#glee auction

[whatdiditellyouflawless]

Seblaine feels

[cerriddwenluna]

Is anyone up for a Charity Auction?

Read chapter four "Charity Auction" now, on Ao3 and S&C!

Happy reading, my loves! ♥️

With such a memorable first meeting, it can be no wonder that their future will be anything but ordinary. Or, a tale of how several lefts can eventually lead to a right.

[dontmeanyoudontmissit]

Do you have a literal spreadsheet to track stubhub prices and your chances of winning Eras Tour tickets or are you normal?

[funlovinzara]

Monster trio rejecting you Pt.2

The long awaited part 2! I absolutely loved writing Zoros part🙏

Warnings: angst, a bit of fluff

———-

Luffy

Surprisingly it wasn’t as hard to get over him because you knew he was just a knuckle head like that

On your new adventures you met new people, one specifically caught your eye.

Ace.

Ace was caring, funny, charming and very welcoming to be around. You both shared contacts on a transponder snail and talked 24/7, 365. Everyone knew the bond you had and left it alone, except luffy. He always saw you speaking on the snail but never knew who was on the other side.

The crew made a stop to a new island but everyone was waiting for you, who was talking on the transponder snail in your room.

“Finally a new adventure!! Lets go-!”

“LUFFY! Wait we cant leave without y/n!! This island is larger than anything we’ve ever seen before and ANYONE can get lost anytime!!”

Luffy sighed in annoyance and stomped off to your room and busted in

“Y/N!! LETS GO ALREADY!!” He yells with his chest

You jump in fear and quickly whisper to the other side of the snail “i gotta go!” And hung up.

“Who are you always talking to on that thing anyway?”

You sigh in defeat and answer “Ace, i talk to ace.”

“Ace? Huh? Why?”

“Well, I think he’s pretty cool and i like him.”

“I thought you liked me?”

“What?”

“You cant like-like me and like-like Ace? I thought we were just starting to get closer?”

You have a dumbfounded look on your face and you laugh at the misunderstanding. Maybe he understood after all, but i wonder why he would hide it.”

———

Sanji

Of course it was ALOT more difficult to get over him. You were devastated at how unreasonable he was, it was ridiculous.

So you decided to just not respond often when Sanji would speak to you, it was pointless anyway. He was still trying to pick up a conversation even after all that.

Sanji had a really bad dream one night, it was him re-experiencing the events at Sabaody, you werent there during that time but he dreamt that you were.

He woke up inna horrible cold sweat and immediately walked to the front of the ship, he needed some air. However when he walked out to see his crew doing there normal shenanigans, something was off.

He looks over at you to see you chatting, with brook?? How come your more comfortable around brook than him? He was an even bigger pervert than him.

“Y/n, may i see your pant-.” You swat brook on the side of his arm and slightly yell/giggle “no way brook!”

You clear your throat and begin to say “Thank you brook for helping me get over Sanji though, its really nice to have someone to talk to when no one else is around.” You leaned in and gave brook a deep hug.

“YOHOHOHOHO! Y/n it is a pleasure!! You flatter me, im blushing!! Although i am a skeleton so i cant really blush!! Yohoho!”

He hugs back and swings you around and you both laugh in glee. Sanji saw all of this and he thought, what did he even do wrong.

————

Zoro

In this you ARE included in the Sabaody Arc

It was VERY difficult to get over Zoro especially since he would never talk to you anymore. Nami being the jerk she was partnered you and Zoro together to walk around. She said it was for the “bonding experience”

She kept trying to bring back the spark that you and Zoro had but it will never work anymore.

You heard that day there was going to be an auction so you left to go check it out, you found the auction house and decided to take a seat not paying attention to your surroundings.

“X’cuse me?” Said a man next to you. It startled you and you jump. turning your head to look at him.

“That seat isn’t for you.”

His voice was DEEP.

“Oh- ill move- sorry.” A bear in a seat behind him leans over and says. “Come on boss lets let her stay! Shes really pretty!”

“Bepo-.” “Pleaseee!! Come on you need more allies than foes in this place anyway!”

The man grunts, allowing you to sit down again once more. “Law. Trafalgar D. Law.”

“Y/n L/n.”

“Nice to meet’cha Y/N!”

“You’re a straw-hat aren’t you? Hmh. What a tease your Captain isnt first here.”

You chuckle a bit scared at the power law might consist..

Zoro searches nearly the whole place for you, and finally lands at the auction house, he busts in and frantically looks around. He sees you sitting with a man, he cant see his face but he sure can see yours. And your enjoying yourself, this sets something off in him.

Him being your ex-best-friend and all, Hes only used to seeing him make you laugh, but this. This is so different and weird, why does he care?

[veltana]

Sell my soul - 1

✦ Pairing: Lloyd Hansen/Fem!Reader

✦ Word count: ~1k

✦ Rating for this part: Mature

✦ Warnings/tags: Alpha!Lloyd, Omega!Reader, omega auction, slow burn, eventual smut, pet names (sugar plum).

✦ Summary: Lloyd buys you

✦ Note: Due note that this is a drabble series and the parts will be short, but I hope you like it any way! I started writing this because Lloyd was trying to hijack my brain and take over the Buy my heart series, so he got his own instead, and I'm gonna make him suffer 😈 Reblogs, comments and asks are much appreciated!

Series masterlist

Masterlist | AO3

“This is bullshit,” you mutter as you pull on the sheer dress. It's basically see-through. Why can't you wear regular clothes? Isn't it embarrassing enough that you have to sell yourself, you have to be as close to naked as possible also?

But you do it anyway and don't say anything more. This is really your very last resort. Everything else you've tried so far has been a failure.

Panic starts to rise in your chest. What if he's out there? What if he buys you?

Then you realize that everyone sitting out there is an alpha and he wouldn't be allowed in. It calms your nerves a bit but you still glance around now and then as you wait for your turn. He's found you before. You're not safe anywhere.

“This is bullshit,” Lloyd growls as he adjusts the mask covering his face. He recognizes the scents of at least three alphas, despite being unable to see their faces. The masks aren't hiding shit. He knows they're more for the omegas on stage than for the alphas but so far the entire event has been a disappointment, and he regrets attending.

Instead, he studies the high ceiling and artwork on the walls, only glancing at the omegas appearing, one after another getting bought.

Just as he's about to up and leave the omega on stage catches his attention. Eyes that keep flickering and a stubborn mouth, but otherwise delectable! He raises his paddle before he even knows it. A few people bid too, but Lloyd is determined. His paddle is the last to go up.

The omega's mouth is a thin line. A smile cracks Lloyd's face below the mask as he rises and makes his way out to pick up his newly acquired omega.

“Be nice, be nice, be nice. Be nice to the alpha who bought you. You need his protection.” You remind yourself as you stand outside in your clothes after being shown out by the attendant. There isn't an alpha around and your eyes keep searching. You don't like to be out in the open like this but if you huddle against the wall he's probably going to think you're weird. Or you'd have to explain.

With a roar, a flashy sports car pulls up. The owner steps out and looks at you. He’s tall with neat hair slicked back, a mustache above his smile, eyes sparkling with glee. You look away, he obviously thinks you're a prostitute. It would be great if your fucking alpha could show up.

“Hey, get in!” The man calls. You glance at him before saying, “I'm waiting for someone.” “Yeah, me! Omega, get over here right now or I'll command you.”

You stare at him. He waves a piece of paper. “You're the alpha who bought me?” “Damn straight, sugar plum!” Sugar plum?! Your name is on the paper!

“Actually,” you begin but he interrupts you. “We can talk in the car, come on now!” Displeased, you walk over.

The inside looks barely used but it’s filled with his scent. It’s a delicious perfume that smells like the woods after it's rained, an earthy clean smell with an undertone of burnt sugar that makes you think of creme brulee. Saliva pools in your mouth and you ignore it.

Your new alpha, who still hasn't introduced himself, steps on the gas and the car shoots down the road. “Where are we going?” “To my place, it’s not far!” At the speed he's driving, you're downtown within minutes, too focused on holding on to ask any other questions. He doesn't offer any more answers, either. Soon, you lose track of where you are, finding yourself in an unfamiliar neighborhood. Elegant houses and high-rise buildings blend together unnaturally. He parks in an underground garage, and the elevator ascends to the tenth floor. Everything looks new and untouched almost. You've never been in such a place before.

Inside the door, you stop and stare. The apartment you used to live in was a perfectly adequate size, but this is ridiculous. On top of that everything is spotless and sleek. Sure, his scent is present in the apartment, but otherwise it looks like no one lives in it, very similar to the car. Your new alpha seems to be very neat.

You look down at yourself. It's been a while since you had the opportunity to wash your clothes properly. The bag in your hand with your few belongings has seen better days. The alpha struts into the apartment, not noticing you've stopped. You don't have socks on so you don't want to take off your shoes.

Frozen in place you can't decide what to do. Everything is just too much. But you're still at the front door, if you turn around you can run and go back to what you know. It would be easier in a way. He doesn't know you. He has a name but it won't get him anywhere.

Steps coming towards you snap you out of it and you meet the eyes of the alpha. They are calm and blue. The urge to run settles and you notice he has a bundle of clothes in his arms.

“You'll have to borrow some of my stuff until we've washed yours and gotten you more clothes. Bathroom is this way,” he jerks his head and turns around. This time you follow.

The bathroom has everything one could wish for and you look longingly at the tub. How long ago was it that you had a real bath? The alpha puts the bundle down on top of a basket and then shows you where to find towels and what all the different dials in the shower do. You nod, trying to keep up.

Then he turns and heads out but before he shuts the door you blurt out, “Wait! What's your name?”

He turns around and grins at you in a way that is both creepy and at the same time not unpleasant. “It's Lloyd Hansen, sugar plum.”

next

[neverchecking]

Camboy! Hyrule

NSFW So...idk take that as you will.

・❥・Camboy! Hyrule who never shows his face on camera. He's a faceless figure among all the degenerates that go flocking to his page.

・❥・Camboy! Hyrule who loves dressing up in frilly, lacey things, anything from thongs to full lingerie just to rake in those tips. He loves teasing the edges, pulling them and letting them slap against his thighs.

・❥・Camboy! Hyrule who loves wearing little panties that can barely contain his cock, watching them stain with precum as he traces his fingers along the tent he's pitching.

・❥・Camboy! Hyrule who auctions off these panties at the end of every show and watches the numbers go up in utter glee.

・❥・Camboy! Hyrule who's dick is so recognizable. The moment you see it, with the curly bush and the delicious veins running up the shaft, you know it's his.

・❥・Camboy! Hyrule who keeps you, his most beloved treasure, away from the screen. You are his show and his show alone.

・❥・Camboy! Hyrule who doesn't keep his own show from you.

・❥・Camboy! Hyrule who sends you pictures of his new pretty outfits the second he's home with them. Or he sends you unboxing videos where he's wagging his ass at the camera while jumping to shuffle a new thong on, making sure the camera can see how his cheeks jiggle.

・❥・Camboy! Hyrule who drops these videos and pictures at the most random times because he loves keeping you on your toes.

・❥・Camboy! Hyrule who sends you links in the middle of the day to his show, where you have free, VIP access to.

・❥・Camboy! Hyrule who doesn't start until he sees you there and makes damn sure his audience knows they're waiting on you. He's sending you flirty little texts along the way with things like: 'They're getting antsy, butterfly <3 Better hurry.', 'What's the hold up? Don't tell me you're busy :(', 'You're making me wait? You know better than that, flower bud <3'.

・❥・ Camboy! Hyrule who, upon seeing you enter his show, gives a gleeful little smile and a welcome of "Glad to see you finally showed up, love bug!"

・❥・Camboy! Hyrule who doesn't care if you're at work, he's expecting you watch his show start to finish. He doesn't care if Leslie from Human Resources can walk in at any time to see you slobbering over the cock you can't have just yet. He doesn't care if you're office is open and anyone walking by can see what you're looking at. He wants your attention on him. At all times, whenever he asks.

・❥・Camboy! Hyrule who moans out whatever nickname he had monikered you with that day while stroking his cock, leaning back to give you and whatever other filth watching him a delicious view.

