#I have no goddamn motherfucking idea what accent he’s trying to do

[are-we-really-doing-this]

Word Life, y’all 🧼

[theidiootti1]

•My Mysterious Scotsman

[Chapter one]

He walked along the dimly lit hallway and looked around. It wasn't anything glorious, really old and poor looking place at the back sides of restless Belfast. Wallpaper or weird looking paint missing from the walls and looked like those had a bit of water damage aswell. The place smelled really badly of mold and old building, and it made his nose to tingle. It Wasn't anything new for him if he remembered the places where he had lived as a kid at the bad parts of his home town. It was too familiar. The young man kept walking silently down the hallway trying to avoid from making any kind of noices as he heard silent mumbling coming from the very end of the hallway. Curiousity killed the cat but he couldn't do anything to his nature, he needed to go closer. The sound of the far coming thunder storm and the rain that was assaulting the roof of the building was just a distant sound somewhere as the young man tried to listen what was going on behind that half closed door. He stopped near to the door looking carefully into dim lit room, he saw two male figures. They probably were arguing , because the way they were standing was radiating something bad. Something dangerous. Something what you don't wanna stick your nose into.

"We can't trust that bastard", the voice crowled at the inside of the room with an deep Irish accent. It must belong to the guy that was basically radiaitinh all the bad vibes around.

"And why is that ?" Came other a bit deeper voice, clearly annoyed to the other males presence

"He is not Irish !" The other one growled again "That's why we can't trust that Scottish brick !" He rised his voice a bit.

"And that is not your goddamn business, Jimmy ?!", the older one who had the deeper voice said, "We need more guys, you understand ?! I do it for the cause, what ever if some motherfucker is not irish ! The cause is more important than that, you understand me do ya ?!" He said with a stern voice. The voice rised the young boys neck hair up.

The younger man listened and suddenly his mood was dragged even more down, as long as he listened. He sighed silently and pulled air in and grapped the handle of the door. He exhaled as he knocked to the door and opened the door little. Both man's eyes shot to him and he suddenly felt really exposed for no reason. His eyes wanted to look anywhere else than to them and in fact he wanted to crawl under the table and hide. Unfortunetly he would not fit under anything in this room. He could run ? Could he ?

"Go back to your work, get out ", said the older one to the other man whos gaze was burning into the dark haired skinny boy who was standing in front of the door. It was one of those "if looks could kill" - looks. He frowned with an killing gaze, but obeyed the order.

"aye." , he said dryly, his voice was dripping poison as he nodded to the older man and started to walk towards the door. When he walked past this silent boy he showed him with his shoulder and went out of the door slamming it shut after him.

The older man sighed and rolled his eyes while rubbing his forehead and his gaze fell back to the boy standing beside the door. The boy who was watching his shoes , with head down and fidgetting with his hands.

"Sorry 'bout that...this weather affects all of us, come sit down mr. Telford.", he said and showed with hand  gesture to the chair in front of his desc as he sat back down to his own chair at the opposite side of the table.

Young so said mr. Telford took a step closer to the chair and waited before the older man sat down. Some things that his lovely mother had thaught him. He sat down and suddenly felt like being in headmaster's office. He didn't like that idea. He hated that place and wouldn't like to re visit it.

The older man cleared his throath and the young boy in front of him raised his gaze up from his hands that were resting on his lap. The older man sighed and leaned forward in his chair. Clasping his hands on top of the table top.

"So. How you doing lad ?" He asked, a little bit too friendly that took back the young man for a moment. He didn't know what to answer, he started to play with his fingers again, nervous habit of his.

"you excited about your first big job ?" The older one asked again and the younger nodded lightly, still not able to form actual words.

"That's good, that's good 'cause you know the lads are a bit restless... I don't want you to dissapoint me, aye ?" He asked with an rised brow and tilted head. His gaze was demanding. One of those looks what dad gives to their son.

The young dark haired boy lifted his head up again and nodded, with more confident than before. There wasn't backing down anymore.

"Aye, sir." He said with his deep Scottish brogue that was hard for some to understand. He was really proud of his heritage and wore that with proud. For these mans fightning for the cause. It was hard thing to accept.

The older man nodded aprovingly and stood up, closing his jacket button.

"Great. The other boys are probably waitin' for ya", he said and showed the young man to get up.

He stood up and straightening his jacket a bit.

Still wet from the rainy weather outside, not able to dry out in the wet air of the inside.

"Don't make us regret our choise. ", he said sternly with lifted eyebrow before shoeing the younger man out of his little office kind of room.

The young man stumbled out of the room and once back in the hallway, he leaned to the hallways wall for the moment, gathering his thoughts. That seemed to have spread out like a broken glass bottle pieces. Was this really what he wanted from his life. He was going to do his first blood work for the IRA. He is going to kill someone. Take the life from the person. Was this really the only thing he could do. He was a nerv wreck and he prayed silently for the god not to watch his doings tonight. Suddenly a bit mad shout draw him back to the reality from his too loud thoughts. He shot his gaze to the end of the hallway where a familiar looking face with dark short hair was looking at him from the doorway.

"C'moon Filip, get yer arse back in here", he growled with almost a snarl and get back into the room leaving the door open.

The young man breathed deep and put his hand over the big silver cross that was hanging around his neck. He then took the first steps to his new coming life where he couldn't turn back anymore. This was the day that changes his life for ever.

Filip reached the back room and stepped into the dimly lit garage kind of storage room. There was his other group mates that were chosen for this mission what they got. The plan was simple. "Go there and kill that bastard" like they had said

"What took you so long ?" Asked the group leader, the brains of the mission with an annoyed tone with matching expression on his face.

"Sorry, i was..-", Filip said and stood silently his hands in his jacket pockets

That guy just rolled his eyes and raised his hand to him "save it.. I really don't want to hear it", he said annoyed and looked back to others.

"Our job is simple. We go in there and we make sure that the bastard gets bullet to his brain, end of the story clean and simple", said the other guy beside the leader, leaning over the small table that we all were gathered around

Filip just stood silently a little bit more far away from the table. He knew who was gonna be the one who completes that plan. He started to feel nervous again, the feeling building up slowly the bottom of his stomach and started to build it's home into his body. He wasn't a killer, they say when you first time kill someone your never gonna be the same anymore. It changes you, and the thought of that was turning the young man's stomach upside down.

Why he was there then ? Well. He didn't have a choise, he needed to do this for the sake of his future.

He felt light nudge at his shoulder and came back into the reality once again Suddenly all the eyes were on him and he started to move on his feet with unconfirtable feeling from the stares.

"Did ye hear me ya idiot ?" The leader of the group growled at Filip who was almost shaking at his place, but he had learned to keep the cool expression in the army. 

"aye, i did", Filip lied with a slight nod

The man looked him with disbelief and nodded then slowly eyes still on Filip's face looking straight into the man's dark brown eyes with his own green once.

"We don't have changes for this to go south, ye can't go chicken when the moment comes." He said sternly and then the other one rolled the map from the table and put it away.

They started to move outside to the storm that was throwing ruckus at the outside. They all gathered into small van and of they went. Filip sat silently, eyes closed and he preyed in his mind silently. He was asking for forgivness for the things what he is gonna do. He prayed that his mother wouldn't be watching what he was going to do tonight,. He prayed for everything in this world, god he was fucked...

[aceresources]

Wolf Evil Dead MC Book 4- Memes Part Six

FEEL FREE TO CHANGE THE GENDER TO WHATEVER SUITS YOUR MUSE. WARNING LANGUAGE, VIOLENCE,  AND NSFW THEMES INCLUDING SEXUAL INNUENDO.

“Oh God, don’t bring that up.” “Sorry kid. It doesn’t work that way.” “So, anyway, we’ve decided a girl’s weekend is in order.” “You’re coming here?” “No. We were thinking bigger.” “Vegas, baby.” “I appreciate the thought, but I can’t.” “I have to work this weekend. Pretty much every weekend.” “No excuses. You’re coming.” “Pack your bags, sugar. He just said yes.” “I hate you.” “You love me.” “Where you gonna tell me?” “Was she the last call I put through to you?” “She used a Texas accent, that little fraud.” “Don’t change the subject.” “No, of course not. You haven’t lost your sex appeal.” “Maybe this isn’t an appropriate conversation to have with your boss.” “The hell you can’t.” “You’re still here in an hour, you’re fired.” “Let me bum a smoke.” “He says it’s definitely arson.” “So, they think we burned our own Goddamn business down?” “For what? Insurance money?” “Hey, don’t shoot the messenger. I’m just telling you what he’s thinking.” “Does he know where it started?” “I thought we had security cameras?” “I thought we had dogs. What happened to the two Dobermans you kept out back?” “And you didn’t hear that shit?” “Look, everything happened so fast.” “People were panicking, and we were just trying to get everyone out.” “You do a good job, man.” “I’m not trying to blame you. I’m just fucking pissed.” “What’s the next step? You planning to rebuild?” “Give us a minute.” “They recover the safe?” “If somebody wants to fuck with us, they’re doing a damn fine job of it.” “So who does that leave?” “Oh look. Here comes Peter Cottontail.” “I stepped on a motherfucking nail!” “You dumbass.” “Speak for yourself.” “I’m not telling ___ a thing. How stupid do I look?” “If we’re going down for this, at least we’ll go down together.” “Why can’t we just tell them when we get home?” “I wouldn’t underestimate them.” “The only thing we’ve got going for us is that they don’t know where we are.” “Exactly, so why are we texting them?” “I can’t lie to ___.” “I have to tell him.” “Oh, all right. But don’t say I didn’t warn you if this all blows up in our faces.” “Five bucks says our phones all go off before the elevator doors open.” “I’ve got an idea. Why don’t we all turn them off and go get drunk?” “Get away from me or I’ll shoot your junk off!” “We’re soul mates! The sooner you figure that out the less creepy I’ll seem.” “I think her aura was a bright shade of ‘fuck off and leave me alone’.” “I think she liked me.” “I’m no expert, but when a woman threatens to shoot your dick off, I’m pretty sure it’s time to back the fuck off.” “Let it go, bro.” “Your behavior is completely embarrassing, but highly entertaining at the same time. So keep it up.” “Screw this, I’m goin’ inside and getting me some snacks.” “Get me a pack of smokes and a water, will you?” “Better give him a list or he’ll end up in the booze aisle.” “Shit like this makes my eye twitch! Leave me alone.” “You sure she didn’t say painting the town this weekend?” “They don’t lie better, they just lie so much bigger.” “You didn’t really think this little trip of yours was going to fly did you?” “Don’t worry about __. __ can take care of her.” “It’s you that you need to be worried about right now.” “You’re such a little exhibitionist.” “Since you met me in a strip club, I guess you already knew that.” “Even back then, when you were dancing, I don’t think you ever realized how stunning you are.” “You are such a party pooper.” “Don’t give me any of your sass. You’re in a shitload of trouble, ___.” “She likes me better than you.” “She does not. She’s terrified of you.” “She sold me out for a fried dumpling?” “Whose idea was this?” “I’m gonna cut you some slack here, seeing as how I know how upset you were before I left.” “I’ve got no problem with that. But you and the girls loose in Vegas? I’ve got a big problem with that.” “I mean it. Do not pull this shit again.” “Maybe I should get in trouble more often.” “Baby, I’m beginning to realize troublemaker is your middle name.” “You tryin’ to give me heart failure?” “No, I’m not trying to give you heart failure. Honestly, you are so dramatic.” “You think I’ve got time to drop everything and chase you across Nevada?” “Okay, I can see you’re angry.” “Angry? Woman, angry doesn’t begin to cover it. Try livid.” “I don’t see why this is a big deal.” “It took you long enough to get here.” “You forget how easily a drink can be dosed? Huh, Mama?” “Only takes your back to be turned for a second for something to be slipped into your glass.” “You forget that happened to you? You forget where I found you?” “I’m not makin’ this point to bring up bad memories. I’m makin’ this point to make you understand.” “I’m not going anywhere with you.” “We need to talk. Don’t think you want me sayin’ what I’ve got to say to you, here.” “We have nothing to talk about.” “You’re blocking my sun.” “You got a room to yourself?” “You gonna look at me?”

[365days365movies]

February 22, 2021: Pillow Talk (1959)(Part 1)

Y��know, I actually do like Doris Day.

She’s funny, she’s talented, and she’s a timeless beauty that I remember very well. TOO well. You guys ever have that one thing that your parents crammed down your throat SO MUCH that you got sick of it? Well, that’s what my Mom did with The Thrill of it All.

Which is, for the record, a cute movie, and one worth watching again at some point. But I’m gonna ease my way into that with Doris Day and Rock Hudson’s first movie, 1959′s Pillow Talk. 

However, while I’m not stranger to Doris Day, I’m afraid that I don’t know too much about Rock Hudson from experience. Well, there is one interesting tidbit about him: Hudson was one of the biggest stars of the ‘50s and ‘60s, and his career continued up until his death in 1985...from AIDS-related complications.

Yeah, Rock Hudson was one of the biggest gay celebrities in Hollywood, although he never publicly came out. However, it was somewhat of an open secret in the community at large, and basically all of his female co-stars know about it. 

And said secret was revealed posthumously, after his tragic death during the height of the AIDS crisis. He was by far one of the most high-profile deaths during this time period, and you’d think that would’ve caused more waves about the AIDS-crisis, considering that he was good friends with...well...another actor.

Yeaaaaaaaaah, not gonna get into Reagan and ALL OF THAT SHIT here. This here is a movie blog, not a political blog! But, uh, yeah, a LOT of fucked-up shit about Reagan and the AIDS crisis, obviously, and part of it was Rock Hudson. So, yeah, it’s something that I wanted to address before we got into this whole shindig.

Because, again, I’ve never seen a Rock Hudson movie, but dude was a pretty huge deal, and this was a part of his life that I felt it unfair not to at least acknowledge. SO, with that out of the way, let’s have a little Pillow Talk. SPOILERS AHEAD!!!

Recap

We start with that might be one of my favorite opening sequences so far this month, which you can see above. From there, Jan Morrow (Doris Day) wakes up, humming the theme song from the credits, which is clever, considering that she sang it! Talented lady, seriously.

Jan wakes up and goes to the phone, intending to make a call. However, this is where we get a pretty stark cultural difference, and a needed history lesson for some of us, me included. See, Jan’s phone line is actually a party line, seen through this neat little visual edit.

See, this is what’s called a “party line”. From the 1870s onwards, there was a shortage of available phone lines. By the time you get to the ‘60s, more and more people had personal phones in their households, but without enough lines to go around. And so, some people were forced to share their phone lines with others, hence the party line system!

Here’s the thing, though: if somebody was on the line already, anyone else on that line could hear the conversation of other people. Which is exactly what’s pissing of Jan right now, as she needs to make a call, but the line is being used by her party line partner, songwriter Brad Allen, who’s serenading his girlfriend (?) Eileen (Valerie Allen). Not sure that they’re actually dating, but Eileen definitely wants to.

After Jan’s insistence, they get off the phone, and Jan’s able to begin her busy morning at last. Well...almost. Brad’s now talking to Yvette (Jacqueline Beer), and she wants him to sing HER song to her, which is LITERALLY just the Eileen song with a different name and in French! Which is...hilarious. It’s very funny, not gonna lie.

Once again, Jan tells him to get off the party line, and hangs up angrily. She leaves just as her cleaner woman, Alma (Thelma Ritter) arrives, fresh off of a hangover. Jan goes to try and get a line of her own, and the manager, Mr. Conrad (Hayden Rorke) makes a WEIRDLY sexist comment about jumping to the top of the list if she were pregnant. Which, yeah...weird.

Anyway, Jan, in her frustration, tells Mr. Conrad that she’s hired of sharing the line by a “sex maniac.” Mr. Conrad asks for specifics, and is AGAIN WEIRDLY SEXIST ABOUT IT. He asks if his dalliances with other women disturb her in particular. But yeah, he also says that if he is indeed a “sex maniac,” they may need to disconnect him altogether. Which has...uncomfortable undertones all on its own, but whatever, moving on.

On her way to work, Jan’s friend Jonathan Forbes (Tony Randall) shows up to bring her a STRAIGHT-UP CAR, holy shit! He’s doing so to thank her for decorating his offices (she’s an interior decorator, he’s a car dealership owner, so...fair exchange?). She insists that it’s too personal, which confuses him, as it isn’t perfume or lingerie.

But, uh, dude? IT’S A WHOLE-ASS CAR!!! Look, I’m with her on this one, don’t just give me a fuckin’ car out of the blue! I don’t care what the reason is, tell me that shit first! And Jonathan is CLEARLY trying to make it just a little more personal, if you get my meaning.

Jan finally arrives at her office, owned by Mr. Pierot (Marcel Dalio), and she tells him that an inspector has been sent to look after Mr. Allen. This inspector is Miss Dickenson (Karen Norris), and being of the wimmins, is immediately entranced by the apparently irresistible Mr. Allen, sabotaging any attempt at inspection.

The next morning, the inspector’s report comes through, and Miss Dickinson has of course cleared him of all charges. He calls her, and the two clash in a way that definitely means they’ll never, ever, ever fall in love, no sir, not these two, not a CHANCE IN HELL

They agree to make a schedule for using the phone, and Brad accuses Jan of being jealous of his free-wheeling, bed-hopping lifestyle, which she takes great offese to. But after they hang up, she thinks on the idea of having bedroom problems. Looks like Jonathan wants to fix that, on account of being the THIRSTIEST MAN ALIVE.

Dude has three three ex-wives, all of which were revolts against his mother, for which he’s seeing a psychiatrist.

...CHRIST, the man’s a walking-talking red flag. Jan also says that she doesn’t love him, like...AT THE FUCK ALL, and the man just straight-up says, “How do you know, we’ve never even kissed.” Ai which point, any normal person would see the phantom neckbeard and whip out the fuckin’ bear mace, but Jan just lets him lean in for the goddamn kiss!!!

Jan...standards, Jan. My God. Anyway, she still turns him down, he asks her to get married again, and she leaves. For God’s sakes, man. Anyway, she goes home, where Alma’s listening to Brad serenade a girl over the party line. Jan notes the time, and tells him to get off the line. He calls back, and tells her off.

Brad gets a visitor: his old college friend FUCKIN’ JONATHAN AGAIN. He bemoans being a millionaire (po’ babyyyyy), then reveals that he’s pining over Jan, whom he doesn’t know is the person on the party line with Brad. He hears a good amount of information about Jan from Jonathan.

After the conversation, Brad tries to somewhat reconcile with Jan, but she doesn’t have any interest in doing so. That night, the two have separate affairs. Brad meets up with a woman named Marie, and  serenades her with the same goddamn song from earlier, that suave motherfucker. Dude flips a switch, and the door fuckin’ LOCKS! Jesus, state-of-the-art hook-up tech of 1959.

Meanwhile Jan is attending a dinner held by an extremely client, Mrs. Walters (Lee Patrick). Needing to get home, she has her son Tony (Nick Adams) give her a ride. But on the way home, they stop and WHAT THE FUCK TONY??? I actually can’t find a clip or GIF of this, so I’ll tell you...he is ALL THE FUCK OVER HER, and it’s GROSS. CAN WE PLEASE STOP SEMI-RAPING DORIS DAY? WHAT THE FUCK, IN NO WAY IS WHAT I JUST WATCHED OK, HOLY SHIT!!!!!

Like...wow, that was the most uncomfortable I’ve felt watching a movie in a WHILE. And it’s not even because of the act itself, it’s because of how...OK it feels in the context of the film. Jan is BARELY upset by this slimy little weasely-faced rapey CREEP LITERALLY ASSAULTING HER IN THE FUCKING CAR. And in case you were wondering, yes! This film was written by FOUR MEN.

This is gross. Sorry, but this whole sequence is gross, and it gets even LONGER, because she AGREES TO GO GET A DRINK WITH HIM. WHY, JAN? STOP ENCOURAGING THIS BEHAVIOR. He tries to get her drunk (but ends up drunk himself), but she tries to leave. However, who should be sitting one table but Brad, who realizes who this is. Jan tries to leave, but Tony tries to get her to dance with him, AND SHE ONCE AGAIN AGREES, JAAAAAAAAN!!!!!!!

And its during this time of distress for Brad that, OF COURSE, he finds himself extremely attracted to her. And since he knows who she is, but she doesn’t know him, he decides to fake his identity. And there we go, we’ve got a creepy-ass one-sided relationship set-up.

Meanwhile, lightweight Tony passes out on the floor, drunk as shit. Brad goes into help, putting on a take Texas accent and calling himself Rex Stetson. And OF FUCKING COURSE, she’s lost in his fuckin’ eyes. Damn those eyes, and his suave bullshit.

They shove Tony into a cab, then take his car, which appears to be too small for Brad, which makes sense, given the fact that Hudson was 6′4″, goddamn! The two take a cab, and the two reveal their mutual attraction to the audience, through their inner thoughts. Looks like all Jan needed for a relationship was handsome-ass Rock Hudson.

In her thoughts, she thinks on how honest and down-to-earth Rex Stetson seems, unlike “monsters” like Tony and Brad Allen. And OF COURSE this is how we get this started. OF GODDAMN COURSE this is how we start this relationship. Liar revealed, LIAR REVEALED, I FUCKIN’ HATE THAT GODDAMN TROPE SO MUCH

Soon after “Rex” takes her home, he goes home herself, and gives her a call, inviting her to dinner the following night. She accepts. Then, in the middle of the call, Brad pretends to pick up the line as himself, in order to set up the two identities as being separate...this is reverse You’ve Got Mail, isn’t it?

Think about it. Two people that hate each other, and they’ve never seen one another, but also love each other after meeting in person. IT’S THE OPPOSITE OF YOU’VE GOT MAIL. Ugh. Fine. Even down to the fact that he has a sizeable advantage over her, due to his full knowledge of the situation. He even tries to use his identity as Brad Allen to set-up their date the next night for success.

And it works, goddamn. A clever yet manipulative asshole, this dude is. They get on a horse and carriage, and we hear the inner thoughts of Jan, Brad, and the dude who owns the horse. And, yeah...it’s funny. The two go to dinner, where Jonathan shortly arrives. Brad gets him out of there with...mildly fatphobic means, but it is the 1950s, so things were just kinda...entirely that.

But in any case, Brad gets away with it, and he and Jan spend a hell of a lot of time together going all around the city. And the whole time, he’s playing the role of “Rex.” Ugh. This is a good halfway point, so let’s go to Part 2 here! See you there!

[mercyxkilling]

[ ♛ ] send me a url and i'll tell you...

@emptyvictory said: ♛ + my url if we're copying each other? Lol

[ ♛ ] send me a url and i'll tell you the following;

my opinion on;

character in general: oh my god. niko bellic. i can’t explain to you the love affair that i have with this sassy ass motherfucker of a man and how much i want to hold him close and tell him that he’s good enough, though i bet he’d shove me away and tell me to never do that shit again and that i’m weird for doing it at all. he’s got such an amazing duality to him that i am in love with because like. yeah, he’ll fucking kill a buncha dudes, but then he’ll have a conversation in the car with a buddy about how he’s okay with saving some lives or some shit. he’s known to play peacemaker for some, but he’s also willing to smash a cameraman’s face in by kicking his foot through his skull because he doesn’t want to be on manny’s show. then when manny dies he says some callous ass shit about it and then goes about his business like nothing happened. niko is such a good man, he really is, but he’s also not at the same time, and is capable of doing such awful things. characters like that have always had a special place in my heart, and niko is no different. that accent helps an awful lot, too, lemme tell ya. it gives ya girl the vapors. *fans self* which is funny because i don’t actually find the man to be conventionally attractive, but all of that stuff i mentioned above? i mean... i’d let him touch me. i can’t lie.  how they play them: now, rory, i know we’ve had this discussion before, but i’m going to say it again (to fuel your ego because i absolutely love doing that because i want you to feel as special as you truly are, and just because this is how i actually feel and i want to keep being honest about this stuff because secrets don’t make friends!!): if there were anyone else behind the wheel here taking charge of this slavic badass, i’m not so sure i’d even be interested in trying to have a thread with them at all. you bring such a take to this man that i cannot truly explain with words in an adequate way that could do you and what you do with him any justice. it’s just... an experience. and it’s an experience that i have loved from the moment we started all the way up till now, and i know i’ll feel the same way (and still quite as strongly!!) with anything and everything that we do in the future, be it with threads or asks or things in discord or just nonsensical little back-and-forths that we share once in a while when the mood strikes us. i love everything that we’ve done/are doing/will do, and i cannot fully describe to you just how much more i still want to have with you. i’m like mercy is with niko apparently; i’m fucking insatiable with these two. they’ve somehow become my OTP and that’s truly saying something since the last one i had lasted forever (all the way up to this point tbh--the one i told you about with my RDR verse where mercy and jack were supposed to get married? like, it’s managed to override even THAT one in my heart, that’s how much these two mean to me). i will never tire of niko x mercy content, i will ALWAYS want to hear your ideas about them, i will ALWAYS want to hear any ideas that you have for them--no matter how big or or how small they might seem, i will ALWAYS want to hear any ideas you might have for AUs with these two... i mean. i think you get the picture, yeah? BUT IF YOU DON’T COME FIND ME ON DISCORD AND I’LL GLADLY ELABORATE EVEN MORE IF YOU WANT, BECAUSE I COULD TALK ABOUT THESE FUCKERS FOR HOURS. I MEAN, YOU KNOW THAT I ALREADY HAVE, SO DON’T THREATEN ME WITH A GOOD TIME HERE, LMAOOOO. the mun: oh god, rory. ohgodohgodohgod. there are so many things that i want to say here, but i feel like you’ve heard me say them a thousand times already. i just... i want to make sure that you know that i love you, first and foremost. a lot of folks seem to think i throw the word ‘love’ around far too freely, but i very much beg to differ; i only use it when i truly mean it and when it truly means something to me. do with that knowledge what you will. you are such a treasure to me, and i can’t tell you how happy i am that you’re apart of my life and how much i wish we lived closer to one another so we could be silly together and i could actually ruffle your hair and give you platonic forehead smooches and wish you a good day at school each morning and then see you after classes and ask you about your day and talk to you about anything and everything as we sat side by side and watched some garbage like ancient aliens or played some ridiculous video games together while coming up with scenarios, both of us being like “oh my god, could you imagine if niko and mercy ____ together???” and things like that. but even if we aren’t closer, it doesn’t make me value your time that you give to me any less, and it doesn’t make me love the time that we spend talking with one another any less, either. i adore you so fucking much. i just... i just really, really, really love you, and i wish i could show you that better than just with some writing or a crappy doodle here and there you know? you deserve such good things. all the good things in life, in fact, and i wish i were capable of giving them to you. but i hope that you know that i truly am grateful for your presence in my life, i can’t imagine my experience here (or away from here and over on discord instead!) without you, as you’ve become such an integral part of my experience on this hellsite. niko and mercy are my OTP, and i’m yours for as long as you’ll have me, and you are very much stuck with me!

do i;

follow them: bitch, please. of fucking course i do. i can’t imagine not following rory. rp with them: as much as i possibly can and hopefully then some; i can’t get enough of niko and any other characters they want to introduce me to that they think mercy could mesh well with... or that she couldn’t mesh well with and yet could still make an amazing dynamic all the same. :P want to rp with them: are... are you illiterate? YES. ALL THE TIME. ALL DAY, ERRYDAY.  ship their character with mine: one more time, for those in the back, and with feeling!: YES, YES, YES, A THOUSAND TIMES YES. i am so, so, so grateful that niko is part of mercy’s narrative (and honestly, i may even make it so that he’s part of her actual main backstory, that’s how much their relationship means to me and how much it’s allowed me to see her in so many different ways).

what is my;

overall opinion: holy shit i love you and i love niko and i love the way you play him and i love the way you really show his duality and i love the way he learned to respect mercy and how that respect turned to admiration and the way that admiration turned to full on attraction and how that attraction turned to awkward dating but not dating and how that awkward dating but not dating eventually turned into actual dating and how that led to mercy finally kissing him and how that kiss made him feel relief more than anything else but then how all of that turned into something even more awkward and how that led to mercy realizing finally how much she actually truly loved him despite never having been in love and despite the hurt that it caused and the way they both dealt with it (two hardened killers acting like BABIES omggggg) until finally, finally they were able to come to terms with it and are now left wondering where they’re supposed to go from here since they’ve never done anything like this before... AND ALL THE AUs WE COULD HAVE AND HOW THAT COULD END UP FOR THEM BOTH HAS ME SO FUCKING EXCITED BECAUSE WE COULD GET A CHANCE TO SEE THEM BEHAVE IN A DIFFERENT WAY LIKE WHAT IF THEY START OUT HATING EACH OTHER BUT HAVE A MUTUAL ATTRACTION BECAUSE NIKO’S LIKE ‘GODDAMN THIS BITCH IS STACKED BUT SHE’S GOT SUCH A MOUTH ON HER UGH’ OR MAYBE THE RDR AU COULD HAVE SOME STRIFE BETWEEN THEM SINCE MERCY RUNS WITH HER POSSE AND COULD POSSIBLY END UP HITTING A TARGET THAT HE PLANNED TO OR OR OR OMG THE POSSIBILITIES RORY OMFG THERE ARE JUST SO FUCKING MANY and i just can’t wait to experience them all with you and your interpretation of niko because it’s just so fucking good and they’re such a good couple and have such an amazing dynamic that have them both behaving in ways that sometimes are predictable but in others leave me reeling for days like ‘holy shit that actually fucking happened??’ and THAT, my friend, is the sign of a good writing partner. and that is exactly what you are to me, amongst many, many other things. <3 i love you so very much and while i know you’ve had a rough go of it lately, i wish you all the best with it, know that i’m here for you if you should need me for ABSOLUTELY anything you might need (whether it’s to talk/vent, write you silly drabbles, or draw you things), and know that you’ll always, always, ALWAYS have my support through whatever you’re going through. though part of me knows that you know that you don’t need it because you’re so fucking strong and capable of absolutely anything that you put your mind do.

i love you, boo. never forget that. please.

