#it straight up exploded when i tried to zip it up . at least the button is still working

[manaosdeuwu]

my fucking jean zipper broke

[seiyasabi]

Fixation

(This is a Yandere Yelena x Fem Reader story ;)) This takes place in a Modern AU outside of the anime, and I won’t justify my reasoning lmao 

TW: Coercion, !Drugging!, Manipulation, !Noncon!, !Dubcon!, Daddy kink (ehehe), spanking, she’s a straight up Dom w her tall ass, kinda a meanie, degradation!, handcuffs!, use of sex toys!, Overstim!, size kink!, dumbification?, unwanted filming!, etc.. 

Proceed with caution! Sorry if this is too self indulgent lmao, when women (lesbians) talk to me, I become the biggest idiot to ever exist :)) ) 

Today wasn’t the best day to wear a skirt. 

Begrudgingly smoothing down the lilac fabric of your skirt, you huff indignantly. All you wanted to do was look cute for your crush, Marco, but it seems that that was too much to ask for. 

Your white sweater, at least, keeps you somewhat warm from the harsh wind. It’s tucked into the waistband of your high waisted skirt, and your thigh high socks push the fat of your cute thighs out slightly. The sound of your white sneakers against the pavement is drowned out by your classmates’ loud voices, and you’re seemingly unaware of a certain black-eyed glare. 

Seeing your classroom come into view, you hurry inside, sliding into your lab assigned seat. Eyeing the dark haired male of your dreams, you can’t help but sigh pathetically at the fact that he hasn’t noticed you. Up until recently, the two of you were great friends-always hanging out and texting one another. But, the moment the both of you picked up this class, everything changed. 

Hearing the seat next to you slide open, you glance up at your seatmate. Smiling up at the tall woman, you greet her kindly, “Hi, Lena! How’re you today?” 

The Russian exchange student smirks down at you, as she plops onto the seat, “Good, now that you’re here.” 

Laughing at her gruff words, you wave her off, “You always say that,” Zipping open your backpack, you pull out your class notes, “What’re you going to do this weekend?”

Her smirk widens, dark eyes gleaming, “Why? Asking me on a date?” You laugh once more, completely oblivious to her hopeful tone. 

“You’re so funny, Lena,” Pulling out your pack of multicoloured pens, you start to set up for your class, “I just heard you speaking with Annie about ‘something big’ the other day, so I became curious.” 

Not one to acknowledge boundaries, the blonde woman starts to play with your (hair/sweater), “I’m throwing a party, one you should come to,” Her tone leaves no room to negotiate, but you don’t really notice. Nodding, you smile up at her. 

“Sounds fun! When is it and who’s going?” Her hand trails down to your thigh, fiddling with your sock. Brushing off your mild alarm at her ministrations, you justify her actions through your cultural differences. 

“Tonight at eight. Annie and her friends should be there, same with Marco and a few others,” She name dropped the kind man on purpose, knowing your misguided infatuation with him. If only you knew how much of a pussy he is. All she did was threaten him once, and suddenly he stayed clear of you. It made her life easier, sure, but it annoyed her that he dropped you like a gutted fish. You’re too good for that. 

Pulling out your phone, you pull up your calendar, showcasing that you have no plans this evening, “Okay, I can go!” 

Her smirk grows wider than before, “Great,” Yelena’s accent seemingly grows thicker, her r rolling more harshly than before. 

With that, class begins without a hitch; Yelena’s hand still glued to your perfect thigh. 

-

Stepping out of your car, you readjust your new outfit. Keeping the thigh highs from earlier, you changed your lilac skirt for a black, body con one, along with a cropped, black long sleeve shirt that accentuates your cleavage. 

Slamming your car door shut, you lock it with your key, before heading towards Yelena’s luxurious flat. You can hear low music and voices from her open top floor balcony, multiple shadows moving inside her home. 

With a fast beating heart, you can’t help but hope that Marco will speak with you tonight. With that hope deep in your chest, you step inside the fancy building’s lobby. Approaching the front desk, you go to show them your ID, but are met with brightly smiling faces. 

“Go on up to the tenth floor, (Your Name)! Yelena already told us that you’re coming!” Surprise overcomes your form. Why do they know you by appearance alone? You’ve never even been here before. 

“Oh, okay! Thank you,” Deciding to ignore the weird situation at hand, you head towards the lift. Pressing the button, you wait a few moments, before stepping into the open lift doors. The sleek metal walls reflect your appearance back at you, whilst you press the pristine ‘10’ button. With a small beep, the lift begins to move, practically flying at top speed to the top floor. 

Once at the tenth floor, the doors fly open, showing what looks to be a living room. You can’t help but gawk at the large flat displayed before you. Your classmate must be quite wealthy to afford a place like this. 

You awkwardly make your way inside, and are immediately greeted by the party’s host, “Hey, (Your Name), welcome!” You’re side hugged by a buff arm, practically slammed into Yelena’s torso. 

“Hey, thanks for having me!” You pat her back in an attempt to have her let you go, but instead, it seems to spur her on. She drags you towards a large L-shaped couch, which is filled by Annie, Reiner, and Bertholdt. A handful of others sit at her dining room table and kitchen counter, the open concept allowing everyone to see and speak to each other comfortably. 

Reiner glances up from the story he’s telling Historia and Ymir, a grin painting his handsome features, “Whoa, that’s a new look for you, (Your Name)!” 

Multiple eyes are suddenly glued to your now self conscious form, an uneasy smile on your face, “Hello, everyone.”

“Don’t get me wrong, you look great! It’s just really different from your normal, cute clothes,” People nod and agree with the large man, causing you to break out in a nervous sweat. 

“Well, I hope I don’t look too bad,” You joke halfheartedly, “I just wanted to try something new.” 

Yelena takes your appearance in, practically salivating. Whilst she does enjoy your usual clothing, this look fits you quite well. 

“You look very nice,” Bertholdt reassures soothingly, patting the spot by him, “You can sit next to me, if you’d like.”

The short haired woman glued to your side reacts immediately, “No, the girl needs a drink,” Annie shoots her a knowing look, which she nods to in response. You’re practically ragdolled to the kitchen bar, as the conversation starts up once more. Once at the marble countertop, the large woman releases you in favour of pouring you a cup of spiked punch, “This is very good. Made it myself.” 

You give her a bright smile, accepting the red solo cup, “Cool! I’m sure it’s delicious!” Bringing the cup to your (lipstick/chapstick/lipgloss) coated lips, you take a small sip. A burst of fruity goodness explodes on your tastebuds, making your eyes widen in surprise. You can’t taste a drop of alcohol in it, “Wow! This is really good!” 

A proud grin overtakes her lips, as she nods her thanks, “Of course it is. I knew you were coming, after all,” You laugh in response, and take another sip of the red liquid. 

“I see! Well, you have a very nice home!” The tall woman leans against the counter, holding herself up with an arm that goes behind your form. 

“Thank you. It’s very spacious. I find myself lonely at times,” Her large, black eyes stare down at you, trying to send you a message through them alone. 

“Oh, well, have you tried getting a roommate? Maybe the flat won’t be so empty,” She nods at your words. 

“Yes, that’s a good idea. Would you be my roommate?” You laugh, thinking that she’s joking. Not bothering to look up, as you take another swig of your drink, you don’t see the somewhat hurt look on her face. 

“That would be something! Not only are we seatmates, but we’re also roommates,” You giggle some more, taking more sips of your delicious drink, “But, your flat is a lot nicer than mine. I may take up on your offer.”

Looking up, you see her grin at you approvingly, “Yes, that would be nice,” What you don’t know is that her lease is almost up, making it so she has paperwork she needs to fill out. Paperwork that would look great with your co-sign on it. 

-

Three drinks in, and you’re feeling a bit woozy. Typically, you’re not a lightweight, but it seems that you are tonight. 

Leaning your upper body onto Yelena’s strong form, you laugh hysterically at something Reiner says, “Oh my God, you’re hilarious-” You cut yourself off with a snort, causing the entire room to laugh at your cute giggling. 

The short haired woman you’re currently using as a pillow holds you tenderly, a pleased smile on her face. The stuff Annie gave her works very well. 

“Man, if you weren’t Yelena’s girl, I would’ve cuffed you a semester ago!” Reiner roars wholeheartedly, slapping the leather couch below him. 

In your cloudy mind, you barely understand the words he just said, “Haha, wha-?” 

Pushing your head into her breasts, Yelena shushes you, “My poor baby is such a lightweight,” She and the others chuckle at that understatement, “I think it’s time to turn in for the night.”

Her civil way of kicking everyone out was enough, as everyone trickles out of her luxurious flat. Once the last person leaves, Yelena stands to her feet, scooping you up in her buff arms. She goes to her lift, pressing the lock input, she types in the lock code, not allowing anyone in or out of her home. Your high mind can barely comprehend what’s going on around you. 

She hums an unknown tune, as she goes up her steps to her master bedroom. Kicking open the door, she flips on her bedroom light with her elbow, before shutting the door with her foot. Sauntering to her California King sized bed, she lays your drugged out form on her light grey coloured sheets. 

“-Lena, wha-” Your head lulls to the side as you giggle uncontrollably, “-Are- are we dating?” She hums in response, starting to pull down your skirt. 

“Yes, my Darling Girl,” She smooches your forehead, “We’ve been together since I moved here,” Pulling your skirt’s fabric down and off of your legs, she tosses it on the floor, exposing your pink panties. 

“Bu-but, I like Marco,” You weakly attempt to push her grabby hands away from you, “I-I wan’ Marco!” 

The feelings of disgust, envy, and fury overwhelm her all at once. How dare you! She’s always treated you so well, that spineless fucker doesn’t deserve anything from you! He especially doesn’t deserve your wonderful heart! 

She says nothing, grabbing your blouse, and chucking it off of you. Your breasts jiggle at her ministrations, your bra just barely containing your tits. Seeing your almost bare, perfect body makes her pussy tingle, but her anger outweighs her arousal. 

Settling on the bed, she grasps your boneless body, and pulls you over her knees. You’re still muttering and questioning the validity of your relationship, all whilst saying that horrible boy’s name, causing her to cup the fat of your ass and squeeze harshly. 

“Baby, you know better than to say those horrible things. I love you very much, and it hurts to hear you say that.” 

Your breasts, arms, and head rest over her left knee, as you try to look up at her stern face, “But-”

“No buts, you know what happens when you act like a brat,” She slaps your ass experimentally, earning a pained yelp. A small smirk covers her lips, and she hits your ass as hard as she can. 

“‘M sorry! ‘M sorry! I didn’t mean it!” Your pleading is cute, so cute. 

“I know you didn’t, Princess. But I have to remind you of your place,” She slams her hand down once more, jolting your entire body. A shrill cry leaves your lips, as you try to move off of her lap, but seemingly can’t find the strength to do so. 

After five more smacks, the blonde pulls you onto her lap in a straddling position. One of her arms wraps around your top half, pushing your crying face into her neck. The other is wrapped around your waist, hand smoothing over your bruising ass, and playing with the hem of your panties. 

“Don’t cry, Princess. You know I had to set you straight,” She coos, “Your stupid, little brain is far too gone to understand at the moment, but you will once you sober up. So, for now, let your Daddy make you feel good.” 

You mutter nonsensical words in between your sobs, but the large woman isn’t put off. After she’s done with you, you’ll never think of that freckled fuck ever again. At least, you won’t unless you want him dead. 

Wrestling your pliant body to the mattress once more, she leaves you on the bed by yourself, before rolling onto the left side. Opening the top drawer of her nightstand, she pulls out a pair of handcuffs, a battery powered hitachi wand, duct tape, and a small bottle of lube. Setting them on the bed by your writhing form, she quickly makes her way back to you. 

“Shh, it’s alright, Princess. I’m right here,” Yelena reaches under you, fiddling with your bra’s hooks until it pops open, allowing her to slide your useless arms out of the garment. Tossing it aside, she sucks in a deep breath, enjoying the view of your plush chest. Experimentally, she pinches your right nipple, relishing the small moan you let out at the feeling. Gripping the handcuffs next to you, she feeds your dainty wrists through the opening, popping the pink, plush cuffs on tightly. Happy with the result, she continues her endeavour. 

Moving farther down your body, she leaves your socks on, loving how your thigh fat squishes up a bit. Grabbing the hem of your cute, pink panties, she pushes them off of you, exposing your pretty cunny. It separates from you with a small string of slick, filling Yel with a sense of satisfaction. You’re her perfect pain slut, aren’t you? 

Pushing on your pliant legs open, she smiles happily down at you, dark eyes blown wide open, “Awe, is your slutty pussy wet for me?” 

You shake your head rapidly, disorienting yourself more than before, “Nu-no! It’s not!” She clicks her tongue teasingly, her smile growing wider than before. 

“Don’t lie to me, Princess. Now I have to punish you once more,” Forcing your legs open, she holds them down with her own, straddling your waist. Her large form easily overpowers you, as she grabs the blue hitachi wand, and flips it on to the highest setting. Pushing it against your clit with a swift motion, your entire body jolts at the sudden stimulation. A loud whine leaves your lips, as you try to buck it off of your sensitive cunny. 

“Puh-please! Take it off! It’s too much!” Yelena snickers in delight, ignoring your pleading. Grabbing the duct tape from beside you, she rips off a few long strips, before smacking them onto your skin and the vibrator, effectively keeping it attached to you. 

Your moans and whimpers continue to grow louder and louder, as you try your best not to cum. You bite your lips in the hopes of stifling yourself, but it does little to help. If anything, it just spurs the large woman on. 

“Go on, cum for me, cum for Daddy,” You shake your head, a few keens falling from your mouth, as she watches in awe at the way your cunny leaks and clenches around nothing. 

Your toes curl in ecstasy as you cum, a loud whine escaping you. A gush of your orgasm flows from you, wetting the blonde woman and the mattress below. Two long, slender fingers prod at your slick pussy, forcing themselves inside your sensitive walls. 

“Good Girl, You’re so Good for me,” They Start to move in a ‘come hither’ motion, hitting your g-spot repeatedly with how long her fingers are.  

“Too much! Too much!” You cry, as she quickly brings you over the edge once more. 

More slick sprays from your cunny, as overstimulation begins to set in. Yelena captures your lips with hers, thrusting her tongue into your mouth. The kiss is wet and hot, as she grips at your plush chest. 

“No, no it’s not, Baby. It’s not enough,” Fumbling with her fly, she releases the strap she’s been wearing all night. In all honesty, she’s surprised that you hadn’t noticed the bulge or felt it underneath your ass earlier. It’s a good ten inches in length, and around 5.5 inches of girth. 

It is pretty intimidating for most, but due to your fucked out stupor, it should feel amazing for you. Grabbing the lube, she squeezes a small amount onto the silicone cock, smoothing it over the toy in sync with her fingers pumping inside of you. 

Deeming the toy and your cunny ready, she makes the next move. Sliding off of your numb legs, she stands to her feet, towering over you in all of her glory. Hefting you up and off of the mattress, she quickly punched your back against her pristine, white wall. Forcing your arms around the back of her head, she continues to kiss your drooly mouth vigorously. 

Wrapping your legs around her slender waist, her large leg muscles and arms work to hold you up. Guiding your dripping cunny over the tip of her strap, she slowly sinks you onto it. 

A keen of both surprise and pleasure rips out of your throat, as you grip onto her short, blonde locks. Giggling, she bucks her hips into yours sharply, causing you to orgasm on the spot. The vibrator and her strap on feels like heaven. 

Throwing your head back in bliss, you feel your arousal drip onto her dress pants, creating even more wet spots than before. Separating from your lips, she grins down at you. 

“Look at you, dirty Girl,” She spanks your ass harshly with one hand, as she continues a hardcore pace. The tip of the silicone cock batters against your cervix, causing you to cry out in both pleasure and pain, “You love it when Daddy ruins your pussy, don’t you?” 

Too fucked out to think properly, you nod your head vigorously, “Uh-huh! Uh-huh! I love Daddy’s cock!” She kisses your cheek tenderly, not stopping her thrusts for even a moment. Moving her lips down your vulnerable neck, she starts to suck the tender skin, leaving dark love marks on your pretty skin. 

“Mmm, good Princess! Since you’re such a good girl, I think you deserve a treat. Do you want a treat? Does your dumb little mind even understand what I’m saying?” You nod once again, eyes teary and pleading. 

“Yes! Yes! I want a treat, please, Daddy!” Smirking against your skin, she reaches into her pocket from around your thigh. 

“Since you asked so nicely-“ She presses the injector lever, shooting a large load of fake cum into your gummy, needy pussy. You cum almost immediately, this clearly being the biggest orgasm of the night, as you practically convulse and squirt a geyser of cum all over the place, “I think you deserve Daddy’s cum inside you.” 

You practically sob at the overstimulation and the feeling of being so full, “Thank you! Thank you, Daddy!” You kiss her of your own volition, surprising the large woman. Her heart warms, loving how you’ve become so submissive. 

Cradling you’re form to her muscular body, she saunters back towards the bed, pushing any other objects off and into the night side table. 

Placing you on the now dry sheets, she quickly flicks off the vibrator still taped to your clit, before placing it on the table beside her. Plucking off the duct tape, she then takes off your handcuffs, effectively freeing you. Instead of moving away from the woman, you lay there tiredly, no longer processing the situation. 

Sighing in content, Yelena grabs a hand towel from the drawer she keeps her sex toys in, and wrestles it under your hips. Smiling, she removes the strap from inside of you, enjoying the sight of the fake cum flooding out of you. 

Laying next to you, she pulls your head into her chest, curling around you as if she were a safety blanket. 

“You did well, Princess,” You don’t say anything, snuggling into her warmth, “Go to sleep, tomorrow we’ll announce our official status, okay?” 

An slurred ‘Okie’ is heard, before you slip into unconsciousness. Cupping your face in appreciation, her dark eyes glance in the direction of a small green light coming from her video camera. 

Now you’ll have to date her; after all, you wouldn’t want your sex tape to get out, would you? 

[geminil0vr]

𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩 𝙖 𝙬𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚 !

the masterlist -> part one

summary ✰ it's the night of the slytherin bash, and, intoxicated, you almost blurt out all your relationship troubles to pansy and the boys of slytherin.

tags ✰ @partr1dge <3

word count ✰ 3.4k

content ✰ alcohol, weed, rip. mill's hairbrush, a big party, drunk/high people and reader, mentions of sex, mild (but just as serious) sexual assault, boyfriend being pushy, arguments, gaslighting, guilt-tripping, pansy lowkey admiring the reader and vice versa, pansy taking off your makeup for you.

a/n ✰ yes we're having a lil party moment right on shedyool <3 i think i made draco too hot in this like have i forgotten this is a pansy fic ?? and i've been listening to the playlist on repeat for some inspiration but now all the songs are stuck in my head yikes... anyway, happy reading :))

letting out a short yell, you bolt out the way of millicent bulstrode being chased by her own hairbrush in your dorm room, falling backwards onto your bed, then leaning up on your forearms to watch in amusement as she squeals.

"stop it, stop it!"

pansy crosses her arms, leaning in the doorway for a moment before speaking calmly despite the urgent situation, "mill, i already told you not to try any beautification spells for tonight. they take a certain finesse that you clearly..." she eyes the hairbrush, which has somehow grown teeth, "lack."

daphne fervently attempts to throw millicent's wand to her, having lost her own somewhere in the room, ducking whenever the hairbrush swings too low by her head and yelling encouragement to her as she wails.

"it's gonna bloody eat me!"

you glance over to pansy, your lips quirked but still fighting the brighter grin that tries to force its way upon your mouth, one brow raised. she looks back with a smirk, raising her brows lazily, then pulls out her wand at last.

sure, you have yours, but come on! this is quality entertainment.

muttering a spell under her breath, the hairbrush rises, letting out a sharp, plasticky sound, teeth gnashing at the unknown force which has suddenly halted its rampage. then, thin, dark cracks begin to show upon its surface as it travels higher and higher into the air, finally letting out one last high-pitched sound before exploding into hot pink shards of plastic onto the wooden floor of the room.

millicent makes a lacklustre attempt of trying to catch certain pieces that are still falling, whining about how it was her favourite hairbrush. daphne drops the wand and falls back onto her duvet, exasperated, and you watch ahead in shock.

"blimey, pansy, couldn't you have just done 'finite'?" you ask, eyes wide.

"'s not nearly as much fun," she grins, bounding over to the large, dark oak wardrobe in the corner of the room, "now, ladies. what are we going to wear for the slytherin bash?"

"i bagsy y/n's black dress!" daphne pipes up, bouncing to sit cross-legged on her bed.

"no, you bloody well don't!"

you look in the mirror of the vanity, tucking back a few strands of hair out of your face and looking down at your silky emerald dress, the neckline dipping a little at your chest, the straps thin.

"whatever, i actually might look better in the green, anyway."

slinking out from the bathroom, daphne fixes the button on the back of the dress she's wearing, the black fabric clinging to her skin, "you definitely do."

"you're just saying that to keep my dress, aren't you?"

"maybe so. but you're still very pretty." she pecks your cheek and sits on her bed, fixing her curled hair in a compact mirror and swaying slightly to the thumping music already playing downstairs.

pansy pulls at her dress, leaning onto the vanity and applying a thin coat of red lipstick over her lips, looking at you through the glass "she's not wrong. you look nice."

you swallow, blinking at your reflection. you've brushed your brows, applied some blush, and a little smokey eyeliner, but nothing much. you don't mind letting your skin breathe a little, anyway.

"thanks, pansy." you eye her loose, sparkling, red dress, neckline dipping so low on her chest that you feel the sudden need to look away, instead focusing on her light-green eyes which never actually ceased intensely tracking the movements of your iris. "so do you."

"right. thank you."

millicent finishes tying her hair up, avoiding using any muggle products and therefore resorting to something simple, clipping it back with a claw accessory, "okay," she starts, and you and pansy quickly look away from each other, "so, are we going or not? can't be too late, they're still missing the life of the party!"

"mill, you pass out after three hours during almost every single party." daphne blinks.

"what's that saying, here for a good time but not a long time?" pansy snickers, zipping up her black boots.

millicent rolls her eyes playfully, crossing her arms. "shut your gobs, the two of you! now let's go!"

locking the door quickly on your way out so you won't have to deal with any arseholes doing it in your bed like last time (well, at least they were having a whale of a time), you bid goodbye to your dormmates who all part ways, immediately grabbing a bottle of firewhiskey from a large table in the corner, looking over at the youthful atmosphere suddenly claiming such a place as the slytherin common room.

pouring yourself a shot, although you're awful at doing those, you hold your nose (as if that's going to help) and gulp down the alcohol, finishing by setting the little glass down and placing your hands on the table full of drinks in front of you, hair falling down into your face.

feeling a hand on your waist, you tense and stand up straight, not relaxing much when your boyfriend kisses your cheek and whispers a 'hello' into your ear.

"ben!" you exclaim, turning around and smiling at him, though not genuinely, "i didn't know you were coming."

"some guys in the year above invited me, unlike my own girlfriend." he teases, gripping you by the waist and pulling you closer, and your nose scrunches at the sharp stench of beer on his breath. putting two and two together, considering how he's slurring his words, you realise he's already tipsy.

"right, sorry!" you genuinely are, though if he hadn't showed up, you wouldn't mind much, "i didn't really find out until the lesson before my free hour, and, well, you wanted us to go to your room, so —"

"oh, yeah. how could i forget?" he leans in, almost stumbling over his own two feet as he gets even closer to you, pulling you to him by your waist and kissing your neck, making you push your head down a little. the party having only just started, people are still piling in and the lights aren't turned off just yet.

you push him by the chest, gently, "it's still early, benny. not now."

ignoring your wishes, he nibbles at your neck, and you bring your shoulder up in discomfort, "but don't you want a repeat?" no, you really don't.

