#I have this brain rot that won't stop about this dude

[wildmtthyme]

WIP header preview. Yes, I know I still have other stories to finish/post. But... but... this one... (⌐■_■)

[watery-melon-baller]

its so fun :)) and awesome :)) that i cannot fucking make my brain focus on my homework :))) holy shit im gonna kill someone :)) why can't my brain just work for five fucking minutes :)) this is easy homework too I just can't concentrate on it at all :)) and it's due tomorrow morning :)))

[idesofrevolution]

Horizons II: Numbers

READ CHAPTER ONE HERE

I looked at Omarion with my lupine grin, my sweet lookin' stolen face twisted and devilish. Couldn’t stop myself from snatching the blunt right out of his fingers mid puff and bringing it to my lips. Here’s the thing, bro; yeah, I was 6'3 and fit as fuck, not gonna lie. But Omarion was another beast entirely. The guy was almost 7'0 and lean like the good runner he was. You had to have someone get in and out of a place like a jackrabbit? Omarion's your boy. Those size 17 stompers he's got somehow are quick and quiet, especially when he kicks my ass on the basketball court. I let out a big fuckin' cloud in his face, winkin' as I hand the smokin' cigarello back to him.

"So, 'white boy'..." Omarion chuckled under his breath, still all kinds of fucked up about his Colombian parcero stretchin' out this gringo's bod. "You got a dude for me or what? Fuckin' hogs be runnin' me all over town." I looked down at my feet, racking this dude's memories for the name of that little sidepiece that he dumps his load into every Saturday night. I pushed down the growing rage I felt as Aidan's face continued to appear in my head- I didn't have a bit of guilt squeezin' into this fucker knowing what he did to that kid. I had even less guilt about what I was about to do to that tiny lil bitch as his name finally popped into my brain.

"Orlando. Orlando Avellaneda." Omarion raised his eyebrow at me as I looked at him with my big blue eyes. I kinda loved the way it fucked with him. "He's over off Frederick Street. He's this dude's little fuck toy. Bruh, it's wild. This guy is a full on fuckin' racist, but he's got a thing for the Cuban boys." Omarion took a big drag from the lit cigarello, puffin' out a couple of rings before smiling.

"Beggars can't be choosers, bro. But you ain't stickin' that monster inside me, even if I'm in 'your' side ho." I punched that tatted up tower in the arm, laughin' at his seriousness.

"You good, man. I promise I won't drill ya. Can't promise you won't wanna, though." I pawed at my bulge playfully as he grimaced in disgust.

"Boy if you don't stop playin'. Get in the fuckin' car." He stomped his giant AF1 on the blunt, struttin' over to the far corner of the warehouse. I followed behind, and behind the back pillar sat a fresh as fuck Jeep. Omarion hopped in the driver's seat, and the engine roared to life. Fuck I missed that sound. Nothin' like a roarin' engine, speedin' down the highway, dodgin' screamin' pigs and bitch ass Nissans to get away. I hopped in, wondering if I'd ever get to feel that rush again. I think back to Aidan, that innocent little face of his... was I really condemned to being some nine to fiver, rotting away in a cubicle. I couldn't ditch the dude, that would fuck him up beyond fixin'. But this beast can't be fuckin' caged man.

"Haul ass outta here, bro. Gotta get back before he gets suspicious." Omarion rolled his eyes, slammin' that cinder block foot onto the gas and plowing through the wood planks on the warehouse door, and out of the port. I looked down at Chase's phone, pullin' up his texts. I scrolled through bullshit after bullshit from his lame ass bank job- put a pin in that for later. Finally, I found the little shit. Orlando's name popped up midway down, the horny fuck puttin' a peach emoji right on his contact. I hit call and put my finger to my lips, Omarion snickering as I did.

"Uh... Chase? Did you forget your wallet again?" His voice was shrill and irritating, nothin' like Aidan. You could hear the brattiness with every word.

"I'm comin' over. Get that ass ready." He was quiet on the other side of the line, givin' me a mini heart attack thinkin' I'd fucked up and freaked him out. At least until I heard his breaths under the static.

"Mmmm playin' bad boy tonight are we? Your houseboy not giving you what you need?" I felt my teeth grind, who the fuck was this little cocksucker to talk about him that way... I took a deep breath, Omarion still raisin' his eyebrows at my huffin' and puffin'.

"Yeah, I'm feelin' nasty tonight. I'm gonna stretch that mouth as wide as it'll go." Little did he know.

"Door's unlocked, lemme give you what he can't. See you soon, baby." He hung up, and I tossed Chase's phone onto the center console of the car. Wouldn't be needing it for much longer, anyway. Omarion had his eyes plastered on the road, clearly biting his tongue. Honestly, I get it. I ate pussy like it was a fuckin' banquet, so did he. I didn't understand why I got so fuckin' enfadado at any slight against that blonde twink either. As much as I got under this gringo's skin, he'd gotten under mine too.

"So. You into this boy, ain't you?" I whipped my head to scowl at him.

"I'm not into him. I'm just playin' the game, bro." He chuckled under his breath, shakin' his head.

“Sure, bruh. Last I checked you were on track for a hundred bitches in one year. Eyes on the prize, brother!” He turned, laughin’ his stupid ass off, but not one laugh came outta me. That shit didn’t escape him, he noticed right away. That smile faded quick before we sat the rest of the ride in silence, he didn’t even put on Kendrick like he usually did. This shit was gettin' complicated. As we pulled up to his bougie ass townhouse, I heard the lil' ping comin' out of my phone, seeing a missed call and text from Aidan. Omarion opened the door, stepping out onto the street, turnin' to stare at me. "C'mon bro, we don't have time for this shit."

"Bruh, gimme a fuckin' second!" I swiped down, seeing the message from Aidan:

Aidan: Did you get stuck in traffic? I hope the ice cream doesn't melt...

I smiled, that boy ain't even mad. I don't get people worryin' about where I'm at, what I'm doin', who I'm with... I opened the camera, snapping a picture givin' him those 'Imma fuck the shit outta you' eyes.

Chase: yeah, babe- got stuck by the bridge. ice cream is fucked, gonna get you a nice n creamy one. i know u like that.

He replied with that naughty lil' devil emoji. Mmmm... I bet he'd be on his knees the minute I walked in that door. I felt my rod stirrin' in my jock, drippin' my juices out this gringo's swollen cock. This guy really got me goin'... but fuck. I wasn't a fuckin' cocksucker.

"Put that fuckin' phone down. We gotta fuckin' go, bro!" I nodded at Omarion, seein' just how pissed he was gettin' standing there. Tossin' that phone in the backseat, I got out the car and walked up to his door. Tappin' the doorbell, that thirsty lil fuck came runnin' down the stairs, whipping that door open quicker than I expected. The skinny lil twig stared up at me, clearly confused why Chase was as sexy as I made him overnight and why this 7'0 shirtless ebony giant is lookin' at him that way. The kid was a pipsqueak. Fresh outta college, ‘applying for dental school’ apparently. Typical dick cravin’ lil’ fa… gay boy.

"Whoa... Chase?" The lil bitch looked me up and down, I snickered as I saw his dicklet go full mast as I crossed my inked arms.

"The one and only, baby." I winked at him, watchin' his face flush red as an apple, before throwin' my arm around my bro. "This is Omarion. I think he's in need of a little.. stress relief." My man was gropin' at that jackhammer of his and that monster grew at just a single touch, snakin' down his sweatpants like the anaconda it is. I smirked, watchin' drool start to stream down Orlando's smooth chin.

"Yeeh... Yeah that sounds... good... But, when did you get tat..." I couldn't help but laugh as Omarion gripped him by the fuckin' cheeks, pushing him back into the living room. I shut the door behind us, smugly turning the deadbolt before slowly pullin' down my sweats. I turned around, grippin' my musky, sticky jock and my jaw nearly fuckin' dropped. Omarion had already dropped trou, his big ass Nikes and sweats chucked over the back end of the couch, and both Orlando and I completely fixated on that huge ass screwdriver stickin' straight outta his curly pubes. Fuck, maybe I hadn't really looked before when we double teamed the last few girls- too busy with my cock down her throat, but holy fuckin' shit bruh. Thick as a beercan, veins runnin' down that footlong like rivers, and his mushroom head pokin' the little twink right in the nose.

"Yo, you down for the spit?" Omarion snickered as he pried Orlando's thin lips open, hockin' a thick wad of spit into his mouth. Man, when I tell you I was in the fuckin' position in three seconds flat-the twink's feet over my shoulders, his grey shorts pulled to the side with that puckery hole just beggin' for my cock. Omarion threw up his fist, our tatted knucks colliding like the green light we both knew it was. "Alright lil' bitch, open wide." Orlando, the obedient little sub, could barely open that mouth any bigger than he already did before my bro had thrust that footer straight down his throat, blowin' out a hoot of pleasure as his head slowly fell back. My mind flashed back to Aidan back at the apartment, probably checkin' his phone to see if I was on my way back...

"Bro..." Man... I couldn't get him out of my head. I had a tight hole pressed against my steamy bulge and all I could think about was... "BRO!" I shook my head, lookin' up at my bro straight up face fuckin' Orando's gaggin' face. "Wake the fuck up, bruh. Hurry it up and stick it in already!" It's a means to an end, I tell myself. I pull down my jock, my cock already standin' alert, drippin' with my pre and some of last night's load still caught under the hood. I felt my old self for a sec- my brows gettin' low, my teeth barin', that animal snarl... Well, his hole will be a nice lil' cleaner for me. I smirked, pressin' that musky head against his beggin' pucker, and with a deep fuckin' groan, slowly let my slimy rod slip into his guts. "That's my fuckin' boy. Come on!" Omarion picked up his pace, leanin' over the fucker and holdin' onto the couch beneath him, grinnin' from ear to ear. Man, when I say I love tag teamin' with my boy, I FUCKIN' LOVE IT. The guy just turns up the heat, bruh, and that shit just gets me goin'.

I let my long ass tongue flop out my mouth, smilin' and pantin' as I start plowin' that twink ass. Orlando was moanin' and chirpin' like the thirsty lil slut he is, gettin' pegged from both sides by two professional fuckers. Sweat drippin' down my forehead, Omarion and I just look at eachother, smirkin' at the sounds of his sweaty balls slappin' against the twink's face, and my groin against his bony lil' ass.

"Fuckin' take this dick, lil' pussy. Yeah suck it." Omarion slapped Orlando's cheek, the little pervert whining as he's spitroasted. As the lil' fucker's eyes closed in lust, my boy looked me dead in the eye, and I knew exactly what it meant. Omarion slowly stepped back, his dick slowly pulling out of the twink's throat. I lean in over his panting face, my scowl growin' crazed as I rammed his ass.

"Woohoo, bro. You really shoulda got your own breeder, pendejo. This one's taken." His eyes squinted in confusion as I pulled out of his lil' pucker, and Omarion made his move, stickin' that massive mitt into his open mouth, pullin' his lips wider and wider- his head stretchin' and distorting as he tugged, before bringin' his size 17 dog up and shovin' it down Orlando's pre-stretched throat. That wet squelch rang out as his neck bulged around the shape of that smelly fuckin' boat slidin' down into his chest.

Lemme just break this down for you. Slippin' into someone, that's one thing. Feels fuckin' great, gets you off, the sounds and smells and the texture... yeah it's hot. But watchin' your bro squeezin' into some bitchass... that's a whole different fuckin' level, bruh. Seein' him plop his ass on the back of the couch, slippin' his other foot down the twink's gurglin' throat, lettin' himself just slide down into Orlando's bod lubed with his own sweat. I couldn't help myself, bro. I grabbed my musky cock, slowly pumpin' it as I watched his calves slurp down into the lil' fucker. This is karma, bitch. I bet he loved the feelin' of his thick ass thighs stretchin' his head like a rubber mask, or the smell of his round sweaty ass as he sits down right on top of his nose. Wanna know how I know? Those whimpers turned into moans real fuckin' quick. He turned and looked at me jackin' away, goonin' at the insane sight.

"Bruh, c'mon! I get your bod is gettin' you horny but help me in and we can get the fuck outta here!" Fuck, he was right. Bein' inside Chase had my brain doin' a buncha fuck shit, as much as I'd changed him- I think he was changin' me too... I blinked, runnin over to the squirming pipsqueak and holding him down, watchin' as Omarion kept sinkin' himself deeper and deeper inside of him. His toes bulged out beneath the pale skin, slidin' down his smooth legs, his skinny calves, and with a buncha grunts n' squeezin' from Omarion, his gigantic feet suctioned into Orlando's immediately bloating them into my boy's veiny, funky size 17s.

Omarion goes to a whole 'nother level when he's gettin' into you. Those eyes got wild, grinnin' like the Joker as he pinched the twink's waist, and stretched the legs tight over his own. Slowly, Orlando's legs swelled and suctioned over my boy's his tight calves and basketball-trained quads bulging out of this kid's skin. His curly brown hairs sprouting out of the pale legs, before quickly tanning with his mocha body inside.

"Lemme just... Unf!" He shoved his hands into the gapin' maw, slinkin' down to his semi hard dick, deflated after his fake lust had faded away. I watched as his snake slid into Orlando's, stretchin' it wide before those kiwi balls of his slurped into his new droopy sac. The man was gigglin' like a fuckin' lunatico, his ass now inflating the bony rear into two watermelons below his skinny waist. His arms found their way into the twink's shoulders; like slippin' on a pair of overalls, all he needed to do was shrug, and the rubbery skin slurped over his torso and chest. A couple of his tatts slowly rose to the surface: barbed wire from his time in the pen, and two snakes circlin' around eachother- a tribute to our partnership for the past decade. His arms slid down into their new gloved home, the skin creaking and groaning as the big ol' mitts swelled into their new fingers n' palms.

"Aight bro, thanks for the ride!" We bumped our knuckles, as he took Orlando's orgasmic face, pulling it over the back of his head and letting it snap right over his own. Squeaks, creaks, and squelches echoed in the room as he tugged on the mask atop his head: Orlando's lips growin' thick, his nose flattenin', the sharp stubble poppin' out his sharp jaw... Fuck... Why was I thinkin' that way...

My bro opened his new eyes, the twink's pretty boy face now twisted into a gruff ass snarl. Reachin' over to his sweatpants, he pulled out the blunt he'd rolled in the car, stickin' it between his lips and lighting it. Seein' a lil' cockslut turn into a fuckin' giant ass man, blowin' his thick clouds was such a fuckin' trip.

"Orlando, huh? Bruh, this guy was a fuckin' tightass motherfucker." Hearin' that high pitched voice gravelly n' low... that shit got my stomach in knots. "This shit never gets old, man. Trippy as fuck every time." He took another puff before handin' that good shit over to me, snickering at my hard on I'd tried to slip back into my jock. As I took a hit, that motherfucker started leanin' over and pokin' it! "Yeah, man. I see what you mean when ya slip into a cocksucker. Certain things just look... different through these eyes."

I couldn't say for sure man, but I think I felt my cheeks get red from his touch. Even through this twunk's face I could see Omarion's fuckin' smirk on his lips, feel that fucker's grip in his hands, smell that musk flowin' from out his skin. It was Omarion through and through, and fuck was it crazy to see those lil things comin' from Orlando's body. I smacked that chucklin' dick's hand off my rod, playin' it off as best I could.

"Yeah, you fuckin' wish this dick was up your thirsty ass." He huffed under his breath, jumpin' off the bed and over to the bag he'd dropped by the door to get into a more fittin' look.

"Shit, bruh. He's got some spunk in these balls. Just gimme some pussy and... UNH... UNH... UNH..." He hip thrust forward, grinnin' as he slipped on his tank. I couldn't watch him too long, 'cuz as much as I wanted to deny it, I wanted to see him fuckin' some tight hole in this bod. He looked good.

"Heh, you gonna find some good cumdump in that pretty boy." I walked over, handin' him the joint before slippin' on my sweatpants. I felt him lookin' at me, didn't have to even turn around.

"So... what's the plan, bro? Back to 'your' place, regroup, and get movin'?" I stopped for a second, realizing that while I shoulda been thinkin about the escape plan, I wasn't. Every moment that day my head shoulda been in the game, like it was every other time I hid in some perra. But it wasn't. The whole time, all I was thinkin' was how long it'd take to get back to Aidan.

"Uh, yeah. We should get goin'." I turned around, lookin' at him slippin those big funky dogs into his AF1's, tossin' the empty bag over his shoulder.

“Well, let’s dip.” Omarion strut out the door as if he owned the place. Well, I guess he did, heh. He’s always been a pro at this shit. Bro is a fuckin’ chameleon. When he’s in you, nobody would do so much as a double take. He’s got your memories on lock. He’s got your interests on lock. He’s got your voice, your walk, your smile… By the time he hops out, he’s got ‘em thinkin’ you just had a phase or some shit like that.

See, when we’re inside you, you’re seein’ everything we’re seein’, feelin’ how we feel, thinkin’ how we think… Sometimes when we ditch your skin, you wake up a bit different than you used to be. I mean, we’re doin’ you a favor. You get a fuckin’ sick ass sex god wearin’ and stretchin’ your body out, you’re gonna walk away with a bit of our swagger in you, bruh. Chase was a slow learner with that, bitchin’ and moanin’ 24/7, but nothin’ more than a whisper way back there pretendin’ like he hates my big ass schlong swingin’ between his legs. But Omarion, he has a fuckin’ queue of bros beggin’ him to squeeze back in ‘em. He does somethin’ different, bro. I don’t know how to explain it. I didn’t then, on that drive that night after stoppin’ at some shitty cornerstore to swipe some ice cream for Aidan, I just sorta stared at him. Didn’t say much, just vibed to some Curren$y as he weaved through fuckin’ slow ass cars; but I had to ask.

“So how the fuck 're you so good at this shit, man?” He turned to me, raisin’ his eyebrow. “Like you get in him like it’s nothin’, and it’s like he’s always been this way. No one bats a fuckin’ eye.” Omarion rolled his eyes, turnin’ back to the road.

“You get way too into it, bruh.” His voice was low and cold.

“The fuck? What’s that supposed to mean?” I knew exactly what he meant. But in the back of my head, I needed to hear him say it.

“When I go into hidin’, I’m not out there keepin’ up their relationships. I’m not callin’ their moms. I don’t give a fuck about goin’ into work. I get in, get the fuck outta town, and get out. No strings, no bullshit.” His eyes were fixed on the road, I knew he’d been meanin’ to say this for a while. “But you, bro? You out there makin’ sure the rent is paid. You out there makin’ excuses for where they’re goin’. You tellin’ their professors you goin’ to a funeral so you gotta take some time off of class. You get involved, bruh. You always do.” He finally looked at me, not mad or anything, but he was serious. “This time I got a feelin’ you in too deep.”

