#or even if he was a fly on the wall when jack was berated by killick...or stephen...

[leona-florianova]

RIP Lord Clonfert, if he had seen how pathetic and lame Jack is on land and in his personal endeavours, he would have lived...

[preciousprentiss]

Still Got Tonight

I heard the song “Still Got Tonight” by Matthew Morrison and even though the lyrics and this one-shot don’t go together at all, I still thought this was a great title for it! This is quite a sad one, but there’s a ton of fluff still and it’s set in 6x18.

One-shot starts below the cut x

She removes the last of the deep red lipstick from her lips and tosses the makeup wipe into the trashcan before bracing herself against the sink and sighing as she looks at herself in the mirror. How on earth has he found her? There are nine airports in Virginia and the only person she talked to about where she was going to be flying out from was JJ. She should have told him, she knows that. She owes him that after he agreed to help her fake her death and keep up the ruse once she’s gone, but this is exactly why she hid it from him. He was never going to accept their brief conversation at the hospital as their final goodbye. She already knows how it’s going to go down when he knocks on her door in five minutes. He’s going to wander in, look at her the way he knows never fails to make her lose her train of thought, kiss her senseless and make leaving for Paris in the morning ten times more painful than it already will be.

She wants to say she wishes she had never invited him up to her room, but she would be lying and she’s sick and tired of lies and deceit at this point.

When she scrawled the little note and pressed it into the palm of his hand when they were chatting quietly at the bar, it was because she wants – no. She needs those things. She needs him to hold her. She needs him to kiss her until she can’t breathe and she needs him to tell her over and over again that he loves her because she needs something to remember. As long as Doyle is alive and free to roam the streets, her life is on the line and she can’t come home. Even if she changes her name and spends the rest of her life in some stupid disguise, somehow he’ll find out she survived and he’ll not stop looking for her until he finds her. She won’t be as lucky then as she has been this time, she knows that for a fact. He’ll do it quickly and quietly, learning from his mistakes so that no one will know until she’s past help. No, she can’t stay. Staying is only going to put the team at risk, but it’ll endanger Aaron and Jack most of all.

She can’t have that on her conscience, she just can’t.

What she’s doing is hurting everyone and just thinking about what her friends – her family – are going through breaks her heart, but if she needs to choose between forcing them to grieve over her for a little while and allowing them to be harmed thanks to her then she chooses the former. No doubt about that.

Three gentle knocks on the door to the suite pulls her from her thoughts after a while and her heart races as she knows full well that that’s Aaron’s signal. She told him to knock three times so she knows it’s him because she’s taken off her disguise and she refuses to take any more risks tonight. Heading out of the bathroom, she turns the light off and pads across the room before opening the door to reveal Aaron standing in the hall with the most handsome smile. “Really, Em? Evonne Pachette? That disguise?” His voice is so soft as he speaks to her while she peers around the door, her gaze fixed on him as he crosses his arms and leans against the wall. “You know; if you really didn’t want me to find you then you probably should have picked one a little better than that.”

She rolls her eyes at him before opening the door more fully and taking him by the arm, practically dragging him into the room, and she sighs with relief as she closes the door firmly again and locks it. For the next couple of seconds, she does nothing but stare at the same spot as she blinks back the tears in her eyes. “How did you find me? You weren’t supposed to find me, Aaron, no one was.” She shakes her head, berating herself inwardly when her voice trembles.

“I drove to every airport in the state until I found the right one.” Is his sarcastic response.

She forces herself to turn around, crossing her arms and giving him a look that says she’s far from impressed.

“How do you think I found you?” He sighs, his tone more serious now. “JJ told me. She told me your flight isn’t until the morning, so you’re holed up here.”

“But she said she wouldn’t say anything to you. She…” She swallows the lump in her throat. “She promised me.”

“Anyone would think you don’t want me here. Have I done something to upset you? Our talk at the hospital made me think…I don’t know what to think.”

Blinking back the tears that blur her vision, she ignores the pain in her abdomen and limps towards him before sliding her arms around his waist and kissing him softly as she pulls him close. He tucks a hand beneath her hair and cradles her cheek in his palm as she takes hold of the back of his jacket, the sound of approval she makes in the back of her throat making him smile before he kisses her once more and presses his forehead to her own. “No…” She says, the word coming out as a breath as she opens her eyes again. “No, the reason for me not wanting to see you hasn’t got anything to do with you. I didn’t want to see you because I knew it would make it ten times harder for me to leave tomorrow and I was right. It has. I might never be able to come home, Aaron, and that means I might never be able to come home to you and Jack, so I…I guess I was trying to shut you out to make things easier for me. I was selfish.”

“You are coming home. We’re going to find Doyle and make him pay for everything he’s ever done to you and then you’ll be safe, I promise.” He sooths.

She shakes her head and a solitary tear rolls down her cheek before she quickly wipes it away. “You say all that because it’s something you want to believe, but we have to be realistic here. Doyle is an incredibly smart man. I hate him and I want nothing more than for him to rot in prison for the rest of his life, but I can’t stand here and say he’s stupid because he’s far from it. If he wants to stay hidden, he’ll stay hidden and he has contacts and knows what strings to pull to make sure you never find him. I want to believe you’ll find him and put him away for me. I want to believe I’ll be able to come home to you and Jack someday and everything will be fine because I love you both so much, but…but I honestly can’t see that happening at the moment. I can’t see a future for us right now and I can’t ask you to wait around just because there’s the slightest possibility we might end up together again. It isn’t fair on you or him.”

“Wait. What are you saying?” He asks with a frown, though he has a horrible feeling he isn’t going to like the answer.

“I’m saying that I have to let you go,” She whispers. “When I board that plane in the morning, there can no longer be an us.”

“No.” Is his response as he leaves her arms and storms over to the bed in the middle of the room.

“Aaron.”

“No, Emily! He doesn’t get to do this! He doesn’t get to take this from us, do you understand me?”

He’s enraged, but he forces himself to calm down when he spins around to face her and he sees that she’s hurting just as much as he is.

Walking over to the purse hanging over the back of the chair near the door, she opens it and pulls out the bottle of morphine tablets before turning back to Aaron. “This has nothing to do with Doyle,” She explains as she shakes two tablets out into her hand, reaches for her bottle of water and quickly takes the medication with the hope it’ll ease the pain a little. “Well, it does, but he’s only a small part of why I’m doing this. It has more to do with the fact we have no idea how long I’ll be gone and we can’t have any contact. I can’t call you when I need to hear your voice and I can’t just get in the car and drive to your apartment when I don’t feel like sleeping alone. Our lives are going to go on, Aaron, whether we want them to or not, and we both know we’re going to end up meeting new people. I don’t want you to hold back from someone who’ll make you happy just because you miss me and I hope you feel the same way where I'm concerned.”

He remains silent as he sits down on the bed and puts his head in his hands.

“I love you,” Her bottom lip trembles as tears stream down her cheeks. “I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone, that’s why I’m doing all this.”

“You don’t understand, I don’t want to meet someone else. I don’t want that option. The only person I want is you.” He sobs, lifting his head to look at her.

Putting the bottle of water down, she makes her way over to him and sits down on his knee, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Sweetheart, please…” Her voice is quiet and tearful as she leans her forehead against his and lets her fingers stroke against the hairs at the nape of his neck. “You have to let me go.”

He’s silent for a time before he pulls her close and says: “Tomorrow. Tomorrow, at the gate at 9:30, I’ll let you go, I promise, but you’re mine until then.”

She nods through her tears, her breath trembling as she kisses him deeply before pulling back to look at him once more. “Yours. Always.”

------

She told him to wake her if she fell asleep so they didn’t waste a second of their last few hours together, but he just can’t bring himself to do it as she lies there, nestled in his embrace, and he runs his fingers along her back through her tank-top. She’s cuddled as close to him as can be, her leg tangled with his beneath the sheets and her arm thrown over his stomach so he can’t move. Finally, she seems to be at peace and he won’t rob her of that, especially when she has an eight-hour flight ahead of her and she’s still recovering from surgery. He wants to make as much of their last night together as he possibly can, obviously, but she was so tired when they climbed into bed and there’s not much they can do anyway since she’s in so much pain.

He doesn’t mind though.

He’s content to just hold her until the sun comes up if that’s what she needs.

Letting his hand run down her back, it comes to settle on her hip and he makes himself a little more comfortable as he draws her closer to him with a sigh. He’s still struggling to come to terms with the fact that this could very well be the last time he’ll ever be able to hold her like this. That there’s a chance he might never see her or hear her voice again. He realises now that he’s been taking her for granted over the past couple of months and he wants to go back and savour every minute. He would thank her for every little thing she does for him. He would kiss her whenever he likes, refusing to let the fear of one of their team members walking in on them keep him from doing so. He would do everything so differently and appreciate her so much more, but he can’t get those months back and that’s a regret he’ll always carry around with him. He should have appreciated her more when he had the chance to do so.

There’s no point in dwelling on that now though.

No, all he can do now is spend the next few hours making sure he’s the man she deserves.

Whether she wakes up or not, he’ll hold her close and remind her that she’s loved beyond measure because, if nothing else, they’ve still got tonight.

[datawyrms]

Changed Hunt

For Phic Phight 2021! (not completely finished but AAAAfinshnowwww) lowkey Dannymay Day 2 Portal, as well

"That portal is awesome!" Sam says. "Would be so cool if it worked."

Danny goes down into the lab that night to try a few things—it doesn't quite go as he planned.(aka a no one knows au) (Dey’s prompt!)

Danny really wished Sam and Tucker had stayed a bit longer that day. With them around, maybe he wouldn’t have wandered in that portal like an idiot. In his own defense, how could he have known that little panel in there had been an on switch? Who’d put that inside a reality tearing portal device? Jack and Maddie Fenton, apparently. He was just lucky the thing hadn’t killed him! Or at least, managed to overdo it to the point he...survived somehow? He hadn’t really decided what that portal had done exactly. Waking in a pained heap, bathed in a haunting green glow from the now active portal was confusing enough. Looking up and seeing a stranger in the reflective panel nearby just made it worse. Of course he didn’t take it well, or know what to think. If he’d become a ghost, his parents would freak. Fixing their portal by turning into some...evil human hating creature probably wasn't in the plan. At least his terror somehow managed to get him to become human again. Heartbeat and everything. He hoped it had just been a weird one off, or he’d imagined it from trauma. Until he started falling through things. He died so hard  that he got his life back? The portal only managed to kill half of him? He was dead but ‘imitating humans’ was his specialty? Some human that just got to use his ‘soul’ or whatever to be a ghost early? Sam and Tucker might have had guesses- but he knew one thing right away. Whatever happened, he wasn’t all human anymore. He couldn’t tell them. What if they decided that was just too weird? What if they blamed themselves for not being there- thought they’d killed him? It wasn’t worth the risk. Besides, he couldn’t let Mom and Dad find out, so he’d be trying to hide any of the new weirdness anyway. Might as well just always do it. Maybe the weird new abilities would just go away. They hadn’t. They just forced him to think about it to keep both feet on the ground. He could deal.

Until other ghosts started showing up. Ghosts that actually knew how to be ghosts, terrifying powers and all. Ghosts that seemed to know what he was. He’d nearly jumped out of his skin when a green woman in a hairnet tapped him on the shoulder and asked who ‘changed the menu’. There was a lot of screaming and running away at that, considering she was floating and well. Obviously some sort of dead person. Freaky Fenton attracts freaky ghosts. Of course. She didn’t buy his claim of not knowing why the menu wasn’t exactly the same as fifty years ago (why would he? That’s a lot of years!) and thought setting ovens on fire and throwing them at him was a fair answer! So apparently Mom and Dad were totally right about ghosts being completely terrifying monsters that he should run away from very quickly. Which he did. He only ran into two walls he meant to go through, even. Just more reasons to never, ever tell anyone he might be like that crazed ghost lady. Mom and Dad proving their inventions actually did work sometimes was just icing on the ‘i’m so screwed’ cake. Ghosts exist, they fought one, and the school got shuttered for a week from excessive damage via flying appliance. Fun.

It was dumb to pretend that was a one off thing. It was stupid to think he could keep hiding what happened that day. Even if it felt safer, even if he just wanted to keep denying the portal was open so she could keep pretending it hadn’t done anything to him. Maybe if someone knew, he wouldn’t be hopelessly trapped by a huge glowing robot. Running didn’t work on this one like it did the older ghost lady. He tried, he really did, but the self proclaimed hunter kept tracking him down. Even when he transformed into the strange ghost version of himself he failed to dissuade the robot. Punching metal still hurt as a ghost, and so did getting pelted with little missiles. So much for intangibility being an advantage.

“You’re lucky that you’re a rare creature, whelp. Otherwise I’d be disappointed by how little effort hunting you took.”

Great, flame head thought he was a disappointing freak. More pressing was the net the ghost had shot at him that he couldn’t struggle free of. Even drawing on his weird ghost side wouldn’t let him phase through it. “Pretty sure you can’t hunt endangered species!” He redoubled his effort as the ghost picked up the net, trying to trick himself that his swinging was making him feel ill, not the terror of being carried off by some monster that came through the portal just to hunt him down.

“Hah! If I didn’t take you ghost child, someone else would simply end you.” The blank green eyes stared into his own as the machine pulled him up higher. “You should be grateful to be part of my collection.”

Danny gulped, unsure if he should keep his attention on his captor or the fact they were getting closer to the swirling portal. “How about no thanks? Since you’re such a good samaritan and all. You can just let me go and forget all about uh...this.” Why couldn’t he just squeeze out of the net, or make the rest of him all weird like when his legs decided to vanish sometimes? Pulling with his gloved hands wasn’t working, and the glow just grew  brighter as the lump in his throat got thicker. “Please? You already said I was weak, if you let me go I’ll be stronger next time!” Okay, it was a stupid plea but he’d try anything right now to not get dragged to some ghost world.

“I’m not a catch and release sort of hunter.” The ghost chuckled as his prey shrank back with the denial.

“How can you be the ‘Greatest’ hunter if you just go after kids, huh?” Begging wasn’t working, so maybe getting him angry? He couldn’t go through there, what if being on the other side made him more like this thing, or the other weird green monsters? “More like lamest hunter.”

“Oh you’ll see the sort of creatures I normally hunt, ghost child. Once you join them.” Skulker shook the net hard, rattling what little bravado Danny had managed to gather up right back out of him.

So much for that hope. “This has got to be a mistake, just let me go!” The ghost didn’t answer him, and he couldn’t help closing his eyes when the mechanical monster fired up a jetpack and flew through that portal. It wasn’t as cold as he feared it would be, it wasn’t like the void of space. Just as green as the portal, still a swirling background to everything. He swore he saw faces and doors, but couldn’t keep looking for long. The combined movement of being dragged along with the spinning energy was stomach churning enough, and he had to deal with the fact he didn’t know anything about this place. Even if this ghost decided to let him go, where would he go? Was there even anything to navigate with? He certainly didn’t see anything useful like stars. Would all this green stuff just soak into him and make him not want to find home? Nothing here made sense! It was easier to curl up instead of struggling with the net to stretch out, and the stupid ghost couldn’t see how the tears welled in his eyes as he struggled not to cry.

He should have been braver, should have tried to watch more, but it’d been too much. The crunch of metal against stone jarred him out of his silent self berating, just to be even more confused. He was on an island? That just floated, because islands did that here. Islands that had forests on them, that grew out of what looked like rock. Sure, okay. At least it was a bit of a distraction from the fact he was trapped by some evil robot in a completely different reality! Well. It had been. Seeing the fact the ghost lived in some weird stone skull jutting out of a mountain made him snort despite himself.

“You said my puns were bad, and you live in that thing?” He was pretty sure the green mohawk monster was Skull-something anyway. Mostly tuned it out after he kept repeating the ‘greatest hunter’ bit. “Ghost Zone’s Greatest Halloween Decoration’s a more fitting title.”

“For a terrified whelp, you are very chatty.”

“I think I looped around from terrified when I saw how doomed I am.” He was just joking. Totally. He wasn’t goofing around to try and fend off the engulfing panic of never getting home, nope. Absolutely not. He tried to pay attention to the strange ‘skull mountain house thing’, but the fact it reminded him more like a zoo inside wasn’t helping. Massive, monstrous glowing ghosts leering out and snapping as they passed, smaller sorts that didn’t even look up and several empty cages stained green was not calming his nerves. He couldn’t even describe some ghosts, being such a confusing jumble of parts that didn’t remind him of anything. All he could tell was robo-hunter probably didn’t have any willing guests. Unwilling guests that looked far, far more powerful than anything he could dream of trying. He was so, so doomed. To the point that being tossed roughly in a similar cage was almost a relief so he wasn’t right beside the ghost anymore.

First task was struggling free of the no longer glowing net (deactivated somehow? weird.) which wasn’t too hard, but just left him in his freaky ghost form, in a cage, in the middle of who knew where. The Ghost Zone, that’s what they kept calling it. Not Earth. Fantastic! That’s enough to get a C-, but not enough to get him out of this cage. Reaching through the bars was out, the unexpected shock had him rubbing his hand and grumbling to how having some invisible field between the bars was just unfair. At least let him see it before hurting him more. Now what? Grasping that feeling that let him walk through walls wasn’t letting him through the cage floor, just like how the net wouldn’t let him out.  Floating just reminded him of getting dragged here. So that was it. Why did he have to get stupid dying powers? They didn’t even do anything useful!

Stressing out and not finding a way out was an exhausting way to spend a few hours. He kept thinking of new problems, like he didn’t have enough already. When the robot wandered past, he almost grabbed the bars to get closer. “Hey! Screw head!”

The ghost actually looked at him, the stern face looking more confused than anything.

“Yeah you! You know I’m gonna like, starve to death in here, right?” Danny had no idea how he was managing to say something he was very terrified of coming true like it was a joke. “Kind of a waste, don’t ya think?”

“You will be fine, ghost child. Your pleas for freedom won’t fool me.”

“Wanna bet? Maybe we’re so rare because we all starve to death in this dumb ghost world or whatever.” That and there probably weren’t too many people dumb enough to get shocked to...sort of death. “That and like, you’re some freaky machine man, you probably don’t know anything about eating to start with.”

Skulker kept staring at him, as if doing that would suddenly reveal all his secrets. “Well I prefer live specimens, but I suppose I could always do with another rug.”

Oh gross! “Seriously? Do I look like rug material to you?”

“Wall art?”

Yup, he was gagging now. The very idea a ghost would want to do that just made his spine want to shake right out of him with disgust. “I’d be way out of place, all of the other ghosts here look like animals! You’ll just gross all your hunter buddies out.” Maybe if he pretended to be some know it all like Jazz the ghost would...reconsider making him into wall art? Uurk. What was his life that he even needed to think that?

At least that got the metal monster pondering, massive hand scratching at his chin. “I do wonder if your pelt would only show half of your nature.”

“How about we don’t test that and say we did.” He’d seen some of the knives on the way in and did not want any of them near him thank you very much. Not that he had much of a choice- oh man he really, really did not want to learn why Sam hated the fur industry this way. “Pretty sure I’d just die. More. Or something.”

“Oh, but you’ve seen the other pelts on the way in. They’ve still got enough of a spark to not melt to nothing ghost child. I’m not that sloppy.”

Oh so he could be barely aware wall art. Even better!  What would he do, skin him alive or just crush him? Both? “Humans don’t melt.” It was all he could think of blathering out. Don’t think about what the terrifying ghost guy can do Fenton, just don’t.

“True...unfortunately I don’t have another subject to test on.”

Score one for being a unique sort of freaky ghost kid. Maybe. “Soooo how about you just bring me back and rethink the whole uh. Hunting me thing.”

That just got Skulker laughing. “Not a chance whelp.”

“I’m not a whelp! I don’t even fit in with all your monster-things!” It had annoyed him, really. The other ghosts didn’t really...talk? “I’m not some animal!” 

More chuckling, as if amused by a puppy chasing its tail. “Of course you are, with that stench of the human world on you.”

“You think I smell. With what nose, metalhead?”

“None of your business. Not to fear, any ghost here can tell you’re a hybrid. That human body you insist on wearing can be felt even when you’re in a superior form.”

Oh, was this a ghosts thinking humans were animals thing? Or was this a ghosts are kinda racist to different ghosts thing. Was there a difference? He probably should have paid more attention in civics. “Yeah well that ‘human body’ needs food.” He wasn’t even going to touch the idea that he was ‘wearing’ his own body, eeeeugh.

“I’ll figure out a solution to your hybrid failings, child. I won’t let a prize go that easily.”

Greeeeeeat.

[sapphirecobalt-1]

“The paint’s supposed to go where?” destiel, for the prompts! <3

The paint’s supposed to go where?” + Destiel, courtesy of @contemplativepancakes. Thank you so much for your patience <3

Rated M(ish). 2.5k

"The paint's supposed to go where?" Dean asks, shooting Cas a look that's half confused, half incredulous, and half horrified, which is one too many halves but Dean's never been good enough at math to care, especially not when his roommate of several years is staring at him like he’s stupid but doesn’t want to say anything out of misplaced politeness (it’s okay, Cas, Dean knows he’s an idiot, no need to sugar coat it).

Cas scrunches up his brows and it’s clear as day he’s confused about Dean’s confusion. "On...your...body?" He asks more than says, speaking slowly and it's a testament to how well Dean knows his best friend that he understands the meaning behind Cas' words. Is this okay? Are you sure you want to do this?

Dean glances back and forth between Cas and the paintbrush in his hand. “I thought you wanted to paint me?” he asks, uncertainty coloring his tone.

“No, I asked if I could paint on you.” Cas clarifies.

Dean doesn’t know jack shit about art, it’s why he’s a STEM major, but now he’s starting to wonder if he shouldn’t do that either, because really, who in their right mind would trust a person who can’t tell the difference between painting someone and painting on someone with an electrical system? Not Dean, that’s for damn sure.

“You want to...paint on me?” Dean repeats back to him, slowly, and as an added bonus even points to himself as if Cas could possibly be referring to anyone else in the empty studio.

Cas blinks. Then, he nods, patience and exasperation fighting for dominance on his features. In the end, understanding tinged with disappointment wins as he says, “if you’re not comfortable with this, I understand...”

“No,” Dean’s mouth blurts out before his brain has time to process Cas’ comment. “I said I’d help you with your project and I will.”

“Are you sure?” Cas asks hopefully, fidgeting with the paintbrush in his hands.

No. “’Course I am.”

Cas’ face lights up in appreciation and the butterflies in Dean’s stomach flutter up a storm cause they clearly have nothing better to do. Still, the look on Cas’ face when Dean accepts his challenge is enough to put the misunderstanding behind them and let go of his uncertainty.

Until it’s time for Cas to paint on Dean.

When Cas originally asked Dean to help him with his assignment, Dean thought he’d pose for a couple hours and Cas would paint him like a 16th century monarch (never mind that Dean wanted Cas to paint him like one of his French girls). And he was cool with that, hell, he even looked forward to it (spending time with Cas, that is, not holding the same position for who knows how long). Dean even did some stretches and practiced holding various positions for several minutes.

Nothing could have prepared him for Cas scooping up some brown (”it’s not brown, Dean, it’s called ‘Burnt Umber’”, whatever the hell that means) paint on his brush, walking into Dean’s personal space like he owned it (he did, good God he did), and painting broad strokes onto Dean’s pale, freckled chest. Dean shivers the second the cold paint touches his skin and Cas barely gives him time to adjust to the temperature and weird sensation of bristles on his skin before he goes to town painting...whatever the hell he’s painting.

Cas furrows his brows and Dean watches him stick his tongue out in concentration and it’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen.