"ben, just, back off, please." you push a little more firmly now, shaking him off, and going to grab the bottle again to pour yourself another shot of firewhiskey as an excuse to not stay so close to him. but clearly that tactic isn't great, because he pushes up from behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist tightly.

"come on, this party'll be lame anyway. your room's empty, right?" you freeze as his lips meet your throat once more, swallowing before finding it in yourself to stretch your shoulders back, and push his arms from your waist, quickly pouring the shot and keeping it in your hand, just in case you need to spill it on him as a distraction.

if he's gonna be pushy, he could at least be decent in bed.

well, at least, that's your cynical view on it.

"ben. no. my — my friends are here, and i... i don't want to leave them all alone." you fiddle with the shot glass in your hand, brows furrowed, and he exhales loudly before shrugging his shoulders.

"if you don't want me then you could've just said so."

your eyes widen, "no, i didn't mean it like that, just that... just not tonight."

"well, it kinda seems like you're not interested. but whatever, y/n, it's fine." as you try to reach out to him, he walks over to his friends, and you lean against the table, gulping down the firewhiskey and wincing at the burn in your throat.

shit.

"come on, y/n! they're dimming the lights now, i wanna dance!" daphne bounds over to you, dragging you by the arm before you can protest.

and you oblige.

two hours in, you're tipsy, worn-out from all the dancing, yet still going back between the many students for more adrenaline. grinning as a song you love comes on, you regroup your dormmates in the crowd, grabbing them by their hands and all winding your hips to the beat, millicent giggling and falling over her feet, daphne tearing away from her boyfriend to join with a smile on her face. pansy isn't very giggly when drinking, you've noticed. in close settings, sure, but in big parties like this, everyone so close, air hot, green lights strobing across the common room... she just dances. raising her hands above her head, swaying her hips, twirling her friends around by their fingers — it's almost sensual. well, to anyone else. not to you.

pansy eyes you as you spin — the exhilarated grin on your face from being able to shrug off everything burdening you, everything weighing atop your shoulders. and she realises that she likes the shine of the strobing lights against your skin, your nose and cheeks gleaming, eyes a little bloodshot and chest glistening from all the alcohol in your system, and all the dancing. and when you and pansy finally get off the dancefloor to join the slytherin boys on the sofas, she likes the way your eyes tear up a little after taking a long drag from the joint that's being passed around.

"this isn't laced with anything, right?" you clear your throat to speak over the music, passing it back to theo, head dizzy. you watch the lights entangle themselves between little clouds of smoke, and wonder which cloud is yours.

"what do you think i am, a drug lord? no, it is not laced with anything." he rolls his eyes, leaning back on the sofa.

blaise elbows him, looking at you and pansy who are both sitting next to each other, "don't mind him — you know he gets bitchy when he smokes."

"do not." theo huffs.

"yes, you do." draco deadpans, snatching the joint from his hands and inhaling the smoke, blowing it upwards from his bottom lip.

you chuckle, stretching to settle comfortably into the sofa and tapping pansy's bare thigh subconsciously, to which she tenses, "i feel like nott's always a bitch, regardless."

"not wrong there." theo winks at you, rubbing at his eyes. your head feels like it's spinning, and you giggle again, leading blaise to do the same.

"what's so funny, y/l/n?" pansy raises her brows nonchalantly, crossing her legs and studying you at her right. she's taken the joint between her plump lips now, inhaling deeply for a second, then blowing it up into the air.

"think it's the weed." you giggle once more, eyelids heavy, leaning your head onto her shoulder — you two are much more friendly when a little bit intoxicated and high. more so you, than her.

draco leans back into the armchair he's sitting in, looking over to the corner of the room and spotting your ravenclaw boyfriend drinking with his friends in the corner. and, being significantly less of an arsehole with something in his system, draco decided to be polite.

"how's the boyfriend, y/n?" you chuckle at this, smiling softly and lifting your head up from pansy's shoulder.

"my boyfriend is an absolute, grade O, cockhead."

the whole group is still for a short moment, exchanging varying levels of shock and amusement, before turning back to you. draco speaks again, "is that so?"

"mhmm." you nod lazily, as if your head is too heavy to hold up, pointing over at him from the other side of the room, "ben sucks. he's awful. if i could, i would — well, i mean, i could, but if i really could, i'd —"

"right, i think that's enough of that for tonight." pansy takes the joint from between your index and middle finger, interrupting you and attempting to change the subject considering your tipsy and high state. she’s been through enough non-sober confessions in her lifetime to know best.

"no, i mean it. and it would be worth it if he would actually fuck m—"

"i said, enough." pansy presses, trying to save you any embarrassment. being good enough friends with the slytherin boys of your year since you all first arrived, you know there'll be no judgement or rumours spread around. but, still. better not to air out all of your dirty laundry, or whatever the americans say. well, that's what 'sober you' would say. and right now, you're completely ready to confess how shitty your boyfriend is, to reveal the dialogue that usually only stays in your head.

"come on, pansy, the people wanna know." blaise raises his finger to her, grinning. the boy loved drama; he wasn't a sharer, but certainly a listener.

"i, the people, do not care." draco raises his finger as well, slouched in his seat.

"and i, the people, say you're not gonna let y/n humiliate herself. if she really wants to say this, she’ll do it when she’s sober.” pansy frowns, standing up and gripping your arm, passing the joint over to theo who was watching the scene casually.

“usually you love this stuff!” theo raises his arms lazily for emphasis.

“well, she’s my friend.” pansy gives him a blink stare.

"blah, blah, blah, parkinson." you slur you words a little, and she scowls, "i'm ready to say it. ben rowen is shite in and out of the be—"

she muffles your voice with her hand, forcing you to get up and follow her to the dormitory calmly, as you attempt to yell through her fingers, instead practically humming. it's not a messy, nor embarrassing scene -- you're at least sober enough to know better, and no one's paying attention anyway, not with the beat of the music thrumming through the room, vibrating the floor beneath your feet. but you're not sober enough to control your urge to break down and admit that you desperately want to break up with your boyfriend, even though you think you still love (the old, fake) him, even though you're scared to break his heart.

seeing the scene from across the common room, ben strides over with a purpose, and the boys on the sofa snort at his actions. "what happened?" he tears pansy's hand from your mouth (thankfully, you're not wearing lipstick), to which she scrunches up her nose, clenching her jaw and glancing to the side impatiently.

"your girlfriend had a little too much to drink and smoke. she's going to bed."

"she can just stay with me." he seems over his annoyance from before. shame his annoying personality continues to linger, you think.

pansy eyes him up and down rapidly, grip still firm on your arm. there’s something about your boyfriend, especially considering your change in behaviour around him, that pisses her off. you're looking between the two of them with wide eyes, considerably amused. "no."

"what do you mean, no?" you notice now that he's much, much drunker than before. the boys are still watching, leaning forward to hear over the music. well, theo and blaise are -- draco gives the 'altercation' a glance before setting his focus on the almost-finished joint between his fingers.

"i thought ravenclaws were meant to have an IQ of at least more than ten — no, means, i will not let her stay with you, she's going to sleep it off." you look over to the sofas and give a look the boys, half-grimacing, half-grinning.

"listen, i'm the boyfriend here —"

"are you? because i don't recall you ever being present the entire party."

"what the fuck is that supposed to mean, i was just over —"

"with her, i mean. why don't you go drown yourself in some more of that beer you obviously like so much," 'ouch', blaise mouths, "and i'll take care of your girlfriend, who... y/n?" you stop making frantic pointing gestures to the boys to ‘translate’ what they were saying since the boys couldn’t lip read, turning your attention to the people in front of you.

"yup?" you shrug, tilting your head up at her, being just an inch or two shorter.

pansy closes her eyes, sighing, then shakes her head, feeling a little wobbly herself, "nevermind. let's get you to bed, huh?" she shoots daggers at ben, whose nostrils flare as you're guided to the girls dormitory. he goes after you two again, but is quickly halted when draco's voice raises over the music.

"perhaps you should let them leave, rowen. just head elsewhere — don't be an arse."

ben sighs in exasperation, making his way to the group, but draco sticks his leg out through the gap between the armchair and the sofa on which you were just sitting, making your boyfriend stumble back.

"that wasn’t an invitation." draco deadpans, although the corner of his lip quirks up as he takes a sip of firewhisky and raises his brows.

instead of casting a quick makeup removal spell, pansy opts to lean you against the bathroom sink at a safe distance, using a cotton pad and cleaning off your eyeliner and any sweat or blush left on your skin. you know, just in case the spell doesn't go well, and you end up being eaten by a magic cotton pad.

you close your eyes, gripping the cold sink behind you loosely as pansy wipes warm water over your skin.

"done." she nods, expressionless, as your eyes flutter open, easily casting 'incendio' on the cotton and not bothering to watch as it crumbles into ash on the floor. she certainly has a flair for the dramatics, and you can't help but think she's picked it up from draco malfoy.

you look into the mirror to smooth down your hair, eyes bloodshot, lips swollen from the firewhiskey (and a little from when pansy pressed her palm into them). she tosses pyjamas at you, and you wobble a bit when they hit your side.

"change."

"okay, sergeant." you snort as she shuts the door, clumsily picking up the shorts and sweater she'd thrown.

shrugging off your dress, you call out from inside the bathroom. "why did you get mad at ben?"

for a beat, there was silence, until she called back. "because he was being a 'cockhead'." pansy mocked.

"and why did you make me leave?" you pull up your pyjama shorts, squinting down and trying to tie a little bow at the front, rather unsuccessfully, "i was having fun."

"well, you were gonna embarrass yourself, y/n. i only helped you out."

after slipping on your large sweater, you peek your head out the door, seeing her tie her raven hair back into a tiny ponytail, most strands falling out due to the length of it (or lack thereof). she'd done a makeup removal spell on herself.

"you're going to bed, too?" you murmur, furrowing your brows.

"yeah, tired." she lies, sorting out her bed covers.

you bite the inside of your cheek before deciding to ‘confront’ her, “and, pansy?” her movements still, “i didn't need help. they're my friends, and i wanted to tell them —"

she turns around, cutting you off with a challenging look that makes you step fully into the doorway, "tell them what?"

you swallow. nevermind. maybe she was right to drag you out of the party. maybe she was right to have cut you off, instead of letting you indulge into your history and your barely-there sex life.

feeling like you're being frowned upon by authority, you duck your head sheepishly and clamber into bed, glancing over to millicent who has seemingly collapsed onto her bed and blacked out.

"is... everything okay with you and — you and ben, though?"

"yeah. i don't know what i was saying. he just pissed me off earlier and i started... talking shit." you lie through your teeth.

"right." she flicks off the lights with her wand, back turned to you as she sits on her bed, pulling off her dress and slipping into a big shirt. the lamp on your bedside table that she turned on beforehand faintly casts the room in a warm glow, and through the darkness you can see the pale skin of her back as she pulls it down. your eyes dart away, deciding to focus on the ceiling, instead, "and you're really okay?" she turns now, and relief washes over you — relief that she didn't turn sooner.

you eye her as she gets under her covers, propping her head up with her hand. you bury yours sideways into the pillow, wrapping the duvet tightly around your frame. "yeah. you?"

"yes, y/n. now, sleep off all that shit in your system. and lie on your side, not your back." you listen to what she's told you plenty of time before, and lean over to switch off the lamp, the entire room pitch black.

"'night, pansy."

"goodnight."

[purkinje-effect]

The Anatomy of Melancholy, 70: Something Old, Something New

Table of Contents. Third Instar, Chapter 1. First chapter of Third Instar; go to previous. Go to next. TWs: Canon-typical animal violence, hostile locals.

In the shape of things to come.

_______________________

It should have jolted ‘Choly electric, when Sticks turned over Little Boy Blue with the rhythmic sequence of soft chirps from its push-button transmission. Yet, the smooth uniform purring of the fusion engine left him doe-eyed sinking deeper into the ancient moving blanket that had been folded lengthwise and tucked down atop the otherwise exposed re-stuffed guts of the passenger seat’s upholstery. A lone Mister Handy fuel tank tucked itself behind him.

Sticks had replaced the front driver’s seat with a balding duct-taped armchair, trimmed to fit; he had also replaced the entire back seat with a footlocker, to make extra room inside the vehicle. The ghoul had paid the interior far more attention in flirting after perfectionism, with what he could loot from Concord nearby. His flux welding intimated once present chrome contours, the refinished salvaged wood, its prior vinyl wood paneling. The ghoul drew down the parking lever, now a screwdriver with a leather-wrapped handle, took the freshly royal blue 2071 Chryslus Coupe out of neutral, and eased it out from under the canopy of the Red Rocket Truck Stop to exit the parking lot.

Before ‘Choly could register to wave to the Sanctuary settlers out the open window behind them, Sticks had shifted into third and spirited them down to the first light to turn East into Concord. He sank down in his seat again, and folded his gloved hands in his lap.

‘Choly supposed that the two of them were just as patched together as Blue--though Angel would certainly have argued it took the cake for this distinction, were it in on his internal monologue. The composite Mister Handy had powered off its thruster on Blue’s roof, where Sticks had latched it down with a pair of tow chains, hooked around the rear pillars of the blown-out back windows. From atop the car, its Mister Gutsy grade sensors would provide them with a slightly greater forewarning of incumbent road hazards.

Sticks slapped the steel dashboard and laughed.

“Hah! aren’t the hydraulics just riding like a dream.” He beamed, petting at it. “Ohh, sometimes I surprise even myself.”

“It’s skating on glass,“ ‘Choly agreed, his attention squarely on the ghoul. He chewed at his lip. “Are you sure you don’t need another nap? We could pull in behind the Wright’s Inn, and you could recline--”

Rather than answer, Sticks zipped left and picked up a speed more befitting an automobile. With the windows down, the quarter windows open, and the floor vents unlatched, the crisp breeze disturbed ‘Choly’s headspace before it could sour. He tugged his golf visor down on his head, and coughed a bit at the smell of the road kicking up in the floorboards, but he welcomed the fresh air, as the air conditioning was the one notable thing Sticks had not managed to restore in some capacity.

He couldn’t get the ghoul to admit how he’d managed a (mostly) in-tact windshield, when there hadn’t been a scrap of glass left on the husk of the car after laying on its side for the better part of two hundred years.

‘Choly reached up to put a hand on the roof. Angel tapped it emphatically, reassuringly. His eyes couldn’t follow the scenery as they zipped along Route 62.

“Have you been further North than Lowell?”

“Oh, yeah. No further than Ant, though. Never been reason for me to. This’ll be a first.”

Route 62 changed over to Route 4 as it eased North. Sticks swerved around a bit of road debris, but did not otherwise slow down. ‘Choly fretted that little remained of the junkyard, after the fusion engines of automobile and robotics alike had exploded last he’d been this way. Sticks decided to push Blue’s constitution and gunned it up to sixty, then eighty.

As the scenery blurred past them and even with the correct prescription of eyewear on his face, ‘Choly shook his daze and instead squinted at the map on his Pip-Boy.

“Ant? As in... ants?”

“Don’t overthink it. We’re not stopping. Straight shot to Nashua.” The ghoul belted another laugh, letting the wind whisk his noseless face and last locks of blond hair. “I haven’t had a car run this smooth in eighty years. Maybe more.”

“You did great...” 'Choly admired his enthusiasm and pride of craftsmanship. “I doubt anybody else could’ve done what you’ve done.”

“You can say that again.” Sticks threw a hand across the back of ‘Choly’s headrest, and rubbed at his shoulder. ‘Choly leaned into it. “With how well he runs, we might be able to get back to Goodneighbor by the end of the week. --Fuck Tucker Bridge, though. Fuck it to Hell.”

“You really think we’re on the road for a while then?” He picked at the radio dials before deciding not to see if WXXX was the only surviving station in the area. “Shouldn’t we stop to loot in Tyngsborough or Chelmsford, then? There’s plenty of silt flour for a month or two, but I’ll need way more than a bottle of mouthwash and a half tube of toothpaste if we don’t want to have to choose between using it and my eating it.”

“For real. Don’t sweat it. If I were worried about groceries, I’d have had us stay over in Billerica to loot on the way down. Still can’t quite wrap my head around you getting by on that stuff, ya know.”

“Mm.”

Several minutes passed where they took in the sound of the open road. The unevenness of the rubbled roadway became more obvious to ‘Choly in the break in conversation, although Blue cleared a majority of it without hesitation.

“Say, where do you see us a year from now, anyway?”

“Is this your way of proposing to me?” ‘Choly turned to him with a starstruck start. “Next you’ll tell me you’ve got rings in that Cram tin.”

Sticks turned thoughts over in his head a bit.

“Well, there are rings in there. But they’re not for you. That box of rocks is our insurance.”

“I suppose I’ve spoiled the game, then.”

“You’re the one who had a proposal at all, you know. The proposal I was meaning. Gee, you really are head over heels for me, if you’re already talking about getting old.”

“I haven’t been thawed out for a whole year yet. It’s hard to imagine getting any older than I already am, let alone with you. ...You really think you’ll stick with me a whole year?”

“Many more, is the idea. Hopefully, you’ll stick with me.”

“...I meant to do that.”

“Sure,” the ghoul grinned, giving him a side-eye.

It took less than an hour for them to pass through the residential ruins of Chelmsford and Tyngsborough, though variably dense evergreens paved much of their way. The Merrimack ran against them to the right, coiling back and forth out of sight. Blue skipped a wet patch on Route 3A, spraying a muddy mist up into the floorboards and getting the two to sputtering and laughing.

Sticks slowed as they neared the invisible demarcation which once divided Massachusetts and New Hampshire. ‘Choly was about to crack a joke about speed limits, only to notice the three figures, in mostly combat armor, attending the military road blockade ahead. ‘Choly straightened in his seat as Sticks slowed to a stop.

The elder of two women stepped up to the driver’s side coddling the hulking chrome and steel form of an assault rifle. The other two guards aimed directly at the vehicle.

“You sure are a bad habit.” She chewed at a cigar.

“Sergeant Bea.” Sticks gave her an awful grin. “Just passing through. If that’s all right with you.”

She stooped to squint and scowl at ‘Choly. He swallowed hard and gave her a tepid smile.

“Sticks, you’ve got one minute to get that pile of metal shit off the Lane before I tell Gerald he’s got target practice.”

“Be out of your hair in half that,” he blandished. “Good to see you again, love.”

She told him off as they continued past. He casually waved his middle finger out the window, keeping his eyes ahead of him.

“You’re just on everyone’s good side, aren’t you?” ‘Choly wrung his hands, still stiff against the seat.

“Laners hate machines, is all. Can’t appreciate a fine automobile.”

As Sticks accelerated again, ‘Choly wondered whether Sticks’s reservations coming this way had more to do with the locals than the climate. He slouched, only to see a towering projection screen come up on their right. Agape, he nearly hung out the window, clutching at his visor. In the parking lot of what had once been a Starlight Drive-In, now stood a bustling flea market. A romance flickered anciently on the screen.

“Sticks, there’s people here. A hundred, maybe. People.” Under his breath, he murmured, “I wonder if they’ve got any horror movies.”

The ghoul scoffed.

“People with a stick up their asses, more like it.”

They passed the parking lot of a large shopping mall. Before ‘Choly could get into him, gunfire rang. A dozen mutated waterfowl the size of a human assailed around twenty settlers armed with shotguns, pole hooks, and bludgeons. Sticks sped up and ‘Choly grabbed him by the arm.

“The fuck are you doing!” the ghoul yelled. “Gerald’s their missile man!”

“We’ve got to go help them!”

“They don’t want our help!”

'Choly shook Sticks until he loathingly relented, then tried uselessly to unlatch the tow hooks in the back seat. Once he managed it, Angel lit its thruster and sped off saws blazing headlong toward the Radfowl. ‘Choly hadn’t expected to need to have a weapon at the ready. Sticks, meanwhile, hunched into the steering wheel with the determination to mow at least one goose-like thing down with the traffic barrier he’d bolted where Blue once had a front bumper.

The Mister Handy and the vehicle beset the composure of the locals far in excess of the fowl. As Blue connected with a pair of birds, the locals they’d squared off with immediately lashed out at the front of the car with their baseball bats. One punctured the trunk hood with their pole hook.

“HEY!” Sticks roared. He laid on the horn, and the three scattered to assist the others.

‘Choly shakily unholstered his Nagant. Before he could aim out his own window, a pair of Radfowl had rushed to snap and snarl in the driver’s side. One chomped down on Sticks’s upper arm where it could get at him, and he let out a groan. At close range, it felt more like administering tranquilizers with a jet injector rather than the modified syringer revolver he’d endeared as the Tryasovitsy. Their gnarly tusk-like teeth scraped at the door on the birds’ way down to the pavement.

‘Choly tried to get a better look, but Sticks shoved him back, to reach for the hunting rifle he’d tucked between the seat and door. He took aim and fired on one of the fowl.

“Just get your damn robot back over here before they beat the shit out of it.”

“Angel’s doing well with the birds--”

“--I meant the Laners.”

Another massive goose-like thing ran flailing toward the passenger side and ‘Choly reflexively drew on it, emptying the rest of his barrel of Pax Syringes with a choking panic. Once the last of the geese dropped, he sank back in his seat to steady ragged breathing.

Sticks got out of the car long enough to shoot the two Radfowl sedated on the driver’s side. An older man in fishing overalls with a shotgun came up and finished off the Radfowl on ‘Choly’s side before aiming the gun at him. A pair of teens had picked up the tow chains and approached Angel, swinging them slow and furious.

“We’re just trying to help!” ‘Choly squeaked out at the man. He dropped the silenced revolver in his lap in an instant. “We don’t mean you any harm!”

“You fucker. Ruined perfectly good meat,” the Laner snapped, repulsed and hateful. “Can’t eat drugged meat.”

“Please!” ‘Choly adjusted in his seat when he realized his sudden lurch could’ve seemed like hostility rather than begging. “Don’t hurt my Handy. We’re leaving! I swear it!”

“You’ve already wasted enough of our time. Tussling with you ain’t worth it.” The older man kicked at the concrete with a growl that punctuated in a hiss. “What did you think you were doing! Horning in on our hunt!?"

“Hunt?” ‘Choly frowned, guiltily incredulous. “You were attacking them?”

“You shouldn’t have risked yourselves like that. We had it under control. Get your goddamn tin can liabilities off the Lane!”

“Forgive us,” Sticks started. The man brandished a finger at him, warning that they keep their distance.

“And you can’t have any of our Radfowl meat!”

“All yours. Sorry to be trouble, folks. Angel! Come on, chap.”

Sticks waved to the Laners to gesticulate for the berth to reverse enough to turn around. They all glowered at the pair before getting to dressing their kills.

“The fuck is wrong with these people,” ‘Choly finally blurted out.

“Listen to me next time? I told you we didn’t need to help them.”

“Of course we did, Mister Hawthorne.” Angel swept around to the driver’s side where Sticks could hear its indignity. “It’s not our fault they’re ingrates!”

“Are you sure you’re all right? Those things have more teeth than a shark.”

“There had better be a Stimpak there. Or something.” He snorted to shrug off a pout. “Not like I’m bleeding out. Hurts, but I’ll live.”

“There’s definitely a full assortment of first aid stock at the warehouse. I’ll patch you up once we get inside. ...Sorry that I didn’t listen.”

“You keep doing the exact opposite of what I tell you, and it keeps biting you in the ass. This time, it bit me in the arm. Got a right mind to start telling you to do the opposite of what I think you’ll do.”

