#I am not even gonna lie it’s so fucking self indulgent like. to a degree it would be considered Mary sue probably but that’s okay

[saintajax]

Giggling and kicking my feet in the google docs rn making new lore for my mk self insert bc the reboot basically says fuck canon which means, technically speaking at a scientific level, everything is canon including the fact Johnny is my bf <3

[lex-munro]

[Suicide Squad Scrap] Princess pt. 17

self-indulgent batjokes-flavored SS/BvS/JL, installment 17.  by this point, Ratcatcher has accepted Joker’s somewhat ambiguous gender identity and has decided they are platonic galpals.  chapter contains a barely-off-panel sex act.  TW:  dubious/coerced consent.

the piece as a whole is rated Mature for pervasive language, varying degrees of violence, use of controlled substances, sexual references, questionable ethics, and themes of mental illness.  set from Flag’s POV, with references to Birds of Prey, but not compliant with The Suicide Squad.

p.s. i’ve loved pretty much every version of Mercy Graves.  shoutout to underpaid henchwomen.

p.p.s. Mister J is genuinely more upset about his hair, just saying.  that’s where the bad behavior is coming from.

***

~All right, I’ve tapped a line to the admin server, so we’ll be able to pull a prison census and a map, as well as maybe some easy admin overrides.  Resuming my trip to the roof while Flag heads out to be Mister J’s backup.~

Flag sets about fully securing the unconscious guards.

~Overrides, eh?~ says Digger.  ~Anything for the front door?~

~No, Goomba, I fucking told you the door control is on the naked-ass roof of this building, where I will probably get shot to death if somebody sees me.  So!  I’m at the door now, Mister J—give ‘em the old razzle-dazzle.~

~Probably gonna end up cuffed, so I’ll leave my comm open,~ Joker tells them.  ~Here we go.~

A knock.

~Candygram!~

~Classic,~ Digger says with a chuckle.

A minor commotion.

~Four of you?  I charge extra for gang bangs.~

~Shut the fuck up!  Who are you?  How did you get here?~

~Now, now, no call for such aggression.~

~ Got the door,~ says Ratcatcher.

~Heh, open sesa—FUCKING HELL!  Jeezling Chrimbo holiday biscuit batter…~

“Report!” Flag snaps.  He finishes tying the last guard and heads for the door.

~Fucking close call, is all,~ grumbles Digger.  ~Doors started to close as soon as I crossed the threshold.  Got one sleeve stuck and a very good boomerang at a very precise angle keeping the door from crushing half my torso and skull.  Can’t even take a full breath.  I am at your fuckin’ mercy, Arcee.~

~Some kinda failsafe—I’m on it, Dicker.~

~Handcuffs, oh my.  That’s one of my kinks, boys.  Ooh, and manhandling!  Lucky me.~

Flag hits the door running.  “Backup on the way, Jay!”

~Pretty mouth on you, princess.  Whattaya say?  Gonna be a good little freak for Daddy?~

~Oh, I’m definitely a freak~ the Joker says.  ~But I’ve already got a Daddy.  Still, I fancy myself a talented cocksucker, and I haven’t been face-fucked in ages, so if you’re volunteering…~

“Jay, you don’t have to go that far,” Flag pants, bursting into the lookout building.

~Speaking as the person most likely to be shot to death if these fuckers happen to look out the window at the wrong time, go as far as it fucking takes!~ Ratcatcher snaps.

~As the person currently one boomerang away from being a human crepe if she gets shot, I second the motion!~ adds Digger.

~Yeah, princess?~ the thug leader says, sounding too interested.

~You said I had a pretty mouth, didn’t ya?  No gag reflex, either.  Ah-ah!~ Joker scolds with a little growl.  ~Hands off the ‘do.  Only Daddy gets to touch my hair.~

~Yeah, we’ll see who’s your Daddy, sweetie…~

~Ick,~ says Ratcatcher.  ~Men are so gross.  I’m almost done, max three more minutes.  Lie back and think of England.  Or…I’unno, Gotham, I guess.~

(~You know, not all men are like that.~ ~Did you seriously just fucking ‘not all men’ me?  Not all rats can chew your dick off in ten seconds or less—wanna chance that when I get down there?~)

Seven goddamn floors up, and the elevator has an ‘out of order’ sign hanging from it.  “Piece of shit broken elevator,” Flag huffs, and bursts into the stairwell.

~Best three minutes of your life, coming right up,~ Joker purrs, followed by a long, loud slurp.

~I feel like there should be a word for turned on, grossed-out, and terrified on account of being on the verge of getting literally crushed to death all at the same time,~ Digger grunts.  ~The stress will kill me if this damn thing don’t, Arcee, hurrythefuckup.~

~Eugh, think I’m gonna hurl,~ Ratcatcher groans over the loud noises of whichever-asshole-lookout having too much fun for a guy with metal teeth next to his junk.

~Almost to ya, Arcee,~ says Lawton.  ~And then anybody looking out here ain’t gonna see shit but a bullet.~

Flag hears another wet sound and a drawn-out moan and runs harder.

~Heh, whatcha gonna do now you’re a sloppy mess, princess?  Whatcha gonna tell your Daddy, huh?  What now?~  And the guy laughs mockingly.

Joker spits (not in the guy’s face, from the lack of reaction, but it’d serve the fucker right).

~In position,~ hisses Lawton.  ~Jay, you just say the word, and that piece of shit has frontal lobe air conditioning.~

~Hmmm, what now?~ Joker drawls with eerie calm.  ~What’s your name, big guy?~

“Coming up the stairs,” says Flag.  “Ready to breach on your signal.”

~Vince,~ the rapist says.

Joker makes an agreeable noise.  ~Well, Vinnie, now you’re all mine.  I’m gonna start by fuckin’ up your knee, and maybe breaking your nose.  The guy by the window’s going down next, and one of the guys by the door.  By then, I’ll be out of my cuffs, so I’ll drop Number Four with something heavy, like that lamp over there, probably before he can even raise his gun.  Then me ‘n you are gonna have some quality time together, Vinnie.~

~You delusional f—~

There’s a couple of meaty crunching noises, then laughter and a bullet through the window, so Flag rams the door and clotheslines the guy right next to it.

Joker swings the floor lamp at the last guy, hitting him precisely in the temple and dropping him like a sack of potatoes.

One guy is still writhing on the ground:  presumably Vince, and Flag is a hundred percent behind the idea of letting Joker do whatever the fuck he wants to the creep.

(~Got it!~ says Ratcatcher.  And, ~About fuckin’ time,~ coughs Digger.)

Joker unfastens the second handcuff and lets it drop, then smoothes a hand over his curls (tangled and mussed from being pulled, and for some reason, the idea turns Flag’s stomach worse than the noises before).  “Vinnie, Vinnie, Vinnie,” he tuts, then sighs.  “You were doing so well.  I like swallowing a little sausage now and then, but ya got greedy.”

~Anybody recording for posterity?~ Ratcatcher asks with a dark chuckle.

~I got you covered, Jay,~ Lawton says.  ~He tries anything, he’s gone.  You do whatever your bloodthirsty little heart desires, man.~

Joker flicks his butterfly knife out of his pocket and fidgets it open and shut a couple of times.  “I toldya, Vinnie:  only Daddy gets to touch my hair.  But you just had to have a yank.  If I hadn’t had such a good upbringing, I’d use this knife to do something real unladylike to ya,” he says, trailing the blade up the inside of Vince’s thigh.  “Instead, I’m gonna do you a favor:  I’m gonna make it so you can smiiiiile, ear to ear, every single day, happy as can be.”