・❥・Camboy! Hyrule who doesn't even do it for the audience, but does it because it feels like a dirty secret between you and him. He loves the attention, but he gets such a rush knowing you get off watching everyone else get off to him. It's as much for him as it is for you, knowing you get a kick off the power dynamic of knowing when all is said and done, he's on his knees for you and you alone.

・❥・Camboy! Hyrule who makes sure you have a say in every aspect of his show. The dildo he uses, the plug he finishes with, the vibrator he holds against his twitching cock. All of it is under your direction.

・❥・Camboy! Hyrule who has a special ringer for your messages and lets you run his show even from your office.

・❥・Camboy! Hyrule who doesn't come until you say so, even if his audience demand it of him. He lets you call every single shot and hangs onto your every word, as if you were a god-born being destined to rule over him and him alone.

・❥・Camboy! Hyrule who salivates over the thought of having you remain faceless and come onto his show, taking charge in person.

・❥・Camboy! Hyrule who begs and pleads for this, letting you sit in the corner of the room with a remote to control a vibrator that's attached to his dick while he's cuffed to the bedposts.

・❥・Camboy! Hyrule who doesn't do the show for an income or for an audience, but does it to make sure your attention remains on him.

・❥・At all times. <3

[heathersdesk]

So we had our youth fundraiser last night. I deal with a lot of social anxiety and noise sensitivity, so I made my bids in the silent auction early and sat down on the side pretty quickly. And eventually I made a new friend who came over to say hi.

An older woman came over to say hi and just told me about her day. She mentioned she dyed her hair to not get clocked as "too old" because she was looking for a job, which of course worked because the world is terrible.

And with conspiratorial glee, she showed me her secret leg hair revolt against the patriarchy. So of course I showed her mine. And it was easily my favorite interaction I think I've ever had at any church activity.

My ministering sister, whom I adore, also came over to say hi. And that brought over someone else I've seen around, but haven't spoken to. He showed her pictures of the trip he just took to Boston to a bunch of old game show sets he went to go see, because game shows are his jam. He showed her pictures from his trip, where he was having the time of his life, then showed me because he could see I was taking an interest. He told her about how Family Feud came about, and then showed her artwork he did for autism awareness day.

I won some cookies made by the Young Women, brownies made by the Young Men, and my crochet lap blanket sold for $50 to the bishop. I got to see the delightful contest over the prize of the night—the offer from someone to come clean windows.

It was a good night. I had fun watching people and just being in the energy of the community I'm a part of, getting to know them better.

I may be weird. But we're all a little weird. And we like that about each other. And in a way I can't quite describe well because I've never felt it as keenly as I did then, I felt this unspoken acceptance to be my own kind of weird.

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

Gold Rush (Superstar Chapter 3)

But I don't like a gold rush, gold rush I don't like anticipating my face in a red flush I don't like that anyone would die to feel your touch Everybody wants you Everybody wonders what it would be like to love you

Roy and the Reader attend Rebecca’s charity ball... and uneasy feelings arise.

Roy Kent x Reader

5.7k words

Warnings: Language, Keeley making ~flirty~ suggestions, and a healthy sharp turn from fluff to angst

Thanks to everyone for the kind feedback on this series- I don’t deserve it! And big thanks to those who suggested a little bit of jealousy. Some of this was almost painful to write, so I’m excited to share my torture with you!

~

“Oi, did you get a dress for Friday yet?” Keeley plopped herself on my desk, not bothering with formal greetings. She raised her eyebrows at me expectantly.

“Friday…?” I closed my laptop, knowing I wouldn’t get anything done with Keeley in my office.

She rolled her eyes at me. “Rebecca’s charity ball! You’re going, aren’t you?”

Right. Rebecca’s big charity gala. She’d told me about it during my first couple of days at Richmond and extended a very enthusiastic invite, but I’d been so distracted by getting used to the job and starting up a romance with a certain football legend that I’d all but forgotten about the event.

“Oh. Right.” I made a face. “You don’t really think she expects me to go, right? It’s not like it’s a mandatory part of my job or anything.”

Keeley rolled her eyes again. “Of course you have to go! There’s fabulous music and free booze and good food. And the boys’ll be there and watching them get auctioned off is a hoot! Besides, it’s just a fun excuse to dress up and have a good time with everyone.” Her round eyes pleaded. “I’ll help you pick a dress,” she offered in a sing-song voice.

I groaned and tossed my head back, not bothering to hide my small grin that grew at the thought of a fun, fancy evening with everyone from the club. “I mean, I guess,” I grumbled.

“You guess what?”

Keeley’s eyes widened with excitement at the sound of Roy’s voice. “Oh, hi Roy!” She grinned at me not-so-sneakily. “We were just talking about Rebecca’s ball this weekend. You’re going, right?” Roy grunted in response. “Aaaaaand do you have a date?”

Roy’s eyes flickered in my direction for a fraction of a moment. “No.”

“Interesting.” Keeley looked like the fucking Cheshire Cat. “Say, Roy-”

I cleared my throat. “Roy, didn’t you need to go talk to Ted about that defensive strategy you wanted to try?”

He immediately took the hint and played along. “Fuck. Thanks.” He turned with his usual robotic stiffness and stalked out of the office, leaving Keeley and me in silence.

“Come on, why’d you do that?” Keeley whined, mischief sparkling in her eyes. “I was totally going to ask Roy about going to the ball with you!”

I shrugged, trying to keep calm. “Roy had coaching shit to do. Just doing my job. You know, being the coaching assistant and all.”

“Whatever,” Keeley scoffed. She paused, leaning close to the wall behind my desk, her mouth widening with glee. “Ho-ly shit. What the fuck is that?”

My eyes followed hers.

To my biggest fan. XOXO Roy Kent

Oh shit.

“Some stupid joke,” I mumbled, opening my laptop again, desperate to look too busy to chat. “I told Roy that my family’s big Richmond fans, he gave me some shit about it and wrote the note as a joke, that’s about it.”

“Look at you two, flirting in the workspace with a sexy orange sticky note.” Keeley winked at me. “Good for you, babes. Now all you have to do is let me help you pick a bangin’ outfit that’ll catch his attention Friday night!”

I narrowed my eyes at the girl who was having too much fun at my expense. “How about you help me pick something that looks nice, I’m comfortable in, and doesn’t kill my budget? We can leave Roy Kent out of my outfit.”

“Unless you’re looking super fit,” Keeley countered, jumping off my desk and heading towards the door. “In which case, Roy Kent will be spending the evening trying to get into your outfit.”

~

The night before, Roy had called with an offer to come over with food and a movie after work; it would be our first at-home hangout. I skipped out on work a tad early, complaining of imaginary cramps that Ted was immediately sympathetic to, so I could give my flat one last look over. I tidied up the things I hadn’t gotten to that morning before work and hid some of the more embarrassing family pictures that I wasn’t quite ready for Roy to see- like the one where my family and I wore the handmade Christmas jumpers my gran had made for us, each featuring the Greyhounds logo front and center. Nope, Roy freaking Kent did not need to see that.

With the flat tidy, I changed into some leggings and a cozy sweater, still wanting to look nice despite Roy’s assurance that all he wanted was a casual, comfortable evening together. I was running a brush through my hair when the now-familiar knock reached my ears. Trying not to look too giddy, I all but ran to the door and threw it open.

Roy stood in front of me, holding a box of pizza with a couple of DVDs on top. His face softened when he saw me, the way it seemed to always do when we were finally alone. He wrapped his free arm around my shoulders and pulled me in for the tiniest kiss as I pulled him into my flat, closing the door behind him.

“Hi,” he huffed when he let me go.

“Hi,” I whispered back, suddenly shy around the man I had just been kissing in an empty office hours earlier. Perhaps it was the fact that Roy Kent was standing in my flat, leaving us, for the first time since we’d been at my parents’ house, truly alone. Not surrounded by very well-meaning, nosy coworkers at the Dog Track. Not glancing over our shoulders at pubs to make sure no one was snapping a pic of a football star and a mystery woman. Just us, me and Roy, Roy and me, free to kiss and be close and just be a normal couple.

Couple. Whoa. There was a word I hadn’t allowed myself to say yet. It had only been a couple weeks of sending flirty text messages during meetings and sneaking kisses when Ted and Beard weren’t in the neighboring office and sitting in dark corner booths of pubs far from the prying eyes of A.F.C. Richmond, but already this felt serious. Real, as Keeley had mentioned the morning after my first date with Roy. Something that wouldn’t end with me stealing Roy’s watch in the middle of the night as he slept. (Yes, that’s what a model he dated did. No, I hadn’t brought it up yet, although I had plenty of jokes waiting for when the topic did inevitably arise.) Something that- and this felt way too soon to even whisper to myself in my innermost thoughts- might not have to end.

Roy could probably see the gears turning in my head, based on the face he was making at me. “You alright?” he asked, placing the pizza box on the coffee table. “You look like you’re thinking about somethin’.”

I shook my head, reminding myself to just enjoy getting to be with him. “Nah, just… I kind of can’t believe you’re here.” With the pizza out of the way, I could wrap my arms around him. “Like you’re here. Roy Kent. In my flat.”

The concern on his face was replaced with amusement. “Ah. Now I see the resemblance between you and your dad.” I blushed at the reminder of my father’s too excited reaction to seeing Roy Kent in our foyer. “It’s flatterin’,” he assured me, kissing the tip of my nose. “In fact, I’m a bit disappointed that you don’t have a shrine to me here.” He lifted his head and looked around my living room. “Such a shame,” he hummed.

“Don’t be so full of yourself,” I huffed, giving him a squeeze. “It’s not cute.”

“Fine. Can I be full of pizza then?”

I laughed and released him. “That works. Let me just grab some plates.”

Roy followed me to the kitchen, on my heels like a puppy. My heart swelled at the realization that he probably wanted to take advantage of being alone with me. I handed him the plates I pulled from the cupboard, reveling in the quiet, domestic moment, how natural it felt to get out plates for a quiet dinner at home with Roy Kent. I turned to the fridge and grabbed a couple of sodas, then led Roy back into the living room.

Curious about what Roy brought, I made a beeline for the DVDs. I didn’t bother to hide the surprise on my face when I saw the cover of the one on top.

“The Sound of Music?” I blurted incredulously, looking over at Roy as he made himself comfortable on the couch.

His eyes narrowed as he opened the pizza box and grabbed a slice. “You got a problem with that?” he growled, the playful look in his eye daring me to judge his movie pick.

I shrugged as I turned on the television and set up the movie. “Nope. I love The Sound of Music. Just not what I expected from you.”

“What’d you expect? Fast and the Furious? Transformers?”

“Or something dark, like The Shining,” I suggested as I joined him on the couch. “Not Julie Andrews.” I paused. “Not that I don’t love her,” I assured him. “She’s brilliant. Sound of Music is brilliant. Just a bit unexpected.”

Roy chuckled and scooted closer to me, pressing his thigh against mine as he leaned onto the couch. “The Shining,” he repeated. “A guy goes fucking nuts and tries to kill his family. Yep, that’s the kind of romantic impression I want to make.” He pointed at the screen, where scenes from the movie danced before us as the soundtrack played in the background. “This is fucking romantic. Sixteen Going on Seventeen, Edelweiss, Something Good, the fucking wedding with all the nuns singing How Do You Solve a Problem Like Maria. Romantic as hell.”

I hit PLAY and grabbed myself some pizza, not bothering to hide the smile on my face. “Romance, huh?”

Roy smiled and shook his head. “Just watch the fucking movie.”

~

“Fuck, I’m so obsessed with the curtain dress,” I sighed, pressed against Roy’s side as Julie Andrews pranced around onscreen. “D’you think I’d look good in that dress?” I turned my head up towards Roy, who eyed me warily.

“I think you’d look good in anything,” he mumbled. He wrinkled his nose. “Was that too fucking cheesy?”

“Just cheesy enough,” I assured him. “If you think I could rock the curtain dress, just imagine me in the Mother Superior’s habit.”

He snorted, a huge smile gracing his face. “Once again, you’d look good in anything.” He paused, thinking for a moment. “Speaking of dresses,” he said, clearly looking for an opening in the conversation, “are you going to that fucking charity thing?”

I sat up a little. “That’s actually why Keeley was in our office today. She was asking me about what I’m going to wear and bugging me about asking you to be my date.” I fidgeted with my hands. “And you’re going, I assume?”