“I’m am not.” I did my best to be all, ‘I don’t give a fuck’ about the clock. But Omarion knows me too damn well. He saw right through that shit.

“We stopped for ice cream for your butt buddy, bro.” We sat in silence for an uncomfortably long time. Felt like fuckin’ ages, but he finally summed it up. “You gotta ditch this dude. We stayin’ the night and you either ditch the boyfriend or ditch the bod. Get a new dude and leave this shit in the dust. We got a job to do. Don’t forget that.”

Took forty minutes to get back to the apartment. Bruh, I was sweatin' bullets. I didn't know how Omarion would vibe with Aidan, what kind of excuse I was gonna have to come up with. I looked down at the plastic bag and the half melted chocolate ice cream inside. No, the bodega didn't have fuckin' pistachio. Yes, I asked. Omarion stood next to me in the elevator, flexin' and snappin' pics to send the boss.

"Aight, we're friends. We saw eachother at the corner store. You're comin' back to smoke and chill. Got it?" Omarion huffed, slippin' his bod's phone back into his sweats.

"Yeah, we good. But tomorrow mornin', we dippin' right?" I couldn't even look at him. I just nodded. "Bruh, we're gettin' the fuck outta here, ditchin' these bitches and gettin' back to the boss. That's the fuckin' plan. Don't get all horny for this dude, you ain't stayin."

"I'm not fuckin' horny for him, bro!" The elevator doors opened, and we walked up to the door. Just as I was fuckin' with the keys, I heard the door unlock and watched as the door swung open. He stood on the other side, lookin' irritated as fuck. Aidan stood there with his arms crossed, flingin' knives out his eyes.

“Just headed to get ice cream, huh?” I stuttered, couldn’t get a single word out. He looked so disappointed, man. “Two nights, Chase? Two nights you come home hours late, doing who knows what kind of shit all night!” He was pissed, and let me tell you somethin’. No one fuckin’ talks to me like that. You raise your voice, I raise my fuckin’ fist. Talk to me like I’m some bitch and you’ll be hangin’ by your balls from the ceiling. So, why couldn’t I say anything? I stood there like a fuckin’ tool, stutterin’ and all ‘uhhh… ummm… you know…’ If he were any other bro comin’ at me like that I’d have laid his ass out on the tile floor. But not a fuckin’ word would leave my lips. I just couldn’t, man. Thank fuckin’ Christ for Omarion, savin’ the day with a quick one.

“Hey, I’m Orlando. I’m friends with Chase.” He stuck his hand out, smiling at Aidan with that charmer grin of his. “I saw this dumbass beggin’ the guy at the counter for some pistachio ice cream and was like 'yo, it’s my boy!” Aidan looked at him all skeptical, just starin’ at his hand. Turnin’ to me, all I did was nod like a fuckin’ dumbass, handing him the bag of ice cream. I was gettin’ nervous, but after a second or two he cracked a smile and shook his hand. I let out a sigh of relief. As Omarion did what he did best, playin’ it on the down low and makin’ him feel all comfortable.

“Nice to meet you, Orlando. Sorry about the blow up. But your ‘bro’ over there knows what I’m talkin’ about, right?” I could tell he was still annoyed, but Omarion’s magic tongue had taken his tone down. He waved us in, lettin’ Omarion through but holdin’ his arm in front of me before I could even walk through the door. He got in close, and I felt his arms slowly slide around my waist. I saw under that sweet lil’ smile a whole lotta sadness. I really fuckin’ hurt the guy. His lips quickly planted on mine, my eyes closed and all I wanted to do was to at least make the guy feel like this piece of shit I was piloting would do the right thing for once. When our lips parted, he leaned into my ear and whispered. “Please, Chase. Don’t do it again.”

He turned around, walkin’ to the kitchen to get some bowls. I shut the door behind us, and couldn’t avoid Omarion’s fuckin’ death stare. All of that just proved his point. I was in deep, too fuckin’ deep. But seein’ him again in that moment, the big blue eyes and that sweet smile… I was havin’ second thoughts about the plan.

---

Alright, folks! This is going to be the last entry of Horizons posted to Tumblr, the rest of this piece is gonna be exclusively on Blogspot and GSS. I know that may disappoint some of y'all, but here's why. Tumblr isn't the greatest place for longform multichapter stories, and Horizons is turning into something a lot bigger than just two or three posts on here. Each of these chapters are turning into 5k+ words and it's just not ideal for this platform. GSS allows for multiple chapters under a uniform series, which helps tremendously with continuity. I invite y'all to come check out Horizons on GSS, and I'll be sure to link it whenever a new chapter is added. As of right now, I have solid plot framework for 4 chapters of it, with it being very open to having several more afterward. I'll continue to have one-offs on Tumblr, so don't think I'm ditchin' y'all. I'm still here and I ain't going nowhere. :)

[orions-choker]

+:★:+* Chapter Eight: The Thing That Should Not Be +:★:+*

Pencil to paper, a satisfying scratching at the parchment that tickled the inner parts of Y/N’s brain. Her fingertips stained black from the smudging of charcoal, swiped along her cheek from where she had haphazardly rubbed at her face. Across the page were different concepts, grotesque demons, decaying corpses, rotting flesh. This was completely her element, her passion for all things disgusting and terrifying.

“For us?” Jason asked from above her, finger pointing towards a particular drawing on the page. Her eyes drifted upwards shyly and nodded slowly. “It’s uh, pretty sick.” He sat down beside her on the floor, crossing his legs out in front of him. “You don’t design all our shirts do you?”

Y/N’s hand paused its movement on the paper, twiddling the splintering wood of the pencil between her fingers. “No, Pushead does most of the art for the boys.” She explained. Her thumb flipped absentmindedly through the pages. “James knows I cant handle that kind of pressure all the time so it's just kind of a… ‘if you design something we will put it on a shirt’”

She stopped on a page, full of life studies. It was mostly the boys lounging around, vague gestures of their forms across the page. The most detailed were those of Kirk and Jason. “Huh, I think you made me look too pretty.” Jason joked, grinning at her lopsidedly. “Kirk looks about right.”

It was a sketch she had worked on while they were on stage, a little hard to get the features down right when they were running around like mad men but Y/N liked to think she did them justice. “Nah, you look right.” She smiled, holding the book up to the side of his face to compare. “I draw em’ as I see em’”. Closing the book she tucked it back into her bag. Her hands rubbing against her jeans to remove the charcoal staining.

“My bad, I won't question your artist integrity again.” He raised his hands defensively. He reached out gently, rubbing away at the mark across her face. “You look like you were playing in a pile of soot.” He laughed at the way her face scrunched up. She swatted his hands away with a smile.

Another body sat beside them, forming a small circle. Y/N didn’t need to look to see who it was. “Dude, stop harassing her!” Kirk’s voice resonated from beside her. He was smiling widely, that was more common lately. He leaned forward to punch Jason in the shoulder. “Why the fuck are we sitting on the floor by the way?”

Y/N giggled leaning back against her elbows. “Well I was sitting on the floor because it's more comfy to draw, I don’t know why you two idiots joined me.” Her eyes trailed across the boys across from her. She liked this, the little trio they had formed. It was different. With a sigh she looked at the clock, James hadn’t made it back home yet from another night of binge drinking, he was supposed to drive her to the salon soon. “One of you boys want to drive me to my hair appointment?”

Kirk raised an eyebrow, pulling an odd face. “Hair appointment.” His fingers reached out to tug at some loose strands of her hair from where it fell from her ponytail. “I thought you liked this wild untamed barbarian look you had going on.” His teasing had certainly become meaner.

His body was shoved over harshly. “You wanna see barbarian, I’ll show you barbarian.” She growled at him as he cackled. Crossing her arms over her chest she turned to Jason with pleading eyes. “Please.” She sang to him sweetly, batting her eyelashes.

“For the record, I think it's more like you have some witchy woman vibes.” Jason smiled at her, pulling himself off the ground before reaching his hand out towards her. “Yeah I’ll take you since your sorry excuse for a best friend won’t” He kicked Kirk lightly for emphasis, only earning them another laugh.

Y/N stuck her tongue out at Kirk from where he lay on the floor, staring up at the two of them with warm eyes, his curly hair a mess sprawled out along the carpet. “You’re my favorite now.” She took Jason’s hand as she got to her feet.

For a moment the room was warm, energy crackling around the three of them as they shared goofy smiles, laughter dying comfortably on their lips. “See you guys soon.” Kirk promised the two of them as they left.

Home had changed, with the new success of the band there was no reason for all of them to stay living in one small cramped house together. They had gone their separate ways as much as it pained Y/N to no longer share walls with her best friends. She moved in with James but it didn’t stop the boys from inviting themselves over whenever they liked. It was comforting to know some things stayed the same.

“You know, I’ve never seen you with short hair.” Jason commented as he turned the keys in the ignition. The car revved to life with a pleasant hum. He looked at her from the corner of his eye. "Why the sudden change?”

Y/N twirled the strands of her blonde hair between her fingers. “I used to have it short all the time, pretty much around the ride the lightning tour I just didn’t have time to cut it anymore.” She smiled as she pulled it back, mimicking the cut. “I looked really hot, like Debbie Harry from Blondie.” She giggled.

The city passed them by in a swirl of muted colors, distorted in the hot afternoon haze. It had been awhile since Y/N was actually out before the sun set, she felt like a vampire lately. “Don’t make that comparison.” Jason scoffed. He could see the offended look she gave him. “You’re prettier than that” He clarified quickly, smiling at her visible relief.

“Good save dude.” Y/N leant her head against the window, her hands coming to rest in her lap. She picked at the skin around her nails absentmindedly. Jason looked concentrated on driving, the city traffic in the middle of the day was aggravating. Lately she couldn’t stop staring at him, his smile, the silly little faces he made towards her when he caught her looking. It was annoying the way Jason consumed her lately.

Instead of replacing her thoughts of Kirk, Jason had carved out his own place in her heart. She felt like she was drowning most days, she hardly liked pining over one annoying curly haired boy now there were two. “Do you not think you’ll like my haircut?” She asked hesitantly. It had never occurred to her to consider what someone else might think.

Jason raised an eyebrow as he pulled into the crowded parking lot of the mall. “Does it matter what I think Y/N?” He asked softly. She looked at him wide eyed, shaking her head slowly. He didn’t turn the car off as he put it in park.

“Well no, I was just curious.” She fumbled over her words, fingers slipping against the seat belt buckle as she attempted to free herself from the sudden awkward tension. “I wouldn’t be able to cancel the appointment now even if you said no.” She chuckled nervously.

The buckle clicked open as Jason sideways to undo it for her. “I’m not stepping foot in a mall, I’ll be back for you in like an hour.” He ruffled her hair as she stepped out of the car. “For the record I think you would be pretty even if you were bald.” he joked as Y/N slammed the passenger side door, shooting him an annoyed glance before jogging off to the front doors.

Shopping malls stood for everything she stood against, a powerhouse of capitalism and consumerism, not to mention the assault on her senses. Ugly muted browns and beige colors accented by bright blue neon signs, the top 100 pop hits playing on loop over the loudspeakers. However nothing beats an overpriced mall pretzel or slice of greasy pizza.

However this was not a mission for overpriced food court meals. Quickly she beelined for the only salon in the mall she was familiar with. Checking in with the preoccupied teenager at the counter was nothing short of painful. Y/N found herself wondering if she had been quite as obnoxious.

For all the complaining she did, it was really nice to be pampered again. A head massage and the sudden feeling of weightlessness as the heavy hair was chopped away to her shoulders. As she ran her hands through the choppy layers landing just above her shoulders, she thought she couldn’t wait to show it off to the boys.

Like an excited child she sprinted to Jason’s car, waving wildly. It felt freeing, it felt like her old self, just a little bit. “Woah!” Was his immediate response, his grin ever so slightly lopsided.

“You like it?” She asked excitedly as she barreled into the car, leaning over the center console into his personal space. She grabbed one of his hands, placing it on her head so he could feel the soft slightly feathered texture. Her eyes twinkled as she waited for his response.

His touch was gentle as he ran his fingers through it. “It's just like seeing you for the first time.” He said fondly. Y/N’s skin flushed a rosy color as she sat back in her seat, pupils wide as her brain stuttered, trying to comprehend the compliment.

There was something different about it. Not like the way he usually called her cute, an offhand comment that she could sweep under the rug with a wave of her hand. They all called her cute, like it was an obligation for her friends to do so.

“Thanks.” Her voice coming out strangled as her finger picked nervously at the fabric of her shirt. “Did you go back to mine? Is Kirk still there? I'd like to show him too.” She gained the courage to ask again as they drove. She wasn't oblivious to the way Jason’s jaw tensed.

He shook his head, his tone a little more curt than usual. “No he left for a bit.” The silence that filled the air seemed thick with tension that Y/N couldn’t figure out a cause for. “He will probably swing by again later tonight.” His fingers thrummed against the leather of the steering wheel.

Y/N shrugged a little, watching as her driveway pulled into view, James’s truck still not there. “Oh okay, maybe we can all watch a movie again tonight!” She tried to lighten the mood as she stepped out of the car onto the pavement, Jason following her close behind. “I have The Texas Chainsaw Massacre Two on tape!” She informed him excitedly as they entered the house.

She watched as he strode over to the couch, laying his entire body across it with a soft grunt. “Yeah whatever you want.” He sighed softly, a lazy smile playing at his lips as Y/N moved to the couch as well, lifting his legs up so she could sit down before allowing them to fall on top of her lap. “Doesn’t help us now though.”

“Hmm, we could watch it without Kirk but he might kill us for that.” She hummed thoughtfully, sinking further into the cushions. “Did he say where he was going anyways? I wonder how long we have to wait.”

Jason’s eyes wouldn’t meet hers, the look on his face unfamiliar to her. Somewhere between a mixture of disappointment and anger, but she never truly saw Jason get angry at anything really. She placed a hand on his knee to gain his attention, raising her eyebrow in confusion. After another moment of silence he responded “He said he had a date tonight.”

There it was, that numb feeling that creeped across her skin, the warmth of the room dimming. She understood now why Jason was hesitant to tell her. “Ah,” She choked out. The hand she had placed on Jason’s knee clenched, the fabric of his jeans wrinkled under her touch. Jason nodded at her slowly. “That…sucks.”

“It does.” Jason agreed, a faraway look in his glassy eyes. It didn’t look like sympathy, more like pity. “He really knows how to dig the knife in deeper with us sometimes.” The laugh that followed was strained and rough.

Word’s didn’t seem to properly form on her tongue. She was of course privy to Kirk’s activities, she just did her best to shield herself from them, keeping the illusion real was easier said than done. “Want a hug Jase?” She asked finally. In part because she knew he needed it more, but she wanted the comfort as well.

Jason didn’t have to make his feelings public for her to know. She knew the longing in his eyes because hers was the same. It was a silent understanding they had come to, in some ways she thought it made them stronger friends. In love with the same boy who was so out of reach, neither could have him. She thought maybe it hurt her just a bit less because she had one more distraction.

The couch creaked beneath the shifting of their weight as Jason pulled Y/N against his chest wordlessly. She settled there with her own hands coming to wrap around him softly. “Ever think it's our own fault for never saying anything?” She laughed pitifully, fingers tracing soothing patterns against his back.

“Probably, I would never say anything anyways, wouldn’t be fair to you.” Jason confessed.

“Me neither.”

The gentle ticking of the clock on the wall was the only tell that time had passed as they sat there. Their bodies relaxed slowly, the embrace shifting into something more akin to a half hug. Supporting each other's weight and emotions all the same. “We’re pathetic, let's just watch the damn movie.” Y/N sighed with a sad smile.

Jason nodded, releasing his hold on her. “I’ll grab some drinks if you put it on.” He offered both of them moving to get off the couch. Y/N agreed with a smile, shuffling down in front of the T.V to rustle through her tape collection. The T.V roared to life with the previews, a slight static sound to the audio.

She grabbed her beer from Jason’s hand as he returned. There was an understanding between them as they settled into each other once more, his arm slung around her shoulders pulling her close as she hooked a leg over his. The alcohol did nothing to soothe the confusing ache in her stomach.

It was like rotting from the inside yearning for Kirk, and then having that rot plucked from within her by Jasons caring hands. An endless cycle of hurt and healing.She wondered if Jason felt similar. She looked up at him, the light from the T.V casting shadows across his face.

His eyes drifted down to hers, the moment came to a standstill. Y/N’s chest tightened and a sudden shifting in her stomach had her feeling nervous. “Jase?” She asked softly, watching the way his gaze drifted down to her parted lips. He dipped his head down slowly, sharing her air as he closed the gap between them.

Y/N’s skin ignited in red hot flames, traveling from the tips of her toes up to where their lips met. The kiss was soft, experimental. Her fingertips grazed his cheek as she leaned further into it, reciprocating with a soft barely there pressure.

As quickly as it happened it was gone. Jason pulled back slowly, pupils blown as he searched Y/N’s face for any signs of refusal. The silence in the room aside from the movie begged for her to say something first.

“Why?” was the only question she could think of. Her hand was still placed against his face tenderly. “Not in a bad way, just confused.” Her voice barely above a whisper.

Jason blinked, lips pursing. “Why wouldn’t I?” He asked as if the answer was the most obvious thing. His arm around her shoulders had tensed, holding her to him as if he was afraid she would float away. There was a shakiness in his voice, fear.

“I thought, you… Kirk?” Too afraid to say the full extent of what she had been thinking she frowned at him. Her hand dropped from his cheek to his shoulder. Her body shifted, turning toward him fully so she could better see him. Y/N could see it now, the way his leg bounced slightly, his eyes shifting nervously across her face. “It's okay Jase.”

His shoulders relaxed slightly, his leg stilling its erratic movements. “Yeah, Kirk.” He nodded. “Also you.” He confessed slowly. The clock ticked, and something in her brain clicked. Of course it was her too. The realization should have been a happy one but there was a hesitation in her smile.

Y/N repeated it back to him “Also you.” Something in her stomach twisted, saying it out loud. Like somehow this was a betrayal to her younger self. The one hopelessly in love with the boy with the dark curly hair, the one who thought he hung the stars and moon for her.

But here this boy was in front of her. Jason tried to know her, he didn’t stop trying until he did. He picked up her pieces at her lowest, listened to her late night melancholy ramblings. He was the sun that brought warmth back to her cold body. How could she betray herself in two ways to feel like this.

“I'm confused.” She admitted honestly.

Jason nodded, his smile as warm and ever. “Yeah me too, let's figure it out together?” His hand came to hold her own. With his touch the guilt and shame melting away.