Flag makes himself watch as Joker slides the knife in and jerks it back out twice to the sound of pained howls.  There’s lipstick on the guy’s fly.

Joker purrs happily and puts his knife away. “Much better!  Why so serious?” he asks, showing his three grinning tatts to the sobbing mess on the floor.  Then he wipes his left hand across to reveal his hateful scowl, lipstick smearing in a false half-grin.  “And the name’s Joker, you ungrateful fucking Philistine.  Can’t anybody fucking read anymore?”

“You need anything else here, Jay?” Flag offers.

Instead of answering, the clown switches his comm back from open and sweeps out of the room.  As he follows behind, Flag can see that Joker’s pants are riding lower than ever, showing an unfamiliar tattoo across his tailbone, just below the dimples.

“Is that seriously a tiny bat-shaped tramp stamp?” Flag asks.

Joker just flashes a wordless grin over his shoulder.

Lawton meets them out front with the coat Flag abandoned earlier, and he helps Joker into it without being asked.

~My buddies found Turner,~ Ratcatcher informs them.  ~Yo, Dicker, you through yet?~

~Yeah.  I’m looking at the main comms relay, which looks to have itemized camera feeds.  Hold up, got a boomerang for this…~

The fire escape rattles, and Ratcatcher lands in a crouch beside them.  “They said Croc’s near the bottom, and Turner’s one floor up.  Thanks for keeping them off me Mister J—that was pretty boss of you.”  The tablet beeps, and she starts poking through the cameras.  “Good work, Human Crepe; I got visual on the target.  Bronze Tiger, the fuck kinda codename is that?  Sounds like a wrestling move…”

“Porn star,” Flag argues.

“Gaybar,” Joker asserts, to general agreement.  “Fuck, now I wanna own a gaybar called Bronze Tiger…”

“Elevator shaft?” says Lawton.

“Natch.  Not feeling energetic about ladders, though, so I vote for riding most of the way.”

“Arcee?” Flag prompts.

One of her ‘buddies’ climbs her and tells her something.  “Yep, the cellar door here connects to the tunnels where Human Crepe is rollin’ up; auxiliary freight elevator there can take us all the way down.”

In they go, down rusted stairs and into echoing tunnels.  A right turn, a left corner, a right corner, a pair of two-foot-thick thresholds that must’ve been the airlock that almost crushed Digger.  He’s just unplugging a little pocket computer from the comms relay box as they approach.

Another fifty feet, and there it is, clearly labeled ‘Auxiliary Freight Elevator,’ like a plot device in a cartoon.  Lawton helps Flag wrench open the rickety steel gate, and they’re on their way.

Ratcatcher starts humming Girl From Ipanema as they descend.  Lawton joins in.  And then Joker starts singing.

“And when she passes, I smile but she doesn’t see…”

“Doesn’t seeee,” Digger chimes in on cue.

Flag kind of hopes the elevator will crash and they’ll all die.

They peter off into blessed silence, and Flag has just enough time to breathe a sigh of relief.

“Fuck!” Joker yells, startling them.

“Jesus!” squawks Digger.  “What?”

“I chipped a goddamn nail…should’ve cut Vinnie’s balls off after all.”  Joker seethes for a moment, then reaches up to smooth down his hair again.  “Is my hair okay, at least?  Fuck, I feel ugly.”

“Aw, no, Mister J,” Ratcatcher tells him, daintily reaching up to fix a minor tangle.  “You’re so pretty.  Nobody else could pull off orange and purple like you do, ‘specially with green hair.  The Bat would still totally swoon if he saw you right now, chipped nail and all.”

Joker settles a little.  “I’m gonna shoot so many kneecaps when we get down there.”

“No, you’re not,” Flag admonishes.  “We’re trying to be sneaky.  No loud noises if we can avoid it.”

“Croc ain’t exactly subtle, either,” Digger says.

“Jones knows when to keep it low key.”

Lawton scoffs.  “The James Brown suit he was rocking the other day would be evidence to the contrary.”

“Not everybody can pull off a cravat like that.”

“I’m not saying he didn’t make it work; it just wasn’t low key.  Should maybe get Turner first.  What was the security like, Arcee?”

“Huh?  Kinda thin, but they don’t need numbers with those fancy LexCorp guns.  You know those things got a puke setting?  For ‘non-violent pacification.’  Yuck.  Heard that Mercy bitch was around, too; some kinda inspection that’s got the wardens here piddling like puppies.”

Lawton hums thoughtfully.  “Shitty tunnels with piped power, everybody on edge…  Who’s up for a haunted house?”

Flag sees the shape of a plan.  “We’ll stop early—Arcee will hit the lights while Jay plays diversion.  Lawton pops ‘em quiet as a…well, mouse.  If Luthor’s henchbitch is here, all the more reason to tread softly.”

Joker tilts his head.  “Never had a chance to meet her.  She’s that scary, huh?”

“She carries Kryptonite bullets and once beat the shit out of Deathstroke,” Flag explains.

“Hmmmm.”

“No.  Whatever you just thought, no.  I’m not explaining to the Bat how I let you get your ass handed to you by a megalomaniac’s sidekick.  We’re doing the haunted house thing.  You like scaring the piss outta people, right?”

So they take out the lights and go for Turner first, Joker humming a little tune and skipping through the shadows like something out of The Shining.  The third guard they take down really does piss himself.

Nobody they take out has keys to the cells, which is very inconvenient.  Joker dances his way down the corridors, spectral in the shitty chartreuse emergency backup lighting, and glues himself to a door.

“He still intact?” Flag asks, assuming it’s their target.

“Hm?  Oh.  Yep.  Anybody got a set of  lockpicks?”

“You don’t?” Lawton asks, brows high on his forehead.

“Nah.  Always borrow ‘em.”

“Stand back, kids,” Ratcatcher says.  She cracks her knuckles and pulls out a metal file and a dental scraper from her coat pockets.

“Where the hell—” Flag starts to ask.  “Never mind, don’t wanna know.”

After about ninety seconds of little clicks and clinks and metallic scraping noises, the lock turns.  “Lucky those fit,” she comments.  “Real thing is a lot skinnier.”

Turner—codename Bronze Tiger—sits up with a yawn and says, “Do I know you?”  He’s handcuffed and dressed in a plain blue jumpsuit.

“Nope,” says Flag.  “You’re coming with us, though.  Any idea where they put your claws?”

“Guard station, next corridor over.  Little shits were playin’ with ‘em.”

“Arcee—”

“My buddies are already on it.  We taking Deadweight to get Croc, or we splitting up?”

Turner puffs up angrily.  “Deadweight my ass!  Uncuff me, and—”

“Not gonna happen,” scoffs Flag.  “Arcee, you ‘n Boomerang Boy take Gaybar back topside while me, Jay, and—where the hell’s Jay?”

They all look around, then look at Lawton.

“The hell y’all look at me for?  I ain’t the man’s babysitter.”

Overhead, the intercom crackles to life.

~Paging Mmmiss Mercy Graves,~ Joker purrs.  ~One of your wardens would like to register a complaint about his wwwork environment.~

~Please, please,~ somebody else simpers.  ~Please, don’t kill me.  W-what do you want?  Why are you smiling like that?  What are you—~  And the broadcast trails off into blood curdling screams that can’t quite drown out gleeful cackles.