**Note: Mun’s answer are all to be completely honest. Don’t send url if you don’t want brutal honesty.

[sickkillerzach]

All Good Things Must Come To An End

A Modern Family Fanfic

It was 9:30 PM on a Wednesday. Gloria was just sitting on the couch watching TV with Jay. Life was normal; life was great. The TV had football on.

"Let's Go! C'mon!" Jay yelled while crushing the can of beer he had in his hand. The beer went flying all over the room.

"Goddamnit, why cant you just kick it correctly, you dumb motherfucker!" He profanely exclaimed.

"Jay, quiet it down a little, Joe is sleeping," Gloria told him.

The game was at 15-25. She could tell Jay was starting to get very angry quickly. She decided to get something from the fridge.

I might have to get something alcoholic myself if he doesn't stop shouting, Gloria thought.

Later that night, after all the drama with the football game, Jay fell asleep on the couch.

Finally, some time to myself, Gloria thought to herself.

She went upstairs to the bedroom, and grabbed the book she was in the middle of reading. It was Percy Jackson: The Sea of Monsters. As she started to read it, she also started to drift off to sleep. The book, falling out of her hands, dropped to the floor, closing itself up.

The next morning, she awoke to Jay shouting outside.

"C'mon...start, motherfucker!"

Gloria looked out the bedroom window, seeing him attempting to start the car.

"Why don't you just START?!" He quickly got angry.

"He really needs to stop getting as angry as he is; at his age, he might start developing high blood pressure," she said to herself quietly.

She went to the bathroom, and then walked outside to go assist her husband.

"Jay, what's the matter?"

"This car won't just FUCKING START!" He screamed so loud, Gloria could hear the echo in the sky.

"What can I do to help?" Gloria asked.

"There's nothing you can do. I just need you to call Mitch and Cam."

"They're out of town for the week" she told him.

"Oh, that's right. Well, why don't you call Phil; he's good at this kind of stuff," he responded.

Oh boy, the Dunphy's, she thought to herself. That family REALLY doesn't like me. It's bad enough Mitch and Cam think I'm a psychopath, but this family really doesn't like me... but it's for Jay.

As she walked to the landline nervously, she dialed the number. No response.

As she walked towards Jay, he immediately followed up with, "What'd they say?"

"They didn't pick up the phone,"

"Oh, of course, the time I need them most," Jay responded with a rather angry tone.

Later that afternoon, she tried to call again. Still nothing.

What the hell is going on? Gloria thought.

She was getting quite worried. But why? Her and the Dunphy's hate each other. Why would she be worried about them? Is it because of Jay? She was both confused and concerned. She dialed again. And again. And again.

"Gloria, they're not gonna answer, so just stop dialing," Jay called to her.

She didn't respond to him, and instead, turned the other way. She kept hearing something inside of her... a voice telling her, "Get your gun and get the fuck to their house."

She then went up the stairs and got the gun. She was equipped with a p99 with a bunch of magazines in her purse.

"Gloria, what the fuck is all this?" Jay asked, sounding very shocked.

"I gotta check on them. It's been six hours: something is obviously terribly wrong," she replied.

"But you don't even like each other!" He said.

She didn't have a response to that. Instead, she walked out the door. She called a taxi and told the driver the address, hiding all the ammo and the gun in her purse. When she got to the Dunphy's house, she made sure the driver went away, and then started looking through the window.

Nobody was home.

"Well, that explains everything," she said to herself.

She was startled by a scream.

"No, stop! LET ME GO, GODDAMNIT!"

It sounded like it came from a female, but she knew that some males sounded feminine. She started to notice that the door was barricaded shut.

Why would they do that? She asked in her head.

Jay started to call her phone. She declined the call and put her cell phone on silent. The voice that told her to pick up the gun came back to tell her to try to get into the house.

She attempted to bust open the door, but nothing happened. She tried the window. It eventually cracked open. She started to crawl in. She was worried that Claire, or someone else, was going to walk out with a shotgun and kill her, but nonetheless, her curiosity won against her worries and fears.

She started to approach the stairs, with her gun in her hand.

"Gloria, what are you doing here?" A young girl's voice spoke up from behind her.

Gloria turned quickly, panicking silently. She couldn't believe her eyes!

It was Haley.

Gloria hated her. She was the most selfish person she ever had the displeasure to meet.

"Oh, I just... uh-" she stuttered.

"Oh, you're here to help me kill my mom, aren't you? Oh, good! You're just the person I need for this," Haley said eagerly.

Gloria immediately knew all her bad feelings were correct, and she needed to play along in order for everyone, or at least, mostly everyone, to survive.

"Oh, yeah that's exactly what I came for!" Gloria replied nervously. She couldn't believe this was the truth as to why nobody answered the phone.

"Well, come on, she's right down here!"

Haley led Gloria to the basement. She saw Claire tied up, and she was absolutely horrified with her step-grandaughter. Claire was wrapped in rope and screamed under the piece of tape keeping her mouth shut.

"Gloria! Oh my God, what the fuck are you doing here?!" Claire cried. But to Gloria it only sounded like, "Mphm mphm!"

"This is exactly what you wanted, right Gloria? Your arch nemesis tied up, and we're gonna kill her... together!"

Gloria responded with, "Why exactly are you doing this?" Her accent faded out, as her voice cracked and she shook in fear and horror.

"Well, two things: One, I need to harvest her kidneys for money so me and Dylan can get some goods, and I thought while I'm in the process of getting them, I might as well harvest the kidneys of someone my best friend hates! This is all you ever wanted, right?"

Gloria hated the fact she said that.

"No," she responded quietly.

"No? But this is your enemy we're talking about here!" Haley responded.

"Y'know, just because Claire and I do not get along, does NOT mean I would EVER want this!" She shouted back, her accent kicking back in. "And for you to say we're 'best friends...'" She put up air quotes at the end of the sentence. "It sickens me who you are, Haley Dunphy."

"But we're best friends... you told me that!" Haley said, very shocked and hurt.

"Well I LIED. I was only using you for my benefit. You are the most selfish person I have ever met! I would never be friends with someone like you."

Haley, seeming very surprised, pulled put her 12 gauge and aimed it at her mother.

"Oh, is that so? Well, guess your so called best buddy is gonna have to go then, along with you."

Gloria pulled out the gun she brought with her. "I dont think so. That's not going to happen."

As Gloria aimed the handgun, with her heart pounding right up against her chest, she prepared to pull the pull the trigger. She couldn't believe what she was gonna do. She was going to kill a member of her family! But she knew it was necessary. It's for the safety of the rest of her family. It must be done.

Is this the right thing to do? She thought.

"Oh, nice Gloria! First you betray me, then you do this? You're a real good person, aren't you? You get to break into this house and wave your gun around, huh? Drop the goddamn gun!" Haley shouted out.

Haley aimed her gun right at Claire's temple. Gloria put down the gun as a last resort to make sure she didn't get Claire killed.

"That's right. Now, get on your knees, now." Haley said, more calm.

She aimed the 12 gauge at Gloria's chest now, preparing to shoot.

"Well Gloria, it could've been Claire only, but now its gotta be the both of you," Haley said. "This wouldn't have happened if you just minded your own damn business."

"Claire's safety IS my business," Gloria shot back.

Haley chuckled. "But yet you hate that woman, and you CARE about her? Now that's just hilarious."

Gloria noticed how Claire looked concerned about Gloria. "I don't hate her; she hates me. She thinks what I do is bad, and that is debatable. But even after all this, even though I've tried to get back at her, I would NEVER want this to happen."

"Well, isn't that just touching... but that doesn't change a thing..." Haley leaned the shotgun further into her step-grandmother's chest. Gloria's heart was pounding so hard, Haley could feel the vibration coming from the shotgun barrel...

An idea occured to Gloria.

"Look over there!" She cried, pointing to a corner of the room.

"What?" Haley turned to look.

Taking advantage of her destraction, Gloria knocked the shotgun out of her hands and threw a series of punches at Haley, disarming her completely. She crawled to the shotgun, her hands just on it... but Gloria had just grabbed her P99 and pulled the trigger at Haley's head.

She was dead.

Claire screamed under the tape. Gloria untied her and ripped the tape off her mouth.

"Claire, I'm so sorry you had to witness that. You shouldn't have had to witness your daughter die in front of your eyes, but you're safe now," Gloria said sympathetically. She then gave Claire a big hug. "I know you hate me, but I would never ask for this."

"No, I don't hate you Gloria..." Claire managed to say with a shaky voice. "I understand your point of view now. You're not a gold digger... you're just a mother trying to protect your kids and family. And the fact you saved my life proved that to me... thank you..." After these words left her mouth, she was left shaking and crying.

"We'll call Phil, Alex, and Luke, tell them everything, and then we'll call the police. The four of you can stay with us." Gloria said softly.

Claire nodded, and the two walked up the stairs holding onto each other.

[my-brothers-corrupted]

My Brothers, Corrupted

Chapter Three : Section Eight : Places to Find Home

Chapter One l Chapter Two l Chapter Three

Trigger warning for discussions of abuse.

While Henrik struggles to cope with the knowledge he’s gained about defeating Anti and revisits a familiar site, Red and Dapper push and pull against the idea of trusting Max, who offers to take them to the store for some of the necessities they’ve been missing for days. Dapper finds fault with his master’s taste in clothes. Ro can’t keep his thoughts fixed on the merchandise.

 Places to Find Home

A day later and Henrik has not left his room. Whether sulking or numb or simply too distressed to draw himself out of his fear, you’ve watched him turn down three meals, sit up through a whole night, and have one dead-faced shut-down without requesting help from anybody.

He’s still got that book on his lap, running his fingers over the picture of the white-eyed girl. He’s read every book in here now and there will be no need for him to revisit the pages. He will remember every word as if it were before him.

Someone’s knocking on his door but he doesn’t sit up, gazing glazedly down at the picture. He really misses… anybody. Dapper to squirm under his arm, begging attention just to distract him, or Blue to come into his room to bring him his cooking and kiss him, or maybe even Red, if he were in a kind mood, to talk at him and stand defensive over his body until he felt well enough to stand. Most of all he wants Trick. Warm blankets and his hushed reassurances from the other side of a mattress. Hands that know all the places he likes to be held. The trust in the air between them. Stillness.

“Henrik,” grouses Nina at the door. “Come on, medico, come out for a while, let’s get you some sun and some food.”

He finds it difficult to move.

immabethehero asked: Hey Henrik? So there is one such solution to the Marvin problem, I just don't know if it would work in this world.

“Yeah,” mumbles Henrik, chewing on his nails, looking exhausted. “I… can Anti even die? Can he bleed back what he took from Blue? And how… how could I ever bring myself to kill him?”

He rubs his face, digging his glasses into his nose. “Maybe someone else would know more about blood pacts than me and I could ask. But fuck, fuck! Anti really… Anti really…”

He’s going to cry again.

“He really did this, didn’t he? Made Blue sick just so he could control him better? Made him permanently sick, almost killed him! Fucker!”

The book collides with the other side of the room.

“Magic fucking sucks!” he shouts. “Anti was cruel, he was monstrous! He did this to Blue just because he was magic and Anti wanted it! And I let him, I let him! I wish none of my family was magic at all! Now I can’t get Blue’s magic back and Anti is being torn apart.”

“Henrik,” comes a sigh from the door. Genesis this time. “Come on, man, come out, we’re worried about you.”

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Hey Hen? Maybe you should leave your room a little. The change of scenery might do you some good. Even just give you a bit of a breather.

“Ugh,” groans Henrik, letting out a deep sigh. Alright, he knows you’re probably right.

“You can come in,” he croaks, getting to his feet. Oh, shaky. But he can do it.

Genesis pushes open the door, Nina behind her, and they both give Henrik twin looks of exasperation. He is reminded, for a moment, of Red and Blue, and he almost laughs despite his distress.

“That’s a great idea,” says Nina, nodding at the camera. “Get out a little.”

“Sure, walk around the garden one more time,” sighs Henrik. “Just as helpless as I always am.”

“You are being a sourpuss,” says Genesis, because she heard him use the word the other day and she loves it.

“Why don’t we get out even farther than that?” suggests Nina, crossing her arms over her chest.

Henrik and Genesis both exchange glances and turn to look at her in surprise.

“What - really?” asks Henrik, a little breathless.

“Yeah,” says Nina, with certainty. “As long as we convince Emmanuela it’s alright for you to go, and you promise you won’t try to do anything stupid. There’s something I want to show you.”

“What?”

“Guess you’ll have to wait and see,” she smirks at him. “What do you say, get outside a little? Short trip? Or did you want to talk to somebody around here?”

spicydanhowell asked: let's get some air, henrik. you heard the ladies. time to eat and stretch your legs. we'll worry about this again later, promise.

Henrik nods at you and Genesis beams, taking his hand. He flinches a little, but he’s getting used to her, and he doesn’t mind her hands. In a bizarre way that makes him feel guilty, the neat little scars still healing on her skin remind him of Dapper. He’d been just as distressed as she had after that short, horrible session of torture, but he doesn’t know how to turn something like that into a useful apology. She seems to have forgiven him anyway - though she will, if he’s brought up, still refer to him as “dapper little motherfucker” in her thick accent.

“We got to go through the mirror to get out of this place,” she tells him eagerly.

“Go through the mirror?”

“Hold up,” laughs Nina. “I gotta get us some food packed and then talk with Emmanuela. Henrik, you aren’t going to try and run away or anything once we get up there, right?”

Ah. Well. His brain knows it’s stupid but… goddamn, there’s a temptation there.

“No,” he tells her meekly. “That would be… bad.”

She sighs a little, but she won’t argue. “Maybe you guys are going to have to help me convince her,” she warns you, taking you when Henrik offers you up.

“We’ll get settled in the car,” promises Genesis. “See you in a second.”

“Okay.” Nina carries you off to Emmanuela’s room.

“Come in,” answers a voice at her knock.

Emmanuela’s room is small and modest and bathed in so much light it’s almost hard to see for a minute.

Stained glass makes the room glow in red, blue, purple, gold. Emmanuela herself seems to have some light in her and her long black hair gleams more than ever, straight and heavy down her back. She is standing. From this angle, she is a great bulk of a woman, heavy and tall, and on the wall behind her, you see the axe-like weapon she once brought down on the skull of a frothing black dog burning with stolen magic.

“Hola,” she says, glancing at you. “What is it, Nina? How is our guest?”

Nina laughs wearily. “He seems unwell.”

“Oh?”

“They could probably explain it better than I. I’m not sure what’s upset him so badly.”

Emmanuela sits down at her desk, steepling her fingers on the table in front of her.

“Good,” she says. “I’ve been meaning to talk with them.”

cest-mellow asked: emmanuela! nice to meet you! we were thinking of having henrik go with nina and genesis for a walk farther out, hes really stressed out about his brothers stolen magic. he’s really sick.

Emmanuela softens for a second, grinning at you. “Hi,” she says. “Okay, he can go. Why not? He’ll stay with her, won’t he?”

“I’ll watch him,” promises Nina.

“Watch him carefully, the both of you,” Emmanuela warns. “We don’t always do what we expect ourselves to do.”

Nina gives you a look at her cryptic phrasing, but says nothing.

“I am concerned, however,” says Emmanuela. “That he continues to struggle with the reality of what the monster is and has done to him and his family. I fear the manipulation is very deeply set and I would like to see just where it starts and how far it goes. And so you must do something for me. Will you convince the doctor to come see me and let me take a look into his head? It will be frightening to him, but I am worried.”

She drums her fingers against the desk. Abuse is not a foreign concept to her, and neither is recovery from it. But Anti’s hypnosis and memory glaze introduce new elements for her.

“The way I see it, the next step must be to get the rest of his family away from the monster and destroy it, but I fear it will not be so simple, and we may not be able to help as much as we want. I need to speak with Henrik. I fear the thing that haunts him is not, at our hands, mortal, and if we cannot kill it… we must make preparations for if it comes to take him again. How will he defend himself if it wants to hurt him again? How will he get help in another country if he’s stolen? The monster - I will not lie - is very powerful. Will you tell Henrik, then, to come see me soon? And is there anything I can do to help you?”

Anonymous asked: sra. emmanuela, ma'am, with all due respect, we care a lot about henrik's well-being, too. and we don't know you quite so well. you seem very powerful, and very charismatic, and those can be very dangerous qualities in a stranger in command. can you promise us that you mean henrik no harm, and you will do your best to help him and not hurt him, however he responds to your request? are you willing in any other way to assure us of your intentions?

“This is a wise request,” says Emmanuela. “And it’s good to be cautious, or you will not be capable of protecting him in the future. First of all I shall tell you that here, I am in charge, and so that Henrik has stayed with us and been cared for at all has been at my command. And we are happy to do it. We don’t turn people away here, do we, Nina?”

“No, Emmanuela.”

“Even if they’re not magic?”

Nina laughs. “Don’t tease me!”

“I am powerful, you are correct, I try to own it, I must match the arrogance of men if I am to lead,” she says. “I am a dichotomous magician - rare, you see, a lot to deal with, for a magician to have two different powers. I burn darkness with light and possess a form of telepathy. I cannot prove it, but I assure you I no longer use it without permission, not even to my enemies. I learned from experience - when I was young, I made many mistakes, and I hurt a great many people.”

Nina looks surprised to hear her speak this way, but she does not interrupt.

“I am not a tyrant now,” finishes Emmanuela. “And I have no desire to hurt anyone at all. I have caused enough harm to good people in my lifetime. Anyway, Henrik is getting along well here, making friends. He seems like a nice boy.”

Nina bursts into giggles. “He’s like thirty, Mama.”

“I will call anybody ‘boy’ if I want to, I’m the boss…”

Nina is laughing and you shake in her hands.

cest-mellow asked: thank you! we’ll definitely try our best to get him to agree. i think the best help you can offer is just try to make henrik feel safer here, the monster does plan to come here at some point to get him back. maybe you should tell us a few things about yourself so it’s easier for him to trust you into his head, we can tell him things he can relate to and latch onto for comfort!

“Mmh, clever, I enjoy it,” says Emmanuela. “What do I say, Nina?”

“I don’t know, Mama,” says Nina, smiling at the game.

“I’m getting to be an old woman soon enough. I’ve been the head of this organization since I was a girl. Sixteen, in fact. And since then there are always people needing help. Those who live here have mostly come to me in need of it.”

Nina shuffles on her feet. It is true for her. She needed somewhere to go and Emmanuela had been there, with JP, Hermann, Genesis, Christofer, and Jose.

“Power is awakened, not inborn. So it is that many magicians arise from homes where there is trouble enough to create the need for magic within him. So more than one of the people here, you will find, have had cruel or neglectful parents, or no parents at all, or some other horrible trouble, more than what a child should bear. Legally, I’ve adopted many of the younger magicians in this country. Silly as it sounds, someone has to be on the legal documents, and someone should be checking in on them like a parent! Everyone deserves to have a place they can call home. Most go on to live on their own, though they stay loyal to the order. Others stay here with me. Yes? Hermann, Genesis, and my little ones, Rosie and Basilio and Benigno. Basilio is my biological child. He’s ten now. No power has awakened inside him and I am glad. He has never had a need for it to awaken. I have kept him safe and happy. What else matters?”

Anonymous asked: the core of the demon's manipulation comes from brotherly love, we think. all five of the brothers love each other fiercely, and the demon turns that towards himself, first by coaxing surrender by holding them over each other's heads, and then by installing himself as a brother. which, in a way, he sort of is? he does have kind of an innate connection to them, though explaining just how would necessitate... a lot of time. but henrik does believe, whole-heartedly, that the demon is his family.

Emmanuela pauses, pressing her knuckles against her face, turning away from you. She looks up again after a moment, cool and severe.

“This is the sort of thing I have a fear of,” she says, her long, perfect nails picking at her desk. “It means the monster was not just forceful but intelligent.”

She takes a deep breath. “Nina, perhaps you’d give us a moment?”

Nina glances at you, but she trusts Emmanuela, and she obeys.

“Hypnosis, you must understand, is often very surface-level. You place a truth within the mind and force the mind to accept it. There, it’s done. But if the mind is reminded of old truths or pauses to consider the foreign thought, it can be very easy to realize the flaw and pop it back out again. Like that! Simple for both parties. But this is not what your monster has done.

“He has buried himself in deep truths. Do you understand? He took a falsity and he coated it in the truth of the rest of their family. What’s more, he erased the memories that came before so there was nothing left to contradict the new thoughts, and then he built an entire family system to support his lie. And so I am guessing you have seen, many times, your friends pause and realize that something is wrong - but they cannot find what. Because there is no past to tell them what is true and what is false, and, moreover, their love for each other has  become entrenched in their love for the monster. If the monster is false, the rest of the brotherhood seems false too, and they know the rest of the brotherhood is not false. The rest of the brotherhood is true. Your brothers all love each other and the demon has hidden himself within that truth. Worse… even without magic or hypnosis, his manipulation is extensive. Even if I could pierce the hypnosis, he would still wield power.”

She sits back in her desk. Drumming her nails. Her eyes are dark and endless, but not like Anti’s. There is no way to describe this difference. Maybe there is not such a difference after all. To be a monster is a choice too, and Emmanuela had the option to choose it many, many times in her life.

But here she is.

“Soon the monster will be here,” she says. “And I fear your doctor will insist on returning to what he knows is truth, even if he can tell, now, that there is a falsity hiding inside.”

She turns to her stain glass and her face becomes red in the light of it.

“I will make preparations,” she says heavily. “To protect him if he chooses to return. And I must discover what this monster is. I’ve never seen anything like it. I must find a way for them to kill it.”

She looks up at you. “Tell him to come see me. And watch over him when they leave this place. Freedom can miss the chains that bound it.”

She calls for Nina to come back in. If you’re ready, you can go, or speak longer with her.

cest-mellow asked: i think that’s all we’ll need, unless you have something else that could help convince henrik. the info you gave was great!! it’s nice to meet you finally :D

“Don’t get too sweet on me,” warns Emmanuela. “Or I will adopt you too.”

Nina is still tittering as she carries you back down the hall towards the others. She ends up picking up a couple quick lunches from Juana in the kitchen before she makes her way out towards the car.

Genesis was right - you have to go through a mirror to leave or enter the convent building. Between time travel, heists, and all sorts of magic, this is still one of the weirdest things you’ve experienced.

The mirror is nailed to the front doors of the convent on either side. Nina steps up to them without pausing and whispers a password she doesn’t let you make out - and then everything shifts, like your vision was flipped, and you’re somewhere else.

In the middle of the city, actually, standing outside a decrepit old convent, worn down from years of misuse. Henrik is in front of you, still staring around himself as if trying to get his bearings. Glowing office buildings miles into the sky and rows and rows of apartments with open patio doors surround him. Traffic races by just outside the gate of the ancient convent. Genesis is playing with the radio in the car.

“A little disorienting?” Nina calls to Henrik.

He turns and smiles nervously. “Ah - no, no, not at all. I’m very used to magic, you see.”

Nina chuckles and directs him towards the car with her hand.

“I heard you talking about how magic fucks a lot of shit up in your life,” she says, as Henrik settles into the passenger seat of an old Cadillac. “Can you guess where we’re going?”

“No idea, I’m quite sure,” he says. “But I expect to be impressed!”

She laughs. “I hope you will be. JP thinks I’m too pregnant to be making this hike but I told him to take a hike of his own.”

“Ah, fuck’s sake, you’re going to make my tired old bones walk, aren’t you?”

“Maaaybe.”

“Oh, dear…”

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Where to, Nina???

“You’ve been here before, many times!” she says. “Genesis has too, but just once. Come on, can you see it in the distance?”

Henrik glances around. Towering churches, KFCs on every corner, swarmed street vendors, marketplaces, statues, gorgeous yellow government buildings, memorials, clock towers, fountains, theaters, museums, and - oh, above it all, surrounding it all, on every side, crying out from above the city - the heights of the proud Peruvian mountains, covered in the colorful dredge of the slums, where water must be fetched from the delivery truck each morning, where stairs are a rarity and the hot stone cuts your shoes apart, where there are too few doctors and so many, many people.

His heart stutters in his chest.

“Oh,” he says frailly. “Home.”

cest-mellow asked: you feeling okay, henrik?

“Uhh,” he says, clutching you to his chest.

He needs a second to think about that. Is he? Does he want to do this? To stand in the places where his family used to stand, and know that they aren’t here anymore? To know that after all this, came the pain?

“Hey,” says Nina, putting her hand above his wrist, not quite touching him. “Things have changed. I’d really like for you to see it, if you’re willing.”

He looks ahead of him. They are climbing closer to the mountain now. He can smell the bitter smell of chickens and bodies and dry mountain dust and he wonders just when it is that even this smell began to feel homey to him.

He had… liked living in the mountains. It takes him a minute to realize it. Usually it is better not to form an opinion when you know how quickly you must leave again, but he had liked it. Up the stones. With the people. Henrik had liked Peru. Had liked people coming to see him for medicine and help. Had liked to be a doctor again.

“Why’d you bring me?” whines Genesis.

“Hey, you were the fool who came poking around here without permission!” chides Nina. “Come on, you okay?”

“Okay, I do want to see, actually. I’m going to smash all his cameras!”

“There, that sounds productive. Henrik, you okay? You good to go up?”

Is he? Is he?

“Yeah,” he finds his voice, staring up the side of it.

He wants to see. He does. He wants to see his little home again.

“Yeah, let’s go.”

Two hands pat at his shoulder and arms, both of the girls leaning in to encourage him, and he snorts, taken aback by the support they always give him, by the goodness of them all, by all the effort these people have given him.

Much of his life has been pain, and many people have hurt him. But Peru - oh, Peru has been kind to him.

“Oh,” he adds, turning his head as they pass by the little shop at the head of the last of the road. “There is even grass and flowers this time of year. I did not think anything could grow here.”

Genesis and Nina exchange smiles in the rearview mirror.

“Maybe there’s more if we keep going up,” suggests Nina.

“Okay,” he whispers.

He knows the places where the rocks slip and the places where the earth is sturdy. He clutches a rock in his hand to ward off the dogs that live near the basketball court. The chickens clucking to him are Tomas’s; the baby he hears crying must be the one he and Trick delivered the day before Blue’s fire started. It feels like a hundred years ago now, and all of it is so familiar, and so very strange. Yes, all in all stepping up the mountain feels like he imagines it must be for Dapper when he rewinds.

Except one thing.

“What happened?” he breathes, moving pace by pace, his eyes full from the shock of it. “How is this possible? This side of the mountain has always been barren.”

No longer.

Desert trees and cacti leap from the earth in green and brown bloom, dotted with pink and red flowers. Grass has poured out over the dusty sand along the paths, helping to hold it steady. Fruit bushes have pushed their way up from the ground to offer chirimoya and granadilla. The chickens feast on dropped seeds. Children race barefoot across the grass and past the sagebrush. Flowers coat the bitter smell of the slums in fragrance and hummingbirds have found their way so high up to suck on fervent orange and pink and yellow blossoms.

“Es el medico!” someone calls, a child in an open doorway, and his siblings race out to look with him. Women come out from behind the curtains of their homes to get a look at him, and when they do, their faces grow with smiles and they call out to him, medico! The men give him the same begrudging nods as always and offer him Spanish greetings he has learned to understand without understanding. Genesis is laughing at the attention and waving while Nina is calm and smiling beside him, keeping a steady hand on his waist when he grows tired. It’s been a long time since he was able to exercise regularly and this walk was always grueling for him. One day, he hopes to have his strength back.

And the clinic at the top of the hill?

Most all of it is swallowed up by plants, but the medicine inside has been left to the people. No one has looted it, though some is gone. Everyone is taking what they need. Even with his family gone, the clinic will still be a place of healing, and the whole mountain is green, and he doesn’t know why it makes him cry.

His and Trick’s room is covered in grass and flowers peeking up through the floorboards. He sits down where he would always sit by the window, and he runs his hands across the plant life, and he sees, and he remembers, and everything, he thinks, is beautiful, and not so lonely after all.

“I wanted you to see this,” says Nina. “How beautiful your brother’s magic is.”

Blue’s flowers. Blue’s plants. Blue’s power. Henrik stands in the doorway of his room, red-eyed and weepy, and regrets that he ever let it be stolen away.

“The other side of the mountain that used to be fertile,” she says. “His fire burned it all away. No the rich man’s land is dead and these people have some life. So you see, then, medico, that magic’s just a tool, and it can be used in good ways or in bad ways, and that’s nobody’s fault but the person manipulating it. Okay?”

“Okay,” he says. “Okay.”

“Your brother,” she says. “The monster. He stripped this beauty away from your Blue. The monster is not your family, Henrik. The monster is just a monster. And he will hurt you again if you let him.”

He’s left alone for a long time to sit with the memory of it.

He’s left alone for a long time to sit with the truth of it.

He’s glad he came up here.

“Hey,” says a voice after a while.

“Hey,” he answers Genesis.

She sits down beside him, her shoulder against his own. He doesn’t mind.

“Is it hard for you?” he asks. “To be here?”

“Mh,” she says, glancing around. “No. I like to see that it ended up all being for something good, at least around here. Weird how that can happen. I mean, it doesn’t always. In my life, most of the bullshit just turned out to be bullshit. But sometimes it can be fertilizer. And I think the times when it is are important to hold onto. These people are happier and healthier because you and your family were here.”

He sniffles and laughs and brushes at his eyes, letting out a deep sigh.

“Hey, can I say something?” asks Genesis, pushing against his shoulder. “Something kind of sappy?”

“No, I’m already all teared up.”

“Not my fault you are a big, German baby.”

He snorts and shoves her away from him and she laughs at him, settling down on his shoulder, and he thinks it’s okay, really, when she hugs him. She’s smaller than him and she seems to fit, somehow, against him.