“So, uh, this paint safe for people?” Dean asks fighting a shiver that has nothing to do with the temperature of the paint and everything to do with the way Cas gently places his hand on Dean’s waist as he paints jagged lines across Dean’s chest.

Cas pauses to look up at Dean. “Of course.” he answers. “I would never ask this of you if I knew it wasn’t safe.”

Dean distractedly nods his understanding, his attention split between the sparkle in Cas’ clear blue eyes and the unfamiliar yet warm feeling ballooning in his chest. He looks away and forces himself to pay attention to his surroundings, afraid he might say something stupid if he continues staring into Cas’ eyes like that.

As far as college level art classes go, this one’s no different than most. It’s got several easels, canvases, paint brushes, and tubes of paint scattered all over the floor, tables, and open drawers. The sunlight streaming from the three floor-to-ceiling windows light up the room more than the dollar store bare bulb hanging from the ceiling. The dark grey walls are littered with murals in various stages of completion: sketched out, drawn, half painted and painted. Dean briefly wonders where the artists are and why they never finished before his eyes land on the creepy skeleton in the far right corner. It doesn’t have eyes, but Dean swears Michaelangel-Bones (as the art students named it for reasons Dean will never understand) stares at him.

Having had his fill of the offending decoration in the corner, Dean turns to face Cas only to frown when he doesn’t immediately spot his friend. Motion captures his attention and he looks down to see Cas, on his knees, in front of Dean, getting some green paint before carefully painting small strokes across Dean’s stomach, one hand on his waist.

Dean’s brain stops working and his heart, doing the exact opposite, pounds so fast he’s surprised it doesn’t beat out of his chest like they do in cartoons. But why would it, when it’s too busy pumping blood down south?

Dean tears his eyes away from the incredibly attractive sight of Cas on his knees and faces Michaelangel-Bones as if the skeleton’s gonna help him keep it in his pants. Although, weirdly enough, thinking about the disturbing skeleton whose not-eyes follow him around the studio actually does help Dean squash down his inappropriate thoughts about his roommate. Just to be on the safe side, he conjures a few very unsexy images (the time he accidentally walked in on his parents doing the horizontal tango, him and Charlie pigging out at the local buffet, stuffing their mouths and making gross faces at one another) all in an effort to get Little Dean under control.

Once his thoughts, feelings, heart, and Little Dean are all under control, he risks glancing down at Cas.

Cas who’s carrying on, painting God-knows-what on Dean’s stomach, casual as can be, completely oblivious to Dean’s internal monologue, seemingly unaffected by being practically face-to-face with Little Dean. He’s staring at Dean’s pudgy stomach with the same intensity as earlier when he was painting Dean’s chest.

All of Dean’s hard (heh) work making sure Little Dean behaves himself almost goes out the window when he notices Cas is sticking his tongue out a little in concentration and Dean wishes he was using his tongue for something else.

Dean berates himself for going down that road before thinking unsexy thoughts again, Don’t think about that, think about the time we didn’t realize Miracle was a girl until she had puppies. He better get his thoughts about Cas under control before he runs out of unsexy thoughts and Cas ends up coming face-to-face with Dean’s feelings for him. The last thing Dean wants is to make things awkward between them by being forced to admit he’s been in love with his best friend for years because said friend notices his boner.

"Done with the front," Cas chimes in. Thank God, Dean thinks, the torture is over. Dean's heart rate begins to slow down a bit and his thoughts settle. He relaxes.

That is, until Cas says, "Now it's time for the back," his voice a bit deeper than usual, giving Dean a nervous yet appreciative smile and Dean's heartbeat spikes all over again.

He returns Cas' smile, hoping he doesn't look as nervous as his friend did while trying not to let his mind run wild with possible explanations for Cas' nervousness.

Instead, Dean focuses on Cas and his friend walks around him, deliberately not facing Dean, squeezes out some light blue and some yellow paint onto his clear, paint-covered pallet, cleans his current brush and gets a new one.

Dean clears his throat. "So, uh, whatcha workin' on?" He asks in an effort to distract himself, fidgeting with the hem of his jeans. It's not that he's not interested in what Cas is doing, whatever it is he's doing, it's just that he really needs a distraction from the heat of Cas' hand on his waist.

"I'm painting a tree on your chest and the rest of the garden on your back." Cas responds just as his brush begins to paint long, broad strokes across his tailbone.

Dean shivers from the touch which only makes Cas squeeze his waist and now Dean's shuddering for a completely different reason.

"Dean, I need you to stay still, please." Cas reminds him, stern but not unkindly, pausing his process while Dean gets himself under control.

"Sorry." Dean replies. Once Dean is still, Cas continues painting across his back. It tickles a little as the bristles leave trails of cold, wet, and slightly slimy paint over his muscles.

Dean feels more than sees Cas’ precise brushing motions, feels Cas’ hot breath heat up the goosebumps adorning his skin and his breath hitches.

Cas stops painting.

Dean looks over his shoulder to find Cas already staring at him. He meets Cas’ gaze and swallows. “Everything alright, Cas?” Dean speaks softly into the space between them, which, Dean notices, isn’t much.

“Dean, I...” Cas trails off.

This close, Dean can see his friend’s dilated pupils and he’s certain his are, too. “Yeah, Cas?” Dean asks softly and tentatively, worried that if he speaks too loudly it’ll ruin the moment between them, pop it like a bubble. He swallows again, somewhere in the back of his mind wondering when his mouth got so dry.

Cas responds by leaning into Dean’s space and all his thoughts about his feelings for his roommate ruining their friendship fly out the window as Cas lightly rakes his nails up Dean’s side, over his shoulder blade, and down his arm.

Dean shudders in response, loving the feel of Cas’ hand on his body, although he wishes the guy would put both hands on him.

Cas’ hand slides down his Dean’s arm slowly, as if afraid going any faster might scare Dean off. 

Once Dean feels Cas’ hand in his own, he intertwines their fingers and squeezes his hand as if to say I’m not going anywhere.

The soft look in Cas’s eyes becomes so intense, Dean’s surprised his pupils aren’t heart-shaped like in cartoons. Nevertheless, he returns Cas’ heart eyes and he swears he stops breathing and his heart stops beating in his chest as the world around them disappears.

No more sunlight streaming through the windows, no more Michael Angel-bones staring creepily at Dean, no more cold, wet paint drying slowly on his skin; only him and Cas and the small space between them that keeps getting smaller and smaller until their lips brush.

He distantly hears Cas’ paintbrush clatter as it falls on the floor but Cas runs his now empty hand through Dean’s hair and nothing else matters except closing the all but nonexistent space between them.

He’s not sure who moves first, only that one second there is a space between them and the next second Cas’ chapped, pillow-y lips are on his.

The angle is awkward and hurts Dean’s neck but it’s worth it because the kiss is sweet and gentle and everything he’s ever dreamed of and more.

They part only when they run out of breath and Dean rests his forehead on Cas’. They keep their eyes closed a little while longer, still a bit dazed from their kiss.

After a few moments, Dean slowly turns around. He opens his eyes and takes in the sight of Cas' unruly hair, heart eyes, the tiny blush coloring his cheeks, and his spit-slicked lips. Gazing into Cas' eyes, Dean finally understands what that funny yet warm feeling ballooning in his chest is.

Love.

"I love you," Dean blurts out, his mouth moving faster than his brain can keep up. He looks down at Cas' shirt collar, unable to meet his gaze, afraid of what he might see.

"I love you, too," Dean looks up at Cas' wavering tone. Cas' eyes are watery and Dean wipes the single tear streaming down his face.

"You - you do?" Dean whispers in disbelief. Somebody pinch him because he must be dreaming if his hot best friend actually reciprocates. "L-love me? Like, love me, love me?" Dean clarifies. It's stupid and he's well aware it is but he has to know, he has to make sure Cas doesn't mean it in the friend way.

"Yes, Dean," Cas answers in a steadier voice with a chuckle and Dean's heart soars. "I love you, love you."

Dean wraps his arms around Cas' neck and pulls him in for a desperate kiss.

Cas must have been expecting it because he wastes no time wrapping his arms around Dean's waist and giving as good as he’s getting.

They make out for several minutes, only pausing to breathe, letting their lips do all the talking, their kisses saying everything they've never dared speak out loud.

Eventually, Cas breaks the kiss and Dean whimpers at the loss of contact. As they separate, Cas’ shirt peels off of Dean’s chest, which feels really tacky. Dean and Cas wear matching grimaces as they take in the paint on Cas’ shirt. It’s the mirror image of the tree and grass painted on Dean’s chest except the edges are smeared making it look like a blurry photograph. 

Dean stares at Cas’ shirt a little longer before the realization that he ruined Cas’ painting hits him. The color drains from his face as he looks at Cas with wide eyes. “Your painting, Cas, man, I am so sorry —”

Cas meets his look and his grimace gives way to a small smile and he lifts one shoulder in a shrug, as if to say what can you do? “Dean,” he interrupts, putting a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “You don’t need to apologize.”

“But I ruined your —” Dean tries.

“Dean, it’s alright.” He reassures. “You didn’t ruin anything.” A pause. “And if I recall correctly —” he smirks as his cheeks fill with a rosy pink color, “— I am equally to blame for ruining my project.”

Dean glances at Cas’ discarded paintbrush on the ground, rubbing the back of his neck at the memory of them making out moments ago. “Still…” Unconvinced and a bit guilty despite Cas’ reassurance, Dean prompts.

“Besides,” Cas grabs his hands. “I have more important things to do.” Cas gives him a very heated and suggestive look. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

Dean swallows, hard, and nods a response, speechless at Cas’ words. He’s never really seen this side of his roommate and best friend but he is not complaining and plans on taking full advantage of this newfound discovery. 

And in the middle of the day, in the middle of the art classroom, he does just that, Cas’ painting long forgotten in favor of doing another kind of project.

[popculturebuffet]

Carl Barks: Back to the Klondike Review: Blinkus of the Thinkus

Welcome one and all! If your a longtime reader of this blog, you know I love a good birthday celebration, having started with my first year reviewing animation last year with Donald’s and deciding to do Mickey and Scrooge’s later that year. But since I misseda  LOT of disney birthdays, and found several Non-disney birthdays and anniversaries I just gotta celebrate, this year i’m making it up and style and have a whole calender set up to tack these big milestones to the wall. So over the year expect tributes to the greats of disney, looney tunes, and mgm both behind and in front of the scenes, as well as to various shows I like. It’s gonna be a good time. 

So to start us off, it’s only fitting my first duck birthday since Scrooge, is for the love of his life and the stealer of his wallet, Glittering Goldie O Gilt! And I felt the best way to celebrate this storied day was to go back to her very FIRST apperance, one of earliest Scrooge headlined comics and a forever fan faviorite, Back to the Klondike!

But before we get into that, a little history on our gal in gold. Goldie was created for this story by comics god, the late great Carl Barks. Barks ended up just using her once, which is a shame but understandable as he probably only thought of her for that one adventure. While some characters like Gyro ended up being used again and again he probably just didn’t have any more stories in mind for her and figured Scrooge would return to her one day or he wouldn’t, but it wasn’t up to him.  Fans however loved the character, her feisty dynamic with scrooge, and the fact she brought out his good side, so naturally other writers would bring her back. In paticular Barks Superfan Don Rosa cemented her as the love of his life and wrote several more stories with her, fleshing out their backstory and saying that at least in his personal canon, Scrooge retired to spend his final years with her. And while his fanboy was clearly showing, and that can end nasitly just ask Dan “Hates Wally West because he’s not barry allen” DiDio, glad he’s gone.. Rosa’s work with goldie is an example of what happens when it’s done right. Less DiDio or Bendis and more Al Ewing. Using the continuity and what’s there to build on a character who deserved better.. to me that’s one of the BEST things you can do in comics and Rosa’s work is proof of that, ironing out the.. questionable elements we’ll get to and leaving the gold in.  So Rosa’s work combined with Ducktales not only adapting this story but bringing Goldie back a few times after that has elevated the character to a storied and permenat part of the duck canon, with her excellent heavily revamped Reboot counterpart currently carrying the torch with the help of the wonderful Allison Janey, perfect casting there. So with a legacy of gold behind her, let’s take a look at where it’s started and see if it still glitters after all these years under the cut. 

We begin our story at the Money Bin. Scrooge has been counting his money.. but has already forgotten, and forgot where he put the slip he wrote the number on and even forgets who Donald is when he shows up until Donald, while having some fun with him as Scrooge is trying to phone him while he’s right there. As for how he got into the most secure place in the bin.. the story actually answers that both worringly and hilariously: Scrooge left the door unlocked.  Naturally he’s not happy about this and Donald states the simple solution: Go see a doctor something’s CLEARLY very wrong, and the fact this could possibly be something like Demntia is VERY bad for someone who runs a zillion dollar company. Scrooge of course scoffs at “wasting his precious money” But Donald not only points out the obvious, that two bucks now saves him from having someone rob EVERYTHING, but Scrooge’s attempt to tie a string around his finger.. instead triggers a trap. And this entire sequence is decent with some good gags.. it’s just hampered a bit by making light of something that’s kinda bad. Not old people forgetting things.. but an old person with a disease as we find out forgetting things. Not helping is I laughed at first at the gags.. till I remembered a kind, old, friend of the family who had it and forgot me entirely by the end. So yeah, not the worst gags and the boxing glove and donald bits aren’t terrible, but it hurts now my brain’s made that connection. 

Our heroes head to the doctor’s office where Scrooge is diagnosed with... 

That.. might be the best name for a fictional illness i’ve ever heard in my life.. just inching out “Brain Cloud” and “Whale Cancer”. Still not the most SENSITIVE gag.. but it was the 50′s and mental issues weren’t given a lot of respect. IT’s why the above sequence and this whole part of the plot dosen’t scuttle things: It’s not the most repsectful.. but it wasn’t a time where these things were givne proper respect, treatment or knowledge, so barks wasn’t being an insentive douche on purpose, he just didn’t know. It dosen’t make it 100% okay btu it dosen’t wreck the story like say his blatant racist caractures in Voodoo Hoodoo. Seriously that’s.. not okay, and given he’s the kind of guy who researched locations he used, unlike with mental illness i expect BETTER of him than most men at the time. Still respect the guy, but it dosen’t mean i’ll overlook the fact he made some pretty bad mistakes. Same way while I love and miss Stan Lee I won’t ignore his blatant sexisim or racisim towards Chinese and Vitamise people. You CAN like a creator even if their work has some questionable and unjustifable elements, times do change and people do mamke mistakes when their young. It just depends on exactly WHAT they did or wrote that makes that distinctoin.  So on that bombshell, Scrooge is given medication after a needle gag. He needs to take his pills every 12 hours. It’s then he starts to remember something, mubling abotu skagway, goldie and dawson and telling Donald to get the boys, their going to Alaska! Once they get on the boat Scrooge explains: he remembered thanks to the medcince he left a stash of gold nuggets there from his prospecting days.. and part of why this story ended up being one of the single most important to Scrooge’s character. While it establishes some character traits, something I dind’t realize till wikipedia pointed it out, it also establishes Scrooge’s days as a prospector. While other things made him what he was and got him to that point as Don Rosa would later flesh out, it was his days in the yukon that, for better or worse defined who he is now and shaped him into the man he is today: Tough, fair, badass as all hell, mean as the devil and richer than god.  This time would be used a lot to set up stories, which made sense as it was the cleast and most agreed upon part of his past by all writers, and him at his abosltuely peak physically and mentally and the gold rush motif of the time perfectly fits someone defined by being rich. It’s also honestly nice that the Yukon is used, as Canada sometimes gets lost in the shuffle wise and hell until reading life and times I gneuinely had no idea what the Yukon was or where Calvin was headed when he and hobbes ran away from home. 

Scrooge also first mentions Goldie and while clearly remembering her fondly.. goes into a rant about her howing him a thousand dollars which has compounded to a billion the second the boys catch on he was sweet on her with Donald assuming he’s just not a good person. But this is really just setting up another vital part of his character and the other thing: his heart. Before he’d been show as a pretty heartless, greedy asshole. While the previous story, Only a Poor Old Man, had softened him up a bit, this is the first to show that beneath the pile of greed and mean lurks a decent human being. Just don’t tell anyone or he’ll throw his money at you.. then tell you to bring it back to him. It’s what makes the character who he is: he’s cruel, onrey and selfish.. but he CAN care when the chips are down and can do the right thing.. as we’ll see later. 

God I love the little poems Bill Watterson would put in the books. I didn’t as much as a kid, but god I do now. Anyways before our heroes can get going Yukon Ho, they stop in Skagway for suplies before heading out, Scrooge softing at taking a plane as “Soft” and him and the nephews hiking a week.. before running into the same flying service again, and finding out Scrooge OWNS it and forgot, because being scrooge he forgot to take his meds. Something I can relate to and i’m not proud of as staying on them is important to my well being. Seriously always take your meds. Unless their not working for you then talk with your doctor to get new ones. 

So we arrive in Dawson, as our heroes will have to walk rest of the day Scrooge takes the boys to the Black Jack Ballroom, which used to be a hot spot and was where he met Goldie for the first time. After another covering for his reminscing with greedy bollocks, he tells the boys the story.. one that was cut from the original printing despite introducing goldie and something the editors dind’t bother to tell carl till they berated him over trying to sneak a blackjack saloon and a kidnapping in there... and to them, or their long dead skeletons probably, I say. 

Yeah not wanting that in a kids story, while bollocks, tha’ts their perogative.. not having him send in replacement pages to keep story flow.. is dickish and underestimates kids intellegence as Don Rosa, while loving the story felt something was off till he saw the missing pages years later thanks to a fellow fan. So yeah kids, and adults, into the work noticed. Nice job. Again I can’t BLAME them for not wanting Scrooge to be a kidnapper as we’ll see and Don Rosa had to massage the hell out of that, but I can blame them for not caring enough to fix the obvious hole int he story. Though it’s now complete and unabriged and has been since the 80′s so there's that. 

So in a nutshell Scrooge came to town for a coffee, and while the bartender ignored him he didn’t once he plunked down his goose egg nugget, what made his fortune and one of Scrooge’s most treasured possessions. It’s here we meet Goldie. 

Yup.. just in case you thought her being a thief and greedy as hell was a new thing, and I kinda forgot how much, she dirves for the nugget, has Coffee with scrooge.. and drugs it, but makes the mistake of NOT clearing town, so Scrooge fights his way through the ballroom to her, gets the nugget back, forces her to sign the money for the iou he spent.. and then uh.. kindaps her to force her to work on his claim for 50 cents to try and teach her how to work honestly. 

Yeahhhh as I said Don Rosa tried his best to fix this , and did so in his final story, which we’ll get to some day, revealing Goldie had a shot gun on her the whole time and was going along entirely to find out where Scrooge’s claim was. That.. actually makes more sense with the character and is far less horrifying and Scrooge finds this out fairly quick, so them forming an attraction out of this becomes 100% more plausable. So yeah good on Don Rosa for fixing the implications here. I may give out on him from time to time.. but he is a genuinely talented writer and did what a good comic book writer in an established continuity should do: update elements so they aren’t so... eugguuhhh after they become horrifingly outdated. And look YES she did do horrible shit to him.. but you still can’t kidnap someone over that. just put her in jail. What was any of that. 

Anyways Scrooge HAS been taking his medicine, and proves it by showing the boys his pills and the next day they head to Scrooge’s old claim.. only someone’s living there and using it, and his old cabin.. and a shot gun. Yeah so they aren’t getting through in the day what about the night.. well they get attacked by Blackjack, who turns out to be owned by the claim jumper.. and is also you know a bear> And Donald left his back in new quackmore so their outmatched. 

So outgunned and outplanned, if not outnumbered or outmanned, our heroes make a camp fire and whiel Donald again suggests the obvious, call the police.. Scrooge can’t. He didn’t pay taxes on the claim so he’s technically jumping his own claim and techincally she has a right to it. So techncially.. Scrooge is the bad guy here as he left the money here, didn’t pay his taxes and didn’t ever come back for it. Still beats trying to terrify your nephews or deny orphans a train because your an asshole buffet. 

So the next morning Scrooge dosen’t want to rush her because “We Daren’t Get Rough with an old woman”. Two things.. 1... think before you put images in my head scrooge.. brrrrrrrrr. I mean Goldie. is not in the best shape in thie story as you’ll see and neither are you. In the reboot sure you two kept up a lot better but here.

And it’s not even an old people thing. Ann Margret was still fine so fine by the time of Grumpy Old Men, not to get creepy jut to prove i’m not being ageist. For a still alive example Keith David is also still a smokeshow at the tender age of 64. So yeah, not an age thing just not these paticular old people. 

But they need a plan so the boy suggest luring the bear into a trap with honey. Donald and Scrooge build the cage while the boys.. find the jar of honey. 

Regardless since the boys won’t do it for what Scrooge pays and neither will donald Scrooge goes to lure the bear with the honey. Once that’s done, and Scrooge is being covered with honey and licked by a bear...

So while he washes that off, the boys come up with another plan: they run around back while Donald makes noise to draw Goldie’s fire, with that being Dewey’s plan to meet her since he’s figured this out already. But Goldie has a backup plan and when she figures out they disabled Blackjack unleashes mosquitos... ugh. Having been stung like hornets about 50 times in animal crossing I feel you boys. So while Scrooge and Donald run off naked... troy if you will. 

Thank you Troy, the boys confront Goldie who reveals her identity... and that she’s broke, her dance hall having failed with the rush and this claim being all she has.. and her suspecting scrooge woudl gladly take it. The boys vow not to tell scrooge.. but he’s on his way so they kinda have to and he primps to go visit and Donald starts to see through his BS about collecting the debt. Sure enough despite being taken aback by her putting on her old dress , he takes her for all she has and is.. genuinely suprised as she thought she’d have more and she’d actually changed since the old days, donating her profits to orphans from mining disasters. Scrooge.. is clearly rattled by this. Whiel it turns out to my shock he was clealry after the money, though givne who we’re dealing with I shoudln’t of been really, he still cares and still realizes he’s being kind of a dick. So he challengers her to a gold digging race, and if she wins the claim is hers and any gold she finds.. and naturally, while he seemingly puts her soemwhere where there isn’t she finds the claim and Scrooge bemoans not taking his pill.. but while the boys boo him for it, Goldie who fondly waves them off and Donald know better: Donald points out he counted the pills this morning.. and recently. SCrooge DID take one today... he’s just has his cane shoved firmly up his ass with pride so he coudln’t ADMIT he was wrong and instead simply staged that whole thing with the full knowledge Goldie would win. It, again, sets up one of his defniing traits; how he keeps people at arms length. How he’s just so proud and full of himself he can’t bear to admit anything resembling weakness.. but WILl find a way to do the right thing without that or forgoe it as a last resort. He may project being a stingy cretionus old man.. because he is.. but he’s got a heart as big as that nugget.. it’s just locked tight in it’s own bin... his body is complicated and weird that way Final Thoughts:

This story is a classic with a decent setup, great backstory for scrooge, and a great guest character and unquestionable impact on the character. However.. it does have it’s problem; As Don Rosa, who as i’ll remind you is both a huge barks fanboy and huge scoldie shipper, himself pointed out he wrote his final story, and had planned to for years ENTIRELY because this one never quite explains how Scrooge and Goldie went from old enmies to lovers.It did lead to one of his best stories and one of the first I read post life and times so, props to that. And of course as I pointed out some things have just.. not aged well, especially the kidnapping so their relationship kinda comes off like stockholm syndrom as a result of both of these. 

