#not to try and turn things into a 'who had it worse' dick-measuring contest

[theliterarywolf]

I'm not going to reblog anymore responses to that theft post, but it's interesting to have someone essentially poverty-splaining to someone who was:

A child of poverty

Who regularly experienced food-insecurity

Who has experienced the trauma of having to sleep in a car

Who was the child of a single mother

Who was forced into being an undocumented immigrant due to my bastard father not wanting to help her file when they were married

A child who was forced to take a two-year hiatus from college due to said bastard father not wanting to provide information so I could apply for financial aid

And who is only, as of a few years ago, in a place where, while money still isn't ideal, am not experiencing abject poverty like I once was

AND WHO HAS STILL RELENTED AND SAID 'I CAN UNDERSTAND PEOPLE WHO NEED TO STEAL FOOD'

[ace-s-fave-tv-shows]

God the first two Trixie focused episodes are sad

You ever think about how the Trixie & Twilight rivalry, as brief as it was, started because Twilight and friends fundamentally misunderstood what a stage magician was?

Like if we look at unicorns that Twilight has had as her villainous opponents the line up is;

King Sombra, the dictator keeping himself alive with dark magic, who wants to conquer and enslave the Crystal Empire,

Starlight Glimmer the cult leader, stealer of cutie marks, and ruiner of multiple timelines,

Sunset Shimmer attemptive dictator and stealer of an element of harmony,

And Trixie, who's big original crime is that she's a stage magician and Twilight (and her friends) doesn't understand what that is, and that the stuff that Trixie does during her debut episode are in large part, just part of the job of being a magician.

Being a boastful liar is part of stage magic, the whole point is that you fool the audience into thinking one thing is happening, when really another thing is happening. They're entertainers, their job is to shock and awe the audience with feats of, what seems like, magic and impossibility.

Also, people seem to blame her for the Ursa Minor being brought into town, but Snips & Snails did that. Sure they did that because they took Trixie boasting about defeating an Ursa Major at face value, but also they're elementary age children.

Where are there parents, and why can they get out of their houses and into the wilderness to approach dangerous, magic, wild animals in the middle of the night?

Just because Ponyville is such a small town that no one understands what a stage magician is, and what that job entails, doesn't mean Trixie was a villain in her introductory episode.

Trixie is an entertainer, if you don't like the entertainment she's giving, you guys can just leave and ignore the show she's putting on?

But during her original show it seems like most of the mane six ponies are just complaining that Trixie is bragging a lot, and it starts being said right after her opening line of being "the great and powerful Trixie", and then Rainbow Dash just literally starts heckling her.

Then when Rainbow Dash ends up humiliated, Applejack tries her hand at literally trying to out perform the professional entertainer, and it's the same for her. And then it's the same with Rarity.

They're all concerned with trying to put this literal stage magician "in her place" more or less, but if this was real life and someone tried to do this at a magic show, they'd 100% be escorted off the premises.

Our heroes spend like the first half of this epsidoe harassing a stage magician who's just trying to do her job.

It's shown that in the aftermath, Trixie was turned into the town laughing stock, her wagon, her home, was getting vandalized, and it got to the point she had to leave town.

They ruined her reputation, so she had to take up working on a rock farm instead of getting to work in stage magic, her passion and special talent. Something we hardly, if ever, see ponies do in Equestria.

Then they wanna be all shocked when she comes back for revenge with the Alicorn amulet.

No shit she came back for vengeance using a corrupting magic amplifying artifact.

They turned her job and reputation as an entertainer into some kind of magic power dick measuring contest, and then ruined her life as a result, because Twilight (and her friends) didn't like her attitude.

Also, Twilight forgives Trixie the most reluctantly out of any other redeemed evil unicorn, and all the others did much worse than Trixie, when she was in her right mind and not influenced by the Alicorn Amulet, ever did.

Both Sunset and Starlight do much, much worse things than Trixie did, without any kind of magical corrupting influence like the Alicorn Amulet even being involved, and they're forgiven instantly by Twilight. While with Trixie she has to stop and think about it before forgiving her.

Trixie's biggest and least forgivable sin in Twilight's eyes is that she's annoying and Twilight doesn't like her personally.

The whole plot line is even more irritating, because Twilight uses what is essentially stage magic to beat Trixie during the Alicorn Amulet episode.

Because then it's not even that the mane 6 doesn't understand stage magic, and the idea that stage magicians ham things up and lie to sell a performance.

They just decided they hated Trixie after hearing the opening line of her stage show, and then they ruined her career because they didn't like her.

[mumms-the-word]

Hello! Can I request "You think you're protecting me, but you make it worse." For Dani/Gale?

Oooh, okay sorry it took me so long (busy day!) but here you go. A scene immediately preceding a certain argument that Gale and Dani have 👀 I adjusted the wording a bit too to make it fit the scene

Also it got a bit long (i got carried away) so I'm putting most of it under the cut lol

~*~*~

Dani led the way out of Sorcerous Sundries, absolutely fuming. She’d gone through all that trouble to break into the high security magic vaults to find some ancient book and for what?

For Gale to read it and immediately develop delusions of grandeur, that’s what.

She’d suspected he had plans for the crown when they’d first found the book, but he hadn’t been forthcoming with any real details. That is until they’d gone upstairs to see what this Lorroakan wanted with Dame Aylin, and he and Gale had decided to get into a wizard’s dick-measuring contest over personal power. Gods. Wizards.

Gale’s words still rang in her ears, fueling her anger.

I will be able to stand against Mystra, and wrest her powers from her. For the betterment of all.

Netheril’s power is in my blood, and Mystra? I know her in ways that most mortals can only dream of.

Was he fucking insane? It had taken all of her willpower not to drag him out by his stupid round human ear. Fight Mystra? Waving his special relationship with Mystra in Lorroakan’s face? If she didn’t know better, she’d think the Annals of Karsus had poisoned Gale’s mind and possessed him somehow.

She stopped short as she spied a familiar red-robed figure lingering just outside of the Sundries awning, watching the cheap magic show happening in the plaza center. It was the famed Elminster himself.

“Finally!” she burst out. “At last a man who can talk some sense!”

Well, maybe not sense more generally, but sense into Gale? Maybe.

She turned and grabbed Gale’s arm and all but marched him over to the elder wizard.

“Elminster?” Gale asked, his face registering surprise.

Elminster turned and smiled pleasantly at the two of them, seemingly unaware of the stormy expression on Dani’s face. “Hello m’boy. Oh, don’t mind me, I’m just enjoying a fresh lungful of Balduran air.” He wrinkled his nose, almost wincing. “A distinctive aroma, thought perhaps not one worthy of bottling. Tell me, what curiosities have you and your companions discovered within the walls of this esteemed emporium?”

Gale opened his mouth to answer, but Dani cut over him. “Someone demanded we go read the Annals of Karsus and now thinks he knows everything. He wants to reforge the Crown of Karsus for himself.”

“Dani!” Gale turned to her, mouth agape, eyes flashing with a mix of betrayed hurt and outrage.

Elminster grew pale. “The Crown of Karsus?”

“Don’t lie to him, darling,” she said, crossing her arms. “You seemed eager enough to boast your plans to Lorroakan just now. What’s one more wizard in the know?”

“Perhaps we should have kept that particular opportunity between ourselves,” he said through gritted teeth.

“And perhaps you should have thought of that sooner,” was her cool reply. “Keeping things to ourselves, I mean.”

“You—” He cut himself off quickly and turned to Elminster. “One moment, if you please.”

“I most certainly do not please—”

But Gale ignored him, taking Dani by the arm and practically dragging her over to a spot along the outer wall of Sorcerous Sundries. The magic show in the plaza had begun to fire off loud spells toward illusions, to the cheers and delight of the gathered audience, so Dani almost missed his words when he stopped her and said in a seething whisper, “What are you thinking?”

“I’m trying to help you,” she snapped, pulling her arm from his grip. “Whatever this plan of yours is, it’s bullshit. It’s dangerous and it’s stupid.”

“You don’t know what I have planned, or my reasons.”

“And whose fault is that?” she asked, setting one hand on her hip. “I’m not the one keeping secrets. You should forget that crown, Gale. And if you won’t listen to me, maybe Elminster can convince you.”

“If this is your way of trying to protect or ‘help’ me, you should stop while you’re ahead,” Gale said, glowering. “You may think you’re trying to protect me, but you’re only making things worse.”

“Define ‘things’ for me.”

He made a vague gesture to the air around them. “I—everything. You haven’t even given me a chance to explain what I want to do with the crown yet.”

“I heard enough of your plan upstairs to know it’s likely going to get you killed,” she countered, crossing her arms again. “But what do I know about magic? I’m just a bard playing her silly songs. Elminster, on the other hand…”

She saw a tic start up in his clenched jaw as he continued to glare at her. She just lifted her eyebrows at him in a cool, neutral look, holding her ground. After a moment of staring, he threw his hands up.

“Fine! I’ll hear what he has to say,” he said. “But this conversation isn’t over.” He turned and stalked back to Elminster.

Dani shook her head, blowing a frustrated sigh through her nose, and followed a moment later, rejoining just as Elminster was lecturing about Karsus's folly and the dangers of an "encore." This time she kept mostly silent, letting the two wizards go back and forth. She let her anger simmer for the moment and hoped that Elminster might have a better solution.

There had to be a better solution than Gale reforging the crown and becoming a god. There just had to be. If Elminster couldn't convince him...then it was up to her.

~*~*~

idk how to end things

Thanks for the ask!!

[mykingdomforasong]

Locked in a room + I didn’t mean to turn you on… skymandolo or any combination therein

[trope mash up list]

E rated, skymandolo, inappropriate use of old Ben's hermitage

~

Tatooine sandstorms were deadly once they picked up. There wasn't any flying possible when they raged through the Dune Sea, so Luke was just glad that they'd been sheltered in the still-abandoned hovel that used to belong to Ben.

Han and Din had been kind enough to join him on his journey through Tatooine, looking for whatever records might still be hidden out here, stowed away from the prying grasp of the Jawas. The sandstorm had picked up before any of them could do anything about it. Now they were stuck in the little one-room house together with only their rations, a few blankets, and Ben's miraculously still functioning refresher. Din had taken off his helmet and armor once they confirmed there was no going anywhere. Now there was nothing to do but watch Din scape sand out of his beskar and hope Han could make a decent meal out of their rations.

There were worse situations, of course. But his two partners were a little less than boyfriends themselves, although they were far more than strangers. Right now, they seemed to be stuck in some perpetual dick-measuring contest, constantly vying for Luke's attention, then stealing glances at the other to see their reaction. Luke found it hard to complain about, though, since most of their attention and affection went to him now. He'd been sucked and fucked so many times in the last few weeks he'd lost count. And while he wanted the two of them to work through whatever their petty bullshit was, he didn't want to stop the quantity of attention. So he was letting his boys work things out on their own.

There was still some cook wear stashed on top shelves in Ben's place that they might be able to sonic clean to heat up some dinner.

Han stretched, trying to reach a pan on the top shelf of the cabinet, but his arms were too short to grasp the pan handle. Luke wondered if Ben used to have a ladder that had been stolen in the last decade or if he just used the Force.

Luke stood behind Han, before crouching to wrap his arms around Han's thighs to lift him up. Han grabbed the pan as he protested: "Hey! Hey! Alright, put me down."

"Couldn't you just use the Force?" Han asked with his feet back on the ground.

Luke smiled. "That was more fun."

Han turned to Din. "He didn't used to be able to do that," Han told him.

"He can now," Din said back.

Han was always desperate for Din's positive attention, Luke had learned, trying to show off to and one-up the Mandalorian all at once.

Either way, Han turned around leaving the dusty pan on the counter, hoisted Luke over his shoulder in a fireman's carry.

Luke kicked his feet. "Hey!"

Han set him down on the long wooden table, pressing Luke flat on his back. Han looking over him, smirking the way he was, gave Luke a strong sense of deja vu. He remembered being nineteen, literally swept off his feet by Han Solo -- the same ways he'd just been -- a laid gently on the Falcon's dejarik table before being fucked within an inch of his life. He'd had sex before, but never like that. It was experienced and tender, but desperate and passionate. Sex with Han had been a revelation for Luke, and it still was.

When the memory of their first night came screaming back to him, Luke felt his cheeks go red. Han noticed and leaned down to kiss him, grabbing one leg by the underside of the thigh. Han was a tease, though, a didn't grind up against him or touch him over the clothes. Instead he just pulled away.

Luke sat up a little, leaving his forearms resting on the table. He was always quick to rise, and now was no exception. He'd hoped his semi would at least be discrete, but his affinity for tight pants betrayed him. Han and Din were staring at him, waiting to see what he might do.

"Sorry, didn't mean to turn you on," Han said, smiling.

Luke turned towards Din, who was still across the room, staring at the two of them. Han grabbed Luke gently by the chin and turned his head back towards him. Luke almost laughed at the show of jealousy, but he was cut off by Han's lips on his. Han pulled Luke into him, Luke's ass on the edge of the table, his legs finding their way around Han's waist, his half-hard cock finding the front Han's pants.

Luke opened his eyes mid-kiss and cast a glance over to Din, who answered it by standing and making his way over to the table. Luke leaned back into this kiss, a possessive grip on Han's shirt.

"Are you going to fuck him?" Din asked, now standing behind Han, who jumped at the sudden voice behind him. Han bit Luke's lip in surprise, but it only turned Luke on more. Luke started to unbutton his own pants, desperate to cum.

"Don't feel like going through all that trouble," Han said. Luke looked up and saw they were both watching him pull his cock out. "Besides, I don't think he'll wait for me to get that far."

Luke would have rolled his eyes if Han wasn't right. Han undid his own pants as Luke licked his left hand. Han pressed his own hard cock against Luke's and let Luke hold both of them in his hand, rubbing together. It was still too dry -- everything on Tatooine was -- so Han dropped his head down and captured Luke's cock in his mouth. While Han sucked him off, Din leaned down to kiss him. Din was still a little clumsy with kissing, but Luke founding charming.

Han sucked him off for just long enough that when he put their cocks back together it was a lot slicker. When he came back up, he pressed himself against Luke, squeezing Din out of the way.

"How are you going to fit into this?" Han asked.

"Han!" Luke scolded. Han mumbled a "sorry," but Din didn't seem bothered.

Din stepped around to the side, so he could watch them rub against each other. Din slowly undid his belt, then his zipper. Luke felt Han's lips on the side of his neck as his eyes stayed glued to Din.

"Pretty happy right here," he said.

Din stroked his own dick a few times before finally pulling his glove off. He extended the bare hand to Luke, who spit in it for him. Luke let his eyes linger on the slow way Din got himself off, fingers tracing over the head of his cock before sliding his hand down to the base, working himself over at a pace that would have been torture to Luke.

"Do you remember the first time we fucked?" Han asked Luke.

"Of course," Luke said, his breathing shallow.

"Din, he was incredible. Nineteen years old, already a war hero. I had him laid out out on my game table. He was hard, red-cheeks, pouty lips," Han smiled, "a lot like right now," Luke let himself get lost in the memory as Han talked. "I think he meant to whisper it all seductive, but he nearly shouted 'I want you inside me!'" Han kissed him hard, now and then, his lips pressed against Luke's like a promise. "He had an ass worth going to war for. Couldn't say no. Best choice I ever made." Han went on in detail -- how hot and tight Luke was, the things he said. The way he finished a little soon, but was up again by the time they made it to the bedroom for round two. Han was the dirty talker of the two of them, and he knew everything he said was for Luke more than it was for his and Din's little competition.

"He ever beg you to fuck him like that?" Han asked.

Din shook his head no. "I've been known to beg him more than once," Din confessed.

"You always take it, then?" Han asked. "I know that's how we've done it, but ..."

"I just like it more. And he's strong. Mandalorians ... we like people like that. I like people like that. Before you arrived on Nevarro yesterday, he bent me over the table, a lot like this one. I still have bruises on my hips."

"Fuck," Han said, picking up the pace of his thrusts against Luke. Things were starting to get dry, but Luke was so close he could hardly care. He couldn't even keep himself upright.

He laid back down on the table, and said, "Please, keep talking."

"Fucking him is a real gift," Han said. "I know he's a great top. Trust me, I know. But one day you'll have to switch. I'll watch, tell you what to do, how to make him scream."

Luke pictured it, him on his hands and knees in the big Nevarro bed, Din's fat cock in his ass for the first time, Han talking him through exactly how to make Luke feel good.

His pleasure reached its peak without much warning; he felt his balls tighten and he took a sharp inhale, before cumming mostly into his hand.

"Fuck, baby," he heard Han gasp. Luke opened his eyes to see Han jerking himself off next to Din now.

Din's orgasm seemed to sneak up on him too; in a moment he was cumming right onto the dusty floor in the same silent way he usually did. That seemed good enough for Han, who followed suit.

"You two are terrible house guests," Luke mumbled. Really, he regretted not taking off his top and letting one or both of them cum onto him.

"I'm sure old Ben will forgive us," Han said. He leaned over and kissed Luke. "What do you think of my idea?"

Luke pushed himself into a sitting position, holding his hand carefully to avoid smearing cum everywhere. "Best idea you've ever had."

[softomi]

And The Best Boyfriend Award Goes To....

Nominee One: Suna Rintarou

Dreadful, that’s how you felt. You moved slowly, you slumped into your seat, you groaned. Your boyfriend wasn’t even paying attention to you. He was simply resting on his desk, head buried in his arms but you knew that he was listening. He just always liked to pretend like he couldn’t hear your whining. 

“I don’t want to be here! Babe.” You’re calling to him. 

He finally looked at you, “What’s wrong?” He still rested his head on his arms, you were following his actions. Your head resting on the desk as you looked at your boyfriend; wishing for once he could give you some sympathy.

You were pouting, “Mother nature visited me.” It was short, sweet, one of the closest ways you could address your period without actually saying it. 

“Well, what’d she say?” You almost throw your stuff at him; only he would ever ask a question like this. 

“She said I’m not pregnant.” A sigh escaped your mouth, sure this was supposed to be good news for him and you but it’s not fun when you’re the only one suffering. 

“Well.” He quirks a brow at you, “Isn’t that a good thing?” He thinks he’s funny but he wasn’t to you. 

You turn your head to look away from him, a groan on your lips, “Ugh, you’re the worst boyfriend ever. I’m dating a robot.” 

You were talking with some of your girl friends, some were also going through their own time of the month and could empathize with you. They ranted on how their own boyfriends were just as bad as yours; perhaps some of the others were just a tad bit worse. 

“Ow.” A chocolate bar bounces off your head, landing right in front of you. When you turn, you see your boyfriend standing with his hand in his pockets, “What was that for?” 

“Stop telling everyone I’m the worst boyfriend.” He hands you another chocolate bar but this time it’s one filled with almonds. He pats your head, one of the only actions he’d actually do in front of people. He walks away as he hears the group of girls coo, a blush on his cheeks when he hears you flaunting your boyfriend.

You’re smiling, taking bits of the chocolate to eat as your friends whine about jealousy. That’s how it started. 

Nominee Two: Miya Atsumu

He had just heard about what Suna did, he felt betrayed. Now he had to go above and beyond for you; you who was mad at him because when you snapped at him accidentally, he told you to chill because you were on your period. He was thinking, he was wondering,  just what beats chocolates?

“My love.” He was trying to butter you up with his sweet words, “I’m sorry.” 

You hum, “You heard about Suna didn’t you?” You shrug his hand from your arm, “Don’t try and include me in your dick measuring contest. You’re still the worst.” 

You ignored him for the rest of the school day, even during lunch when he tried to pick at your food, you swatted his hand away. He was practically pouting the entire day, shooting daggers at Suna who had his partner snuggled right up to him. He missed your hugs. 

“It’s Atsumu.” Osamu had burst into your club meeting, sweat trailing down his forehead, calling you for an emergency. 

You rushed behind the male as you two made it to the gym; Atsumu was on the ground, holding a hand to his chest as you came to his side. You were panicking, “Tsumu, are you okay? What’s wrong?” 

“I can’t.” He’s coughing until suddenly he stopped, his hand gripping the back of your neck as he pulled you down to meet his lips, “I can’t live without your kiss.” 

Needless to say, you slapped him across the face; storming out of the gymnasium as he ran behind you. You were on the verge of tears when he pulled you to look at him. 

“You’re the absolute worst, do you know that.” You hit his chest, “I thought you were actually hurt.” 

“But you’re talking to me now.” He’s smiling, “Look, I got you this.” He’s pulling a rose out from behind him, “It’s a secret though, I snagged it from the garden club’s rose bushes. They banned me after the last time I stole their tulips for you.” He watches your eyes soften with the rose, “Am I forgiven? Am I the best boyfriend now?”

You take the rose from him, “Fine, but as consequence, you need to snap a video of you buying pads, chocolates, and flowers to all the members of the volleyball club.” 

Nominee Three: Miya Osamu 

Club activities weren’t over but you watched as Atsumu and his girlfriend reconciled out in the courtyard. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t jealous, you had heard about his stupid plan from your own boyfriend. You didn’t think she would actually fall for that; but as your own boyfriend approached you in the hall, you told yourself you weren’t going to fall for his sweetness. 

“Hey, don’t walk away from me.” Osamu follows behind you, “You still mad?” 

“I don’t know, are you still stupid?” Yes, you were still angered and annoyed. He invited you to go swimming over the weekend but when you told him you were on your period, he told you to just hold it in. It wasn't the dumbest thing he’s ever said to you but the fact was that he wasn’t considerate enough when you tried to explain that girls just can’t hold it in; instead he high fived his bros as if it was a joke. 

“How many times are you gonna make me say sorry?” He’s still following you. 

You don’t even look back at him, “The fact that you have to ask means that it hasn’t been enough.” 

He’s sighing, “What do you want? Flowers? Chocolates? A giant teddy bear? I’ll rob Atsumu for you.” 

You were so close, so close to cracking a smile but you kept your composure; turning to him abruptly. For a second he thinks you’ll come running into his arms; heck, he’s even got his arms out ready for you. 

“Go out into the courtyard, profess your undying love for me.” You coldly turn away. 

You knew he wouldn’t do it, he was too reserved to be shouting professions of love out in the open for everyone to hear. Even when he confessed his feelings for you, he hid you between the corners of the library; handing you a love letter before scampering off shyly. But you didn’t know the extent his feelings of love reached, you didn’t know that he would literally do anything for you. 

“Hey.” Your friend came running into the classroom, a large grin and giggle on her face, “There’s a crazy person out in the courtyard.” She looks at you, “He kind of looks like your boyfriend.” 

Your heart drops, you’re running to the windows, opening them to see him proudly standing in the middle of the courtyard with a megaphone, “Can you hear me?” 

Students have now gathered from all the windows, the crowd answers a screeching ‘yes’ to him. 

“I love my girlfriend y/n.” He looks straight at you. 

You’re blushing profoundly as he opens his mouth once more, a teacher comes running out of the building. Students are laughing as he’s being scolded by the teacher. You meet him when he comes out of the office, your hand tucked behind your back. 

“You’re stupid.” You say to him, draping his arm over your shoulder. He puts a tight hold on you. 

“For you I am.” He kisses your hair.

The Winner: Kita Shinsuke 

Ah, young love. It made you want to laugh, the way the second years were running around the school trying to cease their lover’s anger. It also made you smile, the way your own boyfriend was bending backwards for his younger friends. The three stooges had all come to you one by one; of the three, Suna was definitely the only one who listened. 