Now that they’d crossed the New Hampshire state line, ‘Choly produced the folder he’d tucked between the center console and seat, to skim Gretchen’s landmark location directory again. Going North on the Daniel Webster Highway, you’ll pass the Pheasant Lane Mall on your right. Crossing under a double overpass, there’s a Luxurique lot and cemetery on your left. The Nashua warehouse is at the next left.

“Let’s just... keep onward. Priorities. Right.” ‘Choly sighed. “We made good time getting up here. There’s still plenty of daylight left. The warehouse shouldn’t be more than ten minutes from here, provided we don’t encounter more locals.”

Go to next »»»

[jacklyn-flynn]

It’s here! The burn is over! There’s a teaser below the cut and you can find the whole chapter here! I hope you like smut because this chapter is over 9k and is 90% raw, unadulterated garbage. Enjoy!

Jules didn’t know where to go or who to turn to. She was beyond mortified and loathed anyone finding out about Cullen’s rejection, but at the same time the thought of being alone was too much to bear. Bull knew, but there was no way she would get all the way down to the hanger without being seen. Her frantic attempt to zip up her coveralls had resulted in the zipper pull snapping off. She’d left her shirt in Cullen’s room so the only thing keeping her covered was the tight grip on both sides of the top of her suit. 

At some point, she noticed Jasoom walking beside her, or rather trotting to keep up with her quick steps. Jules found herself letting him lead as he slipped in front of her. Up to the next level and then toward the front of the ship. He led her in a circuitous route to the mess hall and then further into the Officer’s Club. She suspected he was keeping her away from those walking through the corridors. 

The Officer’s Club was also empty, save for El who sat behind the bar reading a book with her chin rested on her hand. Jules realized that she was exactly the right person to see and silently thanked the cat for leading her there. The elf didn’t notice her until Jules tried and failed to hold back a choking sob. El looked up sharply and her eyes widened. Her book fell to the bar, immediately forgotten as she moved around quickly to meet Jules in the middle of the room. 

“Sweetheart, what happened to you?” She was mostly alarmed at Jules’s state of dress. She quickly drew the black and blue plaid shirt from her shoulders, revealing one arm covered in intricately designed tattoos from shoulder to fingers. “You put this on and I’ll lock the door.” 

Jules let the top of the jumpsuit fall, sliding on the soft flannel and buttoning it up with shaky fingers. She tied the arms of her coveralls around her waist before hugging herself. El took her elbow gently and led her to the nearest table, pulling a chair out for her. 

“First, are you hurt?” El asked gently, sitting beside her and leaning in without invading her space. Jules shook her head, eyes glittering with tears. “Do you want to tell me what happened, or do you just want me to sit with you?” 

“I ruined everything,” Jules declared in a shaky whisper. “I told him about-” she hesitated, looking down and away from El’s concerned gaze, “I told him about before. Before all of this. The First Commander of the Herald-I thought it was my job-he told me it was my job to have sex with him. Cullen and I were-we were-” 

“It’s okay, take your time,”  El said gently when Jules was quiet for a moment, unsure of what to say. Jules’s shoulder rose and fell and she put her hand on it, rubbing the muscles that were growing tight from the repeated nervous gesture that had plagued her entire trip to the bar. 

“He asked me about my past, with other men and I told him. I didn’t really want to, I was scared but I didn’t want to lie to him. I should have lied.” She looked up at El, tears streaming down her cheeks again. “The way he looked at me, like I was dirty. He backed off like I had burned him. I was so stupid to think that I could-” 

“Absolutely not.” El’s stern voice interrupted her. “There is nothing stupid about you, sweetheart. I promise you that Cullen doesn’t think that you’re “dirty” or used or anything else you may be thinking about yourself. I think he was surprised by your answer. Everyone on this ship can easily see that he’s smitten with you.” 

She shifted her weight on the chair. “Put yourself in his shoes. Someone you care about, who has never had it easy, is starting to open up. You’re seeing them grow and smile and make friends. And then you find out that someone took advantage of them in such a profound and intimate way at such an incredibly vulnerable moment. I’m not saying that how he reacted was right, but I can tell you that I don’t think he meant for it to happen the way that it did.” El’s gentle voice made her want to cry, but for a completely different reason than before. 

“Can I call someone for you or take you home?” Her smile was contagious and Jules found herself forcing one as well. 

“You're working. I shouldn't have bothered you."

"Nonsense. You're never a bother." El stood and watched with a smile as Jasoom jumped onto the table, then Jules’s shoulder before the woman herself stood. They walked back to her quarters in silence and Jules was simply grateful for someone who was willing to listen and not judge. Just be with her. “Take your time, maybe a hot shower and a nap. If you’re feeling better, you should go talk to Cullen.” 

“Talk to Cullen about what?” Morgan’s voice surprised her and she looked over El’s shoulder to find him standing in his doorway. He was apparently on his way out and at the most inopportune moment. 

“Nothing,” Jules tried to reassure him quickly. He looked skeptical and Jules was sure her tear stained cheeks and red eyes spoke volumes. Morgan nodded absently and walked away. 

“You know Morgan won’t judge you. If you want to talk to someone, you could talk to him too.” El suggested. 

“He’ll be so mad,” Jules countered, wringing her hands nervously.

“Not at you babe.” El smiled and squeezed her arm. “He’ll be mad at that long-dead fucker who doesn’t have to deal with the consequences of his actions. Will you be okay by yourself or do you want me to stay with you?” 

“I think I’ll be okay. Do you really think Cullen isn’t mad at me?” She hated to ask for reassurance, especially since El had already said as much, but she needed to hear it again. 

“I’m sure the only one he’s mad at is himself.” El chuckled and gave her arm a gentle squeeze. “You know where to find me if you need me and if you call, I’ll be here in five minutes or less.” 

“Thank you, Elbereth. Especially for not thinking less of me.” Jules spoke softly, as if she were afraid saying the words would reveal that she did think less of her. 

“I don’t see that ever happening.” The elf’s contagious smile left her with a little bit of warmth after she’d departed. 

| / | \ | / | \ | / | \ | / | \ | / | \ | / | \ | / | \ | / | \ | / | \ | / | \ | / | \ | / | \ | / |

Cullen paced his room, fists clenched and jaw tight. Moron. Idiot. Fool. He’d searched all over for her. Each of the engine compartments, parts rooms, anywhere she might go to distract herself with work. She didn't answer her door. He’d even reached out to Cass, Zevran and Bull to see if they’d seen her. No luck. 

The chime of his door made his head snap up. As it slid open, he started to speak, ready to go into the apology he’d been going over obsessively in his head. Instead, pain exploded in his cheek and he suddenly found himself on the floor with lights flashing behind his eyes. His vision cleared and he found Morgan standing over him. 

“I told you I would fucking kill you. Did you think I was joking?” His voice was low and aggressive. “How long has she been crying?” 

Cullen brushed the back of his hand against his cheek and corner of his mouth, relieved to find it free of blood. “Did you see her?” He sounded far too excited for Morgan’s liking. 

“She was going into her room and it looked like she’d been sobbing. Think very carefully before you answer; what the fuck did you do?” Cullen already knew by the tone of his voice what would happen if Morgan didn’t like the answer. While he might normally have a fair shot at beating the younger Trevelyan, Morgan had fury on his side this time and that was a very powerful thing. 

“I over-reacted and said something stupid.” He sat up, propped up with one arm behind him, the other rubbing his sore jaw. “The old Commander of The Herald was….I don’t know if it’s my place to say.” 

“You’d better try,” Morgan growled. 

“He was raping her.” Cullen was reluctant to reveal Jules’s secret. “The worst part is he convinced her it was her job. Made her go to him willingly.” The last word dripped with disgust. “When she said it was because he was the First Commander-the thought of her being with me because of my title-I didn’t react well. By the time I realized what I’d said and how it could have sounded to her...she was gone. I’ve looked everywhere for her. Her comms are off and no one has seen her. Jasoom isn’t answering me. I don’t know what to do, but I need to apologize. I need to set things straight. If she never wants to see me again, I’ll go back to Haven and run the Inquisition’s army from there but I have to at least tell her first. ” 

“Tell her what?” Morgan’s narrowed eyes softened slightly. 

Cullen sighed, roughly running his hand through his hair. “How I feel about her.” He shook his head slightly with a huff of a laugh. “I’d tell you what that is, but she should hear the words before anyone else. If she still wants me to leave, I’ll go willingly. Or, you can kill me and jettison my body into the cold depths of space.” 

Morgan grinned then. “You’re sweet on her. More than I thought you were. As long as you know that you still deserved that punch. I’m not even a little sorry about that.” 

“You’re completely right,” Cullen agreed, rubbing his sore jaw, “I did deserve that.” 

“I saw her going into her room with that cute little elf from the bar. I know you want to talk to her, but give her some time. Let her come to you.” Morgan meant for it to come out as friendly advice, but it was slightly more menacing than that. Regardless of Cullen’s intentions, his aunt was hurting. The aunt he’d come to think of as a sister. “And now you know that I wasn’t fucking around.” 

Cullen snorted when he laughed and accepted Morgan's outstretched hand to pull himself back up.. “That was never in doubt, Trevelyan.”

[realityhelixcreates]

Beta, Theta, and Me Chapter 3: Get Hired

Chapters: 3/? Fandom: Thor (Movies), Avengers (Movies) Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: PG Warnings: Swearing, Homelessness, Relationships: Loki x Reader (But not right now) Characters: Tony Stark, Loki(Marvel) Additional Tags:  A/B/O, Sorta, More Of An Exploration Of Life And Self Expression Within An A/B/O Framework, Loki Does What He Wants, But Loki Does Not Actually Do What He Wants, Antagonistic Bosses, Loki Has A Throne Now, But It’s Not What He Wanted

Summary:  The real reason Tony Stark hired you is revealed, and you get a lateral promotion.

You backpedaled so fast that you collided with the back wall of the elevator with a loud thud.

Loki just stood there, watching.

You leapt forward and punched the 'door close' button.

Horribly, comically, the usurper prince just stood there as the doors slowly closed in his face.

Tony caught your wrist before you could hit any more buttons.

“Woah, woah, woah! Okay, yes, I'm sorry, I should have warned you. That's on me, I'm sorry.”

“What the fuck is he doing here!?!” You screeched. “Why is he in New York? Why isn't he in jail? Why is he still alive?”

“All very good questions, and I'm working on them. He's only here temporarily, and at the behest of his brother. He's made a lot of promises.”

“You want me to be a maid. You want me to be That Guy's maid. Why? Oh god, is this about the salad dressing packets? I thought they were free, I swear-”

“It's not about the salad dressing. It's about...Look, Thor tells me that he needs help around the place. Says he's been injured somehow.”

He looked fine to me!” You exclaimed. “He looked ready to murder the whole tower!” You frowned at the door. “The elevator shouldn't be able to keep him out. Why hasn't he broken in here yet? Why are we still alive?”

“Okay so that's the thing. I don't like it either, but his brother swears the guys conquering days are behind him. I don't necessarily buy it, Thor's always had a soft spot for his brother, and their culture is just different enough that 'attempted world takeover' might not be that big a transgression by their standards.

However-” He cut you off before you could start screeching again. “-Thor has told me a few things, which is a shocker, considering how tight-lipped he can be about Asgard. One: The situation has completely changed. Asgard is in shambles. The whole place, wiped. That's why they're all here; this is all that's left of them. Thor obviously doesn't want any more of them dead, Loki included, because now they're an endangered species.

Two: Thor is the king now. No more uncertainty between the two of them, no more jockeying for approval. That ship has sailed. It's over.

Three: There is something else going on that Thor was very evasive about. Or maybe he just didn't have the information to share. On their way to Earth, their ship was attacked. Whoever it was killed a lot of people, but Thor tells me Loki did something that kept the majority of them alive, but whatever it was left him horribly injured. I know he doesn't look like it, but it might be something internal, or mental. In any case, he's a hero to his people. I didn't think he had it in him, but guy's surprising me to the end, I guess. Which brings us to...

Four: Loki knew the guy who attacked them. Knew him and had worked with him. And, according to Thor, cannot speak a word about him. That's what we need though; we need to know what Loki knows. That's why he's here, that's why we are here with him. There is something here that guy wants, and we need to know what to plan for.

Which means we need to take care of Loki, and maybe acquiesce to a few of his demands.”

“Which are?”

“Well...he needs someone to keep the place clean, maybe cook sometimes. So, for the good of the world, you must become Loki's maid.”

“The actual fuck? Why me though?”

Tony's eyes found the elevator ceiling, as he tried to come up with the right words.

It clicked.

“Oh.” You said. “No one knows he's here, do they?”

“Well, not many people, no. For obvious reasons.”

“And I just got in a fight with someone who has been looking for a reason to fire me since I was hired, so if I don't show up tomorrow, no one will think twice about it.”

“Well-”

“And if I just disappear entirely, it won't matter. I was just a homeless drifter, no one will care.”

“That's not it.”

“It is. It's all right. I understand. There are things you can't risk, and I am extremely expendable.”

He looked guilty, at least. Practically squirming with shame. Good. He understood too.

You hit the 'open door' button.

The elevator doors opened slowly with a ding. Loki was still standing there, as if he hadn't moved once in the entire time you'd been talking.

“Hey there, curlicue, got a minute?”

Loki's lip curled.

“Clearly.” He drawled, in a voice much lower than you expected.

“Well, after reviewing your list of dema-er, requests, we have seen fit to assign you a maid.” Tony pressed against your shoulder, urging you forward and out of the elevator. “This is _______. She can clean, and cook a little.”

Loki eyed you slowly up and down, his expression between a sneer and a smirk.

“This is the best you have to offer, Stark? This filthy, malnourished waif? I'm offended.”

You drew back at the tone of disgust in his voice. Wow, rude.

“I think you mean grateful? Because you only get the one, so better not fuck it up.”

“Very well.” Loki grumbled. “You may leave us.”

“I mean it!” Tony threatened as the elevator doors closed. “You better not treat her bad! I'll hear about it and then I'll-”

The doors closed, leaving you alone with a killer.

“Okay.” You said quietly. “So, it's good to meet you. I think.”

You held out your hand, which he just glanced down at impassively. He didn't take it, but his fingers did twitch as if he was thinking about it. You reached out further to grab his indecisive hand-

-But your fingers passed right through him, his whole body fizzling away in a crackle of green light. You screamed and jumped away. You had made Loki explode!

A deep chuckle reached you, morphing into a soft cough. At the end of the entryway hall, where the penthouse expanded into a more open, circular area, was Loki. No armor, no horns, just a rich robe, a wheelchair, and a large neck brace that his long hair spread out over.

“Pathetic creature.” He rasped. “Frightened of phantoms. Come here and let me look at you.”

The place smelled strongly of Alpha, you finally noticed, and you sighed quietly. You didn't find the smell as pleasant as other people seemed to. It wasn't bad, exactly, but it did mean that he was probably used to people just doing whatever he said.

You ambled down the hall towards the new boss. You'd been in New York at the time of the attack. You weren't homeless then, but you had hidden in the subway all the same. The aliens didn't have the time to go down there. They were too busy zipping around topside.

But footage of the battle had been all over the news, including this terrible man. This horrible Loki, who stared at you with tired, sunken, calculating eyes. As if he were searching for your worth. It was strange to see him like this. He probably couldn't even stand on his own.

“As sacrifices go, you are a poor offer on his part.” Loki finally said. “But you will have to do.”

“Sacrifice?”

“Yes, of course. Didn't Stark tell you? Every full moon, I must drink the blood of an innocent. The moon waxes full tonight, and my great hunger must be appeased. Unfortunate for you, but that is how it goes sometimes. Now lean down and stretch out your neck.”

“Oh yeah? If you're a Dracula, where's your fangs then?” You demanded, crossing your arms.

“Look here, delicious morsel.” He opened his mouth, and long fangs slid into place. You jumped back in surprise. Could he actually be-?

Loki laughed again, once again trailing off into a pained cough. The fangs were gone.

“How are you doing that!?!”

“I am powerful beyond your greatest imaginings. I can seize your perceptions, even alter your very sense of reality.”

His body changed in a sparkle of green light, to your own form. It was disconcerting to see yourself tucked into a wheelchair, bulky neck brace holding your head straight and stiff.

“I can be anything.” He said, in your voice. “Anyone. I could be right behind you at any moment, wearing any face, and you would never know.”

“Wait. Does that mean that first face isn't real either?” You asked.

He went silent. Your stolen visage dissolved back into dark hair and snow-white skin, cold gaze glittering up at you.

Oops. Strike a nerve?

“I have an order for you.” He said icily. “For your first service to me, I want you to go into your rooms, and bathe. You are utterly filthy, and I find the stench distracting.”

You bristled a little, but you couldn't exactly refute the accusation. You hadn't had access to a shower in a while.

Loki held out his hands and a bundle of sage green cloth shimmered into being.

“Don't put your old clothes back on. They carry the same odor. Use these instead.”

You eyed the little bundle suspiciously. Why did he just...have these?

“These are real, right?” You asked. “They aren't gonna just disappear off me when you feel like being funny, right?”

“Now that would be predictable, wouldn't it? No, these are real, and they are for you. That uniform you are wearing is ugly and graceless, as well as smelly. There isn't much I can do with the rest of you, but I can at least dress you properly.”

“Thanks, I think.” You said, accepting the clothes. “I'll just...go shower, I guess.”

                                                                               *****

Your new apartment was unfurnished, but it had hardwood floors, and real tiles, and excellent lighting. It was certainly miles better than the cramped little place you'd shared with your old roommate, and even more than the old, drafty house you'd grown up in, before your parents had gone completely stupid.

They would have protested this. Working for a billionaire. Subservient to the enemy. And for what? In exchange for a roof over your head and food to eat? For health insurance and financial stability? What about Liberty? What about self-sufficiency? What about independence?

But you weren't like them. You understood the reality of the world.

The shower felt wonderful. You didn't have toiletries yet, but someone had left behind tiny little soaps and shampoos, like you would find in a hotel. They would do just fine for now.

There was so much grime to wash away. Dirt, and dead skin, and scabs. A year and a half to scrub out of your hair, off your shoulders, and down the drain. The warm water felt like new life, like rebirth. Like shedding your old skin and growing into a new one.

There were no towels, so you just squeezed as much water out of your hair as you could, scrapped it off yourself with your hands, splashing droplets everywhere, flapped your arms and walked in little circles in what you had decided would become the living room, just trying to dry off and figure out your new situation.

This would be the living room, and that would be the bedroom, and that would be a hobby room, if you ever decided to get back into things. You would put a little table there, in front of the window between the living room and the kitchenette. A couch or chair there, a sleeping bag, maybe even eventually a real bed! A houseplant, and food in the kitchen, a laptop, and maybe a pet fish. Like a real person.

And outside, an alien. An Alpha. A war criminal that you had to obey. He was waiting, and you could almost feel his impatience.

You were as dry as you were going to get. Might as well get dressed.

Loki was right about the elegance part. Stark janitor uniforms were simple and utilitarian, but this Asgardian style uniform was well fitted, high quality, and beautiful.

How had he known what size to give you? He was a prince after all; perhaps he was such a connoisseur of women that he could tell from a glance. The underthings especially gave you pause.

There was one accessory-a choker made from velvet ribbon, with a bejeweled golden horned serpent biting its own tail affixed to the front. It was a little too much like a collar for your liking, so you slipped it into one of the multiple pockets in your new uniform.

You headed back out into the hall, to find him waiting in his own living room area, gazing out the wall of windows at the city view. His back was to you.

“That took entirely too long.” He said without turning. “Were you truly so encrusted with grime? Perhaps you will require sandpaper next time, to remove it all?”

“I didn't have a towel.” You admitted.

“Ah yes. You haven't moved in your things yet. Or...do you not have anything to move?”

“I have things.” You said, slowly approaching. “They just aren't here.” They were scattered out in hidden caches around the city. There wasn't much, it was true, and no furniture, but you had a sleeping bag, and some blankets, backpacks, toiletries, even books. In more suburban areas, it was much easier to rummage in the trashcans. You just had to wait until very late at night, on weekdays., and find the houses that didn't have motion activated lights. You could find some good things there.

He glanced up at you as you came to stand beside him. He couldn't turn his head in that big brace, but his eyes followed your reflection in the glass.

“You are not fully in uniform.” He said.

“What? Oh.” You said, remembering the necklace in your pocket. “Well...I'm just not comfortable wearing a collar. I'm a maid, not a dog.”

“Silly thing.” He said. “It's to let the world know that not just anyone gets to order you around. That you are a servant to royalty, and are not subject to poor treatment.”

“Still...”

“Turn me around.” He interrupted abruptly.

You didn't know why he needed you to do that, when he seemed perfectly capable of getting around on his own, but you obliged.

“Now kneel.” He ordered.

“What?”

“Kneel, servant.” He repeated a little impatiently. “There is a little bit of ceremony that must be observed, to make you officially mine. Kneel before me.”

This was getting a bit too kinky for your tastes, but you did it anyway. Maybe he was playing games with you, or maybe this really was the way Asgardian royalty did things. You didn't know.

But he very suddenly had a dagger in his hands, with such a long blade, it might as well have been a sword, and you shied away. Maybe Stark had been wrong, and his murderous streak had not been erased after all. If he killed you, he would no doubt be severely punished, but that wouldn't do anything for you, now would it?

“Kneel, and bow your head.” He commanded. You did, hoping it would keep him from getting stabby.

He laid the blade on your left shoulder, very close to your neck, like he was knighting you.

“______, Maid of Midgard, I accept you into my entourage as the executor of...maidly duties, which shall consist of both whatever I need and whatever I ask.”

When you opened your mouth to protest, he quickly raised a finger.

“A good servant does whatever is required of them, and a good master knows what not to ask. Now rise. And put on the necklace.”

And you did.

“You are now the first of my entourage on Earth. Congratulations. Now do go make us lunch. I am famished.”  

[weeping-petals]

We Come in Peace

Word Count - 3,292

At the most intolerable time of the night, Vidalia heard noises in her home. She goes to investigate, prepped to take down any intruder.

Some sort of sound awoke her from the first soundless night sleep she’s had in some weeks. Most likely a leaky pipe or the house settling.

 Whump!

 Well, that was one hell of a leak. She’d rather slip back off into sleep, and deal with whatever fall out was present in the morning. Something about the sound, or sounds, unsettled her, and she wasn’t gliding back into a graceful slumber. Curiosity and a slice of anxiety plucked at her mind, and she had to do something if she wanted to feel comfortable enough to salvage whatever remained of the night.

 Vidalia pushed herself upright and eased her legs out from under the blankets. She couldn’t find her slippers right off the get go, and decided to let them go. She wanted to be as noiseless as possible. She tugged on her housecoat, and on her way out of the bedroom, plucked up a baseball bat kept beside her doorframe

 It was easily far beyond the middle of the night, and her eyes were adjusted enough to see the walls and furnishings of her home. She stopped at the stairs edge and listened to the eerie silence that invaded the house. Barely the airflow from the vents, and nothing within the walls stirred. It could’ve easily been dishes shifting in the drain rack.

 “Ow.”

 That was clearly a voice.

 Vidalia gripped the banister tightly with one hand, the other kept the bat braced over her shoulder. The resonance emerged from downstairs. Something shuffled around, then the off stillness rekindled. Her steps came light and feathery, but her iron grip on the banister caused the wood to creak.

 Somewhere in the darkness, a glint. No sound emitted, though she saw movement. Something skittered from one room to the next, and it shimmered.

 “Okay, you!” she boomed, putting all the growl in her announcement. Someone gasped. There was a light switch nearby, on the wall beside the stairs. “Stay right where you are or I’ll crack you in two!”

 Light emitted from some unknown source. It came on like a lamp, beneath a chin, button nose, and eyes. But it was too blinding and intense for Vidalia’s sheltered eyes, and she squinted and braced an arm against the intensity.