That being said.. warts and all.. it’s still a really damn good story and a good one to try if your intrested in barks work or where Goldie came from: it has adventure, some really good jokes and if you can get past the dated bits the plot is solid. And while it goes without saying i’ll say it anyway Barks art is goregous as always ESPECIALLY in the flashback sequence. Overall not the best AGED Scrooge story, though not the worst either see Voodoo Hoodoo, good god, but defintely a classic for a reason.  If you liked this review, follow me for more, and for more duck content as I still have more of the three cablleros to work through, another chapter of life and times coming up this week befor ewe break again for feburary, and some other fun stuff. Until the next rainbow, it’s been a pleasure. 

[stahlop]

Once Upon a Time 2x21 “Second Star to the Right” Review

Reviews 1x01 1x02 1x03 1x04 1x05 1x06 1x07 1x08 1x09 1x10 1x11 1x12 1x13 1x14 1x15 1x16 1x17 1x18 1x19 1x20 1x21 1x22 2x01 2x02 2x03 2x04 2x05 2x06 2x07 2x08 2x09 2x10 2x11 2x12 2x13 2x14 2x15 2x16 2x17 2x18 2x19 2x20

Oh, man! What the hell just got unleashed on us! Bae lived with the Darlings and got taken to Neverland and found himself about Hook’s ship! Tamara killed Neal! Regina actually killed Greg’s father! And this is all going to be tied up in the next episode?

Summary: After going through the portal, Bae finds himself in Victorian London and ends up living with the Darling family. David and Mary Margaret go to extremes to find Regina, while Emma is still convinced that Tamara is up to no good.

Opening: Big Ben turning to 8:15

New Characters:

Wendy Darling: She’s not afraid of Bae when she first meets him. She comes after him with a statue before realizing that he’s just hungry. She starts hiding Bae in a crawl space in the wall of their nursery. Bae asks if her parents suspect and she makes the statement that all kids think is true, ‘they’re grown ups, they can’t see anything that’s not right in front of them.’ Which of course is when her parents show up and demand to know who Bae is. When they find out he’s an orphan, Mrs. Darling invites him to stay with them. Bae wakes up that night while Wendy is waiting for the Shadow to come. She and her brothers are very excited about the Shadow coming. She tells Bae that the Shadow started appearing around the same time Bae appeared and it’s so wonderful because it can change shape and travel between worlds. And it’s so wonderful because it has magic. This instantly sets off Bae’s alarms, since he came to this land to get away from magic. He tells them not to let the Shadow in and Wendy is disappointed. John accuses him of not believing, but he tells them he comes from a land that is full of magic, which makes Wendy excited again. Wendy, when the boy from the magic land tells you to stay away from magic, listen! Bae tells Wendy and her brothers that magic destroyed his family and Wendy finally looks chagrined about entertaining the idea of going with the Shadow. Bae makes Wendy promise not to let the Shadow in, and she unhappily agrees. The next day Wendy is sitting out by that damn open window (someone needs to teach her to respect an open window!). the Shadow comes back and Wendy is as excited about it as she always is. She claims that this magic is different, it’s from a place called Neverland where there are no grown ups and you can fly. Bae tries to keep her in the house, but she’s determined to go. She comes back the next morning and while she’s telling Bae about all the wondrous things you can just see that she is trying not to cry because her magical adventure was not all she thought it was going to be. She tells Bae that once nightfalls you can hear all the children crying for their parents and they aren’t allowed to leave. It’s called Neverland because once you step foot on the soil you can never leave. She’s in tears now. Then Wendy reveals that the Shadow wanted a boy and that’s why she was allowed to go home, but he’ll be back for one of her brothers. Wendy finally admits that she should have listened to Bae about magic. That night the Darling children booby trap the nursery so the Shadow can’t take John or Michael. Ok, I get the lights and the matches, because that can make a shadow disappear, but what exactly were they hoping to accomplish with jacks on the windowsill? Seriously? It’s a shadow, not a burglar. The Shadow gets through all their traps, because it’s a shadow, and Bae herds everyone into the crawl space, except for Michael. Wendy’s freaking out because the Shadow’s going after her brother, but then Bae offers to go instead, and Wendy’s even more upset because this is all her fault (yes, it definitely is, listen to Bae next time). So, yeah, Wendy made some bad decisions and now Bae is off to Neverland.

Character Observations:

Bae/Neal: First of all, I loved how seamlessly they transitioned from Bae falling through the portal in the previously ons straight into the opening scene. Also, the actor playing Bae’s voice has changed since last season, so there’s that. So, Bae pulls himself up on the other side of the portal and immediately starts calling for his Papa :(.  And then, he almost gets run over by a horse and carriage, but jumps back in front of a sign that says Kensington Gardens. And then, if you still weren’t sure where we were, Big Ben starts ringing. Bae has found himself in merry ole London, England, and from the shadows of the people we see, Victorian London, England. Six months later Bae is living on the streets of London and looking like Gavroche from Les Miserables. He’s not having much luck finding food until he sees a window open at a very nice house. He sees some fresh bread laid out on a table and just goes to town on it and stuffing some in his pockets. And then a big St. Bernard starts barking at him from under the table and Wendy comes out. But once she discovers he’s hungry she gives him more food. And apparently lets him live in the crawl space in the nursery. That seems really cramped. The Darling parents discover him and Bae is quick to tell them both his parents are dead and he can’t go back to the workhouses. Mrs. Darling takes pity on him and lets him stay. Bae is so excited to have found such a loving family. Wendy wakes up Bae that night to inform him about the Shadow that’s been visiting them. At first, Bae is entranced by Wendy’s wonder and excitement about the Shadow, until she mentions magic. Then he is all business, making sure they don’t open the window for the Shadow. John accuses him of not believing in magic, but Bae tells them he came from another realm where magic ruined his life and it’s not to be trusted. He makes Wendy promise not to go with the Shadow. But, she doesn’t listen. Bae awakens a few nights later (he has a bed now), and Wendy is waiting for the Shadow. Bae tries with all his might to keep her in the nursery, but she’s convinced that Neverland will be wonderful and she goes off with the Shadow. Bae has slept on the windowsill (of an open window that he literally could have rolled off of) and is there when Wendy returns. She tells him of all the wonderful things in Neverland. He questions why she came home then. She tells him of the children crying for their parents and how the Shadow doesn’t let them leave once they’ve touched the soil. She tells Bae that the Shadow wants a boy and is coming for one of her brothers. Bae is determined not to let magic destroy another family. They set the nursery up to ward off the Shadow, but it doesn’t do any good. Apparently the Shadow can blow out candles and open locked windows. Michael doesn’t make it into the crawl space where they’re all hiding so Bae goes out and offers himself to the Shadow as long as the Shadow promises never to bother the Darlings again. He thanks Wendy for letting him be a part of her family and the Shadow takes him. the Shadow flies Bae through the London rooftops (and Bae looks like he’s in danger of hitting those chimney’s more than once). Once they start getting close to Neverland, Bae can hear the children on the island crying and he remembers Wendy’s words about not being able to leave, so he struggles against the Shadow’s grip. He remembers the matches in his robe pocket and lights one and  that finally gets the Shadow to let go of him and he falls into the ocean. The Shadow can’t find him in the water and gives up (pretty easily). Luckily, he’s pulled out by one Captain Hook and aboard the Jolly Roger. And that’s the story of how Neal met Captain Hook!

At six in the morning, Tamara is going out for a run, so that wakes up Neal. He then hears a fight happening outside and hears his father’s voice. Neal breaks up the fight and then berates Gold for essentially ignoring him since he’s been in town since the whole reason for the curse was so he could find him. Neal is upset that Gold hasn’t even met Tamara yet, but Gold thinks Neal is still hung up on Emma so she’s not important. Neal tells him he hasn’t changed and he’s not worth his time. Gold wonders why he’s still in town then. Neal has to remind him of Henry, and then tells Gold to stay away from both of them. Emma comes by Neal’s room to search it. She thinks she has something to do with Regina’s disappearance and Neal can’t believe Emma is still on the Tamara is evil kick.  Emma finds sand in the closet after Neal tells her that Tamara likes to run in the woods. She thinks that Tamara is lying to him about other things if she can lie about this so easily. Neal doesn’t think it’s a big deal. Neal and Emma are on the beach searching for Tamara. Neal thinks Emma is letting her emotions get in the way and that’s why she’s trying to break up him and Tamara. Emma tells him that it hurt that he didn’t come after her in jail and that he found Tallahassee with someone else. Neal is about to defend himself again when Tamara runs up. After she runs off Emma decides she needs to search somewhere else, but Neal finally, FINALLY apologizes for letting August convince him to send her to jail. And he’s sorry that he never searched for her because he was afraid she’d never forgive him since he never forgave himself. This is completely contradictory to what he told August in Selfless, Brave, and True where he was worried about Emma breaking the curse and his father finding him. Neal tells her there wasn’t a day that went by that he didn’t regret leaving her. Well, that may be true, but you were too much of a coward to find her again because you were afraid of your father. Too bad you’re exactly like him. Look, it’s great that Neal finally apologized to Emma, because he needed to do that, but the fact of the matter is that he never would have come back to find her if she hadn’t found him first. He knew the curse was broken and he was still too pissed at his father, 100 and some odd years later, to go find Emma in Storybrooke. So, I still can’t forgive him, but I guess I can understand why Emma might. After a phone call from David, Emma and Neal go into the cannery looking for Tamara and Regina. Emma wants to make sure Neal has her back. He tells her he does if it turns out to be Tamara, even though he doubts that it is. David radios Emma that they found Regina with Greg and Neal immediately does an ‘I told you so’, but then Tamara comes up behind Emma and knocks her down with a pipe. She takes Emma’s gun and points it at Neal and goes on about how magic is a poison and needs to be gotten rid of. Neal seems to be focused more on the fact that she lied to him rather than the gun pointed at him! He finally gets her to admit that she’s been lying to him from the beginning and she never loved him. Neal is devastated, but tells Tamara he can’t let her leave SB, so she shoots him! Neal is just like WTF!  But he still doesn’t realize how serious she is until she points the gun at his head. Luckily, Emma, finally recovered from the pipe to the back, kicks the gun out of Tamara’s hand to save Neal. Emma and Tamara fight and Neal isn’t doing so well. Emma gets the upper hand and then Tamara throws a bean and both Emma and Neal are pretty much screwed. Emma is holding Neal by his hand, but he tells her that she won’t be able to hold on to what she’s holding onto and him at the same time. He insists she let him go even if it means his death. He doesn’t want Henry to grow up without parents like they did. Emma tells him she loves him. He says it back and then lets go. Ok, I have to assume that all this is said in the heat of the moment because just five minutes ago Neal was in love with Tamara and accusing Emma of being jealous. Neal thought he was going to die so that’s why he tells Emma he loves her back. Unless he’s still loved her all these years. But, it’s also been 11 years since they’ve seen each other and they are two totally different people so Neal could be in love with 17-year-old Emma, but he doesn’t know 28-year-old Emma at all. He lets go of Emma’s hand (a nice juxtaposition to when his father let go of his hand in Desperate Souls) and falls into the portal, most likely to his death. RIP Neal.

Gold: He is continuing to be a complete asshole. Honestly, what the hell is Belle going to think when she gets her memories back? The guy that I love decided to be everything I hate just because my alter ego decided she liked power better than being good. I have no idea if they’re having sex, but would it be considered consensual, and how would Belle feel about it since Gold is pretty much using her body just because the person in it looks the same? The whole thing is repugnant. But onto the actual plot. Neal interrupts Gold telling Whale to kiss his boot for daring to look at Lacey. Neal stops him from kicking Whale’s face in and Gold is pissed. He sends Lacey off to the pawn shop while Neal berates his father for spending all this time looking for him and now barely acknowledging his existence. True statement. Neal gets hurt that his father isn’t even trying to have a relationship with him and that he’s never even attempted to meet his fiance, Tamara. Gold tells him that he’s obviously still in love with Emma.  Neal tells him he hasn’t changed and he’s not worth his time. Gold fights back saying that Neal is still in town for a reason and Neal reminds him of Henry, and that’s the only reason he’s still there. Gold at least looks upset about that. Did Gold really forget about Henry being Neal’s son and that’s the reason he’s in town, or is he so self-centered that he thought Neal was there for him and Emma? Like, I don’t even understand what’s going on in his head anymore. David and Mary Margaret go to cash in the favor Gold owes David by having him help them find Regina. Gold happens to have one of Regina’s tears which will help them find Regina by combining it with one of Mary Margaret’s tears and dropping it in her eye. Weird. Lacey comes out after they leave seeing that he really can do magic and is impressed. She wonders why he never told her about this. Gold tells her about magic coming with a price and how it drives people away. Lacey tells him he’s hanging with the wrong kind of people then. She wants to see what else he can do, so he makes a necklace appear out of thin air and gives it to her. Lacey asks if he can make her immortal like him, he tells her yes. Okay, Gold, you know Belle wouldn’t want that at all. He tells her about the prophecy that foretells his undoing. He tells her that it’s complicated when she tells him to get rid of whomever will be his undoing. She thought nothing stood in his way. And then he pulls her to him in what would be a really sexy and seductive mood if it were any other two people in this situation, and he tells her he is that man. Gross.

Emma: She’s on the hunt for Regina. She, David, Mary Margaret, and Henry realize she’s missing, and most likely not by her own volition since her office is unlocked and the security system has been overridden. David suggests that she took a portal back to the EF, but Emma, rightly so, says she wouldn’t leave without Henry. David and Mary Margaret think Gold overpowered Regina, but Emma says he’s too preoccupied with Lacey (I’m glad someone in this town notices these things). Emma is convinced it’s Tamara again. David and Mary Margaret don’t think it is and think she needs to get off that train. Emma points out that Tamara came to town the same day August was killed, but David and Mary Margaret still aren’t on the same train as her. Emma tells her parents to go to Gold and find something that will help them and she’ll look at Tamara’s room again. Emma tells Neal she’s there to search his room for real this time. Um, that usually requires a warrant, but small town and emergency, I’ll allow it.  She tells Neal that Regina is missing and Neal can’t believe she suspects Tamara. Emma finds sand on the floor of their closet and since Neal tells her Tamara runs in the woods that’s proof in her eyes that Tamara is a liar and has probably lied to Neal about other things. I mean, it’s true, but it’s also a big stretch. They go looking for Tamara on the beach and Neal thinks that Emma is jealous. Emma asks him what he wants to hear. How it killed her that he never came looking for her? That he found Tallahassee with someone else. Thankfully, Emma knows how to hide her emotions well because she plays this off as if it doesn’t bother her much when we know she’s constructed high walls around herself so that it will never happen again. Tamara interrupts their moment with her jog and Emma starts to realize that maybe she is jealous since Tamara kind of just proved that she was jogging along the beach and Emma doesn’t pick up a single lie . God dammit, Emma! You really need to get that super power under control. Neal gives a big apology speech that Emma doesn’t want to hear at first, but by the end she’s kind of okay with it and starts looking at Neal like he might not actually be a villain in her story. But I still think she’ll never be able to forgive him completely because he completely changed the trajectory of her life and not in a good way. Later on, Emma and Neal are walking along the docks when David calls her and tells her about Mary Margaret smelling sardines, Emma figures out pretty quickly that Tamara played them because the cannery is right there. Emma questions Neal’s loyalty when he comes with her into the cannery, but he says if Tamara is the bad guy he’s got her. She and David almost shoot each other, but he gives her a radio and they go their separate ways to look for Regina. When David and Mary Margaret find Regina and Greg, they radio Emma and tell her. She’s shocked that it’s Greg, and Neal basically tells her ‘I told you so’, except that Tamara then bashes Emma with a pipe and takes her gun. Emma wakes up in time to save Neal from getting shot a second time and fights with Tamara. She gets the gun but Tamara has a magic bean and she uses it to create a portal so she can escape. Emma is holding onto a pipe for dear life so she doesn’t go down the portal. Neal eventually helps her down and they’re about to leave when the portal opens up a little bigger and Emma is once again holding on for dear life while trying to keep Neal from going down the portal. He wants her to let him go, but she knows he’ll die because he’s been shot. He goes for the Henry angle so she’ll let him go, but she can’t let him go. She doesn’t want him out of her life again. She tells him she needs him and loves him. Neal tells her he loves her too and then lets go. The portal closes and Emma is left on the cannery floor with a big hole beneath her. Emma is devastated. Now, I know this seems like Emma has been jealous and that she wants to be with Neal again, but I disagree. I think this is Emma trying to be a comfort to him because she knows he’s going to die. She does care for him, but he was engaged to Tamara not five minutes ago. He barely apologized to her. This is teenaged Emma telling him these things, not the Emma of now. Present day Emma would never lay her heart out like that unless she knew it wasn’t going anywhere. And yes she’s crying over him, but he was still a big part of her life and he’s Henry’s father so regardless of her feelings for him now, she’s still mourning the part he played in her life overall and whatever the future may have brought them (though I still don’t believe it would have been an intimate relationship). Emma comes back to the loft completely shell-shocked and informs her parents that Neal is dead and Tamara killed him. David tries to comfort her and Emma doesn’t know how she’s going to tell Henry. David gives her the most fatherly kiss and this is just a real good father/daughter moment right here.

Mary Margaret/David: They annoy me a lot in this episode. David wonders why Regina would need to override her alarm code. Well, David, you’re supposedly an officer of the law, figure it out. Luckily, Emma is there to help him out. Mary Margaret is at least smart enough to figure out someone broke in and stole the beans, but when Emma thinks it’s Tamara, she gives that condescending mom stare to her. The ‘we’ve already talked about this, honey, and you were wrong’. They think Gold took Regina, but Emma’s apparently the only one observing the town nowadays, because she knows he only has eyes for Lacey. David and Mary Margaret both think Emma is wrong about Tamara and don’t want to go down the wrong path looking for Regina. Emma tells them to go to Gold and find something to help them find Regina while she looks into Tamara again. They go to Gold and remind him that he owes them a favor, so he reluctantly helps them find Regina. He wants to know why they want to help her, and Mary Margaret says she owes Regina after killing Cora. Interesting choice of words instead of saying she feels guilty. Gold wants a tear to mix with Regina’s, that he so happens to have, and Mary Margaret quickly thinks of something to make herself cry. Gold mixes it and tells them to drop it in Mary Margaret’s eye and she’ll basically see and feel everything Regina does. David tells Mary Margaret she doesn’t have to do this, but she thinks if she helps find Regina it will help heal her darkened heart. David just looks at her like there isn’t anyone more good and selfless in the world, and he drops the potion into her eye. At first it looks like it isn’t going to work, but then Regina starts getting electrocuted and Mary Margaret starts convulsing. David isn’t sure what to do, but he’s freaking out about it. Mary Margaret seems to pass out for a minute, and when she comes to she tells David that it was the worst pain she’d ever felt and that Regina is strapped down and powerless to fight back. Mary Margaret couldn’t tell where Regina was, just that she was cold and that it smelled like sardines. David relays this to Emma who figures out Regina is at the cannery and tells David and Mary Margaret to meet her there. David and Emma almost shoot each other because apparently David can’t sneak into someone’s supposed secret hideout without making a ton of noise. They split up and eventually find Regina with Greg. David and Mary Margaret catch Greg about to kill Regina and David shoots the machine that was administering the electricity (why didn’t he shoot Greg instead? At least shoot him in the leg or something so he couldn’t run off?). Greg manages to get away (because David is incompetent), and Mary Margaret won’t let him go after Greg because Regina needs medical help from Mother Superior. Um, can’t you just call for her and she’ll appear? Isn’t that how it worked back in the EF? Isn’t that what basically happened in Selfless, Brave, and True when they needed her to help August? Why can’t Mary Margaret stay with Regina and call Mother Superior (hell, call her on the phone and get her to come over) while David goes after Greg? Anyway, at least he’s smart enough to tell Emma that it’s Greg they caught with Regina. Mary Margaret and David have brought Regina to the loft and Mother Superior uses her magic to remove the cuff and heal her (again, why couldn’t this have happened at the warehouse?). Emma comes in and they immediately know that something is wrong. They are in shock when she tells them Neal is gone and ‘she’ killed them (they know it’s Tamara, she doesn’t have to clarify, they know). David does the fatherly thing and comforts Emma, while Mary Margaret is watching over Regina. She is shocked that David and Mary Margaret saved her. David says they’re family, regardless. Regina is worried because Greg and Tamara still have ‘it’, and Mary Margaret has the good sense to be worried about what it is they have. They are appalled about the fail-safe. Especially since her plan was to take Henry with her to the EF and leave them all to die. But they have bigger things to worry about since Regina no longer has the trigger.

Regina: She is bound to a medical slab. We start with her trying to see where Hook stands on this whole matter. He just wants to kill Gold and Regina scoffs that he doesn’t even know who he’s working for. Greg comes in with his electrocution machine and she sarcastically asks if it’s part of his mission, but he’s clear that this is personal. Greg starts putting electrodes all over Regina and it’s clear he wants answers about his father, and he’s willing to hurt her to get them. She’s adamant that he left town, but Greg still doesn’t believe her. He turns the machine on and Regina is her normal, sarcastic self, asking if the machine is supposed to frighten her. But you can see that she’s nervous when Greg starts attaching the wires to the electrodes. He once again asks where his father is. Regina rolls her eyes and gets electrocuted for it.  This goes on for a while. Tamara comes in after distracting Neal and Emma and Regina calls them fools who go around stealing magic. Greg tells her they’re there to destroy magic and Regina looks confused. I don’t blame her because she told Henry in Welcome to Storybrooke that magic can’t be destroyed when he tried to blow up the well. But I’m sure Greg and Tamara wouldn’t believe her anyway. Regina laughs at Tamara when she tells her that they’re there to cleanse the world of magic. She thinks it’s ridiculous that the two of them could destroy magic. But she sure as hell gets nervous when Greg tells her there’s more of them all over the world. Regina tells them that it’s not going to work, but Greg tells her it’s been done before, that Storybrooke is not the first bit of magic to cross over. Later on, Tamara sees Emma and Neal on the monitors and tells Greg they have to go. Regina is not looking so smug anymore. Her eyes are red and teary and she looks like she’s praying Emma finds her soon. Greg puts the dial up to a 9 and you can see Regina visibly wince before he even asks her where his father is for the last time. She finally tells him before he can electrocute her at such a high level. She killed his father the minute he left town and buried him at the campsite. She says this with such venom in her voice. I suspect she’s pretty sure she’s going to die at this point. Much like when she said she told the kingdom she regretted not being more evil when Snow and Charming almost executed her in The Cricket Game. She tells Greg to go ahead and kill her. She just wanted to see the look on his face when she told him. So he electrocutes her at a level 9!  He does it two more times before David finally he comes in and shoots the machine. Regina is pretty much out of it by this point, so she doesn’t get to see David and Mary Margaret rescue her.  She wakes up in their loft and is astounded that they saved her. They tell her she’s family. She tells them Greg and Tamara have the fail-safe. They can’t believe she was going to kill everyone with it. Regina’s pissed they were going to abandon her in Storybrooke, because that’s the same thing as killing everyone. Again, Regina is playing the victim when she was going to do something much worse. But that’s all to say that she doesn’t have it anymore and that’s a big problem.