“Oof, so much for low profile,” snorts Ratcatcher.  A pair of rats bring her some wicked looking armored gloves.

“Fuck,” Flag grumbles.  “Well, let’s go get the Twin Masters of Unsubtlety.”

They all pile back into the elevator (Digger shoves Turner along, probably mostly to use him as a human shield should the need arise) and ride it down one more floor.

Joker is unlocking a set of handcuffs from Croc’s wrists.  Beside them, a motionless guard has had his shirt ripped open and the words ‘Joker was here’ cut into the skin of his torso.  “Passed out partway through, real disappointing,” Joker says.  “Hasn’t even lost that much blood…what a baby.”

“We need to leave before Graves finds us,” Flag says firmly.

“Rrrgh, you’re so boring!” growls Joker, metal teeth gleaming.

“You compromise this mission and you will absolutely not get a visit from Daddy,” Flag retorts.

Joker subsides to a pout and sulks his way onto the elevator.

Flag is dumb enough to think they’re fine now—that they’ve gotten away with it.

Then the cage of the elevator rises past some very serious stiletto heels and an equally serious sidearm, and Flag shoves their precious cargo behind Croc as he and Lawton open fire through the grating.  Graves dodges while returning fire with something that melts red-hot holes into the floor and the rear wall of the elevator (“Shitshitshit!” “You’re on my fucking foot, Captain Bonobo!” “Singed my damn suit—now I’m mad.”).  She empties the mag just as the elevator floor passes her head—she licks her middle finger and points with it.

“Got my eye on you, clown,” she calls after them.

“Try two; you’re a shit shot!” Joker retorts.

.End.

[samingtonwilson]

Relationship Tutor: (12) Cooperative Napping

relationship tutor masterlist

Summary: College AU. Bucky, a relationship novice, asks for your help in dating your friend. Unable to say no to him, you agree despite everyone and everything telling you not to.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Warnings: language

A/N: FINALLY time for my absolute favorite part bih!

Bucky was nursing a mocha latte he suddenly no longer had an affinity for, the far too creamy, far too sweet beverage making his heart race and his teeth gritty. He scowled with every sip he took as if he didn’t already have a grimace in place.

He sat back against the cushioned booth bench, his head lolling against the wall behind him. He would’ve given anything to just shut his eyes and take a nap right there.

Natasha made that difficult, though. She was surveying the circumstance from every angle, devising plan after plan for Bucky to finally win the affections of the person he loved.

She brought up several cliché tactics— all of which seemed to center around jealousy.

“Give me a gross pet name. Like ‘Natty’ or ‘Tatty.’”

He made a face. “Absolutely not.”

“How about we start using terms of endearment? Like, I’ll call you ‘babe’ and you call me ‘sweetheart.’”

“Does that idea come with an airsick bag?”

“No, but you come with an attitude apparently.”

She continued after a few moments of silent contemplation. “Kiss me in front of her.”

He snorted. “Pass.”

“Fine, I’ll kiss you in front of her.”

“Oh,” he mused sarcastically with a nod. He dropped his indulgent smile and narrowed his eyes. “Pass.”

It made Bucky uneasy to even contemplate the idea. Jealousy was not only a childish technique but, in this case, it was a dishonest one— and, partially because of you, he knew he couldn’t be dishonest to someone he cared so deeply about.

“She’s in my head, Nat. I can’t lie to her.”

Natasha shook her head, smirking as she tucked a wavy lock of ginger hair behind her ear. She held a cardboard cup of herbal tea in her hands, long nails which were painted blood red scraping against the sleeve embellished with the café’s name. “This would be much easier if you weren’t such a saintly person.”

Even if only momentarily, he smiled at that. “Wanting to be honest doesn’t make me saintly. It should just be expected.”

“You’d be surprised by how few men feel that way. You’re in the minority, Barnes.”

He fiddled with his phone in his free hand, toying with the lock button and swirling his fingertip over the touchscreen. “I can’t just tell her you and I aren’t dating anymore?”

“If you want to tell her that, feel free to. I’m just asking that we have a little fun with this.”

“Fun?” he repeated with narrowed eyes. “In what way is any of this fun?”

“It is for me,” she shrugged as she took a long sip of her tea. A corner of her lips quirked up in a smirk when she noticed his incredulous expression. “What? You needed her guidance to even have a conversation with me, went on four dates with me, and kissed me twice only to need my guidance in getting her.”

“Getting her,” he repeated as if the two words left a bad taste in his mouth. “She once said something about that objectifying women as if they’re prizes to be won.”

“God, keep talking like that and I’ll sabotage this whole thing to keep you all to myself.”

He smiled and shook his head. “Do you have any other ideas or has the well run dry?”

She sat in silent contemplation for a few beats. “How about we just don’t tell her we’ve stopped dating?”

“What?”

“Just don’t tell her that whatever we were has ended.” Her smirk grew more pronounced when he tilted his head like a confused puppy hearing a wayward, unfamiliar noise. “We’re still friends, we can still hang out around her— we’ll just omit the fact that we’ve ended.”

“Isn’t omission just fancy lying?”

“Okay, Saint Barnes, you need to determine the degrees of all these evils and settle on the lesser one.”

Bucky mulled each idea over, wiggling his jaw back and forth and reading the ridiculous names of the drinks written on the chalkboards bolted to the wall behind Natasha. “I’ve been going to her every couple of days for the last few weeks asking questions. What if she wonders why I’m not doing that anymore?”

“Say you don’t need her help now— that you’ve got it handled. Which is true, you handled ending it very well.”

“You ended it.”

“Yeah, but you handled listening to me end it very well.” She narrowed her eyes after a brief pause. “Were you ever actually interested in me?”

“Of course I was. I don’t enlist help for building foundations with just anybody.”

“But you couldn’t get her out of your head, huh?”

“It’d be nice to get her out of anywhere,” he snorted. “I am sorry for all of this, though. You didn’t deserve to be caught in the middle.”

She waved her hand dismissively. “No harm, no foul. You never told me this was a relationship— you said you wanted to try dating and we tried dating. Not to sound like a broken record, but I appreciate the honesty.”

“I had a good teacher,” he replied fondly, his phone vibrating under his fingers with an incoming message. Your name brightly written across the screen, his smile grew but shook a bit with the feeling swarming his stomach.

“I, uh,” he began, still staring at your simple message. “I’m gonna leave.”

“Is that your girlfriend?” she asked in a juvenile tone, laughing when Bucky scowled. “Go. I’ve got work to do as it is— I don’t need you wasting my time like this.”

He rolled his eyes with an exaggerated sigh and gave a single wave in goodbye.

For only a moment, Bucky felt profoundly foolish. It only took a text message from you to send him to his feet, racing to his car and speeding to your apartment. A lot of his friends would call him pathetically whipped, completely helpless to your every whim— and, maybe during his teenage years, he would’ve found that to be mildly shameful. He would have thought it was like he had no backbone when it came to you, no freewill.

But now, when Bucky thought himself to be slightly more evolved, he wasn’t embarrassed by how quickly he succumbed to you. Especially not when the reward for it was so sweet.

Of course, it was never an objectively substantial reward— he didn’t think an objectively substantial reward was ever even merited. However, subjectively he was rewarded substantially each time. May that reward have been a genuine smile, a gleeful laugh, a sigh of relief, or just a chance to be around you longer, he always felt as if the universe was being undeservingly kind and gracious to him for every minuscule thing he did.

