#Don't Ask (I Won't Tell)

[koshercosplay]

Neil gaiman is a Zionist :(

this is so funny because if you google "neil gaiman zionist" nearly all of the links are to unsourced tumblr posts or responses to a single tweet from 2015 that just acknowledges Israel's existence

I see gaiman has once again committed the heinous crime of Being Jewish When Israel Is In The News

[minty364]

DPXDC Prompt 58 Part 7

The long dining room that held the ornate old dining table that seated way too many people already held  most of the family. Bruce was missing and Damian informed them he was at work, the only other person missing was Jason but it was typical for him to skip out as he didn’t live there and didn’t have the best track record with the rest of the family. That left Damian, Tim, Cass, Duke, and Dick seated.

Damian sat next to the chair that Bruce normally sat in at the head of the table. Tim sat across from Damian followed by Dick, Duke, and Cass. Danny sat next to Damian and Jazz sat next to Danny. 

“So, how was school?” Dick asked his elbows on the table with his head on his hands and a smile. He was the only adult in their life besides Bruce that actually cared about their schooling. 

Danny had actually forgotten that all of this had happened in just one day. The thought was a little jarring if Danny was being honest with himself. He wasn’t sure what to tell Dick, on one hand he was just asking about school on the other… no he wasn’t going to think about what happened right now. Just the thought caused phantom volts to go through his body like he was reliving the accident. He felt a nudge to his foot from the right and looked up to see Damian giving him a quizzical look. He cleared his throat and looked back over to Dick who was giving him the same kind of look. 

“I-I’m, uh… school was fine, didn’t learn much since school just started,” He eventually decided to say after stumbling on his words a little. 

“Dash isn’t picking on you again this year is he?” Dick asked with a concerned look on his face. 

Danny wished it was just Dash, the pain he felt from the portal was a thousand times worse than anything the bullying blond could pull. If it was just Dash, Danny could have just laughed it off and forgotten it probably, but it wasn’t just Dash and Danny couldn’t help but take a deep breath trying to gather his thoughts and calm himself.

He startled as he felt a hand on his knee, he looked to his left to see Jazz giving him a look of sympathy as she rubs her thumb comfortingly on his knee. She then spoke, “Danny you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, Okay?”

Danny gave her a small nod, a small smile on his face. 

Before a new topic could be discussed Alfred arrived with their food and began serving them. Danny loved the food the old butler cooked especially since he was able to do so in a kitchen that wasn’t contaminated. Alfred did his best to make sure everyone was served food to their liking, as long as it was a balanced meal at the end of the day the elderly butler would serve just about anything you’d request.

Danny picked up his fork to begin on his salad, however when he tried to push the fork into the lettuce his hand felt a cooling sensation with pins and needles and his fork went through his hand. He stared at his hand for a moment wondering what just happened. He then picked up his fork to try again and was able to get a mouth full, but when he went for a second bite it happened again, his fork clanging against the bowl again.

“Something wrong Danny? You're staring at your hand weird,” Danny heard Dick speaking and looked up to see Dick staring at him giving him an odd look. 

Danny couldn’t help but rub his neck nervously with his other hand, he hoped to get ahold of whatever this was so no one noticed. Though knowing his luck everyone probably did notice, over the years he and Jazz both noticed that the Wayne family was much more observant than their media persona’s showed. 

Dinner continued and Danny struggled to eat anything as anything he tried to hold fell through his hand frustratingly and Danny couldn’t help but get agitated. 

Eventually his glass he was holding slipped through his hand and tumbled onto the floor shattering into a thousand pieces. Danny let out a frustrated sigh as he stared at the mess he made. 

Before he could stand to clean up Alfred appeared by his side with a dustpan and broom and began cleaning it up, “are you still feeling unwell Master Daniel? Perhaps you should retire for the evening, I will attend to this mess.” Danny begrudgingly nodded his head and made his way out of the room.

He wasn’t alone for long as Damian and Jazz tailed him out of the room. 

“What was that? It looked like your spoon was going through your hand,” Jazz asked after they were a ways from the dinning room.

“Jazz, honestly I don’t know, it felt cold and then anything I tried holding fell through my hand.” Danny brushed his bangs away from his forehead and they dropped back into his face as he dropped his hands back down to his side.

The walk went silent after that, although it didn’t stay for long as Danny felt the cooling sensation again but this time through his whole body, he let out a yelp as he felt his body sink into the floor.