[lohstandfound]

Royal Pains brain rot got me writing a thing.

"you're better off without them"

Rich and Brooke observe another Jake and Chloe break up, once again trying to urge them that they're better off apart- despite knowing that it won't work. No matter how much it hurts.

“You’re better off without her.”

Rich sits across from Jake.

Jake’s tears have long since dried and they sit in silence, the only sound is Jake’s ragged breathing. It’s always bad when they break up, but Rich is always there to piece him together.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

Jake sniffs and shakes his head. “No.”

That’s always the answer. But Rich always knows what’s running through Jake’s head, anyway.

It’s routine, by now.

They break up. Jake calls Rich. Rich is by his side almost immediately. Jake is crying (and he hates that he still cries over her but goddammit it still hurts every single time). Rich sits with him.

Rich sighs.

“You can’t keep doing this, dude.”

Jake doesn’t respond. He doesn’t look at Rich.

Jake knows that Rich is right, but he doesn’t want to let her go.

It’s intoxicating.

And he knows its not good for him but he can’t stop. Her claws are dug too deep into his shoulders, he can’t imagine them not.

He can’t remember what it’s like to not be in her grasp.

Rich didn’t expect Jake to respond.

“You’re better off without her,” he tries quietly.

“I’m not.”

Rich frowns.

“Jake…”

“I’m not. I need her. I need her, god, Rich. I need her.”

Rich is silent for a moment.

“I don’t- I don’t know what to do without her. I can’t just let her go.”

“She hurts you. You go back to her and she hurts you all over again. And it breaks you every time.”

“It doesn’t.”

Rich knows that Jake doesn’t want to hear this. He’s tried this conversation before.

“Jakob, you’re not good for her. She’s not good for you-”

“Who are you to decide what’s good for me and what isn’t?” Jake snaps.

Rich doesn’t flinch.

He doesn’t shy away from the glare that’s turned on him.

“Your friend.”

The word pains him.

“I care about you too much to watch you destroy yourself like this.”

Jake turns away from him.

Rich knows that this is the end of the conversation for now. But god, he wants to talk more.

He wants to plead with Jake to let her go.

He wants Jake to see how much he’s destroyed himself over her.

He wants Jake to see the damage they’ve done to each other.

He wants Jake to see that he’s right there in front of him.

He wants Jake to see what they could be.

But Rich knows he won’t. So, he’ll continue to piece Jake back together as carefully as he can.

“Do you want me to stay?”

There is no hesitation in Jake’s nod.

Rich hesitates, his hand moves forward to take Jake’s.

But he doesn’t.

If Jake noticed the small action, he doesn’t say anything.

“I’ll stay.”

======================

“You’re better off without him.”

Brooke sits cross-legged on Chloe’s bed, watching as she paces around the room.

She’s on edge. She can see the tears building up in Chloe’s eyes but she doesn’t know if she’s going to scream or yell or cry.

She’s been through this before.

And she knows Chloe.

She knows to treat this situation like she’s walking on eggshells.

“Chlo?” She speaks softly.

Brooke knows that it’ll snap Chloe out of her head. Brooke knows that Chloe’s attention will zone in on her. Brooke knows that she’s going to be the recipient of every horrible thing she has to say about him. And Brooke knows she will sit here and take it.

Chloe will take it out on her, and she will let it roll off her shoulders because it’s better than Chloe taking it out on anyone else.

And it’s better than Chloe running back to him.

As predicted, Chloe’s venomous glare turns to her.

“I hate him. I hate him, I hate him, I hate him so fucking much. He can fucking rot in hell for all I care. Why should I care? He’s nothing but a fucking prick.”

Brooke nods idly.

Starting with yelling.

Brooke listens as Chloe spouts off every insult she’s ever used for him.

And she agrees, because she doesn’t want to make it worse by saying she’s wrong about him.

Chloe screamed and she yelled and half the things she said weren’t true.

And she could never truly hate him.

She was wrapped around his finger and she liked it that way.

He was always there to make her feel good,

Feel wanted.

His rough lips on her neck and his careful touch,

She could never get enough of it.

When she was the centre of his attention, it was intoxicating.

She felt wanted, needed, complete.

It wasn’t healthy, god it wasn’t good.

But she just couldn’t help herself.

She couldn’t remember a time where Jake wasn’t all hers.

Brooke watches as the tears well up in Chloe’s eyes.

The crying step will come soon.

Chloe collapsed on the bed next to Brooke.

Brooke carefully wrapped Chloe up in her arms as she cried.

Brooke wouldn’t say anything as Chloe cried.

She wouldn’t comment on the tears.

Instead, she just held Chloe as her heart ached, listening to Chloe curse him out again and again.

Brooke knew the words she said could switch Chloe right back to screaming at her.

But they were words that Chloe needed to hear.

“You’re better off without him, Chlo. You don’t need him. You don’t need his attention to make you feel better. You’re more than enough without him.”

“You just- You don’t understand, Brooke. I need him! I need him, but god I hate his fucking guts.”

“Chloe, you destroy him and yourself and everyone around you when you’re with him.”

And Brooke knew what it was like to destroy yourself for someone else.

“We’re supposed to be together, Brooke! He’s mine, I’m his. That’s how it’s supposed to go. That’s how the story always goes. We’re good for each other!”

But Brooke’s words were true, and Chloe knew it.

Chloe wasn’t ready to admit that.

Of course, Brooke knew that.

But she would keep waiting for the day Chloe realised that she didn’t need him.

She would keep waiting for the day that Chloe would open her eyes and see what was right in front of her.

Maybe Chloe rejecting her would hurt less than watching Chloe try to hold herself together after every single breakup.

Until then,

Brooke would hold Chloe as she cried, listen to Chloe as she screamed, and watched as they would get back together and destroy themselves all over again.

[camerawhoisalsocam]

"A rwby critic and a longtime dc fan" Hate to break it to you?

But RWBY manages to stay consistent. DC? Where do we even begin on their retcons.

Look, if you wanna whine and complain, that's fine. But at the end of the day, Monty , Miles, Kerry? At least their work is forever in progress.

All you people do is insult them on social media and then wonder why people won't listen to you after you complain. People enjoyed the crossover, and part 2 will be there soon.

And unlike you, the rest of us intend to enjoy things...which, as a critic, I understand that's rather difficult.

First things first thanks for being my first anon I honestly didn't know if I had it turned on or not. Also congratulations for being my first rwby related braindead anon, now I know I've made it. Now onto the response

Rwby has consistency? Yeah its consistently disappointing and dogshit. Trust me I know all about DC's retcons, bad stories, nonsensical decisions that the writers make that make the characters worse. Wanna know the difference between RWBY and DC? Rwby has had only a few interpretations, the main canon, the crossover, ice queendom, the books, the antholgy manga, a few comics (some being dc crossovers again), and rwby chibi. And half of those can even be considered pseudo canon. With DC? They have had DECADES of comics, movies, cartoons, TV shows, and all sorts of different adoptions. Because DC is bigger they can have alot of bad, but SOOOO MUCH more good.

Next up, dont bring Monty into this. I wont discredit his work and im not gonna say "this wasnt how he wanted rwby" or anything like this. Let the guy be. This is specifically going towards Miles and Kerry, I wanna have faith they're good people, twitter says otherwise for Miles. I know they can make some decent writing, early rwby, camp camp, they even wrote some of RVB. They haven't made anything good nowadays which is why im mad, I know they can write but keep fucking up!

And if your gonna say all I do is whine and complain maybe you should remember that your complaining about the opinion of some random guy on the internet. But hey you arent completely whining your giving a passive aggressive anonymous ask.

If people like the crossover, good. Im glad someone can find some good in a film and series I dont like. I may not have enjoyed the crossover but get good on you for finding it enjoying. I know why people dont listen to us "whiners" its cuz we hurt their feelings and were big mean cyber bullies. Im a dude on the internet, why the hell should you take it so seriously. What did you think I'd take you seriously as well? I know the real reason why rwby fans dont listen, its cuz RT doesn't listen. They dont see the genuine harm in their writing or dont want to acknowledge it and so their fans piggyback off their mentality. You fans dont listen because RT has their heads so far up their asses they think that RWBY will do fine because there's brain rotted fans like you who'll defend this hot garbage and do nothing but constantly try and shit on people who have an opinion. And quite frankly I think my opinion is right

Dont call yourself a critic, I dont know jackshit about you so for all I know your a fellow cave troll. Reply without the anon button and prove it next time. I know im not a professional writer or critic, I say that I am since im just been watching both franchises, im a dude on tumblr, dont take that part seriously. But I do know how to form an opinion on what I like and what I think is terribly written schlock thats being defended by fans who have a weird symbiotic relationship with a company that will treat their fans like shit.

So all in all, cope. I dont like the dogshit crossover, Miles and Kerry's writing sucks now, and you've officially made my morning. Thanks for stopping by anon. Next time RWBY makes something good for once i'll actually talk about how I like it, maybe with some criticism but hey, nothings perfect. I understand thats rather difficult to understand

[theworldisshort]

So I've been watching some 90 day fiancé recaps...

Because of course I will not pay to watch trash TV but I will however binge watch all the recaps from the my thots chanel. That's the link for whoever want to rot their brain with me:

I've come to the conclusion that some cultures just don't match. PERIOD. This girl Kim was so excited to marry the love of her life, this tall Indian guy TJ and at first they don't seem to be as bad as Jenny - she's also an American woman who married an Indian - but then TJ won't STOP LYING.

Like, I get that everyone's like "She should have researched Indian culture so that she knows what to expect as an Indian wife" but she did ask him what would be her wifely duties and HE LIED!!!! She is an American girl who doesn't even want to do dishes - I mean, who does? - and now she is in a culture where she will be expected help around the house and be subservient to her mother-in-law.

I think that since Kim was going to TJ's country it should be his job to prepare her and his family for the cultural merge, but dude straight up lied and then played dumb. Not like that's new for this show, they all lie, but I just thought it was sad for Kim to go through most of her wedding not knowing what was going on and what she was supposed to do because she did not speak the language and her husband was not helping.

Anyways, back to the point of some cultures just don't mix. Almost every time we see the American partner, specially if they're a woman, fighting for the freedoms that they're used to and we see the other partner fighting to have their religion, gender roles and ideologies respected. I think that when you have a culture that is very rigid about their gender roles and you try to mix it with a culture that leans towards the "everyone can do/be whatever they want" it just doesn't happen. Somebody is gonna have to compromise. It's funny to me how they are all so hellbent on defending their culture but also won't stop to reflect why they want to defend it. What's so important about this tradition you're defending? How does it add value to your life? Does it help be a better member of society?

But they don't reflect. They stop to look at each other like individuals and think about what dynamics work for who they are as people. They argue about gender roles but don't stop to question what roles THEY want to play in their relationships, because it's really funny how when the topic is money or chores suddenly they either care too much about gender or fight binarism. "I'm not helping with the baby because that's her job but I'm also not paying rent" or "I'm not paying, he's the man but don't tell me what to do it's 2024". They're a bunch of Schrödinger's patriarchs and Schrödinger's feminists only fighting for the cause that is convenient for them when it is convenient.

[jomtones-bussy]

Let me tell you why this is the stupidest fucking article I've ever read. I got to this section and had to stop and reevaluate why I'm subjecting myself to this bubbling pustule of blatant ignorance and negligence on the part of the miserable moronic maggots they call editors and writer being paid to say nothing at all.

It begins with this comic strip which is funny I GUESS. Very funny indeed if you love Garfield. No one on this fuckass team has ever even sat down and read a Garfield comic without a finger up their ass and a severe misunderstanding of basic fucking history of Garfield main characters.

Calling you out by name you baggy donkey ball suckling shitheads. cbr.com/we-didn't-even-know-what-the-fuck-a-Garfield-was-before-spewing-out-this-half-assed-article-and-rubbed-eachothers-nipples-all-day-thinking-about-our-fat-fucking-paycheck.

If they'd even payed a shred of attention, or just looked soullessly with their glassy vacant eyes at an actual fucking google search they'd know that NERMAL, which is HIS name, is a Boy. I could forgive that. A little kitten with cute lashes, hell I forgot NERMAL was a dude once a cats gender does not fucking matter.

But if they'd looked at this comic with little more than a shred of dim-witted surface level NO, atmospheric level observations, they'd see that NERMAL, A NAMED CAT WHO HAS BEEN IN THIS WORLD FAMOUS COMIC FOR 50-FIIIFTY FUCKING YEARS, theyd see that NERMAL is visibly smaller and more naive than Garfield. You can infer if you have more than nine fucking neurons in your cavernous cranium, that NERMAL IS A BABY. A LITTLE BABY CAT. A SILLY LITTLE KITTEN. UNDERAGE. WAAAAY TOO YOUNG FOR GARFIELD. AND GARFIELD IS NOT TRYING TO SEDUCE HIM.

the silly funny haha jokey jokey very OBVIOUS punchline being that Garfield is trying to be a cooler older guy than nermie. And his story gets goofy when he starts exaggerating his truth.

Clearly the same approach was taken with whoever was tasked with pumping out this tray of vomit given to us as "entertainment." Who in their right mind, who is interested in Garfield, would EVER be entertained with an "article" written by a couple of chucklefucks looking to make a quick buck like that dude from fucking Mathilda. You are literally Danny devitos role as a sleazy cunt of a salesman getting people entrapped In a hunk of shit posed as ENTERTAINMENT.

YOURE GOING TO DIE AS THE PERSON WHO GOT BASIC FUCKING GARFIELD FACTS WRONG ON A COMPUTER THAT HOLDS MORE HISTORY than anything put out on paper AND IS THE GRANDSON OF THE SHIT THAT PUT HUMANITY INTO THE COSMOS. the maggots that eat your boot-licking grimy corpse will shit you out and the most you contribute to the world will be your composted brain that wasted it's capacity on a shitty Garfield article no one enjoys.

Humanity, a feat that can only be philosophically pondered about, was cast away for the sake of creating nothing out of something? To choose the path of destruction over creation, a trait which has been credited to omnipresent beings only, AND LIFE? FOR SOMETHING SO MENIAL AND PLEASURE DRUNK AS MONEY, TO DESTROY THE BASIC FUCKING HAPPINESS THAT AN ACTUAL FUCKING GARFIELD COMIC STRIP GIVES TO PRIMORDIAL BEINGS OF STARDUST LIVING THEIR CELESTIAL LIVES⁉️⁉️⁉️

only the slimiest and sleaziest sopping wet scumbag could think of pissing out such a cunt crumble of a dastardly deed. Lowlife lead brains headass. If I were to end it, which I won't as I would much rather live to see your demise ( the great demise of a pus encrusted laceration wound on the bare breast of great journalism) I would end it just to have the satisfaction of knowing I will no longer live on the same mortal plane as this putrescine rotted rat carcass gnawed on by a living embodiment of a lobotomy.

Unless they're reading a translated version from a non English speaking country where the characters are different?? Then it's cool I guess.

[popshmip]

I'm in an existential crisis mood today.

What if nobody has a purpose and we're all consciously ignoring it because our egos lead us to believe we're the exception? Like we're not but some little fucker in our heads makes us think we're special? It would explain why people are so desperate to find a reason. And I understand it, I'd imagine it feels nice knowing that some dude in the sky made you and put you here to do something, but I think we put too much value on that. We see celebrities interviewed and they're asked what do you think your purpose is? The interviewer's told that the celebrity believes they were put on earth to act or make music or some other art form and we think that that is so meaningful but the truth is that person is just saying what they do at that time to make it seem like they've fulfilled this nonexistent thing. And we grow up and we realise, holy shit, is there anything that makes any fucking sense around here? And we realise that, no, there really isn't. We're put here, we do things, and we die. That's the cycle. And we humans think we'll be the ones to break it. But there's no outrunning death. Sure there was the myth about a princess who kept outsmarting death but even she didn't beat him. I feel like I've found my purpose but then I stay up too late and realise, what can I do with this thing I care about? How far can this carry me? I want to go to a film school in Belgium, but I don't know what happens after that point because from what I've been told, my purpose as a woman is to fall in love, get married, have kids, and then die. And I do want to fall in love, and I think I've felt it, but when I think back to my only relationship it was me saying I loved this person out of fear. I knew that that person would not leave me or my family alone, so I agreed to it. Most of the time I forgot I was dating them. And I think back to all of the things that have happened and I think holy shit, I need to do something productive with this or else I'll shut down, but I try to write, I try to sing, I try to draw, but the only place it seems to go is my anger. It seems like it's some subconscious mechanism meant to stop me from going insane. I get headaches every time I make these posts because it's like my brain is telling me to stop. But I don't want to stop. This crap has been building up for years. It'll sit and rot if I don't get it out. And I'm probably destined to do the same. I see myself moving out of my parents' place and moving abroad and studying film but all I can hear is my parents telling me that it won't take me very far. I'll be the miserable old wreck at all my family gatherings and I'll have to lie through my teeth because I've been focusing on some meaningless passion of mine for so long that I haven't done anything with myself. I'll end up in a flat I can hardly afford, where I'll have nothing but dead plants on the windowsill to give me purpose because I know that even the smallest of flats will feel too big.

[kayceecruz]

It's insane listening to some of those people. Like the dude is shirtless at the beach?!!! HE MUST BE AN ASSHOLE.

Like, what are you talking about?!!!

Also, just to point out in his latest interview, he was asked by the writer about an audition he had LITERALLY BEEN ON THAT DAY and responded he couldn't talk about it yet.

In early July, he was in LA for literally the blink of an eye, for an audition from what was gathered as well.

His literal last promo stop was Jimmy Fallon on like June 19th. He did a GQ event after that.

So, he has TECHNICALLY done nothing industry related, that we can SEE because the Lord knows he might have done more auditioning, for ONE month.

ONE MONTH.

I am a teacher. I work 10 months out of the year. I am currently on month 2 of my 2 month vacation. I have been traveling to several places and doing nothing but brain rotting over this show.

I fucking dare you to call me lazy or jobless. Come at me.

Work isn't supposed to be your life. That's not a good work-life balance. You work to ENJOY life. Constantly working with no downtime is not healthy, people. It can cause exhaustion and burnout.

It is definitely a made-up reason to dislike someone because they will never sleep with you.

Like be fr. Be honest. That is your problem. You self inserted yourself in a fantasy and now are pissed that he won't insert into you.

That's not his fault, buddies. That's not on him.

If you’re new to being a fan of Luke Newton you need to know he did this exact same thing - traveling around, taking vacations, being shirtless- last summer, and we all thirsted over him in PEACE and just laughed about him being so Colin-coded.

Literally fed the girlies HIMSELF last year.

