko: Sorry, B!

(They all laugh, except for Brain and Squit)

Wakko: Sorry I'm such a tool!

Pesto: Oh, sorry, I pissed in the car!

Pinky: Ooh, sorry I pissed British people off!

(Squit N/R: Don't get me wrong, Brain's a good friend, but it's fair to say he drives like a retard. But eventually, in Chinatown, just a few hundred yards from the club, we found the perfect parking space. Well, almost perfect.)

Brain: Guy, I don't think I can park here.

Squit: We've been driving round for an hour looking for a space. This one's perfect, let's just get going!

Brain: But it says we'll get clamped.

Pinky: Nah, it's a weekend, bruh? Different rules.

Squit: I'm sure he's right, B, and no-one clamps any more.

Pesto: Please can we get going? I really need to check my D. I think I've got a big problemo.

Brain: (annoyed) Can you stop saying "problemo"? It's not cool or funny, it's just embarrassing.

Pinky: Don't worry, P, he'll say sorry in a minute.

Wakko: Ha.

Brain: Maybe I should move it?

Squit: Brain, listen to me. Billie has agreed to go clubbing with you, that's a big step forward, but in the hour it'll take to find another parking space she could have gone off the idea.

Pinky: She could be jerking off the DJ by now.

Squit: I doubt that's happening, but the point is valid. This is a great parking spot, let's just get a move on.

Wakko: We are wasting valuable boning time.

Brain: Fine. Fine, c'mon. (He was about to lock the car.)

Pesto: Don't bother locking it, B.

Brain: (sarcastically) Yeah, thanks, Pesto.

Pinky: If you're lucky, someone might steal it!

Brain: Yeah, good one.

(Squit N/R: So despite the odd throttling and cut penis, we made it to the club - the girls even seemed pleased to see us!)

Brain: Hey, Bills!

Billie: Oh, hi Brain. I wondered where you were.

Brain: Did you?

Billie: You're actually here.

Brain: Yes. You weren't lying about coming, huh?

Billie: No. Why would I be lying?

Brain: Don't know. Don't know why I said that. Great, well we'll see you in there?

Pinky: Don't be a pussy, just slip in!

(All 5 slips through the line.)

Billie: Oh, are you joining us?

Brain: Yeah. Yeah, I think so.

Plucky: (at the back) Are you fucking pushing in?

Max: (at the back) Excuse me, those assholes pushed in!

Buster: So, great you're near the front.

Squit: Yeah, well, been here long enough.

Babs: Suppose you have.

Squit: I just really wanna get inside and dance now.

Buster: Us too.

Babs: There's something very animalistic about our need to dance.

(Plucky and Max are throwing cans at them and laughing.)

Babs: Dude, their throwing stuff at you.

Squit: Don't think so. They're frustrated 'coz they want to get inside too. They're saying, "Let us in, we've got great dancing ants in our pants!"

Plucky: (at the back) Get to the back of the line, you fuckboi!

Amber (behind Squit): Do you mind if we stand with our back to you? I don't want them to think you're with us.

Squit: No probs.

(Squit N/R: Amber had the most beautiful back of a head I'd ever seen. Now all we had to do was get into the club. Until…)

Security Guard: No trainers.

Brain: What?!

Security Guard: No trainers.

Brain: But they're new.

Security Guard: No trainers.

Billie: I'll see you in there in a minute.

Brain: Yep, good idea.

(Billie goes into the club while the other are still outside.)

Wakko: Yep, well, we're fucked.

Brain: I take it you don't know that bouncer, then, Pinky?

Pinky: What's this gotta do with me? I'm not tha one wearing sneakers!

Squit: (angrily) You fuckin' idiot! I am totally in there, like...totally. Would it have killed ya to wear shoes?

Wakko: We could probably make another pair out of yours and have enough leather left to cover a sofa.

Brain: (looks at the homeless guy wearing black shoes) Doesn't matter anyway, I've got a better idea. I'm gonna borrow some shoes.

Squit: What?

(they all look at the homeless guy)

Pinky: Ewww...Hammerhead shark!

Pesto: Oh, no!

Squit: Look, I'm gonna level with you - I am scared. London scares me. The bouncer scares me and that man REALLY scares me. Let's just put this one down as another character forming experience and go back home.

Brain: Come on, Squit! It's for Billie! She'll love it, it's romantic.

Squit: Well, It's not Romeo and Juliet. These are gross shoes we're talking about! (Brain runs to the homeless guy.) NO! DON'T!

Brain: Scuse me, dude? Dude? Scuse me? Can I borrow your shoes?

Homeless Guy: Eh?

Brain: I wanna borrow your shoes, I'm trying to impress a girl.

(Squit facepalms)

Homeless Guy: Giz a blow job.

Brain: What?

Homeless Guy: I'll give you a blow job.

Brain: No. God, no, no blow jobs. I just want your shoes.

Homeless Guy: All right, £200 quid!

Brain: Great.

Homeless Guy: And your shoes.

Brain: Oh, of course.

(Squit N/A: Good old Brain. I can always rely on him to add a touch of class to proceedings. In many ways, though, it proved how much he valued Billie. Certainly more than he valued his dignity.)

Brain: (he puts on the shoes) Uhhh...they're a bit soggy.

Homeless Guy: Aye, that'll be my piss.

Brain: OK. Thanks.

(He walks with Squit and the others to the club.)

Squit: I can't believe you…!

Brain: Don't!

(Squit N/R: I'm not saying it was the most fucked up club in England, but you have to question, a door policy which says no to sneakers, but a big thumbs up to piss-soaked tramp shoes.)

Part 4: In A Party

(Squit N/R: But we were in! We had got in! Yes! In the club! An actual club! Yes! I've died and gone to "clunge" heaven.)

Squit: Oh, nice! Well, this is what we wanted.

Wakko: This is it, the first day of the rest of our lives.

Pesto: It's one small step for a man, one giant leap for ya flippers.

Brain: Really?

Pinky: Fuck yeah, 'coz you won't be laughing when we pull Billie and Amber.

Brain: No I won't, 'coz it ain't gonna happen.

Pinky: You can spend your evening talking to little bitches, me and Wakko and Pesto are gonna find ourselves some proper puh with experienced snatches. (as Pinky, Wakko and Pesto leaves)

Brain & Squit: Good luck with that.

Squit: (shouting) Just so you know, I think the Tower of London is closed now.

Pinky: (from the distance) Whatever.

Brain: (as he saw Billie walking towards him) There she is. How do I look?

Squit: You look good.

Brain: From the ankles up, obviously.

Squit: Obviously.

Brain: Where's Amber?

Squit: Don't worry, she's keen, I'm sure she'll find me. Away you go, dude.

(Squit leaves.)

Brain: Wish me luck.

(Brain saw Billie)

Brain: Billie.

Billie: Brain, you got in! I thought you were turned away.

Brain: Oh, the bouncers were being complete dicks and there was a thing with my shoes. They're out of ice already. Can you believe that?

(Roderick came along.)

Billie: Oh, Brain, this is Roderick. He's a BFF of Amber's.

Brain: Oh.

Roderick: Y'Okay?

Brain: Yeah, you?

Roderick: Course, man. Saw ya playing the character in Animaniacs and Pinky and the Brain. You were sick.

Billie: Not to mention, Brain is an old friend of the family, he first met me since we were 13. Not just that, though.

Roderick: Can you smell piss?

Billie: Um Urgh, yes.

(Brain looked worried because of the shoes.)

Roderick: That's totally rank.

Brain: Must be the toilets.

Billie: We should move.

Brain: Yeah, good idea.

(They all left.)

(Squit N/R: Meanwhile, Pinky, Pesto and Wakko headed downstairs to discuss the nuances of sexual politics.)

Pinky: She'd definitely get it!

Wakko: Most definitely.

Pesto: What about her? I think she looked over.

(Points to a girl in the middle.)

Pinky: What, her? Nice body, frightening face. You'd have to do her from behind.

Wakko: What about her? Still big, but then fat girls are more grateful.

(points to a girl in the right.)

Pinky: Wow, check out the jubblies on that! Oh, she'd get it.

Wakko: Until it fell off.

Pesto: Oh, please don't.

Pinky: Please do.

Pesto: (gasp) Oh, no - she's given me a boner, my cut's worse than ever. I've gotta go and fix it. (runs to the bathroom.)

Pinky: Suit yourself, but we might not be here when ya get back. That one's giving us tha old, "I'm gonna milk yo ballsack dry" look.

(Squit N/R: And in the bathroom, Pesto had a very big "problemo" with his dick.)

Pesto: (still rubbing his penis with water as he groans) Please, make it stop.