 Something grabbed the bat drooping in her hand. Not forceful, but it was a firm grip. “What the—”

 “Douse the light, ya goon.”

 “All right, who’s there?” She tried to wrench the bat away. No go. Everything had taken on a drab and black hue, her eyes screwed by the light and abrupt blackout. “I’ll knock ya’ll to the stars if I don’t get answers.”

 “Is that an invitation?” the earlier voice snickered. It was very childish. “Hold that thought.”

 For a second nothing happened. Then, the light in the kitchen came on. Not so intense, but enough illumination to give order to a previous, impervious curtain. What the heck?

 Two people stood in her living area. They looked like people, at least. One looked no bigger than a child, with a lilac complexion and large round eyes. The other looked like it was straight from an Alice in Wonderland fever dream. The latter was gripping the bat. She tried to tug it loose, but no dice.

 “We come in peace.”

 “What are you doing in my home?” she growled.

 “We’re kind of looking for someone.” The taller one released the bat and took a step back, hands held aloft. “But not seeking them out. Well, we know where he is.”

 “George,” pipped the little one.

 “Jim,” grinned the other.

 Vidalia blinked. “Greg?”

 “I told you this was the right house,” cheered the small one.

 “Super. A good job all around.” She patted the smaller one on the head.

 Vidalia snapped her fingers, catching their attention. “It’s the middle of the night. I want you both out of my house. Or I’ll toss you out in pieces.” For emphasis, she raised the bat once more.

 “Rude.” The taller one sighed, and spun away. “Come on, then. Back to the ol’drawing board.”

 “I hate the drawin’ board.” The other moaned. “I never see it, but we’re always hitting it. We should just get rid of it.” She followed the tall, right to the front door.

 Vidalia followed, bat slung over her shoulder. It occurred to her, who these ‘people’ might be associated with. “You two know Greg?”

 “Jess? Yus. We know him.” She grinned. “I know his name. The expressions he makes when you get it wrong. The best!”

 The small one morphed into the size and build, an exact copy of Greg Universe. Aside from the color. Vidalia took a step back, priming to use the bat. Just WHAT the explicit?

 “That’s the face. That one! You’re good, Amethyst. But there’s something behind the scowl. A raw, unrefined emotion.” She clasped her hands to the heart shaped rock fitted into her chest.

 “What are you!”

 “We’re magical girls,” the Greg mimic rasped, in an exaggerated masculine voice. Masculine for Greg, at least.

 “From out of town?” The other shrugged. “You might’ve overdone it.”

 “Wait. Hold up the phone.” Vidalia looked them over. The purple Greg reverted back into the wee shape, same as before. The other had her hand on the doorknob, and wore a sheepish grin. “You two are with that magical girl, he’s all about worshipping? ‘Oh, she’s amazing! I never met anyone like her.’” She debated briefly, deepening her voice. “‘She’s out of this world!’”

 The tall, lanky one snapped her fingers and did little guns. “Nailed it.” The smaller one, she guessed her name was Amethyst, clapped.

 “Well. It’s super late, and I am very-very cross right now. I tell you what, come back when the sun is up and maybe I’ll… what was it you wanted from Jack? You’re looking for him?”

 “Not really. He’s no good at hide and seek.”

 “He parked an earth vehicle by the temple. It’s small on the inside, really-really small. Smaller than you’d expect.” Amethyst put her hands together, forming a shrinking box.

 “Earth tech. What ya gonna do?”

 “Okay, I get it.” Vidalia raised the bat towards the door. “Out of my house, now. Until the sun comes up. Then we can talk, but no earlier.” The tall opened the door and stepped aside, to let Amethyst spring out, like a cat shot loose. “And I don’t mean the crack of dawn, either.” Vidalia took the door handle and leaned out. “Wait until the sun is high up. In the center of the sky.”

 “We get it,” the tall called back. “Noonish.”

 The remainder of the night was odd for Vidalia. She was able to get back into the sleep, but she had weird dreams. The most memorable was going into her garage and finding hordes of purple Greg Universe’s. Another that weirded her out was a child picking flowers, but then not knowing who to give them to.

 Throughout her short morning, she pandered around the house. More or less refining job applications that needed to get dropped off, and doing work in the spare room. She began to wonder if the strange people (she’ll use the term loosely) would come back, or if they lost interest. She could really do without the company, but if they were hellbent on storming her home, she wanted the fiasco out of the way.

 Finally, somewhere around noonish, voices lifted from downstairs.

 Vidalia growled to herself and put away the paintbrush. She took off her smock and left the room.

 Yep, there they were. Amethyst was bouncing on the couch, while the lanky thing examined a vase of flowers. Though she recalled they were self-declared aliens, it did not excuse their flippant disregard for a proper summons. “Do either of you know how to knock?”

 “Your door was unlocked,” offered the tall. She wasn’t so much as tall, as taller than the small purple thing. “Also, you were expecting us.”

 Note to self. Lock. The. Door. “Is that how you got in the other night?”

 “Er, uh… well….”

 “Spinel slipped under the—” Amethyst fell off the couch.

 “So Spinel and Amethyst.” Vidalia crossed her arms. Spinel turned her way and looked fairly annoyed, at least. “Come on then, you vandals. Let me freshen up my hospitality skills. I’ll even show you how to knock and wait for a door to open.”

 “I’m exploding with excitement,” muttered Spinel.

 Vidalia led them into her kitchen and put some water on the stove. “What’s your poison?”

 “Poison?” Spinel choked.

 “It’s an expression.” When Vidalia spun around, Amethyst was sitting at the table. Spinel was still standing at the doorway, looking at pictures on the wall. “I only got drinks for now. What’ll you have?”

 “Can I have some popcorn?”

 “Popcorn isn’t a drink,” Spinel grumbled. “Unless you toss it in a blender.”

 “We’re not making gross smoothies in this house. Normal drinks. I have tea, cocoa, juice….”

 Spinel grinned. “Where’s the gin?”

 “No gin.”

 “Beer?”

 Vidalia thumped down a box of assorted teas. “No alcohol. Zip!”

 “Can I get juice on the rocks?”

 Spinel looked about to say something, but redacted. “Cocoa?”

 When Vidalia served the drinks, Amethyst whined. “These aren’t rocks!”

 Vidalia speculated; she should’ve known. “I didn’t feel like going out and collecting the rocks,” she explained. “You’ll have to make do with cold, hard, water.”

 “If you don’t want your juice.” Spinel sat at the table and began inching the cup from Amethyst’s hands. Amethyst’s response was to snatch the cup back and hiss.

 “Possessive.”

 Spinel twirled her finger around. “Only if it falls within her small radius. Then, consider it a loss.” She starred at the mug set before her, while Amethyst messily slurped at her juice.

 “Careful. It’s a tad hot.” Vidalia sat across from the two, with her own mug and tea steeping. She stirred the liquid, causing the amber colors to swirl. “We haven’t done proper introductions. You two are.”

 “Hmm.” Spinel rolled her eyes. “You already know our names.”

 “Imma smol Amethyst.” The bubbly gem stood on her chair and waved.

 “Spinel,” the other hissed through her teeth. She sniffed at the contents of her mug.

 “Nice. I’m Vidalia.” She blew at the hot vapor wafting. “You’re aware His Universe only shows up ‘round these parts when he’s bumming a meal.”

 “Can we have meal?”

 “Sorry.” Vidalia propped her chin on her hand. “I need to do some shopping.”

 “Can I have those, then?” Amethyst pointed to the tea bags, which Vidalia swirled in her brew. She blinked, at a loss. She glanced Spinel’s way. The Spinel flicked her hand.

 “What have we told you about asking for things?”

 “Please!”

 Spinel groaned and facepalmed.

 “It’s fine. If it doesn’t hurt her.” Magical girls, right? Or aliens. Whatever they were. Spinel didn’t appear super concerned, when she handed over the sopping teabags. What was their relationship, anyway? She got the impression that Amethyst was a younger sibling. She tried to recall anything else Greg might’ve mentioned, but honest, she tended to tune out a lot of whatever he rambled about when he got into a swoon for Rose.

 “So, any particular reason why you broke into my home at an intolerable hour?”

 Spinel hummed. “That Jessica comes by this place pretty regularly.”

 “I fed him one time.” Vidalia sipped her tea. That was good. “And you said he stays wherever your group dwells.”

 “Yee.” Spinel squinted her eyes. “You’re the only human ‘round these parts familiar with him. We sorta are curious how well you know him. Nothing too deep, your impression will do.”

 Vidalia stifled a titter. “Probably about as well as you know him. By now, you might know him better. He and I share a common… acquittance. That’s about it.”

 “You gonna drink that?” When Amethyst reached for the mug, Spinel slapped her hand. “Ow….”

 “Do you want some cocoa, too?”

 Amethyst sucked on her entire hand, while she glared at Spinel’s mug. “Na-o.”

 “You’re human,” Spinel resumed. She sipped the cocoa. “There are cues and things you should be better at catching, than us. Do you trust him?”

 This was absolutely adorable. How many of these characters were there? And who else had to bother with their shenanigans. The only thing that could make this even better, was if Greg smelled food from the other end of town and came by. Vidalia kept her poker face, feigning irritation.

 “I trust him to wipe his feet before coming into my home. Even that’s iffy.” Spinel looked over the rim of her mug as she began chugging the whole lot of cocoa. These two were interesting, at least.

 “My turn. It’s my turn! Can I ask a question now?” Amethyst piped.

 Vidalia nodded. “Can’t stop you.”

 “Why are you so fat?”

 And now there was cocoa on the table. Spinel choked and collapsed from the chair. Amethyst leaned over the table side. “You still want that drink?”

 “Amethyst! Rude!” Spinel gurgled. “You can’t ask those kinda questions.”

 “What? I’m curious! You don’t mind, do you V? You’re like… a pear!”

 “Oh! My! Stars!”

 Vidalia was far detached from amused. Was it wise to explain this to aliens? She really didn’t want to explore that rabbit hole. “If you must know, I’m pregnant.”

 And silence.

 “Prag-nant?” Amethyst uttered. Spinel’s head popped up.

 “You’re what?”

 “Pregnant.” Vidalia stood from her chair and went to the sink. “Do either of you know what that is?”

 Amethyst grabbed one of Spinel’s pigtails. “What’s—”   

 “You know what pregnant is.” Spinel swatted her hand aside. She joined Vidalia at the sink. “I’ll do that. Sorry about the mess.”

 “Knock yourself out. I kind of didn’t expect any of this today.”

 “Okay-okay. So, there’s this small human inside you,” Amethyst was saying. “But, that makes no sense? Isn’t it weird to have another human inside you?” Spinel pressed the wash cloth to her face and stifled a scream. “What! You and Pearl suck at explaining this stuff.” Loud screaming behind that cloth.

 “Yeah. Did not see my afternoon taking this sharp left.” Usually, Vidalia didn’t like talking about this topic, but most people were interested in where the father was. Amethyst resembled a little kid, glowing with fascination and no filter AT ALL. And Spinel being completely mortified was too good to pass up.

 “All right, lemme give these ‘maternal discussions’ a whirl. I’ll do my best, or my worst.” Vidalia sat across from Amethyst and clapped a hand over the gems. “What can I tell you?”

 Five cups of juice later, Amethyst stopped asking questions and had the expression of learning all the deepest secrets of the universe. “Humans are crazy,” she murmured, at last.

 Spinel was… uncoiled. That’s the best that Vidalia could describe it. Across the table. Like a slinky. No bones at all. Boneless alien. “Organics are crazy,” she corrected.

 “What? I’m curious now,” Vidalia scoffed. “How is it you… er, your kind, populate?”

 “I popped out of the ground.”

 “Well,” Spinel snickered, “we’re not actually sure that’s where you came from. A bird might’ve brought you by. You were so late.”

 Amethyst crossed her arms and leaned back in the chair. “You weren’t there. I remember it like it was yesterday.”

 “Well, that explains zero of what I asked,” Vidalia muttered. “Popped out. Like a worm? Of course. Makes perfect sense, when you don’t think about it.”

 “But why?” Amethyst demanded. At first, the question confused Vidalia. Amethyst gestured with her hands. “Is there a point in making another human. Especially, if you can’t do anything with her at first? Babies sound kind of lame.”

 “Amethyst….”

 “What? I’m right!”

 “Eh,” Vidalia shrugged. “Reasons. Lots of reasons. For me… I really didn’t take stock of… some things that came up. Life’s like that sometimes. You get caught up in a moment, and wham. Life happens.”

 “Oh, that’s poetic.”

 “But…” Amethyst struggled with her thoughts. She looked to Spinel, maybe for inspiration, but got none, so looked back to Vidalia. “A baby becomes an eventual human person.”

 “Not all at once. I have some time to figure this out. I’ve been getting some practice on that Jayden fellow.”

 “Greg,” Spinel mumbled. She craned her head against the table and laughed.

 “I make a lot of jabs at him.” Vidalia collected the cups set around Amethyst’s area. She began, but Spinel recoiled her limbs and stood. Curious, she sat back and let the lanky gem do her thing. “He’s been there for me a few times. Y’know, not just for freebees. I think he feels a bit guilty.”

 Spinel loitered at the sink. “Guilty? Why?”

 “For knowing a goon like his old manager. Our common acquittance.” Vidalia explained babies, but didn’t elaborate on her expected child. She hoped the hula-hoop didn’t think she… and Greg. Eh, it could’ve been worse. “That’s the sort of person he is. Soft. Easy to wrangle into doing odds and ends. A lot of heart, a lot of passion for the things that are special to him. Truth be said, I’m more worried about him, than whatever you think he might do to upset your friend.”

 Amethyst blinked owlishly, while Spinel cackled, shoulders shaking. “What makes you think we’re worried about him hurting anyone? Least of all, our Rose?” She wiped a tear from her eye. “If you knew what she was capable of….”

 Vidalia crossed her arms. “Yet here you two are. I appreciated the company, but this isn’t a pleasantry visit.”

 “I’m havin’ a pleasant all time,” Amethyst proclaimed, turning her nose up. “Pip-pip, cheerio.”

 “Y’know what, Amy. You’re really cute.”

 “Wanna keep her?”

 “I’ll do good getting through the infant years of human baby. But, if you gals need to, you can pop over to check in if it makes you feel better.” She fixed Spinel with a glower. “At a reasonable hour of the day. When the sun is up.”

 “Noted.” Spinel stretched her limbs. Stretched, like a sentient rubber band. “I’ll be headed out, then. You coming, Amy?”

 “Nope. I got more questions.” The smaller gem popped off her chair, and took Vidalia’s mug to the sink.

 “Only if V doesn’t mind.” She looked to Vidalia. “You need me to drag her off? Stick her in a sack? Mug her?” She inspected the mug handed to her. “Lemme know.”

 Vidalia waved her hand. “Thanks for the offer. I think I can handle her for a bit. It wasn’t entirely terrible meeting you, Spin.” She got out of her chair and offered a hand. The gem looked at it, smile fading from her cheeks. “You have shaken hands before, haven’t you? Or… do you prefer hugs?” It was worth a shot.

 Spinel recoiled, and something flashed in her eyes. “Amethyst. Don’t be too much of a pest.” She left like that; skulked off. Vidalia wanted to walk her out, but Spinel was already gone through the front door. “Bye, then.”

 “Wow,” Amethyst hummed. “She’s usually a big grouch.”

 “Really. Missed that out of all her glowing personality.” Vidalia looked at Amethyst, and regarded the strange little alien. Rock. “Have you done any sort of painting?”

 “I did mud painting with my fingers.” She wriggled the digits up at Vidalia.

 “Good enough.” She gestured, as she departed the kitchen area. “I have a project you and I can work on. Then maybe I’ll show you my studio.”

 “What’s a studio?”

 “It’s where you go to explore your talent, entice a potential client with said talent, and then he up and leaves you when he realizes you won’t exploit your talent for ‘exposure’.”

 Amethyst followed her up the stairs. “Marty sounds like a fat jerk.”

  “He will always be a fat jerk in my heart.”

[solarcelest]

Black Ice

or read on Ao3

Ice chips smash against the glass if the windshield. It's snowing, almost hailing it’s coming down so hard, and it making it really hard to see. Red Hoods driving, gloved hands holding onto the steering wheel so tightly his fingers ache. The tires look traction for a moment, skidding on a pitch of black ice before the vehicle re-centers.

Jason hisses through his teeth, this was not how he had thought his night would go and he was starting to regret ever stepping into the field. Bruce had told him not too, practically attempted to ground the man when he had tried to leave. (Batman has taken an awful beating not three patrols ago and was still on medical leave, huddled away in bed and under Alfred’s watchful eyes, and was not a fan of those patrolling without him capable of helping.) 

“Someone’s gotta fight your war, Bruce.” Jason had snapped. Bruce’s brow had lowered more in response, his eyes narrowing as he held his ground.

“Not tonight, not in the storm.” He had growled.

Jason shook his head, “crime doesn’t give two shits about having snow days.” He had left without another word.

Of course that entire conversation had been before he knew the brat was going to stow-away. The little demon had been in house arrest anyway, probably hadn’t eaten his vegetables or something, and wasn’t supposed to be on the field, especially without supervision. 

Still, Damian had appeared at Jason’s side halfway through patrol, scowl in place and hands already curled into fists. He hadn’t even had the decency to give Jason an option, just sauntered past him and climbed into the passenger's side of the Bat-mobile. 

So now was Red Hood not only zipping through the city unsteadily on a sheet of ice but he was carrying precious cargo. 

Just fan-fucking-tastic.

He had a weird relationship with the kid, a distant one. They didn’t really talk much, just a couple times during patrol or when Jason would come by the manor for a hot meal from Alfred. The brat was always off putting and frankly a little skittish from what Jason had seen. At home he kept his space, never really talking to anyone unless he was instructed or first talked to. Tell tale signs of past abuse, at least in Jason’s experience. 

On patrol though, Damian was a different person. He was strong willed and had a drive that Jason admired, even if it was a little suicidal, and he was good. He knew nearly as many different fighting styles as Bruce and he had his technique nearly perfected. 

He was inconsistent though.

Some nights the kid would let completely loose, fists and blood flying angrily, without a shit for anyone’s opinion on the matter but definitely with purpose. Other nights though, he almost pulled his punches, a dangerous thing when taking on opponents three times your size. Damian would be looking over his shoulder these nights, as if he was trying to gauge the reaction of whichever other hero he was with.

Jason’s didn’t say anything about these nights, about the skittishness or the subtle flinches, but he wondered if anyone else had noticed it and, if they had, if they had paid it any mind. Dick or Bruce needed to give the matter proper attention, It wasn’t Jason’s job. 

And neither was babysitting.

“Would you stop messing with the controls!” Jason snapped for the thousandth time. The kid was starting to irritate him, really irritate him. He was snappier than usual and couldn’t keep his sticky fingers off of the damn controls.

Damian shot him a glare, eyes so heated they looked like they had come straight off of Bruce himself, and flicked another switch on the console. Something near the rear of the Bat-mobile chinked before Jason felt the accelerator kick up a notch. 

“What the fuck did you just do?” He hissed.

Damian glared again, “getting us back faster, Todd,” he snarled. The kid reached his arm out again then, going for another button on the dash. Jason moved quickly, hand flying out to catch the offending arm before the stray bird could do any more damage. The weather was picking up, ice and snow beating down, and the roads were becoming slicker. They needed to get home soon, yes, but each in one piece.

It was because of this that he hadn’t seen the shininess of the road ahead of them, that he hadn’t had the proper time to break or at least slow the car down enough to take proper control. The tires hit a slippery patch of black ice, the rubber squealing and the vehicle moving harshly to the left on its own accord.

Jason hurried to right the Bat-mobile’s direction but even with his best attempt he didn’t have enough time. They were on the long stretch of road between the heart of the city and the manor, each side of which was lined thickly with trees. The road itself was narrow, barely big enough for two cars and the Bat-mobile had a width larger than just one. 

The front of the car had smashed into a cluster of trees in seconds. 

The hood of the vehicle crunched inwards, as it was designed to do in order to prevent major injury, and the airbags exploded to life. Glass shattered into millions of miniscule fragments and debris rained down on both of them. Something popped behind them before the engine sputtered out. Smoke from the car and dust from the canvas airbags flooded the air around them. 

“Fuck!” Jason coughed, sharp and loudly before reaching for the door which rested uneven on its hinges. His ear rang.

By some miracle, even with all of the damage, he was able to pull himself out of the car with minimal injury. His shoulder felt dislocated and his face hurt from the impact of the airbag but all in all, he was stepping away from a major car wreck with nothing more than a serious case of whiplash. 

He waved a hand in front of his face to try and clear the air and shook his head to rid himself of the ringing in his ears. What the fuck had even happened anyway-

Oh shit, Damian.

“Kid?” Jason called, hurrying to the passengers door of the vehicle, he had to go around the back since the front was flush against the foliage.

His first cause of worry was the car door that had settled five feet from the vehicle itself, hinges torn straight from the metal and bent as if Superman had done the damage himself. The second was that despite this fact, Jason still couldn’t see into the passengers side.

The door frame had collapsed downward and the mix of the that, the airbag, and stray fragments blocked his view of Robin entirely.

The lack of response was Jason’s third cause for worry. 

“Kid?” He asked again, concern becoming evident in his voice. Perhaps Damian was just playing tricks on him, the kid was probably fine, sitting in his little cocoon and completely unharmed. It wasn’t unusual for the little demon to play ruthless tricks like that.

Still, Jason hurried in his approach, his large boots kicking the quickly building snow aside. He hurried to the side of the door, working on a way to extract the kid from the entanglement of car parts. 

He could smell blood, and operated with carefully measured movements.

He choked on a gasp when he finally caught sight of the brat. He was awake, if barely, eyes opened in small, glossy slits. His uniform was a canvas of dark and light red, the mixture of blood on the fabric. 

Jason got to work quickly. 

Damian’s boot had caught somewhere in the foot-well and prying it out had not exactly been a pain free experience.

Something had also gone wrong with Damian’s airbag, a fragment of the dashboard had caught on it, and the long, sharp piece of plastic had impaled itself into Damian’s shoulder. Something else, probably debris, had swiped a large gash across the kids lower torso.

The mix of injuries had the kid nearly unconscious.

He left the plastic where it was, knowing to wait until there was proper medical available before removing such a large object, it wouldn't do either of them any good for the kid to lose more blood. He then carried the kid away from the hissing -and still smoking- vehicle (incase a gas leak caused something to ignite) as quickly and gently as he could Jason lowered them both carefully to the ground. 

Jason considered his options, they were still a good mile or two from the manor and even if that was a walkable distance, Damian was in no condition to be jostled. Instead, he reached for Damian’s ear and extracted his com, since calling for help seemed like the best option and Jason’s own com had been knocked out from the impact of the crash.

“This is Red Hood, Robin and I were in a crash about a mile and a half north of the cave. The kid is critically injured,” he said once the device was firmly in his ear. 

He heard nothing but static from the other end.

Perhaps the com has been damaged in the crash, or maybe there was no one manning the lines tonight, since no one was supposed to be patrolling in this weather in the first place. That included little birds, Jason thought somewhat bitterly.

“W-wouldn’t have h-happened if-“ Damian suddenly said, pausing to cough wetly, “i-if I was d-driving,” Damian choked, a hint of tease to his tone. Jason glared down as him, pressing more firmly on the kids stomach wound, trying to stem the sluggish bleeding. He couldn’t help but send a glance down to the kids mangled foot. 

“Quit talking,” Jason snapped. “And keep your blood inside of you!” He said, hoping more and more desperately that help was close. The snow around them was quickly turning red with Damian’s blood and, at least compared to Jason, the kid was the size of an infant, he didn’t have blood to spare.

