#some massive shit must be in stored for he r

[inavagrant]

Signora would be so proud.

[sgtjbbhasmyheart]

Drunk Texting Is(n’t) Bad for Your Health- Chapter Two

Series Summary: Talk about your unconventional meet-cute! Bucky receives a text by mistake requesting he prove he's not Reader's sister. The easy dialogue between Reader and Bucky sparks a natural friendship, but could it lead to more? Bucky still deems himself unworthy of any form of affection or love. Reader is hellbent to prove him wrong. With the help of some (meddling) friends along the way, Bucky may get his happily-ever-after after all.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word count: 2921

Warnings: bad language words, blink and you’ll miss the angst, just some fluff

A/N: divider credit- @firefly-graphics

DO NOT copy or replicate without my permission

You awoke with a start, feeling as if you were late for work or something important and forgot to set your alarm. Your heart beat an erratic tattoo against your ribcage. Scrambling for your cell phone, you blindly reached across the side table near your bed in a panic. Unplugging the phone, you brought the device an ungodly closeness to your face. It was only 6:17. On Saturday.

Your pulse throbbed behind your eyeballs, and a strange stickiness coated the inside of your mouth. Did you drink that much last night?

How could you not? Timmons was a fair boss, and you enjoyed your job, but that dude loved the sound of his own voice.

The quarterly business dinners were mandatory for all employees, even for the P.A.s. Typically, they weren’t so bad, but last night, Timmons felt the need to toot his own horn for landing a massive contract with Stark Industries slash The Avengers. He went on and on about how great it was for the firm.

He was like a giant kid in a candy store with his ramblings. ‘We will be promoting the face of The Avengers and everything that goes with it,’ he spouted off like the firm was god’s gift to public relations.

You groaned at the reminder of last night’s presentation. The contract wasn’t even in effect yet, and you were sick of the Earth’s Mightiest Heroes. Timmons could be a real buzz kill.

Rolling to your back, you brought your phone up to tap the screen to read the emails you received overnight. On display was a text from 11:04 by someone named James. It read: “Goodnight, (Y/N).”

Your mind went back to last night again, trying to recall who this James was. He must be significant if you plugged his contact information into your phone already. Had you met someone last night?

Drawing a blank, you clicked on the text bubble to pull up the thread. Briefly scanning through the numerous texts, everything came rushing back. In an attempt to text your sister, Robyn, you mistakenly texted this mysterious, James.

You felt like an utter buffoon when you learned he wasn’t Robyn. You always did have a way with the cute boys. Probably why you were single. You groaned out loud as you read on.

You im safely inside my apartment. Pretty sure no one followed me home

James Did you triple check the lock on the front door?

You yes dad yeesh

James There are a lot of bad people out there. Just want to make sure you’re safe.

You sounds like you watch the news too much but its sweet of u to care

James I know from experience.

You r u the bad guy or have u been the one mugged?

James Let’s just say I have friends that have dealt with the bad things of the world.

You right i almost forgot ur a military-trained assassin athlete mchottie

James Did you ever send your sister a text?

You shit thanks for reminding me i have such a crazy story to tell her

James Only good things, I hope.

You oh yeah all the good things an enigmatic yet handsome stranger cares more about my safety than any of my ex-boyfriends ever did.

James My ma raised me right.

You id say

James_ I hate to cut this short, but I think you need your rest. Especially if you’re meeting your sister tomorrow._

You i dont want to agree but ur probably right

You whats ur name btw?

James My name? Why? Do you plan to continue texting me after tonight?

You duh ur fun to talk to

James Oh.

You or not its cool if u dont want to

James It’s James.

You nice to meet u james im (y/n)

James Nice to meet you as well.

You my sister just texted me back and were still meeting at 9 i should go 

You goodnite james

James Goodnight, (Y/N).

Oh. My. God. Had you seriously drunk-flirted with a stranger and offered to keep texting him? You had no shame with a few drinks in you.

You brought a hand up to pinch the bridge of your nose and sighed loudly.

What did you know of this James? He had a New York area phone number. Check. He could have been a real dick about your mistake but wasn’t. Understanding. Check. He worried about you getting home safely in your inebriated state. Caring. Check. Not too forthcoming with the nine to five. Secretive. Check. His mouth looked so soft and plush, and his eyes were made to drown in. Gorgeous. Check.

A heat simmered beneath your skin as you recounted the shortlist you’d made. Were you lusting over someone you’d exchanged less than forty texts with? Had you somehow woken back up in high school?

Shaking your head to clear your thoughts, you stared at the screen displaying the message thread. Were you really considering this? You nodded your head to answer your own question. Where was the harm in a little shameless flirting? If worse came to worst, you could always block him.

With your mind made up, you began typing into your phone, constructing an apology.

You Good morning! First off, I want to apologize for the way I behaved over text last night.

You Though, I do like to imbibe in the occasional drink or two, I am, by no means, a lush.

You Please take everything I said with a grain of salt. Apparently, I get loose-lipped and cheeky with free wine. 😐

You Again, I’m sorry and understand if you wanted to cease our correspondence for my behavior.

You blew out a breath and tossed your phone aside. It was up to fate now and a stranger named James.

You laid in your bed for several minutes staring at the ceiling, contemplating between whether to send a ‘haha just kidding’ text and what the weather would be like, so you could forego shaving your legs in the shower today.

Your phone chimed during the pondering of hair removal, indicating a new text. You knew it was James proclaiming you a freak and to forget his number, but secretly, you hoped it was Robyn canceling today.

Seizing the phone from your mattress top, your heart’s beat increased with each second you went without looking at the screen. Finding the courage, you flipped the device over to read the message.

James Quite the formal apology, Ms. Professor.

You smiled at the text. It didn’t tell you to pound sand or eat shit. No, it was teasing and in jest. You sighed in relief.

You Cease our correspondence too much?

James No, no it was perfect if this was 1863, and you were breaking up with me via telegraph.

You Stop!

James Exactly! ‘Never speak to me again!’ Stop. ‘It’s not you, it’s me.’ Stop.

A belly laugh disrupted the tranquil air of your bedroom. You quickly thumbed out a reply once you caught your breath.

You You’re incorrigible.

James I’m glad to see you are using proper capitalization and punctuation this morning.

You Ha!

You When you are buzzed and/or tipsy, capitals and periods be damned. Like you’re so perfect when you’re drunk.

James We all have our flaws.

Was he implying he was a sloppy texter when drunk, too? You shrugged it off as him being cryptic again.

You What are you doing up so early on a Saturday? I didn’t wake you, did I?

You were suddenly stricken with guilt. You should have waited for a more reasonable hour to send out rapid-fire apology texts. Not at 6:36 in the morning. You didn’t want last night’s behavior hanging over you, though. Better to clear the air now than later. You could always ask for forgiveness again if you had disturbed his sleep.

James I had just gotten back from my run when I saw your texts. I have training this morning.

You Oh, right. For your hush-hush, super top secret mission/quidditch game.

You You ever gonna tell me what you really do?

James_ Maybe. Someday._

How far away was someday? Was he planning to text you until you both died or until he got bored? How did texting relationships even work?

You Or is it one of those situations where if you told me you’d have to kill me?

James 😈

You There you go again--being all mysterious.

James Keep ‘em guessing and coming back for more.

You Has that strategy worked well for you in the past?

James Got you to text me again this morning, didn’t it?

You scoffed at what he had suggested. He was correct, but your stubborn streak would deny everything.

You The only reason I texted you this morning was to apologize for acting like a drunken fool last night.

And to squash the curiosity burning in your veins. But he didn’t need to know that.

James Oh.

The reply caused you to furrow your brow and your stomach to drop. You regretted not adding more levity to your last text. Of course, it wasn’t the only reason you were drawn to him.

You I appreciate that the selfie you sent wasn’t a dick pic. And you genuinely seemed to care about me getting home safely. Thank you.

You And maybe- a teeny, tiny bit- is honestly interested in getting to know you better.

You waited on pins and needles for his text, watching the pulsing ellipsis on your screen. Was he just humoring you?

James Hook. Line. Sinker.

Reading his response generated a flush from your jaw to your hairline. You growled in embarrassment. You fell for the oldest trick in the book. He baited you for a compassionate answer, and you delivered beautifully. Hook, line, and sinker, indeed.

You You’re an ass. I take everything back.

James Don’t be mad. I wasn’t sure how it was going to go, but you played into my trap wonderfully.

James If it makes you feel any better, all kidding aside, I want to get to know you better too.

James I fell asleep with a smile on my face last night and woke up with one this morning.

James Because of you, (Y/N).

A flutter broke apart in your chest. You hadn’t time-traveled back to high school; no, this was junior high territory.

You You’re lucky you’re so damn charming, James.

James Doll, you have no idea.

The subway ride into Manhattan usually gave you the chance to get a little reading in since it took nearly fifty minutes from Queens. Not today, though. You spent the entirety of the train ride texting back and forth with James. It was mundane stuff, but you were getting a grasp of who James was as a person.

You Favorite color?

James Black. You?

You Blue.

You Favorite ice cream flavor?

James Chocolate. Yours?

You Ben & Jerry’s Cherry Garcia.

James I didn’t realize we were getting specific.

You We weren’t, but that’s my favorite.

You Favorite movie?

James I like the classics- The Wizard of Oz, It’s A Wonderful Life, Frankenstein.

You I have too many to list, so don’t ask.

You Okay. Lightning round because I’m almost to my stop.

James Where are you going again?

You paused your reply for a brief second, wondering if you should divulge your destination. You’d known James less than twenty-four hours; although, it felt like weeks after this morning. Where was the harm in telling him where you were meeting your sister? There were nearly nine million people in this city. There was no way you’d ever bump into each other.

You A bakery in the Upper East Side called Two Little Red Hens. Ever been?

James Don’t think I have.

You Well, since you like chocolate, they have a fantastic cake called Brooklyn Blackout. Super rich but delicious.

James Sounds right up my alley.

You Cats or dogs?

James I’m gone too much, so cats.

The answer piqued your interest. Maybe he was an athlete. Wouldn’t it be practice and not training, though? Or he’s FBI or CIA.

You Socks on or off for sleeping?

James Off.

You Silver or gold?

James Silver.

You Morning, noon, or night?

James Night.

You How do you take your coffee?

James Room for sugar and creamer.

You Boxers or briefs?

James Boxer briefs.

You laughed out loud, looking around the subway car to see if anyone was paying attention to you. Per usual, they weren’t.

You Touché.

As soon as the train stopped, you gathered your purse close to your body and made for the exit. You followed the crowd of fellow passengers through the turnstile and ascended the stairs onto street level.

The morning sunlight caressed your skin like a warm blanket. The humidity wasn’t too bad, yet, but the threat of afternoon thunderstorms still hung in the air.

Even with the reasonably early hour, the sidewalk was stuffed with people, carrying to-go coffee cups or shopping bags. You fought for your little spot of real estate on the grimy concrete.

Stopping at a red traffic light, waiting to cross, you typed out another question for James.

You Pineapple on pizza--yay or nay?

The light changed as you finished, and the throng of pedestrians around you guided you across the street. You spotted Robyn outside the bakery as your phone dinged with a new text alert.

“Wow, I’m surprised you made it on time,” Robyn said as you hugged hello.

You looked at the clock on your phone. 8:58. “You and me both, sister.” Glancing back at your phone’s screen, you giggled.

James What kind of monster puts pineapple on their pizza??

“What’s so funny?” Robyn asked as you accompanied her through the bakery’s door.

With a grin on your face, you punched out a quick reply:

You Well, it was nice knowing you, James. It was a swell friendship while it lasted--a whole 11 ½ hours.

Robyn elbowed you softly in the ribs with a look on her face, seeking an explanation.

“Ow,” you grunted. “What?”

“You tell me. I half expected a zombie to walk through the doors today after your text last night. Not Suzie Sunshine.”

You both edged closer to the counter as the line in front of you dwindled.

James Say it ain’t so, doll! Pineapple on pizza? Really??

You let out a low chortle as you skimmed the text. You glimpsed up at Robyn as you shuffled forward in line again. “Believe me, I’m pretty hungover,” you replied, shoving your phone in your back pocket. “It’s a funny story. I’ll tell you everything when we sit.”

Robyn stared at you warily, still trying to figure out what had come over you. “Okay,” she conceded, stepping to the register to order.

With each of you supplied with an iced coffee and a peach ginger scone, you found an empty table by a window along 2nd Avenue and proceeded to tell Robyn about James.

When you stopped to catch your breath, remembering the whirlwind the last twelve hours had been, you peered at your sister for her reaction.

She stared at you like you’d grown a second head. She shook her head in disbelief. “(Y/N), what where you thinking?”

Your brow pinched in confusion. Was she actually scolding you? You crossed your arms over your chest. “I was thinking about how my big sister is always telling me to meet new people and how it’s time I thought about settling down.”

“Not like this it’s not,” she hissed. “This is how your body parts end up in someone’s freezer!”

You choked on the piece of scone you shoved in your mouth before she started ridiculing you. After coughing to clear your airway and taking a sip of your iced coffee, you leered at Robyn. “Oh, my god! Dramatic much? Have you been binge-watching Dateline again? Jesus Christ, Robyn, he’s harmless,” you countered.

“You think you’ll be so careful, but you’ll let one little detail slip, and he’ll find you,” Robyn said before taking a pull from her coffee.

“You mean, like, how I was meeting you at Two Little Red Hens at nine o’clock?”

Robyn’s mouth popped open in an O. “What the hell, (Y/N)?” she stage-whispered. “Are you trying to get yourself kidnapped and sold into sex trafficking?”

“Please,” you drew out in one long syllable. “He doesn’t know what I look like. How would he snatch me?”

“He could look you up on Facebook.”

“Without a last name?” You shook your head, no.

“What about a reverse search on your number?” Robyn asked, pushing the plate holding her scone away. “That’s a thing.”

“Perhaps, but it seems like a lot of effort for a mistake I made. It wasn’t like he was seeking me or anyone else out.”

Robyn huffed out a breath and folded her arms in exasperation. Always the protective big sister. You could tell you were breaking her down, though.

“C’ mon, Robbie. It’s all in innocent fun. I’m not saying I’m hoping he’ll turn out to be Mr. Right, but the banter is fun,” you remarked. “James is charming and witty and nice to talk to.”

Robyn shook her head once more, frowning. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

You reached across the table for her hand and squeezed gently. “Me too.” You smiled slyly, remembering last night’s dinner and Timmons gushing about The Avengers. “If not, I know how to get ahold of a couple of centenarians who know chivalry isn’t dead.”

Chapter One | Chapter Three

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[kylos]

i was asked to make some fic recs of stuff i’ve been reading since tros dropped but since tumblr has a glitch where i can’t add a “read more” cut in asks, i decided to make it a separate post because i have a LOT. all of them are rated E except for like, three lmao and they’re mostly modern au ones with some fix-its thrown in. i’ll put two of my favorites outside of a cut and the rest after it.

(won’t you let me) walk you home from school by somethingdifferent modern au. ongoing. ben and rey are co-workers at a private school. rey as a elementary school art teacher is SO CUTE. her and ben have a slow burn enemies to lovers situation going on and god, what can i say about this fic. one of THE BEST reylo fics i’ve ever read. incredibly in character. you know those fics that are so enthralling that they draw you in and you realize like 3 hours later that you’ve read the whole thing? this fic is one of those stories. it reels you in. and REY. i hate fics that are like, “she’s so plain and mousy and ordinary and lanky” like, NO. i love that this author characterizes her as the vibrant, sweet, radiant person she is. and ben’s deadpan humor in this is amazing. he’s got it so bad for rey but he’s such a self-sabotaging goof. just, god. i can’t stress enough how amazing of a fic this is. a must read. and if you love what we do in the shadows, read somethingdifferent’s cracky wwdits x reylo crossover oneshot - it’s hilarious

a place to go by delia-pavorum (literaryminded) modern au. bit of a slow burn. ben and rey are strangers and accidentally both end up at luke’s cabin during xmas vacation because luke, a fellow teacher at rey’s school lends it to her for the holiday and a certain grumpy tol nephew of his happens to drop by thinking it’s vacant. they get snowed in. [in bill hader’s stefan voice] this fic has everything: bed sharing, an enemies-to lovers dynamic, slow dancing to frank sinatra, snark, british!rey and ben finding her accent adorable, ben reading jane austen to a sick rey, smut, and fluff. another one of the best reylo fics i’ve ever read in the past 5 years i’ve been a shipper. it’s so well written and it made me cry with how moved i was by it. i stayed up all night reading all 8 chapters it was that good.

the man, the stallion, and the wind by voicedimplosives modern au. i love this fic so, so, so much. rey picks up a hitchhiking ben and they have to hang out in her trailer while the winter storm calms down. so fluffy and smutty i love it so much. their characterizations are perfect. definitely a fic that i’m gonna come back to read over and over again.

between two lives by neonheartbeat modern au. rey’s a model and her car breaks down in the middle of nowhere and she stays with mechanic ben solo while her car gets worked on. SUCH a good fic. the build up to their relationship is *chefs kiss* and the smuttttt. amazing. and i was not prepared for all the feels.

carve your name upon my heart by TourmalineGreen modern au and 3 chapters. one of the most unique fics i’ve ever read. it actually got me really emotional and i like, hardly ever cry reading fics. rey’s an artist that creates a sculpture (ben) that comes to life. such a beautiful fic, i absolutely adore it.

big dick problems by TourmalineGreen modern au. rey and ben are co-workers at a book store and ben being a kind of aloof person, rey thinks he hates her (she’s wrong ofc asdklfjsd). anyway one day at work she sees that he was browsing the r/bigdickproblems subreddit on his phone aaaand i won’t say more. seriously, go read this. it’s SUCH a good fic, ben & rey are so in character and it’s a good plot.. it’s one of those fics that i’m definitely gonna come back to re-read a bunch of times.

rebel side of heaven by jeeno2 modern au. ben and rey are friends, but i guess they’re more so acquaintances in the same friend group. ben’s a virgin and rey offers to teach him about sex but unbeknownst to her, ben’s got a massive crush on her 😏

tattooed heart by KyloTrashForever modern au. one of the best modern au fics i’ve ever read. i stayed up all night reading it, it was soooo good. just. the smut, the fluff. i can’t recommend it enough. the description: “ Rey Johnson has found herself down on her luck lately. A week long vacation to Hawaii for her best friend’s destination wedding should be just the thing she needs, only her day has been hell. Hell, her year has been hell. When the hot bartender with that fucking mouth makes her an enticing proposition, she finds herself unable to refuse. Besides, it isn’t as if she’ll ever see him again...”

sealed to me by glittergothh canonverse and takes place after tlj. this could serve as a tros fix it tbh because it’s like it’s own movie. i love the plot and ben & rey are so in character. the knights of ren actually play an integral part in this. love the finn/ben interactions.

love like ghosts by Yours_Truly_Commander_Shepard canonverse. my favorite tros fix-it fic so far. features the world between worlds, ezra, ahsoka, and anakin. rey goes back in time to save ben. and the scene where rey visits ben on mustafar 👀🔥 LORD. i LOVE this so much and it was just what i needed to read after the train wreck that was tros.

I've Got You, Babe by crossingwinter modern au. oneshot. a REALLY cute t-rated fic about ben taking care of rey after she gets the flu :’)

charcoal and petals by Hormonal_Trashbag modern au. a really sweet tattoo artist/flower shop worker fic that i really enjoyed! i’m a sucker for this trope because of abigeyedowl’s gorgeous tattoo-artist!ben and florist!rey art tbh

9 Pints by tigbit modern au. ben’s a vampire. oh my god this fic is amazing. it’s still ongoing but some of the best smut i’ve EVER read. a bit of a slow burn but man. it’s so good.

miles from where you are by Mooncactus modern au. i hardly EVER read anything under M but this has to be one of THE best reylo fics i’ve ever read. their characterizations, the slow burn, oh my god. it’s SO good and funny and fluffy. enemies to lovers perfection. the description: “After an argument over Star Wars fandom with a "gatekeeping, entitled monster" with the cryptic username of KyloRen, Rey finds herself stuck in a series of unavoidable video calls.”

saving mr. wanks by LovesBitca8 modern au. oneshot. rey catches ben in the act of uh, wanking off in the men’s restroom lmfaooo. it’s rare when a fic actually makes me like cry of laughter and this fic was hilarious. and the SMUT oh my god. so good.

auld lang syne by KyloTrashForever modern au. oneshot. ben and rey are roommates. ben keeps getting text messages from an unknown number with uh, explicit pictures and he eventually accuses rey of sending them to him ASLKDFJSD. i won’t say more because i don’t wanna spoil it but i love this fic sm.

bliss, balance and birth by crossingwinter canonverse. oneshot. ben teaches their daughter how to read. this is SO cute and just what i needed to read after tros.

gorgeous by Ever-so-reylo (Ever_So_Reylo) modern au. ben and rey are co-workers and they end up having to go on a company retreat. enemies to lovers perfection

caught in the headlights by jeeno2 modern au. twoshot. “Rey Johnson forgets to wear a bra to work. Fortunately, nobody notices. (Except for Ben Solo.)” 😏

transference by fear_of_being_bitten modern au. ongoing. rey is ben’s psychologist so this is definitely a taboo fic but GOD the tension between them is like no other fic i’ve read. ben’s an asshole with this air of bravado about him because he’s trying to cover up his insecurities and rey is having none of his shit no matter how much he tries to push her buttons. it’s so well written and another one of the best reylo fics i’ve read. i’m so eager for each update to the fic. here’s an excerpt:

“So you enjoy controlling powerful women,” Rey repeats, making her voice sound uninterested.  She takes notes, although it’s unlikely she’ll forget a word of what he’s saying.  It gives her an excuse to look away from him.

“I do.  But it’s not the taking of the control that I like.  I’m big enough that I can take whatever I want.”

me when i read that:

aaaand that’s it for now. i’m still continuing to read fic like every day since i got laid off (thanks covid lmao) so feel free to hit me up in a few weeks or months or whatever and i’ll share more of my fave fics <3

[shyneanon]

I don't entirely know the details either. It could be a debt of some sort (maybe he stole some donuts from her lol), or just an random dislike of him. Idk, I just have a feeling a lot of the UF cast have a mutual loathing of Fell XDD

Splynter gave me a prompt about UF Sans having to go speak to Muffet. I knew they disliked each other, but didn’t really know the details of their dynamic, so I  asked. Honestly I agree, I feel like most of the Underfell cast just hates Sans. Which makes sense, considering pretty much everyone seems to love Sans in Undertale. Kind of reversed.

I’m not... sure how accurately I wrote UF Muffet, but I tried. I hope you like it!

---

Shit.

Shit shit shit shit.

Sans stood outside of the door to Muffet’s, feeling countless beads of sweat running down his forehead. Sure, they were on the surface now. He was… pretty sure she wouldn’t hurt him.

But there weren’t really any guarantees.

And besides, even if she didn’t hurt him, she would find some way to make his life miserable. He just needed to get in and back out as fast as possible. Why couldn’t Boss have done this?! He’d asked, but apparently Boss had taken that as a “Sans needs to learn to not be such a fucking wimp all the time.” He wasn’t a wimp! This was Muffet they were talking about! And she hated him! Him specifically! She would listen to Boss, at least a little bit…. Ugh. There was no point in stalling. He just needed to go in already.

He forced himself to place his hand on the door handle and push it open, rushing inside before he could change his mind.

The bell attached to the door made a little jingling sound as the door shut behind him, and he froze immediately. Muffet was right at the counter, wiping it down. She hadn’t noticed him yet.

“I’m afraid we just closed,” she began, but immediately paused after turning her head and seeing who had just entered the store. Sans felt himself start to sweat again and looked away.

“Hi, how are ya?” He tried to say it casually, but didn’t make eye contact. He didn’t want her to think he was being disrespectful.

She gasped, an utterly false gasp of joy. “Oh, Sans! How are you? It’s been so long!”

An army’s worth of spiders scuttled down from the counter and surrounded him in a semicircle.

“Too long.”

