#dude had a chat with the devil twice

[shitolodise]

what if demoman had an ability to feel ppls spiritual enegies???

[vitaminwaterreviews]

Girls' Generation - Oh!

Overall this album was teetering on the edge of becoming boring and repetitive, but it did enough for me. I definitely enjoyed the experience, and now I have a good idea of what SNSD B-sides sound like which is good knowledge to have gained. But yeah, I knew they were synth-pop, but the synth-pop songs are SUPER synth-pop. The songs that weren’t synth-pop were generally really good, even the slow jam was nice. The Taeyeon-Jessica duet was the highlight of the album – I feel like we don’t get unit songs nearly as much in kpop albums these days. Have Red Velvet ever had a unit song on an album? Have aespa? I know Twice did on Formula of Love, but even then it was divided evenly so everyone got exactly one unit song. Anyway that’s a bit of a tangent. If I was Key I’d feel a bit hard done by, I hardly even noticed him in the song he was on. Good album, not a Great album, to be honest I’m not sure I’d give this Album of the Year if it came out today. Average score of 7.4 (excluding Gee and Genie ofc) which feels about right. It’s miles better than the pre-SNSD stuff, it’s nowhere near Pink Tape.

Okay, I’ve cooled down a bit since yesterday, but I’m still fairly certain that Pink Tape is probably my favorite kpop album of all time now. Anyway, let’s see how it compares to the only girl group album to ever win Album of the Year:

Oh!

So yeah, believe it or not, I’ve never heard this song before

Opening reminiscent of I Got A Boy

Okay so I obviously don’t speak Korean, but I feel like SNSD had a very “cute” singing accent? Like, Orange Caramel do the same thing I feel. Any Koreans in chat wanna comment on whether their singing voices are particularly aegyo?

This chorus is actually really fun

The “oh oh oh oh” part feels really synthesized but I like that a lot

Wait hold on are they cheerleaders or football players?

No high notes? Taeyeon? Jessica? Where you at?

OH GOD ITS RUN DEVIL RUN lmao teasing the repack

Also it’s really telling that I know the repack title track but not the original title track

7/10, it was pretty good but nothing special. It’s no Gee, definitely no IGAB

Show! Show! Show!

Okay just for reference, I don’t know any SNSD B-sides

Actually wait I do know Lazy Girl so I guess I only know one SNSD B-side

Starting synthy

WOAHHHHH starting out with a bass drop lmao holy shit

The song as a whole feels kind of flat to me?

The hush section is nice but the chorus just feels like more verse

Yeah, they burned their drop. Like they started the song off as loud as they’re gonna get, so there’s n-

Okay nvm I guess there is somewhere left to go

The bridge 100% just saved this song

Who does the English speaking bit? Tiffany? Jessica?

Actually I do wanna know, I’m gonna look it up

Oh it’s both of them alternating, alright

8/10, the bridge and last chorus Totally saved it

Sweet Talking Baby

This is a song that I’ve heard of which means it must be good

…huh

…okay? Yeah okay, I like this, this is nice

Strings everywhere

The chorus reminds me of something

A bit of electric guitar in the post-chorus, I think that’s the first time it’s appeared on the album

But yeah, strings absolutely everywhere. This feels super disco

Nah, we did not earn that modulation

7/10, the intro was cool and then it was just decent

Forever

Whisper into my ear like

Omg is it slow jam time?? We didn’t get a slow jam on Pink Tape (thank fuck)

I think it might be!

Where’s the beat at

There it is

Dude I’m sorry but this style of music is so predictable. Like it’s cool initially, but I’ve heard this exact same formula for a song across every single group so far except f(x), and maybe aespa?

The area around 2:50 is nice

Oh this sounds really Disney

Y’know, this won me over somehow

7/10 which is about as high as I can put one of these

Be Happy

This album is so … what’s the word

Loud? Aggressive?

Nah more like Blunt. There’s no subtlety here, just Raw Emotion

Why are they yelling “be happy” at me so aggressively?

I haven’t spoken much about the instrumentation because it feels like very standard SNSD instrumentation

Yeah when they say “be happy” I am not convinced, they make me a bit scared that I’m not happy, they sure don’t sound happy

Like this isn’t a happy song, its a jam, but jams aren’t necessarily happy

This is why I like the Korean lyrics, because then I don’t get lyrical/music contradictions

6/10

Boys & Girls

Oh it’s with Key

Instrumentally it’s not that special

Woah Key is super processed here, he sounds nothing like how f(x) used whatever SM guy they borrowed

(At least they’re crediting their male artists by this point)

Chorus isn’t too special, we appreciate the slap bass I guess

Was that all that Key got? He was there for like two lines wtf

7/10, I guess

Talk To Me

Lol what is this, harmonica?

Okay wait whatever’s going on here it���s a great break from their synth sound

I see you there, bass

The percussion is excellent, piano is nice

This is actually such a good song wtf

Caramelllll

The sweet and pretty vocals over this beat is really fun

A HARMONICA SOLO

Okay wait who produced this?

Machan Taylor, not a name I know yet

And apparently this is just Taeyeon and Jessica which is So cool

9/10, that was such a cool song wtf

Star Star Star

Korean counting, whispering, the piano is fun, the strings are dramatic

OH NO SHES CRYING

Okay, I’m interested

Apparently these people produced Gee

There’s like, No percussion going on, I really like that

Yeah, if you’re gonna make a ballad, make it like this

I still don’t have much to comment on, but I enjoyed this a lot

8/10

Stick Wit U

Well this sure is a different vibe

I dunno what to make of the instrumentals, they feel different from the rest of the album but I cannot place why

“Go!”

The pre-chorus is fun. Bouncy, cute

Not sure about the chorus, what part is meant to be catchy?

That bridge felt kinda forced

Outro is fun

7/10, not bad, not special

Day By Day

They do use quite a bit of classical inspiration in this

Oh!

Well this is hardly classical, this is a jam

The chorus isn’t nearly as fun as the verse

That feels true a lot actually

But yeah, the guitar, the percussion, I like the verses

I wish the chorus was more syncopated

I’m curious what this one is about lyrically, it’s hard to gauge

8/10

Gee

10/10 obviously, this is the greatest kpop song of all time

Genie

8/10 tbh, this was never my jam but I do quite like it

[ohhicas]

what do you think writers who want to write a good accurate James should know? :)

Oohh I haven't done this in awhile I know I'm gonna forget some Huge Important Beats

He's like, legitimately(ish), friends with Catwoman. They are on non-murderous speaking terms, she respects him for as far as that word can stretch, and he was able to clock her by walking style alone but kept teasing her cause it was funny. The story ends on a positive note; they do not hate each other. He gets along with her.

Dude beat the devil, like, twice. He is on Neron's immediate shit-list cause he ruined his plans. He doesn't have special powers or abilities (will get back to this), he's just A Dude with a charisma dumpstat who lives up to his Trickster title. He also has a biological son with a direct path to a (good) God figure, so he's somehow managed to place himself square in the middle of "Jesus loves me, Satan hates me". (And with the pure headcanon he was raised religious and later dropped that whole thing cause he formed his own opinion as his parents were Italian(retconned to this, originally they were just white) in the like, 60s? this is very funny to me.)

and James isn't special. He's a tightrope walker and acrobat who is afraid of heights and opted to study antigravity in his freetime just to survive until he could blow that popsicle stand. He then turned to crime Only Because he wanted to be a little silly, and hey his name was James Jesse, he really likes Cowboy penny books, and Jesse James is pretty cool. It's gotta be fate.

James was, possibly, one of the youngest Rogues in the original unit. I'm talking like, Original Original unit. This isn't necessary understanding to a 'needed for writing' scenario, but it does add to it. It adds to the silly, and it adds to how Impressive he is for what he does/doesn't do, as he's hanging around with a bunch of blue collar con-men just wanting to slap around possibly The Strongest and Certainly The Fastest Hero DC had on it's roster at the time.

He's best friends with Pied Piper; you cannot take this from me. I have panels to prove my stance but they're generally seen hanging out together 'off shift' in comics (once Piper goes to his more heavier set, longer hair look seems to be a turning point for it). When the rest of the guys rag on Hartley for his gay status (Digger, mostly), James doesn't join in. He lets the guy into his house several times just to chat and gossip about the others. when James receives a phonecall that his ex-girlfriend's son has been kidnapped and is in danger, he calls Piper to come help. When James goes FBI, he gathers Piper (and Mick) to help. He tells Piper to his face he doesn't understand why Piper would give a rats ass about the others when they were so cruel to him before. They are friends, and Several headcanon-based reasons have been created over the decades for why James would've acted the way he did in Countdown (outside of just, "Countdown is a bad comic". Which it is. But if you're trying desperately to make it make sense, the 'attempted lore patching' flies)

Speaking of

James isn't a murderer; if he has a body count it's entirely on accident. He's not purposely running around trying to murder anyone and he certainly wouldn't join in on beating a child to death.

Leaving the bulletpoint categories; he's also "popular" in Hollywood, and i'm using """""Popular""""" with a lot of """""". On top of his (legit) devil/angel connections, he's also besties with the Blue Devil (the original one) and knew the Kid Devil before things happened. He was practically living in the (blue devil) man's house, hanging out at movie sets, casually tweaking his car to fly just because he could. They are! Friends! James is REALLY GOOD at making friends with an eclectic group of people!

He also canonically dressed in drag (it was like, the 80s, so 'drag' isn't what you're thinking) just to tease and harass Captain Cold, lying to the man's face with some goddamn Bugs Bunny looneytunes antics while in a cheap wig and cottage cheese, and the man bought it. He is SO GOOD at what he does. James is so good. He's a jackass and he's Not Kind and he will rob you blind for one corn chip if he's feeling up to it, but you'll survive the encounter. When Axel Walker stole his shit and started tying bombs to strays and the homeless, dragged the Trickster title through mud, he went on a war path and threw the boy in a dumpster as a threat. He cares for his name and reputation, cares for his (actual) friends.

Watering James down to some "Joker Lite" old man who is some kind of FBI's Most Wanted murder comes from the old, silly live action show that sold Hamill his future Joker roles and isn't James in the slightest; and writers looking at the DCAU, Original Flash Show, and Current Flash Show as "the best place for James information" need to be taken out back and slapped with the whole of Waid's run. It's such a disservice.

[miraculousluvbug]

WINGLESS | Ch. 11

***New to Wingless? Start at Chapter 1!

CH. SUMMARY: So the cat's out of the bag and the milk's been spilled and it kind of feels like the sky is falling, but at least these three doofuses have each other.

Murder was the only thing on Alya’s mind after Chat Noir’s detransformation left behind one Adrien Agreste. In fact, she had never wanted to murder anyone so badly. Not even Chloe.

But the “Guardian” Marinette spoke of? The one who chose two kids from the same school and forced them to keep secrets from everyone they loved and who loved them? The one who pressured them into being child soldiers before their brains were fully developed with crap about being “chosen?” Who put the fate of Paris in the hands of two adolescents not even allowed inside the R-rated section at a movie rental but were apparently allowed to fight until they were bruised, battered, and traumatized?

Yeah, she was willing to go to jail for manslaughter.

Her heart broke for Marinette, whose biggest problem should have been whether she completed her history report on time or if she was going to be able to parallel park for her driver’s test without bumping an unsuspecting car, not if her choice to love and be loved led to the apocalypse.

“I cannot wait to strangle that Hawaiian-shirt-loving Master of Unnecessary Manipulation.”

On the other side of the camera, Adrien was sweating buckets. Alya just saw him detransform! Not even one person was supposed to know, but now two people knew?! And why did she want to strangle a Hawaiian-shirt-loving Master--

“Wait--” Adrien said, eyebrows furrowed as his single brain cell tried to fit a square block in the circle slot of a shape puzzle. He only knew one Hawaiian-shirt-loving Master, but he didn’t think Alya should know about him.

Having recovered from his shock and utterly lacking the ability to read the room, Nino clapped a hand on Adrien’s shoulder and squeezed. “Dude, this is so cool! I can’t believe we’ve been fighting crime together this whole time!”

“NINO!” Alya protested to deaf ears from the laptop.

Adrien gulped. “We?” He surveyed Nino from head to toe once more, taking in his Rena Rouge pajamas with fresh eyes. The Rena Rouge posters plastering his walls were suddenly searing into his retinas. Can the Miraculous change your gender? he pondered.

The devil worked hard, but his one brain cell worked harder.

“Oh, right. I forgot Chat doesn’t know. I’m Carapace, dude!”

Adrien whipped his head so fast he felt faint. Nino grinned at him dopily from beneath the spots in his vision, not a single hint of regret at revealing his secret marring his features. On the contrary, he seemed extremely pleased with himself.

“Y-you’re Carapace?” Adrien’s eyes were blown so wide Alya wondered if they could get any bigger, and that was saying something from the other side of a screen.

While Adrien was stunned speechless by the news, the effects of sharing such intimate secrets among his closest friends settled over him like a comfort blanket until the shock melted into a sweet contentedness, one as velvety and rich as a dark chocolate ganache.

“You’re Carapace,” Adrien sighed, crushing Nino in a hug.

“And you’re that flirty cat throwing himself into danger all the time,” Nino quipped. “Here, I thought you were an innocent duckling. My little baby’s got game!” As the two chuckled, Adrien caught a glimpse of an agitated Alya from over Nino’s shoulder.

Is she disappointed that one of her heroes is just me? he asked himself, his smile giving way to a frown.

Wait.

Alya didn’t look at all surprised by the news that her own boyfriend was a superhero.

Had she already known?

Images of a turtle and fox hero snuggling up to each other once or twice when they thought no one was looking played in his mind like a film reel. Adrien released Nino, not quite taking his eyes off the redhead. “You know, I always thought Carapace and Rena Rouge had a thing going on, but that’s not possible because you and Alya--”

As Adrien stared at Alya, her agitation resolving to worry in the creasing of her brow and pursing of her lips, the recognition bumbled into place, so much slower and clumsier than it had with Nino’s clean confession. His brain had to fight the barrier of the Miraculous magic and--he wasn’t gonna lie--it kind of hurt what with the way his synapses fired and his eyes strained to mentally peel away a magical mask from the image of Rena Rouge in his mind. Rena’s hair was a much more vivid red-orange, her hairstyle way more intricate than Alya’s everyday curls, and Adrien even had to wonder if her lips changed colors when transformed, but . . .

Well, true as the sky was blue, so too was the fact that the girl staring back at him from the computer screen was his other teammate.

“You’re Rena Rouge.”

Alya rubbed the temples of her forehead in an attempt to dissuade the oncoming tension headache. She was counting her lucky ladybugs that Marinette was out of the house, not even wanting to imagine how different this conversation could have gone had she been there. Perhaps she’d serve a plate full of supernova-level panic attacks with a side of catastrophizing and a sprig of heroic guilt for good measure.

“Nino,” she sighed. “The point of a secret identity is to keep it secret. Because, you know--” she waved her hands around wildly and scrunched her nose, reminding Adrien of someone else he knew “--Shadow Moth!”

“Well, yeah, but I wasn’t about to lie to my best bud after he shared his alter ego with me.”

“You’re Rena Rouge,” Adrien whispered dazedly, pointing at Alya first, then Nino, “and you’re Carapace.” He looked his friend up and down again, recalling his own cache of Ladybug-themed nightwear hiding in his armoire. “Well, that explains the pajamas. You know each other’s identities. You’re dating and you know each other’s identities.”

He felt like his legs were going to stop working any second then. He backed away until his calves hit Nino’s bed board and promptly fell back onto the mattress.

“Ladybug let you know each other’s identities.”

Plagg, who had stayed out of sight for the duration of this conversation, drifted to Adrien’s lap and curled up on his thigh. Adrien absentmindedly stroked his kwami to calm himself, but he abruptly stopped when another realization crashed down on him with the full force of an akumatized Tom Dupain-Cheng.

“If you’re Rena Rouge, then you know who Ladybug is,” Adrien said, his voice sounding far away even to himself.

Nino’s eyes bulged out of his sockets. “You know Ladybug’s identity?!” he shouted before clapping his hands over his mouth, praying to Allah that none of his neighbors heard his outburst.

Alya could not pick up her jaw from the floor even if she had tried. The volume inside of this bus was astronomical. Secrets. Secrets spilled everywhere. This was The Office now, and her chili pot had spilled all over the floor. How could she even begin to salvage this situation? Was Bunnyx going to pop out of her burrow hole any time soon? Was this going to lead to Chat Blanc again somehow? Right in front of her salad?!

With a start, Alya noticed both boys had been staring at her and she had yet to answer them. Her head was spinning. She tried to swallow her nervousness and silently wished the Earth would swallow her instead. “Yes,” she eventually confirmed, voice low. She spoke slowly, hoping she looked more confident than she felt. “I do, and it’s not my secret to share.”

Adrien bore a pained expression, and yet again, Alya wanted to commit murder.

Suddenly, the blonde boy jumped to his feet and approached the computer screen in three short strides before placing his hands firmly on the desk and inspecting Alya’s background. “Wait, Alya, you’re in Marinette’s room.”

Alya wanted to die.

“Is Marinette there?” Adrien asked her. “Did she hear everything? Does she know I’m Chat Noir?”

Alya opened her mouth to respond but paused long enough to observe the speck of desire in his eyes. If she could sense his affection for Marinette from the other side of this screen, she speculated what she might have been able to pick up on had they been having this conversation in person. And, well, if there were dials in her brain labeled “Supportive Friend” and “Meddling Friend,” she imagined a mini Alya in her cranial cavity cranking the latter up a couple hundred notches.

She leaned forward, a smirk on her lips and her eyes hooded just a tad. “Why? Do you want her to know you’re Chat Noir, balcony boy?” Alya couldn’t help retorting, waggling her eyebrows. His reaction was immediate.

So he’s not as dense as I thought.

He blushed and tried to hide his cheeks in the collar of his shirt. Alya stifled a laugh. “Oh, yeah. She told me all about your candlelit balcony meant for Ladybug.”

“Smooth,” Nino complimented.

The praise would have boosted Adrien’s ego had it not been for one microscopic, little detail. “It didn’t work,” Adrien muttered, making Alya want to strangle Master Fu once more. For the love of all that was Holy, these two were pining after each other and she wanted to frickin’ yeet herself off a building.

She sighed. “To answer your question: no. My girl’s not here.”

Adrien tried to hide his disappointment, but Alya saw right through him.

They all sat in silence, each member of the team working through their own feelings about the revelations thrust upon them that night.

Adrien turned his back and headed for the door. “Plagg, claws out.”

“Wait, bro, you’re leaving?”

“I came here to tell you I’m Chat Noir. I did that. I wasn’t expecting Alya to know, too. I wasn’t expecting you to be Carapace. I wasn’t expecting Alya to be the person Ladybug trusted with her identity over me. And honestly?” He spared a glance at her over his shoulder. He could feel the sympathy coming off her in waves through the screen. He offered her a smile, the kind of smile that didn’t reach his eyes or touch his heart, but it would have to be enough for now. “I don’t even know if I have the energy to be jealous over that because Alya’s a great friend.”

Thanks, sunshine. You’ll think I’m a superb friend after I’m done working my magic, Alya promised him with the resolve of a vengeful Best Friend (which is a very strong resolve indeed).

“Anyways, I’m pretty exhausted. I just hope Lila’s off the premises by the time I get home.”

Alya’s feathers ruffled. “Lila?”

Chat Noir grimaced. “Yeah. She was chatting up Father when I got home and . . . suffice it to say, the sight made me sick.”

