#Like yeah in the past this may very well have been slave markings but that's not what it is now

[da2supremacy]

I know that removing the Valaslin is the overwhelmingly most common choice among the Greater Solavellan but I gotta know...

Is there anyone else out there who doesn't let Solas remove it?

[creature-wizard]

I just read Unwelcome Ozian's "Rules of Programming," and Oh Boy.

For those who don't know, Unwelcome Ozian is a conspiracy theorist on Tumblr who purports himself as a kind of guide for people who believe themselves to be programmed multiples - that is, people with deliberately-induced dissociative identity disorder, with alters carefully programmed for specific purposes by means of brutal torture methods. His claims are largely based on the work of Fritz Springmeier and Cisco Wheeler, two far-right conspiracy theorists who spun this whole mythology about an ancient satanic cult that uses torture to put people under what they referred to as "trauma-based mind control," or TBMC. (They also claimed that the fight for gay rights was part of the plan to enthrone the Antichrist in the year 2000, and that Al Gore carried around a briefcase full of blood to drink. That's the level of credibility they're on.)

There have also been a number of abuse allegations (including allegations of sexual abuse) against Unwelcome Ozian from those who came to him for help, so yeah. Also, he really hates Svali (another conspiracy theorist working from Springmeier and Wheeler's mythos) for some reason.

Rules of Programming effectively distills a lot of the stuff you find in the works of Springmeier and Wheeler, with the addition of some actual scholarly concepts/research plus some pop-psychology/pop-self help style lists of things programmers supposedly do to their victims. (A lot of the things it talks about are just regular forms of authoritarian abuse, gaslighting, scapegoating, etc. In fact, some of them even appear to be copied from Internet articles.)

Essentially, this book is yet another modern witch finder's manual, giving anyone who wants to find diabolical witches a set of unfalsifiable criteria that will always appear to confirm their presence. Like the work of Springmeier and Wheeler, its descriptions of torture are just evocative enough to play on the imaginations of people who may not be in the best mental shape and fuel the creation of confabulated memories. (Some of which may very well be mingling with memories of real abuse.)

Oh, and just to be clear, we do have very clear cases of confabulated memories - you can see them for yourself here and here. If you don't want to click the links, the tl;dr is that the New Age movement is chock full of people who very vividly "remember" past lives in pseudohistorical settings and locations that never existed, and some of these "memories" are quite vivid and disturbing.

So, here's some notable stuff from this book:

Marijuana is supposedly contraindicated for programming purposes. (This claim was made by Springmeier and Wheeler in How The Illuminati Creates A Total Undetectable Mind Controlled Slave, but it goes back to Cathy O'Brien and Mark Philips.)

Victims are allegedly given types of programming such as heart of stone programming and color, gem, and flower programming. (These were first described by Springmeier and Wheeler in They Know Not What They Do: Illustrated Guide To Illuminati Mind Control.)

Handlers must allegedly present themselves as omnipotent and god-like to victims. But they may also manipulate their victims by threatening suicide. (These two things really don't go together, especially if the cult as hardass as it's claimed to be.)

Alleged behavior of programmers - "Teach children self-betrayal, i.e. show gratitude and humility for punishments and insults." This is literally just how authoritarian Christian parents expect you to behave when punished. (Again, most of the things programmers supposedly do are just things that regular abusers do, period.)

He talks about practices such as anchoring and future pacing, which are described by Springmeier and Wheeler in How The Illuminati Create A Total Undetectable Mind Controlled Slave.

Direct quote, "For example if a programmer builds a system using the planets of the solar system there will be alters with planet names, and space terminology used." Compare with "In recent years, these have been solar systems, galaxies, and planets, because they have gone to Star Trek, Star Wars, Alien types of programming" from How The Illuminati Create A Total Undetectable Mind Controlled Slave. Again, it's the same mythology.

He claims epsilon programming is used to create animal alters and describes how they're allegedly created. The stuff he describes can be found in How The Illuminati Create A Total Undetectable Mind Controlled Slave.

He lists off a bunch of stuff that's supposedly trauma-based mind control spiritual abuse. In reality, it's just regular spiritual abuse - for example, "the programmer/handler is in a ‘divine’ position," "misuse of scripture to control behaviour," and "appeal to the work of evil spirits as explanations for the child’s behaviour."

About that last one? A very similar line appears in the article Part 2: The characteristics of spiritual abuse: "Appeal to the work of evil spirits as explanations for the victim’s accusations or behaviour." The earliest archived version of this page is from 2017. The Rules of Programming was published in May of 2023.

The book's text on cultivating a trauma bond includes several items that appear to be slightly reworded text from Dr. Joseph M Carver's article Love and Stockholm Syndrome: The Mystery of Loving an Abuser (first archived on the Wayback Machine in 2015). For example, "The presence of a perceived small kindness from the handler to the child" (RoP)/"The presence of a perceived small kindness from the abuser to the victim" (Carver).

The book's text "Seeking/finding pleasure in the presence of extreme danger, violence, risk or shame" is also found in the article Impact on Abused Persons, which cites a 1997 book, The Betrayal Bond: Breaking Free of Exploitive Relationships.

A bunch of stuff associated with toxic relationships are rephrased as stuff associated with being a victim of TBMC.

The book claims that some "programmed responses" might be "They are only like that because they love me," "You wouldn’t understand," "They will make it up to me later," and "It’s my fault, I make them angry." This text can be found in the 2021 article, The Misconception of Trauma Bonding.

The book lists some benefits of playing chess (for example, "Playing chess can improve cognitive skills like memory, planning, and problem-solving") that appear verbatim in the Healthline article The 9 Best Benefits of Playing Chess.

Some text (for example, "Trauma can shut down episodic memory and fragment the sequence of events") appears to have been copied from the 2017 infographic, How Trauma Impacts Four Different Types of Memory.

Material from changingminds.org appears to have been copied into this book. For example, the text "Agreement over rules typically starts with generalised rules with which it is hard to disagree" can also be found on the page titled Confession, with the slight difference that "generalised" is spelled with a Z. (Its earliest archived version dates to 2004.)

The book claims, "Torture involving states of extreme pain and terror, to the point of near-death, is required to install programming." This inadvertently reveals the absurdity of the alter programming conspiracy theory, because in the real world millions of abusers and cult leaders manipulate and control people with far less dramatic methods every day. Even if alter programming was a real thing, it would be so pointlessly overcomplicated that you'd have to ask yourself why so many people would bother with it.

The book describes a number of abuses and tortures that pretty obviously stem back to European witch panic, including "desecration of Judeo-Christian beliefs and forms of worship," taboo sex, ritual cannibalism, and dedication to Satan.

The book includes the "Steps on Obedience," which are found in Svali's older writings. Additionally, some of the text seems to be copied from Svali's old writing with minor modification. For example, The Rules of Programming says, "The part/alter is placed in a room without any sensory stimulus. The room will have grey, white, or beige walls. The programmer leaves the part/alter alone for specified lengths of time: these times may vary from hours (2-3) (3-5), to days as the child grows older." Compare with Svali: "The small toddler/child is placed in a room without any sensory stimulus, usually a training room with gray, white, or beige walls. The adult leaves and the child is left alone, for periods of time: these may vary from hours, to an entire day as the child grows older."

The book gives a list of supposed secret meanings to perfectly normal hand gestures, which is very obviously sourced from How The Illuminati Create A Total Undetectable Mind Controlled Slave. (RoP: "Hands locked folded interwoven backward - - you can’t break “the circle”". HTICATUMS: "Hands locked folded interwoven backward--you can’t break "the circle"")

The book claims that programmers will write down detailed documentation after each programming session, describing exactly how the session went and what should be done at the next session. Additionally, block reports are supposedly written every four weeks, which summarize the whole thing. This is noteworthy because if this conspiracy theory was actually true, this type of documentation would have come to light at some point by now. The fact that is has never turned up in all of the years alter programming has allegedly been practiced (since the mid-20th century or since ancient times, depending on who you ask) is incredibly damning.

(Break here because this list is reaching Tumblr's text block limit.)

Some text (for example, "A Place in the World. One never need 'find' his or her place because in fact that type of autonomy is not allowed! There is often a false egalitarianism which disguises competition" and "Mystical Manipulation. False origin stories or very selective accounts are given about the leader to demonstrate divine authority, spiritual advancement") seems to have been copied from the article Communal Abuse and Cults (earliest archived version: 2017).

Some text (for example, "Change Of Diet: Creating disorientation and increased susceptibility to emotional arousal by depriving the nervous system of necessary nutrients through the use of special diets and/or fasting" and "Hypnosis: Inducing a high state of suggestibility, often thinly disguised as relaxation or meditation") seems to have been copied from Brainwashing & Mind Control Techniques (earliest archived version: 2004).

Some text (for example, "Sins, as defined by the leader, are confessed either to a personal monitor or publicly to the group" and "Sacred Science: The group's doctrine or ideology is considered to be the ultimate truth, beyond all questioning or dispute") appear to be sourced from Robert Jay Lifton's eight criteria of thought reform. (Originally written in 1989.)

The text "Crafty redefinition of existing words (and the definition of new ones) to powerful euphemisms, secret codes, renamings, buzzwords, chants and mantras, ‘speaking in tongues,’ forced silence, even hashtags" may have been sourced from Cultish’s Exploration of Manipulative Language (originally posted in 2021), or from Amanda Montell's book, Cultish: The Language of Fanaticism.

Some text (for example, "The group devoutly believes it will be the ultimate winner of the final battle" and "Lack Of Restraint: Leaders believe themselves to be free from religious and social laws") appears to have been sourced from Doomsday Religious Movements - Canadian Security Intelligence Report (dated December 18, 1999).

The text "Glittering Generalities: These are intense, emotionally appealing words so closely associated with highly valued concepts and beliefs that the appeals are convincing without being supported by fact or reason. The appeals are directed toward such emotions as love of country and home, and desire for peace, freedom, glory, and honour" appears to come from Wikipedia.

"Name-calling: Name-calling seeks to arouse prejudices in an audience" also seems to be derived from Wikipedia.

The book mentions "Being locked in a small confined spot, a pit or cage with spiders and snakes" as a form of torture. This one can be traced back to Michelle Remembers.

The text describing bladder torture in RoP is identical to the text describing it in How The Illuminati Create A Total Undetectable Mind Controlled Slave. I'm not going to post it because it's kinda graphic, but feel free to compare the texts yourself. Just search for the text "urinary bladder."

Basically, most of the alleged tortures and programming methods are very obviously sourced from Springmeier and Wheeler's books, even if they aren't always described with identical text.