She giggled. Sans could feel himself shaking a little. It’s fine. She won’t hurt me. She knows Boss would kill her if she hurt me, even if it is against the law. Reminding himself that his brother really did care made him feel a bit better.

“What’s the matter? Go ahead and tell me what you’re here for, hm?”

He managed. “I got some’a yer money I owe ya.”

“Oh! Really?”

He nodded vigorously, pulling out the cash from his pocket. At the sudden movement, the spiders instinctively moved forward, but relaxed when they saw that he meant no harm.

“Oh! How lovely!” She looked down at something he couldn’t see behind the counter.

God no.

“Why don’t you go grab it, pet?”

There were several snarling sounds and Muffet’s horrible pet crawled over the counter and over to Sans. It opened its drooling mouth and displayed its sharp teeth. Making sure to barely hold the cash between the tip of his thumb and index fingers, Sans held it out and let the pet grab it, flinching when it bit down. Thankfully, his bones were untouched.

“Aww! It likes you so much!”

Just make this end, dammit….

“Why don’t you give it a few pats, hmm?”

“H… huh?” Sans felt himself start to sweat again. He smiled nervously. “I mean… I would, but I, uh--”

“It will be sad if you don’t!” She flashed him a smug smile. “And I’ll be very upset if you make it sad.”

ffffffffff

“R… right,” he said, and reached out. It flinched, which made him flinch, but he eventually patted its head. It started to growl, but he knew better than to stop, so he just continued and prayed that it wouldn’t decide to bite his hand off.

“Aww. It enjoys being pet so much! You can stop now.”

He immediately withdrew his hand, shoving it in its pocket, and the pet scurried back over to Muffet and handed her the cash. She started to flip through it.

“Well! Finally, we…”

She trailed off, counting the money again, and Sans started to shake once more. Had the pet swallowed some of the cash? Please no.

Her eyes went from the money to him.

“This is only half of your owed amount,” she said, her voice riddled with distaste.

“Y… Yeah.”

All five of her eyes narrowed as she stood up completely straight. “I thought I told you not to come back until you had all of my money, Sans.”

OK, time to completely cast aside his pride.

“I know!” he said. “I’m sorry! I wanted tah wait till I had it all, but Boss--”

“Hmmm, or wait forever?”

“N-- no, I was savin’ it up, but we had ‘n agreement an’ I didn’t wanna--”

“You know,” she interrupted, although he hesitantly tried to continue blabbering. “I just realized my pet hasn’t had any food since lunch.”

The pet, which was still standing on the counter, turned and stared at him with its beady eyes. He tried not to look too afraid. Technically, he could annihilate Muffet and her pet if he wanted, but he didn’t want anybody to know about what he was capable of.

“That’s illegal,” he said. “Yer shop’ll get shut down.”

“Oh trust me,” she said, “I can make sure no one pins it on me.” A bit of a manic smile. “It’s not as if they’ll have a body as evidence.”

“My bro’ll know you did it, he’ll kill ya.”

“Mmm. Your brother is only so strong.”

That may as well have been an insult, considering the Underground’s culture. Sans didn’t think before speaking-- a bad habit he often suffered from. “Shuddup, my brother’s stronger than you’ll ever be!”

A moment of silence as they both realized what he’d just said. They just stared at each other. Sans started to panic. He didn’t want to shortcut right in front of somebody. She was going to let that stupid pet eat him and--

No, the door was right behind him. He could run! Cowardly, sure, and embarrassing, but he’d be alive. He turned-- only to find someone towering over him.

“WHAT’S GOING ON HERE?”

“Boss!” Sans practically yelled in relief. His brother raised a brow at him, but didn’t say anything.

“Oh!” said Muffet. She suddenly looked nervous. Only so strong, my ass. “Hello, Papyrus! Your lovely brother here was just paying me some of his debt. I’m quite appreciative!”

“AS YOU SHOULD BE,” said Papyrus stiffly. He must have seen Muffet’s sadistic smile through a window. Sans turned back around, giving Muffet a smug smile of his own when his brother wasn’t looking. How the tables have turned, huh?

She kept her fake smile plastered on her face, and her attention on Papyrus. “We just now closed, but you and I are always such good friends! Would you like something? It’s on the house! I made cupcakes just a few hours ago, they’re still--”

“NO,” said Papyrus, “WE ARE NOT INTERESTED IN YOUR SECOND-RATE FOOD.”

She looked like she’d just been slapped in the face, she was so horrified. Sans saw his chance and sauntered up to the counter, the spiders on the floor scuttling out of the way.

“I’ll take some,” he said, giving her a massive, shark-toothed grin.

One of her eyes twitched.

“I mean, ya did say I’m real lovely, right? ‘N we’re all such good friends.”

“... Of course,” she said, though the murderous rage radiating off of her was quite palpable. “Anything! What would you like?”

“Ya said ya made cupcakes?”

“Yes, I did in fact do that.” She pointed at six cupcakes immaculately decorated with clean frosting.

“Nice. I’ll take all six.”

“All six? I didn’t say you could have...” She stopped, looking over in Papyrus’s direction, and her grin became somehow more forced. “... I mean, of course, yes! Six cupcakes coming right up!”

It was almost like she had to force her limbs to grab the cupcakes, put them into a box, and then hand them to Sans without asking for any pay.

“Aw geez, Muffet, yer always such a great friend,” he said, beaming maliciously up at her.

“Always. You two take care now!”

“See ya,” he said, and headed for the door. Papyrus said nothing, just held the door open for him. Once he’d left, Papyrus followed.

“YOU KNOW I ONLY LET YOU TAKE SIX CUPCAKES BECAUSE I SAW THAT SHE WAS THREATENING YOU DESPITE HAVING THE MONEY.”

“Yeah, thanks fer saving my ass.”

“LANGUAGE! DON’T SPEAK LIKE A BARBARIAN, SANS!”

“Sure.” Sans opened up the box, grabbed a cupcake, and began stuffing his face. “These are so fuckin’ good,” he said through a full mouth.

Papyrus sighed with exasperation.

He then held out a hand. Immediately understanding, Sans handed him a cupcake.

“Ya didn’t mean, it right? When ya said her food was second-rate?”

“OF COURSE I DIDN’T!” said Papyrus as he carefully unwrapped the cupcake. “HER PASTRIES ARE AMAZING! BUT SHE WAS THREATENING YOU! SHE DESERVED TO FACE CONSEQUENCES, EVEN IF KILLING HER ISN’T AN OPTION!”

Sans was too absorbed in his sweets to reply.

“... I’LL ADMIT, WATCHING HER SQUIRM WAS QUITE SATISFYING.”

“Yeah,” said Sans, “it was hilarious.” His smile faltered. “You’ll, uh, probably need tah take the second half of th’ debt to ‘er when ya get it. She’ll… prob’ly kill me if I try tah give it to her.”

“... THAT’S PROBABLY TRUE, YES. I’LL DELIVER IT.”

Cool.

Sans shoved another cupcake into his mouth.

[trixree]

Okay so I had a panic attack in a Costco today and had a really unexpected (but wonderful) reminder that the person I am with is The Right Person For Me and I wanted to share this stupidly long story.

So my SO has to get a couple immunizations updated, so he tempts me along with him to Costco with the promise of pizza. And look. Look. Costco stressed me the FUCK out before the pandemic, alright? Fuck that place and it's lawlessness and massive, impossible-to-drive carts and families that pull up with ALL 4.5 of their children, okay? Costco sucks. But I was... utterly unprepared for how much WORSE Costco is DURING A PANDEMIC. (Don't worry, I had an N95 under a tripple-layer cloth mask and I stripped out of my clothes as soon as I got home. I'm not taking any chances, pizza be DAMNED.)

You'd think the giant signs everywhere reminding people to keep 6ft from one another would do something to temper the Usual Pre-COVID madness of a Suburban Area Costco on a Saturday afternoon. You'd be fuckin' w r o n g. The aisles are still lawless. The families are still there. Hell, it's all families. Not a single child is wearing their masks correctly. Everyone is glaring at me. I'm sweating. I'm not okay. I am in EVERYONE'S way no matter what I do. I must have said "sorry" approximately 30 times in the span of 20 minutes. My arms are short. The carts are hard for me to maneuver. I'm trying to stay 6ft away from everyone and succeeding Not At All because all these impatient white women keep running up on me to snag some fuckin bananas and I'm TRYING. MY BEST!!!!! It is loud. There are humans everywhere. Im d yi ng .

I go to my SO at the pharmacy. I have all that I could ever desire from this nightmarish place. "I have to wait 30min," he says. What little remained of my sanity dissolved like wet tissue paper. Very logically, as I am firing on All Cylinders and at 110% Capacity, I decide to go put the freezer items back so they don't melt while we wait. The freezer section is on the entire opposite side of the store, a good two miles away. As I bend down to put the yakisoba back in the freezer, my purse slips off my shoulder and smacks me in the face. I come back to the pharmacy, almost definitely sweating visibly through my clothes at this point.

I cannot overstate how badly I want to go home. Navigating these crowds is like that scene in Finding Nemo where all the grey fish are crammed together in that big ass fishing net and are panicking and wriggling every which way trying to escape. I somehow end up with the books at one point??? I'm so stupid. Copies upon copies of Obama's memoir stare at me with open disappointment.

SO and I decide that I will check out with the groceries and chill in the car while he gets his immunization, because I am clearly Losing My Fucking Shit. We trek all the way back to the freezer section and reclaim the items I just put back. As we get in line to self checkout, I almost take out this man at the kneecaps with the cart. I'm so sorry, sir. I was Not Okay.

It is finally our turn. I'm so close. So close to the blissful quiet of the car.

"You need two of those," the gatekeeper of the self checkout says incomprehensibly, pointing at the big thing of muffins in my cart. She might as well have been speaking Mandarin at me. I did NOT understand. I thought the Costco police were coming.

"I'm sorry, say that again?" I am choking on my fucking brains.

"You can't just buy one pack of muffins. It's two for one. It's 'cheating the member' otherwise."

There are moments in life that just utterly break you, body and spirit. This was one of those moments.

There were literally tears in my eyes. I would pay actual money to know what this woman's impression of me was in this moment. I would p a y.

I turn around, almost bumping into about 3 people as I do. My SO follows me. We stop, ironically, by the giant packs of assorted nuts, which I am deathly allergic to.

"I cannot do this, I gotta go. I gotta go." SO takes one look at me and hands me the car keys.

Now once I am no longer about to vomit, I'm in a whole DIFFERENT spiral of Anxiety because I think, "oh god. He's so fucking mad at me, isn't he? He just wanted company and I fucked it up. I'm such a goddamn child." I text him NINE (9) TIMES. NINE TIMES.

Two minutes later he shows up at the car with all the groceries and holy fucking shit,,, he isn't mad at all.

I almost cried again just from the relief of it. He wasn't mad at me. He handled the situation when I had to bail. He went back, got that damn second pack of muffins, and checked out on his own. He brought the stuff out to the car, checked on me with a truly infinite amount of patience, went back in for his immunization, and came back out with pizza for the both of us.

The best partners are those that can step in when we need it most, without complaint. Even when we melt down over the stupidest shit.

[gumnut-logic]

The Hero (Part One - full chapter)

Sorry, guys, the first few hundred words of this are the same as the previous post, but I’ve added a couple thousand words more, I promise.

-o-o-o-

Title: The Hero

Part One

Author: Gumnut

26 - 27 Oct 2019

Fandom: Thunderbirds Are Go 2015/ Thunderbirds TOS

Rating: Teen

Summary: Thunderbird Two, with Virgil and Gordon aboard, is hijacked and stolen. With Virgil injured, it is up to Gordon to save his brother and his ‘bird. Sequel/companion piece to ‘The Joker’. Gordon is far more than he seems.

Word count: 3141

Spoilers & warnings: Violence, WASP!Gordon, Military!Scott, whump.

Timeline: Sequel/companion piece to ‘The Joker’.

Author’s note: For @corbyinoz because she has written some magnificent Virgil and Gordon fics and is a great inspiration. Thank you for all your wonderful words.

It started with ‘The Joker’. I got interested in WASP!Gordon and decided to explore his side of the story. Then PLOT happened. Now I have no idea what is going on.

Many thanks to @vegetacide and @scribbles97 for putting up with my crazy.

Disclaimer: Mine? You’ve got to be kidding. Money? Don’t have any, don’t bother.

-o-o-o-

A glass of ice and amber liquid landed in front of him with a solid thunk on the woodwork. His eldest brother followed it, his tall figure sliding around the table and taking a seat beside him.

Another glass of alcohol sat in his hand.

Scott didn’t say anything at first, apparently quite happy to nurse the drink against his chest.

Breath whistled through his teeth. “So, what happened?”

Gordon arched an eyebrow before picking up his glass and sipping the whisky. Oooh, Scott’s expensive bottle. Nice.

He took a moment to revel in its warmth before venturing into the bitterness of his report.

“He did well, you know. Put up one hell of a fight. A couple of those guys won’t be getting up any time soon.”

Blue eyes peered at him over the rim of his glass. “Virgil?”

“Kayo taught him well.” A swallow of scorching liquid, smooth as the glass holding it. “There were just too many of them.”

-o-o-o-

A ramshackle pile of a building on an abandoned farm with interference peppering the sensors. It was ironic that Virgil had accompanied him for security. AKA big brother hadn’t wanted him to go into an unknown situation without backup.

Whether the outcome would have changed in accordance with that decision, they would never know, but it led to Gordon taking lead and Virgil following. Consequently, it was Gordon who was nabbed first entering the second dusty room of the building and Virgil who had to exercise his self-defence skills.

The hands that grabbed the aquanaut were rough and for a moment the whole room went sideways. He struck out automatically, but was anticipated, his arm wrenched around his back, his knees kicked out under him, and a cold barrel shoved into the base of his skull put a very abrupt end to his defences.

“V-!”

The kick to his ribs silenced him, but his aim had been achieved.

The brother entering the room, froze for just a split second as he processed the situation. Shadows leapt from the darkness, intending on taking him down, but that second, and reflexes drilled into Virgil by his sister, gave him the power to respond.

Virgil’s massive arm swiped away the hands grabbing at him as he spun out of reach. Another shadow leapt out only to encounter an equally massive fist to its face. Virgil’s uniform did its job and protected him from impact, a hard traction boot landing solidly in one man’s guts. A padded elbow hit teeth and those huge gloved hands, usually so gentle, made knuckles as solid as steel - Gordon knew that, one slip on his part in one too many spar sessions had ended in bruises Virgil had apologised for weeks afterwards.

But there were too many, up to half a dozen assailants emerging from the shadows not including those holding Gordon.

The cold ring of metal at the base of his skull dug in deeper as he struggled to free himself and stop the inevitable.

No amount of padding could deflect the bar of steel that shone in the dark and impacted on his brother’s ribs.

Gordon heard the snap.

Oh god.

Virgil gasped and staggered. His assailants moved in.

But no, the stubborn bastard didn’t give up. His fist impacted the side of a head and a man ended up in the dust at Virgil’s feet.

But there were too many.

Too many.

“Virgil, no!” They must be getting some pleasure out of this, because there were guns a plenty, but only one deployed. Gordon didn’t know if his brother had even seen them. “Virgil!”

That steel bar flickered in the poor light and the second time it impacted on his brother, the dull thud was skull bone.

His big brother dropped without a sound.

Dust hung in the air.

“Well, so much for that.” The hot breath on the back of his neck almost overrode the chill of seeing a gun trained on Virgil’s bleeding skull. “Now, time is of the essence. I need access to your ship now, or we will finish him permanently.”

-o-o-o-

“They got me first. Virg was behind me and had that extra second to react. It was unexpected.” It had been well planned. “They...neutralised him.”

He took a swig of his drink and it caught part way down, burning a hole in his throat. “You would have been so proud of him.” It was whispered.

“I am. Of both of you.” A simple statement that said so much.

Gordon rolled his shoulders in an attempt to shake off the echoes of the incident so he could report clearly.

He was only moderately successful.

“They used Virg to get me to do what they wanted.” The words stuck in his throat and he forced steel into his spine, straightening in the chair. The image of his brother discarded and bleeding on Two’s checker-plate decking, a gun pointed at his head.

The soft crack as a boot impacted on his already damaged ribcage.

Gordon didn’t flinch. He was too experienced for that. But it didn’t hurt any less.

Another throat full of burning alcohol attempted to wash the chill away. Maybe he was just out of practise.

“We need to find a way to stop that from happening again.” His voice was parched and he found himself staring off into the distance.

“Kayo’s on it.” The tumbler was lifted from his hand. The clink of glass, the glug of pouring liquid and it reappeared full again.

Gordon took it, an eye flick his only thank you.

“I flew her to the warehouse. Virgil remained unconscious for the entire flight.” Gordon was almost thankful. “I had hoped you would be able to track us.”

It was Scott’s turn to sigh. “John was...upset.”

That snapped him out of his daze. “What?” His eyes narrowed. “What did Johnny do?”

Scott shifted where he sat. “When he lost Thunderbird Two and both your signals, he and Eos went to some lengths to find you.”

Gordon sat up straighter. “What did he do?”

“Between him and Eos, they hacked every telecommunications network in Texas...including the GDF, CIA, FBI, and the World Council.”

“Shit. Did they catch him?”

A snort. “Are you kidding me? No. Though Aunt Val has suspicions. Eos got angry at one point and let loose a virus deleting every occurrence of the word ‘intelligence’ in the GDF network.”

Gordon stared at him. “Why?”

“She found something.”

“What?” Was Scott being suspenseful for a reason?

“They knew, Gordon.”

“Knew what?” For god’s sake.

“They knew there would be an attempt on Thunderbird Two.”

-o-o-o-

It was cold fury, nasty and acidic. It leeched into his bones and swirled in his brain. As each action taken against Virgil, he lined up his opponents in his head, catalogued and assessed. There was fear, but he had no time for it.

“What do you want?” He was yanked down a corridor by one restrained arm. He had asked that question multiple times already. Again, he received as much a response as he had before.

Nothing.

The leader of the group was dressed in army fatigues, but had no identifying insignia or rank other than a simple red slash of a crisscross on one arm. It had been painted on with a brush.

Gordon stored it for later analysis.

But for the present, he was keeping track of exactly where he and his brother were being taken.

Unlike the building they had been captured in, this one was modern, clean and far from a dark, sinister lair. Endless corridors of beige and linoleum.

He memorised their route from Thunderbird Two taking note of as much as possible.

He had landed the giant cargo plane on a private runway and taxied her into a massive hangar. The impression that this had all been planned ahead became stronger. After all, Two wasn’t little. It wasn’t as if she could be stashed in some thief’s backyard.

Virgil was a mass of bruises, each welt a threat to get Gordon to do what they wanted. His heart ached for his big brother, still unconscious and being dragged alongside Gordon between two men.

Until he wasn’t.

“Where are you taking him?”

Again, he received no response other than having both his arms wrenched tighter behind his back. His shoulders creaked.

He didn’t give them the satisfaction of groaning.

Dragged down the hallway, he felt the distance grow between him and his brother.

And with that, he just got colder and colder.

By the time they punched an electronic lock and shoved him into room, he was little more than ice.

The man holding him spun him around. Grey eyes meeting his.

Ice met ice.

He didn’t say anything, but the intent was clear. We have your brother. Do anything and he dies.

We’ll see about that.

The man spun and left, taking his lacky with him.

Gordon was left restrained, in a room with a single bed and not much else, glaring at a locked door.

-o-o-o-

“They knew?” Gordon stared at his brother. “What did they know?”

Scott pulled out his phone, prodded it and handed it over to Gordon.

The aquanaut stared at the words on the screen. It was a report detailing a new terrorist group. The GDF had labelled them ‘Null’ in accordance with the symbol they assigned themselves.

A red hand-painted cross was splattered across the page. Gordon’s lips tightened.

The intelligence reported was sketchy, but the impression was a vendetta against International Rescue, the Hood and the Chaos Crew. A single statement, ‘We will end the war’, was attached to the document.

“Shit.” It came out in a breathless rush.

The document went on to theorise that the founder or founders of the group had suffered at the hands of the Chaos Crew and consequently had a vendetta against both sides of the equation.

“Why didn’t they tell us?” Gordon stared at the phone, a number of emotions roiling in his gut.

Out the corner of his eye, Scott sculled the last of his drink and dropped his tumbler onto the table. “Bait.” An exhalation. “You were bait.”

“Bait?” Gordon stared at his brother. “You’re kidding me.”

“No. I’m not.” Blue eyes were so cold, they hurt. “Eos dug up the command sequence. They didn’t know where the group was holed up, so they were waiting for them to strike next. We were the logical target as we are the easiest to find and lure.”

“Fuck.” It burst out of him in an explosion of hot air and he shot from his seat, storming out onto the balcony. His nerves itched under his skin. The images of his injured brother danced in his head.

The wind leapt off the Island and wrapped itself around him as if in reassurance, but he was not ready to receive it.

Scott walked up calmly and stood beside him.

“Did she know?” There was no need to mention who Gordon was talking about.

“She did.”

“And she didn’t tell us.”

“No, she didn’t.”

“Does she know, we know?”

“No, but as I said, she has suspicions.”

“Does she know what happened to Virgil?”

Scott didn’t answer immediately. “Yes.”

“Tell me it was worth it.”

“The GDF did not succeed in capturing any of them.”

Again, Gordon found himself staring at his brother. “None? Not even those I took out?”

“None.”

“Fuck.” But this time it was a defeated exhale and Gordon closed his eyes, his hand rubbing his face. “What are we going to do?”

Beside him, Scott straightened into the sharp, commanding military man he was. “What we always do.” Blue eyes turned to focus on him. “Save people.”

And Gordon got the message. That blue gaze locked onto him, his brother’s military bearing, straight and strong.

They saved people.

And they would save themselves.

-o-o-o-

It took him an annoying amount of time, but he slipped his bonds. It helped he kept a tiny pocket knife strapped into the inside of his right boot. He would have taken that one as a credit to his military past, but honestly, it was the result of an incident several years ago that saw him snagged underwater and Virgil having to dive in and untangle him. The nagging about being prepared after that had been intolerable. The tiny penknife had been handed to him late one night with worry in those brown eyes.

Kind of ironic that now it would be helping to save that same brother.

They had taken his baldric and rebreather while they were still aboard Thunderbird Two. He would give these guys credit. They were far from stupid. No monologuing, no explanations, just purpose.

He had no idea what that purpose was other than to capture Two and torture his brother as leverage.

Yeah, well, Gordon had a purpose, too.

Get out of this room, get his brother and his ‘bird, and get the hell out of here.

Tools at hand...penknife, metal bed and associated mattress. He looked up...light globe. His eyes tracked a conduit leading from the bare bulb across the ceiling and down the wall, disappearing into the doorframe.

Exposed wiring.

He slipped up to the door, a hand touching the smooth and cold metal surface. A moment to listen for movement beyond. These guys were smart, he was pretty sure there would be a guard or two outside his door.

No sound to confirm anything.

Nor was there a lock on this side of the door, the electronic lock was outside for security reasons no doubt. But in any case, there was no way for him to see out the door or what was on the other side.

His lips thinned.

Wasn’t going to stop him.

He reached for the plastic conduit beside the door and, shoving his penknife under the sheath, pulled off the plastic channel keeping it snug against the wall.

Perfect.

He let his mouth slip into a lopsided smirk.

It took a while and aching fingertips, but he could feel his big brother over his shoulder congratulating him on his skill. Virgil was going to love this story.

Assuming it had a happy ending.

He ripped the electric cables from their mountings on the wall. It took him some time because he had to do it with minimal sound. At one or two points, he thought he had blown it as a c-clamp clattered and bounced on the concrete floor, but there was no response.

That metal door must be thick.

Some re-purposed plastic conduit to hold the cables and a little extra protection for his hands and penknife and he cut the wires one by one.

The room fell dark.

Gordon stood ready, expecting someone to burst in at the change in lighting, but instead a thin band of light from outside shone under the door.

A shadow moved across that band of light, but the door did not open.

No sound.