“I’m sorry magic has been used to hurt you,” she says. “And that even the brothers you have who are loving have been used and hurt and controlled because of it. But it can be beautiful too. And important. And I hope someday you get to appreciate all that. Not just magic shit. But just the way that sometimes, the things bad people use to hurt us, well, they’re good things to good people. I hope someday you get to be somewhere where everything is beautiful, and nobody tries to hurt you.”

She’s warm like Trick.

“You’ve been very kind to me,” says Henrik. “Even after what we did to you. Thank you.”

“Henrik, you’re my brother and I’m your sister for as long as you need me, okay? If you need a family while you figure yours out. If you’re waiting for a new home. You can stay here with us. You can be our family too.”

There are crocuses growing up through the floorboards.

“Okay,” says Henrik, putting his head down on hers. “Okay.”

Crocuses and peace lilies and roses and more. It’s beautiful now. It’s beautiful.

This was Blue’s magic.

Anti took it away.

Henrik will not forgive him for it.

Henrik will not forgive him.

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

Red wakes up with Dapper against his chest and is stunned by how good it feels. How scary it isn’t. He almost laughs, hugging Dapper’s hot fond weight to his ribs.

“Hey,” he whispers, to wake him, and Dapper shuffles sleepily, pressing his matted hair against his chest. “Come on, wake up. Do you want to go out and about a little bit today?”

Dapper leaps up so fast Red gets elbowed in the chest and lets out a shout.

“Out, out, out!” Dapper all but flaps, zooming out of bed and tearing the covers off Ro’s warm body. His big brother groans.

“Dapper! You tiny fucker, come on!”

“Get out of the room? Get out of my room? I can go? I can get out of my room?”

He’s zipping around the room, trying to adjust his hair and his clothes and his shoes all at the same time. Red groans and then laughs, burying his face in his pillows and trying to ignore the buzz of nervous excitement in his own stomach.

“Five more minutes… oh, I gotta make sure I remember everything we need… and Max wants to talk more about everything…”

spicydanhowell asked: where's max, red? you sure it's safe to go out when you're.... wanted?

“Max should be on his way. He took my clothes to wash them the other night.”

This looks to be a huge relief to Red, who beams just at the thought of it.

“For the police stuff, I… don’t know. But I don’t think we can just hide out here much longer, especially with Dap the way he is. I think he has a hard time in his room when he’s on medication already, so being psychotic and trapped in a room is like…”

He glances warmly over at Dapper just in time to be tackled back onto the bed by him.

“Hurry up!” demands the little brother straddling his waist. “Slow, slow, slow!”

He grabs a pillow and starts thwacking Ro in the chest with it. Red hollers and grabs him in a headlock, throwing him onto the bed and drawing heaving laughter out of Dapper, struggling playfully in his grasp.

“You two good?” calls a voice from outside their door, vaguely amused.

“Coming, Max!” calls Red, a little color entering his cheeks, but Dapper goes very still in his brother’s arms, clinging to the bedsheets, his smile flickering away.

bupine asked: you alright, dap? you don't need to be afraid of max, you know. he used to be friends with red, he won't hurt you! he'll get you guys food and stuff!

“Yeah, Dap, just be chill, okay,” says Ro softly, brushing his brother’s fringe from his eyes and patting his knee before getting up out of bed. Dapper sits up on the bed, regarding the door coldly, his hands trembling a little.

“Red,” he calls after him. “No one’s supposed to see me. Anti will be angry.”

“Just a second, bud,” says Red, back to him, opening the door.

Max is standing there with his backpack overflowing with clothes, a carton of coffee in his hands, and his tie drawn up to his neck as immaculately as ever. He smiles at Ro.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi,” says Ro, smiling back.

Dapper scowls at them, grabbing you and pulling you closer, re-reading your message with suspicious eyes.

“He will get me things? Am I supposed to be convincing him to get me things?”

Dapper pauses, thinking, and then relaxes a little. “And then we kill him afterwards? I can do that.”

whydoilovesomanyvillians asked: No dap we dont do that afterwards

“No one lets me have any fun,” scowls Dapper, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Dap, get your shoes on, didn’t you want to go out? We can head out once we get dressed.”

Dapper shakes his head and throws the covers back over his head, burrowing back into the mattress, hiding from the intruder.

Red sighs and comes to sit on the bed beside him.

bupine asked: you don't need to convince him OR kill him. no killing. max likes you guys and he's been trying to help you for a long time. he'll do whatever he can to help you, and you don't have to beg or anything that you normally do with anti. max is a lot nicer than anti is, i swear.

“Hey,” calls Red, getting down beneath the covers with him. “They’re right. Come here, look at me. We don’t - I don’t think we have to follow all the rules right now. You know? I really think we can trust him. And Anti’s not here to punish you for anything, alright?”

Dapper tears at his hair, his teeth clenched together, shaking himself back and forth on the bed.

“Stupid,” spit his hands. “Anti’s always here to punish me.”

Red breathes out a long sigh and scoots a little closer to him, thinking. He reaches out to pull Dapper to his chest, stroking his thumbs over his shoulders, ignoring the growl on his little brother’s face. He’s going to have to play by Dapper’s rules for now.

“Hey, listen,” he whispers. “If we play our cards right, we can get this guy to buy us a bunch of shit we need. Anti doesn’t mind. We’re just playing games. We need him right now so Anti will understand.”

Dapper stares at him, relaxing a little.

“Am I your big brother?”

“Yes,” nods Dapper.

“Am I supposed to let anything bad happen to you?”

Dapper shakes his head.

“Who’s in charge?”

Dapper taps Red’s chest, his mouth twisting a little.

“Okay. So I say we’re going with him, alright? Just for a little while. And you have to play nice so he gets us things.”

Dapper blinks and shrugs. He’s good at playing pretend.

“Hey, come on. You were so excited! We’re going to go outside, right? That’s good. Let’s go, come on.”

It is a little exciting.

Dapper sits up, brushing his hair back into place.

“I got you tea,” says Max, putting a cup from the tray on the dresser. Dapper tries not to glare, looking away.

He’s afraid and he doesn’t want the stranger to touch him. If he does, Anti might punish him. It’s against the rules. And not only that, but he knows what Anti has always told him - if anyone ever finds out about you, they will hurt you, steal you, and take you far away. You need to stay close to Anti and obey.

He pushes his clock down further into his pocket and reaches out to grip Red’s hand, gritting his fierce teeth in his mouth.

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Aw, what's the matter, Dap? It'll be a whole lot of fun to get out for a bit! Think of the sunshine, and the pretty sights you'll get to see!

Right, right. Dapper nods quickly, trying to convince himself again. Red says it’s okay so it’s okay. And he does want to go outside. The walls feel thick and glaring around him, like they could lean forward to squeeze his ribs into his lungs at any moment. His paranoia is very high. He hates feeling like a coward. Like the whole world is conspiring to hurt him. Red holds the cup of tea out to Dapper and he takes it, clutching the warmth between his fingers, but he can’t quite bring himself to drink. He’ll need a few minutes to adjust. Was Max here yesterday? He thinks he was, and nothing bad happened.

Red and the stranger are chattering eagerly to each other, their bodies angled towards each other, a smile on both their mouths, and for some reason, it only makes Dapper more nervous. He remembers… something faint and distant. A nice girl with dark eyes, smiling at him. A nice girl with blond hair, talking to him through a window. It never ends well.

But he’s trying to have a nice day, so he lets Red help him through the motions of getting changed into freshly cleaned clothes. The warm smell of laundry and detergent calms him down a little. He takes a sip of his tea.

Ro leads him outside.

Dapper’s joy seems to come rushing back to him. He’s all but vibrating in Red’s hand, trembling as he follows Red and Max down the hall. He thinks he might faint if he gets out under the sun. He loves being out of his room. He loves being out of his room. He hates Anti’s rules. He grips Red’s hand and steps slowly after him, clutching his tea.

Anonymous asked: This is so exciting!! Where will you go first?

“It is exciting!” Max’s face is bright and he can’t stop smiling. He keeps looking back at the two of them behind him. “Where do we want to go, Ro? Clothes, you think? Maybe we just go to the mall and then get some lunch? And anything else you need we’ll find.”

“Oh, I didn’t even know there was a mall.”

“It’s on the other side of the city. This place is a little seedy, honestly.”

“Ha, yeah…” Red glances around at the motel. He’s packed all their stuff into his backpack so nothing gets stolen. “I - I’m sorry,” he hears himself say.

“What? What for?”

Red shakes his head, his cheeks flushed, and winces for a second. “Nothing, let’s just… yeah, I want to get clothes. I want to get everything he needs.”

Dapper looks back at him, eyes wide, but trusting.

“You know,” says Max. “It’s not your fault you ended up in this situation. You did the best you could. And now you don’t have to worry so much anymore. Okay?”

Ro bites his lip, a slight smile coming back to his mouth.

“Thanks, I needed… yeah, thanks. Okay, uh. Haha. Mall?”

“Sounds good,” says Max. “Take a bus?”

“Let’s do it.”

bupine asked: like it or not, anti can't see you guys right now. blue's magic in his body has messed him up and he can't access the cameras. we'll let you know if that gets fixed, but for now, anti can't see you and will never know about anything you do or say.

“Yep,” Max tells Dapper, turning back to smile at him as they head out into the streets. “No Anti, okay, bud?”

Dapper’s gone a little spacey and confused in the sun, smiling at everything around him, clinging more loosely to Red’s hand. Everything feels more safe and free when he’s not trapped in the room, though he’s still shaking with nerves. Red chuckles and pulls him close. “Doing okay?”

“Doing okay, Red. Anti’s not watching?”

“Nope.”

“Odd, odd. Like that day I had my churro. We can talk about anything, huh?”

“That’s right, buddy.”

“We can talk about anything we want to. Odd, odd.”

bupine asked: do you have anything in particular you'd like to say now that anti can't hear you?

“No, no,” says Dapper quickly. “Tell him I’m being good, I’m being very good.”

spicydanhowell asked: hey jamie, you're not with anti, okay? he's not gonna be mad at you for talking to max. max loves you, and he's going to help you whether you try to manipulate him or not. all you have to do is be here. please try to be nice? he and red really care about you, and so do we. we wouldn't tell you to talk to someone dangerous.

Dapper glances down the pavement at Max from behind Red, observing him all over again. Max catches him looking but politely turns his eyes away just as quickly, allowing Dapper to look, pretending he didn’t see.

“Your name?” He and Red are talking. “Oh, shit, you went by so many different names, haha.”

“What? You’re telling me you were friends and you don’t know my name?”

“Ro! Please,” laughs Max, bumping their shoulders together as they walk. “Look, doc was an illegal immigrant, you were a vigilante, your whole family was shady as hell. I didn’t ask a lot of questions, okay? You went by Jackie McLoughlin sometimes, or Jackie Brody, or you said Jackson was your last name, shortened to Jackie, and Bayard was your first.”

“Bayard? No, you take that back. My name is not Bayard.”

“Hahaha! Well, you always went by Jackie, but I’m pretty sure you picked it out!”

“Aw, whatever, Max, now you’re just teasing me…”

Dapper cools a little at the sound of Red’s laughter and chattering, turning his eyes away from Max, taking a second to just bask in the sun. Eventually, he takes a little sip of his tea. It’s good. Fuck, it’s - how long since he had tea? He has a vague memory of a dark wood table and people talking around him. Old things he’s not supposed to remember.

But Anti’s not here to reinforce it.

He can reminisce, if he wants to.

He listens quietly to Red and Max and he thinks.

spicydanhowell asked: you guys think jamie's gonna be able to get medication soon? also jamie, little mans, can you think of anything that might make you more comfortable or help you cope a bit better? i know it's kinda hard to think of what you need sometimes, but this is a good time to try!

“I made a couple calls about that,” says Max. “But, uh. I don’t know, really, how to get him anything without making an appointment with a psychiatrist.”

Dapper shrinks down beside Red, shaking his head. Red puts an arm around him. “No, we can’t do that,” he says quickly. “Not safe.”

“I know it’s not a viable option right now. I don’t know what else to do.”

“If you would help me, I could - ”

“No more stealing stuff,” Max interrupts him quietly. “Please. I can’t watch you get hurt again.”

Ro goes quiet. Eventually he nods.

“Well… I bet Dok could help.”

Max’s smile comes back. “I miss him. It would be good to hear from him again. I need to know that he’s safe.”

“Yeah,” says Ro. “Yeah, me too. I wish we could call him.”

“Well, I have a phone,” says Max.

Red perks up. “Oh, yeah? I… I don’t know, maybe he could get to a payphone or something. He’d know what to do. I think. I guess I usually stole his supplies for him…”

“I want to see Dok,” says Dapper, picking up on the conversation a little belatedly. “I can’t talk to him on the phone!”

“I’ll translate for you,” promises Red.

“When will he come home?”

“I’m not sure, bud. Hopefully we’ll see each other again soon.”

Anonymous asked: Do you know if the mall or the bus will be very crowded, Max? I think maybe Dapper doesn't want anybody who's not a brother touching him right now, is that right Dap?

“No one is allowed to touch me,” agrees Dap nervously. “Against the rules. Bad. I’m not really allowed out of my room at all. But sometimes! Like Norway. We had fish, Red, are you going to get me fish?”

“What? Months stuck in your room and fish is what you want?”

“It’s Friday,” says Dapper devoutly, putting his hands together as though in prayer, and Red can’t tell if he’s being teased or not.

Getting closer to the bus is more crowded. Red glances down at Dapper’s hand in his own. “Are you going to be able to handle this, Dap?”

“If no one is touching me, it’s okay,” says Dap, looking around. “As long as I know who my enemies are I can be fine.”

“Who are your enemies?” asks Max, frowning.

“Oh, everyone.” Dapper touches the knife in Red’s backpack fondly. “They are not scary because I know how to hurt them.”

Max frowns and opens his mouth for a second, but he doesn’t end up saying anything.

“We went by bus a lot in Peru,” says Red. “Do you remember?”

“Blue would hold my hand. It would be crowded. But I had my big brothers.”

Red flushes slightly. “Alright, you little kiss-ass.” He leans in to hug Dapper quickly and Dapper giggles, gripping at his palm. “Okay, then, we’re going to get on the bus and I’ll hold on to you and everything will be okay. I got you.”

“Are you okay with the bus?” asks Max, glancing at Red.

Ro stops short on the pavement, blinking.

He never really thought about it.

“Oh, I - I’m - I.” Blushing at his own stammering, he shakes his head to clear it and straightens up again, pulling Dap along. “I’m used to it. No worries. Buses are better than like, underground subways, so it’s fine. And I got Dap to hold onto.”

He grins at the joke, but Max’s answer, when he gives it, is in earnest.

“You can hold on to me, too,” he says, continuing towards the bus. “If you need.”

Max is wearing gloves even in the heat. No skin. No contact. Red could hold his hand if he wanted to.

Dapper glances between the two of them, frowning, and sticks out his tongue.

“Don’t give me that look,” grumbles Ro, bumping into his shoulder and pulling him along. “I’m not actually going to.”

Anonymous asked: Hey, Max, you're a detective. Do you know anything about the case of Natascha Kampusch? It's a case I think Ro and Dapper need to hear about. A paranoid, physically abusive abductor with certain moments of tender coddling, being isolated and kept in filthy conditions, being given special things and items to keep you attached to your abductor, being kept in a cell and being starved or denied food/medicine if you don't obey... Seems familiar to them I bet.

The bus is hot and purring with gasoline, but it’s not so crowded that Max, Ro, and Dapper can’t sit down together, Dapper kept protectively at Red’s side against the window. He stares out through the glass at the world he is so rarely allowed to be a part of, his nerves dying down, though his paranoia won’t ever let him rest entirely. In the middle, Red holds the camera on his lap, frowning over at Max at the message.

“Uh,” says Max, blinking. “Hm. Well, yeah, I could look that case up if you wanted me to, I suppose. I could - ”

“Let’s just have a happy day,” blurts Red, turning away from him. “Let’s not… let’s just be okay.”

Max goes quiet, looking at him, waiting for him to turn back to him. Waiting for him to be ready, because he knows, after all these years, when Jackie is trying to speak.

“Look, I… I know… that Anti is manipulative,” he says, very softly.

Max nods quietly, his hands clutched in his lap, aware that Dapper must be listening too.

“I know that he doesn’t treat us well. That he could take better care of us if he wanted to. That he chooses not to and never gets help for his temper. That he’s… abusive. I think I’ve always known. He’s never manipulated me quite the same way as the others.”

The bus rattles along. Dapper is staring out the window. Max’s hand is close to Ro’s.

“But, Max, I just - couldn’t leave my family. And Anti is - was? - Anti… I couldn’t leave him behind either. He’s family too. He’s a part of me. And it was either with him or against him, and I - I love him, Max. Even if he doesn’t love me back, I… He doesn’t like me. I know. And he says we’re not a family. He told me, ha. At Christmas, he told me it was just a concept, and that I should know that. That we weren’t a family. But I can’t - I don’t know how to change the way I feel about him, Max. I don’t know how to stop feeling like this. In theory, it’s all well and good. In practice, it’s impossible.”

A gloved hand brushes against Ro’s fingers.

“Jackie,” says Max.

Ro turns his gaze back up to him. Tiger eyes.

“It’s not impossible,” he says. “It just takes time, and help, and courage. And Jackie, Ro. I want to give you the things that I can, and help you find the things I can’t. You’re already here. You’re already putting trust in someone other than Anti. You’re already breaking the rules.”

Ro stares at him, his heart tight and aching.

“It’s not impossible. It’s a hard journey. But you’re already stepping down it. That’s what just having a nice day is, Ro. A nice day without Anti. A nice day where we don’t need him to be happy, or healthy, or okay, if only for this one day. And you have to choose, Jackie - if you want to go back to where you were or keep coming down this path.”

Dapper is looking back up at the both of them. Ro lets his eyes turn away from Max. It’s not a decision he should make because of him, or even because of Dapper.

He thinks maybe this is a decision he should make for himself. For his own needs. For the things he wants.

He thinks maybe it’s okay to make decisions like that.

“I - I do want that,” says Jackie. “I do want a nice day without Anti. I do want to not need him. I do.”

Max’s mouth is made for smiling. Wide and glowing.

“Okay,” he says, very soft, very warm. “Okay. We can.”

Jackie smiles right back at him.

Against the window, Dapper is shaking his head.

Anonymous asked: What about you, Dapper? What do you want?

Dapper sighs and glances over at Max and Red, their faces and their hands too close, their mouths too proud with smiling. He takes his hand away from Ro’s, but he hardly seems to notice.

“He is going to get hurt,” signs Dapper. “Anti never lets things like this last. He is jealous, possessive. Does not share attention. We should go back to our motel room and just live like we were. Better to be hungry than infatuated. I don’t want to watch my big brother get his heart broken.”

“Hey, Dap,” says Red, turning his attention back to him suddenly. “Come on, we’re here.”

He takes his hand again and leads him up. Dapper lets himself be lead, sulking a little, but the more he watches Ro and Max laughing and talking, the less he can hold it against him that he’s allowing himself these small moments of happiness with somebody he likes.

The truth is that Dapper would like to be happy, and for Red to be happy, and even for Max to be happy, maybe, but he doesn’t believe it’s possible anymore.

But he’d also like some new clothes and some lunch. He takes a deep breath in and tries to steady himself.

“Thank you for asking,” he adds. “Please make sure to keep Red safe. If he wants to have a nice day I want that for him too. My big brother.”

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Dap, we're not going to rat you out to Anti or anything. Enjoy yourself!

He sighs and tries to smile at you. Okay, okay, you’re right. They’ve got some money and they’re outside the room. That’s good! He is excited, really, or he was before he got so into his head. He needs to try and calm down. It’s okay to have a nice day. It doesn’t mean anything.

“I’m okay,” Dapper reassures himself, stroking his own hair for a moment. “I’m okay, this is okay.”

“Should we start with some clothes?” suggests Max. “Dapper, is there anything you want?”

Dapper looks at him, confused.

“Dapper.” Red pushes at his shoulder. “What do you want to get?”

Bewildered now, Dapper looks up at him, eyes flickering around the store.

“Shirts? Pants? Shoes?”

Dapper’s hands flex and then close again. He stares up at Red, beginning to get stressed.

He hasn’t picked out his own outfit in more than a year.

Anonymous asked: Would it be easier to choose something between two options, JJ? There's no wrong answer here, and no answer you can't take back either. You can change your mind as much as you want, plus you'll still have the clothes you have now.

“Yeah, Dap, deep breaths,” soothes Red, reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder, looking confused. “You, uh - is this hard for you?”

Dapper’s eyes flicker around the store. There’s rows and rows and rows of clothes. He could cry.

“Just pick them out for me!” he begs, tugging on Red’s shirt. “You and Anti always get my clothes for me!”

“Because you were always stuck in your room!”

“I’m not supposed to - I - I know you say Anti’s not here, but I’m still not supposed to, I - ”

“You know what,” interrupts Max, before things can get too out of hand. “I think two options is a great idea. Why don’t we start with shirts, yeah?”

Dapper stares at him, breathing a little fast. Looking at him now, he almost seems familiar.

Dapper nods shortly.

“Okay,” says Max calmly. “Should we look at long-sleeve shirts or short-sleeve shirts?”

“I always wear long-sleeve shirts.”

“Okay. But do you want to wear long-sleeve shirts or short-sleeve shirts?”

“I’m not allowed to - ”

“I’m telling you you are allowed to,” says Red softly, touching his hand. “Come on, little man, take it easy. You can get whatever you want today.”

“When did you decide you were against all of Anti’s rules?”

“Come on, Dap. Let’s not do this. You were with me. You just get a little lost. I think you know what you want, buddy.”

“I don’t.”

“I think you do. Do you want to wear long-sleeve shirts or - ”

“I want to wear t-shirts!” shout Dapper’s hands.

Red’s mouth curls into a smile, a little laughter bubbling in his chest. “Okay. We - ”

“We’re in motherfucking South America! It’s like forty fucking degrees outside! Do I look like I’m goddamn cold-blooded?”

Red is trying not to crack up, his hand over his mouth.

“Am I headed to the opera? Am I seducing women at the king’s ball? Why the fuck do I have to wear a dress shirt every! Single! Goddamn day!”

“Your name is Dapper, even, he really likes you wearing - ”

“My name is Dapper! My name! He made this my brand! I don’t want to wear dress clothes and these horrible tight little shoes every day! They’re for special occasions! They’re supposed to be my nice clothes! For fun, for fancy days when it’s supposed to be fun to dress up! He’s ruined it, it’s not fun anymore, I used to love dressing up like this. Now I’ve killed people in these shoes! I’ve run for miles in these shoes, run until my feet bled in these shoes! Motherfucking high-collared shirt choking the life out of me, I’m like those French aristocrats with the puffy collars, black pants in the heat looking like a government agent or a classical harp player, motherfuck! Teaches me it’s stupid to talk like I’m from the 1920s, teaches me to swear, but thinks I’m at my cutest in an over-sized hoodie or a goddamn dress shirt. Does he - is it a kink, is that what it is, why does he make me - ”

“You are killing me, Dap, stop!” Red is heaving with laughter. “I’ve never seen you talk this much in your entire fucking life.”

“What is he saying?” asks Max, bewildered.

“He wants to wear - ”

“I want to wear T-SHIRTS,” sign-shouts Jameson, grabbing Red’s hand and dragging him towards the casual wear. “I want to wear T-SHIRTS and SNEAKERS and SHORTS, it’s hot as hell outside and I don’t have to be cute, I don’t want to, I’m - how old am I?”

“He wants to know how old he is, Max.”

“Oh, he’s like twenty-eight?”

“I’m like twenty-eight! Don’t have to be cute, goddamn! Buy me a t-shirt.”

“This is the best day of my life,” howls Red, grabbing Max’s hand on instinct to lead them after him. “I had no idea you could rant like that, baby brother, oh my fucking hell. Okay, we can get you whatever you want, haha, we can, can’t we, Max?”

“Whatever you want,” repeats Max, a little star-struck, hurrying after them with his hand in Red’s. “Yes, whatever you want.”

Anonymous asked: Dap you’re allowed happy moments too, okay? Don’t forget that. It’s good that you’re watching out for your brother, I would have done the same thing, but today is an easy get some air day, okay? There’s nothing wrong with staying vigilant but don’t stress out to much

“That’s a great note!” says Dap, and he does not why there’s tears in his eyes. “Yes, I can, I can be happy too, I’m not here for anybody else’s happiness, I can make my own choices, I - I want this t-shirt, Red, with the flowers on it.”

It’s white with hundreds of tiny black flowers repeating in row after row across the fabric.

“Okay,” says Red. “Okay, you can have it.”

“I can have what I want. I can have what I want!” He punches Red’s shoulder suddenly, without knowing why, panting, but his brother only chuckles and reaches out to take his hand again.

“Why doesn’t anybody treat me like an adult?” he asks, hurt panging through his chest. “Why don’t I get to do this all the time?”

Ro sighs, pulling the shirt off the hanger for him. “I don’t know, buddy. I’m sorry I haven’t helped you better with it. I’m sorry I haven’t always let you be what you needed to be.”

“Is it because I’m psychotic? Would you treat me like an adult if I weren’t?”

“I think Anti just decided you’re the baby,” Red replies. “I hope you don’t ever have to feel like we don’t think you’re an adult just because of the psychosis. I know that would kill me, if nobody respected me just because I was autistic.”

Dapper sighs too, taking in a deep breath of the shirt. Clean cloth and store smell. He likes it.

“I respect you,” he says. “Maybe more for the ASD.”

“Thanks, Dap, that’s… good to hear. You too. Pick some more out, okay?” Red encourages. “We’ll get you shoes and some pants too. Comfortable stuff. Pajamas, even.”

“Okay. Yeah.”

Dapper picks out another t-shirt with two grey rhinoceros putting their horns together - “they’re in love!” he exclaims to you, hugging it to his chest - a less suffocating blue button-up with little ships printed on it, and a plan white t-shirt with something he doesn’t understand written in Spanish on the chest pocket. Black off-brand running shoes. Clean white socks and a few pairs of boxers. A three-set of gym shorts he and Red can share, a pair of jeans that can be rolled up at the ankles if he gets too hot, and yellow denim shorts with a pair of smiling suns on the front pockets. These, admittedly, are a little cute after all - but he’s allowed to be that too, and it doesn’t have to be for anybody but himself.

Anonymous asked: fuck yeah jamie!! excellent choices, they're awesome clothes, and they make you happy which is the most important thing. those are your clothes now! you own them, they're yours, only yours, to do whatever you want with! you're a grownass man who can buy his own kinda clothes, and fuck anyone who says otherwise!

Dapper laughs in a way you haven’t seen him laugh hardly ever, throwing his head back and closing his eyes. He holds the clothes close to his chest.

“Yeah, yep, you’re right, you’re right. I wish it was our own money, but maybe someday we can pay Max back.”

He pauses, looking over at Max. He does seem familiar, again. Dapper tilts his head, thinking about him, but he only gets vague images.

“Nice of him,” he says, looking much calmer. The store is mostly quiet at this time of day and he feels unbothered and protected. “He is nice.”

Anonymous asked: do you both wear the same size? just curious actually because jackie you've been going without for him :(

“Ah,” laughs Red nervously. “I… I haven’t been going without, really, I don’t need the jacket most of the time. Rather he had it. But, uh, yeah, well. I’m a little - ”

He cuts himself off with a snort. “Was going to say thicker, haha. I’m allowed exercise and shit like that, so he’s a good deal smaller than me, locked up in his room all day. But we’re just as tall and, like, hips and stuff are the same, so mostly we fit into the same. He drowns a little in my hoodie but he never seems to mind. More places for the little gremlin to hide knives. But, yeah, it’s nice that we can switch it up if we need to.”

He glances over at Max, rifling calmly through some shirts. Red’s pretty sure he’s trying to give them space to make their own decisions, but he feels nervous every time he looks at a price tag. This is going to cost so much money. He blows out a long sigh.

“But it’s fine,” he tells you, nodding. “It’s fine. He wants to get us stuff and he has enough money and he told me to get things I wanted. Hell, well… what do I want?”

Anonymous asked: Ohhh!! Ro what if you got some nice cargo shorts? Or like a t-shirt that’s made of soft material? Maybe a new hoodie? Make sure to check clearance if they have it lmao that stuff might be a bit cheaper than the in season stuff.

“Okay, okay,” nods Ro, considering. “Actually clearance is a great idea.”

He wanders over to the little circle of clothes on clearance, his hands brushing through for material he likes. There’s some fabrics he just won’t wear, and scratchy tags or seams are equally problematic.

“I would like a new hoodie,” he says. “I love the old one but it’s so worn. It’s - oh.”

He stops, turning his head a little. There’s a clean blue hoodie on sale at the back of the mediums.

He puts his hand on it, his fingers running over the surface and the zipper and the strings of the hood. It’s soft to the touch, but not too soft, not too giving. The fabric is thick - hot, to be sure, but good for bearing the brunt of scrapes and scratches. He pulls it between his fingers.

He’s only ever had red and black hoodies. But he doesn’t have to. He doesn’t have to.

He really misses Blue.

He sighs deep through his nose, burying his face in the soft fabric for a long moment. He’s been putting it off. Refusing to think about it.

But he misses him every day.

“I’m sorry I left you behind,” he mumbles to no one. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” says Max, coming towards him. “You okay?”

Red looks up. “Yeah,” he says.

“You sure?”

“I just wish the others were all here too. That we all had a chance to choose what we wanted.”

“You will,” promises Max, putting a hand on his shoulder. “You will, okay? I’ll help you find the others.”

Ro looks up at him, but suddenly he doesn’t feel grateful. It’s too much kindness. He’s too good to be true.

What does Max want from him?