(Squit N/R: I had my own difficulties in the cock department. Amber was sitting next to one.)

(Squit saw Amber with Max.)

Squit: Amber! There you are, found ya! Ready to put on your dancing shoes?

Amber: I know I am!

Squit: That's good!

(Squit meets Max.)

Squit: Hi, I'm Squit.

Max: Max.

Squit: So, do you come here often, Max?

Max: I bet you say that to all the girls!

Squit: Ya got some chutzpah, I'll give ya that. Anyway, nice to meet ya, Max, but we're going.

Max: What?! I'm good here, thanks.

Squit: Come on. It's getting a bit crowded round here, eh, Max?

Max: Sorry, dude. No chance.

Squit: Look, come on, dude. You've had a good run. Believe me, if I was in ya shoes and I saw a gorgeous girl sitting on her own, I'd have made the move by now, but I'm here now, so...

Max: So what?

Squit: So do the honorable thing and step aside, because I was in with her first.

Amber: No, you weren't.

Max: Jesus, is he for real? He talks like he's from a black and white film.

Squit: Yes, I was. I stood with you in the line.

Amber: Yeah, behind me.

Squit: (getting angry) Well, more beside you. And you specifically asked me if I was coming along tonight. I have got witnesses ya know.

Amber: (annoyed) Squit, I think you've got the wrong end of the stick.

Squit: Evidently! So is that it?! So shall I just go away and leave you to it?!

Amber: Yes.

Max: Go away!

Squit: Fine! Fine! That's the last you see of me anyway. (he leaves) Thanks, Max. Thanks a lot, dude.

Max: No probs.

(Squit N/R: I was starting to go off Amber. She wasn't really my type anymore. Elsewhere, my friends were faring no better.)

Roderick: I can still smell it. It's following us.

Billie: Brain, I'm not being rude, but I think that smell might be you.

Brain; Okay, fine. You caught me. These shoes do kick up a bit.

Roderick: Jesus, dafuq is on your feet?

Brain: These aren't my shoes. I had to borrow them to get in.

Billie: I'm sorry but who brings spare shoes to a nightclub?

Brain: No-one. I swapped them with a homeless guy outside the club.

Roderick: What was he, a tramp?

Brain: (confused) I think you're supposed to say homeless now.

Billie: Sorry, you're wearing a tramp's shoes?

Roderick: Bro, that's fuckin' disgusting.

Brain: (looking awkward) Yeah. Maybe.

(Meanwhile in the bathroom, Pesto is still fixing his cut penis as Pinky and Wakko enters the bathroom.)

Pinky: Dafuq's taking ya so long?

Pesto: Oh, bro, it's not good. Get me a band-aid, it's bleeding, look.

Pinky: Motherfucka, put ya dick away! That's disgusting.

Pesto: But that's da problem tho, I can't. It stings when it rubs on my underwear.

Wakko: Well, take your underwear off.

Pesto: Then it'll rub on my jeans.

Pinky: Pesto, no matter what ya old man says, ya can't walk around London with yo dick hanging out.

(3 security guards went into the bathroom to kick Pinky, Wakko and Pesto out for "wanking".)

Pinky: What?!

Pesto: I wasn't doing anything!

Wakko: HELP!

(Meanwhile, Brain and Squit are talking in the club.)

Brain: So she didn't see the romantic intention behind the tramp shoes? Not immediately, but if that prick, Roderick, hadn't been there it would've been different. To be fair, the smell is appalling. What happened with Amber anyways?

Squit: Oh, the usual. It was going quite well, then she realised I'm a massive dickhead and she pulled some other asshole.

Brain: So, we didn't…?

Squit: Nope.

(silence)

Brain: This place is trash.

Squit: Ya right, let's go.

(Brain and Squit were about to leave when they saw Pinky, Wakko and Pesto getting kicked out.)

Pesto: No, wait! I wasn't jerking off.

Squit: (sarcastically) Wow, just my luck.

Pesto: My D's cut. My D is cut!

(Squit N/R: So we were kicked out, out the club. The actual club kicked us out. Exactly 25 minutes after it started, our life as cool London clubbers was over.)

Final Part: YOU OWE ME £200!

(All 5 are walking down the alleyway to Brain's car.)

Squit: So, tell me what happened again?

Pesto: I was looking at the cut on my dick. Pinky and Wakko were helping me out.

Brain: (confused) Sorry, they were helping you out?

Wakko: (embarrassed) Oh boy, here we go.

Pinky: (annoyed) Look, it's not what it sounds. Okay.

Squit: (teasing) 'Coz it sounds like you two were watching Pesto jerking himself off in the bathroom.

Pesto: Ayy, coo off! I wasn't jerking off, I was just rolling it around in my hands.

Squit: Okay, spare us the details.

Brain: Oh, fuck. What if Billie's getting off with that asshole?

Pinky: Don't cry, B. At least you can get your sneakers back.

Brain: What? (He looks back at the homeless guy he met before, as the homeless guy got Brain's sneakers covered in shit.)

Homeless Guy: Fucking beauty. I'll have that, you bastard.

Brain: (annoyed) Oh, wow. How the FUCK did this happen?!

Homeless Guy: What?

Brain: Oh, c'mon, man! You've only had them an hour!

Wakko: Maybe he's been out?

Squit: Technically, he's always out.

Brain: (furious) That's it, I'm done! Let's go! I've had enough! Standing sober in an alleyway stinking of piss and wearing a tramp's shoes was not what I had planned for this evening!

(They leave the alleyway where the club is.)

Squit: Out of interest, did you think it would go better or worse than this?

(Squit N/R: So the night was over and all we wanted to do now was get back in Brain's shitty car and go home, but until...)

Brain: Oh no.

(Brain and the others saw his car got clamped.)

Brain: Oh, fuck. Oh, fuckety fuck fucko! Ooh, shit. Fuck, how much money in British pounds have we got between us?!

Pinky: No, yo stupid-ass chose to park here. (laughs)

Brain: Goddamnit, Pinky! (looks at Squit) Squit?

Squit: Sorry, man. I don't have any pounds left. Getting in cleaned me out. The only thing is to have a Visa to exchange money, but I left mine at home.

Brain: So nobody has a Visa?

Pinky, Wakko and Pesto: Nope.

Brain: (angrily) Great, well we're fucked. We've got no Visas.

Squit: Dude, I really hate saying this but...I think you'll have to call your dad.

Brain: Are you fuckin' insane?! It's one in the morning. He's gonna go fucking ballistic.

Pesto: Unlock it, B. I'm freezing.

Squit: He loves you. Plus, you dad is the only one to have a Visa. I'm sure he'd rather come and get you than see you suffer.

(Brain sighed and went to call his dad from his phone.)

Brain: Dad, it's Brain. Brain! Don't panic, nothing's wrong. Just calm down. No, I'm not dead. Well, if I'm dead, how could I be talking to you?

(The delivery guy comes out of nowhere.)

Delivery Guy: Oi!

Squit: Fuck.

Delivery Guy: You owe me £200.

Brain: I'll call you back. (hangs up)

Squit: Sir, as I am sure you're aware, private clamping is illegal. In addition to that, it is a weekend...

Delivery Guy: I couldn't get my fucking van out.

Brain: Look, I've just called my dad and he'll...

Delivery Guy: I couldn't give a fuck. £200 NOW!

(They all screamed as they get in the car quickly.)

Brain: I don't have it!

Squit: We don't have it!

(The delivery guy shakes and bashes Brain's car)

Delivery Guy: I want £200! Can't you fucking read? No fucking parking! I missed all my fucking deliveries.

(Brain saw Billie walking.)

Brain: Billie! Billie!

Delivery Guy: Give me my fucking money now. I'm gonna fucking kill you unless you give me my fucking money?

Brain: Do you still want that lift?

Billie: Erm, no. I'm fine, thanks.

Brain: Okay, see ya in…2 days.

(Billie leaves.)

Squit: Dude, just call your dad.

Brain: (sighed) Fine.

Delivery Guy: £200 £200! GAHHH! I'm gonna fucking kill you unless you give me my fucking money!

(Squit N/R: So we had successfully reinvented ourselves, but not as the boys who go clubbing. We were now the boys who freaked out girls,... (Dot: Yeah, would you stop staring at my tits, please?!) ...apologised a lot,... (Brain: Sorry, I'm really sorry.) ...wore tramp's shoes,... (Brain: Uhhh...they're a bit soggy. Homeless Guy: Aye, that'll be my piss.) ...and jerked off in public bathrooms. (Pesto: My D is cut!) And we agreed to never go clubbing in London ever again.)

Pesto: I think you've got a big problemo.

Brain: Oh, just shut up, Pesto!