Greg/Tamara: Tamara pretends to be training for a marathon so she can meet with Greg in secret at the cannery. Tamara shows Greg the magic portal beans that she found in Regina’s office. Greg gets jealous that she knows what they are because Neal told her. She tells him that as soon as this is all over she’ll be taking off the engagement ring. Greg gives her the fail-safe diamond they found on Regina and she says she’ll send it over to the Home Office to look at. Greg sets Regina up to be electrocuted so he can get information about his father from her. Regina tells him he left town, but Greg refuses to believe that his father never came to find him. He wants Hook to lend him a hand (with his good hand), but Hook isn’t so much into torturing the Evil Queen as he is killing Rumplestiltskin. He tells Greg to find him when that part of the plan is happening. Greg asks Regina where his father is and when she refuses to answer him, she gets her first dose of electrocution. Tamara ‘runs into’ Neal and Emma on the beach to throw them off the track. She tells Greg they believed her. Greg ups the dial and electrocutes Regina some more. She calls them fools for stealing magic but Tamara tells her that’s not what they’re doing. She talks about magic being unholy and needing to be cleansed from the earth, and it feels like Tamara is talking about The Crusades or something. Tamara and Greg are pretty confident that they will do what they’ve set out to do. Regina doesn’t believe the two of them can destroy magic, but Greg informs her that there are more of them everywhere. After he ran away he talked about the magic he saw and magic believers found him, believers that don’t believe magic belongs in their world and are willing to do something about it. They also sound like they’re in a religious cult. Regina tells them destroying magic won’t work, but Greg tells them they’ve done it before. He tells her they are there to stop magic and electrocutes her again. Tamara sees Emma and Neal on the cannery monitors and tells Greg they have to go. Greg still hasn’t got the information about his father. He and Tamara argue, and he tells her they wouldn’t even know about Storybrooke if it wasn’t for his father, so Tamara tells him to meet her later while she runs off. Greg turns the dial up to 9 and this scares Regina enough that she finally tells him that his father is dead and she buried him near their campsite. Greg doesn’t believe her and electrocutes her again. Greg tells Regina she’s never going to hurt anyone ever again, but David comes at that moment and shoots the machine. Greg runs off because Mary Margaret is insistent that they save Regina instead of go after the guy who tried to kill her. David tells Emma that it was Greg, but then Tamara hits Emma with a pipe. Neal focuses more on the fact that Tamara was lying to him this whole time rather than the fact that she just hit Emma with a pipe! She grabs Emma’s gun and tells him that she is working with Greg and they’re there to get rid of magic, something he should be familiar with. Neal again is stuck on the lying part. He finally puts together that their whole relationship was a lie. I see how Tamara managed to dupe him for so long; he’s not the sharpest tool in the shed. Tamara tries to get him to understand that it was her job, and he finally realizes she never loved him (dude, get off this track), and that’s when he tells her he can’t let her leave. She gives him a warning and then shoots him about one second after that. Cold-blooded. Damn! She’s about to shoot him point blank in the head when Emma kicks the gun away. Tamara and Emma fight (and Tamara’s a good fighter, definitely trained) and Emma thinks she has the upper hand when she gets her gun back, but Tamara pulls out one of the beans and throws it at them and runs off. Greg is digging at the campsite and finds his father’s skull. He’s completely devastated. Tamara finds Greg reburying his father and tells him she’s sorry. She tells him the Home Office has gotten back to them about the diamond. She tells him he’ll never believe what it does, and that the Home Office wants them to move to the next phase of their plan. Greg is shocked that they want them to move so quickly, and even Tamara is a little wary. They have to blow Storybrooke off the map.

Questions:

Why does it look like Gold, Lacey, and Whale are having their fight after a night of drinking? Are they just leaving The Rabbit Hole at six in the morning?

How does Tamara send over the fail-safe diamond to the Home Office and get the information back all in one day? Does she actually send it to them, or do they just know what it is from a picture?

How long was Bae in the crawl space before the Darlings discovered him?

Is the Shadow there for Bae since it started coming to the Darlings window at the same time he arrived?

How did magic kill Bae’s mother? Didn’t Rumplestiltskin just tell Bae she ran away and died? Or was kidnapped by pirates and died? (I know he told Bae she died)

Really David, this is how you want to use your favor? To find Regina?

How the hell does Gold have a tear from Regina?

Why doesn’t Gold make a locator potion to find Regina? Why do they have to use a potion that makes Mary Margaret see, feel, smell, touch, and hear what Regina is going through

What magic did Greg see in Storybrooke as a child? His father mentioned that it seemed as if the town had dropped on top of them, but all Greg saw was a storm. And then he couldn’t find Storybrooke when he brought the cops, but that could have been the hysteria and fear that just prevented him from finding it. So really, Greg never originally saw any magic. He just knew that Regina tried to steal him from his father.

How does Wendy know so much about where the Shadow is from? It doesn’t talk. How does she know it’s realm is different from Bae’s and that you can fly and all that?

Ok, I get that Neal happened to be with Emma when she went to go search the cannery, but why is David bringing Mary Margaret along on police business when someone potentially dangerous is there?

Why is Mary Margaret still wearing her coat when she’s caring for Regina? Or did she change out of the blue sweater and is now wearing a trench top?

How did Greg happen to find the exact spot his father was buried in? Besides not having been there for 28 years, they had a pretty big camping area when they were there.

How did Tamara find Greg where his father had been buried? They were supposed to meet at a rendezvous point.

How do the folks at the ‘Home Office’ know what the fail-safe is? Is there a Curses 101 book that they can look these things up in?

Observations:

Kensington Gardens is the setting of the prequel to Peter Pan, titled Peter Pan in Kensington Gardens. It is also where a statue of Peter Pan is currently located.

Gold tells Whale to kiss his boot and Neal says he’s surprised he didn’t turn him into a snail. Rumplestiltskin did this to the man who tried to take Bae in Desperate Souls when he became the Dark One.

Neal doesn’t think it’s odd that Tamara takes several hours a day to go running since she’s training for a marathon. So, I looked it up and Google says that you should cap a run at three and a half hours while training, so I guess it’s not that odd.

Bae goes from sleeping on the floor to having a bed within a day, unless it takes the Shadow a lot longer to come back.

There is no mention of Peter Pan on Neverland.

Gold gives Lacey the same necklace Belle dreamed of him giving her in The Crocodile.

Emma tells David and Mary Margaret to look for Regina in the cannery basement, but there are windows all aroundwhere Greg and Regina are with the sunlight shining in when they are found.

Big Ben is at 8:15 when the Shadow takes Bae past it.

The Shadow takes Bae toward the second star to the right.

Yeah, Tamara hitting Emma with the pipe would definitely have broken her neck. No way she could have survived that.

Timeline Issues:

I’m pretty sure we’ve established that Gold is a few hundred years old. He became the Dark One when Bae was 14. So, let’s say he’s been the Dark One for 200 years. If it is currently 2013 in the timeline, and since we’ve seen that the EF and our realm run concurrently, that should mean that it was at least 1813 when Bae dropped into London. Except that the story Peter Pan was published in 1904, which means Bae would have had to have dropped into the Darling’s lives at least a few years before the book was published. Let’s put Bae coming to our world in 1902. That would mean it would have been 111 years since he dropped through the portal. Now, he may feel like he’s been around longer since Wendy says time works differently in Neverland, and it would also account for how long Hook has been around, but that doesn’t explain why Gold says he’s a few hundred years old when he’d really only be around 160 or so (and no, his time stuck during the curse doesn’t count toward his age).

So Greg and Tamara know that the diamond is part of the fail-safe, which means they are going to try and destroy Storybrooke themselves. Hopefully, Emma finds them before that happens. I’m looking forward to Bae and Hook discovering that they have a connection with Milah. Tamara and Greg keep referencing the Home Office, which seems pretty ominous. And we saw the true version of Wendy in Neverland, and it was not all it was cracked up to be. Neal is gone, but at least Emma got some closure before it happened. The final episode is next!!!!

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[flutteringphalanges]

                                Mirabile Visue

Summary: Sister Agatha Van Helsing discovers she’s in over her head when a competitive game of chess ultimately results in her becoming pregnant with the child of her worst enemy, Count Dracula. Now tied by a bond deeper than blood, the two must learn to coexist and adapt in a world that could be potentially hostile towards their offspring. Parenthood has never looked so batty.

Characters: Dracula/Sister Agatha Van Helsing

Chapters: 3/6

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A/N:  Thank you all so much for the wonderful feedback! I can't express enough how much it means to me to know how you guys thought of each chapter! With that in mind, I wanted to briefly mention that for those who want to physically visualize what Sorina looks like now, my personal view is Violet McGraw when she played in "The Haunting of Hill House" or "Doctor Sleep" but a bit younger than that since she is only three at this point in the story. I just feel like the actress could pull off looking like the child of Agatha and Dracula. Okay, enough explaining, onward to the chapter! -Jen

                                      Transylvania, 1900

                                       Dracula's Castle

It was an exciting time by all accounts, particularly being the beginning of a new century as well as the final hundredth year of the 20th. But mostly, it marked the momentous occasion of Sorina's birth. For three years now, the child had thrived and flourished under the diligent care of her parents. A bright, outspoken little thing that had taken the castle by storm. A queen of her own crowning. She was her father's beating heart and her mother's only worldly possession.

But such love came with a cost. Fear. And Sorina, though free to roam the halls of her domain, was never allowed outside of the manor walls. Agatha had even gone so far as insisting on having every window sealed and the entrance ways only accessible by lock and key. Only Dracula ventured from their home to do his "business" and feeding, the mother too turning away from the sun. Even the moon felt at times like a memory. Still, none of that seemed to matter to the former nun. As long as her daughter was safe, she was at peace.

"Papa!"

The vampire hadn't taken but two steps into the main study when something small collided into him. He looked down and smiled as a set of arms wrapped around his leg, the little girl they belonged to burying her face into the fabric of his pants. As he knelt down to give her a proper hug, his gaze met hers and it was as if Agatha was looking back at him. Sure she had his dark hair that fell in wavy locks, but those stormy blue eyes clearly rivaled those of her mother.

"Ah micul mea liliac," he spoke, pulling her close. "What are you doing out of bed? You'll worry your mother if she wakes up and finds you missing."

"Not sleepy," she explained in as great detail as a small child her age could. "Papa, you left."

"So observant for someone so young," he smiled. "As if you don't keep me and your mother on our toes as it is." Dracula chuckled as Sorina looked at him expectantly, much like his wife did when awaiting an explanation for something he may have done wrong. "Well, I suppose you could say I was feeling rather hungry and decided to go farther than usual to…" He had to think of a good word, something easy enough to comprehend. Agatha insisted upon holding back on telling their child his true feeding habits until she was better capable at understanding. "...to find something really tasty." Or someone.

"Why?" Sorina asked innocently, cocking her head.

The vampire blinked, momentarily forgetting that recently Sorina had become quite the interrogator. Everything needed an answer, she was worse than Agatha. Clearly the apple didn't fall far from the tree.

"Well," he thought. "Because I wanted something different."

"Why?" The little girl inquired, as if needing more proof of his whereabouts.

Dracula exhaled, keeping his composure. "You could say your Papa likes to try new things."

Before Sorina could utter another word, a voice echoed down the hallway. Both had barely a moment to react when a nearly out of breath Agatha came into view. The anxiety etched on her face was quickly swept away by a look of relief when her gaze landed on her daughter. She hurried over almost seeming as if she didn't even realize Dracula was there.

"Sorina," she exhaled. "There you are. You simply cannot disappear like that in the middle of the night."

"Sorry, Mama," the young girl apologized, looking down at the ground. "But Papa's home!"

Agatha finally looked at her husband, who in turn gazed back at her with raised eyebrows. "So I see," she commented. "I suppose I can forgive your excitement, but next time do wake me up before you go running about. It's important that I'm awake when you play. I need to have at least some idea where you are."

"You should give her more credit than that, darling," Dracula smiled, lifting his daughter up. "Sorina may be young, but she's wise beyond her years."

The former nun folded her arms and frowned. "Need I remind you of…" she paused, realizing the girl's eyes were on her. She sighed. "I don't wish to discuss this matter in front of her. All things considered, she is just a child."

"I'm a big girl," Sorina cut in proudly. "I'm three!"

The count smiled, taking a moment to push a lock of hair behind his daughter's ear. Agatha's over-protectiveness had a way of showing itself and most certainly he would be reprimanded the minute they were in privacy, but he understood Sorina's desire to explore. It was a characteristic they both shared. Yet he also knew, as a parent, that his wife did pose some good points. Especially when it came to the uncertainty of what vampire traits she had inherited from him. She could sustain on both animal blood and human food as well as sleep outside of a coffin and its soil, but sunlight? Neither parent dared risk if such was deadly to her or not.

"Your mother is right, little one," the count responded. "You must be careful." He looked to Agatha who nodded in approval. "As goes for your mother and me too. Do you promise?"

"Okay," the girl yawned. "I promise."

"That's my girl," he smiled, placing a kiss on her temple. "Let's get you to bed now. I think we could all do with some rest. I don't have to go out for a while so perhaps later we can play? Does that sound good?"

Sorina nodded, not fighting the exhaustion that had finally found her. Adjusting her in his arms, Dracula ascended the staircase, Agatha in tow. His eyes were adjusted well enough to the darkness, but the torches still lit up the long hallway for both Agatha's and Sorina's sake. The door to the young girl's room was already open after her mother's panic of noticing her child was missing. Approaching her bed, the vampire gingerly placed Sorina down before covering her with a blanket.

"Are you going to berate me now?" Dracula asked coolly the second both adults stepped out of the room. "She didn't mean anything by it."

"Of course she didn't," Agatha hissed quietly. "But that doesn't mean you don't under-react when she wanders off like this without either of us knowing. She's a little girl, Dracula."

"Who should be allowed to explore! The manor is safe," he chuckled humorlessly. "I've made sure of it. Not even a fly has managed to sneak in, not to mention you got rid of all of the bodies I had in boxes-"

"Because the last thing we need is for our daughter to be traumatized by some undead creature popping out like a jack-in-a-box toy!" She countered, folding her arms so tightly over her chest that Dracula was surprised they didn't break. "You should be taking this more seriously!"

"I am," he insisted. "Everything you've asked, I've done without question. Everything. At this point, you might as well lock her away in a tower. You aren't the only one whose given up things, Agatha!"

Dracula realized his mistake the moment those words escaped from his lips. The former nun swallowed thickly and, without another word, turned on her heels and stormed off into her room.

"Agatha, wait!" He called after her, reaching her door just as it closed. "Look, I didn't mean-"

"You're right," Agatha's voice sounded muffled from behind the thick wood. "I have asked a lot of you. I'm feeling rather tired, so if you don't mind."

The vampire pinched the brim of his nose and closed his eyes tightly. Debating with his wife was one thing, but actually fighting with her took the fun out of it. Falling in love with Agatha had led him to experiencing new emotions and regretfully one of those had been guilt. It used to be so easy not to feel and yet, though it felt weird to admit it, he wouldn't change a thing.

"I'm sorry," he replied. "The sacrifices you've made will always trump mine. I know you only want what's best for her, and I swear upon everything I do too. You know," he exhaled. "When I came home tonight, she was bombarding me with questions. Reminds me of someone else I know."

He heard a quiet chuckle from the other side of the door. "Funny," she mused. "I could say the same about you when it comes to how hard-headed she is."

The bedroom door opened and for the first time that night, Dracula saw a genuine smile etched on the former nun's face. The vampire pulled her into his arms and held her close, Agatha allowing her eyes to close.

"Dracula?" She asked softly, still in his embrace.

"What business have you been doing exactly? Besides feeding?"

He pulled back, looking into her eyes. "I cannot go into detail now, but when the time comes, I will tell you everything. I must ask only for your trust. I promise everything will make sense in time."

Agatha was silent for a moment. "I trust you," she finally breathed. "Unconditionally."

"Where is Agatha and what have you done with her?" Dracula smirked, kissing the top of her head. He held her close, inhaling her scent. "This will be good for the three of us. Just you wait and see."

                                                     XXX

"No, Papa, like this!"

Agatha looked over her book only to see Dracula sitting on the floor, doll in hand, as Sorina demonstrated how to properly make the doll "walk". She smiled, never in a million lifetimes would she have ever pictured the infamous Count Dracula playing dolls with a daughter she shared with him no less. And yet, there he sat, looking as content as one could be.

"Ohh," he said, feigning surprise. "Terribly sorry. Like this?" He made the doll move as his daughter instructed, causing her to giggle. "And how are you today, Ms. Balaur? Going to the market, are we?"

"Oh yes," Sorina stated, bouncing the other doll. "Time for tea!"

"Balaur?" Agatha commented, a confused smile crossing her features. "That's quite a name to come up with, Sorina."

"Papa picked it," her daughter replied.

"Must've heard it somewhere," Dracula shrugged. "Was on my mind at the time."

"Papa, play," Sorina insisted. "Tea time!"

Agatha continued to eye her husband intently before returning to her book. It was on Atlantis, some lost city theorized to have existed that now lay in the depths of the Atlantic Ocean. Dracula had purchased it for her knowing her love for anything remotely supernatural or myth based. That's how she became intent on tracking him down. The reality of that had turned out much different than she planned.

Suddenly, there came a knock at the front entrance. Before Agatha even had a moment to set her book down, Dracula already had Sorina in his arms. He stood there, glowering at the direction of the sound when the banging came again. Only this time, it was much louder.

"Dracula, take Sorina upstairs." Agatha said calmly.

"Agatha," Dracula said, clearly displeased with her idea. "Ignore it."

"It's daytime," the former nun stated. "Go upstairs."

"Papa," Sorina asked, looking at her father. "What's wrong?"

"Go now," Agatha urged. "I'll be fine."

The vampire continued to eye the door before letting out a heavy sigh of defeat. He knew he couldn't win against Agatha. Holding his daughter closer, he met his wife's unblinking gaze.

"Go," she repeated. "I'll call out if something's wrong."

She waited until both were up the stairs and out of her sight before venturing towards the doors. As she passed by the fireplace, she carefully grabbed the iron rod that was the poker. At least she could have some form of a weapon. Locating the key, her hands slightly trembled as she began to undo the locks. However, it wasn't out of fear. No, it was excitement. Rarely, had Agatha seen the outside, much less the sun. Caring for Sorina had seen to that. So when she had finally unlocked the door, pushing it just open enough to see who was knocking, Agatha couldn't help the sharp inhale of delight when the warm rays hit her face.

"Miss?"

A gruff voice tugged the former nun back to reality. Agatha nearly jumped in surprise at the man who stood before her. An older fellow who, when noticing he'd caught her gaze, removed his cap from his balding head.

"My apologies, Miss," he cleared his throat. "I didn't mean to startle you. My name is Gellert. Gellert Bartok? You must be Count Dracula's wife."

"I am," Agatha said hesitantly. "Is there a matter I can assist you with? My husband isn't feeling well at the moment. I can handle any business matters of his."

"Right. Of course," Gellert said with a half smile. "Sorry for coming over so unexpectedly. Usually I come at night, as he requested? A few times a month, I'm sure he's told you."

"I'm aware," she nodded.

"We had an incident with some hogs. Something got 'em during the night? I wanted to talk to your husband about getting more. I brought what I could with me." He motioned to a rather small barrel by his feet. "I can carry it in for you."

"That's quite alright," Agatha said briskly. "I can handle-"

"I must insist," the farmer smiled, nudging the door to open wider with his foot. "I'm not going to make a lady like yourself carry something so heavy."

Agatha had never felt as tense as she did the moment the entrance way closed behind her. The stranger, to her at least, completely unaware of his surroundings strode over to the table and placed the barrel down. He looked around the room and whistled.

"I've never stepped foot in this place," he commented. "Always just dropped everything off or met your husband outside. This is quite the establishment. Never seen anything like it."

"I'm quite particular when it comes to decor."

Much to Agatha's horror, she recognized that voice all too well. She turned and with wide eyes stared at Dracula, who had now decided to join them.

"Count Dracula," the farmer smiled nervously. "Your wife told me you were ill."

"I'm feeling better," Dracula replied simply. "Might I inquire why you are standing in my dining room?"

"Oh," Gellert said, scratching the back of his neck. "I was just informing your wife that we had issues on the farm with the hogs. Something killed off a good many of them. I wanted to ask if you would be so generous as to perhaps provide-"

"Yes, yes, of course," Dracula waved dismissively. "Let us discuss the matter in a different room. Voices echo and my daughter is trying to sleep." He looked to Agatha. "Darling, would you mind retrieving some wine for our guest? Surely this won't take long, but I want to be a good host," he smiled at the farmer. "If you'd follow me."

Unbeknownst to either parent, Sorina watched from the shadows as her mother and father followed the strange man down one of the corridors. She'd never seen another person before, only heard about them in her story books. The young girl looked back over her shoulder at her bedroom. Surely her parents wouldn't be too cross. Besides, she'd recognize that scent anywhere. The one that wafted from the barrel on the table.

Quietly, she made her way down the steps and into the dining room. With ease, she climbed up a chair before kneeling in front of her prize. It was a little difficult, but with surprising strength considering her age, Sorina managed to get the top off. Her eyes sparked as the aroma of the crimson liquid filled her nose. With no means of properly drinking it, Sorina, much like a kid and a cookie jar, scooped out a palm full and began to slurp.

"What in God's name-"

Gellert looked on in horror as the young girl turned to face them, her tiny fangs and blood smeared mouth giving away that she was far from a normal child. But before he could react, Dracula shoved him hard against the wall, a yelp of pain escaping the man. Sorina began to cry, snapping Agatha out of her stunned state brought on by the situation.

"Take her upstairs," Dracula growled, his own features beginning to morph, his words mirroring Agatha's from before. "You don't want her to see this."

The woman didn't need to be told twice as she scooped her distressed child up and quickly ascended the steps. She could hear the man pleading with the vampire as she ran into Sorina's room and knocked the door closed with her hip.

"Sorry, Mama," the girl cried. "Sorry!"

"It's okay," Agatha soothed, her own voice shaking. She held Sorina close, pressing her face into her daughter's hair. "It's okay."

Time seemed to move slowly as Agatha sat in the dark room hugging Sorina tightly to her. It was only when the sound of familiar footsteps grew closer and the door open, did she see Dracula standing before her.

"Papa!" Sorina cried out, running into the arms of her father.

He picked her up and held her close before his eyes met those of his wife.

"Agatha," he said quietly. "I think it's time for me to tell you about England."

[darkredehmption]

Solo written by ‪@OfFeatherNFang ‬

#Solo ‘The Night is for Hunting’

#Part1

Mentions @DamagedBrother and @PanwerePredator

****

As the wind tore at my wings, threatening to push me off course, I said yet another string of curses, each of them lost in the turbulence.

Battling the elements forced me to consider the fact that the universe itself was telling me i should never have left the manse, but of the few things I had to my name, my word, my honour, was among the most priceless. As a Hunter, that meant even more. No one wanted to work with a hunter they couldn’t trust, and hunters that couldn’t be trusted didn’t last long.

So I forced my exhausted body to keep fighting, drawing up whatever dregs of strength I had left to keep myself airborne and heading in the right direction. This would’ve been so much easier if I could just dematerialize, but it was one of the few vampiric traits I’d wanted and not received.

Thinking of vampires only distracted me, my thoughts turning to Zsadist like a sunflower turned to follow sunlight. Leaving the male at the shifter’s bedside had twisted at something deep and primal in me, and now it screamed at the fact I’d left; left, when he was already unsteady from nearly losing his friend.

There was no reconciling that part of me, no soothing it as it tore strips off me inside and berated me with cold words. I could only do as I’d promised - help my hunter friend, and return. Keep my promise to return.

By the time I reached the address Ethan had given me I was ready for that biting wind to blow me over. Landing was more of a bracing stumble, my wings trembling as I tried and failed to fold them to my back. When that didn’t work, my primaries trailing in the mud slick grass, I gave up and retracted them completely. Even that Divine effort cost me as I paused, counting to ten as the world tilted then righted itself.

