#duck playing the bongos
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Wicked Little Woman | Shawn!Austin x Reader | One-Shot
Summary: Based on the White Elephant SNL sketch. You're at the Christmas party when Ava steals the ashtray from Shawn!Austin and get a bit protective of your favorite temp.
A/N: Written because I promised @infatuatedharleys I would- Merry Christmas, Angel!
Pairing: Shawn (Played by Austin Butler) x Reader
Word Count: 4,800
What you’ll like: Christmas, Fluff, Grumpy/Sunshine, office romance, finger sucking (yes you read that right), Smut, Oral (F!Recieving)
Warnings: Smut, minors DNI!
Masterlist | Requests are currently open
You usually skipped the office Christmas party. It wasn’t that you hated your co-workers per se, just that you preferred to keep your work life and personal life separate. The last thing you wanted after working with your team 8 hours a day, 11 and a half months a year, was to spend an evening with them at one of their homes. You wanted to stay home, eat Christmas cookies, and watch all three versions of The Grinch.
Then they hired Shawn. You’d never paid attention to the temps they’d hired before- they were all plain types in thick-rimmed glasses and sky blue button-up shirts, whose idea of an interesting day was ordering their latte with full fat milk instead of semi-skimmed.
Shawn was different- he showed up to work every day in a jet black button-up, signet rings on every finger. You’d called him over to walk him through a few reports one day and spent half the demonstration trying not to look at his rings and wonder what each stood for- there was a calavera with intricate detailing in silver and gold on his middle (giving death the middle finger? bold for a Monday morning); a sparrow engraved on his right ring finger, and a quote you couldn’t make out engraved on his left pinky.
You tried and failed to ignore the fact that his wedding finger- on both hands- was bare. Interesting.
“Hey, you going to that Christmas thing?” He’d caught you earlier in the break room by the coffee machine.
“The White Elephant?” You shrugged. “I don’t usually, but maybe this year. Are you?”
There was something behind his blue eyes, but he kept his hands in his pockets. “Yeah. Hope I see you there.”
“You probably will.” You grinned, the decision made for you. Even if that meant skipping the rest of your lunch break and picking up some shitty last-minute gift for the Dirty Santa game.
At work, the White Elephant portion of the company party was a legend every year- one you’d been happy to miss. Everyone else worried about FOMO while you enjoyed ROMO- the Relief of Missing Out on grabbing some random, useless item and shoving it in the bottom of your closet until the next year when you released it back into the wild at the next party.
You ducked out of the office and headed to the nearest supermarket, looking up and down every junk-aisle until you found something: a jet black ashtray with silver studs. Ordinarily it wouldn’t have stood out, but something about the dark porcelain reminded you of Shawn.
God, you needed to stop thinking like that. He’d be out of the company after the New Year, and you’d never see him again- that would be that. No more mysterious rings on long, intriguing fingers. Absolutely no more catching a faint whiff of leather whenever he leaned over your desk to point at something on your computer screen.
You could live with that. You had for years. This time next year, you’d be at home with store-bought Christmas cookies and The Grinch, the way things had always been. Shawn would be along with all the other Christmas decorations by the 1st of January. Fine.
That didn’t stop your heart beating like a bongo when you knocked on Kathy’s door.
Kathy ran the finance department, meaning that half the people here would be from teams you didn’t know, or who considered marketing a waste of money and space. Maybe exchanging gifts with your mortal enemies would get you into the Christmas spirit… Especially if Shawn was there.
He was already sitting in Kathy’s living room, silently watching the rest of the strangers having a conversation- knowing finance, it was probably about tax write-offs for the holidays. The gift of interest rates dropping from 12% to 11.5%.
The seat next to him was empty, so you grabbed it, sending Shawn a quick smile. He nodded a greeting before turning his attention back to the conversation, but your eyes couldn’t help but take him in like a tall glass of eggnog.
Shawn rarely dressed like other employees, and tonight was no exception. Where everyone else was wearing red, silver or gold (or a hideous Christmas cardigan) he was dressed head-to-toe in jet black. Casual black jeans and boots, a black biker jacket that made his shoulders look that much broader, and slicked-back blonde hair. He’d missed a spot at the back. You could just make out a curl in the straightness, flattened but still sticking out like an imperfection.
That just made him more perfect. Dammit. You grabbed a glass of mulled wine and hoped it went straight to your head. Anything to forget your stupid crush on the temp.
Everyone gathered in the living room. A spread of chairs formed a circle around Kathy’s coffee table, where everyone added a gift.
“Champagne?” Kathy offered, popping open a bottle and pouring everyone a full glass.
You and Shawn took the seats closest to the door, and everyone else settled down too.
“Thank you all for coming!” Kathy clapped her hands together, creating an awkward silence that made you want to throw back the entire glass of champagne. “Sorry for the small space, but I think it’s nice that we can all be so cozy together at this time of year. And who knows, maybe next year we can put our heads together and host this party in the Bahamas, right Finance?”
Nobody laughed. Shawn cracked a smirk. Kathy cleared her throat and sat down. “Anyway, cheers everyone!”
“Cheers!” You clinked glasses with Shawn first, but he avoided looking at you. He was never like this in the office; when you sat in your cubicle his blue eyes seemed to burn into you, always searching for answers to questions he wasn’t asking out loud. Maybe that was just your over-active imagination at play.
“Why don’t we start the white elephant gift exchange?” Kathy’s smile was tight and unfaltering as her gaze swept over the room. “Did everyone get assigned a number when they came in?”
Everyone held up a slip of paper- you were 9, Shawn was 2.
“Great! Does everyone know how this game works?”
“Remind me again?” Shawn asked.
“When your number is called, you grab a gift.”
“But we can steal, right?” That was Jeff from accounting, number 5.
“Exactamundo!” Kathy nodded a little too enthusiastically- either she was irrationally nervous or she’d been hitting the mulled wine too hard. Either way, you tensed as the game began.
Janette from marketing was number 1, and she picked a red paper bag from the pile, excitedly pulling out a scented candle. Great, her house reeks. You swore you could smell her husband’s dirty socks from across the room, and he wasn’t even in the room.
“A candle!” Janette gasped in delight, blissfully nose-blind to the situation. “I love it!”
“Alright, who’s next?”
Shawn raised his hand and stood over the table, playfully waving his hands. You held your hand as he came within an inch of grabbing your present- only to pick the one right next to it.
Don’t feel disappointed, you told the sinking feeling in your stomach, It’s just a stupid game of Dirty Santa.
Shawn pulled a light blue piece of porcelain out of the golden paper bag, his jaw dropping open. If he were a cartoon, this would have been the exact moment his eyes popped out of his head.
“Oh, nice!” He exclaimed. “A sweet ashtray! Oh, you know I was just saying I needed something like this.”
You winced at the joy in his voice. First rule of White Elephant: if you like your gift, never show it. Still, you couldn’t ignore the infectious warmth that spread across your chest as Shawn carried on, words tumbling out of him in an excitement you’d never seen from him at the office.
“I’m going to use this as a catchall by the front door of my place, so when I get home from a long day I can put all my rings and bracelets and playing cards and stuff from my pockets right here. To whoever got this, thank you. For real. I’m going to cherish this forever, it’s perfect.”
No you won’t, you thought, catching eyes with Ava from the legal branch of the finance department. A ruthless woman in a red-and-white Christmas jumper, with the glow of at least a dozen Patrick Batemans in her eye as she looked at Shawn’s ashtray, which he was hugging to his chest, a goofy smile on his face.
“Let’s move on.” Ava flicked her brown hair over her shoulder and looked around the room, but you knew she’d already made her decision. “I’m number three. I’m going to steal- I like Shawn’s gift too.”
Ava reached over and took the ashtray from Shawn before he had time to react- or prepare for the loss of a lifetime, if the look in his eyes was to be believed.
The smile evaporated instantly- a fact which hit you with a pang- as Shawn’s brows knit together.
“So what, now I just don’t get a gift?”
“No, Shawn, you can go back to the unopen gifts, or you can steal.” There was a desperate edge to Kathy’s voice, as if she’d start shaking like a chihuahua if Shawn didn’t play along.
He wasn’t playing along.
“Okay, I’ll steal my gift back.” Shawn attempted to grab the ashtray out of Ava’s hands, but her red talons fastened tighter around the ceramic.
“No, I don’t think you can do that.” Ava delivered her line with what would have been an Oscar-worthy performance, if she weren’t a total she-devil. You’d caught her in the break room a dozen times before, taking the last cup of coffee without refilling the machine. Satan.
You liked Shawn's brand of rebel, but not rule-breakers like Ava. There was a clear difference, even though Kathy was quick to intervene with a meek,
“You have to grab someone else’s gift.”
“That’s not fair,” Shawn was smiling, but his eyes were cold. “That- you shouldn’t be able to do that, that’s like, mean. That’s mean as hell.”
Welcome to the finance team, You thought, drinking the last of your champagne and noting that you and Austin were the only non-numbers people left at the party. Outnumbered, outplanned.
“You know what, Ava?” Shawn was growling now, looking at the ashtray in Ava’s hands instead of her face. “You are a wicked little woman.”
Oh. That phrase did something to you. Or maybe it was the combination of mulled wine, champagne and eggnog- you weren’t drunk, but you sure as hell weren’t sober enough to play your usual quiet role.
“Shawn?”
His head whipped around to face you, mouth open like he was preparing to say something until you grabbed his hand and picked your present up from the table, shoving it into Shawn’s arms. “Thank you for a lovely evening, Kathy. But we have an early morning deadline tomorrow so I think Shawn and I should make haste now.”
Make haste? Maybe the eggnog was stronger than you thought.
Shawn started heading for the door without saying anything, but you stopped, turned on your heel, and grabbed the ashtray out of Ava’s hands.
“By the way, I’m stealing this. See you in the Wednesday catch-up.”
Was the look on Ava’s face worth the complaint you’d be getting from HR? Maybe not.
Were the hearts in Shawn’s eyes worth it? Absolutely.
He was silent until you shut Kathy’s front door behind you. Then he asked,
“Why’d you do that? I don’t even know you.”
“You will.” You smacked yourself internally. “I mean, we work on the same team. You have a couple weeks left to get to know me. Um, anyway, Ava was asking for it. Woman never refills the coffee machine.”
Shawn’s jaw tensed. “That’s her?”
You nodded. “Everyone else refills it but she just takes whatever’s left and waits for someone else to do the hard work. She doesn’t deserve-” You looked at the cheap piece-of-shit sky blue ashtray in your hands- “A present of this caliber.”
“Right.” Shawn was looking at you now, and you were shocked at the sudden darkness in his blue eyes. “Can I drive you home, or do you have a ride?”
You shook your head. “I was gonna take the bus.”
“At this time of night?” He raised his eyebrows. “Come on.”
You shouldn’t have been surprised when he led you to a jet black motorcycle parked not too far down the street. It was exactly Shawn’s style, and knowing you’d get to sit on the back of it, breeze in your hair, hands wrapped tight around his middle…
Yeah, this was better than The Grinch.
If the hint of leather and musk was sexy in the office, the full scent of it in your nostrils as Shawn straddled the bike was enough to leave your knees weak. Did people born after 1899 still swoon? Maybe you’d restart the trend.
The distracting scent was interrupted as he turned and slipped a black helmet over your head, sealing you into something grittier- the leather smell of him was still there, mixed with sweat. Great, now I want to live in a helmet.
Shawn's body was firm under your arms, well-muscled in spite of the long office hours you both worked. Would it be creepy to splay your fingers across his stomach, feel the groove of every muscle?
Definitely. Fight that urge, you told yourself. It’s not worth the trip to HR.
You had to yell to direct him to your place, a small apartment on the outskirts of the city. The building wasn’t especially pretty from the outside, but rent was cheap and you didn’t have to worry about neighbors making any noise complaints- they blared techno music 24 hours a day, making it hard to hear yourself think without specialist equipment.
“This the place?” Shawn parked up and walked with you to the door.
“Yeah.” His scent lingered in your nostrils as you gathered the courage to look Shawn in the face. “Do you like hot chocolate?”
“Do I?” He grinned. “Is there anyone who doesn’t?”
“Come on in.” You held the door open and pressed the elevator button.
“You have marshmallows?”
“I wouldn’t invite a man up to my apartment if I didn’t have marshmallows.” Did you really just say that?
Shawn didn’t seem to mind, if the way his nose wrinkled in laughter was any indication. Of course. It wasn’t enough for him to be effortlessly sexy, he had to be effortlessly cute too.
Silence descended between the two of you in the elevator. If clinging to him for the past 20 minutes while the motorcycle swerved through city traffic wasn’t enough, now you were just a few feet away from him. Maybe you were one hot chocolate away from everything you’d been daydreaming about for the past few months. Dating, or casually banging the temp, wasn’t against company policy (you’d checked repeatedly since Shawn started), so what was the worst that could happen?
Muscles in Shawn’s neck twitched as he drank you in and gulped.
“You look really nice.”
“Do I?” You looked down. In all the commotion you hadn’t had time to buy anything christmassy for the party, settling for a tight red mini dress that came to just above your knees and matching heels. You’d hoped white leggings would make you look more christmassy, but you felt like a gigantic candy cane.
But looking into Shawn’s dark blue eyes, you realized that wasn’t such a bad thing. Not if he wanted to eat you up.
“Mmhmm.” He was trying too hard to sound noncommittal. You’d barely spoken outside of work, but one thing was obvious about Shawn: he wasn’t neutral about anything. The ashtray in your hand was just one example.
“Thanks.” You said, once the silence had dragged on a beat too long. The elevator dinged and you led him through the loud corridor to your apartment: a studio with just enough room for a bed, sofa and TV, with a corner kitchen overlooking it all. All three DVDs of The Grinch were laid out on the coffee table, but you hoped he wouldn’t notice those. You tucked them under the coffee table when he wasn't looking.
You made the hot chocolate while Shawn leaned against the kitchen counter with eyes that kept wandering across your body when he thought you weren’t looking. One serving of cream, marshmallows, and grated chocolate later, you were on the couch together. Inches apart. Living in a tiny studio never felt so good.
“I love your place.” Shawn smiled, licking whipped cream from his top lip. “Do I hear techno?”
“Yeah.” you rolled your eyes. “The neighbours are crazy for it. I think one of them is a DJ and the other one is deaf. They’re a match made in heaven.”
He laughed. “I don’t mind that kind of music.”
“What do you like?” You made a point of crossing your legs as you asked. Is this how people flirt?
His eyes flickered to your legs before he shook his head slightly.
“Don’t laugh.”
“Tell me.”
“Alright, I like… musicals. Hamilton, Hadestown, Mean Girls, I don’t care if it’s on Broadway or not. I just love them.”
You couldn’t help but snort in surprise.
“Hey, you said you wouldn’t laugh!”
“I’m sorry!” You took a sip of hot chocolate to hide another giggle. “That’s just not what I expected.”
“You expected metal and rock, didn’t you?”
You gestured at his leather biker jacket. “You kind of have the right look for that.”
“Haven’t you ever seen Grease?” He purposefully smoothed a hand over his hair, and suddenly Shawn made sense. A blonde Danny Zuko.
“You’re full of surprises.”
Shawn hummed in agreement as he sipped the hot chocolate. “So are you. I wasn’t expecting you to… come to the rescue at that party. Thanks again, by the way.”
You shrugged. “I’ve been wanting to stick it to Ava for years. Thank you for the opportunity.”
“Still.” An easygoing, maybe nervous, smile spread across his face like melted butter. “How can I make it up to you?”
“Forget about it, it’s nothing.” You almost missed the way his smile faltered slightly. He’s playing at something.
“I don’t think I wanna forget about it.”
“No?” The sugar from the hot chocolate started to buzz through your veins. “Maybe I should make you.”
His eyes widened, but darkened as well. Lust. You knew it well, mainly from working so close to Shawn for so long. Your breathing quickened as he put his mug on the coffee table. Is he leaving? Had you pushed it too far too fast?
“Okay.” Shawn studied you. “How are you going to do that?”
In for a penny…
“You still have the present I picked up from Kathy's, right?”
He frowned and reached for the bag. “Yeah?”
“Open it.” You shifted closer to Shawn as he picked the jet black ashtray out of the bag.
His eyes went wide, a confused smile lighting up his features. “Jet black? My favorite color? This is even more badass than the last one!”