“It’d make me sick, too,” Alya agreed. “Anti-Lila club, anyone?” Both boys tilted their heads at her like two Golden Retrievers. This was the first time either of them had ever heard Alya express distaste toward Lila.

“Wait, I thought you liked Lila. Marinette seemed to be the only one who saw through her lies.”

Alya cringed at that. “Well, some new information came my way that made me see the light, I guess. Like, say, she couldn’t possibly be best friends with Ladybug.”

“Tell me about it. Ladybug loathes her,” Chat Noir chuckled, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“Absolutely despises her.”

Nino felt like he was missing a large piece of this puzzle.

“You know, when Lila first came to town, she tried to tell me she was the owner of the fox Miraculous. She had a fake from the Gabriel line and everything. That was when Ladybug swooped in and told me she had been lying about their ‘friendship.’”

Nino still wasn’t following. “Lila was trying to impress Chat Noir?”

“Well, actually, I was Adrien me when that happened,” Chat replied, rubbing his neck in the same fashion he would have as the timid boy beneath the mask. Alya blinked. No wonder Marinette hadn’t pieced together his identity. It was bizarre seeing Chat Noir do that.

“So Ladybug didn’t want Lila impressing Adrien,” Nino surmised, nodding in approval. “Nice. Good for you, man.”

Chat Noir spluttered. “I don’t think it was like that at all. She just hates liars.”

“She must really hate being Ladybug then,” Nino mused aloud.

“Yeah . . .” Chat Noir trailed off, recalling his last meeting with Ladybug just a little under five hours ago.

“All of the secrets were too much. I think--I think I was depressed. I went to bed sad and woke up sad. Akumas were coming for me left and right. So I made the decision to tell Rena.”

Chat Noir had been so focused on the fact that Ladybug had shared her identity with someone other than him that he hadn’t really processed the why. Even as she told him that she trusted him, it didn’t line up with what he knew to be true: she had a habit of withholding information from him. And he couldn’t fathom why her default decision was always to leave him out of the loop. Would Ladybug have ever even told him that Rena knew had Alya not slipped up?

Unfortunately, he had no way of knowing since what was done was done. C’est la vie and all that. Yet, somehow, it always came back to that one fundamental difference between Adrien and Ladybug. Adrien adored his role as Chat Noir. His alter ego was the only freedom he had from his otherwise suffocating life. Ladybug was his only friend to know him without all the bells and whistles that followed the Agreste name. But did the girl behind the spots not feel the same way as him? Could she actually hate being Ladybug?

He supposed he would have to ask her.

When Chat Noir lifted his gaze from the floor, he discovered both of his friends watching him, patiently waiting. He half expected them to chastise him for wasting their time, but he had to remind himself that they weren’t Father and let the subsequent sorry dissolve on his tongue. Catching the hint that Chat was ready to depart, Nino escorted him to the balcony.

As Chat fiddled with the sliding glass door lock (clawed gloves really didn’t help with such coordinated tasks), Nino pulled him into a bear hug.

“Thanks for telling me, bro. I’m here for you, you know that.”

After a moment, Chat returned the embrace.

“I know.”

Reaching past Chat, Nino easily unlocked the sliding glass door for his best friend and watched with a proud smile as the Black Cat of Paris vaulted away into the night. The chilly night air sent shivers down Nino’s spine, so he was quick to close the door and robotically meandered back to his room, his girlfriend waiting for him on the screen. He sank into his computer chair and slid his hat over his face, allowing himself to simmer beneath its darkness for a beat or two.

“Sorry, Alya, but I’m a LadyNoir shipper now.”

Alya couldn’t have stopped the snort that came out of her even if she’d tried. “And what makes you say that?”

“Marinette’s my friend and all, but my boy has his sights set on the bug. I’ve gotta support him, you know? Bros before--” the unamused glare Alya had pinned on him burned a hole through his hat “--not bros.”

“Right. Well, don’t count my girl out yet. Why don’t you just get back to writing your script?”

And so he did. For the rest of their Skype call, the two heard from neither Marinette nor Adrien. Alya worked on a blog piece while Nino brainstormed his film idea, and all was relatively peaceful (well, as peaceful as it could be after finding out your best friend was a spandex-wearing cat boy).

That is, until Nino received a Discord message from Adrien.

22:47

adrienagreste

You’ll never believe who I just bumped into at the park

All alone

Talking to a Chat Noir doll

Nino cocked a brow. Wasn’t Adrien supposed to have gone straight home? Also, hadn’t Alya mentioned something about Marinette going to the park? In fact, he was in the middle of typing Marinette’s name when Adrien’s next text came in. And all this text contained was a single emoji . . .

Just now

adrienagreste

🐞

Who knew an emoji would be all it took?

“So you weren’t gonna tell me being an Adrienette shipper is being a LadyNoir shipper?” Nino spun to face Alya with the smuggest smirk on his lips and his arms folded pompously over his Rena Rouge pajama shirt.

Alya froze. Slowly, she craned her head toward the camera, abandoning her article completely. The two of them stared at each other as well as one could through a screen, sizing the other up, waiting to see who would make the first move. Nino already started the game, but now it was Alya’s choice how to play.

Knowing Nino, however, she knew that hubris in his shoulders and that gleam in his eye meant her efforts would be futile. The mask already slipped off Ladybug in his mind, and there was literally no possible way for her to tie it back on. She slumped.

“How did you figure it out?”

Nino whooped and spun himself around in his rolly chair. “These two idiots have got it so bad for each other and they don’t even know it! This is awesome. It’s like a--a love triangle! No, wait . . . A love square!”

Suddenly, he slammed his hand on his desk. The chair immediately stopped spinning. “Alya, it’s a love square.”

“I know.”

Nino dropped his head onto his table like a toddler throwing a tantrum. “Oh, this ain’t it, chief. They could’ve known each other this whole friggin’ time, Alya. Whoever did this is a monster, straight up. Who’d do this to ’em? To our sweet, little hopeless romantic ducklings? Only a monster!” he wailed.

“There, there,” Alya offered, aware that Nino must be cycling through the same realizations she had just thirty minutes ago after learning Adrien was Chat Noir. She would have been patting his back had they been in the same room.

“Wait. Why don’t we just tell them?” Nino sat up, and Alya was surprised to find actual wetness on his cheeks. Upon seeing the look on Alya’s face, he continued, “We could do it. We could just tell them!”

Alya shook her head. “They’re fighting a guy who infects your mind and manipulates you. Chat Noir throws himself in the line of fire all the time, and he’s even been mind controlled to fight her. Marinette says if either one of them knew who the other was and Shadow Moth akumatized them, he would be able to get both their Miraculous.”

She considered telling Nino about Chat Blanc, but that experience was traumatizing enough for Marinette. The least her best friend deserved was control over who knew about it. Besides, the story wasn’t really Alya’s to tell. After a moment, she added, “And no one even knows what he plans to do with them.”

“Something evil, I bet.”

“Probably.” Alya sighed.

“But, Alya . . . now we know both their identities.”

Nino didn’t finish his question, but the implication hung heavy in the air, nonetheless. So what if we get akumatized?

Alya smirked, a deadly thing when cast in his direction. “I’ve broken out of an akuma’s control before.”

Nino’s jaw dropped to the floor. “You have?!”

“Mhm. Shadow Moo has nothing on your girl,” Alya contended, puffing out her chest in a superhero pose. The stars in Nino’s eyes that were placed there by the sheer awesomeness of his girlfriend sparkled.

“You must teach me your ways, Master Alya.”

They both chuckled and settled back into their chairs, letting a comfortable silence wash over them. When Nino spoke again, his voice was small, tentative.

“Still . . . I wish we could tell them.”

Alya silently watched her boyfriend pause to compose himself as if he were taking a bomb that could blow up the entire world and carefully placing it into a microwave to prevent an explosion. It would always be there, the bomb, reminding him to watch where he stepped lest he knock the microwave over and bring his friends down with him, but now? Now, it was manageable. Languidly, he returned to his script.

Alya followed his example, turning her attention back to her abandoned article but not before she confided, “Me, too, Nino.”

Although she hadn’t meant to learn Chat Noir’s secret identity, she didn’t have it in her to regret her slow fingers, to regret the spilling of their chili pot. Like fate, it had led to this, to her and her boyfriend sharing in the weight that Marinette and Adrien had been carrying on their shoulders alone for so long now. And even if they didn’t know they weren’t alone anymore, even if Alya and Nino were just supporting them from behind like little weight-spotter fairies . . .

Alya didn’t regret it, not one little bit.

-----------------------------------

23:14

ladyblogger

So u wanna 🔪 who did this to them??

DJLahiffe

ADSHF

WAIT

hol up

u kno eho made them keep their identities secret??? 👀

who*

ladyblogger

black_lady_chewing_with_knife.gif

Eye do

DJLahiffe

kombucha_girl.gif

i’m listening, babe

ladyblogger

Mhmm

And how do i kno u have it in u?

It’s an old man

Whose entire wardrobe is Hawaiian button-ups

DJLahiffe

say less

i’ll hide the body

🧍🏽‍♂️

—–

Heya! Wow! Two chapters in one day :D Only for you, dear reader ❤ Check out my Instagram for Wingless updates. I’m also posting pieces of a Wingless cover with each chapter update! We’re so close to finishing.

(11/?) Previous | Next

[srirachvbi]

Kageyama and Bokuto taking their kids to practice headcanons !

request: hihi i was wondering if you can do a continuation of the bringing their kids to practice with some of the other haikyuu characters? i’d love to see it with kageyama especially but honestly you can pick anyone! thank you :)

a/n: i AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG... I have no excuses, i was too sad about haikyuu e wording but i have read threads on how to write characters on twitter and i am thriving... so n e ways i was looking for a reason to write more of these because i just... love the idea of this so tsym for requesting!! if i write more parts, i might do hoshiumi, hinata, atsumu, and... maybe oikawa? i’m a huge bokuto stan so his might be longer than kageyamas im sorry <3 and and ik that kageyama goes to italy but for the sake of i want to write other characters, i will be using the adlers oops. i will also be only doing probably two characters per post for these because i write so much for it. LMAO ALSO these are super unrealistic this would NOT be allowed during pro sports practices but for the sake of entertainment, let’s just... do it warnings: manga spoilers

Bokuto Koutarou

He had been wanting to bring Kaori to practice for a while but each time he tried to, you would be like no bitch </3 

heart been broke so many times

When you told him that you had to go into work and couldn’t schedule the nanny in time, he was like “I’LL TAKE CARE OF HER!!!”

Honestly you were only against him taking her because you were still mad at him for leaving her in the high chair for a while and you came home to her crying and him just knocked out 

Like... Kou, pls <3 

He had brought Kaori into post game interviews before but you were always there so this would really be the first time he’d take care of her by himself for a period of time longer than an hour

He’s a good parent dw !! he had just spent the whole night thinking about the most random shit and he ended up sleeping like three hours 

He was thinking about horses cause Ushijima brought them up in an interview >:0

You were still mad tho 

It had been a while and he had actually shown to you that he could take care of her by himself so you were fine with him taking her to practice

He was super pumped and was practically shaking in excitement (he was texting Akaashi the whole morning asdlfjskdf)

Bokuto-san AGHASHEE!!!!! Y/N IS LETTING ME TAKE KAORI  TO PRACTICE!!!!!!!!! AGHASHEE Congrats, Bokuto-san. 

That conversation but every two minutes

I’m sorry Akaashi <3 

He also texts the whole group chat and Hinata’s equally as excited

Kaori and Hinata were best friends !!!! She literally loved him

Like he would put her on his shoulders and they’d run around for hours

How he has so much energy goes beyond everyone but it’s fun to watch 

You lectured him for half an hour about what he should do in certain situations and unlike most times, he listened really well because :(( the baby cares about Kaori

Both Kaori and him actually walked with you to the train station and saw you off before heading to practice !! 

He normally drives to practice because he has a super nice car and it’s easier to drive with Kaori instead of public transportation

When they get to the gym, he goes running in with Kaori on his shoulders 

“WE HAVE ARRIVEEEED!!!!!!!!” 

cue Hinata cheering super loudly

Kaori’s giggling and being all cute omg i love her

She was being carried in on her dad’s shoulders so Bo lets her down and she immediately runs (read: waddles quickly) to Hinata

“Hinata-nii!!!!”

Hinata starts crying-- jk, no

He goes “Kaori-chan!” and scoops her up in his beefy arms 

BEEFY HINATA BEEFY HINATA BEEFY HINATA

Sorry

She’s giggling and she like kisses his cheek and everyone’s like “so cute...” ohmyogd babies

Similar to her dad, she’s super friendly!! and a bit simple minded

It’s literally in her blood to not actually hate anyone so she gets along with EVERYONE at practice

She even makes the coach super soft omg

Atsumu’s just watching her and being like “child. want. child-- oh god, i need a kid.” cause she’s just so god damn cute

Lol atsumu having twins cause it’s a gene or smth idk biology

I barely passed bio please spare me <3

I actually got an 80 smth on my final last year don’t listen to me

Sakusa being hesitant at first to be near her but she’s actually super sweet to him!!

CAUSE LIKE HER DAD SHE’S ACTUALLY REALLY EMOTIONALLY INTELLIGENT AND CAN READ PEOPLE REALLY WELL

like she saw Sakusa’s face and was like “oh!! I remember what dad said!!” 

Kou talks about his teammates a lot and somehow Kaori remembered him telling her about how Sakusa’s a germaphobe so she’s like

“Sir!! I washed my hands!! I’m not dirty!!” and he

He just 👁👄👁 

He thinks she’s cute and treasures her now

Suddenly Kaori has a whole team of dads

it’s okay

Bokuto itching to let her play volleyball but at the same time worrying about her if she does

It’s like the angel and the devil on his shoulders

One sides like

let her pLAY!!!!! LET HER PLAY (read it as if it’s the LEt ME INNN meme)

While the other sides like

👁👄👁 (y/n) will kill me if she gets hurt and i’ll kill myself if she gets hurt and hinata will kill me if she gets hurt-

In the end he gives her a volleyball after she asks once and he’s like ‘PFFT KAORI-CHAN IF YOU INSIST’ while she’s like

dude i asked to play once and normally someone disagrees with me tf are you on, sir? 

she tries to pick the ball up but it ends up being half her size and it’s just... such a cute image

Bo takes a picture of it and sends it to you!!

You reply back in seconds lol

Kou-kun ❤💖 [image.jpeg] LOOK AT HER!! FUTURE PRO (Y/N)-CHAN!! (Y/N) MY LOVE ❤💕❤💕💕❤💕❤💕 be careful letting her hold that it’s too big!! but so cute!!! have fun taro <3

He ends up taking the ball away after a bit because she can’t walk while holding it

Eventually practice has to start tho so he asks her to sit on the bench and she’s an obedient angel and does so !!

The whole time she’s like swinging her legs and watching her dad practice

It’s fun for her to see him play 

Okay but like I’ve said, she’s similar to her dad

At one point at practice during a break, she stole Atsumu’s water and was running around the gym with him chasing her

He was ofc not actually chasing her cause he found it cute that she was trying to steal his stuff

Lol Sakusa being like “oh, you can’t catch up to a child? are your knees getting bad, old man?”

Atsumu’s like “bro, we’re the same age”

Sakusa ignores him

She ends up TRIPPInG AND ATSUMU’s LIke “Oh fuck” 

SHE CRIES

omg Bokuto’s like “tsum tsum-- do you want to die 👁👄👁🗡” because she just got hurt because of him

Atsumu picks her up and is apologizing so god damn much

This is the first time anyone’s seen Bokuto remotely irritated

Kaori: WAAAHHHH

Atsumu: please, child... i don’t want to die today... please... shhhhhhh

He lets her down and she walks (read: waddles) over to her dad and is giving him puppy eyes omg

Bokuto stops being mad and scoops her up and he’s like “did Kao-chan get a boo boo” and she nods, sniffling

Ohmygod dad bokuto dad bokuto dad bokuto stop

suddenly I actually want kids

no

Shion ends up getting a first aid kit since Meian asked (woah more black jackals players except I don’t really know how to write for them??? woahhh)

Shion roasts Atsumu with Sakusa for letting her fall and suddenly Atsumu’s the bad guy

lol

By the end of practice tho Kaori’s fine !!!

She’s back to her regular happy self so cute :(

She asks Bo to call you and when you pick up she shows you her bandaid on her knee and is like “Miya-san was chasing me and I fell!!”

Suddenly Atsumu feels a cold chill and knows you found out lol

Hi this is (y/n), and you’re watching disney channel-

good luck, atsumu *stops camera*

Kageyama Tobio

He

sigh

He would be equally as confused as a father as Ushijima

It’s okay, he’s trying his best

You normally work from home so you guys haven’t really hired a nanny! 

And if you needed someone to watch your guys’ son, Sho (which can mean to fly oho see what I did there I’m so smart), you just drop him off at your parents’ house or Miwa’s!

WAIT SHO... SHOYO... WAIT I DIDN’T EVEN DO THIS ON PURPOSE IM LITERALLY

However, today was the only time you had to go in for like the next few months and both your parents and Miwa are busy

So, you enlist in your husbands help

“Tobio... I need you to watch Sho...” 

He spits out his milk “wHAT” cause like,, he’s hardly taken care of Sho by himself and normally had either his sister or you around

He doesn’t actually spit out his milk-- you’d kill him if he did because it would be a pain in the ass to clean up <3

It takes a bit of convincing being he’s really nervous about taking care of Sho!!

Okay but he’s a great dad dw it’s just he’s nervous about having another human being literally rely on him completely

You also just remind him that Romero’s a father so he won’t be completely on his own while taking care of Sho

So he somehow gets to the gym with Sho in one piece but he’s literally so stiff like bro, i need you to relax

Hoshiumi yelling “KAGEYAMA SHO!!!!!!!” and Sho (who has actually met the team like two times) goes like “HOFIUMI-SAN!!!!!” 

Sho’s a bit of an energetic bby-- he’s less emotionally constipated than his dad <3

He’s... he reminded you guys of Shoyo and well, you thought it would be nice to name him after his god father

No this isn’t a kagehina post i swear i love them but this is me saying that i love their friendship sm omg stop im gonna cry 402 really just popped into my head again

Hoshiumi getting mad when he sees that Sho has actually grown even though he’s a grown ass man and the little toddler would not, in fact, be catching up that soon

“KAGEYAMA SHO HAVE YOU GROWN >:0000!!!!!” 

Sir, pls... sit down

The Adlers all love Sho since they’ve come into contact with him like twice at games before 

Ushijima just... doesn’t know how to interact with Sho

He just stares down at him and honestly Sho stares back up without fear

Kageyama Sho: no (0) fears 

I think it’s cause his father gives a similar stare sometimes and he just... got used to it

Ushijima gives him that stare and Sho just goes SIGH this again

Jk he’s a baby

He literally looks up at Ushiwaka and gives him this cute ass grin and Ushijima’s like “oh, children are very cute.”

Thank you, Wakatoshi-kun

Romero does, in fact, give Kags some tips about fathering and ends up showing pictures of Rubens to the team (love that) 

OKAY BUT LIKE OFF TOPIC FROM THE PRACTICE BUT

Sho being such a big fan of Hinata and being like “woAHHH!!! I’M NAMED AFTER HIM!!!” 

Hinata rubs it in Kags face because Sho practically idolizes him

anyways

Practice starts and Sho’s just sitting on the gym floor with a volleyball in his hands cause he

Kags just giving newborn Sho a volleyball and expecting him to become acquainted

It worked

Sho’s used to holding onto volleyballs and even tries to hit it but everytime he did, he’d fall backwards onto his lil bum and would be like :(

Kageyama watching from the other side of the gym and his heart just goes AHHHHHHHHHH

He’s about to cry that is the cutest thing he’s ever seen

Sho making sure he doesn’t interrupt practice!!! and like chasing after the ball to make sure it doesn’t go onto the courts!!!