A list of tortures in the book include the hell confinement, the Tucker telepohone, the strappado, the Cold Cell, the German Chair, the box, white torture, and the Tiger Bench. Most of these can be found on this Listverse article from 2013, and RoP's descriptions match up with Listverse's.

So basically, we have someone claiming to be a trauma-based mind control survivor, but a lot of his information very obviously comes from other sources. (Now just to be clear - it's not possible to tell whether any of the copied text comes from the actual webpages I linked, or if they were sourced from other pages or books with the same text. But either way, it's obvious he didn't come up with all this stuff on his own.)

I also think the fact that this book includes so many descriptions of actual abusive behaviors and practices makes it all the more insidious. The author effectively links a lot of stuff that actually does happen with the conspiracy theory in such a way that it can all look like it's the exact same thing, making it seem like if you suffered from these real types of abuses, then you may have likely been a victim of alter programming.

But here's the thing - abusers are often just insecure, lazy, and taking their issues out on someone weaker. Sometimes they're just doing what their family did and haven't realized this behavior is toxic. There's no deep or complicated reason behind it, much less some carefully orchestrated design on this level conspiracy theorists propose.

[avidoro]

So, last year I posted this long rant about this WebNovel that was advertised to me called Beauty and the Beasts. I read it out of curiosity since it just kept being advertised. I was immediately appalled by it due to the lack of structure or proper plot that should have been in place. In fact, a structured plot didn’t even appear until midway through the story. The author simply appeared to have a desire to create a reverse harem story featuring men who were half animals. And that wouldn’t have been so bad if not for the immense amount of body shaming.

Don’t ask me why I continued reading this story. It’s an absolute atrocity. Maybe it’s just to keep warning others about how awful it is. But the post from last year has recently started to get more attention and, as such, I’ve decided to make a second post featuring a particular arc that I find to be more horrible than everything I posted so far. Brace yourselves, because if you agreed with me on how awful it was before, this will probably piss you off. Beginning in Chapter 180, QingQing (the Mary-Sue, protagonist of the story) is taken to a village comprised of a tribe of Peacock people. What better animal to use for body-shaming someone that a peacock?

There was no hesitation when the characters entered the tribe:

To fill you in if you didn’t read my first post, pretty girl, here, literally only put berry juice on her face to make it look like she has freckles. That’s it. That’s literally the only thing she did. And, yep. It makes her ugly.

I feel like this story could be redeemed if it was more about biased, arrogant people calling her ugly for freckles while she and the other protagonists know that freckles are beautiful and teach the readers that lesson. But no, the protagonist herself continues to say freckles are ugly as does every other protagonist. This means the author is saying they are ugly. The characters and author truly believe that something as simple as a skin blemish destroys an appearance.

So then the most handsome peacock in the entire village takes a look at her:

Yep. Those freckles really ruin the skin. I mean, look at all the marks all over him! Do freckles have to be in a pattern? Or are just patterned lines okay? Honestly.

After he begins speaking to her for the first time he tells her she’s docile. Then he follows with this:

She never stands up for herself. It’s because she wants everyone to think she’s ugly because she’s afraid of being courted again. But she maintains this friendly demeanor which I certainly wouldn’t. She asks this peacock’s name. Alva. When she tells him she likes his name:

Take a lesson, men (and ladies). If a girl with freckles tries to be friendly, scream at her, accuse her of flirting, and call her ugly. Be sure to tell her you’d never be interested in someone like her!

Alva then takes QingQing to Bella, the female he is courting.

God, yes, freckles are terrifyingly ugly! Act like you just saw a vermin skitter across your foot.

By now you may be thinking this isn’t much different from the garbage I mentioned in my first post. But here’s where things get really good.

Welcome to the abuse arc, everyone. From this point onward QingQing suffers actual abuse from Alva and Bella because she has freckles. FAKE freckles. And nice little QingQing complies the entire time. Of course Alva’s only redemption is that he does take notice of her nice personality and appreciates her for it. But he immediately ruins it for himself again:

Meanwhile, Bella is actually forcing QingQing to slave labor. She’s actually forcing her to open pine nuts for her to eat.

Oh, and did I mention QingQing is pregnant? Yeah... that’s a thing. They’re abusing her while she’s pregnant. And they know this.

Alva then brings her a couple pinecones saying they’re her own food. He then proceeds to throw them at her:

Don’t worry! QingQing thanked him for the food!

A little later, QingQing is carrying meat that Muir, a hawk-man that is courting her, has cooked for her (don’t give Muir too much credit. He knows how she really looks). When Bella smells the meat she demands that QingQing give it up. QingQing offers to break some off for her but:

They literally just steal this pregnant girl’s food from her. All she had. Because she has freckles!!

Cut to later, Alva is still appreciating her personality which is good, at least. But he still can’t get over how ugly she is because of those freckles:

Bella overhears this and becomes more determined to bully QingQing. Of course Alva goes along with it because beauty > personality. And freckles just aren’t pretty, you know?

When she finds out that QingQing has pine nuts from Alva she becomes enraged, accusing Alva of cheating on her, and demanding that QingQing give her the food. In reality it was Muir who gave her the nuts. The ones Alva gave her were for peeling so perfect, pretty Bella could eat.

So of course, once again, she steals the food from QingQing.

Alva’s father witnesses this interaction and then supplies the most redeeming moment in this arc:

Alva gets reprimanded for bullying a pregnant female and is even told he should marry her. Daddy permits Alva to refuse due to QingQing being “ugly” but he has to be nice to her and not let her leave the tribe as they were attempting to chase her out.

Once a male peacock (who never gets another appearance again) shows true interest in QingQing and calls her cute despite the freckles (seriously, author, the one good character who looks past a minor flaw and you immediately wrote him out) Bella becomes jealous and angry that anyone would show QingQing attention:

So, at this point, Qingqing for whatever ungodly reason decided to cook some meat for her abuser. When passing it off, Bella knocks it from her hand, says that it’s too tough to chew and that she needs to prepare the meat that Alva caught instead. Then she tells QingQing to eat the food off the ground.

QingQing finally gets angry and she’s demanded to peel more pinenuts. She finally relents and goes off on Bella, throwing the unpeeled pinenuts at her and telling her to do it herself. What do we do with “ugly”, pregnant girls who stand up for themselves against abuse and bullying?

Well, we drown them, of course. 

That’s right. Alva actually holds QingQing’s head under water. He pulls her back and attempts to force her to apologize, but QingQing does end up with a moment of strength from a spousal mark (don’t ask) and flings Alva into the water. When he emerges, guess who’s fake freckles have run off from the water?

QingQing’s freckles are gone now. And guess what?

Oh god, no, she was actually pretty! Gotta be nice! GOTTA BE NICE!!

Those few specks on her face were all that was standing between her and others showing kindness toward her. Yeah, this asshat didn’t show her an inkling of respect until her fake freckles washed away. Now he’s gotta be nice and start courting her.

And if you think things just instantly get better from there, let’s remember this little comment that Alva makes:

Yeah, he’ll be loyal if she married him and she got ugly or he met someone prettier. But he’ll totally dump her if he finds someone prettier.

Granted that part is kind of meant to be an asshole comment. But overall, the fact that everyone finds QingQing unattractive and proceeds to abuse and bully her because of freckles is disgusting. Again, it would be fine if this was about teaching people that freckles are not ugly. But it’s made very clear by the author that she is ugly with them.

And I’m going to call to attention a comment that was made on my last post stating that this is just Chinese culture. I have Chinese friends. They are aware of this “culture”. They are not okay with this. This is abuse. No one should have to suffer through this kind of body-shaming (well any kind at all, but this is exceptionally bad). Culture is not and will never be an excuse for abuse. It still disgusts me that this comic has such a huge following.

FRECKLES ARE NOT UGLY!!!

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Emp-ire “Anti-Alliance.”

So my schedule at work has been really weird lately, so I apologize for the weird posting schedule and if things seem a little cramped. I am trying to keep upon my posting, but it has been rather difficult recently.

I hope you all enjoy :)

He hadn’t thought that Spartans were normally meant for stealth with their red cloaks, bright red feathers, and pockmarked golden shields, but he had been wrong before. The ground below them was rocky even as they ducked and dodged through the large boulder field that marked the edge of a wide white salt flat.

From a distance it wouldn’t have looked all that interesting accept for familiar pockmarks in the ground, which he recognized to be evidence left behind from the landing struts of shuttles. His head was still reeling over the idea that there was any sort of Anti-GA resistance. Yeah he knew there were the isolationists and others who did not agree with their cooperation with alien lifeforms, but the idea that people would go to such lengths as to sell weapons to each other was nearly mind boggling.

He would have understood if the government were at all…. Oppressive, and granted there had been a few times when the GA hadn’t gotten it right, especially when it came to the whole LFIL business, but things had been rectified, and there were good relations all across the galaxy. Is only other thought is that maybe the people blamed the GA for the invasion of Earth, though how that could have been called an invasion was beyond him.

Most of the Burg had died within the first few minutes of landing on the planet, and there had only been one reported casualty in the entirety of Mericanda, that being a frail old lady who had seen the Burg from a distance and died of a heart attack related to shock, which he hardly thought counted.

Things were going good for them. In the history of humanity things had honestly never been better, so why someone would want to go and screw that up was beyond him.

But you couldn’t make everyone happy.

He slid into place next to James, the king of Sparta, and Xanthia, the queen, A they poked their heads over the rocks.

James had pulled off his helmet and handed it to Xanthia as he peered over the rock.

“What are we doing here?” Adam muttered as he glanced between a set of rocks and towards the deserted salt field. His bare knee ached from where he knelt on the partial gravel. The leather skirts may have been nice for the mediteranian climate, but he still missed wearing pants. He switched to his other knee, the fake one, so he might be more comfortable.

“My operatives in Athens recently sent me a report detailing this as the place where the anti-alliance ships have been landing.”

“Spies? But that doesn’t seem-”

“Not very Spartan of me? Well Adam, just because we took some inspiration from Ancient sparta doesn’t mean we do everything exactly like they did, besides Spartans were at war far more often than us?”

“Speaking of which, do you guys actually fight anyone?”

“Under GA law, we generally don’t, but the Anti-alliance scumbags work outside the law, and based on some of their actions, which have in the past included slave trafficking, I have taken it upon myself to dispatch a few of them. And no one has gone to the government about my activities because if they did, they would have to explain what they were doing in the first place.’