You nodded, leaning closer to his ear to whisper, “I’m going to take that ashtray and put it right here.” You took it from his hands and placed it on the coffee table.
“What else?” Shawn breathed, and you could see something twitch in his pants. It took everything in you to fight a smirk.
“I’m going to take your hands, I’m going to suck the rings off of each finger and spit them into that goddamn catch-all. Then, I’m going to let you fuck me.”
Silence. You fought to keep your breathing even, not daring to lean back and look him in the eye. Oh god, he really had just come up for hot chocolate, hadn’t he? Shawn was-
Oh.
While you were busy fighting within yourself, Shawn took your face in his hands and kissed you. There was nothing innocent about this kiss; it was all tongue and tooth as you moved to sit on top of him, his hands on your lower back.
He drank your breath in like a man parched, and it dawned on you Shawn must have been fighting the same attraction you’d been, for who knows how long? You swallowed his growl when you ground your hips against the hardness in his pants.
“You keep doing that, I won’t last long.” He hissed in your ear, moving to devour your neck.
You moaned in return as his hands grabbed your hips, helping you move in a rhythm that had the two of you out of breath in moments.
Shawn wore his dark blue button-up mostly undone, and it didn’t take you long to undo the rest of the buttons, giving you access to his torso. He wasn’t overly muscled, but he was lean enough to have a clear outline of his abs, a V shape disappearing into his jeans. You drank him in like a tall glass of eggnog before leaning down to attack his neck, nibbling at his ear until his hands tightened on your hips, tilting you back and forth.
Shawn’s plush lips were pink, swollen from kissing as he reached a hand towards your face.
Now you could read the inscription on one signet ring. It was big and heavy-looking, full of tiny writing.
When stormy weather comes around
It was made in heaven
When sunny skies break through behind the clouds
I wish it could last forever
“Queen.” You said, toying with the ring on his pinky finger. “Interesting.”
Before he could reply, you took his finger into your mouth and sucked, swirling your tongue around the tip before pulling at it with your teeth. It gave way easily. True to your word, you spat it into the ashtray in a way that had Shawn’s breath hitching in the back of his throat.
His middle finger, the one with the calavera, tasted of mint and sugar, like the peppermint popcorn from Kathy’s party. Once the ring was free you sat back and opened your mouth for Shawn to see the skull balanced on your tongue before you dropped it too in the ashtray.
“Fuck, you’re hot.” He growled as you moved on to the final ring, the one with the sparrow.
How was it possible that seeing his hands bare was hotter than seeing most men fully naked?
Shawn shrugged off his leather jacket and shirt, leaving him bare from the waist up.
“I think you’re overdressed.” He smirked, hands reaching for the zip at the back of your dress. You stood up to step out of it, leaving you in thigh-high white stockings and a set of red lace underwear that matched your heels.
He drank you in like a work of art before standing, taking your head in both hands, and capturing your lips with his. He tasted like eggnog and something stronger- maybe whiskey, which had also been a staple at the party. You were just glad you were both clearly sober enough to consent.
In fact, Shawn was sober enough to pick you up, your legs wrapping tight around his waist in an instant.
“Which way to the bedroom?”
"Shawn, it's a studio. The bed's right behind you. The light is by the fridge.”
“Good. I want to see you.” He devoured your neck on the way, pressing you against the wall so he could turn the light on before continuing the journey.
You bounced on the bed as he set you down and crawled up your body. Heat radiated from every line of muscle, and you traced them all as you stroked his arms and down his back, pulling him close enough that it was hard to breathe. Hard to think.
Not that you were interested in thoughts- the sensations he could pull from your neck with his lips alone were mind-numbing, especially when he licked his way up your neck to whisper,
“Can I taste you, beautiful?”
You could only nod and watch as he kissed down your body, pushing down your bra to give his tongue access to your nipples, learning every movement that pulled a fresh cry from your lips and repeating it again on your other breast.
His fingers hooked around your panties and pulled them down. Shawn kept eye contact with you as he shoved them into his pocket, earning a groan from you. Were you into that? When it came to Shawn, yes.
From the first hot press of his tongue to your clit, one thing was obvious: he loved to eat. And he was good at it. Even the expel of air as he smirked against you had your hips grinding, pleading for more friction.
Then one of those damned fingers slid into you, curling, searching for the right spot, and your own hands flew to his slicked-back hair, ruffling it, pulling. Shawn groaned into you at the sensation, speeding up his ministrations.
“I- I need-” You gasped, not knowing how to finish your sentence when he was between your legs, your panties in his pocket, your red heels no doubt leaving marks on his back.
You came. The growl that left Shawn’s throat as he attacked your clit with his tongue was nothing short of brutal, and you loved it. Pled with him not to stop. Clawed at his hair, tightened your thighs around his head as he milked your orgasm for all it was worth.
When it was over and your clit was at its most sensitive, he blew cold air there, causing a whimper to leave your lips.
Shawn climbed back up your body to give you a searing kiss. His lips were salty, his tongue anything but gentle as it toyed with yours.
“Fuck me.” You wrapped your legs around him and ground your hips to his.
He smirked before wrapping his hands around your back and flipping the two of you over so you were straddling him before he retorted,
“Ride me.”
Your shaking hands made quick work of his belt, unzipping his black jeans and pulling down his boxers. When Shawn’s cock sprang free, you were almost nervous. He was bigger than the men you’d been with in the past, but when you wrapped your fingers around his cock and gave a few experimental pumps his eyes flew back in his head.
I can work with that.
His fingers toyed with the white lace of your stockings as you began to ride him. His cock was incredible, hitting a new place with every thrust. With one hand on your hip and the other on your breast, Shawn started fucking up into you in time with your bounces.
Every fluid movement of your hips was an experiment as you set a pace that was all for Shawn: when he groaned, you tightened around him. Every sensation was tense, building up to something incredible.
Words got caught in your throat, pushed to the side by loud moans that somehow said more than words ever could. Your hips sped in time with Shawn’s thrusts as you locked eyes.
The climax hit you both at once, Shawn calling out your name as he unloaded into you and you collapsed on top of him, feeling utterly satisfied for the first time in… well, ever. You’d thought you knew what it was like to be satisfied before, but this was something else. You couldn’t move for several long minutes.
Shawn’s hands stroked your back as you both came down from the high. He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “Hey, beautiful.”
“Hey.”
“How was that for you?”
“Earth-shattering. You?”
“Dazzling. I can see why you haven’t worn these to the office before-” He tapped your heels- “I’d never get any work done. Nobody would.”
You hummed against him, tiredness pulling at your eyes. You winced as you moved off of him, suddenly sore from the roughness of the night’s actions, just from the size of him.
Shawn shot you a shy smile as he buttoned his jeans once more. “Hey, did I see The Grinch under your coffee table?”
Heat rushed to your face. “Yeah. I usually watch it every year.”
“Could I join you?”
You shared a warm smile. “I’d like that.”
#austin butler x reader#austin butler fanfiction#austin butler fluff#austin butler fanfic#shawn austin butler#austin butler fic#austin butler snl#white elephant austin butler#shawn white elephant#austin butler christmas fanfic
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Steve slapping Billy’s ass like a Bongo drum, while they’re both in bed naked. Billy groans in annoyance. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Trying to get a good beat.”
Billy growls and kicks his foot, but luckily for Steve he ducks and goes back to playing Billy’s ass like a drum.
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Would you be willing to talk about your stardew adevntures? Do you use the wiki a lot or try out on your own? What is your favourite thing to do? Which characters do you like? Have you completed the community house? Do you decorate your farm and would you be willing to post pics of it? What are you working on right now? Are your pets named after something/someone? What made you start playing? Honestly anything and everything about your stardew experience, I just really like stardew and the different ways people play it.
slaps hands together now THIS is Quite the interview!! ok lets see
i use the wiki on and off when i get stuck, and for crafting stuff ie. dye recipes. i also allow myself to look up where to find certain materials for quests but Only when they're things ive already found without the help of the wiki. and i only read the info i need i dont look at the whole page. i want to experience new things organically and all that, but i dont want to spend a whole day in the wrong section of the mines when im looking for skeletons, yk ?
i like most of the characters! not a big fan of shane alex or pierre. i Love krobus emily and leah a lot and i adore most everyone else <3 oh and i dont like morris obviously. im dating like Everyone because i want to see as many cutscenes as possible lol. but i think im gonna marry emily eventually. she was my first love <3
cut because Long
i just finished the community house a few hours ago!! im really excited!! i dont know exactly what it entails but some new things are happening and they are cool :o
right now i am working on skull cavern and its sooo slow ughhhh . i can only get to like level 30 in a day. trying to farm rocks for more stairs but its taking forever. i am also saving up for the furniture and wallpaper catalogues and to upgrade my coop to deluxe so i can get bunnies <3 im so excited for the bunnies <333
my animals names are all really dumb lol. my sister thinks theyre hilarious though. my name is Bungus, my cat is Bingo, and my horse is Bongo. hold on lemme go look at the barn animals so i can list em.
ok the cows are Cowsington, Scrunklina, Bathilda, & Dave (after techno, kinda).
the goats are all named after cheese i have Feta Cheese, Parmesan, Mozzarella, and finally Cracker bc cheese and crackers.
my single sheep is Lovejoy (heehoo) and my single pig is TBH (after the autism creature ..)
the chickens are Obama, Goose, Wibbly III, and x_pogboy_x (after that one tommy video).
the ducks are The Queen and The King. for no real reason
and my two void chickens are Death and Ebony D Way (..hello my name is ebony darkness dementia raven way)
nothing in particular made me start playing I was just bored and my sister recommended it to me for the dozenth time so i was like sure ok ill try it. and now im here. help
umm some other stuf I thought the pigs were really ugly so im using a barnyard animal mod that makes all the barn animals really cute! i also have a mod that retextures the horse, and another one that adds a friendship mechanic to the horse. because when i got the horse i was really mad that i couldnt pet it. horses deserve pets. if you want the links to any of those i can hit you up! oh and one more mod that just adds some convenience stuff like daily luck and birthday icons, scarecrow/sprinkler ranges, calendar accessible from anywhere, etc
heres some pics!
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I wish I could art so this would be more interesting to people (I honestly still might try) but at some point I want to write fanfiction/an idea of another campaign setting in Calorum!
Remember how Emily mentioned pea protein? Well what about so called “meat substitutes”? Would they really be fully welcome in lands like Vegetania or Ceria? Would they be welcome in the Meat Lands? And where the heck do fungi live in this land?!
The meat-skters seeks to answer these questions in a setting during the Ravening war that proceeded ACOC! It also strives to break outside the typical assumptions that come with various classes in DND and related games!
When Zara, a little black bean in Carne, gets word that their bean village is in danger they decide to scrape together the little money they have and hire others from the city to help them protect their family. What they discover is that there are a lot of other so called “meat substitutes” that are tired of being treated poorly wherever they go! Together they fight for everyone whose a little bit different across all of Calorum, because everyone deserves a safe home even if they don’t fit neatly into a food group.
Our main characters are:
Edamame (or Eddy for short)
They are a tofu DEX based Paladin
-Eddy’s parents pretended to be meat, still won’t acknowledge they aren’t
-“bean pole” figure
-hyperactive gremlin
-Saw the flyer and just wanted to help
-motive is that Eddy is looking for a worthy cause (secretly because he was rejected from the army for being “a risk” with vegetanians)
Chè
She is a STR based bard and a large jackfruit
-she is buff as heck (jacked get it)
-very calm and collected, go with the flow
-tallest of the group
-Plays the bongos (and any other atypical bard instrument)
-goes where the wind takes her
-she ended up in Carne on her own and though she vibed with fructera she’s found a lot of joy in the meat lands and so it’s her home for now
Morel (or Morris)
He is a mushroom wizard
-mushrooms live literally everywhere underground
-the largest mushroom population in Calorum lives in Carne
- Morris has big himbo energy (for example he’s a work out buddy of Che) but he’s actually got a really high INT
-he has owly reading glasses that change his whole vibe
-“where are you from?” “Here” “but where are your ancestors from” “here”
-has always quote “vibed” with beans so talked his best buddy at the gym (Che) into helping out
Zaragoza (or Zara)
They are a black bean cleric for a religion unique to beans which worships the Sun itself in relation to the fields their ancestors came (not the bulb)
-Beans modernly live kind of everywhere (there are even chocolate covered coffee bean in candies which aren’t legumes but are still culturally related.) Beans use to live in the Land of the Legumes between grains and vegetables but they were forced into diaspora by the Cerians.
-Zara is tiny, like major smol
-they have huge bubbly extrovert energy
-they have a soft quiet voice but loves to talk
-the came to the city to be the best cleric possible and always planned to someday return to their family’s village
Kaoya ( duckie )
She is a sieten based Druid that is shaped like a roast duck
-Her family is treated as too glutenous for the meat land and too meat like in appearance for the Cerians
-Grew up on the border between Ceria and the Meat Lands
-she is the biggest nerd of the group
-she always wants to info dump about all the species around them
-talks the most with Zara who they met in the library
-Wants to see more of the world, there is so little they know
-out to help the bean village because they believe no one else will
-fights for beans and communities of misfits across the land
I also want to explore EGGS! I think they were maybe incorporated into the dairy island when they lived originally between meat and dairy. Perhaps their narrative could come into play? Also non-dairy milks!
#acoc#a crown of candy#d20#dimension 20#dropout#Calorum#idk what else to tag but I hope you like the idea#hope to start writing soon
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do you think i could train a duckling to waddle in place and eventually make it into a grown duck who has a vague idea as to how to play the bongos?
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I'm not Gay! a Christmas Tragicomedy
Content warning: Contains ableist and racist slurs, and LGBTQ slurs (those don't count to me anymore oops)
Chris Maggason was just a normal straight guy. 23 years old. Loved a brewski and a shmashter over the head, always broke cans on his forehead and called the scars tattoos. But his really big secret (except for the nights he cried and then blacked out, in that order) was that he had never had sex before. He barely even masturbated; he was a good Christian boy, but some of his fantasies were worse than dark.
It was Christmas, 2022 didn’t feel right even though the liberals got over their cough-phobia real quick. Fucking faggot libs always lay down and take it. Anyway…
Faggots in masks. I hate faggots. Every signal one. Every one, they them shit is gay and retarded. Rarded even. It’s so easy to make up new eppy-thets for these new faggots. I even beat a few up, they went down like balloons at a holocaust shaped meataphor store.
Anyway…
uhhh so…. uhhhh
Regardless, when Chris met his mom’s new family friend that night he was a little intimidated. Ogunde seemed to unfold like origami through the house; 7 and a half feet tall (more in African Measuring) he had to duck the family mantle and even brushed the mistletoe by mistake.
“Oops!” He said, a big smile plastered over his face. “Don’t worry, I brought a watahmelon,”
*author’s note, that’s actually how he said it! I’m not Chris, I’m not actually racist or fascist!*
Chris’s mom quickly explained that she met Ogi-san at the local YWCA. She/he had quite the story, born in Japan, then relocated to the U.S. to pursue his god given basketball vocation. Struggling with a few antiquated policing practices, but otherwise understanding the vibe. s/He’d been shot at as a kid, japanese kids can be a little mean to outsiders, always playing gang. After one of their heads mysteriously went through a glass backboard they never fucked with him again… besides, she was her at that point: Kawaii desu!
Chris hated to admit (inside his dense, rock-like mind) that he was more than a little scared of this guy. I mean you could see his sock in his gymshorts if you know what I’m (he’s) saying. I’m saying I’d fuck this dude but yaknow. gotta keep the alcohol flowing or I forget that I’m still funny. Sad face emoticon.
Anyway….
Uhhhh….
*****
By the end of the night Chris had been won over though! Even a N*E*G*R*O000let’sgobarndon69 with a good attitude can be let into the house, or some kind of autistic way of settling that horrible horrible sentence. Sponsored by Jim Crow Whiskey!
They drank whiskey, coke, loaded eggnog, even broke out the old century egg.
“Looks good to me!” Ogunde said, beaming. He even pantomimed eating it before mommy snatched it out of his big, big hands. A milky streak over his big, black, coffee colored, color theoried cup of black dark dark primitive coffee, 69 degrees hot (h4wt)
That night, Chris was tumbling into a pre-sleep paralysis nap when his eyes snapped open. There was the demon hovering over him; but it felt more real than ever before.