No, Ro, don’t start thinking like this, please. He can’t take it, not when something good is finally happening to him.

“Can I get that for you?” asks Max, gesturing at the hoodie. “The color’s really nice.”

“Thanks,” he says. “Yeah, if you don’t mind, I’d really appreciate it.”

“I’m really glad to have a chance to get you things again,” says Max. “Maybe some shirts and a pair of shoes, too, and then we can go get you guys some lunch, yeah? If there’s anything else you need, we’ll pick that up too.”

Anonymous asked: Ohhh!! Ro what if you got some nice cargo shorts? Or like a t-shirt that’s made of soft material? Maybe a new hoodie? Make sure to check clearance if they have it lmao that stuff might be a bit cheaper than the in season stuff.

“Okay, okay,” nods Ro, considering. “Actually clearance is a great idea.”

He wanders over to the little circle of clothes on clearance, his hands brushing through for material he likes. There’s some fabrics he just won’t wear, and scratchy tags or seams are equally problematic.

“I would like a new hoodie,” he says. “I love the old one but it’s so worn. It’s - oh.”

He stops, turning his head a little. There’s a clean blue hoodie on sale at the back of the mediums.

He puts his hand on it, his fingers running over the surface and the zipper and the strings of the hood. It’s soft to the touch, but not too soft, not too giving. The fabric is thick - hot, to be sure, but good for bearing the brunt of scrapes and scratches. He pulls it between his fingers.

He’s only ever had red and black hoodies. But he doesn’t have to. He doesn’t have to.

He really misses Blue.

He sighs deep through his nose, burying his face in the soft fabric for a long moment. He’s been putting it off. Refusing to think about it.

But he misses him every day.

“I’m sorry I left you behind,” he mumbles to no one. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” says Max, coming towards him. “You okay?”

Red looks up. “Yeah,” he says.

“You sure?”

“I just wish the others were all here too. That we all had a chance to choose what we wanted.”

“You will,” promises Max, putting a hand on his shoulder. “You will, okay? I’ll help you find the others.”

Ro looks up at him, but suddenly he doesn’t feel grateful. It’s too much kindness. He’s too good to be true.

What does Max want from him?

No, Ro, don’t start thinking like this, please. He can’t take it, not when something good is finally happening to him.

“Can I get that for you?” asks Max, gesturing at the hoodie. “The color’s really nice.”

“Thanks,” he says. “Yeah, if you don’t mind, I’d really appreciate it.”

“I’m really glad to have a chance to get you things again,” says Max. “Maybe some shirts and a pair of shoes, too, and then we can go get you guys some lunch, yeah? If there’s anything else you need, we’ll pick that up too.”

Anonymous asked: Hey Ro, it’s okay to be cautious. You’ve learned to second guess things since you’ve been with Anti as a defense mechanism. It’s alright to do that, hell I do it all the time! It helps you think realistically, but don’t let it consume you to the point where you can’t experience anything new or fun because you’re too scared it’s not gonna be real. If It’d help, maybe try talking to Max about it? Your concerns? Communication might help eliminate some of the anxiety you feel towards all this.

Red bites on his lip a little, thinking about it. Communicating - how does he communicate something like that? ‘I’m scared you might be here to kidnap my time traveling little brother? I’m scared you might arrest me after all? I’m scared you want something from me but I don’t know what?’

He takes a deep breath and lets it puff out. Max wanders politely away again to let him shop in peace.

It’s okay to not trust him right away. They can work on it.

But he wonders, somewhere in the back of his head, if he’s letting himself be guided more by the way he feels towards Max than what’s really true or safe for Dapper.

And that has to be the first priority.

Right now, though, Max is helping him take care of Dap and he has everything he needs, so it’s okay for Red to get things too. He calms down and finds himself some nice sweatpants, a pair of good running shoes with green stripes down the sides - a part of him insists Anti will get him even nicer ones when he gets back to him, but he shoves it off - a pair of jeans, cheap sunglasses to help with his overloads, and soft black gloves. He grabs a green flannel-pattern button-up to wear outside some of the t-shirts he already has and then, as a bit of a treat for himself, he gets a nice red and white t-shirt with elbow-length sleeves and a circle of pelicans around his heart.

Max gets everything for them. Red stands beside him, buzzing with nerves, but Max never shows a hint of irritation or regret. In fact, he seems to only get happier as the day continues - he talks more and more. And more and more. Actually, he kind of talks a lot.

Red loves it.

A stream of white noise in Max’s soothing voice, eagerly communicating his excitement to him at all times, making everything feel happy and enthusiastic to him. Max chatters about pelicans and food and Colombia and the places he’s tracked him to and books and movies and everything he’s missed while he’s been with Anti.

“At this point I was in a hotel in Budapest,” says Max. “Still undercover, hadn’t heard from you in two months, thought you were safe at home, thinking about how you’d probably gone to see the new Black Panther movie without me. And it was so horrible at the time, but it seems funny now, cause I got back and you were gone and I was so lost, so lost. So scared for you. But I just remember in the midst of like a complete fucking breakdown I had this thought - well, he probably didn’t see Black Panther 2 without me, we can go together when I find him.”

Max shakes his head and laughs at himself, moving with them down the mall. Dapper is engaged in everything going on around him - people, shops, colors, lights, smells, food, merchandise. But Red - Red is just fixated on Max.

They pick up everything they need from a little general store. Shampoo, soap, deodorant, toothpaste, new toothbrushes - Ro could cry at just the thought of his teeth feeling clean - and combs, sunscreen, a bag of tea and a bag of coffee, more beef jerky for an eager-looking Dapper, a camera to make new IDs, stylist’s scissors, a burner phone, vitamins and a first-aid kit, charcoals and a drawing pad - the list seems endless to Red, but he feels grateful again, just watching Max, and Dapper seems calm and happy, racing around to get things off the shelves.

“And I haven’t like been having a ton of fun without you, you know? I’ve been looking for you, mostly alone, and I just - I just really want to catch up on everything with you, I do. So we should see Black Panther 2 sometime, that’s all I’m saying. Oh! And there’s another one out soon, you know, we’ll see everything. I’ll take you wherever, we can do whatever. I found you, you’re okay!”

Max whirls on him suddenly and Ro almost jolts at the sight of tears in his eyes. Max looks at him like he’s something so - so -

Red turns his head away, unable to bear it. Max looks at him like he’s something so wonderful. So worthwhile. So good. Max is crying tears of joy just for him.

“Um,” he says, squeezing Dapper’s hand. “Where did you have in mind for lunch?”

“Oh, anywhere,” says Max reverently. “I’ve just been cooking at my place. I’ll get you anything.”

“We should try real Colombian food,” says Dapper. “I never get to try anything actually ethnic and I’ve been to so many countries.”

“Sure,” says Max.

“Can we get something to go?” asks Ro. “I don’t want to be out in public any longer than I have to.”

“Also a good idea,” says Max. “Let’s pick something up and head back. I love ethnic food from like, everywhere. I’ll make you Indian food sometime, okay? I know you love curry and naan and stuff, and we can get everything we need again, cause it’s been so long since I had a stocked kitchen and everything, I’ve just been looking for you…”

He moves back into a long trail of talking, looking years younger than he did the night Red saw him in that greenhouse. Red feels younger too.

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

“And I figured, like - at this point if it’s not Anti, then I have bigger problems than him, because the power outage was incredible. Whole country was a wreck, the national government got involved, and I’m guessing for sure that’s Anti, got to be, but now I think about it, honestly you must have helped far as I can reckon, because the hacking that must have taken - ”

“I don’t remember that at all,” says Ro, trailing after him back towards the motel, smiling. Dapper’s swinging their food back and forth in hand, listening to the padding of his new shoes down the concrete.

“I really don’t understand, still, entirely the reason behind it, but then again I figure - ”

And then Max is grabbing Red and shoving him into an alley, pinning him down against a wall. Red screams aloud and grabs his wrist to break it, terror bursting against his veins, and then Max hisses, “Jackie, police, police!”

Heart still pounding, Red turns his head around and sees a pair of police cars parked directly outside of the motel where they’ve been staying.

Dapper shoves Max bodily away from Red, hissing through his teeth, putting his body between theirs.

Anonymous asked: Dapper, it's okay, he wasn't trying to hurt him. There's police there, be careful, now isn't time for fighting, it's time for running.

“They’re right, we have to go,” murmurs Max, tugging on Red’s sleeve.

“Where?” stammers Red. The red and blue lights aren’t even flashing and the sight of them is still paralyzing. His heart feels thin and rapid in his chest. “I can’t - he can’t sleep on the street anymore, I need a place for him.”

“You can come stay with me,” says Max gently. “I have a nicer hotel room with a little kitchen and everything. There’s two beds.”

Red pauses, staring at him.

He shakes his head.

Clears his throat.

“Why’s there two beds?”

“I was hoping to find Jameson. You know that.”

Red’s stance is stiff and wary.

“Right… Yeah.”

“I don’t want to sleep with him,” protests Dapper, hiding against Red’s shoulder. “This isn’t safe. Convenient timing for the cops to get here, detective.”

“I can’t tell what he’s - ”

“He said this was convenient timing for the cops,” Red translates sharply, wrapping an arm around Dap. “Cops you’ve been talking with.”

Max lets out a nervous laugh, shaking his head. “You - you can’t think I would actually - I helped you get away, don’t you remember?”

Red sighs, loosening his grip on Dapper a little.

bupine asked: guys, max wouldn't sell you out. why would he have bothered taking you shopping? i can get why you're paranoid, but that doesn't make sense. if max wanted you arrested, he'd have done it by now.

“Right,” says Ro, and you see his cheeks fill up with blood. He turns his head away. “Fuck, I - I’m sorry, Max, I just - ”

Max is turned slightly away from him, gripping his gloved hands together.

“I’m just paranoid.”

Max turns his gaze back up to him, shaking his head a little.

“Ro… Jackie. This isn’t easy for me either, really. I don’t know if Anti’s going to come back for you. I don’t know if he’s in your head or if he can see us through these cameras. But I don’t want to hurt you. I want you to be okay.”

“It’s just all too sudden and random. It’s like winning a lottery I didn’t know I bought tickets for.”

“There are people in the world who care about you, Ro,” Max insists, managing to smile for him again. “Not just you, your whole family. Stacy, Marvin’s club, the rest of the Kamenyes…”

Dapper stiffens slightly.

“Let’s just try going back to my place, okay? The beds even have a wall and a door between them. You and Jameson can have your own room and privacy and you can lock me out if you need to.”

“Okay,” says Ro softly. “Thank you.”

“It’s my fault, really. I should have known that if I could track you, so could these cops.”

“But slower,” adds Red. “Guess you’re the better detective.”

“No, Red, I can’t go!” Dapper cuts them both off. “I need my bear!”

“What? I thought I packed the whole room. I always do.”

“He’s behind the curtains on the window!”

“Why would you put him there?”

“He tells me if Anti’s coming!” cries Dapper, tugging on his shirt. “I need him!”

“Dap, we can’t go back just for a bear. I’ll get you a new one, buddy. You love new stuffies.”

Dapper shakes his head furiously, scrambling to get his knife out of Red’s backpack. He’ll go through the cops himself if he has to.

“Blue got me my bear to look after me while he’s away!”

“Dapper, come on! Don’t make me handcuff you again!”

Max’s eyes widen, his hands gripping suddenly together.

Anonymous asked: Hey, Dap, it's okay. The police don't know there's anything special about your bear. They don't even know he's yours, right? No way to track him. They can look in the room, but if Jackie didn't find your bear, they probably won't either. You guys can take some time. We'll be keeping an eye out for Anti too, and we can tell you if he's coming in the meantime. And maybe later, once the police leave and it's safe, one of you can go back to get your bear? Can you go just a little while without him?

“I don’t want to be in a room with him without my bear,” whines Dapper.

“Dap, listen to what they’re saying. We are going to protect you, not the bear. You’re having a delusion, Dapper, that thing isn’t real.”

Dapper’s face whitens, his hands gripping shakily together.

Red sighs, leaning forward to touch him. “I’m sorry, just - please, give me a couple days to try and get it back?”

Dapper hides against his collarbone, sighing.

Anonymous asked: maybe max can get the bear for you, dap

“Don’t touch my bear!” protests Dapper, whirling on him.

“No, that’s perfect,” says Max gently. “Can I have the keys, Ro?”

“Yeah, sure. Thank you, shit.”

“I don’t want it if he touches it,” grumbles Dapper.

“Okay, Dap,” snaps Red. “Now you’re just being a brat.”

“Ro,” Max cuts him off. “Can I talk to him for a second? Just the two of us?”

Red blinks, startled. For a second, his hand tightens on Dapper’s arm. But he looks between the two of them and makes his decisions.

“Red, Red!” Dapper complains, trying to follow him. Max stands quietly in front of him, biting on his lip.

“Jameson,” he says. “Jameson.”

“That’s not my name!”

“Is Dapper?” asks Max, exasperated.

His hands go silent, turning bitterly away.

“I wanted to apologize,” says Max. “If I’ve been too focused on Jackie. We were closer, we were - but the two of us, you know, we got on well too. I’ve missed you. I came here thinking you were the only one left alive, Jameson.”

“Please,” he begs. “Don’t call me that.”

“Is JJ alright?”

“Fine. I don’t care.”

“JJ, I keep thinking - ha, I don’t know. It feels like you remember me even better than Ro does. But you won’t even look at me. Don’t you remember me? Weren’t we friends?”

JJ doesn’t look at him.

“I remember you. I remember that you worked at a veterinarian clinic during the week and that you helped build houses for people during the weekend. I remember that you were learning ASL and could understand most of Henrik’s German. I remember your violin playing for so long Chase would go drag you out of your room before you made your fingers bleed. Charcoal art pinned up all over your wall and an antique clock collection all across your room. I remember you, JJ. Other people remember you too. Other people still love you.”

JJ has turned slightly back to him, his eyes faraway.

“I lost that person,” whisper his hands, slow so Max can follow.

“It’s okay to change,” answers Max softly. “That doesn’t mean that the person you were is completely gone.”

JJ stares at the ground, his face ashy.

“Let me go get your bear for you,” Max asks.

JJ doesn’t answer. Max waits one minute, two. Finally he sighs and turns to get the keys from Jackie, and goes to get his bear.

“Hey, don’t cry,” whispers Red, coming back to his brother and taking his hand again. “What’s wrong, buddy? Come here. It’s alright. It’s alright.”

Anonymous asked: Just stay calm everyone alright? Think about this Dap, that bear has a lot of meaning to you but compare that to the possibility of sleeping In a cold cell if you went back for it. Maybe they won’t find it and you can come back for it later? The priority right now is not to get caught and if you go back there Anti will find you. Go with Max and Ro and stay out of sight bud, come on, please?

“Exactly, exactly,” agrees Ro, stroking his shoulder. “You’ll come back to Max’s place, right, bud? Better than sleeping in fucking jail. I’m going to keep you safe. I wouldn’t let anybody hurt you, would I?”

JJ shakes his head. Now he just looks exhausted.

“If Max can get the bear back, great. But hopefully we can get you medicine soon so you don’t feel like you need it and the paranoia isn’t so bad. Right?”

“This isn’t where I’m supposed to be,” he answers, staring around him. “It was never where I was supposed to be. Such an odd and terrible timeline.”

“Um.” Ro looks around. “Well. Gotta do our best with what we have, right?”

“I think I’ve lost… great parts of myself,” he says.

Ro scoffs and kicks his foot across the ground. “I feel you, bud. I feel you.”

Anonymous asked: It's just like what you said about Ro, JJ. You were never dead, just sleeping. Just forced into dormancy by a monster.

JJ laughs quietly. He likes that imagery, really. You know him by now - reflective and introspective, thoughtful and often lost in his musings and tortured confusions. Never dead, just sleeping. How Biblical. How hopeful.

He wants some of that back, some of that hope. Some of that person who played music til his fingers bled and could come and go as he pleased.

But he comes and goes so often. He sleeps and dies and wakes and rises and falls again.

Anonymous asked: Awe, I'm sorry JJ, I know it's really rough right now. It's hard when you lose things, especially such important parts of yourself. Thank you for trusting Max and Ro in this. It'll turn out okay. You're really brave, JJ, and really strong.

“Hey,” calls Max, returning, and there’s the bear in his hands. Ursa Minor, Ursa Major. Marvin used to call him Asteriscus. He remembers. Bits and pieces. Friends and home. 

“Thank you,” JJ tells you quietly, taking the bear from him. It’s hard to lose pieces but they’re not all gone.

And if he’s not brave, he wants to be. If he’s not strong - no. He is. He has been. For a long time. He’s alive, isn’t he? And there are still parts of him - still parts of him, not dead but asleep. Still parts of him that wake up every now and then and fight like hell. He remembers slapping Anti right in the face and he wants to laugh and hide at the same time.

“Ready to go?” asks Ro, squeezing his shoulder. He nods and they move away, keeping close to crowds and shadows, heading towards Max’s room.

Anonymous asked: Max, do you see something? What's wrong?

Max did, in fact, notice something.

He trails behind Ro and JJ, feeling tired himself, though he tries to stay happy and calm for their sakes. He’s got to. He’s got to earn their trust back.

It’s just one more thing he lost the day he lost everything.

“You were my family,” he almost wants to say. He wants to shout it. “In more ways than one. You held me when my father died. You celebrated holidays with me. You took me to the hospital when my appendix burst and Henrik hit another doctor with a clipboard for trying to perform on me without him. You knew me and I knew you. It’s not fair that you’ve forgotten. It’s not fair that I had to hear you threaten to handcuff him. He’s psychotic and he’s scared and he’s your brother and you threatened to handcuff him. You would never do that. Jackie would never do that.”

But he doesn’t say anything. And he tries to stay happy and calm.

“Stop being selfish,” he wants to tell himself. “Stop thinking about what you want. They’ve been through hell and you need to help him find himself again instead of mourning like an idiot over who he used to be.”

He always promised himself that whatever had happened to JJ, he would still love him. He would still forgive him and help him come back to himself.

But seeing Jackie as Red - much as he wants to help - is not something he expected.

The promise he made to Jackie was to save Jameson if Jackie wasn’t there to do it himself.

Max stops suddenly in the middle of the pavement. Ro notices him stop and turns around, frowning.

“Max?”

Max beckons him closer. Ro pauses, glancing at Dapper, and drops his hand long enough to come back to Max for a moment.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

Max touches the string of his hoodie, just for a second.

“Don’t ever threaten to handcuff him again,” he croaks, unable to meet his eyes.

Ro blinks at him, confused.

“Ro, promise me. Don’t ever threaten him at all again.”

Shame in Ro’s face. Shame filling his face up. He looks away, reddened.

“Jackie, promise - ”

“I won’t,” says Ro, soft and bitter, closing his eyes. “I… I won’t. I promise.”

“Okay,” whispers Max, his throat burning. “Good.”

He walks ahead of them. He hears Ro call his name again, but he doesn’t answer. He needs a minute.

He knew it would be this hard. Why does it hurt so much worse than he thought it would?

He takes a deep breath in and finds his smile again. Calm and happy. Calm and happy. He has to help them find themselves. He won’t watch them get hurt anymore.

Anonymous asked: Are you alright, Max?

“Oh,” says Red, startled, as they enter the little hotel room. “It is nice, Max. I didn’t know there were places this nice in this part of the world.”

Max smiles wearily, a little sad from the statement, because truthfully it’s just an average little hotel room, with clean floors and beds and little bottles of shampoo in the shower. But Jackie hasn’t had nice things in a long time and Max wants to give him - anything, everything, everything he wants. He doesn’t know how else to say I still love you without saying it out loud. And Jackie isn’t ready to hear him say it. Jackie’s barely ready to let him buy him shoes at the mall.

The way anger and hurt and “it’s not fair!” are boiling in his stomach, he thinks maybe he’s not ready to say it again either. Not yet. But he still wants to. He wants to say and do so many things. Wants to touch him again, wants to -

He shakes his head and laughs at himself as Red settles Dapper down to eat the food he bought them. They’ll have rice and meat and vegetables, so much all three of them get full, really full, for the first time in weeks.

That’s good. It’s good.

Yeah, he’s fine. Not really, okay, but he can be. He shoots you a little grin and a thumbs up. He’s flushed from the heat and his eyes are bright. Dark hair is curling into his eyes. He just wants to be happy they’re here. He wants to give them both anything they need. Right now, that’s all he can do, and he’s proud to do it.

“Should we get some food?” he asks them, and JJ hefts the bag of take-out, hugging his bear to his chest with his free hand, and yes, everything’s alright, everything’s alright.

Everything’s better than alright, because even if he’s not the man he was, Jackie is here, Jackie is alive. Max is with him again. The rest is semantics. Stop being sad, dumbass! he tells himself.

He takes a minute to himself in the bathroom while Ro and Dap settle in. And when he comes out, honestly, things are better in his heart, and he’s okay. He is. He’s alright. There are triggers for bad emotions and by fuck does he have them, but there are also happy triggers. And dinner with Jackie and JJ - Jackie’s face and the thought, even if not spoken out loud, the thought I love you directed at him, directed at his blue eyes and dark hair and his honest, smiling face -

Max is happy in a way that goes down deep, past the hurt and the fear and the loss and the grief. Max is happy.

“We’re going to have food,” he says.

Ro smiles at him. Eyes bright.

“And I’m going to put on your favorite music.”

“I don’t remember what that is,” Ro laughs.

“And we’re going to be okay. And we’ll sit on the bed and watch a movie and everything will be alright. Okay?”

“Okay,” says Jackie, very soft, his guilt melting away in the face of Max’s joy for him. “Okay, that sounds good.”

“Sounds good, JJ?”

“Sounds okay,” says JJ, leaning against Ro’s shoulder. “Sounds pretty okay.”

“Okay.”

He sits down with them right there on the floor of the hotel room.

He’s alright. They’re alright. I love you, he does not say, but he means it. He means it.

Anonymous asked: Even if you are "Dapper", even if you've been forced to be a baby, forced to simper and play puppy, you are also always still Jameson Jackson. Always still the man who fought like hell against his tormentor, always still the man who bitch slapped Antisepticeye, always still the strong person who's still kept parts of himself alive and well even after all the manipulation and pain and torment. Nothing the demon does can truly take away who you are.

Max puts a pork crackling in his mouth and almost chokes on it. “You bitch-slapped Anti?”

Dapper hides against his box of white rice, grinning just a little. “Maybe…”

“Don’t remind me,” groans Ro. “He and Dok both got in so much trouble.”

“I did fight, though,” says JJ softly. “I did, I do not give in easily, I do not give up easily. I did not want to wear my little - I want to go put my t-shirt on!”

He gets up and yanks it right out of Red’s backpack, ducking off to the bathroom to change.

“He must get hot in that.”

“Honestly I don’t know how he does it. Like Norway, maybe, but Peru?”

“He is tough, he’s a tough little guy. He always has been.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, totally. Not scared of anything.”

Ro chuckles and picks at his brisket.

“Um… hey, I’m sorry I threatened him. I just - have a lot of issues with the, like… hierarchy we have, and I just… I’m working on it.”

“We’ll work on it together,” says Max, and Ro smiles shyly at him. “You haven’t had a chance to treat him like a real brother in a while.”

JJ comes back in his rhino shirt. He sits a little closer to Max than he did before.

“I’m tough,” he says to himself, taking a piece of Ro’s brisket and making him laugh. “I am.”

He looks torn between nervous and elated, his eyes distant with memories. Letting himself reminisce. A time traveler never really forgets, even if his brothers do. Even if a demon tries to take him away from himself.

Anonymous asked: Max, bud, your emotions and responses are just as justified as theirs. There are such things as second hand victims. You might not have gone through things at the same degree that they did, but that does not mean you have not suffered or that what happened has not affected you in any way.

“I’m so full,” whispers Ro.

“I probably should have cut you off at some point for your own health,” Max whispers back.

“Shut up,” laughs Ro, smacking his shoulder, and they dissolve into quiet laughter over the remains of their meal.

Dapper is asleep across Ro’s lap, hugging his bear. Max’s laptop is playing a movie Red hasn’t paid attention to on the mattress in front of them. And they’re sitting close together, just talking.

Cause it turns out “talking more about everything” didn’t mean reliving months of trauma when Max said it. He just wanted to talk. And it’s easy. It’s easy to talk to Max.

“Everyone’s really okay?”

“I mean… we’re never great, you know? But we’re alive.”

“I really thought you were dead.”

“That’s horrible,” says Ro. “I’m sorry.”

Max smiles softly at him.

“They’re right, you know. You… you matter too, Max.”

Max looks down at his feet, still smiling unhappily.

“Have you been alone this whole time?” asks Ro, almost afraid to know the answer.

“I left England almost right away,” Max whispers back. “Don’t have any family. Cut off contact with my friends. Scared Anti would notice me. And I’d just been undercover for months, so I was already… I don’t know.”

He laughs miserably, shaking a hand through his hair.

“I did bad things over those months, you know. Really bad things to keep my cover safe. I got the head guy, in the end. It was good work. But it felt horrible. Still feels horrible. And I spent the whole time thinking about how I’d come back to you.”

“To me?” asks Ro.

“Um. To - to all of you,” adds Max.

“Right.”

“It was hard. But it doesn’t matter now. I’m with you again.”

He looks up at Red. There’s an explosion on the screen and they both flinch and then laugh, hiding their faces from each other for a second, leaning a little closer with the weight of their laughter.

“I want a chance to heal alongside you,” says Max after a beat, and their eyes are flickering between each other’s eyes and hands and mouths. “I want to have a chance to be with you again. That’s all I want anymore. Forget the past and we’ll rebuild.”

But Ro is shaking his head slowly, looking up at him.

“Max,” he says. “I’m not the person I was.”

“Does it sound like I am?” Max returns quickly. “Jackie, I know what it’s like to feel broken.”

“But you’re so good,” answers Ro, his voice raw. “You’re so… I don’t… Max, soon you’re going to see what I really am, like you got a glimpse of when I said I’d handcuff him. I’ve done worse things than that. Someday, you’re going to see who I am really, behind all this, and then you’re not going to want me anymore. Max, I’m just going to hurt you. I’m not your friend anymore. I’m some shell of him. I died and Anti made me over again. You should go, Max. You should go before you realize Jackie’s really gone. And Red - he isn’t worth you sticking around for. You’ve already wasted so much of your life on us. You don’t have to waste your friendship too.”

“Waste,” says Max, low and reverent. “Waste.”

His hand has come to rest just beside Red’s stomach in the space between them. He didn’t notice it getting closer. He can hear his heart in his ears.

“I don’t know how to tell you,” begins Max softly, certainly, trying. “How… I… Waste. No. No. You are worth anything.”

Ro hears himself laugh. His eyes sting. He turns slightly away.

Max takes his arm and pulls him back. He doesn’t force him to look him in the eyes, but they do come close again. They do breathe in the same air and their hands rest beside each other on the bed. And Ro could touch him. Ro could touch him and he thinks, suddenly, that Max would allow it, and he is afraid.

“I don’t care what you’ve done,” says Max. “I don’t care. I’m not going anywhere, Jackie. You are worth anything I have to offer. We made promises, you and me. I guess you don’t remember, but it doesn’t matter. I’d give you anything you asked for, I would, I don’t care. I don’t care if it sounds naive. I knew what to expect if Anti ever got his hands on Jamie again. I know the way he uses people. I know the things you must have done. I don’t care. I’ve done them too. You can’t surprise me. You can’t drive me away. I… you are my family, Jackie. Ro. Whoever you are, you are my family. And that’s all that matters.”

And Ro wants to say something, to do something, to touch him, maybe, if he could. He’d like to tell him that he’s wrong, but also that he’d do anything to make him right. He’d like to tell him that he’s sorry and that he wants to be his family too, but he doesn’t know how. He wants to tell him he’s trying to believe him. He wants to push him away and hold onto him at the same time. He wants to touch his hand.

“I think I’m going to go to bed,” he says instead.

Max’s face falters with the grief of it for a moment, but then he is smiling again, calm and happy, calm and happy, and Ro is sorry, because already he is showing Max all the things he really is: too cowardly to talk to him, too cowardly to touch him, too broken to be able to have conversations like him, too lost in his own self-pity to even try.

“Get some sleep,” says Max warmly, smiling at him. Smiling so warm at him.

Ro nods and scoops up Dapper in strong arms, taking him to the bed in the other room. His little brother wakes up long enough to glance at him and see the upset in his face, but Red just shakes his head and tells him to go back to sleep, and JJ is too tired to protest.

Ro lies down, waiting for his own self-deprecation to begin attacking, attacking, eating him alive.

But strangely enough, it doesn’t, not know.

Maybe it’s warm food or a warm bed or a warm hand close to his own, but he doesn’t feel cold.

He lies awake and thinks, over and over again:

“You are worth anything. I don’t care what you’ve done.”

Max’s smiling mouth.

Jackie falls asleep.