It wasn’t as if he needed the rewards to do anything he did. If you wanted him there, he would rush over without a second thought at even the concept of reciprocation. It was something he’d read somewhere that didn’t birth the lack of expectation but gave it a verbal reason— very roughly paraphrased, it was something about never looking for reciprocation in love.

And he was in love— so, so in love. He flirted with the idea that he’d been in love with you from the moment he met you as Steve continuously teased him for, but he remained committed to the notion that it was a love that bloomed from a simple infatuation.

Infatuation that took root the second you walked into the  party in the apartment he shared with Steve with an overly-tabbed Romantic period volume of The Norton Anthology of English Literature. Highlighter in hand, you nodded at Steve and went straight to his room to finish your reading assignment before letting yourself have even one hit of the joint waiting for you.

When you blew the smoke out in a perfect stream and let your chest collapse in relief, he elbowed Steve in the ribs to introduce him to you. You only smiled politely, gave him a playful two finger salute, and offered up the joint with a giggled, “Take a hit, pretty boy. Consider it a ‘Welcome to the world’s most boring university’ gift and a one-time offer.”

But that was all it took for Bucky to ask Steve about you— how he knew you, why he’d never mentioned you, and if you all hung out a lot. Steve replied with a suggestive eyebrow waggle and a cooed, “Sounds like Bucky’s got a li’l crush!”

A year of self-control later, Bucky would have applauded himself for his restraint had that restraint not been so imbued with fear. After all, it wasn’t noble fear. It wasn’t as if he was keeping himself away from you for fear of your heart breaking because of him like some terrible excuse for a martyr. He kept his overwhelming feelings to himself for selfish reasons— reasons ranging from not losing the warmth of your presence to not losing the rush of your gaze.

He only had to knock twice before you pulled the door of your apartment open, looking breathless and a little tired. “Bucky,” you sighed in relief and he could’ve sworn no one had ever said his name in such an addictive manner. “Thank God, please save me.”

He tilted his head questioningly as you let him in, watching as you pulled your jacket on and tucked your phone into your pocket. “Save you from—”

A loud, almost shrieked moan answered his question, his mouth falling open so a disbelieving laugh lifted your own lips despite your sourness. He pointed in the direction of the adjacent hall. “Is that—”

“Yes. I withstood it at first— figured it would stop soon enough. But Sam is so… The man has some steely control and quick recovery because this is, like, the third time I’ve heard a complete stranger climax.”

Bucky continued shaking in laughter. “Do you know who he’s with?”

You shook your head as you pulled your boots on. “I didn’t see.”

“Why didn’t you just leave?”

“It’s colder than the fucking tundra out there and my car’s getting serviced.”

He frowned in consideration, poised to reply until another moan cut through the room. He covered his ears with his hands, earning a laugh from you.

You started towards the door, gripping the lapel of his jacket to tug him behind you.

He let you guide him through the hall and to the stairs, his eyes tracing your form and the way even the minimal sunlight pouring from the dusty windows seemed to love you as much as he did.

“Where are we going?”

You shrugged and let go of his jacket, putting your hands in your pockets instead. “As long as it’s not the library or any other place Sam’s fucking the living daylights out of someone, I don’t care.”

“You need to give me more to work with, doll.”

“Doll?” you repeated, stopping in your tracks to look at him with raised eyebrows and amusement over your every feature. “S’been a while since you’ve called me that, Buck. You sure Natasha won’t have your balls for it?”

“My balls are secure, trust me.” He glanced at you when you shoved the lobby doors open, a smile over your lips despite the extreme coolness of the outside air. “You hungry at all?”

“Not really. I’m more tired than anything else.”

He hummed noncommittally and unlocked his car as the two of you approached it.

You sat back quietly and only opened your eyes after two minutes of driving, the heat from the vents comfortably caressing your cheeks as Bucky’s music played at a calm volume. You narrowed your eyes at the passing landmarks. “Are we going to your place?”

He nodded, keeping his gaze on the road. “You can take a nap there.”

“What are you gonna do?”

“Watch you sleep like that creepy ass vampire in those books my sister reads.” His smile widened when he glanced at you rolling your eyes. “I’ve got a paper due in four days. Might as well start it.”

“Wow, you’re going to start an assignment four whole days before it’s due just so I can take a nap?”

He nodded once more. “Basically.”

You sighed dreamily, placing your hand on your chest. “My fuckin’ hero.”

He wore a self-satisfied smirk and pulled into the parking lot of his apartment complex. “You’re lucky I just cleaned my room this morning.”

“So I won’t get to bury myself under your piles of clothes, you utter embodiment of indecisiveness? Color me disappointed.”

He put the car in park and popped his door open. “Color yourself grateful instead.”

“I already called you my hero. I don’t know why you think you can expect so much from me.”

You followed him up the stairs to his apartment and practically ran to his bedroom once the door was unlocked, kicking off your boots and tossing your jacket onto his desk chair as you fell onto the freshly washed comforter and sheets. You hugged one of the pillows to yourself and sighed as you heard his soft chuckle from the doorway as he entered. “Why does it smell so nice in here?”

He heard you despite your voice being muffled by the fabric you were snuggled into. “Steve bought this bullshit lavender powder you sprinkle onto the carpet before vacuuming. He forced me to use it.”

You set your chin onto your folded arms and narrowed your eyes at him as he tried miserably to stifle a yawn. “Are you sleepy, too?”

He half-nodded. “A little.”

While you knew it wasn’t your greatest idea, the selfish part of you won out and you shuffled to the rightmost side of the full size bed. You patted the side closest to him. “Come on.”

A single eyebrow of his rose. There was a dryness in his throat he needed to cough to speak over. “What?”

“Nap with me.” You pulled his dark green fleece blanket over yourself. “We’ve been married for fifty years and you still have to contemplate this? It won’t constitute cheating on your mistress and I’ll keep my hands to myself.”

He didn’t think on it for too long. He just did what he really wanted and climbed into bed, his shoes strewn beside yours, his jacket tossed alongside yours. He took half the blanket and risked a glance in your direction.

He smiled as he traced your shut eyes, your peacefully parted lips, and your messy hair with his gaze, snapping his eyes closed when you cracked yours open.

You noticed the slight redness dusted over his cheekbones and the bridge of his nose, smiling to yourself as you suppressed the urge to run your fingers over the dark, stubbly beard that contrasted with his skin almost starkly.

When he shivered a bit, you moved closer to him and he instinctively moved closer to you. There were still a few inches separating your bodies when unconsciousness took you both under heavily and relaxingly but in the middle of your slumber, you somehow ended up with his chin atop your head and your nose near his sternum, his arm thrown over your waist and your legs tangled with his.

Bucky made that discovery when the shutting of the front door woke him, sleepily delirious as he confusedly looked over the scene before him. He wished he could breathe deeply and slow his heart rate so as to not disturb you with his heightened nervousness, his body’s reaction to the sparking nerves everywhere your skin met his— but he knew the beating in his chest would take a few moments to calm.

There was a knock at his door much to his dismay and he held his breath as he pulled away from you at an almost snail speed. He climbed out of the bed onto tired legs and combed his fingers through his hair to pull on the ends.

He opened the door to Steve and his wind-bitten cheeks, blonde hair in disarray and coat still done up.

Bucky decided to step out and shut the door behind him, his voice gravelly as he asked, “What’s up, man?”