He nodded. “Kinda have to. At least this year I don’t have to worry about being auctioned off like some fucking piece of meat.” A smirk formed on his lips. “Although I’m sure you’d love that.”

I rolled my eyes. “As if I could afford those auction prices,” I scoffed. “More like I’d get to watch you get bid on by gorgeous models wondering how much they have to spend to guarantee the night ended in your bed.” As much as I tried to make my words come off as snarky and joking, I knew my jealousy and insecurities seeped through every word.

Roy seemed to notice too. He wrapped his arms around me and buried his face in my hair, planting kisses there. “If it makes you feel better,” he murmured, squeezing me around my waist, “it was only the models’ old grannies that bid on me. Except last year, when Keeley was mad at Jamie and placed exactly one bid on me to piss him off, but I still ended up being won by a very horny old woman.” He shuddered, probably for my benefit as well as the memory itself. “If you want,” he whispered in that low, gruff voice, “we could have our own private auction after the ball.”

A shiver trailed down my spine, one he could probably feel. Roy Kent was not particularly flirtatious; he was snarky and often clever, he loved to tease and make fun of me, but he very rarely said something so… sexy.

“And during the ball?” I asked, desperate to change the subject and ignore the heat in my cheeks. “Like, do we ignore each other? Do we hang out?”

He sighed and sat back, tracing circles on my shoulder with the tips of his fingers. “I mean… it’s free seating, so we could sit together. And I don’t think anyone will notice if we dance together once or twice. Well, maybe Keeley.” He shrugged, gazing down at me. “I think we can manage to spend some time together while not raising anyone’s suspicions. Again, except Keeley. But who fucking cares if she figures it out?”

“Sounds like a plan,” I agreed, leaning up to peck his cheek. “Alright now shut up, they’re singing again.”

~

“Ah, there you are!” Richard Montlaur stood in the doorway between the coaches’ offices, smiling at me. “Oh, hello Roy.” He nodded to his coach before strolling across the office to my desk. “I have a question for you.”

I blinked at him. “Uh, hi. What’s up?” In my brief time at Richmond, Montlaur had hardly spoken to me. A hello here and there, telling me I looked pretty a few times, but nothing worth noting. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Roy swivel in his chair slightly, clearly listening in.

Richard’s smile grew. “You are going on Friday, no? To Rebecca’s party?”

“Oh, yeah.” My puzzlement grew. “You?”

“Of course!” He leaned against the wall by my desk. “We should go together, yes?”

Roy stiffened. Fuck.

I cleared my throat and shuffled my feet. “Oh. Richard, that’s very sweet of you. But, um, I…”

“You have a date already?” Montlaur tilted his head, confusion covering his pretty face.

“Um…” I stopped myself from looking at Roy. “No, I don’t, I just…” I bit my lip. “I kind of planned on going solo. But it’s very sweet of you to ask.” I prayed the smile on my face didn’t look too forced.

Richard shrugged, unphased. “Ah, well. Just thought I would ask. You are, after all, the prettiest thing on this team. After me of course,” he added with a wink. He lifted my hand and pressed his lips to it. “At least promise you will save me one dance?”

I couldn’t make myself look at Roy; I knew he was fuming at his desk. “Sure, Richard,” I agreed. “One dance.” I took my hand back.

“Wonderful. If you’ll excuse me, I should go get ready for practice.” On his way out the door, he waved to Roy. “See you out there, Coach!”

As soon as Richard was out the door, I spun my chair around, finally facing Roy. He was already turned around, facing me with his arms crossed, his expression hard and stoney like it was the day we met. His mouth was in a perfectly straight line as he stared me down, reminding me of the way I used to see him stare down opponents on television.

“You really going to dance with that prick?”

I shrugged. “I mean, I guess? It’s no big deal, just a dance.”

Roy nodded slowly, his eyebrows knitted together as his face turned red. “Sure. No big deal.” He stood up. “I gotta go to practice.” He made his way out of the office.

“Roy-”

“Whistle!” The chattering in the changing room died instantly. “Oi, all of you, out on the pitch. Twenty laps as your warm up. Whistle!”

Nope. There was nothing I could do at this point; the boys would just all have to suffer. Hopefully seeing Montlaur run until he nearly puked would be enough to calm Roy down before he came back to the office. Trying to put thoughts of Roy and Richard and the gala out of my head, I turned my attention to my computer and opened a file containing personal project of mine: an American-to-British English dictionary just for Ted. The man desperately needed it.

“Hey babes!” Keeley sauntered in a couple hours later, her pink sparkly dress shining in the fluorescent light. “You ready to go?”

I cocked my head at her. “Go…?”

“Dress shopping!” she reminded me, pulling me out of my chair. “I already told Ted that I’m kidnapping you. So, let’s go!”

As we strolled arm in arm to different shops, I felt my mind drift back to Roy, wondering how practice was going. I prayed he wasn’t being too rough on the boys; it wasn’t their fault Montlaur unwittingly asked out Roy’s…. whatever I was.

“Hey, was Roy okay today?” Keeley peered at me over the clothing rack we were searching through, eyebrows raised. “I swear to God, you could hear him screaming whistle across the whole damn building.”

I shrugged. “I mean, he’s Roy,” I muttered, hoping I seemed nonchalant. “The man’s a ball of rage. Wouldn’t it be more surprising if he wasn’t screaming at the guys?” Come on, Keeley. Agree with my logic.

Keeley shifted her gaze to the dress she held out in front of her. “Hmm. I guess.” Her eyes found mine in a flash. “I did hear about Richard asking you to the ball. Guess I was just wondering if Roy got a little…” She popped her lips. “Jealous?”

“Enough,” I groaned, rolling my eyes. “Just help me find a damn dress.”

“Done.” Keeley held up a red dress that- damn her- I knew would look perfect on me.

I couldn’t help copying her infectious grin. “Fucking hell, Keeley.”

“You’re welcome.”

~

“Oi, d’you need a ride home?”

Roy stood over my desk, clutching his duffel bag, not quite looking me in the eye. A touch of pink colored his cheeks.

I tapped my pencil against my desk. “Well considering you drove me here this morning…” I raised my eyebrows at him.

“Right.” He tapped the toe of his sneaker against the floor. “Well, I’ll meet you at the car I guess.”

I sighed as I began packing my things. “You can just wait here for me,” I huffed. “If you want, I mean. I’ll be quick.”

“Right,” he repeated.

I felt his eyes on me as I tucked my laptop and other things into my bag and wrote myself a note reminding myself about the tasks I needed to tackle the next morning, sticking it up next to Roy’s note. Then I shouldered my bag and grabbed the shopping bag that held the dress and heels Keeley had helped me find. When I was ready, I looked over at Roy, who was sitting at his desk, watching me from over the top of his phone that he had been pretending to scroll on.

“You ready?”

Our walk to the car was uncharacteristically quiet, the air around us heavy. There was a sinking feeling in my stomach as we crossed the parking lot, wondering if I’d somehow managed to fuck things up already. Great job. You’re gonna lose the guy of your dreams AND make the best job you’ve ever had uncomfortable as hell.

To my surprise, Roy opened the passenger door and helped me into the car, the same way he always did. He squeezed my hand, a reassuring touch after the silence we’d shared in the office once I returned from shopping. With one hand on the steering wheel, Roy put the key in the ignition and started the car- and immediately turned it back off. He turned to face me, his face serious.

“I didn’t fucking like Montlaur asking you out,” he said bluntly. “He’s a prick and was probably thinking he’d get to sleep with you just because he asked you to the gala. But I guess it’s not his fault for not knowing we’re seeing each other. And us keeping things private was my idea, so I probably shouldn’t be so fucking defensive.” His hand tapped on the steering wheel. “So, I’m sorry for being short with you,” he finished. “And sorry if I made you feel guilty when you honestly didn’t do a fucking thing wrong.”

In his eyes I could see that same anxiety that I had seen as he waited for me to tell him what I’d thought of his pub. When he asked me about keeping our situation private. That look that told me that what I felt mattered to him.

“It’s okay, Roy,” I whispered, resting my hand on his leg. “I was honest when I told Richard I didn’t want to go with him, I just didn’t want to hurt his feelings. Like you said, it’s not his fault.” I smirked. “How many laps did the guys end up doing anyway?”

A sheepish grin appeared on Roy’s face. “Ted talked me down to fifteen laps. But then they did burpees right after. Dani and Sam both threw up.”

I shook my head, holding back laughter. “Those poor boys. None of them better ask me to dance Friday.”

Now Roy shook his head, leaning close, clearly planning to take advantage of the empty parking lot. “You can dance with them,” he whispered. I could feel his stubble brush against my skin before he closed the distance between our lips. “Just promise to save the last dance for me.”

~

“Over here! Ms. Welton over here!”

I stood on the edge of the red carpet, wincing as I watched the scene before me. My friends and colleagues, alone or with stunning dates on their arms, made their way down the carpet, stopping to pose for photos, smiling widely and cracking jokes at the photographers. They all looked so calm, so at ease, while I floated at the periphery, trying to decide if I should brave the red carpet, walk behind the whole mess like the peasant I suddenly felt like, or just go home.

The last one was starting to sound good to me when I heard a familiar growl behind me. When I turned around, there was Roy, his soft brown eyes contrasting with the hard look on his face and providing me with an anchor to cling to. To no one’s surprise, he was wearing all black, a fitted suit that made my heart slam against my chest. He took a step closer to me, his gaze flickering to the photographers who whispered to themselves with excitement as soon as he approached their view.

“Fuck you for wearing that dress,” he grumbled out of the corner of his mouth, clearly trying to look casual. “You look amazing.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at the Roy Kent-ness of his compliment. “Keeley’s goal was for me to get your attention. I’m glad it’s working.”

He sighed and stuck his hands in his pockets; I could see him trying to suppress a smile. “You’d get my attention even if you were wearing Maria’s curtain dress,” he breathed. “This-” His eyes trailed the red dress that hugged every curve, as if it had been made just for me. “-this is fucking torture.”

Before I could respond, I felt an arm hook through mine, grabbing my attention. I turned around; Keeley.

“Hi guys!” she gushed, looking gorgeous in a rose gold dress and with Jamie right behind her. “Don’t you two look grand together.” She shot me a wink. “Walking the carpet?”

Roy stiffened up, eyeing the papps with unease. “Speed-walking, more like.” He nodded to the three of us, though his eyes were on me. “See you in there.” He turned towards the carpet and bolted across, ignoring the photographers’ pleas for a picture, answering with only his two favorite words: Fuck no.

Keeley nudged me, nodding towards the photographers. “You go ahead,” she urged.

“Um…” I knew she saw the grimace on my face. “Think I could just, I dunno, go around?”

Her face softened as she tightened her arm around mine. “How about we go together? There’s enough photos of me and Jamie floating around online, they don’t need any more.” She glanced at Tartt. “That alright with you babe?”

Jamie nodded. I finally realized the shirt under his suit jacket was black see-through netting. “Go for it.” He shot me a friendly wink, assuring me that yes, I could steal his girlfriend for a strut up the red carpet.

Arms still linked, Keeley and I approached the edge of the carpet, where the photogaphers screamed Keeley’s name, asking who she was wearing and who she was with. She struck poses, an absolute natural, and flashed the most gorgeous smile I’d ever seen. I knew Keeley was beautiful- I’d seen her in magazines and ads for years, and of course knew her in person now- but seeing Model Keeley, live and in person, was an experience.

“Come on!” she urged, pulling me close. I mirrored her pose, feeling silly, a bit like a teenage girl taking selfies with her best friend. But having Keeley give me a squeeze suddenly made it… fun. Keeley shouted out my name to the reporters, spelling it with ease, and declaring me the Richmond coaching staff’s “fabulous new administrative assistant”.

I giggled as I pushed her down the red carpet, ready to get to the party. My heart purred with pleasure when I saw that Roy had not gone into the building yet; rather, he was standing by the entrance, watching me with a soft fondness covering his face. For once, he didn’t bother hiding the joy I knew we both felt around each other. I was sure my face matched my dress as Keeley and I approached him, stopping so Keeley could go back and join Jamie back in front of the cameras; so much for there already being enough photos of the two of them.

“You have fun out there?” Roy asked, eyebrows raised in amusement.