Squit: Wow, you're really obsessed with that word.

Pesto: (confused) Whaddya mean by that?

Squit: What? Nothing, I just said you're really obsessed.

Pesto: (angrily) Oh, so what your sayin' that I'm an egotistical maniac who takes things too seriously to be annoying? That my range amuses you? Is that what your sayin'?!

Squit: No. I just said you're obsessed.

Pesto: I'm obsessed.

Squit: Yeah. That's what I'm saying.

(Then Pesto gets furious.)

Squit: (scared) Oh, for christ's sake.

Pesto: DAT'S IT! (then attacks Squit.) THIS IS ALL YA FAULT, YOU GOT US INTO DIS MESS!

Pinky: Ha, ha. Don't worry, Brain. Maybe y'all should try saying sorry over and over.

Wakko: Oh, sorry for parking like a retard.

(Pinky and Wakko laugh while Brain gets furious.)

Brain: Oh, just FUCK OFF!

THE END!

Hope you guys enjoyed this fan episode, I have been wanting to do this for a long time. If some makes an animation of this, it will be zany as FUCK! Thank ya, see yo lata! Peace.

[crispyflowerblaze]

my favorite things about each falsettos song (because i’m TOTALLY not making enough falsettos posts already *sarcasm*): warning, this is long and i don’t know how to put a read more

Four Jews in a Room Bitching

all of the “i’m (something), he’s (something), they’re (something), we’re (something)”s those are hILARIOUS

“BITCH BITCH BITCH BITCH FUNNY FUNNY FUNNY FUNNY BITCH BITCH BITCH BITCH BITCH BITCH” (bitch doesn’t look like a real word after typing it that much)

“we got our-” “we got our-” “we got our-” “we got our MIRACLE!”

“we’re good in bed” “excel in bed” “we smell in bed” “where is the bed” “i love the bed” “i want the bed” “who stole the bed?” “who stole the bed?” “i lost it twice” “the bed is mine” “the bed is nice” “the bed is FOUR JEWS IN A ROOM BITCHING”

“one” “two” “three” “four” “five!”

Tight Knit Family/Love is Blind

“i want a group that harmonizes!”

the last (i think) “i want it all!”

“love. isn’t. sex. that’s a thing my husband told me- marvin, my ex!”

“do you only treat queers?” “-laughter- no”

“i’m everything he wanted. it’s time i put it all together”

“i have” “what?” “syphilis” “he said” “good” “i have” “yes?” “syphilis” “it’s true” “good” this part is like that one part of be more chill part 1

“maybe darling so do you!”

“hepa hepa hepatitis hepatitis hepatitis”

“you’re a damaged girl!”

“but daddy’s kissing... boys!!!”

“or perhaps that’s an alibi”

“his name is mendel!” “AHH”

“i admit, i admire you”

Thrill of First Love

-lots of fighting- “we’ve been together”

“we’ve been together for nine months” “ten months” “nine months!” “ten months!” “nine months!” “ten months!”

“don’t” “won’t” “don’t”

“my devotion to    style”

“i was rich, he was horny” “we fit like a glove”

all of the “but i’d kill for that thrill of first   love”

“we like fighting most”

“isn’t that right whizzer? let’s both fight whizzer!”

“i was trained in karate”

“PASSION DIES!” “PASSION DIES!”

when they do the “i would kill for that thrill of first love” overlaps

the last “love”s

Marvin at the Psychiatrist

“sorta kinda”

“sorta... kinda”

“when he’s naked-” “yes” “does he thrill you?” “yes”

“would he kill you?” “...yes”

“i think he’s sorta kinda... mean”

“explore mr. marvin! your core mr. marvin!”

“mOOOOVE me”

“but impress her... i did not!”

“does she sleep in the nuuuuuuuuuuuuuuude???”

why is mendel so horny

My Father’s a Homo/Everyone Tells Jason to See a Psychiatrist

“my father’s a homo, my mother’s not thrilled AT ALL! father homo, what about chromosomes, do they carry, will they carr? who’s the HOMO now?”

“i don’t live the life of a normal child!”

“cause i’m too smart for my own good, and i’m too good for my sorry little life!”

“what a mess this is, this family!”

“just because you FAILED AS PARENTS”

“i don’t need-” “he needs a psychiatrist” “i want-” “a psychiatrist?”

“i’m not sure, jason -marvin flicks him- jason, maybe so -trina clears her throat- absolutely jason!”

This Has Better Come to a Stop

the beginning WHOA with the whole “late for dinner late again!”

“life can be wonderful ISN’T THIS WONDERFUL”

mendel can run me over with his “don’t feel responsible, after all it’s through” and i’d thank him

“i’m frightened of questions”

“AND STILL THE BASTARD DIVORCED ME” trina can run me over with this too pLEASE

all of it this is a great song

I’m Breaking Down

“who’s lusty and requires a fling with a female thing!”

“let me turn on the GAS”

“oh sure, i’m sure, he’s sure”

“where is my crown? i’m breaking down, i’m breaking down”

“my life is shitty”

“it’s me who is the matter talking madder than the maddest hatter!” poor thing

“you ask me is it fun to cry over nothing? it is”

“as en-e-mies go, whizzer is not so bad”

“i only want to love a man who can love me... or like me... or help me? help me!!”

“i’d rather die than dry clean mARVIN’S WEDDING GOWN”

“and me, i’m just a freak who needs it maybe every other week... i don’t know”

“the only thing that’s breaking up is my family! but me, I’M BREAKING DOWN”

Please Come to Our House/Jason’s Therapy

“weisenbachfeld”

“you must exorcise a devil cus it inhabits marvin’s son!”

“i’m sure he’s mARVIN’S CHILD!”

“DON’T BE DISGUSTING be yourself!!”

“on account of my unraveling”

“such a romantic table!” what the fuck

“stop! look around you. no one’s screaming at you”

okay, okay, it’s very impossible advice, but the “WHY DON’T YOU FEEL ALRIGHT FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE” part is one of my favorite parts of the whole musicals

IT’S SO CATCHY

“is this therapy”

“mr. mendel, as regarding your intentions to my mother, are they everything a woman would desire?”

“and... sing”

“watching your... socks!”

“jesus christ! WHY DON’T YOU FEEL ALRIGHT FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE???”

then all of the rest of it because it’s SUCH a great chorus

A Marriage Proposal/Tight Knit Family (Reprise)

honestly all of a marriage proposal it’s such a sweet song

“i love you, dear. i think you’re swell. you’re never close enough to me to tell if i’m delightful or not”

“there’s not a guy... there’s not a... piece of paper”

i’ve said this before but “there’s not a man in pants who could love you the same as i” is SUCH a line

“just like a biblical brother did to his biblical brother... back in... biblical times”

“OH, THOSE BIBLICAL TIMES” like good save buddy

“if i get sick or detained” good reasons to marry someone buddy

“don’t touch your hair you’re perfect! don’t start to cry”

“there’s not a horse or... zebra” what the fuck

“there’s not a giant man” and “forget that giant man” and “i’m not a giant man”

“i’m sure she cannot love you!” you jerk

“but nothing’s impossible”

“i got/want it all!”

Trina’s Song/March of the Falsettos/Trina’s Song (Reprise)

“i’m tired of all the happy men who rule the world”

“they grow- but don’t mature”

“it’s crazy how they’re acting, it’s crazy my response”

“stupid, charming men... silly, childish jerks!”

the voices in march of the falsettos are so funny XD

“c’mere”

“it’s a gODDAMN SURETY WE’RE LACKING IN MATURITY”

“WHAT A STUPID THEORY”

“hi”

“uh-oh”

“please forgive my former shpieling” as if what just happened would convince her that she was wrong

“no, i’ll laugh!”

“i’ll fight the gods, i’ll... fight my ex! i’ll beat the odds, i’ll hAVE GOOD SEX”

The Chess Game

“use some brains, now protect him”

“LIFE’S A SHAM AND EVERY MOVE IS WRONG”

“nothing is everything to me... except sex... and money”

“god you’re pretty”

“cHECKMAAAATE”

whizzer’s this had better come to a stop reprise of what marvin sang like WHOA

“marvin” and “whizzer” overlap to create “marzzer”

Making a Home

“men and women talking!”