“I was gonna ask if you wanted to order a pizza for dinner,” he began, peering at the door with narrowed baby blue eyes. “Is Natasha here? I thought you two ended things, Bucky.”

“We did, we did. Nat’s not here.”

“Then who— You told Y/N you were turning a new leaf and you said you would finally tell her how you feel. You can’t fuck this up now, too—”

“Mother Rogers, if you could stop lecturing me for half a second,” Bucky started, glaring, “I could tell you that Y/N is the one in there—”

“What?”

“— and she’s taking a nap,” he continued. “Wilson’s got a girl at their place being loud as fuck. She just needed somewhere to go, I offered up our place.”

Steve smiled and playfully punched Bucky’s shoulder. “You gonna tell her when she wakes up? Maybe before the party tomorrow night?”

“I’ll tell her when I want to tell her, Steve. You can’t rush this shit.”

“S’been over a year, Buck. Glaciers move faster.”

PART 13: COMPETITIVE CONFRONTATION

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[thekintsukuroikid]

December 23 2017.

I never wanted to post these. I wasn’t going too.

It wasn’t until I saw the pictures of my family members did I realize I actually did capture something worth sharing, worth working on, worth feeling good about.

I’ve been on meds for awhile, been to therapy too. I’m starting to feel like I have the tools in my toolbox to start making some steps forward. I just don’t feel like I have the self belief to really go for it.

I’m tired, i’m frustrated and I’m finding it increasingly harder to rationalize this fight for myself. I remember being so excited when I moved away that finally I had the ability and the freedom to focus on myself, all of myself, especially my mental health. The commitment to do so has be fraught with setbacks and frustration.

The silver lining to which is the sheer immensity of kindness and love I’ve received from my friends. I question how I deserve it…obviously, and I am always wary of making sure our conversations aren't always about negative stuff. I don’t want to drag em down, or be a bummer.  I always believed the most insulting feeling in the world is being pitied. I’d rather be hated than pitied. Maybe i’m just being loved.

I always need external context, I never feel like I can start or finish or be without some sort of external form of permission, context, and sometimes motivation.

Whether is a girls number at the bar, or a degree on the wall I can never truly feel happy or connected to a moment, or an outcome unless I can work out how i’ve earned it. I almost never do.

What this means Is that I am often left floating, never really sure of myself in any given situation. Never really sure if what Im doing or experiencing is really building on a person or values as opposed to the consistent stringing together of just getting through the day.

Taking pictures is a hobby that feels safe to me, it feels worth pursuing. I think because deep down I have never felt like the main character of my own story, behind the lens I don’t have to be.

I named this blog after Kintsukuroi because I loved the meaning behind the art of fixing broken pottery with gold. I wanted to feel like I could do that for myself. Shine through my flaws. But even if I don’t, you can still fill the cracks with pyrite instead of gold and still hold water. Maybe that’s ok.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

See the key to enjoying family vacations is finding little moments of solitude, of respite where you slip out the back and escape for a few hours armed with a bluetooth speaker and a book that wasn’t assigned reading.  

 -I found a beach chair on the very edge of the resort property, a small wooden fence and a small one person security shack all that separated me from the public beach area filled with local kids splashing and yelling.  

- I played something slow and looked out into ocean and came up with as many lame water metaphors as one could presumably concoct under the circumstances of time and a mild hangover. - I present them here:

  See I preface all of this by saying writing all flowerying and poetic like this is like eating buffallo wings really fast, like it tastes good but is always accompanied with the heartburn of being this self indulgent. It just kinda feels douchey haha.  Ah fuck it lets go. Maybe self indulgent is the point?  When else can you be self indulgent right? 

How do I explain the fear of wondering if I wasted my best years simultaneously treading water, and never actually getting wet. How do I reconcile that? Am I gonna be in my late 30s wondering what its like to feel smart enough, or hot enough or good enough. That seems like it could suck, I mean it sucks now, what happens when it also feels like I’ve run out of time?

Speaking of water...

--

Sabrina Benaim said that Depression is turning lonely into busy.

and I am always busy.

She said that  

“Depression is sleepwalking on an ocean of happiness, I cannot baptise myself”

- I get that. You see it all around, potential everywhere, happiness so close it seems within reach and everyone around you thinks so too, yet you can't submerge yourself in it. You just drift along, walking on the water that is happiness and not being able to get yourself soaked in it. Always staying dry.

-  Maybe in my own metaphor if depression is the actual water?

- I wonder if Happiness is instead the sky you look up to when you’re treading water, concocting dreams of rescue helicoptors or philanthropic Pterodactyls swooping down to save you from your lack of cardio.

-I’ve tried to learn more about treading water by watching people who know how to swim really really well.

Google defines the Rapture of the Deep as an incapacitation that occurs when you dive too deep into the ocean, and no longer know what way is up. It can happen even if you learn how to swim really really well. One way or another some people just sink.

...and some people just take themselves way to seriously...I wonder if thats me?

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

January 20th 2018 

AN ADENDUM 

I am  not afraid of the dark. 

Night time makes snack food taste better.

Depression is a slowdance lit ever so romantically by the light of the street light by my window. the glow of the 3:00am on the clock backlighting my stirrings, as a defiance against the convention of normal sleep patterns that’d  make even my teenage angst say dude chill…take a nap.

- I envy people. 

Not because I want some material thing they have, or some accomplishment. -

- I’m jealous of people who’s ears don’t constantly ring with self doubt. I always felt like I wanted to be a producer instead of just a consumer. But I’ve never had the self belief to stand by what I make...or just make. You know how people play hard to get? I feel like I play hard to want. Like all the time. Trying to be happy means sometimes trying to hard and that is annoying as shit. 

 I cannot for the life of me understand how people can just, be. 

I cannot understand how people can get through the day with more hope beyond just getting through the day. I’d give one eye just to have the other see through that lens. 

I cannot understand for the life of me how people know what to do, like ok you’re a therapist how did you know you wouldn’t be the worlds best advertising agent, or a poet or a spot welder? how do these other options not keep you up at night?

- How many people actually try Luge, like what if there is the worlds best Luger (sp?)  and he’s instead stuck in the accounting department fantasizing about  how to ask out the intern in accounts receivable? He could be fucking Luging bro.  

What I’m saying is I cannot understand how people know who to be friends with, or where to live, or who to marry? What if a more compatible partner is out there but she lives in Nicaragua...Fuck dude you gotta go to Nicaragua maybe! maybe the beauty is that out of 7 billion people, out of a million decisions, and happen stances, out of a million one in a millions, you found each other. Maybe thats worth something too? The grass is greener where you water it and all that but how do you know you should be planting grass and not palm trees....or Weed?

How do you know what parts of the tree to prune, what parts can you cut to make it grow and what parts will kill the tree?

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I do try my best, see thats the frustrating part I think. I've tried. I tried to be patient too, To not get ahead of myself. or try to feel like im entitled to feel better just because im trying too.

This has been the most open I've ever been with the people in my life bar my family. Not a single person i've told has reacted with anything other than a reaction of love and care.  No matter how I try I can't feel like I deserve it.  I’m so scared of opening up too much, and stifling how much and how long I talk about the bad days, I lie about how many good days im having because I don't want this to be a burden for them.  I don't want to get left behind because when im alone this thing starts getting the better of me. This is all a bad mix of feeling like I have the most to lose and feeling like I have the least amount of resources i’ve ever had to not lose them.