Exhale.

He only had one shot at this.

He touched the bared wires to the metal door.

The darkness sparked and the door sighed open just a little as the lock died an electronic death.

A sliver of light landed on his blue uniform.

A pair of dark eyes, surrounded by khaki, met his.

A gun came up.

Gordon moved.

He was out the door and the gun was flying across the corridor in a blur of motion. A mixture of WASP and Kayo took the man down, a final punch to the face sending him into oblivion.

A breath and he dragged his victim into the now dark room. A moment of consideration of the value of anonymity, and he stripped the man of his jacket and pants, trying not to cringe when he shoved them over his uniform. His blue boots would have to stay. Fortunately, or not, the pants were a little long and hid them for the most part.

But move. Time to move.

A quick glance into the corridor and he darted through the door, closing it behind him.

Hurried, but silent steps and he retraced the path that had led him here. Around that corner he had last seen his brother disappear into, ears alert, eyes tracking, body ready.

A man exited a door in front of him and Gordon reacted on instinct. Another body shoved behind another door.

The corridor ended in a T-intersection.

Left or right?

Listen.

“Gordon Tracy is a simple man.”

The words were distant and slurred, but his heart lifted. Virgil.

Left.

“I once lost him in the bath.”

Gordon didn’t spare a smile for that memory, though it was a good one. He only had eyes for the man standing in front of the door at the end of the corridor.

Fortunately, it was a short corridor.

Okay, Gordo, you gotta play this one right.

He straightened up, checked his shirt to make sure his blue uniform was hidden by khaki.

Walk with purpose and no-one will question your presence.

To the sound of his brother’s pained voice, he strode down that corridor as sure in his right to be there as he was sure he was going to go through that door.

The guard looked up in question and Gordon caught his eye. A small smile as his brother spoke about jokes and his darkest days.

The guard returned his smile.

The moment he was within reach, Gordon wiped it off his face.

He caught the unconscious man before he could hit the floor and stashed him to one side.

Virgil’s voice slurred on.

“He has seen the glassiness of death and faced down the reaper himself.”

The reason why he could hear Virgil so clearly became apparent as he realised the door was ajar.

Sloppy.

To his advantage, pushing it ever so slowly open, he peered in.

The room was dark except for a spotlight in the centre. Virgil was strapped to a chair and it appeared that was all that was holding him upright. Blood from his head wound dripped sluggishly down one side of his face. He listed sideways, eyes glazed, his words slurred but inevitable.

Gordon swore silently, his fists clenching. His brother had been drugged. What the hell did these people want?

A single interrogator was in the room, his back to the door.

From sloppy to convenient.

Gordon let himself silently into the room.

“The itching powder on the bath towel.

“The hell let loose on April Fool’s Day every damn year.

“They are but a symptom of the man you are facing, and yet so why you are going to regret what you are doing.” Virgil’s eyes were foggy, but the determination was clear and shot across the room at his tormentor.

Blood dripped from his brother’s lip.

And Gordon stepped into the light.

-o-o-o-

End Part One.

Part Two

[slashersannonymous]

Your Roommates the Slashers

I don’t see many headcanons of platonic relationships between slashers and the reader so I’m gonna take a crack at it

Welcome to your new home roomie!!

You get your own room in a pretty good sized house in a rural, but none the less beautiful area , for a hell of a price. Almost too good.

Sure your roommates are a bit... eccentric but hey they’re fun enough.

Jason

Real stickler for the rules (No drugs, no loud music, No bringing “strange people in”, No sex in the house), Freddy gives him shit for being a fun nazi but everyone else seems pretty content (including yourself ); does it to keep his mama happy

Super sweet and nice, has a commanding presence but only uses it around Freddy when he’s being a shit. If you’re having a rough day Jason will gladly take your chores for the day and let you have some rest

Speaking of chores, HE MADE AN ADORABLE CHORE CHART HE FOUND ON PINTEREST

Keeps the house nice and clean, plus is the grounds keeper; that garden is phenomenal!

Can cook and bake REALLY WELL (who knew the dude who doesn’t need to eat can cook so well 🤷🏾‍♀️) he’s on par with Bubba!

Freddy

If Jason is the ideal (all be it a little strict roommate) Freddy is the absolute opposite

For the most part he follows the rules BUT he will break them to get under people’s skin when he’s bored (aka Jason’s)

Can be a real asshole but a really FUN asshole none the less, you want to do something crazy or fun? Go to Freddy, he’s got the hook up

You never want to see another red and green sweater in your life; how many does this fucker have?! HE LEAVES THEM E V E R Y W H E R E

Plus he does all of his work at night- so expect to hear him coming in AND out of of the house multiple times during the night

Does not follow the Pinterest bored of chores.

Gets the machete to the head when Jason gets mad enough (you want to get payback? Ask if he needs some Advil for that splitting head ache)

Michael

You met Michael one late night after you got off work and nearly had a goddamn heart attack when he just appeared behind you with a nice little “Welcome” gift bag in hand

Really chill and reserved, super introverted, likes to keep to himself.

Dependable if you really need him! You need someone to run to the store really quick while everyone else is busy and so are you? Michael will do it for you, he isn’t busy

Is too damn quiet sometimes, you’ve bumped into him so many times there’s a talley going now to see how many times you’ll bump into him on average

Isn’t too much of a cook, usually prefers to eat simple or easy to make meals.

You want someone neutral to vent to? Michael is the silent and true neutral we all need

He’s the second handyman of the house next to Jason, who knew he was so good with tools

Bubba

Sweet lord he is such a sweety! Bubba actively hangs out with you the most in the house; he loves making friends and loves being around you!

Oh but the baby is messy. Because of his upbringing in rural Texas, Bubba isn’t the best housekeeper (HE’S TRYING DAMMIT); sometimes forgets to clean the blood remains of his meal preps and cooking when he’s done, and every once in a while tracks blood in the house (The reason Jason got the Pinterest board of Chores)

But damn are those messes worth it! The boy can smoke and barbecue his ass off! Whenever you come home to the smell of barbecue (usually a Sunday) you know you’re going into a food coma

His main stay is in the basement. He has his own room upstairs, like everyone else, but his workshop is down there (just like back home!)

If you want someone to cry to; Bubba is there to be the shoulder to cry on, the person to cry with, and the bear hug to help you feel a little better (also really doesn’t mind helping you down some junk food to make you feel better)

Sometimes gets bullied by Freddy (even if it’s him trying to be playful), but everyone (including you!) actively stands up for Bubba (despite being a massive behemoth of a man himself) MUST PROTECC SWEET BUBBA

BONUS - MRS. VOORHEES

You stumbled across her while on a walk when you heard a very sweet and motherly voice beckoning you to come back home and have a little chat

She’s the mama bear (literally) in this house of crazed killers and madden, she wants everyone to be happy and enjoy living together

She’s a polite but FIRM woman (put some respect on her name)

She may only be a head but she has the demanding presence of her son (Jason got it from her 🖤)

You need advice? She’s happy to talk to you and help you our figure out a solution to your problems or to give some words of comfort

DO NOT PISS THIS LADY OFF, SHE WILL CUT A MAN DOWN VERBALLY AND KEEP A SMILE IN HER VOICE (she’s done it plenty of times with Freddy)

So this was my very first head canons/imagines post! Hope y’all like it! Send me an ask or a request if you’d like!!!

[zanybohbot]

The Outsiders: Camp Squit

The Outsiders: Camp Squit (Episode 4)

Published: 10-19-19 - Updated: 10-21-19

Squit planned an idea of what's happening in this weekend as he planned to go camping with Pinky, Brain, Pesto and Wakko. Will the others ruin it for him? Will it cause cringy chaos? Read what happens and find out. This is the 4th fanfiction episode of The Outsiders.

Part 1: The Arrival

(Brain is driving in the woods with Squit, Pinky, Pesto and Wakko for their camping trip.)

Squit: As we're near, I thought I'd run through the itinerary for this weekend.

Wakko: What's an itinerary?

Pesto: (annoyed) Squit's way of taking the piss outta everything?

Squit: No, it's just a schedule of what we'll do and when we'll do it.

Pinky: Okay, item one, get your shit off my side of the car! (pushes Squit's suitcase)

Squit: It's not shit. It's essentials for everyone to make the trip more enjoyable!

Pinky: Oh, really? (Gets out Monopoly from Squit's suitcase) Monopoly?! Y'fuckin' serious?! This is tha most shitty-ass game you've ever bought! Look. All we need is beer and weed and I've got plenty of both.

Squit: Why have you brought a load of weed?

Pinky: In case I get lucky and stoned.

Squit: But we're camping by a lake near a woods.

Pinky: Listen, all these country bitches love some big city diugh.

Squit: You're not from the big city!

Pinky: Well growing up in da hood counts as a city to them!

Brain: (frustrated) Pesto, look at the map, please! Where is it?!

Pesto (checks phone) Uhhh...I dunno. It's around here somewhere. Th-the next left or something.

Brain: (sarcastically) And that's what Google Maps says, "The next left or something"?

Pesto: Sorry, dude, I'm running outta brain juice. What if I have to literally give birth with the babe from Walmart I had sex with? Can you imagine how fuckin' disgusting that'll be, watching that baby getting squeezed outta her ass?

Squit: Okay, I've got some news, Pesto. Do ya...

Pesto: Oh, here we are, B. Turn left.

(Brain turns left to the nearest forest.)

Brain: Oh, Jesus Christ, it stinks. Is it near a pig farm, Pesto?

Pesto: Sorry, that was me. It just slipped out.

(they all gag and moan by the smell)

Pinky: What?! (holds nose)

Brain: Ugh! I can't believe that's the smell of your ass!

Squit: I think I'm gonna throw up!

Wakko: I can fucking see it! It's like a brown mist!

(Squit N/R: Despite Pesto's anxious bowels burning our eyes and choking our lungs, we made it to the forest. I'd researched this place online and it certainly delivered. Secluded. Remote. Beautiful.)

(All 5 were standing in the forest.)

Pesto: So...where do we shit?

Squit: What?

Pesto: When we need to shit, where do we shit?

Pinky: Hang on, he's right. Where are we gonna shit?

Squit: Well, usually, you'd place a trench at least.

Pesto: Well, what trench, smart-ass?!

Squit: The toilet trench.

Wakko: Where you place the public bathrooms?

Squit: No, it's where you DO a public bathroom.

Pesto: (whacks Squit in the head) Fuck you, I'm not shittin' in a trench! Dafuq's the matter with ya?!

Pinky: Dude, you're fuckin' high.

Brain: I'm not going near a hole filled with your shit!

Squit: (rubbing his head) No. We each get our own trench. That's what I'm sayin'.

Brain: (sarcastically) Oh, OK. Yeah 'coz that makes sense!

Wakko: We're camping surrounded by shit?

Pinky: No! No-one's shittin' in a trench! That's disgustin', I'm not gonna do it! We'll have to drive to tha bar or a convenience store or something.

Pesto: Shit there?

Pinky: Shit there.

Wakko: Good idea.

Brain: Agreed.

Pinky: Then, that's decided, write that down, Squit, item two.

Squit: Could do. Or you could remember to shit in the bar when we're there anyways?! Now, c'mon. Let's get this tent up.

Pesto: I need to go now, tho.

Squit: What? Just hold it in!

Pesto: I can't, I get emotional.

Squit: We only just got here, Pesto! Camp first, shit second!

Pesto: I don't think I can, I'm honestly gettin' teary here, it feels like it's trying to push its way back up into my stomach!

Wakko: Great. I need one now, too.

Brain: What about that gas station we've just past?

Pesto: (panicking, holding his ass) Oh, God, the snake's out the cave!

Squit: Fine. Everyone, back in the car.

(They got back in the car and drove to the nearest gas station.)

(Squit N/R: So our camping trip was shortly delayed while Pesto left what he described as "King Kong's finger" in the Welcome Break bathrooms. Pesto genuinely felt better about life after unloading a massive turd. And now the car was unloaded, so did I.)

(Back at the forest.)

Squit: First need to clear the ground, make sure the site is safe and then put up our tent.

Pinky: Fuck dat, let's just crack open the beers and build a fuckin' massive fire up in this bitch!

Squit: You can't just build a fire. It takes preparation. I mean, have we even asked the landowner's permission?

Brain: (frustrated) Squit, c'mon! I didn't come here for a refresher course in the Countryside Code. I just wanna get pissed and have fun. Otherwise, I won't be able to do any of this in Wales.

Pinky: What, 'coz there's no fields?

Brain: No, 'coz I won't have any friends of my kind.

Pinky: You won't need friends. Welsh hoes are totally horny.

Brain: Are they?

Pinky: Yeah. Pretty much all British porn stars are Welsh, even though they are popular here in America. Most of them don't even get paid, they just do it for dick.

Brain: (sarcastically) Oh, OK, made-up sluts. Now I'm glad I'm going to Swansea. Oh, fucking hell, Swansea! I have to see my grandpa for a WHOLE WEEK in Swansea!

Squit: Fine, Brain, look if you really want, I'll build you a fire. Y'all put the tent up, I'll go and find some suitable wood and kindling.

Wakko: All right, Akela. HA!

Squit: But remember, fire is an element, it must be respected.

(He leaves to find some wood.)

(Squit N/R: Camping's all about self-reliance and teamwork. And I knew I could rely on myself to create the perfect camp and my team fucking it all up.)

(When he came back, he saw his stuff from his suitcase being burnt down with fire as his suitcase was open, it causes him to have a panic attack and drops all of the wood he just found.)

Squit: WHAT...THE...FUCK HAVE YA DONE!?

Pinky: Y'okay, Squit?

Wakko: (tried to hand Squit a cooked sausage) Want a sausage?

Pesto: Calm down. I just got it going and I didn't even need a fire gay's badge.

Pinky: Nah, just some diesel.

Squit: You put diesel on it? Wait a minute. Is that my fold-out table on the fire? (gasp) And my picnic basket?!

Pinky: I thought you said look for stuff to burn.

Squit: (getting angry) Wood, burn fucking wood, not my stuff! Oh, for Christ's sake! Why would ya do that?!

Pesto: Look, someone had to take charge of this weekend or it's gonna be all Monopoly and shitting in trenches!

Brain: Look, come on, sit down, have some weed, have a beer, have a sausage. Just chill.

Squit: I'll chill when y'all stop burning up my fuckin' valuable possessions to dust!

Pinky: (teasing) Oh, but I thought they were for "everyone"?

Squit: Yes, for everyone to use, not to burn up with! God.

(Wakko saw the fire going down so he puts Squit's fold-out chair on top of it.)

Squit: What the hell are you doing now?!

Wakko: Fire's going down.

Squit: (getting furious) STOP...BURNING...MY...THINGS!

Wakko: (angrily) Sorry, I forgot. (flips his chair off the fire) Jeez!

(Squit N/R: We were barely an hour from home, but somehow that meant that burning my possessions was not only OK, but hilarious.)

Part 2: R.I.P. Brain's Shitty Car

(Squit was sitting down still looking pissed off because of what happened earlier.)

Brain: Oh, come on, we're sorry. It was just a joke.

Wakko: We'll do whatever you want to cheer you up.

Pinky: Anything you like.

Squit: (smiled) Game of Monopoly?

(The others moan about this)

Pinky: Oh, fuck off!

Pesto: Boooooooooooooo! Y'suck!

Brain: Apart from that.

Pinky: Look, if you wanna play a game, I've got a proper game, not a shitty one, especially Monopoly. Though thinking about it, y'all might be too pussy to play.

Wakko: It's not that game that you used to play with your weird neighbour in his shed, is it?

Pinky: (looks nervous) Well, that never happened.

Wakko: Yeah, you told me about 8 years ago. Just after he moved away.

Pinky: No, I never. Shut up, dumbass!

(Wakko looks confused)

Pinky: OK, to start with, y'all have to swap phones. Squit, you swap with mine. Brain, I'll swap with your phone. Wakko and Pesto can swap each others and Pesto can swap with Squit.

(They all swap phones.)

Brain: Okay...now what?

Pinky: Now you text someone in their phone book. So when you text someone, they'll think it's from him.

Wakko: So does that mean I have to write it all posh and like all hurdy wurdy durdy?

Pinky: Nope. The only rule is you can write whatever you like and no-one can stop you.

Squit: I just wanna say, for the record, there's no way anything good can come outta this.

Pinky: Whatever. Ready? Go.

(They all text.)

Pinky: I've only got five numbers in my phone, and four of them are four of y'all, so do ya worst.

Pesto: Well, as long as one of the others is Squit's mama, you're still in trouble.

Squit: (looking disgusted) Pesto, come on, that's too much.

Pinky: Sorry, it's literally the point of the game, y'know.

Squit: Awww...fuck. Fine!

Pinky: Right, homies, finished?

Wakko: (finished texting) That's it, send 'em.

Pinky: Good, now swap back.

(They swapped back their phones.)

Pinky: Good, so I wrote, from Brain's phone to Billie, "Bills, I love you from the bottom of my ding-a-ling. The thought of leaving you is making me cum." (laughs)

Brain: (embarrassed) Oh, god.

Pinky: "And I'm using those tears as lube to jerk myself off with."

Brain: (sarcastically/disgusted) Gee, thanks, Pinky.

Squit: Don't worry, B, I texted Pinky's dad and wrote, "Dad, I'm just thinking about you."

Pinky: (whispered) Hmph, pussy.

Squit: "I'm in the bath and I'm hard." (laughs)

Pinky: (angrily) Holy fuck! Damnit, you've won this round!

Brain: Pesto? What about you?

Pesto: Fairly standard to Squit's mama. "Ma, it's been 29 years, but I'd love to have another go on your big fake-ass tits."

Squit: (embarrassed) God. No.

Pesto: "Then I'd like to smash in your back doors (anus)."

Squit: (sarcastically) So it'll come up that I've sent her a text, she'll think, "Good, he's just letting me know I'm proud of him," then she'll read that? Yep, thanks Pesto!

Pesto: No probs. Wak, who did you send to?

Wakko: I presume, your dad? I wrote "Your gay as fuck." HA!

(There was a short silence as Pesto looks pissed)

Pesto: (he snatches his phone back from Wakko) Gimme my phone back!

Wakko: Wait, I've also wrote for Saucy Walmart Karen.

Pesto: Wait, did ya?

Wakko: Hell yeah, I've written, "Karen, I love you and love that you are to be the mother of my child. Marry me?"

Pesto: Oh, c'mon!

Pinky: Nice.

Pesto: I only met her a month ago. She smells like cheese most of the time.

Pinky: What, 'coz of all dat dick she sucked?

Pesto: Yes...no...maybe...I DUNNO! God, I thought coming out here would take me mind off it, but the countryside's really boring! It's just a load of fields and rivers. And they don't do anything. They just sit there doing jack, it's not like The Blair Witch Project where people jump out at you.

Pinky: He's right, it is boring.

Wakko: Shall we go back?

Brain: Oh, no, come on, we could go for a swim? Skinny dipping? (The others look slightly disgusted) Yeah, you're right, probably be a bit gay.

Squit: Well, there's always Monopoly.

(They moan once again.)

Pinky: Fuck, fine, as long as I can be the dog.

Squit: Why?

Pinky: Reminds me of Benji.

(Squit N/R: This was great. Camping. Playing board games round the fire as the sun went down. It was like I was back in Cub Scouts, but without the unpleasantness.)

(At night, they were still playing Monopoly.)

Pinky: Miami, with a hotel, that's $1,500 you owe me, Top Hat.

Squit: Can I pay you after I pass Go? I'm nearly there.

Pinky: Nope.

Squit: (frustrated) Oh, c'mon. This is impossible. I can barely see. I've not been able to see anything for fuckin' hours! Let's just stop.

Brain: OK, we'll call it a draw.

Pinky: Fuck you, just because I'm winning and all you've got is just cities!

Pesto: I'm happy to call it a draw, y'know.

Pinky: Course you are, 'coz you were out four hours ago anyway, you fuckin' idiot!

Pesto: Y'all think I'm dumb, but I've got street smarts!

Brain: You got a woman from Walmart pregnant in her lunch hour.

Pesto: (pondered) Oh.

Pinky: I'll build another fire.

Squit: It's too dark to collect wood and you've burnt everything I own!

Pinky: Well, fine, I'll...I'll get Brain's shitty car and shine the lights over here.

Brain: Fine. Here ya go. (hand's Pinky his car keys)

Pinky: Thanks, mah boy!

(Pinky runs to Brain's car and turns on the headlights.)

(Squit N/R: This was embarrassing. I hadn't lost a game of Monopoly since I was 7. And yet I was about to be beaten by Pinky, a man who took pride in the fact that he couldn't count to 100.)

Squit: He really wants to win, doesn't he? I never knew he was so competitive.

Pesto: (eating sausages) I can't get enough of these sausages.

Wakko: (eating sausages) Yeah. I love 'em raw in the middle.

Pinky: Right, done. (he gets out of the car and shuts the door) Mission accomplished! Now you owe me $1,500. And you can pay me right fuckin' now!

(Brain's car was about to roll down into the lake.)

Brain: Pinky, my fucking car! (he stops his car from going down) Handbrake?

Pinky: Oh, shit, sorry.

Brain: Quick, everyone. Stop it!

(The others stopped the car except for Pinky.)

Brain: Pinky, help!

Pinky: Okay, calm your tits! (as he helped stopping the car)

Brain: (tried to unlock it) It's locked. Pinky, throw me the keys.

Pinky: I don't have them.

Brain: The fuck are you talkin' about, what do you mean you don't have them?!

Pinky: I gave them to you.

Brain: No, you didn't.

Pinky: Yeah, I did.

Brain: (getting angry) No, you fucking didn't!

Pinky: Brilliant, someone's gone and lost the fuckin' keys.

Squit: (looks at Pinky while being concerned) Yes, you. You've lost them.

Brain: You must have locked them in the car. (he panics) Oh, God! Oh, God!

Squit: Sorry, Brain. We'll have to smash a window or something.

Brain: (furious) Pinky, you dolt, Imma kill you for that!

Pinky: It's not my fault.

Brain: It is entirely your fault!

Pinky: I always lock my car like that!

Pesto: But yours must be different.

Wakko: It's shitty, for one.

Brain: (sarcastically angry) Thanks, Wak!

Pinky: If my lil' bro was here, he'd be able to get into it in two seconds flat. He used to jack Ferraris in New York City for the Mafia.

Brain: (bops Pinky in the head with a pencil in anger) How is that total bullshit helpful?!

Squit: Enough! OK, you three hold it. We'll go and find something to smash a window with.

Pinky: (rubbing his head looking dizzy) Hey! Why do me, Pesto and Wak have to hold the fuckin' car?!

Squit: Well, obviously, because you three are the strongest.

(Pinky, Pesto and Wakko hold the car.)

Pesto: Huh. It's true, we are.

Brain: What the fuck, why are there no rocks?! It's the countryside! Why aren't there any fuckin' rocks?! What are we gonna smash the window with now?!

Squit: Well, I dunno. Pinky's face?!

(Brain and Squit leave to find the rocks.)

Pinky: My arms hurt. I don't know why they're bothering to get rocks anyways. The way I look at it, it's inevitable that the car's gonna dive into the lake.

Wakko: I suppose it's nature. You can't fight nature.

Pesto: Exactly.

Pinky: It's going in anyway, I'm legitimately sweatin', my arms achin', we might as well just let go.

Pesto: Do you think Brain will kill us all?

Pinky: How can he? He hates it anyways. It's logical. We can't stop it.

Wakko: We are stopping it now.

Pinky: It's inevitable, Wak, trust me. We'll let go after three, do ya hear?

Pesto & Wakko: Gotcha.

Pinky: One, two, three. Go!

(They let go of the car as the car starts rolling down again. Brain and Squit finally got some rocks but Brain saw his car going down as he panicked and dropped the rocks.)

Brain: NO! Oh, God. Oh, God! Oh, God! Oh, God! Oh, God!

(The car went into the lake as there was a short silence, then Pesto picked the rock up and smashed the back window.)

Brain: Why did you do that?!