“we’ll buy the cheese”

“i hope it runs away” “so do i” “so do i” XD

“could he love me?”

at the end the music starts sounding like the games i play

The Games I Play

“i don’t look for trouble, i don’t accept blame”

“but they’re one and the same”

“i’ve been playing canasta disastrously”

“a tribute to me”

“ask me if i love him, it depends on the day”

“years, YEARS TOO LONG”

“it hurts not to love him, it hurts when love fades”

“GET HIM OUT MY WAAAAAY”

the END THO “THESE ARE THE OOOOONLY GAMES I PLAAAAAY”

Marvin Hits Trina

first of all, hOW DARE HE

i love how FAST the rhythm (or music??) is

“they are” “PSEUDO-ROMANTIC AND SICK” “you say you’ll” “LOVE HIM UNTIL YOU BOTH DIE” “you die on” “MAY 27TH AT 8"

“mendel’s not a maniac!”

marvin is good at saying trina’s name a bunch of times

“YOUR NEED FOR STUPID CONVERSATION”

“you are” “TRYING TO RUIN MY SLEEP” “i’m sure you” “CHOSE HIM TO LOOK ME LOOK BAD” “how could you” “EVER DENY WHAT WE HAD”

“marvin called us funny names”

“do i love him? no” :(

“i am so dumb”

and the end where he hits her OH MY GOD

I Never Wanted to Love You

i am never sure who is talking to who in this song

“i hate the world!”

“i love my dad!”... “i love the things i’ve never had!” savage

“i never wanted to love you. i never wanted ‘til death do we to part’ condescend, stay my friend. how do i start not to love you?”

“i’m everything he wanted, it’s time i put it all together! our hands were tied, my father cried ‘you’ll marry!’ we married!”

“i never wanted, i wanted, i never never never never never never wanted to love you!”

Father to Son

“i think girls are the most beautiful thing” i agree

“what i’ve done to you is rotten”

“i for one, would take love much slower”

“how your voice gets much lower”

“you’ll be, kid, a man, kid”

“if nothing goes wrong”

“a man, kid, you’ll be, kid”

“whatever your song”

such a nice song!!!

Falsettoland/About Time

the music at the beginning is spooky

“homosexuals, women with children, short insomniacs, and a teeny tiny band”

“this story needs an ending” this line fucks me up for some reason

“a homosexual father with children” lol

“one bar mitzvah that is -laugh- scrupulously planned”

“give these handsome boys a hand, welcome to falsettoland!”

“nancy reagan, meanest and thinnest of the first ladies, moves into the white house”

“YABADABAH” “IT’S THE 80S” “YABADABAH” “OOH THE 80S”

“spiky lesbians” YES

“she’s still with the psychiatrist... so i don’t have a psychiatrist”

“just on the weekends” :(

“WHEN AM I GONNA GET OVER THIS”

“homosexuals!” “women with children!” “ex-ex lovers!” “and the teeny tiny band” “welcome to falsettoland!”

the really fast part WHOA

“one day i’d like to be as mature as my son, who is twelve and a half, and this tall... that’s all”

Year of the Child

the prayer he sings at the beginning is cute

“how can you stop with the prayers at a bar mitzvah???”

“this is the year of jason’s bar mitzvah!”

“his body’s going wild!” too much information

“childen, please” savage

“i’ll bring women from the wrong side of the tracks”

“i guess i’ll have to raise this jason myself” sAVAGE

“look, look, look, look, look, it’s a lesbian from next door!” YAY

“followed by her lover who’s a lesbian from next door too” XD

“yummy yummy yummy yummy yummy yummy yummy yummy yummy yummy yummy yummy yum!” apparently she’s not a good cook? i couldn’t tell from the music, but okay....

“we’ll spend billions of dollars!” really

Miracle of Judaism

jason STOP this

“ellie mazie rosenthal” XD

“and not- laugh at my Hebrew and not- laugh at my father and his friends?”

The Baseball Game

“we’re watching Jewish boys who cannot play baseball play baseball!”

“what is he doing here?”

“jason asked me to come. since he asked me to come i came”

“just what i wanted at a little league game! my ex-husband’s ex-lover, isn’t that what every mother dreams about having at a little league game?” like he’s his own person, not just your ex’s ex!

“i love baseball, i love jason, that’s what i’m doing here”

“where’d the hell they get that umpire? oh, sorry. sorry!”

“you’re looking sweeter than a donut” he’s channeling his inner mendel

“am i queer?”

“it’s been so long since i could tell...”

“since it’s the only physical imperfection that you’ve got!” now this is a good one (and i think he’s still queer XD)

“we’re watching marvin throw kisses”

“keep your head in the box, don’t think of a thing”

“even maniacs can charm, which he does”

“i love jason, but this is not his venue”

“would it be possible to see you, or to kiss you, or to give you a call?” “anything’s possible, jason hits the ball!”

A Day in Falsettoland

mendel can kill me with every “i don’t get it!” and i’d thank him

“in the 60s we had a new world to start!”

“yes, my name is caroline” “i don’t get it!” it’s not that hard to understand mendel

“AND I DON’T GET IT AT ALL!”

“dropit,sweetheart,giveitupyouknowiloveyou” yes it’s this fast trust me i measured

“isn’t it enough i want you every night?” “who?” “every other night?” “me?”

trina’s laugh and her “everything will be alright” kILLS ME

“for the first time in months, nobody DIED” “yay!!”

“yes i do” did i mention this KILLS ME

“saving lives and loving you”

the “and loving you” they do together, AWW

“that’s not nice” “no it isn’t”

“don’t you think it’s a blessing i’m so pathetically bad?”

the “do you know, all i want is you, anything you do is alright, yes it’s alright!” is so nice

and whizzer’s talking during that up there is SO CUTE

“no it didn’t!”

the end and all the melodies (is that the right word) and mixing whizzer and marvin’s thing and charlotte and cordelia’s and trina and mendel’s thing is WHOA

Everyone Hates His Parents

“travel travel travel”

“it’s not a wrestling match, why are they sweating? it’s not a funeral, what’s so upsetting?”

jason’s notes break the sound barrier, open portals, and make dogs’ ears bleed

“you have paintings of dicks! don’t talk to me about taste!”

“what do you mean you don’t want a bar mitzvah?”

mendel’s greetings to jason, lol

“‘Moses, everyone hates his parents, that’s how it is!’“

“and God knew, because God hated his” XD

“you are gonna kill your mother, don’t feel guilty kill your mother, rather than humiliate her, killing your mother is the merciful thing to do”

“oh my God”

“everyone hates his parents, now i see why”

“jason, please see a psychiatrist” “i’m a psychiatrist! get lost!”

jason and mendel have such a great friendship

“flip me!” this is so cute

What More Can I Say

this is such a nice song!

“but when he sparkles, the earth begins to sway”

“i can’t eat breakfast, i barely tie my shoes”

“i halt, i stammer, i sing a roundelay”

“we laugh, we fumble, we take it daaay by daaay, what more can i say?”

aww

Something Bad is Happening/More Racquetball

“people might think i’m very dyke-ish”

“if i’m a bitch, well, i am what i am!”

“just call me doc, don’t call me lady!”

“we see a trend, but the trend has no name”

“something stinks, something immoral, something so bad that words have lost their meaning!”

“rumors fly and tales abound, stories echo underground!”

“she’s  my   doctor and i love her! she’s got passion! she’s intelligent, and jesus christ, a doctor!!! <3 very wealthy, and i love her!” AWW

“doctor of internal medicine” sounds like “doctor oven turtle medicine”

“and you always see the glass half full -_-”

“she’s got HEART” sounds like “she’s... HOT!”

“men dressed in drag, next to their moms”

“i like the ballgowns, but Jesus Christ!”

the next chorus

“look a virus has been found! stories echo underground!”

“please forgive me for winning one game”

“something’s gone out of wack!”

“aw shit!”

“try to be a decent loser!” do you really want to have this conversation marvin

“excuse me!”

the soft “do you know, all i want is you, anything you do is alright, yes it’s alright” WHOA

“everything will be alright, everything will be alright”

Holding to the Ground

“very Jewish, very middle class, and very straight”

“life is never what you planned, life is moments you can’t understand, and that is life!”

“but that’s my life. he’s shared my life! yes, that’s my life!” and the beat at the beginning is AMAZING

“everything will be alright, everything will be alright” AHH

this is a really nice song with great melodies!!!

Days Like This

“but today, you seem to be on the way to recovery!” is one of the catchiest parts of the whole musical

“it’s days like this i... almost believe in God”

cordelia is so wonderful did i mention that

“gefilte fish!”

“also a soup made from chicken that, though unexotic, is antibiotic!”

“why, i’m up to my ass in a kosher morass!”

the harmonies in this song are GREAT

“days like this we almost believe in...” “gefilte fish!” “GOD!” XD

trina and whizzer saying hi to each other is cute, i want a trina and whizzer friendship

“or else the hydrants moved!” -cordelia laughs- then everyone is like “no, no” and she’s like “nobody? okay”

“how can i help, says the wiry psychiatrist!”

“he’ll make you well!” “right...”