“A bit,” I admitted, more to myself than anyone else. “You should try it sometime.”

He bit his lip, looking me up and down, clearly emboldened by the lack of eyes and ears focused on us. “Maybe next year. With the right date on my arm.”

“Oh.” That was all I could manage; was Roy Kent- Roy fucking Kent- implying that we would still be seeing each other a year from now? It sure as hell sounded like it.

And I sure as hell found myself hoping it would happen.

Roy seemed to understand my sudden bashfulness. “Come on. Let’s head inside before the papps actually manage to get a fucking picture of me.” He placed his hand on the small of my back, taking advantage of the formal setting to have some physical contact to guide me into the venue.

As we entered the ballroom, I resisted the urge to gawk at the opulence of the venue; surely my wedding wouldn’t be this nice (unless you marry Roy Kent, the voice in my head teased).

Surely Roy could feel how overwhelmed I was. “Let’s find some seats and go grab drinks,” he suggested. “We’ll need ’em.”

I rose an eyebrow at him as he led me through the party towards the tables taken up by our fellow Richmond staff and players. “You sure you’re not too comfy there, Kent?”

He shook his head. “Nah. Everyone kind of gets extra friendly at this thing, so no one’ll bat an eye if we hang out.” He shrugged. “Especially since we’re officemates. It’ll seem kind of… natural for me to hang out with you, we’re always together at work anyway.” He nodded towards an empty table. “How’s here?”

“Sure.” I placed my clutch on the table, saving mine and Roy’s spots. “D’you mind if Keeley and Jamie join us?”

Roy threw his head back. “Fuuuuuuu-” He glanced at the begging expression on my face. “Fine.” He nodded towards the bar. “I’m gonna need a drink if you’re gonna make me hang out with Jamie fuckin’ Tartt.”

“Deal,” I agreed. “Lead the way.”

~

“I’m gonna go grab another beer. You want something?” Roy raised an eyebrow at me as the band began to set up onstage.

Dinner had been delicious, with Keeley and Jamie cracking jokes with us and pointing out the most ridiculously rich people in the room for my benefit. The auction had gone off without a hitch; I particularly enjoyed the amusement on Keeley’s face as she successfully bid on Jamie for an outlandish amount of money. Best of all, Roy had been sweet and attentive, much to Keeley’s glee, which helped to calm my nerves.

This might be the best night of my life.

“Sure, want me to come help you?” I offered, starting to stand up.

Roy shook his head, gesturing for me to stay seated. “What kind of gentleman would I bet if I made you get your own drink?” he whispered as he stood. He nodded to Jamie, who he’d actually been really friendly with during dinner. “Be right back.”

The moment Roy was out of earshot, Keeley pounced into his seat. “Holy shit! He’s so into you!” She nudged me happily. “All you have to do to seal the deal is grind on him in that dress, and he’ll be begging to go home with you.”

“Oh stop, Keeley,” I begged, giggling from the drinks I’d had with dinner. “Roy’s just being nice. He’s a good guy.” I turned around to look at Roy, who’d be bringing back my favorite dri-

“Oh shit, look who Roy’s talkin’ to!” Jamie laughed over his drink. “What a fuckin’ reunion.”

My heart plummeted into my stomach. Of course I recognized Brittany Brett, lingerie model and Roy’s ex-girlfriend. I’d seen photos of them in magazines for the four months they’d been seen together around Europe, often appearing wherever Roy had a match or she had a shoot. According to the tabloids, she devastatingly dumped him, and within two weeks she was spotted on a double date with some player for Barcelona and Mr. and Mrs. Lionel Messi.

And now there she was, wearing the tiniest dress I had ever seen and showing more cleavage than a renaissance painting. And, worst of all, clinging to Roy Kent. My Roy Kent. My face grew hot with envy as she laid a hand on his arm- the arm that had just been wrapped around my chair- and giggled. With his back to me, I could only imagine the expression on Roy’s face. Was it the scowl he usually wore around the rest of the world? Or was it the gentle smile he shared with me between kisses when we were alone? Or was it the look of adoration and desire he’d had a few hours ago when he complimented my red dress? Maybe it was the number of drinks I had, or the loud music that had started somewhere during my panic attack, or just the sight of this gorgeous woman hanging all over the guy I liked, but my head suddenly started spinning.

Before I could begin to fathom an idea of how to appropriately react, a hand landed on my shoulder. Richard Montlaur smiled down at me, handsome in his suit.

“I believe you owe me a dance,” he greeted in a friendly, teasing voice. He held his hand out to me. “Shall we?”

I shot one more glance at Roy, who still stood with Brittany Brett, no sign of my drink in his hand. “Sure,” I mumbled, taking his hand. “But maybe we could grab a drink first?”

Richard smiled as he helped me up. “Perfect.” He kept my hand in his as he led the way to the bar, settling us exactly where I wanted to be- right behind Roy and Brittany Brett.

I muttered my drink order to Richard and turned my attention to the conversation behind me.

“Roy,” Brittany purred in that syrupy voice I recalled from a couple interviews I’d seen online. “I’m so bummed you weren’t auctioned off tonight. I would have loved to put in a bid on you.”

Roy scoffed. “Come on, you know I hate that shit.”

“Who’s that girl you’re with? Not a date?”

My back stiffened as Richard handed me my drink.

“Er, she’s my assistant,” Roy mumbled. “I mean, she’s the coaching staff’s assistant. We share an office.”

“Aww,” Brittany cooed, as if Roy was talking about some cute thing Phoebe had done at school. “That is so sweet of you to sit with her. I’m sure she feels so out of place at an event like this, poor thing.”

That was all I needed to hear. I felt small, so fucking small, listening to Brittany fucking Brett simper over Roy and the charity case that was his assistant. I downed my drink and held out my hand to Richard.

“Let’s dance.”

I must have had too many drinks, or maybe I was just blinded by petty jealousy and anger, but I didn’t remember Richard leading me to the dance floor. I just knew that one moment, I was on the verge of tears behind Roy, and the next I was pressing my body close to Richard Montlaur as we swayed to a slow song.

As we swayed on the dance floor, I allowed my gaze to return to the bar. There was Roy, still chatting with Brittany Brett, but his eyes were on the table we’d been sitting at, a puzzled frown on his face. He craned his neck, eyes wandering until they landed on me and Richard. His frown deepened and he cocked his head at me. Even from this distance, I could see the hurt in his eyes.

But then I saw Brittany Brett lay her hand on his chest, clearly oblivious to the conversation Roy and I were having through eye contact. Instead, I tightened my grip on Richard’s shoulders as I watched Brittany Brett lean forward and kiss Roy’s lips.

I looked down, blinking away the tears that suddenly formed. “Um, I’m sorry Richard, but I don’t feel well,” I managed, taking a step back. “Thank you so much for the dance, but I-” I shook my head and left the dance floor, heading to the nearest exit, refusing to take another look at Roy Kent.

[stargazer56]

WIP Wednesday (with a bonus plea for advice!!)

Bachelor Auction meet cute

SC writing friends, I need your help! I have started writing an AU where Patrick moves to town slightly later than canon. Instead of Asbestos Fest, Ray has convinced the town to hold a Bachelor Auction and he signs Patrick up. It's currently 5,800 words and these two idiots haven't even gone on the date yet.

Here's where I'd love some input. How long is too long for a one-shot? Is is better to break it into chapters, even if they are on the shorter side? Will people in the fandom read a longer one-shot from a new writer (but one whose name they hopefully recognize from all the comments she leaves)? Am I worried too much about this? Probably. I am grateful for any and all thoughts and advice!

Here is an unedited snippet:

Monday morning, Patrick was surprised to see that his first appointment of the day was with Ray. They had spent 3 hours on Sunday afternoon going over all his responsibilities in detail. What else was there to discuss?

“Now, Patrick, I’m not here for business advice or a partner meeting. I am here to talk about the Bachelor Auction for Asbestos,” Ray began. “Many buildings in town are riddled with asbestos. In the past, we’ve held bake sales and talent shows to raise money for remediation. This year, I suggested we try something new and the Town Council agreed!” the glee in Ray’s voice was palpable. “So we are having a Bachelor Auction. You’re in luck! You arrived just before the sign-up deadline and I was able to add your name to the list.”

“I’m sorry, what?” a flustered Patrick asked.

“The list of bachelors, Patrick! For the auction! You are on it. And one of the more eligible names if I say so myself. There are several older bachelors and a few are even married. You are one of the only ones who is young, single and attractive!”

“Ray–” Patrick began, only to be immediately cut off.

“I hope you don’t mind that I called you attractive. But you are a handsome man, Patrick. The ladies,” Ray paused, looked Patrick up and down, and then continued, “and gentlemen will love you. Schitt’s Creek is a very open place, you know. Everyone fits in here no matter who they love.”

“Ray, no one in town knows me. No one is going to bid on me at a bachelor auction.”

I'm not sure who is writing what, but @a-noble-dragon wisely said tag games won't start unless someone begins them. So tagging @ramonaflow, @flowertrigger and @mammameesh in case they have anything they want to share.

[abarbaricyalp]

Written for @sambuckylibrary Valentines Bingo. Free space fill (most of mine are gonna be free spaces) I guess it technically fills the Sam-Searching-For-Bucky fill too but not in spirit, so it doesn't count

Rated T/M, No Archive Warnings

Read on AO3 here

Bid Your Heart Goodbye

"You know why they put us up first, right?" Barton asked under his breath next to Sam.

Sam's gaze slid to him with only mild interest.  "Because we're the people's princesses?"

They were standing in the wings of a fancy stage with velvet curtains that smelled like they hadn't been cleaned since they were installed. Beyond the curtains, an audience dressed to the nines wined and dined. That same dinner was waiting for Sam if this charity auction would ever get underway.

No matter what Barton said about the order of the night, Sam wouldn't be made to feel less than grateful that he'd be sitting down and digging into an expensive steak in less than half an hour. Hopefully. Steve, the poor sod, was the last bid of the night.

Buy A Date With An Avenger had been a fundraiser since before Sam was involved with them at all. This was the first year he was participating in it. If he'd been asked the year before, he'd have been more than excited to join, take a break from the Ghost Hunt and relax in a fancy hotel for while. This year, he had other things he wanted to be doing with his time. Perhaps it had to do with the fact that the Ghost Hunt was over and the ghost was accounted for, but Sam still felt like of he took his eyes off of him, he'd disappear into the night again. Perhaps it didn't. Who was to say.

"They're hoping people will bid high on us because they haven't spent big money on Steve or Tony yet," Clint said with some kind of sardonic glee. "Of someone spends million dollars to meet Steve, they're not gonna fork over anything else for us."

Sam rolled his eyes and elbowed Clint's arm. "Speak for yourself. I bet I hit 50k before the fifth vote."

The sardonicism melted away and Clint's eyes lit up. "I bet I make more than you," he countered.

"What're you gonna do? Strip?" Sam joked. Then he added, "Has Steve really gotten a million dollars before?"

"Couple of years ago," Clint confirmed. "Right after the whole thing in DC with you. That year. Super fan. They wanted the inside scoop on all of that for a book they were making someone ghostwrite."

Sam snorted. That sounded about right. There had been smaller opportunities for people to donate and win time with the heroes throughout the night. Steve was certainly a favorite. It might've dinged Sam’s ego a bit if he couldn't see how miserable Steve was with all of the attention.

Sam didn't mind this kind of thing. The VA held fundraisers all the time. He was used to the pleasant smiles and benign interest and the insufferable drone of rich people with money they needed. Actually, Sam was pretty good at it. Hell, he almost liked it, in a detached, out-of-body sort of way. He liked to be useful and he liked to be charming and gracious.

"Young man, you could've been a prince in another lifetime," an old woman had said to him once, patting his hand because she hadn't let go of it for five minutes.

"Only if you'd be my princess," he'd charmed back and gotten an extra donation towards their meeting spaces renovation for his time.

Tonight wasn't much different, though pocket books seemed to be a little fatter and held a little tighter. There were no promises made for nothing. Everything was about the spectacle of the bidding, the silent auction of memorabilia, the game of being allowed to tease time and attention from someone as important as an Avenger.

The proceeds weren't for the Avengers. They were all going towards charities around the nation. Each hero had picked one. Sam's was a housing program in Louisiana, to help people displaced after storms, year after year. 