Pesto: You said smash a window. Look, there ya go!

Brain: NO! No, no, no! (Brain went into the lake and tried to get his car out and shortly gives up, looking at Pinky, Squit, Pesto and Wakko furiously) You assholes. You total pair of fuckin' scumbags!

Pesto: Relax, B. We'll just wait 'til morning and rescue it when the tide's out.

Brain: It's just a fucking lake, Pesto, the tide isn't going out! (He emotionally tears up) I've wasted my whole 14 years hanging around with you fuckin' morons! I wish I'd never met y'all at all! I can't wait to move to Swansea! I fuckin' hate you, fuck you! FUCK YOU!

Squit: Come on, Brain, come outta the water and dry off, you could get sick, I'm sure we'll think of something.

Brain: You never think of anything. You've just got an accent that makes us think you're clever, but you're not, are ya?! You're just as much of a fuckin' idiot as these three!

Squit: (he frowns) Wow, harsh.

Brain: You scumbags, you total, total scumbags! (he continues to get the car out) Oh, God! Oh, God! Oh, God! Oh, God! Oh, God! (he gives up trying to get the car out)

Wakko: Do you want a lager, B?

Brain: Yes, please.

(Brain got out of the lake as they all go back to the camping area.)

Pinky: (he took Brain's keys out of his back pocket) Oh, shit! I did have the keys.

Squit: Uhhh...yeah. Probably wouldn't mention it. Like ever!

Pinky: Y'right! As a matter of fact! (he throws the car keys into the lake and leaves)

(Squit N/R: So, Brain's shitty yellow Fiat was gone forever.)

The Final Part: A Disgustingly Happy Ending

(But look on the bright side, at least Pinky did beat me at Monopoly now despite I've lost $1,500. But the last thing I wanted to have is Pesto burning my $10,000 suitcase for fire.)

(Squit and Brain watching Squit's suitcase being burnt down.)

Squit: Hey. Which do you think burns better, B, my suitcase or my dignity? Heh, heh, heh, heh. (sighs all sadly)

Brain: Yeah, ha-ha. Nice try, but this is now officially the worst night I've ever had. Let's just go home.

Wakko: How?

Squit: Call your dad, B. If you think about it, it's sort of his fault we're here anyways.

Brain: Ha, sorry, no chance. He's gonna go ballistic about picking us up at 2 in the morning. What about your lil' bro, Pinky?

Pinky: Nah. He's out with my dad, private poker tournament in Las Vegas with Danny Dyer and the Krays.

Squit: Wait. Aren't the Krays dead?

Pinky: No! That's just a cover story cos they done a bunk from prison. They're holed up in one of me dad's warehouses.

Brain: Of course.

(short silence)

Pinky: Shall we swap phones again to cheer us all up.

Squit: Sure, why not.

(They all swap their phones back to their previous precision)

Pinky: (reads text) Oh, Brain, you got a message for your insurance company, they said, "We're sorry about the car. One of our retarded staff sended you the wrong car. Just burn it, dump it, kill it with fire. We're sorry for the delay for the last 2 years. Your old one will be back in 2 days." Hmph, looks like you're not in trouble at all, Brain.

Brain: (confused but relieved) Huh, that was anticlimactic. Plus, I knew they tried to rip me off anyways.

Squit: (reads text) Oh. Looks like your dad and your brother are taking a break from that made-up poker tournament, Pinky. Your dad's just texted you back.

Pinky: Oh, shit. What did he say?

Squit: "You're sick, son. Your ma was right about sending you to that shrink."

Pinky: (looks nervous) What's he on about, that fuckin' asshole? Talkin' jack-shit as usual.

Wakko: (checks phone) You got a text, too, Pesto. It's from your babe. Maybe you should read it. (gives phone back to Pesto)

Pesto: Oh, thank you, God. Thank you.

Pinky: She said yes to the marriage proposal?

Pesto: Even better. It says, "You dopey prick. Not pregnant. Tested positive for" What's that say, Squit?

Squit: (read carefully) "Chlamydia."

Pesto: Nice! (short silence) Dafuq's chlamydia?

Squit: Well, how shall I put this, Pesto? You no longer have a child on the way but you do have an STD.

Pesto: (celebrates) I got an STD! Yes, an STD! Whoo!

Pinky: (continues to reads texts) Oh. It's from Billie and your dad. It says… (Brain snatches his phone back from Pinky) Douche!

(Brain reads the text from Billie and his dad, then suddenly smiles.)

Pinky: (curiously) Well?

Squit: Shall we go to bed? It is getting late.

Wakko: Yep, good idea.

(They all went in the tent.)

Pinky: Well...what did it say?

(Squit N/R: Brain was never this cagey. When it came to Billie or his dad, he normally wore his heart on his sleeve and his boner in his pants. Maybe he had other things on his mind.)

(Brain looks at the light in the tent while he was lying down.)

Brain: (slightly annoyed) So we had a light this whole time?

Pinky: Oh, shit, yeah. Forgot about that one. Sorry, man.

Brain: So, my car went into the lake for no reason?

Pesto: I'm upset too, B. I got my first hand job in that car. Who's gonna wanna gimme a hand job when I'm a dad?

Pinky: You're not gonna be a dad, remember, Pesto?

Pesto: (pondered) Oh, yeah!

Pinky: Whatever. Look, even if we did get it out, I doubt it would work anyway. I think the engine's flooded.

Brain: Is that supposed to be funny, Pinky?

Pinky: Did I say it was funny tho?

Brain: (pondered) Good point. I also felt happy I'm not going to Swansea next week. My grandpa cancelled the trip because he was broke.

(They all laugh.)

(Squit and Wakko came into the tent looking disgusted.)

Brain: How was the trench?

Squit: (looking disgusted) Wakko and I had to wipe our asses with leaves.

Brain: (disgusted) Jesus.

Squit: And I think there were some ants in there, so I now literally have ants in my pants. And soil, and some earwigs.

Wakko: I never wanna do that again.

Pesto: Hey. Do you remember that first time we slept in a tent in my back garden and Pinky pissed himself? (laughs)

Brain: Yeah, we had to come in the house at about midnight because Pinky got scared. (laughs)

Pinky: Yeah, I was scared that Pesto's dad was about to come out and rape us!

Pesto: (furious and disgusted) Just...go fuck yourself.

Squit: And on that familiar note, it's good night. (lies down in his sleeping bag) Sorry about your car, B.

Brain: Doesn't matter. It was a piece-of-shit car, anyway. Thanks for the send-off. For the last 2 years, I always knew they were trying to scam me in the first pla... (holds his nose) Jesus, that stinks, Pesto, was that a fart?

Pesto: Nah, Wakko and I burped. It ain't great, though.

Wakko: Yeah, I think it's them sausages.

Brain: Whatever. Good night.

Pinky: Well, I'll get the fuckin' light, then, shall I? (turns off the light) Night, mah boys.

(long silence)

Wakko: B, I was wondering, when you die?

Brain: Yeah?

Wakko: What do you want us to do with Squit? Like, look after him and stuff?

Squit: I'm not a stray cat, Wak.

Pinky: Yeah, but you do shit in a hole in the ground tho. (laughs)

Squit: (sarcastically) Gee, thanks.

Wakko: I just worry about you, that's all.

Squit: I think I'll be fine. Good night. (lies back down) Thanks, though, Wak.

(Wakko suddenly vomits on Squit)

Squit: (furious/disgusted) UGH! FUCKIN' HELL, IT'S IN MY HAIR!

Wakko: (feeling dizzy) I think it's the sausages.

Pinky: (panics and turns the light back on) Fuck dat! I've gotta get out. I've gotta get out!

Brain: (disgusted) Oh, God, the smell. It always makes me puke.

Squit: Please don't puke in here.

Brain: Oh no. (vomits)

Squit: (disgusted/annoyed) Oh, you have.

Wakko: I don't feel well. (vomits again)

(Brain pukes again)

Pesto: Help me! (vomits so much)

Pinky: Oh, shit, the smell. Oh, God, doublepuke!

Squit: JUST GET THE FUCKIN' TENT OPEN, PINKY!

Pinky: (tries to find the zip) I can't find the zip! I can't find the zip! Oh no! (vomits on the tent zip)

(Squit looks at his mini-blade as he knew what he had to do.)

Squit: (angrily) Great!

(Squit rips the tent with the mini-blade and got out, so did Pinky, Brain, Pesto and Wakko. They started walking away together abandoning a damaged tent, a burnt suitcase and Brain's shitty car in the forest)

Squit: (reads text) Oh, my mom's texted me back.

Brain: Is she up for some back door action?

Squit: Nope, it said, "I love you too but I think you're on weed. No offence."

Pinky: If she's up for it, Pesto should get to do her, cos it was his text that got her kinky.

Pesto: True.

Squit: Obviously she's not up for it.

Brain: How do you know?

Wakko: Does it say that pacifically?

Squit: Specifically.

Pesto: Are you sayin' she only likes it in her axe wound? Ha.

Squit: Seriously guys, c'mon, we've got a long walk ahead of us, I'm covered in puke, can we just drop the "yo mama" jokes?

Pinky: I'd like to drop yo mama's jokes. Get it?

(They all laugh while they were walking away from the forest.)

Squit: Okay, that's brilliant, I give ya that! Heh, heh!

(short silence)

Pinky: (putting on his fake Cockney accent) So what are we doing now, Brain?

Brain: The same thing we DON'T do every night, Pinky! Try and call my dad 'coz we're fuckin' lost! (laughs)

Pinky: Yep. Good idea.

Squit: Yep.

Pesto: Yep.

Wakko: Yep.

Brain: (relieved) When I get home, my dad's gonna kick...my...ass!

THE END!

This is the 4th fanfiction episode of The Outsiders. Thx. Hope you liked it. 

[amplesalty]

Day 12 - Chillerama (2011)

The last drive in...

As is tradition around these parts, we like to toss in the odd anthology film just for some variety. Now, it has been a while since we properly covered one since the last few I watched were in that blind period where I’d be watching stuff but not blogging due to laziness, namely Trick ‘r Treat, V/H/S and Tales from the Darkside. Between those and early entries like Creepshow I/II/III and the Twilight Zone movie, I feel like I’ve hit upon the bigger names of this sub-genre. I think the other big one would be Tales from the Crypt, which occupies this space in time between the comic and the TV show. I will freely admit, I’m watching this for one reason alone which we will get to.

Things start with a guy digging up a corpse and getting his dick bitten off before exclaiming that he’s ‘late for work’. I suppose that’s one way to avoid answering any awkward questions in the office. ‘Good weekend?’ ‘What did you get up to last night?’. No one ever asks you what you did before you came to work, clearly the best time to get your necrophilia ways in.

I don’t get the significance of the blue blood though, other than maybe it standing out because it’s so unique? It’s not like they’re trying to tone down the movie or anything, doing a Mortal Kombat turning the blood grey and calling it sweat. We will see later that this movie gets very graphic.

Turns out he works at a drive in movie theatre that is shutting down, tonight being the last night. This serves as the framing device to tie all the other stories together, cutting back to the drive in between segments to catch up with some of the main characters.

Up first is ‘Wadzilla’ the story of Miles, whose swimmers aren’t so strong if you know what I’m saying. His doctor, played by Ray Wise, prescribes him some new medicine that hasn’t been approved for market yet but he would make a good test case for. It wont help him make any more sperm but it will give what he does have a little more pep.

Or in actuality, cause him to grab his dick everytime he so much as feels the slightest arousal and have a look of the guy from the ‘Jizz in my Pants’ video.

Turns out that new medicine is causing his sperm to grow massively. Look at the size of that thing, must be like passing a kidney stone. The good doc advises he cease taking the pills and, should this happen again, he needs to jerk off as soon as possible to get the little bleeder out.

Unfortunately, Miles heads out on a blind date and catches sight of his date’s cleavage so has to rush to her bathroom to rub one out. What ensues is a chaotic scene in which the released sperm starts scurrying around the room like a lost gerbil and Miles trying to stop it. He even wrenches the shower curtain off the wall and tries to harpoon the gooey troublemaker like he’s Captain Ahab. Well at least we avoided that horrible trope of the date blocking the toilet.

Or so I thought, as Miles tries flushing his wasted offspring, only for it to cause the toilet to backup and spew water everywhere. Miles’ date wonders just what the hell is going on in there, only to get attacked by the beast which has even spawned teeth by this point. It even tries to fulfil it’s destiny of getting inside her, only for Miles to intervene and launch it out of a window.

This sperm doesn’t stop growing though as it starts to go on a rampage through the city like it’s the T-Rex is Jurassic Park 2, starting by eating this Worzel Gummidge looking hobo.

Pretty soon it’s destroying buildings and the army have been called in. But even they can’t stop it from what it wants to do...

Hump the Statue of Liberty.

It even has fantasies of the statue doing a sexy dance. LADY LIBERTY’S TWERKING, MAGGLE!

This calls for General Bukkake, played by Eric Roberts, to call in an airstrike which destroys the creature and the statue, even if that means he ends up living up to his name in the resulting explosion.

Our two love birds even get to finally share a kiss, though it’s a lot closer to snowballing under these circumstances.

Blocked toilet tropes aside, my most hated of tropes, this one was pretty fun. Definitely has that 50’s b-movie quality down with some fake film grain, green screen and practical monster effects.

Meanwhile, back at the drive in, dickless the clown is in the store room and the implication is that he’s jerking off. But I don’t know what he’d exactly be jerking off at that point except a small stump. The only other thought is that he’s trying to clean the wound or something but there’s a definite jerking motion going on. Either way, he sticks his hand in the popcorn butter so he can rub it where his junk used to be. Unfortunately for everyone intending to eat that night, one of the staff comes in to restock and chooses that can. This doesn’t end well.

Segment two is ‘I was a Teenage Werebear’, Werebear being a sub-genre I feel Hollywood has not explored sufficiently. The best way I can describe this one is Grease if it was written by Chuck Tingle, with some supernatural elements thrown in. Pounded In The Butt By My Closeted Lust For The Local Greaser Thugs Who Happen To Be Werebears. Just a strange mix of musical, horror, LGBT and beach movie.

Cosplay James Dean and his girlfriend here are in the middle of song when she promptly gets run over and surprisingly not killed. She’s just left in this sort of half brain dead state for the rest of the segment where she’s spouting random nonsense. This isn’t all bad as it lets him focus on his real love, Cosplay Albert Wesker. 

What he doesn’t know is that leather daddy here is a werebear and, during a wrestling match, he gets bitten on the ass and infected with the werebear curse. There’s worse things you can be infected with through the ass. This does lead though to a homo-erotic argument cum slowdance set to the remarkably catchy ‘Love Bit Me on the Ass’ sung in a 1950/60’s rock and roll style.

But it’s a love that cannot last and Ricky knows he has to save the good people the only way you can stop a werebear, by sodomising them with a silver pole.

This one is certainly...different, I’ll give it that. I certainly wasn’t expecting a coming of age story dealing with the confusing world of the developing sexuality of the hormonal teenager so kudos to it for pushing some boundries.

Now, onto the reason I picked this one out, ‘The Diary of Anne Frankenstein’. My gosh, what a glorious pun. I should have known just from that that I shouldn’t take this movie seriously so I’m not sure why I was so surprised when it turned out to be a goofball horror comedy but oh well.

I don’t know quite what I was expecting from this but I still feel letdown slightly. It just feels like an excuse to poke fun at Hitler by making him a bit stupid but I feel we already explored this idea quite thoroughly in the Producers. Still, I guess they had to make things up a bit considering this involves creating a Frankenstein monster from the limbs of concentration camp victims. Christ.

It does end with the Monster beating Hitler to death with his own arm before dancing over his decapitated corpse so it does have it’s upsides.

We then get faked out with the next segment ‘Deathication’, a movie so scary it will make you shit. Only, the projector starts playing up and the movie cuts out. I for one am glad because the 30 seconds we see of this was bad enough, I don’t think I could have taken a whole segment of it. Te come to find that the drive in owner is being attacked by dickless who has turned full zombie. Turns out his special brand of butter has contaminated all the popcorn and turned the patrons into zombies as well.

That is to say, randy zombies that engage in a blood orgy that would make the people in Event Horizon blush. People are giving blow jobs to intestines, stump fucking, spit roasting people before tearing them in half and engaging in even more stump fucking.

It feels like someone else wrote this section specifically because it turns into the drive in owner going out in a blaze of glory, bandoliers and weapons strapped to his body as he tries to save the last few kids left alive. All the while he’s just speaking almost exclusively in movie quotes, most notably when he sodomises one of the zombies with his shotgun and invites it to say hello to his little friend. Lot of sodomy in this flick.

I’d say this matches what I’ve come to expect from anthology movies, strong book ends with an indifferent middle. Wadzilla is a cheesy take on the old giant monsters and the zombie outbreak at the end is a bizarre spectacle. If you’re into those Troma type movies, this one is worth looking at.

[pettyrevenge-base]

Don't be rude to the cashier if you go to that store everyday

Obligatory on mobile sorry for formatting.

When I was in college I would work at the liquor store in my home town each summer to earn cash for the school year. Important things to note, I had been doing this for a few years and my cumulative working time made me one of the stores most veteran employees but since other employees only ever lasted a few months no one knew me. Therefore each time I came back I was seen as "the new guy" (this also applied to the regular customers). Since I was only working during the summers I would work 6 days a week to try to save as much money as possible. It was a small town so we were the only liquor store besides stores like Wal-Mart (which are allowed to sell in my state). Finally the last thing to note is state law says anyone under 40 needs to be ID'ed and store policy was to check a second document to make sure the name matched their official ID.

Anyways a few days after I started for my third summer I had a customer come in. I hadn't seen him before and he looked to be in his mid-late twenties so of course I ID him. I can tell he's slightly annoyed at being ID'ed, as regulars of the store often are,  but he gives it to me and that's the end of it. Or at least so I thought. A few hours later he's back in the store picking something else up. I remembered him from earlier but state law technically says if they leave the store and come back we have to ID again, even if we know for a fact they are over 21. Also my manager happened to be in the store at that time watching. So naturally as he's checking out I ask him for his ID again. He will be Rude Customer (RC) and I will be ME.

RC: Wow you must have a really bad memory huh bud?

Me: Excuse me?

RC: I was in here earlier I thought you would remember.

Me: I'm sorry sir, I do actually remember you but I still have to ID again since you left. Also that's my manager over there and he doesn't know you were here earlier so if he were to see me not ID I could get in trouble.

RC: No, you don't have to try and make up excuses just admit you have a bad memory. I know you're new so you don't know how ID'ing works yet, but just remember my face. I'll be in here most days so don't waste my time asking for my ID.

At this point I was pissed that he insinuated that A) I was making up excuses, B) I had a bad memory, C) that I didn't know what I was doing, and D) he felt that since he came often the law didn't apply to him. Now admittedly it was pretty standard practice with a lot of the employees that once you knew a regular you wouldn't always ID, but I decided fuck this guy. I vowed at that point on if he ever came in when I was working I would make sure to not only ID him but ask for a second form because "it's store policy". I didn't know at the time but I later came to find out that our work schedules coincided so that I was working when he was off work and able would come in. Other things I found out are that he came in almost every single day when he got done with work, and that he lived close by therefore walked to work and the store (which is important because it means he couldn't go to a different store each day). Since I worked 6 days a week and at the time you couldn't buy alcohol on Sundays, he had to see me everyday.

Over the next month or two I would ID him almost daily, and always made sure to ask for 2 forms. If there was a second check-out line RC would always get in the other line even if it was longer. The problem for him was that because I had become the manager of that store it was normally only me and one other employee during my shift. I would normally handled the register while my coworker stocked the cooler. This meant 80% of the time I was the only check-out line so there was no avoiding me. The first part of my revenge was the minor inconvience to him of constantly being ID'ed, but I got several small acts of revenge in addition. One would be when he would see me not ID other customers who were regulars in front of him, which pissed him off. Others came from some of the interactions we had such as this.

RC: I swear you have the worst memory of anyone I have ever met.

Me: What do you mean?

RC: I would think that by now you would know I am over 21 and stop asking for my ID.

Me: Oh I know you are over 21. In fact I have a pretty good memory. You have a (out of state) license, and your date-of-birth is XX-XX-XXXX. Now before I can sell this to you, do you have two forms of ID on you?

His hatred for me continued to boil for about another month until he hit his tipping. It was actually my last day working before I went back to school and he came in. I was excited to have one last opportunity to be petty. He came in when we were rather busy so a full line of customers and my manager had stopped by (we were the only store in my town but the company had other locations that he cycled through each day). When it was RC's turn to check out he threw his two forms of ID on the counter before I had the chance to say anything. As I was checking them he let out a defeated sigh here's what followed.

RC: I should really stop coming here this store has been a massive pain in my butt. Actually you know what, no it's not the store, it's just you. You have been a massive pain.

Me acting innocent: What do you mean? All I have ever done is my job and sold you your alcohol.

At this point he started literally screaming, which took me by surprise a bit.

RC: You know damn well what you have done. You fucking know I am over 21 but you always fucking ask me for my ID. Fuck You! I have seen you not ID others, I want to talk to you fucking boss. If it's really state law and store policy you should be asking everyone for their ID as much as you ask me. I am going to get you fucking fired you fucking douche.

Me: Sir, please calm down. I assure that I am only doing my job by asking for your ID. I know it's sometimes inconvenient, but both the store and myself could be fined if I don't ID.

RC:Bull-fucking-shit! You always make excuses and I'm tired of it. Your coworkers don't ID me, they know who I am it's just you. I -

At this point he was cut off by my manager (B for boss)

B: What is the problem here?

RC: This guy keeps IDing me even though he knows I am over 21.

B: So? That's both store policy and the law. Also sir I can't have you screaming and using that type of language here, I am going to have to ask you to leave the premises.

RC:Fine, let me finishing paying for my-

B:No I need you to leave now. I am denying you this sale. I won't sell alcohol to anyone who is already acting belligerent in public.

He ended up leaving sans his normal purchase. At this point both the customers behind him and my boss asked me what set him off. I just said I don't know, all I did was check his ID.

TL;DR. Customer is rude to me because I asked him for ID, so I made sure to ID him until he couldn't take it.

Source: reddit.com/r/pettyrevenge

[davidmann95]

E L S E W O R L D S ? ? ?

MY THOUGHTS ON THE WORLDS AND THEIR ELSE-ENING ARE MANY.

Gonna put most of this under a spoiler cut just in case, but right up front: I only regularly watch The Flash starting with Season 4 (along with seeing the first half-seasons of it and Supergirl, plus sporadic episodes of the other shows and Invasion!), and while there are absolutely standout episodes, it’s probably the most lukewarmly received piece of media I consume on a regular basis. So Elseworlds looked rad, and The Best Superman was coming back for it, but aside from hints that it was going all Final Crisis (which sadly weren’t realized) I was hardly outright ecstatic at the prospect of a Freaky Friday alone, even with Batwoman’s introduction in play. Basically I assumed it’d a bunch of fine stuff I’d get through so I could drink up the Superman content like a dying man in a desert.

This was my favorite live-action DC thing since The Dark Knight Rises if not in fact The Dark Knight itself, and in all honesty probably my favorite period of the non-Batman division. It was everything I want out of this sort of project and more.

I’mma break this down into a few categories: as a whole, Superman specifically because if you’re here you know what my deal is, THE ENDING, and a multitude of scattershot impressions and thoughts.

AS A WHOLE: Was this a masterwork of layered conceptual depth and calculated plotting tight as drum? Hardly - if nothing else, the sheer fact that the entire Superfamily is functionally and thematically superfluous precludes that upfront. But again, this is the perfect version of this kind of series, where clockwork precision is rarely the name of the game (aside from that dope episode of Flash with the bomb) so much as excitement and character-driven emotion, and in that regard this is the platonic ideal. Oliver and Barry hold the narrative together as Barry low-key relearns the value of his own kind of strength, and Oliver high-key learns to accept that he’s not living in a world defined by him anymore and he needs to be better, to the point where I may not even rag on him as Walmart Batman anymore every time I have cause to mention him, especially since that gets its own perfect sendoff. Batwoman functions as a perfect pilot capsule while still functioning as a chunk of a larger story, and Ruby Rose is on point. Supergirl gets some quality content even with her hands off the wheel (which is one of the lesser aspects given…well, given this is probably gonna be the last crossover like this and she really should have been the lead for one of them). It’s funny and thrilling and so damn weird, concerned above all else with making you giggle at doing stuff you’ve wanted to see for years and then making you give a shit about the emotional consequences of Barry Allen picking up some archery classes, and it earns what it reaches for.