The house was the very last at the bottom end of a street. It’s closest neighbour was boarded over, the signs of looking even more decrepit than I felt. Stepping over the threshold into the yard, I did the usual sweep. A jet fuelled lawn mower wouldn’t have made a dent in the gardens, the grass too high and wild. The pathway itself was cracked and broken, pieces of cement slowly starting to creep away into that sea of swaying yellow brown. One slab looked like it’d been overturned at some point, dirt flecked across the surface. I managed a tired smile as I realized there was probably some sort of magical ward now painted on the other side.

Though I wouldn’t want to perform an exorcism in my front yard, it helped that there weren’t neighbours too close to witness it.

Reaching the front door, I eyed the windows either side, all covered, and then the frame of the door itself. Kernels of salt poked out from under the door, and I knew the inside would be a thorough line. The heavy duty wards against demons didn’t go uncatalogued as I managed to lift my hand and knock.

A voice I didn’t recognise answered.

“State your business!”

An understandable request, but after fighting off a narcissistic vampire to save his human servant’s soul and then flying hours to get here in what could only be categorized as aerial hell, I was less than jovial in my response. Besides, I’d already stepped over the demon ward - if anyone was bothering to pay attention that should’ve been hint enough I was, mostly, human.

“I bring good tidings of the word of the Lord,” I called back, sounding as tired as I felt. “He says he can save your immortal souls if you’ll only open the fucking door and get me a beer.”

Indeed the door cracked open, but the strange face that leered out did not look altogether impressed by my banter. Somehow, I mustered up a grin.

“You some sort of smart ass? Donchu know you got about four rifles pointed at you son?”

I huffed a sigh. “Only four? I’m insulted.” His brows drew together in a frown, so I quickly pushed on. “M’ here for Ethan, buddy. He’s calling in a favour and here I am.”

“You’re a hunter?”

His disbelief and sarcasm was only marginally more endearing than his unfaltering skepticism. Lifting one hand, slowly, I braced it on the frame and leant forward. The rifle nosed its way into the gap, pointed right at my chest.

“Look, Chief of Security, I travelled a long way very quickly to be here for /Ethan/,” I repeated his name with emphasis. “So if you want my help, now’s the time to go get him. Otherwise, he can stick his favour and I’ll head on home.”

It was a lie. I doubted my ability to walk to the end of the street at this point, but I needed this shit to move along faster than it was, and after a beat, the guy playing guard dog seemed to agree with me. Backing away from the door, rifle still trained on me, he allowed me the courtesy of stepping in and shutting out the miserable weather behind me.

He hadn’t been lying about the number of rifles. From where they’d been aimed at me in cracks at the windows they now swivelled to track me inside. I didn’t falter, used to the greeting.

“Ethan!” I called.

There was a thump, then a curse, then the scrabble of footsteps as someone hustled from another room.

“F’fuck’s sake, can’t a man get an hour of rest~” He cut himself off as he rounded the corner to catch sight of me. He whistled long n’ low, a grin splitting his face as he ignored all the weapons to step through the group and take my offered arm in a warriors embrace. “You made it here fast.”

Thumping his back, I gave a nod and eased away. The others, at last, lowered their weapons.

“Flew. Wouldn’t have made it here until tonight if I’d taken the car.”

“We’re still waiting on a few faces,” he admitted, eyeing me. “Maybe it’d do you some good to kip as well. You look like shit man.”

“Feel like it,” I agree. “I left that little problem I spoke to you about and came straight here.”

He looked almost guilty at that, nodding his head.

“Sorry to have called in that favour so fast but... we have a situation here n’ I wanted to deal with it before they got wind of us coming.”

I glanced to the other hunters, all of whom were watching and listening carefully.

“You invite a bevy of hunters to one small town n’ you don’t think they’ll notice?” I asked quietly, arching a brow.

“He still needs to be tested!” Guard dog piped up. The way Ethan’s lips thinned let me know that he wasn’t exactly a fan of the guy either, but endured for the hunt. As we all did. He shot me a look and i simply shrugged, waiting for the flask of holy water to be passed over by GD. I took a swig, but like he didn’t believe I’d swallowed (and trust me, I do) he flicked the container at me to spray a little over my chest. I answered by squirting a stream of it back between my teeth.

Ethan snorted as GD jerked away, cursing and scowling.

“Can I get a real drink now?”

Flashing me a grin, Ethan grabbed one from fuck knew where and tossed it over. Then he gestured at the others.

“Our doorman here is Will. That’s Jack, Sarah and Tyrone.

I spared each of them a glance and a nod, before Ethan looked to them and gestured at me.

“This is Malachi.”

“Well, how did Malachi get here if there’s no car parked outside?” Will groused, keeping a firm grip on his rifle even if it wasn’t pointed at me.

The duffel slung over my shoulder felt like it weighed a ton as I shifted it into a more comfortable position. He had a point though; the only things that arrived without wheels in this world were angels and demons.

“Mal is a special breed of help,” Ethan soothed, before I could open my mouth and come up with some semblance of a half decent lie. “Why don’t y’all go back to keeping watch, eh? I got shit to discuss with Mal.”

I wriggled my fingers in a cute wave, Will bristling even as the other three either gave nods or tried to hide smiles. Following Ethan through the house, I noted the towers of books, most occult, the shell compress and trays of silver bullets, as well as the symbols drawn on every available surface. Floors. Ceiling. Walls.

“What is this place?” I murmured, pinning the spot between Ethan’s shoulders with a look.

He glanced over his shoulder at me, pausing before a bedroom with two cots and gesturing in. I stalked to the cot that seemed the least slept in, and dumped my kit at the end of it. The relief of having it off my shoulder was exquisite as my body begged for me to lie back on that creaky cot and close my eyes.

Instead I sipped from my drink and sat, bracing my elbows on my knees. Ethan sat across from me. By the look of the tangled sheets, the thump I’d heard on my entry had been him falling out of this same cot.

“How’d your shifter problem work out?”

His voice was almost guilty, and I shrugged as I glanced to the boarded up, salt lined window.

“I think it worked. He was still alive when I left.”

“Hey… m’ sorry to call in my marker so fast~”

I held up my hand to silence him, shaking my head.

“If you called it in so fast it must be urgent. N’ my people are looking after the shifter. So… it’s fine.” It wasn’t. “I’m here.” Reluctantly…

Ethan nodded, looking at his hands joined in his lap, then back up at me and managing a rueful smile.

“Your shifter could be the first one to live through the bond that I’ve heard of.”

“He’s not my shifter,” I replied automatically, thinking of Hadrian and taking another sip from my bottle.

Thinking of the panwere had my mind turning to Zsadist, and I thought of the vampire with a sharp pang of longing. What had it been, a few hours? And I already felt like some piece of me was missing.

“What m’ I here for, Ethan?” I continue, arching a brow.

Leaning back on his cot until his back was half slumped against the wall, he took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. The faint light he’d managed to conjure in his eyes, even in such a tired state, faded away.

“Things are moving Mal. Have you heard anything from upstairs?”

I balked at the question, and the fact he’d even bothered to ask. Few knew who and what I was, and even then they tended to know better than to ask if I had any input from the Creator. Shaking my head, I leant back from my braced position, beer forgotten in my hand.

“You know I don’t get office memos, Ethan.”

He made a face, though not at me, as if he resented the fact I was out of the Divine loop.

“There’s a nest of demons here.”

I blinked. “Demons?”

He nodded, finally meeting my gaze again. “At least a dozen or more. It’s as if the local town has become a vessel port. Demons come in and board the ships and sail on into their lives.”

“Cute metaphor,” I muttered. “Then what’s the plan? Exorcism or extermination?”

A calculated look.

“Whatever doesn’t get us killed. I’ve called in a few more markers, and we’re just waiting on them to arrive as well. Then, tonight, we’ll move.”

“Tonight?”

There was incredulity in my voice, and I couldn’t help it. Facing off against a demon horde tonight meant I was still a minimum twenty-four hours from flying back to Zsadist and the Brothers. It felt like forever.

“They meet after dark. And generally when they do, their numbers swell again. We need more bodies to help us but if we wait any longer we’ll be facing a small army,” he explained, raking a hand through his auburn hair and lifting one leg to brace on the cot. “We’ve assessed where, and we have a few plans, but once the rest arrive, we’ll finalize everything. Then we move. Until then?” He arched a brow and looked me over, then tilted his head toward the cot. “You should get some rest. You look like hell.”

Letting out an exasperated noise, I finished my drink and set the bottle beside my cot on the floor. Then I kicked off my boots.

“The dream team out there got this?”

Ethan grinned and nodded, turning and laying back himself to tuck one arm behind his head. I reached for the blanket folded at the end of my bunk and pulled it up and over myself. As I lay back, my exhausted body chirped in gratitude.

“They got this. Get some beauty sleep. Lord knows you need it.”

I flipped him off as I grinned and dropped my head to the pillow. A beat later, I thought of Z, of his golden eyes and the warmth of him at my side in bed.

A beat after that, I passed out.

[americanowrites]

Green Eyes // Part 1

Harry Styles was a man intrigued. He'd always liked Georgina, he found her scowls fascinating and her secret, rare smiles endearing. He wanted to see her smile more but she never gave him one, those were reserved for other people.

He was used to only seeing her on big occasions, Christmas, birthdays or weddings were their usual meeting ground but he'd seen her every day for the past four weeks and he was becoming addicted to the feeling. He loved seeing her stood on set, holding her clipboard, bundled up in her puffa jacket, sipping tea and stealing his Haribo. She cut him down whenever he tried to talk to her, silencing him with an eye roll or chilling glare. She hated his flirting, his jokes and his hair. She hated him, everyone knew it but there was a spark in her eye which encouraged him and maybe he was imagining things but he really wanted to crack her shell.

*

The first frisson appeared when she invited him to her birthday party, she stood with a wide eyed panicked look on her face. Both of them were shocked, both expecting the world to suddenly end. But when the world kept on turning and Harry could feel his heart slamming into his chest, he felt a bout of bravery and he was sure he could see a glimpse of hope in Georgina’s blue eyes. When Harry accepted the invite and Georgina smiled, his whole body had seemed to sing. His heart had stopped for a beat before doubling in pace to catch up. She'd given him a smile and he held it in his memory.

Their flight was the worst experience of Harry’s life. He could feel every movement of the plane, each turn of the wheels sending him spiralling. Everyone told him he should be used to flying, that he’d been on enough flights to know what to expect and how safe they were. But he hated the feeling of being so out of control and so far from the ground, suspended in the air. He thought she'd laugh or tease him and he'd tried so hard to fix his face so she couldn't see his terror. But she saw through his fake smiles and she let him hold her hand for the whole journey, whispering encouragement and smiling at him whenever he needed it. He didn’t think she’d ever know how much he appreciated her kindness, or how much she helped settle the churning waves in his stomach. She felt like a life raft during the journey, a beacon for Harry to cling to.

He felt another frisson splinter on their ride home, Georgina berating him the entire time about his driving and road rage. Harry had driven in lots of cars with lots of people but he couldn't remember one ever making him so happy. He grinned the entire way to Hackney, the happiness following him home and giving him the courage to finally text her. Her number had been in his phone for a year, sometimes he typed out messages and lost all confidence and deleted them. Sometimes his thumb hovered over the call button but he dreaded her hanging up on him.

He'd been late to her birthday party, arriving nearly three hours after everyone else. He'd been stuck in a meeting with Jeff, signing documents and other shit Harry didn't have the patience for. Jeff had laughed in his face when he told him why he was rushing off. He'd walked up the road towards the scruffy pub, the noise of the karaoke filtering into the dark street. Harry had been bursting with excitement, mixed with terror that she'd regret inviting him. When he walked in, she was on stage, illuminated by the bright lights and her terrible voice echoing around the packed pub. She was beaming, even keeping it on her lips when she caught Harry’s eye. He’d been spellbound until Ben called his name, his familiar eyes calming Harry a little.

Harry couldn’t look away from her all night, catching her eye whenever he could, even daring to wink at her, the alcohol fuelling his confidence. There was a happiness to her he’d never seen before and he found it captivating, seeing her smile was like looking up at the stars.

Harry lost sight of Georgina around midnight, he started to panic until he'd been pulled into a sloppy drunk hug by Amy, who he recognised from Georgina’s Instagram and he was being handed two tequila shots

"I'm the best friend so you need to impress me, but I'm already impressed by these biceps." She'd told him, squeezing his arms. He'd been dragged around, introduced to everyone and caught up with Ben, but never got to speak to Georgina. She always seemed to be on the opposite end of the pub to him, rotating each other like opposing magnets. He could hear her laughing all night, a sound he rarely heard and it made him giddier than all the Jack Daniels he’d consumed.

Then he was dragged to the karaoke stage by Amy, the tacky gold tinsel hanging down the wall adding a bit of glitz, "Time to show her you're not a robot." Amy had mumbled, Harry stunned by her words, trying to work out what she meant.

They'd sung one song before Georgina stumbled out of the toilets, her dark hair messy and her red lipstick faded. She looked beautiful and Harry's heart kicked against his chest when her eyes met his. She smiled, all the air in Harry's chest leaving him.

He'd called her to the stage, hearing her friends shout in encouragement. He almost fainted when she agreed, her drunk legs wobbling the entire time to took her to climb the stage and place herself next to Harry. Everyone was looking at them as the song started up, Georgina's eyes rolling when she heard his choice. She called him weird and laughed so loudly his bones shook. Happiness dripped from her and Harry was just as happy. Her friends were cheering, filming and taking photos and Harry was glad, he never wanted to forget this moment.

 He touched her that night, his hand on her hip and then her back and she smiled at him so much he almost fainted. She was enchanting, and she kept staring at his lips. She was driving him mental, pulling him close and then pushing him away. They flirted, standing too close for it to be anything innocent. His palm had been flat against the small of her back, pressing them closely together. “Mmm none of my skills seem to be working though.” he’d told her, at a loss of what else he could do.

“No?” she’d blinked, her eyes showing her tiredness. He wanted to hug her.

“Nope.” Even he’d heard the sadness in his voice. They'd chatted at the bar, even flirted in Harry's mind but there was still a wall. She was still hiding from him and he was running out of ways to try and impress her. Couldn't she tell how he felt? Wasn't he being obvious enough?

“Maybe try a little harder.” She shrugged, like she hadn’t just added fuel to his fire. He felt the hope lift through his body, filling him with promise.

 The morning after the party, Harry woke up alone and cold in his big house and thought about Georgina waking up in her little flat with a bad head and full of regret. His heart ached to be next to her, to see what she looked like when she woke up, how puffy her eyes were or how messy her hair was. He wanted to hear her morning voice, to see her before she had a coffee. Instead he was miles away, and didn't have a chance of ever seeing Georgina so vulnerable    

*

Things changed. She didn't seem to hate him so much. She smiled at him. She laughed at his jokes. She agreed to help him with his lines. And now she was on his knee, her hand on his chest and he was shaking ever so slightly. And then she fell asleep and Harry nearly had a heart attack, he knew she was tired but deep down he knew it must mean she trusted him.

“You’re such a prick man, how is she even sat on you? I thought she hated you?” Daniel bellowed, causing Georgina to jump and snuggle a little closer into Harry’s neck. Harry smirked; pleased Georgina was on his side even while asleep.

“So jammy.” Fionn laughed, jabbing Harry in the back of the neck.

He glanced down, checking she was still asleep. She looked so cute, her lips pursed. “Fucking shut up, you’ll wake her up.”

“Yeah and then she’d rip your balls off for touching her.”

He knew it was true. “Piss off.”

“Enjoy it while you can Styles.”

He’d walked her to her hotel, wanting to reach for her hand every step of the way, his fingers itched. She was so close but still so far away. And he was terrified. She was scary and he was a wimp. But he smiled, knowing now what her sleep filled voice sounded like. He was addicted to her.

*

He fucked up. He hurt her. Made her cry, watching in panic as a fat tear rolled down her pink cheek. Nothing he’d ever done had ever felt so bad, nothing had broken his heart more. Guilt spread through his body like a disease, eating away at his insides. He felt sick each time he thought of her face, the heartbreak evident in her eyes, a long forged pain that Harry wanted to make disappear forever.

But Harry wasn’t good with words or boundaries, he’d been told that before. But he couldn’t help himself with Georgina, he’d tried so hard for so long and now she was giving him a chance and he ran with it.  

He pushed and pushed her until she broke, screaming at him on the sunlit beach, the perfect spot for a romantic walk turned into the location for their heart-breaking finale. When she walked away, he felt the waves pull every ounce of happiness out of his crushed body.

He tried and tried to talk to her, hanging around on set just waiting to see her. She avoided him, ducking out of the sets or studio before he could even take a step towards her. She came to the pub, her eyes cast down until she left half an hour later. She didn’t look at him once. He felt like the biggest failure in the world. He’d tried for so long to find her smile and when he finally had, he threw it away over a stupid question and his inability to hold back. But he was cursed, enchanted by the girl with the scowl and he wanted to know everything about her, every story she had to tell and every dream she had to make.

But the longer she ignored him, the sadder she grew and the worst he felt, he realised maybe he wasn’t supposed to know everything about her. He didn’t have any right to her story, that was her gift to give him and maybe she had to tell him in her own time. And Harry knew that he’d wait a lifetime to hear it.  

[musicalsandmayhemandmurderohmy]

New Beginnings - Chapter 2 - Sprace and Newsbians Modern AU

Apologies if this chapter is a bit disjointed, half of it was written either on the way to Limerick or in a random theatre in Limerick, soo yeah! Before I hand you over to The Characters, thanks to my lil sis @knivesandsarcasm for proofreading this, at least to some degree, ANYWAY, enjoy! *********************

“What are they like?”

Davey sighed, taking his eyes off the road to glance at his sister. To anyone else, she would have looked perfectly calm, but he could see by how she was holding herself that she was nervous. Her shoulders were ever so slightly tense, her back gently curved, as though she was slowly beginning to retreat into herself. “Relax”, Davey said reassuring. “They’ll love you. They’ve met me, they’ve met Les, they’ve been dying to meet you. Plus, who wouldn’t love you?”

Sarah looked at her brother, smiling. Nobody knew how to make the sun shine quite like Davey. “Of course, the rum will help”, he added playfully as he eased the car into a space.

Crutchie opened the door for them in his wheelchair, a tray of buns balanced on his lap and a broad smile breaking out across his face when he saw Sarah. “Hi! You must be Sarah - you can call me Crutchie!” he remarked brightly, offering her his hand. “Davey here talks about you all the time. Ballet is your thing, right? You’ll like Specs and Romeo then, I think. Anyway! You ever played twenty-five?” Sarah shook her head with a smile. “No, I’m afraid I’ve never heard of it”, she murmured softly. Crutchie laughed. “A quiet Jacobs? Pigs do fly! Alright, well while everyone is still setting up and before I get too tipsy, I’ll show you. Follow me!” he exclaims, handing the buns to Davey before shooting off towards the corner. Davey shoots Sarah a reassuring smile before heading towards the kitchen with the buns and alcohol. See? It’s not so bad, she can almost hear Davey think.

“ Right, so, twenty-five. We play it in teams so if you don’t understand all the rules it’s okay, half of us don’t either. Davey’s probably drawing up the teams at the moment - he’s too clumsy for anything else and nobody else likes that job - but he’ll hopefully put you with Spot, see the guy moving the couch- the one closest to the window? That’s him”. Sarah glanced over at the boy Crutchie was pointing at. “He’s kinda intimidating”, he continued, mirroring Sarah’s thoughts. “Don’t let ol’ Spotty fool you though - his bark is worse than his bite. Just as long as you don’t call him that to his face”. Sarah nodded and bit her lip. Hopefully what Crutchie had said was true.

Katherine Plumber was in the bath when the noises started. She hadn’t been able to get her current assignment for the Sun off her mind, and the bath was her way of relaxing and forgetting about all the things that stressed her out. Or at least, it had been, until her upstairs neighbours had begun to drastically rearrange their apartment, complete with scraping, banging, and an excess of shouting, laughter and loud footsteps. She sighed in frustration as another chorus of squeaks and creaks began in earnest. Today was only her first day in the new apartment, and she could already sense that her relationship with the people upstairs was not going to be a good one. Cursing to herself, she pulled the plug and wrapped herself in a towel, her peaceful mood shattered. “I suppose I’d best finish that bloody story”, she muttered to herself.

An hour later, she found herself staring emptily at a couple of lengthy, garbled paragraphs, a forgotten mug of coffee rapidly cooling beside her. The noise from upstairs had been getting rapidly louder, until it had filled her head, pushing out any chance of the quality reporting she had so long aspired to produce. Sighing, she stood up and stretched. A good sleep was needed, and then she could finish the story in the morning.

BANG!

Katherine gasped, shooting upwards before she could stop herself. A raucous cackle rang out from above her, before being replaced by a loud hum of conversation. Squinting bleary, Katherine glanced at her alarm clock’s neon display. “Two forty seven? You are fucking joking!” she hissed dangerously. Party or not, she for one had work in the morning, and she’d even damned if a ragtag gang of raggamuffins were going to steal her sleep. Swinging herself out of bed, she pulled on a robe and picked her way through the darkness to the stairs. Those boys would be sorry they’d ever messed with Katherine Plumber. She cursed as her feet found the splinters in the stairs, adding to her anger. Raising her fist she banged forcefully on their front door.

Sarah laughed as Crutchie laid down the last of yet another bum hand. A moan went up around the group. He was more than tipsy by now - not that it had taken him very long - and his hands had been getting worse and worse. Even Spot’s face betrayed a flicker of a grin as he raked in yet another small mountain of coins and wrinkled dollar bills for her to divide up between them. “How ‘bout we split it sixty-forty, on account of me being the expert player?” Spot muttered mischievously to her. She laughed and tipped their winnings into a jam jar. The maths could wait til later. Another wave of laughter rose up in the apartment at Race berating his teammate. C'mon Crutchie, man up! We can let my boyfriend and the newbie beat us, we’re meant to be old pros! Carry on like this and we’ll - we’ll be cooking breakfast for everyone in the morning!“ Sarah smiled as she looked around the room at the circle of seemingly unlikely friends.

There were Specs and Romeo, who’d accosted her in the kitchen, eager to share their love of theatre with her. “You do ballet like us as well!” Specs had exclaimed. “Do you know how rare that is? We never have someone to fanboy over theatre with, but especially not ballet!”

There was Mush, who had weakly opposed the “no-couples-on-the-same-team” rule and was now making eyes at Blink, who was quietly but effectively replacing his cards with substitutes from his boot.

Jack, the joker, always protesting that the deck was rigged against him, who’d been gently teasing everyone, even her, since he’d gotten there. Despite his flirtatious nature, it was clear he had eyes only for Crutchie, who despite being on the other team was nestled cosily on the floor next to Jack, his wheelchair abandoned in the corner. “I’ve always preferred just using crutches, but for long distances, well, I can’t really handle them too well with the gimp leg”, he’d grinned toothily by way of explanation.

Race and Spot, the hosts, both quietly hospitable. Race was the more outgoing of the two, the twinkle in his eye as constant as the cigar in his mouth. Spot was also smoking, but Sarah could sense that he craved something more. Every so often, his fingers would begin tapping the floor subtly, in a frantic but almost imperceptible rhythm. She saw Race reach over and give his hand a quiet squeeze. Davey caught her eye from across the circle and shook his head gently at her. Don’t look the gesture seemed almost to say. Sarah understood what he meant - Spot was a deeply private person, even she could see that, and his and Race’s affection towards each other seemed the same - subtle enough that you’d miss them if you weren’t observant, but deeply loving all the same.

It may have been the warm glow of alcohol she felt talking, but the atmosphere in the room felt more like a family - a family that tonight, she felt like a part of. There was something wonderful about how relaxed it was - this was a place she knew she could be herself. It was different to college, where sometimes socialising felt like a test, or even the Academy, where the competition to be the best could dominate friendships and alienate quieter girls like her. This felt more like a save haven, the ten of them protected from the rest of the world, at least for one night.