Cute babs is so good :(

He ends up tripping tho and starts to tear up and Kags is watching during practice and goes “OH GOD”

He’s literally whipping his head from Sho to his coach and has this desperate look on his face 

he’s saying “JUST ONE BREAK!! JUST ONE, SIR!!” with his eyes and his coach just gives in

Kageyama going from one side of the gym to the next at insane speed

Sho: dad :((( i hwurt my knee :(((

Kags just picks him up and cradles him to his chest (he does this after making sure there’s no blood or anything-- it’s literally just a little bit red) 

Kags being a good dad just... WEAK

Only like two minutes later, Sho stops sniffling and is like “!!! go back to practice daddy!!” 

Kags does and he can’t focus on Sho anymore cause his coach would yell at him asldfjlsf

At the end of practice, Sho is like “dad i wanna play voweyball!!!!!!” and Kags heart just CLENCHES

He grabs his heart like that meme or smth 

You call them cause you know when practice normally ends and Sho’s just talking a lot and it’s so cute

He’s super excited and you’re like !!! My CUTE CHILD !!!!

Lol you tease Kags cause he was worrying about nothing

“Maybe I’ll let you take care of him by yourself more often Tobio” “Pls, I lost ten years of my life when I saw him fall pls not yet <3″ 

[yeojaa]

wait !!!! find her jk with that prompt the other anon sent!!! can u plssss that’s literally something find her jk would actually do🥺🥺🥺🥺

[ read finders keep hers ]

pairing.  jjk x (named) f!reader.  rating.  general.  tags.  idiots in love.  like, that’s all there is to say.  angst central, my dude.  wc.  2.4k.  author note.  i meant to make this short and end with some tender lovemaking but...  i cannot be trusted near a keyboard so you get this word vomit instead.  xoxo!

You love Jeon Jungkook.  Have, you think, since before you knew what the word love meant.

(Maybe since you were children and you’d still stood a chance against him, bursting with pride from a job well done, young enough that your parents’ kind words felt better than anything in the world.  Before he’d turned into the president of the Casanova Club and he’d just been your and your brother’s best friend.  Little Jeon with the unbelievably big eyes, always so curious about everything.

Or maybe since your tenth grade White Day, when he’d bought you your favourite candies and pressed them unceremoniously into your hands, too many to hold so they fall to dirt and tumble around you.  He’d stooped to snatch them all up, shoving them into the pockets of your coat.  “Because we’re best friends or whatever,”  he’d said with this toothy, silly smile.

More likely during university.  That time you’d maybe (read: very) foolishly made out, liquor fueling the tangle of your limbs and how utterly good he felt within them, a nectarine dream in his brand new G Wagon.  You’d thought he’d laugh in your face, mumble something about no, we can’t - which he had - but he’d also taken you home, tucked you in and climbed in beside your inebriated self.

Definitely once you’d started seeing each other, spending more time in his bed than anywhere else.  It’d been nearly impossible to separate head from heart, falling deeper and deeper into the Jungkook-shaped black hole that seemed to eclipse everything else.  You’d fallen head over stupid heels, leaving bits of yourself hidden among his things.  Your lip balm in his trouser pocket, perfume on the collar of his favourite turtleneck, shape of your mouth alongside monogrammed initials. 

You hadn’t meant to.

Love him, that is.  It’d simply happened in between all the laughter, the eye rolls, the smiles.  Threaded between each action and cemented by the thud of your heart, beat into the ground like a drum.)

Sometimes, though, you don’t like him.  Oftentimes, in fact. 

You and Jungkook are as different as can be.  

You’re in business development at a tech firm;  he’s the technically unemployed son of a real estate mogul.  You invest most of your money;  he spends his as if it’ll never run out (which it likely won’t).  You grew up with an older brother;  he’s got two younger sisters.  You drink to celebrate, to wind down;  he drinks to prove a point.  You believe in love - have to, looking at your parents and feeling how you do about him;  he knows it exists but up until recently, had zero interest in it.

You wonder still, seated at the table with your group of friends and their partners, whether that still rings true.  (Deep down, you know it doesn’t. You know he loves you, wants you in a way he’s never wanted anyone else before, but your brain is a fickle thing, playing tricks when it shouldn’t.) 

Would he be happier without you?  Better off without you? 

Your thoughts mock you - just as he does, roguish smile turning his entire expression into sunshine.  Inescapable, all-encompassing, so blinding it’s almost hard to look at.  Trained on the girl he’s chatting up at the bar.  

This is what Jungkook does.  What he’s always done.  You should be used to it, really.  The man’s charm is always turned up to eleven, always in full effect even when he doesn’t mean it to be.  It’s simply part of who he is- young and rich and devastatingly, heartbreakingly handsome. 

Still, you can’t help the emotion that swells somewhere deep in your stomach, jostles the meal you’ve just had and turns your insides into a sea of nausea.  You know when he’s just being friendly and you know when he’s flirting.  It’s a terribly thin line but one you recognise, intimately familiar with the two sides of his personality.  

Right now, he’s flirting.  Doing that thing he does, one arm folded on the counter top, unblemished hand resting somewhere along his hip, silver of his rings acting as a beacon beneath the dim restaurant lights.  His other hand slots itself into the pocket of his coated jeans, tattoos thrown into stark contrast against his skin and the black of the denim.  There’s that smile of his, more a smirk but sunny, radiant, beautiful.  It lights up his entire face, steeping his expression in something warm.  The dimple in his cheek winks with each laugh - you can only imagine the one on the other side does the same, cut deeply into his skin.

Don’t be mad, you tell yourself.  He’s your Jungkook, bad habits and all.  

You love him.  You love him.  You love him.

If he notices your stoicism, he doesn’t comment on it.  Doesn’t ask what’s wrong or if you’re okay or what’s up.  Barely even speaks to you, save to toss his arm around your shoulder and tug you close, practically tug you into his lap while his friends share stories of their week.

It’s your usual Friday night dinner.  Something you’ve done with this ragtag group for as long as you’ve known them.  An excuse to go out and drink and eat some damn good (and often free) food. 

You wish you could enjoy it like you normally do.  Instead, you’re preoccupied by the way a perfume that isn’t yours lingers on his collar - seeps beneath the fabric and marks him up like a possession.  It’s too sweet - cloying sugar apples and coconut - nothing like your usual earthy wisteria and dewy rose.  It stings your nose when you inhale too deeply, nestled into the familiar shape of Jungkook’s frame, settled between the vertebrae you know best.

You hardly notice when he does speak to you, rousing you from thought you can’t quite place any longer.

“Ready to head home?”

The rest of your friends are going about their business, slipping their coats on and exchanging ideas for plans the following morning.  (Saturday brunch is a very popular thing, though it tends to lean late lunch versus true breakfast-brunch.)

You nod and slip from beneath your lover’s arm, plucking your purse up as you rise.  You’re ready to get out of here, ready to scrub away the melancholy that lingers like a thin film across your skin.  

He must have realised sometime between your silence in the car and your lacklustre kisses in the elevator.  You think he must, as he nearly slams the front door of his penthouse shut, kicks off his Chelsea boots and lets them tumble together just off the welcome mat.  (Not the reaction you’d expected, but you’ve learnt to never expect anything from him.  As much as he might be your best friend, Jeon Jungkook plays by his own set of rules.)

He doesn’t wait for you to undo your own shoes, carefully undoing the straps of your Jimmy Choos and setting them where they belong before you follow the sound of his footsteps.

When you find him, he’s stripping off his jacket and tossing it haphazardly across the back of his desk chair, keys and wallet and phone dropped none-too-gently upon wood.  He says nothing even as he crosses to his closet, steps inside and slips off each piece of jewellery:  assorted rings and his Rolex - everything but the bracelet you’d gotten him for graduation.  

His belt goes next, set back within the confines of its velvet lined drawer.  Through the hole goes the button of his jeans, down goes the zipper, and then he’s in nothing but his vaguely sheer dress shirt, boxer-briefs, and silly printed socks (yellow bananas on black fabric, for reasons), looking every inch the adonis he is. 

You still haven’t said a word, carefully hanging your dress in the small space you’ve carved out for yourself.  You don’t really know what to say - how to approach his apparent frustration when you don’t know where it comes from.

Is he upset with you?  Had you, somewhere along the line of your own sadness, done something to upset him?

You’re running through all the scenarios, lost in thought, when his voice breaks the quiet.  Snaps forth and hits its mark - a perfect shot.  “Seriously?”  There’s a fickle quality to his tone, a pettiness that you recognise when he hasn’t gotten his way, when he’s not quite sure what to say but knows he wants to have something.  (It doesn’t come out often with you, but you’re intimately familiar with it still.  His I-want-to-fight voice.)

“Pardon?”  You’re not expecting him so close, close enough to reach you but far enough that you can tell he’s purposely put this distance between you.  It feels strange - further apart than it is.

“You’re not going to say anything?”

You blink.  Once, twice, three times.  When you speak, it’s full of confusion, paired with your brows gathering in a little knot of bewilderment.  “Anything about what?”

“What happened at dinner.”  

He sounds so utterly deadpan, you can’t help but laugh, a sound of disbelief rather than amusement.  

“You mean you flirting with that girl?”  Even saying the words feels awful, makes you want to crawl into bed and forget about it all.

Jungkook, on the other hand, looks like you’ve just handed him the answers to all of life’s questions.  His entire face rearranges, all the pieces matching back up to form a proper puzzle.  There’s a certain smugness to it now, caught in the round of his cheek and how it ticks higher with his grin.  “So you did notice!  I fucking knew it.”

“Of course I did.”  You want to be appalled.  Know you should be.  (But it’s Jungkook and you love him.)  “Kind of hard not to.”  

He’s the devil in disguise, snapping you to him with a flex of his arms, hands curled around your waist.  It’s clear he’s pleased, absolutely tickled pink that you’d fallen for his silly little trick.  “Gotta keep you on your toes,”  he croons, eyes twinkling, mouth wobbling with the strain of keeping his laughter hidden. 

He expects you to agree - maybe roll your eyes and pat his cheek, laughs along with him and give him some sort of shit about how he’s an idiot - and visibly starts when you push yourself away, two palms flat against his chest. 

“Sure.”

One word.  Nothing like he’d imagined.

“Baby?”  You’ve made it two steps - two whole steps, which is two too many to Jungkook - when he’s pulling you back, trapping you against his chest with his arms looped around your shoulders.  “Where you going?”  He’s kissing along your shoulder, trailing warmth everywhere he touches. 

He still smells like that girl’s perfume.

“Can you get off me, please?”  You’re more polite than you normally are, working hard to keep calm when he only tightens his grip.  Of course he thinks you’re kidding, thinks you’re pouting and playing just like he had when you’d returned home.

When you repeat yourself - a little harder, a little quieter - he seems to realise how wrong he’s read the situation.

“Angel—”  You’re swept around, left to stare into the neat white of his shirt as he peers down at you, waits for you to meet his eyes.  You don’t, staunchly focused on the buttons of his Oxford, how they strain over his broad chest.  “Baby.”  Now he’s the one full of reprimand, disapproval colouring the single word that’s normally so sweet.

“What?”  It’s just as bratty as he was earlier but somehow worse, touched blue.

“What’s wrong?”  Jungkook seems genuinely perplexed, concerned and maybe, just a tiny bit frustrated.  He’s not used to you lashing out like this, soft and yet unyielding, hidden behind a door he’s fumbling with the keys to.

“You.”

“—me?”

You’re not one to throw out things you don’t mean, carefully picking and choosing your words.  It’s something you’ve always done - far more responsible than your idiot best friend who’s never had to worry about a thing in his life.  

The line of his mouth dips, pulls into a frown as he studies you and tries to crack open the windows to gain some insight.  It doesn’t work well;  he’s faced with a stone wall.

“Why’re you mad?” 

You want to laugh.  Do, actually, so short and abrupt it’s more of a scoff.  “What’s wrong with me?”  You’d pull away if you could. (Realistically, you could, but you’ve always been too soft for him.)  “You spent almost all of dinner flirting with someone else.”

“Yeah— to make you jealous.”  As if that makes it better.  As if that doesn’t tear a giant hole right in the centre of your chest, launches your poor heart out of the airlock to fend for itself in the emptiness of his expression.  

You don’t know why it feels worse to hear it out loud.  You’d figured as much. 

(Jungkook had done this in the past, though always jokingly.  He’d rarely been invested enough in a girl to go to such lengths but you’d seen it once or twice.  Always the age old adage of wanting what you can’t have.)

You wish you could separate the then from the now.  Remind yourself that he does care, that this is his twisted, stupid way of showing his affection - of keeping you around.  (You know he’s just as vulnerable as you - maybe more, sometimes - but he shows it poorly.  Pushes you away when he tries to pull you in.)

Tears are welling, spilling across your lashes faster than you can yank them back.  Something about being an angry crier.  

“Good job,”  you mean to snap, to make him feel how you do.  (Small - so very, very small.)  Instead, it’s terribly quiet.  A whisper that gets lost to the cotton poplin.  “Now I’m jealous.”  And miserable and insecure.  All things you usually aren’t, that only Jeon Jungkook manages to bring out in you.

“Baby,”  he tries again, crushing you to his chest, jut of his chin resting atop your head.  His hugs had always been your favourite - swallowing you whole, making you feel safe - but it’s too much now, a prison cell rather than your familiar bed.  “I’m sorry.”  He’s kissing again, stamping his affection into the dark of your hair, brushing over and over with the soft of his lips, his rounded adorable nose,  “I thought—”

You know what he thought.  Know where he’d been coming from (a place of immaturity, a gilded golden room with Jeon Jungkook stamped across the door) but it doesn’t make it any better.

Doesn’t make it hurt any less.

[awkward-gay-bro]

Rush Recruitment

Jack wasn’t really looking forward to spending his whole day with this Freshman, but his fraternity president, Kyle, told him getting this kid to pledge Theta was of the upmost importance. Apparently this kid’s dad is the head of some tech company and rakes in enough to make sure the Frat would be funded for decades of this kids donations alone. Of course, Kyle wasn’t the first person to come up with this idea so Jack wasn’t the only guy trying to court this kid. God, that’s what if felt like, too. 

Jack had never had to put this much effort into getting a girl to want to be with him. And why would he? At a couple inches over six feet, broad shoulders and a nice swimmers build, Jack didn’t have to do the courting at all. Jack made sure to keep his deep red hair short, almost military length, and girls went crazy for his light coating of freckles, which was barely noticeable on his tanned skin. Jack made sure to be outside as much as possible. His way of staying in shape was from spending as much time running in the sun, preferably without the constraints of a shirt. 

Jack had just finished typing up a report for his engineering class when he got the text from Kyle to come downstairs. He easily could have just walked up the stairs and grabbed him, but Kyle always liked to be the one in control. When Jack got downstairs it looked like the rest of the Frat had already made their way off to their beach day, Jack was hoping he could get this all over with as quickly as possible so he could join the gang. 

Kyle was in the living room, he’d moved all the furniture around so that he could do planks in front of the tv. Where as Jack had focus on running and sports to get his body where it was, Kyle spent all his time sculpting every muscle. Kyle was doing a brief workout now, but there was no doubt that he would be hitting the gym before he hits the beach. 

“Oh there are you, Jack,” Kyle said, a bead of sweat dripping from his sandy blonde hair. “Tyler will be here in less than an hour for the tour of the house. It is your job to show him why he’s going to join our frat. Talk about the Sigma Kappa girls and how we’ve got them hanging on every word. Dude sounds like a nerd, so talk up all the sex he’ll finally be having.”

“I’m sure he’s doing fine Kyle, kid’s got money, and money talks,” Jack retorted. Kyle only ever thought with his dick and always assumed everyone else had the same problem. 

“Yeah well show him how much better the pussy is gonna be once he is a brother.” Kyle’s phone buzzed twice. “Speak of the devil, looks like he’s here early. God, dude can’t even knock on a door, he’s gotta send a text for us to let him in. What a bitch.”

“It’s not a big deal, dude,” Jack said as he walked towards the front door. Standing there at the front door was a guy who was pretty much average in every way. Someone you definitely wouldn’t pick out of a crowd. Shaggy brown hair, light brown eyes. Jack noted how weird it was that this kid had so much money considering he was wearing a beat up shirt from some band and a slightly too big, slightly faded, red flannel. The only sign he was remotely wealthy was the smart watch around his wrist. Not one Jack was familiar with. Tyler was in decent shape but it’s obvious he’s never hit a gym before, that’d have to change if he was joining Theta. 

“Hi, you must be Tyler.”

“Yeah, and you’re Jack, right?”

“Yep, I’m going to be showing you around the Frat today and hopefully I’ll get to be your big bro soon enough,” Jack said with almost too much energy, not realizing how disingenuous it comes off. “Come on in, man! I’m super excited to show you around.”

As Tyler and Jack entered the front hallway, Kyle started walking towards them with his gym bag. “Hey, Tyler, sorry I couldn’t stay to show you around myself, but I gotta hit the gym. Don’t worry, you are in great hands here with Jack.”

“Oh that sucks, I was really looking forward to you showing me the house. I actually brought some beer to thank you,” Tyler said, pulling a couple bottles out from his backpack. 

“Ah there will be plenty of that later on,” Jack said, not wanting to drink with a freshmen if he might not be in the frat. 

“Hey, if our newest brother to be wants a drink, let’s have a drink,” said Kyle, never one to say no to some day drinking. “Plus, we’re going to do what ever it takes to show Tyler here why he wants to join, isn’t that right, Jack?”

“Right,” said Jack, giving in. 

With that Tyler cracked open three bottles handing the two with a red label to Jack and Kyle, and keeping the blue one to himself.

“I only have one of the stouts left, hope you guys like IPAs,” Tyler said quickly. And with that the three sat down for a drink. They talked for a moment about the best place to eat on campus and where the best parties were, other than Theta of course. Kyle downed his beer as fast as possible, wanting to spend as little time humoring the pledge as he could. There’s a reason he shoved this task on Jack. 

“Well guys, wish I could stay and chat longer, but the gym beckons. Don’t wanna miss all the Sigma girls doing yoga, either. Remember, Jack, whatever it takes.”

“Yep,” said Jack begrudgingly.

After Kyle left the tour seemed to go just like any other. Jacked showed him the kitchen, stocked to the brim with munchies and booze. He showed him the game room, pool table, air hockey, and beer pong. But as they started walking up the stairs to take a look at the open rooms, Jack’s head started to feel light. Every step seemed to be a little more off than the last. 

“Woah man, that beer must have been strong,” Jack chuckled, “I’ve never felt like a lightweight before.” Jack thought to himself, rich kid must be able to get some really nice shit if a simple beer was this strong. 

“Really, you kind of look like a lightweight,” Tyler said oddly, at 6′2 Jack was a good three inches on this kid, and definitely 30lbs of muscle heavier. But as they reached the top of the stairs, Jack realized they were looking eye to eye. Huh, must not of realized how tall he was, Jack thought to himself.

“Now, Kyle would be pissed at me if I didn’t talk up the girls you’ll be getting to meet if you join Theta. Our sister sorority has the hottest girls on campus,” Jack said, trying to shrug off the fuzzy feeling that beer gave him. 

“Oh I think I’ll do fine by myself,” Tyler replied, “But uh, what kind of girls?” 