His behavior is the same as before, but now all of a sudden he’s jobless/ lazy/ has a bad work ethic? Being one of the main cast of Bridgerton is literally a job. Having steady work on that level as an actor is a job. They start filming again in September, which means before that he’ll have table reads, costume fittings, probably (hopefully) dance rehearsals. So most likely he’ll be back to work in August, meaning this is like 2 months of downtime since the tour ended in June before his work starts up again. And yeah, as a broke person without much vacation time myself I’m hella jealous, but y’all act like he hasn’t worked in years.

[dunnswrld]

chris brainrot ???

Chris Pontius Headcannons!

a/n: This request is perfect cause I have been having a lot of Chris brain rot recently...

prompt: Just the title!

warnings: Fluff, very very light smut like it's not really even smut, Fem!reader, alcohol

I feel like you two met through Jackass

When you first started Jackass and met the guys Chris was head over heels

A girl who could do the same things he did and look pretty while doing it? Oh he had fallen in love with you before seeing you

But when you two had a bit together to go around as Party Boy and the newest party member, Party Girl, was when he really fell for you

It wasn't the fact you were wearing a tiny black bathing suit with a tie around your neck but just the fact you enjoyed not only making the bit with him but hanging out with him behind the cameras

Though the bathing suit was a plus

But when a creepy guy would try touching you Chris would remind him that he was still there, and he only had a thin piece of fabric to cover his present

From then on Jeff made sure you both had matching costumes and did every costume involved bit together just because of how good your guys chemistry was

It didn't shock anyone when you both started dating a year after meeting

"Yn and I are dating."

"Party boy and Party girl are finally together!" - Johnny probably

"What a shocker dude. Not like I saw that coming." - Steve-o most likely

"Wait you two weren't already dating?" - Defiantly Dave.

Speaking of the Jackass boys since you are apart of the crew you are still at fault for pranks

Though everyone stopped pranking you because Chris was always quick to throw a punch at whoever pranked you...

But when it comes to pranking Chris you are always the first to come up with the idea

"Well why can't we do that?"

"Well Yn just because Chris won't hurt you doesn't mean he won't hurt us."

I feel like you and Chris both enjoy the outdoors a lot

I think this would mean lots of picnics in the forest or walks for dates

While on one of your guys walks Chris probably finds a bug or lizard and gives you a run down on everything about it

"This is a garden stink it looks like a dark red right now because its been in the sun but they usually are brown or sometimes black, and it's cool because the lighter their color is the more energetic they are so this one isn't that energetic I'm guessing because even through the dark red it looks darker."

"How the hell do you even know this Chris?"

I feel like he would pick you flowers while you two are on walks

From dandelions to even walk into peoples yards and pick their flowers for you

He has gotten yelled at for this. Multiple times.

"Ok asshole it's not my fault you have nice flowers I think MY girlfriend would like. Maybe get a damn fence!"

You probably are his girlfriend 50% or the time and his mom the other 50%

When you aren't acting like his girlfriend you probably are yelling at him for something

"Chris put the snake down!"

"Chris stop chasing Ehren with that knife right now!"

"Chris don't go back there! There is probably poison Ivy!"

"Chris put your penis away!"

But when your his girlfriend Chris is a very good boyfriend to you

Chris isn't very big on PDA but when it's just you two or in a group of close friends he is very touchy feely

His favorite thing is you sitting on his lap so he can hug you from behind and rest his head on your back

He kisses the back of your neck while in this sitting position too

He loves when you kiss his cheeks too, it makes him blushy

Chris 100% worships you in and out of bed

I'm talking compliments all the time.

"Wow you look so hot right now."

"Those shorts make your ass look great babe."

"I love your hair, it's so pretty."

"Your smile is the best thing ever."

"You look great today- well you look great everyday."

Chris is over-protective I feel like

Not in a crazy boyfriend way but in a "she's my girlfriend and I love her more than anyone!" way.

He probably has gotten into with some of the guys for sexual comments or him swearing their eyes were looking at your boobs or ass

But when he's drunk and a guy is flirting with you at the bar...

You, Chris, and the rest of the Jackass guys are banned from some bars for Chris starting full on wars over a guy talking to you and even dare to HINT the idea of flirting

He would be very caring and understanding with you, no matter what

He would just be such a great boyfriend

Ugh I just love him :(

[timidloner]

me ascending every time you call me ram <3 (it's like a power up i love it, like joren with mc, you're enabling me to ramble more each time)(sorry in advance for the amount ill send) watch me call you lolo for the loner in your username

it was very clear so we appreciate it!! and exactly omfg you get it, there's nothing wrong with being a conventionally attractive white man but personally it's so underwhelming compared to what i sometimes imagined (one time i played a game where i thought the guy had long black hair brooding and sharp looks like babygirl right? but then i saw the pictures and he had short very bland looks i cried.) tiktok goes crazy with THESE especially with the fancasting people do for books, its always the same kind of dudes its tragic (definitely an interesting topic from a sociological perspective but ill stop too lmaoaoa)

moles are so attractive normally but now with your concept too? brain rot i cant believe... is joren's neck sensitive? please i need to know because just MC touching the moles but instead they watch joren's neck turn red and both end up blushing like fools and THE SCARS WOAHHHH????? MC turning his scars into something joren can love by admiring them (tho the angst would be crazy if the MC was to be disgusted but personally my MC could never cause joren is our big meow meow)(im still not over the fact he can purr like can the MC scratch the back of his ears too? i need MOREEEE MONSTER FACTS)

AWWW, I love it!! Lolo is such a cute nickname!!

And I actually went to booktok to study (laugh at) this phenomenon and you're so right!! There's nothing wrong with these dudes, of course, but when the entirety of your male cast looks the same, it just becomes booooooring. They look like brothers!! Add some spice, please!!

Fortunately, that kind of surprise hasn't happened to me, I either never see the characters' portraits (IF) or that's the first thing I do (VN). But I won't go into detail about my feelings here, gotta stay away from controversies now that I'm a game dev (never gets old), haha!!

And yes! I've always loved moles, on someone's wrist, neck, below their eye, or the edge of their mouth... Doesn't matter, they are great.

I'd say both his neck and wrists are sensitive. And I love that idea, but due to his skin tone, his blush isn't really visible! So instead of turning red, we could say that MC is touching him and suddenly his skin heats up under their palm and he starts to sweat a little bit!

And ugh, now I can't help but imagine MC calling Joren their handsome man while tracing his scars...

Like, he doesn't really care if he's considered good-looking or not, but MC calling him that???? He'd melt. Suddenly, he'd understand why everyone is so concerned about beauty, and how good that kind of validation feels. He'd even start putting more effort into his appearance.

And maybe he could start seeing his scars as proof of how brave he's been throughout his life? He could stop being neutral about it, and become proud of them?

On the other hand, if MC finds him disgusting for his scars, it would make him insecure for the first time in a really long time. He'd try to dress in tunics with long sleeves, and always face MC with the "better" side of his face, so they don't have to look at his scar.

And yes!! Of course MC gets to scratch his ears, I'm pouring all of my impossible dreams of cuddling a big cat in those scenes. I'll think of some monster facts for tomorrow!!

[divinefireangel]

Hello! If it's not a bother, may I ask for a reaction when their famous!girlfriend/crush is starring in a drama with another member and there is a lot of skinship involved or kissing scenes? Thank you 💗 I also want to mention that I really, really love your blog, I binge read almost half of it the other day 💗😭

Thank you for binging my writings 🥺👉🏽👈🏽💞

Warnings: Fluff? Upset SF9? Angst? I have no clue.

Youngbin:

He's very mature so he will hide his hesitation well.

Though if the scene is too explicit, he's naturally gonna be upset.

He will scold the member and tell him not to get too touchy or they're dead 😂

He trusts you and his dongsaeng

But just a small part of him wishes you weren't doing this with them

He's conflicted between staying there on set while you film or to leave and let you work in peace

Cause if he stays, he'll start to feel jealous

But if he leaves he'll be anxious the whole day

Needs a lot of indirect reassurance

Direct will make him feel bad cause he'll think that you think that he isn't happy that you are doing the role

Inseong:

Super professional

Mans starts suggesting do this do that to the member lmaooo

He won't even stop when you glare at him 😂

Sadly he needs to be forcibly pushed out and off the set

Sneaky lil baby he is lol

He's one of the member who will read your script with or before you and help you practice your lines

And also "practice" the scene, if you get what I'm saying 👀

So you kind of end up thinking about him while shooting the scene

A win win situation according to him

Jaeyoon:

Refuses to leave set

Aggressive nods while listening to the director explain the scene to you both

High chances of convincing the producer to give him a small role on the scene

Death glare with pressed lips

Tbh he doesn't even know whom he is glaring at lmao

Claims to not be jealous but we know sweetie

Kind of acts like your staff, bringing you water and tissues and that hand fan thingy

Casually prevents you from talking to the member lol

Pouty and asks for your attention during breaks

Dawon:

He will literally cheer when you kiss the other member 💀💀

Super super chill af

Doesn't really care that it's his own member lol

Cause he knows you're whipped for him

And if you do deter away from him for even a second, he knows how to bring you back on track

Gives you a cute cheek kiss when you finish a scene, after every scene

Also tries to give the member a kiss but, well, you know 😂

Zuho:

Rage pout™ baby no. 1

Does not like it at all

Like, you're his

Not his member's

Hates that you're both playing lovers

Needs loads and loads of affection to be reassured 🥺

He will be conflicted between coming to set and not coming

Cannot hide his jealousy

More clingy than usual when you're together

Whines when he gets teased about it

Rowoon:

Rage pout™ baby no. 2

He's gonna be a lil bitter about it initially when you tell him

But he is a mature professional

He let's it go

Sneaky lil thing pt 2 who reads your script without you knowing

It's just to mentally prepare himself cause he can't bear the thought of you kissing someone else so close to him

Gets sooo upset when you laugh at him after catching him

A few loving kisses and teasing will bring him on track

He'll apologize too even tho he doesn't need to 🥺

Yoo Taeyang:

Says he's fine as long as he doesn't need to watch the scene

Like, ever

Is so bad at hiding the fact that he's a lil jealous

Least jealous of all the members, but still it'll be there

Thinks it'd be nicer if it was him instead of the other member

Definitely takes his time to kiss you better later

Makes sure to give you a brain rot 😉

Hwiyoung:

Side eyes with sad eyes lol

Pouts and grabs your sleeve

Asks for kisses shamelessly

Like dude, we're on set.

He'll be fine with any member as long as it's not Chani 😂😂

Will throw such a huge fit

Keeps asking why why why

So close to jumping onto set when things get heated during the filming of the scene

He'll be like a child omg

Chani:

He's mad but also he's not?????

He is probably the most professional, so he doesn't want to seem like a petty complaining boyfriend

But also, what can he do if his heart hurts 🥺

You've seen him be so clingy to you in your entire time dating him

Baby just wants you as close to him as possible

A few kisses and some quality time will make him alright

Direct words are probably what he needs but he'll just feel bad if you do

Stare at him lovingly and give him some heartfelt compliments till he's a smiley baby again

[johnsamericano]

𝓓𝓪𝔂 12:

ℓєє мαяк

23 days of NCT masterlist.

taglist: @notbeforelong @mrcarbonatedmilk @unknown5tar @whathamelon @ajhdr @curieouscapt @silent-potato @gjheaaa

warnings: baby daddy mark, hidden pregnancy (?, tooth rotting.

“Dude, isn't that y/n?” Mark’s old friend, John, pointed at you.

Yeah, that was most definitely his ex. You were holding a small girl between your arms, helping her reach for a box of lucky charms. You looked just as beautiful as three years ago, even more, he daresay.

“Go talk to her.” His friend elbowed him. “I’ll go get the meat, maybe you can invite her to our barbecue.”

“We haven't seen each other in a while, don't you think it'll be a little too weird?”

“Go for it, I know you're still hung up on her.”

“How...?”

“I heard your last girl complaining about how you called y/n’s name while having sex with her, it was hilarious, to be honest.” Mark punched him in the arm, earning a small groan from the tall man. “But seriously, though, you broke up with her to focus on your career. Now that you have a stable job, what's stopping you from getting her back?”

“I don't know, man...”

“Give it a try, I'll be with the butcher if you need me.” He winked at the Canadian boy, making his way to another aisle.

Mark took a deep breath before his feet finally started moving. You were placing the small girl in the shopping cart’s seat, tickling her tummy while at it.

“Y/n?” Your eyes almost came out of their caves as you heard his voice.

“Mark...” You stared at him with wide eyes, looking back and forth between the little girl and him. “I thought you’d moved back to Canada.”

“I came back a year ago.” He fiddled uncomfortably with the rings adorning his fingers. “I really wanted to contact you, but since things between us were a little complicated when I left...” By complicated he meant breaking your heart and leaving a day after ending things between you.

“It’s really okay, Mark. No hard feelings.” You smiled sweetly at him, your pretty eyes turning into half moons.

“And who’s this little one? Your niece?” He caressed the top of the girl’s head, who wasn’t even aware of his presence, too focused on getting rid of the wrapping around the chocolate you’d just bought her.

“Actually-”

“Mommy, I need help!” Mark froze.

“Oh, sure sweetie.” You tone completely changed when addressing her. “Mark, this is my daughter, EunHee. Say hi, baby.”

“Hi, Mark.” She extended her hand as you tore the wrapping of the chocolate bar open. His surprised expression turned into a big smile, covering her small hand with his significantly bigger one. “Look, mom. His cheeks are just like mine!” She poked Mark’s cheekbones.

You could almost feel a drop of sweat rolling down your forehead.

“Wait, you're right.” The Canadian man pointed out as your daughter smiled at him. “That's crazy.” Thank God Mark was so naive. “So where’s the father of this little bean?”

‘Right in front of me.’ You thought.

“She doesn't...”

“Oh, sorry. It must've been hard raising her on your own.” He reassuringly placed a hand on your arm. “How old is she?”

“Uhm, s-she’s-”

“I’m this old.” EunHee interrupted, showing her three small fingers.

You hoped Mark’s brain capacity wouldn't be enough to connect the dots. But you had to admit, it was pretty obvious.

“Wow, you're so big.” It was heart-warming watching your daughter interact with her father for the first time, even if they didn't know the truth about each other. “So, we're having a barbecue at my place today. There’s always room for someone else, and you can bring EunHee if you’d like. My address is still the same.”

“I’ll think about it.” You handed the chocolate bar back to your daughter, who didn’t even take a second to eat up the whole thing.

“Alright, I guess I’ll see you then, maybe.”

(...)

“Mark’s hitting on a mom!” Yuta mocked him, causing the whole garden to erupt into laughter.

“And what’s wrong with that? She isn’t married.”

“Mark, you literally just met with her again after three years, slow down.” Jaehyun interceded, eyes stuck to his phone.

“Guys, stop messing with Mark. He's always loved y/n, so let him be.” Johnny spoke from the grill, turning around a steak. “Besides, I saw the little girl. She looks a lot like Mark, so I bet no one would be able to tell they're not actually related.”

“How old did you say she was?”

“Three.”

“Okay, don’t be mad at me, but did you ever have sex with her without protection?”

“What are you trying to say, Haechan?” Taeil asked bitterly.

“Just think about it, guys. It makes sense.” While his friends discussed the possibility of him being a dad, Mark’s head was rather busy trying to remember every little detail from the last time he was intimate with you.

But as much as he tried, he couldn't remember having worn a condom. And as far as he knew, you weren't on the pill.

The doorbell cut his string of thoughts, snapping him back into reality.

“I’ll get the door.” He didn't expect you to be behind it, holding your -and possibly his- daughter’s hand tightly. “Oh, hey.”

He seemed uncomfortable, had you made a mistake in accepting his offer?

“Hi, I couldn't find someone to look after this little monster. I hope your friends won't mind.”

“Not at all, they love kids.” He stared intensely at your daughter, finally noticing those similarities Johnny mentioned before. “Come in.”

He guided you all the way to the backyard, everyone greeting you with a big hug.

“Nice to see you again, y/n.” Johnny murmured, patting your back.

“She’s like a little doll!” Jaehyun squeaked excitedly, sitting your daughter on his lap. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

“I’m EunHee.” He cooed at her high-pitched voice tone. “Your dimples are pretty.”

“Thank you.”

The boys seemed completely comfortable with your daughter, fighting with Jaehyun, who wouldn't let go of her.

“Can I have a word with you?” Mark came from behind you, making you jolt at his sudden presence.

“Sure.”

He walked you to the kitchen, away from the noisy men outside. He anxiously twisted his hands, trying to find the correct words to demand for the truth.

“What’s wrong?” You asked worriedly, taking a step closer to him.

“Is EunHee mine?” Well, you were definitely not expecting that. You thought that after meeting him at the supermarket, your secret was safe. Apparently, it wasn’t. “By the look on your face, I’m guessing she is.”

He groaned in frustration, rubbing his face with the palms of his hands.

“I’m sorry for keeping it a secret all this years. I won’t force you to step in and take responsibility for her, we can just leave and pretend this never-”

“What are you even talking about? Why wouldn’t I want to take care of my own daughter?” The frown on his face deepened. “Did you know you were pregnant when we broke up?”

Should you tell him the truth?

“I...” He looked at you expectantly.

Of course you should tell him the truth, he deserves it.

“Yes.” His heart dropped, guilt filling every inch of his body. “I didn’t want to hold you back. It would’ve been unfair for me to use that as an excuse to stop you from leaving.”

“So you’re saying I missed three years of my daughter’s childhood because you didn’t want to be selfish?” With every word his voice grew louder, shouting by the end of the sentence and catching the other guests' attention.

“Mark, we should talk about this another day, when we’re alone.” You tried leaving, but his hand clutched your wrist tightly.

“No.” You could admire tears sparkling in his eyes. “I don't want to miss another second of her.”

“Mommy?” Just then, EunHee walked into the kitchen, holding Yuta’s hand. “I heard screaming, are you okay?” Mark nodded at his friend, as if signaling him he could leave.

“Yes, I’m alright, sweetie.” You swung her up in your arms, coming closer to Mark who had the sudden urge to hold his baby. “Are you sure about this? There’s no backing out.” You mouthed, feeling a pinch of relief as he nodded. “Baby, I’d like you to meet someone very special.”

“Who?”

“This is Mark...” She looked at you with her small eyebrows furrowed, she’d already met Mark. “Your dad.”

Mark honestly felt like crying, your daughter smiling excitedly as she urged you to put her down, letting her father hold her close to his chest.

“Mommy said you were lost.” He felt so warm inside.

“I promise not to get lost again, alright?” His lips pressed a kiss into her forehead, already enamored by the cheerful giggles erupting from EunHee.