“gee you look awful!”

“i’ll let you win, whizzer” “don’t let me win” “i’ll let you win!”

Cancelling the Bar Mitzvah

“here’s your chance to give me hell”

“can’t we wait til whizzer gets better?”

“finally now it’s my decision! like it’s my Bar Mitzvah! just like nothing happened! hell, let’s have a party! just like nothing happened! why don’t you make this dumb decision yourselves, okay, why don’t you make this dumb decision yourselves?”

“we’ll have the Bar Mitzvah?” “no” “we’ll cancel the Bar Mitzvah?” “no!”

“tell him things happen for no damn good reason!”

“holding to the ground as the ground keeps shifting” GOSH this describes this well

“everything will be alright”

Unlikely Lovers

first of all, this song the THE. PINNACLE. of gay/lesbian solidarity

whizzer’s “do you want me to reply?” kills me

“right” “it’s just-” “don’t fight!” “that i haven’t died yet” “just stop it” “i’m sick, but kicking (i always imagine this with finger guns)” “geez” “alright” “louise”

“i’m staying here in this spot whether you want me to or not”

“please go home and don’t be scared” andrew rannell’s voice is... so... BEAUTIFUL (and i’m also listening to book of mormon a lot lately so yknow i’m getting a lot of it, yay)

“oh baby, please do. i love you, too” aww

“drink a little something til you’re dead!” too soon whizzer

“shh” ... “SHH” ... “SHH”

“WE’LL COME IN” this is so hilarious for some reason

“look at us, four old friends, four unlikely lovers!”

“let’s look like we haven’t!”

“i love bad weather” XD

“and we vow that we will buy the farm, arm in arm, four unlikely lovers!”

such a sweet song :D

Another Miracle of Judaism

“i can’t hear your fingers snappin!”

“are you just a big psychiatrist??”

“in exchange for... could you please make my friend stop dying? i’m not naive, it won’t be easy”

this song is sad :(

“God... that’d be the miracle of Judaism!”

Something Bad Is Happening (Reprise)

this is pretty obvious, but slowing this down makes it SO MUCH SADDER AHH

“something very bad is... happening”

“something that kills, something infectious:

You Gotta Die Sometime

this. is. SUCH. an. AMAZING. song. WHOA.

his voice in the beginning is so SAD and he’s so SAD

“okay, when the doctor started using phrases like ‘you’ll pass away’ what could i say?”

“doctor, here’s the good part. at least death means i’ll never be afraid again!” :(

“death’s gonna come, and when it does, screw the nerves, i’ll be eating hors d’oeuvres!” i love that line but “hors d’oeuvres” is a STUPIDLY SPELLED WORD

“it’s the roll of the dice and no crime, you gotta die sometime”

“then the scene turns to black” he sounds so discouraged

“life. sucks.”

“i would cry if i could but it does no damn good to explain i’m a man in my prime! you gotta die sometime”

“give me the balls to orchestrate a graceful leave, that’s my reprieve”

“it’s the last little mountain i’ll climb! I’LL CLIMB!” i LOVE that part

“you gotta die sometime! you gotta die sometime! you gotta die sometime! you gotta die sometime, sometime, sometime! sometime! sometime! sometime! sometime! sometime!” the first time i heard this i thought whizzer died here :0

Jason’s Bar Mitzvah

“i said, let’s have my bar mitzvah HERE!”

“this was jason’s brilliant idea, and i brought the prayer shawl!”

every “OOH, IT’S JASON’S BAR MITZVAH” is great

“i’ll unwrap the billion hors d’oeuvres, and someone please eat them!”

“i feel more helpless than i have in years”

when marvin says “mendel!” it sounds like they’re actually friends now, and that’s very important to me

“but i feel that, since i’m the host, it’s me who should toast him!”

“actually... we’re seven”

“the food tastes really yummy!”

marvin’s verse to jason is really the sweetest thing

“son of marvin, son of trina, son of whizzer, son of mendel, AND GODCHILD TO THE LESBIANS FROM NEXT DOOR”

What Would I Do

the second saddest song in the musical

“what would i do if i had not met you? who would i blame my life on?”

“if you had not been my friend?” all of these are so sweet

“only one my child would allow!”

“when i’m having fun, you’re the one i want to talk to!”

the music before whizzer shows up and his lines are GREAT

“do you regret?” “i’d do it again! i’d like to believe i would do it again and again and again!”

their harmonies are AMAZING

when i first listened to this, i thought it was just before whizzer died, but the fact that he’s already dead makes it so much sadder, and gosh, he can hit such good notes, even from beyond the grave

whizzer’s last “doo” is SO AMAZING LIKE WHAT THE FUCK

Falsettoland (Reprise)

the saddest song in the musical HANDS. DOWN.

“homosexuals... women with children... short insomniacs...”

“we’re a teeny tiny band” this is SAD

“this is where we take a stand”

“welcome to falsettoland”

when i listened to falsettos while looking at the lyrics on genius.com and i was caught up i cried during what would i do and i REALLY cried during this, i’m sure i’ve cried other times listening to this song

but the thing is, for some reason i barely cry during musicals, i’ve cried like once listening to hamilton (during Who Lives, Who Dies, Who Tells Your Story), definitely during Words Fail (but probably only because i listened to it after having a panic attack/breakdown thing and it hit really close to that experience) and maybe not during much else? but this? THIS is sad af

that’s all, i just love this musical so much it’s amazing!!!

[hwisaacs]

LOCATION: Reddin Medical Center  DATE: March 28th TIME: 3:00 PM  TRIGGERS: abuse, addiction (implied), homophobia (implied), depression, anxiety/panic attack MENTIONS: @jackfuckingmonday CLOSED 

         Normally, he’d love an excuse not to go home for spring break. He didn’t like giving his dad any more opportunities to get mad at him. He could hear the disappointment in his mom’s voice when he told them he wouldn’t be home—though he did promise them to be back for church on Sunday. But these two weeks had been interesting and the more he thought about what was happening, the more uneasy he started to get. There was only so much avoiding his feelings he could do without completely withdrawing from reality. Henry felt the most miserable he’d felt since the day he’d driven to Palmetto to talk to Wymack after the big fight with his dad. At least he wasn’t feeling as horrible as he had after his sister left. Henry wasn’t going to take chances though and he scheduled a meeting with Betsy because if there was anyone that could help him with this, it was her. Luckily, the morning and early afternoon eventually managed to end, and Henry found himself waiting outside Betsy’s office, pacing back and forth, a cup of coffee in his hands—he didn’t know what number cup was currently in his hand. Eventually the door opened, and he didn’t even wait for Betsy to invite him in before he walked in her office.

         “Good afternoon, Henry,” she said. “Why don’t you take a seat? Do you want any hot cocoa?”

         “No, no… I’m fine.” He clearly wasn’t that fine though. He took a seat on the edge of the chair, resisting every urge to stand back up and pace some more. “Sorry. I just… I need. I don’t know.”

         “Henry, focus. Remember I’m not here to judge you. Tell me what’s going on. I can help.”

         “Okay, right. Yeah,” he replied, letting out a shaky laugh. “Okay. So, the after the last game that we lost. I, uh, sorta got drunk. Which I know you think I do all the time, but I really don’t. I was just upset over the game and I don’t know, was dealing with the anxiety from that, I guess. I wasn’t, you know, trying to get drunk to get drunk because I don’t do that. It just happened. Anyway, I wasn’t alone. I, um, was with someone. And well, we were just talking and then we weren’t talking, we were kissing. Which, I guess wouldn’t be a problem under any normal circumstances, but the person’s not really my type. Or I guess not—or I don’t know, but they weren’t… well it just wasn’t what I was expecting, I guess.” He finally let out a breath, feeling his ramble was going nowhere. “But, um, things got sort of physical. I don’t really remember all the details to be honest. It just suddenly wasn’t kissing. It was more than that. I don’t know if it was the alcohol or like something else, it felt good. I feel stupid though because it was my first kiss, but I think that’s the way it’s supposed to feel. I don’t know. I guess… I just liked it more than I’m supposed to like something like that, and I’m scared of people finding out. It won’t be a problem… if it was a onetime think, except I don’t think it was. Because we’ve been spending more time together and it… it feels right. But I’m scared because the entire team knows me as this one type of person and I’m not that person. And I’m also scared because I don’t know if this person likes me the same way or just is enjoying being whatever we are—friends with benefits? Something like that, I guess. I don’t know, but I really, really like them and I just… I don’t want to get hurt.” He took another deep breath in and out, then looked to Betsy. “Can you help?”

         “I’m not sure I understand what I’m supposed to be helping with. It seems like if you’re spending time with this person, then you’re both on the same page with wanting to get to know each other.”