So much has changed and yet, it still feels like I have nothing to show for any of this. 

I read somewhere once that possession is the enemy of love. 

That you kill a flower by picking it. Instead of watering it where its rooted.  

-

Maybe more patience is required, it’d just be nice for a sign that somethings sprouted, that i’m doing the right things to bring forth an eventuality that this chapter of my life will be over.  I just wonder when perseverance ends and delusion begins?

--

I went into my brothers room to give put back a book. I found his sticky notes plastered all over his desk with like meditative buzz word, he's got books on history of architecture and james baldwin and eckhart tolle with the bookmarks well into them. He's starting his own creative company, hes filled out an application for the NYT. he's doing freelance work. hes already killing it with his company and in school. He is an awesome photographer,  he's a fashion whiz. he's a veritable genius. and I can't get out of bed.  I walked 3 steps out the door today, said nope, and went to bed. I went to bed at midnight last night and didn’t leave my room until 4pm.  Im not saying this in a jealous way or in away that harbours any negativity towards him. I love my brother, even if we are never going to be on the terms I hoped we’d be. To be honest I'm not really interested in the things he's into so him being good at those things don't take anything away from me. Its just insane to me how far behind I feel. I can't even basically function and he's taking on the world. If he were where I am, the world would be robbed of so much of the things he can do. I just feel like i'm robbing myself of what I could maybe do too. and It used to be a thing where If I saw somebody getting theirs, id be like aight I gotta go get mine too and id be motivated and it'd give me a boost. Because I believed in my better. I believed I had more to give.  now I just, I can't  envision any of that for myself. I don't even know what it looks like anymore.

I know that isn’t a fair comparison, I know he’s healthy and I’m not, I know comparison is the thief of joy.

It’s just, I started this whole getting healthy thing to start feeling more like myself. To start  to answer the questions about what I could do if depression  wasn’t at the forefront of every endeavour I chose to undertake, every thought that crossed my mind and every relationship I established. The fact is I feel no closer to answering that question. None. I feel farther than ever. I am the product of such wonderful privledge, to waste those gifts on a disease so self centred and indulgent seems ridiculous to me, yet here I am.

-

I have people walking with me now on this whimsical mental health adventure I’m on. Which is weird, because for the first time I’ve had to be cognizant of where my arms flail, or how much room I take up on the sidewalk. We walk together lock step, looking at that straight lined horizon, for something to eagerly burst its linearity and meet us more than half way.

While I appreciate the company it’s come with the added fear of what will happen if and when I have to stop, to stumble, to catch my breath, and for the sake of time, they keep walking. Until I can’t see them. Until the horizon is no longer something to move forward too. No north star to guide me home. 

See gratitude is anxiety. 

Always wondering how you’ve earned the luxury of a second to breathe, to use that moment to appreciate. 

 Always waiting for the other shoe to drop.  

[bloo-jae]

Doe's Playlist

1. Billie Eilish - No Time To Die

"Was I stupid to love you? / Was I reckless to help? / Was it obvious to everybody else / That I'd fallen for a lie / You were never on my side"

2. Jack Stauber - Fighter

"Call me fighter / I'll mop the floor with you / Call me lover / I'll take you for a drink or two"

3. Mr. Kitty - Dream Diver

"I'm always falling apart / Always losing my mind / Losing everything when I think of you / Tell me the reason why / Tell me that I should trust you / I'm always running away / Always leaving behind / All the memories I held in my heart / I gave you everything / Now I can never trust you"

4. Mr. Kitty - Sanctum of Ash

"Time will smooth me out / Down to ash and dust / All the weight is lifted / As my memory rusts"

"Let me be the shards / Scattered through your past / I will pull you through / The fragments that kept me attached / Just let me go"

5. Kali Uchis - Dead To Me

"I don't know what you've been told / See, I am not your enemy / But if there's one thing that I know / It's that you ain't a friend to me"

"You think you got problems with me / But baby, I don't even think about you / You watch everything that I do / But what are you up to, I haven't a clue / 'Cause baby, you're dead to me / Why I can't I be dead to you / I think that we both know the truth / You're obsessed, just let me go"

6. Tally Hall - Just Apathy

"My course is run and I'm so tired / Until the next one comes inspired / I feel bad and I should / I made her sad and I knew it would / 'Cause it's one thing / Or another / I don't even know why I bother / One thing just tears her down"

7. Matt Maeson - Dancing After Death

"If I let go / Would you hold on / Would we fly / Is it safer / If we just say / That we tried / Are we laughing / At the danger / Are we dancing after death / You and I"

8. Oliver Tree - Hurt

"I'm sorry if I hurt you / I'm sorry if it got that bad / I'm sorry I can't help you / Somebody should've had your back"

"I tried but / I don't think so / Maybe it was me who was fuckin' up / I gave all / I could give but / It seems like it never really was enough"

9. Vashti Bunyan - I'd Like to Walk Around in Your Mind Someday

"I'd like to walk around in your mind someday"

"You say you just want peace and to never hurt anyone / You see the end before the beginning has even begun"

"But most of all I'd like you to be unaware / Then I'd just wander away, trailing palm leaves behind me / So you don't even know that I've been there"

10. Frozen Musical - Monster

"If I'm a monster / And it's true / There's only one thing that's left for me to do / But before I fade to white / I'll do all that I can to make things right"

11. Dirt Poor Robins - Great Vacation

"Dear Mr. Thoughtless, there's some things you shouldn't say / for the judge can hear you and it soon will be the day / Where he'll take the words you spoke and lay them at your feet / Syllables and decibels, he didn't miss a beat"

12. ieuan - Virtual Reality

"Tell me this is real / It's been hard to feel alive for a while it seems / Is this our destiny? / Virtual reality has got a hold on me"

13. Kansas - Carry On My Wayward Son

"Once I rose above the noise and confusion / Just to get a glimpse beyond the illusion / I was soaring ever higher / But I flew too high"

"Masquerading as a man with a reason / My charade is the event of the season / And if I claim to be a wise man / It surely means that I don't know"

14. Next Year's End - Faceless

"Who are you now? / What have you become?"

"I'm not the person who I wish I was / I've fallen victim to my misjudgements / A dinner for two and I feel so alone / I gave my jacket to a cold soul"

"I know myself / More than I ever have before / It's times like these / I'm free"

"Know yourself before you love someone else"

15. The Submarines - 1940

"Something's wrong when you regret / Things that haven't happened yet / But it's a glorious day when morning comes / Without the feeling of alarm"

"You couldn't sleep for the awful fright / That kept you up in bed last night / But while curious shapes shift in the dark / They vanish with the sunrise spark"

16. Cavetown - This is Home

"Get a load of this monster / He doesn't know how to communicate / His mind is in a different place / Would everybody please give him a little bit of space?"