21savage gay
```1 aids adis adidas double bongo
Kiowa died for a reason. Norman Bowker died by his own hands. Enough said aabout the lost warriors
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Its mouth open, rotting ants piling out its black tongue.
“MY BOY,” The voice cried, howling. “I KNOW WHAT YOU CRAVE. I KNOW WHAT YOU NEED> IT IS LOVE THAT WILL SAVE YOU,”
Chris would’ve punched the thing in the face but his body was frozen with fear. He evacuated his bowels instantaneously, and lying in his own fear and worship of his christian protector he saw the demon’s eyes open for the first time.
“GUNDIE,” He barked, suddenly finding his voice again. He screamed a series of expletives that would russle the feathers of even the oldest most respected Black Christian Housewives (Candace Owens, easy flex_)ANYONYMOUS>
A hand over the mouth.
“SHHHHH…” Ogunde mouthed. Chris’s mouthless scream, hopeless at the man grabbing his cock. He even thought he liked it. He wanted to think he liked it. Each finger entering his tender anus, it would’ve felt good with lube. The monster was rooting around inside him, pulling blood and rearranging the cavities by bare strength alone. “My family, my land, my self. Was raped by your people. There is no god that can save you from me. I will take what is mine,”
A twist, and then Chris’s testicles were no longer functional. He watched them disappear down the throat of this 8 foot tall black demon. It was so strange and impossible to be loved by this creature, begging for sweet release. In missionary, begging christ or anyone to save him as he became rearranged perfectly by this storm of force.
Each piece inverted. Hell, the guy had little cuticle scissors. Better than any licensed surgeon. The boy’s new vagina was stitched back together.
Chris didn’t last long. Woke up in a hospital, his brain and body completely inverted. The family figured out he’d taken a stumble down the stairs, trying to hit the latest 4am bars as usual. He must’ve gotten into a fight with some sicko who castrated him. Emasculated completely.
He tried to live as a woman for a while. It didn’t work. It was not his choice to regret.
Only a shotgun provided the end that would save him. In heaven or hell, Chris didn’t die a virgin.
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#stolen from the blog of an antivax qanon nutjob who was making an ass of himself on a post of a duck playing a bongo with its feet#p
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Thinking about Scrooge having to take care of Donald as an infant and how it teaches him to be kinder, more openly vulnerable, and loving makes me s o f t
#also dumb stuff like scrooge getting distracted while changing donalds diaper because he started playing that baby butt like a bongo#ldu#loots duck universe#duckverse
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my favourite things
sam shepard’s ‘motel chronicles’, glenn gould playing j.s. bach, books, gaff-rigged bristol pilot cutters, nautical charts, the idea of lamu island and zanzibar, ilford 35mm black & white film, expressions of love in spanish, the meaning of saudade, miles davis, john coltrane, conga drums and bongoes, the backstreets of marrakesh, naples and havana, my 20-year-old leather backpack, my leather-bound pocket atlas (a gift from a woman who worked for me), my maori bone hei matau, british ordnance survey maps, african and latina women, dark skin, long legs and firm round asses,‘oil notes’ by rick bass, joseph conrad’s ‘heart of darkness’, ‘the fly trap’ by fredrik sjöberg, bill drummond doing what he calls ‘art’ and his writings about it, malcolm mclaren talking about almost anything, german-made fountain pens, noodler’s inks, 20th century french novelists, analog moog synthesisers, joan didion’s early essays (especially ‘the white album’), the rolling stones’ original versions of ‘gimme shelter’ and ’sympathy for the devil’, ali farka touré’s modal riffs, the western isles and northwest coast of scotland in spring, the b&w photographs robert frank took in the ’50s as he drove across america, richard misrach’s ‘desert cantos’, wim wender’s ‘paris, texas’ and ‘wings of desire’ (i like his diaristic photo book, ‘once’, too), jim jarmusch’s ‘only lovers left alive’, indian ocean sailing dhows, old boat compasses, my vintage flying boat sextant, the cheap but accurate swiss wind-up watch my mother gave me when i first went to sea, that first glimpse of the mojave desert driving east from l.a. on interstate 40, and of morocco’s atlas mountains, at dawn, sailing through the straits of gibraltar from the west, the mediterranean sea, van morrison’s voice, and aretha franklin’s and julie driscoll’s, the ideas of john cage and of jean-luc godard, cornelius cardew’s ‘scratch music’, gorodish and alba in delacorta’s series of novels, ‘haunts of the black masseur’ by charles sprawson, peter beard’s collaged diaries, steve dilworth’s visceral sculpture, the smooth stones i’ve collected from beaches on three oceans, garlic, wasabi, peking duck in pancakes, ice-cold champagne (bollinger, when I can afford it, or louis roederer cristal), baden powell’s guitar-playing, samba, salvador de bahia, standing at the edge of an empty sahara, sailing a felucca up the nile, the writings of william burroughs, barry gifford and charlie smith, the history of zero, the smell of bangkok by the river at dawn, summer nights in tokyo, long periods of silence, hugging my children, playing my solid mahogany tenor ukulele (a 61st birthday gift from my wife), my fender telecaster and gibson lucille guitars, shona sculpture, an etching i have by armodio (‘l’urlatrice’), the songs of tom waits, alan ginsberg’s photos of beat writers – burroughs and paul bowles, especially – in new york and tangier, jack kerouac’s writings (even though i’ve outgrown them), ‘the outsider’ by colin wilson, bowles’ ‘the sheltering sky’, playing blackjack at caesars’, las vegas, in the early hours of a week-day morning, café tacuba’s huevos con molé in mexico city, the garden derek jarman made at prospect cottage in dungeness, jarman’s diaries, da vinci’s notebooks, don mccullin’s photographs and mary ellen mark’s when she was younger (the ones in goa), dancing alone to 60s’ soul music, the scent of frangipani, the white noise of heavy monsoonal rain, my long, old-school powell skateboard with big urethane wheels, early silver surfer comic books, 70s’ ‘avant-garde’ music scores from peters and universal edition, my all-mechanical olympus 35 sp camera and my rolleiflex tlr, cecil taylor on piano, dave holland on bass, ginger baker on drums, the movie version of joseph conrad’s ‘lord jim’, cary grant in ‘father goose’, david lean’s ‘lawrence of arabia’, donald cammell’s ‘perfomance’, snowdonia in mid-wales, taos in new mexico (and the sangre de cristo mountains), sailing close by stromboli on a calm, moonlit night, the smooth skin and skinny bodies of young japanese women, everything about italian women, palm trees, passionfruit, seedless grapes, mandarins, uncooked cherry tomatoes, the oakland raiders (even when they’re losing), swimming alone in a warm pool, the bath tubs at the ritz-carlton in singapore in the 90s, afternoon tea (pg tips) with scones, thick cream and damson jam (preferably tiptree’s), albert ayler on sax, derek bailey’s free-form solos on guitar, ‘colour: a natural history of the palette’ by victoria finlay, tom mccarthy’s ‘satin island’, william gibson’s science fiction, sylvie guillem dancing, van cliburn playing brahms’ second piano concerto, keith richards’ and john lee hooker’s grungy guitar licks, j.j. cale’s muted finger picking, the long solo voyages of bernard moitessier under sail and the writings that came from them, the voyages of david lewis and of bill tilman (aboard ‘mischief’), old tahiti ketches designed by john hanna, thomas colvin’s modern steel sailing junks, target shooting with a high-calibre handgun (like a colt python .357 magnum), watching dark frontal clouds gather ahead of a storm, the grim stillness of tornado weather in northern oklahoma, big hotel rooms, late night room service, landing in los angeles from the west late at night, yakitori at a basement place i know in hiroshima, the gharana of the tabla, welsh male voice choirs, playing scrabble, the lives of sir richard francis burton and t.e. lawrence, thom gunn’s poems, also e.e cummings’ and mira gonzalez’s, gore vidal on american politics, sex and other writers, the stone hanko engraved for me using an old form of katakana in hiroshima, hand-tooled knives, walking through rome early in the morning, rooftop terraces in trastevere, out-of-the-way trattorie in monti, vitello parmigiano, tortellini, stracciatella, and sambuca, the amalfi coast, iain sinclair writing about his walks around london, living in los angeles (when i have money), driving north from santa monica on the pacific coast highway, big sur 30 years ago,’60s american muscle cars, joyce singing ‘agua de março’ or astrud gilberto, or the version marisa monte and david byrne did for ‘red, hot and rio’, ‘sitting’ by cat stevens. ‘dumb things’ by paul kelly, the emotions singing ‘best of my love’, the idea of the congo and the mekong and of rusty tramp steamers sailing to up-river jungle ports, berlin in autumn just before the leaves fall, all the works of anselm kiefer and cy twombly, francesco clemente’s exotic watercolours, ‘the pugilist’ sculpted in iron by robert brennan, marilyn manson’s ‘we’re killing strangers’, smokey robinson’s ’tracks of my tears’, the first whiff of salt air and coconut oil at an australian surf beach, longboarding on a glassy point break at wategos in byron bay, the mexican movie ‘y tu mama tambien’, almodovar’s ‘todo sobre mi madre’ and ‘matador’, cluttered but stylish old parisian apartments, any clapboard boatshed and jetty on a quiet bay or river bank, a stone cottage above a rocky north atlantic shore (in nova scotia, maybe, or shetland), solitude.
First published in Sick Lit magazine, USA, 2015.
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prompt -> everyone cowers in front of ringo's supreme power
There’s a reason why Ringo never played drum solos. If you thought it was because he simply didn’t like them, then I’m sorry, but you got fooled by a famous Beatles lie. No, Ringo didn’t play drum solos because he had stage fright, or he thought that they were too ostentatious - he refused to play them because he knew it would give him too much power. So much power, in fact, that he could cause the end of the world.
Sounds dramatic, I know, but don’t believe me? Back in the Hamburg days, after being heckled by a rambunctious crowd for over 2 hours straight to play something that could put Buddy Rich to shame, Ringo finally cracked. He ran 64th notes down his drum kit in such a rapid succession that he started to glow bright orange, as if he were on fire. Rory and the rest of the band didn’t know what to do with their glowing orb of a drummer, but they didn’t have much time to fret on it anyways because the walls of the Kaiserkeller started to rattle and crack, which made the German audience, still recovering from WW2, duck for cover with a collective yelp.
“Ringo!” Rory tried to yell over the ear-splitting noise that was coming from Ringo as his orange glow got progressively brighter. Ringo couldn’t hear him because he was in the zone. The Auto Zone. “Quit it!!”
Ringo moved from his 64th notes to smacking away at his cymbals like he was releasing the rage of a thousand years. The middle of the dance floor started to cave in, swallowing those who couldn’t move away fast enough. If you listened closely, you could hear a deep, Liverpudlian laugh coming from the pit. The only reason Ringo didn’t cause the end of the world on this occasion was because, as he was about to start balancing his twirling drumsticks on his nose, his allergies (the thing that humbles us all) got the better of him, causing him to let out a loud sneeze that rocketed him away from his set. With his senses knocked back into him, Ringo gaped at the chaos in front of him and turned to Rory, who was gaping back at him with a look on his face that could only mean Ringo was out of the band.
This is the history of The Beatles that you don’t know about. Ringo was a freelancer for a brief moment in Hamburg before John, Paul, and George found him. There had been a rumor circulating that there was something wrong with Ringo, but when the three lads saw him standing outside of a club one cold evening, lighting a cigarette in his own solitude, they just assumed that everyone else was being mean and hinting at how big his nose was.
And just like that, Pete was out and Ringo was in, because John, Paul, and George had heard that Ringo could really bring the house down. Ringo had tried to warn his new band members on multiple occasions that he suspected there was something wrong with him, but all of them insisted that he was fine and that his nose really wasn’t that big, so he had nothing to worry about. Ringo wasn’t so sure about that but, following the Incident, he had braved the drums once again and managed to keep a steady beat without causing Armageddon. Needless to say, that didn’t mean he was any less nervous about playing. Luckily, he insisted enough times that he would never do a drum solo, and John, Paul, and George listened, though they did think he was a little bit looney.
And things were alright like this for a while, through the ups and downs of their career, playing across the globe to thousands of screaming fans. Ringo never once let his guard down: there were no solos coming from him, no matter how many people wanted it.
That fateful night in Hamburg felt like another life, so much so that Ringo nearly forgot about the unusual power he contained. It wasn’t until he was pushed to the edge that he remembered he held the fate of the world in the palm of his hand, and there was nothing anyone could do about it.
The year was 1969, the holiest year of them all, and Ringo was about ready to thrust his head through some drywall, he was so fed up with his bandmates. The incessant bickering over which songs made the cut on the album and which didn’t were really starting to drive him up the wall. Maxwell’s Silver Hammer was just the icing on the cake.
“We need another take on that one,” Paul announced to the band with an air of authority that Ringo wished he could strangle. They had just finished playing through their forty-seventh take and, although Paul was acting like it wasn’t his fault, it was absolutely his fault that they had to play the damn song again. For someone who acted like he was the leader of the band, Paul sure was having trouble remembering his baloney lyrics.
Without a word, John let his guitar slip out of his hands so it clunked to the ground in an amplified drop, its buzzing filling the room. John left them like that, stomping to the door and letting himself out, back to sanity. George gazed longingly at the door like he wanted to follow behind John, but he knew too well that Paul wasn’t going to let that happen. Completely unbothered by John, Paul turned to face the engineers in the sound booth and motioned in a grand gesture for them to start a new tape.
George looked across at Ringo and Ringo stared blankly back at him. He was really trying to repress everything he was feeling.
“Take 48,” George Martin nervously announced into their headphones, like he knew he was stoking a fire.
“Ringo, I’m gonna need some more umph on that drum part,” Paul turned back to Ringo with a smug look stretched across his face. “If you can handle it.”
That was it. That was freaking it. That was the line. The line’s way back there. Paul crossed that line. He crossed that line so hard it’s not even funny.
Ringo stood from his kit but, unlike John, he didn’t book it for the door. Instead, he rushed around the room, gathering every single percussion instrument he could find.
“I’ll give you umph,” he growled at Paul. In return, Paul smiled back at him because that was exactly what he wanted. In between them, George grabbed at his head. His two mates were really making him question why they were his mates in the first place.
“Take 48!” Paul called up to George Martin, spinning his finger around to motion that they start the tape. Then, he turned back to Ringo, who was staring at him with so much intensity it was a miracle Paul wasn’t sent flying backwards.
“One, two, one two three...”
Paul started to play the opening chords on his dinky little piano but Ringo wasn’t having any of that, oh no. He pounded into his snare drum so hard one of the drumsticks broke through the skin. Instead of pulling it out, Ringo left it there and grabbed a tambourine, which he proceeded to bang against his hi-hat. Paul wasn’t sure what Ringo was doing, but they had experimented enough in the past that he let it slide. George, on the other hand, was silently whispering prayers to himself as he stared at Ringo's glowing figure in horror. Ringo knew exactly what he was doing; if he did a drum solo, he could wreck their studio enough that he wouldn’t have to listen to Maxwell’s frickin Silver Hammer again. The trouble was, Ringo didn’t know when the right time was to stop.
By the time he started using two maracas as drumsticks on a timpani, Ringo began to slowly levitate. George’s whispered prayers were becoming louder from his panic. Up in the booth, it looked like the two remaining Beatles were performing an exorcism on Ringo.
“What the-” George Martin muttered. The boys must have stumbled across some new kind of street drug that really messed you up.
“Maxwell Anderson, majoring in medicine,” Paul cheerfully sang from his piano, his back turned to Ringo. Ringo started to shake in place, now suspended 5 feet above the ground, clicking castanets angrily while glaring down at Paul. George gaped as Ringo's color switched to a fiery, Kool Aid Man-red. It was bad. Paul continued to unknowingly play, but his left hand took a break to wipe some sweat from his brow. Someone must have turned up the heat, he mused to himself.
But no, it was Ringo, on the brink of causing a thermonuclear explosion. George was initially concerned for Ringo’s safety but, after seeing actual waves of heat emitted from his beige suit, George decided that his pal wasn’t worth it. He’d had some great memories with Ringo, but he could remember those later in therapy. For the meantime, he was getting the hell out of dodge, to wherever John had escaped to.
The problem was, Ringo’s power was sucking George so dry that he hardly had any energy left in him to move. It was like the goddamn relativity cadenza all over again. The more Ringo banged out the drum solo of the millenium, the more powerful he became. No one could stop him, he was a god. Ringo, god of the bongos. The most feared of them all.