End Section Eight of Chapter Three: Places to Find Home

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #280

“this is the place in our mind with a crooked crown / we came to execute its own perfect shutdown”

Do you have a strong local accent? No. Do you prefer green or red grapes? Red, but either is fine so long as they’re crisp. Can you stand on your hands unassisted? pffff Who was the last person to knock/ring at your door? Pizza guy. How old were you when you last went trick or treating? No idea. Have you ever been bobbing for apples? ”No. That’s a gross game lol you’re dipping your head and mouth into water other people are dipping their head and mouth into.” <<<< This. What’s your most expensive piece of clothing? No clue. What’s the last thing you took a picture of? Guys I actually took a selfie bc for once in my goddamn life, I felt really pretty with the makeup Summer did on me. She's working towards a degree in cosmetology and is so talented with it. What’s the last thing you drew a picture of? A meerkat pup. Have you ever been on a pogo stick? Omg, yes. I got one for I think Christmas one year as a kid and I got SO into it. I learned how to do it really well. Can you down a pint (of anything) in one? Probably not without throwing up. Have you ever been banned from a public place? No. Have you ever been in a newspaper? A couple times, I think. I know once in elementary school for when I was in chorus; we went somewhere for a small Christmas show. Then I believe I was in it for another school thing? Idr. What football team do you support? I don’t care for football or sports in general. What did you want to be when you grew up? My phases included paleontologist, vet, movie director, author, game designer, aaaand I know I’m forgetting one. But my current and long-term goal has been to become a photographer. Being an artist as a free time “job” has always been an aspiration, too. Have you ever tie-dyed your own clothes? In school, yeah. How often do you buy new clothes? Very rarely. Usually just around Christmas or my birthday from gift cards I get. Are you reliable? In some ways yes, in other ways no. Are you proud of yourself? No. If you could ask your future self one question what would it be? If she’s ended up happy. Do you hold grudges? Nah. Do you decorate the outside of your house for Christmas? Mom does pretty much last minute, but only sometimes when looking at the past few years. Can you solve sudoku puzzles? Sure, they’re fun. What’s the most unusual conversation you've ever had? Who knows. Are you much of a gambler? Not at all. I don’t fuck around with money, especially when just $5 makes you feel great. Have you ever been to Disneyland? I’ve been to Disney World. Do you sing in the shower? Very rarely. Almost never now that I don’t play music while I’m in there. As a child did you ever suck your thumb or fingers? I mean probably? I do know I loved my pacifier and was SO upset when Mom’s doctor or someone playfully told me I was gonna have to give it up because my upcoming baby sister would want to steal it, and guess what? Nicole never fucking used a pacifier so I was tilted lmao. What time do you usually go to bed? Lol BRO it can be as early as 7 PM on bad depression days to as late as like, 2-3 AM. I’d say the average time is like… 9:30. What's your favorite animal? MEERKATS hngggggggggggggggg Have you ever been in marching band? No. Do you have any enemies? No? At least I don’t consider anyone to be. Have you ever been a cheerleader? As a kid, Mom wanted me to so I could do something with my sisters, who were actually interested in cheerleading. She certainly didn’t force me to or anything, I just agreed to it despite not being into it. We were with this Christian sports group for a long time doing various sports all the while being taught lessons in Christlikeness. I’ve actually got warm memories of it Did you ever date anyone on the football team? No. Do you sleep with stuffed animals? No, not that I’m against the idea tho. The plushy would just have to be very special to me and also comfortable to hold. How many consecutive days have you ever missed of school? I missed an entire week when I learned about Mom’s cancer. I could barely function. With how much school stressed me, I would NOT have managed. Have you ever been pregnant? No, not in my to-do list. When was the last time you wanted to speak out, but couldn’t? I’m sure it was recently over Facebook; most times, I keep my mouth shut over political things on there that might get me fired up because I’m afraid of confrontation. Are fingerless gloves awesome? I love them. Wore them daily in high school. I still have some of my favorites, though I’m doubtful they still fit my hands… Would you rather be cannibalistic or die in the wilderness? Okay so I’m gonna actually go kinda in-detail, so the squeamish be warned. Realistically, I think I’d choose to die. ESPECIALLY if I was the one expected to kill another person; then, there’s no question. I wouldn’t be able to do it either if I knew the person. If it was some stranger someone else killed and cooked, I don’t know with absolute certainty; starvation really can make animals out of people. I do know for sure I’d vomit. I far more heavily lean into still preferring to die, because I just believe some things aren’t worth living after they’ve been committed. I’d hate myself. I’d rather die feeling clean of conscience. Would you survive on a deserted island? Hell no. Have you dyed your hair eccentric colors in the past? Yeah, I want to do it far more often… What size drink do you usually get at fast food restaurants? Medium, sometimes small. What do you think is the best thing in life? Love, both platonic and romantic. Have you ever sold anything online either on Craigslist, eBay, Amazon, etc.? If not, what is your website of choice like any of the above for buying things? We sold our previous dog over Craigslist, and I sold my iguana there as well. I know Mom has used eBay and Amazon, but idk for what. Have you ever seen an animal give birth? Have you ever had a pet give birth before? I’ve seen old pet cats give birth many times. What is something you want to try to accomplish within the next year? I want a job that I’m content with and can mentally handle. Oh, and I REALLY want to make strong progress on recovering from the muscle atrophy in my legs. What’s the most unusual kind of pizza you’ve ever tried? I have no clue; I’m not that adventurous with pizza or food in general. If you were given the chance to decorate an entire house the way you wanted, with no limit to cost, how would you decorate it? GOTHIC AS A MOTHERFUCKER WELCOME TO THE GOTDAMN ADDAMS FAMILY. What’s one of your favorite things to touch/feel? My cat. :’) How often do you wear tights? Ew, never. Has there ever been anything you’ve become interested in much later than other people? I guess Instagram, but only as a viewer. I don’t have a personal one, just for my photography that I only rarely post. Have you ever had a veggie burger? Yeah, during my vegetarian streak. Burger King’s really aren’t that bad so long as the patty is made well. Do you like candles? Yeah, sure. When was the last time you wore a sports bra? Forever ago when I was doing Wii Fit. Where did you get the shirt you’re currently wearing? I think Hot Topic? It’s an oversized Umbreon shirt. Who last messaged you on Facebook? My friend Summer when we were planning our lil witch photoshoot w/ friends. Who last walked you home? lol you don’t just have someone “walk you home” here. Bundles of homes are way too far and in-between for reasonable walking distance. Did you make any new friends lately? If so, what are their names and how did you meet them? Not really recently, no. Would you rather see your favorite band/artist in concert with 2 other people or have a free $20,000 shopping spree to Walmart? Seeing Ozzy with my mom would be a DREAM, but to be realistic, I’d take the shopping spree pretty damn quickly. $20k? That would do WONDERS for us, especially as we’re about to move into a new place. When was the last time you threw up and why did you? A long time ago when I started a new medication. Do you want revenge on the person who has hurt you the most? … I’m gonna be REAL honest. For the most part, no. But ngl there are times I’m like “I’m gonna work on getting back in shape and become H O T” like a petty bitch lmao this is embarrassing to admit. Has anyone ever claimed that you saved their life? Yes. Did you ever have that near-drowning experience? No. Have you ever performed on stage? For dance, yes, but I never did a solo. Are you a jealous person? Not jealous (usually), but I’ve come to realize I’m a pretty envious piece of shit. Morning person or night person? I’m in my best mood in the morning because I have the “it’s a fresh start” ideology. Then I repeat exactly what I did the day before. :^) Have you ever written a poem for someone? Numerous times. Do you meditate? No, but I wish I could without it only causing more stress. Do you like cranberries that they serve for Thanksgiving? EW I hate cranberries. What don't you understand that frustrates you? Finances. Do you plan on going to college? I’ve tried college three times and dropped out each time. I’m done trying with school. Do you believe the governments hide technology and information from the public? AbsoFUCKINGlutely. Which is your favorite Pokemon? Ninetales! What horror fiction character scares you the most? What’s the name of the villain in the Scream series? Ghostface? I don’t feel like looking it up, but he TERRIFIED me as a kid, and I still think he’s mega creepy. Were you part of the Brownies/Cubs/Scouts/Guides etc? I was in Girl Scouts. Have you ever invented a fairly unique meal or drink? No. Do you have any family secrets? Don’t think so. Do you often read your horoscope? Never. They’re bullshit. Have you ever had a proper Tarot reading? No; also bullshit. Have you ever milked a cow? No. Do you love or hate rollercoasters? They’ve always scared me because I’m afraid of throwing up. Now with how dizzy I get, I absolutely refuse to try one because I WILL faint with all the movement. What’s your favorite sportswear brand? idc Who’s your favorite superhero? Does Deadpool count? Who’s your favorite villain/baddie? If we’re still in the comics/superhero universe, the Joker. Have you ever won a giant-sized cuddly toy from a fair? No. What would you say is your favorite album of all time? Black Rain by Ozzy Osbourne. I fucking adore it; it was my introduction to metal, and still after all this time, every track S L A P S. I deadass played that CD so much that it scratches at a few points. Do you dislike hairy people? lol fuck this question. I’m guessing you’re asking if I find them attractive and not as if people I “dislike” them, but in both cases, it’s no. We’re mammals, who the fuck cares how hairy you are. Do you like your own name? I actually do really like my name. My first one, anyway. Would you ever sign a Prenuptial agreement? NOPE. Want one? You’re gonna have to find someone else willing to, my man. How long has your longest ever phone call been? No less than two hours, but I know more. I have three instances in particular where I talked with either friends or Jason for SO long. Could you ever have an affair with a married person? Hell no. What is your family Christmas like? Nicole comes here so she and I open presents with Mom, then we spend the day at my older sister’s to be with the kids. We also try to squeeze visiting Dad in there the same day, but sometimes it has to be a different one. If you met a genie who offered you three wishes, what would you wish for? (more wishes does not count) Just three is hard… but #1 is indisputably world peace, and then uhhhh the end of poverty and maybe the cure for cancer. I’d have a super hard time picking a third; so many things matter to me. Have you ever had your national flag painted on your face? No, not in my plans. Do you have any strange body things? Well, define “strange,” I guess? Nothing like, really strange. What fairy tale character would you most associate with? Can I be Snow White and attract cute critters like moths to a flame? Also I would 100% take a Good apple. If a loved one was to serenade you, what song would you most like them to sing? It would depend on the person and our bond, really. Is there a cherished song between us? What is our relationship like? There’s no umbrella song I can think of. Is your dad an embarrassing dancer? GUYS!!!!!!!!!!! My sister’s wedding, okay? Father/daughter dance? He actually has MOVES and it was incredible man, never gonna forget that. What if any unusual objects have you swallowed? Nothing, I think. If you were stinking rich, would you only go to places other rich people went? Hell naw, man. There are plenty of great, affordable places in all categories. I could be a millionaire and you’d still see my ass in McDonald’s ordering a burger and fries lmao. Have you ever owned a slinky? My sisters and I had multiple as kids; those were d o p e. Teenage parents, good, bad, or indifferent? An AWFUL idea. A teenager is physically, most likely financially, and mentally unprepared to raise a child properly. It can seriously affect the kid, and of course the parent. What’s the most expensive thing you’ve ever broken? I’m unsure. Pirate downloads, good or bad? It’s bad… yet plenty (myself included) have/do do it. Democracy, good or bad? Good. It’s very important to me that rule should come from the people’s majority versus a small coalition of rich guys. While the majority is not always right, it seems like the best option to me. Communism, good or bad? Okay so to be totally honest I actually don’t entirely understand what communism outlines. Like I just read multiple definitions and small articles and I’m still kinda like “????”, though judging by the countries listed as those governed by communism, I would guess it’s bad? Have you ever been electrocuted? On an electric fence, but it wasn’t too bad. Have you ever been hit on by someone of the same gender? Yeah. The war in Iraq, good or bad? Get the fuck out of it. To start with, I’m a pretty fierce pacifist, and just… killing and killing and killing for YEARS is so goddamn pointless and is just a massacre. The war in Afganistan, good or bad? jfc ^ Have you ever appeared on YouTube? LET’S NEVER TALK ABOUT THIS lmfao Have you ever eaten anything prepared by a celebrity chef? No,, but that’d be dope. Have you ever been on radio? No. Do you prefer male or female singers voices? ”Their gender doesn’t matter, but their talent does.” <<<< Do you have a list of things to do before your ‘x’ years old? Goals should not be judged by age. I’m bad at this and have to remind myself of it a lot. A goal is a goal regardless of a number. Celebrate for *you*. Are you proud, comfortable or ashamed of your body? Very very much ashamed. Do you know html? Super poorly. Have you ever flown first class? lol hunny What are better, violins or pianos? Violins. How old is your oldest blanket? As old as me. My baby blanket is stored somewhere. Do you take enough vacations? lol hell no. I’ve maybe gone on three vacations in my entire life. Have you ever been sick on your birthday? Yup. Then one time I was recovering from a wicked stomach virus but went to Olive Garden anyway lol. I was fine though, and it’s actually a sweet memory because Jason (he worked there at the time) got the staff to do the whole “happy birthday” thing. I got a bombin’ brownie. Who is your favorite person? Sara and my mom. What do you do to stay healthy? lol you assume I’m healthy. What is your favorite form of exercise? Swimming. Do you like going to church? I never did. As a kid, I would cry when/if Mom decided we were going to mass after Sunday school lmao. It’s always been boring and too long to me, even when I was religious. Have you ever fallen asleep during a sermon? Probably as a kid. Do you like to pray for others? No. I don’t believe anyone hears them or will intervene somehow if I ask anyway. Have you ever witnessed a miracle? No. I don’t think I believe in those anyway. Have you ever been the recipient of a miracle? Definitely not. How did you or whoever come up with the name(s) for your pet(s)? I thought “Roman” was a majestic name for a male cat, and Venus has the coloration that the planet does. Who did you last walk a dog with? Sara and I walked Buster the last time I was there. It was windy as SHIT so we didn’t get far because my ass was absolutely freezing, all the while Sara was used to it. Ride bikes with? Wow, good question. I haven’t ridden a bike in many, many years. Hold hands with? My friend Summer did yesterday when she was trying to reassure me of something. For what reason did you last high five someone? Ryder and Aubree each caught Pokemon in Pokemon GO. :’’’’) I was watching them in the car while my sister/their mom was doing something at work, and they wanted to play it; they’ve come to learn that between my phone and DS, I’m the Pokemon provider, lol. I was the proudest fucking aunt ever bc they did SO GOOD after getting the hang of throwing the ball like Y’ALL. When Ash came back to the car, I gave ‘em each high fives before getting back in. What color and type is your vehicle? Don’t have my own car. Looking to upgrade or add any time soon? I doubt I’ll have my own soon. What animal do you have the most possessions *of*, or featuring? Like, décor or stuffed animals, things like that? Not the actual living creature? Easily meerkats, holy shit do I have a collection. What do you use to wash your dishes? Gain soap. Last thing you measured? Uhhh idk. Last thing you weighed? Myself. Last song you danced to? *shrug* What do you remember from your dream last night? I just remember it was a nightmare about Dad being angry. How old were you when you got your first credit card? Lol I don’t have one. Do you talk to your parent(s) [almost] every day? Mom, yes. Dad, no, because we don’t live together. What does your shampoo and conditioner smell like? I just started using a Dove brand shampoo targeting dandruff, so I don’t think it has a specific smell. I don’t use conditioner, just adds grease to your hair, plus mine is short anyway. Last person to tell you that you smell good? Idk. Last person you told that they smell good? I also don’t know. If you smoke marijuana, what is your preferred or typical method? I’ve never touched it. Last person you ran into unexpectedly? Ummm idr. How many plants can you see right now? There’re none in my room. Last compliment you received on your appearance? HA On your character/personality? That I was a loving sister. Do you remain friends with anyone you met at your first job? N/A Who have you hugged in the past month? My mom, Summer, sisters, niece and nephew, Dad… Newest musical discovery? 3TEETH is great. Like, I'm obsessed. Their cover of “Pumped Up Kicks” snagged my attention, despite actually being iffy about it at first. Guess what I’m listening to this minute lmao. Last thing you cleaned? A cup. What exactly do you carry around all your stuff in? A purse. What do you carry around, typically? Phone, keys, wallet, hand sanitizer, and my iPod are items of note. Where is your newest scar? It’s on the palm of my left hand from Roman playing with me. Where is your oldest scar? Idk. Last thing you disposed of? The milk carton. What was the last picture someone sent you? Mom sent me a gif from Hocus Pocus to fit the witch photoshoot Summer, her friend, and I did. Did you hear a siren today? No. What do you typically drink? I would rather not pretend I tend to drink soda lmao Last bad news you heard? My aunt’s brother committed suicide a couple days ago. Last good news you heard? I don’t really know. How far away is the closest cinema from your house? It’s like, 15-ish minutes away. Have you ever been to the emergency room? Many times. Are you one of those people who can’t go without their morning coffee? Y’all know me and coffee. But in place, I have my morning Mountain Dew, rip in fucking pieces. Have you ever worn fake eyelashes? No, though I’m honestly curious what I’d look like. Do you know the story of how your parents met? If so, tell me? They were coworkers; that’s all I know. What is your favorite Chinese food? I love pork fried rice. Do you live far from your parents? I live with my Mom. I live around 20 minutes or so away from Dad. What was the last hot food you ate? I’m assuming you mean spicy as opposed to just hot as in temperature. In that case, probably hot wings. Have you ever seen a meteor shower? No. Describe your current position: I’m lying down in bed, just kinda perked up by my two pillows. Have you used a microwave today? Yes; I had a Jimmy Dean breakfast bowl. Do you prefer going out for coffee or brewing your own? N/A Have you consumed caffeine today? If so, in what form? yikes- Do you know anyone who follows a raw vegan diet and lifestyle? Not that I know of. Have you killed a bug this week? Yes; we’re dealing with a lovely mix of gnats and fleas. What was the first food you learned how to cook? Scrambled eggs. Or maybe pancakes with Mom’s assistance. Idr. Do you have a Bachelor’s degree? If so, what in? No. How many email accounts do you have? Two. Can you go see a doctor alone or do you like to take someone with you? I like my mom to be with me. How long is your average shower? 15 minutes, maybe? It depends on the routine I feel like doing. When’s the last time you had a headache? Yesterday. What woke you up this morning? I think I woke up naturally? A rare occasion nowadays. Who was the last person you cried in front of? Summer, yesterday.

[golgoterror]

Alright, this is ungodly long, but I just wanted to talk about something regarding Jake. 

A lot of this fandom -- at least, from what I’ve seen -- label Jake as stupid. Some may even say Jake and smart are antonyms. This could not be further from the truth. It almost irritates me how much the fandom places this mischaracterization on him. Also, I get to talk about The Lad™ for about ten pages worth of words on Google docs, which is always very, very fun for me.

Well, first things first, let’s talk about the child genius and multi-billionaire polymath that is Jake English.

Puzzle Modus.

Let’s begin with something small. Jake’s modus is of puzzlekind! This is described as:

It's quite a handy modus, allowing you to captchalogue objects of any size, as long as you can fit them all in a finite space by maneuvering the cards around like a big game of Tetris. You like it because it keeps you sharp for solving any puzzles you might find when you go out raiding hallowed tombs, which is never. (x)

He likes puzzles! This is a huge headcanon I absolutely adore that has a basis in the comic: He’s a puzzles guy! This is just sort of a neat little fact about him that I adore to the moon and back. Just the idea of Jake fiddling about with a Rubik’s Cube is kind of adorable.

This is how he goes about doing everything every day of his life. I think that’s just amazing! And incredibly smart of him, I might add.

Skaianet. 

Jake is shown in the credits to take over Skaianet after the game ended. For those unfamiliar, Skaianet made many things for the game, including but not limited to: the interstellar travel we see, transportalizers, the lab by Rose’s house, all Jake’s fancy-schmancy computers, and Sburb itself. In the beta timeline, Grandpa Harley founded Skaianet. In the alpha timeline, Grandma English did. I know Jake didn’t start it up and trying to pass off his alt-timeline self as him is a bit far-fetched at best, but he had the spoons to take it over. I think that speaks volumes for Jake’s intelligence -- this implies, at the very least, he can understand mathematics and physics at a high level. Remind you of someone we already know?

It is also important to note that Jake does, in fact, build the company back from the ground up, because it went to shit before his grandmother died:

GT: Pretty sure her company made a tidy fortune til it went belly up. At least i still have a few of her knickknacks for keepsakes. (x)

So he built an interstellar company back up -- using what his intelligent grandmother had once used -- to being very useful and practical once again. 

As someone with a degree in mathematics and about to finish a degree in physics, I can say this sort of work would for sure require at the very least a decent understanding of quantum mechanics, statistical mechanics, electrodynamics, calculus (vector and differential forms), ordinary and partial differential equations, and perhaps other things like topology. I don’t know about you -- and I’m probably tooting my own horn a bit by saying this -- but I think that’s pretty nifty, if I do say so myself. 

Actor.

Once again, I’m reaching into the credits to show that Jake has become a movie star after the game ends. Memorizing all those lines, slipping into characters... Being an actor is no easy feat. 

( Side note: This leads into my headcanon that Jake can imitate accents and voices on a whim. No more arguing about whether he has a British, American, or Australian accent -- you’re all right! )

And I would like to add he has two jobs! Skaianet and being a movie star! This guy’s a fucking polymath for Christ’s sake.

Reading People.

Let’s start of simple: Brain Ghost Dirk. I can hear the outcries now of Dirk’s powers being the cause for this. And, yes, I can’t ignore Dirk’s influence in this, but Jake’s hope powers were also needed for the projection to come alive. And the fact he was able to make such a startlingly accurate projecting of Dirk in his own mind is astounding -- even BGD himself thinks so!

TT: You could view me as a projection of the real Dirk within your mind, as expressed through all of your thought patterns about him. TT: So I'm kind of a splinter of his corporeal self who happens to live in your awareness. TT: I'm a startlingly close approximation to the real thing, for all intents and purposes. GT: Just how startlingly close are we talking? TT: I'm not going to give you a bogus percentage like the glasses cause that's not my shtick. TT: But pretty damn close. (x)

A very deep understanding of the other is needed for Jake to do this. That is pretty fucking incredible. He can clearly read people really well -- he had a few times where he was cluing in on Jane and Dirk have feelings for him:

TG: its one of those things jane likes about u so much GT: It is? TG: which TG: errrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr im not supposed to talk about 2 u evr so nm GT: Talk about what? TG: nope GT: You mean how um... GT: Well a way in which i suppose... TG: no nope GT: Jane is prone to looking upon me with what i fathom to be more than just friendly affection? (x)

TT: I guess call it an extra birthday present. But instead of a present that's awesome, consider it more like a weird confession that may change the way you feel about me. GT: Whoa uh... GT: Dirk are you... uh... GT: Saying what i think? (x)

He’s not completely clueless on people! In fact, he seems to have a really good understanding of his friends. That’s something a lot of people seem to forget because of the incident that I will be getting to later on.

Fending For Himself.

I’ve already written quite a bit on this, but I’ll sum it up here: Jake is exceptionally good at living in the wild and taking care of himself. Sort of like a wild garden; he doesn’t need to be taken care of. Survival skills, especially around fighting and fending off things, aren’t something everyone has. This, once again, counts in his favour, even if it doesn’t line-up with “book smarts”.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

That’s five things! It’s clear Jake is, in fact, a polymath and incredibly intelligent. So, what’s with the fandom painting him as being dumb? What’s with people actually thinking he’s stupid? I think we can all take several wild guesses as to why that’s the case.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Takes things literally.

This is something that plagues Jake quite a lot. Case in point:

GT: Wow like the epic kevin costner film? TT: Almost exactly. Especially by the same degree of shittiness. GT: Oh man does that mean you have to drink your own pee?????? TT: You get used to the taste. Welcome it, even. TT: That takes about 15 days in a row of hard piss drinking though. GT: Ewwwwwwwwwwww no dude. No ew. :( TT: Relax, I don't drink any goddamn piss, ok? GT: Oh ok. Whew. (x)

But, well, let’s address the elephant in the room. The chat I laughed so hard at when I read it the first time due to pure, unadulterated second-hand embarrassment: Jake asking Jane if she had feelings for him.

Let’s analyze this, shall we? Jake starts off by being vague as all Hell, and I’ll spare those details, until finally...

GT: Just come out and say it. Do you fancy me? GG: No! GT: I see. GT: Very well then. GT: Jeez i mustve really misread that one! I feel like kind of a bone head now. (x / x)

Okay, she says no, and he backs off. That’s fine and dand--

GG: No!!!!!! GG: Oh my God, what am I saying here? GG: Jake, I didn't mean it! I didn't want to make you feel that way! GT: Now jane lets not backpedal here. GT: Youve spoken the truth and i greatly appreciate and respect you for that. GT: But now that i think about it you know what? GG: ... GG: No? :( GT: Please dont take this the wrong way but your answer is actually kind of a relief! (x)

... Oh, right. Yeah. It keeps going. It just keeps--

GT: Actually since youve made your feelings apparent and only see me as a friend that makes it a lot easier! GG: Haha, yes! GG: Friends!!!! GT: Maybe you could help me sort out some stuff that has been weighing on me lately? GG: Well what are friends for Jake!!!!! (x)

Sweet Jesus, Jake.

GG: Me? GG: HOO HOO HOO! GG: I'm just GG: Terrific! GG: I'm feeling so... GG: Friendly!!! GG: I clearly just want to be a good friend and bring all my AMAZING FRIENDLINESS to bear on your problems. GG: Friendlystyle! Ahahahah? GG: Shit I mean GG: Ahahahah! GT: Thats aces. Jane youre a sweetheart. (x)

Alright, alright, enough! You all remember the fucking chat. 

Regardless, it’s very apparent Jake takes things at face value. I also will cite him talking to Jane before her birthday, but not list examples, because what happened above will just happen once again. 

Okay, so he takes things at face value. What’s wrong with that? He trusts people to not lie to his face -- to not sugarcoat things or beat around any bushes. Perhaps I’m projecting a bit, but I do the same damn thing. I think a lot of people do! I don’t think reading things as fact over text is a good measure of someone’s intellect. All it does is show he has issues with communication. Okay, so he struggles with one thing. Sue me.

Doesn’t catch things right away.

Yeah okay I’m just gonna dump a few examples of this.

GT: Haha wow. Must have been a hell of a guy. TT: So... TT: You're not making any connections there? GT: Where? Huh? TT: Famous comedian, about the age of your grandma, inheriting the family name of the Baroness... TT: Not ringing a bell? GT: What are you talking about! Dirk stop speaking in riddles and keep telling the story i am on tenterhooks here! TT: Ok, well it's not like it's that important. Just a super obvious thing that'll probably occur to you later when you're looking in the fridge you don't have, at which point you'll feel like an idiot. GT: Oh my god you can be one opaque motherfucker just clue me in bro! TT: Nah, it'll be funnier this way. GT: STRIIIIIIDEEEERRRRRRRR!!!!! TT: Moving on. (x)

GT: Whats going on? TT: Took you long enough to figure it out. TT: Pages really are a slow burning class. Damn. GT: Figure what out! TT: You're asleep. (x)

This leads into the point above. His mind doesn’t work that way -- but that doesn’t mean he’s not intelligent. He needs everything laid out in front of him so he can make the connections and understand what’s happening, but there’s no real harm in this, and it certainly doesn’t dictate whether the guy is “intelligent” or not.

There are many, many more examples in canon depicting Jake as having difficulties with communication and you all can open most of his pesterlogs and probably find one. I’m not going to list anymore. But, hold your horses, I swear I’m getting to a point!

Difficulty reading.

A lot of the media Jake consumes is picture-based. Movies, comics, even the puzzles are most likely spacial and probably not riddles. It’s not far to imagine Jake might not be a terribly good reader, considering nobody was really around to make him read. Of course, his grandmother was around when he was little, so he can read -- and he can read just fine. But he probably isn’t very good at it simply from lack of practice. He also has terrible grammar, something Jane picks on him for, so it’s entirely possible that’s a contributing factor. He may just have trouble reading and writing.

Speaking from experience, I have dyslexia. As such, reading and writing are incredibly hard for me. I never read the books in my literature classes -- both in English and French -- but I did get the gist of the books (enough to get a decent mark in the class at least) by watching a movie adaptation of the novel. I don’t think it’s that far-off to think Jake may, indeed, do the same thing.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

NOTE: This next part is a bit hard for me to write, because I don’t want to vilify any of you. It might not have clued in on anyone or maybe you just saw Jake as a sort of comic relief and meant no harm by it. And I hope shining a light on this will make you all think twice about the guy. However, I can’t really avoid this next part, and I may get a bit emotional in it. Just a bit of a warning.

All of the above points are just me trying to say Jake probably has undiagnosed learning disabilities and perhaps autism. I don’t think I need to go into detail about how those don’t make someone “stupid”. If you think that’s the case, fuck you. I can’t argue with ableists, much less do I actually want to. 

NOTE: I wrote a thing on his speech impediments. That may be of interest too. I don’t really know, but here it is nonetheless.

My take-away message here is: just because someone struggles with socialization or other things doesn’t mean fucking anything in terms of their intelligence. Jake is very clearly smart and has the ability to read people incredibly well -- to the point of making copies of them! Perhaps it’s just a bit easy to underestimate the guy compared to other characters, though.

There are other things that muddy this up a bit, unfortunately.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Trolling.

Jake is such a fucking troll. Jesus shitting Christ, does he get a kick out of acting stupid just to make the other person look silly. Or perhaps even to make himself laugh in the process. Case in point:

uu: I WILL JUST BE YOUR PATRON DUDE. uu: OR MAYBE. YOUR PATRON MANBRO. GT: Sounds pretty gay. uu: WHAT THE HELL IS THAT? GT: Whats what? uu: GAY. WHAT'S GAY YOU IDIOT FUCK. GT: Oh right. GT: Forgive me i forget you arent familiar with all of my earth lingo. GT: Its like... GT: How do i explain. GT: You know. Its a rather old fashioned term for being jolly and festive together. GT: Like "that rollicking time we had scrumming the other eve sure was gay." uu: I SEE. uu: THEN YES. YOU ARE CORRECT. uu: THIS IS GOING TO BE GAY AS HELL. (x)

Look at his goddamn face during this exchange:

That little bastard knows exactly what he’s doing. 

And these aren’t stand-alone events! Jake is very, very silly and will use the fact others see him as stupid to have a little fun. May as well, right? And, in the process, he makes others look pretty damn stupid. 

But sometimes it’s a bit hard to tell when he’s acting stupid against when he’s genuinely not getting something. I think he even fools himself sometimes! So you have to be a bit careful about fake-outs. I’m sure even the other alphas have trouble deducing when he’s doing this -- which only adds to the myth of him actually being “stupid” when viewed on first-glace.