"Get a load of this train wreck / His hair's a mess and he doesn't know who he is yet / But little do we know the stars / Welcome him with open arms"

"Time is / Slowly / Tracing his face / But strangely he feels at home in this place"

17. Oliver Tree - Alien Boy

"I fell down to Earth / From a hundred miles away and somehow / I still make it work / But it's overrated and somehow played out"

"Ten doors down but you still can't see me / I talk a lot of shit so you won't believe me / I really wouldn't say anything else / I shouldn't be standing here all by myself"

"'Cause I'm out there / Tried to tell you that I'm out here on my own"

18. Bo Burnham - From God's Perspective

"You're not going to Heaven / Why the fuck would you think I'd ever kick it with you? / None of you are going to Heaven / There's a trillion aliens cooler than you"

19. Tally Hall - Ruler of Everything

"I've been you, I know you, your facade is a scam / Y'know you're making me cry, this is the way that I am / I've been living a lie, a metaphorical scheme / Detective, undercover, brotherhood, objective, obscene"

20. The Neighbourhood - W. D. Y. W. F. M?

"Two nights ago, she got that look in her eyes / Kaleidoscope, but that's only half the time / Three days before, she told me that I don't even try / She's crazy though, I guess there's something wrong inside"

"Maybe you're right, maybe this is all that I can be / But what if it's you, and it wasn't me? / What do you want from me?"

21. The Neighbourhood - How

"How could you question God's existence / When you question God himself / Why would you ask for God's assistance / If you wouldn't take the help"

"They say the end is coming sooner / But the end's already here"

22. atlas - dissociate

"I saw a picture frame, but it turned out to be a mirror / My reflection's so much clearer when I'm not aware it's me"

"It's a long way down if you fall / And it's a long way up if you don't / And it's a long way down if you fall / And it's a long way out so / I sit in the center and I ponder my disinterest for it all"

"It's a lot easier to imagine ending things / When I'm watching myself from the third person / It's a lot easier to imagine changing things / When I'm watching myself from the third person"

23. Mindless Self Indulgence - It Gets Worse

"Hey, you, baby, you don't know / How bad it's gonna get / If you think shit sucks now / You ain't seen nothin' yet"

"Now, I'm no psychologist / I'm no doctor with no degree / But it don't take no fuckin' scientist to figure out that there is nothing in this world for me"

"You're going down the road, the same one that we have / We cannot wait to see life kick you in your ass / I shed a little tear for all of you out there / There's no way to escape, there's no way to escape"

24. Foals - Spanish Sahara

"I'm the fury in your head / I'm the fury in your bed / I'm the ghost in the back of your head"

"Now the waves, they drag you down / Carry you to broken ground / So I'll find you in the sand / Wipe you clean with dirty hands"

"So god damn this boiling space / It's the Spanish Sahara / The place that you wanna leave the horror here / Forget the horror here / Forget the horror here / Leave it all down here / It's future rust and it's future dust"

25. Raye - Bet U Wish

"I think you understand you messed up / But now how dare you even mention love / Love is the last thing that you gave to me / And don't you even think to lie, don't you even think to lie / There are no words that you could ever say / To erase the hurt you sent my way / I'm still returning from recovery / I bet you wish that you were mine, bet you wish that you were mine"

"Everything is gone / For you I have nothing, absolutely nothing / But I bet you wish, I bet you wish, I bet you wish / I bet you wish, I bet you wish, I bet you wish"

26. Mother Mother - Ghosting

"I've been ghosting / I've been ghosting along / Ghosting the world / Ghost with no home"

"I remember / I remember the days / When I'd make you / Oh so afraid"

"And this is why I have decided / To leave your house and home unhaunted / You don't need poltergeists for sidekicks"

27. OneRepublic - Everybody Loves Me

"Don't need my health, got my name and got my wealth / I stare at the sun just for kicks all by myself / I lose track of time, though I might be past my prime / But I'm feeling oh, so good"

28. SIAMÉS - Mr. Fear

"Hello, my name is Mr. Fear / I wish I had a faster therapy / I've come to mind control your needs / Tonight I'm gonna star all of your leads"

"You know, I'll never disappear / Now get me out of here / Don't trust in me, my dear / No cure is coming"

"'Cause you make me feel like I'm so alone / I know it's not real, but it's in my soul / And I just can't try to face the dark inside my head"

29. Jai Paul - BTSTU

"I know I've been gone a long time, but / I'm back and I want what is mine"

30. Absofacto - Dissolve

"Your voice like an angel / Chainsmoking all month long / Like you're someone I believe in"

"You held me, but I'm volatile / And never got my head screwed on / Now I'm melting through the floor"

"Am I only a lab rat / Someone you can test things on / Are you training for a new love?"

"All in white, like you're an angel / With the sun glimmering off your glass mask / This isn't what I signed up for"

[utopianparadoxist]

Jake English is the most intelligent character in Homestuck. And he hides it deliberately.

For a given value of “intelligence”, anyway. I don’t hold that much truck with the concept in general--there are different kinds of intelligence that run the gamut of human skills, and reducing that to a single concept is reductive, to say the least.

However, it’s hard to deny that there are real cultural forces in our society that do treat intelligence as a monolithic descriptor of skill and worth, and it’s a cultural idea as pervasive in reality as it is in Jake’s character arc. For that reason alone, I’ll be using “intelligence” as a term referring to Jake’s awareness of and competence at identifying and solving problems throughout this sequence. The term as I am using it here is only relevant in the context of the themes and language Homestuck sets up. 

Intelligence, competence, and awareness are key parts of Jake’s relationship with the people around him, and particularly with the way he is dehumanized, taken for granted, and abused. 

In fact, almost every character Jake is close to in canon questions his intelligence at some point:

And this dynamic isn’t just present in the characters. It’s in the fandom as well.  Fandom perception of Jake English often considers him comically unaware of his surroundings and reality, dense and slow or even straight up unable to pick up on ideas that come naturally to many of the other characters. This is true across the board of opinions of his character: Some consider Jake a self-absorbed, thoughtless asshole, others still consider him a helpless victim who isn’t quite quick enough on the uptake to keep up with how he’s manipulated by others. It’s hard for us--the fandom, I mean--to be sure of just how much Jake understood about how badly Lil Hal treated him (and by association, Dirk, in much of the fandom’s eyes). Or that Jane liked him. Among other things. It’s part of the general air of helplessness and incompetence that surrounds Pages, I guess, and air set up around Jake for quite a lot of his narrative:

(Note: This is Brain Ghost Dirk specifically questioning Jake’s intelligence.   I hope you’ve got some good note taking pens, because this is going to be important later.) It’s pretty much accepted that the degree and reach of Jake’s intelligence is, at the very least, a matter of debate. I am here to say that it is not. At all. And I can prove it. By allowing ourselves to doubt Jake’s intelligence, we--the fandom-- have performed the equivalent of deciding Dave’s cool guy act is the real deal. 

We have fallen for Jake’s bluff. I’ll explain. 

Plenty of people are aware that Knights, as a class, tend to act out personas that reflect ideas about how they think they should act.  For Dave, that’s the stoic Cool Guy archetype, which he eventually grows out of:

For Karkat, it’s his ideas of being a Ruthless Big Shot Leader, which he also outgrows by the end: 

And Latula has the thing about being a R4D SK4T3R G4M3G1RL!!! I don’t really think we need a quote to establish that--Dave and Karkat prove my point well enough, and this is pretty much common fandom knowledge.  What I don’t think is common fandom knowledge is that Pages do the same thing, but for a different purpose. Pages and Knights both set up Personas that they project into the outside world. And both of them do it to control how other people perceive them. But for different reasons. Knights do it because they want to be perceived as capable, in control, and unflappable, basically. Karkat wants everyone to rely on his executive ability as a Leader. Dave wants to be admired and validated by his friends, or. Well. Anyone. In essence, Knights want to be relied on by others.  Pages, on the other hand, develop this fabricated identity for themselves. At this point, I should mention I’ve come to agree with Tex Talk’s view that Knights are a passive class and Pages are an active one.  Knights use their aspect to benefit others. Pages use it to benefit themselves.