He gripped his spear tighter, ‘And as technical royalty, I am allowed, by law, mind you to police my own planet.”

Ramirez had schooted up next to them crouched low, using his spear to help him crawl over the rocks.

James nodded to him and he nodded back.

“What are you planning on doing.”

“Well, first of all, since you are here, I want to give you proof of what I have been saying all along, and then maybe you will understand better what is going on here. I want you to see that I’m not just some kind of tyrant trying to get rid of people who disagree with me.” he pointed towards the salt flat, “I really believe that these people need to be removed, but It would take a lot off my conscience if you knew that as well.”

Queen Xanthea raised her head, lips pressing together slightly.

Adam had a feeling that even if he did agree, the queen wasn’t likely to stop anytime soon.

The troop of spartan soldiers crouched behind the rocks with a stiff breeze blowing through them.

Adam had grown immune to mild temperature discomfort since his training had begun, and barely even noticed the early morning chill that rolled over him. Glancing out the corner of his eye, he noticed Ramirez and another one of the young spartans crouching close together, almost touching, sharting body heat.

He shook his head slightly.

Leave it to Ramirez to land a fling with a Spartan.

He turned his head back to the salt field, and was surprised to find movement on the far side.

The Spartans grew very quiet as they watched across the open plante to where a group of people had just emerged from the rocks.

A few of them were dressed like simple athenians in their tunics or togas, but there were a few more dressed in flight suits, looking very out of place on the Grecian landscape. Adam cocked his head trying to hear better, and watched as the king of the Spartains tilted his head and pressed into the skin below his ear. 

Adam forgot that the Spartan King also had a military grade translation implant and data chip installed just like everyone else. 

And also that he had one too, and therefore could amplify the sound.

He followed the Spartain’s lead and was just able to pick up the tail end of a conversation.

“We are moving them to the market on A1-36.”

“The GA has presence there don’t they/”

“It’s just a supply waystop for them, they don’t actually go in.”

“You know how the GA feels about slave trade.”

“I don’t give a flying fuck what the GA thinks about the slave trade, without it we wouldnt be able to pay the damn Kree.” He snorted, “Little bastards upped their price after the war, and now we are having to pay them double for being involved.”

“Why are we even doing this? We haven’t gotten anywhere, too small time to really even make a dent.”

Their leader turned to glower at them, “All big operations started out small-time. Now shut the hell up, and stop bitching. We have work to do.” 

There was a roaring in the sky overhead, and the group turned their eyes up towards the great blue vastness as they watched a silver distortion roll like a hazy wave through the atmosphere. Adam didn’t even realize what it was until the shuttle touched down, and noted the reflective skin covering it’s hull.

It was a pretty clever if low-budget trick, though they didn’t need anything more high-tech on a planet that didn’t really seem to use technology in the first place.

The door to the shuttle hissed open, and a group of men stepped out dressed in black flight suits.

A few of them carried weapons, though the vast majority of them were armed with only batons.

While the distribution of firearms was common on earth, and an estimated 65% of the population owned one for personal use, the ability to get your hands on a human grade firearm in space was a little harder.

The GA had strict regulations on the movement of weapons through intergalactic airspace, and you had to have permits out the ass to even own one.

However, since when did laws ever stop criminals?

He doubted that any of these men actually had a permit, which was an arrestable violation to begin with, though he had more than enough probable cause to arrest these men anyway. 

He stayed put however, and waited for the scene to unfold before them as the group of men stepped down onto the salt, their boots crunching against the ground looking around nervously at the rocks.

If these men had had any REAL military equipment on them, their shuttle would have been able to detect the heat signatures of the company of Spartans crouched in the rocks, but even so, no one had noticed them, and they wanted with bated breath as the group of men met up with each other.

“Parked her in low orbit, sir.”

“Good, then let's get things going before anyone has the chance to notice. The damned Neo-Spartan bastards have been giving me trouble. I have had to change shuttle sites three times in the past month. I have a feeling those assholes have spies with the Athenians, though I can’t prove anything.”

“There are no spies, that’s not how the spartans work.” One of the Athenians piped in.

The man turned to look at the speaker, “Then your men are just Fucking incompetent because how else do the spartans seem to know where we are at every turn.” He kicked at the salt sending up a wave of white flecks into the air, “The Damned Spartan King and his and his stupid skirt-wearing, oily, dog shagging bastards showing up every damn time I try to do anything around here.”

The group stood around watching as their leader threw his little fit.

Behind the stones, the skit-wearing oily bastards grinned a little at each other. 

Adam bared his teeth.

He already didn’t like this guy, though the man didn’t exactly make it difficult to hate him.

“Whatever, just get them on the dam shuttle so they aren’t my problem anymore. All the wining and complaining and bitching. You were stupid enough to get caught now they can suffer the consequences.”

Adam had met psychopaths in the past, and even though the last one had totally tried to kill him, he was still pretty sure he liked that one better. This guy was much, much worse.

He talked too much.

And that was coming from Adam, the kind of talking too much.

His hand tightened around the shaft of his spear as he moved into position with the other spartans.

The kind nodded back towards the rest of the group, and then quietly engaged the shielding over the metal faces of their shiels. They had spears and the enemy had bullets, not that that would matter once they got within stabbing range, but until ten, it was a good idea to have some cover.

There was a soft shuffling from the other side of the valley, and a group of chained prisoners were walked out onto the salt. Most of them were alien, Tesraki, and Finnari, but a few of them were human. Adam’s stomach clenched as he noted that most of the human prisoners were wide eyed young women.

His teeth ground together in anger, and beside him he could feel the tensing of muscles from the other Spartans as they responded similarly.

James cracked his knuckles and Xanthia pulled her short sword.

That was an odd thing about her, she didn’t seem all that interested in the use of spears, but he HAD seen her use her two short swords before, and boy was it a sight.

These men were in for a wold of hurt.

Adam looked to James who nodded back at him.

This was clearly enough proof for them.

The Spartan’s shifted as one unit to the balls of their feet, pulling out their spears and adjusting their shields on their left arms.

Adam scooted up next to James on his left, and Ramirez covered Adam’s left in return. 

Their shields hummed  softly with the faint blue pusing of the shields.

James raised his spear, and the men waited on bated breath as the prisoners were brought out further onto the salt. The men with guns were turned away, their focus pulled to the chained prisoners who whimpered pitifully as they were dragged over the salt.

James thrust his spear into the air.

The men did not let out a war cry like they had practiced on so many occasions before, but they went running as silently as possible at full tilt across the salt, keeping in tight formation with each other as they did.

The prisoners noticed them first, and then the gunman allerted to their rapid approach by the clattering of shields and spears. They turned with shocked expressions on their faces just in time to be bowled to the ground by a wave of bodies and metal.

Adam rammed into one of the gunmen hearing the subsonic crack of the rifle as a bullet tore into the salt near his feet. He slammed the man to the ground with his shield. And then raise it just in time to deflect another bullet. Before he could take care of the next man, Xanthia was already there. The cything of her sword caught the man in the wrist completely severing his hand, then she kicked him hard in the chest causing him to fly back over the stone. Blood pooled in crimson puddles against the white salt as the group of Spartans hurried to surround the cowering prisoners.

Adam put his back to them and crouched low behind his shield spear at the ready.

He looked around in the confusion, and saw the slimy little rat running the operation as he clawed his way up the nearest incline and away from the fighting.

He bared his teeth in anger, before turning to shout to someone to take care of him, but it was just at that moment that a horn blast somewhere in the distance.

The group of them turned to look…. As a wave of Athenian soldiers came roaring over the hill.

***

“SHIELDS!” He heard James shout, and crouched down, interlocking the large round shield with the men on his left and right. Behind him, Ramirez was suddenly at his shoulder spear at the ready. Another man behind him locked a shield in palace over Adam’s.

At their backs, the mall group of prisoners cowered together in fear as they were surrounded by the spartan shield wall.

“BRACE1” James shouted, and Adam dug his sandals into the dirt.

The first wave of Athenian soldiers crashed against them, and the shield wall racked back absorbing the impact.

“PUSH!” Came the shout and with a heave of his legs and his back Adam slammed the shield forward pushing the Athenian soldiers back a good two feet, a few of them stumbled to the ground. He opened the shield just enough for Ramirez to lunge forward, stabbing outward at the first line of Athenian soldiers catching one in the stomach before pulling back behind the shield wall.

They turtles up again as the Athenians slammed against them one more time, and again they held, Throwing  them back with a powerful push which sent them sprawling to the ground.

The Athenian line broke.

WIth screams and cries of fear the scattered as the Spartans broke from their shield wall and charged into the frey.

Adam and Ramirez roared out together.

Adam clobbered one of the Athenians with his shield knocking him to the ground for Ramirez to finish off. He thrust his spear forward and waist height, impaling one man straight through the stomach and out his back. The Athenian looked almost surprised as he was thrown to the ground, a hole torn straight through him.

Adam had no time to think about what he had just done, as he stepped over the man’s body to meet another.

This time his spear caught the man in the throat. He knocked the body to the side, and use the reverse end of his spear to turn and take a man who had been sneaking up behind Ramirez.

Blood painted the white ground red as the short pitched battle came to a head.

James and Xanthia fell into step beside Ramirez and Adam and together they washed through the battlefield like a tidal wave of destruction. Adam caught one man’s swords on the haft of his spear, and james darted in, taking the man between the ribs with the point of his own weapon. Behind them Xanthai and Ramirez held their backs, chasing the enemy away from the cowering prisoners.

Adam took a cut high on his cheek feeling warm blood run in slow trickles down his face to drizzle onto his collarbone.

The shield protected his unarmed torso as he roared into another line of men batting them back.

After all the raining he had done with the spartans, these men were barely worth a match, especially since he had trained in the spear against creatures with four arms instead of two.

An athenian charged at him, and he ducked low, catching them in the upper legs and waist with his shield before heaving with his legs and back, sending them up and over his head with a wail and straight into Ramirez’s spear.

He was surrounded by at least three men in the second moment.

One was blocked with his shield, one with his spear, and he kicked the other directly in the chest sanding him spinning backward and away.

He plowed painfully into the ground.

Adam ducked to the side as the man’s sword cut past his arm, cutting his friend in the thigh. He let the spear drop through his hands, caught it near the end and drew the spike right into the man’s face.

There was a brutal crack but he didn’t stop to look as he spun, pulled back his spear, catching it on the balance point in the middle and threw it with unerring accuracy into the chest of the second man no ten feet away.

He fell to the ground sputtering as Adam ran forward and tore the spear from his chest.