“Where’s Kita?” 

One of your friends had come to visit you in the gymnasium, you looked up, the pencil in your hand tapped against your chin, “I think he’s at the office, Osamu got in trouble.” 

“Typical of the second years.” Your friend mutters before she bids you a farewell. 

It wasn’t long until he showed up, slight annoyance on his expression, “Sorry.” 

You’re leaning forward, a grin on your lips, “No need. What happened with Osamu?” 

Kita frowns, “He has to do a week of clean up duty after school, meaning we’ll be down a hitter for our practice match Friday.” He’s about to return to practice when he suddenly remembers, “Oh, here, I accidentally activated it on the way here.” 

You take the small heat pack from him, the warmth taking over your palm, “What’s this for?” 

“Your cramps.” He drapes his jacket over you, “If you put it in the pocket, you can use it to apply heat on where it hurts the most.” 

You were blushing, your lips suddenly in a pout, “How perfect are you.” You’re opening your arms for him, inviting him for a hug to which he can’t refuse. You press a kiss onto his cheek, “Best boyfriend indeed.” 

It’s the one time you’ll see his face go red, it’s as if he’s buffering for a second before going back to his normal stature. Composed, poised, and calm; he turns back to the team. His hands on his hips as he starts to give a lecture on how significant others shouldn’t be distracting the players from the game. 

“But.” Suna raises a hand, “How come your girlfriend can come to our practice and ours can’t?” 

Kita freezes, as the team looks back on you; your attempting to hide the growing smile on your face. He was definitely caught; it was true, technically you weren’t supposed to be in the gym. 

The captain coughs, “She’s our unofficial manager, so she’s allowed to be here.” 

“If that’s the case, my girlfriend’s the unofficial manager too.” The men snicker at the comment thrown into the crowd but their laughs suddenly cease when Kita steps forward. 

“Ten laps around the school yard, everyone, now.” 

[boldlyanxious]

None the Wiser 6

Masterlist

All fic masterlist

Bio-dad Bruce prompt-Fashion show

Marinette was not expecting her day to go well when Rochelle stepped in front of her before they left the locker room. She had spent a few minutes reorganizing her things before heading off to lunch so she could have what she needed ready for the afternoon and now they were alone in there with not even the sound of others in the hallway.

"I need to talk to you," Rochelle said.

Her arms were crossed over her chest and she looked unhappy. Marinette tried to smile even though she was apprehensive.

"What can I do for you?" Marinette responded.

Rochelle pulled out an envelope that Marinette recognised as a response from the fashion competition, but it wasn't like the fancy envelope she received.

"I didn't do very well. I was in the lowest rank."

"I didn't know you entered."

"I didn't tell anyone. I've only been sewing for a couple years and not often."

"Are you wanting pointers?"

"I really want to model. I'll model my own but probably not be noticed. Are you modeling your design?"

Marinette was shocked. She didn't think of using another person as a model mostly because she would usually use Alya but she hadn't made it to fit Alya.

"I don't actually want to. I'm a bit clumsy and it's worse when I get nervous but I made it my size."

"I could do it for you."

Rochelle looked like she wanted to add something but she stopped herself. She stood still while Marinette eyed her then walked around her.

"I think it should work," she said tapping her chin. "I need to touch you for a moment."

She waited for a nod before she pinched a bit at Rochelle's outfit in a few places nodding.

"I don't have a measuring tape with me today. I think our measurements are similar enough aside from the obvious height difference but your additional height is definitely helpful. Can you come over after school today?"

She nodded slowly, "Are you serious? You'll let me model for you?"

"Oh yeah. I was dreading having to do it but you want to and probably already have an idea of what to do if you want to model."

"We aren't really friends though and I haven't been very friendly."

"Well I either missed it or you aren't very good at being unfriendly," she said with a smile.

After they finished with classes they met back at the lockers to walk out together. Marinette took her through the bakery and up through to her room. She was happy with her decision to change her style over the summer so she didn't have an embarrassing amount of Adrien's modeling pictures cut out and plastered everywhere.

She adjusted things so the fold-away screen was set up for changing and pulled out the dress for the fashion show.

"This should work really well. They are good colors for you."

"It's so nice. You are really talented."

"Thank you. I've been working at it a long time."

When Rochelle had the dress on, Marinette checked the fit and made notes for the changes needed. There were no drastic changes and Marinette looked how it looked on the other girl's taller frame. Marinette figured how long it would take to make the alterations and set up a time to do a fitting after that so it would be ready for the show.

---

The day of the show arrived and Marinette feeling like she might not make it. Time kept slowing down so she would dread what was coming and then speeding so fast she couldn't keep up. Her parents didn't know how to get her to sit still and eat something. Bruce would be there as well as Damian and Dick and a couple of Damian's friends. Tim hadn't been able to get away from work and from what they said about Jason she thought maybe they were hiding him until she was more comfortable.

She still hadn't told anyone but Luka about this new family she might have but she was so nervous about the show and him being there that she pulled Alya to the side and told her about meeting him when she went to change during Alya's party.

"Wait, what? That was weeks ago. Is that why you've been acting weird?" Alya asked.

"Well I wasn't sure what was going to happen. My parents thought he might get a lawyer and try to get custody."

"Can he do that?"

"I don't know. We think he probably has more money. His suits are designer and he has made several trips. He will be there today."

"I can't believe you kept this from me! It's so wild. How did he even find out?"

Marinette explained how biology class had given her the wrong results so she took the DNA test. Then relayed what had happened after.

"The boy from school is his son. I guess he's technically my brother. But neither of us are very happy about that." Marinette said.

Alya started with her the rest of the time and they went together to meet Rochelle before going to the location of the fashion show. By the time they arrived the first group was about to go on. They had multiple runways set up with seating and some standing area. The stages would be used one at a time but to keep the flow going they would move to the next stage to have time for the many entrants and to make it easier to find the information.

There was still a lot of time before the final show. After each set there would be a long break to give time to arrange everything again and allow people to come and go as needed. Many would only be there to support the person they knew who entered but for the final show everything would be set up for the big stage similar to a major Fashion show and the seats would all be there. A lot of fashion related figures and publications would be there for only that main event.

Sooner than Marinette could have imagined Marinette was hugging her parents before she headed back to check on Rochelle. Her older sister, Charlotte, was a makeup artist and had done her hair and makeup. Marinette had fashioned a coordinating hair ornament with a necklace, arm cuff and high heel covers.

Charlotte finished with Rochelle and pulled Marinette over so she could do her hair and makeup as well. Diane wanted to know more about covers for the high heels. Marinette told her all about how she loved to make jewelry and accessories. The high heel covers saved money since shoes were expensive and took up a lot of space so she started making covers to go with her neutral heels so they would be more versatile.

She didn't see Bruce and his family before the show but several people peeked out to see the crowd excited when some of the more famous people entered. She was a bit surprised to see someone taking a picture of him while Damian stood further away with his arms crossed. She wasn't sure who they thought he was. Fashion was an area she was pretty confident in her knowledge of all the major players and even a fair bit of the less known designers.

The lights all turned to the stage and the crowd hushed significantly as the music started. Rather than ranking it by type of clothing the organizers had decided the pieces by color starting with white and going through the rainbow and ending with black. Marinette's storm inspired greys and blues with a shock of bright violet put her near the end. Each model walked alone but quickly while the featured designer was named and the outfit was described.

It was over very quickly. For all the work that went into them fashion shows were not typically very long. Even with 50 featured models and designs the beginning had not even been half an hour ago. The smaller runways had already been dismantled to make space for the audience. After all the models and designers headed out the backstage area was being out away to leave only main stage for the announcement once the judges finished deliberating.

As Marinette headed towards the crowd where she could see her parents making awkward conversation with Bruce and the 4 boys with him. She took a moment to tell Rochelle to stay in the dress if she wanted for now. Hopefully it would get a little more buzz for both of them unlike the models or designers who had changed already to preserve their designs.

Marinette approached the group but she was not up for making conversation. She kept peeking nervously at the judges as they were making their final decision. She could never have told anyone what was being discussed but she knew every move the judges made until they all began to stand. Marinette watched as an envelope was walked over to the presenter and she slowly walked to the stage. Her microphone picked up the gentle swish of her skirt and the click of her heels.

Marinette couldn't hear what she was saying she focused on the hands as they worked on opening the envelope with a crinkle of paper as the seal pulled apart. She removed the 12 cards, each printed with the name of a contestant. As she told them they would be read in no particular order she demonstrated the point by shuffling and mixing the cards before restacking them to read the names of the winners.

As each name was called the winner would walk up to the stage and stand to face the crowd. They were handed a packet containing the information about the prize as the cheers died down before the next name was read. As each person walked forward to join the incomplete dozen Marinette became more and more desperate to be called.

She didn't actually think she could win. It was a large contest and she was only in her first year of lycée so many of the contestants were older. She supposed that was why they decided the groups to have all of them be able to publicly share their designs. She took a deep breath to calm herself but she just held it there as she watched the ten people being joined by one more after he was handed his packet.

The woman looked down at the last card and continued smiling as she waited for the hush to fall over the crowd before she read the last name.

"Marinette Dupain-Cheng."

Her parents were cheering what she looked at them and then she saw Bruce and Dick were as well. Alya was bouncing up and down holding her hands while screaming and cheering. She started pulling Marinette towards the aisle and then shoved her forward to propel her to the stage. She joined the line of other winners but she was still in shock. The crowd was cheering again, her section was definitely the loudest even though the presenter had called for another round of applause for all the winners.

Next

Taglist

@theymakeupfairies | @emjrabbitwolf

@laurcad123 | @redscarlet95 | @acoolspacegirl | @nerd-nowandforever | @justafanwarrior | @pawsitivelymiraculous | @vixen-uchiha | @tumbling-down-hills-and-stuff | @fusser90 | @violetfandomaddict | @catthhay | @kking13 | @cresentmo0n | @officiallydarkgeek | @mewwitch | @dast218 | @trippingovermyfeet | @pepelachanel | @ira-sairain | @user00000003 | @justarandomtumblerblog | @greatcatblaze | @roselynfey | @zeneralla | @thethirdwheelfriend | @tired-butterfly | @a-star-with-a-human-name | @ramos123

[pandastern]

Gravity (Bakugou x OC)

Part 10: Declaration of War

If youd like to be added to the taglist for upcoming parts please dm me :)

Masterlist  II  AO3

Bakugou x Vigilante!OC

Warnings: angst, explicit language, violence

Word count:   2146

Genre: enemies to lovers ; angst ; romance, slow burn

When a new student makes an entrance, Bakugou has a real bad feeling. There is something about this girl that just doesnt feel right. From the flaming hair to the calculating glint in her green eyes, everything about her just pisses him off.

Little does he know that his fate is intertwined with the person he despises so much, defining his future path in a way he would have never expected

Lunch break was a fucking nightmare. Artemis couldn't remember when she’d last felt so goddamn tired. Her head pounded to the point where it became increasingly hard to stay focused, despite having had not one but three cans of energy drinks in the morning alone.

Her mood was getting worse, too. People just wouldn't leave her alone. Her classmates swarmed around her constantly. When the lunch bell rang, Iida, Uraraka and Midoriya dragged her along to the cafeteria in what turned out to be an attempt to make sure she ate healthily, forcing her to eat every single vegetable they piled on her plate, despite her having clearly stated how much she hated them.

Whenever she went to the bathroom, there was always at least one girl from the class accompanying her, assaulting her with friendly chatter as if they’d been friends for years.

It was truly puzzling, and Artemis wasn’t sure if she was comfortable with it.

By the time the last period finished, she’d had enough. She just wanted to go home. At least there, she’d have the peace and quiet she so desperately wanted.

The moment the school bell rang, Artemis packed her belongings into her bag and shot out of her seat.

“What the heck are you all doing here?” she heard Uraraka say loudly.  The tone of her voice told Artemis something wasn't quite right.

She looked up to see a big crowd of students she’d never seen before standing in front of the classroom door. Not only were they blocking the exit, but their stares were a little too curious for her liking.

This day just wasn’t going to get any better, was it?

“Do you students have some sort of business with our class?” Iida asked in his best diplomatic student rep voice.

“Why are you blocking our doorway? I won't let you hold us hostage!” Mineta shrieked so loudly it rang in Artemis’s ears.

With a frustrated groan, she slung her bag over her shoulder and stepped closer. Something told her that this had something to do with the USJ incident. According to her classmates, the whole debacle had caused a huge media storm. Not that she was surprised. After all, UA was the school for young heroes in the country and the villain attack was a big tarnish on their name.

Artemis had no desire to be part of this spectacle. She prepared to march her arse through the crowd, pushing people aside if she had to. She just wanted to go home. Enough was enough.

“They’re scouting out the competition, you idiots,” Bakugou growled as he made his way past Artemis. “We’re the class that survived a real villain attack.”

For a split second, his eyes lingered on her as if there were something else he wanted to say, but then he changed his mind. He stood in front of the crowd with a posture that said, “I’m ready to brawl”.

“They want to see what a future pro looks like,” he continued, narrowing his eyes. “Now move it, extras!”

“You can't call people ‘extras’ just because you don't know who they are!” Iida piped up, horrified.

Artemis had to bite back a laugh. That sounded more like the Bakugou she knew: ready to start shit, not giving a damn about what anyone else thought. In a way, she shared that sentiment, though she knew better than to make the whole school her enemy. But maybe that was because she actually possessed some form of common sense.

“So, this is class 1A? I heard you guys were impressive, but you just sound like an arse.” A rather tall boy emerged from the crowd. “Is everyone in the hero course delusional, or is it just you?”

A soft snort escaped Artemis at his words. The look Bakugou gave her only made her laughing worse.

What? she mouthed at him. After all, the person was telling the truth. It was hardly a secret that Katsuki Bakugou was, in fact, an arse.

The small vein at Bakugou's temple started to throb, a telltale sign that his patience was running out.

“How sad to come here and just find a bunch of egomaniacs,” the unfamiliar boy continued, his voice dripping with contempt. “I wanted to be in the hero course, but like many others here, I was forced to choose a different track. Such is life. I didn't cut it the first time around, but I have another chance. If any of us do well in the sports festival, the teacher can decide to transfer us to the hero course, and they’ll have to transfer people out to make room.”

The more he spoke, the more Artemis realised that the contempt she’d first picked up on was actually closer to jealousy. If what he was saying was true, none of their places in this class were safe. That was an interesting concept. Survival of the fittest. Despite the harshness of the policy, she supposed it ensured that every student gave one hundred percent at all times. It also allowed the school to weed out who wasn’t fit for the job or just not willing to put in the work. She gave Mineta a side glance.

The boy looked over her classmates and scoffed. “Scouting the competition, you say? Maybe some of my peers are, but I’m here to let you know that if you don't bring your very best, I'll steal your spot right from under you. Consider this a declaration of war.”

Artemis rolled her eyes. Judging by Bakugou’s hot-headedness and the provocative look on the other guy’s face, this would likely take a while. And after spending the day wasting her energy on being nice to her overly-concerned classmates, she had absolutely no desire to wait here until they’d finished their dick-measuring contest.

Before Bakugou could bark his reply, Artemis cleared her throat loudly, attracting the attention of him and the crowd.

“I don't know what you’re trying to achieve here, treating our class like a monkey circus and all, but could you please get out of the way?” she snapped at the unknown guy. “If you need to have a little fight to figure out which one of you has the bigger dick, do it somewhere where you’re not in the fucking way. Thank you.”

Silence fell over the crowd.

“Artemis! You can’t use these kinds of words at school,”  Iida gasped in outrage, but Artemis just waved him off.

“Iida, do I look like I give a fuck? Now, move.”

Leaving her stunned classmates behind, she made her way through the crowd. Artemis was aware that her outburst was uncharacteristic for the persona she’d put on until now and that she’d probably regret having snapped like this as soon as her mood lightened up again, but that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon. This day could go fuck itself, as far as she was concerned.

The following days didn’t prove to be much better than the first. After three days, Artemis had given up questioning her new friends’ behavior, or why they were constantly around her. Maybe that was how things worked? She wouldn't know. The whole ‘Deku-Squad’, as she liked to call the small group of Midoriya, Iida and Uraraka, certainly didn't miss a chance to involve her in every activity possible. Group work during class? One of them would always call her over. Lunch? Artemis couldn't even make it out of the door without them swarming her and dragging her along to the cafeteria with them.

Before long, Artemis started to catch herself actually enjoying the time she spent with the group. No, not enjoying , she told herself. More like accepting this in order to fit in.

Today, however, her splitting headache made it increasingly hard to keep up her friendly facade. Her dreams hadn’t gotten any better, either, the haunting images leaving her nauseous when she woke up. Artemis wasn't sure whether all this was the result of the poison still wreaking havoc in her body, or if something else was going on behind the scenes.

“Artemis, are you doing okay? You’ve been pushing that shrimp around your plate for five minutes now.” Uraraka’s voice cut through her train of thought.

“Huh?” Artemis blinked and looked up, meeting the worried gaze of her classmate. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? You look a little pale. Shall we escort you to Recovery Girl’s office?” Iida was already getting out of his seat to help her, but Artemis quickly waved him off.

“No, please. I’m fine. I just… need to go get some air real quick. Don't worry,” Artemis responded and quickly got up.

It might have been her only chance to get out of this overcrowded room, where so many voices banded together into a loud humming noise that threatened to detonate her brain like one of Bakugou's explosions.

Before any of them could say anything or offer to join her, Artemis slipped out of the cafeteria and made her way to the school roof. Over the past couple of days, the place had become something of a refuge for her, as nobody rarely went up there.

One thing she’d noticed after the attack was that her stamina had noticeably decreased. Again, she guessed it was the result of the still-prominent poison in her blood causing her to get light-headed as soon as she did anything physically taxing, like walking up several flights of stairs.

She had to sit down for a moment to catch her breath once she’d reached the roof. It was pathetic, really, how weak she’d become. A bitter laugh escaped her. If her father could see her now, he'd tell her how much of a disgrace she was. Or worse. That man had never taken kindly to weakness.

Suddenly, her quirk picked up an approaching heartbeat. Great. She really wasn't in the mood to be seen in a vulnerable state like this.

Forcing herself back onto her feet, Artemis grabbed her bag and proceeded to push herself onto the last flight of stairs

“I swear, “ she muttered to herself, “if one more person asks me if I'm okay, they’re going to be taking an involuntary swan dive off the roof. I've had enough.”

“That doesn't sound very heroic coming from a student enrolled in the hero course,” said someone with a husky voice behind her.

Artemis froze. She’d heard that voice before. Turning slowly, she spotted the same boy with lilac hair that had antagonised Bakugou in front of the classroom a couple days back making his way up the stairs. She groaned.

“Do I look like I care, fuzzy head?” she huffed. “Not that you would know, being from General Ed.”

Apparently, that rubbed him the wrong way. His brows furrowed.

“Not for long, that's for sure,” he replied in a sour tone. “You should really check that nasty attitude before someone pulls you off that high horse that you’ve become so comfortable on.”

“Oh, really?” Artemis scoffed. “And who, exactly, would that be? You? Pardon me, but I am not in the mood for whatever…” She gestured vaguely between them. “… this is, so please leave me alone.”

With that, she proceeded to climb the stairs again as fast as she possibly could, which, given her current condition and the growing dizziness in her head, wasn't exactly lightning speed.

“You seem to be pretty sure of yourself. You shouldn't underestimate your competition. I am going to take a spot in the hero course.”

“Competition?”

It was clear that this guy wouldn't leave her alone until he’d said his two cents. What was it with grumpy men in this academy and their need to measure their dicks? She didn't even have one!

Letting herself slump down onto one of the steps, she sighed deeply and took a closer look at the boy before her. He was tall and a little on the lanky side. His lilac eyes were underlined with dark circles, making him look like he hadn't slept in days, but his gaze was focused and determined.

“Look. I don't know why you feel like you have to hype yourself up by robbing me of the last shreds of serotonin that I possess, but I can tell you this: your ‘declaration of war’ on the hero course doesn’t worry me in the slightest. Why? Because I’m not here for some silly naive fantasy of heroism like most of you. So, no. A sleep deprived, unkempt, scrawny teenage boy trying to make me nervous doesn’t scare me.” Artemis shook her head. “So, if we're done here, I would like to spend my lunch break in peace.”

With that, Artemis turned on her heel and stubbornly forced herself up the stairs, despite her body's protests.

She didn't catch the boy’s intrigued gaze as he watched her disappear up to the roof.

[ohblackdiamond]

little t&a (paul/gene, nc-17) (part 11 of 29)

part 1   part 2   part 3   part 4   part 5   part 6   part 7   part 8   part 9   part 10   part 11   part 12   part 13   part 14   part 15   part 16   part 17   part 18   part 19   part 20   part 21  part 22   part 23   part 24    part 25   part 26   part 27   part 28   part 29

Four weeks before KISS gets back on tour, Gene discovers that Paul’s been cursed by a groupie. For the sake of KISS’ finances, Paul’s comfort levels, and Gene’s libido, this crisis must be resolved. Sexswap fic. In this chapter: Paul and Gene confess the truth to Ace and Peter.

            There were a few things Gene hadn’t exactly thought he’d live to see. One was the fall of Communism. One was decent oil prices. One was Paul Stanley attempting to shove Ace Frehley bodily into the doorframe.

            At least, that was what it looked like Paul was trying to do. Gene hadn’t gotten out of the car nearly fast enough to catch it all, hampered by the car lock he’d thoughtlessly left on and the milkshake he’d been in the middle of (they’d picked up Dairy Queen on the way back from the boutique). By the time Gene got to the front yard, Paul had Ace by the shoulders and was screaming obscenities.

            By the time Gene got to the front porch, Peter had yanked Paul away from Ace and had one of his arms locked behind his back. Paul was trying to trip Peter, one foot twisting behind Peter’s ankle as he leaned back against him. Ace stepped forward, trying to pull them both apart, only Paul’s fist flung out and nearly connected with his jaw. Peter, meanwhile, was still screaming.

            “You crazy bitch! This isn’t your house! This is his house!”

            “It’s my goddamn house!”

            “You got some nerve! You think ’cause you fucked the guy you’ve got a right to his place?!”

            “Pete, let go of the girl! C’mon and calm down! Both of you!” Ace yelled out.

            “Ace, you lousy son of a bitch!”

            “Hey, hey, we barely know each other—”

            “Stop it!”

            Gene wrenched away Peter’s grip on Paul’s arm, relying more on weight and suddenness than strength. Peter immediately went for Gene instead—Peter was a much smaller guy, but meaner and still more savvy, for all that it had been years since he’d been in a fight—but Gene grabbed him before he could. Paul just barreled over to Ace as soon as he was free, pinning him against the door, standing on his foot to keep him in place. Ace looked like he was torn between being bewildered and bursting into laughter.

            Peter didn’t fight off the grip much, which surprised Gene. Maybe even he realized that a skull fracture on the cement front porch would be like setting fire to KISS’ ticket sales. Gene held him there, barking at Paul as he did.

            “Leave Ace alone!”

            “Leave Ace alone? His credit card’s in my fucking door!”

            “Let him alone! Let him alone right now.”

            “Gene!”

            Paul hesitated, then backed off from Ace. As soon as he was halfway sure Paul wouldn’t jump back on him, Gene let go of Peter, who whirled on both of them.