You observed them with regret. If you'd told Mark you were pregnant before he left, perhaps he wouldn't be on the verge of tears right now, perhaps your daughter wouldn't have had to deal with her classmates’ non-stopping questions about her father.

“Y/n?” Mark called out for you. “C-can we have a family hug?” He moved his hand invitingly, making space for you to join.

You walked into his arms, every negative feeling vanishing as Mark embraced you, both of you trying not to sob.

“What do you want to do now?” He let go of you, using both of his arms to embrace EunHee.

“Make up for the lost time.”

[mbrainspaz]

debating (alone), over a glass of cheap wine, the pros and cons of calling out people at work for misgendering me. Some of them don't know because I make posts but I don't gab about it. Nobody wants to talk about gender in rural south texas. I can barely get them to talk about fiction if I'm reeeaaally lucky. Mostly it's the weather, horses, and food. Horse food. On a good day nobody makes a painfully lame transphobic joke.

The office execs? I could not give less of a f**k if they knew my pronouns. I put 'non-binary' on all my office accounts and paperwork in the interest of being honest and clearly zero people check that stuff. The new manager texted me like 'giiirl' yesterday and it sounds just as fake as everything else she says, so why ask her to stop? If she only referred to me as 'filthy peasant' I could at least respect the honesty.

My coworkers, I don't care very much if they know, because I'm there to do a job no matter what people think about 'who I am as a person.' Gender doesn't make much difference in practice. That's why I like this job in the first place. Besides, one of them is a queer-yet-weirdly-homophobic teenager and the other is a painfully white conspiracy theorist so we keep things professional for what's left of everyone's sanity. There's also an old guy who only pops up to angrily tell me I'm doing things wrong and mock me like a high school teacher would. I don't care what his deal is. There was one incident where the site manager 'she'd' me really hard in front of a new client I wanted to impress and my eye got a bit twitchy, but mostly it just doesn't come up.

The clients... it's kind of the same deal, except some of them hang out and chat, and have friended me on fb, talk to me outside work, and bring me food. Part of me just wants to understand why they keep misgendering me. I've gotta wonder if it's the conservative brain rot even though some of them are chill enough to at least pass for liberal. The trouble is that I balk at the thought of calling them out on it. Not out of self-preservation 'cause god knows I've got none of that. I try to tell myself 'she' is one of my pronouns. Technically. Sometimes. Maybe not when I fully look and act like a dude though. Definitely not all the time.

No matter who it is, what always stops me from saying anything is the existential question of: if I have to beg for respect, does it still mean anything?

If they won't step up on their own—take a single ounce of initiative after seeing the posts or the paperwork where I clearly asked for they/them pronouns and all the resource/info posts after—clearly they don't care. I sure as hell know I can't make people care. I couldn't make my own parents love me, and I did beg.

So even after coming out here I still the f**k am, stuck withholding the rest of me. I smile and make conversation and enjoy their company for what it's worth. Because I can't make a single person on this earth give me anything, least of all respect. Doesn't change who I am, and I know that. I hope someone else cares enough to notice eventually.

That's the catch-22 I'm trapped in: Anybody I called out wouldn't be worth it.

[beerecordings]

Part 3

Let me know if you enjoy! Thanks for reading.

Tws for mentions of possible cannibalism, mentions of past torture, panic attacks, and imprionsment

.

Light through the side of his box.

“Marvin, Marvin,” he mouths, soundless, tears in his eyes. “Brother, brother.”

Marvin does not come.

“Jameson,” the soft voice is calling. “JJ. We won't hurt you, I promise.”

No. This is not right, not right! This has never happened! He clutches at his hair and bites down on the collar of his shirt, tears racing down his face. They need to go away! They're not supposed to be here! They're not supposed to know!

Marvin will be so, so, so angry!

He can't do it again, can't go back to being alone alone alone alone. His skin so untouched it hurts, so he scratches at it, at his lonely skin, his lonely bones. Marvin will not touch him hold him call him little brother. He can't go back. Makes his brain so numb and then so crazy. Can't can't can't.

“Jamie, breathe, Jamie – ”

“Give him space, dude! He's scared of us. Jameson... just... he's really just – ”

“Marvin did this to him!”

He flinches at the loudness of the voice, biting his collar til he feels thread tear. No, no, no. This is Marvin's worst nightmare. His brothers know about him, and they're angry at Marvin. Angry at Marvin who was just protecting all of them, who takes care of him and loves him. This can't be happening. They need to understand. How does he make them understand? How does he even try to explain when his heart is beating so hard it hurts all the way up to his throat and he can't stop crying?

This is why you can never fight Anti off, sneer an old pair of hands in his head. You're the most pathetic little creature ever to walk across the earth. Of course Marvin locked us away. Him and Anti are both right.

“I'm sorry, I'm sorry,” he signs desperately. “Brother, brother, M! Please! I want M!”

“It's been so fucking long since I took that BSL course. I'm the worst brother.”

“Don't start, Jackie, shit. I don't think I ever bothered trying to learn for more than, like, two Youtube videos. Schneep would know. He learned it in about three days and he doesn't forget things.”

“Brother – that was brother, I remember! Yeah, JJ, we're your brothers, dude. I mean, if you want us to be. Can you just – please, breathe.”

No, they don't understand. These are not JJ's brothers. These are Marvin's brothers. It's a term of endearment more than anything technical: the relationship does not transfer. Marvin always made that very clear and JJ understands. Chase and Schneep and Jackie are not dangerous like he is. Chase and Schneep and Jackie do not have to live in cages, and they get to come find Marvin whenever they want, and they can have things like their own money and lots of friends. They can walk around the city at their leisure. See the sky. Have jobs. Walk around stores and talk to girls and make friends. They pick out their own food and books and toys. They're nice people who have never killed anyone or stabbed each other or made Marvin so upset that he burned their faces on accident and left them alone for days at a time. Schneep is even a doctor who saves lives, and Jackie is a real-life superhero, and Chase has babies who love him.

Of course Marvin had to keep them safe from JJ. He's just grateful that Marvin never listened to him when he would beg to get out. Marvin even took care of him when he could have so easily left him to rot like he deserves.

“JJ, JJ, please. You can trust us. Didn't you say you remembered me? Please, please, I'm begging you – come here.”

Yes, of course he remembers Jackie – remembers the warm voice trying to calm him for hours, and the gloved hand in his own, and the presence watching over him as he drifted close to sleep, the safe and loving presence. How could he forget it? Some days, it is all he thinks about.

But it's not something he can have.

No, he won't come out. He won't risk making Marvin angry, and he certainly won't let Marvin's brothers get hurt because of him. He will stay here alone like he has to.

He is a good boy like Anti told him, like Marvin told him. He is good and he is not hurting anyone ever again. He is staying right here.

“Fine, I'll go to him,” comes a vehement voice, and then someone is pushing at the broken wood around his door. Jameson sucks in a wheezing scream and darts behind the curtain over his little bathroom, shoving himself between the wall and the toilet and squeezing himself into as tight a ball as he can manage around his little stuffed dog, the first present Marvin ever brought him. Jackie can't come in here – neither of them can! Anti will kill them!

“Jackie, he's freaking out, stop, stop!”

There's a low howl of frustration, but no one comes any closer. His box falls quiet again with nothing but soft murmuring from Marvin's brothers as JJ sobs, biting at deep scars in his palms, the result of being possessed on repeat by a demon with a passionate love of any kind of blade.

His hands raise the knife – no hilt. The blade goes down, goes into his palms, goes down, goes into his palms. Goes into her chest. He can hear her screaming. Can hear himself laughing. There's blood in his mouth that isn't his. His birds are already picking at her as she suffocates around the silver of the knife. The bugs are creeping onto her flesh and crawling up his shirt.

No, no, no!

If Marvin would come – if Marvin would quiet the memories like he always does –

But Marvin does not come.

Marvin does not come find him.

Alone, alone, alone.

“JJ, JJ,” they are calling to him, begging at him, but this is not something he can let himself have.

He'd rather die right here.

No, no, no, no. He is not going anywhere.

Ever.

His little stuffed dog is licking at his face. He closes his eyes and rubs its fur til the panic fades. His good dog, good boy. He drifts in his head. He's playing with his dog in the yard. Marvin is on the porch reading. The sun is warm. His dog licks his face. He is staying right here... everything is okay... there you go, JJ. There you go. There's a good little brother. You know how much I hate to see you cry. Cut it out, okay? I don't want to hear that anymore. Be good and I'll come back tomorrow. Be good and stay right here.

Yeah, he's good. He's good. And when he's good, Marvin comes back again.

Marvin will come back.

.

The soft scrape of cardboard on wood wakes him.

He sits in the darkness behind his privacy curtain. Things are quiet again.

“I wish he would just...”

“I know. But you can't stay here all day.”

“Well, neither can he!”

“Shhh, keep your voice low. He obviously does, I mean...”

The voices devolve back into incomprehensibility, too soft for him to understand. He wipes at his ruddy, weary face and sniffs, curled up against the side of the toilet.

He's a little germ freak, as Marvin says, but he doesn't have to worry. He cleans everything every morning so Marvin will not think he's messy. The decorations are always dusted and straightened. He wipes the toilet and his little mirror down, and the sink too, so it's clean when Marvin comes in to shave him on Wednesdays. He isn't allowed to have a razor in here – Anti will try to cut him up again – but Marvin takes care of him anyway. The bathroom smells like their shaving cream and the lemon scent of his cleaners, stacked neatly on the shelves in his back-left corner next to his laundry: Marvin's clothes and some old t-shirts and sweatpants. He isn't allowed to wear anything that isn't Marvin's. Marvin has to be the one to put it through the wash, and if his brothers saw it, they would ask why he was washing things that did not belong to anyone in the house.

JJ lets out a tired sigh, a little soothed by the quiet and the reminiscing. Marvin takes care of him.

Still, he wants to know what that sound was. When Jackie and Chase's distant voices stay distant, he squeezes his dog for courage and creeps out from behind the curtain, blinking at the light of his sun lamp. The leaves of his plants and the lead in the drawings on the walls gleams quietly in the yellow glow.

His place, his things, his presents from Marvin and pictures of Marvin and his shared space with Marvin. Maybe when he comes to see him, they can lie down on the mattress and have a nap, or play some games, or watch pictures on Marvin's magic screen together.

Yeah, he feels better. Yeah, there's my tough guy. Stop crying, JJ, I mean it.

He gets to his feet and sneaks over to the sill of his box where Marvin sometimes leaves him things. There's a little pad of paper on his shelf, the sort of book you might use to make grocery lists or notes to pin up on the fridge. He pulls it towards himself, looking right and left for one of Marvin's brothers to leap out at him, but nothing happens.

Hi, JJ, reads the first page, in messy, crooked handwriting. My name's Chase (I'm the one in the grey shirt) and Jackie is the one in the red hoodie.

He doesn't know what a hoodie is. He glances down the way Marvin usually comes from and can still hear them talking.

I'm sorry if we scared you. We're still figuring out what's going on. You don't have to get close to us if you don't want to (but I promise we won't hurt you if you do).

I thought it would be easier for you to have a pen and some paper.

Is there anything you need? Or anything we can do to show you we are on your side? Do you remember us?

I also left some food by your door. It's perfectly safe, I promise. I will eat some with you if you want.

Please don't be scared. We aren't with Marvin right now, or Anti. We are not going to let anyone hurt you. If there is anything we can do to help please tell us.

I hope you do remember us a little bit. If you don't, though, we want to say hi! Maybe you can write me back? The paper is all for you.

- Chase

There are some smiley faces and even a little drawing of the plate of food on the paper. JJ glances over at his door. A dish with rice and meat is tucked on the plate alongside fat slices of oranges, a neat line of bright green cucumbers with ranch drizzled on, and a big sweet-looking roll with pecans. His mouth waters.

He listens for Marvin's brothers one more time, and when they're still far away, he steps over to pick up the plate and brings it back to his mattress, sitting down and eating with relish. It's hot and fresh and home-made, better than he remembers food tasting. Most of the stuff he gets is take-out from a restaurant or leftovers. Not that he minds! It's just a lot of tasty food. He's eating faster than he means to, scooping the rice up with his plastic silverware and tearing the soft bread of the roll between his teeth.

Meat between his teeth – hot flesh, red blood – Anti's smile is crimson and beaming, his own eyes are wild with delight – cannibal –

No, no. He hugs himself for a few minutes and goes through the breathing exercises Marvin taught him. He's okay.

He does not eat all the beef, but he eats everything else, scooping up the leftover ranch with his spoon and licking his fingers clean of the orange juice and sticky frosting from the roll. His stomach hurts with how full he is. It's a good feeling.

“Jameson?”

He jerks upright, pupils blown. A figure leaps back from his window.

“Sorry! I just – I was just checking if you wrote me back or – sorry, I'll give you some space...”

He backs away again. Jameson grabs at his chest, shuddering. Sudden voices in his box only ever mean Anti until today. And Anti – Anti hurts him. Even when they're playing. He doesn't think Anti ever learned how not to hurt someone. He thinks that's why he plays like that – testing his limits. Interested in human suffering as a primary characteristic.

He plays with the edge of Chase's note, trying to think. He hasn't talked to anyone but Anti and Marvin in so long.

What would Anti say?

Pet, look, he's almost as pretty a present as you were. Oooh, but already a scar in his head. Who wants a scar on him I did not put there? Hm. Still pretty though. He looks like my master. Tell him to come over here and snuggle with us, Jameson. I will wrap my hands around his throat and see if he chokes the same way Jack does.

Jameson chews on the end of his pencil, sighing. They need to stay away.

What would Marvin say?

Who, Chase? He's my baby brother. I guess I was always pretty attached to him. I was all jealous when Jack added Schneep, and I do snap at Jackie a little when he ticks me off. Chase, though, he's my – he's my little brother, you know? He's a special person. Well, anyway, it was him you stabbed the night I had to lock you up. Within about five minutes of finding you, you stabbed one of us. I started to imagine what would happen if we just let you roam free and... you get it, right? Why I had to?

Yes. Of course he does. This is what he needs to express.

He clears his throat and sets his pencil shakily to paper.

Dear Chase,

Thank you for my dinner. It was very tasty. You are a good cook.

I do remember a little of that night you all found me, but not much. I was rather unwell.

I am dearly sorry for stabbing you and I hope your shoulder has healed well. I should not like to stab you again, but I do not always have a choice. Unfortunately, despite Marvin's best efforts to find a way to help, I still fall victim to possession against my will. Please leave me alone so I do not stab you or your brothers.

If you will get Marvin for me he will know how to fix the box. I am not bothered by your presence but the thought of what might happen to you is very alarming. It would be in the best interest of you and your family to kindly exit this place and leave me to my own devices. There is no need to be concerned about anyone hurting me, though I appreciate your worry on my behalf.

Thank you for your time and understanding, and, again, for the food.

Sincerely,

Jameson Jackson

There. That's okay, isn't it? Maybe?

P.S. I would like to see Marvin very much. Is he all right? Thank you.

Okay, there. Then he will not have to wonder. Hopefully everything's okay and Chase can go bring Marvin for him. Then things will go back to normal.

Things will go back to...

To normal.

Normal is good.

Normal is...

His box is quiet. The light gleams on the leaves and the lead. There are scratchmarks in the wood where he has tried to claw his way out during breakdowns.

He closes his eyes.

Things will go back to normal.

He can never leave.

He lets himself drift off in his mind again, walking in circles around his box with his eyes closed. He's on a beach with his dog and a big family... little kids come running up to him and he picks them up and plays with them in the ocean, yanking them back from the waves or ducking them under the water while they shriek in delight. The sun is so warm and the sand is hot between his toes. Marvin is suntanning on the beach while Chase and Jackie play in the sand beside him, and everyone is laughing.

His box is dead quiet. Not even the wind to keep him company. Alone, alone, alone.

.

“I'll kill him, I'll kill him.”

“Jackie. Breathing.”

“I'll – oh, he – I'll tear him to pieces, look at this, he – I'll kill him, I'll destroy him, how could he...?”

“Jackie. Jackie.”

Chase is so tired he doesn't even get to his feet to try and calm Jackie down. He's slumped across the couch of the living room with Queenie on his stomach, kneading her claws into his t-shirt and purring. Her belly's all swollen with kittens, but instead of becoming more reclusive like a normal cat mother, she has decided she wants to be on top of someone twenty-four hours a day. Chase scratches her ears and sighs.

“How could he do this?” groans Jackie, for perhaps the hundredth time today. Chase still doesn't have an answer. Jackie is clutching JJ's note in his hands tightly enough that he's definitely torn a hole or two in it. “He made him think he has to be – he has to be in this box. He – he won't come out to me. He won't come out to me.”

Chase reaches for Jackie's jacket, catching his sleeve, and tugs his brother down onto the couch beside him. “Jackie. This note – it could be good news.”

Jackie looks at him like he's finally lost it.

“Hear me out! I know it's... not great that he seems to think he really does have to stay in there. But Jackie, look, he's not scared of Marvin! What if we jumped to conclusions about how this went down?”

“He locked my little brother in a box,” says Jackie flatly.

“But what if JJ asked him to do that?”

Jackie blinks and looks down at the smudged note.

“He... does seem to think he's dangerous.”

“And, well, he is, isn't he?”

“Don't say that.”

“Jackie, it's just facts. Er, not JJ, I mean. Anti is the dangerous one, but he uses the little man like a weapon. That's not his fault, but it's the truth. He did stab me that night.”

“Anti stabbed you!”

“Yes. But he used JJ's hands. Jackie, is it so wild to think that maybe JJ was just so scared by the things Anti has made him do that he actually asked Marvin to help him protect us from him?”

Jackie's eyes water. He shakes his head.

Chase sighs and touches his brother's shoulder. “It still wasn't right of Marvin to do what he did. He definitely should have talked to all of us about it and not left us thinking something terrible had happened to him. But if JJ really came to you and begged you to keep him away from us – well, maybe, as a temporary solution, you might take him somewhere safe and secluded, and take care of him yourself, right? Maybe not a little locked box, but... somewhere. It's not – Jackie, it's not unthinkable.”

Jackie just shakes his head, staring down at that note.

“What's wrong?” asks Chase softly.

“Wanted to make him feel safe,” croaks Jackie. “I should have – if I had made him feel safe, he wouldn't have thought he needed to be locked away. And Marvin – yeah, should have told me. Even if JJ did beg. My baby brother.”

After a long day, the tears are finally coming dripping down Jackie's face.

“I know, man,” whispers Chase.

Jackie falls against his shoulder. Chase wraps his arm around him. Queenie nudges her way into their laps and sits contentedly down, purring like a little motorboat.