“Got to- got to stay ‘wake s’m how,” Damian slurred, still bent on arguing even with holes littering him and a chunk of plastic protruding from his shoulder. 

Despite the situation, Jason chuckled, “right kid, yeah.” 

Damian was silent after that though, quiet except for his labored breathing, masked eyes flickering around the area. Jason continued to apply pressure, switching between stemming the bleeding and using materials from Damian’s utility belt to field dress his wounds. It wasn’t until they were both drenched and shivering tha someone spoke. 

“Th-thank you.” Damian stuttered, wincing slightly. 

Jason’s fingers paused for a moment. “For what, kid?”

Damian gave a wet cough, “a-assisting me even th-though I caused the w-wreck.” 

Despite himself, Jason found himself saying: “don’t sweat it, the weather caused the wreck, kiddo. Not you.” 

“M’not a child.” 

“That’s the Damian I know and love. Glad to know that your head’s okay,” Jason said. Instead of soothing the kid though, Damian stiffened before peering up at his older brother. 

“W-what?” He stuttered. 

“I’m glad your head’s okay?” Jason asked.

“Buh-before,” Damian rasped.

Jason thought about what he had said, he had just been trying to joke, add some comedic relief to the situation. It was a common expression too, that's the Damian I know and- oh. “Wait kid, you didn’t- you know I love you right?” He asked. Because, yeah, the bats weren’t the most affectionate type but they weren’t monsters. At least everyone had been told they were loved at least once. Was it a possibility that Damian hadn’t been told that by anyone other than Dick? 

Damian didn’t answer. 

“Dames, we all love you,” Jason was quick to say. “Even if we’re all emotionally constipated. Dickies not the only one that cares for you, kiddo,” He promised, silently cursing himself. He had known that he should have stepped in sooner, that he should have said something to Bruce about treating Damian like an actual kid every once in a while, about inviting him into a room and telling him -as straightforward as possible- that he loved him, because even for all his stubbornness, it was obvious that Bruce loved Damian. He would have to talk to the man when they got back- which would, hopefully, be soon.

“I,” Damian spluttered, “I- thank you, Todd.” He said, at a loss for words. Still, a thank you from the great “blood son” was as close to an admission of love as one could get from the boy. Jason allowed himself a small smile in response, couldn’t let the kid make him too mushy-gushy after all, can’t have Dick out of a job. Besides, the revving of an engine and the squealing of wheels prevented him from replying with any actual words. 

They both looked down the road, in the direction of the manor. Large black snow tires carried an older Bat-mobile model towards them, barreling through the two feet of snow with ease. Sitting in the front seat, fully uniformed and looking every ounce of Wayne, was none other than Cassandra. 

Jason looked down with a full grin this time and patted Damian’s uninjured shoulder. “You’re gonna be just fine, kid.” 

[betweensceneswriter]

“Chemistry Test” part 2: I Suppose That Means I’m Coming with You

Lallybroch Library Prompt Exchange!

This is all your fault, @shadylainey!

Click Here: Previously on Chemistry Test: 

Master Post here on Tumblr

Prompt #33 Modern AU: Claire auditions for a role opposite Jamie who has been cast as the male lead in a TV drama.

Um, NSFW.  Yeah.

“Well, then,” Jamie met her eyes as boldly as she was looking at him. “I suppose that means I’m coming with you.”

“Glad you’re doing it willingly,” she smiled. “You look a little too big to throw over my shoulder.”

Jamie laughed as they got into the car. Claire shook her head, then sat with her eyes closed. In fact, both of them rode completely in silence, despite the Uber driver’s attempts to engage them in chit-chat. The hotel wasn’t far, just seven or eight minutes away, but the ride felt interminable.

Claire paid the driver and Jamie grabbed her suitcase out of the trunk, handing her the backpack. “You came straight from the airport?” he asked incredulously, glancing at the baggage tags as they walked toward the hotel entrance. “No down time? No character prep?”

“No,” Claire said, shaking her head. “I just daydreamed about it on the way here. I’d played that scene out so many times in so many ways in my head by the time I met you that it was nothing to act it out. I just… felt it.”

“Wow,” he said, wide-eyed. “No drama school?”

She shook her head slowly. “Just an active imagination…” she explained as they waited to be helped at the desk.

Jamie shuffled his feet as Claire checked in, only looking up in surprise when she said “The room is for Beauchamp. Mr. and Mrs. Beauchamp.”

“Oh,” the clerk glanced up, and then up even further as she noticed how tall Jamie was. “We weren’t expecting your husband, Mrs. Beauchamp... Did you want an upgrade to a king-sized bed?”

Claire met Jamie’s eyes playfully. “What do you think, babe? The studio is footing the bill.”

He smiled at the clerk, which made the young woman blush. “That’s kind of you to ask,” he said. “We would like that, wouldn’t we, love?” He put his arm around Claire, and squeezed her to him. God, she was soft and luscious.

Receipts printed and keys programmed, Jamie followed Claire to the elevator. They stood several feet apart as they rode it to the fourth floor, silent.

They walked down the hall silently. They opened the door silently. And when the door was closed behind them, they stood staring at each other.

“I can’t believe I just propositioned you,” she said finally. “That is not me at all. I think…”

“You’ve changed your mind?” Jamie asked, his heart sinking. “We don’t have to do this.” His calm, kind tone belied the way his body was screaming for release.

“I want to,” Claire said. “I just need you to know I’m not demanding anything from you. I wouldn’t want you to feel…” She was blushing.

“Pressured? No, this is fully consensual.” Jamie nodded earnestly, but then his forehead furrowed. “But, Claire, I don’t want you to imagine I do this with every actress I work with.”

She raised her eyebrows.

“Not even many of them…” Jamie explained weakly. “Okay, never. I’ve never done this after an audition.”

“You’re Scottish?” she asked with a smile, completely changing the subject. “I noticed what sounded a little like an accent during the scene…”

“Aye, I am…” The interruption gave Jamie another split second for his better judgement to kick in. “Oh, lass, we’re doing this ass-backward,” he admitted.

“I don’t think so,” she said lightly.

“What do you mean?” Jamie was confused.

“Well, it’s for science of course,” she said, cheekily winking at him. He raised his eyebrows in response.

“You know Sinking is TV-MA,” she explained. “That’s going to mean nudity, simulated sex…”

“Boobs and butts,” he responded, nodding his head wryly. “Chances are, I’m going to have to get waxed and spend hours at the gym… not to mention giving up crisps and whisky.”

She ogled him curiously. “Really, Jamie? You felt quite firm to me.” She blushed as she realized her unintentional double entendre.

Jamie laughed.

“We will need to be comfortable enough to touch…” Claire offered, “so we should be familiar with each other. And I'd much rather our first touches not be in front of the camera.” She reached out and took his hand in hers, turning it over and tracing the life lines.

Jamie closed his eyes, focusing on the sensation of her soft fingertips on his skin.

“We can take it slowly now,” she said. “Until we’re ready again, at least… Just stand there.”

So Jamie did, as Claire helped remove his shirt, gently stroking the skin she had bruised earlier. Her fingers traced his shape lightly—the hollow at the base of his neck beneath his Adam’s apple, the cleft between his pectorals. She traced his nipples with her thumbs. She walked around to his back and slid her hands up the contours of his muscular arms, over his shoulders, and down his sides, not stopping at the waistband of his slacks, skimming over his ass. She moaned slightly.

“My turn,” said Jamie, opening his eyes and turning to face her.

She was wearing a sweet little dress with a myriad of tiny buttons on the bodice. Claire did not close her eyes. She looked at him with an air of incredible innocence, her eyes liquid and trusting as he unbuttoned the dress, even smiling at him when the buttons seemed to be taking forever to unfasten. He met her eyes when he was done. She was not wearing a bra.

She nodded, and he gingerly reached inside her dress.

“Oh, God, Claire,” he said, closing his eyes. She was warm and heavy in his hand, her nipple a hard nubbin centered in his palm.

“It’s a perfect fit,” she whispered.

Jamie was done with slow. He was done with waiting. His cock was reaching for her, straining against his fly, as he grabbed her and crushed his lips against hers.

She was ready, too. As they kissed, she hiked up her skirts and pulled down her panties.

This time he placed his hand deliberately, slowly gliding into her wet folds, his breath catching as he felt exactly how ready she was. And the sounds she made, the wee little squeaks and low moans, the way she panted and gasped at his touch. He might have been firm before, but now he was aching, nearly throbbing with arousal.

She touched the front of his pants, searching for his zipper, and she gasped at his size. “Damn,” she breathed, gripping the button to undo it and then sliding the zipper downwards.

His slacks were hanging off his hips and her hand was on him, gripping him firmly. “Do you have a condom?” she whispered.

Jamie sucked in his breath at the realization. “Fuck,” he groaned. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”

“No, Jamie. We won't be,” Claire said, sadly letting go of him, her fingers reluctantly relinquishing their bounty. “Not without protection.”

The End…

Just kidding…

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” Jamie chanted, buttoning his slacks. Claire had his shirt ready for him to dive into when he’d zipped up. He thankfully hadn’t taken off his shoes, so he grabbed one of the key cards and raced out of the room.

Not waiting for the elevator, he took the stairs down two at a time.

The clerk was helping two customers before him, so Jamie impatiently paced as he waited. He shook his head in bemused disbelief. When he was a teenaged virgin, he had carried a condom in his wallet constantly, as unlikely as sex was to occur for a slightly nerdy, bespectacled redhead. As an adult, he was generally well aware of the times when sex was likely, so he’d learned to go on dates prepared. Generally auditions did not require a condom supply. Fuck.

The clerk was ready to help him, yet another bleach-blonde actress wannabe, working at a hotel while she awaited her big break. She looked at him strangely as he approached the desk.

“Jamie Fraser?!!!” she exclaimed. “You were in that movie. That one with that chick… You know, the one from SNL…”

“Kristin Wiig?” he offered.

“Yeah!” she exclaimed. “You were awesome in that! She must be a blast to work with.”

“Aye,” he said, coming closer to the desk and lowering his voice. “You wouldna happen to have any condoms for sale, now, would ye, lass?”

He’d worked so long with a dialect coach to get rid of the idiosyncrasies of the highlander speech patterns, but when he was stressed he couldn’t help it.

“Oh, yeah,” she grinned, going back to the cupboard behind the desk and returning with a small box.

“That’s five dollars,” she said.

Jamie reached into his back pocket, and suddenly remembered the small table by the entry to Claire’s room where he’d stowed his keys, phone, and… wallet.

He was going to explode. Right here in this lobby… The universe was trying to tell him something. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“Can ye charge that to room 411—to Claire Beauchamp?”

She looked at him strangely, but then smiled knowingly. “Oh, using an assumed name, are you?” she grinned conspiratorially. “It’ll be our little secret.”

She handed him the box which he shoved into his pocket. Then he began the long trip up to Claire.

“Well, that erection is long gone,” said Jamie to himself as he stood at the door. It took him three tries to get the card to work. He was slightly surprised Claire didn’t come to open the door for him. She’d been turned on, too.

He didn’t understand. Until he stepped inside the room.

What's in there? Seriously, I have no clue. Someone want to tag team this? Just kidding. I'll figure it out. They'll do the nasty yet, even if it kills me. #justcantwritesmut # betweensheetswriter # Claire x Jamie #Rose x Jack #

On to Chapter 3

[fanfoolishness]

i’ll be your winter coat

Also for @restlessbluebird, who requested Min Hawke x Varric x cloudburst from this prompt list!  Title is a line from The Postal Service’s “Brand New Colony,” which has been in heavy rotation lately as it’s on my Hawke x Varric playlist.

I’ll be your winter coat

Buttoned and zipped straight to the throat

With the collar up so you won’t catch a cold

They nearly lost their packs in the sudden cloudburst, water torrenting down the canyon at a terrifying pace.  Min had gone against her instincts, noting that angry smudge of dark grey in the sky; she’d pressed onward instead of sheltering in place, hoping to see Kirkwall again for the first time in a very long time.  

Instead her haste had nearly cost her everything.  The water had almost swept them away, and as it was, they were both thoroughly drenched.  Luckily she and Varric had been able to scramble out of the path of the main flow, but it had been a very narrow call, and still the rain did its best to drown them. 

“I can’t believe that’s what almost killed us.  After everything else that’s nearly killed us, that would have been a pure disappointment,” roared Hawke above the downpour.  The water hit so hard it almost hurt, and she found herself gasping for breath sometimes, trying to breathe past the water that curtained over her face and nostrils.  She spat out a mouthful of it and wiped her eyes, then reached down and grabbed Varric by the hand.  “Come on, let’s see if it’s a bit better on the other side of the hill,” she hollered, pulling him around the slope of the rocky crest.

“If I get swept out out to sea, Hawke,” he shouted, “you have to tell everyone I was battling at least a dozen seadragons.  And there were mermaids fighting over me.  And that a sea serpent fifty feet long got me in the end.  Can you do that for me?”

“Of course, what do you take me for --” she yelled, and just then, just as abruptly as it had come, the cloudburst was over.  Only a mere trickle of rain still fell, and Min had a moment to release a sigh.  “Oh, what a relief,” she said in a normal voice.  “That’s better.  How are you, dear?”

“I’m -- oh, shit.”  Varric pulled his hand away from hers and patted down his jacket, a look of mild curiosity on his face growing to one of concern.  He patted down his pockets again in a second circuit, slipping his hands into each one and feeling around.  The look of concern intensified, his hazel eyes narrowing, his mouth tightening.  “Uh... I’m fine, Sparrow.  Just wondering if I’ll be sprouting mushrooms any time soon, that’s all.”

Hawke shook her head.  “No, you’re worried about something.  I can tell.”  The rain sprinkled on her head, a disconcerting sensation after the constant pressure of the cloudburst’s moisture.

He hesitated.  She could see the calculations spinning in his head, the urge to lie or simply stretch the truth warring with the fact he never lied to her about anything that mattered.  “I may have lost something,” he said carefully, averting his eyes.

“Oh no,” she said, bending to his height and checking his pockets for herself.  He tried to bat her away, but she was too quick, hands darting beneath his.  “What was it?  Something small, I suppose.  A new pen?  One of the nice Orzammar ones with the fancy mechanisms  I know how much you like those for writing --”  Her hand slipped into his last pocket, and her fingers closed over a small box.  “Was it a box?”

“That’s a surprise!” he yelped, brushing her hands out of his way.  She leaned back, her grip tight on the box.  A dull red flush crept up his cheeks.  She stared at him in bafflement.  He never got this flustered, except --

She stared down at the little box in her hand. Small and cunning and beautifully carved.  A jeweler’s box.

“Oh,” she said faintly. “A... surprise?”

Varric gave her a crooked grin, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand.  “Uh... yeah.”  He took a deep breath, then reached out and took her hand between both of his.  She stared at him in mingled excitement and nerves.  

She took comfort in the fact that he sounded nervous too, his voice cracking much more often than normal.  “Wasn’t planning on doing this just now, but shit, why not.  When you know, you know, right?  And I know.  I’ve known for a long time how damn happy you make me.”  He squeezed her hand, his thumbs tracing anxious circles over the back of her palm, and looked up at her.  

Suddenly the nervousness was gone, and he simply looked happy, content, assured.  He smiled, the crows’ feet at the corners of his eyes deepening, and he opened the little box nestled in her hand.  Within was a gleaming red stone mounted in the center of an intricate golden band.  She glanced at the ring, but couldn’t take her eyes off of him -- the way he grinned, the way he gazed.  Maker’s breath, but she loved him so.

Varric was confident, now, the words coming more easily.  He pressed a soft kiss to her fingertips.  “I love you, Min.  And I want to keep telling you, whether it’s in Kirkwall, or Orlais, or a cloudburst, or fuck, the Fade.  If you don’t mind hearing it, that is.  So if that’s fine with you... will you marry me?”

The rain chose that moment to explode again, water pouring in vast buckets over them.  Before the gold ring with the red stone could be swept away, Hawke shoved it onto her finger, then formed a fist, grinning.  “Rain won’t get that one, then,” she laughed over the sound of the weather.  

“Is that a yes?” Varric bellowed.  “Or are you just holding onto that for me?”

She bent to kiss him, their mouths colliding in a splash.  She pulled him against her, the rain drumming against them, and shouted, “I love you, Varric!  Of course it’s a yes!”  

And his arms around her felt like the only protection she needed from the storm.

[coincidenceiscancelled]

Where Art Thou Dean Motherfucking Winchester?!?

“Sam?”

Sam didn’t answer even though Dean could hear him breathing down the line. He didn’t have much time. The cop who’d arrested him was already breathing down his neck. Maybe he shouldn’t have jammed his elbow so hard into the guy’s face but who the fuck in their right minds snuck up on someone? In a dark alley on the wrong side of town? He was just asking, no begging to get hurt.

Technically though, aside from assaulting a police officer, Dean had done nothing wrong.

“Sam?” he said again, hopefully, “I need you to come get me.”

“Where are you?” Sam’s voice sounded rough, like he’d been screaming into the void. That, or he was just mad as hell.

Yeah so what else was new?

“I’m at Cowley county jail.”

“How long have you been at Cowley county jail?”

Dean hardly thought that was relevant right this minute…

“What does that-“

“How long Dean?”

Dean sighed, “Five days.”

“I see. And is this the first they’ve let you call?”

Actually, Dean had been hoping to resolve this little snafu all by himself but…sometimes he just rubbed people the wrong way. And he’d never had the best relationship authority figures. Especially authority figures who tried to bully him.

Sam was grim when Dean caught sight of him waiting at the reception of the police station. The look in his eye reminded Dean eerily of Dad that time he’d caught him at the club when he was fourteen. Super crazy to think about.

He didn’t want to think about Sam looking like dad.

He opened his mouth to say, “Heya Sammy!” in that tone which usually got him a narrow look and a “It’s Sam.” But then closed it again. This probably wasn’t a good time.

Sam was driving the rust bucket truck that usually stayed parked somewhere in the back of the MOL garage. Dean opened his mouth to complain about how he didn’t want to be seen in that thing but closed it again. Sam’s face was completely closed off. Even more than usual. His usual schtick wouldn’t fly here. He’d just make things worse. And contrary to popular opinion, he wasn’t as unself-aware as advertised.

“Baby’s parked at this motel I was staying at,” he said instead.

Sam just shot a glare at him.

“I can maybe take an uber…” Dean said.

“Get in the car Dean.” Sam growled, the air visibly cooling around him.

Dean got in the car.

They drove to the motel in silence. Sam didn’t ask for directions. Dean opened his mouth once or twice to say something. To ask maybe how Sam knew where to go. But he closed it without saying a word. They drew up at the motel, Sam parked right next to the Impala.

“How did you-”

“Get out of the car Dean” Sam interrupted him again. This boy really thought he held all the cards just because of one itty bitty possession.

“I will leave the car when I feel like it and not a moment before,” Dean retorted.

“Well then, feel like it now!” Sam said alighting the vehicle and slamming the door behind him. He walked briskly and angrily to Dean’s motel room door, not looking back as if he expected that Dean would just go trotting after him like an obedient puppy.

Dean considered it. For all of half a second.

But no.

He’d already given Sam too much power in this relationship.

“I said get in here,” Sam appeared at the motel room door, glaring back at the car.

Dean got.

As soon as he stepped in the door, Sam had thrown him across the room. More out of surprise than anything, he stumbled, tripping on his feet and landing on the bed. He’d gotten himself a king just to make sure he remembered that his relationship with his brother was broken and there would probably never be ‘two queens’ ever again.

“Sam…” he said warningly because while he was willing to admit to being in the wrong of things here, that did not mean he would allow his brother to fling him about just for the fun of it.

“Five days Dean. Five days without a word. You don’t write. You don’t call. After two days, your phone doesn’t even ring anymore. Straight to voicemail. What was I supposed to think Dean?!? Was I supposed to imagine you passed out with several floozies draped all over you or was I supposed to imagine you dead in a ditch somewhere, probably with your heart ripped out – you know it’s a full moon this week – or maybe exsanguinated from some vampire we encountered way back. Maybe two. Maybe they captured you and were draining your blood slowly. Do you think maybe such thoughts might have passed through my head? Huh? And you were…in jail? Really?”

Then Dean said the most stupid thing ever, “I thought you didn’t care about me like that anymore Sam.”

Sam’s face exploded. Dean had never seen him in such a fury, even at the height of his demon blood addiction or his tumultuous teenage years. He felt a hand on his wrist for just a moment before it was twisted up behind his head.

“Ouch,” he managed to say, knowing that it was definitely sprained. Then two hundred pounds of furious little big brother were on him, tearing at his clothes with his teeth. If he hadn’t known better, Dean might think Sam was the werewolf he’d just finished describing. He felt his shirt tear and then there was a knee in his thigh, pressing down, with no regard to the muscle it was squishing underneath. Clearly Sam was least concerned about hurting him. He pulled his leg from beneath Sam’s knee, inadvertently spreading his legs and apparently giving Sam exactly what he wanted. The hand not holding Dean’s wrist captive went to Sam’s waist and undid his belt. Before he could say, “Sam, wait,” both his wrists were tied to the bed.

Sam was growling.

His eyes were even narrower and red with anger. His whole face was red with anger.

Dean began to struggle in earnest, not completely sure that his brother didn’t mean to kill him slowly. Maybe.

Buttons flying every which way, his shirt was ripped from his body and cast away like yesterday’s Egg Foo Yung. Before Dean could suck in a breath at the cold his chest was left in and complain about the scratches Sam left on his body, Sam’s hands were burrowing into his jeans, pulling at the button and working the zip with furious focus.

Dean opened his mouth to say, “Sam...” but then took one look at Sam’s face and closed it again. Sam’s eyes were blank with the fury of his actions, his face was red, there was a slight shake to his hands and his legs were like steel vices, keeping Dean’s legs spread.

They hadn’t done this in a while.

First, because Sam was ill with the trials, and then Dean wasn’t about to have sex with his brother while he was possessed by an Angel. He’d made excuse after excuse, finding ways to push Sam away without pushing him away. First he said he was too afraid because Sam was still weak and then there were the falling angels and the mess they were creating…any reason he could think of. Of course Sam had been exasperated with his overprotectiveness and overcautiousness but it was so typical of Dean to be those things that Sam didn’t take it amiss.

But now, it was just another reason for Sam to be mad at him.

His jeans were ripped off him as well and thrown on the ground and then Sam’s fingers were questing, seeking, opening him up, dry and ruthless but efficient.

“Okay. So we’re doing this…” Dean murmured to himself and made his body relax as much as he was able to make it easier.

Sam leaned in and bit his cheek.

“Ow! Bitch! What was that for?”

“That was for making me imagine you dead Dean. Dead in the worst ways possible. That was for how much you disregard my feelings Dean. For how much you disregard me!”

“I don’t-”

“Shut up!” Sam said and bit him again even as he pushed into Dean with relentless shoves.

“Anyone tell you, you talk too much Dean? You never know when to fucking shut up!” Sam said punctuating each word with a thrust.

“I (thrust) hate (shove) you (slam) so (ram) much,” he said as he pounded relentlessly into his brother.

“Sam,” Dean breathed, tears in his eyes. Not really tears of pain; tears of guilt and remorse and regret. His brother was hurting and it was his fault. Again.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he breathed as he felt hot liquid fall on his face. He wasn’t the only one in tears.

“Fuck you Dean,” Sam said voice shaking even as his body unceasingly pounded his brother into the mattress, causing the headboard to bang against the wall again and again. Dean opened his legs wider, arched his back up to make it easier, give Sam more access.

That seemed to make Sam even more mad, “No you don’t you self-sacrificing bastard. You don’t get to offer yourself up to me. You do not get forgiven for this!” Sam said increasing his pace even as he pushed Dean back down onto the bed. Dean took hold of his legs at the knee and pulled them right up to his neck.