Moreover, this episode represented a moment of maturation for me in terms of its status as a shared universe: Crisis on Earth-X was the culmination of what this world HAD been with its massive group shot aboard the Waverider, and that culmination was my going “wow, lookit that, they really did build something kinda functional out of what they had to work with”. It was a world that was comic book as all hell in the best way, but its own oddball strain made up of recognizable pieces broken off from a larger puzzle and rearranged into a new configuration. Here? From the moment the Monitor chases off 90s Flash on a desperate race from his dead world and the bodies of an army of superheroes to save all creation, into Superman taking his place as a central figure, Batman’s mythology unfurling out of nowhere at a beautifully shameless breakneck pace, the establishment of the Multiverse and Monitor mythology as the base level concept uniting the universe as a whole, and hotlinks to a half-dozen other major mythology elements I’d given up on ever seeing acknowledged, this really and profoundly feels like DC Comics.

SUPERMAN: Still so so good! I will say, this wasn’t nearly as much a breakthrough standout display for Hoechlin’s Clark as his prior Supergirl appearances, with a couple line readings where he’s maybe just a little too chill, and less opportunity to display range or depth given he’s in the back seat. And dude’s gotta practice pretending to be thrown back, however you do that, because that was pretty badly fakey-looking. If this had been his debut, I still would’ve loved him, but he’d be taking up third or fourth on my list of live-action Superman actors rather than sitting pretty at #1; I have to wonder if a lot of his energy simply went to his killer performance as Deegan, or if he’s still modulating his kinda-being-his-real-self-but-also-still-putting-on-the-Supermanness chunk of his performance given it’s with Kara and Lois that he really shines. If someone writes him off as a dime store Reeve though, they’re still wrong and also probably bad. Shoring up his cracks though is Elizabeth Tulloch, who’s already at least vying for a place on the Lois Lane Mount Rushmore. Reminded me heavily of the best of Erica Durance’s take, but with an additional straightforward bluntness that suits Lane incredibly well, and a talent for talking rings around Clark that does more than any other Lois to date to sell the idea that that’s a huge part of what he loves about her. Also she slaps around a mad god with the hammer for the cosmic anvil from All-Star Superman, because if there’s one thing Lois Lane steadfastly refuses to be in the business of, it’s in any way fucking around.

As for the big question: even aside from Tulloch making pretty clear in a recent interview that it’s something producers are talking about, yes, I absolutely think the Superman/Lois chunk of this was as fully intended to act as a backdoor pilot for them as the second act was for Batwoman. I know I’ve been certain on this in the past just as a matter of ‘they can use Superman so it would be foolish not to push that’, but then, well, nothing happened. But here, while the creators are clearly hedging their bets with providing them what could easily be a happily-ever-after, their appearance in this way in this context is bizarrely conspicuous and pointless if that wasn’t what was intended. They’re incidental to the plot (Deegan becoming Superman, while great fun that gives us an interesting new spin on the evil Superman concept, is basically just an aesthetic), the functionality of getting Clark away from National City had already been handled by the season premiere and never actually takes anything more than ‘he’s busy in space/plugging up a volcano/fighting Luthor’ as has already been done in the past, the guest spots and relevant emotional beats could have easily been contained to an episode of Supergirl rather than spilling out into an already stuffed three episodes, and if they could only be used in one crossover for some reason they’d obviously be saved for the next one. And they get a scene to themselves AFTER their role with our leads is wrapped up, with a moment that could have already come off-screen earlier but didn’t, purely to endear them to us in a way that would make us want to see more of them. I’m not saying a Superman show is now guaranteed, but unless there was some bizarre instruction that they suddenly once and for all needed to permanently get rid of him - yet permitted that to be accomplished via the delivery mechanism of more Superman, in a way that’s noted as impermanent in-universe and in a context that’s going to introduce him and Lois and push them as big deals to the maximum possible number of viewers - yeah, I think that’s what the people who made this must have been intending. And that the powers that be let them is incredibly encouraging. As Tulloch said, a lot of this is out of the hands of anyone but corporate, but Elseworlds got season highs so that’s a point in their favor; hopefully Cryer works out as Luthor, because I imagine that’s the other checkmark needing to be crossed off that comes down to the response of the viewership.

Also the proposal was perfect, and I am astonished that happening after the pregnancy was announced got to go through - ‘modern’ indeed, as Cat Grant would put it. I get it’s got precedent of a sort in Superman Returns, but on the other hand, that precedent was Superman Returns. I’m surprised I’m not already seeing thinkpieces on the degradation of American Values coming out of this.

FUCK: 

FUCK.

I really thought there was gonna be one more crossover before they dove all the way in. But nope, nope nope nope, instead by this time next year for-real live action Crisis on Infinite Earths with Flash, Supergirl, Superman, the Monitor, shadow demons, the Psycho Pirate, and assuredly a comprehensive collection of carefully curated cameos from the ghosts of DC TV past will be a thing out there in the world. Marv Wolfman sure must be having a nice day.

And boy, they are not in ANY kind of position to half-ass it. The name value alone would be enough, but if that was it they could at least maybe get away with Dean Cain and Brandon Routh showing up in their old working clothes to help beat up the Anti-Monitor on a cordoned-off Vancouver street, maybe a couple of the Legends folks biting it. But they‘ve been explicitly acknowledging it as a thing they’d build up to for five years, since episode one of their most popular show, and if I’m right and the writing in the book of Destiny was supposed to be the same kind of text that Nora’s writing, they’ve been actively setting up Chekhov’s guns within the shows themselves for at minimum two years. AND they’ve already done three other world-threatening multiversal crossovers, including a classic JLA/JSA-model Crisis, so they’ve already established a threshold of crossover event that this needs to plainly mark itself as an entirely different order of magnitude from, AND they’ve had a threat to the multiverse before in Zoom so just saying that again without really showing it isn’t going to measure up. Hell, the idea of massive status quo changes is reinforced as being just the much of the mission statement of this as the original via Psycho Pirate. They’ve apparently quite knowingly backed themselves into a corner where they actually have to Wreck Shit. At minimum one of the three leads has to die for keeps, and all have the symbolic weight behind them - Oliver included after Elseworlds, and really in the first place as the founder of this DCU - and have obvious enough successor shows waiting in the wings to feel like they’re legitimately in the line of fire.

My hope? One that unlike usual I’m not gonna bolster by drawing on evidence at hand and logical assumptions, but the way I simply feel it Should Go and think at this point has a legitimate chance of being the case? Crisis is its own miniseries in the fall in place of the return of the other four shows, a massive high-budget ensemble piece with room to breathe…and at the end pretty much everyone dies. Most of the Legends, some supporting cast members, and above all Oliver, Barry, and Kara ALL die grandiosely and nobly to save all creation, hidden from the audience successfully by way of a miniseries ‘putting off’ the actually nonexistent renewals of the existing series. Earths 1 and 38 are merged (hopefully without discarding the multiverse as a whole, and with the heroes remembering their pasts), and in the wake of this massive conclusion, the entire DCTV lineup is effectively relaunched. Batwoman comes in here, taking Arrow’s place, while Superman emerges (likely with a psuedo-Rebirth setup since Jon’s on the way - they can figure out a way to get him to the appropriate age) with him dealing with his family and his initial grief, The Flash is relaunched with Wally and/or Nora assuming the mantle, and Legends reconstituting itself, whether by its original title or as Legion of Superheroes or Justice League, with a new lineup made up in large part of the castoffs from the cancelled series. Again, obviously there’s nothing definitely pointing towards this being the case, but somehow it just feels right, especially with Batwoman and Superman shows clearly being gestured towards when Arrow and Supergirl are the shows that would definitely have to end or at least change names with the death of their leads. The strongest evidence against all this, I think, is that Supergirl wouldn’t quite have hit a hundred episodes and syndication yet. Though there may still be that Supergirl movie too, so that’s a factor.

A couple incidental thoughts on that front: 

* Interesting that Flash vanishes in 2024 and is still gone in 2049, but the first crossover - made when ‘Flash vanishes’ was already a keystone mythology element, and given its place at such an important moment you’d think the writers would remember - makes clear there’s an old Barry around in 2056. I could see that coming up. 

* Thawne’s role in this season of Flash feels at this point like it has to dovetail into everything, and I could see him taking up Psycho Pirates’ role in the original story even if the genuine article’s around. 

* I wonder if Jon Cryer’s gonna play Alexander Luthor.

* If Kara and Barry do die, and likely make some post-death appearances, I wouldn’t mind if they for the sake of novelty reverse things so that it’s Kara who comes back for real in Final Crisis, while Barry’s the one who comes from the past unknowingly and tear-inducingly ala Whatever Happened From The Man Of Tomorrow? (that could easily be set up via the “three hardest days of your life” thing Johns did in his Flash run).

* Incidentally, do Final Crisis as the ultimate event the next wave of shows build up to like this was built up to, and make that the end of everything.

* If I’m all wrong about Superman and he’s just being set up as a lamb to the slaughter for Crisis to fill the Supergirl role (which would still by no means require him appearing in Elseworlds, especially given it’s not like he develops a relationship with Barry or Oliver, so I’ll say my points all still stand), I get the impulse is to do him dying in Kara’s arms. But if they do wanna go this way and finish his story, I really, really hope that instead they let him deal at least part of the killing blow and then somehow vanish into ‘Heaven’ with Lois and Jon. If you’re gonna homage a Superman bit from there to close him out, that’s the one to go with.

* If Ezra Miller wasn’t bullshitting and would be willing to put in a little appearance, this is the place.

ASSORTED REACTIONS:

* “Oh Barry, what have you done this time?” Oliver’s wise to your shit, boy. He knows full well he’s pretty much in a ‘Barry fucks up with Flashpoint even further’ meme come to life.

* Barry freaking out that he knows kung fu is a delight, as is Oliver trying so dang hard to do this whole ‘Flash’ thing.

* Knocking out the pair of them is admittedly *a bit much*, but while some might correctly note that they’ve seen so much weird shit they should be able to accept this, I’d say it’d also be fair to note that they’ve seen so much weird shit they’re not wrong to think this is gonna snowball into some bullshit and it’d maybe be simplest to nip it in the bud and get things under control.

* Barry, I’m glad there are toilets in the Pipeline, but someday you’re going to think to ask ‘so Cisco, what are you feeding them down there?’, and then Vibe’s gonna go OH FRAK or some other nerd shit and they’re gonna find 5 seasons worth of corpses to clean up.

* Hahahahahahahahahahahahahaha they did fuckin’ KGBeast on Arrow. Was that who Dolph Lundgren played? Checking…no. Dang.

* I had heard there was gonna be a Remy Zero shout-out for Smallville, but I assumed someone would just ask for someone to save them or it would be playing on the radio, not that they’d hard swerve from vague orchestral stirrings to pseudo-Nickelback. Loved it.

* Clark’s doin’ Clark stuff and I love it, Lois is doin’ Lois stuff and I love it, she nearly kills the Flash and Green Arrow with a hammer (truly her weapon of choice!) and I love it.

* Oliver pathetically puffing out his chest, WHILE CLARK ISN’T EVEN BEING SUPERMAN, is as good as television gets.

* AMAZO. Aside from basic delight at his existence, I love that the ‘Mirakiru’ ties into the Ivo material I know was in early, pre-superhero Arrow. It’s as if when Smallville got to do Supergirl and Doomsday for real they went ahead and tied them back in to the weird proto versions of them they’d already set up not knowing what they’d be able to do later. Much as Mxyzptlk or Grodd or Muppet Legends (I also caught that shows’ midseason finale, it was delightful) are easy to point to as indicators of how far this universe has come, this underlined that in a very unique way.

* Harsh, Barry - and where did you get those crossbows? - but earned as the Superfamily probably put together when they heard Oliver yelling about how when HE shot Barry he totally had a good reason for it. And along with the sheer, savage power of “I don’t think you can go more than nine hours without some sappy motivational speech”, it sets up Barry’s more understated character arc relative to Oliver in questioning and then reaffirming that his brand of emotional strength is just as strong as what your cowled types draw on. And while Lois obviously had the killer moment, Clark’s little “well, you kinda had that coming” look when Barry floors Oliver is nicely done. Smart money says he was thinkin’ about Bruce.

* Continued into the porch conversation, where the show takes its first real step in rehabilitating CW Green Arrow into a character I may no longer refer to by default as Walmart Batman as the show continues to dunk on him but he begins to take it in stride and realize he’s gonna have to change things up a bit.

* “Cool. Who are you?” “A friend.” So choice. Is that very clearly Williams-evoking musical sting at the end there something that often shows up in Supergirl? And I can’t tell whether’s Clark’s grin is in response to what he’s about to do, or because he’s relishing the hilarity of meeting a normal dude for the first time in his adult life who doesn’t know who Superman is, but either way I love it. And since I found his previous introductory shirt-tear honestly a little sub-par, this was an appreciated moment of redemption.

* Amazo fight rules, obviously. I do like to imagine the headlines the next day mentioning “hey, another superhero teamup happened with Supergirl from that other Earth who helped out with those invasions, and this time a male partner of hers showed up, some kind of…Super-man?” as the one pubic mention of Superman in the history of what’s presented as a ‘main’ DC universe.

* Barry just casually addressing ‘Clark’ by his first name is the first moment where I really thought ‘oh wow, this IS the DC Universe now’. And that “You’re welcome” worked as a reminder where there otherwise wasn’t space that yeah, he’s a nice dude, but maybe don’t tug too hard on his cape.

* Even though it wasn’t overtly followed up on, Barry being reminded that following Oliver’s example as his source of strength isn’t what’s gonna win him the day in the long run in the way that matters is a pretty essential piece.

* Every moment of Total Bat-Bullshit in here was so cheap and I loved it all so much.

* Oliver-dunking takes on its glorious apotheosis here - you know the line I’m thinking of - but it’s a necessary aspect of his journey here.

* Ruby Rose is very good as the charismatic vaguely menacing but easily flirty businesswoman, and again later kicking ass and delivering the growl, which she honestly does better than any live action Batman to this point. Curious to have it elaborated what kind of role she had in Bruce’s operation, given she clearly knew and has her own friggin’ cave.

* And then Barry stands up to Oliver’s demons while Oliver realizes Barry’s.

* “You really do have a lot of tattoos.” Oh my, Kara.

* “You have real steel in you, my friend.” And there you go for Barry’s arc.

* Well, wow. Fan theory bullshit triumphs at last, and now I kind of have to imagine we’re gonna see some actual Lanterns down the line. Hope, likely in vain, we see Hal so he can pal around with them before Oliver and/or Barry bite it.

* Mar Novu, huh? Somea that Final Crisis bullshiiiiit, please do feel free to pursue that further. Mandrakk’s cousin or something I guess?

* That can’t really be the end of the 90s Flash, right? If nothing else, he needs to stick around so that if they decide not to disintegrate Grant Gustin after all he can be the one there to make the death run.

* Episode one: “The darkness…I feel it…it threatens…to…CONSUME me…” Episode three : “oh my GOD Oliver we broke a LAW I’m gonna THROW UP”

* Hoechlin plays the hell out of Scary Dickhead Superman, even if it’s odd that Deegan was defensive about making an arguably sexist choice of identity when he already openly fucking supports eugenics. But an anon asked me about this and suggested this is a top-tier evil Superman, and yeah, I’d agree with that. He’s not scary because’s a mad god, he’s scary because he’s a small, small man who’s lucked his way into being GTA mod Superman, all of the pluses with none of the minuses, all of the ego-assuaging praise and power without having to meaningfully hold up his end of the bargain. It’s an effective twist on Superman as a power fantasy, one that’s scary in a very different way than the idea of it going wrong usually is. Because instead of him letting us down, it’s one of us joining him in the sun and trying to kick him and the rest of us out because it’s all HIS now.

* Oh yeah, of course Superman totally knows about the Book of Destiny. All the REALLY cool superheroes got that that kind of experience in the bag.

* As I said, Supergirl takes a back seat, but Benoist really shines with swaying Alex Danvers - from the moment I saw she’d be in this from the trailer I thought “Kara swaying her can’t be done very believably, it would be convincing her of a whole other life instead of a minor alteration”, but damn if she didn’t sell it.

* I must admit, the Superman V Superman fight is Hoechlin’s low point; him losing the advantage because he’s saving people is perfect, but some of his good-Superman deliveries lack the necessary conviction, and whether due to the animation or his overexagerated tumbling, him getting knocked around the city looks notably fake in parts to an extent that breaks the immersion.

* I guess Superman fought Bizarro at some point, if that concept carried over (I know Supergirl fought a Bizarro too, but if Superman never fought one the average citizen wouldn’t make that comparison). I suppose it’s the Earth-1 Alex Danvers and James Olsen though?

* Similar note: Kara mentions that ‘maybe my pod didn’t make it here’, and given doppelgangers are a thing, it’s been noted there’s a Krypton in each universe, obviously at least one other major superhero carries over in Batman, and the degree of long-term planning clearly going on at this point with the multiverse stuff, I honestly wonder if they might be laying the seeds for something on why Superman and Supergirl never happened on Earth-1.

* I do like that Superman’s technically the one who beats the bad guy flat-out and saves the world from a broken history by sheer force of will, even if he’s not the one with the splashier more permanent win later (and even then he saves Lois).

* Fuck yes. Never liked Superman turning the world backwards, but now entirely worth it for how that shit comes back here in the most gleefully unhinged manner imaginable (even if Mach 7 wiping out Barry and Kara is absurd on the face of it).

* And Oliver comes full circle to realizing he’s no longer the center of his own universe, realizing he can be better while still proving he has it in him to make the hardest call. This dude still ain’t Ollie, but I guess I can acknowledge him as Green Arrow.

* And then it’s all Superman stuff and Crisis, which I discussed, though worth mentioning just how off-guard the Jon confirmation caught me. Thumbs up on that!

[whenjoshisjoseph]

13 Things Best Bros Do Together (+1 Thing They Don't): Chapter 5

e) Giving Each Other Massages

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“You should fucking watch where you're going,” Bakugou mutters, rubbing Kirishima’s reddened arm.

They're currently sitting on the floor of Bakugou's room, next to each other, Kirishima leaning slightly into his best friend's side. The blonde is currently holding the redhead’s arm in his lap, massaging it gently with his coarse fingers.

“Dude, you can stop,” Kirishima insists. “It's nothing really, I just tripped over your desk and didn't harden in time. But like, I'm fine, so-”

“Did I fucking ask , Shitty Hair?” Bakugou growls. “Your arm is swollen as fuck, so shut the hell up and let me help, dumbass!”

“But I don't need-” Kirishima attempts once more, but stills at his best friend's glare, allowing himself to relax into the touch.

It's strange, thinking about it; Bakugou doesn't seem to be the sort to be so caring, but it turns out that he is...in his own way.

Kirishima sighs contentedly.

“Dude, you're so good at giving massages; I should get hurt more often.”

It's a joke, of course, but Bakugou flares up, grabbing Kirishima’s face with his free hand and tilting it to forcibly face the angry blonde.

“ Don't you fucking dare hurt yourself or I will beat your stupid ass up myself, got it?”

“Yup,” Kirishima replies between squished cheeks. Bakugou drops his hand, and the redhead immediately stretches his mouth out. Damn, but his best bro’s got a strong grip.

“Besides,” Bakugou mutters, uncharacteristically quietly, “it's not a fucking massage.” Kirishima snorts.

“Bro, hate to cut it to you, but this is most definitely a massage.” He indicates to where Bakugou is softly running his fingers across Kirishima's arm.

“I bet you've never had a real message in your entire shitty life, huh? You couldn't fucking tell a massage from a touch if you tried!” Bakugou retorts. Kirishima shrugs in agreement.

“You're not wrong, bro. Everyone expects that I don't need massages cos of my hardened skin, so yeah.”

Suddenly, Bakugou releases Kirishima's arm and moves to sit directly across the other, tugging at Kirishima's legs slightly so that the two boys are pressed a little closer together.

“Give me your fucking hands, Shitty Hair,” Bakugou demands, holding out his own palms.

Now, Kirishima's really confused as to what the heck Bakugou might be doing, but he trusts his best bro, so he places his hands in Bakugou's. And if he feels his cheeks heat up, so what?

“You ready for the best fucking massage ever?” Bakugou smirks, looking straight into Kirishima's eyes with a spark in his own eyes. Kirishima loves it when Bakugou's pumped up.

“Yeah!” he replies enthusiastically. Oh, but he has no idea what's in store for him, because it turns out, Bakugou's good at giving massages. Like, insanely good.

He starts at the base of Kirishima's palms, fingers ghosting over his skin, and works his way up to his fingers, touching along the creases of his hands impossibly gently.

And God, does it feel fantastic; Kirishima is utterly relaxed. Maybe it's the fact that Bakugou, who's possibly the most aggressive student at U.A., is being cautious and soft with him, or that he's unraveling the tension in Kirishima's hands, but something about the whole hand massage has Kirishima biting his lip to control the sounds threatening to escape him.

But when Bakugou looks up at the redhead, it takes one look for him to state:

“What, you trying not to fucking moan or some shit?” He says it so bluntly that Kirishima almost chokes. Bakugou's eyes widen, but he doesn't seem uncomfortable. In fact, he continues on:

“Whatever. Just means you fucking like it. I don't care if you sound weird.” At the same time, he intertwines their fingers and applies some pressure, so that the tension seeps satisfyingly out of Kirishima's knuckles.

“Ohhhh, right there,” the redhead hums breathlessly, leaning closer to his best friend.

Then of course, Midoriya walks in with Todoroki.

“Kacchan, is Kirishima okay now or-” The green-haired boy freezes as soon as he catches sight of the two of them on the floor. Their hands are intertwined, Kirishima's legs are resting lightly over Bakugou's knees, and the two boys are tilted forwards towards each other. Furthermore, Kirishima's bottom lip is swollen from his biting, though it must tell a completely different story to the couple staring at them. It most certainly doesn't help that Midoriya's own lips are reddish, and that dark splotches of colour disappear down his shirt.

All in all, this looks bad. Very bad.

“GET THE FUCK OUT, DEKU, OR I WILL BLAST YOU BOTH TO HELL!” Bakugou snarls, beyond livid.

“I'm so sorry, we didn't mean to interrupt-” Midoriya squeaks as Todoroki pulls him out of the room by the hand. As soon as the door shuts, Bakugou pushes Kirishima back and stands up.

“I wish I could've fucking blasted them or something for looking at us like that,” he says, looking down at the redhead, who looks back up at him a little sadly. “What?”

“Why are you pushing me away, bro?” Kirishima asks dejectedly, all puppy dog eyes. “Are you embarrassed of me?”

Bakugou rolls his eyes and throws a plastic bag at him from the bed. Kirishima is obviously fast enough to catch it, albeit a little bewilderedly.

“I forgot to give this to you and seeing those idiots reminded me,” Bakugou explains quickly. Kirishima stands up himself, and peers into it, pulling out…

...The latest issue of Flash Fight Quirks ?!

“You...you got this for me all on your own?” Kirishima asks slowly. He finds it sorta cute when Bakugou flushes. But in a platonic way. Then again, Kirishima's still in shock. That must be why he thinks it's downright adorable.

“Well, yeah, dumbass. You obviously fucking like it, why wouldn't I buy you a copy?”

And suddenly, he's on the floor, because Kirishima has tackled him in a massive bear hug.

“Hey, Shitty Hair, what the fuck did I say about hugging?!” he shouts.

“Sorry,” Kirishima mumbles into his ear from on top of Bakugou. “You're just the best, bro.”