"How much did your date go for last year?" Sam asked.

"About 20k," Clint said. "But I wasn't the worst of the night. A science lab got Bruce's date, but they didn't have to be very competitive about it."

Sam sucked in a breath through his teeth. "That's dirty, man."

"Hey, it worked out for them. He went to their lab, helped them through some results that weren't adding up, and they won some ridiculously prestigious award a month or so ago. Yet another paper with Dr. Bruce Banner's name on it too."

Sam had to give them that. That was a much better use of Bruce’s time than having dinner with someone who bought affection, someone who couldn’t be bothered to help people unless they got something in return.

This night could not be over quickly enough.

Sam was up first, as the newest member of the Avengers. He’d rewatched the livestream from last year to prepare himself, but there was still nothing like hearing his name echo throughout the room as the chatter of the evening lowered to a polite gust of whispers. The MC read off a list of Sam’s accomplishments as he walked on stage and gave a few easy-going smiles and waves. He listened as the MC explained what his charity was and how the money may be used.

And then the bidding began. It was a little slow going. It started at five thousand dollars, like all the dates would tonight. Someone upped it to seven, and then ten. A bright blue placard caught the corner of Sam’s eye. Everyone else had classy black and gold placards. This one was meant to stand out. It caught the MC’s eye too, apparently, because he gave a hearty chuckle and gestured to the man with the bright blue placard, sitting at a table with other event organizers.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I neglected to mention that this year we are hosting the bidding online as well. We’ll entertain bids in real time from our website. What was the bid?” he asked the stand-in bidder.

“Fifty thousand, sir,” the man said. “From an anonymous bidder.”

A literal gasp went through the audience. Which, hey, a date with him was totally worth 50k, Sam thought. A little deliriously maybe. Fifty thousand dollars? From ten? Sam was absolutely not about to pass out on the stage. He just needed a lectern to hold onto for a few seconds.

The MC whistled appreciatively. “That is quite the statement. Does anyone want to say 55?”

The woman who’d been the first to bid raised her placard again.

“Great. 60?”

The blue placard went up again. “Sir, the same bidder has said 100,000.”

Someone was fucking with Sam. He turned to glare at Barton, because this was surely his doing. He’d just been telling Sam about how only Steve and Tony made any real money and him and Sam were just chum to get the sharks going. And somehow he had someone fuck up the online bidding site to do this.

But Barton looked just as confused as Sam was, and about fifteen times as gleeful.

The MC didn’t falter. He was a damn professional. Sam needed to send him a fruit basket or something. Sure, Steve and Tony’s dates went for more than half a million each last year. $100,000 was nothing compared to the rest of the night. But Sam wasn’t sure even he could’ve kept a straight face while talking about his company being worth more than a substantial downpayment on a house. But the MC just grinned at the audience and said, “Anyone willing to go for 110? $110,000 would change a lot of lives. Build a lot of houses, folks.”

Unbelievably, a whole new placard went up. Sam wondered if this was just someone trying to goad the online bidder into doing something even more outrageous.

Which they did. Before the MC could even decide on another number to challenge 110,000 damn dollars, the blue placard went up.

“175,” he said.

Sam blinked at him, feeling like a deer in the headlights while someone explained linear algebra to it. What the fuck was happening? Actually, was he in danger? Should he even meet someone willing to spend $175,000 just to have dinner with him? Was he going to end up tied up in a basement somewhere?

“Folks, I don’t know if anyone is going to be able to outlast our anonymous bidder. Do I hear 180? 180 on the room? How about 177? 176? 175-5? If not, Sam Wilson’s date has just been bought for $175,000. To our high bidder, you’ve helped a beautiful cause. Planning emails will be sent to the address on your bid form, so please keep an eye out for those. And now, please welcome Hawkeye himself, Clint Barton!”

Sam was only able to get himself off of the stage because he had Clint’s path to follow. Clint beamed at him, knocked the sides of their fists together as he whispered, “Bird bros,” and then waggled his eyebrows like that meant anything.

Backstage, Steve managed to find him before anyone who would need his help coordinating the date. He was cheesing about as hard as Clint was.

“I told you you’d be nothing but good for this,” he teased, giving Sam a half hug. “I wonder whose eye you caught so strongly.”

“Hopefully not a Christian Grey,” Sam muttered, which made Steve blush but laugh. Over the years, the number of pop culture references Sam was able to get away with had dwindled to mostly the obscure. Evidently Christian Grey was not obscure.

“Maybe it’s someone who wants to know more about the Falcon tech?” he suggested. “Or someone who just knows you’re a really great guy. I’d pay 200k to have lunch with you.”

Sam rolled his eyes and elbowed Steve’s ribs lightly. “Lucky for you, you get me for free.”

“Well, sometimes the price of a burger.”

“Only when we go to that fancy place you like.”

“Mr. Wilson?” an event organizer said, interrupting them and looking very apologetic for it. “We’d just like to go over your preferences very quickly before we begin drafting emails. It should only take a few minutes.”

“Of course,” Sam said with a nod. He gestured for her to lead the way and then shot a look at Steve, trying to convey a suave ‘guess this is my life’ kind of energy. Steve’s laughter was not helpful in determining if he hit the mark or not.

. . .

The date was at a rooftop restaurant, near the beach. It was New York, so the hustle and bustle of the city was ever present, but the crash of the waves and the calling of the birds was a nice addition. Sam hadn’t forgotten how much he liked the peace of the beach. No amount of time away from home would ever pull the saltwater out of his bones. But perhaps he underestimated it until he was in the sand and the water again. Assuming his date was not obsessive and willing to follow Sam around, he was definitely going to get down on the beach before heading back to Steve’s for the night.

The restaurant was the kind of place Sam would never go on his own. He couldn’t picture a single reason to be at some place like this. He hadn’t even gone to Stark events like this yet. True, the rooftop part was his idea. ‘Get a bird's eye view with the Falcon.’ It was a stupid gimmick that he’d thrown down on paper at the very beginning of the planning for the auction. But, evidently, his anonymous bidder had been into the idea as well. Sam had expected some slightly upscale bar where young people looked at him like he was decrepit, but the bidder had suggested this place, which was definitely beyond upscale and had very few hip-young-person patrons.

Then again, this person had spent almost $200,000 to even get this date. What was several hundred more for food?

The foundation was paying for Sam’s food, so he was two glasses of a very good red grenache wine into the night when the waiter stopped to let him know his date was checking his coat.

A man? Sam was surprised. Everyone in the room who had bid on Sam’s date had been women. Even the last instigator had been a woman. (She had continued to instigate throughout the night. Sam kind of thought she might’ve been a plant by the foundation to drive up bids.)

He kept his eyes on the entry way onto the roof. In theory, he could’ve peered through the glass windows of the kitchen, but there was far too much going on in there for him to be able to see anything important. Instead, he kept an eye on the archway covered in roses and ivy, where a maitre d’ waited to guide people to their reserved seats–or fuss at her waitstaff.

It did not take long for Sam’s date to arrive. He knew it was him as soon as he came through the roses.

He was wearing a beautiful black on black suit, a black silk tie gleaming in the decorative fire light. His hair was pulled back in a slick, tight ponytail, sitting just a little higher than the nape of his neck so he could still tuck it into his shirt collar. Everything about him was powerful, the long sprawl of his legs, the breadth of his chest and thighs, even the curl of his gloved fingers as he circled one set around his other wrist. His blue eyes were impossibly piercing as they found Sam before the maitre d’ could even gesture over. And then he was smiling, wide and enamored. It made him look so much younger.

Sam scrambled to stand up as he made his way over, having to pause to let the maitre d’ know he could handle it on his own. By the time he did get to their little corner table, Sam still hadn’t convinced himself this wasn’t a dream.

Where have you been? Sam wanted to ask. Why would you spend $175,000 to see me?

“You could have just called,” is what he said in the end.

Bucky Barnes had not stopped smiling. It was really killing the whole mafia boss vibe he otherwise had going for himself. He brought his hands up to Sam’s face and then kissed him in front of every damn one at the restaurant. Sam’s hands went to his wrists, thumbs slipping below his sleeves and under his gloves to rub the inside of his wrists, his pulse point.

“I couldn’t stand the thought of anyone else getting this time with you. Talking to you. Maybe even touching you, even if it was just your hand or kicking your foot under the table,” he admitted under his breath, a confession just for the two of them.

“You spent almost $200,000,” Sam breathed back. “That’s more than a little jealousy.”

“Sam, you’re worth every damn dollar I’ll ever be able to find.”

Sam wanted to tuck himself against Bucky’s chest, hiding his face between his collar and jaw and just breathe in the other man. This addiction had grown faster than he’d thought possible. It hadn’t been long, in the grand scheme of things, since he’d last seen Bucky, but this moment felt like water after a drought anyway.

“I know you woulda made sure you were untraceable, but it's still very hot that you risked getting caught to make the bid,” Sam eventually said, pulling away and then pulling out Bucky’s seat for him.

Bucky gave a silly half bow and sat, waited for Sam to do the same before he said, “Someone else was bidding for me. Don’t look at me like that. I have friends.”

Sam rolled his eyes good naturedly. “I don’t know if I should be flattered or worried,” he  joked.

“Well, I think the metric is: if I’m this handsome, you should be flattered.” Bucky grinned at him and it took off about two decades worth of suffering.

Sam looked suitably appalled. “Who taught you about pretty privilege and double standards?” he asked.

Bucky laughed again and hooked his ankle against Sam’s under the table. Sam didn’t let himself react visibly, but he did run the toe of his most expensive shoes up the side of Bucky’s other leg.

“I heard the Bluefin here is exquisite,” he said instead of answering.

“We are not ordering Bluefin Tuna,” Sam nixed instantly.

“Okay, okay, what about the salmon?”

Salmon wouldn’t be so bad.

. . .

The date had not included a hotel room. Obviously. Even exploitation of superheroes hadn’t hit that feverpitch yet. However, Bucky had an expensive hotel room and Sam had nothing else to do with the evening. He’d texted Steve earlier that he wasn’t about to be part of a Misery remake, so there was no one on standby waiting for his return.

Even if there had been, he was pretty sure he would have forgotten about them by the time Bucky, a little shyly and endearingly, had suggested Sam come back with him for the night. He was perfectly gentlemanly as he greeted the doorman and bragged on his date a little bit and then led Sam to the elevator. He managed to keep his hands to himself for the upwards climb and the intentionally slow walk down the hallway.

“I hope your friend isn’t sharing a room with you,” Sam said as Bucky fiddled with his keycard, crowding Sam against the door like the sexiest predator cat the world had ever seen.

“Nah,” Bucky agreed, putting his forearm against the door next to Sam’s head as he curled his whole body inwards towards Sam. “She’s not even in the country.”

He unlocked and opened the door before Sam had even seen his hand move, then caught Sam up in his arms before Sam could fall back into the apartment. His feet barely touched the ground as Bucky carried him through the room. The door shut behind them with a soft click. The hotel room was basically bigger than the lower floor of Sam’s place in DC and definitely bigger than his room at the Avengers Compound, which is where he would’ve otherwise ended up tonight.

Surprisingly, the bed was near the window, blinds down but not all the way closed. The city lights twinkled outside and bathed the white sheets in a smear of intangible watercolor. Then, when Bucky dropped him on the bed, those lights painted over Sam too. He only got to stare at them, turning his hand this way and that, for a moment before Bucky was straddling his lap and staring down at him with an open hunger. Sam could do nothing but stretch out beneath him.

Bucky’s long fingers came up to the top of his dress shirt and slowly, carefully, undid the buttons. There was none of the frantic rush that always followed them when they came together. There really wasn’t even anyone who was expecting them in a certain place. Right now, the entire scope of their existence was this room right here.

Sam shivered pleasantly as his shirt fell open. Bucky settled back against his hips, running his hands down Sam’s chest–a contrast of warm and cool fingers.

“You’re so Goddamn beautiful,” he breathed. “It’s like something new every time.”

Sam rolled his eyes to distract himself from the blush racing down his cheeks and neck. “You could take a picture,” he suggested. “Would last longer.”

“Yeah, with my memory, that’s probably true.”