He probably also does this with crushes, purposefully ignoring the signs because he doesn’t want to deal with it or may not believe anyone could like him that way. After all, if he’s wrong, he may think himself to be conceded and having a big head. So, he ignores the signs, thus convincing himself the feelings aren’t there. Then he gets absolutely fucking bamboozled beyond belief to find out they actually do like him. But that’s just a little side-note.

Thinks he’s stupid.

This one is just a bit... Sad. Very sad. Jake genuinely does think he’s stupid. Quite a lot, really. 

GT: I shoulda asked where he fit into the picture if you were raised alone. I can be dumb as a bag of penny candy sometimes. (x)

Just... Man, he’s been called and treated as stupid so many times, he’s at the point where he believes it. If you asked him, he’d say Dirk is a genius, Roxy is always smart and sassy, and Jane is brilliant. (I don’t have a source for that last one but... Come on. She lectures him about grammar. Don’t fuck with me.) But when it comes to himself? He can’t say the same. Of course he then acts that way. He sees himself as a burly adventurer who is also a gentleman and tries to live up to that. No where along those lines does he think he’s intelligent. And that’s just... a little heartbreaking, really, all things considered.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Can’t believe this blog is just me going, “Wanna see how fast I can talk about Jake?”, and a shit-ton of people all nodding before I talk for six hours straight. Anyway, take-home message is: Jake’s smart. Jake’s very, very smart. He’s also a himbo, but he’s incredibly smart. Just because he has learning disabilities doesn’t mean fuck-all. 

Thank you for coming to my TedTalk. There are drinks and refreshments in the back. Have a safe trip home. Remember to tip your waiters and waitresses. Jesus fuck can I run this gag any harder into the ground? Giving me language was a mistake. No but, really, if you read this whole damn thing, thank you! I hope this was as fun to read as it was to write.

[imdoingthismspaintadventure]

WORM 1.5 : In which we are saved by the bestest of good boys

You don’t properly appreciate what superhuman strength means until you see someone leap from the sidewalk to the second floor of a building on the far side of the street.  He didn’t make it all the way to the roof, but he came to a point maybe three quarters of the way up.  I wasn’t sure just how Lung kept from falling, but I could only guess that he just buried his fingertips into the building’s exterior.

Holy shit.

He just mega jumped to the building where Taylor is and is hanging on the outside wall by his claws!

You better come up with a way to escape or to do something, cause you seem preeetyy dead right now.

I heard scraping and crunching as he ascended, and looked to my only escape route.  I didn’t harbor any delusions as far as my ability to get down the fire escape before Lung came over the top of the roof and deduced where I’d run off to.  Worse, at that point he could probably just beat me to the street level by jumping off the roof, or even just shoot fire at me through the gaps in the metal while I was halfway down.  The irony of the fire escape being anything but didn’t escape me.

Yeah that’s kind of a disadvantage of being in high-up places if you can’t fly or teleport or something. Pretty easy to get trapped.

I wished I could fly.  My school offered the choice between Chemistry, Biology and Physics, with Basic Science for the underachievers.  I hadn’t picked Physics, but I was still pretty sure that no matter how many I could gather together, jumping off the roof with a swarm of flying insects gripping me would be just as ineffective as the 9 year old superhero wannabes you heard about in the news, jumping off ledges with umbrellas and bedsheets.

 I really don’t think they can carry your bodyweight, or even slow down your descent. You would splat on the floor like a, well, bug.

Also holy shit that is kinda dark and probably a likely consecuence of powers in our world. Poor kids.

For the time being, I was stuck where I was.

Home BuildingStuck

Reaching inside the convex armor that covered my spine, I ran my fingers over the things I had buckled in there.  The EpiPens were meant to treat anaphylactic shock from allergic reactions to bee stings and the like, and likely wouldn’t do a thing to Lung, even if I could get close enough and find a point to inject.  Worst case scenario, the injections would supercharge his power by prompting a surge of whatever hormones or endorphins fueled his power.  Not useful, dangerous at best.  I had a pouch of chalk dust that was meant for climbers and gymnasts, I had seen it in the sports store when I was buying the lenses for my mask.  I had gloves and didn’t think I needed the dryness and extra traction, but I had gotten the idea that it could be useful to throw at an invisible enemy, and bought it on a whim.  In retrospect, it had been kind of a dumb purchase, since my power let me find foes like that with my bugs. As a tool against Lung… I wasn’t sure if it would explode like regular dust could when exposed to flame, but fire didn’t hurt him anyways. Scratch that option.

...Fuck yes

I love characters that think about what they could do best in every situation with the resources they have. If Taylor is like this for the rest of the serial....God I’m gonna enjoy this.

The problem is that I don’t think she has many options at all

I tugged the little canister of pepper spray free from my armor.  It was a black tube, three inches long, not much thicker around than a pen, with a trigger and a safety switch.  It had been a gift from my dad, after I had started to go on my morning jogs for training.  He had warned me to vary my route, and had given me the pepper spray for protection, along with a chain to clip it to my belt loop so it couldn’t be taken and used against me by an attacker.  In costume, I had opted not to keep the chain for the sake of moving quietly.  Using my thumb, I flicked the safety off and positioned the tube so I was ready to fire. I crouched to make myself a smaller target, and waited for him to show himself.

Hmmm could pepper spray work? Maybe if he doesn’t have his eyes or face fully armored...

Also I find the mental image of this possibly hilarious.

Lung’s hands, still on fire, were the first thing to show up, gripping the edge of the roof hard enough to bend the material that covered the roof’s raised lip.  His hands were quickly followed by his head and torso as he hauled himself up.  He looked like he was made of overlapping knives or spades, smouldering yellow-orange with the low temperature flame.  There was no skin to be seen, and he was easily seven or eight feet tall, judging by the length of his arms and torso. His shoulders alone were three feet across at the very least.  Even the one eye that he had open looked metallic, a glowing, almond shaped pool of liquid-hot metal.

He probably looks more like a daemon than a dragon now. At least he doesn’t seem to have wings...

Just a veritable inferno of molted metal and flame and a looot of anger

I aimed for the open eye, but the spray fired off at a sharp angle, just glancing off his shoulder.  Where the spray grazed him, it ignited into a short lived fireball.

Taylor used improvised flamethrower against the fire demon! Doesn’t seem very effective...

Hopefully the spray doesn’t ignite before touching his face because I think a pyrokinetic can handle himself otherwise...

I swore under my breath and fumbled with the device.  While he brought his leg over the edge, I adjusted my angle and shot again.  This time – with a small tweak of my aim mid-shot – I hit him in the face.  The ignited spray rolled off of him, but the contents still did the trick. He screamed, letting go of the roof with one hand, clutching the side of his face where his good eye was.

AAGH MY EYE! WHY IS IT ALWAYS THE GODDAMN EYE??!

Taylor could be an excellent markswoman, she seems to have a lot of precission and nuance in aiming.

It had been vain to hope that he would slip and fall.  I just counted myself lucky that however metallic his face looked, there were still parts of it vulnerable to the spray.

At least for now...

Lung hauled himself over the edge of the roof.  I had him hurting… I just couldn’t do anything about it.  My bugs were officially useless, there was nothing left in my utility sheath, and I would hurt myself more than I hurt Lung if I attacked him.  Making a mental note to pick myself up a concealable knife or baton if I managed to live through this, I bolted for the fire escape. 

Time to use the Joestar’s secret technique then!

Also yeah some hand to hand weaponry could be useful for the future. Probably not with this warp-demon, but with regular joes, so that we can be less squishy wizard in our approach

“Muh… Motherfucker!”  Lung screamed.  With my back turned, there was no way to see it, but the roof was briefly illuminated before the wave of flame hit me from behind.  Knocked off balance, I skidded on the gravel and hit the raised lip of the roof, just by the fire escape. Frantically, I patted myself down.  My costume wasn’t on fire, but my hair – I hurriedly ran my hands over it to make sure it hadn’t been ignited.

Oh fuck!

Yeah the fact that the costume is not yet fully complete came back to bite you it seems. Let’s hope we don’t end up with too severe burns in our first night out, christ.

Small mercies, I thought, that there was no tar used on the roof.  I could just imagine the flames igniting the rooftop, and just how little I’d be able to do if it happened.

That... would have been unfortunate. 100% fucked instead of the .... 87% we are at right now.

Lung stood, slowly, still covering part of his face with his hand.  He walked with a slight limp as he approached me.  Blindly, he lashed out with a broad wave of flame that rolled over half the roof.  I covered my head with my hands and brought my knees to my chest as the hot air and flame rushed over me.  My costume seemed to take the brunt of it, but it was still hot enough I had to bite my lip to stop from making a sound.

The costume seems to be fire resistant! Mostly.

Spider silk is fucking badass.

Lung stopped advancing, slowly turning his head from one side to another.

“Cock.  Sucker,” he growled in his heavily accented voice, his cussing interrupted by his panting for breath, “Move.  Give me something to aim for.”

Actual perfect recreation of trying to hunt a fly at 4 am in the morning when you can’t sleep, and aren’t a white hot metal terror.

I held my breath and stayed as still as possible.  What could I do?  I still had the pepper spray in my hand, but even if I got him again, I was running the risk that he would lash out and bake me alive before I could move.  If I moved first, he would hear me and I would get knocked around by another blast of flame, probably before I could get to my feet. 

Eeeh your options are...

1) Spray him in the face, get blasted

2) Stay quiet.... probably get blasted as well.

3)Try to get away, and get... I’m starting to see a pattern here

Lung moved his hand from his face.  He blinked a few times, then looked around, then blinked a few more times.  It was a matter of seconds before he could see well enough to make me out from the shadows.  Wasn’t pepper spray supposed to put someone down for thirty minutes?  How was this monster not an A-Lister?

Well ain’t that a fucking horrible thing to think about.

Either:

1) He’s way stronger than he should be and he’s basically content with being small-time thug, even with the potential he has in the larger world stage

or...

2) He’s a big fish in a small pond and the people out there make him look silly by comparison which is.... holy shit.

He suddenly moved, flames wreathing his hands, and I screwed my eyes shut.

At least he’s not saying feel the heat over and over

And also how the fuck will you get out of this one

When I heard the crackling whoosh of the flame and wasn’t burned alive, I opened my eyes again.  Lung was firing streams of flame, aiming for the edge of the roof of the adjacent building, a three story apartment.  I looked to see what he was aiming at, but couldn’t make anything out in the gloom or in the brief second of light Lung’s flames afforded.

!!!!!

Reinforcements!! Someone has come to help!! Or at least to fight AGAINST Lung!!

Yes!

With no warning, a massive shape landed atop Lung with an impact I could swear people heard at the other end of the street.  The size of a van, the ‘massive object’ was animal rather than vehicle, resembling a cross between a lizard and a tiger, with tangles of muscle and bone where it ought to have skin, scales or fur.  Lung was now on his knees, holding one of the beast’s sizable claws away from his face with his own clawed hand.

OH FUCK

A GIANT FUCKING METAL-LOOKING BONEY FERAL BEAST JUST FELL FROM NOWHERE AND IS FIGHTING AGAINST THE INFERNAL DRAGON MAN

Lung used his free hand to strike the creature across the snout.  Even though he was smaller than the beast, the impact made it rear back.  It took a few short steps back in reaction, and then rhino-charged him off the edge of the roof.  They hit the street with an audible crash.

AND THE TWO BERSERKERS ARE HURLING THEMSELVES OFF OF THE BUILDING TO THE STREET BELOW

This is glorious.

I stood, aware I was shaking like a leaf.  I was so unsteady on my feet, from the mixed relief and fear, that I almost fell over again as two more impacts shook the roof.  Two more creatures, similar to the first in texture, but slightly different in size and shape, had arrived on the rooftop.  These two each had a pair of riders.  I watched as the people slid off the backs of the animals.  There were two girls, a guy, and a fourth I identified as male only because of the height.  The tall one approached me, while the others hurried to the edge of the roof to watch Lung and the creature duke it out.

THEY WERE JUST THE RIDES FOR THESE PEOPLE

What a fucking entrance

“You really saved us a lot of trouble,” he told me.  His voice was deep, masculine, but muffled by the helmet he wore.  He was dressed entirely in black, a costume I realized was basically motorcycle leathers and a motorcycle helmet.  The only thing that made me think it was a costume was the visor of his helmet.  The full-face visor was sculpted to look like a stylized skull, and was as black as the rest of his costume, with only the faint highlights of reflected light on the surface to give a sense of what it was.  It was one of those costumes that people put together out of what they can scrounge up, and it wasn’t half bad if you didn’t look too close.  He reached out a hand towards me, and I leaned away, wary.

Damn he looks cool. He’s giving me ghost rider vibes in his outfit, but without the flaming skull part. Just badass biker energy

I didn’t know what to say, so I stuck to my policy of not saying anything that could get me into a worse situation.

At least you are not on fire, even though mr black leather and his zombie behemoths aren’t really giving me heroic vibes

Withdrawing his hand, the man in black jerked his thumb over one shoulder, “When we got word Lung was aiming to come after us tonight, we were pretty freaked.  We were arguing strategy for the better part of the day.  We eventually decided, fuck it, we’d meet him halfway.  Wing it.  Not my usual way of doing things, but yeah.”

Oh! ooooohhhh.

So the “Killing kids” part wasn’t actually murdering random civilians for the evulz

It was probably a territorial dispute! Cause these are totally villains or anti-heroes/vigilantes. Either/or

Behind him, one of the girls whistled sharply and pointed down at the street.  The two monsters the group had been riding on bounded across the roof and leaped down to the street to join the fight.

Seems like that one is the trainer.

The guy in black kept talking, “Wouldn’t you know, his flunky Lee is there with a half dozen guys, but Lung and the rest of his gang are nowhere to be found,” he laughed, a surprisingly normal sound for someone wearing a mask with a skull on it.

He doesn’t seem to consider us a threat at least so that’s a relief

So they fought his underling while our girl here, on her lonesome, straight up picked a fight with bossman.

“Lee’s no slouch in a fight, but there’s a reason he’s not leader of the ABB.  He got spooked without his boss there and ran.  I guess you’re responsible for that?”  Skull-mask waited for a response from me.  When I didn’t offer one, he ventured towards the edge of the roof and looked down, then spoke without turning to look at me, “Lung is getting creamed.  The fuck you do to him?”

Oh shit the venoms or the eye-injuries are making a difference in helping the hell-mount win!

“Pepper spray, wasp and bee stings, fire ants and spider bites,” the second of the girls said, answering the question for me.  She was dressed in a skintight outfit that combined black with a pale shade of blue or purple – I couldn’t tell in the dark – and her dark blond hair was long and windblown.  The girl grinned as she added, “He’s not holding up too well.  Gonna feel a helluvalot worse tomorrow.”

She can know all that with just a look??

Information-based powers!! Intuition? Clairvoyance? Omniscience? Those always seem crazy OP to me in terms of offering support!

The man in black suddenly turned to look at me, “Introductions.  That’s Tattletale.  I’m Grue.  The girl with the dogs-” he pointed to the other girl, the one who had whistled and directed the monsters.  She wasn’t in costume unless I counted a plaid skirt, army boots, a torn-up sleeveless T-shirt and a hard plastic, dollar-store rottweiler mask as a costume. “-We call her Bitch, her preference, but in the interests of being P.G., the good guys and media decided to call her Hellhound instead.  Last and certainly least, we have Regent.”

Grue? Huh, I can’t really guess what he could do based on that. Isn’t it like an urban legend or fairytale monster?

Tattletale...so her power IS information based! I also like the simpleness of her costume which I hadn’t mentioned

Bitch (Hellhound think of the children! ) looks really butch and badass from what I can hear. She seems to be the one with the beast power, cue the “Bitch” in her name

Regent...hmmm, something nobility-related?

I finally caught up with what he was saying.  Those monsters were dogs?

Abyssal doggos!!

“Fuck you, Grue,” Regent retorted, with a chuckle and a tone of voice that made it clear he wasn’t really that offended.  He was wearing a white mask, not quite as decorative or made up as the ones I associated with the carnivals in Venice, but similar.  He’d placed a silver coronet around his short black curls, and wore a ruffled white shirt with skintight leggings tucked into knee-high boots.  The outfit was very renaissance faire.  He had a build that made me think more of a dancer than a bodybuilder.

He looks really theatrical. I really like his aesthetics. I still wonder what his power is.

Introductions done, Grue looked at me for several long moments.  After a few seconds, he asked me, “Hey, you okay?  You hurt?”

“The reason she’s not introducing herself isn’t because she’s hurt,” Tattletale told him, as she continued to lean over the edge of the roof and watch whatever was going on at the street level, “It’s because she’s shy.”

Damn omniscients and their lack of privacy!!

Her power is actually scary though. No secrets with her around..

Tattletale turned around and it looked like she was going to say something else, but she stopped, turning her head.  The smile she’d been wearing faded, “Heads up.  We’ve gotta scram.”

Bitch nodded in response and whistled, one short whistle followed by two long ones.  After a brief pause, the building was suddenly rattled by impacts.  In just moments, the three creatures of hers leaped from the alleys to either side of the building and onto the roof.

Grue turned towards me.  I was still standing on the opposite end of the roof, by the fire escape. “Hey, want a ride?”

What?? Oh god is someone else coming as well?? What now?

I looked at the creatures – dogs?  They were bloodied, snarling creatures out of a nightmare.  I shook my head.  He shrugged.

The dogs look like something you would see on doom and it is amazing

“Hey,” Tattletale said to me, seating herself just behind Bitch, “What’s your name?”

I stared at her.  My voice caught in my throat before I was able to get the words out, “I don’t… I haven’t picked one yet.”

“Well, Bug, a cape is gonna show up in less than a minute.  You did us a solid by dealing with Lung, so take my advice.  Someone from the Protectorate shows up, finds two bad guys duking it out, they’re not going to let one walk away.  You should get out of here,”  She said. She flashed me a smile.  She had one of those vulpine grins that turned up at the corners.  Behind her simple black domino style mask, her eyes were glittering with mischief.  If she had red hair, she would have made me think of a fox.  She kind of did, anyways.

It’s true she doesn’t have a name yet! I guess bug would suffice for now.

And yuup they were bad guys, I knew it. Seems they have mistaken Taylor for one!

Well when you take into account the possibly too-grimdark edgy-lite costume and what she fucking did to Lung with her bugs in his eyes.... yeah I could see how they can draw that conclusion

With that, they leaped over my head, one of the three beasts hitting or stepping on the fire escape on the way down, eliciting a screech of metal on metal.

When I realized what had just happened, I could have cried.  It was easy enough to pin down Regent, Tattletale and Bitch as teenagers.  It wasn’t much of an intuitive leap to guess that Grue had been one too. The ‘children’ Lung had mentioned, the ones I had gone to so much effort to save tonight, were bad guys.  Not only that, but they had mistaken me for one, too.

Happy first day out as a hero, Taylor! Well done!

And it still might not be over yet, let’s see what happens with this hero arrival. Let’s hope they don’t reach the same conclusions this time.

But we will see that next time! See you in the next update!

[thedesperatehousehusband]

Oscar. 92 years young.

It’s time for the BIG ONE. The one we’ve been waiting for all season. The Academy Awards. The 92nd Oscars. The whole awards “season” culminates with tis slog of a night. Let’s see how this works without a host. It’s the second time they’ve done it and I didn’t hate it last year.

The show kicked off with a performance from Janelle Monae singing about “It’s Time to Come Alive”. I don’t know what the song was about it but I love her and her queer, African American self. Billy Porter made an appearance. He’s been strutting it allllll these shows. He looked batshit at the Grammy’s but tonight he looks normal, for him.

Steve Martin and Chris Rock DID NOT CARE. When people don’t give a shit, I love it. The Director category is missing vaginas. There were no black nominees in 1929. There’s one in 2020. Progress. Good shit. Eddie Murphy’s under the stage. Oooooh. They DO NOT CARE.

Regina King is butter. She looks amazing. Of course and as expected, Brad Pitt wins Best Supporting Actor for Once Upon a Time in Hollywood. He’s won 100% of all the awards all season so this is the icing on the cake. Nice speech. I love him. I love this movie.

I love Mindy Kaling’s dress. She looks outstanding. Of course and as expected, Toy Story 4 wins Best Animated Feature. It really was incredible. Buzz & Woody are legends and now we can include Forky in that list of animated legends.

Josh Gad…..Idina Menzel. Pronounced just like it’s spelled. Take that, John Dumb-Ass Travolta. And that was kick ass. I totally loved the international take on Into the Unknown from Frozen 2.

Why, Diane Keaton, why? Isn’t it done with the whole Annie Hall thing? But the banter with Keanu Reeves was really quite funny. HOLY SHIT BALLS!!! Parasite wins Best Original Screenplay. Is this a sign of things to come?? I REALLY thought Once Upon a Time in Hollywood was going to clean up tonight. But maybe not. Is it going to be a Parasite night??????

What is Timothee Chalamet wearing? Is that a tracksuit? At the Oscars? Dude. What are you doing? I know you’re all fashion-y and shit but I’m not into it. Taika Waititi wins for Best Adapted Screenplay for Jojo Rabbit. A movie which I simply loved and adored. It made me laugh and cry.

Maya Rudolph and Kristen Wiig decided to go with the craziest thing they could find at the store. At least they’re funny. Because they look nuts. Once Upon a Time in Hollywood wins for Production Design. And that makes sense to me. It really looked amazing.

Loved the a cappella medley of clothes songs for Maya and Kristen to sing in advance of Best Costumes. Little Women wins. At least it won something because that’s likely going to be it. Normally the winner looks out of his/her mind when they walk on the stage. This woman looked downright sane.

What is this song that Chrissy Metz is singing? I have no idea what it is but she sounds really good.

I would like to thank Mark Ruffalo for just wearing a goddamn tux and looking fucking fantastic in it.

I absolutely hate Laura Dern’s dress but I love me some Laura Dern. She’s cleaned up all season so cap it off with the Oscar, why don’t ya? Of course and as expected. I don’t know why but it makes me teary-eyed EVERY time Laura Dern thanks Diane Ladd and Bruce Dern. I just love it that she thanks her parents and references them as her acting inspiration each time she collects an award.

Ummmmm. What is HAPPENING?? Eminem didn’t show when we WON the damn Oscar for writing this song but he gon show up for a fucking montage??? What is HAPPENING???? I love this. Every fucking thing on the stage right now is unbelievable. THE AUDIENCE IS STANDING UP. THE ENTIRE AUDIENCE INCLUDING MARTIN SCORSESE IS STANDING UP. Eminem, motherfuckers.

Sound Editing goes to Ford vs. Ferrari. I’m unclear on what sound editing is.

Sound Mixing goes to 1917. I’m unclear on what sound mixing is.

Jesus Christ. Randy Newman is starting to look really fucking old. He still sounds like Randy Newman though, so I guess that’s good.

Thank you for Julia Louis-Dreyfus and Will Ferrell for making some jokes. 1917 wins Best Cinematography. I’m going to remind you how little I care about 1917. In my shallow and small mind, it’s just basically Saving Private Ryan in World War I. That’s probably over-simplified but that’s what I get from previews.

Best Editing goes to Ford vs. Ferrari. I can dig it with all the car scenes. Thank GAWD it didn’t go to The Irishman. Because that movie wasn’t edited because it was 400 hours long. It was TOO fucking much.

Zazie Beetz looks AMAZING. Her dress is killer.

Cynthia Erivo is an amazing singer. She’s not going to win Best Actress so her only chance at the EGOT is Best Original Song. I’m not particularly feeling this song but strange things have happened.

Rebel Wilson and James Corden dressed up as cats from Cats. They don’t care. 1917 wins Best Visual Effects. Who cares?

I love that Ray Romana got bleeped. I do love when people get bleeped. Bombshell wins for Hair & Makeup. Which makes sense. John Lithgow isn’t exactly an overly attractive person but making him look like Roger Ailes, who is more or less the earthly embodiment of Jabba the Hutt, is worthy of an award.

Why is it now Best International Feature Film as opposed to Foreign Language Film? Of course and as expected, Parasite wins Best International Feature Film or Foreign Language Film. I guess that Bong Joon-Ho really likes the name change and what it symbolizes.

I know this is terribly un-LGBTQ of me but I just don’t care about Elton John and this song isn’t good.

Ummmmmm. Sigourney Weaver looks INCREDIBLE. If she’s had work done, it’s both discrete and expensive. It’s a testament when you stand next to people like Brie Larson and Gal Gadot and hold your own at nearly 70. Get it done, Sigourney.

Love this Icelandic woman winning Best Score for Joker. Love, love, love, love. There’s more than Bjork in Iceland. Great speech.

Elton John wins for Best Original Song and I don’t care.

OH SNAP. Bong Joon Ho wins Best Director for Parasite. Y’all, it’s looking good for Parasite. Solid, solid speech as delivered by this translator who DID NOT step it up for the Oscars. Still just a smart suit. I was hoping for more, girl.

I want so hard to get Billie Eilish. And I just don’t. But I always enjoy the In Memoriam. Kirk Douglas, 103 years old.

Olivia Colman must have got a deal on all that velvet. Ooooof. But, dammit, she’s hilarious. Of course and as expected, Joaquin Phoenix wins for Joker. He’s not right. His speech was insane. Art imitates life……

Of course and as expected, Renee Zellweger wins Best Actress for Judy. This Texas accent has been present this whole awards season. I don’t get it and I don’t know why. Her speech isn’t meaningful at all. It’s just names. Blah. Well, now, we’re trying to make it meaningful but I’m not sure it’s working.

Let’s stand up for Jane Fonda, shall we? She’s a fucking movie star. She looks REMARKABLE. Don’t get me wrong. She’s 81 years old and has been sliced and diced every which way but loose but still….she looks bananas amazing. Best Picture, y’all. What’s it gonna be???? The anticipation is palpable!!

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaannnnnnnnnnnnnnnnddddddddddddddd the Oscar goes to: PARASITE!!!! I mean at this point it’s no surprise. First non-English movie ever to win Best Picture. I’m into it. I love it. The speeches are wonderful. I loved that Tom Hanks and Charlize were all like…Bring the light back up. Let them speak!

Peace out, Oscars. It’s time for bed.

[eponymous-rose]

Talks Machina Highlights - Critical Role C2E39 (October 23, 2018)

(This week’s Talks will be posted after the episode airs tonight!)

Tonight’s guests are Liam O’Brien and Taliesin Jaffe! Also ft. Peak Dani (who has had it with these motherfucking snakes on this motherfucking show) and Marisha Ray Everywhere.

Announcements:

Marisha’s BtS episode has aired and is now available online on CR’s YouTube. Taliesin: “It’s not ridiculous to say she’s one of the best people I know.”

Matt’s BtS aired yesterday. Brian: “I’ve done twenty-some hours of interviews, and this is the one that broke me.” Liam: “Yeah, he’s super shallow, right?”

There will be a bonus holiday episode of BtS featuring Ashley Johnson.

The Halloween episode of All Work No Play aired last week! Liam: “The most handsome Sam’s ever been.”

Laura’s one-shot was pre-taped and aired on Thursday (now available on G&S’s YouTube). Brian, on trying to maintain a British accent for his character: “It’s a nightmare. I apologize to all the Critters. I’m going to get Peaky Blindered.” It’s truly a thing of beauty.

Stats for this week’s episode:

Matt surpassed 15 nat 20s and 20 nat 1s for the campaign in this episode.

The M9 got their 150th kill: the yuan-ti abomination killed by Nott.

This episode was the first time a character dealt more than 150 damage in an episode, with Fjord dealing 158. However, he only dealt the second-highest: Yasha dealt 301!

By the end of the fight, the Warden had grown an additional 8 heads and had taken a total of 428 points of damage.

Liam has the same mini at home that Matt used in this episode. “The hydra’s in the corner. All the heads are facing the wall.”

Caleb’s been enjoying the Menagerie Coast, but he’s starting to want to go home with all this time on the boat and the island. “He’s very much of the Empire, and sees leaving it as both a chance to learn things that he doesn’t know and experience things he hasn’t experienced so he can do things he wants to do.” He’s also very cognizant that the whole group has needs, and he can’t just railroad everyone to the library. Taliesin: “He’s evolving. That’s nice.”

Liam has dyed his hair green, red, and blue. Brian did purple.

Cad hasn’t yet put together that the Cloaked Serpent is the Wildmother’s mortal enemy. “I don’t think he necessarily believes that that’s what’s happening yet.” Even as Taliesin, he isn’t entirely convinced.

Caleb hasn’t been avoiding Cad or anything. “I think Cad would see what the others see, which that Caleb’s fucked up.”

Everything gets derailed at the realization that Taliesin was in Facts of Life. Brian: “You can’t just throw shit like that!”

Caleb’s been looking at Cad with the perspective of, “Oh, hey, he’s the new guy, let’s see if he lasts.”

Taliesin: “He’s fascinated by your intellectualism. He wants to know that.” Dani: “Yeah he does.”

Cad’s perspective on the M9′s casual disposal of bodies: “It’s all food. As long as the body’s useful, it doesn’t matter where it goes.”

Caleb put a lot of trust in Fjord to hand him his spellbooks. “He does trust Fjord for certain things. Not enough to tell him everything. Caleb’s been getting a little cocky lately.”

There’s some innuendo here. Maybe. Just a little. “Ball’s in your court, Brian.”

Who would they trust to come in and play their characters in their absence? Taliesin: “I don’t have friends anymore.” Brian: “YOU KNOW TERI HATCHER!” 

But seriously, Taliesin would ask Ashley first, then Marisha or Travis, as the ones most likely to get the zen. Liam: “I think Ashley would be number one, RP-wise, for Caleb. And it would probably be Taliesin.”

Mary Elizabeth McGlynn once explained hentai to Brian on an airplane for half an hour. “It was the funniest goddamn conversation I’ve had in my life.”