He spun, but there was no one there to fight.

Lowering his spear, he stopped to look around at the carnage and blood that drenched the ground.

The Spartans were finishing off the Athenians who had attacked them and Adam lifted his head to find Xanthia dragging the rat from back down the hill. He had a horrible gash across his face, and was bleeding profusely down his front. Adam tried not to look at the bodies that littered the ground below his feet and hurried to join James ashe marched forward, 

Xanthia threw the man to the ground, and Adam and James both stepped over the body as he lay in the dirt.

“Been a hot minute since I last saw you.” James said casually as he bent don to look the rat in the eye.

The man snarled at him.

James shook his head, and then pointed at Adam, “Do you know this man?”

He turned his head to look up at Adam. At first there was no recognition, and then his eyes widened in shock and horror.

“Exactly, now the GA knows about your little group, and sanctioned what we have done here today. You have taken slaves which is the highest offence of the GA. You attacked A GA officer, and I would continue adding to the list, but we might be here all day.”

The man just stared at him with his cold dark eyes.

James leaned a little closer spear in one hand.

A cry of pain broke through their little conversation, and they all turned to look in that direction unconsciously.

Adam gave the credit to his mechanical eye for catching the movement.

The rat had taken the opportunity and launched forward drawing a small blade from his belt, aimed straight at James’s throat. Adam, reacting as fast as he could dove forward, shoving James out of the way.

He staggered and hit the ground. The little blade missed its mark but impeded itself high in Adam’s shoulder.

His adrenaline was pumping so hard that he barely even noticed as he turned and slugged the rat in the face. He hit the ground, eyes rolled back in his head. Xanthia reacted only a moment after him. Her swords to the man’s throat but he was already incapacitated.

James turned over into an upright sitting position, staring back at Adam with a look of surprise.

Adam glanced down at his shoulder, and here the small two inch knife was sticking.

It would have been devastating had the man had caught James in the throat, but as it was Adam would probably only need a few stitches.

Xanthia kicked the man in the ribs, and he grunted in pain.

James slowly stood, “You saved my life.”

Adam shrugged, “You would have done the same.” he rested his spear over his shoulder, “Either way, I will want to make a call to the GA and let them know what happened. This is a bit more serious than I had expected.’

James nodded in agreement.

***

Adam and Ramirez stood at the edge of the dock watching as the boat slowly drifted into position.

A group of Spartans stood around them.

Ramirez was off saying goodby to his “friend” and Adam was standing with Xanthia and James.

“It was a pleasure to fight with you, Admiral. It’s a real pity that we can’t keep you and your Marine longer.”

He nodded in agreement, “I wish we could stay as well.” He clasped the other man’s hand, “Keep in touch, it would be a pleasure to fight with you again, plus, I have a couple of aliens I think you would like to meet.”

James smiled, “Any alien that trained you how to fight like that would be welcome.”

He paused and then, Dropped the shield from his arm.

He held his spear and shield out to Adam, “Here, take these.”

Adam looked at him in surprise, at the well worn haft of the spear, and the dented golden metal of the shield, “I, but your weapons…”

“I can fight with any spear and shield, but you saved my life. Maybe one day, these will save yours and we can call each other even.” 

The boat docked.

Ramirez walked over to stand with Adam and together the two of them stepped onto the deck.

Behind them the spartans raised their weapons punching them into the air three times with matching shouts as the King of Sparta saluted them.

Ramirez and Adam saluted back as the rowers began to pull the boat away from the dock.

He was going to miss those men and women.

But now he had to leave, with the knowledge that the anti-alliance was out there.

Hopefully at least, there would be men like the Neo-spartans and their king to keep men like that at bay.

[imemeyoumemeweallmeme]

Quotes from “Twisted: The Untold Story of a Royal Vizier” as starters

But today could be the day I finally make a difference!

Where are you off to today, you no good piece of shit?

You’ve got to dream a little harder!

It took you long enough, you shit-eating dog.

Oh, so you think you're better than me just because you can read?

Just try to keep your fat face out of that motherfucking book.

Why am I the only one who sees things as they are?

Oh, ___, sometimes I feel you're my only friend in this world.

Today, things got a little out of hand and a lot of good people are dead.

Did we get the loaf of bread back?

Why do you even bother visiting us commoners anymore, you aristocat?

I sure hope you haven't goofed this one up, ___.

Tsk, tsk, tsk, look at this mess. Dead bodies in the street.

Did you know in this barbaric country they only give you money if you work?

Who would seek employment when life offers such enjoyment?

You're only in trouble if you get caught.

My father says that you must marry me now, or I'll bring dishonor to my entire family.

I can't give up on my dreams and settle down just 'cause your dad's being a dick.

‘Cause you stole my daughter’s hymen!

That’s completely fair, but in my defense - dude, your daughter’s hot.

My ass cheeks…they're hanging out.

And what's this? Blood. Blood on my ass cheeks. Tell me, ___, how the fuck did it get there?

Oh I am grateful for your tiny ass, ___!

This really is an act of war, ___!

Do not feed me shit and call it couscous, ___!

Well an hour free is better than a lifetime in a cage. Being fed and pampered and cleaned up after. What kind of a life is that?

When are you going to learn that your actions have consequences?

One of these days, you're going to learn that life isn't about dreams coming true. It's a series of compromises and disappointment.

That's supporting a corrupt system. You're a part of the problem.

I want everything, and more!

My secret is simple, really. Anyone could do it. I just follow the golden rule!

Always treat others like sisters and brothers and they’ll do the same for you.

I get back what I give!

My hunger blinded me and forced me to act like an animal.

But we're not animals. We're gifted with minds to reason and hearts to love!

I think that's enough fun for one day, eh, ___?

Well, we have our own golden rule here. Whoever has the gold…makes the rules.

The gold that my neighbor earns through his labor is gold I’ll never see.

So keep your mouth shut and your palm open, and you may just get...filthy stinkin' rich!

You could start by telling me your name.

I suppose this will be the end of me.

I am a servant to the people, and therefore your servant.

Magic does nothing if not touch the soul.

I want to know your story, I want to know your past, I want to know your future too.

Fill my days and nights with the tale of you.

I never cared for stories until you entered mine.

Let’s make ours the story with no end.

Their mouths aren't fit to hold a donkey's shit.

Many years ago, I took my finger…and I pushed in my penis…and it hasn't come out since.

A very wise and enthralling tale, ___. We can all learn a lesson from it, I expect.

Where's my opium?

Speak now, ___! And don't fuck it up!

Well, maybe I have a new purpose now.

That is what your story is about.

I wish I had the power to rewrite this tale.

Never stop wishing it, ___.

We will be reunited one day, and unlock wonders beyond your wildest dreams!

After all, I must be pretty great, if you believed in me.

I only hope you haven't fallen prey to some sex-crazed ruffian!

Right this way, babe.

This is so unfair! Poor people need slaves just as much as rich people do! Maybe even a little bit more.

Of course it's a free thinker like who's struggling to get by. And all because of our totally corrupt class system.

I hate the class system. That's why I said, "Fuck it, I'm never going to school again."

So, you abandoned everything, to be free? That is so brave.

Brave? Me? Yeah.

All my parents ever did was support me. Give me a place to stay, tell me they loved me, no matter what. They were really bad parents.

How's a thirty-three-year-old kid supposed to know how to survive on his own?

But that is not fair! ___’s a victim of circumstance!

Don't look at me like that! These are my orders from ___.

Wait, wait, what? You slit people's throats? I didn't tell you to kill anyone! This is awful!

___, no. That is just an expression.

I'm gonna have so much gold I could swim through it! Like a pool. Do you think people can really do that?

Once I get my mind set on a chick, I just can't move on until I get this nut out.

I can’t wait to be a rich dude!

Stealing is so much easier when you’ve got already tons of gold.

We’ll get our happy ending tonight.

We weren't sure if you were ever coming back, ___.

Everyone, look at my ass!

You received the manhood of a badger?

Those are stretch marks, they happen.

Oh, I see! You received the manhood of a tiger!

Did you hear that, lads? ___ made love to a tiger!

Tiger fucker! Tiger fucker! Tiger fucker!

I DID NOT FUCK A TIGER!!!

Am I not a thing of beauty? Don't you want a piece of this? Wouldn't you gladly give up all of your worldly possessions just to greet me when I come home from a one-sided massacre, and bathe my sweaty, bloody body with your tongue?

Oh…you. Aren't you busy ruining my life?

I noticed you weren't at dinner, but I saw you tried to poison my wine. Usually when you do that, it means you want to talk. What's up, are you mad at me?

You ripped my heart out and smashed it into a million pieces. And don't act like you don't know what I'm talking about.

He/she/they was perfect! Like if you cobbled together all the best features from all the best guys/girls/people, and then gave them a tragic backstory! It's like he/she/they was designed specifically to appeal to me.

I knew everything about him/her/them! He/she/they was my soul mate! My -- my -- God, I am freaking out, what was his/her/their name?

Believe it or not, I care about you.

I don't want to be prepared. I want to expect the unexpected.

Look, you're young. You don't exactly get how things work yet. And, while I don't appreciate any of your ideas, I do appreciate the fact that you HAVE ideas. Maybe one day you'll have some GOOD ones.

Sexual predators the lot of them! Their tactics target vulnerable, young girls, and build up false senses of trust and then isolate them on magic rides of sorts. And when the moment is right, they whip it out. You know... their songs.

Be wary of young boys who whip out their songs. A song is often a prelude to a dick.

A song is a dick in sheep's clothing.

Can't you see I'm trying to impart a life lesson?

I feel like you only come to see me when there's bad news.

I counted thirteen dead before the peacocks got to them.

How the fuck did you know it was me?

Because it IS you, you're just wearing different clothes.

Wow. Pretty AND smart. You're the whole shebang, babe.

Everything I told you the other night was a lie. Don't you trust me?

Ugh. Oh no. Okay, um, now I'm kind of feeling like everything about you that was attractive to me before isn't really there anymore.

No! No, I'm just being indecisive. It's still you.

I've just got to get back on that high that I was on before.

Look into my eyes and talk to me some more about the world's injustice!

Sure. Just let me roll this blunt first.

But I don't want her/him/they to love me. I just want her/him/them to fuck me.

You guys know there's a way to get people to think about sex without even talking about sex? You just gotta do it subliminally.

Hey, babe, it's such a beautiful night -- take off your clothes.

But…let me ask you this: is your penis an innie or an outie?

___ explained everything to me. He/she/they was just pretending to be a ___. For fun.

I bet the ___ is under that ___ sized hat!