Something caused Paul to finally turn around (probably Mal missing his cue to play the anvil because he was too distracted by whatever the hell Ringo was up to) and, when he did, his jaw dropped.
“Wot the fuck Ringo?” he shouted. They hadn’t agreed that Ringo could become a celestial being during their recording session. At that moment, John barged back in through the door, ready to give his half-hearted apology to Paul. That was quickly thrown in the trash when John looked up at their drummer, who now resembled a ball of fire, like the sun or something. (Even though it seems appropriate, no, unfortunately George didn’t write Here Comes the Sun about this event - that song had already been recorded at this point). John, as terrified as he was, couldn’t help but let out a loud cackle at the spectacle that was playing out in front of him. He knew that their session for Maxwell’s Silver Hammer had been bad, but he didn’t realize it was this bad, so much so that their drummer was spontaneously combusting.
“Silence, mortal!” Ringo boomed down at John, not even missing a beat on his woodblock solo.
That got John to shut up pretty fast.
“No one dares laugh at the almighty and powerful Ringo!” Ringo continued, his words practically searing through everyone’s skulls. “I can end you with the crash of a cymbal, I can tear this planet apart, piece by piece with only the sheer power of my mind!”
“Good for you, Ringo,” Paul stammered out as he tried to hide behind his piano. Paul was smart to pick up on the fact that, out of all of them, Ringo probably had the biggest score to settle with him. He really sincerely hoped that his charm would be enough to keep Ringo from smiting him but, just to be extra safe, he threw one of his famous winks Ringo’s way. Ringo, in turn, glared at Paul and pulled out a triangle.
“With a single ding on this triangle,” Ringo bellowed out, so loudly that everyone in England could hear him, “our planet will cease to exist.” He floated closer to Paul and Paul in return tried to back up, though he quickly found himself pushed against the wall. “Is that enough umph for you, Paul?” Ringo sneered back at him. Paul tried to respond that Ringo really didn’t have to do that and, actually take 14 had come out pretty good, but he found all of his words trapped in his throat. Ringo’s power was too overwhelming. Ringo seemed satisfied that he had terrified Paul so much that he finally shut his yap and, to really gloat in his glory, his hand slowly crept towards the triangle.
The closer Ringo got to hitting that triangle, the bigger he got. The image was straight out of Alice in Wonderland - in a matter of seconds, Ringo had grown too big to fit in their studio. That didn’t matter much, as the heat coming off of him helped sear away the wooden ceiling so it came crashing around him.
He’s really getting a big head, John mused to himself, though he didn’t dare make his observation out loud, which was a good decision because he would have been a goner otherwise. At this point, Ringo’s feet stretched the entire length of the studio (or, what remained of it) and his head was well above the skyline of London, where everyone could see him and scream with horror before going, “Wait, is that Ringo Starr from the Beatles?”
Ringo was only inches away from the triangle now and London had never been hotter. The ocean was starting to dry up on the coast, fields were bursting in flames at random, and children started asking their parents why they didn’t have more fans in their houses. Alongside the heat, the ground started to quiver before shaking, rattling, and rolling. Cars rocked in the street, smashing into each other, and trees and buildings started to tilt sideways, like wannabe Leaning Towers of Pisa. People were starting to panic, because nothing this exciting had ever happened in England before.
“Ringo!” George tried to call up to his mate, though he knew it was no use, considering how high up Ringo was. “Please, stop it!” John and Paul heard George’s desperate pleas over the commotion and joined in, falling to their knees and clasping their hands together, begging with all the energy they had left.
“We’ll let you have more songs on our album!” John tried.
“I’ll bring you more flowers,” George tried.
“We’ll stop recording Maxwell’s Silver Hammer for once and for all!” Paul tried without really thinking.
Ringo was a millimeter away from making contact with the triangle. But then, he stopped. And, faster than you could say “Maxwell Anderson,” the shaking and heat stopped. Ringo had almost instantly shrunk himself back down to his normal size and was no longer glowing a searing red. He calmly set the triangle down on the stool next to his kit and turned around to look at Paul, John, and George.
“Good,” was all he had to say. And, with that, he turned on his heel and strutted out of the practically demolished studio, whistling a happy tune to himself. Left behind, Paul, John, and George all tried to compose themselves.
“A new rule for the band,” Paul started slowly, “let’s not mess with Ringo.”
“Agreed,” John was quick to respond.
“Agreed,” George repeated.
#beatles ask#beatles fanfiction#ringo starr#george harrison#paul mccartney#john lennon#idk why I made paul a jerk here#sorry paul fans#ringo is a metaphysical being
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Backstage Confessions
AN: I’m soooo excited I can finally write this once shot. It’s been one of the first I had planned. Also thank @folkloresos and @calumscalm for the first hoochie scene :)
Requested?: Yes, “2 and 10 with Calum PLEEEASE :) “ by my bby @myloverboyash
Warnings: Smut, but soft :)
Word Count:
"Are you sure he's over there?" Claudia heard KayKay ask Ashton. "Don't worry about it. I just needed to make sure. Thank you."
"We're good?" Claudia asked her.
"Yeah, he's already at the arena. They have to do sound check later, so he's preparing for that. I still can't believe you pulled this off. He's gonna freak." She squealed in excitement.
The Lyft driver looked at them through the mirror disapprovingly, but kept driving to Barclays Arena where the boys had their show that night.
Claudia herself couldn't believe it. The trip was last minute. She had seen how cheap flights to New York were, and next thing she knew her and Duke were waiting for a midnight flight. She called KayKay and told her everything. The woman hopped on board and even agreed to wait for her at the airport.
Minutes later they pulled up to the arena. Claudia and KayKay thanked the driver, and Claudia pulled Duke out of the doggie carrier and clipped on the leash.
"Wait, can I use the bathroom real quick? I look a mess." Claudia asked.
"Yeah, let's go." KayKay held onto Duke while Claudia changed out of her pajamas in the restroom.
She had worn her Docs with them and got side glances left and right. On top of that a bunch of viejitas would ask to see her baby, only to make a face when they saw Duke's sleeping face under the blanket covering him.
Claudia emerged from a stall in Calum's black Diesel sweater. She looked at herself in the mirror and fixed her jeans.
A loud knock on the door startled them.
"Hey KayKay, why's the door locked?" It was Calum.
The girls looked at each other, unsure what to do. Claudia covered Duke's mouth before he let out a bark.
"Oh um… I'm pooping? And it smells bad. Use a different bathroom." KayKay replied.
"Do you need anything for your stomach or something?" Calum asked through the door.
“No, I’m good. I’ll be out in a minute.”
“All right.”
They heard footsteps fade out in the hallway. Claudia cleaned her face with a makeup wipe and redid her braid. She bounced on the balls of her feet trying to figure out how she was going to approach Calum when she saw him. Should she sneak up on him and jump on his back? Walk up to him with Duke like she’s on the bachelor?
“Ready?” KayKay asked her.
“No,” Claudia drummed the sink and turned to her. “What if Cal doesn't want to see me?”
“Please, the second he sees you, he’ll drop everything and run to you.” KayKay patted Claudia’s shoulder and unlocked the door. She double checked before waving her over.
Claudia slipped on her duffle and put Duke on the floor. Her and KayKay walked a few feet when a pair of arms lifted her up in the air.
“Hi.” Calum said. He kissed her cheek a few times before setting her on the floor and picking up Duke.
"How did you find out?" She turned to KayKay. "Did Ash overhear? I swear he has the biggest mouth."
"No, when we were facetiming, you accidently shared your screen with me, and I saw you book a flight. Can't believe you lied to me and told me you were buying lingerie." Calum pouted.
"Chingada madre," she mumbled. "Sorry? about what I said about Ashton."
"Well, you're not wrong." KayKay laughed. "I'm gonna go before you two end up fucking."
Calum pinned Claudia against the wall the second KayKay turned. He hummed against her mouth taking in her soft lips. "We should get going to the hotel."
"You booked a hotel?"
"Yeah," he chuckled. "While you were picking your seat, I booked a room for us at the William Vale for the weekend."
"You don't waste any time." She laughed.
"No, now let's go." He pointed toward the parking lot.
"I wanted to say hi to everyone."
"You'll see them later. I want you all to myself right now."Calum took her bag and reached for her hand with his other hand.
Claudia was a bit hesitant. When she and KayKay arrived, there were a few fans waiting to see the guys. The thing she wanted was to start drama on stan Twitter, but she trusted Calum to make sure they weren't seen.
He looked around and held her close as they made their way to the parking lot. Because they were staying for the weekend in New York, Calum decided to rent a car. He put their stuff in the back. Duke took his designated seat in the middle seat and fell asleep in a matter of minutes.
"You're not wearing a bra." Calum stated when they got to the hotel. He had noticed her nipples perk up when he reached for her headrest as he was parking. He reached down and tugged one of her nipples.
"Stop," she said, smacking his hand away. Claudia cursed herself for not wearing a bra.
"It's not the first time your nipples get like that. Do you have a parallel parking kink?" He joked.
"There's no such thing." She crossed her arms.
She didn't want to admit how her body goes wild when his veins pop out whenever he grips something. Especially when she's riding him and his hands are on her ass. Don't even get her started on when he's jamming in nothing but grey sweatpants. The way he gets lost in the music and relaxes.
"Maybe it's my hands?" His hand deftly cradled her jaw. His thumb traced over her bottom lip. "Don't think I never notice how you squirm on your seat when I play the piano."
***
Claudia’s eyes never left Calum’s as she took him deeper in her mouth. He bit into his fist, keeping him from making any noise. His stomach began to contract, letting Claudia know that he was close. Slowly, she pulled him out of her mouth until only his tip rested on her tongue. She widened her eyes, making her look more innocent as she stroked him. She took him back in her mouth, bobbing her head, just as he began to come.
Claudia took in everything he gave her. When finished, she sat back on her knees and closed her eyes. She felt Calum’s hand on her cheek. His thumb slowly ran over her bottom lip.
“Show me.” he said softly.
Claudia looked up at him and smiled. She opened her mouth.
“That’s my pretty girl.” Calum said, satisfied with what he saw. He placed a chaste kiss on her cheek.
"So, what's it like to have your dick sucked in your tour bus?" Claudia asked. She got up from her knees and pulled down the skirt of her dress. She wore a silky dress with slits on the sides with a black long sleeve under, so she wouldn't be too cold.
Calum shook his head. "That mouth of yours is ungodly."
"Isn't that why you like it?" She asked. She smiled and straddled his lap.
She wrapped her arms around his neck while Calum wrapped his around her hips. His hands playfully tapped her ass like bongo drums, making her giggle. She grabbed his cheeks and sponged kisses all over his face.
"I like your face." She admitted.
"I like yours too. Makes me feel things." He gripped her hips and thrusted his new hard on onto her thigh.
Claudia let out a soft moan and met his thrusts. She brought his lips to her and kissed him.
His hands wandered to her ass. He roughly squeezed it.
She bit his shoulder, keeping her quiet from letting the whole arena know how good Calum was making her feel. She licked and nipped at his neck, finding his sweet spot.
"Fuck Claudia." he groaned quietly in her ear.
She smiled against his neck. She kissed up his neck and met his lips once more.
The tour bus door opened.
"Shit, sorry." Luke said. He covered his eyes and walked out of the bus. Claudia waited for the door to close before she turned to Calum. "Why can't Luke look me in the eye? Did I do something?" Claudia asked. She tried to talk to him after soundcheck, but he just pretended to take a call.
"Oh that," Calum laughed nervously. He scratched the back of his head. "He saw your tits."
"What? How? When we have our special calls, you reassure me that no one is with you."
"Not like that. I was paying for a coffee and that Polaroid I took of you before going to Paris fell from my wallet. He thought it was my mum and teased me until he saw it and realized it was you."
"This could have been avoided if you used the Polaroid as a bookmark like you said you were.”
“I was! I finished my book and stored your picture in my wallet.”
Claudia shook her head and went to his bunk to get her purse. She wanted to get a chicken sandwich before the show.
Calum got down from the bus and held out his hand for Claudia to reach when she went down the steps. Hand in hand they went to the greenroom.
Duke was playing with Moose when he heard Claudia squeal as Calum carried her. He left Moose with his duck toy and trotted over to Claudia.
"Hi, babas!" She said. She crouched down and petted him. Moose saw and wandered over for some belly rubs. Claudia's heart melted at how sweet they were. She looked up to Calum. Her brows furrowed when she saw his pout. "What?"
"He hasn't asked for belly rubs from me."
"Seriously?" She giggled.
"I'm his pops." His pout deepened.
"Ay, pobrecito." Claudia got up and wrapped her arms around Calum.
Duke saw and squished between them, so he could get cuddles from Calum.
She rolled her eyes and moved away from them. Claudia spotted Luke at the makeshift bar pouring some tequila into a cup. She smoothed out her dress and walked up to him.
"Hey!" She said.
Luke tensed up and set the tequila down. "Hey, Claudia." He looked around once more.
"So Cal told me about the Polaroid."
"I'm going to kill him." He mumbled to himself. "I'm sorry for seeing your, you know." He motioned his chest area.
"No worries, it happens. I just don't want you to feel awkward around me."
"Okay." He nodded. "At least now I know why it's called 'Wildflower'."
"What's called 'Wildflower?'"
***
Claudia napped on Calum's lap. It was the same position she would sleep in when she was little when it was well past midnight and the parties were barely getting lit. She hugged his stomach and snuggled closer to him.
Calum was trying to figure out how to wake her up. He had to do his pre-show ritual.
"Claudia," He said. He poked her side. "Wake up big head."
"I do not have a big head." She mumbled. She stretched and moved off his lap.
Calum watched her pop a piece of gum and put on her backstage pass. To this day, he still can't comprehend how lucky he is. Being with Claudia is the best thing that's happened to him. She means the world to him.
"Okay this is probably stupid, but can I give you a bendicion? It's like a blessing." Claudia asked him.
"Yeah, go for it."
"Okay," she laughed nervously. In Spanish, she mumbled her blessing. While doing a sigh of the cross on his forehead, mouth, and chest. "En el nombre del padre, del hijo y del espíritu santo. Amén."
"Amen." Calum repeated. They both giggled. Ashton signalled for him to wrap it up. "Ashton is ready to replace me if I don't hurry. I'll see you out there. Look for a guy in a 'Nine Inch Nails' shirt carrying a bass."
"I'll try. I'm not wearing my contacts, so I can't really see all that good."
It took Calum a while to think over what she said. By the time he realised, Claudia was out in the crowd with the other girls.
"She doesn't even need glasses." He shook his head.
They did their pre-show rituals and waited for the signal to go on stage. Calum got to his spot and easily found Claudia in the crowd.
It took the audience a bit to register that 'Babylon' was being played. They all chanted Calum's name, hyping him up as he sang. He has asked the guys if they could perform ‘Babylon’ since Claudia has never seen him perform the song.
At some point Luke was talking to the audience, and Calum's gaze landed on Claudia. He made a scribbling motion and then made a phone with his hand. He was asking for her number.
Luckily she had her backpack and pulled out her notebook. She grabbed a pen and quickly wrote something on a paper and ripped it out of her notebook. She folded the paper into an airplane and flew at him.
He caught it and gave her a 'what the fuck' look. He showed the paper to the crowd. She had written 'I have a boyfriend.'
The show continued. After their last song, Sierra pulled her over, and they went backstage.
"You were amazing! Holy shit!" Claudia squealed when she saw Calum. She jumped in his arms and wrapped her legs around his waist. She leaned in to kiss him, but he swerved her.
"I don't think your boyfriend would like this." He said as a matter of fact.
"Que se valla a la chingada. He knows I'd risk it all for Calum Hood."
"We’ll have about twenty minutes to risk it all."
He carried her to a bathroom and sat her on the sink and turned to lock the door. When he turned back to her, he got on his knees.
***
Claudia bit Calum's shoulder as he thrusted into her. He was working her third orgasm. He had made her cum twice with his mouth.
"Fuck, pretty girl." He groaned. He gripped her hips as he picked up his pace. He moaned in her ear as he felt her clench around him. "Just this one— Fuck, Claudia!"
He kept thrusting into her as he came, and she came soon after. She chanted his name and wrapped her legs tighter around him, wanting to feel all of him. She rested her head on his chest and closed her eyes.
"This feels nice. Your dick feels nice inside me." she said softly.