         “You don’t understand, then because this person. They’re not…” Henry glanced at his feet. “They’re not a woman.”

         “Henry, none of the Foxes or Vixens are going to care about that.”

         “I care.”

         “Why?”

         “Because that’s not who I’m supposed to be. I’m supposed to be straight.”

         “Henry, identity does not work like that. You can’t choose to be straight if that’s not who you are.”

         “I know that’s what people say, but why not? I don’t want to be gay. I want to be normal.”

         “Being gay is normal. There’s nothing wrong—”

         “I know there’s nothing wrong with being gay! I just… I don’t want things to change.” He tightened his grip on his coffee cup. Henry had been here for almost three years and certain subjects still hadn’t been breached. “My best friend got kicked out of her house for being bisexual.” It was the first mention of his sister he’d ever said to Betsy. It wasn’t a lie. She was his best friend.

         “Do you think your parents are not going to accept you? Or are you afraid of the team?”

         Henry looked at the face Betsy was currently making—a concerned look on her face. It would be so easy to tell her about the abuse, but there’s a lump in the back of his throat. Tears threatening to spill over the thought of having to leave home. It really shouldn’t be a problem, but there’s a small part of him that thinks he deserves the punishment. He abandoned his sister when she needed him most and this was what he deserved. “No, my parents are not a problem,” he lied. It felt final. “It’s just like the whole reason Simon doesn’t want to come out in Simon Vs the Homo Sapiens Agenda. It just… changes everything.”

         “I understand. Change is difficult, but you deal with it every day, even if you don’t realize it. No day is the same. I know it’s scary to have people look at you in a different light, after they’ve always seen you one way. Those people who care about you, they aren’t going to hurt you. Everyone has faced change some time in their life.”

         “You say that, but it’s bullshit. The people who love you hurt are the ones that hurt you the most.” He thought about his dad, his sister, his mom, his old team, everything. The people who cared about him were the people that hurt him. “I don’t want to get hurt.”

         “If you don’t take the chance though, you won’t know the outcome. Isn’t it better to be happy than to be miserable over a missed chance?”

         Betsy didn’t know how much those words stung. He set the coffee cup down on the table in front of him, afraid that he was going to crush the cup and make a mess. He tightened his fist, trying to do what Betsy told him to calm himself down. “What if the missed chance is what would make me happy?” he asked, voice barely above a whisper, tears threatening to spill.

         “Henry, you can’t be afraid to live your life.”

         “Yes, I can. People do that in books all the time.”

         “But this isn’t a book, it’s real life. I can’t help you if you refuse to listen to me.”

         “Then maybe it was a mistake to come here,” he snapped, glaring at her. Lashing out was easy to do when he was afraid of people finding the out the truth. Maybe they wouldn’t turn their backs on him for being gay, but they’d turn their backs on him for abandoning his sister. “Being happy is overrated when I’m never going to be happy.”

         “I don’t think that’s true. You can be happy, you just have to try. Is there something or someone stopping you from being happy?”

         “No,” he scoffed, a harsh look on his face. Then he softened. Of course, there was someone stopping him from being happy. Other than himself, there was his dad and his sister. “I… um,” he choked on the words. Henry couldn’t say anything. The tears started falling from his eyes. “I miss her so much. Sometimes it feels like a whole part of me was ripped away when she left. And I wish… I wish I’d have been brave enough to help her.”

         “When your best friend left? Do you want to talk about that?”

         “H—Holland. My… my sister. She was my best friend, but... she was my sister.” Henry let out a sob and tried to ignore the panicked feeling in his chest; he couldn’t stop the panic attack though.

         Within an instant Betsy was beside him, telling him to breathe and focus on her voice. After a few minutes, Henry found himself calm enough to take a tissue from the table, sniffling. He wanted to curl up in bed with a book and forget this session happened at all. “Whatever happened in the past is in the past. You can’t change what happened with your sister, but you can decide what to do about your future. If that’s looking for her, then I’ll support you; but if it’s not, then that’s alright too. You can’t punish yourself for what happened to your sister and that’s what you’re doing. You deserve to be happy, Henry. If someone’s tried to tell you otherwise, then you should reevaluate your relationship with that person. I’m scheduling you an appointment for next week so we can discuss some other subjects you mentioned today. In the meantime, think about some of the things I’ve said. I’m also giving you a higher dosage on your depression medication, so please go pick that up before you leave tomorrow. Please remember, I’m here to help you, but there is only so much I can do unless you not only talk to me and also listen to what I’m saying.” Henry sniffled and watched her walk across the room back to her seat. “I don’t have any more appointments today, so talk all the time you need in here.”

         Henry nodded, taking a few moments to gather his thoughts before standing up. He bit down on his lip, sniffling once more before turning towards the door. He hesitated before turning back to Betsy for a second.

         “It’s Jack, by the way. The person I like. Kissing them felt like my life was going to be okay. And it’s only ever felt that way with my sister. I don’t want to lose them. I don’t want to be a coward anymore.”

         Betsy didn’t say anything, but she smiled slightly. Henry let out a shaky breath and walked out of the office. Somehow, a weight was now lifted off his shoulders. Things weren’t quite perfect yet, though they were getting there. And now one person at Palmetto knew about his sister—which was terrifying in a way.

[goliath-de-senfina-sango]

Jewelry and Moral Dilemmas

School was its usual boring self, a tad tenser with Danny feeling less than happy talking with Sam.  He was sure he’d be over it soon enough. Right as it was about to end, Danny found his traitorous mind swinging away from the chemicals needed to reflect a specific part of the ultraviolet spectrum of light and toward his social failings.  School did things like that to the brain after all.

“Thanks to you,” Tucker poked at him with a grin, “I now know the quickest way to a girl’s heart: clean boxers.”

Danny sighed and rubbed his neck, kicking the tile floor.  “Man, I blew it yesterday. Paulina probably won’t even look at me now.”

Moping at the floor like he was, Danny didn’t notice the footsteps of a certain latina cheerleader, who offered a small wave.  “Yoohoo, Danny?”

Danny’s head rose so fast a joint almost popped.  Paulina was back? After everything? Danny nudged Tucker in the ribs and Tuck gave a thumbs up before jogging off.  “Uh hi, Paulina.”

“Hi you,” Paulina chuckled, walking closer.  “I just wanted…”

A crushing blow at his side shoved the too small Danny into his locker, closing the door on him.  “Meet me?” A gratingly familiar voice finished her sentence. “Who doesn’t?”

Danny felt anger buzz under his skin and vibrate him out of the visible rainbow.   Does Dash think he can just fucking shove anyone around? Well, Danny thought, let’s see how he feels about having his clothes fused together.   Sliding through the molecules of his locker, Danny grabbed onto Dash’s back, reaching through the jacket.  But he reached too deep too quickly and suddenly he was being pulled in, filling a space larger than he was normally crammed into, his being humming through muscles not his own.  “I’m… in Dash?”

“Excuse me?”  Right, Paulina.  Think about the new power later, think about the weirdness of wearing Dash like a heavy coat later.  Currently, it was revenge time.

“I’m captain of the resident Geek club and I’ve kept every toenail I’ve ever clipped!”  With all the excitement he could muster Danny leaned in close. “Wanna see?”

“No.”  Sour notes rang in her aura and Danny nearly cackled.  Considering the circumstances, he let the body cackle and got down on one knee.

“Oh well, you should see the guy I just shoved in the locker, Fenton!  He doesn’t rub his mom’s feet like me.” Dash’s hands reached for Paulina’s shoes.  “Which is a shame cause I’ve been tryna teach him how to give foot rubs.”

“Eew, get away loser!”  Paulina took a step back and Danny smirked as he pulled up and away from Dash’s big clumsy form.  Phasing back into his locker, Danny noted that Dash felt a compulsion to rub his mom’s feet and that was a fascinating additional tidbit about the power.  “Hey, Danny? What’s your number?” Danny gave her the numbers and was soon tumbling out of the locker, face meeting linoleum. Danny rolled over and Paulina laughed.  “We have to stop meeting like this.” Her eyes widened, picking up something that must’ve fallen out of Danny’s bag. “Oh my goodness, what is that?” Paulina picked up a necklace, glittering gold surrounding an emerald and held together on a gold chain.  With the way she was looking at it, it could practically be made of real gems and gold.

“That?  Uh. You like it?”

“It’s beautiful!”

Danny got to his feet and rubbed his arm with a smile.  “That’s great cause It’s for you!”

Paulina gave Danny a smile that warmed him up on the inside and her aura was singing with chirping birds.  “Really?”