Damian and Jazz looked at him with panic but as they grabbed at his arms or his hands to pull him back up they went through him just as the spoon and apparently the ground now. 

He let out a panicked yell as the floor swallowed him whole, so now he was sinking further down further into the earth. What was going to happen to him? Would he ever find his way back up?

Thankfully he didn’t have to wait long as the cooling sensation left and as gravity took hold of him again he fell. Apparently there was a cave under the manor and he was able to turn back into solid as he felt air again. There was no way he was surviving this, even with new weird powers now was when he’d get impaled by spikes right?

The cave was too dark to make out much but Danny thought he might have seen a computer with several monitors. That didn’t matter now as he finally landed, and he grunted as he landed on a person who also grunted as having a teen land on you couldn’t be the most comfortable.

He knew he was in big trouble when he realized who he landed on, “Batman??”

[ivsleeptoken]

💚

[otomes-world]

Some things never change

no trigger warnings except yandere themes, 2,7k words and as we all love barely edited text

Probably, running away from home wasn't the smartest decision in life. In any case. The reason for such act depended on the questioner. If it was one of the friendly, elderly aunts, then you modestly told them about the desire to achieve recognition for the family. For younger acquaintances, the version acquired more dreamy shades in the form of recognition for yourself. For someone less meticulous, the desire to see the world was enough.

In the end you couldn't change the past, however, you were not eager to return home and beg for forgiveness, as most casual people painted a picture for themselves. Therefore, you always kept silent about the interesting beginning of the journey, preferring to tell stories of a later period. About how, by pure chance, you met a traveling troupe of artists and joined them. Did you know how to sing, dance, play a role? At an average level, yes.

Was it hard at first? Definitely.

Nevertheless, the stubborn decision to live your own life, leaving all the unpleasantness behind, won out and you, convincing and sometimes negotiating with yourself, swallowed the complaints. The meaningful glances from the other performers were safely ignored. They could think whatever they wanted, as long as they didn’t start leaving comments and sticking their noses into things that weren’t their business. Sounded like passive aggression? Touché.

Be that as it may, after a couple of months of involuntary life together and shared stories, the distance between you decreased to comfortable evening conversations and jokes in a whisper.

Has a small troupe of the same lost souls as you become a family in the full sense of the word? You always answered something vague and tried to change topic to something else. If others noticed, they preferred to tactfully remain silent and intercept the conversation. Everyone had their own reason for wandering, which meant that you were in for a maximum of understanding and a minimum of interference.

At least, these were the thoughts that always visited you at the beginning of autumn. To be more precise, when warm weather started dropping hints of cold wind and a rare drizzle of rain. No, you had no complaints about the season itself, only about your own melancholic mood, which was becoming part of everyday life. For performer, the beginning of autumn marked the end of the working season. Of course, there were occasions when you were invited to brighten up the evening of this or that eccentric nobleman, but they were incredibly rare. If you managed to count them on the fingers of one hand, it was considered lucky.

Winter served as a break for most. For agriculture, for trade, for travel… for you. In winter, finding something to do, a job, became more difficult. It was harder to distract yourself. There were no nights whose sky was painted with hundreds of lights. Noisy companies of people, in the flow of which it was so easy to forget and let yourself be led anywhere.

Inazuma - the nation of eternity, was supposed to be the last major stop this year. To be honest, even as a child you listened with apprehension to stories about this country. About visions. However, the gods did not consider you worthy of their gift. The bitterness of disappointment was felt as an unpleasant aftertaste even at a conscious age. Now you were watching life and the changing emotions on the faces of the townspeople from the window of a small ryokan's room with detachment. An unfinished mask for the next outfit rested on your lap.

It seemed that all the nightmares were left behind, it seemed that they were not afraid of the imminent onset of cold weather. The thoughts of both old and young were occupied only with the upcoming farewell to summer - you preferred to tactfully remain silent about the fact that it was already over.

The needle fell out of your hands with a barely audible ringing sound, falling to the floor. Looking down at your hands, you immediately clenched and unclenched them several times, trying to stop the trembling. This was clearly not the first and not the last winter in your life. Why doesn't the feeling of anxiety leave you? So noticeable that if the needle hadn't fallen out, you could have cut the air with it. Your "friends" wrote it all off as autumn dismals and for a moment you really wanted to sincerely believe their words.