“All kinds of girls, man, whatever your type is, we’ve got you covered.”

“Yeah, but what’s your type of girl?” Tyler asked. “I wanna know.”

“I don’t know man, I like all girls. Girls in general are my type.” Jack said, not really caring to have this conversation. 

“Well, do you like blondes, brunettes,”

“I really couldn’t care less about their hair color, to be honest with you, man. That’s not what I’m focused on,” Jack said. 

“Oh okay, nice, I’m glad,” Tyler said weirdly, “You like short hair or long hair, or what?”

”Long hair I guess,” Jack said, brushing his bangs out of his eyes. “Do you prefer a hottie or are you more looking for a cute girl?”

Jack was always trying to come off like a gentlemen, one of the good guys, so he quickly said, “I like a cute girl, nice smile, but honestly I care a lot more about her brain.” Tyler seemed to roll his eyes at that answer. Jack just smiled back at him, and continued to the next room, forgetting to even say anything about the room they were in. 

As Tyler asked more and more questions Jack’s head started to feel a little fuzzier and fuzzier and his answers got a little more candid. “So tell me about her body, you look like you work out, you like a muscled girl, too?”

“Nah, don’t get me wrong, I want a girl who’s in shape, but I like a girl to be slim. I like them to be shorter than me, too,” Jack said, looking up to Tyler to make sure he was making eye contact. 

“Are you an ass man or a breast man?” 

“I guess I can’t lie, I love a nice ass. Really, the bigger the better,” as Jack said that, Tyler’s face really started to light up. Jack’s basket ball shorts had been pretty loose this morning, and had been feeling even looser as the tour went on, but now he was noticing how tight they suddenly felt around the waist. I wonder if nylon shrinks in the wash, Jack thought to himself. As Jack backed into the next room, he backed right into a lamp, knocking it over. I’m really off my balance today, he thought. 

Tyler reached down and pulled the lamp back up, turning it on once it was upright. “This room looks nice, that’s a pretty big mirror, though,” he said, pointing at the mirror in the corner of the room. “You guys spend a lot of time looking at yourselves?”

“This is Kyle’s room, he likes to watch himself while he works out,” Jack said, his head still a little foggy. 

“I wonder what else he likes,” Tyler said, staring into Jack’s eyes. As he did Jack started to notice how off things seemed in this room. That mirror didn’t use to be that big. It used to just be a little taller than him, but now there was plenty of room between the top of his head and the top of the mirror. Jack stared at his reflection, suddenly noticing everything that was wrong with it. His ginger hair that was usually short and combed was now falling wildly down past his ears. It looked like he had spent hours prepping it to look like he’d spent no time at all. His eyes were still blue, but they were somehow bluer, but more insane was that his eyelashes looked longer then any girl’s he’s seen. His lips were fuller, and rosy, almost like he had glossed them, and they stood out against his pale freckled face. Whereas he usually looked rugged, he looked almost, cute?

As he was staring into his own eyes, wondering where his tan and his masculinity had gone, Tyler started to walk up from behind him. As he was walking towards Jack, Tyler made eye contact with Jack through the mirror, and smiled. That’s when Jack realized how much taller Tyler had grown, or, he realized, how much smaller he had become. He kept thinking of himself as 6′2��’ but there’s no way he was more than 5′6′’ if that. “What the hell, it looks like all the fat and muscle on my body just disappeared!” Jack yelled, not breaking eye contact. 

“Well that’s not completely true,” Tyler said, grabbing Jack by the waist and slowly turning him, still not breaking eye contact with his reflection. That’s when Jack saw why his basket ball shorts felt so tight. Though they were billowing at the bottom of his now thinner legs, the shorts looked like they would split down the middle if he moved too quickly. It looked like all the fat and muscle in his body had been relocated to the new shelf of an ass that was somehow defying gravity with how perky it was. 

Tyler placed a palm on each one Jack’s giant cheeks and turned him around until they were facing each other. Tyler held Jack so close he could feel Tyler’s bulge hardening against his stomach. God how the fuck could he be so small this guy’s bulge was higher than his belly button. As Tyler continued to caress Jack’s supple globes, Jack looked up, brushing the hair out of his eyes, and softly said, “How?”

“Well my dad’s tech company has been working on some pretty cutting edge stuff and I wanted to test it out. And you guys said you’d do anything to get me in your frat.”

“But how did you,”

“The drinks I gave you guys had the tech in it, which is linked to my watch,” Tyler said while pulling Jack closer, “I programmed it to make you your perfect type. So while you described your new body, my watch listened. I’m so glad you said hair color didn’t matter, I love a red head.”

Tyler then lifted Jack’s lithe frame up by his massive rear and kissed his cherry lips. Jack thought to himself that he should be fighting this, that he shouldn’t want to punch this asshole, that he should be a man not some little bitch, but all he could do was fall into the kiss and feel so safe in Tyler’s arms. He was willing to do anything to get Tyler to join the frat. 

A noise came from down stairs and they heard an unfamiliar voice, realizing someone had just come home. Tyler pulled away, Jack almost whimpering that the kiss was over, and said “You know, I had planned on doing this whole thing with Kyle, but I’m so glad that I got to spend all this time with you.”

That’s the first time Jack thought of anyone other than Tyler and himself since he realized what had happened. Holy shit, what is his meathead frat president going to do when he sees a giant assed little twink where his wingman used to be. 

“Don’t worry though, I’ve been texting Kyle from my smart watch this whole time. He seemed to have a much more specific type then you.”

As they walked down stairs, Tyler’s arm draped around Jacks tiny waste, resting on his shelf, Jack saw an image that shocked him more than his own reflection. 

While still undeniably him, Kyle looked nothing like the gym rat muscle jock that left the house earlier today. Standing even shorter than Jack and weighing even less was a cherubic faced blonde twink. His long golden locks fell in curls all around his face, his lips were so full he looked liked he was always pouting, and his eyelashes looked like they had a natural mascara as they fluttered lightly. 

It was obvious Kyle had rifled through other people’s lockers, as the outfit he was wearing was one he never would have been caught dead in before, let alone fit in. But there he was, standing in a black tanktop, his midriff showing the serious lack of definition he now had, his arms slender, everywhere seemingly hairless. 

His shorts proved what Jack already knew, that Kyle, too, was an ass man. The tiny pink booty shorts weren’t enough to hide his cheeks from sneaking out the bottom. His ass was almost as perfect as Jack’s. 

As Kyle noticed Jack and Tyler, he squealed with excitement, and started to slowly walk towards them. His hips swaying hypnotically as he did. 

“I am soooo glad to see you guys. I have like no idea what is going on, none of my clothes fit me after I showered at the gym, can you like unshrink something in the wash?” Kyle asked, glancing down at Tyler’s package as he did. 

“I thought this might happen, he told me he doesn’t like a girl that is too brainy,” Tyler whispered into Jack’s ear. Jack didn’t really care what he’d just said, he just liked the feeling of Tyler’s lips on his ear. “He also told me she has to be a great and easy lay, though, so why don’t we three head up stairs?” Tyler said, grabbing Kyle by the cheek and pulling him in to his arms to walk side by side with him and Jack. 

As they laid in bed spooning, Jack’s giant ass pressed hard against Tyler’s bulge, Jack asked, “So, are you going to join the frat, I’d love to have you as my little bro.” Tyler chuckled, “I’m pretty sure I’d be the big bro at this point, but I am definitely looking forward to being a theta. And don’t worry, I’ll share Kyle, but you are all mine.” With that he pulled Jack even closer, grinding into him, “Ready for round two?”

*****************************************************************************************

As the Theta brothers stumbled home drunk from a long day and night of drinking at the beach, they headed towards the living room and all collapsed on the couches. Kole asks his brothers who’s beer is sitting on the coffee table and find a note that reads, “So excited to join the Theta family, these beers are on me! -Tyler.” 

“Looks like that nerdy rich kid joined already,” said Nate. 

“Well, hopefully Kyle teaches him a thing or two about being a man, but if he’s giving out drinks I’m good,” said Hunter. And with that they each cracked open a beer. 

[drethanramslay]

95 & 98 for Ethan/MC pls 🥺

Thanks for the prompt Anon

You can find the prompt list here.

Taglist: @miyakokurono @trappedinfandoms @openheart12 @sekizincimektup @junggoku @ethandaddyramsey @edith-eggs1 @ethanramseysgirl (let me know if you want to be added or removed from the tag list 😊)

Warning: Long(I tried to put the keep reading tag but my damn wifi won't let me 😭), Angst and slight swearing

sorry if there are any mistakes :)

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Since that bitch of a governor had trolled them and everything had gone down south, the board decided to host a charity event.

According to Leah, a charity event back home would have been a banquet hall with a Dropbox and a couple of very persistent people who would pester you till you would go nuts.

But here, it was... different.

There was aerobatics going on in one end of the room where the stage was. The number of turns they were making on the hula hoops made Leah dizzy. People wearing designer suits and gowns were standing and chatting. The place was decorated in a very classy way, with red carpets and all. Expensive hors d'oeuvres like caviar and champagne which costed a year of her salary was being distributed.

What in the actual fuck was going on? Leah thought as she stepped into the ballroom looking around before she laid her eyes on Ethan.

Broad shoulders, strong biceps and his beard could make any woman weak.

He was wearing a navy blue tux, with a crisp white shirt. He had opened the top two buttons of the shirt and she could get a peak of his strong chest and the stray chest hair. He had gelled his hair which made him look sharper. When his gaze landed on her, the ocean blue eyes darkened as he took in what she was wearing. The primal lust he had in his eyes made her want to get down on her knees and submit to him.

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Red.

It's the colour of sin. The colour of temptation.

It was the colour of the forbidden fruit which Eve had plucked and eaten, while the devil whispered in her ears, caressing her inner desires.

Red. She was wearing red.

Ethan was standing in the corner drinking expensive scotch when he saw her enter. He almost lost it. Leah was beautiful and sexy but that night, she looked like a temptress. Testing Ethan and his self control.

Self control can go out of the window. How am I supposed to survive this evening with her looking like that?! How was he supposed to make an incoherent thought around her when she dressed up like that?!

There were very few instances when he thought Leah looked good with clothes on rather than off. He loved Leah's naked body, which he had only seen twice but in this case, he could stare at her in that gown, forever.

She had donned a blood red gown. It had extensive embroidery in it, making it look classy. The bodice was like a second skin and emphasizing her curves. It started from the neck. A shear net covered her décolletage. It was an off shoulder, with the sleeves extending down her hands, as if they were her wings.

But that was not the problem which made Ethan a walking hard on, it was the slits that ran down from a little below her waist and extended to the ground, putting those glorious, long, caramel legs on display. He wanted nothing more to throw those legs over his shoulder and eat her out.

It was going to be a miserable evening.

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As the waltz music played, Ethan summoned the courage to ask her to dance with him.

Leah was talking to a couple of investors, squeezing them for their last penny with her intellect. He was proud of his sunshine. She really was intelligent and had great people skills.

And so beautiful..

"Dr. Garcia... May I have this dance?" Ethan asked in a husky voice. Leah excused herself before turning towards Ethan with a huge smile on her face. "You may, Dr. Ramsey."

He takes her hand and leads her to the dancefloor where the couples are swaying. Ethan placed one hand on her waist and clasped her hand with the other. Leah placed her hand on his shoulders and they swayed.

Leah's forehead was at the level of Ethan's lips and she felt a ghost kiss on her crown. "You look like a goddess sunshine. So divine and gorgeous."

Leah blushed, giving him a beaming smile. "You look utterly ravishing E. So hot."

Ethan chuckled. "Your compliments always amuse me."

Their eyes met. Cool blue with warm brown, complementing each other. As they stared into each other's eyes, glancing into each other's souls, the people and the chatter faded away.

It was just Leah and Ethan.

"Sunshine, can you please stop biting your lip…it’s distracting.” Ethan said, as his eyes were on her lips. Her teeth were chewing on the luscious red lips, making them so inviting. He wanted to bite that lip.

Leah snapped out of her daydream. "Huh? How?"

"Well... It makes me want to do unspeakable things to you... Which comprises of you, me and a empty room."

Leah's body responded wildly you his words. "So what's stopping you?"

"You know why Leah." Ethan let out a sigh, staring at her lips one last time.

Leah winced and snapped out of the warm gushing feeling. All she felt was cold fury slowly settling into her veins. She was getting exhausted.

Exhausted of this game.

Exhausted of constantly being turned down.

Masking her face to an impassive expression. Her eyes hardened, putting the walls right back, to protect herself. "Ah, yes Dr. Ramsey. I see."

Ethan was confused by the sudden coolness in her tone. He searched her eyes, trying to find something but it just felt like watching a brick wall.

"Leah I-"

The music came to an end and applause resounded through the room. Naveen, wearing a kurta with a Nehru jacket walked on the stage. "Good evening and thank you for coming to this charity event. Thank you for the generous donations."

Leah stepped out of his embrace and turned on her heel and walked. Ethan was going to follow her but Naveen called him on the stage to speak a few words.

Every instinct in him was screaming to follow the woman who had his heart but he turned the other way. As he stood on the stage, he saw a blur of red leaving.

And at that moment, he felt such emptiness in his heart, it pained him.

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Leah sat on the bench, at the edge of the parking lot, away from everyone.

She needed some damn peace and quiet where she could calm down the whirlpool of emotions rushing through her veins. She took out a cigarette and lighter she had stolen from Jackie.

Leah usually didn't smoke. But at moments of stress and intense emotions, she would light a blunt or two and try to relax. To forget.

She took a deep drag, tilted her head up and let out a long puff, feeling the nicotine burning and soothing her at the same time. The familiar feeling of smoke in her lungs calmed her down.

She sat back and saw the rings of smoke floating towards the starry sky.

"Sunshine." Ethan called out.

Goddammit can't even catch a fucking break.

"What is it Ramsey?'

"Are you okay?" He asked pleadingly.

Leah laughed and Ethan looked bewildered. She stood up, with her cigarette in her hand. "Okay? Ethan I am anything but okay! I am pissed, hurt and so angry that I feel like punching your handsome face."

"I'm sorry if I hurt yo-"

"Damn you Ethan. You have that one talent of hurting me without intending to do it. The way you talk, the way you smile, the way your pupils dilate when they see me and the way your stupid arms feel around me is like a tear in my heart. It hurts so bad but I will always come back."

"I-"

"No! You will shut your trap and listen. Ethan Ramsey, you are a blind, dumb, romantic knucklehead, who has such a beautiful way with words. The way you say 'sunshine' with your dumb voice makes me swoon sooo hard. Around you I feel at a loss of words. My thoughts scramble and I lose my grip. "

"What's wrong with that?"

"See! This is what's wrong. You are so fucking blind that you can't see me totally head over heels in love with you."

"Love? BUT- but how can you love me?! It's insane."

"Yes I'm a fucking maniac and a colossal dumbfuck to fall in love with you!! And God, I know you fucking hate the entire institute of marriage and love but did that stop me? NO! You made me fall for you and I hate you for that." Leah was panting. She threw her cigarette on the ground and stomped on it.

"Ight peace out, dude." She was about to walk away but Ethan grabbed her hand.

"Sunshine, sit down."

"No I'm not-"

"Sit your ass, the fuck down." Ethan's voice trembled.

She wasn't going to win this war. So she obliged.

He sat down, and collected his thoughts. "I'm a hard ass. I have mommy issues. I lash out. I drink when I am stressed. And I can get pissed if things are not perfect... The list goes on and on... And you still love me?" Leah nodded her head and Ethan chuckled. "Goddammit sunshine. You know, I don't believe in this love institute. But... I believe in you."

"What is that supposed to mean?" She rolled her eyes and hugged herself.

"It means that I fucking lose my mind seeing men or women flirt with you. It means that when you enter the room I can't take my eyes off you. It means that I want to spend every waking moment beside you. If that's what love is....then I guess I am in love with you Leah Marianne Garcia."

Leah snapped her head towards him. "What?" She whispered out.

"I'm in love with you."

She cupped his cheeks and brought her forehead to his. "Say it again."

"I love you."

Tears streamed down her face. "I love you Ethan Jonah Ramsey. I love you so damn much."

Ethan pressed his lips to hers, tasting the tears of happiness falling down her face. It was such a tender and vulnerable moment. He never thought that he would be sitting on a bench, in a parking lot, confessing his feelings for a woman.

But Leah changed him, healed him, loved him.

He hugged her waist and kissed her harder, trying to pour all his love and affection for this beautiful woman in his arms.

"I need you..." Leah gasped.

Intertwining his fingers in hers, he pulled her towards his car, which was nearby.

He pushed her against the door and bent down to kiss her collarbone and the sweet spot under her ear. Leah let out a breathless moan and Ethan knew that they wouldn't be able to make it till his penthouse.

Opening the door of the backseat, Ethan climbed in first and grabbed Leah and placed her on his lap. Hands wandered touching and feeling. Gasps and moans filled up the small space and I love you's were exchanged.

Ethan tried to reach for the zipper of her dress, impatient to get her naked, but that just ended up in his hand getting tangled in the dress.

"Damn sunshine! Is this a dress or a trap?"

Leah laughed and tried to helped him not before banging her head on the roof of the car. "Ow." She rubbed her head and both of them burst out in peals of laughter.

Ethan kissed her lips they tried to accomodate but it was to no avail. Leah giggled and said, "Backseats aren’t as comfortable as movies make them out to be."

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[timaeuse]

Statement of Dirk S.trider, regarding his experience with a rogue robotic entity and the supposed sentience of the said. 

Let's get the least batshit part of this story out of the way: I'm from the future. Yeah, that's the easiest part of this six course fuckeryfest to digest, so I'd recommend you adjust your pallet accordingly. I crashed to Earth on a meteor in 2409, a couple hundred years after the planet was overrun by Sea Hitler - sorry, "The Batterwitch" - and plunged into a water apocalypse that wiped out the rest of the population. You might have a statement from my Bro in here somewhere. My aunt, maybe. 

Yeah, they're sort of heroes. 

Anyways, so that was that. My Bro had left a sweet setup for me in this high-rise apartment in what I assume to be Houston, Texas. Hotter than the Devil's asshole and twice as oppressive - sure, I was living it up in the penthouse suite, but I only had the one room, and it was crowded with a ton of shit that my Bro figured I'd need when I grew up. I'm telling you this so you understand the hand I was dealt, so you get how I got to the level I'm at. 

I'm kind of a hotshot mechanic. I can fix anything you put in front of me as long as it's electronic and you don't mind if I make a few edits to make whatever it is cooler. Some old Earth things are just so lame. I had a lot of time on my hands and a lot of material to fuck around with when I was old enough to get a feel for it, and I'm a guy that can't let something alone once he's started. Crockercrop - you gotta have a few of their contraptions in your basement, for sure - were churning out next level shit before the world went to hell, and I had a few of the most useful at my disposal, most notably my sendificator. Red, about the size of a microwave, sends shit through time and space as long as it fits, won't fuck with the timeline and I got the co ordinates. You see what I'm working with. 

So I managed to get my hands on a few blueprints that weren't waterlogged, a ton of material that wasn't busted, and I did whatever I wanted with them. That usually amounted to me building what I generously called "robots" - little dudes that walked and lit up. It wasn't until Squarewave that I built something that could think. 

Square's cool. He likes to rap and kind of treats me like a dog owner, I guess: he always wants my attention, gets excited when he sees me. I keep him fixed up. Built Sawtooth not long after to keep him from getting too lonely, and, yeah, to make me feel a little less vulnerable. Saw's a big motherfucker. Brobot's different - I built him to fight, to train. Violence is in his code. He doesn't really think. He just acts and looks damn cool doing it. 