            “We’re not trying to steal Paul’s shit! We just wanna know what the fuck is going on here!”

            “We—” Gene started, only to be interrupted by Ace.

            “Where’s Paul at?” he said quietly. Gene’s head snapped towards Paul, praying he’d read the look in his eyes. Praying he’d realize he couldn’t blow it. Peter already hadn’t believed him once. There was no way—there was no sense in trying again.

            But that wasn’t all of it. Even if somehow Ace and Peter believed Paul, what good could they do, anyway? The two of them would just screw everything up worse. It wasn’t a thought borne out of practicality; it was self-righteous, maybe even selfish. Part of Gene wanted to keep being the only one who knew.

            It turned out that it didn’t matter what Gene wanted. Paul just glared back, snapping out his answer before Gene could even try to stop him.

            “I’m right here, you idiot!”

            Ace stiffened up, eyes widening slightly.

            “What?”

            “I’m right here! I’m Paul!” Paul waved his hands in the air in front of him, up and down from his head to his chest.

            “Don’t—”

            “Shut up, Gene! I can handle this!”

            “You—you’re crazy,” Peter snapped. “That’s the stupidest bullshit I’ve ever heard.”

            In contrast, Ace looked almost nervous. It was an out of place expression on his face. He glanced around, from Gene to Paul to Peter, before finally settling back on Paul, studying his face hard enough that Paul broke eye contact. Ace exhaled.

            “You kind of look like him, yeah, but Paul’s not a girl.”

            “No shit, Sherlock,” Paul rattled out. “Gene, are you gonna vouch for me or what?”

            “This is a—”

            “Why the hell should we believe you on this, Gene?” Peter again. “You must think we’re fucking idiots! Running around with this chick, making up all sorts of fucking stories—who’s to say Paul ain’t lying dead in the fucking bathroom right now?!”

            “Oh, for Christ’s sake!” Paul had reached for Peter again, like he somehow thought contact would clarify everything. Peter stepped back, brushing away his hand. “I’m right here! I never went anywhere! I-I can prove it to both of you!”

            “You got at least two really good proofs you ain’t him, and they’re hanging right off your chest right now, you—”

            “Pete.” Gene’s voice surprised even him. “He’s telling the truth.”

            “Would you—”

            “Peter!” Ace, much louder than normal, before quieting down, almost as if in apology. “We got this far.”

            “They’re both lying!”

            “Give it a minute, yeah? Give it a minute.”

            Peter rolled his eyes, crossing his arms in front of his chest. Ace continued, giving Gene a cautious glance before turning his focus back to Paul.

            “There’s something bad wrong with you, I can tell that much,” he said. “Course, there’s something bad wrong with Paulie, too, but—"

            “You’re one to talk, Ace,” Paul snapped. Ace didn’t look perturbed in the slightest.

            “I mean, he’s a Capricorn and real neurotic and shit.” Paul let out a disgruntled sound at the comment, one Ace ignored as he continued. “Could you do something for me?”

            “You tried to break into my goddamn house and now you’re—”

            “Walk around.” Ace held up his hands. “’M not gonna do anything. I just wanna see.”

            Paul made a face but walked to the opposite end of the porch and back, hands straight at his sides. Gene watched. He thought he knew what Ace was getting at—he hoped he did, at least. Paul’s stiff, straight-backed gait wasn’t much different than it had been before this mess had started. Gene hadn’t really noticed prior, consciously. It was just another peculiarity. The same actions and characteristics transposed onto the wrong body, giving him away—if you knew where to look.

            Ace, apparently, did. That off-putting insight was finally going towards something worthwhile. Gene shifted, oddly uncomfortable.

            “You walk more like a guy. And you didn’t try to kick us in the nuts.” Ace pursed his lips in contemplation. The rest of his expression was unreadable. “Doesn’t mean anything by itself, but…”

            Paul was starting to look a little hopeful. A little eager. He stepped in closer to where Peter and Ace were standing, as if he were about to reach out for them.

            “Ace, I can prove I’m Paul! Ask me something. Ask me anything. Go on!”

            Ace shrugged amicably, turning his head.

            “Pete, you got anything to ask her?”

            Pete looked irritated that Ace was turning Paul’s demand on him. He took a second to consider, looking at Paul warily. Gene waited, wondering what question Pete would pull out.

          “What’s my cat’s name?”

            “Mateus. You didn’t even name him. Lydia did.”

            Paul had answered almost in an instant. Peter blinked, but shook his head.

            “You could’ve gotten that just from reading the magazines.”

            Paul let out a curse.

            “Then ask me something else. Ask me about—Jesus, I don’t know—"

          “The dick-measuring contest.” Ace’s voice was soft and absolutely devoid of humor.

            “What?”

            “Who won the dick-measuring contest?”

            “Jesus, Ace, I…” Paul’s face went red. Gene bit back a wince, not sure if it was on his own behalf or Paul’s. “That’s… that’s so fucking embarrassing, don’t—”

            “And tell me who got second and third and fourth.”

            “Ace!” Oh, God. Paul was actually squeaking. It would have been endearing in any other situation. Gene searched Ace’s expression, as bland and out of it as usual, for even a twinge of pity or amusement or anything, but there was nothing. He wasn’t going to let him out of this. A little uncertainty rose from somewhere in Gene’s stomach as Paul finally admitted, “Okay, okay! Peter won!”

            Ace’s eyes got huge again, mouth forming a tight oval Gene had seen maybe four hundred times onstage. Paul had probably seen it more than that. Actually, Paul and Peter both in all those idiotic threesomes. Why that was still sticking in his craw, Gene didn’t know. Beside him, Peter’s mouth was wide open. Ace looked like he was trying to answer back, but Paul started rambling into a response before he could.

            “Well, we all knew he was going to win! The only one we hadn’t seen before was Gene’s!”

            “You—”

            “You want the placements? You were second! I was in third, and Gene was in fourth, and then I said it wasn’t fair since no one was hard, and you two had the fucking Loch Ness monster for dicks anyway and—”

            “Holy fucking shit.”

            Ace and Peter both looked scared as all hell for a few seconds. Peter reached out, almost cautiously, touching Paul’s shoulder like he was afraid it was going to dissolve into ash if he dared grasp it. Gene thought at first Peter was just trying to make sure Paul was still solid, until Peter tugged at his collar. Gene stiffened on weird automatic, but Paul seemed to realize what he wanted, undoing the bow and pulling down the sleeve, exposing a droopy bra strap and his tattoo again. Peter stared at that bright red rose like it held all the secrets to a number-one single, tracing up and down it with his finger before pulling back.

            “That’s why you were trying to show me,” he said softly. “That’s what you were trying…”

            “That’s it, all right.” Ace was peering in, too. “It isn’t like Paul’s, it is Paul’s. I ought to know. We got our tattoos the same day.”

            “Paul,” Peter said, staring as Paul tugged up his sleeve and retied the bow. “Paul, I… fuck, I’m so sorry.”

            “Pete—”

            Peter hesitated visibly. Then he wrapped his arms around Paul in a tight hug.

            “I thought—I thought Gene had stole your girl!”

            “I know—”

            “I thought you’d lost it! Run off and had a nervous breakdown! I… I had no idea you were right… Paulie…”

            Paul hugged him back after a few seconds, clearly overwhelmed. Relief looked like it was flooding his face. It made Gene’s guilt feel all the heavier, there, clotted somewhere beyond the back of his throat. He felt slimy, somehow. Slimy for not considering Paul’s family, for not considering Paul’s relief at being believed by his bandmates. Slimy for the part of him that had liked being the only one who knew. That felt like it was for the best. What did he know about what was best for Paul? Paul looked happier now than he’d seen him this entire time.

            Peter let go after awhile. Paul’s arms hung in the air for a second before Ace realized they were out for him. Their hug was relatively brief, Ace looking weirded-out by the entire prospect.

            “Shit, how many inches did you drop there?”

            “Three or four.”

            “You’re shorter than Peter now! Not by a lot, but…”

            “What the hell happened? Did you wanna be a chick?” Peter blurted it out of nowhere, expected and inevitable.

            “No!” Paul nearly yelled it out. “I got cursed, okay? The girl that did this, she—she’s supposed to come to Studio 54 every night. I’m trying to find her. Get her to take this off of me.”

            “Who? Who did it?”

            “Some girl. Not—not a celebrity, just some girl.”

            “Paulie… why didn’t you tell us?”

            “I tried to! Yesterday! You just blew me off!”

            “You were yanking down your clothes! What was I supposed to think?”

            “I tried—”

            “Why didn’t you tell us when it happened? We could’ve helped you! We all could’ve helped you.” Peter got quieter then. “You didn’t have to just stick it all on Gene.”

            “I didn’t,” Paul mumbled. “He figured it out on his own.”

            “How?”

            “The tattoo,” Gene said. Paul shot him a relieved look. Ace looked askance, chewing on his lip.

            “Do you wanna tell Bill now?”

            “God, no. Bill’s got enough problems.”

            “He’d keep it quiet. Y’know how he is, that guy could’ve stopped Watergate.”

            “We’re hoping to get it resolved before we’ve got to tell anyone else,” Gene said. “If Bill knew, he’d postpone the tour at minimum.”

            “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.” Ace exhaled. “Okay, Paulie.”

            “Okay?”

            “There’s more to it than what you just said. We’d all better sit down for this shit. You gonna let us in?”

            “Your card’s still in my door.”

            “Oh. Yeah, it is.” Instead of pulling it out, Ace pushed it in further between the jamb and the door, jiggling the knob as he did so. The door fell open. “You gotta get better locks sometime. C’mon, girlie.”

[the-ash0]

cookies

“Oh-my-god!” Sam Wison feels his heart leaps from his chest. It’s physically painful. One moment he’s on his way out through one of the many hallways of Tony Stark’s memorial tower, the next—‌

the fucking Winter Soldier is inches away from his nose.

Upside down.

Sam backs up, turns to the side, and rubs at the place where his heart tried to beat out of his chest. It hardly helps, so closes his eyes to swallow down the nausea. Only after precious moments does he dares squint at the figure dangling upside-down from an air vent. 

Bucky Barnes doesn’t appear to have any feelings of guilt or even sick satisfaction from scaring a man who’s supposed to be his new ‘Commanding Officer”, not to mention his friend. No, he’s completely blank as he turns to hang right-way-down, finally jumping to the floor soundlessly.

Sam finally finds his voice. “Why were you up there, man?” it’s some kind of spy thing, he bets. But. “isn’t that kind of thing more Hawkeye’s speed?”

“Oh good.” Bucky tells him as he traightens, somehow not at all dusty or dirty after dragging his ass through air-vents for god knows how long. Black jeans still black, white tee still white. “My tactics of misdirection have at least befuddled the air-force. Maybe it’ll work on all bird-brains and I’ll be scot-free.”

Sam just blinks, tries to figure out what that means—‌ except for the obvious quip at him being airforce and therefor of lesser intelligence. But before he can, Bucky wraps his real arm around the only-slightly smaller man (damn it, serum cheaters); starts steering him towards the exit. “Hey, you remember how you promised to teach me how to bake those cookies? Well, now would be a great time.”

Sam blinks once more, searching his memory of the aforementioned promise. All he can come up with is the movie-night three weeks ago. When he’d backed what was left of the Avengers some chocolate chip cookies. To cheer them up. There’s not much left of the Avengers, and Sam felt he needed to do something nice.

It’s true that Bucky had, in fact, asked uncharacteristically enthusiastically. “These are the best cookies ever, Wilson. You gotto show me how you do that.”

And Sam had answered, unsure of where all that sudden emotion had come from and unwilling to make a false move in lieu of unbalanced supersoldier, promised. “Yeah, sure. Maybe someday.”

They are in his car (Sam is not a fan of Buchy in his car), before he asks. “Who are we running from?”

“Evading. For the time being.” Bucky moves around in shotgun, trying to get his seat back all the way. His seatbelt isn’t done up either. Sam wouldn’t be surprised if this guy’s shit will get him arrested today. But, hey, all part of Captain America’s heritage he guesses.

“Fine. Who are we evading?” Bucky grunts. “Clint Barton.”

“Hawkeye?” Sam doesn’t understand that. “Isn’t he retired..? And why would you need to.”

“Apparently, he had to come out of retirement just to have a dick measuring contest with the WInter Soldier.” for the first time since Sam saw him today, there’s a hint of emotion in Bucky’s voice. Sam thinks that’s an improvement. Bucky showing a bit of feeling is good. It’s when he goes full-on emotional that Sam’s warning lights start flashing. He feels bad about it, but his work with POW’s taught him the signs, and Sam just got this new Audi last week. He doesn’t want to lose another car to a Winter Soldier melt-down.

Like he can hear Sam’s though, Bucky starts ticking the fingers of his metal left arm against the glass. “He was at the tower today for some business and he invited me to the shooting range.” 

Sam swallows, drives on. Stops at the next light, and starts up again when the lights turn green. He tries not to; he really does. But in the end Sam breaks; he needs to know. “Who won?”

Bucky grins; a manic thing. “Well, with a tripod it’s not really clear, but I kicked his ass with free-hand.”

“Course you did. You got an artificially steady arm to balance your fire-arm on.” Sam winces at his own words, but it kind of spilled out. He stops at the street in front of his house before he gets an answer. “That’s exactly what Hawkeye said.”

Bukcky gets out, slams the door and starts striding towards his house, and Sam breathes a sigh of relief. Before remembering that his house is the next item on the danger list. It is also unnerving Bucky knows exactly which house on this street is his. Like he’s been here before. And Sam definitely did not yet invite his unbalanced work-colleague. 

“Again.” Bucky tells him while Sam fiddles with the lock. “Clint said exactly the same. And then he went on a tangent that the only real ranged weapon is a compound bow.”

Bucky follows Sam into the house, pushes past him in the hall and continues right on to the kitchen. By the time Sam has taken off his shoes and coat, he finds Bucky hip-deep in his refrigerator. “Don’t you have any root beer?”

“I kind of figured you for a wodka guy.” Sam offers, annoyed. Running a hand down his own counter.

“Funny.” Bucky pauses, pulls his head out of the fridge to look at Sam. “You got any of that?”

At Sam’s shake of the head, Barnes grunts, takes his milk and sits down at the opposite side of the counter. Then he starts chugging the stuff. Right. From. the. Carton.

It makes Sam sick to look at it. And not just because he’s got lactose intolerance. Annoyed, he gets up. “So are we making those cookies or what?”

“Oh.” Bucky has apparently already forgotten. His primary goal met, all pretence to get his way are abandoned. It’s typical, really. Bucky works the same way on missions: one task, no distractions. It’s.. sad. Sam is pretty sure Bucky Barnes needs a break, at the very least. And, ideally, an honorable discharge and a lot of therapy. But somehow the powers that be have decided that’s not what is going to happen. And Sam is stuck with a damaged side-kick. Well; Sam deflates. It’s hardly Bucky’s fault. “Come on, let’s get the dough out.”

Sam has Bucky kneading the dough before he asks: “So, what happened? With Clint?”

“Well, he started showing off and shit. With his bow.” Bucky blinks, sounding annoyed again. “What’s his problem anyway?”

Sam doesn’t have a clue. “Well.. He is from the circus?”

“Figures. One freak-show to the next. Anyway, after him showing off, I figured how hard can it be?”

“Oh.” The cookies go in the pre-heated oven, and `bMucky spends a ridiculous amount of time looking at them. When he finally speaks, it’s more to the oven than to Sam. “Did you know how fragile compound bows are?”

“They are not…” Sam eyes the gleaming, metal arm. “Alright, I suppose they are pretty fragile to you.”

Another grunt; eloquence when speaking of your troubles must have been an academic subject in the ninteenfourtees, Sam thinks. “So.. was he.. very mad?”

“He said it was fine and he wasn’t mad at all.”

“Really?” Sam finds that hard to believe. And he can see why that would have been more scary than a raging Hawkeye. Spies and revenge, after all.

“Then he said ‘excuse me, I need to get a drink.’” 

Sam blinks “And that.. scared you?” drinking away your problems seems such a faux-pas thing to Sam, he’d expected Bucky Barnes to be more comfortable with that solution. Or was that more of a ninteen-sixties thing?

“No. Him saying he wasn’t mad scared me. Him going out to get drunk made me realise I really don't feel like needing to look over my shoulder all week for some drunk hit-man.”

“I am not drunk.”

“Oh-my-fucking-god!” For the second time that day, Sam’s heart tries to leap out of his chest. It’s as bad as the first time. Maybe worse; compound damage and all that. Sam’s house doesn’t even have air vents. 

Still, Clinkt Barton drops right from the ceiling. Or wherever he’d been hiding. His clothes are a lot more dirty and rumpled than Bucky had been, but that’s a given with him “And anyway, what would I shoot you with? You broke my bow.”

“Oh my fucking god is right.” Bucky is back to blank-masked and straight-backed. “I hadn’t even considered he could bitch at me about it. Besides, you said it was fine.”

“I lied.” there’s a theatrical tremble to Hawkeye’s voice. “I was being manly about it. But damn man, you killed my best friend!”

“It’s a fucking bow.”

This is escalating too quickly. Some kind of masculinity contest indeed.  “Look,” Sam interjects. “Bucky baked you some I’m-sorry-cookies to make up for it.”

“I am too upset for cookies. My-” Hawkeye blinks his glassy eyes, ”what kind of cookies?”

“Chocolate chip.” Bucky offers, stone-faced. It occurs that perhaps he really did want to make the cookies as a peace-offering. One can never tell with those centenarians. Steve Rogers was bad enough but- well. He’s not sure Barton is much better. Perhaps Sam is just dealing with two stunted individuals trying to make up and failing.

For no obvious reason, Barton has opened the oven, and is in the process of claiming not-quite well-done cookies and trying to pick them up with his bare fingers. Burning himself in the process. Repeatedly. “These are great, Buck.” Barton finally proclaims. “I have officially forgiven you.”

“Fuck you too, Barton.” Bucky scowls.

“But if I need to kill anyone, you will have to let me borrow your arm.”

“What?”

“Three-armed monster. It’ll be epic. Trust me.”

Sam sighs, allowing a grin. Stunted indeed. 

@bukys-other-punk

[glorifiedpigeon]

Fluffuary - Touchdown!

A DLAMP oneshot!!! Drake has the worst crush situation, seeing as it's the same situation four times over! Remus insists he give asking them a shot though. Maybe something good will come out of it all in the end!

Link

Drake watched as the school’s head cheerleader and the star quarterback flirted at the edge of the field. The yearbook photographer was taking photos of the player’s warm-ups, and snarking in their direction, while the school newspaper’s main journalist interviewed the coach rather nearby. The four most popular and ineligible boys in school. Drake just had to have a crush on each and every single one of them.

It was sophomore year when rising football star Virgil Storm was asked on a date by spunky little cheerleader Roman Castle. It was quite the surprise when the two of them revealed a plot to ask yearbook photographer Logan Berry to the junior prom about a year later. Then, at the prom, all three of them had danced and made out with the school paper’s most well known fluff-piece-writing journalist, Patton Love.

Drake hadn’t been to prom last year. He’d been with Remus Castle, smoking and defacing the school while all the teachers were at the hotel for the prom, complaining about how Remus’ brother was too hot and stealing all of Drake’s crushes.

“Sounds like you’re crushing on the A List pretty hard there,” Remus had teased, and while Drake had denied it, he’d been absolutely crushed on the last Monday of the year, the first Monday after the prom, when he heard the rumors.

Then, of course, the four of them went traipsing through the halls, hand in hand in hand in hand. Drake could’ve screamed. He was sure he screamed. He definitely passed out. It was not his proudest moment, but that was last year.

This year, he’d spent nearly the whole time watching the four of them with a dreading envy. This was their senior year. The five of them would graduate after this, and those four would go off to college together, adjusting their dreams for one another like the perfect polycule they were, and Drake would be on his own.

It was the last game of the season. Virgil would be moving on to swim team in the spring. Drake had never been to his swim practices, but he’d seen him changing in the locker room. There’s no way he’d survive watching him at swim practice. He’d barely made it through the one competition he’d attended. Virgil was just…

“Are you thinking about Virgey’s big fat-”

“Remus, we are in school!” Drake hissed at the disgusting teen leaning towards him and invading his personal space. It was bad enough that Remus had decided to sit so close when the bleachers were so ridiculously empty.

“School’s over! They can’t censor me on a football field, I can say what I fucking want, and if I wanna call my brother’s boyfriend’s dick a tasty as fuck man sausage then I shitting will!” Remus said, throwing in a few unnecessary curses for good measure. Drake flushed bright red.

“You are embarrassing me,” Drake muttered.

“Oh good!” Remus cheered. “At least I’m doing something right.”

Drake’s eyebrows jumped as he came up with an idea. “You know, there is one thing I’m thinking about.”

“Hm?” Remus asked, almost disinterested.

“Roman’s quite flexible, I wonder if he could suck his own-”

“Gross! Nope! That’s enough, shut up, dude, that’s my brother!!!” Remus shouted.

Drake smirked. “Revenge is sweet.”

“I hate you,” Remus pouted. “I mean, it’s not like you weren’t already thinking about Mr. Quarterback’s man meat-”

“Please call it literally anything else,” Drake said.

“Dongbanger,” Remus supplied.

“I rescind my request,” Drake replied quickly. “That was somehow worse.”

“But then you gotta drag my gross slimy brother into this! Maybe I just wanna imagine my best friend getting fucked by his crushes in a super not gross way, can’t you just give me this?” Remus asked.

“You are the most sex-repulsed asexual I know,” Drake stated, frowning. “Why are you like this?”

“It’s different when I’m joking with you, man. I don’t know. Look, just ask them. They’ve already got four phalluses in that sausage party-”

“Why did your saying this ‘professionally’ make it even more uncomfortable for me?” Drake asked.

“-just ask for an invitation!” Remus finished, throwing his arms up in a wide shrug. Drake frowned at him.

“I don’t want- that. Not yet, anyway, I want an actual genuine connection. We don’t have that with one another,” Drake muttered. “They probably don’t even know me.”

“Pssh,” Remus waved his hand dismissively. “You’re my best friend! Roman’s gotta recognize you at least.”

“I doubt it, I’m never at your house,” Drake muttered. Remus sighed.

“Okay, you know what? If you go down there and ask all four of them out before the game ends, then I’ll stop talking about sex until graduation,” Remus proclaimed. Drake looked at him skeptically. Remus pursed his lips. “At school only.”

“Aha. Fine, I will make an effort,” Drake muttered. “But if they reject me, then you don’t get to make any comments of a sexual nature whenever you’re around me.”

“Drake, buddy, if you get rejected I will shave my baby mustache,” Remus snorted. Drake was taken aback. Remus would never make a risky wager on his mustache. He had made plans to grow that thing out into a masterpiece. His dream of winning a mustache contest was as old as he himself was.

Drake made his way down the bleachers and to the fence separating the crowd from the field. He stood there awkwardly for a moment, seeing Roman now running some stretches with the other cheerleaders. A blonde girl pointed at him then, and Roman turned to look at him. He blushed bright red as Roman made his way over.

“Oh, hey! Drake, right? Does Remus need anything?” Roman asked. Drake was feeling hot from his fingertips to his ears, now.

“Oh. No. Um, I actually had a question,” Drake said.

“Oh, well, shoot!” Roman prompted, bouncing on his toes, and waving a pom pom invitingly. Drake bit his lip.