Gif of the Week: the beheading of the hydra.

Caduceus has “definitely dabbled in some psychotropics. That’s definitely something that grows in the garden.”

Taliesin and Liam generally cut themselves some slack for any mistakes they might have made in a game that’s played late at night after a full day of work. Liam: “Even the bad decisions lead to awesome.”

Taliesin: “I would’ve liked to have gotten the hydra high, now that I know that was an option.” There’s some discussion as to what kind of high a hydra would have, and if each head might react differently. Liam: “I told you we shouldn’t have mixed!”

Brian: “This has more dick jokes than Honey Heist 2, for some reason.”

Fanart of the week: the beautiful orchard chamber.

Taliesin on Travis’ ‘Molly’ slip-up: “Honestly, there’s very few things in the world that delight me more than seeing a little bit of shame roll down his face.” He purposely made an offended face at him. That moment delighted him.

Liam’s getting some great schadenfreude over Travis having to agonize over his RP decisions like the rest of them this campaign. “Fuck you with your emotional investment!”

Taliesin specifically made a character who bonds easily with people. He loves knowing things about the characters but being able to back off from that and feign ignorance.

Caleb being high meant that his self-flagellation got pushed way into the background. “It felt good not to care.” Brian asks if Caleb might seek escape through addiction to something like that, and Liam notes that Caleb doesn’t actually want to escape that self-loathing; he wants to wallow in it. Liam: “He really likes hating on himself. That was the point of all this. He wants to do something unfathomable fueled by self-loathing. There’s a thin little window that, if he sticks the landing, he can untie the knot.”

Clay’s mostly just pushing forward with this whole release-the-snake-of-many-eyes thing in the hopes of getting answers; he hasn’t thought more deeply about it. Caleb think it’s a bad idea; he’d try to stop it if he could. Both Caleb and Clay feel like Fjord’s hiding a lot. Clay’s feeling curious and cautious about what’ll happen when Fjord finds out the things he doesn’t know. Caleb thinks Fjord’s hiding a lot and is making terrible decisions; “Caleb’s such a hypocrite, because he’d probably take steps to stop Fjord from doing the things that he’s doing, still knowing that he needs to do the things he wants to do.”

Talks Machina: That About Sums It Up:

What books would Liam keep in Caleb-esque holsters with him at all times? Hellboy: Seed of Destruction: Vol. 1, and Complete Works of Shakespeare. It would be a little unbalanced. If he could only pick one Shakespeare play, it’d be Hamlet.

Given the chance, Taliesin would dye Liam’s hair “a blue-silver with a little purple highlight, a gentle amethyst. It’d be good, bring out your eyes.”

I just love that this is a thing Brian said: “Fluffernutter. Does that scare you guys?”

Taliesin: “Anytime you have to roll that many times to get something to work, I’m a little hesitant. If we’re not in a cave next time, right next to people who are taking damage, I’d feel a little better.”

How would they defeat a Marisha hydra? Taliesin, instantly: “Could not be done.” He and Liam concoct a plan involving the right margarita, turkish delight, a pickletini, red wine, Minecraft, and giving one-sheet pitch docs to three of the heads.

Brian’s solution in four words: “There’s a weed drought.” Taliesin: “We once came up with a Magic card just called Pile O’ Weed. It’d just be a green card you could tap, and a whole turn would pass and nothing would happen.”

Molly would’ve had two of the fruits, “just to make a point”.

[letstalksymphogear]

Symphogear, EP. 5 (Cont.)

Tsubasa ruminates about her current situation in her Symphogear Brand Safety Capsule of Absolute Dunces.

“aight ive done seen the light lemme at that sweet, sweet taco bell”

Meanwhile, some old ass politicians rumble about Relics.

“im old.”

But they immediately get fucked up in a nasty car accident.

As it turns out, the Americans were waiting to intercept these old crones to steal The Goods.

And holy fuck are they are American. Personally, I feel the writers of Symphogear watched Die Hard and immediately went “these people are fucking animals”. That’s just me, though.

“ooh ouch oh mmm ouchie ouch oooo ouch”

They tear into these people with an almost machine like efficiency.

These people don’t fuck around. There’s a strange surreality around it given that this is honestly pretty accurate to how brutal special operatives can be, but the Japanese accent they have in their English voices is... a bit jarring.

“IM BACK FROM THE MALL, YA’LL”

“oh god she’s back”

“ah, ryoko. as per your lingo, quote, ‘i like your new gucci boots... bitch’ was that good? im not fond at cursing at women unless its a mutual training session”

Genjuro alerts that the Minister of Defense for Japan has just been assassinated.

“shits bad”

Conveniently... Ryoko’s phone was broken. In her defense, it’s 2012. Battery life didn’t have the bragging rights it had now for phone.

“i personally use a razer flip phone. those will never go out of style!”

Ryoko manages to show them the box the Americans were trying to get. Suspiciously...

There’s a bloodstain on it.

So the main struggle right now is that the Bad Guys(tm) want to get their hands on Durandal, which is a completed relic that is hidden away miles underneath the school in the 2nd Division Labs.

This musty, old, shitty sword has immense power. Almost Godlike.

“hey why dont we just use the sword to beat up the bad guys”

The sword was handed from the EU to Japan for Japan to safekeep, and in exchange to forgive some of the loans the EU owed Japan should the EU economy collapse.

How topical.

“i read a lot of beserk and honestly im pretty sure someone beats up the bad guys with that dumb sword”

“listen nerd, we’re not doing that dumb weeb anime shit. we’re taking this sword to a vault to the bottom of parliament.”

“thats right. who needs anime when you’ve got nicholas cage.”

And so, they plotted to deliver this dumb sword tomorrow.

Ryoko logs into Runescape.

Fun fact: Fulcanelli is a reference to this dude, who was a French alchemist whose identity nobody really knows. Alchemy is a concept that will come up during GX that has no relevance whatsoever during these first 2 seasons except in some passerby jargon. This as just a cute thing I wanted to point out.

You know, that’s a pretty sexy sword upon closer examination.

“thats the dark souls of swords”

“ah! a fellow gamer! im glad that you too partake of the souls of darkening. would you like to play a two player match somtime, fellow Gamer?”

“I would genuinely rather eat shit for the rest of my life!”

The scene ends. Alright, where are n-

Oh God we’re back to this bullshit. Okay then.

Miku, reasonably, is upset that her wife is gone for several hours for increasingly sketchy reasons. Much like an estranged wife going to see her “tennis instructor” for “private tennis lessons” in the “safety of their house, which has a tennis court”, Miku is worried that Hibiki is a liar liar, pants on fire.

Nose the size of a wire.

Hibiki, feeling the fear of God, quickly bails this increasingly tense situation.

Miku is suffering, and so am I with this hamfisted writing.

“you didnt even try the cookies i made out of frustration for you. i designed them all after me with increasingly angrier faces”

“im too young for a divorce. fuck, those cookies smelled good”

Hibiki decides to not sweat it anymore, opening a magazine and WHOA WHAT THE FUCK

WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS I DONT REMEMBER THIS WHEN DID HIBIKI GET HER HANDS ON THIS OH MY GOD

“HELL NO IM MARRIED THE DEVIL CANNOT TEMPT ME”

Hibiki closes it up to reveal the relevant part of this magazine.

This is subtle, but it’s basically a vehicle to explain how things are covered up for Symphogears. Ogawa walks in, talking about how this headline was his doing.

“i wasn’t joking when i said we were literally the NSA”

Hibiki is happy that Tsubasa has been freed from Metaphor Limbo, having escaped the Water Metaphor Dimension back into real life.

“she literally wont stop talking about taco bell and honestly its killing me inside”

“shit ill get her some”

Ogawa does some schpiel about teamwork and asks Hibiki for an idea on what to do with Tsubasas image even though he’s supposed to be the manager and it’s just general prattle.

Everyone gets briefed about the delivery. Ryoko’s soccer mom van sticks out like a sore thumb. Nobody on the Lydian campus asks why there are 5 cars outside the building with men in suits and fucking Hibiki standing there with them why are these children so fucking incurious.

“this feels like the world’s most important weed delivery, but im going to deliver the SHIT out of that weed”

“hibiki please its not weed”

“ALRIGHT FAM LETS DELIVER THE SHIT OUT OF THIS WEED”

Big thick black cars surround Ryoko’s tiny vehicle as they all drive in unison to the drop point.

No fucking around here. The weed must be delivered.

The weed? Secured as shit.

“its not fucking weed it’s a goddamned french sword okay god”

“ROAD’S LOOKIN’ A-OKAY FOR OUR WEEEED DRIIIIIIVE”

PSYCHE, NO IT AINT. ROAD’S CRACKING UP HARD. COMES APART, CAR FUCKING EXPLODES!

“oh my god we seriously arent fucking around here those guys are fucking dead”

“bruh you never delivered weed before? that shit happens all the time”

“anyway grab on to something ‘cause we’re gonna initial d this shit”

“i thought we were delivering WEED not SUSHI”

“WEED... SUSHI... IT’S ALL FUCKING METAPHORS, HIBIKI. AND WE’RE GONNA DELIVER EM!”

“now ORDER UP, MOTHERFUCKER”

Every car is destroyed.

Ryoko flips the car like nobody’s business.

“ryoko! the kansai drift was too strong!”

“your delivery’s late, pal. that’s gonna have to come out of your tip.”

“jokes on you! you already paid the tip beforehand online!”

“oh, we’re going with pizza jokes now? is that what we’re doing? yeah, sure, whatever”

Unfortunately, Chris ordered her pizza with meat, extra crispy.

“FUCK, i cant see anything. now i don’t know if they have the weed- i mean, the sushi- er, the pizza- god i hate all these JOKES”

RYOKO SUMMONS A FUCKING SHIELD OUTTA NOWHERE WHILE HIBIKI’S KNOCKED OUT COLD

“yo hol’ up a moment did this pervert manage to summon a shield”

“are- are you able to fight the noise? are you fucking kidding me? this entire time when literal children were fighting these battles, you literally could have fought back effectively? are we but mere playthings to you? is this really the bullshit im seeing?”

“uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh i can only make shields. piss shields, out of piss”

“that is absolute fucking bullshit”

“but i believe it.”

Hibiki has primed her fists and is about to show how much she’s improved combat wise, which is actually a lot.

Nevermind, she tripped again. Turns out, Symphogears fight in heels constantly, which is absolutely fucking horrifying. Hibiki realizes this, and then

FUCKING BREAKS THE HEELS LIKE NOBODY’S BUSINESS.

AND THEN SHE WRECKS SHOP WITHOUT BREAKING A GODDAMN SWEAT

“oh shit how the fuck did she improve this quickly”

The suitcase where the sword is stored opens up. That means it’s activating.

Immediate fear.

“alright bruce lee you mightve mastered a thousand kicks but you better change your gameplan because im about to realign that pretty little face of yours”

“thank god you kicked me. needed you to get closer so i could kick your ass, after all”

The fucking suitcase, I shit you not, pops open immediately with the sword flipping to the sky like a bad Gmod toy as it suddenly stays floating, perfectly still.

“ive officially lost track on what the hell is happening”

The sword just floats there, as a sword does.

“you know how many fried turkeys i can cut open with that bad boy? that shits mine now.”

Chris goes to get it.

“fuck you! im going to slice HONEYBAKED HAMS with that sword!”

Hibiki intercepts it and takes the sword.

Now Hibiki becomes a proud Stand owner, having acquired the power of The World and stopping time at will.

“oooooh holy shit”

Hibiki, now channeling the power of Durandal, feels the raw strength of a completed relic all through her body.

Real spicy stuff running through her veins.

The power unleashing itself into a raw stream of piss skyrocketing into the stratosphere.

“the pizza has been delivered... all according to plan...”

“...she was right. honeybaked ham was the superior meat to slice...”

Hibiki is channeling a power source so ancient, so powerful, that through using her as a conduit, the sword actually finishes itself into its full, completed form.

Holy shit, Hibiki.

Goddamn. That’s a really sexy sword, actually! Pretty nice...

...oh.

You’re not looking so hot, pal...

“why is it that every opponent of mine can literally asspull all this garbage and im stuck here looking like a bad kamen rider villian getting my ass kicked every time. its not fair.”

Ryoko looks extremely hyped for this event. Maybe a little too much so.

“MAN FUCK THIS NONSENSE IM PUTTING AN END TO THE SUPER SENTAI POWERUP”

“O-OH FUCK- uh, i didnt say that. totally swear. you uh, keep doing that. yeah. aha.”

“SLICED...”

“...HONEYBAKED...”

“oh god. oh god. im sorry. im sorry. im so sorry. oh fuck im so sorry. honeybaked ham is better. fuck turkeys. fuck drumlegs. fuck any sort of fried meat. honeybaked ham is better please im begging you dont vore me or slice me in half IM BEGGING YOU OH GOD”

“...HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAM!”

“ham..... mmmmm... honeybaked ham....”

“WHO YELLED ABOUT HAM? god, im hungry now.”

Hibiki wakes up from it all after passing out, expressing a power of magnitudes unheard of, as if it were all a bad dream.

“YEAH THATS RIGHT WE HAD TO DELIVER THE WEED PIZZA AND I WANTED HAM AND- THE SWORD, YEAH! THE SWORD!”

To her disappointment, amongst this wanton destruction, no ham was found. Ryoko clues her in that Hibiki just single handedly completed a relic, and though the entire place is a mess, the mission wasn’t a complete failure. They’ll just have to return the relic back to base, now the entire location is, conveniently, destroyed.

“yeah yeah. the weed made it. the sushi made it. the pizza made it. what didnt we deliver today?”

“...”

“singing really does make you hungry, huh?”

[tossertozier]

excerpt of a horror fic about a corn maze I started writing for no real reason other than trying to jot out the writers block

Eddie couldn’t really run any longer. He was caught in between wanting, so badly, to see any sane person, to see Ben or even Beverly, and being afraid of getting caught again by not-sane people. When he paused for too long, he could feel the metal of the knife pressed up against his neck, the leering, greasy teenager looking down at him. He kept moving. He jogged quietly, little bits of broken stalk crack under his feet, breath raking up his throat with every exhale in the cold, bitter Autumn night. It had been close to a half hour, he was sure of it.

But he could hear the rustling behind him.

Fuck Ben. Fuck his obsession with that red headed girl. But especially: fuck corn mazes, haunted or otherwise.

The rustling nearer. Eddie just stopped, planting his hands on his knees, feeling his breath punch him in the chest over and over. Despite the lack of wind, the cold bit into his cheek and the tip of his nose, gnawed into his knuckles and the bit of his ankle left exposed. The rustle neared.

He looked back.

There, in the twinkle-light path of looming corn stalks, was a hand extended through the corn. It was holding an axe, glinting in the orange-tinted light. Eddie squinted at it. It looked like... plastic. This fucker was going to try and kill him with a Halloween store accessory?

He swallowed around the thick lump in his chest, scanning to the left to see the continued line of corn that lined the path.

Fuck it.

He swallowed his heart, trying to leap out of his chest and into his mouth, and jumped into the thick row of corn.

Going in between stalks was harder than it looked, they were tough and sturdy. He fought through. The stalks scratched his face, and he tumbled to the other side. Standing clean in the center of the path was the man in a human’s butcher uniform, except for a large mascot pig’s head covering his face.

Eddie all but growled, remembering the man in the suit, who attacked him not half an hour ago, and decided he was done running.

He sprinted at him. The guy stumbled back, before turning to run himself. He heard muffled shouts coming from inside the suit. He couldn’t hear them, nor did he care. He was much taller than Eddie, but he didn’t give a single fuck. He aimed, and dove, for a leg, sending the two crashing to the ground.

The guy gave a shout of shock, or pain, he wasn’t sure which, as they fell. Eddie’s knee slammed into the ground on the side of the one guy, but gave him enough purchase to roll on top of him.

Eddie had never been in a fight in his life, couldn’t even remember where to put his thumb, but still landed punch after punch to the guys mask. “You sick FUCK,” he yelled at him, relentlessly dropping down his fists on to the mask.

The leather gloved fist came up and socked Eddie. It landed right under his chin, sending him tumbling off of the man under him. It hit him with a solid, scary, cracking sound, and he swore as he tucked, rolling away from the guy. He realized there were muffled complaints coming from inside the costume, the guy struggling to pull off the foam pig’s head.

“Fuck, dude.” The guy complained loudly once he managed to pull it off. Dark waves fell out from the mask, which he threw at the ground with another loud swear. “If you can’t handle getting fucking scared, don’t come to a goddamned haunted house.” The guy with his sloped nose and strong jaw, groped around in the head for something with one of his hands. He remembered this guy. The animal skins, the horrid smell. Eddie swallowed his fear with a large gulp, and tackled the guy again, landing on his stomach with a resounding thump.

“You motherfucker.” Eddie wrestled his arms above his head, but the dude was bucking hard and fast. also swearing at him. “This isn’t scaring people.” The dude’s face was scrunched up with confusion. “This is torture porn. You sick fucks probably get off to this.”

The guys longer, bigger arms won out in a momentary lapse of strength. Eddie fell back, hitting the cold ground with a resounding ‘oof.’ The guy was looming over him, one hand tightly curled over his wrist, knee pinning his thighs to the ground.

Eddie made a bizarre noise, one he didn’t even know he was capable of making. He quit his struggle for only a moment, letting his back relish in the pain it was experiencing, squirming on the unforgiving ground.

The guy snorted, “and I’m the one getting off to this?” He demanded skeptically. Eddie’s blood rushed through him, hot and red, and he flung his arm up at the guy. He smacked at his face with his free hand.

“For fuck’s sake,” the guy swore, grabbing his other wrist with his other hand, and pinning them above his head. He held them down with one of his hands, using the other to grab a radio from his back pocket. “Richie calling in: I need help in between markers, fuck.” He squinted above the lines of corn. “Fuck, I can’t see them. Green and blue, definitely. Maybe 6 and 7? A guest got violent, started hitting me in the face. Little fuck is lucky he didn't break my glasses.” Eddie stared up at the guy in front of him, stopping his wild bucking for a moment. He wasn’t who he thought he was. His jaw was wider. His eyes were bigger. His face wasn’t completely covered in acne. Eddie had no fucking clue who he had just attacked. Richie, apparently.

Not that it mattered that he was getting tattled on. No one was going to respond to that fucking radio call. They hadn’t earlier. He seemed to note that Eddie lost his fight, or he lost his strength, and flattened out his hand above Eddie’s to hold himself up. This dude would never last in a horror movie. “Hello??” He called in. Eddie rolled his eyes. “Hello??” He called in in a coarse southern accent, “this is Officer Nicholas-” and Eddie’s memory was fully jogged. He was that sort of dorky dude in glasses and a cowboy hat from the hayride. He sat back from Eddie fully, holding one hand out warily between them. “Calling in from... Fuck if I know.” The line was still dead. “What the fuck, guys?”

Relief flooded through Eddie’s body to have met literally any semi-normal person. “Oh, thank the fucking Lord,” he sighed to himself, shoving up, off the ground. Richie watched him warily. Eddie did the only thing he could think to do in the moment, his body practically tingling with joy. He grabbed at him again, hugging him around the middle. “You’re normal.” He sighed, pressing his face into the concerning leather apron he was wearing.

“Uh.” Richie apparently had no idea what to do. He patted Eddie’s shoulder. “There... there??” He tried to sound consoling. “I don’t know if you’d find it comforting to know that that is literally the first time anyone’s ever told me that.”

“Do you have a fridge that doesn’t work full of animal skins?”

“What the fuck?? No.”

“Then you are so,” Eddie’s arms tightened around him, “perfectly,” although he smelled quite a bit like farm, under it he also smelled like teenage boy, like axe and locker room, a terrible, yet familiar, smell, “wonderfully,” Eddie nuzzled him closer, “normal.”

“Yeah, my fridge of animal skins works just fine.” Richie snorted. He laughed at his own joke. Eddie didn’t care. He might have laughed a little bit too, but that could have been the paranoia settled in.

“One of your coworkers tried to kill me,” he told Richie with a yawn. Being frightened was truly goddamn exhausting. “The walkies weren’t working then, either.”

“Oh.”

“That’s why I attacked you.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I thought you were him.”

“Oh.”

“But you aren’t!” Eddie snuggled in, freezing in the cold autumn air. He couldn’t imagine Richie was faring might better, “you normal son of a bitch, you.” He told him fondly.

“Uh,” Richie settled for rubbing his shoulder, then, instead of the plaintative patting. “That’s. Good, I guess. That I’m not him. But, I don’t think you understand the point of a haunted maze. No one was going to hurt you.”

“Yeaaah,” Eddie drawled, “nope. This wasn’t your run of the mill pops out and scares you kind of deal.” Richie snorted with disbelief. Or maybe discomfort at being hugged that long. Eddie didn’t care. After the half hour he had, he’d hug anyone as long as he damn well pleased. “I’m serious.”

“Uh-huh.” Richie replied placatingly.

Eddie looked up at him disbelievingly. “Dude’s a motherfucking psycho. He put a knife to my throat.” He relented his snuggle. But he still gripped on to Richie’s costume with one hand. He might have fully removed himself from his person if Richie’s arm wasn’t still resting on his back.

“... again, I just don’t think you’re understanding the concept of a haunted maze?!”

“For fuck’s sakes,” Eddie nearly shoved the annoying condescending fucker, “he dragged me by my collar,” he grabbed the back of his now fucking stretched out shirt, and Richie’s eyes lost some of their mirthful glint. “through the corn and,” he looked up and caught his eyes. Richie’s had lost their sparkle, and they were staring at him, wide and concerned, “and tried to make me get into his fridge full of animal skins.” He told him honestly, almost retching at the memory of the scent. “Is that part of your GODDAMNED haunted maze?!”

Richie blinked. He looked as if his brain was just entirely failing to process the new information. “I’m sorry... what??”

“YEAH.” Eddie shouted, “that’s what I fucking thought. And he,” he grabbed Richie’s costume tighter, pulling it towards him, “was wearing this costume earlier.”

“That...” Richie reasoned. His eyes squinted around, like he was running through the possibilities. “That would be Patrick Hockset-... fuck.” His other arm wrapped around Eddie, drawing him closer, like they weren’t total strangers. He warily scanned the clearing.

“What?” Eddie asked, tilting his chin up on his side. “He a friend of yours?” He, tentatively, wrapped his arms around him.

Richie snorted, “no.” His breath, hot and heady, hit the back of Eddie’s head, reminding him just how cold he was. “I believe you.” He admitted earnestly after a pause. Eddie let out a shaky breath. “Dude’s totally into this stuff. I hate this shit, the scaring people part. That’s why I work at the gate, I just cover his break because I’m the only one tall enough to fit into the costume. He’s a total loose cannon.”

“Well.” Eddie settled reasonably, “I just need to get the fuck out of here and then I’ll deal with making sure his ass goes to jail.” Richie then suddenly remembered he was cuddling a total stranger on the clock on the ground of a corn maze. He jumped away, standing up, brushing his gloves off on his pants.

“Well, I can help with that... ?”

“Eddie.”

“Eds. Hi.” He offered his hand down to Eddie, still sitting on the ground. He didn’t even have time to be offended about the new nickname. He clapped his hand with Richie’s, letting him help him pull himself to his feet. “We just follow the markers and-“

They were plunged into darkness, the lights shutting off above them. In his surprise, Richie dropped Eddie’s hand. He tumbled back to the ground.

“Mother....” he said disbelievingly, staring around at the corn.

“Fucker.” Eddie finished, his back crying out in protest yet again

[janiedean]

fic, steve/bucky: a trotskyist baker in the rome of the seventies (light r, 100% crack)

....... OKAY GUYS I PROMISED @electricalice​ THIS DAMNED THING YEARS AGO AND I HAVE A FEELING NO ONE WHO DOESN’T HAVE AN IN-DEPTH KNOWLEDGE OF EITHER ITALIAN POLITICS/CULTURE OR NANNI MORETTI’S MOVIES WILL GET WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON HERE so: if you wanna read a fic where bucky’s a trotskyist baker in rome in the seventies and steve is the local knife-sharpener this is your thing, if not... just skip. MARTINA I MADE YOU WAIT A LOT BUT I HOPE IT’S FUNNY AT LEAST XDDDD (rated r for light sexual content and horrible puns about cannoli.)

È arrivato l'arrotino! Arrota coltelli, forbici, forbicine, forbici da seta, coltelli da prosciutto!

Donne è arrivato l'arrotino e l'ombrellaio; aggiustiamo gli ombrelli; l'ombrellaio, donne -

“Oh, shit, I’m going to murder that son of a bitch,” Bucky groans as he sits up in his bed, not even trying to turn on his side and go back to sleep - there’s no way. He knows how that fucking business works. The motherfucker is going to circle his building some three times, because of course someone is going to want to have their kitchen knives sharpened at seven thirty in the fucking morning on August 15th in fucking Rome, as he does every damned time.

Damn it. Who the fuck is up in that trap of a car with a megaphone on a fucking Sunday morning? At seven thirty? Maybe if he had actually went to sleep at a reasonable hour he might have taken that a lot better, but he hasn’t.

Fine, fine, it’s also his fault because just an idiot could have stayed up baking pastries up until three in the morning just to realize that the following day was a national holiday, and he’s lived in this country for years by now, maybe he should have remembered it. Except that he had forgotten, so now he has a closed shop full of cakes and pastries half of which will spoil before tomorrow, he has barely slept three hours since he dragged himself back home, and now - now the fucking knife grinder is waking him up at the crack of dawn on a Sunday.

For the umpteenth time.

Fuck this, he decides, he’s going to go downstairs and if he manages to talk himself out of murdering the bastard he’ll give him a piece of his mind. After all ten years here did do wonders in teaching him a fair number of colorful insults, and while he’s been told his accent still shows, he’s sure he can do a plenty good job of terrorizing the idiot into going to some other area next week. Or at least into showing up at a normal time. Possibly not at seven thirty in the morning, for starters.

He puts on the old pair of jeans he had on yesterday evening and a pair of sandals he bought at the last festa dell’Unità, and he doesn’t even bother putting on his shirt. People are usually put off by the metal prosthesis, and sometimes he’s still fairly self-conscious about it even if it’s been years since he left the American military, good riddance, but he’s too angry to care. Also he wants the fucker to be put off, anyway.

Ripariamo cucine a gas: abbiamo i pezzi di ricambio per le cucine a gas. Se avete perdite di gas noi le aggiustiamo, se la cucina fa fumo noi togliamo il fumo della vostra cucina a gas.

For fuck’s sake, Bucky thinks as he grabs his keys, slams the door closed and runs down the stairs in a flurry of righteous rage, my kitchen is electric. It’s the seventies, goddammit, who even owns a gas kitchen anymore? Okay, fine, maybe in some small town, but this is hardly a small town, is it?

Good thing he lives on the second floor. He follows the sound - it’s pretty damn loud, so the guy has to have parked somewhere around. It takes him a moment to locate the car. Which is clearly parked in front of his shop - he thinks the universe is trying to tell him something today and he’s not sure he likes it.

Well then. He’s downstairs now, and he’s slammed the door on his way out, and he’s very glad to verify that the car is, in fact, really in front of his shop. He spares a moment to notice that the knife-grinder in question has to be really desperate, or he wouldn’t be driving some old red 126 Fiat that’s probably not been in production for years which is even more battered than Bucky’s own. And Bucky had thought that his thrice-used VAZ-2104 couldn’t be beaten when it came to cars that had seen better days. Never mind that no one with some sense of mind would use a fucking 126 to bring knife-sharpening tools. At least a small truck.

Whatever. The fact that this idiot can’t even grasp the basic of being a knife-sharpener isn’t his the point.

Now, the point is that he needs the idiot to understand once and for all that he’s not welcome (not at this time at least) and he’s been living in this city long enough to master quite some of the local swearing. Not half as much as he wishes he could - because he’s heard some seriously fine swears he still hasn’t been able to quite replicate in all the times he’s been here. Still, enough. He hasn’t completely lost his accent, but usually whenever he demonstrates his more than fairly accurate grasp of the art, locals tend to at least respect him some.

So he’s going to do just that, show this idiot how much this is not Bucky’s day and then he’s going to try and go to sleep again - yeah, fat chance of that.

“Ma all’anima de li mortacci tua, c’avevi proprio bisogno di buttare la gente giù dar letto alle sette de mattina o è che devi esse stronzo a tutti i costi?”

Now, Bucky’s angry, all right, and he knows he can’t be looking very friendly right now. Metal arm regardless, and face of someone-who-was-in-the-military regardless, he was just thrown out of bed earlier than nine in the morning on a festive day, he knows he must look murderous. That’s perfectly fine as far as he’s concerned. He did want to give the guy the scare of his life, which is why he had been striding towards the 126 without hiding his arm or the horrible state of his hair or his absolute lack of fashion - not that he’s that great at it, but when he’s just woken up and has barely dressed, it tends to show.

Too bad that the moment he’s face to face with the infamous arrotino, the one thing he can think of is, shit he’s cute.

For one, he definitely doesn’t look local -- not many people around here have natural blonde hair and blue eyes, but this guy does, and fine, he’s a good head shorter than Bucky and he’s kind of scrawny, it’s obvious from what he can see under the hoodie he’s wearing (with this weather? Who does that even?) over a pair of slacks that have seen better days. But, no one has ever said that Bucky was not into scrawny guys, even if the last time he hit on one he was still in Vietnam and still had an arm, and his rage kind of maybe melts a bit when the other man makes an apologetic face as Bucky comes his way, as if he knows that he’s in the wrong here.

And that makes Bucky stop dead in his tracks enough that he almost trips into the goddamned sampietrino under his feet -- he does love this city but damn if he doesn’t hate its streets’ pavement.