Bullshit! Why would I pretend to be a ___? Just to get laid? That's not me.

Whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa! Why are you picking on me, ___? Afraid I'll reveal your little secret?

Whoa! I thought I was just bullshitting you guys!

What made me think that I could get away with such a plot?

How does the golden rule apply in such a situation?

Whichever road I take, I will only encourage someone’s wrath!

‘Til now I’ve always traveled down the straight and narrow path.

But which way do I turn when the road’s become so... so... twisted?

You think you know me, as others think they know you, but there are two sides to every story.

I was prepared for anything, except for what ensued.

They weren't ready for my ideas.

Fortune favors the beautiful.

My only crime was love.

But the heart wants what it wants, and sometimes what it wants, is twisted.

I only wished to reclaim what was mine!

I only wished for equal rights for all!

I only wished to save her/him/them!

I only wished to be invited to the party!

I only wished to improve relations between the races!

I only wished to teach ___ responsibility… so he/she/they wouldn’t end up like me!

I only wished to give the people a voice… To help the miserable, lonely, and depressed!

I never knew my father!

It's an unfortunate situation…But you do have a choice.

What remains of a man when that man is dead and gone?

Why protect my reputation? I’m a dead man/woman/person either way!

How will they tell my story? How will they tell my tale? Will anybody even care?

Is it nobler in the mind to be well-liked but ineffectual, or moral but maligned?

If I hide to save my life, what has my life been for?

The road ahead may twist, but I will never swerve!

I’ll give them all the unsung antihero they deserve!

I’ve nothing left to lose, to the only path to choose is twisted.

So let them twist my words, let the people scorn me.

Who cares if no one will ever mourn me?

Let them bury the side of the story that they’ll never learn!

Let the truth be twisted!

Let my life be twisted!

I’ll be twisted, it’s my turn!

Your armies have abandoned you. Your ruling class is corrupt and we have come to put an end to your tyrannical rule!

You'll never end our tyrannical rule!

It is I who will be doing the fucking today.

It appears that ___ has cold feet!

Yes I am talking to you! Now get your ass over here!

I've got to become a sorcerer! Can you do that?

Yes, I do feel lucky. I've got a ___! But I think he might be a fucking moron!

My fuse is about this long right now.

You either need to back me the fuck up, or shut the fuck up. Got it?

And what's the last thing you wanna do before that happens? Take off your clothes. That's right, have sex! Hurry, take off your clothes.

I'm not going to take off my clothes in the middle of a battle!

My skin is melting!

Would you stop acting like an asshole for one minute?

I'm not a tease. I'm just…not a freak.

You're making sex seem gross and lame.

You got that, ___? We are not a thing anymore, okay?

We're just having our first fight. Maybe after some make up sex…

You're the guy who killed my parents. Where have you been?

Okay, Jesus Christ, I don't know what's going on here.

That's the trick! You just really have to believe your own bullshit!

It takes someone who believes they can change the world to actually do it.

This isn't fair! Life is supposed to be fair!

Your youth and your passion, and yes, your naïveté -- these give you power.

When I was your age, I thought I could accomplish anything I ever wanted and more! But I didn't. Perhaps no one does. But you have to think you will or you won't have the strength to try.

Maybe you won't make any big changes, but a few little ones that pave the way for the next generation. And then they'll make small changes and leave it to the next and the next! It's a bit like a carousel of progress. Always spinning towards a great, big, beautiful tomorrow. And tomorrow is just a dream away.

But what if tomorrow never comes?

Tomorrow always comes. Even if it comes without us.

What will I do without you to guide me? When I am lost, where will I turn?

You remind me of someone I knew long ago.

You’re the one who put it there -- the power in me.

The power to love one another is the greatest power of all.

No matter where life leads us, we’ll never be apart.

Through thick and thin, success or ruin, I’ll carry you in my heart.

I will treasure forever what the world will never see.

You are kind, and that’s enough.

I wish you didn’t have to go when our story’s just begun.

Then I wish you every happiness.

It was more money than I had ever seen. But I was able to count it.

And that's the end of the true story.

[lilrexsoka]

Helllooo again. You may have noticed that I made a mistake. I accidentally switched the prompts. I thought ‘Brothers’ was the third prompt. I posted this one first... and realized there was no reason why I couldn’t just stick with the order anyway. Hope that doesn’t bother anyone. 

Tagging: @officialrexsoka

Read it on AO3:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26698138/chapters/65214574

Or read it below! 

Rating- G (Some topics may be more suited for a T rating, though it’s still TCW soo...)

Tag Warnings- Mentions of slavery.

Missions that the council gave Ahsoka and her Masters directly were often incredibly important. Missions that Anakin was put in charge of, no matter the degree of difficulty or danger, were almost always completed. Whether or not he used a traditional method or something irrational was always an ongoing game. Despite his sometimes seemingly insane or ridiculous plans, it was commonly known that he rarely failed. Maybe it was because his Master levelled him out, or because his Padawan and his battalion were willing to follow his roughly-fashioned action plans, whatever they were.

Like now. Ahsoka was going to use his idea of disguises to find out where the Kiros Togruta were being imprisoned and enslaved. She even thought it was going to be a good one, if it succeeded. What didn’t reach her mind was what costume she would have to wear following that decision.

“Well, obviously you are too young and… feminine to be a slaver,” Anakin had answered upon her questioning of what clothing he had for her to wear, half-hesitantly as if he almost disagreed with the idea as well. Obi-Wan had agreed. So had Ahsoka. No going back now. “So I brought along some other options. I have a couple of slave outfits that might just fit ya.”

She wasn’t going to ask why he had half a dozen clothing options fit for a slave girl, but she did protest. Obi-Wan simply backed his Padawan up and offered his condolences. Go figure.

Now she was standing in something that showed more skin then fabric before the dusty mirror in the back of the Zygerrian transport hijacked from a past mission. It was a light blue, silky outfit that probably cost an arm and a leg with the accessories combined; it draped loosely around the swell of her hips with a slit down the entire left side that felt entirely unnecessary. Her chest was covered with more of the fabric, still uncomfortably loose, and more of it covered her lanky arms. The most notable parts of the outfit were the shining gold adornments dripping with jewels; sashes that lay in a ‘Y’ shape over the swell of her breasts and across her lower abdomen, and a ridiculously heavy headpiece that sat on her montrals and dangled jewels over the markings on her forehead.

She hated every second that she stood in that outfit, but she didn’t have much of a choice. This was the plan, and it needed to work if she were to save the Togruta. Her people.

There was a sudden, quiet knock on the door behind her. It was closed, and it wasn’t even loud, but it still interrupted her brooding. Not in the mood for your sympathies, Ahsoka thought and let out a soft growl. “What do you want?”

“Sorry if I’m interrupting something. I just wanted to check on everything. You’ve been back here for a while.” Damn. She hadn’t even considered how this plan would go with Rex dragged along. It was Obi-Wan who insisted this was a four-person job, and the go-to was Anakin’s right-hand man. Ahsoka hadn’t been upset; she loved fighting with Rex, but this was something far more personal and intimate. Rex wasn’t family like her Masters. How was she going to deal with the embarrassment of letting the Captain see her in such a get-up?

“I’m fine,” she called back, suddenly wondering if she could change Anakin’s mind and play a slaver after all. No, I’m just being ridiculous. She couldn’t be queasy around the clone; he was no different than Anakin or Obi-Wan. With the amount of time they spent together, he should be family as well. “Just… getting into my disguise.”

Rex’s answer was loud enough to be heard from the other side of the door. “Ah. Alright. Just wonderin’ why you were taking long. The Generals were getting a bit worried. Kenobi had that crease in his forehead and Skywalker couldn’t stop moving or talking.”

She could easily picture her Masters in her head at Rex’s description. He was trying to joke again; it was as if he always knew when her spirits were down. “I’ll come out soon,” the Togruta called again, fidgeting with the soft fabric of her outfit. When I gather some courage.

“Is… something wrong?” The clone sounded hesitant. Again, he somehow knew that something was upsetting her, like he was the one with Force-Sensitivity.

Ahsoka blew out a slow breath and smoothed the fabric draped over her waist. How in the galaxy was she going to answer this truthfully? “Um… I’m having a bit of a problem with my outfit.”

“Oh.” Another long pause. Ahsoka was sure he was imaging all sorts of embarrassing things that could be happening to the young Padawan. “Maybe… I could help?” His tone was clearly sheepish now. He was hoping his offer wouldn’t lead to an unwanted situation. She wasn’t sure that the situation was avoidable now.

“No.” That was way too fast. “I mean-” Ahsoka just sighed. She had no idea how to explain it.

There was a shuffling noise. “Sorry. If you’re not decent, I can come back later, or…” Poor man. He only cared and wanted to help.

That wasn’t what she wanted, she realized. At one point, she would have to face him. It was better now than later. Plus, it shouldn’t be such a problem. Ahsoka was dressing up for a mission, not for fun. Her embarrassment with idiotic. Besides, it was the boy’s problems, not hers. “No, you don’t have to. I’m dressed, but…” She heaved another sigh. “You know what, just come in. You’ll see.”

“Alright… If you say so.” He chuckled nervously. “To be honest though, Commander, I’m a little worried about what I’m going to see. You’re making it sound a bit ominous.”

Ahsoka worried her lip and sympathetically sent the clone a soothing wave of Force Energy. He’d told her he hadn’t liked the idea of her altering his emotions, but sometimes she subconsciously did so when she knew he was unsettled. “I promise it’s not as bad as I’m making it.” I’m probably just making this a bigger deal then I should. “Besides, you’re a big boy,” she added teasingly. “You can handle it.” She knew it was true, but something about the idea of Rex seeing her in her vulnerable outfit was… strangely mouth-drying.

Stop making this weird! It’s just a slave outfit! Nothing bad is going to happen! the Togruta told herself as she turned to meet the clone as he palmed open the door. His eyes met her, uncovered, wide and still impossibly brown and soulful. He wasn’t wearing his armour, but instead a full set of golden brown slaver armour. Somehow, he suited the stolen plates well.

It wasn’t his disguise that she wanted to watch, (though it was a pleasant view, the depths of her mind argued,) but his reaction. Expectedly, his eyes widened slightly and he opened his mouth several times before he spoke. “I… you look good, Commander. What’s the problem?”