“Um. Are you and your boyfriends in an open relationship?” Drake asked. Roman blinked, then he grinned, his cheeks turning a rosy pink.

“Drake, are you asking your best friend’s brother on a date? Isn’t there a bro code about that sort of thing?” Roman asked.

“I think when your best friend encourages it, then you may as well go ahead and ask his brother. So? Are you, um. Are you all interested?” Drake asked, and Roman gasped.

“All of us?” He asked, another grin on his face. Drake covered his face with his hands.

“Yes, all of you.”

Roman chuckled. “No one’s asked for all four of us before. You might just have a date, then, Drake. I’ll bring it up to them. Meet me outside after the game, to get your answer?” Roman asked. He batted his eyelashes as if on instinct, and Drake melted.

“Okay,” he said weakly. Roman flashed him a final grin, before darting back to join the other cheerleaders. The bleachers were beginning to get crowded, so Drake hurried to rejoin Remus and grab his seat.

The game started dully. Drake didn’t come out of love for the sport, and Remus didn’t come for any reason except that Drake came. Drake came to watch Virgil while he was off the field, wiping sweat from his face, and dunking water over his head. He came to watch Roman flip through the air and land doing a perfect split. He came to watch Logan take photos, and chat with the cheerleaders between routines and the benched players.

Seeing Patton today was a bonus. Patton sitting next to him in the bleachers was a down right gift from god.

“Hi, Drake!” Patton greeted. Drake spluttered.

“You remember me?” He asked.

“I mean, you did shout at me during a class debate in our freshman year?” Patton reminded. Drake felt himself going red as Remus cackled behind him. “It was very memorable.”

“I am very sorry,” Drake insisted. Patton giggled.

“You said so then, too! Roman says you want to ask us all on a date,” Patton said, and Drake felt like melting through the bleachers would probably be the most satisfying way to end this conversation.

“If you don’t want to, it’s fine-”

“No, no, I’d love to!” Patton interrupted. “If Virgil and Logan agree, that is.”

Oh god. Patton leaned into Drake’s shoulder, resting his hand on top of Drake’s. Melting would be both convenient and inconvenient at this time.

He glanced at Remus, who merely gifted him with the sight of two thumbs up. Drake felt the blood rush away from his face as his friend made to leave. Oh god, Remus was going to leave him here with his entirely undignified gay panic.

“Where are you going?” Drake asked, trying not to sound too freaked out. “The game’s barely started.”

“Football isn’t really my thing,” Remus announced. “I’m going home. Don’t you two get uncomfortable on my account, mkay?”

“Oh- have a safe trip home!” Patton called after him.

God, an utter sweetheart, wishing a traitorous wretch like Remus a safe trip.

If, later that evening, Drake wound up making out with the four most popular and most ineligible boys in school, and becoming the most envied and ineligible boy in school, then… that was his own business.

He’d thank Remus for leaving him without a ride home next time he saw him.

@tsshipmonth2020

[artemismoon12writes]

Jazzy Chazzy and the Beat Off Boys 1

Daltonfic Big Bang 2020: Week 1, Day 7; NSFW Wildcard  

“Bullshit.” Charlie countered. “I’m sure there are Jazz bands that have a French horn. Besides, I dropped Music this year so when else am I ever going to play saxophone?” 

 “Why can’t we be the house band?” Charlie asked, the first day he and Justin were allowed into the Seniors Lounge. Or rather, the first day they were given the email and directions to the real Seniors lounge.

“Because I play French Horn, and that’s not a jazz instrument.” Justin said, sipping on his drink as if it was actually for the taste; rather than enjoying the ridiculous, prohibition style speakeasy that the previous Seniors of Dalton and Dobry had set up right under the noses of administration.

“Bullshit.” Charlie countered. “I’m sure there are Jazz bands that have a French horn. Besides, I dropped Music this year so when else am I ever going to play saxophone?”

“I don’t know, you can just play ‘Careless Whisper’ to yourself alone in your room?” Justin joked, earning him a shove to the side.

“Hey I’m serious, it could be fun.”

“I don’t know mate, it could also go badly. Who else would even join? We’d need a few more people, unless you want to just play with the group Cobb hired from last year?” Justin asked, gesturing to the small four piece on the raised platform across the room.

The lounge was small, and the way it was on a Friday night between Sydney trying to host a poker tournament, or Kerry Jeffords trying to get Roland to swing dance with her, it got crowded. That didn’t stop them from hiring a live jazz band to make the prohibition style décor more authentic.

Hope appeared by Charlie’s elbow, a drink in both hands for herself and Sydney. “I think that’d be a great idea. You could get Kyle from Stuart, he’s a wonderful drummer. He did the drumline in Cadets, Sydney told me.”

“He’s a Stuart though.” Charlie complained. “I don’t want to play with a Stuart.”

“You’ll play nice with a Hanover though.” She pointed out.

“Hanover’s Switzerland in their dick measuring contest though, we’re neutral.” Justin smiled.

Hope jokingly rolled her eyes, “are dicks all you boys ever care about?”

“Seriously, I don’t want to do Jazz with a Stuart.”

Justin sighed, “How about I get Roland and Spencer in on it? Roland plays guitar but maybe we could ask him to do bass? And Spencer knows enough piano to be useful. There, now you’re just playing with Hanovers and one other guy.”

Hope giggled. “If you do get this figured out, let me know. We had to scrap a cover of ‘Feeling Good’ for the Terpsichores, but I’d love to use it somewhere else.”

Charlie paused, considered what could be, and prompted agreed. Justin shook his head and downed the rest of his drink, as Hope sauntered away with a smile.

“Chaz, you’re really sad. She’s got a girlfriend.” He said, spying Sydney kissing Hope’s cheek as she sat down next to her across the room.

“I know, I know. And like, I still think she’s- wow- but, I’m getting over it I swear. But like, have you ever heard ‘Feeling Good’? It’s hot.” He leant his chin on his hand. “I’d be down even if it was the only song she ever did with us.”

“So there is an ‘us’ now? What about not wanting to work with a Stuart? Who isn’t even guaranteed by the way?” Justin asked.

“Why not?”

“If you want to be in a Jazz band hard enough to work through dealing with Stuarts, I’ll join.” Justin relented.

“I love you- this is great!”

Justin refilled his tumbler, trying not to cut his tongue with how hard he was biting it and the bitter words he wanted to say. “Yeah, love you too mate.”

---

Roland was easy to convince to get onto a bass; he’d always wanted to try a jazz band after playing classical for so long in music class. A quick electric pedal modified the sound to an upright bass, and they were off with that. Spencer’s ragtime was rusty, but serviceable enough for the endeavour. And overall, Kyle from Stuart wasn’t even that concerned about working with a Windsor, but rather if that Hope Clayton would really be singing for them. Between the group of young, single lads, Justin was confused to find a common unitor of adoration for the soft blond.

Well, he only had to see her step up to their vintage mic, her hair done up with a deep red dress, next Friday to see why.

“Birds in the sky, you know how I feel,” Hope sang to Sydney at first, before turning to the rest of the Seniors who had gathered there that Friday night. The Seniors were spellbound.

Justin let out a breath. Fitting as he was playing a brass instrument, but Charlie raised his eyebrows next to Justin. Okay, he’d eat any concerns he had about having Hope sing for them. This might be a little hot.

Hope travelled around the small room, swatting away anyone reaching out, but doing so with a wink. She smirked and drawled her way through the words, sitting on the end of Spencer’s piano bench as she drew the words out in her lower register.

“It’s a new dawn, it’s a new day, it’s a new life.” Her eyes met Justin’s, a sly look before dismissing him. “And I’m feeling good.”

He could hear the stutter in Charlie’s saxophone and he felt annoyed he did so as well. Spencer and Roland managed to make it through, but the five of them, as well as the assembled were so entranced. He was glad there was a music stand in front of him. Hell, he didn’t even know demure Hope could channel this kind of a bombshell. Though, if anyone let it be known they were getting keyed up, Sydney would probably kill them right there and there. Murder was simply not on the agenda.

They played another few songs with Hope after that, but the energy remained palpable. Every coy look or wink Hope played up was just another reminder it was an act, but goddamn was it a convincing one. No wonder Charlie’d had a crush on her for ages. Maybe he should keep focusing on Hope; after all, one unattainable crush wasn’t any worse than another? Was it?

---

“What the hell was that?” Kyle asked, sitting back in the small backroom they’d commandeered for practising and storing the instruments. The five of them had brought the last of the whiskey with them, passing it around and ostensibly putting the drums away. It’d just devolved into trying to process the tension.

“I didn’t know Clayton could sing like that.” Roland said, passing the bottle and wiping his mouth. “I mean I knew she had pipes but I wasn’t expecting a Jessica Rabbit 2.0.”

“Hey, knock it off, that’s my sister’s girlfriend you’re talking about.” Spencer said without much gusto as he’d already said he’d had a crush on Hope before his sister did.

Roland nudged his fellow Hanover in the head with his foot, sprawled across the couch without a care. “I am not objectifying her. I’m just saying, holy hell, that is a jazz lady.”

“I mean, isn’t that objectification?” Justin asked.

“It’s her voice though.” Roland sighed in contentment.

“Is that what the group is called now? The Jazz Lady and her boys?” Kyle asked. He finished off the whiskey, grunting in annoyance. Justin just pulled out another bottle behind his French Horn case.

“It’s probably not a good idea unless you want everyone to fall in love with her.” Charlie pointed out.

Spencer frowned, “I forgot about your crush on her, tough luck Chaz.”

“I mean, I’m getting over it. This is just like, a good high point to go out on.” Charlie shrugged.

“Well, how about Charlie and the Boys?” Roland said, spreading his hands out in front of him. “No, Chazzy and the Jazzy Boys?”

Kyle snorted, “You’re not thinking hard enough. Jazzy Chazzy and the Beats Boys.”

“Like Beach Boys?” Spencer suggested.

“More like Beat off Boys. Cause damn Clayton has me wired.” Roland groaned.

“Ha Beat off.” Kyle said, more than a little drunk.

“Hey!” Justin cut in, before sharing a look with the others and… yeah. The noise of discontentment Roland made didn’t help.

“I mean, he’s not wrong.” Kyle said.

“I’d argue, but oh my god I think I’m going to explode.” Charlie admitted, “God, she’d kill me if she knew.”

“Technically her girlfriend would kill you. There’s no crime in thinking she’s hot though.” Spencer agreed. Justin reluctantly thirded, taking a deep swig from the second bottle he stole back from Kyle.

“I just,” Charlie sighed, “ugh fuck.”

“Yeah exactly!” Roland said, patting him on the shoulder, leaning into him with a smile. “One good lay and the mere sound of Clayton’s voice isn’t going to do a damn thing. It’s just been a while man.”

“Been a while is an understatement.” Spencer sighed. Poor Spencer, holding a torch for someone who wouldn’t even give you the time of day. At least he wasn’t pining from afar. Just, you know, like an idiot from close up.

“Yeah, you need to just get laid and move on.” Justin suggested, taking the bottle from Spencer. He leant in, taking a drink and passing it over to Charlie.

Charlie accepted, taking a drink. Roland still on his shoulder looking like he’d suddenly found his new favourite thing. “What, you offering?”

Justin might need to be more drunk for this.

Kyle snorted, the lower lines of the song bumbling out in his best Hope impression. “I’m feeling good.”

Charlie didn’t need to take the hint, his mouth on Justin’s within the end of the note. Justin didn’t want to lean into it, too sure he was hallucinating, but he couldn’t help himself. It went too far too quickly, and when he opened his eyes, Charlie was still watching his mouth. Roland was staring, slumped over Charlie’s side with a slack look of shock.

“I may not be gay, but that’s hot.” Roland said, a slow look of amazement spreading across his face.

“I don’t know, bi people exist?” Charlie said, looking Roland in the eye.

“Yeah we do.” Spencer said, quietly enough to be heard as they all suddenly seemed to realise at the same time how small the room is.

“Okay, it may just be the whiskey talking, but can I kiss you too?” Roland asked, intrigued and clingy.

Justin wasn’t sure if he felt disappointed, or excited when Charlie nodded. On the one hand, he wanted to be the only one with his hands on Charlie; on the other hand, if it got Charlie over Hope… and he couldn’t deny, the noises Roland was making, slotted up against Charlie. Fuck.

“Oh damn.” Kyle’s voice sounded, but it wasn’t really an objection. “I guess, this is the point we leave the room?”

“Or a, don’t leave the room and this might as well happen?” Spencer stared at Charlie and Roland, tentatively inching forward as much as he could without touching them. Roland grunted, Charlie’s hands on him.

Justin thought for a moment, he could be selfish, or he could let it go; he bit his lip. He could just reach out… but Spencer got there first, touching Roland’s shoulder and getting pulled in between the two. Justin looked over at their fifth, sitting on the armrest; “Hey, Kyle, you in or out mate?”

Kyle acted like a deer in the headlights. “I’m not gay though.”

Justin pointedly frowned. Beside him, Spencer groaned, Roland’s hands down his pants and Charlie’s mouth on his neck. He’d say it escalated quickly, but he’d be lying if he wasn’t getting into the sight.

Justin stood up, standing in front of Kyle. “In, or out? No pressure. But it might be a lot in a minute.”

“I- uh, in?” Kyle looked up at Justin, touching his chest apparently in spite of himself.

Behind them, Justin could hear a shucking of pants. Yeah. It was going to be a lot really quickly. He heard Charlie’s satisfied grunt, nearly jumping with how much he wanted to hear that noise again.

“In.” Kyle looked over, wide eyed and intrigued. “So fucking in.”

“So you’re good with…” Justin didn’t even have to ask before Kyle’d fisted his hands into Justin’s shirt and pulled him down for a rough kiss, needy and desperate. Justin stumbled the two steps backwards it took to fall back on the couch, a lapful of Kyle and an elbow on the other three.

Yeah. This was happening.

---

Somewhere in the distant future of an hour later; Spencer was resting against Roland’s bare legs, hair a mess and sticking up at awkward angles. Roland was absently petting Kyle’s hair, who was dozing, warm and content across Charlie and Justin’s laps; who were still winded and confused, but ultimately satisfied.

“Did we just?” Charlie asked, his mouth bruised and throat sore.

“Yeah.” Justin said hoarsely, looking at the opposite wall. He felt Kyle shift. Was this how his day had ended?

“That was good.” Charlie’s smile of disbelief was audible.

“Really good.”

The two of them shot a look to the other three, then to one another.

“I liked this.” Charlie bit his lip.

“Yeah. Me too.” Justin felt his heart clench.

“I might not be straight guys.” Roland said, cutting into it. “Because fuck. That was a fuck.”

“Good to know you liked it.” Spencer said, before hiding his face embarrassed between Roland’s leg and the couch cushion.

“First time my ass, you’ve done this before Willis.”

“I swear! I’ve only ever made out with guys.”

“Go big or go home.” Charlie commented.  

Justin smiled, “Yeah, Jazzy Chazzy, was that a home run you damn yankee?”  

Charlie pushed his shoulder. “Ok, you’re going to get it for that.”

“I already got it.”

“Oh you shitty redcoat! I swear to god!” Charlie nearly upset Kyle from their bare laps, trying to rise up and mock fight with his friend.

Justin felt that discomfort from earlier ebb away. At the end of the day, this was his friend. No matter how he felt otherwise.

“I’m the whore of Babylon, I don’t know how you all put up with me.” Roland moaned, smiling at the others.

“Fuck you.”

“You got it!”

“I swear to god…”  

---

Part 2: [Here]

[chyrstis]

I won’t ask for much (but just this once, I’d like you) 2/10

Updates for this’ll probably come every couple of days or so, and I’m already bracing myself for a third wave of edits to come. But here’s the next part, and Sharky, I’m sorry about the skunk, but you were the one to mention it to begin with. ...And the resulting idea was too entertaining to pass up.

Pairing: Sharky Boshaw x John Seed Rating: E (but only for Ch. 10, the rest are a solid T) Word Count: 4.3K  

Link to AO3!

Ch. 1 / Ch. 2 / Ch. 3 / Ch. 4 / Ch. 5 / Ch. 6 / Ch. 7 / Ch. 8 / Ch. 9 / Ch. 10

—

Sharky steals a boat. It just happens to be John’s boat, and when it’s damaged along with his boathouse, John proceeds to lay out a means of having Sharky pay him back. [No Cult AU]

———–

It took two and a half days to tear the old boathouse down.

John hadn’t lied when he mentioned wanting him to get in there and take it apart piece by piece, and hovered over him the entire time.

The whole monitoring bit was easily the part that annoyed him the most. Like he was waiting for him to screw up. To somehow find a way to take the already burnt building and set it on fire again through force of will alone. Which, while badass, was well out of his means, all the wishing and praying he’d sometimes do to monkey Jesus aside.

But that didn’t stop John from acting like he had the ability. Riding him further during smoke breaks, or barking order after order at him from the sidelines.

Every other word out of his mouth was a correction. To tell him to go back to read the blueprints again. To check his measurements. To put out that cigarette, pry out that misplaced nail, and to use some of that delicacy he kept on going back to, making Sharky’s eyes want to roll back into his head.

And music? The one time he’d tried to bring any levity to the situation with the soothing sounds of disco, John put an end to it immediately. Really just made it clear how much of a drag he wanted to be, and only wanted to push the point home.

Seeing as John was some big-shot lawyer, he really expected him to have more to do than nitpick and lord this whole thing over him. Like he’d stick around for a few weeks, use the time to get off on whatever power trip he was having over this, and then go back to bugging the department, the local businesses, Nick, shit, anyone.

But John Seed was also petty as fuck.

Local gossip hadn’t painted the guy as a kind or forgiving figure, and while the Seeds as a whole were alright at best and fucking weird at worst, over the past couple of years John had picked up a rep as a colossal asshole all on his own.

Tickets? Contested. Special orders down at the store or for parts? Made with specific instructions that needed to be followed to the letter. If not, he’d demand and get his money back, damning everyone with the fine print others would skim over.

Hell, Sid, one of the guys that worked down at the cattle ranch, had traded paint with him once. He’d done so while stopping at the general store, and hadn’t paid much mind to the fancy car parked in the lot, getting just close enough to leave a small scuff on the rear bumper.

In those cases, a person would trade numbers, or see what they could buff off before moving on, 'cause insurance claims were a pain in the ass, and half of the cars in the county were a little late on renewing registrations anyway. Shit, he was coming up on a year, and hoping to see how much longer he could go before any of the Deps cottoned on to it.

But no, the minute John caught on, Sid recalled the glint he got in his eye. Then told him he’d slap him with the largest fine possible for both the damage and the late reg. All over trading paint. Not major damage, not even a busted tire.

Just paint.

Sid was still spitting mad about it, months after the fact.

He’d even pulled a fast one when it came to setting up big bro Joe’s compound. Digging up some obscure property laws all but guaranteeing the land could be sold to them.

No, no one earned the title of mega-dick by being sweet and accommodating. His bro had smoothed over a lot of ruffled feathers by being pretty okay after that, even with all of the converts chilling the fuck out on his property, but John was still John.

And now he personally had that shit to deal with. Today, two days from now, and who knew how many weeks or months after that.

So much for those chicks wanting and keeping his number too. Hurk told him he’d snagged at least one number on the way back to their drop off, but when he’d tried to call them back the other day he got no answer. Ghosted him like it was nothing, and he guessed he deserved that.

What with getting himself caught and left to doing whatever the hell John wanted for as long as John wanted.

“As per our agreement,” John would remind him, whenever he felt the point needed pushing.

And he pushed.

Whenever Sharky would drop something, whenever he let his feet drag, whenever he cut something and John was ready to whip out his tape measure.

He pushed, and Sharky shot another prayer up to monkey Jesus, hoping that maybe this would be the day to go Human Torch on the situation. Or at the very least a little Cyclops.

Not today, but he’d try again tomorrow.

But on the days when Sharky was working, it wasn’t always just the two of them. He’d full on expected this whole thing to go on in its own little pocket, with Hurk eventually crashing the party due to a need to bust him out or worse.

The day that Joseph first showed up stood out, for one.

Joseph Seed was kind of like Pastor Jerome. Not his first pick to hang out with, considering they were both on opposite sides here. Of the whole preaching and managing earthly temptations, while not super indulging in the kind of shit that he knew he wanted in his life, period.

It came with the territory, being religious leaders and all that, but when Joseph first rolled in to the county, he’d brought his people with him.

And they were an interesting bunch. The People of Eden’s Gate were some kind of holistic commune where it was pretty hunky-dory roughly ninety percent of the time. The other ten percent was wondering just what to do about the men and women that wanted the simple life. Living humbly while offering help wherever needed.

While their hearts were in the right place, it was pretty boring stuff otherwise, Sharky decided. He’d even considered joining up for the hell of it only until Hurk reminded him that there wasn’t much fucking to be found there. Pretty women, sure, but the kind more focused on spirituality, and less on how many ways they could Clutch Nixon-ify their daily lives.

But Joseph on his own was a different story.

Watching John go from calmly sipping his drink, doubling-down on just how refreshing it was when Sharky happened to push the wheelbarrow past him, to spitting half of it out when Joseph materialized next to him was fucking priceless.

Greeting him warmly, Joseph pulled a sputtering John into a kind-of half-hug gesture, but John’s cool had already been lost, and in front of his entourage too.

Joe’s wife was with him, plus kiddo number one of a baker’s dozen, carrying them up and on her hip as they talked. With them was also a woman dressed in the modest clothes the Peggies stuck to. She wasn’t trying to stand out, but he didn’t need sharp eyes to see how damn pretty she was.

It had to have been a brother thing, Sharky gathered. Embarrassing the shit out of younger siblings seemed almost natural to Joseph, and it might’ve been petty of him too, but watching John try to get his shit back in line in front of all of them was like hitting the jackpot.

So, Sharky kept on working, sneaking looks over at the group every now and then, and at one point gave an awkward wave back whenever they tried acknowledging him. But whenever John glanced his way, Sharky didn’t hide his shit-eating grin. No, it stayed put for the rest of the day.

The next time Joseph came over, however, he didn’t stop by just to say hi. He approached Sharky, ignoring John’s loud protests, and insisted on helping.

He’d get water, and help with any items that needed anchoring, stepping in whenever it looked like Sharky needed another hand. It was the most contact he’d had with the guy outside of the times he’d tried preaching at the Eagle, and outside of that? He was actually pretty okay to be around.

Well, he personally didn’t have a problem with Joe, at least. John’s irritation skyrocketed with every suggestion, especially when Joseph did the impossible. Told him that with a three-person job, you needed three people, and John? John was capable.

“You sure are,” Sharky added, giving him a wicked grin, and John looked mad enough to spit.

But he didn’t say no. Didn’t even try, or attempt it.

Did more than his fair share under the loving supervision of his older bro, and come nightfall, Sharky realized he’d had a damn good day. It was the lightest he’d felt in weeks, and wasn’t about to turn that down. Not when it helped him jump back into things with some extra pep, and the progress was a boost too.

With the actual frame up and the panels and exterior being added piece by piece, Sharky was starting to feel pretty accomplished. Proud even, because he built this. Yeah, he was being needled at every step of the way, but he used his own two hands to get this set up, no one else’s, and at the end of the day could actually see more of this coming together.

If he kept this up, he’d also have some extra skills to add to his repertoire. Might even get a chance to twist Hurk’s arm into trying out that whole ‘building and flipping’ thing that seemed to be hot at the moment, provided he wasn’t here for the next ten years.