“Missed you Sammy,” he whispered as the pounding got so fast Sam just might ignite a fire with his ass as kindling.

The crying was getting ugly and snot was pouring out of Sam’s nose and falling on Dean’s stomach. Dean wanted to reach up and wipe Sam’s tears, tell him he was sorry, that he would do anything to make it better…

But that wasn’t what Sam needed.

Dean wiped his own snot against his shoulder, vision blurry with his tears.

‘SamSamSamSamSam’ was a mantra in his head, keeping time with his brother’s thrusts. Suddenly Sam arched, back in extremity as Dean felt the wetness of his come flooding his insides.

It had been so long.

His own orgasm was an impatient afterthought as he savored feeling his brother inside him again, filling him up with the essence of himself.

Sam tore out of him after, stumbling off the bed as he lifted his jeans back up and zipped himself up. He staggered to the door grabbing the keys to his truck and disappearing outside. Dean made his slow way to his feet and hobbled to the door, just in time to see his brother tearing out of the parking lot.

He sighed.

“Guess we’re not fixed,” he said to nobody in particular.

  More stories are found here

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[agilenano]

Agilenano - News: We’ve encountered several Steven Spielberg productions in past installments of this series, where Steve was able to turn his talents at producing blockbuster features toward the small screen for mini-epics in the superhero vein

His efforts are far from through, and we will have “close encounters” below with some late episodes of Tiny Toons, as well as several from his next animated showcase, Animaniacs. Also in today’s mix, a panther of odd color, a duck of odd strength, a cat of odd appetite and another of odd bad luck. Odds are, you’ll find something below to your taste. The Just-us League of Supertoons (Warner, Steven Spielberg, Tiny Toon Adventures, 9/15/92) returns Plucky Duck and Hamton Pig to their super alter-egos of Batduck and Decoy. Taking off on DC’s “Justice League”, Batduck receives a call on the hot line from Buster Bunny, alias SuperBun, informing Batduck that the Just-us League has an opening for a new member, and would he like to stop by tonight for an interview. Trying not to appear too anxious, Batduck replies he can probably pencil them in. En route, Plucky dreams of the merchandising opportunities that will come with being a League member, while Hamton dreams of fighting crime alongside the greatest heroes of all time. Plucky, having no interest in the work side of the coin, reacts to Hamton’s dream, “That’s right. Burst my bubble, you little killjoy.” They arrive at League headquarters, leaving their vehicle in the hands of parking valet Montana Max – who in reality is again Wex Wuthor, with another nefarious plan. Inside, Plucky is introduced to the other members besides Buster – Babs Bunny as amazon Wonder Babs, Beeper as Little Dasher (a parallel to the Flash), Sweetie Bird as Pink Canary, Calamity Coyote as Teen Arrow, Shirley as Hawk Loon, and Fifi La Fume as Scentanna. Buster asks what superpowers Batduck brings into the mix, and Plucky boasts of his fearsome image, marvelous gadgets – and he’s also a heck of a clog dancer. The League members lose interest quickly, having been under the impression that he possessed some genuine super power (a bit of a writing slip-up, as the inclusion already in the group of Teen Arrow would mean at least one other member relied upon gadgetry rather than super abilities). Plucky and Hamton are given a thumbs down, and placed on the reject list. Despite resorting to a little groveling, Plucky, along with Hamton, trudge dejectedly back to the parking lot. At this inopportune moment, crashing through the ceiling with a jet pack comes Wex Wuthor. The League is equally unimpressed, knowing that he has no superpowers either. Maybe not now – “But I will once I steal yours”, Wex boasts. He presses a button on his suit, and the League is caught in a stun ray. With another button, he announces that he has invented a “super power transfer thingy”, with which he will absorb the combined powers of the League to become the world’s most powerful criminal. Who should come wandering back into the hall but Plucky, stating that he forgot to get a validation on his parking ticket. Wuthor turns the stun ray on Plucky, and declares he will absorb Batduck’s powers first. Plucky receives a jolt from the second button – but as the process is completed, Wuthor falls out of the sky, and wobbles around shakily, as Buster advises him that all he absorbed were the powers of an egotistical green duck. Plucky adds, “Although no one could absorb my ego all at once”, giving Max a swift kick and landing him in a heap on the floor. The League hails Plucky as a hero, and Plucky narrates that as a result, Batduck and Decoy became “key” men in the Just-us League – in other words, the new parking valets. The Return of Batduck (12/19/92) was actually a pilot episode from the Tiny Tons spinoff, “The Plucky Duck Show” – which died quickly, as no other new episodes appear to have been produced, and the show was merely a schedule-filler compiling old Plucky cartoons from the run of the regular series. A bit too much placed into this half hour for a thorough description, but we’ll try for a flavor. Plucky has landed his own television series (much to the nearly-bored surprise of Buster and Babs), and is attempting to put on a showgirl filled musical extravaganza (though he tumbles down a tall staircase, knocks over giant statues of himself, and collides with his lead showgirl – who is actually Hamton Pig in disguise). Buster and Babs goad him in the wings with a copy of Variety, indicating that Tim Burton is casting a new Batman movie, but getting Plucky’s goat by reminding him he has his show to do instead. Plucky’s ego of course soars through the roof, realizing to himself that he’s feature material, and type-cast for the part in view of his old Batduck roles. He abandons the show and attempts to get on the Warner lot. Hamton is recruited to pose as his agent to make him look legit (though Hamton can’t get agent’s lingo right, quibbling about the improper grammar of the phrase, “Let’s do lunch.”) Little did us kids know when watching this episode that we were being introduced to a character from a series yet to come – Ralph, the security guard from “Animaniacs”, makes what is probably his debut appearance, nine months before the series premiere. As usual, he is no-nonsense about keeping the riff raff like Plucky off the lot, and wraps Plucky up in a string, then uses him as a yo-yo for various tricks, climaxing in “around the world”, as he tosses Plucky into orbit. Plucky does manage a re-entry which finally catches him up with Hamton, and together they plot how to reach Burton’s office (a dark castle shrouded in thunder and lightning on the opposite side of the lot). Plucky produces a map of the studio sewer system with which they can take an underground route to the castle. Hamton is curious where he got such a map, and Plucky points to Art Carney as Ed Norton, selling such maps in the same manner as maps to stars’ homes, with his trademark “Va Va Va Voom”. Hamton asks if there are rats in the sewer. Plucky scoffs that there are no rats, no alligators, no nothin’. At that moment, they are passed by the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Plucky continues as if he were still in mid-sentence: “…to speak of!” He then breaks the fourth wall, asking the audience, “How many saw that coming?”, and a show of hands raised in front of the camera lens gives the indication, just about everybody. After a string of various celebrity encounters, Plucky finally makes it to Burton’s office. Burton is turning down another applicant, who’s got the “dark” part all right, and a snazzy costume, but just isn’t quite the type – Dracula. The sight of Plucky is enough to make his staff exit screaming, and Burton almost jump out a window, but Plucky appeals to him as a comrade, reminding Tim of his animation background. “We’re cut from the same cel.” To prove it, he zip-pans Burton to a “This is Your Life” studio, and reintroduces him to his horrific high school doodles, who take life and swarm around him. That’s all that Burton can take, and he relents to give Plucky a screen test. Plucky retrieves his and Hamton’s costumes from the old “Duck Cave” set. Hamton activates an inflate-a-duck apparatus to pump muscles into Plucky’s suit – but explodes him instead. Nevertheless, Plucky makes the screen test appointment next morning, repeatedly blowing heroic exits by swinging into walls, dangling helplessly by a plunger grappling hook from the nose of a gargoyle, and using six devices from his utility belt to suspend himself from six buildings at the same time – only to pull all of the buildings down atop himself. Yet Burton gives him the role he was auditioning for – though it’s not quite the one he expected. As Plucky pushes his way through back sets, he encounters someone too big to push – a caricature of Michael Keaton – as the real Batman. Tim welcomes him to the set, and introduces Plucky as his new stunt double! Plucky takes a licking and barely comes out ticking, and bemoans his fate. “Vanity, thy name is Plucky”, he groans, discarding his cowl, and sadly remembering that he could have been on his own show right now. Buster Bunny informs him that actually, he’s still on his own show. “What? How much time is left?”, asks a panicked Plucky. “About ten seconds”, replies Buster. Plucky climbs the tall staircase again, and attempts to resume his musical production number – but a prop mockup of the bat signal falls from the rafters and flattens him, for the iris out. No clip from BATDUCK… but here’s a rare Fox Kids promo he appears in: Pink Pink and Away (1/13/93) marks the premiere of the 1993 revival of “The Pink Panther”, and the first of a 4-episode arc returning the Panther to the role of Super Pink. Unfortunately, the writing and timing are no match for the DePatie-Freleng original, and the episode comes off surprisingly lifeless and lacking in energy or originality. Pink (in talking Matt Frewer mode) takes a few routine pratfalls battling a completely redesigned Dogfather and his mob, first in an ATM robbery, then a diamond heist from a museum. He also saves a wise-guy kid/video game whiz who almost joins the Dogfather for a life or crime, until a double-cross leaves him in the museum jewelry case as substitute weight for the stolen diamond. Pink ultimately foils the robbery by using a spear from a cave man exhibit to bring down a dinosaur skeleton on the crooks. Junior goes straight, and swears to be like Super Pink – donning a duplicate outfit – but then soars off into the sky like a real superhereo. “He’s always doing that”, says his Mom, and soars into the sky after him! Pink tries to make the same exit – and flops on the ground, scratching his head in puzzlement. Super Pink’s Egg-Cellent Adventure (10/17/93) deals with theft of a giant egg, developed to solve the world’s food shortages by a little Germanic professor from the “Super Schmarty Society”. Pink (the building janitor) witnesses the egg‘s theft by a Sumo wrestler and his ninjas, and sees “a job for Super Pink”. They trail the crooks to a chow mein shop, where Pink flies up to a roof skylight (even though the door was open all the time), using the jet power from a giant shaken cola can strapped to his back. Finding a grocery list including ingredients in humongous quantities, he and the professor tail the villains to the only place large enough to fill the order – a “Super” market. The professor attempts to help in the chase by inventing a pair of jet skates he attaches to a shopping cart. The invention goes haywire, leaving management to call for cleanup on nearly every other numbered aisle. The chase leads into a railroad train, and a fight which is seen in blackouts as the train goes through various tunnels – with the last light-up showing our heroes tied back to back. The Sumo announces he’ll show them what he has in store for the egg, and takes them to the roof of a tall skyscraper, where the ninjas place the egg teetering on the ledge of the roof landing. Below in the street, a giant bubbling bowl of liquid and equally giant place setting awaits. Pink realizes that the ingredients list adds up to – egg drop soup! The Sumo states that it is written that he who makes the biggest bowl of egg drop soup shall rulse the world. Panther yawns that he’s read that fortune cookie too. Seeing the crooks’ giant package of soy sauce, Panther whispers to the professor to give it a kick – spilling the slippery stuff on them, and allowing Pink to slip out of his bonds. The crooks are ultimately subdued, but the egg falls off the ledge, with the professor foolishly diving for it and also helplessly falling. Pink produces the professor’s jet skates and puts them on, then grabs two of the ninjas’ swords. He takes off from the roof, using the sword blades as wings, and dives under the professor and the egg, catching them on his back for the rescue. The egg is returned to the auditorium of the society – but doesn’t stay intact for further presentation, as it hatches, producing in the fashion of “Horton” a professor-bird, who runs after the professor, calling him “Daddy” with Germanic accent. “I just love happy endings”, says Panther. The End of Superpink? (10/14/93) begins in unusual artistic form, in a fight scene between Pink and villainous The Wriggler, set against backgrounds where every splash of color is seen in a wide spaced print-style dot matrix. This is because the entire incident is happening only in the pages of the “Super Pink” comic book that Pink has just finished drawing. He tries to drum up customers for the publication at a comic-book convention, but faces the challenges of the reigning super-celebrity, the towering, cleft-chinned Captain Chaos. Vying for press attention from a magazine photographer, Captain Chaos manufactures situations of peril for a junior fan’s kitty kat to stage a daring rescue – but has to deal with the interferences of Pink trying to be legitimately heroic. When Chaos throws the cat into a runaway blimp, he fires a grappling hook to scale into one of the conveyance’s gondola windows – but gets stuck in the porthole. Pink rescues both of them in complicated chain-reaction fashion, including use of a teeterboard and souvenir yo-yo to launch himself skyward to save the day – while the cat takes liberal swipes with his claws at Captain Chaos’s defenseless chin. Pink winds up the center of the magazine story, while Chaos’s only picture is of his butt sticking out of the gondola. Chaos reappears as a chef serving celebration cookies to Pink’s new fanbase, who mob him for the cookie tray. Pink shrugs his shoulders to the reporter: “He needed the work.” Power of Pink (10/29/94) goes altogether too far out. It differs from the others by actually giving Pink temporary super powers, unexplainedly drawn from another food-grow machine of the professor which without explanation instills super energy into a pickle. It also features another caped hero (Amazing Man), who actually is a giant rat in disguise, using a Superman style “Magnetic Telescope” to pull the moon closer to use its gravity to rearrange buildings into giant laboratory mazes for the humans to run. (So why is he posing as a superhero in the first instance?) None of it makes sense, and the situations lack in either cleverness or genuine laughs. Not a recommend. Eex Men (Nelvana, Eek the Cat, 10/9/93) – A completely misnamed episode, as it has nothing to do with the Marvel franchise its title infers, but is a straight Superman-style parody. The opening credits to this show often began showing Eek in a supersuit, rescuing his 300-pound girlfriend from a burning building – but barely able to lift her through the skies, and with his cape on fire from the flames. Yes, the credits were merely a dream. But this time, he gets to do it for real in the episode. Gary Owens (or a very convincing sound-alike) provides narration to give this episode special super-effect. Superpersonman is the reigning hero of the area. Receiving signals in his Bunker of Goodness of the impending approach of super villain and friend of no-one Garbage Man (a burly alien who wears a trash bag over his head), Superpersonman does what any intelligent visitor from another planet would do – telephones his girlfriend Ultra Babe for a quick getaway vacation. But before leaving with his packed suitcases, he realizes he can’t leave the city unguarded, and determines to deputize someone by passing on his cape to them, thus making them feel obligated to take the terrible beating that was intended for himself. Enter Eek, conveniently on a mountain-climbing excursion past the Bunker. Superpersonman, in slow mental spurts, improvises the lamest excuse for his departure – helping his mother get over her case of the plague – and Eek, living by his motto “It never hurts to help”, acquires the cape, and immediately falls off the mountain cliff. He lands in front of a fast food stand (“Ed’s Gopher Guts”), and the “E” falls off its sign onto Eek’s chest, providing the proper alphabetical insignia. The first sign of crime spotted by Eek is two country-bumpkin types fleeing a bank with sacks of money. (No, for once they’re not tellers or bank presidents.) Eek gives them what they deserve – advice. “Hey, you robber guys. Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s wrong to take something that isn’t yours?” “Well, no, actually, no one ever did”, respond the robbers. Eek takes them back to the bank, and they politely apologize for the mistake, and promise they’ll never do it again. Meanwhile, Garbage Man’s ship parks in a municipal parking lot next to a football stadium. He enters the stadium and turns on a water hose to flood the stadium during a big game. He visits the governor’s mansion, and sets all the clocks an hour backwards, causing the governor to miss an inspection of an “untested and possibly faulty” nuclear power plant, which is started up without him, erupting in a mushroom cloud. Meanwhile, Eek runs into his neighbor Sharkey the shark-dog, who as usual puts the bite on Eek. But with Eek’s new powers, Sharkey’s teeth shatter like glass. He runs to Elmo Elk the dentist, and receives a steel set of dentures – which bend in all directions upon his second chomp on Eek’s paw. Sharkey returns the bent dentures, pulling them down around Elmo’s waist like a hula skirt. Eek begins to notice the effects of Garbage Man’s reign of terror, and reverses the crimes – by blowing the radioactive cloud from the nuclear plant back into a small laboratory bottle – allegedly before those runaway isotopes could have any nasty effects. The lab assistants wave a happy goodbye – although their hands have mutated into ferns. Eek next drains the football stadium dry by sucking up the water in his cheeks – then uses the water to put out the fire of a newly-erupting volcano. Garbage Man observes that Superpersonman may have grown stronger – and furrier – than the last time they did battle, and thus attempts to round-up a variety of weird and improbable minions for an invincible army. They do little to assist, as Garbage Man’s ship, with his minions inside it, is towed from the parking lot for exceeding the maximum parking limit. Eek finally meets Garbage Man, and in his usual peaceful way, asks him in the name of niceness to quit his shenanigans before someone gets hurt. Although no one’s laid a paw on him, Garbage Man cowers as if his very life had been threatened, and pretends to surrender – at least until he can reach the refuge of a getaway helicopter, from which he jeers that he will return and have vengeance. His exit is spoiled, as the copter crashes into a building. He tries it again on a bicycle – and runs into a tree. Once more he departs – on a city bus, but sticks his head out the window for one last taunt, and gets knocked cold as his head collides with a telephone pole. Superpersonman and Ultra Babe return from vacation. Eek, having no idea who Ultra Babe is, assumes she is the mother with the plague he’s been told about, and spills the beans to Ultra Babe on everything Superpersonman did. Babe, shocked that Superpersonman would burden a poor kitty with his job, tells him she’s through with him, and smacks him a super-blow, leaving him in a dazed heap. She invites Eek to Paris for a French dinner – complete with real French Fries – and the two fly off together, as she tosses Superpersonman’s rolled-up cape to the winds. The narrator indicates that it is unknown what became of the cape – but not for long, as a caped Sharkey flies into the shot, holding an American flag, to fight for truth, justice – and whatever sharkdogs fight for. The Cranial Crusader (Warner/Steven Spielberg, Animaniacs (Pinky and the Brain), 3/10/94) – This one’s a bit of a plot