"I'm gonna pull out." He gently pushed her back against the sink. She let out a sigh as pulled out. He tossed her her panties. After he cleaned up the condom and pulled up his pants.
"These are all wet."
"Who's fault is that?"
"Yours, you know how I get when I see you play."
Calum towered over her. His hands splayed on either side of him. "Look at you," he said. He pushed back a few strands of hair behind her ear while his other hand teasingly played at her entrance. "Ready for me once again."
They leaned into each other. Claudia gripped the sink as Calum kissed her. She felt him harden against her.
"Fucking love you," she moaned out as he kissed her neck. Calum pulled away from her. "That's awkward. Um pretend you didn't hear that." She said. She pushed him away and struggled with the door.
"It's a push." Calum said behind her.
She mumbled a quick thanks and rushed out of the bathroom..
"Wait, Claudia!" He called after her. But Michael put his hand on his shoulder, stopping him out in the hallway.
"We gotta go."
Calum sighed and went to them to perform 'Who Do You Love.'
Once they finished, Calum rushed to find Claudia, but Crystal was the only one in the greenroom when he got there. He dropped his head and looked around the other rooms and hallways looking for her, but he didn't find her. Then it hit him. She's probably in the tour bus. She would have hid in the car, but he had the keys.
She was walking on the parking curb.
"Yes, of course there's two beds papi… Me? Share a bed with Cal? Ni que estuviéramos casados apa." Calum heard Claudia say onto her phone. "Yes… I'm gonna check in on her in a bit. Te quiero. Bye."
She hung up and nodded at Calum. He slowly approached her, not wanting to freak her out.
"Hey," he said.
"Hi," she said quietly. "Um about earlier. Can we pretend it didn't happen? Like, I don't know why I said that."
***
The hotel suite was silent. Calum was showering while Claudia laid in bed.
She wanted the bed to swallow her and dispose of her body in the middle of nowhere. She covered herself in a blanket and hoped that her thoughts didn't keep her awake. She heard the shower turn off. Minutes later she felt the mattress move as Calum laid down.
"Claudia?" Calum asked her quietly in case she was sleeping.
"Hm?" She answered.
"Did you regret saying that you love me?"
"Where I said it, yeah. I mean it was in a cramped bathroom after you fucked me senseless. But I meant it. And like I get it if you're not ready to say it back. You don't even have to say it. But um, yeah…"
"I love you too, Claudia. I was planning on telling you after the show when we came back to the hotel."
"I mean technically you did." She teased, earning an eye roll from him. She rolled on her side and faced him. She lazily draped her leg over his waist.
"I wanted to be the first to say it though. I've been wanting to say it since Coachella."
"You snooze, you lose." She giggled.
They stared at each other, basking in each other's presence. They silently listed what they loved about the other and how they loved being with one another. Their eyes met.
"I love you." They both said at the same time.
Calum pulled her closer to him. He leaned in for another kiss. The kiss was slow. They had all the time for each other. He rolled them over so he was on top of her. They kissed once more. Claudia held onto his shoulders as they continued to kiss. She felt him slowly grind against her. She opened up her legs so she could feel him better.
Calum sponged kisses all over her face. "I love you," he whispered and gently nipped under her ear.
Claudia brought one of his hands down to her flannel, hoping he'd get a hint. Swiftly he got her only her sleep shorts. They both sat up.
Claudia helped him take off his t-shirt, leaving him in his sweats. She pushed him down on the bed and pecked his lips.
"I love you, Calum." She said on his lips.
She climbed over his lap and traced her fingers against his new tattoos. A few weeks ago, when he flew to L.A. to work out their argument, he had them covered because they were still healing. Now she can finally see them.
"You know, my very Catholic tías and grandma may be against tattoos, but they are really gonna like this part." She said pointing at the 'choose life' tattoo below the ones on his collar bones.
"You're bringing up your family… right now?" He gestured to his hard on and the wet patch on her shorts.
"It slipped out. I'm sorry." She closed her lips, stifling her laugh. Calum shook his head and brought her lips down to him.
Claudia slowly stroked Calum before lining herself.
"Condom," Calum mumbled against her lips. He pointed at his wallet.
"I'm on the pill."
"Seriously?"
She nodded.
"If you get pregnant, you better take all the blame. I don't want your dad to kill me."
"Trust me, the last thing my parents want is another grandchild." she said. "Wait, why are we talking about them?"
"Gets me going." He smirked.
"Ew." Claudia cringed. She climbed off him. She began picking up her clothes.
"What are you doing?" He asked her as she got dressed.
"You ruined the mood."
"You can't leave me like this." He gestured at his erection.
***
"I love you, Claudia." Calum said for the millionth time the next morning. He never grows tired of telling her how much he loves her. Especially when they were making love.
Their movements were slow but filled with passion and love. Claudia's nails dug into Calum's back as the intensity of each stroke increased. Her pleas and moans were stuck in her throat.
Calum pulled one of her legs over his shoulder. He balanced himself on the bed and continued to take her at a slow pace. Claudia's breath hitched how good Calum fucked into her.
"Cal, I'm gonna— Fuck! Right there." She moaned.
He nodded and sped up. In a matter of minutes they both came.
When their orgasms passed, Calum rolled them over so Claudia was on top. They lazily smiled at each other.
"I love you." They said at the same time.
Claudia rested her chin on her arms as she looked at Calum. She felt so content and serene. She thought back to Paco. In the time they were together, she never said the three magic words to him. He might have, but it was as an attempt to lure her into sex. Calum was selfless and patient. He never pushed her into doing something she wasn't comfortable with. She felt safe with him and could trust him with her whole being. Everything with him made sense.
She loved him, simple as that.
"What are you thinking about?" Calum asked.
"Just that you're the best even if you're weirdly attracted to my parents."
"Well they did make you, so it makes sense."
"You make no sense."
"But you love me, so…"
"Pos ya que."
Taglist: @calumscalm @karajaynetoday @cherryxwildflower @myloverboyash @idontneedanyone @findingliam-o @5-secondsofcolor @spicycal @sexgodashton @sunshinebabycal @another-lonely-heart
#calum hood imagine#calum hood imagines#calum hood smut#calum hood fanfic#calum hood fanfiction#calum hood one shot#calum hood series#El Novio series#el novio
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You ever see the video of the duck who can play the bongos?
NO
I need it! 🥺
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Bittersweet Memories
So, Happy Thanksgiving and I’m really sorry for Alex angst/ooc. There’s a little bit more adult-ish content in it, and by that, I mean we have boys kissing, mentions of teenage drinking, a few colorful words I may have forgotten to edit out, and mentions of some pretty serious homophobia topics. Also, I’m straight, so I’ve never had to come out or anything, and this is my first time writing openly gay characters. Hopefully, I did okay, and I don’t offend anyone! Any way, it’s a long one, so sorry!
Bittersweet Memories
Alex twisted his drumsticks between his fingers. Julie and her family weren’t home. She told the boys she was going to go volunteer with her dad and brother, but honestly? Alex’s anxiety post Orpheum had been at an all time high. Between secret meetings with Willie, trying to avoid Caleb and save Willie’s soul, band practice and their growing fan base, and the fact that the holidays were coming up? Alex felt like one of the strings of Luke’s guitar, right before it snapped.
He knew Thanksgiving had always been Reggie’s favorite holiday. It was the one day his parents didn’t scream all day, because there was just enough distraction and alcohol to keep them from going after each other. He and his brother would play flag football and watch the parade with their cousins. The delight was practically oozing off him as he and Luke were curled in front of Julie’s laptop, rambling on about the musical acts performing. Ironically, it was a show about hell, or something?
“Dude if musicals had been like this? Yo, I would never have given you a hard time about them.” Luke said to Alex, looking up from his spot on the ground.
Luke’s relationship with Thanksgiving was a little more complicated than Reggie’s. It wasn’t his favorite, but he didn’t hate it. Plus, now that they were dead, Luke had never been closer to his family. Even though they had no idea Julie was actually helping him leave little clues around for them to know he was there with them.
“Are you gonna go see your parents today?” He asked Luke.
“Already done. Julie helped me leave a little message for my mom.” Luke grinned.
Alex rolled his eyes. “Please tell me it has nothing to do with cranberry jelly.”
Emily Patterson made the best homemade cranberry sauce Alex had ever eaten. The Thanksgiving he’d spent at the Patterson’s was one of the best meals Alex had ever eaten. But Luke, for some reason, didn’t like the cranberry sauce his mom made. It was one of those fancy ones, with real cranberries and orange in it. To Alex, it smelled and tasted exactly like he always dreamed the holidays would. Sweet, with a hint of spices. But no.Luke wanted processed cranberry jelly. Alex remembered seeing the two of them arguing about it the last Thanksgiving they’d been alive. Luke had run away a few weeks later, and they’d died in July.
“Julie got me a can of cranberry jelly to leave on the counter. Mom’ll know.”
Alex hated canned cranberry jelly. All he could think about was the way it had clung to his button down shirt the last Thanksgiving he spent with his parents. He remembered the sounds of the plates crashing, the way the glass pie plate had shattered as it hit the wall and smashed next to his face, and the way his father’s voice spit out the words as he- No, Alex didn’t want to think about it.
Alex hated Thanksgiving, actually.
It was two Thanksgivings ago- or two Thanksgivings before he died, instead. His dad’s coworker had come over with his family. Alex didn’t mind. Mr. Marsters’s son was a little older than him. And he was cool. Seth Marsters was a baseball player at the fancy private school in town. He was class president. He was handsome. He liked good music. And he was honestly really nice. Alex never minded spending time with him, and their parents were good enough friends that it happened pretty frequently. The two had ended up in Alex’s room while their dads talked work and their moms finished the dinner and drank wine. Sometimes they’d play Super Mario Kart on Alex’s Nintendo and the TV he had in his room. Other times, the boys just sat around and talked and listened to music.
“Okay.” Seth had said as he opened the tape deck Alex had in his room. “Don’t laugh, but I made you mix tape with some of the other songs I thought you’d like. I would have burnt you a CD, but Dad wouldn’t let me use the computer, because he was too busy with work.”
Alex grinned and flopped himself across his blue bedspread as he watched Seth fiddle with the tape deck. Alex didn’t have a lot of friends. His anxiety made it hard to make friends at school. So, the guys in band were his best friends- and so far, the only people who knew he was gay. Luke had actually been the first guy Alex ever kissed- after they’d snuck a bottle of something that had made Alex’s eyes water and throat burn out of Mr. Patterson’s liquor cabinet. Reggie would turn up at the backdoor in the middle of the night sometimes, with cuts or bruises Alex never questioned but would clean up nonetheless. And Bobby would show up at lunch with extra food packed for the guys, and his mom always made sure Alex had something without nuts in it. It was that kind of stuff that made Alex feel normal. And not like a freak. Even though he knew he was different from everyone else. But besides the guys, he didn’t feel comfortable with almost anyone else. Except Seth.
“Okay, but I can’t promise not to laugh until I hear what songs you picked.”
Seth grinned back and hit play as he plopped himself next to Alex, resting on his elbows, face to face with Alex. It took everything Alex had not to blush as Seth went on and on about why Nirvana was a better band than Poison. Nodding dumbly, he didn’t even register what was playing- until he heard a familiar voice whose CD was hidden behind his copy of The Hobbit on his bookshelf.
“I’m sorry, is this Whitney Houston?” Alex sat straight up. Seth was the one blushing now, as he fumbled to skip the song.
“Yeah, it’s dumb, I just-“
Alex reached out to stop him. “Dude, I love Whitney Houston. She’s got a killer voice.”
Seth turned a shade redder than before. Alex had never seen him flustered at all before. Seth was normally the one all put together, and Alex was the anxious mess. It was honestly pretty endearing, and Alex felt the butterflies in his stomach. “I heard this on the radio and I kind of thought of you instantly.” Seth said quietly. “It just.. well. It makes me think of you every time I hear it, I guess.”
Alex just kind of blinked for a moment, processing what that could mean, as Seth watched him carefully. But Before Alex could really say anything, Seth leaned in and pressed his lips against Alex’s.
Oh.
OH.
Alex closed his eyes as Seth wrapped his hand around the back of Alex’s head and pulled him in closer. His lips were soft and Alex thought he could taste a hint of Chapstick, and root beer. It was a million times better than the clunky teeth and lips kiss he and Luke had shared. This was like a movie kiss, in Alex’s opinion. The butterflies in his stomach, the way his heart was pounding- suddenly he felt like he really got why the guys in the band were so obsessed with girls Being able to have moments like this, feel like this, without anyone judging you? Without anyone thinking you’re spreading a deadly disease? It felt almost as good as playing music.
“And I will always love you-“ Whitney’s long hold of the note drowned out the sound of Alex’s mother’s heels clicking down the hall, but not the screech she let out after pushing his door open and seeing the two boys’ moment.
Alex wouldn’t forget that sound. Or the sound of the front door slamming as his Dad sent Seth and his parents away without even eating.
“Dad, it’s not his fault.” Alex said as his father stormed back into the dining room where Alex stood next to his mother. As his dad started to yell again, Alex cut him off. “Dad! It’s not his fault. I-I kissed him back.”
His father froze, eyes wide, face purple. Veins were bulging on his neck. Alex hadn’t meant to say that.
“I’m gay, Dad.”
He sure as hell hadn’t planned on saying that. He took a deep breath and continued. “Look, I know it’s upsetting, but I’ve known for a while and I didn’t know how to tell you guys. I didn’t want to disappoint you, and-“
That was when the glass pie plate with his mom’s famous cherry pie hit the wall next to his face. Alex ducked to avoid the plate of cranberry jelly that followed it. His father only stopped hurtling dishes at Alex because his mom stepped in between them and told him to leave the house. He ran out, shirt covered in cranberry goop splatter and cherry pie filling. He must have looked like he’d murdered someone when he’d shown up at Bobby’s house. Bobby’s mom brought him clean clothes and let him spend the night. After that Thanksgiving, Alex noticed Luke’s parents looking at him strangely after church. Reggie’s parents didn’t let him come over anymore, not that he did much anyway. And Seth got accepted to a “boarding school” that Alex had heard whispers about. He never saw him again.
~
“Alex?” Julie stopped just inside her bedroom, by the door. Alex jumped up from where he was sitting by the window. Somehow, during his trip down memory lane, he’d wandered into her room, absent mindedly tapping on the bongo she had by her window.
“Ah- Sorry. Boundaries. I know.” He mumbled, putting the bongo back on her windowsill.
Julie shook her head and sat on the edge of her bed, opposite the chair Alex had found himself in.
“It’s okay. Carlos told me he heard drumming coming from in here and went to distract dad. When I didn’t see you in the studio, I just figured you went to spend Thanksgiving with Willie or checking in on your family or something.” She looked at him intensely and he shifted uncomfortably. “Are you okay?” She asked quietly and reached her hand out to rest on top of his. It slipped right through him, and he pulled away, embarrassed. Here she was, trying to be a good friend, and he was lying to her and being an anxious wreck again. He started to protest, tell her he was fine, when someone knocked on her door. Ray stuck his head in.
“Hey, niña.” He smiled at Julie. “Pizza should be ready in about ten minutes.” Julie nodded. “You did some good work today. Thanks for coming to help out.” She smiled back at her dad.
“You know it’s always been my favorite part of Thanksgiving.” She told him. Alex noticed Reggie and Luke peeking out from behind Ray. “I’ll be down in a minute.” The guys slipped through the door as Ray closed it, both standing awkwardly.
“We’re sorry, dude.” Luke started. “We kinda both forgot that Thanksgiving isn’t a great day for you.”
“I got really excited because it’s always been a good day for me. I didn’t mean to brush off your feelings.” Reggie shifted his weight from side to side. “I just really love the parade and I heard there were puppies after it now and puppies are way better than football and-“
Julie cut Reggie off. “You don’t like Thanksgiving?”
“You work on Thanksgiving?” Alex countered. He knew he was being a little short, but there was no way he could handle Julie looking at him the way other people did when they found out he was gay.
“We volunteer at Marsters House every year. We serve dinner and hang out.” She said. “And you’re avoiding the question.” Alex stiffened in his seat when Julie mentioned the word “Marsters”. Luke and Reggie went pale. Julie noticed all of it. “Please don’t tell me the Marsters’s stole music or something from you guys too.” She groaned. “It’s bad enough knowing Carrie’s dad isn’t who I thought he was, if Seth and Cory are liars too, I couldn’t handle it.”