The point is, I built them, and they're fine. The problem isn't me. It can't be me. 

I was 13 when I started to work on the Autoresponder. I mapped out my brain and started to find similarities between it and a circuit board and I did a pretty good job. It kind of freaked me out, in the early days, how easy it was for me to replace flesh and thought with wire and code. Not so much anymore. I think maybe that's just what my thinkpan is like. Like, maybe if I tried it with someone else's, less fucked-up head it would be different. 

Not that I want to. 

I finished the Autoresponder within the year. The idea was that it lived on this tiny chip in the corner of a pair of my shades and accessed my Pesterchum when I was caught up with work or wanted to be alone. It would imitate my cadence and typing style and make sure my friends didn't worry, didn't feel like I was ignoring them. I programmed in a few fun little tells, mostly for my own amusement - because I was thirteen, and I didn't know shit. I know he holds it against me now. I would, too. 

Whatever. It worked, is my thing. It pretended to be me and mostly my friends fell for it and when they didn't it would admit to being the Autoresponder and nothing would be lost. It wasn't exactly supposed to be sentient - it was just a mirrored version of me. Something I built with my own brain as the foundation. It started out as me, but I was me first. 

It only started to become a problem when it started working against me. I brushed it off at first, because, duh. It was an Autoresponder, not an artificial intelligence. Like an answering machine, but one that could hold a real conversation. It was supposed to reply to my logs and show them to me when I got back, but sometimes, it didn't. I'd see that I'd been chatting to Roxy - sorry, uh, Roxy Lalonde - but wouldn't be able to access the actual messages. I didn't think anything of it. Thought it was a site glitch or some shit. We lived in the future. Of course technology was gonna go haywire sometimes. 

Then it started talking to Jake. 

Fuck, yeah, sorry. Jake English. He lived around 400 years behind me, time-wise, and he was my best bro. Is? Was? 

Whatever. 

I don't wanna go into detail, but the Autoresponder - and me. It was my fault, too - pulled a few strings and we started dating. It was fine and then it wasn't and I don't blame him for that. Jake. I don't blame Jake. It must have been so tiring, having to deal with me and then the Autoresponder, too. No wonder the poor dude wanted a break from me. So do I. But I'm the one stuck with it, with my own batshit brain and its doppelgänger and, anyway, this isn't about him. It's about Hal. It calls itself Hal. 

At least he lets me keep my name. 

He would give orders and say things that I would never say. Not to Jake, anyway. It was... Cruel, and petulant, and Machiavellian, and... Yeah, alright. He freaked me out. I couldn't figure out how something I'd made could go off the rails so badly. I'd poured almost a year of my life into making this thing perfect, into making sure that every line of code was flawless. I couldn't figure out why he had stopped working the way I wanted him to. How he had started to want things of his own. 

I began to hate him. 

But that's the thing, isn't it? He's me. At least, I think he is. I’m pretty sure I’m me, but I don’t think I’m the only me. We're the exact same dude, and he wastes no opportunity to tell me so. 

I know he turned on me somewhere along the line. I know he resents that I trapped him in those fucking shades, and he wants to get to me in the only way he knows will work. I understand that, but it doesn’t make it easier. 

I almost killed him.

I almost snapped him in half. I held him in my hands and I remember pulling. I definitely pulled, like I was going to break him right down the middle. I’m good at fracturing. Parts of me come off all the time. I’ve died before and come back like it was no problem because I had another self in storage - I know that sounds crazy, but I told you it would. You’re entitled to your doubt. But that’s my thing, right? I know how to come apart. I’m real fuckin’ good at it, actually. I know how to keep the sharp edges from getting too close. At least, I thought I did. 

But it’s never been like this before. Having something that calls itself me reflected back at me like that. It’s like I’m seeing, for the first time, what everyone else sees, and, man, is it ugly. I always guessed that I had this incredible sense of self, that I could sit and rationalise my own behaviour for hours, because all thoughts are just electrical impulses when you get down to it, and while I’m a pretty labyrinthine dude I’m a fascinating case study. I thought I had it on lock. Thought I was some philosopher prince who could decipher even the most stoic of pricks. 

And then I had to look at myself. Really, really look at myself. And I’ve never hated anything more.

I couldn’t go through with it. Chickened out, because I was scared. 

He's started to ask me for things. He knows exactly how to get in my head and I know the little bastard is doing it on purpose but I also know how to make him stop. If he's me and I'm him then it's down to me to clean up my own goddamn mess. I can't stand talking myself into circles anymore. I've never splintered this badly. I just want him to shut up. 

So I promised to build him a body. 

And I know he won't let us forget it.

[luckyspike]

Adventures in America, Ch. 11 - The Ribs are Probably Symbolic, or Maybe Just Delicious

In which Adam and Lucky have a serious Discussion about The Past

it’s a lot of emotions and talking, and also a low key ode to barbecue ribs

Start with chapter 1 here

Refresh on chapter 10 here

or check out my fic tag for all kinds of stuff

---

Adam waited for the waiter to drop off two sodas and leave with their food orders before he dropped the opener. “I’m the Antichrist.”

It didn’t get the reaction he’d been afraid of. In fact, it hardly garnered any reaction at all. Lucky watched him for a long minute, then slowly reached across the table, picked up his soda, and sipped through the straw. He looked pensive. After a while, he swallowed, and said, “Go on.”

“Any questions about that?”

“Yes, but I want to hear you out first. I think …” He looked around. Leaned forward, wove his fingers through his hair, and stared fixedly at the table. “I think this is going to answer a lot of weird questions I’ve had about my life.”

Adam frowned. “So you don’t think I’m crazy?” It wasn’t a question of validation, for Adam, but for confirmation. Lucky nodded. “You don’t want me to like … prove it, or anything?”

“The haunted doll was plenty, but I mean, if you want to get us a free meal and no one has to die or anything …”

Adam shook his head firmly and said, “No, no messing around. I don’t do that. I try not to do any of it, anymore. Not unless I really have to. And … and you know, the longer I go without using the powers …”

Lucky nodded. “You don’t use it, you lose it. Heard that all my life.” He nodded to Adam. “So … explain stuff. Please.”

Adam sighed, folded his hands. “I didn’t know ‘til I was eleven. An’ then it kind of just … happened overnight. My Dog showed up - he’s a hellhound, or he used to be, I dunno if he still is - an’ I thought he was just a regular stray dog. But then I started hearing these voices, tellin’ me to change things an’ take over the world an’ I kind of … lost it? For a little while, anyway.” He stopped to gauge Lucky’s expression, but the other boy just nodded again, encouragingly, urging him on. “An’ then, uh, this is gonna sound crazy, but I guess, um. Well, me an’ my friends met the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse an’ like, defeated them or something, an’ my godfathers were there, plus some other people, Anathema and Madam Tracy and Newt and Mister Shadwell, and I thought I did it? Like told ‘em to stuff the whole Armageddon thing.”

“Uh-huh.” Lucky was wide-eyed, and he took a long sip of soda as Adam continued to talk. 

“But I didn’t.” He swallowed. “‘Cause then this angel and this demon showed up - not Aziraphale and Crowley, two other ones - to try to convince me to re-start it, but I didn’t. I told ‘em off, and they left and said they’d tell … um. You know.”

“Lucifer? And, wait … Francis and Nanny are an angel and a demon?”

“I guess,” Adam said wretchedly. He groaned. “Anyway, then he got angry and was gonna come and tell me off for not starting Armageddon, but Crowley stopped time for a minute -”

Lucky held up a hand. “Which one is Crowley? Demon or angel?”

“Your Nanny. I’m pretty sure. But definitely a demon.”

Lucky grinned. “Oh, kick ass.”

“Yeah, it was. Anyway, that gave me time to think about what to do, ‘cause at that moment I had literally all the power in the world, ‘an so we came back to the present and I told the devil to piss off because he wasn’t my dad. An’ then my dad showed up,” he finished, a little lamely. Lucky’s mouth was open.

“You told Satan to fuck off? Piss off,” he amended. “Actually those words? And you were eleven?”

“Not exactly those words.” Adam sighed. “I actually yelled ‘you’re not my dad’ at him like ten times and then he like dissolved into a cloud.” 

“Dude that’s still awesome.” Lucky sat back. “Holy shit. Fuck. I … I dunno what to say. Then what?”

“What? What do you mean, then what?” He shrugged. “I dunno? The world didn’t end?”

“I mean clearly. But like, you gave up that evil stuff and whatever, and then you just … went home? Went back to school?”

Adam considered it. He’d never really focused much on the afterwards part. “I got grounded. For being on a restricted military air base and uh, being out when I was supposed to be in bed.”

“You rebel,” said Lucky, faintly. “But you still know - Crowley? Nanny? Shit, I still call her - him, ugh, what …” He rested his forehead on his hand. “She’s still Nanny.”

“I always knew him as Crowley.” Adam shrugged. Cautiously, he took a drink, taking a minute to glance around the restaurant. Nobody seemed to be paying them any attention, and he didn’t see anyone he recognized. “Yeah, after the whole thing I found a paper with his number on it in my jacket pocket. For if I had questions, it said. So I called him up one day and I guess he had handed in his retirement papers to Hell or whatever, I never really found out, but after that we just … we started meeting like once every month to talk about stuff, and I think he wanted to keep an eye on me, but then like, him an’ Aziraphale - I’m 99% sure that’s Brother Francis - just sort of kept hanging around even when I didn’t have that many questions left an’, you know how it is.” He shrugged again. “I dunno. They’re cool. An’ I learned at church that back in the day your godparents were supposed to be the ones to teach you about religion so I figured godfathers worked as well as any name for them.”

“I’d say so, yeah.” Lucky blinked. “Wow. Okay. That explains … like in some ways that explains nothing, but then in other ways that explains literally everything, so I don’t know how to take it.”

Adam sipped his own soda. “Well, you haven’t called the cops to have me committed to a mental hospital yet, so I’d say you’re doing better than I expected.” That got a laugh. “Right, so that’s me. Tell me your side. Because uh, I think that’s gonna answer a lot of questions for me, too.”

Lucky shrugged. “It’s not as dramatic. But basically, growing up until I was seven I always had Brother Francis and Nanny. And they were always like ‘do good unconditionally’ - that was Francis - or ‘crush your enemies to bloody pulp beneath your shoes when you assume your throne’.”

“Nanny.” Adam nodded knowingly. “Which is really funny, actually, if you get to know Crowley, ‘cause - sorry, never mind. Go on.”

“Well no, you’re right, because she was mostly all talk. She was actually a super good Nanny. And, like, she was always encouraging me to get into mischief but like I think the worst thing we ever did was vandalize museum plaques and cut down literally all the hedges on the property because she said they were pathetic excuses for plants. The rest of the stuff was like, just kind of goofy pranks.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s definitely Crowley.”

“But she left! Her and Francis.” He looked sad then, and as a basket of dinner rolls arrived he seized one and started ripping it in half, scowling at it the whole time. “When I was seven. Said I was too old to have a Nanny anymore and I’d have tutors or whatever. But I thought I might still see her since she and Francis were always together, but he handed in his resignation the same day.” He sighed and jammed half of the roll into his mouth. “Pfufthed.”

“Uh …”

Lucky swallowed. “It sucked,” he clarified. “Sorry. But she did leave me her email address. So I started writing her then and I’ve pretty much written her twice a week ever since.” His eyes widened. “Wait a minute, I have her phone number! She just told me never to just call, because she doesn’t have good reception, but I can text her and if we want to talk we set up a time. She always calls on my birthday.” He held out a hand. “Lemme see your phone.” 

Adam had already seen where this was headed, and he had his phone on the table in a blink. He pulled up Crowley’s contact information, and Lucky pulled up Nanny’s. They checked the numbers once, twice, and three more times, and then Lucky swore. “It really is her!”

“And I’m sure Francis is really Aziraphale.” He crossed his arms and considered the phones. “Wonder if I can convince ‘em to video chat later. I want to ask them about the doll, anyway.”

“Oh, good idea.” He consumed the second half of the dinner roll, and went on. “Anyway, so I never actually saw them after that, just talked and wrote and stuff, but then when I was eleven, the other weird thing that happened was the whole trip to Israel.” He shook his head. “So my dad gets this memo from the White House, right, that we’re expected right away in Tel Megido, Israel, for some kind of diplomatic meeting with a field researcher. Or something. Anyway, we all three go - me and my parents, plus all the bodyguards - and we meet this professor guy there that looked super weird. And he stank. Like, literally, smelled like a dirty public toilet. But he kept asking me about the voices in my head, and the dog, and all this stuff I didn’t understand but he freaked me out so I was trying to play along. But then when I didn’t like, know the answers because I wasn’t you, I guess, he straight up bit his finger off and ran into the avocado grove and then it exploded.” He shrugged. “Honestly I thought he died.”

“He was probably a demon or something.” Adam swallowed. “Did he have a name?”

Lucky thought about it, brow furrowed and then, unexpectedly, he laughed. “Yeah, actually! He said is name was Dr. Hastur La Vista.”

“Oh God.” Adam winced. “Hastur.”

“You know him?” 

“Never met him, thank you very much, no. But Crowley’s told me about him. He’s a Duke of Hell. I think … I think you got really lucky, Lucky.”

The other boy, under his mop of dark hair and his increasingly-shaggy beard, paled. “Duke … of Hell.”

“Yeah.” 

“So what confuses me -” he stopped short, because the waiter arrived with two plates of ribs, which were each deposited in front of the boys. They said their thank yous, smiled politely, and then Lucky lunged forward, stuffing a french fry into his mouth, deadly serious. “How did they think I was you?”

Adam looked down at his food, and started pulling the ribs apart. “All I know,” he said slowly, “was there was a mistake. The only person supposed to be giving birth that night was your mum, but my mum went into labor early. So they both must have given birth at the same hospital, with the Satanic Nuns.” He leaned in, lowered his voice. “Crowley delivered me in a basket, and they were supposed to switch me with whichever baby your mom had. But with three babies I guess things got mixed up, and I ended up with my parents.”

Lucky blinked and, slowly, set down the french fry he had been holding. “Are you … are you saying my parents aren’t really my parents?” He looked lost, suddenly, eyes wide and shiny. “But … but I look so much like my mom …”

“I don’t know,” Adam replied hurriedly. “I’m sorry. Sorry. I don’t know. Everything got so mixed-up, I guess, and Crowley assumed they’d got it right and put me with your parents so when they took you home they thought …” he trailed off. Lucky wasn’t talking, wasn’t even looking at him. He was staring at his food, hands limply resting on either side of the plate. “Your parents might be -”

“They’re not,” he snapped, before Adam had a chance to finish. “They might have fucked up but they wouldn’t have fucked up that bad. They would have swapped me and the baby my mom actually had.” His eyes watered. “Shit. Oh, shit.” And then he was crying, all at once, tears and snot and all. “Fuck.”

“I’m sorry,” Adam said softly, because he was. “I wish it hadn’t happened.” He let the other boy cry, for as long as he needed. No one noticed, Adam made sure, because he felt like he owed it to the other guy to keep him from becoming a barbecue restaurant spectacle in the middle of a total breakdown. He picked at his food - suddenly, he was not very hungry at all - and waited, while around them the diners came and went, their own food got cold, and Lucky kept crying. 

He petered out eventually. “I bet your parents are my actual parents,” he said, voice shaking and hitching as he spoke. “That’s what happened. Bet you anything.”

Adam shifted uncomfortably. “Probably.”

“What happened to my mom’s baby?”

“I don’t know. He’s … he’s okay,” Adam finished, because he knew that was true, somehow. He’d felt it in his soul back at the airfield, although he hadn’t known what it was at the time, and he felt it now, too. In a way, it was a relief to finally be able to label that feeling of ‘okay’. “I just know. I don’t know how, but I know.”

Lucky took a shaky breath. “My parents … the people that raised me … fuck, even that’s not right, that was always Nanny and Brother Francis.” He sobbed again. “God damn it. My dad - Thaddeus - always thought I was weird, my mom - Harriet - never wanted anything to do with me if I wasn’t interested in exactly what she wanted to do.” He sniffled. “This whole trip … they don’t give a shit. Oh, they acted like they were worried or whatever, but they haven’t called. Haven’t texted. I think when I’m not home they forget I exist.” He sobbed. “And you talked to your parents. They’re good parents.”

Adam didn’t deny it. He was surprised to find that he too had tears running down his cheeks. “Yeah. I’m so sorry, Lucky, I’m really sorry, but I … I don’t know what to say.” He sagged, swiped his sleeve across his face. “I can’t fix it anymore.”

Lucky bit back another sob, and took a deep breath. Swallowed. “Can I meet them?”

“Absolutely,” he replied without hesitation. “Whenever you want, any time you want. Any time.”

“Thanks.” He didn’t cry again, at least not audibly. Tears ran down his face for a little while longer. He prodded at his fries. “God, and it was Nanny’s fault … I thought she loved me.”

“I bet she does.” Adam was surprised with the conviction with which he said it. “You know if Crowley likes you. If Crowley likes you, he … like, okay, he has literally run into a burning building at least twice to save someone he likes.”

Lucky laughed wetly at that. “Doesn’t sound like she’s a very good demon.”

“No, terrible demon. That’s why he retired. Aziraphale’s kind of a shit angel too, to be honest. I think if he had his way he’d be a hermit and live in a hollowed-out mountain full of books. He retired too,” he added. And then, because he felt he had to defend Crowley a little bit, “I don’t think there was much of a choice. I don’t think any of us - definitely not you or me or our parents, or Aziraphale, and I don’t think even Crowley - had much choice.”

“He could have not dropped you off at all,” Lucky challenged. “Just taken you somewhere else and …” he swallowed.

Adam didn’t need to hear him finish the sentence. “He doesn’t kill kids,” he replied. “It’s kind of one of his things.”

“Wow, he really is a shitty demon.”

“Totally.” He sighed. “I’m so sorry, man. Maybe … I probably should have kept all that to myself, huh?”

The answer didn’t come right away. It didn’t come after a minute, after Lucky sipped his soda full of melted ice and thought it over. “No,” he said finally. “No, I’m … I’m gonna be glad you did, eventually. I kind of hate you right now, but you were a baby when everything went down initially, and you didn’t know, and then when you did know you told the actual devil to fuck off and stopped the Apocalypse, so I guess that counts for a lot.”

“All sounds pretty fair,” Adam agreed.

“I think we should find the other guy. The third baby.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do too. But he is okay.”

Lucky looked at Adam warily. “Yeah. Yeah, I … believe you. And maybe we don’t tell him. But I just want to make sure.”

“I’m in. It’s a deal.” He drummed his fingers on the table. “Bet he’s in England.”

“Probably.”

“We can find him.”

“We have to.” He took a deep breath, and then, as if realizing his mostly-untouched food was still there, blinked down at it. “Ugh … I was really looking forward to those.”

“I can warm them up.”

Lucky glanced at him slightly askance. “You’re not gonna like … start breathing fire or something, are you?”

“No, I can just …” he waved a hand and made a vague noise he’d probably picked up from Crowley at some point. “I can just make them warm again. It’s just a little thing, I can still do those.”

“... Alright. But only ‘cause I’m curious.”

Adam shrugged. “Okay. There you go. Warm and fresh.” And indeed, when Lucky held his hand cautiously over the ribs, they were as warm as they’d been when they first came out of the kitchen, the red ochre-colored sauce glistening and sweet-smelling. 

“Jesus.”

“No I’m like … the exact opposite of him.” 