It all started with crossing the border, as if the velvety purple skies were warning you about something in advance, carefully forgetting to specify what exactly. You decided that it was all because of the noticeable change in the weather. After the warm Sumeru, Inazuma seemed cold and unfriendly.

The meeting with Commissioner Yashiro took even the most experienced and seasoned performer, your unofficial leader, by surprise. You remembered how someone briefly mentioned a family whose responsibilities included organizing festivals. However, discussing and obtaining permission from the leader still shook you to the depths of your soul.

Despite the obligatory nature of some moments brought by the new life, you still did not like meeting with nobles, especially tete-a-tete. They reminded you of a time you wanted to leave behind. Memories you wanted to rewrite, erase, bury under a pile of new ones and never think about again. Whether it was a defensive reaction or a personal dislike, no one asked. As long as you performed without causing problems, no one was going to pry into your soul.

Tremble in your hands became stronger, as well as your heart beat faster in your chest.

The Kamisato family estate was amazing, causing admiring whispers from the troupe and anxiety in you. The ceilings were too high, reminding you of a beautiful cage, one of which you had so carefully left. You tried to avoid such talent display in front of the nobles: you wanted to show off as little as possible. Even though you understood in your mind that the probability of meeting a familiar face in a foreign country was extremely small, you could never calm your paranoia.

Hope died last, so you prayed that there would be some urgent matter, any really, that did not require delay and a trusted person would conduct the meeting. However, fate rarely took into account someone's wishes, since the quiet voices and greetings of the servants in the corridor became a sufficiently clear sign.

In such grand mansions, your body acted on its own, straightening your back and wiping all emotion from your face, leaving a neutral smile. Despite all your attempts to imitate your new acquaintances, some habits seemed to be engraved on your bones. Whether it was luck or not, was another question. The singer, who for some reason was treating you like a younger relative, winked to you encouragingly, while your insides turned cold.

You didn’t like the look of the Commissioner. He was pleasant, behaved appropriately, flashing his knowledge of the fine arts, without putting himself in an bad light. Looking at the man from under your lowered eyelashes, for a second you felt a pang of envy. About what your life could have been if you had followed the beaten path, instead of jumping off a cliff with the unknown at its very bottom. Suppressing a moment of weakness, you smiled charmingly when the conversation turned to you, playing the role of a silly person who was passionate about arts.

You stood up, forcing yourself to take deep breaths, ignoring the darkening in your eyes. As soon as your gaze cleared, you tiredly sank down again, reaching for the fallen mask, to which you had been sewing feathers a few minutes ago. The quick and sharp pain made you pull your hand back in panic, while the voice of reason reminded you of the needle that had fallen. Shaking your head a couple of times, as if it could throw out unpleasant emotions and restore your calm, you grabbed the mask in one movement and casually threw it on the bed, or as it was called here a futon. The needle and a bag of colored feathers were carefully put away in the nightstand.

For some incomprehensible, twisted reason, you were the one deciding the organizational issues. To be more precise, this was the wish expressed by the Commissioner, and the kind "head" of the troupe did not object. Words about a pleasant impression, an interesting, new look at the performances and compliments from the servants of the estate - like a porcelain doll - were drowned in the general monotonous noise, while the body still refused to move.

The need to end everything as quickly as possible became sufficient motivation. Visit the estate, solve a few pressing issues and return to your room, lock yourself in and hide from the world until the moment when you would have to go out again. Repeating this phrase like a mantra, you sat in the familiar interior and tried to fight the desire to jump out of the window.

"Are you okay?" A sympathetic voice asks, for a second you even believed in sincerity which it hold.

"Yes, Monsieur Kamisato," the answer bursts out on its own, and then, as if realizing your mistake, you lowered your head in a bow. "I'm sorry, I meant Kamisato-sama."

Some habits are unchangeable.

The man just laughed softly, "You may address me as you prefer. I suppose the language barrier is sometimes difficult to overcome?"

"Thank you, I hope my Fontaine's accent does not offend you. I try to fill in the gaps in the cultural peculiarities of the languages ​​of different corners of Teyvat." You answered, reading between the lines of his question.

You tried to ignore the man as much as etiquette allowed, whose eyes narrowed in satisfaction, like a cat, that had been watching a canary for a long time. Reaching for the papers on which the rough plan of the event was sketched, you were about to change the topic, but he was beat you to it.