A loud bang snapped her out of her reverie. She turned to see Blink sprawled on the ground, his mouth stretched in a comical “O” of surprise. Jack shrieked with happiness. “You see?” he cried, pointing at the cards sticking up over Blink’s sock. “I KNEW he was cheating! Nobody gets dealt that many trumps!” Blink gasped in mock horror. “They’re there for safekeeping! Plus, you tripped me! An unarmed man! If you weren’t already on the floor, I’d soak you clean into it!”

Sarah laughed as the boys descended rapidly into a swell of bickering. Her brother, ever the peacemaker, was trying in vain to establish some sort of order. Her eyes were drawn to Crutchie, who was banging his crutch on the ground with a grin. “Order in the court, the judge is eating beans!” he sang gaily, apparently floating above the melee next to him. It was Davey who heard the knock first, his head snapping to the door. “Hey! Open up!” The noise in the apartment died suddenly, being replaced with an atmosphere of subdued hostility. Whoever was knocking on their door at almost three in the morning they were unlikely to be good news, and even more unlikely to be welcomed warmly.

Spot glance around the apartment. Nobody looked particularly joyful at the prospect of opening the door. He sighed and rose slowly to his feet. It was, he supposed fair that he dealt with whoever the hell this was - after all, it was his door they’d come knocking on.

Katherine’s speech all but dried up when the door opened. There she stood in nothing but her nightrobe, in front of at least a dozen tall, slightly drunk, and quite noticeably hostile boys. Scarier yet however was the boy who’d answered her knocking. “Who the hell are you?!” he snapped, sharp enough to make her flinch. Katherine stood silently, taken aback. “Do we have a problem?” he continued, his voice dripping with sarcasm. His eyes bored into her, pinning her to the wall behind her. She licked her lips nervously. “Only, we were in the process of enjoying our card game, so if you’d like to spit it out…” He raised one eyebrow. “Yes, well um, I just… Wanted to say hi, and…” Katherine took a deep breath; it was now or never. “I don’t know about all of you but I actually have somewhere to be in the morning - early - and I do not need to have you pack of-of hoodlums upstairs fucking around until who knows what hour keeping everyone in the building awake and-”

“We’re the only ones in the building”, he interrupted. “What? No you’re not!” Katherine exclaimed, flustered. The boy looked her coolly up and down. “Who are you?” he asked bluntly. “I - Katherine. Plumber. Your downstairs neighbour, commencing yesterday”. To her surprise, he spat on his hand and offered it to her. “Conlon. Right, well we’ll try keep it down. No need to go calling us hoodlums lady. Is that everything?” he said, never breaking eye contact with her as he shook her hand. Katherine squirmed under his glare, suddenly desperate to be anywhere but here. “Yup!” she squeaked, feeling the blood rise to her cheeks. Without a word, the boy turned on his heel, the door swinging shut behind him. For possibly the first time in her life, Katherine was lost for words. She stood before the closed door, unable to believe what had just happened. That asshole! He hadn’t even apologised! And spitting on his hand - who even did that anymore! Without thinking, Katherine let out a shriek of frustration and stamped her foot - probably a little too hard for someone in their bare feet. Cheeks burning once again, she fled back down the ancient staircase to her own apartment, painfully conscious of the laughs and jeers coming from the apartment above her.

Spot felt a pair of arms wrap gently around his waist. “I think you might have been a bit harsh on her there babe”, Race murmured in his ear. Spot shrugged and turned to face his boyfriend. “Maybe”, he admitted, leaning in closer. “I guess I’m just craving. I’ll talk to her when I’m in a better mood.”

Race nodded and nuzzled his head against Spot’s shoulder, his hand snaking down his back until he found what he was looking for in Spot’s pocket. “Here”, he whispered, lighting Spot another cigarette. He knew that they were a crutch, sure, but they were better than the alternative.

I need some fucking coffee, Spot thought, opening his eyes. If he squinted, he could just about make out the clock in the slice of artificial amber slanting in through the windows. Ten to five. Yup, coffee time, he decided, picking his way across the sleeping bodies sprawled on his living room floor. He paused briefly at the kitchen door to look back at Race. A loving smile slowly transformed his face as Race frowned a little and pulled the blanket up to his chin, muttering something softly in his sleep before rolling over. A sudden surge of protectiveness swelled through Spot’s body, strong enough to take his breath away. So this is what all those songs are about, he mused. Huh, no wonder they’re so freaking popular.

Race woke up cold, the body that had been beside him now nothing more than a memory of warmth on the wood. From the kitchen, he heard a click! as the kettle boiled. Wrapping the blanket tightly around himself like a second skin, he shuffled towards the light. Sure enough, Spot stood facing the wall, silhouetted against the light of the small lamp. Race smiled gently as Spot slurped noisily from his mug and released a sigh of fulfillment, oblivious to Race behind him. “Head in the game.. Head in the game… Getcha getcha getcha getcha head in the game”, he muttered, his hips swaying ever so slightly. A quick peal of laughter escaped Race’s lips before his hand stifled them abruptly, but it was too late. Spot whirled around, eyes wide, his coffee splashing onto his bare wrist. “Oh God, I’m so sorry! ” Race exclaimed, running to grab a towel. Spot hastily wiped his hand on his trousers. “It’s fine, honestly”, he said in a low voice, catching his boyfriend with one arm and sipping his coffee with the other. “Look at you, all rolled up like a lil burrito, what woke you up?” he joked, standing ever so slightly on his toes - not that he’d admit to it - to plant a kiss on Racetrack’s jaw. “Shave, hipster”, he muttered, resting his head on the other boy’s shoulder. Race sighed and wrapped the blanket around the two of them as Spot set his coffee down on the counter. They stood like that, one form with two heads resting gently on each other’s shoulders, for what seemed like an eternity. Moments like these were rare, which made them all the more precious. Spot felt a breath against his ear. “What was that?” he said quietly, raising his head slightly. “I said, why were you singing high school musical at five a.m.?”, Race whispered mischievously. He yelped as Spot’s hand made sharp contact with his rear. “Mmmm, kinky”, he breathed, waggling his eyebrows. Spot snorted. “Crutchie’s had it going around me head all night. Even with that cheery bastard asleep I can still hear him singing it”, he grumbled, an Irish lilt fighting to break through his second-generation Brookelyn twang. Race chuckled and booped Spot playfully on the nose, before his eyes rounded with seriousness. “There’s that lovely accent again, what’s bothering you love?”

Spot sighed heavily, his small frame crumpling against Race’s reassuring solidity. “I guess I should tell you… I’m trying to quit.” He stared up into Race’s eyes, seeing the realisation dawning. Even though Race had never actually said so, Spot had known for a long time that his marijuana use was not something Race approved of - the only reason he put up with it was because he knew Spot’s history and he knew how much worse it could be.

“You’re… Stopping weed?” he murmured, trying to hide his astonishment. It was something he’d learned to live with when him and Spot had started dating, but he still wasn’t entirely comfortable with it. “Yeah”, Spot replied, hopping up onto the counter and pulling Race closer to him. “I mean, I’ll try… I’m not going to promise it’ll work but….for you, I’ll try. Just…” Spot gulped and continued. “I’ve tried it before and I’ve never been able to do it, so… I’m going to warn you now, I don’t want it to happen but if-if I don’t manage to quit… I don’t want you around me.” His words hit Race like a punch to the stomach, his air leaving his lungs in one hurt gasp. “You don’t mean….” Spot shook his head violently and shuddered. “No, God no. I’m not good at this feelings thing. What I mean is…I want what’s best for you. I want you to be happy. I want you to be successful. I want you to have a future, a good one. And let’s face it, Stoner Spot, right now, is going nowhere fast, and we both know why. I want you to have everything you can, and someone who can give you everything you deserve, because I can’t -”. A single tear rolled down his cheek. He drew a shaky breath and looked Race deep in the eyes. “I guess what I mean is… You hear all these people talking about stuff like… Like love and shit. And I always thought they were gone nuts. But now… I think- I know- Racetrack Higgins, I am in love with you.”

Race stared, gobsmacked, back at Spot for several seconds. No way had he expected the great Spot Conlon to be the first to say I love you. Spot chewed his lip nervously, worried he’d gone too far. “I- oh Spot, you fool!” he cried. Spot’s heart dropped. “Don’t you… Don’t you know how much you mean to me? You are everything I’ve ever wanted, you are my future and my happiness and just plain mine he said fiercely. “And I love you the world over!” he continued. Spot breathed a heavy sigh of relief. “I’ve waited a long time to hear that”, Race murmured gently in his ear, “and an even longer time to say it”.

[galactic-aesir]

Road Trip!: Chapter Four

After getting hit with an anti-magic Shen Gong Wu that leaves Dojo unable to fly them back to China, the Dragons in training, plus Jack Spicer in tow, road trip across America towards the Bailey’s family ranch.

Surprising no one, it doesn’t go as planned.

Rating: Gen Tags: Multi-Chapter Fics, Road Trips, Temporary Truce, Dialogue Heavy, Dubious Placement in Canon, Ship Teasing

Read it on AO3 Read Chapter One

Country music wafted out of the speaker of a small disused radio. The rickety sound of a socket wrench and the clanging of metal accompanied the music and its occasional burst of static as it echoed off the concrete walls. Heaving a sigh and disturbing the gentle lull of the music, Raimundo tossed out another bag of junk he’d had to scrape up from the bottom of the car. The bag clattered amongst the rest of the pile which reached up to be almost as big as the car.

Raimundo puffed out a breath as he leaned back against the car. After an hour of scrubbing, he was bored out of his mind and seriously contemplating creating a localised tornado inside the car just to speed up the process. It was high time for a break.

He lazily looked around the garage for Omi and Jack and, not finding them where they had been last, started to get concerned. Jack had been working nonstop to fix the car, only stopping to storm around the garage in a tantrum until either he or Omi asked what was wrong. Raimundo had vaguely wondered if Jack programmed his robots to do just that. That said, Jack was constantly talking, whether to himself, to Omi, or berating whatever tool he was using. He should have noticed when it got quiet.

His thoughts instantly turned to worry and Raimundo marched across the garage. If Jack had done anything to Omi, Raimundo was going to-- He barely had time to finish his thought when he spotted Jack’s leg popping out from under a muscle car. Frowning, Raimundo went to loom over Jack.

“What do you think you’re doing Spicer? Where’s Omi?”

The clanging of metal stopped momentarily before starting again.

“I sent him on a...” He paused. “Errand.”

Raimundo pulled on Jack’s leg, rolling him out from under the car.

“What did you do?”

Jack sent Raimundo the stink eye before rolling back under.

“Relax,” he said. “I just needed him out of my way.”

That didn’t make Raimundo feel any better. He yanked Jack out from under the car again and glared at him.

Jack rolled his eyes again. “Oh, relax! I sent him to find a part for me so he’d stay out of my hair. Omi doesn’t even have a basic understanding of science! Do you know how hard it is to teach how a car works to someone who doesn’t even know what an atom is? What are those monks teaching him?!”

“Somehow, I doubt a bunch of old monks know about physics, dude,” Raimundo shook his head, interrupting himself. That wasn’t what was important. Why was Spicer working on the wrong car? “And what are you even doing?”

Jack gave Raimundo a look that he couldn’t read. “Do you know why this car's nicer than all the other ones in the lot?”

Jack was right. It was a nice car. In fact, it was the nicest car in the yard. An old but very well cared for wine red Mustang with shiny chrome trim and spinning rims. The interior was made of a deep black leather and plush red carpeting. The car was waxed clean and spotless, it shone out like a diamond next to the rusted trash surrounding it.

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Because it’s obviously Keatt’s car!”

“So?”

“So, I think we’re allowed some revenge! I’m not letting that two bit conman get one over on me!”

Raimundo… couldn’t help but be tempted. “Revenge, huh?”

Jack sat up on the floor creeper with a glint in his eye as he heard the hint of interest in the other’s voice.

“What about it, Raimundo? Wanna join Team Evil?”

“I’m not evil,” he said, then quickly looked around to see if anyone was within earshot. When he saw no one, the Brazilian crouched down next to Jack. “But I wouldn’t mind some revenge against that cabrão.”

Jack laughed. “Haha, Wuya was right about you! You are the worst of the monks!”

Raimundo sputtered at that and quickly tried to change the conversation. “So what kind of prank are we talking about here?”

Jack grinned widely at him and showed him the tool in his hand. He snapped the wire cutters shut a few times for show.

“I'm cutting his brakes!”

That made Raimundo fumble backwards in shock as his brain caught up with him.

“What?!” he yelled. “You can’t cut his brakes!”

“What do you mean? We were just talking about getting revenge!”

Raimundo snatched the wire cutters from his hands, outraged. Jack stood up to try and grab them back but Raimundo held them away from him. “I was talking about a prank, dude! Not killing him!”

“Psh. What’s the big deal? He screwed us over!” Jack said as he tried swiping the tool back.

“He could die, Spicer!”

“Big whoop,” Jack said, rolling his eyes and finally managing to snatch the wire cutters back. He held them high above his and Raimundo’s head, using his few extra inches to keep them out of Raimundo’s reach. He singsonged, “No one will miss him!”

“No way, dude!”

With that, Raimundo jumped up and flipped over the older teen. He landed on the roof of the car and brandished the wire cutters.

“Hey!” Jack said, looking at his empty hands where the wire cutters had been. He climbed onto the hood of the car and stared the other boy down. “What’s the big deal?”

Raimundo pointed an accusing finger at Jack. “The deal is that you’re going to get people killed!”

“Ugh, relax. You’re pristine goody-goody record won’t be tarnished. You’re dealing with a professional here: the cops wouldn’t even be able to trace it back to us.”

“You’re crazy if you think that I’m letting you have these, Spicer.”

“Gimme! They’re mine!”

“No!”

“I said gimme!”

The fight didn’t last long. All Raimundo had to do was dodge Jack’s sloppy tackle and watch as the older teen launched himself off the roof of the car. He landed in a pile of metal scrap with a resounding clang followed by a stream of swears.

“Seriously, dude. I'll wash your mouth off with soap if you talk like that around Omi.”

Jack crawled his way out of the pile and glared up at the Dragon. “So what? We’re just supposed to let him get away scot-free?”

“There’s a difference between a prank and a murder.”

“Psh. Lame. How do you want to get revenge, then?”

Raimundo opened his mouth to answer but, truthfully, he had no idea what to do. His thoughts were suddenly interrupted as a small and excitable Dragon of Water loudly made his presence known.

“Jack Spicer!” the young monk yelled, running into the garage. He had a small indistinguishable object in his hand that he held high above his head. “I am sure that I have found it this time!”

A wry smile broke out across Jack’s face as Omi ran over to him, though he was sure to wipe it from his face before Omi could see. The monk showed off what looked like a car part to Jack, who took it and inspected it with a thoughtfully placed scowl.

“Omi,” Jack said with disappointment. “Does this look even vaguely hook-like to you?”

“This is not the skyhook?”

Raimundo snorted despite himself, attempting to cover it off with a cough. An errand. Of course. Now it made sense. Jack continued, unhindered.

“No, no, no, no, it needs a hook-y portion on it! How else am I supposed to lift the engine into the car?”

“This piece is most elusive, Jack,” Omi said seriously. “Are you quite sure we would be able to find one in this scrapyard?”

“If anyone can, Omi,” Jack said, placing a hand on Omi’s shoulder, “it would be you.”

With renewed energy and confidence, Omi made to run out of the garage. “I will find that accursed skyhook! You may count on me!”

Just as the little monk was sprinting out, Raimundo had a breakthrough. “Hold on a sec, Omi!”

Omi skidded to a stop. “Yes, Raimundo?”

“I think the, um, skyhook can wait. I’m going to need your help with something else.”

“Of course Raimundo! In what way would you need my expertise?”

Raimundo smiled innocently and waved Omi over. “Omi, would you be able to,” was all Jack was able to hear before he dropped his voice to a whisper. He pouted and carefully approached them to hear what they were plotting.

“Raimundo, you disappoint me! Of course I can do it! That would be child’s play to me,” Omi said aloud, smiling wide.

“Sweet,” said Raimundo. The Brazilian turned to Jack mid-sneak. “Did you fix the leak in the gas tank?”

Jack paused and tried to pretend he hadn’t just been caught trying to sneakily listen in on their conversation. “Um, yeah?”

“Cool.” He turned to the younger monk. “Omi, if you would?”

“My pleasure!”

The jèibā* on the little monk’s forehead began to glow as he brought his hands before him in concentration. He moved them gently before him in well practiced and precise motions that Jack vaguely recognised. Then, with a cry of “Water!”, shot them into the air. At once, the gas cap of the Mustang wiggled, then burst and the gas floated out into the garage in a ball over Omi’s head. Jack gaped. Raimundo looked pleased with himself. Omi held the ball over his head with one hand as the other twirled in the air. Soon, every gas container in the garage burst and small streams of gas began floating around them and joined the giant multi-coloured ball. Once every last drop was collected, Omi made the liquid sway with his hands, bending it to his will, towards their car. The gas floated around them in streams as Omi swirled them around in an intricate dance, clearly showing off his mastery. Raimundo ran over and opened their gas cap and Omi gently directed the liquid into the gas tank. Raimundo slammed the cap shut and turned to Jack.

“Now that’s a prank!”

“Wuh?”

Raimundo smirked. “When Keatt tries to leave tonight, he’ll be stuck here and we’ll be long gone. And we won’t have to worry about paying for gas.”

Jack looked at the wire cutters a while before tossing them into a tool kit. “Yeah, that’s good enough, I guess.”

***

Kimiko, Clay, and Dojo made their way back to the garage under the high noon sun. They stepped past the barbed wire fence that surrounded the lot and the office where they could see Keatt sitting lazily with his feet kicked up. From afar, Kimiko eyed the cigarette butt in his mouth and quickened the dying ember with a flick of her fingers. There was a yelp of pain as the ember burned through the filter and a crash as Keatt tipped over in surprise. Kimiko smiled at herself, satisfied, as Dojo snickered. Clay side-eyed her but said nothing. The man was a no good lying creep after all; he deserved a bit of grief.

They walked into the garage to find Omi and Raimundo throwing out junk from the trunk of the car, looking thoroughly disgusted. Clay chuckled at seeing Raimundo cleaning for once. The sound of metal caught his attention and they looked to Jack, hands deep in the hood of the car. Jack had tossed his coat aside and was wearing a grungy sleeveless red tank top, sweat dripped down his bicep as he tightened something in the engine. Once he was done he stepped back and pulled his goggles to his neck to judge his work with an expert’s eye. The teen wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his blackened, grease-stained hand and, unknowingly, just managed to spread the grease across his forehead. Clay’s heart fluttered at the sight.

Before immediately dropping to his stomach.

Oh no. No. Not him. Anyone but him.

“We’re back!” Kimiko cried happily, unbeknownst to Clay’s dilemma.

The boy’s attention snapped to them and seeing Jack’s red eyes light up in mild surprise sent another flutter through his chest. They were pretty when he wasn’t looking at them with menace or contempt. Now Clay was left trying to adjust his hat nonchalantly while attempting to hide his blush as they rushed towards them.

“Cool! What’d you get us?”

“Have you bought one of those famed American treats, Clay?”

“Yep, I bought us some twinkies, Omi,” Clay said definitely avoiding looking at Jack.

“Excellent!” the young one replied as Clay handed him one. “I have wanted to try one of these for a while now!”

Kimiko opened her bag up and let Raimundo rummage through to find something he liked. He pulled out a cola and a bag of hickory sticks.

“Sweet! These look just like chips from back home!” he exclaimed.

“Aw, off brand? They didn’t have anything better?” Jack pouted and he grabbed his share. Kimiko smiled to herself. “Stupid hick town.”

After they had all grabbed their snacks, they sat around on the various work benches and tires lying around the garage. The monks talked amongst themselves while Jack quickly ate through his bag of cheesies and tossed the bag on the floor before getting back to work again. Clay was thankful, it would be easier to ignore whatever happened earlier if Jack was ignoring them.

Not that it stayed that way for long. After finishing up, Omi ran back to Jack, asking him if he needed any help. Jack reacted like Omi was carrying some sort of extremely contagious disease and tried to run away.

“Absolutely not!”

“Why not?”

“Because I need actual help!”

Jack ended up running into Clay. Then the teen grabbed his shoulders and started shaking him, or tried to at least.

“Cowboy, you know how cars work right? You’re competent!”

Clay scratched the back of his neck, while a blush tinted his freckled cheeks.

“Aw, now, I’m no expert or nothin’ but I’ve worked on tractors back on the ranch.”

“Do you know the difference between a wrench and a screwdriver?”

“Yes?”

“Good enough for me!” Jack proclaimed and shoved a paper in his hands. “Get me these parts and keep him,” he pointed at Omi, “out of my way! And you two!” he pointed at Kimiko and Raimundo. “Same goes for you! I need another hour to fix this and I don’t need either of you breathing down my neck! Plus, I don’t want to ruin the big reveal.”

Raimundo cocked an eyebrow. “‘Big reveal’?”

“We’re gonna be riding in style once I’m done with the finishing touches!”

“Oh, yes we shall look most high with our new, fancy ride!”

“That’s ‘fly’, Omi.”

“Jack, will you be putting one of those ‘spoilers’ on the car? They make cars go faster! I’ve seen it in Raimundo’s movies!”

“Don’t worry Omi,” Jack said. “I’ve got something way better in mind.”

Kimiko looked doubtful. “Now I’m scared.”

“As long as it’s street legal,” Clay said, sighing.

“As long as it gets us on the road,” Raimundo added. He stretched an arm above his head and yawned. “I’ll be taking a nap outside if anyone needs me.”

Kimiko jumped off her seat and walked over to Clay and Omi. “I guess I’m with you guys.”

“Sounds good. Let’s go.”

With that, the monks began walking out of the garage. Right before she stepped outside, Kimiko turned to Jack.

“That’s the last time you give us orders Jack. Don’t try that again.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jack said, waving her out.

He watched them go and waited until they were all out of sight before turning to the car. He hunched over the engine and laughed quietly, but very much evilly, to himself.

“Now let’s see what kind of damage I can do.”

***

Jack had been lying slightly when he said that it would take four hours. Technically, the car was ready to run after two but there were adjustments to make. Jack was a perfectionist who prided himself in his work, so he wasn’t going to be satisfied with “good enough”. It was going to run and it was going to run better than it did when it came off the assembly line. Plus it needed to look the part. He wouldn’t be caught dead in some common rust bucket. What if other villains saw him? The scandal!

All in all, it took him a bit over an hour before he called the monks back in the garage. Jack had thrown a tarp over the car to not ruin the big reveal. He stepped in front of them with a smile, like a businessman about to show them his newest product.

“Lady and gentledorks, I present to you…” he paused for effect before ripping the tarp off. “The Spicermobile™: the car of EVIL!”

The monks cocked their heads.

It was… well, it sure was something. The front headlights were mismatched and the bumper looked like it had been cut up into five pieces before being welded back together. The car’s paint had been grinded off, though the wood paneling had been left untouched, and black flames had been painted onto the sides. A hole had been cut through the hood to make way for a shined, but still slightly rusted, supercharger and mufflers had been artfully welded onto the side of the car, seemingly just for looks. Fins had been ripped off two seperate cars and welded onto the back with wild abandon. Similarly, the hub caps on the tires were taken from four different cars and, to top it off, the radio antenna was topped with a smiley little devil ornament. It would have had a post-apocalyptic charm to it, like something out of a Mad Max movie were it not for a few glaring issues.