*

Later, Kirishima is sitting on the sofas with Kaminari, Sero, and Mina, recounting what happened.

“So then, Midoriya and Todoroki walk in, and like, it looks really wrong, so Bakugou gets all defensive and yells at them. That's what you guys heard.”

Sero flops back.

“Well, that makes sense,” he reasons. Kaminari sighs.

“We were just worried, dude,” the blonde chips in.

Mina, on the other hand, has a scary gleam in her eyes.

“Are you sure you two weren't, maybe, cuddling, or something? Like that time on-”

Kaminari and Sero are instantly leaning forward again, covering her mouth.

“She's joking, ignore her,” they say hastily in unison. And before Kirishima can even question them, Midoriya walks up to Kirishima and says, urgently:

“You and Kacchan are really close, right?”

Kirishima can't help it; he flushes bright red.

“Listen, dude, about earlier-”

“No, no, no, I mean as friends, I've totally forgotten about that!” Midoriya reassures him, flashing him a smile, which Kirishima returns.

“Well, we are best bros, if that's what you mean!” he beams.

“That's great! Then, could you possibly find out why Kacchan’s so-”

“DEKU, I CAN FUCKING SEE YOU!” Bakugou roars as he bursts into the room, pummelling towards Midoriya, who yelps and hides behind Kirishima. Bakugou tries to slow down when he sees that Midoriya is using Kirishima as a shield, but trips over the edge of the sofa and ends up sprawled in the redhead’s lap.

“Hey, you,” Kirishima greets cheerfully, pinning his friend down so he can't lunge at the smaller boy. Kirishima doesn't know exactly what is going on, but he knows that Midoriya most likely hasn't done anything to deserve Bakugou's anger.

“Let me go, Shitty Hair, I wanna punch that nerd!” But Kirishima's strong too, and Bakugou just ends up writhing on Kirishima's lap. Kind of like a very angry kitten , Kirishima thinks to himself.

It's as Bakugou's squirming that Kirishima notices that the blonde is moving his right shoulder very awkwardly.

“Bakubro,” Kirishima says gently, knowing that the nickname will get his attention, “does your shoulder hurt?” Bakugou suddenly stops moving. “Bro, what happened?”

“I was walking 'round the corner and shitty Deku appeared from fucking nowhere so I banged my shoulder against the wall really fucking hard,” Bakugou grumbles. Huh . He can work with this.

“If I give you a shoulder massage, will you stop chasing Midoriya?” Kirishima offers. They all hold their breath as Bakugou considers it.

“Fucking fine,” Bakugou finally huffs out. “But you better fucking satisfy me.” Midoriya sighs in relief at the same time Mina, Kaminari and Sero snort, Mina repeating ' satisfy ’ with much joy.

Kirishima counts them lucky that Bakugou didn't hear them.

“MIDORIYA?!” Mina's sudden screech makes them all jump, most of all the boy in question.

“You sound as scary as Kacchan,” Midoriya whispers to himself, before addressing the excited girl. “Um, yes?”

“Do you have hickies ?!” Mina is on the edge of her seat. However, Kirishima doesn't get to see where the conversation goes from there, because Bakugou (who is still very much in his lap) distracts the redhead by nudging him with his elbow.

“Massage,” he grunts, adjusting himself so that he's sitting wedged between Kirishima's legs. Kirishima chuckles but does as he's told, placing his hands on his best friend's broad shoulders.

Truth be told, he doesn't really know how to give someone any sort of massage, let alone a full shoulder massage, so he tries to mimic what Bakugou did earlier to his hands, cos that sure as hell felt good.

He runs his thumbs along the muscles of the blonde's shoulders, being extra careful with the sore one. Kirishima applies a little pressure where he hits stiff areas, because he knows it soothes his own tired muscles.

As Bakugou begins to relax and push back against Kirishima, a soft noise escapes his mouth.

“See?” Kirishima says against Bakugou's ear. “Feels great, right?”

“Fucking Shitty Hair, don't fucking whisper in my ear like that!” the blonde practically gasps. Kirishima doesn't know why Bakugou's talking like that, but sometimes he forgets that Bakugou doesn't like being too close to people; he's obviously telling him to stop because he hates it, which Kirishima respects.

He absentmindedly notices how big his best friend's muscles are, and wonders how cool it would be to feel those muscles flexing around him, like in a hug, or something. Cos best bros usually hug a lot, and Kirishima feels like they should make it a thing. Yeah, he'd like that.

Bakugou has completely and visibly relaxed under Kirishima's touch, eyes closed, and is making small sounds underneath his breath. Yup, Bakugou seems like a slightly less angry kitten now.

Confident that the blonde is satisfied, Kirishima tunes back into conversation.

Except that no-one’s talking anymore.

Wait, when did they stop talking? Was he really that immersed in making his best bro feel good (it is a priority, after all)? More pressingly, why is everyone staring?

Kirishima voices the last one aloud, to which Mina clears her throat importantly.

“Kirishima, look. We all love and respect you, so don't take this personally, but you've gotta realise that there's a time and a place for everything. You can make your boyfriend moan when you two are alone!” Kirishima is certain that Mina would've continued to tease them more if not for two reasons:

She's on the floor laughing her head off, and

Bakugou is standing above her, yelling his head off.

Midoriya silently gets up and leaves without saying a word, presumably to avoid becoming a target, whilst Sero and Kaminari cautiously pick Mina up off the floor, who's in tears by now. Kirishima attempts to lead Bakugou away, too, but the blonde is having none of it. He rounds on his best friend.

“Why the fuck do you put up them when they don't give you a fucking minute of peace without being complete assholes-” a question others have often asked him about Bakugou “-I'll fucking punch them all and then we'll see who's-”

“Dude, chill, they're joking,” Kirishima says, holding his hands up in surrender to show Bakugou that he's not trying to agitate him. Kirishima swears he can hear Bakugou's teeth grinding as he tries to stay calm. “That's what Mina’s like . She's great fun, I promise! Just don't take everything she says too seriously. Maybe give her a chance?”

“Give me another massage and I'll think about it,” Bakugou mutters.

Kirishima grins.

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[castlehead]

makeshift feels from the opinion lab

kafka wrote in a journal urhmherm of being limited to prague, then his room, then his bed, then nothing at all. to be limited at last to nothing at all. well. turns out i guess the most kafkaesque sentiment came from franz kafka.

enjoi ya rickety gethsemane while it is still to be dreamed, young writers, young writers of youth.

after a job on a hot day back in april or may or something i started listening to this while walking out of the truck towards the gas station convenience store and abruptly pivoted away from the sliding doors to sneak around the side and weep near the green fencing around some boilers. it occurred to me how little i could ever forgive myself for doing.

the shit ive done, all of it, i havent forgiven myself. if i did it and it was bad, or even meagre, dumb, really no big deal, bet yr ass it still keeps me from thinking i deserve happiness. i do not forgive myself for anything ive ever done. no deed is too temporal to etch itself cleanly into my head as something unforgivable, if only it makes a small point.

i know this is true because no joy i ever feel is felt fully, because i do not think it is deserved; and because i allow myself to be joyous only when i think of the truth of my unforgiven, unforgivable state. never to be. Never will.

and that is what is depression.

There must be something here, in me. Here where the jackals caterwAul Like streetcats Mewing their gizzard After this night’s heat, What’ll it be Jackals, Buzz off, shit man

i feel like the key to life is knowing that 90 percent of anxiety & depression, either in degree or in its truth, and at least somewhere not wracked by war, is unsubstantiated (the ten percent being actual crises, like fear of violence, a death in the family, etc). The problem is how persuasive these feelings can be that lead to the fulfillment of the very fear or solidifying the reason for being depressed. But with positive feelings, the least thing, whether true or no, can always be rewarding. A bit of happiness must be allowed to be felt, indiscriminately, because it is more useful to us than a bit of sadness. Take the fierce dialectic u use to establish a depressing ‘truth’ and persuade yourself of something good. If one is far fetched, let it be the something bad. Until it happens, after all, all of it remains in your head, to do with what u will.

You don’t get to lower taxes on the rich and gut social services at the same time. The reason social services are in place is to provide a fair shake for john q public. Mostly investors are feeling the benefits of the corporate tax cut. They’re not giving the money towards a better product that would help the people. but one day there will be no sesame seeds on the bun of yr Big Mac and you’ll wonder how that’s possible with an entire sesame seed dept that just got a pay raise.

tax reform should be done to help a free market, so that the rich can be poor and the poor rich. Taxation helps the people so that social services become less necessary. Social services were developed because the percentage of taxation was unequal between higher and lower class. Poor folks felt the pain while rich folks shrugged it off.

Thats why I say you can’t do both: social services are a protection against the world being entirely controlled, if it’s not already, by those from the very swamp this president wants to drain. T**** hasn’t drained shit.

i feel like writing takes over for your thought process. You can’t think and write at the same time, or something. something turns off or it switches where it’s doing the shit it’s doing to a different place, like yr hands. I don’t think you can write down one linear thought with another thought being thought in your head. This is why people say their mind goes blank in extended periods of inspiration. The functioning has gone from being untethered and temporal, ie wandering thoughts, notions, speculating, to being possessed in a focused place, ie yr hands, which usually leads to a more focused expression of perhaps a thought of particular value, enough in the first place to require writing down. But tho this can be easy for some talented people, who might, as Joyce said, polish their nails while writing some genius thing, what does not come easy for anybody, because it is imposssible, is thinking two disparate things, of the everyday and of some behemoth philosophic concept, for example, without either one taken place after or before; or, one of them being intermittently disturbed, tho linearly, by the other, like a notification on yr phone- until at last one of the two breaks down, and the foxus superseded by the one left. This is especially novel. One thinks; one does not think and also think. That would make it two people in one head. Therefore we can presume that ones identity is found in the unity, or internal focus, of their story in thoughts down one narrow wire: thought can cross many paths and examine everything under and beyond th sun, but per person it is still in the singular. It cannot divide into two simultaneous paths of equal focus. there can be multilayered thoughts with a similar core concept behind them, and these can be thought simultaneously as much as one can ante up and dole out shades of emotion and shades of thought, and so on. But I cannot think of a teleological explanation for all creation and with the same focus Apply myself to letters in the mail. There is a dominant voice, and the rest, the mundane voice, is seen thru that lens.

ya cant say yr colorblind then gripe about people hatin ya cuz u r white. contradiction of terms no? if you really didnt see color, ud say people hated yr ass because yr a damnfool entrylevel, grunt-ass lowbrow. not because of the color of ya skin, which ya recognized and put to the forefront in making that very statement.

feel like uh, a priori is not intuition alone. Intuition is a function of the mind, while a priori is, if I understand Kant correctly, a representation synthesized before there is an object of focus available for the senses to interpret, ie an essentially true conclusion drawn, that has no need for a combined manifold, as, Kant tells us, is offered by merely living in space and time: time to extend and progress from cause to effect to cause, and space to do it in. In other words, intuition is cognitive- psychological, and a priori, theoretical- logical.

Pathos is the one thing most divine about people, for i see that in my worst state I can still grieve for the savaging of life’s last hope, and be uplifted, feel tears, at least for a little blessed while. There is no state so low that does not inspire one to at least pity themselves, and feel the comfort of passions, however mistaken or wretched the person.

i feel that / Some subjects do not even allow to be proved through the scientific method, yet they are still issues of a scientific nature and not just mysticism. the line is very thin however, since usually these subjects devolve into mysticism. In fact, if science only worked with that which could be proven, from the outset or otherwise, we’d have a pretty limited roster of discoveries. Sometimes discoveries can be made along the way towards proving; sometimes, discoveries can be made, scientifically, thru means that for lack of anything better, are entirely theoretical. And sometimes the search is not to prove something true but to clarify something. Science is not out to be incontrovertible.

The man in mismatched sox inhaled not as deeply as he would have liked at such a crescendo, even if on the third listen in a row, then, looked up at the massive pure blue upwards, cloudless, felt likely to cry for joy, but in the end simply mouthed the words:

“I’m gonna die of loneliness, fo sho.”

So often doth trespass our intuition upon realms and pathways of a more intimate enumeration of cause and effect than could be available to any witness, and that is available only to the actioning of objects involved in the event seen and analyzed by what and who were no player.

The crisis paid goodbyes in the form of telling your ass off, is what he said. But we all knew he thought he was merely a parable often enough already. We didn’t listen to the crisis, deliberately shut our ears like boxing them very slowly ourselves before anyone else could. Later in the year many terrible events would occur that were the direct result of ignoring his words. But nobody came around to believing he did it. The crisis was way off teaching prophecies someplace probably foreign. But if I refuse to be confined to learning from my own folly I should at least give the follies of others a chance. Fatass karma, and more hell than handbasket.

What the crisis he said was

HEY YOU DONT WANT TO FACE JACK, FACE? TELL ME ABOUT HOW CRUELTY CAN BE ELEGANT AGAIN. YOU ARE FACING NO SUCH BURDEN OF SIMPLY LIVING. TELL ME WHAT HALLUCINATIONS ARE, YOU SWOLLEN, DYSPEPTIC SHIT.

And to this day All I remember is him Looking slain already Like he’d be on the slab In days Or even hundreds of years from then And it’d be how, uh, how He looked then Slamming the door While my sister and things Was gatherin they buckets for weeping later In that queer disease of spite where You grieve for the vanquished enemy.

all triumph is in some sense humorous, for in itself triumph is the opposite of tragedy. that is why the soldier laughs as he shoots at a retreating enemy. there is an element of rowdiness that is somewhat comedic, taken in itself.

Numbers are the only symbols that stand for what they are. In this way they are more like hieroglyphs

is bed porn a thing? it should definitely be a thing.

THIS LIFE IS FILLED WITH DARKNESS THIS DARKNESS IS SO LIGHT GOD IN HEAVEN QUA SKY MUST BEAT WINGS TO KEEP ON GROUND NOTHING MUCH IS EVER FOUND NOTHING MUCH IS EVER FOUND. No symbols where none intended etc etc

No art is permanent, in that its aims in being created do not last, do not translate between epochs. I will never experience Homer as one living in Ancient Greece. Have not closely read Homer, but when I do it will be as myself in my time, with all the sullying context of those years from then to now only left to unguide me.

Kierkegaard tricks you into thinking he knows his insanity is illogical, the side effect of writing his labyrinths. The frightening moment comes when you realize how fiercely logical his insanity seems to him, and how insane the World actually is, and you wonder if it is that you do not understand it or just do not accept it.

[alisterthatchel]

Cyrus Proposal (Remastered)

“…And that will be the last time that any more quarrels between you two shall be resolved with magical means,” Alister stated with frustration lacing his firm tone.

“But he-!” Ezav stammered in protest, his shoulder-length hair falling in front of his eyes as he shook his head in exasperation of his own.

Alister shook his head and stared down Ezav as he cut him off. “It will be the last time, correct?” His voice had a subtle growl to it now. “Or must I make that apology both of you need to give into a detention or a public service stipend?”

Gavrick remained silent, discontent about the situation, but stoic, not wishing to make the situation worse.

Ezav stammered, but became silent, standing still. He nodded silently, turned and walked out of the office.

Alister closed his eyes as he sat down in his chair, giving a sigh. As Gravrick turned to leave, Alister said in a calmer tone, “Gavrick, I know it wasn’t your fault for Ezav’s attack, but in the future, you shouldn’t antagonize him. Otherwise, situations like this happen. I know you can’t prevent Ezav or his friends from antagonizing you, but you can control yourself and your actions. From now on, do your best to keep from making situations worse. If not for you, then for the sake of other students in the event of potential collateral damage.”

Gavrick, who hadn’t turned back to the Headmaster when he was talking to him, but he nodded quietly and walked out of the room.

Alister took a deep breath before opening his eyes and reaching for his mug of tonic. “Sonnofa-…! Ugh!” Alister stifled the scream, forgetting the wounds on his hands and the strength of his passive grip strength. The wounds continually healed and reopenned despite Reya’s best efforts. Ever since he grabbed that sword the wound had felt different then a normal cut, and the perpetual bleeding seemed to be an obvious reminder now. His hands were bandaged with excess fabrics from his stored materials, now stained crimson, threatening to drip its stored liquid on anything that came in contact. Between Reya and his own efforts, they were able to find a sealing ritual that made the blood at least capture in the cloth, so he didn’t have to worry about accidentally repainting all his property, or eliminating his stores of linens after half a day from changing them out every five minutes. Alister mused at the cloth Reya had come up with, surprised at the ingenuity of his new staff, tailoring a fabric with runes and arcane symbols into such a fine bandage. He ran his right hand’s fingers across the fabric of the left’s, surprised at the softness of it. His fingers slipped and accidently prodded the wound, causing him to grimace at the pain. ”What it doesn’t do is easy any of my damaged nerve endings...” Alister muttered to himself as he tried to pick up the cup again without putting too much pressure on his palms, or moving them.

“Did you just almost fucking swear?!”

Alister leapt out of his skin, his cup flying as he jumped in his desk chair. The shattering of porcelain and the spilling of the tonic was not noticed by Alister, whose head dropped firmly to the top of his desk, red from the shock, pain and frustration. Through gritted teeth, “Cyrus, one of these days, the heart attack will be real, and you will have to explain to my staff why I’m dead!”

Cyrus’ smile was the first thing to become visible, the shit-eating grin of a troublemaker. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, I was never here to begin with.” The rest of the tall, lanky man became visible. Black feline ears rose out of the spiked hair that had a shine like quill ink. A strong contrast to his ashen complexion. His clothing matched his natural colors. A worn combat jacket, once black now charcoal, over top a fit white shirt. Black cloth pants with pockets littering the sides. He was leaning against the nearest bookcase to the desk. “You just keeled over and died from looking at the scores of your students’ exams.”

Alister, after taking a deep breath, sat up and leaned into the back of the chair. “I see you’ve been observing my school’s classes before visiting me.”

“Yeah, there may be one or two students that have a new feline friend in-and-around the campus.” He closed his cobalt-blue, slit eyes and shrugged.

Alister smiled a little, and held up his wounded hand. “Well I’d offer a formal greeting to you, but as you can see, it would require me to go through great pains to do so.”

Cyrus opened his eyes again, the self-satisfaction in his smile shifting to that of entertainment. “Ah, and the rare siting of a joke, I see. I truly have caught you in a rare mood.” After a half chuckle from Alister, “Occult magic or barroom brawl?”

Alister had lowered his hands to rest on his lap. “Barroom brawl with an oversized minotaur from the nearest vault.”

Cyrus let out an elongated whistled and sauntered over to the desk, playing with a miniature globe that hovered above a small pedestal. “Now what would make you do a silly thing like that?”

“Gabriel.”

The globe wasn’t touched after the name left Alister’s mouth. Cyrus lost his smile, and when he looked at Alister, he saw he wasn’t joking. It took all of three seconds after for Cyrus to return to his playing with the globe.

A new record, Alister noted.

After two more seconds, “He’s dead.”

Alister sighed as he looked past Cyrus into his own mental void, “Supposed to be, but appears to be a case of spontaneous reanimation.”

“Apparition?”

“Physical body.”

“Replicant?”

“He had his signature toxin.”

“Copycat.”

Alister’s gaze drew back to Cyrus as a scoff left his nostrils. “I see you’re full of jokes today as well.”

Cyrus’ massive grin returned as his cat ears flicked. “I thought you might enjoy that one.”

Alister took a deep breath, gingerly got up out of his chair, and slowly walked back onto his balcony. “No, he’s alive, with apparent vendettas. Whatever he is planning, it has so far involved manipulating my students into thinking they can get useful information, power and wealth from what lies inside the vaults.” He rest his forearms on the wooden railing, looking out upon the view, as he frequently did.

Cyrus stopped playing with the globe and followed Alister to the balcony, hopping up to balance on the railing. “Any idea of his end game?”

“Only that I’m one of his targets, and I’m presuming the others from the institute as well.”

Cyrus turned away to walk atop the railing, thinking all the while. “So that’d probably be me and a handful of others that lived after the dissolving of our merry band of misfits?”

“I would hazard to guess.”

“Sounds like you’re getting yourself into trouble as always.” Cyrus had walked to the end of the arc, turned around and started back before another word was said.

Alister scoffed again, sarcasm dripping from his tongue, “Oh yes, I always enjoyed finding your side plans in the middle of our missions.” He looked back into the office, waved his hand absently, and the shards of mug reconstituted itself, and the spilled liquid flew up and pooled back in the container. It flew over to Alister, who, wincing as he did so, caught the cup with his fingertips. He brought it to his lips, smelled it, and then licked the tonic after a moment of contemplation. He grimaced and shot the liquid off the balcony, still holding the cup. “Usually led to me getting reprimanded while bedridden in the nursing station.” He waved his palm over the cup as he righted it. The container filled with heated water with a few leaves that slipped out of his pocket and flew up into the newly made drink. He took a few sips as he leaned on the railing.

Cyrus, amused by the tricks, continued his semicircle stroll back towards his friend. “Yeah, but you enjoyed it though. Got to spend plenty of time with your girl. Besides,” he said as he hopped over Alister’s head, landing on the other side of the railing. “It’s not like we ever failed a mission because of whatever ‘nefarious’ or ‘underhanded’ concepts you seem to think I may or may not have had at the time.”

“If you’re referring to the many times I was hospitalized from those antics, then I assure you I barely remember any who visited, let alone enjoy their company. Also it’s been two centuries, and to this day I’ve never found killing a brainwashed barkeep to extract information post-mortem a worthy response, when we can just give the known telepath a few gold pieces to unlock his mind so he could willingly tell us and go on his merry way.”

“But it took so long,” Cyrus whined, overlapped his hands over the back of his head as he continued to the end of the railing, giving a brief sigh. “And you wondered why I always called you a killjoy.”

Alister shrugged as he took another sip, the mildly sweet taste of the tea contrasting nicely with the slightly bitter tone forming on Alister’s tongue. “One of my many warranted nicknames from the institute that I earned. Some of which were from you.”

Cyrus turned around at the end of the line, heading back towards Alister. “Hey, it legitimately wasn’t all bad. We had a lot of fun despite the assassinations and espionage.”

Alister shrugged again, his agitation slowly starting to recede as he began recalling a few of the “good” times.

Cyrus took a moment to filter his memories. “What about when you got eaten by the kraken?”

Alister shrugged again. “That was the mission in Lestox, right?”

“Mhm.”

“What about it?”

Cyrus reached Alister and hopped off the railing next to him, back to the railing, elbows resting on it as he stared through the office, space and time, watching the memory in his head. “Remember, we were sent there to stop the cultists from worshiping and feeding that giant, sentient cuttlefish.”

Alister set the cup on the other side of him than Cyrus. “And I got swallowed while moving Itzal and another of his team out of the way. First time I used Mage’s Coating, too.”

“Yeah, not gonna lie, a lot of us thought you were dead at that point, despite us still trying to kill it.”

“All I remember from after I got swallowed was trying to disintegrate it from the inside out. All of a sudden electricity pulsed throughout its body, and started to damage the shield, which was already damaged due to the stomach acid. I passed out after that point.” Alister as well was revisiting the memories. “I fail to see how any of that was pleasant or enjoyable.”

Cyrus’s mischievous grin returned and he looked up at the sky. “So I never told you about what happened during that time?”

Alister shook his head. “You just kept saying ‘I’m not losing my dick so you can know who your savior was,’ so I just gave up on it.”

Cyrus laughed as his memory was triggered. “Oh yeah! I forgot that she threatened that, and after what happened I kinda believed her!” Cyrus slowly let his laugh die, but then it stopped abruptly before it could trail off as he looked around the vista, under the balcony and in the sky quickly. “Well, since she’s not here, I suppose she’ll never know.”

Alister, curious to where Cyrus was going with this story, simply waited.

Cyrus, returniong to his previous resting area next to Alister, “Tallia saved you.”

A name Alister hadn’t heard in many years, and the surprise of it was visible on his face. “I thought her electrokenetic powers hadn’t awaked at that point.”

The excitement at seeing Alister’s shocked face was all too clear on Cyrus’. “Yes and no; it was the moment she broke that threshold.”