Sam snorted, he couldn’t help himself, and dropped his arm over his eyes. “How do you find the most supremely unsexy things to say while you’re undressing me?”

Bucky shifted over him and a few seconds later, Sam heard the shutter of his phone’s camera. “Goddamn piece of artwork,” he reiterated before throwing his phone aside and refocusing on Sam. He leaned over Sam’s body, resting his weight against Sam pointedly. He mouthed at Sam’s neck, traveling up to his earlobe, sucking it between his lips before he whispered, “I’m gonna take you apart all night long, doll.”

Sam shivered roughly and curled one hand against the back of Bucky’s neck, turning his head to catch Bucky’s mouth on his. “You’ve gotta put on a $200,000 show, Barnes,” he taunted.

Sam felt Bucky tense up for a rebuttal. Technically Sam ought to be putting on the show, he knew. But then he felt it all ease back out of Bucky as he decided to pursue better endeavors. With one last lave of his tongue over Sam’s, he sat back against his hips again, grinding against Sam in a subtle, smooth, teasing move, and began to unbutton his own shirt. Sam took the opportunity to shrug out his own clothes quickly.

He didn’t know who had taught Bucky to strip, but the man could do it like a professional. Sam was pretty sure he’d never been more turned on in his entire life. When Bucky reached for Sam’s zipper–his own pants already undone and hanging loose around his hips in a downright sinful tease, Sam couldn’t wait any longer. He flipped them over, pinning Bucky down to the bed so they could each shove their pants out of the way while Sam fell right back into kissing Bucky like it was the only way he could breathe.

“When you walked out onto the roof, I almost dragged you right back down,” Sam breathed, grinding his thigh between Bucky’s. “You looked so good, it was like a mirage. Like a magazine spread come to life.”

“Yeah?” Bucky asked, a cocky grin coming to his lips. “The suit do it for you, doll?”

“The suit. Your hair. The fact that it was you. I’d been dreading that date. And as soon as I saw you…”

Sam could practically feel Bucky’s self-satisfaction radiating. “As soon as you saw me, what?” he prompted, wiggling his hips until Sam ground down on him again.

“As soon as I saw you, nothing else really mattered,” Sam admitted with a slow, pleased smile of his own. He felt like he’d been holding his breath all night, waiting for Bucky to disappear out of this daydream. And finally something had slotted into place and he decided this was all real.

“Right now, nothing else matters,” Bucky promised with a kiss, then flipped them over again. “Now, about taking you apart,” he purred before putting his mouth back to Sam’s body.

. . .

“What if I just never let you leave?” Bucky suggested late the next morning. Room service was about to stop serving breakfast, which was a shame because they hadn’t made it all the way through the menu yet. Bucky traced a strawberry around Sam’s mouth, dragging his lip down with it before he replaced the strawberry with his own mouth and then started all over again.

Sam was more interested in the powdered sugar on Bucky’s fingers and lips, but he was being remarkably incapable of getting any of it onto his tongue. He’d have thought Bucky got all of the teasing out of his system the night before, but evidently not. “Eventually someone would come looking for me. I only gave Steve the all-clear for one night. And the world’s probably gonna try’n implode soon, so I’ll definitely be missed then.”

Bucky hummed, dragging the strawberry over Sam’s cheek and across his jaw. “$200,000 is a lot of money. I should get two dates, y’know?”

“You only spent $175,000. And I think I earned it last night, huh?”

“Now that’s a high end date,” Bucky teased. He tossed the strawberry back onto the fruit platter and crowded over Sam’s body again, hiding his face against Sam’s warm neck.

They were getting nowhere fast this morning. At least last night had had a plotline, no matter how often they distracted each other. There was a goal to be reached. Several times. But this morning? They were just lazing around, eating more food than room service should ever send to one room, and getting lost in pointless, teasing touches.

“In another world, this is our life,” Bucky pointed out against Sam’s shoulder. “In another world, I’m just wining and dining you all the time. We live in an expensive penthouse and we just have sex all day.”

“In this scenario, where are you getting all your cash for these nights?” Sam amused.

“I dunno. Trading stock. Investing in the 40s and not touching it,” Bucky said with a shrug that jostled Sam’s entire upper body.

“You didn’t know shit about the stock market in the 40s,” Sam argued. “You don’t know shit about it now.”

He felt Bucky grin against his skin and another monumental shrug shook the bed. “Who cares? It’s a fantasy. You’re the important part of it.”

“I live an expensive life, Barnes,” Sam defended simply.

“Oh yeah,” Bucky agreed, squeezing Sam’s hips until he had to stifle a laugh and shift until Bucky. “I know all about your all-organic fruits and veggies diet. I can handle it.”

“It’s a pretty thought,” Sam conceded when he’d freed his hips and gotten Bucky’s hands away from undiscovered tickle spots. “We could get close. If you came back. If you stayed.”

“I can’t,” Bucky sighed. He turned to lay on his side next to Sam, put a hand over his chest so he could circle Sam’s nipple with his thumb as he spoke. “Not yet. There’s too much to do. It’s better if no one knows where I am yet.”

“I could help. You don’t have to do any of this alone.”

Bucky pressed three kisses to Sam’s cheek and jaw. “You do help. You’ve helped so much, Sam. I used to run right towards precipices. Didn’t care how sturdy the ground was. Now I’ve got an anchor behind me. And a guy with wings who can catch me.”

“I ain’t catching you,” Sam argued quickly. “Do you know how much you weigh?”

Bucky laughed and shook his head. They laid there in that quiet for a moment, hearts beating together as their fingers tangled and came apart.

“I will be,” Sam eventually said. “I’ll be your anchor or your wings or whatever you need. You just need to remember that we’re connected. Every anchor has a line. You go down, I’m going down too. And, when you’re ready, you follow that line right back to me. Got it?”

Bucky shifted over him, held his face gently and adoringly. “Sold, doll,” he promised and kissed Sam again.

If you enjoyed this, please consider leaving a kudos or comment on AO3

[madroxed]

I'm signed up for this year's FANDOM TRUMPS HATE auction ✨HERE✨ a cool way to get a fic you really want and give to some great charities at the same time! There's over 1000 fanworks and fanservices offered this year, so go check out the full tags list for all available options.

Personally, I'm offering:

✤ AUCTION ONE ✤ 10k-20k SHADOWHUNTERS Simon/Raphael, Simon/Jace, Clary/Izzy, Magnus/Alec. GLEE Sam/Blaine. LAW & ORDER: SVU Sonny Carisi/Rafael Barba, Rafael Barba/Nolan Price. ✤ AUCTION TWO ✤ 5k-10k 9-1-1 Buck/Eddie, FireFam Gen + canon couples. CHECK, PLEASE! Jack Zimmerman/Kent Parson, Kent Parson/Jeff Troy. STAR WARS Obi-Wan/Anakin, Obi-Wan/Cody.

I'm happy to write pretty much anything in my usual ~✨vibes✨~ including canon fics, future fics, and AUs, and I'm also happy to write sequels to any of my Shadowhunters or Glee fics if that's something you'd be interested in. If there's anything you'd like but aren't sure if it's in my wheelhouse, feel free to shoot me a message and ask!

Bidding opens Tuesday 5th March 💖

[midnightcreator12]

Seena Ader of Zygerria

More about her under the cut

Seena is the second child of the Ader family.

Her family was among Zygarria's richest, due to their profitable slavery enterprise. Seena had not seen any issues with the way were family made their fortune for most of her life. She happily went along with her father's wishes and whims, learning the trade in acquiring, training and selling slaves.

Until her older brother, Tarsi Ader, was caught freeing the slaves placed in his care. Such an act was unforgivable in their father's eyes and he had Tarsi arrested for treason immediately.

It was not, however, her brothers arrest that made Seena question her family's way of life. It was the punishment that her father decided on for Tarsi.

Seena was familiar with the gladiator ring but she never image she would witness her own brother in it. She almost felt detached from her own body as her older brother, the most important person in her life, was tore apart by starved beasts for the entainment of their own people.

It's funny how drastically one's option of their father can shift when one sees him laughing with glee as his eldest son is brutally murdered.

After that, Seena started to, for lack of a better term, crack. She became more aware of what, exactly, her family's business practice entailed morally, what it meant for the sentiants they kidnapped, brainwashed and auctioned off to the highest bidder.

And the more she saw the more she hated her own complicity in it. She would have happily taken over had her father asked, kept doing the horrible things he was doing, had Tarsi not been caught. And that thought weighs on her. The fact it had taken her brother dying for her to see how little their father cared about anything but what benefited him and how close she had been to being just like him.

Somehow, Tarsi had seen that before her. Had figured out that what they did was wrong without any shock to his system. And he'd had enough courage (or maybe stupidity) to stay and try to help the enslaved sentiants.

Seena, however, did not possess her brothers courage. Just his recklessness.

Her father often sent her to inspect some of his slave camps. The first one he sent her two after Tarsi's death, she freed every slave in it and bombed the place to hell. It made her escape easy, but it also put a massive target on her back.

She spent many years skirting the Outer Rim, keeping a low profile among scavengers, pirates and mercenaries, never staying with one group very long and giving all the Zyggarian hunting grounds a wide berth.

It was years before she had any contact with another Zygerrian. And that contact was one of the most unexpected things to happen in her life.

She'd been running with a small mercenary gang for longer than she normally would, thinking enough time had passed for her father to forget about her. But, unfortunately, one of the mercs liked to browse bounties and he happened to find hers. She had no clue of the danger she was in until he'd united the rest of the gang against her. She escaped, but she was heavily injured and half blind from a minor explosion she'd caused to get away and she was stranded on a middle-of-nowhere planet.

She thought she was going to die when she collapsed from her injuries. Except the next thing she knew, she was waking up in a small camp with a Jedi peering down at her.

A Zygerrian Jedi with a very interesting tale to tell.

It turned out, after Seena left, her father had remarried and had another daughter with the intent to have a heir. Only Astra had turned out to be Force sensitive. Their father had decided to send her off to the Jedi with the intention of waiting until she was knighted and than cooking up a sob story about how she had been kidnapped and he wanted to bring her home.

He failed to take into account that Astra wouldn't trust him blindly just berceuse he was her biological father. The Order was Astra's life and she had refused to leave it.

It was dumb luck that had led her to Seena's unconscious body and her connection to the Force that told her they had a connection. But she admitted she had no clue it was biological until she'd meditated on the connection.

The Mandalorian that was accompanying Astra pipped in, saying that she'd spotted the bio-connection from a meter away.

Both stayed with Seena until she was healed up enough to strike out on her own again. The Mando, Chula Verd, slipped Seena her comm code before they parted ways, saying to call her if she needed help again.

Seena had wrinkled her nose at the offer....but she kept the comm code. Because there was definitely something going on between the Verd and her sister and Verd was the best way to keep tabs on Astra.

Seena went back to her normal routine, except now she ran solo more often, only working with groups for one off jobs. Surprisingly, Chula Verd was an excellent source of jobs that were far enough under the table to avoid any repeats of the event that scared up Seena's face.

Her routine wasn't disrupted again until the Clone Wars. Chula called her, saying that something had happened and it had messed with Astra's head a bit. A Republic ship was a little more crowded than Seena was comfy with but...her sister needed support.

Seena didn't go to the Paragon in person often, only dropping in once in awhile when Astra would hit emotional rock bottoms. She skirted around the edge of the war, digging up intel for the battalion in shady bars and underground crime rings.

The system worked well until Chula and Astra disappeared, along with the 244th battalion.

Seena slunk back into the shadows, going back to her former habits, except this time she was more watchful of what the Mid and Inner Rims were up to. She watched the war end, the fall of the Jedi, the rise of the Empire. She was glad Astra and Chula were gone before everything went to hell, even if the loneliness was suffocating most days.

Eventually, without anyone in her corner to help her dodge bounty hunters, someone managed to catch her off guard and drag her to her father's gladiator ring. But she was a lot older than her brother had been, a lot craftier, and she'd learned techniques from a Jedi and a Mandalorian.

Seena left her father's hold much in the same way she had the first time. Backdropped by a fiery explosion that burned down everything her father had built, with him right in the center of it.

With her father's death, Seena got bolder. She never officially joined a rebel cell but she happily blew up and burned down any Empire outpost, radio towers or temporary bases she would happen across.