“Why’re the fins two different colours? Do the tail lights even work?”

“Did you re-upholster the inside with neon zebra stripes?”

“The license plates says ‘2CUT3 4U’,” Raimundo said. “There’s glitter on it.”

“When did you find the time to make a hood ornament that looks like one of your robots?”

“Are those fuzzy pink dice, Spicer?”

“Hey, I’m working with limited options here!”

“It’s tacky,” Kimiko said.

Jack gasped.

“I love it!” Dojo exclaimed. “It’s got real charm.”

“Yeah,” Raimundo said, sarcasm dripping from him. “Charm.”

Clay sighed. “Well, it looks street legal, at least. Here’s hoping the cops don’t pull us over.”

“America doesn’t have a fashion police, does it, Clay?”

“I hope not.”

“No spoiler?” Omi asked, looking at Jack.

He shrugged. “The back’s just glass, you can’t put a spoiler on that. It’d look dumb.”

“Like this doesn’t?”

“Oh, shut up!”

Clay grabbed Jack’s attention. “It does work though, right?”

“Try her out, cowboy,” Jack said, tossing the keys to him. Clay looked at the keyring and was unsurprised to find a rabbit’s foot on it along with a few other odd keychains Jack had nicked from somewhere. He walked over to the driver’s seat and the rest of them crowded around the open car door as Clay put the keys into the ignition and turned.

The car started, sputtered and, finally, rumbled to life with a hearty roar.

“Haha, yes!” Jack exclaimed. “Told you!”

Clay was pleasantly surprised. “Well I’ll be.” He turned to the rest of the monks. “Well, let’s get this rodeo started!”

“Shotgun!” Jack cried out first.

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” Raimundo said.

“Well, I’m not having him sit next to me!” Kimiko replied.

“Clay, what do you say?”

Clay shrugged. “Sorry, Rai, but he did call shotgun first. Them’s the rules.”

“Since when are you on his side?”

Ignoring the argument, Omi went to where he thought the door handle would be and found none. He scrunched his face in confusion as he looked at his team. “Where is the door?”

“It’s a coupe,” Jack said as if that explained it. He rolled his eyes when that didn’t clear anything up. “A two door. Come on.” And he motioned the rest of the monks to the other side of the car.

He opened the passenger door and made sure he had their attention before pressing the lever by the foot of the seat with his scuffed up boot. The seat folded forward with just enough room for the monks to squeeze through.

“Ladies first!” Omi proclaimed.

“Normally I’d pass but being squished in the middle between you two for thirty hours? No thanks,” she said before getting in.

Omi jumped in right after her, excited to go on the road trip. Clay had showed him a few road trip movies and they were always full of heartfelt emotion and zany hijinks. Yes, he was very excited to experience America on this adventure!

Raimundo was last. He tossed their bag of Wu in the trunk, along with Jack’s stuff, and got in.

With that, Jack snapped the seat back into place and sat himself next to Clay. Once everyone was in the car, Clay shifted the car into drive and drove them out of the garage. They rolled up next to the main office and Clay honked the horn. Keatt opened the front door and looked at them, surprised that they had actually managed to fix the useless rustbucket he had sold them. They all rolled down their windows.

“Mighty fine thanks for the car, Keatt!” Clay said, waving his hat out the window.

“Was nice knowing you!” Kimiko said with a sickly sweet voice.

“Catch you later, dude,” Raimundo said as Omi nearly jumped on his lap to wave at the man.

“Goodbye!”

“For now,” Jack added with a menacing laugh. “You haven’t seen the last of me!”

“Um.”

With that Clay punched the gas and the wheels kicked up a wave of mud right onto Keatt as they ripped across the ground.

“Why you no-good kids! Come back here!” he yelled and began running after them. He ought to call the cops on those delinquents!

The car didn’t stop but the goth kid shoved his entire body out of the car window and flipped him double birds while laughing maniacally before being yanked violently inside. With that, the car drove off the yard and onto the highway.

“Yeah! That’s right! You’d better run!”

***

Jack was still laughing even after being shoved back into his seat.

“That was awesome!”

“Put on your seat belt.”

“Psh, sure Mom,” Jack said but complied.

Omi giggled. “We are quite the bad boys!”

“That goes double for you, Omi,” Clay warned.

The backseat brigade took another minute to figure out how their seatbelts worked while Clay drove on at a slower pace. He’d grabbed a free map of the county while they were in the store and had been studying it while waiting for Jack to finish up with the car, but he was hesitant to punch the car at full speed considering the nature of the parts that made up the engine. After a few minutes of driving, Clay had to admit that it drove like a dream. The pedals didn’t stick, the engine didn’t sputter, and the gear shift was smooth.

“I gotta say, Spicer. For an old piece of junk, this is a mighty smooth ride.”

Spicer beamed at him from the corner of his eye for a second and then immediately played it off. “Psh, for a genius like me? Piece of cake.”

Jack then started messing with the knobs on the dashboard and turned on the radio.

“Now let’s get this really going,” he said as he started tuning into a rock station.

His hand was swatted away instantly.

“Ow!” He clutched his hand. That had hurt!

“No siree, partner,” Clay said and turned the radio to a country station.

Jack crossed his arms in his seat. “This is going to be the worst--”

Behind him, Raimundo shoved his sneaker into the lever at the base of Jack’s seat and, in one quick motion, the passenger seat folded over and jammed Jack’s face into the dashboard. The backseat erupted into laughter while Clay snickered beside him. Dojo slithered down Clay’s hat and poked at Jack’s squished cheek.

“No, now it’s the worst.”

***

Night was falling on an unusually eventful day for Keatt when he made his way to his car. He grumbled when he saw scuff marks on his pride and joy and started muttering to himself as he threw a tarp over the pristine seats of his car. Despite the mud coating him head to toe, he couldn’t be too unhappy. The junk the kids had gathered wasn’t worth anything near what they paid him. He was four hundred dollars richer and all it took was some suckered kids and extra time shining up his beauty. Not too bad for a day’s work.

He sat himself down in the driver’s seat and turned the car on.

But nothing happened.

He tried again. Still nothing.

“Wha-?” he started, only to look at the fuel gauge and find it showing up empty. He tapped at the glass but the needle didn’t budge. That was impossible. He’d filled her up just this morning. The receipt was still crumbled up on the dash. Then it hit him-- those kids did this!

He stomped out of the car and grabbed a gas canister. He always had a few spare gas cans just in case. But as soon as he lifted it up, he knew that it was empty, though he was sure that this one had gas in it last time he checked. He scoured his garage only to find that every single damn gas can was empty!

He slammed the empty one in his hand to the ground and his voice shook with rage as he yelled.

“Rotten kids!”

[ramblesandmumblesofanerd]

Weekly Reviews: Samurai Jack Season 5 Episode 5

Previously on Samurai Jack…

The Samurai has survived his battle against the Daughters of Aku, but one member still lives. Ashi, a devoted assassin, continues to fight against the samurai both physically and verbally in spite of her being outmatched. Even when she and the Samurai are devoured by a gigantic beast, she believes that Aku’s order shall destroy the Samurai and restore peace to the great land of the Shapeshifting Shogun. While trying to escape the beast, Jack tries to reveal the truth to the assassin while also trying to keep her alive. Eventually, the two warriors do escape, and Ashi is reminded of a time in her childhood when beauty was dismissed.

“XCVI” starts at the surprisingly empty domain of Aku, where three human armies converge on the familiar, spiked spire where Aku himself dwells. One army in particular is clad in a familiar, red plaid pattern, and is led by an old man confined to a wheelchair. Long time fans of the original series will remember this man as The Scotsman, the oldest and longest of Jack’s friends in the future, now old and grey and but still full of fire. His army consists of his entire lineage of children, all of whom are women who are not afraid to show some skin in combat, in spite of their father’s insistence on putting on proper armor. Regardless of their attire, the armies commence their attack on Aku, who still suffers from his depression over the Samurai’s persistent existence. He sees the attack as on opportunity to hopefully cheer himself up, and immediately begins his counterattack, making quick work of most of the humans. The Scotsman realizes this was a bad idea, telling his daughters to immediately fall back while he distracts Aku, who notices their retreat. The Scotsman confronts Aku, belittling him for hiding in his tower while Jack continues to inspire more and more people with each passing day. Aku responds by aptly disintegrating the man with minimal effort, leaving nothing but dust and his now broken enchanted claymore sword. Aku smiles for a moment, but then remembers the hollowness in his non existent soul.

“Why did he have to bring up the Samurai?” he moans before returning to his throne.

The Scotsman’s daughters gather around his ashes, swearing vengeance for what Aku has done, only to be greeted by the spirit of their dead father. It seems his sword has the ability to keep his spirit on the mortal plane, which is just what he needs at the moment. He tells his daughters to regroup, gather more warriors, and most importantly, find Jack.

Speaking of the Samurai, we cut back to the island of ladybugs, where the two warriors are recuperating from the events of the previous episode. Ashi, now doubting everything that she was taught, has a vision of her mother berating and belittling her once more. Ashi is barely phased, however, as she now wants to know the truth about Aku’s order. As night gives way to morning, Jack finds a way off the island in the form of what appears to be a sea dragon. The creature gives Jack and Ashi across the sea to the mainlands, where Jack, surprisingly, bids Ashi farewell and walks off into the distance.

As Jack rests in the beach after another day of travel, he once more experiences the fiery hallucinations of his guilt. The fire starts to yell at him as faces from his past start to emerge from the embers. Unlike before, though, the vision doesn't last long. Jack's thoughts are interrupted by the appearance if Ashi, who has come to learn the truth from her former target. Jack initially refuses to tell her, saying that her lind is far too clouded by Aku’s hatred, but the assassin’s protests (which oddly parallels the Scotsman’s) cause Jack to change his mind. He tells her to wait until morning, only to be met with more impatient growls. As the two wait for sunrise, Ashi stares at the clear night sky. She asks Jack if Aku was the one who created the stars. Jack is appalled by the notion and tells her a tale his mother once told him long ago about two siblings named Sun and Moon riding their mighty Phoenix and shooting the darkness away with their magical bows and arrows. Ashi can’t help but smile as she visualizes the tale in her mind.

The next day, Jack takes Ashi through a field of desolation. There is nothing but ash and decay as far as the eye can see, save for one vibrantly colorful tree. Jack tells Ashi that instead of Aku being the one who brought this lone tree into existence, he was the one who destroyed all the other trees which once stood here. This field is a testament to Aku’s power and hatred over beauty. The second truth comes from the familiar landscape of a city ruled by Aku’s law. A ship lands at a port where Ashi and Jack watch in silence. The pilot is a criminal looking for refuge from his home planet. He is promptly given a home in a part of the world Aku has oddly left untouched, as every man, woman and child seem quite happy. The criminal gives a wide, toothy grin as he sees his new home, but this is not a warm, hospitable smile...this is a smile of malice and pure evil. This is Jack’s second lesson: the innocent are always targets in this world.

As Jack continues to show Ashi more of Aku’s world, she eventually concedes as they gaze upon a recently devastated village still lined with the corpses of it’s people. Ashi asks what can be done about Aku to which Jack responds that there is nothing that can be done. He has fought for so long that his hope is completely gone. A noise from the rubble attracts the two warriors, as they soon discover that one of the villagers still lives. He marvels at the Samurai’s return and tells them that the children of the village have been taken away to a nearby factory.

Jack and Ashi infiltrate the factory, hoping to find the children, unaware that they are being watched. In a nearby control room, a robotic foe opens a door close to the warriors, revealing the children. Ashi then hears a high pitched whine in the air as the children suddenly change from silent and stoic to vicious and primal. Jack and Ashi run as they formulate a plan to save these children, with the latter realizing the sound may control the children. Jack tells her to destroy the source as he leads the mind controlled army of children away.

Ashi tracks the sound to the control room, but is caught by an assortment of mechanical vices controlled by the sadistic guard who has observed her and Jack since they entered. He tortures her with electricity, calling her a Samurai Sympathizer, and regaling her with tales of how simple controlling the children was. Ashi’s rage builds to the point where she finally frees herself from her prison and finally gives the guard his comeuppance, as she throws him into a wall and causes his unstable armor to explode.

Meanwhile, Jack has been trying to defend himself from the children he wishes to save. The mind control has turned them into animals, making them pursue and attack Jack relentlessly, almost overwhelming him at one point. But then, suddenly, the children cry out in pain as electric sparks fly through the air. It appears the guard’s death is affecting the children, making them fall to the ground one by one. Jack cries out in anguish, believing the shock has killed the children. As he is consumed by grief, guilt and fear, a familiar green aura fills the scene. Outside, a familiar figure waits for Jack and finally speaks to him.

“IT IS TIME.”

Jack offers no resistance, walking alongside the Green Warrior into the fog.

Moments later, Ashi comes looking for the Samurai only to find the children. Like Jack, she is horrified by the sight, only to be thoroughly surprised soon after. The children start to wake up one by one, alive and well in spite of their trauma. Ashi calls out to the Samurai to show him what has happened, but he is nowhere to be found. Samurai Jack is gone once again.

As we finally reach the midpoint of the season, we're given a few things that fans have been dying for in this episode. Firstly, we see Ashi finally accepting the truth of the world she lives in. Ashi now knows the terror and destruction that Aku has wrought upon the world, and she wants to fight him. This can only be the beginning of a wonderful story I hope to see to the end. Next, we’re finally given a taste of what the Green Warrior truly is. He may not be the specter of death that I once thought, but perhaps he is more of an icon of Jack’s grief which may lead him to his death. Only time will tell what the true intentions of the warrior are. Throw in a long awaited appearance from a classic character, and you get yet another fantastic episode that left me wanting more. But, once again, we will have to wait until next week for the story to continue.

In the meantime, never stop rambling, TM Youtube version now available https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wXnsRX-jzwo

[jcoin7]

And You Look The Other Way

A friend of mine posed the following question: “Who would trust Trump to be alone with their young adult daughter?”

Hmmmm....Obviously this is someone who doesn’t trust Trump in general, and knowing him I can say with certainty that he is firmly on the Liberal side of the political spectrum. Which I am not. Well, not until recent events caused me to find myself labeled a Liberal by people whose leanings I realized were so far right that they can’t go fishing for fear of capsizing every boat they are in. But then something interesting happened, and by interesting I mean something that caused my hair to catch fire I was so mad at the jackass who responded with the following: “In the White House with Trump, yes. In the White House with Bill Clinton or Hillary Clinton, no.” 

See what happened there? The respondent (Let’s call him “Jack”) somehow decided that not only is Trump trustworthy enough to be left with a young woman alone, but that both Bill and Hillary Clinton are NOT. And when he was questioned on his statement he went even further, stating, “Only 2 presidents have a history of grabbing the pussy or letting sperm fly in the White House, and they are Kennedy (D) and Clinton (D).” That’s an exact quote so don’t blame me for the shitty writing, I do well enough with that on my own. 

With that comment Jack has done two things. First he has implied that Presidents Clinton and Kennedy’s affairs make them LESS trustworthy for young women to be around than a man who has been caught on tape admitting to grabbing women’s genitalia and getting away with it because he’s famous, and admitting to walking in on underage girls in beauty competitions he funds while these underage girls are in various stages of undress. Second he has implied, by including the aforementioned Presidents’ political affiliation, that Democrats are somehow less trustworthy around women than a man who between 1987 and 2012 changed his Party affiliation FIVE TIMES (1987 Republican, 1999 Independence Party, 2001 Democrat, 2009 Republican, 2011 No Party Affiliation AKA Independent, 2012 Republican). And that’s just since he moved to Manhattan back in 1987).

So I decided to tell him that no, he wasn’t correct. And a LOT of “NO” wound up coming out.

No, other Presidents have had numerous liaisons both in and outside of the White House.

No, they were not all Democrats. Like Thomas Jefferson, a Democratic-Republican (the ideological predecessor to the modern Republican Party), who had an affair with a slave and fathered five children with her. Can you imagine if he’d have been a Democrat? NO ONE would have let their slaves near him knowing how lecherous those pesky Dems could be! Or Warren Harding, a Republican, who allegedly had TWO affairs, and whose second mistress was actually paid $50,000 BY THE REPUBLICAN NATIONAL COMMITTEE so that she would not come forward and expose their affair as Harding had just won the Republican nomination to run for President. Boy, if he’d have been a Democrat I’m sure that he’d have dies much sooner from his untrustworthy ways than the manner in which he allegedly DID go - poisoned by his wife for cheating on him just three years into his Presidency! Whew! Good thing he was a Republican!

No, you were not asked to elaborate on the question so as to draw attention away from President-elect Trump's proclivity for physically assaulting women. You may (and I’d venture a guess WILL) continue the current Trumpist strategy of “Defense By Distraction,” but I would also venture a guess that such a tactic will eventually blow up in your collective faces.

No, it is not okay to state that "Only 2 presidents have a history of grabbing the pussy," since it completely ignores the fact that President-elect Trump has a history of doing just that, which is known because HE HIMSELF SAID SO. That’s right, you remember don’t you? He actually said that himself, it wasn’t someone claiming that he heard it, or some “11th hour victim” as you and others have called them, who you claim only came forward to try to hurt Trump’s chance of being elected. Even though a number of those women have been either attempting to get their story out for years or had previously told their story only to have it ignored because, well, the man wasn’t running for President at the time. Excuse me for a moment.

Okay, I’m back. I felt the need to wipe the feeling of disgust off of myself, for having to explain such things to a fellow human being who is apparently fine with slandering possible assault victims as well as blatantly making things up to suit his guy’s case. It’s sickening. And now to continue....

Yes, you can and probably will spend the next four years defending a man who, before he has even taken the Oath of Office, has reneged on many of the campaign promises that you voted him into office because of. A few quotes, and their current state of being: “I WILL build a wall, and Mexico will pay for it!” NOPE. “I will appoint a special prosecutor to investigate Hillary Clinton.” NAH. “I will repeal Obamacare and replace it with something much much better.” SORRY. “I will drain the swamp.” HAHAHAHAHAHAHANOOOOOOPE!

Yes, other Presidents have made mistakes.Clinton slashed both military spending and Intel spending to the point that the Agencies that collected Intel hoarded it and kept things from each other in order to make themselves look important, which indirectly led to the failure of Intel that was 9-11. But I’m sure his affair with an intern was MUCH worse since that is ALL YOU EVER TALK ABOUT when Trump’s sexual misadventures are brought up. And Obama spent so much time trying to get social programs through Congress that he ignored a large swath of the American public who were also hurting but felt that they had no voice anymore, which indirectly led to Secretary Clinton losing votes and helping Trump get elected. But hey, HILLARY STOOD BY BILL EVEN AFTER HE HAD AN AFFAIR! WHAT A BAD PERSON! That’s way more important, since you remember THAT but not that Trump is on his third marriage after cheating on his first two wives, while Bill and Hillary are still together even AFTER all that they went through. Family values, only Trump understands them.

No, you will not actually be able to point to the mistakes of these and other Presidents for the next four years in order to distract from the dumpster fire on top of a train wreck that is ALREADY becoming the Trump Presidency.

So there are my nos, along with some yeses just to keep it positive. But you may ask at this point, “Preacher, exactly WHY do you feel that the impending Presidency of Trump will be suck a massive clusterfuck?” Well, here are just a FEW things that I told good ol’ Jack when he continued to try defending the sweet potato with legs that is about to take charge. Mind you, ALL of these are FACTS unless I otherwise mention, and I DO mention it if it’s simply speculation or opinion for the sake of fairness:

The man admitted to grabbing female genitalia and getting away with it because he's famous and to intentionally walking in on young women while they were getting dressed. It’s him, on tape. And you looked the other way.

The man berated and belittled women. He called a former beauty queen “Miss Piggy,” he alluded to Megan Kelly having her period to explain why she, in his words, treated him “unfairly.” And you looked the other way.

This man mocked a reporter with a disability on national television. And to DEFEND HIM, right-leaning news outlets showed videos of him mocking OTHER PEOPLE. So the argument was that he wasn't mocking the disabled (which the video actually shows that he WAS), he just MOCKS LOTS OF PEOPLE. Which is unconscionable in a Presidential candidate, let alone the actual President. And you looked the other way.

The man pointed to completely fake news stories in order to besmirch the names of his political opponents. He actually cited an article in the Enquirer to explain how Ted Cruz’s father may have tried to kill Kennedy. On television. And you looked the other way.

This man got the news that the last true Socialist dictator, Fidel Castro, had died the same time the rest of the world did. And while the sitting President released an eloquent letter on what Castro's death and the ongoing normalization of relations between our two countries meant for Cuba and for the world, YOUR man tweeted, "Fidel Castro is dead!" That's it. From the next leader of the free world. And you looked the other way. 

The man used hatred in order to incite violence among his followers. He once told a crowd at a rally that he loved “the old days” because a protester who was interrupting him would be “carried out on a stretcher, folks,” and told another crowd in reference to a man who was punched and kicked for protesting that “maybe he should have been roughed up, because it was absolutely disgusting what he was doing.” The man was protesting. Nothing else. And you looked the other way.

The man showed on national television that he was unaware of some of the key aspects of our national defense strategy. When asked about our nuclear triad, the man SIMPLY HAD NO IDEA WHAT THE HELL THAT WAS. HE flailed about speaking on various topics from his opposition to the Iraq war (sigh - you’re on tape with an opposite statement there too guy), President Obama being wrong about global warming being important, and, oh yeah, his commitment that nuclear proliferation should be halted. And if that last one sounds great, it would except that shortly after this interview he went on record saying first of all that OTHER NATIONS SHOULD HAVE NUCLEAR WEAPONS, and that he himself was not opposed to A NUCLEAR STRIKE IN EUROPE in order to win a war. Which. I’m sorry, is as terrifying as it is absolutely fucking insane. And you looked the other way.

The man stated numerous times during his campaign that he would release his tax returns after the election. Then after the audit was completed. And most recently that it doesn't matter if he releases them because only the media cares. Which is completely false as well as a smack in the face to people, like Jack, who ACTUALLY DEFENDED TRUMP by saying that after he WON, the tax records would come out and then “boy will you Liberals look stupid!” And yet here we are. And you continue to look the other way.

The man stated, in clear language and in NO uncertain terms, that he would build a wall on the border between the United States and Mexico, and that he would make Mexico pay for that wall. Unequivocally, without any reservation, with no room for gray area, he told the American people that Mexico would pay for the wall. And within a month of his being elected he stated that the United States would build the wall and that Mexico would "reimburse us," which is COMPLETELY DIFFERENT than what he said would happen. And the SAME DAY that he announced this, the President of Mexico reiterated AGAIN in a statement that Mexico will NOT PAY FOR A WALL. And you looked the other way.

The man said that if he won the Presidency that he would put his businesses into a blind trust run by his children. Which is NOT A BLIND TRUST. Not by the business definition and CERTAINLY not by the legal definition. These are holdings that CAN and in fact already HAVE caused ethical issues stemming from the fact that foreign nations could show preferential treatment to his businesses in order to get preferential treatment from OUR NATION. And you looked the other way. But wait, this one gets worse. Because now that you have elected him, he has gone back on the promise to divest himself from his business holdings or come even CLOSE to putting them into a blind trust, instead openly stating in his first press conference that the day-to-day running of his businesses will be done by his sons, and that he and his daughter will have nothing to do with the running of said businesses. He will STILL OWN THE BUSINESSES THOUGH. Which, yes, is actually against the United States Constitution. That, in case you forgot, is the document that you and others like you were afraid that President Obama and Secretary Clinton if she were elected would tear to pieces, the same document that YOUR GUY is about to violate. And his daughter is as of today still in talks with a Chinese company about a Trump project in China, a company that is majority owned BY THE CHINESE GOVERNMENT. Neither she nor her father have made any move to cut her out of these negotiations. And you continue to look the other way.