But goals. He had goals to work towards and something to show for it, and it was pretty damn nice in the grand scheme of things.

Today, however, John had a guest again. The same Peggie woman as before, holding a basket, flanked by a few other converts.

Full on expecting to see Joe with her, Sharky wondered if he was waiting out in the woods again. Hell, even John was checking the path back up towards his house, looking past her every now and then to see if he’d catch him.

But as the minutes ticked by, and Sharky kept on working, nothing happened. And long after the other Eden’s Gate members had left, the two kept on talking, having what seemed to be a hell of a time going off of the signals they were giving off.

Smiling, laughing. Facing each other directly as they spoke, Sharky had John’s back to him almost completely, which had his eyebrows climbing up.

And judging by the way she was reacting to John in turn, he had to have been turning on the charm. Smiling shyly, twirling her hair around her finger, hell, he’d put money on her being a two-word question away from dropping everything to get a piece of that.

It was annoying as fuck, really. Dry spell or not, watching John pull it off with minimal effort sucked.

Sure, he had a lot of things working for him. The guy was loaded, for one. Had more than enough money to net himself a fancy car, his large-ass ranch, and a plane. He’d also had a boat up until Sharky had wrecked it, but that was beside the point. Man had more money than sense, and worked the slick lawyer angle for all it was worth. He’d listened in on enough convos to know just how many women in the county dug it. Shit, men too.

Plus the whole property on the water was a real panty dropper. At least going off of what his Auntie had said shortly after John had first bought it, gossiping with Sharky about the costs and expenses that came with it.

Then she promptly turned the talk on its head by launching into talking about John’s ass instead.

His drink hadn’t stayed in his mouth for long, and she’d dropped her forlorn sighing long enough to tell him not to stain the carpet. That he had to hear and think about John’s ass at all wasn’t fucking fair, especially since he was pretty damn sure it wasn’t that much of a draw to begin with. He’d checked.

Whenever John’s back was turned towards him, he’d sneak a look to see what the deal was only to be disappointed. Better asses were walking around Hope County right this moment, his included, but good luck trying to argue that with her. Or even get three words in edgewise before wanting to slap some sense into himself.

Besides, John’s eyes were better. Hands down, Sharky knew they’d been his ticket to pound town on more than one occasion, needing only to show them off and say a few fancy words to seal any kind of deal.

Dropping the wood onto the ground, he crouched down low. Stared at the wood grain of the plank to clear his mind a little before shifting his attention back towards John.

Shit, were they still talking?

He rolled his eyes. Whatever John was saying couldn’t have been that good, and any joke? Nowhere near funny enough to get a giggle like that.

At that time, John turned, giving him a look over his shoulder as Sharky became well aware of two sets of eyes on him. The woman for one, and the pretty boy lawyer that had been eating up every last shred of her attention until now.

A cross between smug and expectant, John gestured towards him.

Well?

Sharky knew three ways to tell someone to get fucked, but picked the least subtle one just in case.

Shocked for a second, John closed his mouth. But soon after, he pressed a hand to his chest, looking hurt. It was pretty convincing, making Sharky feel for a moment that he’d done something shitty like kicked a puppy.

Shame it didn’t reach his eyes. Or match the sharp smile that crept in.

“Smug-ass, smirking fuckface,” Sharky muttered, throwing the wooden plank to the side.

But not even that stuck around either. No, John flashed his pearly whites at the woman with him too, making her melt right in front of them.

Salt in the motherfucking wound. That’s what it all was, but lucky for him he only had a few more hours left to go. Then he could go home, get in a kickass shower and see what Hurk was doing.

Standing up, he wiped his face down with his handkerchief. If this had been anytime during the summer he would’ve been dying, but at least the weather was working in his favor. The breeze took the edge off just enough, and he closed his eyes for a few seconds to soak it all in.

“Oh, Charlemagne?”

Grating right on his ears, the pitch John used never failed to make him want to grind his teeth together. That, and saying his name. Kept on doing that well after being told he could call him Sharky. Shit, even his grandma used it sparingly.

“What?”

“Shouldn’t you be focusing over there-“ John froze, and all smugness vanished.

That put him on edge. “Yo, you wanna expand on that, amigo?”

Slowly turning around, Sharky caught the small creature on the ground and felt every hair on him stand on end. Black and white, and assuming the posture any pissed off animal would, it stood tall for its small size with its tail up, ready and aiming right at him.

Skunks, though, had never liked him. Guess he’d earned that after the whole kissing one bit. So, staring down what he was sure had to be some distant relative out for revenge, he did what came naturally.

Yelled. Loudly, and might’ve sealed his fate right then and there.

Hit, but not in the eyes – thank Hurk’s monkey Jesus for that – he sprinted down towards the river and dove right in.

Grabbing his cap, he kept it in hand as he bobbed back up to the surface. The smell hit as he gulped down air, and he furiously paddled away from the shore when he realized he’d been followed.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!”

This was fucking bonkers, and it was only getting worse.

Could skunks swim? Did they have a sense for it, or was he getting played by the only one able to? Was this the moment some poor guy was going to have to act out in the movie about his life? Swimming out, smelling to high heaven as a rich asshole laughed it up from the shore?

Fuck, he hoped to hell not, 'cause he’d lived an okay life up ‘til now. And having that be the moment he’d be known for immortalized up on the silver screen was just lousy at best.

Looking back, he watched as the skunk gave him the evil eye for a minute, pacing back and forth as it thought about shooting at him again. Little fucker wasn’t done yet, but couldn’t fire another round off from where it was.

John on the other hand, was watching the whole thing develop from a distance. He hadn’t taken off, but wasn’t laughing like he thought he would either. If anything, his gaze was sharp as he aimed it over at the skunk camping him out, and kept it set in place as he approached the boathouse.

Whatever the hell he had in mind, Sharky hoped he’d do it, and do it fast.

Shit, if he ended up zapped too, that’d also make his week, but for now he needed to keep swimming, and tried to see if he could make his way back towards land. His arms and legs weren’t tired, but the water wasn’t getting any warmer, and this was more of a workout than he’d planned for.

The skunk did not let up, following his drift.

“Seriously? Don’t you got something better to get up to?”

No, it didn’t, and he paddled harder hoping to get some kind of a lead on it. Kicked enough with the intent of making a break for it as soon as he hit land.

Maybe he could shimmy up a tree? Nah, he’d be a sitting duck, worse off there than here. Get back to his car on the way? His keys were swimming in his pocket right now, along with-

Aw, dammit. There went that phone. Sputtering into the water, he coughed around the word that would’ve come out otherwise, then gave it up to keep on swimming.

On the edge of the shore, he dragged himself up and out and booked it. Didn’t see anything waiting for him, but didn’t waste time either. Just hit the nearest patch of tall bushes and stayed low.

Waiting was the worst part. Waiting, listening, and trying not to make too much noise on his end. Every branch, twig, and leaf was the enemy now, and he wasn’t about to let that skunk get the drop on him again.

Five minutes passed. Then ten.

Loud squeaking sounded off in the distance, and he poked his head out from the bush.

Scanning left and right, Sharky checked for black and white. That and movement. When neither seemed to be present, he pushed his way forward and stepped out into the open.

Letting out a slow breath, he shook his hat out and slipped it back on. Then took in a tentative sniff as he raised his arm. The smell hung around him like a cloud, and getting a bigger whiff of it only made him want to gag.

Peeling the shirt off, he wrung it out, and gave it a smell as well. Now that made his eyes water. With his luck his jeans were just as bad, and he didn’t bother checking. Just pulled them off to get some of the water out of them too, and resigned himself to drip-drying the rest of the day outdoors.

“Charlemagne? You can come out now!”

John. Guess he’d found a way to deal with it after all.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are!”

“Ugh, fucker. Took him long enough.” Groaning to himself, he slung his wet clothes over his shoulder and started heading towards the clearing.

“Well, there you…are?” John gave him a quick once over as he walked past, and pursed his lips. “Hmm.”

The woman with him didn’t even try to make eye contact. Just kept her attention directed elsewhere, her cheeks tinted red.

Great. Not that he was trying, but his odds of getting even a pity look in passing had all but tanked.

“Yo, I don’t wanna know what you did, but after that? My bullshit meter’s maxed, so fuck off.”

Prying his keys out of his pocket, Sharky unlocked the trunk of his car and threw the clothes into the back of it. Between the gas cans and propane tanks he’d thrown back there often enough, skunk wasn’t going to add much to the smell in there.

“Fuck off? That’s not very kind, all things considering.”

The trunk dropped, and he might’ve used more force than necessary. “Kind?”

“Not even a thank you?” John eyed him from a distance, smug, but only for a second. “After chasing off your little tormentor? Such a shame, really.”

“That I ain’t feeling, what? Warm gratitude towards you right now? Like happy and fuzzy shit?”

John scoffed. “Hardly.”

“'Cause you’re making a whole lot of noise for nothing, and I wouldn’t be out here busting my ass at all without you to begin with.”

“Oh, my dear Charlemagne,” he watched as John withdrew a blue handkerchief from his jean pocket, and held it up to his face to cover his nose, “I’m hardly the one at fault here.”

His patience snapped like a brittle twig. Rattling off words as fast as they came to him, Sharky scraped for the bottom, tried actively to come up with the most out of bounds targeted insults he could conjure up just to see if he could wipe what he was sure was a smirk right off of John’s face.

Then nearly crashed into the woman who had stepped into his path. Making full-on eye contact now, she gave him a hesitant, but soft smile. “I think this might help.”

In her hands was a towel. A nice, fluffy one, and she held it out towards him.

The anger drained out of him as he stared at her. Almost as if someone took an ice bucket and dumped it right over his shoulders.

Gingerly taking it, Sharky let it dangle in the air between them. “Uh, thanks?”

“Of course. For anyone in need, and you certainly seemed to be. Considering your lack of…clothing in general right now.”

Still had the underwear on, at least. Blushing five different shades of red, he quickly wrapped the towel around himself. “Yeah, um, thank you again, miss.”

She nodded, and headed back towards John. “We’ll be heading out, but can we expect you at mass later tonight?”

John lowered the handkerchief just enough for Sharky to catch the frown. “If work allows it. There’s still a lot left to do here, but you can let Joseph know I’ll try.”

Sharky pulled up a corner of the towel to wipe his face, no longer able to hear much of what was traded between them. Lady hadn’t even flinched at the smell up close, and the towel was a nice one. Nicer than any of the kind he had at home, and must’ve been in the basket she had with her.

Yeah, got that pity look after all. Great.

Staring down at his feet, he removed his cap to run a hand through his hair. The hushed voices behind him eventually stopped, and by the time John walked over he’d switched to looking out over the water.

“That was interesting.”

“Sure,” Sharky said, tired of arguing with him.

“And there went our progress for the afternoon. At least the morning wasn’t a complete waste, but our guest derailed us thoroughly. And I don’t believe you have a change of clothes, do you?”

Sharky rubbed his shoulder, and felt it twinge in response as he moved it. He badly needed a cigarette, and was desperate enough to see how many times it’d take for a wet one to actually light.

“Do you?”

“Look, I get what you’re asking. And no, I’d have-“ John raised the handkerchief again, and the words died in his mouth. “You know what? Forget it. And if you’re looking to avoid this shit, don’t stand downwind of it. Basic Scouting 101 right there.”

Sharky whipped the towel off and threw it at him.

John snatched it out of the air, keeping it from smacking him in the face. “Leaving?”

Not bothering to check behind him as he approached his car, Sharky flashed him the finger.

“You can take this with you, you know.”

That John didn’t take the bait, or fight him on it, only irritated him further. He also seemed to be following him, and Sharky scowled at him. “Don’t need it.”

John sighed, and put away the cloth. “Charlemagne, it’s a towel, and you’re still soaking wet.”

“And maybe I want the draft to help dry the swamp ass brewing here, okay?” he shot, climbing in behind the wheel. “And if you wanna give me shit for cutting out early, tack on more hours as a penalty, whatever, I’ll deal with that next time. Or, hell, the time after, as long as it doesn’t mean I’m still standing here talking any of this shit with you. That work?”

The thin line John had pressed his lips into told him otherwise, but he said nothing. Just crossed his arms before holding out the towel to him one last time.

Sharky hit the gas and didn’t look back.

[thanksjro]

Polyhex Wars, Book 4: Hound’s Face-Heel Turn

So Hound wakes up.

Guess all that nuclear power was a little exaggerated- the room is scorched, but the planet still seems to be about as intact as it gets with Cybertron. Courier’s nowhere to be seen, and we all know what that means.

Up on the surface, everyone’s recovered from the sight of those huge-ass rocket boosters flaring up, and are back to trying to kill each other. The status quo must be maintained, dammit!

Megatron’s a little bummed that his plan’s been set back, but he’s nothing if not pragmatic about the situation.

There is absolutely NO POSSIBLE WAY to write their dynamic in a non-gay fashion.

He leaves Optimus to roll around in agony, because he’s used up his concern for the year, and rejoins the battle. Or at least, that’s what he was planning on doing, but he’s just noticed something really shiny on top of one of the rocket thrusters in the distance. And now there’s a noise, like thunder, and the brightness and the noise just keep rising and rising and rising and-

It’s a dude.

There’s a dude on the rocket thruster.

Oh what the fuck is this?

Nuke’s got the idea in his head that he’s got to the Transformers. As in, all of them. This guy just came into being and he’s asking them to line up all orderly so he can kill them. Forget the Epilogue to Eugenesis, this is the real murder-baby.

Nuke also has god powers, and uses them to group up all the Transformers to make his job easier. Hound, because he’s actually awake this time, joins the fray. Optimus manages to tell Megatron to lead everyone to victory against this giant nuclear douche, which he takes on happily, but still drags Optimus down the mountain with him. Once they reach the bottom, Optimus basically tells the Autobots to listen to their new dad, then passes out.

Megatron starts shouting at all the Combiner teams to do their thing, then tells Triggerhappy to get Ultra Magnus and Soundwave on the horn. Why they aren’t already here isn’t addressed, but we’ve got an overpowered asshole to fight, so there’s no time to ask questions.

Nuke is less than impressed with the Combiners, not to mention everyone else, and begins summoning tormented souls directly from hell, cracking open the planet and setting everything on fire. Everything was already on fire earlier, but now it’s REALLY on fire.

Everyone’s doing their best, but it’s looking grim. Slapdash and Double are dead, and so are literal tons of other robots.

There goes Sureshot.

Oh, and Kup.

Optimus is having a seizure, so that’s fun.

I love the “nothing much”, it’s so casual. And something tells me that Courier isn’t as far away as one might think.

Because Megatron isn’t the type of guy to waste a good out, he orders for Hound to be found so they can sacrifice him like a virgin to a volcano to this bizarre entity of nuclear power.

Doubleheader’s on the case, booking it through the battlefield, at one point stripping for survival as he leaps out of his Pretender shell to avoid being exploded- which is a little funny, in a meta sort of way. This pisses Doubleheader off, and he grabs a big ol’ sword out of one of the many piles of dead bodies and just lobs the thing at Nuke.

At this point, I have zero idea just how far away this bastard is supposed to be.

Nuke catches the sword with his body, nearly cleaving him in two, but he shrugs it off and proceeds to melt Doubleheader.

It’s this, of all things, that sets off Silverbolt.

Like, what’s so friggin’ special about Doubleheader that this is your “this far, no further” moment?

So this aerial assault goes about as well as is to be expected. Thundercracker gets decapitated, so that’s fun.

Hound has a sneaking suspicion that he might just know who this Nuke guy really is, and makes himself known. Nuke is pleasantly surprised to find himself recognized, then, in a show of his great and terrible power- power that he admits he has no idea how he got- destroys the moon.

Well, that’s just going to fuck up the tides.

Hound, for some reason, seems to think that now is the ideal time to start hurling insults at Nuke, who responds by erasing some rando from existence.

Nuke wants to thank Hound for letting him be reborn as this horrifically powerful being, and does so by getting on his level and then stripping off his skin. Megatron decides that now would be a good time for Optimus’ nap to be over, and shakes him into consciousness.

That’s what I thought you’d say, you stupid fucking martyr.

I can’t believe Hound’s doing worse here than he did in Eugenesis. He’s probably literally the only one who can say that. I can’t even say that, and all I did was read the friggin’ thing.

Optimus manages to stand and engage Nuke in the ultimate dick-measuring contest. He insults him, calls him a weak baby who will never measure up to Optimus’ own god powers, and is generally a jerk trying to garner a reaction.

Which he gets.

Nuke floats up into the air and summons all his power into his hand, and prepares to throw it down at the gathered Transformers. Optimus summons his own power, making a finger gun and shooting white-hot… power electricity, I guess, hitting Nuke point-blank in the chest.

That does nothing. Optimus tries again, with some molten energy this time. Again, not a whole lot of reaction- Nuke screams a little, but it seems to have about the same amount of affect as banging his shin on the coffee table.

Optimus, however, is feeling pretty drained by this whole ordeal. He collapses to his knees and looks up only to find that Nuke’s grown in size. Also, he’s leaking light out of all his joints and started speaking in bolded all-caps directly into everyone’s brains.

…Nuclear reactors don’t do these things. I’m not terribly sure where all this is coming from.

At this point, everyone’s pretty convinced that they’re about to be killed, so they just kind of stand there and wait for the hammer to drop.

Nuke explodes.

And not in a way that he intended.

Looks like all that needling Optimus was doing earlier was to see if Nuke really was stronger than him, so he could pump the entirety of those crazy Limbo powers into the guy.

Also, Hound’s fine. The thing that got skinned was just a hologram. I guess Nuke was so blinded in his quest for revenge, he didn’t realize he was eviscerating a light projection. Red Alert comes over, and both he and Hound go up the thruster to make sure Nuke’s been taken care of.

They find what’s left of Courier hanging off the lip of this massive thruster, begging for mercy. Hound’s ice cold about this whole thing, outright stating that Courier deserves to die.

And then he fucking kills him.

You know, if this had been written a few years later, we might have gotten more of a build up to this point, and really seen how this sort of journey from pacifist to being willing to revenge kill someone would affect Hound as a character. The bones are here for a really neat story.

As is, we end on a cliffhanger. One that will never be resolved. Just like First Aid existing in two places at once.

Up next, we’ll be taking a look at another exciting Roberts writing trend- the holiday special!

[randomwordprompts]

If It’s Magic Chapter 8

Daaaaaam, this took forever! Does anyone still care about this story? If so here’s 3k words of plot development(?) Anyways if you wanna be added to my taglist just let me know!

Warnings: Eh, people get punched and they curse. We grown outchea.

Taglist: @storibambino @soufcakmistress @bakarilennox @babygirlofwakanda @wakandas-vibranium @wakandan-flowerz @great-neckpectations @yaachtynoboat711 @oceanscorazon @reaperdeldrunk 

“Daniel, either let me pass or get your ass beat like that big nigga about to get.”

Amira brought her gaze from Daniel to the towering male some feet behind him, keeping a safe distance. Xavier’s eyes widened before he spoke back to her.

“Beat my ass?! Didn’t you do that enough the other day when you busted my lip?” 

She growled at Xavier and went to push past Daniel only to have him hold her back, though with no small amount of difficulty.

“What did you do to me, you piece of shit?!”

“I didn’t DO anything! I’ve been here or in class and actively avoiding your crazy ass for the past two days!!”

Amira stilled in Daniel’s grip and stared at Xavier for a moment before she replied, “Then why the fuck did I hear you calling out for me not 2 hours ago?”

Xavier’s face paled for a moment as he realized something but didn’t say what it was. Amira immediately noticed the change and ducked out of Daniel’s arms to walk towards him, craning her neck to meet his gaze before speaking again.

“What. Did. You. Do.”

“Well, um...I might’ve tried to manifest your aura while I was masturbating,” Xavier rushed out his explanation in one breath but that didn’t stop Amira from hearing exactly what he said.

“PORQUE?!”

Just when Xavier opened his mouth in an attempt to explain further, Daniel burst into laughter from the door that he’d closed during this time.

“Nigga, you did what now? How the hell did that even happen?”

Xavier sighed and tried to be as brief as possible about what was now an embarrassing topic.

Xavier paced his room stressed and hungry, though not for food. Truth be told, he missed Amira. He’d been missing her since she’d first broke things off and after what he’d said to her a few days ago he knew she’d probably never speak to him again. He thought about her lips and how she loved to kiss him, the plushness of her body and she felt like a living marshmallow every time he held her in his arms. How her smile was like the sunshine that chased away the darkness of his thoughts. Before long he began thinking of all the things that drove him crazy about the petite succubus when he remembered something her mother had told them about their bond.

“If one of you reaches out for the other hard enough, you can pull on or manifest the energy of your mate.”

Of course she was referring to if one couldn’t find the other or was missing them, but at this point Xavier was hungry and knew that her aura would be more than enough to satisfy his urges until he found a human to feed from that wasn’t clingy, crazy, or in search of commitment. So he decided to apply that same technique while pleasuring himself and found himself quite surprised with the results. It was like he could hear her in the throes of pleasure, feel her on top of him, and feel himself inside of her. Before he knew it he was moaning her name, urging her to say his. Just when he was about to reach his peak he heard her voice call back to him, his eyes rolling back as he spilled his release into his hand.

“Let me get this straight,” Daniel started. “Y’all can think of each other hard enough to feel and hear the other when you’re not nearby?! I’d like to sign up to be a sex demon today, please.”

Xavier snorted a bit and Amira shot them both a glare before turning to leave, tired of them both.

“Well that was riveting but don’t do again or so help me I will come back here and kill you both.”

“ Both?!” Daniel’s eyes grew wide.

“No witnesses. Nothing personal,” Amira said with a devilish smile.

…

Jason called Amira for the 4th time that night, sighing when he was sent to voicemail yet again. He kept replaying what he said to her in his head and the more he did, the worse he felt. It also took him back to when they first talked about the very thing he threw back in her face.

“So tell me, does being a succubus really mean you’re incapable of monogamy?”

Amira paused her writing and met Jason’s gaze with a raised brow, searching his face for the intention behind the question. Once she realized he was genuinely curious she sighed and pushed her laptop to the side.

“Succubi are just as capable of having monogamous relationships as anyone else. The thing is, our biology causes us to also need to feed off the sexual energy of others. It’s rare, but a succubus sometimes picks a partner that she feeds from exclusively for life. They normally marry but even if they don’t, they still stay together. What you just mentioned is a stereotype made by some white man hundreds of years ago in an attempt to paint us as nothing but sex crazed demons, unworthy of love. Is that how you see me?”

“No, of course not. I think you deserve all the love you can handle..”

They exchanged smiles before Amira leaned over and kissed him sweetly, each time feeling better than the first for him.

…

One Month Later, Halloween

“So is Jason coming tonight?” Lucy asked Amira as they got dressed in their dorm.

Amira smirked as she put on her suit jacket, adjusting her bra so that she didn’t have too much cleavage out or end up with a wardrobe malfunction. Buttoning her jacket she walked over to her dresser and grabbed her blood-red lipstick before she answered.

“Yes, and I have a bad feeling about it. You know Xavier’s going to be there and I don’t need a dick measuring contest at the fundraiser.”

The fundraiser in question was a haunted house and escape room hosted by the BSU to raise money and increase campus involvement. Mostly everyone was involved in some way, with Amira deciding to take on an administrative role and make sure they stayed within their budget while giving a fun night. So far they’d raised almost two-thousand dollars in advance tickets, expecting at least another 500 at the door.