Alister picked up the cup again gingerly, and took another drink. “I haven’t seen her since shortly after I made the school, roughly 86 years if I’m not mistaken.”

Content with Alister’s reaction, Cyrus carried on. “So you remember how good ol’ Reggie ordered the Catalysts within assault range of the kraken?”

Reginald Alagar, one of the Wardens, most known for making awful tactical mistakes and taking it out on the Wards. “How could I not remember him?”

Cyrus ignored the comment. “Well after that whole debacle, a few of the Catalysts got injured, and ended up in the medic tent. Tallia was working on one of them when the kraken swallowed you, and she apparently became hysterical. From what people said, she stopped healing the wounded and just ran full speed at the Kraken, her powers drawing the static from the storm, but surging through her enough that she was leaving glass footsteps.”

Alister remained quiet, just picturing the scene in his mind. He refilled the cup and drank more.

Cyrus continued. “So there were a few Brothers and Sisters running after her until she got into range of the kraken. That stupid, oversized octopus was so preoccupied with Itzal, having recovered and regrouped his unit, that it didn’t even notice this five-foot-nothin’ girl running up.”

Alister was starting to get invested in the story. Cyrus always had a way with storytelling that he enjoyed. He also noticed Cyrus’ eloquence was disappearing, a sure sign he was losing himself in the story as well.

“So I’m booking it to get her out of there, but I stop when I notice some of the nearby rocks are starting to crackle. Turns out the rocks on the beach were conductive, and they were harmonizing with Tallia. On top of that, I’m close enough to see her hands, and guess what she had clutched in her mitts.”

“I’m not guessing,” Alister said flatly. “With all the items and weapons littering those sands that day, I’d spend half a day guessing.”

Cyrus, un-phased, “A fucking auger.”

Now that was a surprise. “What?”

“You heard me, Nightshade. An accursed auger.”

Another name lost to time. Alister raised his hand and pointed his index finger at Cyrus. In an audibly tempered tone, “That is a name never to be said with others in potentially earshot, least of all people who might know what that name means.”

Cyrus looked at the finger and held up his hands, laughing a little. “My apologies, got too far into the past.”

After both lowered their hands, Alister turned back to the vista. “So how did Tallia get her hands on one? They were only given out to Wardens to keep wards squarely under thumb.”

“I thought that to, but apparently that catalyst she was working on was having a relationship with one of the Wardens, and was given an auger. Tallia just happened to have it in her hand when she fled to the beach, hoping to save you.” He ran a few fingers through his hair as he continued. “What’s even better, is that it resonated with her electrical abilities that at the time weren’t strong enough to be noticeable.”

Alister was taken aback. “But the augers were meant to only enhance psionic powers, how would that help her?”

Cyrus chuckled. “Yeah, ‘suppose to’ is the predominant idea. But she either broke it with what electrical powers she already had, or they had more power in them then what the director wanted even the Wardens or Wards to know about. Either way, a bolt of lightning dropped right next to her, and it crashed into the hand that had the auger. It apparently caused the device to supercharge, and a beam of light shot out, vaporizing a hole in the kraken’s head about the height of Ol’ Reggie himself. All anyone else could see was her getting hit by a lightning bolt, her screaming, and sending a plasma beam right through its grey matter. Before the beam dissipated, she brought the beam up, and split the beast’s head wide open. It must’a cause residual shocks, cause not only did it put you out, but half the population of the key’s fish were floating on the water by the time she was done. Hell, the only reason any of our troops didn’t get electrocuted was because I saw it coming and yanked almost all of them onto the beach away from the water. Itzal also snagged a few and flew them back to camp. No casualties, but a couple people were given a good wake-up call, including myself, despite also having a static personality of my own.”

Alister at this point had moved away from the railing, had raised his hands, palms up, and the wooden panels making the balcony floor warp up into the shape of two armchairs. He sat down in one and just watched Cyrus as the story reached its conclusion.

“So after that the light vanished, she dropped the auger, and ran to the corpse to try to find you. Apparently, her friend Quin ran over from Itzal’s platoon and they cut through the digestive system till they found you, your defensive spell still active despite you being unconscious. That being the case, though, you still suffered internal damage. Quin was able to use her powers to disable your coating after about 5 minutes, and Tallia went to work healing you, which went faster than she expected.” He hopped up to sit on the railing. Sarcastically, ���I wonder why that could have been.”

Alister, who had been visualizing the tale in his mind, was now suddenly taken out of the daydream. Perturbed, he simply rolled his uninjured hand in the air, signifying for Cyrus to continue.

“So after they healed you and you still didn’t wake up, they brought you out of the kraken. Quin mentioned that Tallia was inconsolable until they were about to leave. She supposedly calmed Tallia down to keep from having the Wardens see her that way. They also came up with a dumb excuse for the sudden power, saying that Tallia couldn’t bear to see any more of her comrades dying, and she channeled her gods through her secondary power.” When Alister gave him a look he knew well, he laughed. “Of course the Wardens didn’t believe it, but they didn’t have any proof that it was anything else, or that she believed anything otherwise. You remember how devoted she was to that god of hers. Fuck if I remember what the name was.”

“The Veiled One.”

Cyrus scoffed and threw up his hands momentarily, looking towards the vista to his right and closing his eyes. “Whichever that one is, they knew she was a devotee of them, but didn’t believe a word of it. They scoured the beach trying to find what she could’ve used, but found nothing, thanks to yours truly. Swiped that nifty little gadget up as soon as the Wardens were scrambling to get the Wards from fleeing after seeing that display of power. But since they couldn’t find it, and Tallia kept to her story despite interrogation, they chalked it up to wild magic and fear off loss. Thus, the reason why you, her and that one Warden were always being sent on ‘top secret missions’ that were near impossible to complete.” Cyrus looked over to Alister, who was mulling over his own memory. Cyrus hopped off the railing and walked over to the other chair, falling back into it, folding his hands behind his head. “But luckily for Tallia, she knows how to pick’em, cause you found ways through all the missions they threw at you guys, and even showed a bit of your own true powers.”

Alister took a deep sigh and closed his eyes. “It all makes sense now. I did wonder why they chose her and I to go on those missions, and why they created the hybrid classes, but that would explain why.” Alister opened his eyes again and looked at his friend. “And the perfect distraction.”

“Quite,” Cyrus uttered as he snapped his fingers on his right hand, and a ring on his right hand glimmered briefly.

A brilliant glow emerged from the left corner of the balcony. Requal, who had been hidden under a cloaking spell, became iridescent, and she screamed in surprise. As she shed the magic like pulling off a blanket, she caught a glimpse of the boards underneath her, and recognized the shape of a ritual circle, formed out of blood that had pooled from her wounds. She got the cloaking off, but wasn’t able to move out of the circle in time for Alister to say a quick chant, the rituals’ lines to flash a bright purple, and her to be stopped in time.

Both Alister and Cyrus got up, walking over to the time-locked student. “This the troublemaker who helped the bastard?”

Alister knelt down next to Requal, having seen red marks on her pant legs, and pulled them up just enough to see perpetual bleeding coming from the wounds. “Yes, and can you please stop swearing in front of my students.”

Cyrus knelt down next to Alister and looked the injuries, smelling the blood. “Yep, and wreaks of demon.” He looked at Alister. “What’s her loss?”

Alister looked back. “What do you mean?”

“Thatch, you don’t go looking for a vault unless you have a damn good reason. It takes weeks to months of preparation, and you generally do research prior with what information you can get your hands on on what resides there, living or otherwise.” Cyrus looked back to Requal. “I know my kind when I see them; intelligent, quick-witted, sharp looks.”

“Humble,” Alister commented as he looked at the residual cloaking magic, half disappeared before also being stopped in time.

“But!” Cyrus interjected back, an agitated look on his face, “Also impetuous, head-strong, and can get in over their head if they haven’t been bested a few times.” He then looked back at Alister. “There’s a reason she tracked down the vault with little-to-no knowledge of what lay inside. You only take drastic measures when you meet drastic times. So, what is she losing?”

Alister was surprised at Cyrus’ insight and directness. Maybe Cyrus had changed a little bit since they had last met. “I know she has a good home, despite the father perishing when she was younger. Her mother, Oliven, and her older brother Wynd, a student at the school, are the only other family members. The family was attacked by a spell caster who demonstrated some powerful and strange magic, leading to Wynd losing his legs, and Oliven receiving some kind of internal damage. Last I knew, both were healing well enough, though magic prevents the brother’s legs from being restored. Oliven runs a garden and sells excess food at the market, but they’re barely getting by since Wynd can’t help with the work. Wynd has stopped coming for the time being till he feels he’s ready to come back to classes. I haven’t been in contact with Oliven as of late, though, to know if the situation has changed.”

Cyrus nodded. “So vaulting for prestige for the family and potentially to help her brother. If that’s the case the kid is too fuckin’ noble.”

Alister looked at him. “Despite the conversational jumps to murdering anyone to make things convenient, I remember you taking up a couple causes that were fairly reputable and selfless when we were younger.”

Cyrus rolled his eyes and grinned. “Fine, you got me there. But if she’s going to work under me, I’ll need her thoughts in the moment, not on the homestead.”

Genuine shock darted across Alister’s face. “Cyrus, you basically swore off the idea of having a protégé when I offered it to you before.”

Cyrus shrugged and propped himself up in a sitting position against the wall near the frozen Requal. “Yes, I admit I did. But, I suppose after looking around this school, seeing all the kids learning from your training, and your teachers even having understudies of their own, in addition to their classes…” Cyrus had started sounding wistful, and gave a gently sigh. “I guess jealousy has gotten its talons hooked on me.” Cyrus looked at the sun as it began to set across the other side of the balcony. His tone suddenly got a nostalgic and morose edge to it. “If the institute was anything like what you had here, maybe all our ‘classmates’ would still be alive, and we wouldn’t be such broken individuals.”

Alister sat there, taking in the words that came out of his old friend’s mouth. After all these years, it was always refreshing to know Cyrus wasn’t too stubborn to grow as a person. “Well, it was an open offer, and it still stands: You may pick a student to have as an understudy, so long as you keep them safe-“

“‘-Like they were my own blood, and teach them how to benefit society,’ and to be a goody-two-shoes like their headmaster, and to tuck them in after a bedtime fable, and...” Cyrus trailed off as he had looked back at Alister during his recitation-turned-ramble, and seeing the unimpressed expression caused him to break into a massive smile. “Shut your face, you love me and you know it!”

“You do have qualities that I enjoy in a friend, but that has no bearing on the matter at hand,” Alister said as he started to massage the bridge of his nose before the pain from the hand wounds set in, then he promptly dropped his hand. “Do you agree to the rules of it?”

“I wouldn’t’ve postulated if I wasn’t serious.”

“Ok, then the only other thing is to ask the young lady herself if she wishes to make the pact with you.”

Cyrus flung his hands into the air and flopped them down on his legs, giving an obnoxiously loud scoff. “You and your forsaken pacts!”

In a flat voice, “Keeps people honest to their word. It’s for her just as much as it is for you.”

Cyrus rolled his head as an audible groan, a mixture of exasperated and frustrated, led into an elongated, “Fine.” Cyrus grumbled about being flung in shackles whenever he visits.

Alister pointed a finger at him in a way that told the Fellinian to watch his tongue, before using the same index and the neighboring middle finger to gently tap the edge of the ritual circle. The light slowly started to fade, and the blood that had constituted the circle’s formation soaked into the wooden beams and vanished. As soon as the light had faded, Requal continued her momentum as if time had never stopped. She fumbled, and tripped over Cyrus’ splayed out legs from where he sat. She fell forward, but Cyrus brought up his right hand, an ethereal hand stopping her by the collar bone, and reduced her rate of descent till she was just above the ground. She immediately rolled off the hand, spun around while getting herself on her feet. She had pulled knives from her sleeve pocket. Her eyes had darkened noticeably.

Alister stood up carefully and looked at Requal. “Put those away, enough blood has been spilled in the last couple hours.”

Requal tried to lower the knives, but her body was not listening. “H-Headmas...” She stuttered it out, her mind foggy from the whispering voices and blood loss.

Alister saw that Requal was having trouble, and formed a chair right behind her from the boards. Cyrus, also seeing this, finally got up, having suspicions on what was going on. “Do you know the name of the demon you faced?”

“Not yet, but it was the brother of the minotaur that we fought,” Alister stated as he had moved slowly closer to Requal.

“H-Headmas…d-don’t co…any…closer, p-please...” The voices were compelling her to spill blood, and she couldn’t shut them out, let alone regain control. Her blades were slowly raised, not of her own choosing.

“Oh yeah, I know whose work this is,” Cyrus said as a spark of lightning crackled across his face. A blur in space and half a second later he was in front of Requal. His left hand gripped her right wrist tight to halt a reflexive stab, and his right hand upside down over her mouth. Requal’s eyes instantly became afraid and her body tried to free herself. Cyrus began to whisper a chant, barely audible, not able to be discerned. Requal froze, her eyes locked in shock with Cyrus’. The Fellinian’s pupils, normally slits in a turquoise circle, expanded till the entire eye was black. Requal’s body started to go limp, and when it did, Cyrus dropped his hand from her wrist and brought it to the center of her back. With this he eased her back into the chair, their faces never losing or gaining distance nor breaking level with each other. After she was sitting, Cyrus’s whispering gained an aggressive tint to it, and his left hand slid out from behind her and hovered over her wounds. A black tendril of mist came out of his hand and seeped into her wounds around the blood, and, after a few seconds, bone shards oozed out. Black vapors rose from the fragments as they settled on the floor. The wounds themselves started closing before the tendrils receded back to his hand. He then moved his left hand over Requal’s right ear, palm an inch away. His chanting was almost discernible as his volume increased, Alister, listening closer to the chanting, couldn’t discern the language even after Cyrus’ chant grew louder. After a few seconds, a small amount of black and violet sludge oozed out of her ear, disappearing as it ran down her ear. After the liquid finished evacuating from her ear, Cyrus’ pupils slowly receded back to being slits. His chanting slowed to a stop and he removed his hands. Both him and Requal gasped air as both regained control over their bodily movements, Requal doubling over in the chair she sat in, and Cyrus had staggered back towards the railing.

Alister ran to Requal and eased her back in the chair while she caught her breath. He looked over to his friend, who was holding his head as if he’d been struck in the eye. Black tears ran down his face. “What was that? What did you do?”

Cyrus, trying to wipe away the black liquid being wept, “Old world exorcism. The Yulidrum couldn’t kill the demons, but could cast them out good enough.”

“Is that normal when you do this?” Alister, indicating the tears.

Cyrus gave out a chuckle as he reached into is open black jacket and pulled out a black cloth and wiped his eyes. “Only if it’s the legitimate thing.” He looked down at his white shirt under the jacket and saw that some droplets ran down the front, staining it. “And boy was that the real thing. I’m going to use your shower.” Cyrus walked into the office and into the bathroom.

After Cyrus left, Alister pulled up a chair next to Requal for him to sit in. “Take some time, just breathe.”

Requal, who had just started to calm down enough to start using deep breaths, released her death grip from the wooden arm rests, and nodded slowly.

“Are you ok enough to talk, or do you need more time?”

“I…I think…I can.” Requal was still visibly shaken, but had a firmness enough for Alister to believe it.

“Alright. Let’s start with why were you on my balcony tonight?”

Requal’s deep breaths slowed more. “The voices...the whispering...they wouldn’t stop. I left the infirmary...then ripped the bandages on acc-…accident, a-and the voices got worse, wanting me to hurt…anyone. I came here to see if I could find you, but you weren’t here, and I the voices were too much, and I passed out on the balcony” She pulled her legs close to her chest, feet on the chair as she continued, her voice getting more frantic and distraught. “It almost made me kill Vivian! I couldn’t control my body. I didn’t know what to do, and didn’t even know if you’d know what to do, but…I was so scared…but you weren’t here.” Her voice deescalated and ended in a mumble, resting her head against her knees.

It was true that it is rare for Alister to be in his office during the day, and Alister felt awful he was away when she needed him. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you. The most I could have done was have Reya make new bandages again. Lucky my colleague has the information he does, as these wounds are beyond my knowledge.”

“Yeah.” Requal squeezed her legs close, trying to become as small as she felt. “All of this is my fault. I just wanted to help my brother and mom. Instead I just got myself and others hurt.” She couldn’t look at the headmaster, the shame she felt before just came flooding back.

Alister looked at her quizzically. “What’s happened at home?”

Requal hesitated at first, but then slowly started telling the headmaster what she had told Reya about the new issues, and how Gabriel preyed on the idea that there’s lost knowledge about cures to disease & curses. In the middle of the explanation Cyrus returned, hair messy and wet, dressed in his black pants & jacket, a towel he was rubbing on his head, but missing his undershirt. He hopped onto the railing & sat, listening to the later part of the explanation. After she finished, there was a prolonged silence before Requal broke it herself. “Is it ok if I ask a question, headmaster?”

Alister, who had been deep in thought, nodded. “What do you wish to know?”

Requal hesitated before asking in a soft, worried voice, “What happens now? I doubt I’d be alive if I was going to be killed for what I’ve done, I’m not in a dungeon, and it wouldn’t make sense to have me here if you were going to cast me out...”

“Brazen and straight forward,” commented Cyrus under his breath in a thoughtful tone as he set the towel aside and twirled his fingers, manifesting an apple in them. Before he took a bite out of it, “I can work with that. Also it appears you’re spell worked too well; she’s missed the whole ‘options’, ‘choices’ and ‘pact’ part of our little conversation.”

Alister sighed, closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and index finger. “Cyrus, please just let me answer her question before she gets more confused.”

Requal experienced a myriad of emotions within the span of a second, and Alister held up a hand to halt her mind’s progression. He openned his eyes again and regaining his composure.

“What my colleague and I were talking about is that we had a discussion about what went on yesterday and why what happened in the vault happened. From that conversation I came to two optional conclusions to your attendance and residence at my school.” Alister dropped his hand, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. “First option, is that you get expelled and return to your home for stealing artifacts and endangering staff & student. You’d have to utilize what skills you’ve gained so far to make a living for yourself and support your mother & brother.” Alister opened his eyes and saw silent tears streaming down Requal’s cheeks as she stare past the vista to her left, away from both adults. “Or, you have the option to become Cyrus’ understudy, and continue to attend classes.”

That was not an option Requal expected. She turned her head towards Alister, baffled. “W-What?”

Alister nodded slightly. “You heard me correctly.”

Requal didn’t understand. “But…why?” He wasn’t a professor, so why was being his understudy even being discussed?

Alister opened his eyes again, looking back at Requal. “My colleague here, Cyrus, is what we call an Infiltrator-”

“She might be working with me soon, Thatchel,” Cyrus interjected. “Tell her the full truth, or I’ll say it.”

Alister’s face shuddered as his eyes closed momentarily and let out a sharp groan. “Fine! He’s also an asshole.” He turned his head to glare at his friend. “Happy now?!”

Cyrus had his usual grin on his face. “Eternally, thank you,” he said as he set the half-eaten apple on the railing, leaned back of the balcony and fell off. Before he fell past the floorboards, he burst into dozens of crows, making Requal jump a little in surprise. They flew around the balcony, sparking her curiosity and wonder. Each crow eventually landed next to each other on the railing and taking turns chattering softly to each other. One landed next to the apple and started to snapping chunks off and eating it.

Alister audibly sighed as he turned back to face Requal, seeing no more tears in her eyes, just the face of a genuinely curious student. That brought a small smile back on his face. It always brought joy to him to see students in awe of what magic could do, or intrigued by mysteries. “An Infiltrator is someone who specializes in magic traditionally dealing with phasing, apparating, stealth, subterfuge, and speed. In many circles, the purpose of infiltrators can range from espionage, thievery, investigation, and assassination.” Requal’s turned back to him at this news, once again gaining worry and confusion. Before she could speak, he nodded. “You’d be correct in thinking many with these talents would be hunted and killed for fear of those factors. During the Architect Wars two centuries ago, most knowing this art were slaughtered for working on different sides, and many of my friends died because of it. Cyrus, however, survived and found use for his learned talents outside of combat & espionage; raiding vaults.”

The murder cackled loudly where they perched. Even the one almost finished with the apple paused to join in the cacophony.

Requal looked over at the birds momentarily before turning back to Alister. “You’re saying he opens vaults to loot them?”

Alister shook his head. “There are other ways into vaults that don’t require them to be opened. Cyrus manages, and avoids demons while pilfering what he can. Which leads to the matter at hand. He has offered to teach you after seeing your abilities, as well as being informed of your tenacity, your zeal.”

The crows began chattering even more. They hopped closer to each other, melding together, forming bigger crows as the fused. They continued to merge until they formed a black mass that formed Cyrus’ original shape, and then the black peeled away to reveal Cyrus in the same position and condition he’d been in before falling off the railing. He was watching Requal intently. “He’s right. You’re move was the epitome of Reckless Abandon, but show a raw talent and knowledge that could be molded into something worthy of the job,” Cyrus knocked what little remained of the apple off the railing. “That is if you don’t fuck it up.”

Requal dropped her legs off the chair again, thinking over the options.

“If it helps, with this agreement, there would be a pact drawn up. It would outline the agreements, terms, and rules around the apprenticeship. You’d be signing for things such as following his directions to the letter, assist in preparation for vault runs, and being subject to knowledge testing within safe environments. The latter being directly related to your permission into the field. In turn, he would be signing that he would do his best to keep you safe and free from harm, assist in finding aid to your brother via connections within the clerical order, and that you will be given forty percent of the profits-“

Cyrus’s eyes went wide. “Halt your silvered-lined tongue! I’d never agree to that much, and you know it!” He leaped off the railing and was coming over towards him.

Alister, paying him no mind, “What is your choice, little one?”

Requal, who at first was taken aback by Cyrus’ outburst, was drawn back by Alister’s words. “I...” She knew which she wanted, but she needed time to process the offer. “I need to think about this. Is it ok if I take the night to think?”

The headmaster nodded to his student as Cyrus reached his chair, gestured to run along.

Requal didn’t need to be told twice. She got up and promptly left, closing the office door as she did.

Alister waited for the click before standing and turning to Cyrus, who was still visibly upset. “Argue with me about it and it’ll increase in percentage.”

Cyrus’ face started getting red with frustration. “Now listen here, fuzz face, I have a lucrative business here, and I’m not about to have it supplanted by your need to feel noble! I offered to be nice, I’m not here to give handouts.”

“You are beyond well to do, my friend, you can spare that amount of your income easily and retain your present lifestyle.”

“That’s beside the point; I do most of the heavy lifting when it comes to this job. She’s just the understudy, and shouldn’t take home anywhere near what I make out of the plunder!”

“If you are teaching her, you’ll eventually be letting her lead the raids on the vaults, minimally giving instructions, and eventually just profiting off of her skills while you either laze about, or loot even more than you normally can because of having twice as many hands to help.”

Cyrus was finding it harder to argue his point. “If you feel that bad about her situation, you should pay for it yourself! My connections, time and money are valuable. If anything you should be paying me as an outsourcing agent!”

Alister sighed, knowing how Cyrus can be when his obstinance starts growing roots. “How much would you prefer?”

“Five percent.”

“No, she needs a wage to build a future off of. Thirty.”

“Seven, and that’s because we’re old friends.”

“We’re older than old friends. Twenty-five.”

“Ten then, but only because it’s you.”

“Twenty.”

“It’s staying at ten.”

“Sixteen.”

“Ten’s as far as I’ll go, Thatchy.”

Alister closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Fourteen, and I’m not going down any further.” Alister held out his hand.