The man stated that he would repeal Obamacare and replace it with "something much better." his own words. He also stated that no one would be left without coverage when Obamacare was repealed because he had "so many ideas" (again, his own words) for what to replace Obamacare with. And Congress has just moved to begin the repeal of Obamacare, something of which Trump approved, with NO REPLACEMENT AT ALL. AT ALL.  Let me say that again, NO REPLACEMENT AT ALL. Because of this, over TWENTY MILLION PEOPLE will at least temporarily and over half of them permanently LOSE THEIR HEALTH INSURANCE. This is tantamount to murder, as one of the biggest provisos of Obamacare has always been the inability to be turned down due to preexisting conditions, which is ALSO coincidentally one of the FIRST things that Congress JUST VOTED THE OTHER DAY TO END. And you continue to look the other way. 

The man, AND the sitting President, were briefed on CREDIBLE INTELLIGENCE that members of President-elect Trump's campaign had DIRECT CONTACT with the Russian government during the election. This is not the bed-pissing nonsense, I could not care less about whatever deviancy he practices or does not practice in his bedroom or in a Russian hotel room, for that matter. This is a detailed report based on real Intel that has caused the FBI to begin an investigation into whether members of the Trump election team colluded with the Russian government to sway a United States Presidential election. And you continue to look the other way.

But hey, at least he’s surrounding himself with “good people, smart people.” Once again, his words. How’s that going....

The man said that he would "drain the swamp," and that he would begine to rid Washington of lobbyists, insiders and big-business types who were only there for their own good and not the good of the people. And once he was elected he proceeded to nominate two Goldman Sachs executives, the CEO of the largest corporate entity in the world (Exxon-Mobil), and a handful of lobbyists to Cabinet and leadership positions. And you CONTINUE to look the other way.

The man appointed Stephen Bannon, who is responsible for articles such as “There’s no hiring bias against women in tech, they just suck at interviews” (totally misogynistic and written in such a gender-biased way as to be laughable),  “Trump 100% vindicated: CBS reports ‘swarm’ on rooftops celebrating 9/11″ (completely debunked to the point that CBS ran a story just to let people know that this was false news), and “Racist, pro-Nazi roots of Planned Parenthood revealed” (a hit piece written with such a slant that there is not an ounce of verifiable factual information in it). And when the man had his first press conference, he berated a CNN reporter and called the network “fake news” for reporting NOT that Trump likes to pay Russian prostitutes to pee the bed (that was Uproxx and others after that), but that he and President Obama had been briefed on “unverified intelligence from a credible source” that the Russian government might have information that could be used to blackmail the President-elect. That’s what CNN reported. NOT the pee-pee diaries. And your man conflated them with Uproxx. And then Trump took a question from Breitbart News. I shit you not.  And you looked the other way.

The man nominated a man who has a questionable track record regarding civil rights, who opposed repealing Don’t Ask Don’t Tell to give people of all sexual orientations the right to serve their country and who supported a Constitutional Amendment to ban same-sex marriage to head our nation's largest law enforcement body. Senator Sessions lost a bid to be a Federal Judge due to racist comments, and led his State’s defense of a school funding bill that was eventually found to be UNCONSTITUTIONAL due to its favoring of wealthy, mostly white schools over poor, mostly black ones.  And you looked the other way.

The man nominated a man to run the Office of Housing and Urban Development who has publicly stated that he DOESN'T THINK HE KNOWS HOW TO RUN SUCH AN ORGANIZATION. Ben Carson has ZERO experience running such an Agency, and has just as little experience in government. Oh yeah, and you and your friends AND TRUMP made Carson out to be a complete idiot during the Primaries who couldn’t run a Burger King. And you looked the other way.

The man nominated a man to run the Department of Energy who has publicly stated that he would DO AWAY WITH IT, though he COULDN'T REMEMBER THE AGENCY'S NAME WHEN HE WAS ASKED IT. Former Governor Perry is a climate change denier, and is STILL ON THE BOARD of the company that is trying to build the Dakota Access Pipeline. And you continue to look the other way.

The man nominated a woman to run the Department of Education who has a long and vociferous history of OPPOSING PUBLIC EDUCATION. Betsy DeVos is a billionaire who advocated for charter schools and the privatization of the public education system, something that has been repeatedly proven to favor the wealthy and to disproportionally affect the poor.  And you continue to look the other way.

In a few days this man will take the Presidential Oath of Office under a cloud of possible ethics violations, under a cloud of question over his leveraging of national power to make money for his businesses, under a cloud of suspicion over whether he will keep ANY of his campaign promises, most of which he’s already broken, and under a cloud of doubt as to his ability to actually do the job of President. The United States will have a possible Constitutional crisis on its hands from day one.

The fact that he has admitted to inappropriately touching women without their permission and to walking in on underage young ladies in various stages of undress are only two of MANY reasons that I would not trust the man alone with ANYONE, least of all my daughter. And she’s not even a year old yet. Which is good, because at least I can hope that by the time she understands stuff like politics, the Trump era will have become just an extremely embarrassing memory.

- Preacher

[angrywrasslenerd]

The Angry Wrasslin Nerd’s Wrassleviews: SWA Aftermath 2017

Another Aftermath is in the books, folks, and boy do I have some shit to say about this fuckin’ show. This thing ran the gamut from great fucking matches that will be talked about for years to come to the shit-stains on the wall of a subway bathroom, but let’s jump right in from the beginning and talk about each match.

Larsen Miles Retirement Match Gonna be super honest here guys. I don’t think I can be objective about this one, but I’ll try. First thing I gotta say is that the atmosphere in the arena was fuckin’ amazing for this shit. Crowd was on their feet, whole nine yards. Everybody in this match wrestled well, but it was obvious what this match was really about: one last ride for one of the greatest tag teams in SWA history. Anybody who read my Career Retrospective on Larsen Miles already know how I feel, but for those that didn’t, the man is a fucking legend and you should go read that shit right fucking now, ass-monkey. And sure, Miles went out on his back, but judging from the ovation he got at the end of the match, it barely mattered. The “Thank you Lars” chants echoed through the arena even after everybody in the match had already made the walk to the back.

The Nerd’s Rating: I’m not crying you’re crying/10

High Fly Heroes vs. Los Diablos Sweet, sweet schadenfreude. It’s basically half of my reason for watching professional wrestling, and it was in abundance here. After all the shit-talk, all the run-ins, all the BULLSHIT from Los Diablos over the past year, it was refreshing to see two of their members eat shit so hard. High Fly Heroes were in fine form tonight, and I’m glad SWA has relocated their big shows to a place with higher ceilings, because Dash and Ashlynn were on. Fucking. Point. Watching that whiny dick-puke Fabio motherFUCKING Silva throw an epic tantrum on the way out was the final, vindictive catharsis I needed

The Nerd’s Rating: Suck on that Los Diablos/10

unimportantguy vs. Becky Bravo Riddle me this, wrasslefans. In what fucking universe is a bloody, vicious, all-out brawl the beginning of a beautiful friendship? From the first punch thrown, these two beat each other’s faces in up and down the arena. unimportantguy picked Becky Bravo up and slammed her into a ring post. Becky Bravo fucking stomped on unimportantguy’s face until he was bleeding all over the ring mat. unimportantguy gave Becky Bravo a DDT on the fucking concrete floor out in the crowd. This was one of the bloodiest, nastiest brawls I’ve seen in an SWA ring since the infamous N-Trio vs. Kyle Sieras cage match back in 2009. And yet! And fucking yet! After the final Courage Crusher, after Becky Bravo’s hand was raised in victory, these two crazy fuckers shook hands and took turns raising each others arms. I don’t fucking get it.

The Nerd’s Rating: What the fucking fuck/10

Raye Groves vs. Kyle Sieras Look, this wasn’t the prettiest match on the card. It wasn’t anywhere close, but I wouldn’t expect it to be. Raye Groves hasn’t even been in SWA that long, and Sieras isn’t stupid, so I can forgive them the slow start. I’ve got nothing against two guys feeling each other out--OUT, you fucking jack-offs, not up--so long as it goes somewhere.  And damn, but it went somewhere.

Gotta give this some props, on a card less stacked with epic matches and crazy ass-fuckery, this might have even gone for match of the night. I’d definitely give it that on a TV spot, but not on an stacked pay-per-view like this one.The slow start built to an incredible clash of styles. Kyle Sieras intelligently evolved his strategy as he steadily realized that his striking wasn’t doing anything to Raye Groves, and Groves intelligently countered Sieras’ momentum with daring dives and impressive displays of power. Overall, it wasn’t a barn-burner, it wasn’t a match to end all, but it was a damn good match...except it was running up against some fucking great matches, and just couldn’t quite hold a candle. Congratulations to Raye Groves for an impressive win, and I’m looking forward to seeing what he does as Aftermath Champion.

The Nerd’s Rating: Good fun/10

Kazuo Saji vs. Connor Cipris I was pretty goddamn hyped for this one going in, what with the amazing goddamn epic of a match these two had at Galaxy of Heroes back in 2014. And it was a good match. But the wrestlers involved aren’t just good, they’re fucking great, and I expect more from these two. In a vacuum, I might be willing to give this match a fairer shake, but a comparison to Galaxy of Heroes is inevitable. At Galaxy of Heroes, Connor Cipris used strategy and viciousness to overcome Kazuo Saji with the Blade Breaker, but here at Aftermath, it felt more just like a contest to see who could hit each other harder.

Okay, editorial break time. Let me be real here. This idea of just being the guy that hits hardest and can take more hits? It’s bullshit. It’s not what professional wrestling is about, and I’m tired of seeing guys throw their careers away getting hit in the head again and again. Both here and in the unimportantguy vs. Becky Bravo match earlier in the night, I was distracted from enjoying the match by worrying about the well-being of the wrestlers involved. I expect more from Connor Cipris, and I expect more from SWA. Connor Cipris says that he wants to go after the SWA World Openweight Championship next, and if that’s true, I want to see him come into that match with more of a strategy than just “kick heads harder than the other guy.”

The Nerd’s Rating: Surprisingly Cringe-Worthy/10

Cerise vs. Mieko Suzuyama This one had a world of potential to be a show-stealer, and it did not disappoint. Cerise and Mieko were both trained by Jun Taiyou, and as such, they both had a great amount of insight into each other’s styles. They were matched so well, and both were so intense, that nobody wanted this match to end. And the amazing thing is, these ladies kept it all in the ring. They had one of most intense back-and-forth matches of the show without ever needing to go to the outside, and on a pure “what happened bell to bell” measure, only the main event beats this match out. More on that later.

Cerise worked the arm to weaken Mieko’s infamous chops. Mieko worked the leg to weaken Cerise’s vicious kicks. There was flying from the top rope, sick suplexes, and counter-wrestling galore. At the risk of repeating myself and sounding like a certain wrestling announcer, these two knew each other so well, and it showed. This is what joshi wrestling is all about right here folks, and I couldn’t be happier to see Mieko Suzuyama retain the belt after this hard-fought war, carrying the SWA Joshi brand proudly into the future alongside her new awesome theme song (which, if you haven’t heard that shit listen to it right the fuck now).

And holy shit, let’s talk about the delicious dessert at the end of this buffet of violence. At the end of the match, when Jun Taiyou comes out to berate her lacky for losing, Cerise backhands Jun and leaves her lying on the floor. Stone cold awesome.

The Nerd’s Rating: Fucking Rules/10

Armel St. Martin vs. El Rey Dorado Remember a while back when I was saying that I feel like El Rey Dorado could win his matches clean if he wanted to? Well, I’ll give it to him. He proved it to me here. In the steel cage with Armel St. Martin (The first steel cage match in SWA since the 2009 N-Trio vs. Kyle Sieras massacre), the masked man from Puerto Escondido put on one of the best performances I’ve seen in my life. I don’t think I’m going to be able to forget the sight of a damn near seven foot tall man moonsaulting off the top of the cage for a very long time. Everything that happened bell to bell was an easy candidate for Match of the Year.

But after the bell! After the bell... fuck me sideways. Here comes the fuckboy patrol, as Aguijon Tachibana and goddamn Fabio motherFUCKING Silva come out. As if that’s not bad enough, they gesture to the back, and who comes out with them but Cerise. That’s fucking right. Jun Taiyou’s latest whipping bitch shows a moment of independent thought earlier in the show, only to turn around and join fucking Los Diablos. Excuse me a moment while I vomit blood all over my keyboard. Los Diablos, now with Cerise, come into the ring, bully the techs into dropping the cage again to keep anyone from interfering, and beat the shit out of Armel St. Martin and I can only ask, “WHY?” WHY the FUCK does El Rey Dorado keep fucking doing this shit? If bullshit was an art-form, then this right here was the Shitstine Chapel. You put on one of the best matches of the year so far, you retain the title 100% clean against a multi-time former champion and your biggest rival in SWA, you finally prove that you can in fact win the big fucking matches without your squad of bitches, and then you fucking murder a man on live television in front of a crowd of thousands? There’s nothing left to prove, you shit-flinging orangutan’s asshole! WHY? What fucking purpose could this display of unfettered dickshittery actually serve? Fuck this match, fuck El Rey Dorado, fuck Los Diablos, fuck everything, fuck my fucking LIFE.

The Nerd’s Rating: Fuck my LIFE/10

[darkredehmption]

#Solo ‘The Night is for Hunting’

#Part1

Mentions @DamagedBrother and @PanwerePredator

****

As the wind tore at my wings, threatening to push me off course, I said yet another string of curses, each of them lost in the turbulence.

Battling the elements forced me to consider the fact that the universe itself was telling me i should never have left the manse, but of the few things I had to my name, my word, my honour, was among the most priceless. As a Hunter, that meant even more. No one wanted to work with a hunter they couldn’t trust, and hunters that couldn’t be trusted didn’t last long.

So I forced my exhausted body to keep fighting, drawing up whatever dregs of strength I had left to keep myself airborne and heading in the right direction. This would’ve been so much easier if I could just dematerialize, but it was one of the few vampiric traits I’d wanted and not received.

Thinking of vampires only distracted me, my thoughts turning to Zsadist like a sunflower turned to follow sunlight. Leaving the male at the shifter’s bedside had twisted at something deep and primal in me, and now it screamed at the fact I’d left; left, when he was already unsteady from nearly losing his friend.

There was no reconciling that part of me, no soothing it as it tore strips off me inside and berated me with cold words. I could only do as I’d promised - help my hunter friend, and return. Keep my promise to return.

By the time I reached the address Ethan had given me I was ready for that biting wind to blow me over. Landing was more of a bracing stumble, my wings trembling as I tried and failed to fold them to my back. When that didn’t work, my primaries trailing in the mud slick grass, I gave up and retracted them completely. Even that Divine effort cost me as I paused, counting to ten as the world tilted then righted itself.

The house was the very last at the bottom end of a street. It’s closest neighbour was boarded over, the signs of looking even more decrepit than I felt. Stepping over the threshold into the yard, I did the usual sweep. A jet fuelled lawn mower wouldn’t have made a dent in the gardens, the grass too high and wild. The pathway itself was cracked and broken, pieces of cement slowly starting to creep away into that sea of swaying yellow brown. One slab looked like it’d been overturned at some point, dirt flecked across the surface. I managed a tired smile as I realized there was probably some sort of magical ward now painted on the other side.

Though I wouldn’t want to perform an exorcism in my front yard, it helped that there weren’t neighbours too close to witness it.

Reaching the front door, I eyed the windows either side, all covered, and then the frame of the door itself. Kernels of salt poked out from under the door, and I knew the inside would be a thorough line. The heavy duty wards against demons didn’t go uncatalogued as I managed to lift my hand and knock.

A voice I didn’t recognise answered.

“State your business!”

An understandable request, but after fighting off a narcissistic vampire to save his human servant’s soul and then flying hours to get here in what could only be categorized as aerial hell, I was less than jovial in my response. Besides, I’d already stepped over the demon ward - if anyone was bothering to pay attention that should’ve been hint enough I was, mostly, human.

“I bring good tidings of the word of the Lord,” I called back, sounding as tired as I felt. “He says he can save your immortal souls if you’ll only open the fucking door and get me a beer.”

Indeed the door cracked open, but the strange face that leered out did not look altogether impressed by my banter. Somehow, I mustered up a grin.

“You some sort of smart ass? Donchu know you got about four rifles pointed at you son?”

I huffed a sigh. “Only four? I’m insulted.” His brows drew together in a frown, so I quickly pushed on. “M’ here for Ethan, buddy. He’s calling in a favour and here I am.”

“You’re a hunter?”

His disbelief and sarcasm was only marginally more endearing than his unfaltering skepticism. Lifting one hand, slowly, I braced it on the frame and leant forward. The rifle nosed its way into the gap, pointed right at my chest.

“Look, Chief of Security, I travelled a long way very quickly to be here for /Ethan/,” I repeated his name with emphasis. “So if you want my help, now’s the time to go get him. Otherwise, he can stick his favour and I’ll head on home.”

It was a lie. I doubted my ability to walk to the end of the street at this point, but I needed this shit to move along faster than it was, and after a beat, the guy playing guard dog seemed to agree with me. Backing away from the door, rifle still trained on me, he allowed me the courtesy of stepping in and shutting out the miserable weather behind me.

He hadn’t been lying about the number of rifles. From where they’d been aimed at me in cracks at the windows they now swivelled to track me inside. I didn’t falter, used to the greeting.

“Ethan!” I called.

There was a thump, then a curse, then the scrabble of footsteps as someone hustled from another room.

“F’fuck’s sake, can’t a man get an hour of rest~” He cut himself off as he rounded the corner to catch sight of me. He whistled long n’ low, a grin splitting his face as he ignored all the weapons to step through the group and take my offered arm in a warriors embrace. “You made it here fast.”

Thumping his back, I gave a nod and eased away. The others, at last, lowered their weapons.

“Flew. Wouldn’t have made it here until tonight if I’d taken the car.”

“We’re still waiting on a few faces,” he admitted, eyeing me. “Maybe it’d do you some good to kip as well. You look like shit man.”

“Feel like it,” I agree. “I left that little problem I spoke to you about and came straight here.”

He looked almost guilty at that, nodding his head.

“Sorry to have called in that favour so fast but... we have a situation here n’ I wanted to deal with it before they got wind of us coming.”

I glanced to the other hunters, all of whom were watching and listening carefully.

“You invite a bevy of hunters to one small town n’ you don’t think they’ll notice?” I asked quietly, arching a brow.

“He still needs to be tested!” Guard dog piped up. The way Ethan’s lips thinned let me know that he wasn’t exactly a fan of the guy either, but endured for the hunt. As we all did. He shot me a look and i simply shrugged, waiting for the flask of holy water to be passed over by GD. I took a swig, but like he didn’t believe I’d swallowed (and trust me, I do) he flicked the container at me to spray a little over my chest. I answered by squirting a stream of it back between my teeth.

Ethan snorted as GD jerked away, cursing and scowling.

“Can I get a real drink now?”

Flashing me a grin, Ethan grabbed one from fuck knew where and tossed it over. Then he gestured at the others.

“Our doorman here is Will. That’s Jack, Sarah and Tyrone.

I spared each of them a glance and a nod, before Ethan looked to them and gestured at me.

“This is Malachi.”

“Well, how did Malachi get here if there’s no car parked outside?” Will groused, keeping a firm grip on his rifle even if it wasn’t pointed at me.

The duffel slung over my shoulder felt like it weighed a ton as I shifted it into a more comfortable position. He had a point though; the only things that arrived without wheels in this world were angels and demons.

“Mal is a special breed of help,” Ethan soothed, before I could open my mouth and come up with some semblance of a half decent lie. “Why don’t y’all go back to keeping watch, eh? I got shit to discuss with Mal.”

I wriggled my fingers in a cute wave, Will bristling even as the other three either gave nods or tried to hide smiles. Following Ethan through the house, I noted the towers of books, most occult, the shell compress and trays of silver bullets, as well as the symbols drawn on every available surface. Floors. Ceiling. Walls.

“What is this place?” I murmured, pinning the spot between Ethan’s shoulders with a look.

He glanced over his shoulder at me, pausing before a bedroom with two cots and gesturing in. I stalked to the cot that seemed the least slept in, and dumped my kit at the end of it. The relief of having it off my shoulder was exquisite as my body begged for me to lie back on that creaky cot and close my eyes.

Instead I sipped from my drink and sat, bracing my elbows on my knees. Ethan sat across from me. By the look of the tangled sheets, the thump I’d heard on my entry had been him falling out of this same cot.

“How’d your shifter problem work out?”

His voice was almost guilty, and I shrugged as I glanced to the boarded up, salt lined window.

“I think it worked. He was still alive when I left.”

“Hey… m’ sorry to call in my marker so fast~”

I held up my hand to silence him, shaking my head.

“If you called it in so fast it must be urgent. N’ my people are looking after the shifter. So… it’s fine.” It wasn’t. “I’m here.” Reluctantly…

Ethan nodded, looking at his hands joined in his lap, then back up at me and managing a rueful smile.

“Your shifter could be the first one to live through the bond that I’ve heard of.”

“He’s not my shifter,” I replied automatically, thinking of Hadrian and taking another sip from my bottle.

Thinking of the panwere had my mind turning to Zsadist, and I thought of the vampire with a sharp pang of longing. What had it been, a few hours? And I already felt like some piece of me was missing.

“What m’ I here for, Ethan?” I continue, arching a brow.

Leaning back on his cot until his back was half slumped against the wall, he took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. The faint light he’d managed to conjure in his eyes, even in such a tired state, faded away.

“Things are moving Mal. Have you heard anything from upstairs?”

I balked at the question, and the fact he’d even bothered to ask. Few knew who and what I was, and even then they tended to know better than to ask if I had any input from the Creator. Shaking my head, I leant back from my braced position, beer forgotten in my hand.

“You know I don’t get office memos, Ethan.”

He made a face, though not at me, as if he resented the fact I was out of the Divine loop.

“There’s a nest of demons here.”

I blinked. “Demons?”

He nodded, finally meeting my gaze again. “At least a dozen or more. It’s as if the local town has become a vessel port. Demons come in and board the ships and sail on into their lives.”

“Cute metaphor,” I muttered. “Then what’s the plan? Exorcism or extermination?”

A calculated look.

“Whatever doesn’t get us killed. I’ve called in a few more markers, and we’re just waiting on them to arrive as well. Then, tonight, we’ll move.”

“Tonight?”

There was incredulity in my voice, and I couldn’t help it. Facing off against a demon horde tonight meant I was still a minimum twenty-four hours from flying back to Zsadist and the Brothers. It felt like forever.

“They meet after dark. And generally when they do, their numbers swell again. We need more bodies to help us but if we wait any longer we’ll be facing a small army,” he explained, raking a hand through his auburn hair and lifting one leg to brace on the cot. “We’ve assessed where, and we have a few plans, but once the rest arrive, we’ll finalize everything. Then we move. Until then?” He arched a brow and looked me over, then tilted his head toward the cot. “You should get some rest. You look like hell.”

Letting out an exasperated noise, I finished my drink and set the bottle beside my cot on the floor. Then I kicked off my boots.

“The dream team out there got this?”

Ethan grinned and nodded, turning and laying back himself to tuck one arm behind his head. I reached for the blanket folded at the end of my bunk and pulled it up and over myself. As I lay back, my exhausted body chirped in gratitude.

“They got this. Get some beauty sleep. Lord knows you need it.”

I flipped him off as I grinned and dropped my head to the pillow. A beat later, I thought of Z, of his golden eyes and the warmth of him at my side in bed.

A beat after that, I passed out.