As Amira got ready to tell her roommate what could go wrong her phone rang, signaling a video call from her siblings. After applying a quick coat of her lipstick she answered, grinning when she was met with the faces of her older siblings.

“Well hello, titties!” Francois said with a snicker.

Amira snorted a laugh before shooting back, “You mad you ain’t got these titties, I understand.”

Lucy cackled in the background before leaving the room to get her shoes, leaving the three to talk. Jonathan spoke next.

“You both look like religious spoopy thots, there’s no competition.”

Both Amira and Francois smiled at that before they were interrupted by the familiar stern voice of their father.

“If you three are done, tell your sister that we’re outside.”

Amira chuckled before propping her phone up and checking her hair, curly tresses currently under a straight jet black wig that stopped in the middle of her back. She grabbed her white choker and secured it to her throat, silver cross laying beautifully in the center of her clavicle as she yelled to let Lucy know her family was downstairs waiting. Grabbing her black open-toe stilettos and putting them on, Amira disconnected the call and grabbed her clutch before stepping out of her room.

The rest of the Lectors waited downstairs in the lobby, ready to see their youngest in person. Francois was clad in a slutty nun costume, which was comprised of a black latex bodysuit with a white cross on the chest and matching fake habit adorning their head along with white thigh-high boots while Jonathan was dressed as a possessed catholic bishop. He sported an all-black suit with a black shirt that was open at the top three buttons, revealing more of his pale skin while his hair was dyed black at the roots and red throughout. His belt was cinched around his jacket just enough to reveal his tapered waist, topping the costume off with a red patch on the cuff of his sleeve and a silver cross pendant that stopped just past the fourth button of his shirt. Their parents opted for a classic Dracula and his wives costume, looking as if they stepped out of Bram Stoker’s movie or even the modern version of Van Helsing. When the elevator opened Amira and Lucy stepped out, the former dressed as a priest and the latter as an undead maid since she was going to be in the haunted house. 

Before she could sneak up on them Diana ran over and hugged her daughter with a happy squeal. What followed was more hugs from the rest of her family, a reintroduction to Lucy, and a quick catch-up before they left for the festivities.

…

Once they were at the fundraiser Lucy went into the house with the others so they could get into their designated places before everything opened. Amira was talking with her family when Xavier walked by, offering an awkward wave that was met with an eye roll and Francois flipping him off. He sighed as he made his way into the house, making a mental note to try and talk to Amira soon.

After their parents went to see what else was going on for the night, Amira turned to Francois to say something only to be met with a sight of a man approaching them followed by a loud string of Quebecois curses leaving her oldest brother’s mouth plus a push past her and Jonathan to meet him halfway. She looked at her other brother for a moment before realization dawned on her.

“That’s Felix, isn’t it…”

“Yup.”

“We should probably go over there before Fran strangles him.”

“Probably.”

With that, they followed Francois who was just about to scream at the towering male only stopped by Amira jumping in front of them.

“Oi, you stalking my brother?”

Felix looked down at her, blue eyes meeting brown ones as Francois was behind her stewing.

“Actually, I was invited. Imagine my surprise when a lovely woman told me you all would be here!”

“A woman?! Who-...did she have a Jamaican accent?”

Felix nodded and Amira burst into a fit of laughter as Francois now turned away to find their parents, specifically their mother given how they shrieked for her loud enough to be heard 2 blocks away. Jonathan was laughing with Amira, the two of them wheezing and coughing at this point at the realization that Pauline had tipped Felix off so he’d come. Once they caught their breath Amira took the 6’6 man by the arm and steered him in the direction of where Francois had stormed off to.

“Let’s go big man, I don’t wanna miss this,” she said as the sounds of Francois and Pauline’s voices grew louder, now arguing in full-blown Patois.

...

After finally calming things down between Francois and Pauline, Amira went back to help some of her fellow BSU members do last-minute touches to the vending stands. While she was talking to one of the workers at the popcorn stand she heard another one gasp before pointing towards a figure behind her with a look of pure shock.

“Is that Jason Momoa?!”

Amira chuckled and said goodbye to them before turning to walk towards the man in question with a smile, his werewolf costume obviously not taking much effort.

"How very original, Wolfman. You look good."

"I do, but not nearly as good as you. Are you supposed to be catholic?"

"I'm a priest! Just call me Padre," Amira remarked with a wiggle of her brows.

"Alright you two, keep your hormones in check, there are old people present," Jonathan said just as they were about to kiss, Jason giving a puzzled look to the young male that was flanked by the rest of the family.

At the sight of the six individuals plus Felix he was slightly confused for a moment until his eyes fell to Diana, immediately spotting the resemblance to Amira. Looking back to her he let out "This is your family?" with no small amount of shock.

“Yeah, everyone here is my family except for the tall Black dude. That’s Frankie’s future husband.” Amira remarked with a grin, prompting Felix’s brows to shoot up before he gave a rather sheepish smile. Francois, however, didn’t find the statement amusing.

Jason looked at Amira then her family and back to her, multiple questions swirling in his expression. Amira frowned a bit, sensing his energy shift though he quickly covered it with a nervous smile and a pleasant “nice to meet you all” towards the Lectors.

…

After some light conversation while they waited in line for the haunted house the group of nine were finally at the front getting ready to go in. The person at the door warned them of jumpscares and flashing lights, making sure to emphasize that all the participant’s costumes were well done and that if they can’t handle people jumping out and grabbing them they shouldn’t go in. Everyone agreed that they were fine and began the trek through the darkened hallways, faint screams being heard almost immediately.

While everyone went a bit ahead Jason gently pulled Amira’s arm to keep her behind with him, leaning down to quietly speak to her.

“Why didn’t you tell me you had a blended family?”

“Because my family isn’t blended? And is this really the time to be asking me about this? I think it can wait till after we get out of here,” she replied as they slowly walked through, Amira not being phased when someone dressed as a zombie jumped out and reached for her with a snarl.

Jason looked at her with another question that she quickly answered before it left his lips.

“My father is married to all three of them currently, and each one gave birth to myself and my brothers. Unlike in America, that’s legal up north despite being frowned upon socially.”

“Wait, so...all three of those women agreed to marry your father and live together? You don’t find that a little odd at all?”

Amira stopped in her tracks and turned to face Jason completely, her eyes turned to slits as she squinted up at him.

“What are you getting at, Jason? Just say it.”

“Well, ya know...I’ve seen stories about this kind of stuff. Men that trick women into marrying them and make them dependent on him so that they don’t leave.”

She looked at him as if she wanted to grab him and rip his tongue out of his mouth for even insinuating that her father was holding his wives hostage, but for the sake of not making a scene, she simply turned around and began to walk away.

Jason internally kicked himself and sighed as he watched her walk ahead of him, deciding to give her some space as they continued to go through the house and try not to jump at the people that came out of corners and crevices of the place. As they walked on, he got a little closer to Amira and tried to apologize for what he’d said earlier only to have someone dressed as a zombie pop out and grab at them. Before he could stop himself he punched the person on reflex, making both Amira and her family stop in their tracks as they heard a familiar voice yell out in pain before the person lifted his face and Amira felt her heart sink to her stomach.

“Xavier?!”

“Mira what the hell?! I know I fucked up but could you keep your damn bodyguard away from me??”

Jason stepped in front of her with his chest poked out in a traditional display of male ego, ready to give a rebuttal immediately.

“As her boyfriend, I suggest you back up, kid!”

Xavier looked at him for a moment, a small stream of blood trickling from his nose. He regarded Jason for a moment before pulling his fist back and catching Jason in the jaw, the crack audible enough to elicit a quick “oh shit” from Amira’s siblings in the back. Before she could stop them, they started to swing at each other and fight until they were on the floor nearly wrestling. It wasn’t until Amira yelled loud enough to wake up the dead that they stopped in their tracks.

“Alright, that’s enough! You two are grown-ass men rolling around on the floor in a fucking HAUNTED HOUSE for what?! Me? My honor?? I didn’t ask either one of you to fight for me because I don’t need either one of you dumbasses to do it!!”

They both opened their mouths to speak but were cut off by a small hand held up between them.

“I’m not finished. Now Xavier, you wanna sit here and whine and moan like because you apologized that’s supposed to just get me back or change what the fuck you did. I love you but I don’t just forgive anyone at the drop of a hat and the fact that you thought that would happen is stupid as all hell!”

Jason snorted a bit until she turned to him fully to give her a piece of her mind.

“And as for you bigfoot, you think you’re off the hook?! First, you accuse me of fucking Xavier while we’ve been together when the thought never even crossed my mind. Then, you suggest that because I’m a fucking demon I have no got damn self-control. And after all of that, you suggest to me that my father is some kind of horrible man that has to hold his wives hostage in order to keep them around!”

“Excuse me?!” was the sound that followed Amira’s statement and she looked to her family to find all three of the women in question looking at Jason with no small amount of incredulity. Without another word she shook her head and stepped over the two, moving her family towards the exit, Felix holding Francois back as they yelled and went to lunge at Jason rather violently.

Xavier shook his head and stood up before reaching down and giving Jason a hand up, noting the look of surprise on his face. He wiped the blood from his nose on his sleeve and eyed Jason warily before finally speaking, the pain in his voice clear.

“Listen, Amira is a great person and an amazing partner. I can only hope that one day I’ll earn her trust back but until then make sure she’s happy, yeah?”

“I hear you, bro. Also, I’m sorry about your nose...I swear I was just reacting.”

“Honestly I had it coming so don’t even worry about it. Plus it’s already healed with me not being human and all,” Xavier said with a dry chuckle.

Jason extended his hand for a shake and Xavier accepted, the two coming to a bit of an understanding before Jason would leave to try and catch up to Amira and properly apologize to both her and her family.

[vagrantblvrd]

Star-crossed (1/1)

Summary: “You want to pimp me out for the ‘good of the crew’,” Michael says flatly.

Cannot fucking believe his ears, but this is Geoff and they’re the Fakes and this shit just kind of happens sometimes.

Notes: Prompt fill for @fahchaus who asked for Mavin. :D?

(Read on AO3)

“I’m sorry, what.”

Geoff has his ah-ha-ha, isn’t  this just the funniest goddamn thing face on, that awkward little laugh spilling out of his mouth as he folds his hands on the table in front of him.

Ryan is stone-still. Jeremy is looking between Geoff and Michael like he can’t decide which one of them is going to lose their shit first. (Michael. The answer is Michael.)

Trevor has his business face on, and Alfredo is sharing fucking popcorn with Lindsay who looks like all her Christmases have come at once.

Jack isn’t even here, wants nothing to do with this bullshit which says everything about this goddamned mess.

“Michael,” Geoff says, like he has any right to pretend to be a reasonable man right now. “It’s for the good of the crew.”

Michael’s eyes flick over to Ryan, because he knows the fucker won’t be able to help himself.

“’The good of the many outweighs the needs of the few,’” he intones, like the huge fucking nerd he is.

Which, fair.

It isn’t all that often that Ryan gets handed such a golden opportunity to let loose with prime Star Trek quotes.

He deserves to have his little moment.

It still doesn’t change what Geoff is doing. Trying to do.

“You want to pimp me out for the ‘good of the crew’,” Michael says flatly.

Cannot fucking believe his ears, but this is Geoff and they’re the Fakes and this shit just kind of happens sometimes.

Geoff looking at him like what he’s just said is a perfectly reasonable request to make, like it’s not goddamned ridiculous.

And Michael, okay.

He just wants Geoff to know what he’s asking for here, what he sounds like.

Wants the others to hear what he sounds like, really let it sink in.

A beat, two, and the sound of chairs being pushed back slips into the void Michael’s words leave behind as the others literally remove themselves from the line of fire.

“Oh, shit,” Alfredo says, caught somewhere between surprise and a twisted sort of delight. “He went there. He went there!”

Geoff makes a face, unfolds his hands. (Mutters something that sounds a hell of a lot like “Well when you put it that way it sounds bad.”)

Michael’s scowl deepens.

“Michael, you know this feud has been gone on for too long as it is. We can’t afford to spend crew resources dealing with that and our rivals.”

The crew’s spread thin as it is, B-Team working overtime to keep things running smoothly and several of their allies starting to waver in their convictions. Wondering if siding with the Fake AH Crew is such a smart idea after all when their rivals are offering up sweet little incentives to change loyalties.

No one’s made a move yet, still wary of forcing an all-out war when the Fakes are still firmly on top in Los Santos, but it’s a matter of time.

Settling this stupid feud would help with that, allow the crew to focus on matters closer to home. Solidify their hold on Los Santos and remind everyone just how they’ve done so as long as they have.

And for whatever godforsaken reason Geoff seems to think Michael’s the key to ending this fucking ridiculous feud. Thinks it’s going to be as easy as that.

“Michael,” Geoff says, quiet and honest as he knows how. “You know I wouldn’t ask you to do this if there was any other way.”

If Geoff asked any of the others to do this one little thing for him, everyone would be dead and - at the very least - half of the city would be gone.

Just.

Gone.

Geoff seems to think he can reason with Michael though. Appeal to his sense of loyalty and duty to the crew. (The worst part is, he’s not wrong.)

========

The feud started long before Michael joined the crew.

Years and year and years ago, with a careless comment from Geoff (sometimes it’s hard to remember there are any other kind from him), and suddenly the Fakes were caught up in a feud with one of the biggest crews around.

Dragged into things because Geoff turned it from being his problem to theirs in a heartbeat, and Michael’s never known anything else.

The other crew is big enough to be patient about it, take their time and be thorough.

Hit them at the right moment to do the most damage. Over and over again until they ended up here, and how the hell Michael ever agreed to any of it he’ll never know.

Sure as fuck isn’t for Geoff who got them all in this mess, and now look at him.

There’s a knock on the door to Michael’s room, and a moment later Jack pokes his head in.

“Time to go,” he says, watching Michael carefully.

Looks like he’d like to point out Michael doesn’t have to do this, could absolutely kill the hell out of Geoff and end the feud that way if he’d like. He sure as hell won’t stop him, but doesn’t come out and say any of that, no.

Jack just has an expressive face like that.

========

Michael refuses to dress up for this little party, fancy shindig on Geoff’s stupid yacht.

Isn’t going to let Geoff make this into more of a dog and pony show than it already is, let him parade Michael around in a stupid expensive suit or tuxedo, no.

Not when Geoff’s the reason Michael’s taking part in some medieval bullshit.

”Only better”, because Geoff had to make things worse by trying to make them seem less terrible. Couldn’t keep his fucking mouth shut. Seemed to think he was painting a fucking silver lining on things. ”It’s not like this is an arranged marriage, Michael, it’s more like...arranged dating.”

Like that made it any better, Geoff throwing Michael at the asshole’s kid because anyone else and it would have been a disaster. Had Los Santos burning before midnight and where would they be then, huh?

No promises to be made, no binding contracts. Just a “trial period” to see how things go, and then who knows after that?

Play nice with the boss’s kid, or at least don’t kill the little bastard because that might put a crimp on things.

Fucking hell.

========

Feuds being what they are in this life, they’ve all gotten caught up in it in the past.

Little run-in here, chance meeting there.

Close encounters with the smug bastards, all high and mighty and always convinced they had the upper hand. Old roots dug down deep, too solid to be uprooted by the likes of the Fakes. Upstart crew just getting their feet under them out here and no real threat.

All kinds of regrets everywhere else because none of this needed to happen.

Didn’t need to lose Kerry to these bastards early on. Friendly smile from some asshole who just wouldn't shut the fuck up, and all these tempting little offers. Promises too good to be true, and Kerry always was that kind of stupid. Caleb and Kdin followed not long after that.

Almost lost Ryan a few years back to one of their freelancers. Kindred spirit, and more truth to Ryan’s alias than anyone realized. Geoff managing to win him back with a shiny new mini-gun and the promise of all the bullets his black little heart desired before he went wandering again.

They did lose Mica a year or so ago, and that one still stings.

The crew’s lost too goddamned many people to these fuckers, and Geoff’s always been too stubborn to swallow his pride and put an end to things.

Until now.

========

There’s a chopper flying in, guests of honor on board like their people aren’t out there in the dark in speedboats in case things go south. Circling the yacht like sharks, and Michael regrets his act of good faith in leaving his weapons behind when he hears them round the yacht’s bow, veer a little closer each time.

Ryan and Jeremy are keeping an eye on them, guaranteed to be enough firepower between them to handle things if the assholes try something.

Trevor and Alfredo are dressed in matching tuxes and smiling sweet as anything, yes sir and no sir and is there anything I can get you tonight sir? we’re got an excellent vintage aboard.

Creepy as fuck, and the only good that will come from it is knowing they’re making Geoff paranoid as hell with their little act.

Lindsay is coordinating with Jack, and Michael is -

“Michael!”

Michael is being dragged towards the helipad to greet the guests of honor. Asshole in his perfectly tailored tux and his idiot kid. Couple of bruisers bringing up the rear because this is meant to be a friendly little gathering, no need to bring the whole crew on board, never mind the speedboats out there as a reminder to play nice.

Gets to watch them pause to brush lint off their shoulders or whatever the fuck they’re doing after they get out, sweep the people gathered around with appraising looks.

Sees the asshole smile. Slow, smug as hell.

“Hello, Geoff,” he says, like Geoff’s just oh so thrilled to see him. “What a lovely yacht you have.”

There’s a pause, and all these things everyone here knows.

“I used to have one just like it.”

He did.

Damn thing went missing a few years back, something about a storm and pirates of all things taking advantage of the cover it offered to steal it. The asshole’s people forced into the lifeboats while the pirates got away, and not like they could go to the authorities about it considering their chosen profession.

Pity, really.

“Is that so?” Geoff asks, like he hadn’t known.

There’s a little stare down, dick-measuring contest, Michael doesn’t fucking know or care. Looks to the asshole’s kid who’s looking around, eyes hidden behind a pair of douchebag sunglasses and this slight curve to his mouth like this is just all so goddamned funny.

“Hey,” Michael says, because Geoff and the asshole are still playing their little game.

The guy turns his head to look at Michael, does a slow once-over before he smirks.

Opens his mouth to say something, but Geoff squawks indignantly at something the asshole says.

Throws all the shit he told Michael earlier about not letting these fuckers see them sweat or whatever out the window and  pushes into the asshole’s space, annoyed about God knows what.

Michael looks to the two bruisers, but they’re standing back, seem to think their boss can handle Geoff just fine. Jack and the others are doing much the same, and -

Michael stiffens as he feels fingers wrap around his wrist. Looks at the asshole's kid who is still smirking.

“Maybe we should leave them alone?” he asks. “They could be at this for a while.”

That  -

He’s not wrong.

Everyone else is so focused on Geoff and the asshole they don’t even notice when Michael and the asshole’s kid slip away.

========

This far out, they can actually see the stars.

Faint pinpricks of light glittering up there all pretty and shit.

Michael lets the asshole’s kid pull him past the others towards the back of the boat. Watches him when he releases Michael’s wrist and goes to lean against the railing to look up at the damn stars.

“So,” he says. “That went about as well as I thought it would.”

Michael sighs, because given Geoff’s involvement, yeah.

He joins the idiot at the railing. Watches the speedboats in silence for a long moment, before he loses interest and glances over at the idiot beside him.

Stupid hair and ridiculously expensive designer clothes. Goddamned douchebag sunglasses at night and this relaxed slouch to him despite everything.

They can hear raised voices somewhere behind them, Geoff and the asshole’s, and it doesn’t seem like they’re about to come to an understanding anytime soon which is pretty typical for them, actually. Nothing new there.

“This was the best idea you could come up with?” Michael asks gesturing between them, because fucking Christ.

A goddamned kid could have come up with it.

There’s a quiet little laugh, the idiot turning his head to look at Michael and a stupidly fond smile on his lips.

“Well it’s not like anyone had a better idea, Michael,” he says, accent twisting Michael’s name into some bastardized version of itself. “Best I could do, really.”

Planting the seed of an idea in the asshole's ear, letting it grow on its own until he and Geoff batted the world's stupidest plan around until it took root. Made them think it was such a brilliant fucking plan, that there was no possible way it could go wrong. (Tempting fate in the process, but when haven't they?)

Michael watches him push his sunglasses into his hair, gold catching the moonlight.

“Besides,” the idiot continues, and there, there is that little spark of mischief that's caused Michael so much goddamned exasperation over the years as he flashes Michael a little grin. “’S pretty funny, innit?”

========

Geoff split from his old crew just about a decade ago and took Jack with him. Used the weight of his reputation and everything he learned from them to build up his own little crew.

Did alright for themselves and careful who they recruited because there are all kinds of assholes here, and some are worse than others.

But then Geoff got stupid, or maybe he always was.

Said some shit he shouldn’t have, got a little cocky and suddenly he’s in some stupid feud with one of his old crew members.

Worst of the bunch because Burnie's goddamned bastard.

Knows which buttons to push to get Geoff reacting without thinking, saying the kinds of things he’d regret later.

Pulling the rest of the crew into the whole mess because of course he did, and goddamn had that been an experience for Michael when he joined. Hit the ground running only to realize how unbelievably stupid the whole thing was.

Realized there wasn’t anything to this feud he’d heard rumors about for ages before Geoff approached him about joining the Fakes.

This thing that had been going on for years by that time, had all of Los Santos waiting and watching and fucking clueless about everything.

No one seeming to notice that for as long as the feud had been going on, the kind of people involved. (How quick both crews were to take care of their enemies, the way they’d work together against a larger threat.)

A hell of a lot of property damage and shit going missing like Burnie’s yacht, but nothing unforgivable

This slow bleed as Burnie and his people wooed some of theirs over to their side with the promise of better opportunities and whatever else while Geoff scowled at the fucker.

Let them go because they’d just stagnate in Los Santos if he didn’t. Knew they deserved better, but goddamn had he been annoyed at Burnie for being right about it every fucking time.

And then Gavin had shown up, Burnie taking him under his wing as his protégé  and things had gotten complicated.

The little shit is too curious for his own good, kept poking and prodding at the Geoff and his crew, and fucking latched onto Michael when he came along.

Not put off by Michael and his everything, coming up with the stupidest plans for the two of them to oh so conveniently run into one another. Make it look like they were doing their part to keep the feud going while living some bizarre Romeo and Juliet life on the side after he broke Michael down with his goddamned annoying persistence.

Always there, dumb little grin and stupid face and his everything. Michael the kind of asshole who was defenseless against all of it when it came down to it.

Slipping away when the others weren’t looking to trip into one of the idiot’s little traps, coming up with schemes of his own to catch him.

Stupid fuckers, both of them, but Geoff pouted whenever one of them didn’t at least pretend like this “feud” of his was serious business. Easier to humor him than try to apply logic to things.

========

Gavin’s grinning at him because he knows how annoyed Geoff’s feud makes Michael. The lengths they all go to because of it.

Inches a little closer, his elbow nudging Michael’s.

“They’re going to figure it out you know,” Michael says, trying to hold on to his scowl. “You’re kind of shit at this.”

Gavin chuckles because they both know he’s not even trying. Thinks the whole thing is as ridiculous as Michael does, but unlike Michael he also thinks it’s hilarious.

Two of the most powerful people around engaging in what amounts to a playground grudge.

“Yeah?”