“Maybe JJ and Marvin really were just working together to protect us,” mumbles Jackie. “Maybe he did take good care of him. If he had told us, maybe it is... thinkable.”

“I shouldn't have told Marvin we weren't brothers anymore.” Chase rubs at his face. “I was too quick to think it was the worst scenario.”

“No, it's not your fault,” replies Jackie softly. “It's his for not telling us, so it really did look like the worst scenario – and my fault, for exploding on him instead of listening. I should have been calmer.”

“I honestly think you were surprisingly restrained for the situation,” says Chase, a little amused. “If it were true that he just locked JJ up against his will, you oughta have kicked his ass.”

Jackie snorts, rubbing at his face. “Yeah. I guess. I don't know, though. There's just... there's something really off about that box. The kids' toys and the – I don't know. I get a really bad feeling. It's hard to describe.”

Chase hums and nods. “Well, what we need to do is talk to JJ more, right?”

Jackie perks up, glancing over at him. “Right. Figure all this out.”

Chase smiles at him. The weight on his chest is so much lighter than it was a few hours ago. This – this makes so much more sense than what they thought before. Of course it was unimaginable that Marvin would lock JJ up like a prisoner against his will and abandon him in there, unloved. What he did was still wrong, but this alternative is so much lighter than that one.

Maybe they can still fix this. Marvin could come back with Schneep, and once they were all on the same page Marvin would apologize for leaving them out of the loop. Together, they'll all be able to find a better way to keep JJ safe from Anti. Then they can all be together like they're supposed to be.

Yeah. He can see it now. Marvin and Schneep will come back home, and JJ will come out of the box, and everything will be wonderful.

Just a few hours ago, that seemed so impossible.

“You're crying again,” says Jackie, touching his face. “Chase?”

“No, it's okay,” chuckles Chase, wiping at his face.

Happy tears. He's so relieved it hurts in his chest. For a few hours there, he really thought Marvin might have done something that cruel. But not his brother. Not his Marvin. No wonder it didn't make sense. It wasn't true. He should have known Schneep was right. Schneep is always right. Chase chuckles, shaking his head. “Just a rollercoaster day, that's all.”

“No fucking kidding. I'm going to go write back to JJ. Do you want to come with?”

“No, no, I think I'll get started on dinner.”

Chase has already moved on to their reunion meal in his head. He'll cook something Marvin loves and make JJ so much good food they can't even eat it all. Bread, ice cream, pasta, casserole... there's so many options. Maybe he'll just make everything. His heart is light again. It's going to be okay.

“Okay, then,” says Jackie, heading back towards the mirror. “I'll be in there with him if you need me.”

“Got it,” Chase replies, getting up to head to the kitchen.

“Oh, um – Chase?”

“Yeah?” He turns back towards his brother.

Jackie smiles at him in the evening light. “I'm really glad you're here.”

Chase smiles back. “Me too,” he says.

Everything's going to be okay.

.

JJ,

I don't really know how to write to you. This is Jackie. I'm glad you remember me a little. I'm your older brother.

You don't want to come out of the box? When did that start? Was it your idea to be locked up like that?

I guess I can see how you would think you could be dangerous. Trust me, I've encountered Anti enough times to get it but if you give me a chance I promise I will keep you safe. JJ there has to be a better way then you being locked up like that! I don't even care if you and Marvin thought it was a good idea it's terrible. You do not have to be a prisoner you are my brother. I really want you to come stay with me. What can I do to get you out of there? I will do anything to make you feel safe, JJ. I promise I will keep you safe.

Marvin is okay. He's just staying at another house right now. He knows I am talking to you. I'm worried about how he might have treated you, can we talk some more before you talk to him? Tell me about how he treats you.

I want you to be able to make your own choice. Don't worry about him, okay?

Who decided you should be in that box?

I want you to be here with me. I really want you to be here with me and I promise I will keep you safe.

Maybe we can talk face-to-face? Even though I'm bad at sign language. I have wanted to see you for a really long time.

I love you. I don't care if you hid from me or if Anti has used you, that doesn't matter now, none of us ever blamed you for Chase's shoulder. I've been looking for you, JJ. I've been looking for you this whole time. I thought about you every day. I would have looked forever if I had to. Every day of my life.

If you think you have to stay in that box, please tell me why. I need to understand. I won't lose you again. You won't lose me too. I'm your big brother and I really want you to be here.

I promise I will keep you safe.

JB

.

Dear Jackie,

Please, just go.

You weren't supposed to know.

I will be in trouble and I will hurt you.

It is my fault. I'm not like you. I can't fight Anti. I'm not what you think I am. I'm sorry.

I'm sorry you looked. He said maybe he would tell you I was dead, but he knew you would not stop looking unless there was a body, so he couldn't even though he wanted to. He loves you. He didn't want you to be in pain. But he didn't know how to stop it either. He cried over it so much.

Maybe now that you know, you won't have to worry about me anymore, and you and Marvin can be happy again. I'm happy here. Marvin has taken such good care of me. He treats me very well.

Please go home to your brothers and don't think about me. I'm sorry I made you all so sad for so long.

Sincerely,

JJ

There are patches of wetness on the pages.

.

JJ, who decided you should be in that box? Tell me.

.

This time, there is no answer. Big blue eyes look up at Jackie from the corner of the cage, and all he wants is to go in there with him. But when he moves forward, JJ flinches and flees back to the bathroom, and all Jackie can do is sink down beside the cage, hold his head in his hands, and try not to think about the words he wanted to tell you I was dead.

.

Chase: Schneep you ok

Schneep: Yeah. We're at Stacy's

Chase: Did you tell her

Schneep: Kind of. Still not sure really what happened

Chase: Us either dude. Marvin say anything more? It sounds like maybe he and JJ both decided he should be locked up or whatever

Schneep: He is all freaked out still. I gave him something to calm him down and he fell asleep. I am worried though. He insists the Jameson must be kept in the box. I think Anti is pulling strings

Chase: I don't have any idea what's happening at this point

Schneep: How is he?

Chase: Very shy. Scared of us. He also thinks he has to stay in the box

Schneep: Healthy?

Chase: He kind of hides. Won't let us in to see him

Schneep: I come by tomorrow and check on him

Chase: Ok, sounds good. Tell me if anything changes?

Schneep: Yes I will

Chase: And say hi to the kids for me. Maybe not a good idea for me to have them this weekend after all

Schneep: No worries. We will figure everything out, my friend. Take care of JJ for me

Chase: You take care of Marvin. I think it's going to turn out alright.

Schneep: Yes, it will. See you tomorrow, love you

Chase: Love you

.

There's blood in his mouth.

JJ circles his cage, using a rag to clean the walls and wipe down the boxes and sink. When it's clean, he sits down again, reaching for his violin.

There's blood in his mouth.

He gets up again and wets the rag. Circles the cage and wipes down the walls and boxes and sink. He sits down and rubs at his face, exhausted.

There's blood in his mouth.

No. The box is clean. He's not going to clean it again.

There's blood in his throat.

He covers his face in his hands. Stop imagining it, JJ. Distract yourself.

His dog licking at his face, warm sand between his toes, Marvin is holding him –

Blood in his throat. In his teeth. He picks flesh out from between his molars. Copper tang against his tongue. He feels the weight of the blood settle in his stomach. He bites into flesh.

Jameson. I am not going to listen to this story again. That's fucked. Anti isn't here. Stop crying, okay?

The corpse is going cold beneath his fingers. Anti is laughing. The blade swirls around in his hands. He is torn between hoping Anti will stop possessing him so he can have even a minute alone in his own head and praying that Anti never leaves again, because when he does, that is when JJ becomes the victim of his curiosity.

There's blood in his mouth.

JJ gets up and wets the rag. Circles the cage and wipes down the walls and boxes and sink.

“Jameson,” murmurs Jackie. “Are you okay?”

He's standing just outside the box, looking at him. JJ avoids his gaze, scrubbing the clean right wall with vigor.

Jackie doesn't seem to want to hurt him. He supposes that makes sense. It's not Jackie JJ should worry about – it's what Anti might do to Jackie that's concerning. He wishes Marvin's big brother would leave.

“Can you show me your stuffed animals?” asks Jackie. “Or your puppets? Why do you have all those?”

JJ pauses, chewing on his nails as he glance at his animals, arranged neatly on his mattress. The finger puppets are in their box by the barred window. They're just for fun. For distraction. He knows each of them intimately. All the puppets have names and families and jobs and aspirations. All the animals have their own place in the world in his head. It's just a game. It's just a game he plays for hours at a time. He tells the same stories on repeat. The important part is that he knows they're not real people right now. Marvin was so relieved.

There's blood in his mouth.

He circles his cage. Cleans the walls and boxes and sink. It's already clean. He knows it's already clean.

“Do you play the violin?”

JJ pauses again, eyes flickering over to Jackie. Yes, he does. For hours a day.

“Would you show me?” asks Jackie gently.

JJ hovers. He's not sure he should.

But he never gets to show anyone except Marvin and the toys. It would be nice. He never got to show anyone Marvin's birthday song.

It's not going to hurt Jackie. It's just his music.

He picks the violin tentatively up. Sets it back down again.

Jackie is looking at him uncertainly from the window, smiling a faint, confused smile.

Fuck's sake, he's – he's weird, isn't he? Not Jackie – JJ. He turns away from Marvin's brother, biting at his nails again. It's been so long since he interacted with anyone other than Marvin and Anti. What must he look like to Jackie? He's treating him like he's so fragile. Maybe he is.

But this is how he lives. This is how he has to live.

He used to fight. Does Jackie know that? Does Jackie know that there were days that he would come out of possession kicking and striking at Anti, spitting at him and writhing before Anti could stuff him back into whatever hiding place he had found to contain him? Does Jackie know that JJ used to curse at Marvin and demand to be let go? That he eventually crumpled beneath the isolation and the monotony and just collapsed in on himself, sitting mindless for days at a time no matter how much Marvin begged at him to get up? Does Jackie know that he hatesthis?

There are tears dripping onto the violin set beneath his chin.

He can't think like this. This is where he has to stay. He can't go. He can't leave. There is blood in his mouth. This is what he has to do. He can't tell on Marvin, can't tell Jackie that Marvin dragged him into this box and locked him up while he cried. This is what he deserves because he's done so many bad things and he will do so many more if he is released. Oh, there is blood in his mouth. He can't get out. He has to be a good boy – he has to stay – he has to –

No, he wants out.

He wants out, he wants out, he wants out, oh, oh, oh –

No, no, no, no.

The door is right there, but he can't, he can't!

“Major freak-out,” he signs to himself. This is what Marvin calls a major freak-out. Yeah. Okay. “Have to stay calm, JJ, you can't come out of your cage.

“Come hold me, Marvin, please!

“If you calm down I'll come in there. Okay?

“Please can I come out just for a few minutes? Oh, God, I want to see a priest. Are you going to keep me here my whole life? I'll die here! I'm going to die here? I can't take it anymore! I can't take it! Oh, God, I want to see the sky, I want to hear birds, oh, God, our father, who art in Heaven –

“JJ, be good. Penguin, stop that. You know you can't come out. So be calm. I'm working on finding a solution.

“But you never do, you never do!”

“JJ.”

And now the voice does not sound like Marvin's. JJ isn't sure why. He keeps signing to himself, circling his cage, chewing on his collar. He talks to Marvin. Marvin isn't there, but he knows what he will say. Yes, Marvin is here. They're talking and hugging each other, yes, Marvin is making it better. Marvin isn't here.

“Jameson, hey. Jamie, can you look at me? Jamie, can I come in there with you?”

Yes, yes, he wants that! He hates to be alone for freak-outs. They last hours and sometimes he slams his head against the wall so hard the light hurts his eyes for days. Sometimes he scratches at the wood til his nails split. Sometimes he clings to Anti and begs him to take him away from this place, because even the torture and the killing would be better than sitting in this same – fucking – spot – for the rest of his miserable existence.

He hates to be alone. Alone, alone, alone.

“Please, please,” he begs. “Please, please.”

“Okay, I'm coming, Jamie, I'm coming.”

Marvin doesn't call him Jamie, but it doesn't matter, because a moment later, there are arms around him.

There's no torture quite like the touch-starvation, and JJ is someone who knows torture. When Marvin started touching him and hugging him and sitting with him, it changed everything. And the most wonderful part about it is how those months of his skin crawling and his brain going numb and foggy with a bizarre and visceral sort of insanity as he rubbed at his own skin and rocked and day-dreamed about being touched til he could hallucinate it – they all just fade into the background when someone puts their arms around him.

He latches on like a cat in a tree. Octopuses himself around their body. And in return – joy of joy, he is being squeezed back, squished against their body and rocked. He is scooped all the way off his feet, making him giggle. He buries his head in their shoulder and shakes, pressed so tightly together it's a little hard to breathe.

“My little brother, my little brother,” someone is singing. “My JJ. Here you are. I have you back again, I have you.”

He's grabbed by the waist and spun in a circle before he's drawn back to their chest. He laughs weakly and hears them laughing back.

“Here you are. Chase was right. This is all that matters. You are everything that matters.”

Kisses along the side of his head. Hands on his back and cupping his head. He's rocked back and forth, back and forth. Steady and strong.

Gloved hands. A red hood. The smell of rain and sweat and coconut on the jacket.

And that feeling – that feeling of safety...

Yeah. He remembers. How could he forget? When this was what he dreamed about for so long?

Jackie is holding him.

His awareness comes back to him in pieces as he comes down from the second or third panic attack of the day. Jackie has crashed down onto the mattress with him. He's being held like a little kid, but Jackie doesn't seem bothered by his weight or his neediness. Jackie just clings to him. Clings to him as tight as he's clinging to Jackie.

JJ cries quietly as he comes back to himself. Jackie wipes at his face and hums to him, nonsense music in the air.

“My JJ, my JJ.” He doesn't seem bothered by the crying either. “I missed you, JJ.”

His voice breaks. Jackie coughs and kisses the side of his head one more time, his voice fading away.

“Have to go,” signs JJ, crying into his chest. “Have to go, before he hurts you!”

“I'm so sorry, James, I never really got to practice with the sign language, I should have worked harder...”

“Go, go!” He points to the door. “Go away!”

Jackie shakes his head at him. JJ should push him away, but he just – he just can't.

Marvin will kill him for this. Anti will kill Jackie for this!

“Nothing's going to hurt you anymore,” whispers Jackie. “Never, you're never leaving my sight again. I'm never going to let anything happen to you ever again.”

And he wants it to be true so badly it hurts.

He just clings to Jackie, shaking.

“Oh! He let you get in there with him!”

A new voice in the expanse of the mirrors. JJ feels Jackie nod.

“Do you guys... do you want some space?”

“Yeah, please,” whispers Jackie. “Maybe he'll let you come in too in a minute, but if we could just... just get a minute...”

“Just text me if you need anything.”

And it's just him and Jackie in the quiet of his box again.

“Nothing matters but this,” sings Jackie, brushing at his hair. “My baby brother. I love you.”

Love, love, love.

He closes his eyes and holds to Jackie, and just for one moment of weakness, he lets himself have this.

Marvin's Cage

Story One l Story Two l Story Three l l Story Four l Story Five

This is part 1 of the sixth story, where Marvin's secret comes to light. Tws for extreme distress, imprisonment, Anti's general creepiness, and mentions of human trafficking.

Thanks for reading! Let me know if you love to hate it. I'll hopefully have the next part fairly soon. But also this is quite long, as a heads up

Okay, here we go...

They stack cards in terse silence, racing through decks, climbing up to Jacks, Queens, Kings. They both grab at a black seven of hearts at the same time and end up slapping at each other's hands, JJ yanking the card back just before his opponent. Anti cackles and keeps flipping cards, waiting for the next one to snatch.

“Peanuts,” signs JJ suddenly, and Anti swears and laughs and starts picking the cards up to re-deal, doling them out in piles, and they're playing again, without a word, stacking decks, up and up and up.

After a few rounds, JJ reaches for a bottle of water at his side, sucking it down and brushing at his sweaty hair. Anti rocks on his thighs, chewing at his nails. “Where's your sweet Big Brother today, child?” he asks.

“Comes and goes,” signs JJ, setting his bottle down and getting a granola bar out of its box for lunch. “Birthday week. Celebrate, family. But he will come see me soon. He loves me because I've been very good.”

He stacks up a fresh set for another game, yawning.

“He ought to let you come play with me in the real world,” purrs Anti, stroking his thumb across JJ's chin. Jameson shivers, but he does not protest. “He's so mean to keep you from me. Now all I get to do is come visit you and play silly games. My warm flesh... don't you know I miss you?”

JJ sorts his cards quietly, avoiding his eye. Anti reaches forward and grips his neck, squeezing gently.

“My warm flesh,” he repeats softly, licking his lips.

Jameson breathes through his mouth as Anti begins to strangle him, keeping calm. The easiest thing is just to get through it. If he talks back or makes Anti angry, then he'll really get hurt, and there will be nothing he can do to stop it. Anti gets up on his knees and crawls into JJ's space, pushing him down onto the floor of his cage. He straddles his waist and increases the pressure on his throat. JJ gazes up at him, still.

“We had such a good time together,” hums Anti, feeling his thready human heartbeat beneath his hands. “Didn't we?”

JJ doesn't remember much good about his time with Anti. He knows the taste of a human heart in his mouth. He was once chained against a wall so tightly he couldn't protest when the rats began to gnaw at him. At one point, he was so delirious and hurt that he believed he was dead for two weeks straight.

That's the good thing about his Brother. Not being allowed to leave this box doesn't matter, and neither do the occasional beatings or possessions Anti causes him, because Brother would never let anything half as horrible as the things Anti used to do to him happen anymore. Brother protects him from Anti – and protects everyone else in the world from Anti using his body.

He shudders at the memory of his teeth clamping down around the beating muscle his hands pulled from a stranger's chest. Blood leaking onto his tongue, warm as it filled his mouth. He was laughing. His fingers dug into soft, squishy organs, the filth filling up his broken nails, and his heart beat like the wing of a hummingbird beneath his ribs, making him dizzy with Anti's sick delight.

Yes. Brother protects him. Brother protects everyone. That's why he's here.

He's just beginning to lose consciousness from the cut-off of his oxygen when something stops Anti.

His head tilts and his ears perk up as he stills, paying attention to something JJ has not sensed yet. His mismatched eyes flicker back and forth as he thinks – and then a wide smile grows on his face.

“Please let go,” signs JJ, squirming.

“Someone... other than Marvin,” Anti mumbles. “Oh, this will be really good.”

JJ stills, blinking. Anti creeps to his feet, gazing through the front of JJ's box from the corner, trying to look without being seen. His eyes light up with a venomous light. He turns his smile towards JJ, eyes gleaming.