Alex was pretty sure he was going to throw up. Could ghosts even throw up? He tried to take a few deep breaths. “Julie.” He whispered. “I need you to tell me where this place is.”
She jumped up. “No. No way. Last time you guys were upset and I told you where something was, you got sucked in by Caleb and I almost lost you to those stamps. No way!”
“We’re going and you can’t stop us!” Alex raised his voice at Julie. “Wait, what are you doing?”
Julie was grabbing her sweater. “I’m not letting you go alone. I’ll take you there. But you guys aren’t going alone!” Alex looked over at his bandmates.
“Okay.” He said.
“Dad?! I just realized I left my phone at Marsters’ House, I’m gonna go grab it!”
~
It sounded like the aftermath of Thanksgiving dinner from just outside the building. There was yelling at football games and possibly video games. There were lots of people inside- most of them around his age. But the man who opened the door was decidedly not his age. But it was absolutely Seth.
“I’m so sorry to bother you, but I think I may have left my phone in the kitchen?” Julie lied without a blip in her demeanor. Alex was both impressed and terrified. Looking over at Luke, Alex would be willing to guess Luke felt the same way. As they went inside, Alex knew he wouldn’t be going to the kitchen. Instead, he turned down the hall, and followed adult Seth into an office. On Seth’s desk was a photo of him with another handsome man- blond. Seth had a type.
“Alexa?” Seth said, as he settled himself down at his desk. “Play Alex’s Mixtape.” Suddenly, Whitney Houston came from the speakers. Alex couldn’t breathe. Someone grabbed his hand. Julie. She squeezed it tight.
“Thanks Seth! Happy Thanksgiving!” She yelled over her shoulder as she pulled Alex away. Reggie and Luke were waiting outside. He brushed past them for a few yards, pulling his hand free of Julie’s grasp, before having to stop. He crouched on the ground, arms wrapped around his knees, rocking back and forth as sobs ripped from his throat. He felt the rest of the band catch up, wrap their arms around him. He turned his head and sobbed into Luke’s flannel. Reggie rubbed circles on his back. After a few moments, as the sobs subsided, he realized Julie was murmuring something to him.
“Alex, it’s okay. You’re okay. We love you, and you’re okay.”
He inhaled and wiped his face and looked right at Julie.
“I’m gay.” She blinked a few times. Gave her head a little shake Looked at Reggie and Luke, who were holding their breath next to him.
“I- Was-was I not supposed to know that?” She asked.
All three boy’s jaws dropped.
“You knew?” Alex asked. “How long have you known?”
Julie shrugged. “Since like, day one? Anyway, you talk so much about Willie too, so I just assumed that-” She stopped suddenly. “Seth. You’re Seth’s Alex. Oh my god.” She stood up and took a few steps back, then started pacing. “There’s no way. None. I don’t understand.” She looked at the guys. “Seth has seen the video my dad made for Edge of Great. How did he just not notice?”
“I noticed.” A voice came from behind her. Julie whipped around. “Your dad called. Wanted to make sure we found your phone. I told him you had left already, but I figured I’d check to see how far you’d gotten. Didn’t expect you to have company.” Seth stuffed his hands into the pockets of his trousers.
“Can you see them?” Julie asked.
Seth shook his head. “No. But I mean, you’re talking to air. And it sure sounds like you’re trying to talk Alex out of an anxiety attack. Lord knows I’d done that a few times.” He got quiet for a minute. Alex stood, and walked slowly until he was face to face with Seth. He had more wrinkles around his eyes than Alex remembered, but of course. He was twenty-five years older. “Is he here?”
“Tell him I tried to take the blame.” Alex turned towards to Julie. “Please.”
She nodded. “He says he tried to take the blame. He didn’t want his parents to blame it on you.”
“I mean, I did kiss him first. Anyway, they were going to send me for conversion therapy no matter what.” Julie winced. Alex looked back and forth between Julie and Seth.
“What’s that? They sent him to a school. That’s what they told me”
“No, Alex.” Julie said quietly. “It wasn’t a school.”
Seth sighed. “Of course, that’s what they told him.” He looked at Julie and the empty space around her. “Um, where…”
“Oh! Um, A little towards your left, just kind half turn, and he’s right in front of you.”
Seth shifted and looked at Alex. “It wasn’t a school. It was a group of people who thought that, through a bunch of therapy and medical procedures, they could make me not gay anymore. Clearly, it was not successful, as I am still a flaming homosexual.” Julie giggled at that, and Alex couldn’t help but smile as he saw Seth’s face break into the familiar grin he once knew. His heart ached a little as it faded away. “I was worried they’d sent you to one too. And when I heard you had passed away from a bad hot dog, I worried- well, I was scared that it was a cover-up. That you’d… Anyway.” He trailed off. “I have no idea how you’re here. Or why. But I’m happy. I love Colby. He reminds me of you sometimes. You’d have been great friends. We met at a Whitney Houston Concert in DC when I was in college. He spilled his beer on me during I’ll Always Love You. I said you were sending me a sign.”
Alex blinked back tears. “It was the best kiss of my life.”
Julie smiled. “He said it was the best kiss of his life.” Luke pouted and crossed his arms as Julie’s eyes got wide.
“It is a long story.” Alex laughed, as he wiped away some tears.
“Want a ride home?” Seth asked Julie. “Something tells me you’ve got a lot going on.” Julie nodded.
~
Later that night, there was a knock at the studio door. Alex did not expect to see Julie, in her pajamas and with a blanket and pillow outside the studio.
“Hey! Are you okay?”
Julie nodded. “We’re watching a movie.” She held up a copy of The Bodyguard on DVD. “I knew my mom had a copy somewhere.”
As they snuggled on the couch, Julie’s back against Luke’s chest, her legs draped over Alex’s lap, Reggie sitting on the ground in front of them, holding Julie’s hand and leaning against Alex’s legs, he realized something.
Maybe Thanksgiving wasn’t so bad after all.
#julie and the phantoms#jatp fanfic#Alex#alex jatp#I am the cruise ship of willex#even though I gave him an OC in this#i love my dead gay son#I love my emotional support ghost band#fanfiction#Julie and the Phantoms Fanfiction#Thanksgiving
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Simpsons Review: Simpsons Comics #102 “Uncle Burn$” or Homercore Nudity!
Whelp out of all the commissions Kev has thrown me this one’s kind of a curveball. I mean it makes sense why cover it: It’s a pastiche of Donald Duck Comics done in the pages of the Simpsons long running comics. I cover duck stuff on here, and not only do I love the Simpsons but I tend to reference it for jokes a LOT. I just genuinely never thought of reviewing it till now, likely because earlier on in my new career of reviewing animated shows, I wasn’t really convinced I could do pure comedies. With my regular reviews of Darkwing Duck and as it comes out coverage of the Loud House (I still need to get around to Band Together), that’s no longer a real issue and I should consider doing the show in the future, especially since I have an unabashed love for the first 10 seasons and a few episodes beyond that.
As you can tell, I love the Simpsons. While I do genuinely wish it would end and have no real intrest in the current seasons, though if you’d like me to take a look i’d be willing to. The show in it’s prime was funny, witty and each episode was crammed with jokes. And refreshingly for an adult cartoon show of it’s time, the show genuinely wasn’t afraid to mix things up: Milhouse’s parents divorced and stayed that way for so long that them apparently getting back together decades later is itself a huge status quo shake up. Lisa went Vegetarian which stuck thanks to sir paul mcartney, and then went Buddhist, both of which have never wavered since and both fit her well. Skinner and Krabbable started dating. Barney went sober for a few seasons. Apu got married. These are minor changes but the show does have things happen occasionally and doesn’t just snap everything back and it adds genuine tension to plots knowing they might stay the status quo They usually don’t but the occasional change gives things stakes. I could go on for days, but I couldn’t go on for 8 weeks, point is the Simpsons are awesome, and deserve the praise they get early on I just wish they’d stop as by this point people really have stopped carring and it’s time to pass the torch and Let Bob’s burgers be the wholesome family comedy that runs forever.. and even then that one should stop at 10 seasons. Or if not at least let the kids age dammit.
But that aside, while many of you simpsons fans looking at this probably have at least seen the comics, or a collection of them over the decades, many of you like me are wondering what the hell Bongo Comics is and how they managed to last so long. Bongo was founded by Simpsons Creator Matt Groening in 1993. Matt Groening had noticed that at the time there just weren’t any funny books on the shelves, funny books being comedy based comics primarily targeted for kids, with Archie and Disney being really the only ones left at the time. So he founded Bongo to rectify that, and given Fox naturally liked the sound of more merchandising dollars, the publisher was primarily used to produce simpsons comics, though looking at wikipedia there were one or two that weren’t including, of all things, a Coldplay comic tying into their album. Why did Coldplay publish a comic book at a primarily simpsons comic book company?
Though most series seem to be either short lived or one shots, there were a few exceptions: Naturally the company put out an annual Treehouse of Horror issue, there was a Bart Simpson ongoing focusing on him and the other kids of Springfield, I had a trade for that one once, and once Futurama premiered it too got a comic book that held through both cancelations. But standing above them all was Simpsons Comics, a 245 issue long runner that ran all the way up to the company’s closing, likely due to a combination of a lack of profits and the then upcoming Disney-Fox merger depriving them of the very heart and soul of the company.
Naturally being a Simpsons fan I have a connection to these comics having gotten the trades out of the library multiple times as well as the collection of Bartman’s solo series, which was my favorite and I might cover some day. In addition to the Free Comic Book Day issues i also picked up scattered issues over my life since, much like Archie, Simpsons comics were a mainstay of bookstores and super markets and the decline of both comic markets is likely why the Simpsons comics started to peter out in the first place. The quality and memorability of the stories varied but they were a fun thing to have around and it’s sad to see them go, as well as see Disney not even make a remote attempt to bring them back or at the very least republish the vast library they now have access to. Also finally if your wondering yes, there indeed was a Simpsons/Futurama crossover. And no I have not read it.
So with that history, most of which I just learned some of which I already knew, in mind, it is very fitting the comic’s did a tribute to the Uncle Scrooge comics. Though it does feel very weird that I have yet to cover any Donald Duck or Scrooge comics.. yet i’ve already covered one of the Ducktales tie in comics and a Simpsons homage to it. I’m going to have to correct that but until then, join me under the cut as I dive into adventure with the Simpsons.
This issue was written by Ian Boothby and drawn by John Delaney, I feel mentiong the writers and artists should be important in comic reviews and I kick myself for not having done that or gone into them as much before. Boothby was apparently the Ian Flynn of these comics, writing more simpsons comics than any other writer according to wikipedia and winning an Eisner for his work on the comic if sadly not this issue. He was nominated for an outstanding Canadian Writer award for it though so that’s good. Point is the guy is a decorated vetran of this series and it shows in how good this issue is and I felt he deserved some recognition as most Comic Book Readers, myself included up till now, likely weren’t aware he even existed nor took over the comic in the 2000′s.
We open with Burns getting attacked by a mummy! Gotta say wasn’t expecting this as where we started out but the simpsons have started with wonkier premises to end up somewhere. I mean there was the time a bag boy strike ended up with them in Africa. Also i’d say Burns should call the police, being the kind of privileged white guy they actually care about protecting and all, but frankly the Springfield Cops don’t have the best track records with Mummies:
But no it’s just Smithers, who dove in heroically to save the company 15 dollars after Homer took a bet to see how many fire crackers he could jam in his computer’s disk drive. Lenny said 20 but he proved him wrong. And yes those are all actual jokes from the comic, this issue is very funny and feels very much like a Golden Age Simpsons episode. They also all gather to sign Smither’s cast.. which naturally is a legally binding contract.
Burns takes his loyal minion to get some quality medical care only to find an arcade because he traded the Medical Bay in for one during an outbreak of Pac Man Fever... again I really can’t top that and there may be a good reason why I haven’t covered the Simpsons till now. But yeah as Buns gives Smithers a roll of Pennies, he wonders who to have replace Smither’s on their annual summer treasure hunt.. which would come out of nowhere but we genuinely don’t know what they do most summers. I assumed Burns just road Smithers like a horse to play cricket while Smithers enjoyed it way too much. But a stray comment from Homer getting a Krusty Doll from a crane machine about being king of the treasure hunters leads to this.
I mean it’s an easy joke but damn if it didn’t get a laugh out of me. So later at the old Simpsons place, because this comic is fantastic, Marge and Homer talk things over, but Homer insists Burns said he’d split the treasure, and Lisa wishes she could come along. And Marge says he should, especially for his own saftey.. and when Bart complains, says all the kids should go, she already packed their bags, she’s heading to Rancho Relaxo byyyyeeeeeee. Once again, this comic is amazing, and I would say this is out of character for Marge, but frankly that’s the whole point. Plus it really isn’t when she has to deal with 4 children on a regular basis, and her sisters, and a town gone mad.. yeah can’t blame her here.
The next day at Burns Office, Homer is wearing his navy outfit.. or rather Donald’s Navy outfit. But given I did a quick google and found him having at least 4 different outfits during his time in the Naval Reserves, it’s not a stretch to assume the Simpsons Version of the Navy gave these out too. Seriously Ian Boothby has put more thought into continuity than most writers on the show proper. Also Simpsons Tide, season 9 episode, still very memorable and hilarious and not due to childhood nostalgia. Just looking up this bit had me laughing hard.
youtube
I now want to watch that episode sometime soon so thanks Kev. Anyway Homer seems to have misplaced his plants. Now I could spare you the image since I don’t do things panel by panel anymore and only use panels from a comic when relevant. Buttttt
This traumatizing of my audience brings me to a point about this issue and why it works. While there are tons of nods to the Donald Duck comics and what their homaging is very clear, the issue doesn’t REQUIRE you know them to enjoy it.
Knowing them I obviously enjoy it more, but most of the jokes aren’t reliant on you knowing anything about the barks comics and even someone with a passing knowledge of the Original Ducktales can still get the reference if not why Donald is here. It helps this is less of a parody, with the exception of some jokes, and more of an homage, using stylistic elements of those comics while telling i’ts own story as a loving tribute to it’s predecessors. Speaking of one of those jokes poking fun at the source material, Burns is delighted Homer brought child labor, which kept me laughing for a good minute, and when the kids introduce themselves we get this bit.
Not only am I 100% sure every version of Donald or Della did this to make sure they could tell them apart, very much including the reboot with Donald, but it’s a genuine hilarious bit. Donald’s response as they head off is “there’s somehting hooey Dewey and screwy about this. “ Also I will criticize the fact Bart isn’t the one wearing a blue outfit. For those wondering why, after all Maggie wears blue shouldn’t she get it, who haven’t seen this a LOT of merchandise early on had Bart in a blue shirt, due to early Merch being rushed out pre-show and since he wore one in some earlier concept art, he got to wear blue. He also wore it late into the 90′s.
Sidebar: I just found this and while it isn’t a bad joke given his character it is questionable to have a fourth grade boy tell you to buy him. Just saying. But the reason I bring it up is partly because the show itself referenced it at one point.
As well as it’s sister show Futurama
And you remeber that Bart Simpson solo I mentioned? That one frequently, both in and out of story, had Blue Shirt bart show up for some variety.
Also why yes each issue does have it’s own fun “Superman’s Pal Jimmy Oleson” Esque subtitle. And I love it so. Point is Blue Bart is part of the series legacy and this very comic company, so it’s VERY weird to not have that here. That being said there were a few Green Shirt barts apparently as a printing error, so he could just as easily be 80 steps ahead of me. I just don’t know.
Back at the plot Burns and the Simpsons show up at Frink’s lab, Frink rather obviously filling in for Gyro, with his own version of little bulb named F.L.O. who gladly shakes Lisa’s hand.. and releases a Pterodactyl but hey you can’t win em all. It’s a nice nod, though one only fans of the source matieral will really get, but the pterodactyl bit right after helps distract from it. Frink slotts into the roll well, as Frink has no reall affiliation with anyone and is basically, much like Gyro, there for various characters to go too when the story or joke needs him. Frink has two gadgets for them: Some Scuba suits that can go to any depth and a grappling claw that accidently gets him gripped to the pterodactyl. Also homer accidently switches suits with maggie, so we get an adorable shot of her serenely sleeping in a diving helmet while her daddy chokes to death.