Until one day, on the planet of Lothal, she spotted someone wearing very familiar armor. It was repainted, in a cacophony of bright colors that hurt her eyes, but the armor was the same.

She may not have been very close with Verd, but she would not let the woman who did so much to help her sister be dishonored in such a manner.

Except, the confrontation led to a whole new adventure that never would have imaged in a hundred lifetimes.

[easternmind]

Last year in classic games

For motives I cannot expand on with much glee, I found a little more time than usual this year to reduce my seemingly endless backlog of classics. Despite all the fine new releases 2023 has greeted us with, I was able to finally dive into this eclectic handful of games I gathered over time. It is perhaps no coincidence that I reached out for more direct game experiences than story-driven ones. I find myself increasingly drawn to games designs that are mindful of the player's time as a commodity not to be carelessly squandered.

One note, if I may: I would like to inspire my readers to progressively discard the use of the word retro this year. We are all of advancing years and wisdom, I trust. The introduction of the term retro to the videogame vernacular was a gross mistake furthering the abhorrent notion that games were as ephemeral in their nature as fashion. It is a purely commercial designation by which to profitably repackage old software as a category of its own, originating from the same minds that considered games as mere novelty trinkets of limited marketable lifespan.

It is up to the player to individually decide on an older game's appeal, whether they may be discovering it for the first time or revisiting it for the umpteenth one. This is not only an appeal for those of you who write about games in any capacity, rather to anyone who takes videogames as a serious interest and communicates with others about this the object of their predilection. Thank you.

This loose cart came with a Famicom bundle auction I won in 2009, if memory serves. I turned on the Famicom and tested it merely to verify if it was still in working condition and found myself engrossed in that trademark Pajitnov/Pokhilko elegant approach to game design. As per the cassette's label, Hatris was originally a concept developed in collaboration with ParaGraph, a Russian studio that went on to develop specialized professional software, a year before the Bullet-Proof Software licensing deal. They produced a few games in the turn of the decade that were rather unusual and, some would say, even visionary. I recommend that you look up their story, if you're curious.

The only entry from the group that isn't of Japanese provenance - though it is a Japanese edition - I played it for purely nostalgic motives, perhaps a yearning for a certain pixel, palette and parallax that resoundingly evoke a time I was fortunate enough to experience, first-hand. If I may be honest, I purchased the game for the visual value of its unique cover art, which I deem superior to the US edition's. In saying that, I must highlight that the original Amiga game box art was quite accomplished.

In the Summer of 93 while on holiday at the beach, there was a French Nintendo magazine for sale whose purchase I could not resist. It was very common to find Spanish, English and French publications at the time in Portugal. This edition had a striking four page preview of this Jaleco gem, Ikari no Yōsai, or Operation Logic Bomb as it was named in the West. For years I searched the PAL version in vain, then ultimately decided to import it on account of - you'd never guess! - the superior box art. Playing it this year at long last, I was instantly reminded of an old Game Boy favourite, Fortified Zone, which I now know to be its prequel. Most top-down shooters are best played in co-op. Ikari no Yōsai is strictly and single-player affair and not once did I miss the absence of a friendly companion.

Keio Flying Squadron 2 first came to my attention via an infamous Saturn demo disc, which came into my hands through circumstances I have since forgotten about. I use the word infamous because the entire game code was available in the disc and the level select cheat code enabled me to unscrupulously play the entirety of the game for no additional expense - at only the cost of missing out on the colourful Studio Pierrot anime FMV interludes.

Having played the sequel first, I was somewhat disenchanted to learn the original game did not feature any platforming segments, it being a pure scrolling shooter in the same whimsical vein as Parodius or, say, an AirZonk. Still, a jolly good time with the old three buttons.

For reasons that will not be immediately apparent to younger reading audiences, I pride myself in having completed most Shinobi games, The Revenge Of and GG being my preferred ones. Shin Shinobi Den, or Shinobi X in Europe, was a game not readily available from my usual game dealers. I eventually borrowed the PAL version once, though not nearly long enough to master it. I finally saw it through this year, mere days before SEGA announced a new episode. While the live action clips looked a tad maladroit in the 1990s, they came to acquire that nice patina I now look for in classic games.

Omega Force was known to take the sporadic breather from producing some of KOEI's most cherished and profitable series. I distinctly remember enjoying Destrega quite a bit in its day, a game quite unlike any other. What their 1998 Enigma lacks in consistency and originality, it more than amply makes up for with its own bizarre concepts, extravagant characters and unexpected genre fusions. Of all the titles in this post, this was the one whose pace felt the most sluggish, and needlessly so.

Microsoft Game Studio Japan release schedule plans were not at all kind on this, their first production, Magatama. Earlier this year I praised this era for its highly inspired H&S action adventure titles and even spent a few days delighting myself with the likes of Blood Will Tell, Nightshade, Bujingai, or Chaos Legion. This most unusual creation, developed by the aptly-named Team Breakout - a group composed of many talented ex-Square employees - is one among the finest of the era. Sadly, it did not do enough to persuade players at the time that it was a better purchase than Otogi or its sequel. Playing it with my mind and heart set back in time to 2003, I can say that this misguided consideration may not have withstood a second thought.

I've long wanted to write an extensive article on Japanese firefighting games. In fact, I have the structure laid out for a Japanofiles entry gathering moss in my Tumblr drafts for over a decade now. For a brief period this year I convinced myself I could finally fulfil this aspiration and resumed Sakurazaka Shouboutai as research. Developed by Racdym - later Racjin - for Irem, it is every bit as good as Firefighter F.D.18 or Hard Luck, and in many ways more inventive from a conceptual standpoint. While Konami and Spike found a way to have their games released in the west, Sakurazaka's poor regional sales performance clearly accounts for Irem's reluctance to bear the cost of an overseas ticket.

[bitbybitwrites]

last line challenge

thanks for the tag @onthewaytosomewhere

Rules: in a new post, show the last line you wrote (or drew) and tag as many people as there are words (or as many as you feel like). 

I'll give you 2 ( cause I cheat at things like this), 1 each from the 2 fandoms I'm writing for: Glee/RWRB

1.) from - let you put your hands on me (sebklaine college polyamory fic)

“Didn’t you do laundry a couple of days ago?” Blaine shouted back. “I am not going to start putting away your clean laundry now, Seb!”

2.) from - how ardently i admire and love you (firstprince online auction fic)

A Pair of Fine Eyes: Screw you, man.  I am a DELIGHT.

*****

Tagging if you want to play and haven't done so already:

@kiwiwritesstuff @daisyishedwig @annepi-blog @spaceorphan18 @14carrotghoul

@taste-thewaste @forabeatofadrum @wowbright @gleefulpoppet @myheartalivewrites

@special-bc-ur-part-of-it @little-escapist @lilinas @itsmaybitheway @wordsofhoneydew

@datshitrandom @esilher @justgleekout @mynonah @alicexz

@4rthurfox @papiercranes @softboynick @artofobsession @zmoknus

@vkelleyart @uhhgaypanic @seanchaidh7 @porcelainvino @orkazh-arts @rockitmans

And open tag for anyone else who sees this!

[sillyname30]

I just listened to the lastest episode of and that's what you really missed on Glee. The biggest surprise of this episode was that Kevin and Jenna talked about the box scene. I never expected them to talk about Klaine. That's what happened: The episode was teased with an important Klaine scene, but when it aired their scene was not in it and the fans went crazy. The script of the episode appeared in an auction for Project Angel Food and 2 fans organized a fundraiser to bit on the script. Ryan heard of it and he released the scene on YouTube. Kevin said that you can see why it was cut. It is not a very good scene. Jenna said it's a little lackluster. (Of course that had to talk Klaine down.) Artie as a director: Kevin was trying to do a nod to Ryan. Where his hands were placed, how he was talking. He had to tone it down though. The Christmas special: Jenna said it was a multi-camera shot like they did back then. During the filming of All I Want for Christmas someone took a photo of the girls on a phone and it was used for press. Kevin said that the ratings were down and they started a rumour to get them back up. Kevin took a picture of Jenna with Lea and Cory in the background being extra snuggly. He posted it and when the first person reacted to it, he took it down like he was doing something wrong. The rumour got picked up and spread to all the entertainment sides. A couple of weeks later Lea told Kevin that she and Cory really started dating around that time. Kevin told another story about something he did over the soundsystem, but I didn't really get. I guess my English isn't good enough for that. cringe moment: the homeless jokes (Kevin), Do They Know It's Christmas at the homeless shelter (Jenna) best dance move: Christmas Wrapping best song: Christmas Wrapping (Kevin), All I Want For Christmas Is You (Jenna) performance mvp: Lea and Cory

[goldenraeofsun]

Day 4: Wicked

Castiel keeps his longing for Dean Winchester, quarterback and last year’s junior prom king, the ultimate secret of his high school years. It's not hard; he doesn’t have many (any) friends. 

At lunch, he sits at what he dubs as the “miscellaneous” table with the girl with the heavy eyeliner and combat boots, the boy with his trick deck of cards and actual top hat, and the freshman who always has their nose buried in a textbook.

After school, Castiel has homework, music lessons, cross country, and chess tutoring. Evenings not spent on extracurriculars are for his parents’ galas, auctions, and other fundraising events for their arts charity.

Dean would have graduated without ever saying one word to Castiel – except Anna Milton breaks her arm two weeks after school starts. Three days later, Castiel twists his ankle, marking the end of his senior year athletic ambitions.

As he hobbles away from his locker, he overhears Dean lamenting that they can’t find anyone to run tech after Anna’s accident.

Castiel gets the job before the school day is over.

* * *

Dean is magnificent as Harold Hill. He may have auditioned on a highly popularized dare from another football player, but he was born for the stage. His whole body lights up on the stage, and his impeccable comedic timing makes Castiel smile, even when he doesn’t get the joke.

Rehearsals quickly become Castiel’s favorite parts of his day. The stage manager, Charlie, seems determined to bring him into the theater fold and makes smalltalk about which video games and movies Castiel must try in his nonexistent free time.

Cas suspects she talks to him out of pity, but he can’t find the willpower to reject her. He has his pride – what teenager doesn’t – but not when it comes to his people skills.

The week before dress rehearsals, his chess tutor catches a cold, and Castiel finally finds an hour to read the first chapters of The Hobbit. 

“You finally read it?” Charlie demands, a manic glee in her eye. She grabs his upper arm as if afraid he’s going to bolt from the conversation he started less than a minute ago. 

Castiel nods. “I started it on Tuesday,”

“That’s awesome.” She punches the air triumphantly. “Count another one for Team Tolkien.”

“I haven’t finished it yet.”

“You will,” Charlie promises – or threatens?

“I like it so far,” Castiel says truthfully because he wouldn’t say anything else to her face. 

“Good,“ Charlie says firmly. In a loud voice she calls, “Hey, Winchester!”

Castiel freezes.

Charlie yells, “Even Novak beat you to The Hobbit!”

From behind them, Dean’s voice comes, “I told you, I’m gonna get to it!”

Charlie shakes her head, telling Castiel in a carrying stage-whisper, “He’s been saying that for years. I honestly figured he couldn’t read and didn’t want to admit it.”

Dean makes a sputtering noise of offense. “What the hell? I can fucking read, Bradbury!”

Their drama teacher, Mrs. Chandler, barks, “Language!”

Charlie snorts, raising her hand to slightly muffle her giggles. “If Mrs. C is back from her smoke break, I’d better get going.”

To Castiel’s surprise, Charlie doesn’t drop The Hobbit until he finishes it. With her (increasingly fervid) urging, he carves out time during study halls, in between scenes, and in the back seat of their driver’s car on the way to school. 

“Why do you want me to read it so badly?” Castiel asks when he only has a few chapters left, tilting his head as he studies her response. 

“Other than the fact that it’s one of the best books ever written?” Charlie asks, her eyebrows rising.

“The beginning was a little dry.”

“Well, I never!” Charlie clutches her heart before she cracks a smile. “Yeah, I know.” She shrugs. “But it changed my life, and, I dunno,” she shakes her head, “I keep hoping it’ll do the same to someone else.”

Castiel sits up straighter in his chair. “I’d say it has.”

“Yeah?”

Castiel nods at the first friend he made in high school, three months into his senior year. “Of course, it has.”