“Yeah, uh, I got it in case I got the nerve to ask you to the dance and you said yes.”  Danny grabbed his pants before they could fall. “I wanted to get you something in case of that and uh that’s what I was planning on though, now that I look again it doesn’t really do you justice.”

“Well, you are kinda cute, and you have great taste in underwear.”  Paulina put the necklace on herself and flashed another smile Danny’s way.  “I’d love to go with you.”

As soon as Paulina was out of earshot Danny tugged on his jacket.  “What am I doing? That doesn’t belong to me- it could be my mom’s or my sister’s…”  Paulina waved goodbye and turned the corner, that blossom of warmth in Danny’s chest spreading.  “Which is future Danny’s problem, cause she said yes !  Whoo!”  Tossing his arms in the air, Danny barely felt embarrassed when his jeans fell again.  Picking them up Danny heard the grating whine of displeasure behind him on the wrong level of existence to be paying attention to.

“Pantless again, Mr. Fenton?”  The balding pot-bellied vice principal drawled with his hands behind his back.  “That’s the third time this week I’ve caught you,” Lancer paused, pulled out a book titled How to Sound Hip for the Unhip, “dropping trou.”  Danny’s foot nearly dipped below the tiles as he tried to keep his laughter inside.  “I think it’s time I met your father for a Parent-Teacher Conference.” The paper Lancer handed him made keeping the giggles in a lot easier.

“My Dad?”   Orion, how am I gonna handle this one?

“Until then, here.”  Lancer handed him a belt.   How did that fit in his pocket?  “It’ll keep your pants up and you out of trouble with the man.”

During class, Danny took down notes on how his power expanded itself.  The flesh had felt wrong, alien when he was inside of it. Dash was bigger than him, heavier and Danny was amazed he hadn’t stumbled around when moving the jerk’s body.  The feeling of Dash’s mind beneath his, pushed under the surface of consciousness, was like wisps of air trying to escape like bubbles but not quite knowing it was trapped.

Mr. Falluca tried to get the slip on a seemingly inattentive Danny, but Science was his Thing, and Danny managed an answer and a tangent on every question shot his way.  Falluca was impressed but reminded Danny to at least look at the board occasionally. Danny made no promises to do so.

When Danny got home, the belt Lancer had repeatedly instructed him to put on nearly forgotten at his waist, he found his Dad monitoring the portal with the Fenton Fisher in his hands, though there was an extra blast shield between Dad and the rest of the lab.  Let it never be said that Fenton’s work slow.

Walking through the door of the shield Danny waved.  "Hey Dad, catch anything?“ Danny knew the answer, but it was the best way to Segway to the issue.

"Couldn’t catch a cold, Danny.  I’m so frustrated I wanna take it out on the first person to give me bad news!  Probably one of those GIW agents…”

Trying to ignore the sound of a hornet’s nest coming from his dad on that second level of reality, Danny weighed his options.  Then, he slipped onto that second level, reaching into his Dad and pushing him up to the third layer that Danny saw when he dissociated.  "Mr. Lancer wants to talk to us.“

Dad’s muscle memory took over for him as Danny directed the body to drive to the school immediately.  Danny had more to do than just fake his way through a PT conference.

Lancer’s office was so much smaller from his dad’s point of view.  The chair especially so. Lancer’s droning voice, unfortunately, was always going to be boring.  “Thank you for coming to discuss your son’s schooling, Mr. Fenton.”

“Well yeah of course!”  Danny never realized before that this was his dad’s speaking volume.  “He’s my little man, gotta know what’s up with him.”

“Well, there’s been a couple of incidents with his pants.”   Sweet Tucana, is this how he describes everyone’s problems?

“Ah, his pants!  I told Danny if he didn’t stop studying so he could eat some more his pants’d fall down.  He forgets ya see.”

Lancer hummed, looking to the side in consideration.  “That would explain some things…”

Holy Pavo, did that work?   “Of course you understand!  No wonder you’re Danny’s favorite teacher.”

Lancer arched a brow at that, leaning forward a bit.  “I am?”

“Yeah, ‘strict but fair and informative’ he always calls ya.”  Danny held up a fist with a grin. “We Fentons, as people of science, understand that teachers are underpaid and underappreciated.  Without you who would be there to educate our future society on how it all works?”

A smile slowly spread over Lancer’s face.  “I like your style, Mr. Fenton.” Hook line and sinker.  “In fact, I’d like you to chaperone the dance.”

Internally, Danny recoiled at the idea of his dad chaperoning the dance in any capacity what so ever.  Remembering exactly how his dad responded to anything he wasn’t interested in, Danny gave as firm and exuberant a, “No thanks!”  as he could. “I’ve got to test my inventions, see what needs improving.”

“Are you sure, Mr. Fenton?”

“That’s Dr. Fenton,” Danny corrected, “and yes.  Now, if that’s all you wanted to talk about.” Not giving Lancer so much as a chance to say otherwise, Danny walked his dad out of the office and drove home.  Portal open, fishing line tossed, Danny whispered in his father’s head that he’d been doing this so long he zoned out and flew out of him. Danny rose up to his room and slumped against the wall.

“Ara, that went better than I expected,” Danny muttered.  “I gotta tell Tuck and Sam about this.”

“So wait, you got Dash to say he scrubs  his mom’s feet?” Sam snorted. “To Paulina of all people?”

“Not only that but he also asked himself - out loud which is a dumb way to ask yourself certain questions - why he wanted to scrub his mom’s feet after I left his body.”  Danny chuckled as he took a bite of his burger.

“So lemme get this straight,” Tucker said.

“Nothing I say is straight, Tucker.”

“You can just walk into people and take over their bodies?”

“Well, when you put it that way.”  Danny smacked away Tucker’s thieving hands from his food.

“No no, I mean, if you could walk into a girl for like, 3 minutes…”  Tucker was then assaulted by Sam’s combat boots directly to the toes, and Danny glared at him.  “Christ, it was just a joke!”

“It was a horribly creepy joke, and you should feel bad about it,” Sam said, stealing his fries.  Tucker looked ready to protest but Sam gave him a challenging scowl and he let it drop.

“You can get a date to the dance on your own like I did.”  Danny rolled his eyes.

“Does he have to take off his pants and act like a dweeb or will either work?”   Sam tilted her head. “No, wait he’s always acting like a dweeb.  Looks like the pants must go Tuck.”

Danny pouted, narrowing his eyes at Sam.  “I do not act like a dweeb, Sam. I act like an intelligent romantic.”  The laughter from both of his friends was frankly rude and unnecessary. “What?”

Tucker leaned over and patted Danny’s hand.  “Nothing Danny, you’re very romantic and understand how all that works.  Definitely.”

“I don’t stalk the girl’s locker room looking for dates,” Danny said as flatly as he could manage.  Tucker winced, then jabbed Danny in the shoulder.

“Touche.”

“Honestly, I’m glad I’m not going to this stupid dance,” Sam said, picking at the scraps left of her salad.  “Saves me the embarrassment of wearing this lame dress my parents bought me.”

Tucker, ever insightful, smirked at her.  “No one asked you, did they?”

“Guess I’m not as standardly pretty as Paulina is,” Sam spat out venomously.

“So she’s pretty,” Danny said, pointing his last fry at Sam.  “It’s not a crime. What’s your deal?”

“Looks are deceiving Danny.”

Before Danny could offer a rebuttal to that blanket statement that answered nothing, his body went cold and he heard a familiar melody at the back of his mind.  The three teens stood up as one, and Danny turned to the sound of screaming. “Shit. Guys let’s see what we’ve got.”

Danny ran to a shadowy corner where he was sure the cameras couldn’t see him and slipped into his Phantom form.  He flew around the corner and pulled up short when he saw the dragon from the other day. “Well fuck. Haven’t I seen you before?”  The dragon roared at him, a line of fire spewing out of its mouth and Danny swerved around it, ready for that this time. “Let’s try that again.  Hi, I’m Danny Phantom, and you are?”

Danny saw Tucker and Sam’s wrist ray fire before he saw the tail coming his way, and dropped to the ground, thankful for his friends.  The beams flew right over the ducking dragon’s head and it swiped it’s tail at Danny, missing by a mile. “Testy got it.” Danny charged at the dragon, tackling it by the midsection.  It flew back when he stopped and Danny grinned when twin wrist ray shots flew and one managed to zap the dragon in the face.

It roared at them all, and pounced at Danny, missing once again when Danny phased through it.  “Must have Tee!” A line of fire shot forth again and Danny dove to the ground.

“Oh, tea?  Good idea! Coffee can make you a mite jittery.”  Danny slipped onto that second level and smirked. “Better yet.”  Sinking into the ground, Danny rose up with an uppercut to the dragon’s jaw.  “How bout some punch?” The dragon flew so far that Danny lost track of it for a second as he flew.  