"I hope that your stay in Inazuma is going smoothly and nothing has marred the first impression." Slightly tilting your head to the side, you looked at the nobleman, waiting for him to continue. "I assume you know about Tri-Commisions, Yashiro, let me clarify."

Closing your eyes for a moment, you tried to answer as close to textbook as possible, "It's one of the organizations in Inazuma. They, you, are in charge of managing shrines, festivals, and cultural events."

"With such a well-known history, it's rather surprising that we don't have a permanent troupe of performers. Perhaps we should entertain the idea." The softness in his voice, the pleasant, inviting atmosphere, and the innocently asked question made you genuinely disgusted.

"If you think so," perhaps not the best answer, but short enough not to ruin the conversation or make yourself seem rude. You didn't have to be a prophet to not guess what the other side was hinting at. "Would you allow me to ask your opinion on the event's plan?"

As if he had already achieved his goal, the man kindly allowed the conversation to return back to work, which you were grateful for.

You couldn't flash much experience in small talk. Each meeting with the Commissioner made you remember everything that they had so diligently tried to hammer into you, to mold the version that should correspond to the norms.

He had it all. Soft pressure, skill of confidently inclining the dialogue in a favorable direction. Man never showed open aggression, did not give you anything that you could latch on to. Smoothly and gracefully dropped small hints on where he could press if you decided to act differently from the path he had already planned.

"Thank you, I will take your wishes into account and make the necessary changes," politely ending the meeting, you slowly began to collect the papers you had brought and the sheet of notes.

"Have you ever thought about settling down?" The question catches you off guard, the papers almost falling out of your hands, scattering across the table and the floor. Instead, a smile appears on your face and your body moves on its own again.

"You are very kind. Will you allow me to pass on your generous offer to hire our troupe to the others? I do not have the authority to make such a decision on my own."

"Ah, yes, of course," his eyes narrow slightly again, letting you know that trying to play on the meaning of his words would not work. "Your unity is admirable," the implied 'considering your type of work' hangs in the air.

"I will pass on your praise, Kamisato-sama," another bow. "Please, excuse me."

To your great happiness, he made no attempt to stop you. He let you reach the shoji, push it aside, but just before you could close it, he added, "I hope you'll consider the offer personally."

The sound of the door closing ringed louder in your ears than it actually was.

Hope, such a fragile, unreliable thing, had let you down more often than anyone else in your life. Each time, burning and burying another piece of yourself, you thought about home. If a place from the past could be called like that. About too many expectations and too few opportunities for self-realization. About a ready-made life plan, presented on a silver platter, all you had to do was reach out.

Something wet falls into your palm. The unexpected screams of passersby, escaping from the rain, were barely discernible through the veil of white noise. Focusing your gaze on the window frame of the same empty room in the ryokan, you touched your own face with your other hand.

It was dry.

You wiped your palm on the fabric of your clothes and held back a sigh. Although the Commissioner had not specified a deadline for making a decision, your intuition told you that the day of the festival was the maximum you could hope for.

The troupe took the news ambiguously. Some liked the prospect of a permanent job. Some lived for travel.

Some were… you. A rabbit trying to outrun the clock. Or a bud that, instead of falling and brightly flaring up in the flames of the stove, fell off with the wind. Flower that didn't want to become part of someone's herbarium and was now soaking in a puddle, hoping to dissolve in it and disappear as if it had never existed. No one looked at their feet, hurrying about their business in the hustle and bustle of days.

Almost no one.

A beviolent person stopped and carefully unfolded his own album. You just had to reach out. The voice of a familiar singer breaks through the noise of the rain, like the thunder of Her Excellency. Would you be able to say "Yes" once and keep a right to say "No"? Unfortunately, the strength to answer this question was becoming less and less. As was the time until the event.

The trees had already managed to change into different shades of colors, dappled with orange, red and even purple leaves, attracting the gaze of everyone who was ready to look. Despite the feeling of cold, the sun was still warming the earth, giving the last days of trancility. Could the electro Archon take pity and bless her people, waiting for the festivities with them?

"Opportunities to bask in the sunlight like this are few and far between."

"That's how," hearing a voice right next to your ear, you didn't even take your eyes off the waves. Or to be more precise, their barely noticeable echoes, now and then disappearing from sight due to the wind and tree crowns.