“Er,” the knife-grinder sputters, apologetically, “mi scusi, immagino che --”

“Wait a fucking moment,” Bucky interrupts him, immediately recognizing the accent. Like, he speaks Italian perfectly and without a hitch, but he can fucking hear an accent when he hears one, and this specific kind of is one he really can’t forget anytime soon, “are you from Brooklyn?”

The knife-grinder’s blue eyes go very, very wide.

“How - well, uh, sort of,” he says, “wait, are you?”

“I asked first and you woke me up,” Bucky says, feeling slightly calmer, and wait, how long had it been since he talked in English to anyone?

“Fair,” knife-grinder says. “Uh, I’m Steve. And like, I actually was born here, but my mother was from Brooklyn. She came here with the Red Cross during the war, fell for an Italian soldier and never quite left. Also, uh, let’s say my health’s never been the best, so she figured I was better off here. But I’ve been there a few times. And she taught me the language, obviously. I suppose it wasn’t your experience, was it?”

“Uh, no,” Bucky shakes his head. “I was born there, no fancy foreign parents. Then I got drafted to Vietnam, lost an arm, decided I was done with whoever decided to send me to get slaughtered even if sure as fuck the communists never forced me to go anywhere, picked somewhere at random to relocate and here I am. Well, fine, I figured I could do with some sun and decent food,” he shrugs. “Uh, I’m Bucky.”

“Short for what?”

He shrugs. “They named me James Buchanan, and everyone else was named James in elementary school. And anyway, that’s no car for knife-grinding.”

Steve shrugs sheepishly. “What can I say,” he answers, “it’s a living and I can’t do better right now. Also, sorry for waking you up, but these are the standard hours.”

“You know people would be more inclined to let you grind their knives if you didn’t wake them up at fuck in the morning?”

“... Yeah, well, fair enough, but I’m not my own boss. Not that going around now was a good idea in the first place.”

“How so? Because, oh, wait, it’s a vacation?”

He has the grace to look at least apologetic. “Yes. The boss isn’t exactly understanding, though. He surely isn’t not going to Ostia to drive around getting a sunstroke and offering knife-sharpening to people who aren’t even home.”

Bucky thinks he does like the edge to that tone. “And how is that knife-sharpening going for you?”

Steve shrugs. “Not too great. Then again, still better than trying to be an artist without having gone to the academy. But I do portraits in Piazza Navona once in a while.”

Bucky glances down at Steve’s hands. They have long fingers. They also look rough, and stained under the tips, but then again if he sharpens knives when he’s not drawing or painting or whatever, that’d be understandable.

“Anyway,” Steve says, “sorry for waking you up. Honest, if it was for me I’d have avoided this one trip, but what can I do.”

“Well,” Bucky says, “not like I’m going back to sleep anytime soon, but for what it’s worth, sorry for the outburst. I went to sleep late.”

“I get it,” Steve says, and then his stomach makes a noise.

“Am I wrong or you skipped breakfast?” Bucky asks.

Steve shrugs again. “I shouldn’t,” he says, “but I woke up early, I didn’t feel like it and now I’m regretting it, I guess.”

Bucky thinks, do I really want to ask him if --?

He hasn’t really done this for a very long time. But then again, he also tends to not mingle with anyone that’s not from the local PCI section, and Steve hasn’t run away at the sight of his very shirtless self when just having woken up, with hair not even combed and in his worst mood.

At worst he can make a friend, he supposes.

“Listen,” he says, “let’s say that having lived here for years I still forget most of the local holidays, which is the reason why I went to sleep at fucking three AM yesterday.”

“Wait, because you worked?”

Bucky nods toward the shop. Steve’s eyes go wide as he reads the sign. The rough translation would be equal pastries, but he figures Steve wouldn’t need it.

“You’re a --”

“Baker? Yeah,” Bucky shrugs. “I figured that I’d go into something that was the entire contrary of, y’know, being in the military. Anyway, I’ve got the shop full of pastries and no one’s eating them today, so if you want a not-so-late breakfast, since it’s fucking fifteen to eight AM, feel free.”

Steve stares at him for a long moment, but then he shrugs after checking his watch.

“You know what, fuck that noise. I’ll take the pastry. Let me just close this.” He locks the 126 up and follows Bucky towards the shop -

Just to crash into that same broken sampietrino that had almost killed Bucky before. Bucky reaches out and grabs his arm to avoid a fairly bad crash to the ground, steadying him on his feet. He can’t help noticing that scrawny as he is, Steve does have some muscle on him, and he tries to not let show that he did notice as he lets his arm go.

“Mind it,” he says. “Those things are a death trap.”

“I know,” Steve sighs. “Thanks. I love this city but don’t I hate them.”

“Doesn’t everyone?” Bucky smirks, and grabs his keys. He tells Steve to wait for him to put on a shirt, runs upstairs, puts on the first tank top he can find in his closet (red, of course, but at least it doesn’t have any embarrassing print on it), and then he runs back downstairs after putting his hair in a bun, at least he looks somewhat more presentable.

“Right,” he says, “follow me.” He leads Steve to the back entrance of the shop and opens it, and he kind of can’t help grinning as he sees Steve’s blue eyes widen the moment he sees how many damned pastries he had baked the night before.

“Holy shit,” he says, “I see why you might have gone to bed late.”

“Yeah, well, I should’ve checked the calendar. Anyway, there’s pastries, there’s cakes, there’s more cannoli than I could have bothered with and those are definitely spoiling before tomorrow, just have your pick.”

“Hm,” Steve says, “maybe -”

Then he stops as he stares at the picture hung above Bucky’s cash machine.

“Let me guess,” Steve says, slowly. “This place is named equality pastries also because you’re the only baker in this town with a picture of Trotsky hung up on the wall, or am I wrong?”

Bucky can’t help grinning slightly as he puts his elbows on the counter right next to the machine, staring straight at Steve in the eyes. “Why,” he says, “do you have anything in common against the concept of permanent revolution?”

“Oh,” Steve says, “I see you also read Trotsky.”

“‘Course I did,” Bucky says. “Hey, I was born in the same country as McCarthy, doesn’t mean I have to agree with his extremely wrong takes on communism. And I think I’m done with not checking for myself anything first.”

“Fair,” Steve says, “but as far as I’m concerned, it’s a bit utopian.”

“What, the concept of permanent revolution?”

“Nice,” Steve replies, “but utopian. I mean, come on, Marx and Engels made pretty clear that communism can’t exactly work anywhere unless society is ripe for it, and if you ask me, nowhere actually is. Still, their analysis is still spot-on.”

“So what,” Bucky quips back, “you’re the purist kind of comrade?”

“It’s not being a purist,” Steve protests. “I’m just realistic. Though admittedly, if I had to pick one, your guy is almost the least bad choice.”

“Almost? Please don’t tell me that Stalin’s the least bad.”

“What? You fucking kidding me? Marx never advocated for that bullshit.”

“Hey, every other person ‘round here is on that side, especially at the local section. Can’t even try to argue about it.”

“Yeah, well, fair. Same in mine. What can we do, right?”

“Okay,” Bucky says, “but now other than telling me what you want to eat I’d like to know who is the least bad person who tried to make communism a reality and how can you even be around in a hoodie with this weather.”

“You know what,” Steve says, “I’ll go for the cannolo.”

“You can have two, you know,” Bucky says, taking a couple from the display cabinet and handing them over to Steve. Steve takes one and bites down on it, and a moment later he makes a sound that kind of sounds like a few porn movies Bucky’s seen recently.

Well, good to know his cannoli are appreciated.

“Fuck,” he says, “these are good.” He swallows another half, then puts the pastry on the counter. “Well, I’ll finish it in a moment, but let’s just say that I tend to feel cold. As a predisposition. And it was cold-ish this morning, when I left. That’s why I’m wearing the hoodie. About the least bad…” He grins, opens the hoodie and reveals a bright red t-shirt with Che Guevara’s face printed in black all over it. “I mean, at least he did try without profiting from the first victory,” he says, and then grabs the cannolo again, eating a third piece.

Bucky’s mouth has probably gone a lot drier just watching it happen.

Christ, he needs to get a grip here - he reaches out, grabs a cannolo for himself and takes a bite. Okay, right, this batch came out pretty good, but then again never say that Bucky Barnes couldn’t do anything he really set his mind to, including baking damn good pastries.

“I think,” he says, “I can compromise on your guy.” He can feel that some filling stayed on the corner of his mouth - he licks it off, noticing that Steve’s eyes are staring at his tongue.

Huh.

Maybe - maybe he could actually give it a go.

“Say,” he keeps on, “would your boss even care if you were late on schedule?”

Steve swallows the last of his cannolo, reaching for the second one. “My boss only knows when I come in and leave because he’s lending me the machinery to sharpen the damned things. Why?”

“Because you know that you won’t sharpen any knives today.”

“I knew that the moment I left home. Tell me something I don’t.”

“Well, my apartment is upstairs. Instead of standing here like two idiots, we could bring some of the other cannoli upstairs, share them while sitting down and if you wanna discuss why you don’t think permanent revolution is a feasible concept, I’m all ears to be convinced.”

“You know what,” Steve says, “suddenly the idea of sharing cannoli with you sounds good. And I think I have fairly good arguments as for why permanent revolution is not feasible whatsoever.”

Bucky grins at him, staring at the filling that is now staining Steve’s mouth.

“Then do follow me, comrade. Can’t wait to hear all about it.”

Turns out: the concept of discussing permanent revolution is very quickly abandoned in favor of Bucky licking that filling off Steve’s mouth.

Turns out, Steve might be scrawny but he definitely likes driving the show, which is Bucky’s favorite combination albeit more rare than he likes, which means that fifteen minutes later all his carefully crafted cannolis they brought upstairs have been eaten or are adorning Bucky’s bed or skin in various states of destruction.

Which is entirely fine with Bucky.

No, really, especially if Steve wants to eat that ricotta filling off his chest. He also doesn’t seem to mind the prosthesis at all, and by the time Bucky’s come thrice and Steve twice and they’re laying next to each other on the bed, the sheets dirtied with both cannoli remains and their own come, Steve breathing like he’s run a marathon with his cheeks flushed in a frankly adorable way, Bucky has decided that there’s no bloody way this is over here.

“Say,” Bucky breathes, “would you mind leaving me a number in case I need someone to, hm, sharpen my knives?”

Steve groans, hiding his face in the pillow before moving closer to him again, his arm going around Bucky’s waist as he uses his elbow for leverage and moves on top of him again. “I don’t know,” Steve says, “I just might, but I’d be devastated if you only needed me for my knife-sharpening skills.”

“Well,” Bucky retorts, “if you’re half as good as that as you are at sucking dick, I think you’d have half of this city outside your car.”

“Damn, and here I thought that my best skills were at convincing people of the uselessness of having a communist government if it’s just fascism in disguise.”

“Oh, you’re pretty good at that, too, but I still think I want to know more in details why you’re so against the concept of permanent revolution.”

“Do I get more pastries in exchange?”

Bucky doesn’t think he’s grinned at someone this hard in ages.

“You can have your fill downstairs. Unless you want more now.”

Steve licks his lips, his hand going to Bucky’s dick, which is still twitching in interest even if he’s completely spent, but hey, it’s been a hell of a long time.

“And what if I want both?”

“Take it,” Bucky tells him, and a moment later Steve’s moved downwards, his mouth taking him in again as Bucky grasps at the sheets.

Fuck. He’s definitely never ever complaining about the unholy times the kinfe-sharpener shows up, even if he has a feeling he’s never going to look for a different one.

And if Steve wants to go downstairs and try some more pastries, well, the shop is closed until tomorrow, after all.

End.

[meshugana1]

Could you turn me into an attractive maid? My friends keep making fun of me about how I'm single because of my looks, my shy and timid personality. Plus, I need a job to pay off a bunch of debts.

   My breath grew cold and heavy in my lungs like I had inhaled a block of ice. The center of the room felt like it was dangerous all of a sudden and every cell in my body screamed for me to avoid it. I couldn’t though, this was about personal growth. I wanted to slap myself but that would look really weird. Come on, come on, you can do this Jack. You’re the man, this is easy as pie. The scene played out before me. I had unconsciously crossed my arms as a woman asked a seated man about airfare to the Bermuda triangle. “What do ya want air rates for? We don’t even know if there’s no airports there anyway,” the travel agent said.“Well yes but ships always go missing in there,” she said.“Yeah, but we at least know there’s a couple docks so it’s probably safer.”“Probably? How often do ships go missing there?”“All the time. Every ship we send never comes back.” Come on Jack, jump in.“If no ships ever come back how does your company have such positive reviews?”“Well, no one’s come back to give us a bad one.” The crowd surrounding the pair chuckle and laugh, all but me. I’m still too nervous, a million lines and ideas are all competing in my head and it’s all too much. I’m sure a vein is throbbing somewhere in my head.

   “Hey man, I thought you said you’d get up there tonight? I’m bummed I didn’t get to see you freeze up in front of everybody,” Alan said. He was the lovable asshole that first suggested I come with him to his improve class to ‘break out of my shell’. I was perfectly fine in it, but it still got lonely. It was over nine years since my last girlfriend, and I’m not even sure how that one happened. “Sorry, I just got a little sidetracked thinking of what to say,” I said as I popped two Tylenol to squash the headache I gave myself. “That’s the fuckin problem dude, you don’t have to think in improve. You just do, ya know?” I didn’t know in fact. I can’t remember the last time I didn’t take a weekend off to plan out all the conversations I was going to have the following week. I was always just so scared of saying the wrong thing. “I’ll try better next time, I need to get to my night job or that dick boss of mine is gonna fire me.”“Ya know, I’ve heard you call him dick, asshole, fuckhead, motherfucker, cocksucker, pissant, and douce, but I don’t think I heard his name yet.”“Yeah, I may not like it but I really need the money. I have those student loans I took out remember?” This made Alan laugh, way harder than I thought was necessary. “Oh yeah, you were all set for a law degree and you got kicked out like the first day cause you called some woman ‘the most fuckable MILF you ever saw’.”“Yeah.”“And who did she turn out to be, again?”“The dean, alright? She was the dean.” Alan laughed so hard I thought he was actually choking. Part of me wished he would.

   I waited for Alan to recompose himself, he was the only one of us who could afford a car. I scanned the dimly lit hallway of the rec center. Looking for anything that could take my mind off my friend’s enjoyment of my situation. I saw a worn out cork board on the opposite wall lined with various ads. Better than listening to him choke on my misery. One said there was a snowmobile trailer in like new condition for sale, only $8500. Another advertised an old woman’s piano class, three times a week for only ten dollars a lesson. That was actually pretty good. A bright pink one hidden beneath a wanted poster from 1993 proclaimed the need for a groundskeeper at a country estate and offered to pay a hundred dollars an hour plus room and board. “What!?”

    A hundred friggin dollars an hour? I work a total eighteen hours a day between both my jobs and I barely bring home three hundred a week! “What’s wrong?” Alan said.“This lady want’s to pay someone a hundred dollars an hour to mow her lawn and stuff!”“No way, let me see,” Alan said grabbing the flyer from me. “Oh dude, that’s that old Haderly place like five miles outside town.”“So?”“Dude, she like a shut-in. But from what I hear she’s a total babe and makes all her money from doing cam shows online. No way you can work for a woman like that.”“Wow, I’m not used to hearing you so mature Alan.”“What? No, you can’t work for her cause you’re shy, short, and um, a homely guy. She’s not gonna want to hire you. She probably wants some super stud around to ogle at and get her in the mood. Sounds like a job for me!” Now it was my turn to laugh. He might have had a little nugget of a point, but he wasn’t exactly much better looking than me.“Don’t you dare. If anyone needs this job I do. You make plenty of money at your job.”“Not a hundred fucking dollars an hour. Don’t worry, when I’m loaded and she and I start dating we’ll let you live in the attic or something,” he said with a smile.

   It was an expensive Uber ride out to the property, but one hours wages from this lady would pay it back and more. It was early, the sunrise only just began to blind me as I walked down the path to the house. My fingers traced along the flyer as I walk, I would have called but there was no phone number on it, just this address. The air was so clean and filled with moisture I could hardly believe it. And the yard was nothing less than colossal. I had no idea there were even yards like this in the area. It looked like you had to measure it in acres. It took me nearly thirty minutes to walk it straight down the middle, no wonder the salary was so high, this was a full-time job. I was finally close enough to make out the detail on the ornate wooden doors when I saw another door at the side of the house open wide and a man stepped out. He was huge, built like a brick house and wore a really tight white shirt and jeans combo. He raised a Panama hat to his head and looked over the property with a steely gaze. Was this guy the lady’s husband? Not a second later did he reach back and grab a shovel and rake from the same doorway. Oh shit, was he a groundskeeper? Am I too late? Fuck, no wait. This place is huge, maybe she needs two? Oh please god need two, the ride back is gonna kill my wallet.

   The closer I get the more beautiful the house looks. This might actually be an old plantation home. That would make sense given the size of the yard. I can tell it’s solidly built as I step on the porch. Not a single creak or grown from the wood at all. I take a second before I knock on the door to check my appearance. My shirt is tucked, my shoes are clean, and my hair feels good. Ok, you’ve reversed this a hundred times since last night. Knock on the door, she answers. I say hello and offer a handshake, not too firm. We exchange names, I ask about the job. She asks my qualifications, can’t be too complicated for yard work. She either says yes or no, shake hands again and say thank you. Then I go home and wait for the call. Easy. I turn to knock on the door only find it already open, with a very beautiful woman laying against the doorframe.

   “And how can I help you young man?” she said. Her hair was a light brown color, accented with thin streaks of white. Her face looked beautiful despite light evidence of aging. He skin was still tight, but there was the odd wrinkle here and there. She wore a burgundy silk robe that failed completely at masking her impressive figure. Her hips made waves in her robe as they rested on the bawdy flesh. She looked like an ex-playboy bunny. “Young man? How can I help you?” she said. I hadn’t realized but her sudden appearance had thrown me off. “Oh, um, well,” I said. I fumbled with my hands trying to produce the slip for her. “I, well I was hoping that you could maybe hire me as a gardener. I mean the groundskeeper job,” oh god. I totally fucked this up. She had a questioning look on her face as she grabbed the flyer. “Well first off if you’re begging for a job you should probably lead with your name.”“Right, it’s Jack. I mean I’m Jack,” goddamnit Jack, you totally fucked up.“Thank you, Jack, my name is Irene Haderly. Secondly, I’m sorry to say that I filled that position over two years ago. This is just an old flyer, you probably already saw my groundskeeper, Samson, this morning. He’s more than enough for the property. What I really need right now is a maid. My last one quit about a month ago and it kills my knees cleaning this place by myself. So unless you want that job I can’t really help you.”

   I knew it was too good to be true. I never catch any breaks, I’m gonna be in debt for the rest of my goddamn life. But as she turned her back to me I felt this little ball of white-hot anger in my stomach grow. I was pissed at everything. My shitty apartment, my negative bank account, my stupid shyness, and it just sort of exploded. “Does the maid job pay just as well?!” I said. God, even angry I’m pathetic. But my whiny ejaculation seemed to peak her interest. “It does, actually. Even better, one-fifty an hour plus room and board. You would be expected to live here while you’re employed by me, and there is an appearance code that needs to be followed, are you up for that?” It was even better than I hoped, except for the appearance code. “Um, you’re not going to make me crossdress, are you?” Hell for that much money I wouldn’t even mind. “No, no. Nothing like that. You would, of course, need to sign an agreement, I lose maids so often I would just feel better if you made a commitment to working and living here. Would six months be alright with you?” Six months? At one-fifty an hour? With no expenses? “Could we make it a year? That sounds great!”

   I followed her inside and boy it looked awesome. It was the first time in my life I had an occasion to use the word opulence. I followed her down a naturally lit hallway, the sunlight blinding me on more than one occasion until we reached her office. She removed a simple looking brass key from her robe, it looked kinda heavy but I don’t remember seeing its outline in her clothing. “Now, other than tending to your duties, the only rule of the house is that you are never allowed in this office unless accompanied by me. Is that clear?”“Yes, ma’am.” That’s a pretty easy rule to follow. She handed me a fairly wordy looking piece of paper and told him where to sign. I had finally dotted the last I and crossed the last T, “Alright, ma’am, I think I’m done.” She smiled in a very loving way. “Perfect, now we just need to get your appearance up to snuff, follow me,” she said. This was the most nerve-wracking part. Was she actually going to make me crossdress? She said no but the thought was still chipping away at me.

   I was both happy and confused when she lead me instead of her closet to a side room in her office. It looked like a pantry filled with mason jars. It looked like they were filled with various spices, maybe she made her money with some artisanal spice company. But why bring me here? She looked like she carefully considered each jar, then she reached up and grabbed a small one and dumped the contents into her hand. She brought her hands together and rubbed the spice into her hands repeatedly. She brought her hands close to her mouth as she rubbed and it seemed like she was whispering into it. “Now, this is going to feel a little weird but don’t worry, it won’t hurt a bit.”

   What? She lifted her palm to my face and blew the dusty spice in my face before I could ask what she meant. I coughed violently as the powder flew down my throat and into my eyes. “What the hell was that!?” I said trying to rub the powder from my face, oddly enough though, she was right in that it didn’t hurt at all. “Sorry, I thought you read the contract? This was all explicitly stated.” I was about to tell her that nothing in there said anything about getting sand blown in my face, but all that came out was slurred speech. My knees were getting weak too. I didn’t feel any pain at all. But it was like I could feel the little bits of powder burrowing into my body. My vision got really fuzzy but I could feel everything so much clearer. I could feel really big, powerful hands grab my shoulder and cradle me in even more powerful arms. I knew we were walking but I didn’t know where until I was placed on a bed. It felt like little tacks all over my body just scratching the surface of my skin. It was heavenly.

   My whole body felt like the head of my dick when I masturbated. I tried to reach down for my cock but my whole body felt like jelly. Then after what felt like an eternity, it started to die down. I could finally feel how heavy I was breathing and it was like a had weights on my chest. My back was arched somewhat awkwardly too, but overall I just felt a bit out of sorts. My vision was still cloudy, like my contact lenses had fallen out. Without them, I could barely see a foot in front of my face, but I could make out the shapes of two people on the opposite side of the room. One was Ms. Haderly, but the other one took a little thinking before I could recognize Samson’s broad shoulders. “Finally awake I see, well good. You woke up a lot faster than some of the others.”“Woke up? Did you drug me or something? This isn’t some kinda kinky snuff thing you have right? Please tell me it’s not.”“Don’t be silly, you just had to be altered to fit the appearance requirement, and you turned out pretty great too If I do say so myself.” What was she talking about, turned out great? Oh shit, this was totally like the human centipede. In a moment of cinema-induced paranoia, I reached a hand behind me and, for a brief moment, fully expected to feel the face of some other poor guy who got caught in her trap. I did end up grabbing a lot more flesh than I usually did, but it wasn’t someone else’s face.

   It was my own ass, but it felt gigantic. My bottom was, at its apex, a boney little thing that only by the most generous definitions could be called an ass. This thing I had my hand digging into though, this was a real ass. It was curved, meaty, springy and pretty responsive to touch. I could feel the blood rushing all sorts of places as I fondled my way to understanding. Unconsciously my thighs rubbed together, and when they did I noticed a distinct lack of testicular pressure when I did that though. I wasn’t alone in the room but I really had to be sure. With my free hand I reach to my crotch I closed my eyes and uttered one last prayer and tried to grab my dick. Instead, my palm slaps into a flat, slick, cleft.

   I’m not some super macho guy, so being emasculated wasn’t exactly earth-shattering to me but who wouldn’t start freaking out after losing something so important? Other than my ass and my chest my body felt so light and wispy. I felt a rising nervous energy in my toes and I started bouncing on my heels. Ms. Haderly moved to my side quickly. “Now I know this is a shock, I would be pretty flustered too. But let me just explain what’s going on, okay? Samson, why don’t you leave us to some girl time?” He didn’t say anything as he turned around and left. I still teetered on the edge of a meltdown, but if she did this to me she was the only one who could undo it. So I just listened.

   “You have probably guessed already but I’m something like a witch. And you may not believe me but this was all spelled out in that contract, and I wasn’t kidding about the pay scale. Every hour you live here you’ll make one-hundred and fifty dollars, now a young guy like you probably needs cash like that. And this is only for a year. Now do the math, 24 hours a day at one-fifty an hour, you’ll be a millionaire by then.” That stopped me in my tracks. That was so much money it was crazy. “Why do I have to be a girl though?” “That’s just the way the magic works. Aside from the looks, which are much improved by the way, it also comes with the knowledge of how to execute your duties. That and, well let’s just say the job comes with some really great benefits,” she said. Her nails glided along my thigh, and her hand reached and grabbed what I assumed to be one of my breasts. I hope that’s what it was because I still couldn’t see well, and they felt amazing to be held. She moved in closer and kissed me. Her much larger chest pressed into mine and her tongue darted around my mouth. When she separated I didn’t need my glasses to make out the sultry face she was giving me as she licked her lips. “So, what do you think?”

   She led me to my room a half an hour later, it was towards the front of the house on its left side. The room was directly beside Samson’s it seemed. When I stepped in, from what little I could make out, it was huge. It looked bigger than my crappy studio by three times. She guided me over to a bed and for a second I thought we were going to resume what she started upstairs, but instead, she told me to get dressed and start going through the list of chores. I suppose I shouldn’t be too surprised by the uniform she wanted me to wear. It looked like a sexy french maid’s costume, but the thing I was excited about was the glasses on top of the pile of silky clothes. I wasted no time or thought in putting them on, and oddly enough they were my exact prescription. The room instantly became clear and I took in its full rustic splendor. A room like this in the city would cost no less than six thousand a month, and it was mine for just the cost of my cock and balls.

   I was nervous as I crept into the hallway in my new uniform, but not nearly as much as I expected or was accustomed to. This was the most flesh I had ever had exposed while still being dressed. My legs were encased in the thinnest white fabric stockings I could have imagined. The air passed right through and stroked my legs as if they were naked. My heels actually confused me in his easy I took to walking in them. They were over five inches tall, and at first glance, I had no idea how I could walk in them without undergoing training. But as my feet slipped into them it felt just like riding a bicycle, and not once did I even buckle in the slightest. The bra and panties went on in much the same way, but the feel of the silk underwear still caused a blush across my body. They were tight and the panties clung to my new sex, creating a slight camel toe. The bra seemed like it was intended to make my, really rather impressive, chest pop and call attention to itself. There I stood, dressed only in my new underwear and heels, like a lot of porn I had watched, with a chest that begged to be touched. I really wanted to, like really really. But Ms. Haderly had given me a list of chores to get to, and if she could do this to me to help my work go easier, then I really didn’t want to picture what she could do when she was mad.

   My incredibly short skirt bounced as I walked the halls and cleaned the rooms, with a feather duster no less. The house was kept mostly immaculate and only required light upkeep. Still, the house was large and the sun was setting by the time I had finished. I had been required to make Ms. Haderly both lunch and dinner, now I hadn’t made much more than Kraft mac n’ cheese for the last few years, but as I entered the kitchen I flitted about like a master chef. Before I knew it I had made her a hearty seafood salad for lunch, and that evening I made her a two-course meal, a simple Caprese salad and a roast beef for the main course. She even praised the meal, saying it was simply delicious. I had no idea magic could make someone so effective at something so complicated.

   Not only the cooking was different, but I seemed to have an intimate knowledge of the layout of the house, and my own timetable, and well…I seemed to just do everything in the sexiest possible way. I don’t think I ever bent my knees once the whole day, always at the waist and displaying my round ass to whoever was lucky enough to be behind me. My walk was punctuated with a side to side thrust of my hips with every step. Whenever I was in Ms. Haderly’s presence I always had my hands clasped in front of my stomach, which squeezed my breasts together making them look even larger. Honestly, I didn’t mind as much as I would’ve as a guy. I wasn’t good looking, not hardly, but now I was hot. Like really hot, and I kinda loved flaunting it. The sun was finally gone and as I returned to my sizable room, I ran into the groundskeeper Samson as he returned to his.

   I had never actually been introduced to him. A few times I saw him through the windows as I cleaned them, he mostly didn’t wear a shirt all day. That was concerning me. Normally I would be jealous of his intense physical fitness, he was as big as Schwarzenegger and as toned as Bruce Lee. I was jealous that I didn’t have his body, just not in the way I normally would be. He still didn’t have a shirt on and his body glistened with sweat and his tanned chest and face were planted with small, light patches of dirt and dust. “Oh, nice to see you awake. I’m Samson. So I guess you’re staying then?” he says. His rock solid arm reaches up and rubs the back of his neck. His body is so toned I can see each individual muscle move when he shifts his weight. “Y..yeah, it’s really good money, ya know?” My thighs rubbed together absentmindedly, feeling much hotter than I thought they should. “Yeah, that’s what drew me here a few years ago. What was your name again?” he said.“It’s Jack, but you can call me Jaclyn if you think it sounds better,” I said, blushing harder than I had for a long time. “That’s a pretty name, suits you much better now. It’ll take some getting used to though believe me,” he said.“Wait, did she…?” I said.“Yup, two years ago. My name was Samantha, if you can believe it,” he said. I very easily could. I moved my hands behind my back and took a few steps forward, hips rolling with each step. “So, did she change everything on you too?”

   Not five minutes later I was thrown on my bed as he used his powerful muscles to strip me bare. I undid his denim jeans with my teeth and his hard cock slapped against my face, the heat of his solid manhood made my glasses fog up. We were just about to get into it when we heard a that clear near the door. It was Ms. Haderly, dressed in the same robe from this morning. I was horny as hell but nervous, terrified I had broken some unknown rule. “You naughty, little servants should know better. You need to wait for your mistress before getting started.” She stepped forward and her robe slid off revealing her still tight and erotic naked body. She joined me on the bed and began to lick and tease Samson’s cock. Her hand was pawing at my supple ass. It was then that I had made up my mind, this was the best job ever.

The end. Hope Y’all like it!