Planting her hands on her hips, the Padawan asked condescendingly, “Good, Captain?” She wasn’t upset, however she knew she had to reprimand him. She was the opposite of upset. His approval had already eased her embarrassment. “Please don’t worry about it,” Ahsoka told him immediately, a little wretchedly with a burning face. “And sorry for all of the drama. I just… was unsure about the disguise.” She gestured pointedly to the loose silk fabric draped over her curves. She shouldn’t be upset over showing a little skin; her very first meeting with the clone had been during the first year of her apprenticeship with the small bit of clothing that had been her top.

Rex made an understanding noise and ran his hand over his face. “I get it now. But your disguise looks really good. You’ll fool all the Zygerrians.” He added the last comment with a playful smirk. It was how he lightened the mood again.

“You’re too pretty to be a slaver,” the Padawan shot back, arching the markings above her eyes with a smile that might have just been described as flirty. “I’ve yet to see your acting skills, though. You might just act like one.”

“I’ll consider it a compliment. Thanks, Commander.” Rex knew she disliked it when he used her rank when they were alone. Either he still had yet to break that habit… or he knew what he was doing. But all past emotion left his voice when he asked, “But really. Why are you so uncomfortable in this new disguise?” Now he just sounded concerned, still possibly a little hesitant.

The Togruta sighed, instinctively wrapping her arms across her chest. She’d been acutely aware that she’d been wearing it the entire time Rex had been… teasing her, but she hadn’t minded until he had spoken about it directly. “Uhm… honestly, I didn’t really have a good reason. I was being childish. I just didn’t like the idea of wearing this skimpy disguise in front of others. Like… you, and Obi-Wan and Anakin.”

The clone tilted his head curiously. “Oh.” His hand went to the back of his neck. “Well… you don’t have to feel uncomfortable around me. I mean… we’re close. Like family. Right?”

Ahsoka sighed helplessly. All she could do was shake her head, though she knew she should feel excited. Rex had just admitted he considered her as family, and she felt disappointed. She couldn’t want that kind of relationship with him… so what was her problem? “Yeah, I guess,” she answered with as much happiness as she could muster, though her smile was half-hearted and entirely pathetic.

Of course, Rex noticed this. “I’m sorry, Commander,” he spluttered immediately, eye stretching wide with realization. “You didn’t like that. It’s just that… you’re close. Closer to me then I would have expected. Like another vod, almost.” He shrugged embarrassedly.

“Vod?” She knew the clones sometimes used vocabulary picked up from their Mandalorian trainers, and though she had picked up the meanings of some of them, she clearly had misunderstood a few. ‘Vod’ was commonly used when the troops referred to each other… but maybe that was purposeful. Maybe Rex really did consider her as valuable to him as his fellow clones.

“Yeah,” Rex answered. “It’s Mando’a for ‘sibling’, whether in blood or in arms.” The expression that crossed his face next was caring and terribly happy. “I know many of the men care for you like a sister.”

Ahsoka couldn’t stop the frown that creased her face, or the frustration that bubbled up under her skin. “But I’m not just another clone,” she protested faintly. “You don’t treat me like one. How can I be family?” Her hands lay under her armpits, as she chewed her lip. If that’s all he sees me as…

The clone shook his head and sighed quietly. “You’re not a clone,” he agreed patiently. “And that’s why I don’t treat you like one. You’re so different from any brother I’ve known; but at the same time, you are my Commander. I shouldn’t be treating you like… a friend.” He chuckled. “But it’s not worth pretending I care anymore. Not with someone like you.” There was a moment of pause, his hands shifting nervously. “If you would prefer to… forget everything, then I could do that too. I know we’re not family, I just thought-”

“No, Rex,” Ahsoka interrupted guiltily. I have a bad habit of explaining myself horribly. “It’s not that at all. It’s my fault for not being more clear.” She paced forward, trying furiously not to trip on her new lengths of silk, and came before the clone. He still loomed over her; it would take time for her to grow into a full Togruta. Looking up into his face, all she saw was careful curiosity, but yet his eyes flickered incessantly with desperation. “I appreciate that you count me as family. In fact, I’m happy that you do. But… I don’t think we can pretend that we are brothers in arms, or even just friends.”

“What?” His eyes widened, and his hands landed on the side of her arm, seemingly with instinct.

She hated having to tell him this… but there was still a future she had to think of. It had been way too long spent with thoughts left unspoken and feelings left buried. “We are something more, Rex. Maybe we can’t label it yet. Maybe it has no name. But we can’t stick with something now, because in the future it will only bring more confusion.” Ahsoka tried a soothing smile. “Only the Force knows what will happen. But for thinking of the future… maybe we should stay flexible. Whatever happens.” She found the hand that had settled on her arm and covered it with her palm. “Okay?”

And maybe she should have kept her mouth shut, but it was probably important that Rex told her seriously, “I… think that’s best.” He left details out, but from his tone- and the turmoil in his Force signature- there were plenty of his own confusing emotions.

Ahsoka thought that she had made herself look like a fool; it happened when she tried to explain her feelings, so her relief at his understanding completely made her lose all care over the slave outfit. She felt that everything would work out with Rex as her companion, but only the Force knew if he would ever become anything more than that.

“Well,” Rex sighed, letting his hand slide down her arm and back to his side. “Do you feel better about the… disguise? I can practically hear the Generals and their worry.” He chuckled good-naturedly and sidestepped with a gesture to the door. “Shall we?”

“Now that’s not how a slaver acts,” the Padawan joked, but still followed his offer and let him trail after her. It was only then she had realized she had left her lightsabers behind, which she quickly excused herself to retrieve. Passing the mirror on the way out, she decided that maybe the slave outfit wasn’t so bad. Rex had approved, after all. She did look good in blue.

[wickednerdery]

Title: Hoarfrost Hel: Abated Author: @wickednerdery Fandom: Marvel Pairing/character: Jotun!OC, Mer!OC, Elf!OCs Rating: Explicit Summary: “Take me to him.” Notes: This is the second part of what’s shaping up to be a legit trilogy (the first is FrostBitten) - the master list is here. The story on whole is gonna be very dark, this piece - which occurs a few days after the last Ulfr one - has significant graphic violence and so much angst. For consistency and length, it gets a “Read More”.

The pain is numbing, slips Grim in and out of consciousness, as Lady Carfindel’s men carry him off. It’s no matter, there’s no option to scream, to fight, and, as blood leaks from around tattered gills, the option of survival drains from him too. He can only cringe when dropped like a sack for the men to open the large vat of salt. While traditionally meant to cure meat and fish, whatever the kitchens might need, this one’s been marked for other uses long ago. The out and inside clawed from attempts at escape, the bottom blackened with blood, from past guests.

“It reeks!” Tir complains as they dig enough to make room for the slave.

Beria chuckles. “Yeah, well, some of them die and, if forgotten long enough...”  He shrugs before joining the other to lift and toss Grim in. 

The salt fires up his wounds, grates scaled flesh, as it goes red-to-black with his blood. If Grim could roar in the pain of it, he would, yet his throat is all but gone. Gills work to close, mouth gapes open in desperation, but he chokes either way. Flakes pull moisture from within, turning him all the more into the sea creature he is at his core. Tears flow, get sucked up, as the two men work to coat him and place the cover back on. Grim watches as the light leaves, the hope fades, and the darkness comes.

Once tasked with finding the Oarnér slave, Grim, by the princess, Maethril makes it her priority. Not because she finds it especially important, but because she herself suspects the slave has information vital to the crown. Close to the man who claims to be Prince Draugluin, now hidden away by Lady Carfindel, he surely knows something. Finding him may lead her to uncovering many secrets.

It takes her moons to discover his location, but when she does she rushes to inform the princess and gather reinforcements. While certainly capable of getting a slave out of the salt bath, she does not trust the Red Lady not to have it guarded. Even bewitched.

“Your Highness! Princess Rainaiel!” Maethril calls out as she rushes towards the caves the young woman finds solace in. “Your Highness!”

“Yes?” Ulfr turns from the overlook, assuming the call is for him.

The royal guard stops short in his sight; her heart begins to race all the more as his gaze goes from curious to understanding.

“You found Grim.” Time slows, his heart holding with his breath. “Where? Where is he?” 

She looks down. For the first time since her early days of battle she’s speechless, indecisive, too wary to make a move. Any move.

Ulfr’s breath returns in a shudder, his heart rushing ahead with his mind. “Where?!” Water fills his eyes, he shakes without control as rage and terror build in equal measure.

“In a salt bath past the kitchens, by the storage house.”

A place Ulfr passed many times looking for Grim; the knowledge makes his stomach churn with acid. “Take me to him.”

“Your Highness -”

“NOW!!”

Fingers fuse first, the webbing of his kind returning, then his toes. His feet...ankles...legs....the longer he stays, the more he dries out, the more fish-like he becomes. Normally, this is not painful, it is something he can do at will, but this is not normal. This is torture. A slow drying out that cracks skin, shrivels scales. Fangs long ago unused grow out as gums recede and lips puff and curl. Skin and scales split and bleed into salt that dries him out all the more. A vicious cycle that slowly drains his life and will to have it...

The vat is not guarded, but both can see its enchantment. Sealed in blue-green light Maethril halts in place, in recognition, as she extends arm to stop the prince. Her attempt goes unnoticed as Ulfr rushes past her. He knows the magic, knows he can handle it...knows it wouldn’t matter if he couldn’t. Grim’s in there.

“Your highness, no, it is freezing!” So cold it will surely burn any elf hand that dare touch it. He ignores, grabs and tosses the lid. She gasps as his hands turn azure, white-lined, before his illusion slips back into place. He is not the prince, he’s not even Ljósálfar! Yet the urge to put this mysterious, deceptive, beast down, the one she’s had since first suspecting him, only dampens...

The light burns Grim’s eyes even through lids, he shudders. His voice is gone, breathing barely there. What little water left in him leaks from the corners of his eyes as he’s lifted from crimson flakes.

Ulfr lowers with care, wincing on his lover’s behalf as the ground proves unforgiving, uncomforting. “Gr-Grim?” He looks down at the being that bears so little resemblance to the man he knows, loves. As badly as he wants to touch, to reassure, he doesn’t dare for fear of hurting.

As Maethril watches she’s at a loss for words. She’s seen death, seen cruelty, but this is something new. New and terrifying. The slave is not simply undone, he’s changed in a way that reminds her of the blackest magics. She knows why the urge to take the imposter down isn’t coming - whoever, whatever, he is, he loves just as any of them. He is in pain, he is scared, and he is in love...more than the prince ever was.