stretch – What makes the usually ingenious Brain think that proving himself the world’s greatest crimefighter is his ticket to getting the public to let him take over the world? Nevertheless, that’s the premise. This time, instead of Acme Labs, Pinky and Brain are kept as experimental mice in the crimefighting lab of an ersatz bat-cave, owned by that champion of justice, the Caped Opossum. Such hero leaves “calling cards” with a silhouette and his initials at each scene of his victories against the forces of evil. Though he regularly makes the 11:00 News, the news report reminds him that one arch-villain remains unthwarted – Johnny Badnote (a mad musician, with some attributes of the Joker, but equally likely to have been inspired by the appearance of Liberace as a villain on the original Batman show – said to have brought in the highest ratings in the show’s run). Brain decides to capture this uncapturable foe, leave his own calling card to steal the spotlight from the Opossum, and become the nation’s favorite hero. Pinky, addicted to the Opossum’s comic books, claims to know everything there is to know about being a superhero – and is inducted into service as the Pink Wonder, while Brain takes on the super-identity of the Cranial Crusader. They hijack the Opossummobile and head to a shady warehouse district where Badnote’s hideout is suspected to be. From a vantage point on a high cliff, Pinky suggests using the vehicle’s prehensile tail-grappling hook device to lower the car into the valley below. They hook the tail onto a tree, and begin to lower themselves down on an attached cable. Unfortunately, Pinky has failed to notice that the cable crosses a railroad track – and an oncoming train severs it in two. Brain commands Pinky to fire reverse thruster rockets to break their fall – instead, Pinky ignites forward thrusters, accelerating the car into a crash dive – and a battered wreck. Still, Pinky manages to activate the car’s super-sniffing device (a sort of elephant’s trunk under the hood), which sucks them to the side of one of the warehouses and through the wall. It s the lair of Badnote, who shakes his head at the would-be do-gooders. “Miniature crime fighters. I’ve got to get out more often.” Badnote places the pair into a death trap – the swing of a metronome progressively pulls the pin from an egg-shaped music box which is really a grenade, designed to play a farewell tune, then explode. The explosion will be the downbeat for Badnote to play a pipe organ solo – with the pipes being missiles which will launch upon his hitting the keys, to blow up the capitols of the world. Pinky and Brain are squeezed together inside the diameter of the grenade’s firing pin. Brain is upset enough about this hopeless situation – but what peeves Pinky is that Badnote has left Pinky’s comic book below the base for the grenade, where it will be the first thing damaged by the explosion. Pinky extricates himself from the firing pin, pulling the comic book out, but toppling the grenade in the process (as well as prematurely pulling its pin). The grenade takes several bounces off various musical instruments in Badnote’s collection, then rolls directly under Badnote’s feet as he listens for his downbeat. He gets to hear it all right – in way too high fidelity. Brain pulls Pinky to safety before the explosion occurs, taking care to leave his “C.C.” calling card with his silhouette behind. As the explosion finishes off Badnote’s plans, the impact topples an ink bottle within the lair – which leaves extra blotches of ink on Brain’s calling card, transforming the silhouette into the shape of the Opossum, and the second “C” of the initials into an “O”. When the nightly news report hits, everyone thinks the Opossum was responsible for Badnote’s downfall! Brain abandons all thoughts of superherodom forever, and sets his thoughts toward planning for tomorrow night. Pinky, drawing a comic intended to document the Crusader’s exploits, pens into Brain’s dialogue balloon, “Try to take over the world”. Also from Animaniacs, Super Buttons (5/2/94) is a feature for Buttons and Mindy – a recurring segment spoofing “Lassie”-style heroic dog shows, with wonder dog Buttons laboring endlessly to keep brainless toddler Mindy out of harm’s way – and inevitably aiming all the harm at his own sorry carcass, while never getting the credit for his many rescues. (Basically, this was Spielberg’s tweak of the situations he was used to getting Baby Herman into in the Roger Rabbit cartoons – which itself was a derivative from Popeye’s many rescues of Swee’pea (consider the similarities between Roger Rabbit’s “Rollercoaster Rabbit” and Popeye’s “Thrill of Fair”.) Unfortunately, the Buttons episodes became regularly formulaic. Parents would always leave Buttons in charge of Mindy. Mindy would always be playing some mindless game in the yard, attached to a waist harness to keep her from wandering. Mama would bid her so long, and Mindy would always call her “lady” instead of Mom, ending with standard catch-phrase, “Okay, I love ya. Bye Bye.” Something would attract Mindy’s attention, causing her to get free of the harness and wander away. Buttons would follow, and be exposed to a string of perils. Mindy would find someone to ask an endless series of “Why” questions to, then leave them with her catch-phrase above, finally wandering back to the yard herself. Buttons would be found wearily returning, and get the blame for letting his guard down in watching Mindy. But Mindy would give him a hug, which was supposed to make everything all right. With so many elements identical from episode to episode, the Buttons cartoons, despite occasional clever peril gags, quickly became one of the most repetitious, and sometimes tedious, elements of the show (with the other possible runner-up of Chicken Boo, to be discussed in a later article). This attempt at a new twist doesn’t do much to push the “buttons” in a new direction. The intro is new, allowing for some parody of the Superman exposition. Everyone in the family (Buttons, Mindy, and the parents) are cast as caped superheroes, predicting the Incredibles. Buttons is first seen on a dog race track, as the narrator states, “Faster than a speeding Greyhound.” Buttons indeed passes every dog on the track – but runs head-on into a Greyhound bus traveling the other way. “More powerful than a doberman pinscher.” Button does intimidates a doberman into a dark alley – but once standing in the shadows himself, Buttons finds himself surrounded by dobermans – which is another matter altogether. The “It’s a bird, it’s a plane” bit happens again, with one addition after the crowd realizes it’s Super Buttons – “And he’s not housebroken!”, which causes the crowd to run for cover. The usual plot formula ensues, as Mom and Pop announce to Mindy that they’re taking a little time off from fighting for truth, justice, and the American way. When Mindy again calls Mom, “super-lady”, Mom questions whether Mindy has gotten into some Kryptonite. Mindy escapes her harness by expanding her chest and bursting the straps, then flies into the sky after a small bird. Buttons follows her into a storm cloud – and offers assistance by holding an umbrella over her head. A lightning bolt is attracted to the umbrella like a lightning rod, leaving blackened Buttons to fall into a trash dumpster. The rest of the gags don’t particularly fire off well, including a crossing-busy-city intersection peril where Mindy merely tosses an oncoming bus out of the way, a bank robbery unwittingly foiled by Mindy, while Buttons finds room after room of lit TNT sticks, and a City-Hall encounter with a mutant spider-person (a villain, not a hero – no treading on Marvel territory here). The standard ending, and we’re done. Arbuckle the Invincible (Film Roman, Garfield and Friends, 11/10’94) shares some plot basis with Ducktales’ “Superdoo!” discussed in a previous article. An alien spaceship provides the bauble responsible for providing Jon with super-powers. Two (or perhaps I should say one, as they are joined at the torso) aliens are dispatched to Earth on a mission (though one questions the assignment – “Did they ever get intelligent life there?”), to retrieve a sample of shredded and processed bovine tissue, strewn with aged lactile substance – in other words, a cheeseburger. Encountering a meteor shower, they engage an invisible force field deflector on the nose of their spacecraft. However, one of them turns it off just a bit too soon, as a last meteorite collides with the ship, knocking the glowing deflector orb off the ship’s nose and causing it to fall to Earth. Below, Jon is attempting to hook up a rooftop aerial to get clear reception for a big game. Garfield is sure he’ll see the game clearly – they have great reception in the hospital! He and Odie relax on chaise lounges as ringside seats to watch Jon fall. From above, the orb enters Earth’s atmosphere, and lands with a plunk in the rear pocket of Jon’s trousers. Jon is knocked off balance, and takes the predicted dive off the roof – but merely bobs along a foot or two above the ground as if floating on a cushion of air. A surprised Garfield and Odie “follow the bounding Arbuckle” to see why he isn’t a mangled wreck. Jon is as surprised as they, and announces that he suddenly feels – indestructible. Garfield insists he must have a broken something-or-other, but Jon decides to take this new power to a place where it can be best put to use – a talent agency (lifting from the Three Stooges’ “Souperman”). Unlike the Stooges, Jon successfully demonstrates his abilities to the agent, by having him break a baseball bat over Jin’s head, then drop a ten ton safe upon him, which is merely deflected to crash through the floor. Jon is signed up to perform a stunt of being run over by the railroad’s 4:15 commuter special (which always runs on time at 5:30). As the event is to be televised, Jon decides to spruce himself up – by changing his suit (a bit of the Jetsons here, too). As Jon leaves the house, with the orb still in the pocket of his other trousers, Garfueld and Odie witness the aliens slithering from their ship down the chimney. They intercept the aliens inside, who explain they are seeking their lost deflector, finding it in Jon’s bedroom. Garfield realizes the orb was the source of Jon’s power – then he and Odie perform simultaneous delayed shock takes as they remember what’s about to happen to Jon. At the railroad tracks, Jon signs autographs before the big stunt – and is surprised when the point of a fan’s pen turns out to be sharp enough to prick his finger. A bit slow on the uptake, Jon begins to suspect there may be a flaw in his powers. But it’s too late to back out, as several stagehands are already tying Jon to the tracks, and his manager claims to have already cashed an advance check. Jon struggles helplessly in his bonds, while Garfield and Odie encounter a locked gate and realize there’s no way to reach Jon in time for a rescue. Always practical, Garfield decides not to make the trip a total loss, and escorts Odie to a hamburger stand for a bite to eat. Who do they encounter inside but the aliens, sampling the “bovine tissue”. “Small planet, is it not?” say the aliens. Garfield points out Jon on the restaurant’s TV, and asks if there is any way to save him. The aliens pull out a small remote, and suggest a simple molecular dissolve. At the tracks, as the train zooms toward its target, the ropes binding Jon are suddenly disintegrated, and though the train runs over him, Jon is never touched, and emerges unharmed. In a complete plothole, just to keep Jon from becoming a financial success, the writers unexplainedly have the agent trudge through the shot, informing Jon without explaation, “You’re not getting paid”. (So what happened to the agent’s advance check?) Meanwhile, Garfield and Odie happily chow down at the hamburger stand with the alien, Garfield wishing he had an indestructible stomach, anticipating the effect a few more of these burgers will have upon him. (This episode would lead off the very last show of the Saturday morning series starring Lorenzo Music, and the show’s opening credits commemorate the event with Garfield’s last off-the-cuff comment from the corner of the screen – “After seven seasons we’ve pretty much said everything you can say in this spot.”). Super Strong Warner Siblings (Warmer/Steven Spielberg, Animaniacs, 9/9/95) – The Warner Brothers (and sister) provide a riotous and wicked sendup of then-current juvenile hero squads in “Mighty Morphin Power Rangers” and “Voltron”, with a few additional elements common to other Japanese manga-style live and animated shows of the day. The show opens peaceably enough, with the Warners coming out from behind the show’s logo after the stock opening credits, and complimenting the behind-the-scenes work of their cameraman with almost winning then an Emmy – topped with rewarding him with a bag full of money, just because they’re in a good-natured mood. Far away on an alien planet, they are obseved by an evil sorceress in outlandish costume (including a crown made of a buzzard’s nest), who shouts every dialogue line with rage and non-stop syllables, even when there’s nothing particular to be angry about. (A parallel to series villainess Rita Repulsa from the Power Rangers.) She teleports a squad of ninjas to finish the Warners. Back at the lot, it’s just a typical day, as the Warners entertain a group of children with a song about serendipity. A little girl applauds them, and Yakko presents her with another sack of money. A boy next to her mildly points out, “Hey, I liked your song, too.” Yakko hands him a consolation prize of a fat-free yogurt. The ninjas materialize, and the Warners go into action. Hurtling into a series of choreographed jumps, set to a typical-sounding superhero theme song, and punctuated by repeated unison shouts of “Right”, the Warners assume defensive kung-fu positions, The ninjas fly through the air with feet outstretched in power-kick mode. The Warners respond by each pulling out giant tennis racquets, and each score a “smash” upon their respective opponents into a sound-stage wall, where a crew pasting a billboard of the show’s logo plasters the poster completely over the villains, covering them without a trace. The sorceress spouts more curses on her planet, and casts a spell to magnify a common garden insect into a massive monster. The creature begins devouring and tearing up studio buildings, and destroying others by merely stumbling into them. Meanwhile, the Warners are still busy helping mankind, addressing a meeting at the Center for Advanced Mathematics with equations that will change the world. A distress signal comes in on their Warnet-shield shaped wrist-receivers. They go into their choreography again, receive instructions from a bodyless floating hologram of Otto Von Scratchensniff in the studio psychiatric ward, and lampoon another staple of the day with characters assuming “power of” one species or another, except with odd choices. “Power of the blowfish”, shouts Yakko. “Power of the anteater“, shouts Yakko. “Power of the platypus”, chimes in Dot. They leap into the studio water tower, transforming it into a giant robot. The studio logo from the roof of a sound stage becomes a shield, while they morph a shield-shaped executive board room table into a fighting sword. Their robot battles fiercely with the giant insect, stomping through and destroying sound stage after sound stage, and setting on fire what little is left. They finally pick up the insect in an old wrestling show “helicopter spin” hold above their head, and hurl him into the side of a building, where his powers wear off and he becomes small enough for the giant robot to squash with one foot. Studio mogul Plotz appears, shouting, ”Look what you’ve done to my lot. Do you know how much it’s going to cost to rebuild it?” Rather than reach for a sack of money, Yacko hands Plotz a fat-free yogurt, and Plotz faints dead away. The Warners close with a final warning to kids to just say no to fighting giant bugs, and wave goodbye for the iris out. Superhero Huey (Universal, The Baby Huey Show, 10/21/95, Steve Loter, dir.) – Our scene opens as usual, with out “hero”, Baby Huey, watching his “hero” Buff Duck on TV. The opportunity almost arises for a direct steal from “Willoughby’s Magic Hat”, with a damsel in distress tied directly between two trains approaching in opposite directions on the same track. But Buff Duck does it the easy way, and merely lifts the damsel from the tracks in vertical flight while the trains collide. Papa Duck watches with a bit of disdain as Huey declares Buff is his “one true hero.” Papa asks, “Don’t you have any other heroes, Huey?” “Duh, Mama!”, replies Huey. Growing more expectant of a compliment himself, Papa asks, “Any others?” His ego receives a crushing downfall when Huey replies, “Casper!” “Any living, breathing heroes who happen to be related to you and are sitting right in front of you???” says Papa, his temper rising to a boiling point. “Duh, nope”, relies his dense son. An ad for a Buff Duck super costume inspires Huey to assemble his own super-outfit out of a pollowcase and red flannels, dubbing himself Super Huey. (Cleverly, his “H” insignia on his chest is a shape duplicate of the familiar Harveytoons “H” logo.) Mama reminds Papa that Huey can’t wander off alone to fight crime, so suggests a begrudging Papa spend some quality time with his son. Huey decides Papa can be his “kickside” – Mallard Boy. He converts Pop into costume by ripping his trousers off, leaving him in polka-dotted shorts, then tying a cape on him and slamming a cooking pot on his head for a helmet. Huey searches the backyard. “Hey, crime! Come out, come out, wherever you are.” He spots a kitten stuck in a tree. To keep Huey out of danger in the tree, Papa volunteers for the task. He corners the kitten on a tree limb, when Huey intervenes by bending the end of the limb down, and lifting the cat off to safety. Of course, Papa is still on the limb as Huey allows it to spring back into shape. Papa is catapulted into orbit around the globe about 3 revolurions, and comes down in the middle of an arena with banner reading “Reporter’s Convention”, where he lands face first buried waste deep in the ground, while everyone snaps his picture, making headlines reading “Duck Butt From Mars.” Huey’s next deed of good-doing is to help an old lady across the street. However, as Huey isn’t old enough to cross streets himself, Papa again has to volunteer. He gets halfway into the intersection, and finds traffic so fierce, he climbs aboard the old lady’s shoulders to cower in fear. Huey provides his own super-strength solution, by lifting one end of the asphault strip of crosswalk clear off of the ground, then flipping it like a carpet, allowing Papa and the old lady to ride on the crest of a concrete wave to the opposite corner. The lady lands safe – while Papa again winds up face-deep in the sidewalk upside down – with more reporters taking pictures. Papa’s had enough, and is about to break the news to Huey that superheroes aren’t real, when Heuy spots a helpless snail slowly crossing the tracks in front of a speeding train. This is a job too dangerous even for Mallard Boy, let alone Huey, and Papa tells him to forget it, as there’s no hope for that snail. As he speaks, a railroad crossing gate abruptly lowers, smashing Papa into the ground again (at least head-up this time). Unable to stop his son, he watches helplessly as Huey steps onto the tracks, and strikes a heroic pose with one hand outstretched to stop the train. The scene is nicely played for drama, rapidly intercutting between the speeding train, brave Huey, and sweating Papa. Of course, being the super-strong lummox he was born to be, Huey succeeds in holding the train motionless, picking up the snail from the tracks with his other hand, Papa extricates himself from the ground, runs to the scene, and orders Huey to get away from that train. “Okay, Papa. Hold my snail”, replies obedient Huey. As he is handed the snail, Papa sees the shadow of the train about to be let loose looming over him, and knows where this is going. CRUSH! Papa is flattened, but his hand holds the snail up out of danger. Huey makes the headlines, and receives a hero’s parade, together with Papa in partial traction. Holding the snail in one hand, Papa asks his son, “So, Huey, who’s Buff now?” Before he can receive his belated compliment, he forgets what he is holding in his hand, closing his palm, and crushes the snail into a gooey mess, splatterings from which coat the camera lens to black out the scene. However, we continue to hear Huey’s voice, finally saying, “You are, Papa!” More ducks next week, plus some more exotic species, including a meerkat, beavers, a catgog, and even a giant chicken, just in time for Thanksgiving! The post Reign of the Supertoons (Part 7) appeared first on . #BabyHuey #TinyToons #PinkPanther #AnimationTrails