Michael thinks about it for a moment. Thinks about Geoff, and Burnie, and the way they’ve let things go on as long as they have. The way everyone seems to know about Michael and Gavin except for the two of them, because as smart as they are, they’re also amazingly dumb sometimes. Blind about shit they shouldn’t be.

Bought into Gavin’s dumb plan about bringing their crews together like a pair of kings marrying their kids off, what the actual fuck. (Actually thought Gavin’s plan to end the feud was a good one. Like he hadn’t just stolen it from bad romance novels.

“Alright, maybe not,” he mutters, because Jesus Christ.

========

It’s a little strange seeing everyone together like this. No paintball guns or pellet rifles in sight. No clever heist or supposedly diabolical scheme in play.

The speedboats anchored just off the yacht’s stern, everyone aboard for the celebration. Toasts to the end of an era, a long and bloodless feud started by idiots.

“I’m a little worried by that,” Gavin murmurs, gesturing with his drink to were Ryan and Meg are talking, Mica and Ashley headed their way, and there’s no way that ends well for anyone. “Doesn’t seem like a good idea.”

Michael snorts, because that’s a bit of an understatement.

That’s a recipe for disaster right there, all the murder friends together in one spot.

“You should be, this is all your fault,” Michael says.

It really is, and Michael's trying not to look too happy with it all because Gavin's ego doesn't need the boost.

========

The good news is with the feud settled, Michael and Gavin don’t have to sneak around anymore when they want to see each other. Give Geoff and Burnie the flimsiest excuses, watch the others around them choke back their laughter and give each other knowing looks.

The bad news is -

“What?!”

The others are quick to rat them out, let Geoff and Burnie know about their whole forbidden romance because that’s the kind of people they are.

Tight-lipped when it comes to anything like crew business, goddamned chatty about anything else at the slightest provocation. (In hindsight, it’s a miracle word about the two of them didn’t get to Geoff and Burnie before now.)

Michael pinches the bridge of his nose as Geoff sputters, all indignant about being kept in the dark like this. Like he wouldn’t have been an asshole about things if he’d known.

Knows Gavin is about to start some shit because he loves riling Geoff up, and puts a hand over the idiot’s mouth. Glares at Geoff who is pointing an accusing finger at him like this is one of those terrible shows he loves so much.

“Look, asshole,” Michael says. “You want to mke a big deal about this? How about we talk about your Thing with Burnie while we're at it?”

Everyone knows about his Thing with Burnie. Couple of morons who just can’t apologize to one another over an insult years and years ago, but goddamn can they -

“That’s different!”

Geoff being a hypocrite is nothing new. Geoff being a hypocrite while Michael and Gavin are trying to have some quality time together is annoying as fuck.

“Geoff, fuck off,” Michael says, ignoring the way Gavin’s laughing himself stupid next to him.

Geoff blinks, like hes just realizing what he barged in on, and his face goes through the various stages of utmost suffering when it finally processes for him.

“Oh, God,” he mutters, sounding horrified. “Oh God.”

Michael grabs one of the pillows off the bed and throws it at Geoff, which seems to be the right trigger to finally get him moving, mumbling under his breath as he shuts the door behind himself.

That’s...that’s going to be a Talk in the near future, he just knows it, but for now -

Michael looks at Gavin. The stupid grin he can feel under his hand and laughter in Gavin's eyes because of course he thinks this is funny. Little idiot Michael's so far gone for he'll go along with whatever stupid plan he has.

"Idiot," he says, stupid soft and fond as he leans in to kiss him again.

Now that they have all the time in the world, they need to make up for lost opportunities.

[elizabethrobertajones]

14x04 watching notes

Happy Birthday, Davy!

-

Mittens just ominously warned me to warm up this notepad while I waited for the episode to finish downloading.

The nice guy from the phone provider has recently restored our internet after 4 days of radio silence from me, but it's only about 4'o clock on friday, so really some good timing!

Expectations: pre-mittens warning, Davy back on his nonsense with the scary episodes and expected nonsense of sinking back into MotW after mytharc but in capable hands because, you know, new writing team is aces and all.

post-mittens warning: idk but I should get a stuffed toy?

-

That's a suspicious amount of ghost lore.

Has Heaven started dumping the spirits out now and if it really IS a ghost it's not going to behave properly?

-

Oh my god it's a Hell Hazers poster.

There was something I would have talked about pre-episode but had no internet so didn't, but the focus on Dean and nerds and the expectation that this episode would be about a comic book store, did remind me of 9x07 and the action figure which was all "i clobber evil!" and was a strong Dean mirror, including that he needlessly burned it on the stove to try and get rid of the ghost of the mom but it turned out she needed to be talked into letting her son let her go in a scene which has all sorts of shades of Dean vs Mary in 12x22 now and also Dean's entire mark of cain arc was in the self-destruction of his self as an action figure that clobbered evil. A reminder that Dean is this figure seems fairly timely with him coming down from being possessed, as of course he has been used as an action figure. And his willingness to turn himself into one in 13x23 was very much turning himself into the Michael Sword, which in this cosmos is practically like the rarest collectible action figure of the universe. This harks back all the way to the first season and Dean's issues with John's control and the whole blunt little instrument arc, also something that fed directly into demon!Dean, and is being reflected this season in Nick, who murdered a guy with a hammer, after his family was murdered by a hammer, and said yes to Lucifer because of all that angst about hammer murder. Subtle.

Anyway, this is sort of the emotional background to me for action figures in the show.

A Hell Hazers poster also reminds us that Dean is a horror fan, his own connections to the genre, a CLASSIC episode, and a time when he was living his best life briefly.

You know, before he sold his soul for *waves at previous big paragraph* reasons

Fitting for how season 13 ended with Dean this close to happy world peace retirement living his best life :P

-

Awww the fake movie the MotW comes from is called All Saints Day. Davyyy :')

People I know who are born on like October SECOND consider themselves extra spooky halloween people. I can only imagine what it does, as a 23rd Oct. birthday person, to the psyche to actually be born ON it.

This episode's subtitle is just "Lol I have the best birthday, fuckers"

-

ACTUAL CLIP FROM 2x18!

And the fucking racist truck >.> Which in-universe was teased as another different movie using the footage in the trailer for Hell Hazers II.

-

My mum has that exact Wonder Woman figure

-

This guy is wearing a trenchcoat-featured jacket with a maroon t-shirt under it. I could not tell you what he represents but the trenchcoat part is amusing.

I can't *actually* start saying everything is party!Cas symbolism though so I'll just shush

-

Er this rando that people were saying was dressed like Sam from the promo images literally is called Sam, and she's wearing a very very loud checkered shirt, of course featuring a lot of orange. I'm guessing with that info it's next to impossible to say she ISN'T in some way a Sam parallel :P

Comic Book Guy is possibly caught in the middle of stealing an action figure, and I can't work out if he is just nervous about that or has a crush on Sam because his behaviour was so suspect, but from the promo scene where he looks a lil worse for the wear he talks about breaking up with his goth gf, and Sam is very clearly a nerd, not a goth.

(Goth nerds are things. The media will get there one day :P)

-

Oh okay after a few lines of the exchange, yeah this guy is a dick, I have NO clue why he's wearing that coat symbolism wise, and Sam really ought to fire him because wow, uncool and also he seems to be a stereotypical nerdbro gatekeeper who would literally rather scare off customers but be right than just enjoy what they all enjoy together.

-

Then he apologises for getting angry for saying he just gets spun out sometimes. Honestly, this seems to be crossing over into Dean territory considering the last thing from the recap was Dean being told he was like Michael by Bad Kaia and being really angry when he said he was nothing like him... He also used "spun out" about himself in 12x20 but in rather more tragic lost-Cas circumstances but obviously this parallel has a different lesson to tell than just making them equivalent. This guy is so awful and is using his anger in a petty way over things that don't really matter. He's getting spun out over made up battles rather than real angst, and whether he has his own underlying trauma that makes him behave that way or not, the straight white nerd is one of the secondary main villains of the century so far after the literal alt right, with some overlap of course. Think Kylo Ren as one of the dominant critiques of this behaviour :P Compared to the open of 8x11 for example, where the nerds were harmless weirdoes despite also being straight white and obsessive, the aggression and obsession are played not just as a harmless trait of people who like LARPing and collecting toys, but gatekeep, yell at kids over superman facts, and refuse to have their own dominance challenged.

Thinking he could fight superman might actually explain the Cas like jacket - it's too short to be a coat - that he idealises these heroes, is wearing Batman (who in pop culture most recently was around "v superman") and Cas of course has all his superman comparisons from both 6x20, and his rebirth in 12x01 where he came back to earth as a fiery comet and was immediately mistaken for a spaceman. There's some dark idolisation/mirroring here, that he's debating how to fight the guy (krytonite gloves = the BMoL knuckledusters) and at the same time mirroring the show's Superman in his dress. Only much, much lesser. More subtextual mockery about his weakness and how he doesn't really measure up.

I think in a lot of ways the discourse about nerds in pop culture is moving on now to  make this difference clear, that the ones who will be mocked are the ones who deserve it for being too cruel to respect, while in many other ways the mainstreaming of nerd culture into pop culture, meaning a large amount of it is no longer mockable, that everyone had at least SOME nerdy indulgences, means that in general nerdom is more accepted and exalted than ever. SPN obviously having its own deep roots into nerd culture has some direct room for commentary here, and this is also a way of reminding its own fans to be cool and not to be this guy.

-

Oh, huh, he safely exited the shop. I did not see that coming.

-

LOL he has batman bedding on a fold out bed in either a shed, garage or basement where he lives.

(This detail was tragic in Attack the Block but it's quite clear in this case the guy is fully grown and is being used as a detail to show his forward progression in life)

-

Wow, you really have some rage issues here. Especially trying to wrangle free pizza i mean dude. Talk about a line that personifies him 100 different ways in one go :P Who shouts at their pizza delivery place?? They remember your number! This is how to get extra toppings.

-

Oh my god please get beaten to death by this lil guy

(I know I know he survives he's in the promo)

Is this like... haunted kidney episode... but better?

Actually, Fallen Idols plus Mannequin episode but better.

-

You know how we saw in the last new year? Watching Small Soldiers for the first time since like the 90s or whenever it came out

-

The show's animation is so much better

Than Small Soldiers and itself from past years

-

Oh DEAN

-

I mean he totally deserves a day off.

-

I can't believe he owns these socks. Who got them for him for Christmas?

Okay, well first we have to work out which was the last Christmas they had where they were not in prison or in an alternate dimension or dead or -

-

Cas. It was Cas.

-

He literally had no idea this wasn't just a cute commentary on how much Chinese take out Dean eats

-

Anyway as far as I can tell Dean is living out the bisexualdemondean header just to spite Michael for defiling his temple. He's filling it with noods and pizza (and I am sure he didn't yell at the delivery guy, but tipped him well instead for making drop offs at a shady street corner miles from where anyone lives)

-

Honestly it's been 12 years since Hell Hazers II... What took them so long

-

Dean's drunk a full thing of Margiekugle mom beer, which is a lil worrying just in terms of him using it instead of comfort from her like in 12x02, now that she's back.

-

God I want Dean to meet the asshole from the comic shop and for him to get into a dick measuring contest about Hell Hazers II and Dean to be like uh I WORKED on it you ass

-

Er, does that vending machine contain the nougat of choice of your consumptive son on the other side of the wall?

(who may be out with Cas concealing his consumption on a case so not bothered by all this TV noise)

-

God I love and have missed Dean, my trashy guy who is sitting hugging a pillow like a teen girl at a sleepover to watch his hatchetman slasher to celebrate being back to himself and get the much-needed R&R, since, you know, last time we saw him he threatened to "break" Kaia and was in a very very bad place (lol)

-

This guy about to get murdered for trying to snatch a nougat bar is dressed like the unfortunate bandmate (Tommy?) to Vincifer. Is this an oblique Ladyheart reference to set up a weird scenario where Hatchetman is punishing a Lucifer-adjacent asshole for trying to steal Nougat?

-

I can't believe there's a red exit sign behind him which means Wanek is Waneking in multiple dimensions at once

-

"Mint Condition" flashes up over Dean indulging in his pizza, saying, hey look it's our guy back in shape. Or, you know, ironically so. Either because Dean being Dean means eating junk food and wallowing because his husband has wandered off with the kid and isn't home to snuggle him while he does this mandatory bedrest, or because, of course, Dean is not Mint Condition at all. He's literally and emotionally scarred.

-

I am pretty sure this shirt that Sam has on is 12 years old.

-

Statistically, they're gonna get murdered in each and every one of their original Kripke era shirts until none of them are available to be murdered in later.

I say for no particular reason.

-

Leave Sam alone. He doesn't shave you mock him, he does shave, you... also mock him. He was doing really well while you were gone! No one got even slightly stabbed who didn't deserve it! This is an all-time record. A beard is a price to pay for that.

-

Honestly I think Dean is stoned but they're not going to say so but I am treating this scene like it is.

-

"I wanted to check up on you," Sam says, pulling over a chair. This is so like how he was in 14x01 when he was powering around the Bunker being the boss, and given Dean's been on bedrest, again, much-needed, Sam is treating him like another one of his charges, and once more is in a position of authority... But now, despite shaving to act like nothing has changed a bit more, he is the one in charge of Dean as one of his wards. Everything has changed. Your dynamic is actually wobbling in a weird way.

In season 10 when Dean was laid up with the Mark blues especially around 10x12, which this intro also reminds me of, re: Dean spending a week in his room and Sam popping in to check on him, Sam was still keeping a very wary eye on Dean more that he was a bomb that may explode, and that while he needed to be managed, the power dynamic was extremely, extremely horrifying in that if Sam messed up Dean would murder him. Not an ongoing implicit threat between them, but the knowledge that Dean could become a demon again and demon!Dean would attempt to kill Sam, and so Sam had better do his utmost to keep Dean in a good place. Even if it eventually meant a series of convoluted secrets to try and fix him against his wishes.

Obviously, things are different here. Sam has developed a LOT since then, with season 11 beginning a recovery of his character in tentative little steps which actually kicked off in season 12, and, specifically, in 12x04 under Davy Perez in American Nightmare heralding the new era of Sam focus and lovingly stroking his hair and lavishing him with Sam-sculpted episodes the like of which we hadn't seen all through Carver era.

Now when Sam comes into Dean's room and pulls up a chair and sits down to check up on him, he actually radiates a comfortable, competent authority to do so.

... however he is doing it in that pink shirt which I honestly love the concept of but just wish that I couldn't see Sam in 2x06 showing up in it for the first time, like, my brain is just screaming at him to go get a bunch more pink shirts and refresh his wardrobe

I'm so certain of it but now I have to check because 12 years is such a long time but

http://www.homeofthenutty.com/supernatural/screencaps/albums/SPN2x06/SPN_0060.jpg

Mittens yelled "OH MY GOD" when I sent her the link so I think I'm right

Like, conceptually in every way it's great because it's this long pink shirt that fits him well, fuck toxic masculinity, blah blah action heroes in pink shirts, love it love it love it, but also: it's another fucking plaid shirt Sam has owned since he was a gap-toothed child six years younger than Jack presents as

-

Dean is lacking his second bedside table, as he has been for seasons, but I'm just staring at him lying sideways on his bed, wondering about his set up, and if this is in any way similar to how he watched all those cowboy movies with Cas, since Davy, of course, was the one to suggest that they had been watching movies together.

-

"And... not that I'm complaining... House is full of strangers"

Yeah, we know you hate it, Dean. God, it's tragic. In a wonderful way. Sam's built this little empire for himself and it's on top of Dean's old nesting spot. Dean's been forced into his room not just to hide away because he's ashamed but because he doesn't want to be seen and there's too many strange eyes out there. However this resolves, it's going to force some growth. Honestly, as much as Dean loves this room and it means to us, it's also a bleak lonely spot and in the like 7 years they've had the Bunker, Dean's never hooked up in that bed, while it has come to be very much like, well... The bed of an angry nerd living in a basement still using Batman sheets. Again, dark parallels, but of Dean in a dark place.

I'd love if he moved out and got a house in the suburbs.

I mean.

Cas has a house in the suburbs.

(Re: long-running Lizzy watching notes in-jokes about where he stashes a bunch of stuff like demon tablets, first blades, metatron's grace, etc etc)

But yeah, no. I like the idea of Dean nesting, of course. But aside from the obvious conveniences, the Dean Cave, etc, there's no reason it HAS to be here except that this is their inheritance and it's safe. But as I constantly talk about with the library abutting the war room, the work/life balance is always in question and filling the Bunker with strangers is a great way to shove all the life balance out, and leave the only spot left of that to Dean in this room.

If the AU peeps don't all get sent home but remain at least in part a hunter community and maybe even network and grow as the Winchesters finally open up the Bunker's resources and share them and stop being all isolated like Carver era fiercely protected... Dean might have no choice but to move his nesting down the road to somewhere with a sofa where he can park his car out front, and choose to commute in to work.

-

Awww they have the "our lives are a scary movie" argument again, in a well-worn way. So well-worn this is repeating dialogue from somewhere or other... 2x18? 4x07? God I don't know, implicit in Sam's eyerolling at Halloween in 1x01? All of the above? I am not looking that up. But anyway their stances haven't moved, possibly because this is something that has never really been challenged before. If Sam didn't hate scary movies already, watching 18 hours of Hell Hazers II dailies probably did in any remaining sympathy he would have had towards them, while Dean thrived there.

I guess he may finally have had time to watch it?

And of course stay for the credits to see his name.

Anyway Dean has historically cited movies as research or job adjacent, or vicariously enjoyed watching monsters at work from the safe remove of a screen, while Sam throws it all in to that box where of course it goes to 1x01 where he's running away from ALL of it and has his oddly specific choices to avoid halloween in his day to day as Lawboy. He's struggled to indulge in the weird as a hobby, likes serial killers as, as far as we can diagnose, an outlet of darkness but purely human, and keeps the work/life balance in a rather unhealthy way of denial and boxing things away, because so much of his early seasons arcs were about resisting the life and refusing the call. This harks back to their literal first episode characterisations of Dean being all in and Sam being all out and it's interesting to have us back here in season 14, in a period of such deep reflection, when Sam has finally sort of accepted the life, found a niche in the work that suits him as the boss, and Dean is struggling now with retirement questions, and taking a week off, not liking his home full of strangers, etc etc.

-

"More Michael Monsters?" Dean asks immediately quick fire when Sam says he has a case.

He may have taken a week off to indulge in pizza but that obsession lurks under his skin. He's in no way done, though I think perhaps better prepared to enter this case than he had been, though of course he's billed as still struggling.

-

Dean also instantly recognises the Thundercats name, and I'm afraid it's something I'm just not familiar with, that I clearly missed some wave of it when I was younger and it hasn't come back around as an adult... I can't wait to read stuff by people who know more about it and say tragic things about Dean's connection to it. But the important thing here is the dark mirror to the guy who got beat up by the toy, because Dean is being shown as also an enthusiastic nerd who knows the franchise and is excited by this concept and is leaping into a case about it with a "strippers, Sammy. Finally!" level of enthusiasm.

Healthy nerds and unhealthy nerds. But at the same time, Dean might be a better nerd, but his anger last episode is still being examined through this guy.

-

I love that for Sam and Dean, dressing up for Halloween is dressing up like total nerds in a totally different pop culture way - the old appearance of geeks which is wildly outdated but damned if they aren't putting on pocket protectors anyway. It's a caricature but it's one that is at total odds with who they are as people... More of a traditional halloween thing where normally Sam and Dean are really scary people with weapons, so when you make them dress all topsy turvy, they dress like this instead. They ARE halloween costumes, in their day to day.

-

Dean continues watching in the shop, Sam eyes up the Red Hood.

I watched that a million years ago with no idea that Jensen was in it, though I had watched the first couple of seasons at that point. I think it was during my "aww the show was cancelled" phase where it was completely off my radar. It's hilarious to me now, because I don't think I COULD watch it, now I know Jensen's voice so disproportionately well. It would be so off-putting.

-

"She's like your twin."

Sam and Sam both tuck their hair behind their ears at the same moment.

"What are you talking about?"

So. This is going to be extremely subtle.

I hope New Sam survives the episode D:

-

Sam points out the other guy who people were saying based off the promo pics would be the Dean to this girl's Sam with no idea what was to come. He and Dean in this case are both eating lollipops purloined from the halloween candy.

I guess this guy in the All Saints Day t-shirt shares Dean's love of the same franchise, and seems to represent the bizarre venn diagram with Dean on one side and Andrew Dabb on the other. Their nerdy overlap.

-

I feel like Sam is just pointing out this character mirror to be an annoying sibling and wow do I love seeing them like this.

I also feel like there is no way Davy would do this if he wasn't about to troll the fuck out of us with these parallels in some terrifying meta way and pointing out that character parallels are a thing this blatantly is about to be Awful somehow.

-

The Red Hood is staring disapprovingly at them through all of this

-

Anyway of course Dean Parallel immediately recognises Dean's enthusiasm for Hatchetman and encourages him to press the button, which Dean does with glee. I CLOBBER EVIL. Wait no.

Sometimes we do bad things.

Oh dear.

Oh deeeeeeeeeeear.

Yeah, Hatchetman is like... idk, michael!Dean or something. Or some dark part of Dean where all his violence is and this twisted version is almost like the burned result of the I Clobber Evil hero being melted by Dean and - too meta, I am in pain.

-

"Vintage hot wheels!"

I know what you want because I have a smol 67 impala on my shelf. Nyoom.

-

He has an eeny weenie mystery machiney so he can make them race.

-

Okay guy who got beat up by a toy is called Stuart (I am so bad at names, honestly.)

Of course he got kicked out by his roomie for being insufferable about something as pointless as subs vs dubs, and Sam is already apologising for him before they even go meet him.

Considering there's 3 people working at the shop and Stuart had a trenchcoat, but is also being mirrored to Dean, darkly, I feel like there might be some serious shuffling going on here that surface level, Stuart had that Cas marker, but... yeah

-

Heeee Dean stealing the Flash mug and making Sam have the one with the cats all over it. One mug representing Stuart, one representing his mum.

I mean it is Sam's turn to have a relationship with THEIR mom this season. Idk if the mugs are actually symbolic over anything other than Dean living his best geek life right now.

I mean he's added the glasses to his ensemble, he's really living it up.

I hope he's still wearing Send Noods under this

-

Awww it's hot apple cider. What a good mom. This is a perfect halloween drink.

-

*Stuart Rage Sounds from below*

Wow this is subtle that he has some rage issues.

-

"Campbell and sons insurance" Hey remember when I said that this whole season's emotional set up with Sam's ownership of the AU peeps reminded me of season 6 and the Campbells? They also literally are the sons of Mary Campbell, so.

No lies, at least, with some serious stretching of the truth.

-

God, the detail that Dean has played Zelda.

He's being nerdy out loud constantly, and without much fear of judgement. It's wonderful. I guess he's been jostled up enough by Michael that he doesn't really care to hide this random pointless thing that in the grand scheme why should he be ashamed, and also he feels so much worse about other things that this is just an escape to have fun. It also reminds me of last season when he was mourning Cas except that this indulgence Sam is allowing him is co-sponsored by Dean and he's throwing himself into enjoying the smaller things and being more openly Dean-ish than he has in a while. Like, I don't think character comparisons to 8x11 for the nerds is the only way the episodes link :P

-

In 8x11 Dean's initial reaction to LARPing is that it looks awesome, then he corrects at a look from Sam to being more judgy. In 9x04 as scripted, Sam is surprised that Dean want to read Game of Thrones. So idk if that's just Robbie character interpretations since my 2 surface level examples are from his episodes or if that's just been where open nerdery has lived in past years, but anyway. Sam isn't stopping Dean from indulging in the same way - it seems he also recognises Dean's nerdiness and is less threatened by it than before, in the sense that he doesn't feel like Dean isn't acting himself, but now accepts the nerdiness is a part of Dean.