Even the drip of Ulfr’s tears on his flesh causes such pains that Grim’s breath stops. “We...We need to get him out of here.” Ulfr wipes his face quickly, both to prevent tears from falling as to hide them. He can be seen to care, perhaps, but not too much. Not in front of the guard already so suspicious of him. “Get him...help.”

“H-How? ...Where?”

“Do not ask me, just help me!!” The Jotun roars at the she-elf before taking a deep breath in. His jaw flickers in tension, the tears coming once again. “Please...” His voice softens to a plea. “Help.”

Maethril opens mouth, but has no answer. No solution. If they move the Oarnér they may kill him, but they surely cannot leave the man here either. She raises a hand in hopes of staving off more orders while she thinks. The black burns of the slave’s throat, the creature he’s become, it’s like black magic... “I...I may know someone who can, but...”

Stomach tightens in fear. “But?”

“She’s deep in the woods. I’ll have to find her, convince her.”

“Order her, tell her I order her.”

“She’s not one of your people, our people.”

“Tell her she may have whatever she wishes, if she heals him.”

“Your Highness, that is-” Not a risk to take with one such as this witch.

“GO!!” He doesn’t care, whatever warning she has for him doesn’t matter right now. The only thing that does is Grim. That Grim is alive, that he can be healed. The woman bows, heads off, and Ulfr moves to lay on the ground beside the other. He lets his façade fade, goes Jotun and freezes the ground beneath them...Grim always says too cold is better than too hot and, as the ice melts, it turns to the water that’s he so desperately needs. 

**

Rassëiel smells the she-elf the moment she steps beyond the boundaries of the kingdom and into her woods. “You are not welcome here, Ljósálfar.”

“I come with a message from...” Who? An icy imposter? “Prince Draugluin.”

“My answer will be your death.” The dragon-witch is not blood-thirsty, but protective. Her freedom, her land, her happiness was hard-fought and she’s no intention of going back - the best way to assure that is to deal with all elf trespassers brutally. Still, she is curious, so waits...

“He requests, begs, your help, my lady.”

“With what?” She spits back, knowing the type of help requested by the last like him.

“His love.”

The woman laughs. “I’ve no interest in helping the Red Lady, she’s worse than he.”

“No, not her. A fossegrim slave.” Maethril takes another step, hands up to show she’s no wish to battle. “You gained your freedom, would you deny another dark creature his?”

**

“You are not allowed to die, do you understand me?” Ulfr mutters, freezing and refreezing the ground as the Alfheim sun continues to melt it as quickly. “If you die, I’ll kill myself.” After all, what was a fugitive Frost Giant to do when, again, the one good thing in his life leaves.

Grim hears, but cannot respond save to keep breathing what little breath he can find the strength to take.

Not gonna lie, writing this was a wild ride from beginning to end for me, haha! Now I’m hoping that that’s a good thing and translated into a great (and wild!) piece for you guys as well. There’s still more to come - not in the least because we’ve got a new player on the board, haha! - but I’ve a pretty good idea of what. Also, no, Ulfr doesn’t realize he’s given himself away to Maethril. AND the concept of a dragon lady actually came from a character @chibiyanai​​ thought of first and I hope she doesn’t get cross at me for using the genius idea, lol!

Gifs found on Google, combined by me

Word Glossary (in order of usage):

Carfindel - Red-Haired (Sindarin) Oarnér - Oar - Child of the Sea (Qenya); nér - Male (Qenya) Draugluin - Blue (Were)wolf (Sindarin) Beria - To protect (Sindarin), used as name here Tir - Guard (Sindarin), used as name here Ljósálfar - Norse Light Elves Rainaiel - Sweet-faced princess (Sindarin) Maethril - [Female] Warrior (Sindarin) Alfheim - Home of the Norse Light Elves Rassëiel - [Female] Horn (Quenya

Tagged: @chibiyanai​​​ @lady-crowned-with-stars​​​ @moonfaery​​​ @annievvv7​​​ @ladyfluff​​​ @holykryptonitekitten​​​ @lokilvrr​​​ @janebrownnie​​​ @lokis-little-kitten​​​ @alexakeyloveloki​​​ @theangelsfightwithdevils​​​ @the-blue-tiefling​​ @lokis-lady-death​​​ @dangertoozmanykids101​​ @prometheasmother​​ @vethrvolnir @wintertink​​​ @amethyst-dreams-and-candy-canes​  @drakonwild​​ @starscreamloki​​ @judas-nipples @hiddles-rose​​  @the-lady-witchitery​​ @galaxies-inside-my-head​​ @jackheart180 @lukeevansandjdmobession​​​ @endlessstairway​​​ @lanabanana-86 @tom-fucking-hiddleston-1981​​ @lovekrystina​​ @madoka73​​ @lokikingofasgardslover713​​ @partiallyinthecloset​​ @ultrarebelheart​​​  @gravitational-anomaly @manip-loki​​​ @sweetfictionalworld​​​ @lowcarbgem @tarithenurse​​​ @boredbrooder​​​ @beccaliciooouuusss​​​ @michellearel1​​

If you want on or off, or your screenname’s change from what’s listed, just lemme know! (Strike-throughs are those Tumblr refuses to tag properly)

[honourablejester]

Nathan: Dignity! You know, it takes a bold man to talk about dignity when he tryin’ to sell women off like they cattle.

Ezra: I’ll ignore that.

Nathan: Yeah, you better do that. How else you gonna get some sleep tonight?

Ezra *flatly*: Anything else?

Nathan: About making profit off the back of another human being? Hell yeah, I got a lot to say, but—It just be wasted on you.

--- Magnificent Seven, Ep 1x03, “Working Girls”

Watching a couple of episodes of Magnificent Seven (1998) again, and I’m remembering why the relationship between these two is probably the single most painful and heart-warming and fascinating on the show. Nathan Jackson and Ezra Standish are one of the most perfect examples of a pair of characters who have either no frame of reference for each other or else a completely wrong one. Or, well, an action-correct but motivation-wrong one. Hence why they keep tearing strips off each other for the whole show, though they soften some later. And this conversation here, very early on, is an excellent illustration as to why.

So the plot of this episode is that the Seven have helped liberate a group of prostitutes from an abusive camp and have to keep them safe over the course of the episode. This involves a lot of people (notably Mary Travis) facing a lot of fairly uncomfortable truths about the darker side of their society and how easy it is to slip up and wind up in a hell. And Ezra is definitely one of those too.

Ezra’s little subplot for the episode is that he decides he’s going to help some of these women win better lives by setting them up in a mail-order bride scheme, run by him, for naturally a small fee. When they react with natural scepticism, wondering how exactly that’s different from being a whore aside from not getting paid for it, he clarifies that he’ll set them up only with wealthy, gentlemanly men, screened by him. Leaving aside their suspicions on this, one of them asks what men like that would want with women like them, and Ezra responds that what the men don’t know won’t hurt them, and he can show them how to act like ‘ladies’. He then spends the rest of the episode trying (with Buck’s help and Josiah’s disdain) to do exactly this via an impromptu ‘charm school’. The above conversation happens when Nathan walks in on the middle of this.

Now. Leaving Nathan’s own background completely aside for a minute, you cannot for one second blame him for coming to this conclusion. Ezra straight-up called it a mail-order bride scam. He is … I mean, he kind of is selling them, he’s just doing so with their cooperation and, in his head, for the purposes of victimising the men, not the women. But he is selling them. He’s getting a cut from arranging marriages for them. That’s only a bit of semantics away from selling them. Add in Nathan’s background as a straight-up slave, and it is plainly obvious and completely understandable why this rubs him savagely the wrong way.

But the thing is, from Ezra’s point of view … the accusation baffles and deeply offends him. Like, really hurts and offends him. You can see it in his face and his stiff, flat tone. If Nathan had slapped him full across the face he could have gotten exactly the same effect. And some of that … Some of that is a lack of self-awareness on Ezra’s part. Some of it is that he’s never looked at things like this from someone like Nathan’s point of view, and there are times when he really, really should.

But it’s also a degree of Nathan missing things. Because in Ezra’s head he genuinely is not selling them. He is not setting them up to be victims. In Ezra’s head he’s setting them up to make their husbands victims. He’s teaching them a con. And, extremely specifically, as we find out later when we meet her, he’s teaching them Maude’s con. He’s teaching them how to act the part of a southern lady and disguise their socially inferior background long enough to string some rich man along and take him for all he’s got.

He’s trying to teach them how to act like his mother, in short. And he’s trying to teach them a lot of what Maude taught him. Failing to realise, maybe, that many of these women are not Maude Standish and may not be able to do what she does serially. Failing to realise that for a lot of women, marriage is exactly as close to slavery as Nathan makes it sound. Failing to realise that he might, in fact, be setting them up as badly as Nathan thinks he is.

I think to a large extent it just didn’t occur to Ezra … I don’t think he’s ever, a day in his life, thought of his mother as a potential victim. In his head, Maude is always the predator. Sure, cons go badly, and marks turn violent, and he probably knows full well that Maude’s probably gotten out of things by the skin of her teeth before, but in his head … that’s just their line of work? If you can’t scam them properly, then you deserve what you get. Nobody’s going to help you, so you better be able to get in and get out by yourself, and with whatever you came for clutched in your fist. I would lay odds that Maude taught him exactly this way himself. Taught him how to playact like his ‘betters’ in order to get close enough to swindle them.

Which probably has some impact on other aspects of his interactions with Nathan. Because the part Maude taught Ezra to play is the part of the Southern Gentleman. And Ezra absorbed a lot of that, with all the incidental horrors it entailed. You act the part, regardless of your true goals or opinions. You act like the people you want to fit in with.

And some of them might even have been Ezra’s own opinions. Their first meeting, when Ezra refuses to ride with the Seven because Nathan’s already there. That could have been genuine racism on Ezra’s part. Casual, not entrenched, because he’s a pragmatic man and he gets over it fairly quick once they start working together and he realises Nathan has his back no matter how much of a dickhead he is. But still. It could easily have been something he absorbed over years of playing this part, and until Nathan challenged it might have been a genuine part of his outlook.

(It could also have been a degree of pragmatism, in that he figured that Nathan as a black man and likely an ex-slave would be the sort to take personal offense to him should dynamics in the group go south, making him potentially a threat with a grudge when Ezra inevitably had to part ways from the goody-two-shoes. So, less conscious racism and more racially-profiled survivalism, but still)

(Or it could have been an excuse, a reason not to ride out suicidally with these morons for bugger-all money, and using racism and his old role as an excuse to get out of it – bit of a risky gambit though, considering he was already neck-deep in trouble as it stood)

The thing we see a lot in their interactions is that Nathan, while he warms up to Ezra slowly and cautiously and recognises him for a genuinely brave and semi-decent man, constantly struggles with two separate images Ezra presents to the world, both of which are triggering for Nathan, and neither of which is actually who Ezra is and wants to be.