What exactly you were hoping to see in the distance, and whether were you hoping, was a moot point. One of those that tensed up the atmosphere from the first words spoken. You didn't want to take responsibility and get caught in the crossfire.

"The Shogun's mood is extremely favorable these days," it seemed someone decided to take pity and throw you a bone. For this, you ignored the light touch on your shoulder. "Thoma conveyed that the fishermen whose boats safely returned to port do not cease to thank her."

You stayed still for a moment, considering something you couldn't give a name. Expectedly, Commissioner was fine with your lack of reaction most of the time, as long as you were where he wanted you to be.

"Winter will come soon"

Was there any meaning in this phrase or did it mean something completely different. Was it spoken for those who could hear, or did you voice it for yourself. You didn't know anymore.

A drop fell on the windowsill and purely by instinct you touched your cheek again, but, unfortunately, the sound of the rain that began once again reminded you how stupid it was to hope for anything.

He lied after all.

[bonefall]

OMG intersex Moonpaw with a cleft lip???

I just used it as an example because cleft lips and palates are a really good example of the quirks of bilateral symmetry, BUT I do actually have a cleft lip in BB LMAO

It's Lizardstripe because she got a glow up in BB, is one of the smartest and most competent background characters in the rewrite, and has an expanded friendship with both Bluestar and Yellowfang. I gave her a cleft lip because unironically it is such a cool feature and it deserves a million examples of positivity.

Her son Deerfoot also got it, he also got a glowup as a TigerClan rebel.

I should give it to more cats honestly... and more lip features in general. I love you people whose lips naturally curl above the teeth. I love you people with cleft lips, both severe and minor. I love you people who have had mouth surgery and have visible scars.

[idk-bruh-20]

Irondad fic ideas #144

Peter Parker sounds just like Spider-Man. This is something that the students of Midtown find hilarious

Soon, Peter's getting comments in the halls like, "Hey are you that kid who sounds like Spider-Man?" "Uhhh I mean -" "Holy shit it's truuue" and, "Hey Parker, say, 'Hiya Mister Criminal'' "(sigh) Hiya Mister criminal-"

It becomes a daily bit on the school news: they put Peter in the cheapest, most ridiculous Spider-Man mask imaginable and get him to say wild stuff, whatever Midtown students can think of. Like that bit at the end of Honest Trailers.

(Peter may or may not go slightly viral saying some Stuff about the Rogue Avengers in his "Spider-Man voice." Tony may or may not nearly piss himself laughing about it when he finds out.

Spider-Man himself has yet to comment.)

[nadiajustbe]

There's something incredibly strange and funny about the FIRE DEMON from Ingary who somehow managed to work at some random Welsh school for at least a couple of weeks, maybe even longer and not get caught.

Like, did WoTW just lecture ms. Angorian about stuff like printers, photocopies or, well, the whole English Literature program she was supposed to teach for a good amount of time? Or was it just a kind of scripted info for the new form the demon was taking?

And — most importantly — how did WoTW (who, again, lives in Ingary with little to no connection to our world at all) get all this info about Welsh education in a matter of days?

Wikipedia page informs me that she kidnapped Suliman to ask him about it and she did, in fact, asked Sophie about Wales as well. But I cannot believe any of this guys can tell her enough to make a whole fire demon an English teacher, unless Ben was one himself and did willingly tell her the school curriculum — wich is no less hilarious of a concept.

And If she didn't, how couldn't anyone, kids or other schools staff, notice she has no clue about any English literature besides John Dohn and one (1) poem.

I have so many questions.

[mainalias]

replaying dao for the first time in 15 yrs and got the sten dialogue where tal-vashoth are referenced for the first time ever in dragon age and

I 100% interpreted this as the tal-vashoth were killing qunari the first time round, which makes sense because it's cryptic and comes after sten describing tal-vashoth as monsters that require killing.

but knowing more qunari lore now I get that this isn't him describing mysterious killings of qunari by tal-vashoth, this is sten describing people leaving the qun and becoming tal-vashoth.

the tal-vashoth take away his colleagues and friends because they are spreading doubt of the qun and causing others to leave as well, and sten is so indoctrinated that to him this is monstrous, and that's how he describes it to the warden but that is not what is happening at all

[kiwiplaetzchen]

[herssian]

[gardenofnoah]

kirishima has always been looked at as strong and commanding—always larger than life and in control—so he has no idea what to do when he’s pined underneath you and at the mercy of the way you play his body like a well-tuned instrument.

he’s out of his depth and feels half out of his mind as the tip of your tongue drags over his hip bone. you’re touching him everywhere—fingers bruising against his waist, his thighs, his calves—he knows that you are taking from him in a way that no one has ever, and he’s giving all of it to you willingly.