-

"Who needs goth girl drama" dude you are the most awful over-dramatic asshole on the show now Lucifer is dead

-

LOL he's trying to lie about being attacked by a toy now, and Dean points out that he got whooped so thoroughly he was beaten on the back and genitals - so yeah we look at his face and wiiiiince

-

"Lady you wasn't kidding."

-

"Big Bang in there..."

Goodness are we calling out the Big Bang theory for its toxic nerdery? Love it.

-

Sam and Dean halloween costumed as total nerds, still driving around in the Impala. The reverse of someone rolling up in a boring old modern car and, like, a bunch of Draculas get out.

-

Sam can shave off the beard but it can't stop him Bobby-ing

Dean side-eyes this

-

"Yeah, it was Riley, he'll be fine."

"I don't know who Riley is, but cool."

God, I am so into this whole dynamic.

Tell me more, Davy.

-

"So seriously, what is your deal with halloween?"

"I don't like it"

Dean, I am watching this episode on November 2nd, just so you know.

Anyway. This is literally. 1x01's opening adult Sam moment. But Dean's going back to poke Sam about it since he's someone Sam won't lie to in the same way that Sam was concealing his entire being from Jess. I mean this isn't subtle - in 1x01 Dean calls Sam out for doing this. But then, Sam doesn't exactly develop beyond it - in season 8 he does this with Amelia.

Because obviously if Sam is going to move forward and develop there's still things which are not addressed. And if Dean is having his idea of home and work challenged, and his nest disrupted until perhaps he will fly it... Sam has never ever actually addressed his work/life balance in the meaningful way where... like... this was how his difference was introduced when we first ever meet lil babby Sam smiling innocently at us on screen as a kid who has the whole future ahead of him and no idea what torment he's gonna go through. 14 years later, if he's ever going to be a grown up who can handle himself in a relationship and know what is work and what is life and how he can watch halloween movies and not feel personally offended by them but enjoy them as a fantasy and a way of boxing off their world into a safe place they don't have personal responsibility for...

Maybe he might just get a girlfriend who he can tell he is a hunter. Like. Dude. Dean was past that step before the show ever STARTED thanks to his time with Cassie.

-

Sam, also, metaphorically is an angry guy living in his mom's basement, but perhaps in a more metaphorical way where it's to do with living his whole life under the shadow of his mom horrifically dying as a result of the supernatural and being brought up feeling like a freak and just wanting to be normal and all

wheeee

-

Anyway Dean is probing for actual answers so I assume Davy will give us a solution to this this episode, but this is my take on it before we get into it properly.

-

Alternative hypothesis: Davy is personally offended that Sam doesn't like halloween despite it being the best holiday, is determined to fix that and fuck canon, characters can change even 14 years later.

-

"Don't give me this 'every day is halloween' crap because one it aint, we don't eat that much candy"

I have missed Dean and I love him with every fibre of my being, brb I need to vibrate out of existence at the sheer joy of knowing him

-

That was the worst "we aren't here staking out your house" move I have ever seen.

You are professionals who have been doing this together for 14 years

why was that so laughably bad?

-

The youtube comments are so cutting and a bunch of them are unfortunately true. It's self-awareness of using the loser nerd trope but also, cutting in a way because of course Stuart is coming across so much as someone who deserves it - and we're starting to see his mom is sweet and doesn't seem to have caused any trauma in a surface read, and that he was the one who dumped his online gf, and he starts other fights at work or with roomies, so this is getting more and more into territory where he seems fully to blame for his own situation, and therefore you CAN mock him for living in mom's basement, because he PUT himself there, and is single because he chose to be, and so on. The pervading sense that if he was a nicer person, none of this would be happening to him, right down to him stealing the toy in the first place.

-

Oh boy, the bloody handprint on the wall... We are back in handprint territory, and, you know, maybe because SOMEONE walking past it has been scarred on the wrong shoulder by the actions of an angel or something

-

There's a chinese take out carton on the shelf in this basement. I doubt it's a collectible.

Send noods.

-

Okay, that's sort of weird.

-

If the mom is in costume I don't get the reference. I hope someone else has handled that.

-

We're going to get her POV on her loser son now, I guess.

-

"Everything's fine :)" *leaves the room* "everything is not fine!"

Are we calling them out for using "fine" so loosely again too huh?

(Side note: Jack saying he's fine while consumptive, and yeah I am still upset about that. What are you doing to the boy????)

-

Dean and Sam split up and as Sam walks off a nurse eyes him up and smiles. No idea how intentional that was but I mean, can you blame her? :P

-

You know, I don't know anything about this franchise, but Sam just jumped to see a toy of a guy who looks weirdly similar to the vampires that ATE HIM a few weeks ago.

He checks over his shoulder in case Dean manifested at his side just in time to see that

-

Awww Dean and New Dean meet. "he must have awesome insurance"

He calls Stuart's mom "Babs" which is hilarious. They seem close.

New Dean has issues with his dad and Stuart lets him crash with him no questions asked. I suppose Dean isn't going to think too hard about how Sam's choice for his parallel has issues with his dad.

This forgiveness for Stuart's behaviour because he's kind to his own people is a very TFW trait, which makes New Dean more like Sam or Cas forgiving Dean his outbursts, as he's by far the ragiest of them, with Cas trailing in second and Sam the zen fucking master.

-

Lol Dean and New Dean are both dragged into the room to watch All Saints Day 3 like they're being pulled in on a line

-

Oh dear, they're bonding.

Davy isn't usually on top of these things but he's channeling a lot of Edlund today and Edlund always had these sort of guys like Andy or Aaron who are so Dean's type in a harmless shared interests and getting stoned together way. This is a bit extreme with the guy's tininess and scruffiness but you know, we'll see how this develops, if it's an accidental twins or a missed connections soulmate dealio.

... You're taking to someone who's still bitter that Andy and Dean would have been perfect together, so.

-

Also this New Dean guy is demonstrating how to be a Good Fan - he may be as intensely nerdy as Stuart, but he and Dean can compare movies and even though they don't share a favourite, agree that the whole series is great and can see the merits both in each other's favourites, and in another movie that isn't either of their favourites but could be if they happened to be inclined that way.

So healthy :')

-

"It was always nice to check out. I like watching movies where I KNOW the bad guy's going to lose"

Ow ow ow. But yeah, there's Dean's pro-Halloween rationale, that the tropeyness of the genre has its comforts that every ridiculous horror thing is entirely safe and no one is ACTUALLY going to get eaten by any of these things. Which is also how normal people enjoy horror but at the metaphorical remove of being scared by things we may not literally meet but still represent anxieties we might have in our real lives.

Catharsis, yo

-

Sam barges in on New Sam to ask her the usual series of increasingly weird questions which get the "are you really insurance?" eyebrows.

"Downtown Salem" - are they in Salem as in the witch hunt one?

-

I kinda love how New Sam is talking with a speech bubble beside her. So meta.

-

I think New Dean is called Dirk.

-

Oops Stuart wasn't one of the co-owners because he kept getting fired for stealing D: Stuart, dude.

-

"And you hired Stuart back?" "he's my friend"

I think there is commentary appearing here about not just Stuart's unhealthy explosive rage, but that the people around him enable it - even Jordan fired him TWICE rather than banish him forever. The cycle of coddling him without encouraging him to change... Again, this speaks rather more of season 10 and a critique of Sam n Cas from there rather than much currently ongoing with Dean. Sam was complicit in originally abducting Kaia and he and Jody didn't move to stop Dean with Bad Kaia, so though it's in the focus as a critique on Dean's reactions, I feel like the real bad cycles were in Carver era. Though the behaviour still somewhat exists in Dabb era, the overall unhealthiness has declined so much, there isn't a constant oppresive blanket of it as there is here in this shop with Stuart being so awful to everyone and self-destructive.

(It's probably also not a coincidence that this thing has latched onto Dean as well, a la 4x06 I'd guess... Sam got no ghost vibes in the basement, Dean did, and was attacked... To me this is seeming to suggest that his current state has picked up the ghost's ire in the same way in 4x06 he was vulnerable. Loops and loops of things going on so I'll unpick that later if it does turn out to be the case clearly.)

Anyway. This seems to be more about destructive cycles and abusive dynamics, and I would hope a nudge for Dean, though his exile at the start of this episode also suggests to me he knew full well after threatening Kaia that he'd overreacted and needed to take 5, even if there was also a layer of sulking until news of Michael. Her call out was clear enough to make him self-reflect. So I would hope that this episode is here to try and steer Dean's reaction through various pathways, ideally to keep him from falling into anything too awful, as a reminder of where this may lead?

-

Sam sees the glass case freeze over, and pulls out the EMF, playing it off and being like "nothing... carbon monoxide detector" even as New Sam is understandably a little freaked.

Is this messing with Sam's refusal to tell Jess about monsters by having him keep the truth from New Sam until she's physically endangered?

-

I mean, carbon monoxide in enough quantities to make the blatantly homemade gadget go "WHEEE" and light up every single LED is a good enough reason to flee the room

-

"I think you're in danger -" Sam is smacked around the head by Hatchetman because he delayed too long and now he has been knocked out

-

"Samantha?" Sam determined not to let New Sam out-Sam him

-

I mean if she is you then she has been knocked out

-

How does this keep happening to you

how much head trauma has Cas healed over the years?

This is why they have to keep him an angel...

-

"Is this expensive?" "Wha - no don't!" *BOING* *silence* "yeeeah it's shatterproof glass"

HA

-

If Jordan really just wants to kill Stuart for getting them a 1 star Yelp review then this also has a weird shade of 11x07 where the ghost was getting revenge and took a few attempts to kill that one guy, eventually succeeding as the clown.

Except the clown was tuned to freak Sam out

and Dean's probably gonna be thrilled to fight Hatchetman

-

Dean having movie night with new Dean (probably stoned but we can't see it) with comatose Stuart in the middle

incredible

-

2 dudes watching horror movies 5 feet apart with a comatose guy in the middle because they aren't gay

-

Dean is thrilled to fight Hatchetman

I feel like this can't last

-

Davy throws in a gratuitous Halloween moment of Hatchetman walking through the park which is just bedecked in Halloween nonsense

no one cares about him wandering around because it's Halloween

It does make you wonder just HOW much nonsense happening on Halloween really is monsters and stuff out there enjoying themselves because it's expected, which, again, like Sam n Dean dressing up as nerds for this whole episode, having monsters mixing with regular folk and being treated as equals is literally the whole Halloween thing. There's less threat than in 4x07 because we're assuming at this point in the episode that the ghost does have a pretty one-track mind about killing Stuart because with all the characterising nonsense filling the episode the actual plot has been pretty sparse considering we're getting to the final 10 minute run now. So, yeah. This Hatchetman ghost is just out there being a part of the festivities, because that's what happens on Halloween, man

-

LOL And like Sam not telling his double until it was too late, Dean gets this call and is really open in answering in front of new Dean, and now he's filling in New Dean on everything instead of trying to get him to leave or protect him not just from the monster but from knowing about it at all.

-

Davy like, hey, remember when ghosts used to do loads of freaky stuff on this show just to be scary? And maybe it seemed like you all were getting bored of it or something, but hey this guy has no idea after 14 years that he shouldn't leave the salt line when everything starts thumping in the room despite having been warned the ghost is coming...

-

Hehehe Dean gets an axe... The moment of him going to smash it then not and checking if it's open... Whether that was improv or not, it's a good character thing in the sense that Dean is being encouraged not to smash first and ask questions later by the meta plot of the episode

-

Omg New Dean is as brave as our Dean in some ways... He sees Babs in trouble, and immediately is like "HEY" and starts confronting Jordon in Hatchetman

-

"He's MY friend. He's OUR friend." That's an interesting take on my/our, because that statement works on both levels - both that Dirk is protective of Stuart because he cares about him, but also that Jordan has his own investment in not killing Stuart that he should remember. In terms of emotional appeal, the first is confrontational while the second is the deep appeal to the ghost.

Filed in the deep deep deep deep deep flips of the crypt scenes, this moment demonstrates about 3 different kinds of flips, while still holding true to possessing thing out of its right mind confronting loved one

-

Omg the hospital security guards watching the Hatchetman chase a damsel through the hospital while New Dean is chased through THEIR hospital. Talk about dramatic irony and a whole commentary on the metaness of Dabb era in the story reversals and extractions to new levels and repurposing of scenes and narratives...

-

And despite it playing out scene by scene, the guards are laughing at the bad dialogue and pointing out how Hatchetman is so slow, so how can he even catch them, while the damsel slows herself down and badly fakes a trip so that he can catch up to her...

-

"We killed you! You're dead!" "We all do bad things sometimes"

And there we get the context for the cool quote the Hatchetman model can recite - just as how in fandom often things are quoted out of context as lines which seem emotional or special but are actually awful. Just for starters, all the Sam n Dean fans using "there aint no me if there aint no you" when Dean didn't even SAY that. Now we see the context of this line, we see that while Hatchetman really isn't deep, he's at least not just saying it to sound cool and talk about himself, he's judging the protagonist for her behaviour, as well as invoking relative morality. Which brings up some interesting ideas about what Hatchetman considers good and evil, in regards to seeming to have a concept of it but not including kill himself as a good thing to do. Obviously completely wild in context but in the philosophical language of the show, the nature of monsters and all is one huge question, along with if Sam and Dean are murderers themselves, and of course how they have done bad things for good reasons and vice versa.

-

Also I think Sam is about to blow up the door?

-

"I had a messed up childhood" he says, about to blow up a vintage SCOOBY DOO lunchbox to freedom.

SAMMY. Stop destroying symbols of childhood.

At least he's talking freely to New Sam about himself, which is probably already more than he ever let on to Jess. He really wanted to pretend to be well-adjusted to her, that he probably, like, would have rather waited for a locksmith with her than just pick the door to their apartment if they were locked out, you know?

-

RIP Scooby Doo.

-

"Cool" they both say, and share a smile.

It's probably weird to ship Sam and Sam just because the shipname is Sam

-

Dirk went to hide in the fucking Morgue

well done

-

Okay I need the security guards back to comment on how the fuck Hatchetman knew New Dean would come to the morgue with enough time to beat him there AND cover himself in a sheet and play dead.

-

Also before that happened Dean grabbed New Dean by the correct shoulder, and made him jump but aw don't worry it's just your new best friend.

-

Ghost Jordan is still a fucking nerd even in death because rather than talk to them, he presses the button to summon a catchphrase

It's good to know some things never change even when you are a murderous shell of your former self.

-

UGH SIGH DAVY ARE YOU REALLY GOING TO DO THIS TO ME?

(The director might also be to blame)

So now they are cobbling together a fake trailer for Hatchetman, using footage from the show

That is to say, Hatchetman is set on Oct. 31st, 1983, or, of course, 2 days before Azazel ruined everything.

I'm not sure if this shot is from the show because we have so few Halloween episodes that an exterior shot with Halloween elements would have to be faked up, but the house looks very much like the old Winchester house, but with a bigger porch and more dramatic features. It does, however, strongly feature the tree branch shadows over the appropriate wall to make it look exactly like the opening shot of their story, while this is the opening shot of the Hatchetman story.

"David Jaeger was an honest man making an honest living" *generic shot of something being worked on*

*shot of the back of John Winchester's head walking into his garage in 5x13 to discover his boss out cold because Anna is about to attempt to murder him, said boss hilariously visible in the shot if you know he's there*

So. That happened :P Hatchetman is John. That ain't subtle if you recognise the back of his head in a split second. Even if you don't they're casting him as a car mechanic which is of course directly connected to Dean and John.

"Until one night when a practical joke turned deadly"

*footage of the wife spectre-rage killing her husband in the cold open of 8x06 because she was still pissed he slept with someone else on prom night*

I think the burning vehicle was the car from 10x13 that Sam and Dean burned early in the episode, where it was violently reminiscent of them burning the memory of John for some meta reason I can't remember at the time, but definitely inspired a lot of frantic fandom typing.

Of course the ghost in that episode was the classic ragey vengeance ghost which was blatantly paralleled to the path Dean was on with the Mark of Cain, complete with being crypt scened out of it by a trenchcoat-wearing widow.

They're implying he was then burned alive and left for dead and I don't recognise the footage of the burned feet but I assume they're from some episode or another.

Anyway then they go to more new footage from the "actual" hatchetman movies. This one is set on Nov. 1st so it's not even a "Halloween" movie but ACTUALLY All Saint's Day (All Hallow's Eve being what Hallowe'en is a corruption of), Nov. 1 being of course a meta nod to the fact the episode is not even airing on Halloween but Davy just really really really really wanted his halloween episode so shut up and enjoy it :P

Oh, it's All Saints Day III The Reckoning. Because of course it's a reckoning. That's all that happens in Dabb era, reckonings.

-

I am so upset.... I made a joke about 5x05 waaay back, and now it's true because of the whole random thing about Dean's random Axe that was John's that Paris Hilton was going to use to Reckoning him but then Sam murderered her before she could. Now Dean's being reckoned.

-

Okay Dean is a lil dark right now but his come at me bro of "I was hoping you'd say that" and the preceding speech is incredible. I can't believe this show has Jensen except that I CAN believe that with Jensen we go 14 seasons because FUCK he's scary and intense when he wants to be.

-

But he delivered that chilling speech and then had the ghost use a red button to talk to him and then was badass at it

I mean

he can put the terror into ANY situation

-

I am a hysterical laugher, I could not have stood where Dean stood in that moment and taken Hatchetman seriously, even under threat of mortal peril. I once nearly got expelled for hysterical laughing over an untied shoelace that started a rapidly spiralling incident.

-

I love the new fight guy

I love how Dean is spoiling for a fight, and really enjoying how he can push back against this ghost, in a really, really scary way. But in a cold way, not the red hot Mark of Cain way he was dark last time. He's grinning and enjoying this nerdy ass fight, but it's got a vicious streak.

-

I especially love the choreography of Dean smashing Hatchetman around the head with clashes in time to the music followed by an elevator ding as Sam and New Sam emerge in the next scene.

Poetic cinema

-

New Sam guesses the key thing for ghost attachment and Old Sam is impressed.

Careful buddy, they're lining you up for replacement.

-

Dean seems not to have won this fight with the Hatchetman. I bet if Stuart was awake he'd have some useful advice for how anyone could beat him in a fight but especially Stuart, if they knew the correct thing to do.

-

New Dean saved Old Dean! Maybe we can teamwork distract the Hatchetman and win together. Possibly this is a metaphor for... working with yourself...

Is it foreshadowing for a fight later in the season of plot significance, just like in 11x07 Sam got beat up by a clown in a cage, as a not too subtle metaphor for Lucifer? I'd love an in Dean's head kinda nonsense with Mikey.

-

"Dean, key chain!"

TEAMWORK BROS ARE THE BEST BROS

-

New Sam chips in for her part with fuel for the fire.

Everyone high five the Sam or Dean/Dirk to your left

-

Oh, COOL effect of a ghostly spirit burning out of a model Hatchetman, who is unscatched by the ordeal

-

I mean, good, he's probably a really expensive collectible

-

He falls over with a thud, and goes out on a warbling "time to slice and diiiiiiiii" much like "I clobber evil" died on the fire with a last gutteral noise.

Hopefully bookending each other in terms of models with representations in their voices that haunt Dean and all.

-

Dean, unprompted, thanks Sam for getting him out of his funk and giving him an easy ghost hunt to win. I guess what 13x05 was supposed to be is what this actually turned out to be.

(Honestly, giving Davy episodes post-drama to let us all unwind is turning out to be an extremely good idea with 13x06 as well)

-

I am MAJORLY concerned about the time stamp on this episode. It better end in a few seconds and go to a full 3 minute trailer for Hell Hazers III or else.

-

"It was awesome!" "it wasn't really," says Sam, who burst into the room in time to see his brother pinned and choking

-

Sam moves on to confronting Dean with the concept of not just hiding in his room when they get back.

He gives Dean the "OI, CHEER UP" talk we've all been yelling at the screen. Good. Good Sammy.

Dean turns to the camera. "I'm never going to get over it. I'm just not."

Look, Sam, just because Dean stabbed Lucifer for you, and now you are sleeping without fear, doesn't mean everyone has that luxury :P

-"

elizabethrobertajones Oh dear, there's still 4 minutes left er I guess I keep watching .... *grimaces nervously*

mittensmorgul :D just watch it in context with the rest of the episode

elizabethrobertajones um what I didn't get far enough into what happens next to know what you mean so that's super ominous Sam is still psychoanalysing Dean in car NOW yo uhave me REALLY worried.

Hey, remember how I started this episode with a vague warning from Mittens? Why am I now getting the feeling that I still haven't watched whatever that was about?

-

"I'm not doing any good cooped up in my room. So whatever you need, I'm there." ("Chief"?)

-

"Alright, Chief?"

Oh, man. I'm turning into Dean.

-

Also Dean appears to have, finally, ceded power over to Sam. Again, the reversals of season 10 - Sam was put in this position of power he just was not ready to cope with and not with the stakes that were laid against him. But here, Dean might be driving the car but he's putting all the real power into Sam's hands.

-

elizabethrobertajones Is it why Sam hates Halloween because Dean turns out to have set an alarm on his watch to remind him to bug Sam about it again the intrigue you have spun is starting to get to me more than actually watching the episode :P

mittensmorgul oh gosh, I should've just kept my mouth shut. It was seriously just an innocent comment for a nice BM scene :P

-

I am more horrified about the concept of Sam telling an embarrassing story than I am about any amount of slasher and gore. Look, I can Not handle social squickiness and I love Sam and that is going to make this extremely hard to hear.

Dean's gonna love it though, I can tell.

-

Please. Protect. Sammy.

-

"It was soooo bad" he says with a haunted look of a man who has been tortured by the devil

-

Andrea's party got there first

-

"Next year, we're doing halloween right"

Oh no, don't you dare start talking like you're going to be alive and ready for a party next year, Dean Winchester. I will perish in your place to make it happen.

-

BAHAHA Dean coming up with matching outfits and suggests Bert and Ernie, before rejecting that one as too weird.

Yeah, you might not remember but we do

We are never going to let you live it down, in fact.

-

Also, listen, his mouth runs miles ahead of his brain, that was not suggestive until he realised it was and backtracked

-

You also can't go as Shaggy and Scooby unless you go to a party WITH them and they go as you and Sam

-

Thelma and Louise... Dean, stop.

Okay it's hilarious that Davy managed to get both Bert and Ernie and Thelma and Louise into this like... somewhere riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight deep down Dean's consciousness is putting things together. It doesn't remember half the shit he says, but like. Hey. Why ARE those two sets of on screen pairs connected, huh, Dean?

-

Oh, whatever, he's just trying to annoy Sam now

-

Nyoooom

-

IT'S THE SECURITY GUARD

RUN, MAN, RUN

-

Ew, I left it playing to type that and it told me to watch Legacies

-

Well that was the one wrong note in this whole episode so I suppose something had to happen like that :P