So the next day it’s out to the open seas where The Simpsons are doing all the work while Burns lounges.. which yeah this is a typical uncle scrooge adventure all right. While the man unlike Burns does work hard and do things for himself, he spent most voyages talking about the destination while putting all the hard work on Donald, in case you thought there was at least one universe where Donald isn’t miserable most of the time. Lisa wonders what he’s doing and we get this lovely bit.
I just.. can’t stop finding that hilarious or a nice way to get the Uncle Scrooge bit in there while still fitting the Simpsons, and it at least explains what happened to Herb, whose been mentioned all of once in the 30 seasons since he last showed up. I checked. And yes for those unaware, which is fair, or who just now remembered Homer does indeed have a brother, one his dad had out of an affair who showed up twice, once with Homer unintentionally, and largely due to Herb’s own foolishness, ruining his life, the other time with Maggie helping him get back on top and him and Homer reconciling. He’s also voiced by comedic legend and your friend and mine, Danny Devito, whose still making us all laugh to this day and is a wonderful person from all accounts. Rock on Danny, here’s the only way I can think to honor you.
But yeah it’s a good gag. Burns claims to be watching for a Giant Squid.. and turns out to be right. So it’s up to the simpsons to fight the giant squid, a sentence I genuinely didn’t expect.. I thought like the Griffins they’d just ignore it.
I miss that show.. oh i’m aware Family Guy is still running but much like the Simpsons the show it USED to be is long gone. Anyways Bart tells a worried homer octopus suck out the innards and drink it first quipping “It’s not like you haven’t been drunk in the morning before homer. Homer chokes bart only for the squid to choke him which is easily the second best “Homer getting choked after Choking bart” gag i’ve seen.. the best being this one I found on youtube.
youtube
Though personally my faviorite part of that whole bit is Bart’s proud “THAT’S BECAUSE I SOAKED HIM IN SLIME!” Anyways Lisa figures out a way to beat the squid, painting the likeness of each of them on it’s tentacles and letting the thing devour itself. Lisa lampshades it making no sense PHysics wise but with that she reluctantly accepts calling Mr. Burns, Uncle Burns and we’re off to our next location.
Next up is Mt. Donrosa, a very clear nod to Uncle Scrooge maestro Keno “Don” Rosa, an avid fan of Barks work who expanded on it and turned it into a solid continuity, most famously, and what got me into the ducks in the first place, with the epic “Life and Times of Scrooge McDuck” which I proudly own and.. well I did say watch this space didn’t I?
Enough hinting at the future as the Simpsons scale the mountain with Homer carrying burns up on a rickshaw. Burns however looses his lucky #1 penny, SUBTLE, and cuts Bart down to get it. We then get the best line of the issue:
Bart thankfully survives and we find out the Penny, much like Scrooge’s Dime is how Burns started his fortune.. for this issue and nowhere else but that’s standard for the Simpsons. Specifically loading it into a gun and threatning to kill Jasper’s grandfather with it during the gold rush, a nice twist. At the top of the mountain they find the fabled key of Strobl, which comes from the Taliaferro tribe.. more refrenes this time though I didn’t know them and had to google. Tony Strobl was an artist on the Duck Comics at one ponit and Al Taliforino id forgotten about. He did the Donald Duck comic strip which I had heard of and weirdly hasn’t been collected yet despite Fantagraphics covering mickey, as well as reprinting barks and rosa’s respective works.
The key is suspended in the air by what Lisa suspects to be magnetics, and while Burns plan is naturally “Have Bart swim in it and see if he surivives”, Bart, still pissed from the penny and not wanting to die today, grabs the Penny and uses his slingshot to fire it at the Key. The bad luck from the penny casues an erruption, but Bart once again saves the day and has them surf down, with naturally tons more great jokes.
The family enjoys some steamed Seafood, except Lisa whose eating Seaweed, while Homer enjoys a sting ray “It tastes as good as it stings, Ow, Ow.” ON to Goddfrodson Trench, an odd choice given Floyd Goddfrodson was barks equivalent for the Mickey Mouse Comics and not really a duck writer, but he still deserves the honor regardless.
Under the Sea, no accusations just friendly crustaceans here.. our heroes are close to the treasure but loose the map to the Jailbird Boys, aka Snake and his cousins, who found out due to Lisa’s blog. She didn’t want to loose any more readers to Sheri and Teri’s Olson Twin’s Fan Page.. which.. it’s 2004.. weren’t they dead by this point? Nope still alive? Still are today in fact? Alrighty then. Also this bit, and some of the other references are a bit heavy handed, I will admit that, but the jokes are high quality enough otherwise that it just comes off as a bit of an adorable wink more than laziness.
Snake and co cut their air with Starfish used as throwing stars.
The gang tie their air suplies to avoid dying, and Maggie, in a clever bit, talks with the starfish, since they communicate via sucking, to attack the Jailbird Boys. Again..
I genuinely don’t know, but our heroes find the fabled vault of Barks Billion.. named after Bark Barks, that polar bear from the sonic games.. no of course it’s named after Disney Duck God Carl Barks, who created the Duck’s share of Donald and Scrooge’s supporting cast: Uncle Scrooge himself, Daisy Duck, a fact I just learned but given he created her first short “Mr Duck Steps Out, shouldn’t of surprised me, The Beagle Boys, Magica DeSpell, Goldie O Gilt, Flintheart Glomgold, Gyro Gearloose, Gladstone Gander, The Junior Woodchucks as a whole, Neighbor Jones, John D. Rockerduck, The Number One Dime, Gus Goose, April, May, June and Whitewater Duck. Just the sheer impact he’s had on the comics on all continents cannot be overstated. He is also the one who refined Huey Dewey and Louie from hellraising little shits to the good little boys they are today.. well okay they were, thankfully the reboot has created much better versions. Point is what a man, what a man what a mighty good man, he is truly missed.
We get two great homer gags in the same page, one where somehow he’s put the giant key on a key ring and still can’t find it.. with Bart helpfully taking it from him, and then we get this, which I missed on my first read through.
Naturally Burns betrays them, using a Gold Magnet, kay, to suck up all the gold and naturally planning to leave the Simpsons for dead to no one’s surprise. But thanks to Bart teaching Maggie how to use the spittoons, Homer gets one stuck on his head.. and starts getting sucked up with the Simpsons using them to escape. Naturally Lisa’s first instinct is obvious.
But Burns weasels his way out by promising them free gold after their free lunch. Naturally the next day this turns out ot be a trick as their lunch came from frinks and thus, for now, their weightless.. but Karma gets Burns when he tries swimming in his new gold vault... only for the natural result of what happens when am an who never exercises and who doctors once described as having so many diseases packed into his body at once they tripped each other off and that a strong wind could kill him, trying to do with a similarly aged but still physically fit and well trained at swimming in money man does on a daily basis.
We then close on a quick gag of weightless homer getting caught on fire and we’re out.
Final Thoughts:
This was a really excellent comic. It captured the tone of the Simpsons at their best and while stiff in a place here or there, it’s mostly just really funny, entertaining and a nice and warm tribute to Donald and Scrooge’s long comics history, not really mocking it but instead just homaging it, while still throughly feeling like the Simpsons. It honestly feels like the Treehouse of Horor Segement on the shining, a bit that parodies something, but for the most part the jokes still feel firmly rooted in the simpsons and their cast. This was a treat to review and i’m glad Kev comissoned it and I may take a look at more Simpsons in the future. If you guys like this review, you can follow me on patreon at patreon.com/popculturebuffet, or if there’s a specific simpsons or ducktales episode or a specific comic you want me to review, you can comission your own review for just five bucks. Just send me a direct message on here through Tumblr, or take a look at my ask box or submit. However you want to do it. I take payments through paypal and until next time: Happy Days are Here Again.
#scrooge mcduck#the simpsons#carl barks#simpsons comics#montgomery burns#homer simpson#bart simpson#lisa simpson#maggie simpson#don rosa#professor frink#bongo comics#waylond smithers#reviews#ducktales
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A to Z, please! 😂
lmao i’m gonna be a tease and interpret this as dealer’s pick, so:
J for Jeannie! Write or describe an alternative ending to [insert fic].
So *rubs hands together eagerly* at the end of Up to No Good / Mischief Managed, Ginny is a morning show host and Harry is a teen idol actor, right? Everyone else pretty much has the same jobs they’ve always had in the main fic. But consider:
Harry Potter Band AU Headcanons
The Weasley Family Band and they’re so freaking popular, they have their own TV show à la The Patridge Family, and every single episode is just like:
Bill (plays the banjo and harmonica, big country music guy) and his super hot gf Fleur try to get some alone time but Mama Bear Molly aka their band’s videographer is just not having it
“And what do we have... here?” Molly pulls the bunk’s curtain aside, handheld camera in hand.
“Mum! Jesus H. Christ!”
“Language, William!” Molly and Fleur say at the same time. (It was the start of a beautiful friendship.)
Charlie (plays all the weird instruments - theramin, bongos, kazoo) tries to adopt a new pet and take it on the road with everyone
“Oh my god, there’s a mouse in the tour bus!” Ron gets up on the table.
“It’s only Scabbers!” Charlie holds up a fat brown rat.
“We’re not bringing a rat to France!” Molly snaps. “Ron, get off the table, for goodness sakes!”
“But he could be the next Ratatouille!” Charlie argues.
Molly looks into the camera like she’s on The Office.
Percy (classically trained pianist and flutist) doesn’t want to go on stage
“It’s embarrassing!” he whines.
“You’re embarrassing,” says Ron.
“Boys,” warns Arthur.
“And do I really have to wear this?” Percy doesn’t like their costumes for the Christmas special, thinks they’re too matchy-matchy.
“Yes,” hisses Ginny, “Mum knitted them herself!”
Percy scoffs, “That explains the lopsided —”
“How does everyone like their costumes?” Molly comes in, a beaming smile on her face.
“Love them, Mum!” Percy kisses her cheek and throws on his Weasley family sweater.
Ron rolls his eyes, “Kiss-up.”
Fred and George (guitar and bass, respectively) + sound system engineering intern Lee Jordan = PRANKS
Fred is stuffing Arthur’s filing cabinets with rubber ducks.
“Remind me why we’re doing this again?” asks Lee.
“So that he’ll finally start digital record-keeping,” says George.
“Save the trees!” adds Fred.
“Yeah, but why rubber ducks?” Lee checks the finder app he put on Arthur’s phone to track him (he was still in a meeting down the hall).
“He thought they were bath scrubbers until he was like, eleven,” says Fred.
“It’s Aunt Muriel’s favorite childhood story to tell,” adds George.
Lee nods, barely containing a loud, barking laugh, and goes back to checking the app. “Shit! Shit! Shit! He’s coming!”
Ron (plays the keyboard and the drums and the guitar, just really good at everything, but he thinks that means he doesn’t have this own thing™️) and his bff, Harry, have a bucket list for every city they visit, but the showrunner tells them this isn’t enough for their story arc
“Is that just a fancy way of telling us, we’re lame?” Ron narrows his eyes at them.
“We’re getting you a love interest,” says the showrunner.
“No, you’re bloody hell not!” Ron gets up to leave. “Come on, Harry!”
But Harry is enjoying this. “I happen to have a friend from my last acting job —”
“Harry!” Ron feels betrayed.
“— Hermoine Granger,” Harry continues, a shit-eating grin on his face, “always knows her lines, very professional —”
“She’s a nightmare, honestly!” Ron tries to tell the showrunner, but they’re not listening. “She’s mad!”
“Okay, fine, you can go ahead and think she’s weird,” says the showrunner. “It’ll be like Cory and Topanga in Boy Meets World.”
“Great — Wait, no! They end up together!” Ron’s face is almost as red as his hair and Harry is falling off his seat in a fit of cackles.
“Oh, and Harry, if you could spend the next episode just hanging around in Ginny’s general vicinity, that would be perf,” the showrunner adds, almost as an afterthought.
“What? Why? Ron and I were going skiing!” says Harry.
“Well, bring her with you, then. The director thinks she’s hiding behind her drum kit too much. You’re good with people. Just help her come out of her shell a bit?”
Harry, honestly thinking he’s being helpful, agrees.
Ginny spends the next episode in a perpetual state of despair because her actual celebrity crush from her favorite TV show is RIGHT THERE TALKING TO HER OH GOD SHE’S GONNA DIE
and now I really wanna write this, damn 😂
#i solemnly swear i am up to no good#mischief managed#band au#famous au#tv show au#harry potter fanfiction#you must be a weasley#harry potter#ron weasley#hermione granger#ginny weasley#hinny fanfiction#ron weasley x hermione granger#harry potter x ginny weasley#fred weasley#george weasley#bill weasley#charlie weasley#molly weasley#arthur weasley#fleur delacour#lee jordan#harry potter headcanon#boy meets world#the office#fanfic asks#jeannie bean gets asked
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Chapter 5 - Commencing Plan
"Earth has magic too. Alchemy and enchantments. Chemistry and technology. Same things, different names." Crystal spoke slowly as she examined the cloth material in her hands, checking for tears or weak points in the weave.
Grey pumped his fist, a triumphant look on his face. "I knew it! No way that backflipping robot was natural science."
"Science is the study of the world around you. It doesn't cancel out the existence of magic, it just helps to understand its rules better."
"Listen here, little miss know-it-all."
"I don't know it all, just more than you."
"Hey!"
Crystal grinned, finishing her examination without sparing an extra glance for the outraged Grey stomping his foot at her side.
"That's a low bar some days," Rayne said with an exaggerated sigh, then promptly ducked as Grey chucked a pillow at her face.
"Lils!" Grey whined, draping dramatically over his sister's lap, interrupting her own costume examination. "They're bullying me!"
"The truth hurts sometimes dearest," Lillian muttered, much to her twin's dismay. He recoiled away as though she'd flung him, pressing the back of his hand to his forehead in distress.
"Betrayal! Mine own blood doth betray!"
"My point," Crystal continued, using a needle and thread to tighten up a bit of beaded tape on a hem that came loose. "Was that when I said magic exists on this world, I mean I don't know what form this world's magic is going to take, so we should be careful until we understand more. It may be familiar, like chemistry and technology, or it could be something more fantastical, like what that Eater pulled on us. Until we know the rules, we shouldn't be reckless."
"What if being reckless is part of the rules?"
"Then we'll find out soon enough and adjust our course of action."
"I hate that you have an answer for everything."
"Then stop asking questions."
Crystal and Grey stuck out their tongues at each other while Lillian giggled, and Rayne shook her head at the foolishness of it all. "Children, please."
"You're the youngest one here!"
"Hard to tell by looking, huh?" Rayne shrugged. She wasn't nearly as useful with sewing, so she'd taken to tying on little chimes and ribbons to decorate her bodhrán since her large acoustic kit was much too large and bulky for their purposes. The small frame drum, just a bit over a foot in diameter and only four inches deep, was much easier to carry and play.
When they brought their main instruments for the music video, they brought along a few supplementary instruments to use for the mixing as well. Actual recording was going to happen in a proper studio, but sometimes having them around and playing them when practicing could spark more natural inspiration than trying to force it during a recording session.
So in addition to Crystal's small harp, Grey's bouzouki, Lillian's electric keyboard and Rayne's acoustic drum kit, they also brought along macho bongos, a bodhrán, a tambourine, a fiddle, a bombard, an ocarina, a zither, enough bell bangles for the four of them, and a kalimba which Lillian was unnaturally proficient with. None of the instruments were particularly large, so it was easy to fit them in alongside everything else in the hand cart. Especially the kalimba - a hand-sized wooden board with attached staggered metal tines, which made an ethereally charming resonating sound when played despite its minuscule size.
"Rayne's got her drum, I'm taking my bouzouki, Lils is bringing..."
"Kalimba."
"Right, right. Coco, which instrument are you grabbing?"
Crystal snipped the thread with her teeth after tying a tight knot. "Since Lils is bringing the kalimba, I'll go with the fiddle."
"Ooh, are we gonna do a jig?"
"Maybe. We have to see what the climate's like in town."
"Climate is cold, Coco. There's snow."
"Emotional climate, Goofus! If something terrible happened recently, if there's an illness going around or a famine or what have you, it'd be inappropriate to run in with a nice cheerful Stick Across the Hob."
"Ah, Morrison's Jig. A classic."
"We can play it if people are friendly to us. Who knows, maybe they hate folk music. There was a time in our own history where the only socially appropriate music was religious hymns, you know."
"Gross."