“b-baby,” and it’s stuttered and breathless as he feels your teeth sink into the skin of his inner thigh—he fights the urge to harden his skin subconsciously over the pain because it’s so good and he wants to feel all of it—

“so good, Eij—“ you coo into his skin, dragging the plush of your lips over the trails of raised, reddened skin your nails leave behind as you move down his body, “you’re so good, letting me play with you like this.”

to his shock, his hips kick at your works, completely enthralled by the notion of being a play thing for you—of giving in, of going soft for the first time in his life—

he feels your fingers dig into the muscle of his calves and has to shut his eyes so you don’t see them roll back into his head. the foreignness of his own submission is wearing off now—replaced by the heavy, slippery feeling of needing you, of leaning into this space where he can just be worshipped by you and know that you will be there to hold him through it.

you climb back up his body and he savors the feeling of your weight on him—pressing him into the sheets, the tension in him bleeding out from where your skin meets his—and he lets out a pitiful whine when your nails scrape over the taut muscles of his belly. can’t help it when his hips buck into yours, but feels the need to apologize anyway, because what’s happening right now feels so far removed from his own base desire to be buried inside you. this feels too refined, like more luxury than he deserves, and he feels like a neanderthal.

“it’s okay Eij,” you reassure him, and something inside him goes molten at the way you forgive him, love him— “i know it feels good. you can take what you need to, my love.”

and he shakes his head at that, frantically, because he doesn’t want to take. he doesn’t want control of this—he wants you to hold his pride in your hands and turn it into something malleable and fluid. he can’t trust himself to speak—he presses his palms into the bed and tips his head back, baring his throat to you, just hoping, begging you to understand—

he feels you take one of his hands in yours, feels you bring it to your face and press your smile into the inside of his wrist, nipping at the sensitive skin, sucking it into your mouth gently and laving your tongue over it.

“i see,” you murmur, and it sends a shudder up his spine so violent he feels his toes curl. your eyes rake over his body as you drag your free hand up his chest. he has to remember how to breathe when your fingers circle around the base of his throat.

“you’re such a good boy, Eijiro.”

[beanghostprincess]

I mean… wlw content get overshadowed by mlm ships everyday so it is insensitive a little

Not to sound too mean but what do you expect me to do? I get that sapphic ships get overshadowed and underrated all the time in comparison to achillean ones. Believe me. I am a lesbian who is constantly pushing their sapphic ships everywhere.

But you can't expect people to suddenly stop posting about the achillean ships they enjoy just because they're more popular than YOUR favorite ships. Is it bothersome that achillean ships get more attention for the sole reason of being a male pairing while sapphic ships get ignored or not even suggested? Yeah!!!! It's frustrating.

But if you want some change in the amount of content you see then it's YOUR fight only and others should be allowed to post whatever they like. If you want to post only sapphic ships or you're bothered by them being talked in the same light as achillean ones, then it's YOUR choice to make.

Fandom is NOT activism!!! Fandom is meant to be enjoyed in whatever way you want. Fandom is to interpret media in your own way. So, honestly, if I want to make a simple post comparing two ships I like, why should I be trying to defend myself here for that? If people don't like it, then they can just block me, scroll, move on, etc.

To think a post about comparing fictional ships is insensitive is insane to me, tbh.

[monstermoviedean]

if you have a good vibe/kind thought to spare and could send it my way. i'd really appreciate it.

[naamahdarling]

Augh

[the-casbah-way]

i’m assuming jamie was written out for real-world logistical reasons but i don’t think he could or should have come back anyway. when the attack dog goes rabid and gnaws through his own fucking leash there's nothing much anyone can do but stand there and watch. you can train a dog to bite for you but once they've got enough of a taste for blood they're going to stop giving a shit about who they've got between their teeth so long as there's something to tear into. maybe malcolm never had jamie on a leash in the first place. maybe jamie didn't bite because malcolm asked him to. maybe he just liked the taste of blood. malcolm hired a loyal dog and got what he paid for because at the end of the day jamie stayed so loyal that it became the death of him. loyal to the party. not malcolm