He crawls back into JJ's space, tucking a strand of his brother's hair behind his ear. JJ holds still as Anti leans close to him, whispering against his ear:

“Things are going to change for you now, my darling. But I'll see you again soon. I promise. So don't forget about me, child – not even for a moment.”

A cold kiss presses against the side of JJ's head.

Then Anti is gone, leaving only a faint and fading trail of glitching colors behind him.

JJ waits for a few moments, but he's so used to Anti's mannerisms he can't even be unnerved. He sighs, scattering the cards across the floor. Well, if Anti is gone, he'll have to find something else to do.

He reaches for his violin, getting to his feet and stretching a little before setting the bow down. Still, he can't shake a feeling that something in the air has changed for good.

.

Jackie treads on the solid floor of the endless mirror, his head tilted as he listens to the music.

“What the hell is this?” he whispers, creeping forward.

It's certainly not a portal to anywhere, not like it used to be, or at least this isn't the door. Instead there's some kind of box, a shed or a tiny house like on TV or maybe just a really weird puppet theater. The words “JJ's Jolly Jaunts” is spread across the top of the inside layer, behind bars, and it makes Jackie's stomach do a weird, foreboding turn that he doesn't understand.

Something about this is fucked up, that's all he knows. But if it has something to do with his missing brother – well, why wouldn't Marvin tell him? Has he been trying to find him? Is this some freaky memorial to him? Does Marvin think he's dead?

His next footstep lands heavily, echoing a little in the expanse. The music that he thought must have played from a speaker cuts off with a timid release of the violin bow from its strings, and he stops dead in his tracks.

Something is in here.

Someone is in here.

Being alarmed and weirded out, however, is only a catalyst for Jackie's curiosity, and the not-knowing becomes almost unbearable. He races towards the box, setting his tense fingers on the side of the barred window as he looks in.

There are decorations like fairy nights and pinned-up drawings of animals overhead a big red rug and a mattress with blankets and pillows disarrayed on top. A small curtain covers a corner in the back, stuffed animals stack against the wall opposite, and there are tupperware containers and cardboard boxes full of granola bars, dried fruits, cookies, and more. Art supplies scatter across the floor – paper and charcoal and bits of fabric and buttons. Jackie leans a little farther over the sill, his face nearly pressing against the bars around the outside, and he sees homemade puppets among the felt and sewing materials.

“This is fucked,” he mutters, turning to the left. Pressed closer, he can see some cleaning supplies. He turns to the right and –

Jackie rears back with a shout, his heart leaping into a double-time march.

Silence in the mirror realm. Nothing moves.

Deep breaths, Jackie. Deep breaths.

“Jameson?” he whispers, stepping cautiously back towards the cage. “I... is that you?”

It looked like him, for the moment where Jackie's eyes landed on him, a figured pressed against the closest corner of the box, clutching a violin like a shield and staring back at Jackie with wide eyes. But it couldn't be. Why would he be here? None of this makes sense, but the idea that comes closest – of course.

“Not Jameson,” he realizes, face darkening. “Anti. Right? Marvin caught you, didn't he? And he's... trying to get you out of Jameson's skin. Trying to make you let him go. You fucking parasite.”

There's a slight scraping of cloth on wood. Jackie tenses, licking his mouth, and waits for Anti to start laughing and step out to see him.

But nothing moves.

“If you're trying to get me to come closer, you missed your opportunity,” snarls Jackie. “Fuck, I can't believe – why wouldn't he tell me about this? It must have been just the last couple weeks that he caught you, since we fought just before. You've been possessing him this whole time, then, bastard? You're a creep. When I figure this out with Marvin, you'll never touch him again.”

And Jackie waits again, but... nothing.

This isn't like Anti. Not taunting? Not snarling and snapping or teasing Jackie over every failure he's ever been haunted by?

Why the pictures on the wall? Why all the stuffed animals? What the hell is going on?

“Forget you, then,” Jackie scowls. “I need to go talk to Marvin.”

He turns to walk away, back towards the portal, mind racing. He needs to talk to him before he gets more confused.

He touches the portal to leave.

Why the pictures? Turtles and bears and butterflies?

That's not Anti.

It must be.

Why the stuffed animals? A well-loved puppy, ratty with hugs and petting?

Anti wouldn't do that.

It only looks like Jameson because it's Anti. It has to be Anti.

Why any of this? The obvious time that's been spent in that box even though he saw Anti not a month past? The scared look on Anti's face as he hid from Jackie, something he's never done before? The violin music? Does Anti play violin now?

That is not Anti.

But it has to be, so –

“I need to talk to Marvin,” he repeats to himself, heart racing again. “I need...”

Marvin lied to me.

Marvin didn't tell me about this. Hid this. On purpose. Denied all of it a hundred times.

No. That's my little brother. I can trust him.

He lied.

And that –

It's Anti.

It's not Anti.

It has to be.

It isn't.

Looking back at this moment, Jackie will wonder what would have happened if he went through that portal and asked Marvin what was going. What he would have said. If he would have lied, if he would have made excuses. If he would have just been silent.

It doesn't matter now.

He knows that something is not right, and he can't trust Marvin – shit, he's never had that thought before, not once in his life – so he has to figure this out on his own.

He walks back towards that cage in the middle of the endless reflections of himself. In the mirrors, he can see himself walk towards the box from behind – steady, tentative steps, tense shoulders beneath a red jacket, hands in black gloves squeezed into fists. He can see himself from the side, with his mouth parted and his eyes fixed ahead. He can see his own face, looking into his own eyes, looking into the face he shares with his younger brother, the first younger brother he had, the one who made everything else worth having.

As he comes back towards the box, he realizes that whoever is in there must have thought he left like he said he would, because now he hears soft sobbing coming from inside. He hears the moment the violin is set aside with a slight thud, and cloth slides against the wood as the prisoner sits down on the floor. Jackie stands outside, listening, his eyes beginning to burn.

Not Anti. Not Anti. He knows. In his heart, yes – in his heart he already knows.

“Hello?” he calls.

The crying cuts off. Jackie closes his eyes. Deep breaths. Deep breaths, Jackie, even if this can't be true.

“Look, Anti,” he says. “If that's you, well. I hate your guts, but I still don't think you should be trapped in a box like this. Nobody should be. Come out and tell me what's going on and we'll figure this out.”

The prisoner doesn't bite.

“Okay,” sighs Jackie. “Um. Listen, I... I'm sorry I yelled. If you're not Anti, please let me know. I'm not going to hurt you. I was just surprised. And scared, I think. I don't know what's going on.”

A soft, shaky breath moves through the air.

“I'm going to come closer now,” says Jackie, straightening up. “I'm going to look at you again. Please don't scratch my eyes out or anything. Okay.”

He leans in for a second time, bringing his head close to the bars.

There he is. The prisoner in the corner. He's sitting down now, arms wrapped around himself. His face is mostly hidden in the knees drawn to his chest, but his eyes –

Big blue eyes look up at Jackie from beneath overgrown, mousy brown curls.

Jackie has never claimed to be good at reading others. He actually tends to miss plenty that other people seem to find obvious in mere expressions and gestures. But this...

No. He could never forget this exact look, these exact eyes. The eyes of the little brother that stared up at him for hours that night so many months ago when he lost him. The eyes that were looking at him when he lost consciousness and woke up to an empty bed and a missing piece of his heart. The fear and the confusion and the hope and the love all at once.

His Jameson.

Jackie bows his head and cries.

For long minutes he's bent over the side of that ledge by the box, one hand clinging to the bars behind which his youngest brother has been kept as a prisoner, and he can't seem to stop no matter how hard he tries. There is no noise from Jameson. Jackie can't look at him again. Can't bear it.

And then the soft brush of something against his hand startles Jackie from his breakdown, and he looks up to find a tissue pressed against his fingers.

JJ has brought him a tissue.

Jackie stares at him and Jameson looks back, ducking his head shyly now, even as he pulls Jackie's fingers around the Kleenex, plucking gently at his hand. Jackie takes the tissue. JJ backs away again, still holding that battered violin to his chest like a shield.

“Thank you,” croaks Jackie.

Jameson nods just a little, eyes fixed on him.

“Do you... remember me?” asks Jackie. “We were... it was so short. Just that night. And you were sick and confused. He'd been possessing you a long time and I just – do you remember at all or...?”

Jameson scoots a little closer, chewing at his nails for a second.

His fingers reach out to touch Jackie's again. Curl around the back of his hand and settle there. Soft.

He nods just a little a second time.

Yeah. He remembers.

“Jameson,” breathes Jackie.

He reaches for his hand in return. Their fingers lock together through the bars.

Laughter bubbles up in the empty coldness of the mirror realm, and after a moment Jackie realizes he is the one he's laughing.

“Yes,” he laughs, squeezing his hands, and JJ looks back at him in awe, letting his violin fall to the side. “Yeah, Jameson, my little brother. You remember me. You're alive! You're here! JJ, JJ... how do I get you out?”

He wants to be holding him. Now. Wants to wrap him up like the kittens Marvin used to sneak into the house and take him back to the world and never let him the fuck out of his sight again.

Jameson glances to the right of his box and Jackie goes racing around the side to find the opening. There's nothing but a half-door carved into the side and this is locked by a padlock with no keyhole. Jackie grabs the chunk of metal, frowning, and there – carved into the back of the metal are sigils that burn with heat even untouched in the coldness.

Magic.

He returns to JJ, taking his hand again.

“I'm going to get you out of here,” he says, and it's so true and so important in his chest that it hurts somehow to get the words out. “I'm here now and I will not let anything more happen to you.”

He wishes JJ would smile or nod or anything like that. But he just stares at Jackie with that big, starry awe in his blue eyes, and squeezes his hand softly, shuffling closer to him, staring. Jackie holds his breath as Jameson leans his head against the bars of his prison so his forehead almost touches Jackie's. He picks up the discarded tissue and presses it against Jackie's reddened cheeks, mouth parting.

Jackie clings to his hands and closes his eyes, letting his little brother brush his tears away.

“Jameson,” he says, just soft, though everything seems loud in the silence, in the emptiness, in the endless cold. “Tell me who did this to you.”

JJ draws away. There is a pause where he looks down at his toys and his animals and his art. His hands wrap around each other. He shrugs his shoulders weakly.

“Tell me,” says Jackie, reaching for him again. “Jamie, my Jamie. Tell me.”

His head already knows, but in his chest –

No.

Jameson chews at his nails for a second, big eyes flashing up to Jackie, and then he turns and points at the picture pinned to the wall above his mattress.

In JJ's charcoals, Marvin is thin and tired, but whoever drew the curve of his sorrowful mouth and detailed the light in his eyes loves him.

Jackie's heart stays steady. His eyes do not burn. His lets out just one more shaking breath.

Very well, then.

“Jameson,” he says. “I will be right back.”

.

“No! No, not even like that.”

“There's no scenario in which this works, Chase.”

“Guys, hear me out!” Chase cries, re-adjusting on the couch between them and snagging popcorn from Marvin's bowl. “Okay, so the earth is round – ”

“Well, he's got that much right,” says Marvin.

“Already better than I was expecting, to be fair,” agrees Henrik.

“The earth is ROUND,” re-iterates Chase, shoving them both. “So theoretically, if I got enough momentum, and there was a path that went all the way around... I could Heely the whole way round the earth.”

“No,” groan his siblings, throwing popcorn at him. “No, that still doesn't – ”

“Haters! Haters, the both of you!”

Marvin's laughing and antagonizing Chase by pushing him with his socked feet, trying to throw him off the couch while Henrik shields the cat from the fighting on the other side of the cushions. They've been talking about stupid shit for so long he's completely lost track of the plot of the movie they're watching, but it doesn't matter.

Nothing matters but them. And you know what, he feels good today, feels light and painless for the first time in a long time. For them to actually set aside the time for his birthday... well, that's the only thing he could have asked for. That and some earrings. And food. And a couple other things he wanted. But really the time together is the important stuff.

And here comes Jackie to complete them.

“Good afternoon, my darling, and will you be joining us?” he crows, letting his feet fall into Chase's lap instead of continuing to try and shove him off the couch. “Sit down with us and let's – um, Jackie?”

Why is he standing like that? Too still on the stairs. Wild, bouncy Jackie frozen stiff with his palm spread out against the wall, steadying him like a statue with a weak foundation. In his other hand: his fighting staff, extended and clenched so hard in his fingers that they have gone red with blood.

“Jackie?” asks Chase. All three of them are staring up at him by now, the TV playing loudly in front of them. “Everything okay?”

Jackie blinks at him a couple times, his face blank.

Henrik and Chase look at each other, eyebrows raising. Marvin's eyes are just fixed on their oldest brother. He realizes that his body has gone just as tense as Jackie's, his legs swinging off Chase's lap and setting firmly against the carpeted floor, a hand pressed against the cushion beside him.

Jackie starts shaking his head. Head low, eyes haunted.

“What's the matter?” asks Marvin.

Jackie shakes his head at him. His mouth is taut and his eyes narrow, angry like a wounded dog.

Marvin's throat is dry.

“What's the matter?” he repeats.

“Chase, Henrik,” says Jackie. “Go to Stacy's and stay there til I say you can come home.”

Chase pauses the movie, gaping at Jackie. Beyond the bizarre suddenness of the request, he never calls Schneep 'Henrik.' After a second, he moves to rise, but Henrik reaches across them to grab his arm and pull him back down.

“I don't think we're going anywhere, my friend,” says Henrik softly. “What's going on?”

“'Maybe Marvin can tell you,” Jackie answers.

Marvin can almost feel his own neurons firing. In a second, he has made the decision to lie through his teeth.

Because this isn't happening. He won't let this be happening. Jackie does not know – you've been scared that he does a million times before and they've all been false alarms, don't overreact, this is just some kind of misunderstanding – and he will never know. He will never, never know.

“Jackie, I don't know what's going on,” says Marvin sadly. “Tell us, please.”

“Yeah, Jackie, shit, you're freaking me out,” Chase agrees. “You want me to turn the lights off? You can lie down and – ”

“I'm fine,” says Jackie. “Marvin, you know, you – ”

“I don't know what's going on.”

“I went in your room.”

He laughs. Doesn't know why. “Okay?”

Henrik and Chase just look between him and Jackie. Jackie starts coming down the stairs. Heavy footsteps on the wood.

“Let's go look together.”

Marvin's smiling at his brother, his lip snarling a little.

He nightmared over this moment so many times. Is it really here? He always thought it would make him scared.

It just makes him angry.

Jackie doesn't know shit and it will stay that way. Stupid, naive Jackie. Marvin will lie his way out of this if he has to gaslight Jackie til Chase and Henrik call him crazy.

“There's nothing in there,” he says.

Jackie grabs him by the arm.

“Jackie!” calls Henrik, getting to his feet and setting his hands indignantly on his hips. Marvin wants to laugh again. Schneep is using his big, bad doctor voice, just like he would with any other argument in their house. Like they're fighting over who flooded the sink or whether to keep the kittens Queenie's pregnant with. Like it's just any other day.

There's no inkling in either him or Chase that this is Marvin's apocalypse. Somehow, it makes him feel powerful. Even if Jackie does have some idea of what's going on, only Marvin knows how deep this really goes.

“Don't grab him like that,” Henrik is scolding. “Now tell us what's going on or – ”

“Don't bother, Schneep,” says Marvin, staring right at Jackie. “He's angry. And you know Jackie when he's angry. He doesn't listen to anyone.”

Jackie's ears draw back and his mouth clamps tighter. He's gazing right back at Marvin. Heat like a geyser in his blue eyes.

“Let him drag me, whatever,” Marvin continues. “He'll realize he was wrong with whatever he's talking about later and come sobbing to me for forgiveness. 'Oh, Marvel, I was so mean, I'm sorry, I'm really sorry...'”

Jackie yanks him hard towards the stairs, ignoring Chase and Henrik shouting at them. Marvin lets him march him towards his room, but it's becoming less funny. His eyes burn and it seems difficult to breathe. His heart pounds against his ribs hard enough that Jackie might be able to feel it from his grip on him.

He can see Anti under Jameson's skin in days gone by, signing slowly at him, promising him that he'll regret what he's done. He laughs weakly as Jackie tears open the door of his room and shoves him inside.

“Jackie, don't push him!” shouts Chase, tugging on the back of Jackie's sweatshirt. “Hey, look at me!”

“Tell them what's in the mirror, Marvin.” Jackie advances on him. Marvin tries to move past him, but he won't let him. Pushing him back towards Jamie's mirror. “Tell them.”

“You've lost it, Jackie,” snaps Marvin.

“Jackie, what's gotten into you?” cries Chase. “Leave him alone! Marvin?”

Marvin wants to call to him – baby, it's okay, amata, don't worry – but how is he supposed to say that now, with Jackie pushing him towards that prison he created? In his heart, he wishes Chase would save him.

“Tell them what's in the mirror!” screams Jackie, and he lunges forward as his composure breaks, slamming Marvin into the wall beside the mirror. Marvin shrieks as his brother's hands wrap around his throat and pin him hard to the plaster. One of the cats is yowling in the doorway and Chase and Henrik are both yowling too, grabbing at them and trying to pull Jackie off, but he will not be moved.

“Tell me you're Anti!” Jackie howls. “You're possessing Marvin! Or he's blackmailing you! Tell me, tell me! My little brother! Tell me you didn't do this to him!”

Marvin does not know if he laughs or sobs in that moment.

Jackie throws him hard to the ground when he does not answer, his staff striking the ground beside his head. “You let him out of that cage, Anti! Now!”

“I don't know what you're talking about,” chokes Marvin.

“Jameson's in that mirror,” shouts Jackie, whirling on their younger brothers. “He's locked up like a fucking dog! Like an animal! This isn't Marvin, it's Anti!”

Marvin stares at the ceiling, writhing beneath Jackie's hands as Chase and Henrik back off, asking questions and exclaiming at Jackie as their oldest brother starts to relate what he saw. Marvin can't breathe.

A little box. A box with bars on the front and a magical lock on it. Him just lying all small inside, with his toys and violin and drawings and snacks. Jameson. Jameson.

Jackie knows.

Jackie knows!

A nightmare – it's a nightmare. It's a nightmare!

“Get off!” he screeches, and when Jackie doesn't budge Marvin opens his mouth and sinks his teeth into the hand holding his chin down.

Jackie yelps and draws back. Henrik jerks forward to keep Marvin down, now, clinging to his clothes.

“Marv, Marv,” chants Henrik, holding him carefully. “Hey. If you're in trouble, we'll figure this out. Just let's be calm. And if you're Anti – there's no point to running.”