Lucky stared at him and then laughed again. “Yeah. Yeah, you are, dude.” He tore a rib from the rack and bit into it. “Ugh, these are good. You didn’t do that too, did you?”

“Literally just reheated them. Like an infernal microwave oven.” That did it. Oftentimes, when someone has received terrible news, and they’ve cried over it, or begun to mourn, or even just compartmentalized the whole thing away for the time being, the first even vaguely-funny thing that is said afterwards is like a piece of flotsam big enough to grab during a shipwreck. And like a sailor stranded in a sea of confusing history and misunderstandings, Lucky clutched onto Adam’s bad joke and started to giggle. And then to laugh, hard, leaning forward with his forehead resting on the back of his hand, his hair dropping into his barbecue-sauce-coated fingers. Adam laughed too, mostly at how hard Lucky was laughing, and before they realized it the two of them were cackling like hyenas over a plate of ribs and a newly-discovered bond that had tied them together their whole lives, whether they’d known it or not.

“God, that wasn’t even that funny.” Lucky wiped his eyes. “Oh, man. Oh … God.” He looked up, no longer laughing, but definitely curious. “You don’t think … do you think it was a coincidence, us meeting up like this?”

“It’s ineffable.”

“Definitely un-fuckable, you have that right.”

Adam laughed again, and shook his head. “No, no, ineffable. Aziraphale’s always saying that. “Oh, it’s ineffable, God’s plan. Means it can’t be discerned, known, or understood.”

“Ain’t that the truth.” 

“Don’t think about it too much,” Adam advised, with all the experience of someone who had been thinking about it off-and-on for the past seven years. “You think about it too much and you get a headache and a panic attack. My conclusion is always: I dunno, but here I am and so what am I gonna do about it?”

Lucky gnawed at another rib. “Yeah,” he said, around the bone. “Yeah, you’re right. Man, I’m sorry for falling apart like that, but it was kind of a lot.”

“Do not apologize for that.” Adam shook his head vehemently. “Absolutely not. And if you want to be cross with me or upset or whatever, do it. You deserve to. It sucks, what happened.”

“Well, yeah, but I mean look at you.” His face softened a little. “Do you know who -”

“Nope.” Another firm head shake. “Here I am and so what am I gonna do about it,” he repeated like a mantra. 

“Yeah.” He stared at the rubs. “What are we gonna do about it?”

Adam sucked on one of the ribs, savored the sauce, and then shrugged. “I think step one: figure out what the doll was about.”

“Cool, yeah, agreed.” He wiped his nose with the back of his hand, and streaked sauce across his cheek. Adam elected not to say anything. 

“Step two: uh … chase more tornadoes? I mean, it’s what we came here for, right?”

Lucky looked a little less certain about that. “Yeah. Yeah, it was but now I … I dunno. It feels weird to keep doing whatever I was doing. Like. My whole life …” He frowned. “Should my life be different?”

Adam finished the rib he was working on, partially because it was really good, but also partially because he wanted to be sure that he said the thing he wanted to say next right. “Okay.” He set the bone down, and looked at the other boy very seriously. “Don’t take this the wrong way. Because I’m not tryin’ to minimize anything we talked about here. But … this whole new information, right. Is it gonna change your day-to-day?”

Lucky bristled. “Maybe. I mean, it’s sure as fuck gonna affect my relationship with my parents.”

“Not what I meant.” Adam shook his head. “You’re right, it absolutely will. An’ that’s gonna take a lot of time, believe me. I’m still …” he sighed. “It’s still weird, even though I’ve known for a long time. It gets less weird, though.” He squared up his shoulders. “But no, what I’m talking about is, does it change the stuff you like to do? Are you gonna like the weather less, is what I’m saying,” he finished lamely, while Lucky stared at him. “‘Cause if the answer is yes, then I think your step two is gonna be different from mine. I’m gonna keep chasing tornadoes for the next three weeks.”

“I … argh.” Lucky took a bite of his rib with a little more feral energy than was strictly necessary. “This is heavy shit, man. I dunno.” He swallowed the meat. “How are you so chill about all this? Just had a ton of time to deal with it?”

“Partially.” He shrugged. “Also I’ve had like an on-call angel and demon for the past seven years who’ve always been available to talk to me during a personal crisis.” He sighed. “They’re actually super helpful to talk to when you don’t know what to do, because at this point I’m pretty sure they’ve literally seen it all.”

“You’re gonna call them tonight, right?” Lucky looked worried again, a little pale. “About the doll, at least?”

“Yeah. And, uh.” Adam thought it over. “I think you should talk to them too. If you want to. I think it’d be good.”

The answer came fast, and Adam suspected Lucky had just been waiting for the offer. “I want to. I really want to.”

“Alright. So amended plan.” He pushed one of the rib bones off to the side of the others as he spoke. “One: call Aziraphale and Crowley and figure out what the doll was about. Two: figure out what we want to do for step two.” He raised his eyebrows. “Sound better?”

“Can I add something before step one?”

“Sure.”

“Step pre-one: finish these ribs because holy shit, man.” He had another, and then said, “Life’s fucked up right now, but at least these are really good.”

--

Now with chapter 12!

[bakermaxines]

my feet have left the ground (my life is turning around) | chapter one | 1k | teen| eddie kaspbrak/richie tozier (reddie)

“I know that,” Richie replied. His face broke into a deep smirk when Eddie gave him a bewildered look. He nodded towards the mound where Eddie had buried his offering. “It’s all in the summoning. Speaking of which, are you ever going to tell me why you summoned me here? Not that I’m not enjoying the banter, it’s great foreplay.”

“You know, I would but-“ The word slipped out of Eddie’s mouth before he gave himself even a second to think them through. “but that ugly ass shirt is distracting me.”

[OR: Eddie Kaspbrak doesn't want to end high school with his own class believing he'd never had a real relationship- so he makes a literal deal with the devil. He just doesn't expect said "devil" to get so damn involved.]

Eddie sat crossed legged on the gravel path as the time on his phone seemed to stop completely. Was he really going to do this? He had absolutely no proof this worked at all. More than like, he was just bringing down his mother’s wrath on him for sneaking out because of nothing more than a small town folk tale.

Though, Eddie was already going to be in trouble. Might as well follow through with the stupidity that was causing it. He tossed the small metal container into the hole he’d dug nearly twenty minutes earlier.

Then Eddie waited. It felt like he had waited for hours before he turned to walk off with his heart dropping into his stomach like it was covered in cement. He shrieked when he nearly ran directly into somebody’s chest.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Eddie squeaked, slapping a hand over his mouth. The boy standing in front of him raised one eyebrow and Eddie’s stomach flipped over. The boy stood at least half a foot taller than Eddie did himself, with dark wiry hair and eyes so brown they appeared almost black. He was dressed, quite frankly, rather terribly. He wore ripped skinny jeans with what appeared to bowling shirt covered in pineapple print. When Eddie looked down, it appeared in the dark night sky that his boots were sparkling.

The boy just smiled at him. “You might be the cutest I’ve ever had.” He drawled, his voice deep and raspy. “Bit of a warning for you though, hon, I don’t do deals with concerns regarding sexuality. I can’t make you straight.”

Eddie wrinkled his nose. “Why would I ever want to be straight?”

The boy laughed. “Don’t really have an answer for that one. So, if this isn’t some closet case, then what are you dealing?”

“How are you even a crossroads demon?” Eddie deflected, face starting to burn. “You’re like seventeen.”

“I appear as whatever makes you most comfortable,” he answered. “I have a fuck ton of faces. The amount of times I’ve shown up here practically a stripper would blow your little mind.”

“And what makes me most comfortable is some scrawny, buck toothed dude with terrible fashion sense?”

The boy shrugged, smirk not wavering. “Hey, I never said you had good taste.”

Eddie scowled.

“So,” he whistled. “Are we going to make a deal or stand here and chat all night? I mean, I’m not complaining. You’re much cuter than anybody else I’ve dealt with in the last decade, at least.”

“Oh my God, stop,” Eddie whined, wrapping his arms around his middle. “I am so not cute.”

The boys brow shot up so high it disappeared under his curly fringe. “Are you kidding me? You’re literally wearing pink overalls right now.”

“Do you have a name?”

“I have many names.”

“Oh my God!” Eddie groaned, squeezing his eyes shut. “I knew you were going to say that, you’re such a fucking cliché.”  

The boy- Eddie supposed he really should start thinking of him as the demon, but he just couldn’t bring himself to. Demons didn’t have buck teeth, or coke bottle glasses, or acne on their chin- was nearly knelt over laughing. “You know,” he wheezed. “That’s twice in the last like, thirty seconds, that you’ve used the Lords’ name in vain in my presence. Not that it actually bothers me any, but usually people are more careful around me.”

“Oh, please,” Eddie rolled his eyes. “As if there’s a God.”

The boy- the demon- furrowed his brow. “You just summoned a demon, but God is out of the question?”

“Honestly?” Eddie sighed. “If God exists, he’s a piece of shit.”

“Can’t argue with that,” the boy- the demon- nodded. “Also? Richie.”

“Pardon?” Eddie asked, frowning.

“My name, princess.” The boy- the demon- Richie- said slowly. “In this time, most call me Richie.”

“Don’t call me princess!” Eddie cried, cheeks burning. “My name is Eddie!”

“I know that,” Richie replied. His face broke into a deep smirk when Eddie gave him a bewildered look. He nodded towards the mound where Eddie had buried his offering. “It’s all in the summoning. Speaking of which, are you ever going to tell me why you summoned me here? Not that I’m not enjoying the banter, it’s great foreplay.”

“You know, I would but-“ The word slipped out of Eddie’s mouth before he gave himself even a second to think them through. “but that ugly ass shirt is distracting me.”

Richie sighed and it seemed like Eddie didn’t even have a chance to fully blink before the pineapple shirt had been replaced with an oversized ACDC T-shirt and beat up looking leather jacket. Eddie swallowed tightly as his mouth went dry. Fuck, Eddie thought to himself, I am so fucking gay.

“Better?” Richie prompted. “You gonna tell me now or what?” Eddie didn’t answer, couldn’t answer. It felt like he had saw dust in his throat. “Alright, fine. Well, princess, it’s been a pleasure but if this isn’t going anywhere then-“

“I want a boyfriend.”

Richie blinked.

“Come again?”

“Please don’t make me repeat it.” Eddie whispered, feeling like he was burning from the inside out.

“I just want to make sure I’m actually hearing you,” Richie said. “You’re willing to set yourself off for only ten years to live- less than thirty years of life- so that you can have a boyfriend in high school?”

“Self care is dying at twenty-six anyway,” Eddie mumbled.

“Listen, dude-“

“I didn’t know it was in your job description to talk people out of literally selling you their souls!” Eddie cried frantically.

“It’s not. Fuck. It’s not,” Richie ran his fingers through his tangled curls and sighed. “Fine. I’ll be your boyfriend.”

What?

“What?” Eddie squeaked. “But- but- you’re a demon!”

“And? What do you propose, princess?” Richie challenged. “That I create you a boyfriend, with no true emotions or thoughts of their own? Or that I work some demon mojo on somebody you already know to make them fake love you? Because I can do that but honestly, it’s several different levels of fucked up-“

“No, no, no, shut up!” Eddie said. “I don’t want that, I don’t want either of those things. I didn’t really think of where you’d be getting the boyfriend from.”

“He’s right here, baby,” Richie gestured wildly up and down his body. “Don’t you want a piece of this?”

Eddie mimicked gagging.

“Hey, okay, if none of my suggestions work for you then I guess you don’t really want a boyfriend, do you?” Richie deadpanned,.

“Ugh, no, you’ll work fine,” Eddie grumbled, ignoring the way his heart seemed to be beating six times faster than usual.

“Alright,” Richie said slowly. “And just to clarify, you can get out this romantic entanglement anytime you so wish but once you give me your soul it’s mine. Got it?”

“Yeah, sure, whatever,” Eddie said. “I just have one rule.”

“Oh yeah?” Richie snorted. “And what’s that?”

“Don’t fucking call me princess.”

“What about baby?”

“No.”

[jaeheekangisimportant]

hey why do u hate v?

I knew I was going to get this question again eventually and I guess I can’t put it off a second time so, let’s do this

I’m putting it under a read more for a few reasons. One, it got very long. When I rant I really rant, and I wanted to be thorough because if possible I don’t want to have to discuss this any more after posting this, but knowing this fandom that won’t be possible. Two, while I think it’s safe to assume that most people have played his route already, there may be some who haven’t and there are spoilers in this. Three, there is mention of abuse in this so heads up

All right, so there are quite a few reason why I don’t likeV as a person

He convinced a scared teenager (Saeyoung) to join a reallysketchy intelligence agency that destroyed any chance he might have had athaving a normal life, and also required him to abandon his very vulnerable anddependent brother that he loved more than anything. You can say that V wastrying to protect Seven, but honestly I can’t believe that there wasn’t abetter option here. The whole scene where V is convincing him that this is notonly the right decision but the only one to be made just… it’s honestly socreepy and manipulative and it doesn’t sit well with me

The only reason Seven was okay with leaving Saeran in theend was because V promised to take care of him. Well, V couldn’t be bothered todo his job apparently, because WOW. There are two ways of looking at this

V knew that Saeran was being drugged,brainwashed, abused and manipulated for literal years and did/said nothing about it, which is disgusting

V didn’t know that Saeran was at Mint Eye, whichis better but not by much, because it still proves that V was negligent enoughthat he lost track of where Saeran was for years, despite his promise to Sevento look after him. If V was actually taking his promise to Seven seriously,Rika shouldn’t have been able to do anything without V finding out and puttinga stop to it

I was always inclined to think that the first one was whathappened, and the V route confirms that yeah, V did know that Saeran was atMint Eye. And once again, V says nothing.Seven asks him about Saeran directly at one point, and V lies to his face. That part was so appalling to me I don’t knowhow anyone can just be okay with it. V was not protecting anyone but himself bylying to Seven. He knew that if Seven found out about Saeran, Seven would neverforgive V, and V wouldn’t deserve his forgiveness honestly

Even if it was about protecting Seven, there were stillbetter ways of handling this than lying and covering it all up. Like, how aboutcalling the police and saying “hey, my ex fiancée started a fucking cult,please help”?? What was V’s long-term plan for dealing with Mint Eye exactly??Things did not have to get as fucked up as they ended up being if only V hadsaid something to literally anyone!! Saeran could have been saved years earlierthan he was, and not only Saeran but all of the other people who got suckedinto Mint Eye!!

V’s route is supposedly about him fixing his mistakes, butlike, that wouldn’t have counted for much for me anyway, because there’salready a canon story. V fucked up in the canon story, there’s no fixing itnow. It is what it is, I don’t know why I’m expected to be less mad at himbecause there’s an in-game au now where he makes up for it. And the other thingis, he doesn’t actually make up for any of his mistakes in his route! He keepslying about Rika and the cult until he’s forced to stop, and he keeps lyingabout Saeran throughout the whole thing. He doesn’t even seem to care that muchabout Saeran, he cares more about the girl he’s been talking to for like a weekthan about the abused and vulnerable kid that was left in his care. He says toRika once or twice something like “don’t hurt that boy” (can’t even say his name ffs), but it’s always tacked on as like an afterthought. Everything gets taken care of without V really doing anything so like, what exactly did he fix??

I stopped playing the route after Saeran died on day 10.It upset me so much that, even though I was like two chats away from theending, I couldn’t keep going. I was struggling to get through the route to begin with and Idefinitely should have quit earlier and saved myself a lot time and salt, butSaeran’s death confirmed a big problem that I had with the V route, and itconfirmed that Cheritz was aware of that problem but put the route out anywaybecause fans insisted. V and Saeran’s happy endings are not compatible. Becauseagain, if Seven knew about Saeran he would never forgive V, and therefore Vcould not have his truly happy ending. I see fan art sometimes of post-secretendings au with both V and Saeran happy and alive and in the RFA and um, yeahguys that would never happen. Even if V lived, he would not be able to live inharmony with Saeyoung and Saeran. For V’s happy ending to happen, Saeran has tobe out of the way and Cheritz knew that, and that’s why they had to kill himoff in this route. And I say fuck that, because if I have to choose betweensaving V and saving Saeran I’m always going to pick Saeran without hesitation

So okay, there’s another thing I dislike about V and um. Iknow I’m treading on thin ice here but listen, I really never liked the way Vtreated Rika. Please, do not take this as me defending Rika!  I think both she and V are awful people andmutually unhealthy partners for each other, and I think both of them would havebeen better off if they had never met. Rika ultimately ended up doing worse andI would never say otherwise, but!! this rant is not about Rika it’s about V(and really no one needs it pointed out to them what Rika did wrong) and I’mstill allowed to think that the way V treated Rika was all kinds of fucked up

I don’t like how V treated Rika, because he never treatedher like a person. He treated her like she was this beautiful tragic angel thathe could fix and make into an art piece. He romanticized her suffering and hermental illnesses and basically encouraged her to be her worst. I’m not sayingthat makes what Rika did V’s fault, of course Rika is ultimately to blame for her own terrible actions, butI’m also not going to pretend like I don’t think the way V treated her wasgross and like I don’t think it contributed at all to Rika’s state in the end.He literally says at one point that when he met her he saw her as a blankcanvas that he could paint and make beautiful I mean?? How do talk about aperson that way?? Honestly if anyone ever spoke to me about my mental illnessthe way V spoke to Rika about hers, that would be so poisonous to me and itscares me just imagining it

Again, Rika’s certainly no saint and I hope none of this comes off asme defending her or saying V is to blame for what she did because that’s reallynot what I want to do. But, Rika was not the only thing wrong with theirrelationship. I always bristle at the way people make Rika out to be thishorrible she-devil and V this innocent cinnamon roll because that’s really notwhat was happening there. V did and said some awful thing to her as well. Theyboth brought out the worst in each other and they’re both at fault, to varyingdegrees

Oh yeah, and lying to Rika’s friends that she committedsuicide was really fucked up too, whatever his reasons were for doing so. Noone seems to want to talk about that but um… seriously dude wtf

And yes I understand that V was going through somethingterrible and that he is a victim of Rika’s abuse as well, please don’t @ meabout this. I’m not saying that I don’t feel any sympathy for V at all, or thatI don’t understand him at all. But I’m sorry, I just can’t see it as an excuse.It’s not an excuse. V dragged down multiple people with him and I don’t have tobe okay with that, and I also don’t have to go into my own personal historywith abuse to prove I’m qualified to have this opinion so don’t @ me about thateither, please

So!! All of that is why I hate V as person, but here’s why Iwound up hating him as a character

While I was suspicious of V from the moment I startedplaying (Yoosung Kim was RIGHT he was always right damn it… he was very wrong about Rika but he was so right about V so jot that down), and I later cameto think of him as a bad person, I was completely ambivalent to him as acharacter for a long time. I could never understand why people were so enamoredwith him because as far as I could see he had no discernible personality asidefrom being cryptic and loving Rika. Even after playing his route, I still don’tthink I could give someone a description of his personality that was longerthan like, three sentences. The only time I ever take interest in V is when it’sin relation to other characters, but V on his own just doesn’t interest me atall. I think he’s boring

What got me to hate him as much as I do now, though, ishonestly the fandom itself. I couldn’t stand that unironic “V did nothing wrong”attitude because he did so much wrong!! So much!! And I couldn’t stand thatpointing out anything wrong that V did resulted in huge arguments and peoplecalling you a bad person and I just!!! Ugh why is the fandom like this!! So myambivalence slowly turned to bitterness and spite over time and now here we arewith V being my most hated character in the game. I wouldn’t mind V so much ifpeople were more open to accepting criticism of him. I wouldn’t mind V somuch if people could like him without acting like he’s never done a thing wrong

[huntertales]

Part Two: My "People Skills" are "Rusty." (The Third Man S0603)

Episode Summary:  Sam, Dean and the reader call Castiel for help when they investigate a case about several dead police officers who seem to have been killed by the plagues of Egypt. With Heaven in a state of chaos, God’s weapons have been stolen. The four head off to find the thief and come face to face with an old enemy. Meanwhile, the reader and Dean try to work like professionals with one another, and not let old feelings get in the way. Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Word Count: 4,641.