Cyrus, who had been looking gruff this entire time, got his mischievous grin again. “To be honest I would’ve accepted twenty percent, but I guess you’re negotiating powers have dropped!” He reached his hand out to shake. Forty it is...” Cyrus halted his hand as soon as he realized the slip-of-the-tongue. He looked up at Alister’s eyes, seeing the goldenrod-yellow with that deep violet inside seeping out, before the yellow transitioned back to the familiar teal to contrast the purple. He knew what had happened instantly, and Cyrus’ grin got even bigger. “You sack of s-“

Alister thrust his hand forward and caught Cyrus’ before Cyrus could pull his hand away. A violet aura burning over their skin, leaving no pain to either party. As it burned, hands locked, a symbol began to be etch in the back of their connected hands. Each line vanished as it appeared on the skin. When it finished, the aura dissipated as well, leaving no visible trace.

Cyrus pulled back his hand and examined it, flipping it over. Calmly, still smiling, “Never gonna get use to that.”

The pain pulsed in Alister’s hand from the wound, but he did the best to play it off. “I’ll finish the rest of the contract when we get back from killing the demon.”

Cyrus shrugged and put his hands in his pants pockets. “Who said I was helping with that either? Especially after being swindled by you?”

“Because you enjoy it,” Alister stated with a small smirk of his own while heading back into his office.

Cyrus, pulling his head back in surprise at Alister being so blatant. “I mean, yeah, but fuck you too,” he said as he joined the headmaster in the office. “But before we do, let’s see if we can get your hands back to working order again.”

Forgot to post it here last night, I’ll fix the “See more” when I get home tonight

[lesbrarians]

Junkrat/Roadhog: Voyages Ch 10

It irrationally bothers me that we’re in double digits and this title now goes onto the second line. I could squish it all together but...

Title: Voyages

Characters: Junkrat, Roadhog

Rating: R

Summary:  After a rocky start and some ups and downs, Junkrat and Roadhog are officially partners, even if things haven’t progressed quite as far as Junkrat would like. With his treasure at the heart of their grandiose plans, they take their adventures overseas and leave their mark on the world, for better or worse. (Mostly for worse. They’re criminals.) Sequel to “Origins.”

---

It was nice to hit the open road again. It reminded Junkrat of home: long days and nights at Roadhog’s side, either yelling over the roar of the motorcycle to talk to each other, or enjoying its loud hum in companionable silence. It was rejuvenating -- at least, it was after they made it through North Korea. Cutting through the country was easier than it would have been before the fall of the Kim dynasty, but it was still a challenging time. It was a bleak place to travel through, as they passed countless people trying to get back on their feet after the overturning of a dictatorship. Roadhog explained what he had learned about the country’s rocky past in the years before the formation of the Australian Liberation Front -- after the omnium explosion, he had abandoned civilisation and stopped caring about what went on in the world outside his own personal bubble. Junkrat nodded as he listened from the sidecar, but he didn’t comprehend most of it.

It was a breath of fresh air once they were in China, free from the Koreas. They didn’t stay long in the first city they came across, only stopping to rob a corner shop for provisions and enough money to get a fresh start. Wherever they decided to settle, it was going to be a good distance away, far enough so that no one would be searching for the two strange men who had stuck up a small store.

For as therapeutic as their road trip was, it took the better part of a month for Junkrat to get over his resentment. Thoughts of what they were going to do next brewed in the back of his mind as he pondered how to bounce back from Jae-won’s betrayal, but his anger made it hard to focus on plans for too long. He could shake it off for a few hours, but once he had sank his teeth into a particular mindset, it was hard for him to let it go. His emotions were nothing if intense, and this particular strain of bitterness was all consuming. Roadhog knew to leave him alone when he needed to stew.

He was in one of his moods when Roadhog unexpectedly veered off course into a random city. He didn’t bother questioning the sudden pit stop, too preoccupied with tearing a scrap of paper into smaller and smaller pieces.

Roadhog pulled over and left Junkrat to sulk in the sidecar. When it became impossible to rip the paper any further, Junkrat tossed the tiny pieces over his shoulder, where they fluttered to the ground like confetti. He looked up to see where Roadhog had disappeared to and found himself staring at the storefront of an electronics shop, TVs and all the latest gadgets on display in the window.

He scarcely had time to wonder what Roadhog was up to when the doors burst open and Roadhog tore out of the store, making a beeline for the chopper.

Junkrat sat up straight and fished for his frag launcher. “What, what? What’s happenin’?” Roadhog shoved a device at him, and he fumbled to hold it in the crook of his arm and still aim his weapon at the clerk who was chasing after Roadhog.

They sped out of the parking lot with an ear-splitting squeal of burning rubber. Junkrat sent a few grenades bouncing behind them as a deterrent before he took a good look at the thing Roadhog had foisted on him. It was a radio, far nicer than the one they had used in Australia.  ”What’s this for?” he asked, unable to comprehend why Roadhog had impulsively stolen it.

“Turn it on,” Roadhog said.

Junkrat flicked the switch. He recognised the intro to their favourite Australian radio station and looked up at Roadhog with an expression of utmost awe. “How--?”

“International radio,” Roadhog explained.

The familiar opening notes of Down Under by Men at Work started to play, and Junkrat felt an unprompted smile spread across his face as the gloom and doom on his shoulders lifted ever so slightly. He glanced over at Roadhog, affection squeezing his shriveled heart. With his (stolen) gift, Roadhog had given him a (stolen) slice of home, and it was more comforting than he had thought possible. As much as he loved traveling, Junkrat found himself missing Australia. He missed laying on the sunbaked, cracked ground of the irradiated Outback, squinting up at the kestrels hovering in the air in search of prey. He missed lazy, late night campfires with Roadhog at his side. He even missed their run-ins with other bloodthirsty Junkers who had a vendetta against him and a thirst for his treasure.

He cranked up the radio’s volume as high as it would go and sang along, loudly and off key, as they barreled down the highway to their next destination.

---

It was early evening when they arrived in Beijing. The winter sun had already dipped below the horizon, but the city was aglow with neon lights, lanterns, and spectacular fireworks that had caught Junkrat’s attention from a distance.

“Party time! What’s all this for, even?” Junkrat said, craning his neck back and forth as he drank in the sights. They had parked the chopper and were walking through the streets, which were too congested to navigate on bike. The city was a pyromaniac’s paradise, firecrackers and burning bamboo sticks everywhere he looked. His fingers twitched, itching to participate in some socially-acceptable pyrotechnics. “S’it some kinda holiday? Not that ya really need a holiday for some good ol’ fireworks.”

“Chinese New Year,” Roadhog said, eyeing a stall of dumplings.

“Chinese New Year!” Junkrat exclaimed. “They’ve got the roight idea, celebratin’ in style. Every holiday could benefit from more explosions.” He spotted a firecracker stall and gave a little yelp of delight. “Roadhog, Roadhog mate, look, we gotta get some of those! Think they’ll let me take them all? I want them all.” He grabbed the sleeve of Roadhog’s sweater and tried to tug him along, only to remain firmly rooted to the spot. He didn’t have anywhere near the requisite amount of muscle to drag Roadhog behind him. “Come on, come on, come on, ya can get yer dumpling thingos after! I need me somethin’ to keep me occupied when you’re stuffing yer face, don’t I?”

Roadhog considered the alternative: Junkrat incessantly bothering him and crawling all over him while he ate. “Deal,” he grunted. He let Junkrat lead him towards the stall.

In his eager state, Junkrat wasn’t paying particularly close attention to where he was going. Wending his way around a gaggle of tourists, Roadhog in tow, he accidentally ran headfirst into a pedestrian.

He stumbled back with an ‘oof.’

The man was quick to apologise first, bowing slightly with an embarrassed, “Bù hǎo yì si.”

“Yeah, sorry, mate,” Junkrat automatically replied, letting go of Roadhog to step aside and let the other man pass. His eye was still on the fireworks stall.

The man smiled at them. “Gong xi fa cai!” he said before slipping around them. Junkrat was immediately suspicious. People usually only smiled at him when they were laughing at him -- which he appreciated when he was attempting to provide comedic relief, but it was insulting when he wasn’t doing anything.

“Did that dipstick just insult me?” Junkrat said, pointing at the man’s retreating back.

Roadhog shrugged. “Look it up.”

In a fit of rage, Junkrat had abandoned their laptop in Busan, insisting that it was tainted by the memory of Jae-won. It hadn’t affected him thus far, but it did mean that they were shit out of luck when it came to “looking things up.” He snorted at Roadhog’s suggestion. “And where am I gonna do that?”

---

“What the heck is this?” Junkrat gestured at the massive stone building in front of them.

“It’s called a library. It’s filled with books.” Roadhog led them up the steps.

Junkrat trotted after him and gave him a skeptical look. This was not his scene. “Why’d ya bring me to a place that’s filled with books? Y’know I don’t like them! Well, most of them,” he amended. “Mechanical manuals are nice. Teach ya the important stuff.”

“There’s computers here too.” Roadhog said as he pushed open the door.

Even Junkrat had to admit that the inside of the library was impressive, not to mention massive: it was several stories high. The first few floors were surrounded by a border of shelves upon shelves of books, while the upper floors were lined with floor-to-ceiling windows that must have flooded the library with natural light during the daytime. Even with the festivities outside, a surprising number of patrons sat at the evenly spaced out, identical tables that ran along the perimeter of each floor in an orderly arrangement.

“And you can take books out for free.”

Junkrat did a double take. “Wha-- free? Why there still books on the shelf, then? Y’d think people woulda cleared the place out by now.”

“You’re supposed to give them back eventually.”

“Huh. Weird.”

Junkrat made a beeline for the computer section -- like hell was he attempting to find one book out of these hundreds of thousands of books that would translate a phrase into English. He settled into a chair and painstakingly pecked his query into the search engine: “Gone shee fa ky.”

The computer automatically translated his misspelled phrase into Mandarin. “Wishing you a prosperous year too,” he muttered to himself. His eyes lit up and he whirled around in his chair to tell Roadhog its meaning, only to find no one behind him. “Roadhog?”

He found Roadhog several yards away, talking to a librarian who was doing a remarkable job at maintaining a professional demeanor with a seven foot tall, massive masked man looming over her. “What’s all this about, then?” Junkrat said.

“Come here,” Roadhog answered, and Junkrat trailed behind him as he led him to several rows of books.

Junkrat made a face. “Y’know I can’t read these,” he protested. “Couldn’t do it in Japan or Korea, why would I be able to now?”

“They’re in English.”

“Oh.” Junkrat looked up at the sign hanging from the ceiling, designating the area as the English section of the library. “...You know I can’t read these,” he repeated with a snicker. It was mostly a self-deprecating joke, but there was some truth to it. Unless they were the mechanical terms that he had memorised by sight a long time ago, reading things required too much effort to be worth it, most of the time.

He watched, fascinated, as Roadhog ran his finger along the numbers that labelled the spines of each book until he reached the 620s. He was about to ask how the hell Roadhog knew what each number meant before his brain supplied the answer, that that was what Roadhog had been talking to the librarian about -- and then he had to marvel at the very idea of this crazy system where numbers and decimals had literary meaning. He wondered if he’d like reading more if it was number-based.

“Here.” Roadhog interrupted his thoughts by shoving a book into his chest. Junkrat looked down at the mechanical handbook, and a grin spread across his face. Roadhog knew him too well.

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

Delighted at the prospect of having access to mechanical resources again, Junkrat began scanning the shelves himself. He couldn’t help but feel nostalgic, recalling how he had pored over a few similar ratty books some fifteen-odd years ago and gradually taught himself how to sound out the words for the machinery he tinkered with as a kid.

Mechanics of Materials for Dummies -- well that one was just out. He might have been an idiot at a lot of things, but not when it came to constructing devices. Advanced Robotics for Mechanical Engineers, on the other hand, piqued his interest. He plucked it off the shelf and handed it to Roadhog. Wandering further down the shelves, he found a few niche books on explosives, and it wasn’t long before Roadhog’s arms were comfortably full of a small hoard of books. Junkrat had gotten a little trigger-happy in selecting reading material.  He figured that whatever proved to be useless in terms of information could at least be repurposed as kindling.

“Well then,” he declared, giving his selections a onceover. “Let’s blow this joint, why don’t we?”

Roadhog hefted the books in his arms, and they made a break for it. The anti-theft alarms started wailing the minute they stepped through the scanners, and they plunged into the crowds of revelers to shake security off their tails.

“I found out what those words meant, by the way,” Junkrat said once they were back to wandering the streets, having escaped into the night and stashed their haul in the motorcycle’s sidecar. “Gong xi fa cai. Wishing you a prosperous year too. So really, that bloke was givin’ us permission to supplement our income as we do.” He waved one of the bundles of money they had acquired from their initial trip to the corner shop. “Prosperous New Year. I mean, that’s just askin’ for it. I’ll make it prosperous, all roight.”

Junkrat practised saying his new phrase to everyone they met as they acquired fireworks and food. By the time they had parked their asses on a rooftop, he could perfectly parrot it. Trial and error was his tried-and-true method to learning new things, and there was something fun about speaking a different language. Maybe if he ever decided to stay in a country for longer than a month or so, he’d try to learn its language instead of muddling his way through with English and hand gestures.

“You’re good,” Roadhog told him. His mask was half-pushed up, giving him enough space to eat the steamed buns he had been eyeing earlier.

“Mate, I’m a fuckin’ genius, ‘course I’m good.” Junkrat shoved one of the dumplings in his mouth. He wasn’t even attempting to manipulate the chopsticks that Roadhog so daintily wielded, instead choosing to pick them up with his metal hand. The plus side of this was that it couldn’t burn his hand; the negative was that he had no way of gauging just how hot the food was until it was already in his mouth. He yelped, trying to toss the morsel around in his mouth before swallowing it. He gave up and spat it out, bits of red bean paste and dough spraying everywhere.

Roadhog laughed as Junkrat pawed at his burnt tongue, which he stuck out in retaliation.

He pulled out the firecrackers instead. He’d rather burn things that were meant to be burnt, like good old fashioned explosives. He snapped his fingers to light a fuse and glanced back over at Roadhog. His partner’s ability to use chopsticks so delicately mystified him, given that the two of them almost exclusively ate with their hands. There were times where Roadhog was primal, rough, his humanity abandoned entirely. And there were times like now, when he could see the faintest glimmer of who Roadhog used to be, back when he was still Mako.

Junkrat had been feral his whole life, he knew nothing but the cutthroat world of the scavenger; Roadhog still had remnants of civility in him from whatever life he had had before the omnium explosion, before he became a Junker. Junkrat still didn’t know much about his past. Roadhog didn’t like to talk about it. Every time he tried to bring it up, Roadhog would deflect the question and manage to change the topic -- and Junkrat, so easily distracted, forgot what he had asked until they were well into an entirely unrelated conversation. All he had gathered was that Roadhog had raised pigs and presumably owned some kind of farm, that several of his prized rings were related to deceased family members, and that he had been tattooed long before the inception of Junker culture.

He didn’t know where chopsticks fit in.

The firecracker exploded while he was distracted by his thoughts, and he jumped. “No, c’mon, I missed it!” he complained, fumbling for another one. He’d felt the explosion more than he’d seen it.

“Stop staring, then,” Roadhog said.

Junkrat hadn’t realised he had been so obvious. “Can’t help it, yer so good lookin’!” he said, giving Roadhog his most dazzling grin.

Roadhog considered this. “True,” he deadpanned, and Junkrat laughed.

Another round of fireworks lit up the sky above them. Junkrat stuck his next firecracker in his mouth like it was a cigar and laid down next to Roadhog, arms folded behind his head as he stared wide-eyed at the display, the bursts of colours burned into the backs of his eyelids every time he blinked.

After a moment, Roadhog put down the steamed buns and laid down next to him.

“Take that thing out of your mouth before it blows your face off.”

---

Full of good food and burnt out from excitement, they were too tired to find a proper base of operations before they needed to sleep. They ended up dozing off together in a side alley, warmed by the mink blankets they had carried over from Korea and the supplementary heat of a rubbish bin fire.

Before he drifted off, Junkrat nudged Roadhog with his forehead. “Hey.” He raised his whisper loud enough to be heard over the crackling of the fire. “How’dya learn how to use chopsticks?”

There was a long silence, and Junkrat was beginning to think that Roadhog had fallen asleep without his noticing. “Sushi nights,” Roadhog finally said, “as a kid. My parents taught me.”

Junkrat didn’t know which part of this to address first. “You were a kid?”

“Fuck you.”

Junkrat was perplexed at his tone, then -- “No, no, no, I wasn’t insultin’ ya! Just meant… I have a hard time picturin’ what I ate for brekkie this mornin’--”

“A bag of crisps and one bite of my apple. Which you threw out the sidecar.”

“--let alone --wait, really? Impressive-- let alone what you were like back before I met ya.” Junkrat flopped his head onto Roadhog’s chest. “S’weird to think ya had a family. Ya never talk about them.”

“Don’t like dwelling on what’s dead and gone.”

“Yeah, but like… when I lost me oldies, I was a kid. I can barely remember what me mum looked like.” He paused. “Don’t think I do at all, actually. I think she had blonde hair? Anyway. You lost yer whole family when you were older, roight?”

“No, I didn’t.”

This was news to Junkrat. He lifted his chin up to peer at Roadhog’s face. “Really?”

“You’re still here.”

It took a moment for the implications to sink in, but once they did, Junkrat couldn’t stop grinning. “Yeah, ‘cause I’m yer family now!”

A puff of laughter from the filters of Roadhog’s gas mask ruffled Junkrat’s hair. “Yeah, you are. Idiot.”

[tohbi-isi]

Shutting Down a Shit-Show: Tales from RadioShack #8470

Book of Bondage & Business 3:27-45

“Hi, welcome to RadioSlack…Whack. I mean, Shack.” Kyle’s words caused eyebrows to raise, especially with the KFC uniform he was wearing.

Working RadioShack is one big inside joke. Not only is it a complete dumpster fire, but we are the dumpster fire. There are few things more important than selling fixtures when you’re closing down a store: dropping cash every night, selling a massive stockpile of batteries, and climbing your sexy coworker like a set of monkey bars in the break room. Thrilling, truly. Someone needed to euthanize all the poor parts in the drawers overflowing with fuses and capacitors that the few remaining nerds didn’t want. That was me. Once we unfurled our bright Entire Store: Up to 30% Off signs, they came in flocks.

To pass the time I started talking to our regulars. One in particular bought a lot of parts but didn’t do a lot of talking. To protect his identity, we’ll call him Tony. Eventually Tony confided that his growing collection was to light up his latest furry costume. You heard that right. Furry costume. The boots, in particular. They were to be lined with brown fur to look like hooves, and the parts he was collecting would make them glow during BDSM basement adventures. Maybe it was the shortage of nerds that brought on our downfall, or perhaps we needed to restructure our marketing and target the kinky ones.

Book of Time Wasters 1:1-12

Time wasters. They have no money, no desire to buy anything, but hours of free time and they want your attention. Please, tell me more about this radar detector. No, I don't have a drivers license, why do you ask?

Often, these were the types of customers that didn’t know a thing about electronics. They would come in looking for a versatile, not-too-big, not-too-small, expensive but on-sale gift for their mother-in-law’s god-daughter’s engagement party. Now the bride has a registry, but we all know that there’s no need to stick to the registry when you want to do something really impressive. Something really grand. You know?

What about this RC F150? If it can stand up to our front door (and take it down) then surely it’ll be something that can keep her entertained while she gets high with the groom’s best friend. Oh yeah, can’t forget that she’s a cheating whore, that’s definitely relevant to finding the right gift.

Somehow it was always the old people that got me though. Forget bonding with the kids; these grannies were looking for ways to bond with themselves. “I just keep getting viruses, darned if I know why! Those nasty pop ups. You know.”

“Well, what are you typically doing when you get the popups?”

“I want to look at porn, of course!”

It was always weird porn. Gay porn. Weird gay porn.

Book of Hands 2:13-43

Thou shalt not giveth hands to thy customers. - the Ten Commandments of RadioShack

The first commandment is actually “Thou shalt not thinketh on anything longer than two seconds, or thy will be done.” I’m sure you’ll be able to guess what I was thinking of when the transplant walked in. (Transplant: noun. A person who moves from a suburb/rural America to a major city, or vice versa.)

“Okay my darlings, get whatever you want!” When it came time to check out, she pulled gift card from the depths of her massive purse. Cue dramatic pause.

You see, Sprint apparently shut down our gift card system after draining all the funds and closing out the partnership. By Sprint I mean me, because it’s most definitely me causing all the bullshit following Chapter 11 filing. That’s what the capital M-A-N-A-G-E-R on my badge means, right? Well, not my badge actually, it was Kyle’s but he never wore it. Beside’s the point, really; it’s only funny when you see how half-assed that thing looks with my label-maker Bridgette sticker covering his name.

Anyways, back to the she-demon and her gift card. When I told her there was nothing on the gift card, and pointed to the sign saying that we weren’t even supposed to be accepting them, the gates to hell opened and I was told to call the manager. Not me, but the general manager since I, quote, unquote, couldn’t do my job. I obliged.

“Here, you better take your phone back before I throw it across the room.” Her voice was like pterodactyl screeching.

I mean look ma’am, no one said you had to use my phone but you insisted. The devil on my shoulder was egging me on, and so I listened. “Throw that phone and not only will I lock these doors, but I’ll clock out, too.”

Now I know what you’re thinking - a hostage situation over a phone. On the contrary. If there was only a single worker on staff, we were permitted to lock the doors so long as we let customers out when they asked. My guess was that she wouldn’t ask. Plus, the room full of customers was amused once that lock clicked.

Apparently her husband wasn’t, as he promptly paid for everything. Apologized even. Said he’d call corporate to handle it. (Which, to be clear, is what I advised to begin with.)

Book of Batteries & Sin 3:5-20

When you’re working for a bankrupt company, as long as you make as many sales as you can, don’t get high while on the clock, and don’t burn the place down, you’re good. Of course, when you’re basically in charge of yourself the only thing you need to be sure of is that the place isn’t going down in flames. Or that if it is, it’s not your blunt that lit the place up. (It’s okay if it’s Kyle’s blunt though, fuck Kyle.) Corporate must have gotten a few calls about our back-alley activities though, because that’s when the regional manager came in.

Typically Clay was making big bucks sitting down in Texas telling the rest of us what to do via cryptic emails, but apparently needed the entertainment of telling us what to do in person. “Alright everyone, the goal is to sell every single RadioShack brand pack of batteries by June 1st.”

“Now I know, I know, we’re bankrupt. But don’t worry! Your store isn’t slated to close!” Of course not. No one was selling batteries like 8470. These batteries would be the single thing to keep our doors open, as they had for the last decade. Out here in the middle of nowhere if you aren’t petting a cow you’re licking a 9-volt for fun.

I guess he was trying to be motivating. So the following week, we sold the batteries. All of them. I still don’t know what one man needs with thousands of batteries but I’m sure it’s something exciting. World’s largest vibrator probably, because he did come in with the furry guy on a few occasions.

Book of Flames 4:26-36

Our days continued on much like this - one big, shitty joke. Instead of break-room romps I decided to take Kyle home with me. Open the store, sell some printer ink from our stash, close up, drop cash, start all over again. Hours were maxed out for the three people that made up our team and as long as we got there before noon, Gary (the other manager) didn’t care how late we were. Receipts taller than me - longer than our storefront, really - were our trophies.

Local nerds decided fucking was more fun, the old folks started objecting Satan’s Whore at weddings, and all was well. Everything sold, right down to the dust. The dark spots left behind by our giant neon sign were like hieroglyphics from a long extinct people. Fitting comparison, too, seeing as how there was radio silence from corporate once bonuses failed to roll through. But it’s fine, really, I’m not bitter at all.

If you’re lost and wondering what the point of this was, I’d just like to say: see, I told you so. Shit-show.

Supplementary Material 8470: RadioShack call number for the Shawnee, OK store located on N. Union Dr at Shawnee Mall Characters: Bridgette, self. Gary, ex co-manager of 8470. Kyle, ex and ex-coworker; part time-er at RadioShack and KFC. Tony, customer and proud member of the furry community. Links: Fixture Sale - Dust | RadioSlack RC: Remote control Sources: My own experience, though some other RadioShack workers on our Reddit did lend me a hand with some of these awesome lines. Check it out here.

This piece has been Officially Kyle Approved.

PROMPT: to be added.