Lowering down to Sam and Tucker’s level, he noted that the aura of crackling flames had vanished and flew off to a corner to turn back, then walked around a different corner.

“Holy shit, Danny are you ok?”  Tucker was immediately checking Danny for burns and bruises and Danny chuckled.

“Yeah, Tuck, I’m fine.  Except that’s the second time I fought that dragon.  We need to investigate. How are you guys?”

“We’re fine,” Sam said.  “Though Tucker needs to work on his aim.”

“That dragon was moving really fast, Sam, and so was Danny.  I didn’t wanna hit him.” Tucker sighed. “But yeah, I’m fine.  Dateless still though I’ve asked pretty much every girl in school except…”  Tucker turned as Valerie Grey walked by. “Hey, Val?”

“No.”

“Ugh.  Alright, well plan fuckin B I guess.”  Tucker glared as Sam opened her mouth. “And I’m keeping my pants on.”

“Sure you are Tuck.”  Sam patted the geek on the arm.  “Meanwhile, during important business, I’m going to look up that dragon best I can.  Send me a picture of it?”

“Sending now,”  Tucker muttered, already walking off to go find a date.

“Well, while you guys do that I’m gonna go see if I can manage to make blurple into a color I can paint with.”  Danny grinned as he ran off.

“That color doesn’t need a name if only you can see it!”

“Yes, it does!”

When Danny got home, he ran first upstairs to find something suitable for the dance, and then to find his mother when he found nothing.  “Hey, Mom? Where’s that suit you got me for the Sadie Hawkins’ dance that Sam made the middle school do? I wanna see if it still fits or if I need a new one.”

[antiquexbeast]

once upon some basics

in response to ( this thing ) that i’m being yelled at about ( ???? )

because despite how obviously parody the video is, i’m sitting here realizing that i gotta explain why this isn’t “offensive” and “problematic” and is honestly more poking fun at weho stereotypes that, tbh, anyone who lives there has seen first hand.

for reference, i’m about three decades old, i’ve been too gay and ho to exist for most of my life, and weho has been where most of my existence has been when i’m not looking for bones and wearing as much lace and black as humanly physically possible in SoCal. all of the places in this video are places i frequently visit and party at.

lemme break this down:

lez be honest ( belle ):

-- is probably a closet gay -- might not even realize they’re gay -- legit doesn’t give a shit and just is out here to have fun and chillin -- trying their best an doin p well -- accidentally offensive  -- kinda weird, is probably a nerd and into weird things, but you know she’s solid af -- you expected her to be a garbage ally, but is actually the coolest person you’ve ever met. -- is aggressively active about human rights and will either march with you or march for you -- is straight up oblivious ngl but she not a nancy so that’s gucci -- you crushed on her at least once because she’s good and got good hair don’t fuccin lie

gogo babies ( half naked dudes ): -- can only be found at The Club -- very greasy? sweaty? either way they glisten like greek gods under dancefloor neon lights are they even real? you literally only see them at The Club -- always naked except for thong undies -- and sneakers, for some reason??? -- are men of little words, but always seem to say enough to make you thirsty af athletic af, can bend in ways no normal gayboi can deal with ( that’s why we out here ) the more money you throw at them the sexier they get this is a fact about bards and gaybabies

thirsty clientele ( every single time you’re at the club ): -- ALWAYS creepin on gogo babies and... well.. literally anyone lbr -- will wait till you’ve had 7 shots of tequila then creep up on your ass from behind -- constant boner? or is it hands? either way it’s nopecity non-consensual and it’s time to flag down security -- they phase into the wall until you look at them and break their disguise and then you’re fuck’d -- honestly nothing about these guys are good they may as well be dementors -- can only be defeated by, literally, any charismatic gay who sees you in trouble and comes to your aid -- #there’s always a gay to protect you thankgod 

shady gays ( dressed in black, shadin tf outta you on the street ): -- relentlessly savage af do not approach without a spine or being dead inside already -- regina george? guuuuurl don’t even play she ain’t even close to this -- will be precious to your face but knives at first base -- can automatically sense if you have knock off designer shit without even looking at it -- better not be wearin last summer’s jimmy choo’s or vera wang ‘cause you bout to be dragged -- will judge you on your love for betsey johnson, but seems to never be seen in public not wearing basic nu goth black ( ugh seriously? that’s soooo forever 21 ) -- vogue is basically their religion -- lady gaga may as well be their fashion inspiration, despite how impractical it is to wear 60% of runway designs -- will cry about anything, especially after drinking two wine coolers

adam and steve ( explanatory gays ) -- you watched Another Gay Movie and Will & Grace and now you get to meet this irl but x20 -- perfect skin and make up like how????? -- you haven’t seen anyone voguing since like 30 years ago but here it is -- rainbow paraphernalia, constantly, somehow -- the pose game here is rivaling JoJo, like you legit cannot compete you can’t even roll for dexterity here -- the actual personification of a unicorn, which is literally just a horse. because horses are extra af already so just glue a stick on they foreheads -- are always bottom. like don’t even suggest being top it’s not gonna happen -- drama... constantly... just.... nah

momma ( ru-paul. literally ) -- that is literally goddamn rupaul -- constantly busy and has zero time for normal conversations -- it’s like you forget ru is gay af and is close to LA and it makes sense to run into them here -- constantly ic lbr -- still manages to be that NPC that gives out real good advice -- is also that NPC you don’t expect to run into, like ever, so you better be ready for a wild adventure -- is your fuckin mom. not even drag mom, they’re you’re mom and is full of mom advice -- still problematic, but also still full of good mom shit

the queens ( of the stone age ) -- don’t even try they’re make up game is stronger than your lift game -- “this man looks better in a dress than i do” and that’s literally how it is just accept it -- are always chaotic fabulous -- will either be chill or problematic there’s no in between -- CONSTANTLY GOSSIPY -- drama? may have originated with them saying some shit while they were too drunk and forgot to not be a decent person -- might say accidentally transphobic shit, but depending on their alignment may actually correct their behavior

lost fitizen ( no homo-bro ) -- #loststraightboy, but lbr he already knows why he’s out here -- constantly nervous and suspicious -- can’t play it cool even if he tried -- is desperately trying to be as macho as possible, but you’ve caught him staring real hard at the gogo babies on more than one occasion -- may masquerade as the token straight garbage at the gay club tryin to feel up on ladies havin fun, but then gets real smooth when you cut in -- is a stoner? is drunk? you’re legit not sure he looks wildly startled, maybe he needs a nap or a snack ( #you #youarethesnack ) -- will offer to be your “work out buddy”............ you’re old enough to know what that shit means -- will either be a toxic fuckboi or your future respectful life partner there is no in between

haterade ( misc religious protestors ) -- srsl wtf r you don’t even go here -- will either be yelling aggressive random bible shit @ you or standing quietly looking dead inside because they’d rather be anywhere else but surrounded by naked gay men -- are literally everywhere, even at anime conventions like wtf -- maybe they need a fuckin nap or a nice salad? -- constantly contradicting their own dialogue when approached and questioned about their “beliefs” -- it’s literally the same people every year you wonder if they have lives or family

woke gaybabies ( literally every other normal gay ) -- blends in like spies or secret agents -- you can go years of your life without knowing they’re anything other than straight -- honestly just came out here to have fun, get some drinks, and cut loose for a night -- is probably your designated driver and suggests that you walk to the ihop a block away to get to food after you’re too drunk to function -- will ( reluctantly ) take care of your stupid drunk gay ass when you’ve had too much -- may be middle aged, but also has a fleeting hope they’ll find a nice person to talk to at the bar -- prefers OK Cupid to Tinder because the thirst difference between the two is too real -- has normal interests, is easily relatable, but are basically unicorns because their impossible to spot in the crowds of extras

the last lesbian alive ( is butch af ) -- in a sea of testosterone, you see a glimmer of estrogen somehow -- has she worn anything other than lumberjack print or doc martens? who honestly knows?? -- is probably more aggressive than your chihuahua do not engage her in a bar fight you will fuckin lose -- buzz cut, heavy set and is very passionate about fur babies and marching for human rights -- is straight up pissed off about the lack of women in weho to chill with like jfc? -- S&M. hands down. you better have the day off from work the next day cause you aint walkin straight the next mornin -- is basically a unicorn, lbr when was the last time you saw a fresh real lesbian in sausage fest weho -- will either be batshit or wholesome and good, there IS no in between gurlfrond -- will build you a house, but unlike your dad stuck in his shitty marriage, will actually fuckin do it, and it will be everything you ever hoped it would be