Agilenano - News from Agilenano from shopsnetwork (4 sites) https://agilenano.com/blogs/news/we-ve-encountered-several-steven-spielberg-productions-in-past-installments-of-this-series-where-steve-was-able-to-turn-his-talents-at-producing-blockbuster-features-toward-the-small-screen-for-mini-epics-in-the-superhero-vein

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Agilenano - News: We’ve encountered several Steven Spielberg productions in past installments of this series, where Steve was able to turn his talents at producing blockbuster features toward the small screen for mini-epics in the superhero vein

His efforts are far from through, and we will have “close encounters” below with some late episodes of Tiny Toons, as well as several from his next animated showcase, Animaniacs. Also in today’s mix, a panther of odd color, a duck of odd strength, a cat of odd appetite and another of odd bad luck. Odds are, you’ll find something below to your taste. The Just-us League of Supertoons (Warner, Steven Spielberg, Tiny Toon Adventures, 9/15/92) returns Plucky Duck and Hamton Pig to their super alter-egos of Batduck and Decoy. Taking off on DC’s “Justice League”, Batduck receives a call on the hot line from Buster Bunny, alias SuperBun, informing Batduck that the Just-us League has an opening for a new member, and would he like to stop by tonight for an interview. Trying not to appear too anxious, Batduck replies he can probably pencil them in. En route, Plucky dreams of the merchandising opportunities that will come with being a League member, while Hamton dreams of fighting crime alongside the greatest heroes of all time. Plucky, having no interest in the work side of the coin, reacts to Hamton’s dream, “That’s right. Burst my bubble, you little killjoy.” They arrive at League headquarters, leaving their vehicle in the hands of parking valet Montana Max – who in reality is again Wex Wuthor, with another nefarious plan. Inside, Plucky is introduced to the other members besides Buster – Babs Bunny as amazon Wonder Babs, Beeper as Little Dasher (a parallel to the Flash), Sweetie Bird as Pink Canary, Calamity Coyote as Teen Arrow, Shirley as Hawk Loon, and Fifi La Fume as Scentanna. Buster asks what superpowers Batduck brings into the mix, and Plucky boasts of his fearsome image, marvelous gadgets – and he’s also a heck of a clog dancer. The League members lose interest quickly, having been under the impression that he possessed some genuine super power (a bit of a writing slip-up, as the inclusion already in the group of Teen Arrow would mean at least one other member relied upon gadgetry rather than super abilities). Plucky and Hamton are given a thumbs down, and placed on the reject list. Despite resorting to a little groveling, Plucky, along with Hamton, trudge dejectedly back to the parking lot. At this inopportune moment, crashing through the ceiling with a jet pack comes Wex Wuthor. The League is equally unimpressed, knowing that he has no superpowers either. Maybe not now – “But I will once I steal yours”, Wex boasts. He presses a button on his suit, and the League is caught in a stun ray. With another button, he announces that he has invented a “super power transfer thingy”, with which he will absorb the combined powers of the League to become the world’s most powerful criminal. Who should come wandering back into the hall but Plucky, stating that he forgot to get a validation on his parking ticket. Wuthor turns the stun ray on Plucky, and declares he will absorb Batduck’s powers first. Plucky receives a jolt from the second button – but as the process is completed, Wuthor falls out of the sky, and wobbles around shakily, as Buster advises him that all he absorbed were the powers of an egotistical green duck. Plucky adds, “Although no one could absorb my ego all at once”, giving Max a swift kick and landing him in a heap on the floor. The League hails Plucky as a hero, and Plucky narrates that as a result, Batduck and Decoy became “key” men in the Just-us League – in other words, the new parking valets. The Return of Batduck (12/19/92) was actually a pilot episode from the Tiny Tons spinoff, “The Plucky Duck Show” – which died quickly, as no other new episodes appear to have been produced, and the show was merely a schedule-filler compiling old Plucky cartoons from the run of the regular series. A bit too much placed into this half hour for a thorough description, but we’ll try for a flavor. Plucky has landed his own television series (much to the nearly-bored surprise of Buster and Babs), and is attempting to put on a showgirl filled musical extravaganza (though he tumbles down a tall staircase, knocks over giant statues of himself, and collides with his lead showgirl – who is actually Hamton Pig in disguise). Buster and Babs goad him in the wings with a copy of Variety, indicating that Tim Burton is casting a new Batman movie, but getting Plucky’s goat by reminding him he has his show to do instead. Plucky’s ego of course soars through the roof, realizing to himself that he’s feature material, and type-cast for the part in view of his old Batduck roles. He abandons the show and attempts to get on the Warner lot. Hamton is recruited to pose as his agent to make him look legit (though Hamton can’t get agent’s lingo right, quibbling about the improper grammar of the phrase, “Let’s do lunch.”) Little did us kids know when watching this episode that we were being introduced to a character from a series yet to come – Ralph, the security guard from “Animaniacs”, makes what is probably his debut appearance, nine months before the series premiere. As usual, he is no-nonsense about keeping the riff raff like Plucky off the lot, and wraps Plucky up in a string, then uses him as a yo-yo for various tricks, climaxing in “around the world”, as he tosses Plucky into orbit. Plucky does manage a re-entry which finally catches him up with Hamton, and together they plot how to reach Burton’s office (a dark castle shrouded in thunder and lightning on the opposite side of the lot). Plucky produces a map of the studio sewer system with which they can take an underground route to the castle. Hamton is curious where he got such a map, and Plucky points to Art Carney as Ed Norton, selling such maps in the same manner as maps to stars’ homes, with his trademark “Va Va Va Voom”. Hamton asks if there are rats in the sewer. Plucky scoffs that there are no rats, no alligators, no nothin’. At that moment, they are passed by the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Plucky continues as if he were still in mid-sentence: “…to speak of!” He then breaks the fourth wall, asking the audience, “How many saw that coming?”, and a show of hands raised in front of the camera lens gives the indication, just about everybody. After a string of various celebrity encounters, Plucky finally makes it to Burton’s office. Burton is turning down another applicant, who’s got the “dark” part all right, and a snazzy costume, but just isn’t quite the type – Dracula. The sight of Plucky is enough to make his staff exit screaming, and Burton almost jump out a window, but Plucky appeals to him as a comrade, reminding Tim of his animation background. “We’re cut from the same cel.” To prove it, he zip-pans Burton to a “This is Your Life” studio, and reintroduces him to his horrific high school doodles, who take life and swarm around him. That’s all that Burton can take, and he relents to give Plucky a screen test. Plucky retrieves his and Hamton’s costumes from the old “Duck Cave” set. Hamton activates an inflate-a-duck apparatus to pump muscles into Plucky’s suit – but explodes him instead. Nevertheless, Plucky makes the screen test appointment next morning, repeatedly blowing heroic exits by swinging into walls, dangling helplessly by a plunger grappling hook from the nose of a gargoyle, and using six devices from his utility belt to suspend himself from six buildings at the same time – only to pull all of the buildings down atop himself. Yet Burton gives him the role he was auditioning for – though it’s not quite the one he expected. As Plucky pushes his way through back sets, he encounters someone too big to push – a caricature of Michael Keaton – as the real Batman. Tim welcomes him to the set, and introduces Plucky as his new stunt double! Plucky takes a licking and barely comes out ticking, and bemoans his fate. “Vanity, thy name is Plucky”, he groans, discarding his cowl, and sadly remembering that he could have been on his own show right now. Buster Bunny informs him that actually, he’s still on his own show. “What? How much time is left?”, asks a panicked Plucky. “About ten seconds”, replies Buster. Plucky climbs the tall staircase again, and attempts to resume his musical production number – but a prop mockup of the bat signal falls from the rafters and flattens him, for the iris out. No clip from BATDUCK… but here’s a rare Fox Kids promo he appears in: Pink Pink and Away (1/13/93) marks the premiere of the 1993 revival of “The Pink Panther”, and the first of a 4-episode arc returning the Panther to the role of Super Pink. Unfortunately, the writing and timing are no match for the DePatie-Freleng original, and the episode comes off surprisingly lifeless and lacking in energy or originality. Pink (in talking Matt Frewer mode) takes a few routine pratfalls battling a completely redesigned Dogfather and his mob, first in an ATM robbery, then a diamond heist from a museum. He also saves a wise-guy kid/video game whiz who almost joins the Dogfather for a life or crime, until a double-cross leaves him in the museum jewelry case as substitute weight for the stolen diamond. Pink ultimately foils the robbery by using a spear from a cave man exhibit to bring down a dinosaur skeleton on the crooks. Junior goes straight, and swears to be like Super Pink – donning a duplicate outfit – but then soars off into the sky like a real superhereo. “He’s always doing that”, says his Mom, and soars into the sky after him! Pink tries to make the same exit – and flops on the ground, scratching his head in puzzlement. Super Pink’s Egg-Cellent Adventure (10/17/93) deals with theft of a giant egg, developed to solve the world’s food shortages by a little Germanic professor from the “Super Schmarty Society”. Pink (the building janitor) witnesses the egg‘s theft by a Sumo wrestler and his ninjas, and sees “a job for Super Pink”. They trail the crooks to a chow mein shop, where Pink flies up to a roof skylight (even though the door was open all the time), using the jet power from a giant shaken cola can strapped to his back. Finding a grocery list including ingredients in humongous quantities, he and the professor tail the villains to the only place large enough to fill the order – a “Super” market. The professor attempts to help in the chase by inventing a pair of jet skates he attaches to a shopping cart. The invention goes haywire, leaving management to call for cleanup on nearly every other numbered aisle. The chase leads into a railroad train, and a fight which is seen in blackouts as the train goes through various tunnels – with the last light-up showing our heroes tied back to back. The Sumo announces he’ll show them what he has in store for the egg, and takes them to the roof of a tall skyscraper, where the ninjas place the egg teetering on the ledge of the roof landing. Below in the street, a giant bubbling bowl of liquid and equally giant place setting awaits. Pink realizes that the ingredients list adds up to – egg drop soup! The Sumo states that it is written that he who makes the biggest bowl of egg drop soup shall rulse the world. Panther yawns that he’s read that fortune cookie too. Seeing the crooks’ giant package of soy sauce, Panther whispers to the professor to give it a kick – spilling the slippery stuff on them, and allowing Pink to slip out of his bonds. The crooks are ultimately subdued, but the egg falls off the ledge, with the professor foolishly diving for it and also helplessly falling. Pink produces the professor’s jet skates and puts them on, then grabs two of the ninjas’ swords. He takes off from the roof, using the sword blades as wings, and dives under the professor and the egg, catching them on his back for the rescue. The egg is returned to the auditorium of the society – but doesn’t stay intact for further presentation, as it hatches, producing in the fashion of “Horton” a professor-bird, who runs after the professor, calling him “Daddy” with Germanic accent. “I just love happy endings”, says Panther. The End of Superpink? (10/14/93) begins in unusual artistic form, in a fight scene between Pink and villainous The Wriggler, set against backgrounds where every splash of color is seen in a wide spaced print-style dot matrix. This is because the entire incident is happening only in the pages of the “Super Pink” comic book that Pink has just finished drawing. He tries to drum up customers for the publication at a comic-book convention, but faces the challenges of the reigning super-celebrity, the towering, cleft-chinned Captain Chaos. Vying for press attention from a magazine photographer, Captain Chaos manufactures situations of peril for a junior fan’s kitty kat to stage a daring rescue – but has to deal with the interferences of Pink trying to be legitimately heroic. When Chaos throws the cat into a runaway blimp, he fires a grappling hook to scale into one of the conveyance’s gondola windows – but gets stuck in the porthole. Pink rescues both of them in complicated chain-reaction fashion, including use of a teeterboard and souvenir yo-yo to launch himself skyward to save the day – while the cat takes liberal swipes with his claws at Captain Chaos’s defenseless chin. Pink winds up the center of the magazine story, while Chaos’s only picture is of his butt sticking out of the gondola. Chaos reappears as a chef serving celebration cookies to Pink’s new fanbase, who mob him for the cookie tray. Pink shrugs his shoulders to the reporter: “He needed the work.” Power of Pink (10/29/94) goes altogether too far out. It differs from the others by actually giving Pink temporary super powers, unexplainedly drawn from another food-grow machine of the professor which without explanation instills super energy into a pickle. It also features another caped hero (Amazing Man), who actually is a giant rat in disguise, using a Superman style “Magnetic Telescope” to pull the moon closer to use its gravity to rearrange buildings into giant laboratory mazes for the humans to run. (So why is he posing as a superhero in the first instance?) None of it makes sense, and the situations lack in either cleverness or genuine laughs. Not a recommend. Eex Men (Nelvana, Eek the Cat, 10/9/93) – A completely misnamed episode, as it has nothing to do with the Marvel franchise its title infers, but is a straight Superman-style parody. The opening credits to this show often began showing Eek in a supersuit, rescuing his 300-pound girlfriend from a burning building – but barely able to lift her through the skies, and with his cape on fire from the flames. Yes, the credits were merely a dream. But this time, he gets to do it for real in the episode. Gary Owens (or a very convincing sound-alike) provides narration to give this episode special super-effect. Superpersonman is the reigning hero of the area. Receiving signals in his Bunker of Goodness of the impending approach of super villain and friend of no-one Garbage Man (a burly alien who wears a trash bag over his head), Superpersonman does what any intelligent visitor from another planet would do – telephones his girlfriend Ultra Babe for a quick getaway vacation. But before leaving with his packed suitcases, he realizes he can’t leave the city unguarded, and determines to deputize someone by passing on his cape to them, thus making them feel obligated to take the terrible beating that was intended for himself. Enter Eek, conveniently on a mountain-climbing excursion past the Bunker. Superpersonman, in slow mental spurts, improvises the lamest excuse for his departure – helping his mother get over her case of the plague – and Eek, living by his motto “It never hurts to help”, acquires the cape, and immediately falls off the mountain cliff. He lands in front of a fast food stand (“Ed’s Gopher Guts”), and the “E” falls off its sign onto Eek’s chest, providing the proper alphabetical insignia. The first sign of crime spotted by Eek is two country-bumpkin types fleeing a bank with sacks of money. (No, for once they’re not tellers or bank presidents.) Eek gives them what they deserve – advice. “Hey, you robber guys. Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s wrong to take something that isn’t yours?” “Well, no, actually, no one ever did”, respond the robbers. Eek takes them back to the bank, and they politely apologize for the mistake, and promise they’ll never do it again. Meanwhile, Garbage Man’s ship parks in a municipal parking lot next to a football stadium. He enters the stadium and turns on a water hose to flood the stadium during a big game. He visits the governor’s mansion, and sets all the clocks an hour backwards, causing the governor to miss an inspection of an “untested and possibly faulty” nuclear power plant, which is started up without him, erupting in a mushroom cloud. Meanwhile, Eek runs into his neighbor Sharkey the shark-dog, who as usual puts the bite on Eek. But with Eek’s new powers, Sharkey’s teeth shatter like glass. He runs to Elmo Elk the dentist, and receives a steel set of dentures – which bend in all directions upon his second chomp on Eek’s paw. Sharkey returns the bent dentures, pulling them down around Elmo’s waist like a hula skirt. Eek begins to notice the effects of Garbage Man’s reign of terror, and reverses the crimes – by blowing the radioactive cloud from the nuclear plant back into a small laboratory bottle – allegedly before those runaway isotopes could have any nasty effects. The lab assistants wave a happy goodbye – although their hands have mutated into ferns. Eek next drains the football stadium dry by sucking up the water in his cheeks – then uses the water to put out the fire of a newly-erupting volcano. Garbage Man observes that Superpersonman may have grown stronger – and furrier – than the last time they did battle, and thus attempts to round-up a variety of weird and improbable minions for an invincible army. They do little to assist, as Garbage Man’s ship, with his minions inside it, is towed from the parking lot for exceeding the maximum parking limit. Eek finally meets Garbage Man, and in his usual peaceful way, asks him in the name of niceness to quit his shenanigans before someone gets hurt. Although no one’s laid a paw on him, Garbage Man cowers as if his very life had been threatened, and pretends to surrender – at least until he can reach the refuge of a getaway helicopter, from which he jeers that he will return and have vengeance. His exit is spoiled, as the copter crashes into a building. He tries it again on a bicycle – and runs into a tree. Once more he departs – on a city bus, but sticks his head out the window for one last taunt, and gets knocked cold as his head collides with a telephone pole. Superpersonman and Ultra Babe return from vacation. Eek, having no idea who Ultra Babe is, assumes she is the mother with the plague he’s been told about, and spills the beans to Ultra Babe on everything Superpersonman did. Babe, shocked that Superpersonman would burden a poor kitty with his job, tells him she’s through with him, and smacks him a super-blow, leaving him in a dazed heap. She invites Eek to Paris for a French dinner – complete with real French Fries – and the two fly off together, as she tosses Superpersonman’s rolled-up cape to the winds. The narrator indicates that it is unknown what became of the cape – but not for long, as a caped Sharkey flies into the shot, holding an American flag, to fight for truth, justice – and whatever sharkdogs fight for. The Cranial Crusader (Warner/Steven Spielberg, Animaniacs (Pinky and the Brain), 3/10/94) – This one’s a bit of a plot stretch – What makes the usually ingenious Brain think that proving himself the world’s greatest crimefighter is his ticket to getting the public to let him take over the world? Nevertheless, that’s the premise. This time, instead of Acme Labs, Pinky and Brain are kept as experimental mice in the crimefighting lab of an ersatz bat-cave, owned by that champion of justice, the Caped Opossum. Such hero leaves “calling cards” with a silhouette and his initials at each scene of his victories against the forces of evil. Though he regularly makes the 11:00 News, the news report reminds him that one arch-villain remains unthwarted – Johnny Badnote (a mad musician, with some attributes of the Joker, but equally likely to have been inspired by the appearance of Liberace as a villain on the original Batman show – said to have brought in the highest ratings in the show’s run). Brain decides to capture this uncapturable foe, leave his own calling card to steal the spotlight from the Opossum, and become the nation’s favorite hero. Pinky, addicted to the Opossum’s comic books, claims to know everything there is to know about being a superhero – and is inducted into service as the Pink Wonder, while Brain takes on the super-identity of the Cranial Crusader. They hijack the Opossummobile and head to a shady warehouse district where Badnote’s hideout is suspected to be. From a vantage point on a high cliff, Pinky suggests using the vehicle’s prehensile tail-grappling hook device to lower the car into the valley below. They hook the tail onto a tree, and begin to lower themselves down on an attached cable. Unfortunately, Pinky has failed to notice that the cable crosses a railroad track – and an oncoming train severs it in two. Brain commands Pinky to fire reverse thruster rockets to break their fall – instead, Pinky ignites forward thrusters, accelerating the car into a crash dive – and a battered wreck. Still, Pinky manages to activate the car’s super-sniffing device (a sort of elephant’s trunk under the hood), which sucks them to the side of one of the warehouses and through the wall. It s the lair of Badnote, who shakes his head at the would-be do-gooders. “Miniature crime fighters. I’ve got to get out more often.” Badnote places the pair into a death trap – the swing of a metronome progressively pulls the pin from an egg-shaped music box which is really a grenade, designed to play a farewell tune, then explode. The explosion will be the downbeat for Badnote to play a pipe organ solo – with the pipes being missiles which will launch upon his hitting the keys, to blow up the capitols of the world. Pinky and Brain are squeezed together inside the diameter of the grenade’s firing pin. Brain is upset enough about this hopeless situation – but what peeves Pinky is that Badnote has left Pinky’s comic book below the base for the grenade, where it will be the first thing damaged by the explosion. Pinky extricates himself from the firing pin, pulling the comic book out, but toppling the grenade in the process (as well as prematurely pulling its pin). The grenade takes several bounces off various musical instruments in Badnote’s collection, then rolls directly under Badnote’s feet as he listens for his downbeat. He gets to hear it all right – in way too high fidelity. Brain pulls Pinky to safety before the explosion occurs, taking care to leave his “C.C.” calling card with his silhouette behind. As the explosion finishes off Badnote’s plans, the impact topples an ink bottle within the lair – which leaves extra blotches of ink on Brain’s calling card, transforming the silhouette into the shape of the Opossum, and the second “C” of the initials into an “O”. When the nightly news report hits, everyone thinks the Opossum was responsible for Badnote’s downfall! Brain abandons all thoughts of superherodom forever, and sets his thoughts toward planning for tomorrow night. Pinky, drawing a comic intended to document the Crusader’s exploits, pens into Brain’s dialogue balloon, “Try to take over the world”. Also from Animaniacs, Super Buttons (5/2/94) is a feature for Buttons and Mindy – a recurring segment spoofing “Lassie”-style heroic dog shows, with wonder dog Buttons laboring endlessly to keep brainless toddler Mindy out of harm’s way – and inevitably aiming all the harm at his own sorry carcass, while never getting the credit for his many rescues. (Basically, this was Spielberg’s tweak of the situations he was used to getting Baby Herman into in the Roger Rabbit cartoons – which itself was a derivative from Popeye’s many rescues of Swee’pea (consider the similarities between Roger Rabbit’s “Rollercoaster Rabbit” and Popeye’s “Thrill of Fair”.) Unfortunately, the Buttons episodes became regularly formulaic. Parents would always leave Buttons in charge of Mindy. Mindy would always be playing some mindless game in the yard, attached to a waist harness to keep her from wandering. Mama would bid her so long, and Mindy would always call her “lady” instead of Mom, ending with standard catch-phrase, “Okay, I love ya. Bye Bye.” Something would attract Mindy’s attention, causing her to get free of the harness and wander away. Buttons would follow, and be exposed to a string of perils. Mindy would find someone to ask an endless series of “Why” questions to, then leave them with her catch-phrase above, finally wandering back to the yard herself. Buttons would be found wearily returning, and get the blame for letting his guard down in watching Mindy. But Mindy would give him a hug, which was supposed to make everything all right. With so many elements identical from episode to episode, the Buttons cartoons, despite occasional clever peril gags, quickly became one of the most repetitious, and sometimes tedious, elements of the show (with the other possible runner-up of Chicken Boo, to be discussed in a later article). This attempt at a new twist doesn’t do much to push the “buttons” in a new direction. The intro is new, allowing for some parody of the Superman exposition. Everyone in the family (Buttons, Mindy, and the parents) are cast as caped superheroes, predicting the Incredibles. Buttons is first seen on a dog race track, as the narrator states, “Faster than a speeding Greyhound.” Buttons indeed passes every dog on the track – but runs head-on into a Greyhound bus traveling the other way. “More powerful than a doberman pinscher.” Button does intimidates a doberman into a dark alley – but once standing in the shadows himself, Buttons finds himself surrounded by dobermans – which is another matter altogether. The “It’s a bird, it’s a plane” bit happens again, with one addition after the crowd realizes it’s Super Buttons – “And he’s not housebroken!”, which causes the crowd to run for cover. The usual plot formula ensues, as Mom and Pop announce to Mindy that they’re taking a little time off from fighting for truth, justice, and the American way. When Mindy again calls Mom, “super-lady”, Mom questions whether Mindy has gotten into some Kryptonite. Mindy escapes her harness by expanding her chest and bursting the straps, then flies into the sky after a small bird. Buttons follows her into a storm cloud – and offers assistance by holding an umbrella over her head. A lightning bolt is attracted to the umbrella like a lightning rod, leaving blackened Buttons to fall into a trash dumpster. The rest of the gags don’t particularly fire off well, including a crossing-busy-city intersection peril where Mindy merely tosses an oncoming bus out of the way, a bank robbery unwittingly foiled by Mindy, while Buttons finds room after room of lit TNT sticks, and a City-Hall encounter with a mutant spider-person (a villain, not a hero – no treading on Marvel territory here). The standard ending, and we’re done. Arbuckle the Invincible (Film Roman, Garfield and Friends, 11/10’94) shares some plot basis with Ducktales’ “Superdoo!” discussed in a previous article. An alien spaceship provides the bauble responsible for providing Jon with super-powers. Two (or perhaps I should say one, as they are joined at the torso) aliens are dispatched to Earth on a mission (though one questions the assignment – “Did they ever get intelligent life there?”), to retrieve a sample of shredded and processed bovine tissue, strewn with aged lactile substance – in other words, a cheeseburger. Encountering a meteor shower, they engage an invisible force field deflector on the nose of their spacecraft. However, one of them turns it off just a bit too soon, as a last meteorite collides with the ship, knocking the glowing deflector orb off the ship’s nose and causing it to fall to Earth. Below, Jon is attempting to hook up a rooftop aerial to get clear reception for a big game. Garfield is sure he’ll see the game clearly – they have great reception in the hospital! He and Odie relax on chaise lounges as ringside seats to watch Jon fall. From above, the orb enters Earth’s atmosphere, and lands with a plunk in the rear pocket of Jon’s trousers. Jon is knocked off balance, and takes the predicted dive off the roof – but merely bobs along a foot or two above the ground as if floating on a cushion of air. A surprised Garfield and Odie “follow the bounding Arbuckle” to see why he isn’t a mangled wreck. Jon is as surprised as they, and announces that he suddenly feels – indestructible. Garfield insists he must have a broken something-or-other, but Jon decides to take this new power to a place where it can be best put to use – a talent agency (lifting from the Three Stooges’ “Souperman”). Unlike the Stooges, Jon successfully demonstrates his abilities to the agent, by having him break a baseball bat over Jin’s head, then drop a ten ton safe upon him, which is merely deflected to crash through the floor. Jon is signed up to perform a stunt of being run over by the railroad’s 4:15 commuter special (which always runs on time at 5:30). As the event is to be televised, Jon decides to spruce himself up – by changing his suit (a bit of the Jetsons here, too). As Jon leaves the house, with the orb still in the pocket of his other trousers, Garfueld and Odie witness the aliens slithering from their ship down the chimney. They intercept the aliens inside, who explain they are seeking their lost deflector, finding it in Jon’s bedroom. Garfield realizes the orb was the source of Jon’s power – then he and Odie perform simultaneous delayed shock takes as they remember what’s about to happen to Jon. At the railroad tracks, Jon signs autographs before the big stunt – and is surprised when the point of a fan’s pen turns out to be sharp enough to prick his finger. A bit slow on the uptake, Jon begins to suspect there may be a flaw in his powers. But it’s too late to back out, as several stagehands are already tying Jon to the tracks, and his manager claims to have already cashed an advance check. Jon struggles helplessly in his bonds, while Garfield and Odie encounter a locked gate and realize there’s no way to reach Jon in time for a rescue. Always practical, Garfield decides not to make the trip a total loss, and escorts Odie to a hamburger stand for a bite to eat. Who do they encounter inside but the aliens, sampling the “bovine tissue”. “Small planet, is it not?” say the aliens. Garfield points out Jon on the restaurant’s TV, and asks if there is any way to save him. The aliens pull out a small remote, and suggest a simple molecular dissolve. At the tracks, as the train zooms toward its target, the ropes binding Jon are suddenly disintegrated, and though the train runs over him, Jon is never touched, and emerges unharmed. In a complete plothole, just to keep Jon from becoming a financial success, the writers unexplainedly have the agent trudge through the shot, informing Jon without explaation, “You’re not getting paid”. (So what happened to the agent’s advance check?) Meanwhile, Garfield and Odie happily chow down at the hamburger stand with the alien, Garfield wishing he had an indestructible stomach, anticipating the effect a few more of these burgers will have upon him. (This episode would lead off the very last show of the Saturday morning series starring Lorenzo Music, and the show’s opening credits commemorate the event with Garfield’s last off-the-cuff comment from the corner of the screen – “After seven seasons we’ve pretty much said everything you can say in this spot.”). Super Strong Warner Siblings (Warmer/Steven Spielberg, Animaniacs, 9/9/95) – The Warner Brothers (and sister) provide a riotous and wicked sendup of then-current juvenile hero squads in “Mighty Morphin Power Rangers” and “Voltron”, with a few additional elements common to other Japanese manga-style live and animated shows of the day. The show opens peaceably enough, with the Warners coming out from behind the show’s logo after the stock opening credits, and complimenting the behind-the-scenes work of their cameraman with almost winning then an Emmy – topped with rewarding him with a bag full of money, just because they’re in a good-natured mood. Far away on an alien planet, they are obseved by an evil sorceress in outlandish costume (including a crown made of a buzzard’s nest), who shouts every dialogue line with rage and non-stop syllables, even when there’s nothing particular to be angry about. (A parallel to series villainess Rita Repulsa from the Power Rangers.) She teleports a squad of ninjas to finish the Warners. Back at the lot, it’s just a typical day, as the Warners entertain a group of children with a song about serendipity. A little girl applauds them, and Yakko presents her with another sack of money. A boy next to her mildly points out, “Hey, I liked your song, too.” Yakko hands him a consolation prize of a fat-free yogurt. The ninjas materialize, and the Warners go into action. Hurtling into a series of choreographed jumps, set to a typical-sounding superhero theme song, and punctuated by repeated unison shouts of “Right”, the Warners assume defensive kung-fu positions, The ninjas fly through the air with feet outstretched in power-kick mode. The Warners respond by each pulling out giant tennis racquets, and each score a “smash” upon their respective opponents into a sound-stage wall, where a crew pasting a billboard of the show’s logo plasters the poster completely over the villains, covering them without a trace. The sorceress spouts more curses on her planet, and casts a spell to magnify a common garden insect into a massive monster. The creature begins devouring and tearing up studio buildings, and destroying others by merely stumbling into them. Meanwhile, the Warners are still busy helping mankind, addressing a meeting at the Center for Advanced Mathematics with equations that will change the world. A distress signal comes in on their Warnet-shield shaped wrist-receivers. They go into their choreography again, receive instructions from a bodyless floating hologram of Otto Von Scratchensniff in the studio psychiatric ward, and lampoon another staple of the day with characters assuming “power of” one species or another, except with odd choices. “Power of the blowfish”, shouts Yakko. “Power of the anteater“, shouts Yakko. “Power of the platypus”, chimes in Dot. They leap into the studio water tower, transforming it into a giant robot. The studio logo from the roof of a sound stage becomes a shield, while they morph a shield-shaped executive board room table into a fighting sword. Their robot battles fiercely with the giant insect, stomping through and destroying sound stage after sound stage, and setting on fire what little is left. They finally pick up the insect in an old wrestling show “helicopter spin” hold above their head, and hurl him into the side of a building, where his powers wear off and he becomes small enough for the giant robot to squash with one foot. Studio mogul Plotz appears, shouting, ”Look what you’ve done to my lot. Do you know how much it’s going to cost to rebuild it?” Rather than reach for a sack of money, Yacko hands Plotz a fat-free yogurt, and Plotz faints dead away. The Warners close with a final warning to kids to just say no to fighting giant bugs, and wave goodbye for the iris out. Superhero Huey (Universal, The Baby Huey Show, 10/21/95, Steve Loter, dir.) – Our scene opens as usual, with out “hero”, Baby Huey, watching his “hero” Buff Duck on TV. The opportunity almost arises for a direct steal from “Willoughby’s Magic Hat”, with a damsel in distress tied directly between two trains approaching in opposite directions on the same track. But Buff Duck does it the easy way, and merely lifts the damsel from the tracks in vertical flight while the trains collide. Papa Duck watches with a bit of disdain as Huey declares Buff is his “one true hero.” Papa asks, “Don’t you have any other heroes, Huey?” “Duh, Mama!”, replies Huey. Growing more expectant of a compliment himself, Papa asks, “Any others?” His ego receives a crushing downfall when Huey replies, “Casper!” “Any living, breathing heroes who happen to be related to you and are sitting right in front of you???” says Papa, his temper rising to a boiling point. “Duh, nope”, relies his dense son. An ad for a Buff Duck super costume inspires Huey to assemble his own super-outfit out of a pollowcase and red flannels, dubbing himself Super Huey. (Cleverly, his “H” insignia on his chest is a shape duplicate of the familiar Harveytoons “H” logo.) Mama reminds Papa that Huey can’t wander off alone to fight crime, so suggests a begrudging Papa spend some quality time with his son. Huey decides Papa can be his “kickside” – Mallard Boy. He converts Pop into costume by ripping his trousers off, leaving him in polka-dotted shorts, then tying a cape on him and slamming a cooking pot on his head for a helmet. Huey searches the backyard. “Hey, crime! Come out, come out, wherever you are.” He spots a kitten stuck in a tree. To keep Huey out of danger in the tree, Papa volunteers for the task. He corners the kitten on a tree limb, when Huey intervenes by bending the end of the limb down, and lifting the cat off to safety. Of course, Papa is still on the limb as Huey allows it to spring back into shape. Papa is catapulted into orbit around the globe about 3 revolurions, and comes down in the middle of an arena with banner reading “Reporter’s Convention”, where he lands face first buried waste deep in the ground, while everyone snaps his picture, making headlines reading “Duck Butt From Mars.” Huey’s next deed of good-doing is to help an old lady across the street. However, as Huey isn’t old enough to cross streets himself, Papa again has to volunteer. He gets halfway into the intersection, and finds traffic so fierce, he climbs aboard the old lady’s shoulders to cower in fear. Huey provides his own super-strength solution, by lifting one end of the asphault strip of crosswalk clear off of the ground, then flipping it like a carpet, allowing Papa and the old lady to ride on the crest of a concrete wave to the opposite corner. The lady lands safe – while Papa again winds up face-deep in the sidewalk upside down – with more reporters taking pictures. Papa’s had enough, and is about to break the news to Huey that superheroes aren’t real, when Heuy spots a helpless snail slowly crossing the tracks in front of a speeding train. This is a job too dangerous even for Mallard Boy, let alone Huey, and Papa tells him to forget it, as there’s no hope for that snail. As he speaks, a railroad crossing gate abruptly lowers, smashing Papa into the ground again (at least head-up this time). Unable to stop his son, he watches helplessly as Huey steps onto the tracks, and strikes a heroic pose with one hand outstretched to stop the train. The scene is nicely played for drama, rapidly intercutting between the speeding train, brave Huey, and sweating Papa. Of course, being the super-strong lummox he was born to be, Huey succeeds in holding the train motionless, picking up the snail from the tracks with his other hand, Papa extricates himself from the ground, runs to the scene, and orders Huey to get away from that train. “Okay, Papa. Hold my snail”, replies obedient Huey. As he is handed the snail, Papa sees the shadow of the train about to be let loose looming over him, and knows where this is going. CRUSH! Papa is flattened, but his hand holds the snail up out of danger. Huey makes the headlines, and receives a hero’s parade, together with Papa in partial traction. Holding the snail in one hand, Papa asks his son, “So, Huey, who’s Buff now?” Before he can receive his belated compliment, he forgets what he is holding in his hand, closing his palm, and crushes the snail into a gooey mess, splatterings from which coat the camera lens to black out the scene. However, we continue to hear Huey’s voice, finally saying, “You are, Papa!” More ducks next week, plus some more exotic species, including a meerkat, beavers, a catgog, and even a giant chicken, just in time for Thanksgiving! The post Reign of the Supertoons (Part 7) appeared first on . #BabyHuey #TinyToons #PinkPanther #AnimationTrails

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