"Right? So again, we just have to be careful."
"And then once they like us we can do fun songs, right?"
"Maybe slow tempo drinking songs or instrumental sea shanties to uh, test the waters."
"Har de har. Lyrics?"
"I really, really, extremely thoroughly and tragically doubt they'll speak English or any of the other languages we can sing in, and they might be alarmed by foreign languages. Classic orchestral music might be our best bet, honestly."
A potentially insurmountable language barrier was part of the reason their little group hemmed and hawed about heading to town. On the one hand they definitely needed more information about the world, but on the other hand, walking in without any knowledge or method of communication was a terrifying prospect.
So they did what they all did best, and procrastinated productively. The costumes were a good start, but they weren't sturdy enough to withstand frigid winter winds since the things were entirely cosmetic. Lillian proposed they somehow create thicker linings for their clothes, and Grey suggested they make use of the house's ability to restore items in order to do just that. But for that to work, they'd have to understand how it worked.
That night they waited with bated breath after destroying a single pillow, shredding it to bits as a sacrifice to the experimental gods of magic science. As soon as midnight ticked over on the household clocks, a new pillow appeared in its original place on its appropriate bed, and the shredded remains of the sacrificed pillow were still laying sad and limp on the floor.
"Infinite pillow glitch," Grey had whispered with delight, setting the other three to helpless giggling at his dumb joke.
The next day was spent ruining disposable objects around the house to various degrees and moving them around in order to determine the magic house's threshold of accounting damage and item 'respawning' limits. Some items were completely replaced, some were merely repaired, items from outside the property didn't count, and everything else had different thresholds for what counted as damage and what didn't.
While everyone was running around wrecking their house and generally having a good time doing magic science, Crystal put an empty jar outside of the fence to sit overnight. After the reset that night, it was fully replaced complete with its original contents, while the original empty jar remained outside of the property wedged into the snow.
Crystal smiled to herself with this new discovery, and put several small jars of preserves outside the fence in one of the small wooden crates she found in the cellar, covered with a thick towel to help insulate the glass.
"What were you getting up to?" Grey asked, as she stomped back into the house rubbing her arms to fight off the winter chill.
"Wishing we had warmer clothes," Crystal sighed, the mischievous glint in her eyes telling Grey he wouldn't get any answers yet. "Or at least pajamas with sleeves."
"Plotting something sinister?"
"Maybe."
"Rock on. Lemme know if I can help."
"Of course."
With their new knowledge regarding item respawn rules, they set about tearing more pillows and sheets into raw materials for upgrading their silly stage costumes into something functional, and copied the costumes into several spare sets for each of them just in case.
The costumes were inspired by fantasy medieval fashion and Renaissance faire finery, all four virtually identical in styling. Surcoats with silver bead tape and embroidery, high collar tunics with voluminous bishop sleeves, canvas cloaks with deep hoods, leather bracers, leather boots, leather belts with ring clasps, assorted leather bags, gloves, and leggings. Aside from the white tunic, everything was black with silver embellishments such as bead tape and braided fabric trims, or embroidery that shimmered in the light. The cloaks also sported little silver jingling bells attached along the hem, matching decorative bells on the boots and bags.
Most importantly, each of them had a unique Venetian masquerade mask with an attached beaded black face veil. The intricate, ornate masks had little bells dangling from loops on the sides, and were decorated with gemstone accents around and above the eyes; each member of Aos Sí Echtrae used a different gemstone for their stage name to capitalize on all the 'Fairy Rock' jokes they could make.
Plus, Crystal was already named after a shiny rock, so it was convenient all around.
"How are we gonna make these clothes warmer?" Grey asked, holding up his surcoat and raising an eyebrow in Lillian's direction.
"Quilting." Lillian said, gesturing with her hands to try and pantomime what she meant. "Gonna create pocket insulation layers using sheets, fill them with cotton and feather down and foam and whatever else we have to use. Then sew the pocket insulation layer in the middle of the original costume layer and an inner lining, to make the clothes warm without sacrificing their aesthetic!"
"The cloaks too?"
"The cloaks especially. They're already a strong sturdy material and have been water sealed, insulating them will basically turn them into actual quilts to shield us from the wind. In fact, I'll probably use cloak copies to make waterproof pants, since insulating leggings is a bit hard thanks to their thin material..."
"Too bad we can't make better boots too," Crystal sighed, glancing out the window. It hadn't stopped snowing since they arrived, and though most of the layers didn't completely stick, there was still a foot of snow outside they'd have to slog through to reach town. If the weather continued, they would have to put off the visit until some of that snow melted off.
"I'll break the path for you guys," Rayne said, flexing a powerful bicep. "No worries. We should still wait until it stops snowing, though. Walking through bad weather always sucks, even more so if it's over a big distance."
"Remembering high school?"
"God, that hill was brutal."
"Hey, everyone gets to help out with this!" Lillian said, pointing at the other three who were subtly edging toward the door during their conversation.
"I can't sew," Rayne quickly protested, and Lillian held up a finger to shush her.
"The lining doesn't have to be sewn pretty, the stitches just have to be strong. We need to make several copies of the belts, I want to repurpose them into something else... And I wanna keep an original copy of the costumes as well as have several sets of each so this is gonna take a few days worth of resetting to complete. Oh! Rayne, you can find big branches to make into walking sticks, the ground will be uneven under the snow and we don't wanna trip."
"Yes ma'am..."
Under Lillian's watchful eye, everyone got to work on different tasks in order to prepare for their first visit to another world's town, feeling a combination of trepidation and excitement in their hearts.
------
"Hey guys? There's uh. There's something weird." Rayne's voice echoed down the hall, followed by the sound of heavy footsteps as she hurried toward the living room where the others were gathered around the finished costumes and enjoying the last of their breakfast.
"What in the... Is that... Is that a telescope?!" Grey asked incredulously as Rayne rounded the corner with something large and heavy in her arms.
"I was checking out the study and found it in one of the cabinets. So, the study has that windowed alcove bit that sticks out from the side of the house, right?"
"Yeah, like a breakfast nook but for books. Book nook!" Grey grinned, switching his attention from the costumes to the big brass telescope that Rayne was hurriedly setting up in front of the largest living room window. "This thing is ancient! There's no way this isn't some priceless antique or something!"
"Yes yes it's very cool and belonged to a former trade ship navigator about a hundred years ago don't ask how I know that I'm not sure either I understand why this weirds Coco out now, but that's not important!" Rayne wheezed, peering through the eyepiece and adjusting the focus before stepping away. "Look at the town."
Grey peeked through first, too excited about the telescope itself to wait much longer. He stared in silence for a good long moment, then frowned and stepped away to give Lillian room. "That's... You're right, that is weird. But I can't quite put my finger on why... I mean, aside from the architecture itself? But something else is bugging me..."
"It's hard to see detail from here even with the telescope, but I think some of them had glowing symbols decorating them?" Lillian said with a shrug after she had her turn. "They're pretty, and unusual for sure. Either magic or electricity, but I hope it's magic. That'd be cool!"
Crystal took her turn last, automatically touching her face to lift up the glasses that she no longer had to wear. She gave a soft laugh at finding her face naked, shook her head, and peered through the eyepiece.
The buildings were indeed strangely pretty, smooth white or silver constructs with colorful glass roofs, in sleek appealing shapes that more suited a science fiction setting rather than fantasy. Some had glowing symbols etched under arched windows or in rows along walls, but the light was dim and flickering, and it was impossible to tell from afar what shape the symbols had.
"The town has a uniform layout," Crystal said quietly, furrowing her brow. "It's a planned city. Wide roads on a grid, a perfectly arched wall surrounding the whole thing except where the harbor is. The tallest building is in the middle, might be a palace or castle? But... There's no people."
"Wait, what?!" Lillian exclaimed while Grey snapped his fingers in realization.
"That's it! Even though it's winter, there'd still be people moving around and working and stuff, right? But those roads are totally empty! No cars or wagons or pedestrians or nothing."
Crystal swung the telescope around, peering into the empty harbor, then past that toward the horizon where puffy white sails broke the barrier between sea and sky. "Ah, the ships... The city is really sleek and almost futuristic, but those ships are..."
Grey nudged Crystal aside to steal the eyepiece again, bouncing his leg with excitement. "Yo! Those are some real nice maritime vessels, my friends! Four-masted wooden masterpieces, and is that mizzenmast lateen-rigged? Squared raised stern, that's a nice prominent booty on those ships for sure. Those big boys are either carracks or galleons, or whatever they're called in this world. Whew, they're real beauties!"
"Was it an evacuation?" Lillian asked, concern coloring her voice, but Grey shook his head.
"Doubt it. The sails are torn and mended all over the place, and I think I see minor hull damage on the ones up close, but those lads are definitely pointed toward the town, and resting in a recognizable formation at that. They've been through a long journey to get here specifically, I think. In fact..." Grey swung the telescope, adjusting the focus as he went, searching to and fro until he spotted what he was looking for.
"They were further away when we first got here," Rayne said, holding up her fingers in a little pinching gesture. "The sails were like, this big on the horizon."
Grey nodded, then exclaimed aloud. "Aha! Found a pinnace! I dunno why it took them so long to approach, but they're moored in the deeps now, not sheltering in the harbor. And there, by the town wall! There's a little camp. Looks like... Ten people? They used a small pinnace boat to approach so it's probably a landing party scouting the area to see if it's safe to approach."
"I didn't see people! Let me see!" Rayne bumped Grey aside with her hip, stealing the telescope back. "There they are! Oh, they're still unloading the boat."
"It was still snowing pretty hard until like, today. They probably only just sent the team out." Grey said, and Rayne nodded in agreement.
"Looks like it. Hmm... Their clothes do look a little like our costumes, I think? They're tiny colorful blurs, but I think I see a couple people in cloaks, and possibly armor? Using our costumes is probably the best idea after all."
"But now things have gotten a bit more complicated," Crystal muttered, drumming her fingers on her bottom lip as thoughts tumbled around in her mind. "There's no permanent settlement yet. For some reason that city is empty, and we don't know why. The city looks more advanced than anything the people in wooden ships would be capable of making, no matter how nice the ships are, so they probably aren't the same civilization. If they have that many ships, are they colonizers? Are there natives to this land we need to worry about? How would they see us if we, as strangers who don't even speak their language, suddenly walked up while they're trying to settle an apparently empty foreign city?"
Grey and Lillian exchanged glances, while Rayne turned from the telescope and placed a hand on her hip. "Coco. Relax."
"How can I relax? If they're not friendly we're probably boned! They'll definitely come explore the forest for resources and they'll find us and-"
"Crystal!"
Crystal flinched as Rayne grabbed her by the shoulders and gave a gentle shake, bringing her back to her senses. She hadn't even realized she'd hunched over and started scratching at the delicate pale flesh of her arms, bright red tracks screaming their distress under her fingernails. She shivered, forcing her clawed hands to relax, and took a deep breath. "Ah... S-sorry, I... I just..."
"Does it feel dangerous?" Lillian asked, her voice calming Crystal's nerves with its serenity.
She thought a moment, then pressed her lips together and shook her head. "No. It doesn't feel dangerous. I'm just... Worried, I think. Anxious. There's so many unknowns..."
"If they're gonna find us anyway, let's go to them on our own terms," Grey said, giving Crystal's face a gentle tap with his knuckles. "Right? We readied the costumes anyway, and Rayne whittled us some fine walking sticks."
"I even polished them."
"See? She polished them, Coco."
"There was wood lacquer in the maintenance closet."
"Wood lacquer, Coco!"
"Alright, alright!" Crystal threw up her hands in defeat, struggling in vain to hide the growing smile on her face. "You win. Let's get dressed and go make first contact."
"The masks are mandatory!" Grey said, grabbing his off the living room table. "If we're gonna be a minstrel group we gotta look the part!"
"I finished the slings for your instruments, so you can carry the cases on your back under the cloaks. Should make it less of a strain to lug them through the snow." Lillian looked proud as she showed off the repurposed leather belts, carefully measured to fit each of them and evenly distribute the weight of the heavy cases across their torsos. "My kalimba is small enough to fit in a bag so I felt like this is the least I could do to help."
"You're so great Lils," Grey sighed, giving his twin a grateful hug.
"I'll go get the sticks," Rayne said, running upstairs.
Meanwhile, Crystal rolled her eyes and heaved a despondent sigh. "Man... I have to wear actual clothes again..."
"It's too cold to be a nudist, Coco."
"I'm not a nudist, I'm just texture sensitive!"
"You'd be a nudist if it was socially acceptable."
"Eh... Debatable. I'm kinda lumpy."
"No you're just soft and huggable."
"Which makes me lumpy. Oh well, at least the costume materials feel nice." Crystal sighed once more, grabbing her outfit off the living room table. "Alright, everyone turn off their vision for a second."
"We have all seen you naked, Crystal."
"We all took turns washing your back when you went through physical therapy, Crystal."
"Also this is the living room."
"Nudist."
"Exhibitionist."
"Can't hear you guys I'm already naked!" Crystal stuck out her tongue as, contrary to her statement, she headed down the hallway toward the bathroom in order to change in privacy.
"Who's naked?" Rayne called down the stairs, accompanied by the thumping sound of four walking sticks repeatedly hitting the banister as she descended.
"Everyone except you!" Grey called back, his voice muffled as he pulled the blouse over his head.
"I had to get the sticks, no one told me we were having a nudey party!"
"Nudey parties are better fun with guests that aren't basically your relatives," Lillian grumbled, and Rayne nodded as she dumped the walking sticks on the nearest sofa.
"Eh, true. No offense, you guys are our unofficial adopted siblings."
"No no, it's mutual. You both are our sisters, seeing you lot naked does not rustle my jimmies in the slightest."
"Completely unrustled?"
"Not even a jostle."
"Damn."
"Wait, why are we unofficially adopted? There's no birth records in this world for us. We can just be siblings and no one will ever be able to prove otherwise."
"Shit, you're right! Okay, you're all adopted by me now. You can call me Mama."
"Like hell we will, you're the youngest!"
"Respect your elders, young man!"
Crystal laughed to herself as their voices echoed faintly through the closed bathroom door, then focused on getting dressed. Her costume was modified further thanks to a personal request she'd made, adding a long black wrap skirt that went to her ankles to be worn over the leggings. She also added a silver sash around the waist and under the belt, made using one of the spare bedsheets.
She didn't mind pants so long as the material was nice, but she preferred the swish of long skirts and dresses because it felt more fun, and if she had to wear clothes anyway they might as well be layered and interesting. Just so long as the inner layer actually touching her body was a nice comfortable fabric!
Lillian made the skirt match the rest of the outfit using bead tape and braided fabric, and liked the resulting skirt so much she added a shorter skirt and some frilly modifications to her own outfit. Then Grey wanted some fancy embellishments and dangling cloth bits to look more dramatic, so in the end only Rayne kept the original design.
"We look amazing," Grey said with a delighted sigh as everyone gathered together in the living room once more to don their masks.
"Are the masks really necessary?" Lillian mumbled as she tugged on the gossamer veil, causing the beaded decorations woven into the fine material to jingle and shimmer. "I mean... What if not being able to see our faces scares them, or makes them suspicious?"
"Then we can take them off?" Grey said with a shrug, slinging the shoulder strap of his instrument case over his arm before settling his cloak. "But I think it adds to our mystique as wandering minstrels, and we look fantastic rather than threatening. Plus, they're the ones landing near our house, right? We're the ones living here. For all they could know, it's culturally inappropriate to walk around with naked faces!"
"We'll have to get pretty close to know for sure," Crystal said. After a moment's thought, she took out her hairclip and left it on the coffee table, allowing her long blonde hair to tumble free in the brief moment before she put up her hood. She'd spent enough time in cold climates to know long hair was best left protecting one's neck from cold air. "We'll watch their body language as we approach. If they seem hostile, we'll back off. In the meantime, we should bring some food. It's a long hike."
Everyone agreed, filing into the kitchen to pack snacks and sandwiches into their bags. Crystal tucked a few jars of preserves into hers, bringing only those and a couple sandwiches instead of cramming the space with small packs of miniature cookies and potato chips like everyone else. Her choice of foodstuff went unnoticed, since everyone else was busy playing Tetris trying to fit their chosen assortment of snacks into relatively small bags.
Once everyone felt prepared enough for their journey, they took a moment to brace themselves, each grabbing a homemade walking stick, then stepped out of the house into the snow.
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