* * *

The week of the performances, everyone is jumpy and on edge. Even Castiel gets swept up in the nerves, suffering through nightmares when he flubs all his lighting cues and forgets his pants.

On Tuesday – their opening night is Friday – Castiel stays behind after rehearsal to run through the lighting again one last time. Satisfied, he gathers his things and exits the tech booth, frowning as his ears catch a melody of strummed strings coming from backstage.

Castiel follows the sound to the green room to find Dean, crouched over a guitar, a songbook open in front of him. But he doesn’t recognize the chords.

“Could be, who knows,” Dean croons. “There’s something due any day, I will know right away, soon as it shows.”

Definitely not from The Music Man.

“It may come cannonballing down through the sky,” Dean sings in a rush, “gleam in its eye, bright as a – a fuck.” Dean blows a raspberry, his lips pursed, brow furrowed, as he traces a finger along the musical bars on the page.

Castiel makes an involuntary noise, and Dean whirls around. “Cas!”

Caught, Castiel coughs to dislodge the lump of nerves from his throat. “Hello, Dean.”

“What’re you doing here?” Dean asks, his expression apprehensive.

“I was running the cues one last time before heading home.”

Dean nods, his fingers tapping against the neck of his guitar, clearly uncomfortable. But, somehow, Dean’s unease puts Castiel more at ease. He takes a step further into the greenroom instead of hovering on the threshold. “You sound… nice.”

Dean laughs humorlessly. “I have no idea what I’m doing, but thanks.”

Before this moment, Castiel never would have thought Dean suffered from anything so mundane as nerves or low self-esteem

“West Side Story?” Castiel asks, peering over Dean’s shoulder to the songbook.

Dean waits a beat, but when whatever he is expecting doesn’t come, he says, “We’re reading Romeo and Juliet in English, and apparently this is just that with music and gangs, so… anyway, it’s stupid.” He raises his eyebrows. “You know West Side Story but not World of Warcraft?”

Cas blinks, surprised that Dean knew anything about him other than his name and his role backstage. “How did you know that?”

“Charlie,” Dean says with a smirk. After a beat, he ventures, “Have you seen it? West Side Story?”

Castiel shakes his head. The last revival only lasted a year and a half. “My parents never found the time to go while it was still playing.” They aren’t that far away, though, over the river in New Jersey.

“What’s your favorite?”

Castiel pauses. “I liked Rent,” he says, “Mother thought it was too loud, but that’s what the music deserved, what the characters deserved, after being ignored and overlooked for so long.”

“I have no idea what it’s about,” Dean says, sounding intrigued.

Castiel clamps his mouth shut. If any team member of the football team but Dean Winchester had gotten cast in the fall musical, the bullying would have been relentless. As it is, Castiel still sometimes catches slurs being tossed his way by the more homophobic members of their class. Dean laughs them off.

Castiel’s explanation dies on his tongue. Instead, he says awkwardly, “It’s… good.” 

Dean studies him. “How come you never tried out for any of this theater crap?”

“I can’t sing,” Castiel confesses.

“Seriously?”

“I mean, I can,” Castiel corrects as his mother’s constant reminders to pay attention to details (semantics) ring in his ears, “but nobody who values their ears would willingly listen.”

Dean laughs, a sound Castiel will treasure forever. “Dude, you can’t be that bad.”

“Trust me, I am,” Castiel says eagerly. “There’s a reason I joined the orchestra instead of the choir.”

“Could I get a demo?” Dean asks, grinning.

Castiel draws up short. “Absolutely not.”

Dean laughs again, and maybe Castiel fell asleep in the lighting booth and any second now Mrs. Tate will come rushing in and remind him of a Calculus exam he should be taking right now.

To change the subject, he asks Dean, a tad desperately, “Have you seen a Broadway show recently?”

Dean grimaces. “Aren’t tickets expensive?”

Castiel frowns. They might be – he has no idea. “Probably,” he agrees, his shoulders slumping. 

Dean gets to his feet, casting his gaze anywhere but at Castiel. “Listen,” he says in a low voice, “thanks for… thanks.”

* * *

Castiel arrives two hours before curtain on Sunday, the last night of the musical. Heart in his throat, hands almost shaking with nerves, he leaves the flowers and envelope with two tickets to Rock of Ages on Dean’s chair. He adds a note, Musicals are for everyone.

Practically every senior knows Dean loved music from the 80s. Whenever it was his turn to choose the warm up music for football practice, he opted for Styx, Bob Seger, or Def Leppard. 

Castiel might not know pop culture, but he does know Dean Winchester.

Castiel doesn’t sign the card, so he doesn’t expect Dean to invite him along. In fact, he avoids Dean for the rest of the school year. If Dean can’t find him, he can’t reject him. Castiel is fully aware his logic holds water like a sieve, but he can’t bring himself to care.

The day on the tickets comes and goes, and Castiel breathes a sigh of relief (and disappointment).

* * *

Charlie 7:20 Heyyy best friend! I scored last minute tickets to NY Comic Con this weekend You up to dinner and a show on Wednesday?

Castiel 7:20 Of course. It’s been too long since you’ve been back on the East Coast.

Charlie 7:21 Good cause I already got tickets to Wicked 7pm b there or b square

Castiel laughs as he slips his phone back into his pocket. He had expected his friendship with Charlie to fade once they separated for college, but Charlie had the singular talent of being just as present, just as herself, online as in-person.

Still, Castiel obviously prefers the three or four times a year he gets to see her “IRL”.

* * *

“So,” Charlie says as they take their seats in the Gershwin Theatre, “are you going to the reunion next year?”

Castiel shakes his head. “I don’t really see much of a point.”

“C’mon, it’s ten years,” Charlie wheedles. “You don’t want to see who went bald or had a dozen kids?”

“That would be very impressive,” Castiel says as he idly skims the playbill. “Statistically speaking, twins are still a relatively rare occurrence. And to have that many children in nine years would mean multiples.”

“So that’s a yes?” As Castiel shakes his head ‘no’, Charlie pouts. “You’re no fun at all.”

Castiel flips a page. “It’s been said before.”

She huffs, crossing her arms over her chest, “I’ll get you there one way or another.”

“Unless you’re talking about kidnapping, I’m not sure how you’ll accomplish that.”

“I have my ways,” Charlie says loftily. “Have you seen Wicked before?”

“Years ago.”

“Good,” Charlie says, “You’re not doing anything after this, right?”

He turns to her quizzically. She’s well aware of his perennial lack of plans. “Other than going home and sleeping?” 

“Awesome,” Charlie says as the lights dim around them and chatter dies down.

The curtain rises and the first “Good news… she’s dead!” rings out from the stage.

Castiel leans in close to Charlie. “What are you planning?” he demands in an undertone.

She doesn’t turn her head away from the stage. “Shh! It’s starting.”

Castiel settles back in his seat and tries to immerse himself in the performance. They sail through The Wizard and I and What is This Feeling? Elphaba’s singing is slightly better than her acting, and Glinda adds a few too many runs to her solos.

But then Fiyero makes his big entrance before launching into his big number, Dancing Through Life, and –

“Charlie,” Castiel hisses.

“I know, right?” Charlie whispers back, beaming up at the stage. “He started this month!”

And he might as well be back in high school, since Castiel has eyes only for Dean Winchester for the rest of the show.

* * *

Charlie drags Castiel to the stage door to wait with the rest of the tourists for the actors’ autographs.

Dean emerges with Elphaba and Nessa, wearing a leather jacket to ward off the autumn chill and worn jeans.

“Hey, Dean!” Charlie shouts, waving with her whole body.

Castiel winces at her sheer volume.

Dean turns and does a double-take at Castiel. “Hey!” he says warmly. He holds up one finger and turns to the waiting crowd of admirers. He signs all the playbills shoved in his face, making smalltalk with anyone brave enough to strike up a conversation. But, all too soon, he makes his way over to Charlie and Castiel by the curb.

“Hey,” he says, leaning in to hug Charlie and, after a split second of hesitation, Castiel too. “So glad you made it.”

“Of course,” Charlie scoffs. “Like I’d miss it. Is it too late for a drink, Dean?”

“Nope,” Dean says easily. He turns to Castiel. “How about you, Cas?”

Castiel can only shake his head.

“Alright, Broadway Boy, where should we go?” Charlie asks.

“Don’t call me that.” Dean shudders. He points down the street, and they start walking. “That makes me sound like the lamest sidekick ever.”

“Kinda,” Charlie agrees, punching Dean in the shoulder. “But you’ll only ever be my handmaiden.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Are you ever gonna let me live that down?”

“Nope,” Charlie says cheerfully.

Dean turns to Castiel. “It was an off-Broadway experimental performance,” he explains with a grimace. “There were robots. And tentacles,” he pauses for dramatic effect, “in space.”

Charlie cackles. “It was awesome.”

They cross the street, and Dean pushes open the door to a homey-looking dive bar. It’s relatively empty this late on a Wednesday night. They order their first round at the bar, and pick a table near the front window to catch up.

But, practically as they sit down, Charlie bounds to her feet. “Little girl’s room,” she says by way of explanation, completely ignoring the look of extreme panic that Castiel shoots her over Dean’s head. “Don’t get trashed without me!”

“No promises,” Dean says with a grin as he waves her off. “So,” he starts once they’re alone. He taps his fingers against the side of his beer, and Castiel’s riot of nerves calms a little at Dean’s fidgeting. “How’ve you been?”

“Good and you?”

Dean snorts. “Not bad,” he says, raising his drink to his lips. 

Castiel mentally scrambles for something, anything, to talk about. “Is this your first Broadway role? Charlie mentioned you started only recently.”

Dean nods in agreement. “Finally popped my Broadway cherry on the 2nd.”

“Congratulations.”

They each take a long pull of their drinks. Castiel tries not to stare too intently at Dean’s face.

Dean sets his glass down with slightly more force than necessary, foam splashing out over the side. “Look,” he says, reaching behind him for his wallet.

Oh no. How in the world has Castiel driven off Dean so quickly? He’d thought his people skills, never the best, had gotten better since high school.

But Dean stays seated as he flips his wallet open and pulls out two old, familiar Broadway tickets. “I just wanted to tell you that you changed my life with these,” Dean says seriously, meeting Castiel’s gaze.

Castiel swallows, and he has to take another sip of beer to get his throat working again. “I’m glad,” he says. He reaches out to touch them, his fingers hovering a hairsbreadth above the paper, creased and fragile from ten years of handling.

Dean pushes them closer, and Castiel dares to pick them up, running the pad of his thumb along the half-faded barcode stamped on the side.

“You were amazing, even in high school,” Castiel says quietly. “You deserved to see all the possibilities open to you.”

“What? No,” Dean says, and Castiel’s eyes snap from the tickets to Dean’s face. “I was already saving up to play hookey and line up for same-day tickets.”

Castiel’s mouth thins. “I’m glad I saved you one day as a truant and the extra cost.”

Dean shakes his head. “’M not saying it right,” he says, frustrated. “It’s – Cas, it wasn’t about the show.”

Castiel is completely lost. “Okay?” he says. “I hope you at least enjoyed it –”

“Of course, I did,” Dean cuts him off, irritated. “Fuck it,” he mutters as he stares down at his beer. He raises his head. “It’s that you gave them to me.”

Castiel blinks. “I don’t understand.”

“For some fuckin’ reason, you saw this kid who didn’t know an arpeggio from an archipelago, and thought he could make it on Broadway based on one dinky high school production of The Music Man.” He taps the tickets still in Castiel’s hand, leaning in. “That’s why I kept these close – because they showed that you believed in me.”

Castiel looks up, and Dean’s face hovers much closer than he remembers. “Oh,” he breathes. 

Dean bites his lip, and every nerve in Castiel’s body thrums with anticipation the longer they stay there, not moving, sharing the same air.

“So sorry, they were cleaning out the bathrooms –”

The moment shatters with Charlie’s arrival. 

But, for once, Castiel isn’t going to let it go without a fight. He grabs Dean by the lapels of his flannel and seals their mouths together.

Dean makes a noise of surprise but doesn’t pull away. He reaches up to cup Castiel’s jaw, and his little hum of satisfaction rings ten times sweeter than any love song Castiel has ever heard him sing.