Horrus develops a strangely blank persona, so conspicuously fake it is hard to tell if he even reacts to input--so it’s easy for him to just pretend he didn’t hear it when Rufioh tells him he wants to break up--again, I don’t really feel like going through all of Openbound to get all the screencaps and I don’t think they warrant that much space on this post.  Tavros does the same thing, enveloping himself in his games and fantasy so much that he veers away from almost any responsibility in the session, and does only what he wants to...unless Vriska is stealing that ability from him. However, even through her abuse,  Tavros manages through sheer presentation of his person to encourage the other trolls to help take care of him. 

Specifically, by giving him increased mobility--mobility and freedom of movement being concepts closely related to Breath. It’s worth mentioning Tavros is able to inspire this care not just in Kanaya, but in Equius, who looks down upon lowbloods and whose culture would have encouraged him to KILL Tavros for his weakness rather than help him.  But because of Vriska’s exploitative and cruel influence on him, I’m not sure to what extent he really lives up to his full potential. That said, he DOES manage to completely live out his own personal fantasy, coming to embody both his childhood image of Peter Pan...

BUT ALSO being the only one of the Alternian trolls to accomplish his original childhood goal: Becoming a Cavalreaper.

Get it? He’s literally cavalry. Ha ha. Is this kind of a fucked up victory? Maybe, yeah. But it’s fitting that the character obsessed with the Peter Pan fantasy of leading a troupe of “Lost Boys” never really grows up with the goals he sets for himself. Maybe it says something about Tavros, or about the nature of Ghosts--either way, it definitely seems intentional.  Anyway, the Ghosts are another essay for another time. Time to talk about the kid I actually want to talk about:

Jake English has a fabricated persona, too. For Horuss, it’s nothingness. For Tavros, it’s endless childhood and Peter Pan. But Jake’s persona is a contrast to Dirk’s (and Dave’s) Cool Guy persona. Personas that, for each of them, sit at the dead opposite end of the spectrum from who all three characters actually are. 

And for Jake’s constructed persona is that of the Hot-Headed Hero.

And like Horrus and Tavros, Jake indulges this fantasy version of himself even when he actively knows it makes no sense to do so, simply because it’s the fantasy about his life he wants to live out. 

But like Dave and Dirk’s presentation of themselves as cool guys unphased by anything, this persona is a complete lie. Jake is demonstrably extremely nerdy... He collects pointless minutiae about his favorite movies and comic books. He looks up to comic book heroines so much he wants to dress up like them.  And also intelligent, curious, and good at evaluating the potential consequences of his actions--traits he literally willfuly holds himself back from. 

His Modus is by far the most complex of all the kids. He uses a Puzzle Modus that allows him to fit any amount of items he wants in it’s storage space...so long as he can successfully spatially fit every single object within a finite space. 

And Jake captchalogues a LOT of shit. Meaning he has to keep all of this inventory and know how to spatially navigate it to fit everything he wants at all times. And he does this casually, as a part of his daily interactions with the world around him.  But perhaps more telling than that is how Brain Ghost Dirk describes his own creation: 

Brain Ghost Dirk implies that he is a Dirk splinter, but specifically a Dirk splinter that exists entirely through the ideas Jake has about Dirk. 

In other words, Jake knows and understands Dirk so well that he can pretty much perfectly remember his body, movements and mannerisms on command. Again, not even actively, it’s just kind of how Jake English rolls-thinking about Dirk all the time is the status quo. 

And Brain Ghost Dirk claims to be Jake’s literal brain, talking back to him. Which means when Brain Ghost Dirk calls Jake out on something, he is forcibly communicating important information to Jake that Jake is actively choosing to ignore. It’s Jake talking to himself, not Dirk giving Jake information he doesn’t have by talking to him through Brain Ghost Dirk. We have reason to believe the Ghost about this, since Dirk never expresses having any awareness of Brain Ghost Dirk’s existence.  So what important information does Jake willingly ignore? Well, earlier we saw him justify beating up a random alien girl even though a part of his brain knew she wasn’t actually Sea Hitler, and he kind of just wanted to play the part. But surely we can do better than that. How about everything about his friends’ feelings about him that makes him uncomfortable? Callmearcturus wrote this brilliant thesis outlining why she thinks Jake deliberately manipulated Jane into failing to confess to him, but I’m gonna run over it real quick to ground it in this context and sell you on the idea that this is, in fact, not a theory and explicit canon. Because we don’t need to guess at this by reverse-engineering Jake’s well-established feelings for Dirk. Roxy literally tells him Jane has these feelings before Jane herself does:

Jake recognizes what Roxy is saying, and guesses what she was alluding to on her own. Roxy doesn’t deny it by any measure, and when she asks Jake to drop the issue, Jake says he understands the dilemma this puts her in with Jane.  To stress: He received this information in confidence and knows it for a fact. And he trusts the information he receives so much that he then ACTS on it. After talking to Roxy, Jake messages Jane himself, OPENING by mentioning Roxy told him Jane was going to be contacting him.

And then he himself broaches the subject of their romantic feelings for each other:

But when Jane outright asks him if he has something he wants to say to her, Jake expertly dodges the question, keeping his options open while putting the onus of taking the first step and revealing her feelings on Jane again. 

And then, once he’s got her trying to answer...

He KEEPS asking her, interrupting her several times while she starts to try sorting out her thoughts. He puts Jane under a LOT of pressure here, which...considering Jake literally KNOWS the answer, is a pretty shitty thing to do! Even if Roxy hadn’t LITERALLY TOLD HIM mere minutes ago, Jane’s reactions here would have confirmed Jake’s suspicions beyond a reasonable shadow of a doubt. 

Unless, of course, one has a reputation for not thinking things through or being aware of their surroundings. 

Once Jake has his answer, he doubles back, making sure to ask her AGAIN while she’s off balance....

And he then shuts her down when she tries to take the initiative on taking it back and being honest, quickly following up by IMMEDIATELY letting her know he’s relieved about this--signaling his disinterest BEFORE she has a chance to reveal she actually does have a stake in the matter.

He then uses his goofy, unaware, trusting persona to set up a status quo where Jane continually helps him by acting as a sounding board for all his thoughts about Dirk--essentially, putting Jane inside a gender-flipped version of the laughable stereotype of The Friend Zone.

But wait a minute. Jane is one thing. But if Jake is actually this smart, aware, and capable--then it kind of has ramifications across all of his character interactions. What else changes if we read Jake this way? I know I said my next post would be on Roxy, but, uh...yeah. This one kind of got away from me. 

In our next entry, we’re going to talk about Why Jake does what he does, and Why he seems so genuinely confused about it later into his narrative. We’re also going to look at some of the other consequences his Jake’s approach to his friendships has for his friends. 

We’ll also make a case for Why exactly Jake ultimately falls in love with Dirk Strider, how and when Jake demonstrates and acts on that love, and if I can manage to squeeze it in--maybe even uncover the way the Heart aspects’ two different themes of  Souls and Romance/Shipping are conceptually connected.

And on that note, it’s worth pointing out that there’s one notable exception to the list of people fooled by Jake’s presented persona. One character who not only never talks Jake’s intelligence down...

But instead talks Jake’s intelligence UP when he talks badly about himself. 

Dirk Strider.

See you again soon, everyone. 

Until then, Keep Rising.