“But Anti can't get in here,” Chase puts in, frustrated. “You guys know that. Marvin warded the place to hell and he doesn't know where the mirror that comes to our house is.”

“Chase, go check the warding,” orders Jackie. “Anti might have compromised him instead of possessing him. He must have been at it for months. That's why he's been acting so weird. Blackmail or something. I didn't think it was Anti because I thought you would have come to me if he were hurting you!”

No, no, no! Marvin grips at his head, giggling again. This is just a half-truth and their disapproval and fear and distrust is already too much to bear. If they find out the truth – if they know –

He was right, though! He had to do it!

“Come, my brother, up we get,” says Henrik, wrapping an arm gently around his waist. Jackie still looks like he wants to beat the demons out of him, but he lets Henrik handle him. Marvin slinks to his feet with his brother's arm around him and Henrik sits him down on his bed.

“Okay, now, tell us what's been going on,” he murmurs, brushing a few strands of hair from his eyes.

Marvin grips his wrist, dizzied. He doesn't want him to step back. He wants Henrik to stop this from happening.

“Has Anti been talking to you?” Henrik asks in a hush. “What has he done, my dear? You can tell us now. Is Jameson really there?”

His Schneep. He's as feral as a rabid squirrel most of the time, but then, when he needs him, his brother melts into soft touches and a quiet, even voice. Unflappable, reliable, steady Henrik. Marvin cups his chin, staring up at him.

“Don't touch him,” says Jackie darkly, standing posed like a toy boxer behind Henrik. “Don't put a hand on him.”

“The warding is fine,” calls Chase, coming back into the room. “Nothing smudged or anything.”

“Anti may be manipulating him from a distance,” says Henrik. “Threatening and holding things over him. Jameson... did he threaten to hurt him? Marvin, you were trying to protect him, yes?”

Jackie's stance slackens, his fingers loosening around the staff, and Marvin sees the moment where his eyes soften for him. Chase comes close too and stands beside Henrik, rubbing a hand along Marvin's shoulder.

“Breathe, amata,” he says. Sunny, starry Chase. His Chase. “It's gonna be okay, Marv. I promise. What did Anti do? He hurt you, huh?”

Marvin stares up at him, mouth parted. His eyes flicker towards his own figure in the mirror.

He knows JJ is back there. At this time of day, he's probably napping or playing his violin. Anti could even be in there with him now. He can see him now, black eyes and a wicked smile twisting up Jameson's mouth. He'd bite his teeth at Marvin behind the bars of the cage or coo threats and dark promises. He'd leave Jamie bleeding and ill and laugh about it.

He can see Jameson helpless in the middle of everything. Months and months of Jameson's helplessness. Curled up around himself, silent and dead-eyed in the corner, begging for Marvin's attention, scared and crying, playing with his puppets and toys like a two-year-old, writing music for Marvin, praying devout rosaries on his mattress, sleeping the day away. Hollow eyes. A big smile and then nothing on his face. Eating noodles with his hands and looking over new llama-patterned socks like they're a gift from God. Nosebleeds and fevers and coughs, enough to shake his whole chest.

And on the other side of that mirror, on the other side of the helpless intruder and the mad spirit that wears his flesh like an outfit: Marvin's family.

Chase. Jackie. Henrik.

Yes. Yes. He did what he had to do.

For months it has tormented him. Now Jackie knows. Lies won't help. Even this one, this tempting lie being offered to him by his hopeful brothers – the lie that Anti made him do it. They're looking so gently at him, but it's just another web to tangle him up and choke him for months. In the end, it won't protect him.

He did what he had to do.

He will make them see that.

.

JJ sits in his box, chewing his nails down to the bit. He takes a hangnail between his teeth and pulls it til the blood runs down his thumb.

He doesn't know what's going on.

He decides to pick up his violin again, setting the bow down and trying to breathe in and out, in and out, in and out, steady. Marvin always makes him take three deep breaths when he was beginning to freak out. Marvin hates it when he freaks out. So he will be calm. He will breathe – one, two, three – and play his music.

He feels that he can hear Marvin in the movement of his improv. M-Brother. The only person other than Anti he's ever really known.

His voice started out stern and hot and distant. His eyes would flash and he would stand at a distance as though afraid of Jameson biting him. He stayed with him very little and never touched him.

Marvin became scared, later. Jameson remembers the first part of his illness, when he was so sick he could barely stand on his own, but the second half, when he stopped being coherent, is lost to him. The only thing he recalls is the frantic rise of Marvin's voice, thinner and louder as the days went on.

Scared Marvin. Screaming Marvin. Cold Marvin. Comforting Marvin.

Flashes and glimpses. He rarely stays more than an hour.

Jameson plays long, sweet notes across the violin.

My brother protects me. Because I'm dangerous. Because I'm bad. If I'm good, maybe someone will hold me for just a few minutes.

Long, sorrowful notes.

He realizes he has transitioned from improv to the tune he wrote for Marvin's birthday. He lets the long notes pull across the violin. He will play it til it's perfect, so that, when Marvin is finally ready to hear it, it will be so excellent he will have to like it.

He misses a note and re-starts. He draws a rest out too long and restarts. He plays it too lifelessly and restarts. Restart again, again, again, one, two, three. It must be perfect. For Marvin. For his brother. His brother who protects him, and the only person in the whole world whom JJ loves.

He cannot see or hear anything beyond the mirror realm, but a part of him hears when Marvin starts to cry.

.

“I locked Jameson up to keep you safe,” says Marvin. “That's all.”

Large eyes looking back at him. Chase and Henrik exchange looks again, passing thoughts between gazes. Jackie's just staring at him.

Marvin raises his chin and stares back.

The tears are running down his face, but he doesn't sob and he doesn't wheeze and he does not let his expression break.

He did what he had to.

“Keep us safe?” Chase repeats.

“It's not his fault,” says Marvin. “I know that. But Anti uses him as a weapon and there are few few things we can do about that. The two of them are connected – Anti can find him anywhere and Jameson has no defense against that kind of power. He's just a mortal kid. I've been looking for a way to protect him from Anti's interference, or at least stop Anti from being able to locate him, but it's complex magic. In the meantime, I had to keep him away from you. That day he stabbed you...”

Marvin's eyes flicker to Chase's chest. He remembers the dark wound in his shoulder and the ache in his brother's movements for weeks. The fear as the blood poured out and Jackie dragged the thrashing monster off Chase's body and choked him til he passed out.

“I couldn't let that happen again.”

They still don't say anything. A part of him screams at them to speak, begging for anything in reply, but the other half of him is desperate for the quiet. If they tell him how they feel it could break him in half.

“I didn't tell you,” he continues. “And I lied to you about it many times. I'm sorry. I don't know how to express to you how much it has hurt me over the time it's gone on. I know that doesn't make it right, but I want you to know I have always wanted to tell you. But I knew that if I did... you wouldn't agree.”

A faint, thin laugh from Chase. “This is a joke, yeah? Of course we wouldn't agree. How could you think that – ?”

“Because none of you have the guts to make this call,” replies Marvin before he can even finish, voice raising. “Don't you see? You all wanted him to just live here with us, hoping we'd be able to restrain him if Anti came! But that's not realistic. He would have fucking killed you! Jackie, you're too empathetic, Chase can't even kill a spider, and Henrik – ”

Henrik is staring at him, face unreadable. Marvin deflates, shaking his head.

“Henrik didn't deserve to have to make that call, even if he could. I'm older. I was the one with the means to hide him away. I – ”

“This is a lie,” Jackie interrupts him, sudden and loud. “This is a lie.”

Marvin says nothing. Meets his eyes and waits.

“Marvin?” asks Chase. “This isn't true, right?”

Chase – well, his eyes Marvin can't meet.

Chase looks to Henrik and Jackie, mouth open, bewildered.

“My little brother?” he asks in a small voice.

“Boys,” says Henrik, sighing. “Okay, deep breaths. Let's not get worked up. Of course it is not true. Anti is... he still has something over him. Marvin cannot speak freely. He is protecting us I would guess. Anti has made threats, perhaps cast spells or things like this. Forced Marvin to cast spells. Or he has a way to possess him. We must find Anti and deal with him before we can get anywhere.”

Henrik's voice is sure and cool, but Chase and Jackie don't respond to his call to action. Henrik turns firmly back to Marvin and cups his chin, stroking his thumb across his beard. “We will make this right, my brother,” he says. “I promise.”

“You said Anti didn't have Jameson, though,” says Chase, pushing forward. “Anti told you that, the last time you fought.”

“The second to last time we fought,” Jackie corrects. “Yes, he said that he didn't have Jameson. Then I saw him not a month ago. He didn't say anything about Marvin. But... right after that was when Marvin had that encounter with him.”

“Guys,” Marvin offers wearily. “It's not – ”

“Marvin wouldn't do this to our younger brother,” scoffs Henrik. “Locking him away! It's terrible.”

“I've taken care of him,” cries Marvin. “I have, he – ”

“Can I see him?” Chase's voice seems to be fainter with every sentence he speaks. “I never got to meet him, just Anti. We've talked about him for so long.”

“You – you used to help me go out looking for him.” Jackie whirls on Marvin again, eyes burning. “No, tell me this isn't true.”

“He would have killed you,” hisses Marvin, his eyes watering again.

“So that means you caged him like an animal?”

“Marvin can't have done this,” Henrik insists. “Marvin can't have.”

“I don't know what's going on,” says Chase, starting to cry. “Can I please see Jameson?”

“Maybe Jackie's the one possessed,” says Henrik, backing suddenly away from his oldest brother and putting a hand on Marvin's shoulder. “Maybe that's why Marvin is acting this way. Anti will blame him for what he's done to Jameson.”

“He's in a cage in there! When was the last time he's been out of there? How long has it been?”

Jackie's question seems to quiet everyone again. All eyes turn back to Marvin.

“How long what?”

“How long has it been since you let him out of there?” asks Jackie, voice dangerous again. Stance dangerous.

Jackie has never looked dangerous to Marvin before this moment.

Marvin breathes in through his nose, trying to find an answer. He wants to come clean – wants to show how justified he was – but it sounds so cruel when it's said out loud.

“He's been missing for seven months,” says Jackie, voice trembling. “If this is true, what you're saying, then he's been your prisoner for seven months. Right?”

“Yes,” says Marvin softly.

“Marvin. Has he been inside that box this whole time?”

Silence. Silence. Silence.

Jackie turns away from him, breathing thinning out. Chase is just shaking his head. Henrik's still at Marvin's side.

Jackie looks back to them, poised like he's about to pounce.

“Jackie,” warns Henrik, holding a hand out. “It's not true, it – ”

“Just let him out of the box,” whispers Jackie.

Marvin licks his mouth.

Draws a breath.

Shakes his head.

Jackie cocks his head at him, frowning. “What? What was that? Are you saying no?”

The disbelief in the air seems heavy on his shoulders.

Helpless Jameson. Snarling Anti.

Chase. Jackie. Henrik.

Chase. Jackie. Henrik.

Chase. Jackie. Henrik.

Had to.

Has to.

“Yes,” says Marvin. “I said no. Jameson is a threat to you. I won't let him out of the box.”.

Jackie has a grip on Marvin's shirt collar in a flash, shoving him down onto the bed. Henrik yelps and tries to pull him away again, and now Chase is sobbing openly somewhere in the background, and the cat starts to mewl again. Jackie's screaming. Jackie's screaming at him. Jackie's screaming everything Marvin was ever afraid that he would say.

“Like an animal, you locked him up like an animal! You knew I loved him and you took him away from me! You – you knocked me out that night! Fucking traitor! Marvin, Marvin! How could you do this to me?”

Marvin cries against the bed. Jackie slams him back, once, twice.

“Jackie,” Henrik wails, and honest to God Marvin has never heard him that scared.

“How could you do this to him?” Jackie screeches, squeezing his shirt til the buttons below pop. “He didn't deserve it. He was just a victim! You lied to me so many times! I wanted him, you knew how badly I needed him back! You let me think that Anti had him, and then that he was missing from everybody! Do you know how many sex trafficking rings I busted looking for him? How many times I spent my nights under bridges or in drug dens looking for him, trying to make sure everyone was safe?”

“Jackie,” sobs Marvin. “Love, you do all that anyway.”

“But I didn't use to wonder if it would be my baby brother when I found homeless men dead in the streets,” Jackie answers, and it's now that Marvin realizes he's sobbing too. “I didn't use to carry teenagers to the emergency room after they'd overdosed because they just got mixed up with the wrong people, people who should have looked after them, and then spend the rest of the week wondering if anybody would carry my baby brother like that if the same thing was happening to him. I didn't used to clean up trafficking victims and see every one of those bruises and cuts and markings and diseases on his skin too.”

Marvin's crying too hard to breathe. He takes hold of Jackie's sweatshirt and cries, shaking his head up at him.

“I love you,” he manages, choking and sobbing. “I love you, I love you.”

“I searched for him! Cried over him, nightmared about his little body washing up on the beach! That one night I had him, he looked up at me like I made the world spin, just because I showed him a few minutes of kindness. He had just finally in his life gotten some kindness. Why did he deserve this?”

“I love you,” Marvin chants, because what else can he say? Jameson never deserved it. He always knew that. It's just that his brothers also deserved better – deserved to be safe from Anti – and that was all that mattered.

That is still all that matters.

“Let him out of there,” wails Jackie. “Now, now, fucking traitor, let him out!”

But Marvin keeps shaking his head. No. No!

Jackie screams in frustration and draws his arm back. Marvin flinches and jerks his head away.

And in the middle of all the chaos and all the turmoil inside his chest, he thinks that that moment is clear as day to both of them, because they realize at the exact same time that Jackie almost hit him.

Marvin gapes up at him. Jackie still has his fist drawn back.

His big brother almost hit him.

Marvin lies there, breathing thick, wet breaths. Jackie holds that fist up, shocked.

Then his hand lowers, and for just one second, his fingers stroke down Marvin's cheek.

It's bizarre, later, that Marvin knows exactly what Jackie is seeing in that moment – his little brother. His only little brother, back before any of this. Bright green hair and a silly Game Grumps cape. A cat mask and a blue shirt. They go racing through the city causing trouble together and come home laughing like wild. They make Old Fashioneds and drink while they watch comedy specials on Netflix til the sun comes up. Marvin brings his first cat home and they both spoil her rotten, spending hours playing with her or just watching her run on her wheel, til their phones are both full with pictures of her. They cook together, setting the fire on kitchen more than once, and they catch bad guys like real life superheroes, cackling with triumph as they review their victories over sweet wine and take-out. When they get sick, they look after each other, even if they do make fun the whole time. Marvin runs away once and then comes home again, and Jackie squeezes him so tight it actually leaves a couple bruises on him, and Marvin allows himself, for the first time in his life, to be loved.

He promises Jackie he will never run away again when his hair is still bright green, and Jackie hugs him again, and the world is right there – the world is that place where their hands wrap around each other. The world is the syncing of their heartbeats and the vibration of Jackie murmuring his thousandth “I love you” into Marvin's ear, and Marvin giving his first one back.

There was nothing else that mattered.

A young man with green hair and a blue cape. His baby brother, smiling.

Marvin.

Jackie's fingers pull away. The spell breaks.

“Get out of my fucking house,” Jackie whispers, releasing him with shaking fingers.

Marvin shakes his head, letting out a long breath. “What?”

“I said get out,” says Jackie.

His voice is tight, and it trembles just a little, taut with stress, but he forces it calm.

“You've lost it,” says Marvin. “It's... Jackie, it's me. I'm not going anywhere.”

Jackie doesn't look at him anymore. He straightens up, wiping his hand down his face.

“Jackie,” Marvin repeats. “I'm not going anywhere.”

“If you stay here,” says Jackie, voice very low. “I'm going to lock you in the garage with a box of granola bars and a pile of stuffed animals. Then we'll see how 'justified' you were.”

Marvin stares, a faint laugh coughing its way up his throat. He looks to Chase and Henrik, but Henrik seems to have gone numb, just listing between the three of them with his hands held out like he's not sure what to do, and Chase is turned towards the door. His face is scrunched up and furious, and there are hot, swift tears running down his face.

Marvin's heart aches. “My little brother, amata,” he says. “Look, I'll make this right. Just tell Jackie – ”

“I,” says Chase, very clearly. “Am not your brother.”

Even Jackie winces a little. Henrik stares blankly at Chase, unable to register the words.

And Marvin –

Oh, he's been punched in the stomach. He can't get any air in.

“And I think you should get the fuck out,” spits Chase. “Cause I never want to see you again.”

He leans down, scoops up Queenie, and vanishes through the door of Marvin's room.

Marvin might honestly collapse. He's taken back to every time he's gotten so stressed over holding JJ captive that it made him sick, and suddenly, all of those moments seem like a cakewalk, and he knows that he could more easily have lived with the guilt and the crushing weight of what he did for a hundred years more rather than hear Chase say that to him even once.

It leaves him so hollow that he can't seem to think of anything else, and the pain of everything else fades too, like he's reached the max of some limit he didn't know he had and now he'll just be a confused zombie for the rest of his life. Before he knows what he's doing, he's packing a few of his things into a bag. Henrik is gone somewhere, he doesn't know. And Jackie is standing there like a prison guard, in silence.

Marvin's in the entryway of their house in what seems to be a half-second, staring at the mirror that will take him back to the realm of the world. He manages to regain just enough awareness to turn back to Jackie behind him, dizzy.

“Call me in a couple days,” he manages. “Let me know where we're at. I'll find someone to stay with for a little while. But once you talk to JJ and see that I've treated him well, that I loved him – and once you have time to think about why I did what I did – you'll understand.”

Jackie doesn't say anything. He's staring at the wall.

“Promise me,” Marvin chokes. “Promise me you'll call.”

“Fine,” says Jackie quietly.

Marvin turns to the mirror, and then looks back again.

Jackie walks away from him without another word.

Marvin steps through the mirror. He's taken the portal that's closest to Henrik's hospital without thinking, and now he's practically in the middle of the city, standing in an alleyway with a single bag over his shoulder and a crushing weight in his chest. The people are rushing by around him. Everything is loud and bright and bursting, but he can't seem to take any of it in.

“Marvin.”

Just... just this terrible combination of dissociation and debilitating pain.

“Marvin, Marvin.”

Hands cup his face. He blinks and looks up.

Henrik. His Henrik. He followed him through the mirror.

“It's okay, I'll go with you,” promises Henrik, pressing their heads together, a bag of his own packed up on his back. “We'll figure this out. I know it wasn't you, Marvin. I know you wouldn't really do that. We're going to be okay, my poor brother. Here I am, Marvin. Here I am.”

Marvin collapses into his arms and weeps.