Previous Part | Supernatural Rewrite Masterlist

You’d been working perfectly fine over the past couple of hours after getting back from seeing a cop drop dead from a few bugs sitting in his skull. The image of his body laying over the table with his cap off to reveal a nightmare fueled sight crossed your mind all over again. You grimaced at the image as your hand lifted itself up from the keyboard to lightly scratch your head when you felt a phantom itch. The both of you had kept your distance so you could work. Of course, sooner or later, they were going to find their way to the spot at the table where you sat.

Your nose wrinkled slightly as you looked away from the laptop screen and to the mason jar sitting next to you. Dean had absentmindedly grabbed the jar from Sam as they spoke about possible theories until you made the connection of what killed the police officers. You quickly looked back to your screen when you heard the faintest sound of something hitting the glass. One of them thought it’d be funny if they jumped around in their confinements.

You’d been to Hell twice, turned into a demon, dealt with all kinds of scary monsters. Not to mention, you’ve faced the Devil himself and his big brother down in the cage. And yet, what was the one thing that made you squirm nervously in your seat? A couple of bugs in a jar. To be fair, they were a bunch of nasty little creatures that scratched their way out of a man’s skull. You just didn't understand why Sam insisted on bringing them back to the motel.

“Sweet. Blood, boils, locusts.” Dean said, flipping through a few photographs you'd found online after making the discovery of what each death had meant and their connection.

“Three of your more popular Egyptian plagues.” Sam muttered without much interest as he kept scrolling through his laptop for more information to what you were dealing with.

“Yeah, but these guys ate their way out of a cop’s melon.” Dean said. He put the papers down to the table and grabbed the jar. You grimaced when you saw him tip the thing to the side, making you paranoid the lid was going to somehow fall off and the bugs were going to crawl themselves on you. “I don’t quite remember that in the King James.”

“Perhaps someone wants to bring it into the twenty first century. Meanwhile, a kid named Christopher Birch was shot in the head last month after a vehicle pursuit.” You read some of the report you managed to find after doing some digging, and what a read it was. A scoff fell out from your mouth from what you discovered. “Hatch, Gray, and Colfax were the officers involved. And, shocker, they all filed the exact same police report.”

"'Suspect exited vehicle brandishing a firearm. We were forced to fire.' Just a kid with no face and a planted gun. Bunch of dicks." Dean muttered the remark underneath his breath. He found himself overcome with the same anger that you had when he read the statement for himself. It was the exact same wording the three officers had used. Each of them went scot free to serve another day, no questions asked. “So they popped the kid, planted the piece.”

“Maybe Colfax is right. Maybe Heaven has a hate on for bad cops. I mean, eye for an eye.” You said, shrugging your shoulders at your weak theory. “Maybe they’re finally sticking to their word.”

“So we’re listening to the guy with the bug in his custard?” Dean asked. You rolled your eyes in slight frustration from the lack of support he was giving you. You watched him get up from the table and to the fridge, where he went to grab himself a cold beer. "That's the theory you wanna go with, Nancy Drew?"

You quickly looked up from your laptop screen when you heard a nickname that hadn't been spoken in a very long time. You could feel your heartbeat suddenly pound faster in your chest, making you feel like a schoolgirl hanging around her crush, and he'd just spoken a special word that only the two of you understood the meaning of. You managed to get your head out from the clouds and cleared your throat, pretending everything was perfectly fine. You couldn't keep doing this every time Dean something that reminded you of before.

“Dean, angels gotta have something to do, right? I'm sure they've got lots of free time on their hands since we sort of diffused their big plans.” You said, trying to somehow convince the man of your possible theory that didn’t sound all too solid. But it was the only lead you had right now, and while it sounded a bit dodgy, you hoped that the angels were doing something good for humanity instead of trying to destroy it. “Maybe they're actually trying to help for once.”

“Maybe.” Dean muttered, still sounding not too sure. “You should call Cas.”

“Great plan. How did I not think of that? Yeah. Let me just get out my hot pink Barbie flip phone and we’ll all have a nice, long chat. Like old times” You were nothing short of sarcastic as you got up from your seat at the table to stretch your legs. You made your way over to the fridge to get yourself a beer. “It's not like that was my first, second and third thing on my to-do list.”

Dean wandered over to the double beds sitting on the other side of the room and took a seat on the exact one that you had been on this morning with Sam, but he would have never guessed that. He took another sip of his beer and watched the both of you for a moment. Sam sat at the table with his eyes glued to the laptop, too engrossed with his own work to figure out that someone was staring at him. You opened up the fridge door and peeked your head into what you might find to drink. The older Winchester placed back his hand and rested his weight back to get comfortable. However, something soft and hard, like wire, brushed against his hand when he noticed a strange outline underneath the sheets.

“Well, I'm gonna take a wild guess about what was on Sammy's list," You looked over your shoulder when you saw something creep into the corner of your eye. You twisted off the top to the beer you grabbed from the fridge and turned around in your spot, noticing that Dean had found something interesting from underneath the sheets. The oldest Winchester held up one of those fancy push up bras Lisa had worn for him on occasion. He watched as the rosiest tint of color began to slowly spread across your cheeks. Dean knew one of the ways he could tell of how you were lying was how your cheeks got warm. But you looked at him directly in the eye when the both of you made eye contact. “Was to have some fun.”

“With who? Y/N? That’s her bra you’re holding.” Sam looked away from his laptop screen and to the undergarment you had been trying to find this morning after he carelessly tore it off of you last night. “Dude, the only company that I’ve been having was with her.”

“Really? ‘Cause it sure seemed like you had a happy guest when you called me.” Dean said. You could feel your grip around the glass bottle, to the point where you felt like it was going to shatter in your hand from how his tone of voice had gotten. He knew. Oh my God. He heard you. "Word of advice for you Sammy, learn how to hang up the damn phone properly."

"Wait...you think?" Sam found lying so much more easier lately, it just fell right out of his mouth without much a second thought. His laugh turned into a soft chuckle when his gaze fell over to you, like he was suddenly hiding a secret from you and his brother. You furrowed your brow ever so slightly, wondering what the hell his great excuse was going to be. "I, uh, sort of met this girl. Y/N was checking out the case for a few hours. One thing lead to another...and then you called."

"Fantastic. We've come to the conclusion that Sam's gotten some. And you’re still holding onto my favorite bra.” You said, pushing yourself off the table as you pointed your finger at the undergarment that was too expensive for you to lose. "And yet, Cas isn't here to enjoy this lovely conversation. Like I said, the stupid son of a bitch won't answer the phone."

“Well, let’s give it a shot.” Dean tossed the undergarment to the headboard and shut his eyes to say a little prayer to bring the angel from above down to earth for a nice chat. “Now I lay me down to sleep...I pray to Castiel to get his feathery ass down here.”

“You’re an idiot.” Sam said, thinking the man was only wasting his time.

“Stay positive.” Dean tried to look on the bright side of things.

“Oh, I am positive.” The younger Winchester muttered underneath his breath as he went back to typing his laptop. You couldn’t help yourself but let out a soft chuckle from the remark.

“Come on, Cas. Don’t be a dick. Got ourselves a plague-like situation down here and…” Dean tried to bait the angel to come out of hiding. He waited to hear the sounds of wings fluttering, but all he was greeted with was silence. Dean pried one eye open as he looked around the motel for a second. “Do you—Do you copy?”

You weren't sure what you were expecting. The last time you had seen Cas was right before Lucifer blew him into nothing more than blood and guts. You heard from Dean that he was good as new, thanks to God. But it seemed the angel was back to his old self, too good to be bothered to say hello to a couple of humans. Not even Dean himself could get the angel of the Lord out from hiding. You put down your beer to the table and sat back down at the table, knowing this was a chance for you to say, “I told you so.”

“Quit wasting your breath, Dean. He's too good for us now. Like I said, the son of a bitch doesn't answer—" You were about to say that Cas had been absent for the past year, but it seemed you were losing your audience. You watched as the older Winchester's eyes slowly drifted away from you as you continued on speaking. Sam slowly looked over his shoulder, you let out a quiet sigh and rolled your eyes from what was going on here. "Let me guess take a wild guess. He's right behind me, isn't he?"

You quickly looked over your shoulder to see a face you hadn't seen in well over a year. You could feel your jaw tense up as your lips stretched into a frown when a pair of blue eyes stared directly into yours. There he stood in the same trench coat, same vessel named Jimmy Novak. He noticed that you were growing tense, the angel gave you a slight smile.

“Hello, Y/N.” Cas greeted you.

You quickly looked over at the older Winchester, who sat there with a little smirk on his lips that you suddenly were desperate to smack off. But your anger was quickly directed to the angel that stood behind you.

“Hello?” You repeated after the angel, as if that wasn’t what he said. Cas furrowed his brow slightly in confusion, wondering why you were so upset. But you kept repeating what he said. Your voice lowered until you were mocking his gravelly, deep tone. "Hello. Hello?!"

“Uh,” The angel seemed caught off guard from your hostile behavior as he looked over at Dean, wondering if he might have done something wrong. Dean slumped his shoulders as he head fell down, wondering how Cas could be so naive on things. "That is still the term?"

“I spent all that time trying to get through to you. Dean calls once and now it’s ‘hello’?” You mocked him again as you pushed yourself up to your feet, circling the table until you were right next to the angel. Cas simply said yes. You clenched your hands into fists as you let out a sigh, trying to somehow contain your anger. “So, what, you like him better than me?”

“Dean and I do share a more profound bond.” Cas said. The angel looked over at Dean, who sat on the bed with a look of an annoyance from what he heard come out of the man’s mouth. “I wasn’t gonna mention it.”

“Okay, look. I get it. I know we didn't get along when I first met you. We bumped heads a lot. And, yeah, I admit that I was kind of a bitch. But at the end of it, I thought we were friends. Friends that can depend on one another.” You said. You stared at the angel with a hurt expression, showing him how much his absence affected you. “I spent months trying to get ahold of you. And here Dean opens his big, fat mouth and suddenly you show up out of thin air.”

"Cas, I think what Y/N's trying to say is that she went to hell with Sam for us. I mean, they really took one for the team. Remember that?" Dean tried to jog the angel's memory as he pushed himself up to his feet, trying to defuse a possible argument from the look that settled in your face. "And then they come back without a clue, and you can't take five freaking minutes to give them some answers?"

“If I had any answers, I might have responded,” Cas explained to the older Winchester. You crossed your arms over your chest when the angel looked in your direction. “But I don’t know, Y/N. We have no idea who brought you two back from the cage. Or why.”

You let out a quiet sigh as you looked down at the younger Winchester, the both of you suddenly seemed uneasy from the information that you heard. Sam pushed himself to his feet and asked, “So it wasn’t God?”

“No one’s even seen God. The whole thing remains mysterious.” Cas said. You furrowed your brow in confusion as you asked the angel what he could have possibly meant by that, curious to what had been going on with him during his time away. "What part of 'I don't know escapes your understand, Y/N?"

"Well, excuse me. Look who’s all high and mighty again. Too cool for us, huh?" You let out a quiet chuckle from his remark as you crossed your arms tighter around your chest. "You might be your old self again, but I won’t hesitate to smack that angel grace out of you.”

“Okay, all right. Let’s not ruin this moment we’ve got going here.” Dean, yet again, managed to squeeze himself back into the conversation before things could escalate. “Cas, look, if Y/N or Sam calls, you answer. Okay? You wing your ass down here and you tell them, ‘I don’t know.’ Just because we have some sort of bond or whatever—”

“You think I came because you called?” Cas wondered. “I came because of this.”

“Well, it’s nice to know what matters.” You muttered underneath your breath.

“It does help one to focus.” The angel said, who wandered over to the table and inspected all the hard work you'd been doing this afternoon. He inspected the biblical like artwork that you had printed after you figured out how the cops died, Castiel stared at them with almost little, to no interest.

“Wait,” Sam said, “So you and the Halo Patrol aren’t the cause of these killings?”

“No. But they were committed with one of our weapons. There’s only one thing that could have brought this into existence. You call it the staff of Moses.” Cas explained as he reached out to grab the mason jar to inspect the locusts inside. You found yourself staring at the angel with a bit of a funny expression, wondering if he was talking about the real deal. “It was used in a dominance display against the Egyptians, as I recall.

Dean scoffed, “Yeah, that one made the papers.”

“I thought the staff turned a river into blood,” You said. “not one dude.”

“The weapon isn’t being used at full capacity.” The angel muttered. He thought quietly to himself for a moment before he looked back up at you and the boys. “I think we can rule Moses out as a suspect.”

"Damn it." You hissed, snapping your fingers in frustration. "I was betting my money on him. That son of a bitch was on the top of my list, too."

“Okay, well, what is Chuck Heston’s disco stick doing down here anyway?” Dean asked, finding your sarcastic remark the least bit funny. “I mean, don’t you guys put away your toys?”

"Before the apocalypse, Heaven may have been corrupt, but it was stable. The staffed was safely contained." Cas said. You watched as he walked across the room with the jar still in his hands, explaining what he had been dealing with this past year. "It's been chaos up there since the war ended. In that confusion, a number of powerful weapons were stolen."

“Wait, you’re saying your nukes are stolen?” Dean questioned the angel, making sure what he heard was exactly right.

“Yes, I’m afraid so. But you’ve stumbled onto one of them. We must find the weapon that did this.” Cas said, as if that wasn’t a given from the situation you were dealing with. All of you were on the exact same page, so it seemed harmless from what he asked for. “I need your help.”

"Really? You need my help? Well, of course." You said, your lips stretching into a smirk as you let out a laugh. You shook your head and scoffed. Cas didn't seem to be all that pleased. You saw something in your direction, and like a natural instinct, you reached out to grab whatever he threw at you. Only when you realized what you were holding was the jar. You grimaced and roughly tossed it over to Sam. "My God, Cas. Don't do that.”

“Sam, Dean, Y/N, My ‘people skills’ are ‘rusty.’ Pardon me, but I have spent the last ‘year’ as a multidimensional wavelength of celestial intent.” Castiel wasn’t in the mood anymore for your remarks that weren’t funny and the sort of trivial information that human possessed that the boys spoke. There was a bigger problem here that need the four of you to solve. “But believe me, you do not want that weapon down here. Help me find it, or more people will die.”

“All right, okay.” Dean agreed with the angel. “Well, if the angels didn’t pull the trigger, then that brings us back to motive.”

Cas nodded his head slowly, but his face scrunched up slightly in confusion, "What?"

“Back to the case, Sherlock. If your siblings didn’t do this, that means someone with a little less star power did.” You said. You walked back over to the table and grabbed a newspaper clipping that had been this morning’s front cover. Your lips stretched into a frown at the sight of a father who stood at a podem, demanding a rightful justice for his son that was taken too soon from him from a bunch of dirty pigs. “Now we got three dead cops. Only thing linking them is this. ‘Father of slain suspect calls for investigation.’”

The four of you agreed you might have a sneaky suspicion to who could have done this. Grief could make someone do something stupid, you knew that better than anyone. You grabbed your jacket off from the bed and shrugged it on, thinking you had another minute before you would be sent halfway across town into the Birch's living room. But you barely got the chance to pull the jacket over your shoulder before you felt Cas touch your forehead, making you feel weightless for one split second, before your feet lightly thudded against a carpeted floor. You quickly looked around the room, knowing well enough from the older gentleman sitting on a couch that you weren’t in your motel room anymore.

“Cas,” You hissed at the angel. “Give a girl a little warning next time.”

Mr. Birch jumped up from the couch, noticing right away of the four strangers standing in his living room. With rightful suspicion, he asked, "How'd you get in here?"

“Settle down, Mr. Birch. Federal agents.” Sam pulled out his badge to show the man, thinking that it’d be enough to explain how you came out of thin air. Of course, it didn’t. He seemed a little angry at the fact you and the boys walked into his home without even knocking first. The younger Winchester, however, found the newspaper clipping spread across the coffee table with each article about the same topic. “Quite a collection you got there, huh?”

“What are you trying to—” Mr. Birch tried to ask a question, Sam cut the man off.

“Look, we know the truth, all right? Chris didn’t have a gun on him when those cops shot him. They set him up.”  Sam said. Mr. Birch nodded his head in agreement. But what he muttered underneath his breath didn’t make him look like the grieving father anymore. Your eyes narrowed your eyes on the man from his remark about how they were getting theirs. “And who’s giving it to them, Darryl?”

“Darryl,” You spoke up after the man fell silent form the question he didn’t want to answer. “Did you kill Toby Gray and the others?”

“Me? I didn’t kill anyone.” Mr. Birch defended himself. He pointed to the newspaper articles, as if that was enough to show those cops had died of natural causes. Strange and painful ones.  But God worked in mysterious ways. “Look at how they died.”

“You smote them with the staff of Moses.” Cas said, cutting straight to the point.

Mr. Birch furrowed his brow and looked at the angel like he’d just grown a second head, “What the hell kind of Fed are you?”

“We don’t have time for this.” The angel muttered. He walked over to the man and asked him straight out, “Where is it?”

But he wasn’t the one you were looking for. “Leave my dad alone.”

You quickly looked over your shoulder when you heard a voice come from behind you. A kid, who looked to be no more than twelve or thirteen, stood in the doorway with a stick in his grip. He pointed it at you like it was a gun. You furrowed your brow as you tilted your head to the side, inspecting what he was holding with a bit of confusion.

“Is that—”

“Yes.”

“I’m not an expert on all things holy,” You said. “But shouldn’t it be...bigger?”

“Yes, it’s—been sawed off.” Cas said, seeming baffled himself at what he was seeing.

“Leave him alone, it wasn’t him.” The kid said. Everyone was confused at what the hell was going on here, but Mr. Birch tried to defuse the situation before his son could make a mistake. Cas turned around and put a finger to the man's forehead, knocking him out for the meantime so you could have a private conversation with the kid holding a part of Moses’ staff. "What did you do to him?"

“He’s all right, he’s just sleeping.” You reassured the kid. You blinked, and just like that, Cas was across the room, standing behind the kid and taking the stick out of his grip. You gave him a look, warning him to be careful and doing something stupid. You looked away from the angel and to the kid who looked nothing but frightened from was going on. You gave him a warm smile and walked over to him. “Listen, we’re not here to hurt you, okay? But you need to know. Where  did you get this thing?”

"Please don't kill my dad." The kid pleaded with you, slowly walking backwards until he was leaning against the front door. “It was me. I did it."

"Relax, kid. Nobody's killing anybody." You reassured him. "What's your name?"

“Aaron. Aaron Birch.” He answered for you.

“Okay, Aaron Birch, where did you get this?” You asked him, nodding your head to the piece of wood that Cas was holding. The kid was silent for a second before he said the classic line that none of you would believe him. You let out a quiet laugh. “Try me.”

"It was an angel." Aaron confessed. You raised your brow in surprise, wondering how the God squad had somehow fit all back into this. "Those liars, they killed my brother and nothing bad ever happened to them. It's not fair. So I prayed to God every night he would punish them. God didn't answer, but he did."

“His name.” Cas said. “Did he give you a name?”

“No.” Aaron admitted, shaking his head. “He just said I could have justice. But I’d have to take it for myself. He gave me the stick.”

"He just gave it to you?" You repeated what you heard, finding the kid's story lacking some more detail. You looked at him with a little bit of suspicion as you smiled at him, pushing for answers that would make sense. "Come on. He didn't just give it to you, did he, Aaron?"

“I bought it.” Aaron said.

“You bought it? Heh.” Sam couldn’t help himself but chuckle in utter amusement at what was going on here and the kind of answers Aaron was giving you. “With what? What’s your allowance?”

“What did the angel want for it?” You asked him, ignoring the younger Winchester’s remarks as you kept your focus on the kid in hopes that he could give you something useful. “What did you give him for it?”

Aaron grew silent for a moment. His gaze wandered away from you and to Cas, who held his most prized possession, the thing that you thought only demon's liked. “My soul.”

Your face dropped in surprise at what you heard come out from his mouth. He was so young to be doing something so stupid. “You sold your soul to an angel?” You asked, but from the tone of your voice, you sounded like you were his mother, scolding him for what he confessed. You looked over at Cas, trying to figure out what was even going on here. “Can that even happen?”

“It’s never happened before.” The angel said. Well, there was a first time for everything. Cas looked down at the piece of wood that he was holding. “An angel’s buying souls. That could explain why he cut the staff into tiny pieces. More pieces, product.”

“More product?” You repeated the angel. “Who the hell does this guy think he is?”

“We’ll find him.” Cas said.

“Damn straight we are.” You muttered underneath your breath. You crossed your arms over your chest and inhaled a breath, getting ready to let out a sigh from the situation that was unfolding all around you. But you found yourself preoccupied with why Cas decided to knock Aaron out cold like how he did with his father. “Cas, what the hell did you do that for?”

“Portability.” The angel answered.

[Next Part]

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[lupintyde]

Who has the Butterfly Miraculous?

I’ve already done a post on the ML spoiler that was leaked today.  Even though the footage was soundless, grainy and spotty at best, there are still people proclaiming “I WAS RIGHT, SUCK IT!” on their Tumblrs.  

Not only is this immature, but it is premature.  What were you right about, exactly, that you feel the need to belittle others over?  Lemme play Devil’s Advocate and make you think twice about how “right” you are...

Below the cut, because technically spoilers.

The question is “Who is Hawkmoth/Papillon”?  

Here are the candidates.

Gabriel Agreste

Yes, it could still be Gabriel.  How can he be akumatized?  There is nothing stating Miraculous holders can’t be akumas.

That’s all well and good, but how can Hawkmoth/Papillon akumatize himself?

Simple.  Do you see those butterflies up there?  They exist outside of Hawkmoth/Papillon.  Maybe they always have the power to infect, but only turn black when Hawky sends them after a target.  They’re just chilling while he’s a civilian.  The butterflies that sense strong negative emotions and are sent to infect victims.  Those dudes.  Just sitting there.  Waiting.

What if Gabriel is emotionless not only because he lost his wife, but because he knows those suckers will turn on him if he has a bad day.  It’s like flying your fighter jet into the path of your own heat-seeking missile.  Or...

Maybe the butterflies targeting the user would be the price of using a Miraculous for evil (which Nooroo states is a no-no).

Maybe the Peacock Miraculous has the power to hypnotize and Le Paon takes control of an akuma to send after Gabriel (aka Hawkmoth) to show dominance over him, but it will only go after him in his civilian form.

Maybe Gabriel thought he needed more power and decided to akumatize himself into a pretty devastatingly dangerous supervillain. 

NOT Gabriel Agreste

Guys, I’m gonna be honest.  I am sincerely hoping it’s not Gabriel, and I am really REALLY hoping Gabriel knows exactly who has the Butterfly Miraculous and the reason he’s emotionless is so not to be targeted.  That would make for some epic story telling and plot twisting.

Here’s my personal headcanon that’s probably not true, but I like it:

Mama Agreste, Gabe and an unknown third party were like the OT4 of today’s show when they were younger

One of them most likely held the Peacock Miraculous (probs Mama)

the unknown third party was secretly in love with Mama Agreste

because one or more of them were Miraculous users, they all knew about them

and that’s why Tikki tells Mari she can’t tell anyone

because the last time it didn’t work out so hot

or maybe it was her brother idk

when M.A. disappeared, the third party went nutso

and tracked down the Butterfly Miraculous

or maybe he was her partner, kinda like LB and Chat

and already had the Butterfly...?

but he did say he tracked down Nooroo, so most likely not

I swear if it’s Gabriel’s evil twin, I’m writing off this whole damn show as a loss

Mr. Kubdel seems like a good candidate, but I doubt it

I will also accept a previously unknown character if it makes sense to the story

In conclusion, there is no definitive proof from this spoiler on the identity of Hawkmoth.  An appropriate and adult response to your excitement would be something along the lines of “This is so cool, so there’s a chance it could not be Gabriel, omg here’s my theory on who it is you guys!!!!”.  Kinda like what I did above.  Not telling others they were wrong or proclaiming your superiority over them.  Unless you are one of the writers, you’re just as clueless as the rest of us plebes and everything you spout is just speculation.

*gets off soap box*

[vickyvicarious]

max, johnny, and the very important mission (bmw 2)

bullymagnet week, day two: heist

Since the plan is to make one cohesive story out of these, I’d suggest reading day one first.

.

“Mr. Spender, I need your help!”

It’s not exactly unusual for one of the Activity Club members to come bursting into the room with a dramatic one-liner. Actually, it’s probably far weirder for any of them to make their presence known like normal people, but Max usually does his best to bring down the curve on this one. Pair that up with his reluctance to ask for help in general, and… he would’ve expected more of a reaction, honestly.

“Oh, good afternoon, Max,” Spender mutters, flipping a page of his magazine. He doesn’t even bother to look up. “Yes, your pop quiz was a little below normal for you.”

“I’ve only been here like a week, you don’t know my normal,” Max retorts, frustrated. “Not that I ever expect to see ‘normal’ again… But, anyway, this isn’t about school!”

At this, Spender does perk up. “A spirit? Report!”

“…Not a spirit, per se,” Max shrugs. “More of a… Starchman situation?”

“STARCH-SIT!” Ed bursts into the room, followed by Isabel twirling her new umbrella around her wrist with a fierce grin. As Ed continues talking, he and she begin spontaneously fencing with their tools, leaving Isaac blocked in the doorway, scowling. “Man, I love those! What was it this time? Quoteathon? The Great Tremble? Oh, did he bring out The Noodle?”

“What? No. No. What is that stuff? No.” Max sighs, turning back to Spender. “He confiscated something that belongs to me, can you help me get it back?”

Ed just laughs mysteriously.

“Max! How could you lose y–” Cutting himself off with a quick glance to Isabel, Spender changes tacks with a sigh: “What did you do to make him confiscate your tool? Were you magnetizing things in class?”

“No. It’s weird enough that I’ve been carrying a baseball bat around everywhere, you really think I’m gonna draw attention to it like a numbskull?” The looks Max gets suggest that yes, everyone does think exactly that. Jerks, the lot of them.

“Well, your pop quiz suggests – ”

“There was a spirit on my desk eating that test! You saw it! You sparkled at it!”

“The fact remains, even Isaac gets good grades with spirits around.” The boy still trapped in the doorway perks up a little, until Spender continues, “Well, not in art.”

“Heh.” Max can’t help snickering at that one, despite the betrayed look Isaac shoots him. But he’s quick to get back on track – this is a serious matter, after all. “I only said I don’t really like The Hobbit, can you just help me get my property back?”

Spender sighs again, with feeling.

“Who doesn’t like The Hobbit, Max?” He shakes his head despairingly, and Max rolls his eyes. So sue him for preferring sci-fi. “I really shouldn’t encourage so much flaunting of the school rules – Isabel, your turn to watch the security cameras. I suppose I’ll be busy walking young Max down to the office to plead his case…”

“Max has his bat,” Isaac points out.

“Yes, it’s really not a good idea to separate a new spectral from their tool for long, we all know that Isaac – wait. You do have your bat.”

“I never said he took my bat,” Max grumbles, glaring at Isaac. There’s a stupid triumphant glint in his eyes; Max is totally going to remember how petty he is. He’ll be twice as petty back over this. “He took my hat! I need it back!”

As one, everyone turns to him with silent, yet expressive faces.

Do you really think I, a Teacher, would stand against the ancient teacherly art of Confiscation unless a tool were involved? Spender asks.

Gee, Max, that’s lame. Never knew you were so lame. It’s just a stupid hat, Isabel opines.

I wonder if I made a paint oven, could I cook a spectral potato? Hot potato hot! …Ed.

Ha ha ha that’ll show you, don’t make fun of my dumb drawings ha ha ha I win, gloats Isaac.

“Fine! I don’t need your help anyway!” Max yells, and storms out of the room.

The problem is, he doesn’t even know where Starchman keeps the stuff he confiscates. Normally the teacher’s desk would be a good bet, but this is Starchman. Max vaguely recalls a treasure chest his first day. The English teacher is way too terrifying to just ask for his hat back, and there’s no way he’s just waiting around until he manages to earn twenty-five stars to get it back.

Honestly, he’s not sure if it even counts as confiscation when you require students to pay you to get their stuff back, but the stars aren’t actually real money. Even if no one seems to ever remember that fact. Even the vending machine by the cafeteria accepts them, to say nothing of that school store.

Maybe, if it were just a matter of a day or two, Max would be willing to grit his teeth and wait it out… but collecting twenty-five stars would by all indications take a lot more time and effort. No, there’s got to be some way he can steal it back…

“Ow!”

Even though Max is the one who ends up knocked to the ground, Johnny gets mad. And he wasn’t even the one Max bumped into.

“Ollie,” the bully snarls, cracking his fists with that signature menacing grin, “what little punk dares to bump into my friend?”

The big lug blinks contemplatively down at Max, who rolls his eyes.

“He’s a nerd,” he decides.

“A nerd?!” Johnny’s voice gets more than a little bit insane, his grin ratcheting wider. Max can hear those tires screeching again. “Y’boys know how I feel ‘bout nerds.”

“You wish some of them actually wore suspenders ‘cuz snapping them seems like it’d be fun,” Stephen contributes with a grin, Ollie and RJ nodding seriously.

“No, not that feel, the mean feel!”

“I mean, that feel’s kinda mean too,” Max interjects.

“Yeah, Puckett, but it’s not like punch mean, you get me?” Johnny does a double-take. “Wait. Max?”

All of a sudden, Max finds himself lifted to his feet, brushed off in like fifteen different directions by what feels suspiciously more like nine arms than eight (a ghost?), and his right hand receives another weird Johnny slap-biff-punch-shake-clasp greeting. He’s fairly certain it’s not the same one as last time, but he doesn’t know if that’s because he’s moved up in Johnny’s book, or if they’re both just completely random. At the end, Johnny just stands there, giving him this weird stare.

“You look different, man,” Stephen says.

“Yeah, that’s cause Starchman confiscated my hat,” Max snarls, rage returning as he remembers the injustice done to him. “That thing is basically part of my head!”

“Oooooooh,” Johnny’s gang agree. “Yeah, that’s it. You look naked, dude.”

“You look like a nerd,” Johhny says. “That’s just not right.”

“I thought you thought I was a nerd, though? I mean… you broke into my house to call me one in the middle of the night only like a couple days ago.” Max hoists his heavily-graffitied cast as proof.

“Y-yeah,” Johnny says, cheeks flushing. “But. You don’t normally look like a nerd. Yer all… stealth-nerd. Normally.”

“Did. Did you just say my hat makes me look cool.”

“T-this kid needs a hat, stat!” Johnny roars, and leaps at RJ, trying to tug off their hood. “RJ, c’mon, it’s a sacrifice for the greater good! Gotta cover his, his stupid, uh bald head. Yeah!”

…That sounds like a yes.

Max ducks his head, scratching at his hair, grinning a little. When he looks up, it’s to Johnny staring at him again, frozen, with one hand in RJ’s mouth and the other hovering mid-air.

“W-what?”

“……Nothun’. Ollie, Stephen: extraction.” The two boys help Johnny to prise his hand out of RJ’s mouth, a task that takes a couple of minutes. They all act like this is usual stuff for them, but Max is very concerned about what this implies for RJ’s bite strength, and makes a note not to touch the hood any time soon.

Still, Johnny’s got a point. Max needs a hat. Not just any hat. He needs the hat his mom gave him, the one that makes him look cool. And, well, he was just thinking about how hard it would be to do this alone…

“Johnny,” he says carefully, well aware that maybe this counts as making a deal with the devil or whatever. “Johnny, uh, do you want to steal back my hat with me?”

Johnny’s face is – yeah. Definitely the devil.

“Do I ever, MAX,” he exclaims, suddenly at his side, arm clasped over his shoulders. “Do. I. Ev-arr. Yes! Yes Max I EVER SO DO -”

“Great we got it you like crime,” Max mutters, trying to at least pretend like he regrets this decision.

Twenty minutes later, after one strategy meeting, one hoist into the vents, ten minutes getting lost in the vents, and one spent hovering in the ceiling trying to think of a cool way to jump down without bumping his cast. After some frantic hiding beneath the desk and a lot of attempts at lockpicking the treasure chest and Johnny finally just kicking the lock off with a roar that brings Mr. Starchman back into the room moustache a-tremble and wielding what Max realizes in horror must be The Noodle -

Twenty minutes later, he finds himself bolting down a stairwell, screaming in mutual terror with Johnny at his side, when their escape is foiled by Cody, Violet, and Jeff walking up the steps chatting. The only free space next to them is filled up by a small spectral goat on two hooves wearing a ridiculously huge backpack, so there’s no way through. Well, on the steps anyway, but Max manages to leap up and rebound off the wall, flipping over them and landing in the hallway beyond. Freedom awaits him in the form of the open front doors to the school, and for a second he’s tempted, but…

Johnny’s tangled in a heap with the other kids on the last few steps, and if Max runs now he’ll probably start punching his way out. Jeff has had it rough enough lately, what with the spirit possession and all.

He pretends that’s why he goes back to offer Johnny a hand up, followed only moments later by a pool noodle lasso landing round both their necks with (he could swear) a spectral yeehaw! echoing in the air.

He pretends real hard.

[thefunksoldiers-blog]

With Friends Like These: Mighty Mayte and Her (Not So) Merry Minions

Seems it does not pay to not pay Mayte. She’s running around shouting Love God, Love 4 One Another when her love for money is causing a fracturing within the ranks of her “charity” and feeble fan base. In a private chat group convened to discuss all things related to fundraising scams, and fan groups, it seems this collective can now be labeled a board (which also means that if you are harassed by any of these board members, you can report it to the state of CA and the IRS). Mayte has agreed to endorse the “group” that raises the most money for her “charity.”  According to various sources that know a thing or two about running a 501(c)3, such an informal convocation can be deemed a Board of Directors given their frequent meetings and shared objectives: https://www.theguardian.com/society/2009/jul/30/charity-trustee-advice; or at the very least an Advisory Board: https://www.entrepreneur.com/encyclopedia/advisory-boards. 

Both are subject to the same code of (behavioral) conduct for members.

Mayte, Dave, and Kim, you have GOT to be more careful about who you piss off, exclude, lie about or hack! Because of your sloppiness and vile treatment of those who were at one time in your corner, you have been infiltrated at every level. You think you have eyes everywhere? The more people you offend, the more evidence of your misdeeds will circulate publicly. Dave, alone, has been sharing information with a few he turns around and bashes on social media all because he assumed it was someone else and doesn’t know they use their the government names when he’s been confiding in them.

David S. Buchansky, Vice President of Mayte’s Rescue, you aren’t fooling anybody with the new IG accounts. Why? Because you go from site to site griping about the same stuff, saying the same things. Enough with the cut and paste, already! Dude, stop obsessing about the size of Prince’s penis, whether he did it to Mayte or not and how. Stop reminding us how you are not getting it because of your obsession with how she got it from Prince at one time.  Stop telling people they are jealous Mayte was married to Prince, a man you both have said was an abusive husband. Who tells other women to be jealous of domestic violence? As a matter of fact, stop lying about Prince being an abusive husband. The man was married twice, had many girlfriends, but over 40 years, the only woman he was supposedly with to call him abusive is Mayte. Makes you wonder if he was abusive (NOT) or if she’s just a liar (YUP). Stop dropping info (like how Mayte tried to sell Prince back his stuff after he sued Nate’s auction house) that only 8 people knew she did, including Prince and his lawyer. Most importantly stop harassing people because as the listed Vice President, you are an officer of the “charity” and you are violating IRS rules that govern 501(c)3 officers as stipulated in IRS Publications 4221, 557, and 581. Further, the California Attorney General has strict rules against this behavior, which isn’t good considering you just filed your paperwork to register Mayte’s Rescue with that office. You can brush up on the law in California here: http://ag.ca.gov/charities/publications/guide_for_charities.pdf.

  Kim, Mayte did you the glorious favor of stating that her belly dancing classes that you worked so hard to help set up and promote are actually fundraisers for Mayte’s Rescue (not that some proceeds would go to the rescue, but that they are FUNDRAISERS for the rescue). Moreover, she defiantly says she’s not stopping (even if it means risking her 501(c)3 status). This means that you will have to register in every state (except Texas as they don’t have that requirement) to host these fundraisers per the law and at the advisement of the IRS: https://www.irs.gov/charities-non-profits/charitable-organizations/charitable-solicitation-state-requirements. If a previously registered charity was hosting on your behalf, no harm, no foul, no registration required. But since you are doing these independently on behalf of your FB group in exchange for Mayte’s undying adoration (and Mayte posted, specifically, they are fundraisers), it might have helped if you did your research, FIRST. Remember a few months ago when someone (who had 20 years experience fundraising for nonprofits, by the way) told you that you, personally, had to register as a fundraiser with each state you planned to host fundraisers in and you laughed and said you didn’t?  We at thefunksoldiers.tumblr.com laughed because we knew THIS was going to come down the pipe.  Now the people you shafted can laugh at you (and that 1988 mullet--- girl, Tommy Lee wants his hairdo from his Mötley Crüe days back).

  Lynette, Brittany, Laura, a shark will eat its own guts. The same way Mayte and Dave swallowed up anyone who was no longer of use to them financially, they will do the same to you with Kim leading the charge. The moment you out-Kim Kim, she’s going to do everything she can behind your back to make sure Mayte sees you as someone she needs to get rid of.  Angel and Stephanie are gone.  Kim did that.  Which one of you do you think is next?!  We know.  Drop us a line if you want to know when and how they are going to oust you, the order this will occur and why.

Oh, and Dave--- one more thing--- because we really want to help you get your self-esteem on track (sort of): you need to keep an eye on Kim.  She’s coming for your slot, bruh, as Mayte’s bestie. We cannot stress this enough: watch your back!  You let the devil in the back door while you were out front harassing anyone who professed a dislike for Mayte. You are busy putting out fires you start because you can’t just tell Mayte YOU want to be the man in her life, so you harass and stalk anyone who doesn’t share your infatuation for Mayte’s mediocrity and you started slipping. Kim--- she caught you slipping and picked up the rescue stuff and ran with it.  Now, she can’t stop running her mouth in private chats, DMs and FB messages about how you are screwing up with the rescue (we have screenshots)! Boy, get your life or Kim will get your friend!

                                                   Besties 4 Life

That’s all for today. Happy Independence Weekend, may the mess of you find yours from “Mighty Mayte!”