The first is the role he learned for cons, the stereotypical Southern Gentleman, which grates on Nathan for obvious reasons and which tends to … the couple of times he’s genuinely flown off the handle at Ezra (here and in S2’s “Chinatown”), it’s been in circumstances where this image is combined with circumstances in which people are (potentially) being sold. Ezra just straight-up triggers everything about Nathan’s past in those circumstances, and he just struggles to see the present not the past. Entirely understandably, for all it hurts Ezra, and for all it isn’t all that true to who Ezra is, a love of erudition and fine furnishings aside.

But the other image Ezra presents, the one that is actually more true to him, at least in terms of upbringing and the frame of reference Ezra himself was raised with, is that of the conman and thief. And that is just as bad to Nathan. Just another means for a white man to take away from honest people, making his living off the backs of other people and not caring about what happens to them in the process. And he … isn’t entirely wrong. On this one, he has a lot of good points. Ezra was raised with a baseline predatory mindset, and he doesn’t always realise it. A lot of things he grew up thinking are perfectly fine and normal … aren’t. Here, Nathan often has, if not the moral high ground, at the very least some pretty good points.

But the thing is … the reason Ezra struggles so much with Maude is that Ezra is also bad at this mindset. It’s the thing he was raised to view as correct, the thing he was raised to aspire to, and he’s just bad at it. As he proved in the pilot when his conscience drove him back. He has some things that he genuinely doesn’t realise are bad, but also others that he knows full well and has to force himself to go through with. And the reason Maude is so against Ezra settling down with these people is that she knows it’s pushing him to make what she views as stupid choices, stupid risks. Things she genuinely thinks will cause him to come to harm (not without reason, although her methods of ‘helping him’ are arguably so much worse). Nathan is causing Ezra to be more honest and honourable, though Nathan doesn’t exactly realise that himself. Mostly because Nathan doesn’t realise what starting position Ezra is coming from in this regard, and admittedly doesn’t have a lot of sympathy for Ezra’s struggle in not being who he was raised to be. Nathan has no frame of reference for Maude, not until he falls afoul of her himself, and that’s not until much later, and she snows him completely for quite a large portion of it.

And on the other end, Ezra just … flat has no frame of reference for Nathan. He has never in his life been made to look at things the way Nathan looks at things. He’s constantly surprised and hurt and offended by how Nathan views his actions. Ezra, for all his bad luck and tendency to wind up in over his head, has never been brutalised the way Nathan has been, and has never realised just how vulnerable other people can be to brutalisation. It doesn’t occur to him that he might be lining up these women to be trapped, or if it does it isn’t something he thinks long on, because he looks at them like he looks at Maude, and Maude is never trapped. If you think you have control of her, it’s because you fell for the scam. But not every woman is Maude.

(And, quite possibly, Maude wasn’t always Maude. She had to start somewhere. Does she worry so much about him becoming an ‘honest’ victim because she’s looking at it from a predator’s point of view, or from ex-prey?)

Ezra looks at people like opponents. It’s the way he was raised. Everyone is out for themselves, and if you can’t take what you need, you’re going to get taken. He doesn’t want to look at them that way. He’s a closet romantic and wants to believe in honour the way the Seven sell it, but there’s always a part of him that cannot fully trust that (also a part of him that prefers the simplicity and comfort of want-take). Everyone you meet could be scamming you. Nobody is ever as innocent or helpless as they appear. The world is full of predators pretending to be prey the better to get close to people. It blinds him to how many ‘prey’ there actually are, and maybe gives him a bit of an opinion that even they partially deserve it? If you can’t get yourself out, maybe you don’t deserve to.

And for Nathan, if you have power and you don’t use it to help people, you’re using it to hurt people. Because that’s what he was raised witnessing. If you have the appearance of power, you have actual power. If you act like a good person, you are one. Actions speak louder than words, the proof is in the pudding. What you do is what matters, not why you do it. Lying, stealing, swindling, is baffling to him, and taking what honest people earn flies too close to what he spent his life enduring, blood, sweat and lives spent entirely for someone else. I think he honestly doesn’t understand why Ezra, who he knows can be an incredibly brave and decent man, doesn’t just commit to that all the time. And sometimes the things Ezra does, often in all innocence or at least a complete lack of understanding, just push him too far.

But they work at it. They get closer to each other. Ezra gradually becomes a more honest and trusting man. Nathan, aside from those times when he’s triggered too strongly to be rational, tries to be a bit gentler with him about it. They develop a respect and friendship for each other. They learn from each other. They make some incredible mistakes when it comes to each other, but they both realise that they’re not actually trying to hurt each other. Or anyone else, mostly, though their definitions of ‘hurt’ tend to vary a bit there. They’re just … easily the most fascinating relationship on the show, if often also one of the most painful.

Anywho. Thus endeth a random trip down memory-lane to an old fandom.

[fuckyeahscootmcnairy]

How Scoot McNairy Became One of the Busiest Actors in Hollywood

In a wide-ranging conversation, the actor reflects on working with Quentin Tarantino, 'Halt and Catch Fire,' 'Narcos: Mexico' and 'True Detective' season three.

Over the past decade, few actors have been as busy as Scoot McNairy, but now that the health of the world has forced everyone to slow down, McNairy is finally able to take stock of the work he’s done. McNairy first became a name to watch on the indie circuit as 2007’s In Search of a Midnight Kiss and 2010’s Monsters garnered critical acclaim and numerous awards. But 2012’s Killing Them Softly really unlocked the floodgates for McNairy as Softly filmmaker Andrew Dominik eventually referred him to Ben Affleck for a role in Argo, which went on to win Best Picture at the 85th Academy Awards in 2013

At his Argo audition, McNairy shocked Affleck when he reminded him that they’d already worked together on a 2006 Axe Body Spray commercial. The two actors teamed up again in 2014’s Gone Girl and 2016’s Batman v Superman.

“I think [Ben] was very, very good to me in sort of championing me. I don’t know how much influence he had on the other jobs, but I assume that he did,” McNairy tells The Hollywood Reporter. “So, I just felt really lucky and grateful that I had anyone supporting me. It’s really hard to get people to get behind you in the business, so you don’t take anybody for granted that does so. So, yes, I was and am very grateful to him.”

After two electric scenes with Brad Pitt in Softly, McNairy has also gone on to work for Pitt’s production company, Plan B, on three more projects including another Best Picture winner, 12 Years a Slave, War Machine and Blonde — Dominik’s first scripted feature since Softly.

“Plan B, Dede Garder, Brad and Jeremy Kleiner have just been really, really great to me by just thinking of me for projects,” McNairy explains. “They’ve thrown some really great, interesting work my way. I am fully aware that, yes, they’ve been very, very good to me and have taken care of me. I’m still in contact with Dede, and I talk to her a lot. She’s a really close friend of mine.”

This week also marks the one-year anniversary of Quentin Tarantino’s Once Upon a Time in Hollywood, and McNairy is now reflecting on the fact that he’s the only actor Tarantino has ever cast without meeting first. Since McNairy had a small role as Business Bob Gilbert, a character in the film’s fictional recreation of the real-life TV show, Lancer, McNairy credits Timothy Olyphant for bringing him up to speed on the proceedings.

“Timothy Olyphant saw me when I walked on set, and I was sort of a deer in the headlights because I wasn’t able to read the script. And so, he walked over to me and was like, ‘You didn’t read the script, did you?’ and I was like, ‘No,’” McNairy shares. “He goes, ‘All right, cool. Let me sit down and explain to you what’s going on.’ So, he sat down and chatted with me for about 25 minutes in the morning to sort of give me the lay of the land. He was really great.”

In a wide-ranging conversation with THR, McNairy also reflects on Monsters, Halt and Catch Fire, Narcos: Mexico and True Detective season three. He also looks ahead to his work as Rod Rosenstein on The Comey Rule, which premieres on Showtime in late September. He can currently be found on HBO Max’s first original series, Love Life.

Since this week is the one-year anniversary of Once Upon a Time in Hollywood, how did the role of Business Bob Gilbert first pop up on your radar?

I think my manager found it and knew that they were casting for it. And the normal circuits of how it works got me in there, I think. I put an audition on tape, mailed it in to them and didn’t hear anything for, like, two and a half months. And then, a week and half, two weeks before the show started, they called me and said, “Hey, they want you, and you work in two weeks.”

And they only provided you with the sides for Business Bob’s scene?

Yeah, my manager requested the role and the sides, and yeah, those were sent to me and put on tape. Just sort of your classic process.

Were they the real sides?

Yeah, what I auditioned for is pretty much exactly what I ended up doing in the movie, I believe.

Was Business Bob loosely based on a real actor or character to your knowledge?

No, not that I know of. You know, it’s funny. Timothy Olyphant saw me when I walked on set, and I was sort of a deer in the headlights because I wasn’t able to read the script. And so, he walked over to me and was like, “You didn’t read the script, did you?” and I was like, “No.” He goes, “All right, cool. Let me sit down and explain to you what’s going on.” So, he sat down and chatted with me for about 25 minutes in the morning to sort of give me the lay of the land. He was really great.

There’s a scene in the movie where Leo’s character, Rick Dalton, rehearses his lines with a tape machine that has his scene partners’ lines already recorded by himself. Apparently, you set up a more modern version of this technique while on the True Detective set, right?

Oh, that was the actual recording of the self-tape... It was standard. If you have two cell phones, one of them you can hook up to a speaker and one of them can record. And so, I would just record the other person’s lines and then leave the gaps in between so that nobody else had to read with me off-camera in order to send in the self-tape. But the gaps between the lines is something that I’ve always done. That’s how I’ve been learning my lines for, I don’t know, 20 years. Just record it, so you can sit there and rehearse the dialogue with yourself.

Once you’re on set, will you grab a castmate to rehearse your lines whenever it’s possible?

Man, I’ll ask anybody. I always have my sides on me, and if anybody will run them with me, then they’ll run them with me. But yeah, I generally like to run it five or six times with somebody before we even walk on the set just to hear it out and hear what they’re doing and whatnot.

After you sent your tape in and were eventually cast, you never met Quentin until you were on set, and if I have the story right, that’s the first time he’s ever cast someone without meeting them first. Has this ever happened to you in the past?

Without meeting them in person? Yes. But usually, there’s a phone conversation or a Skype call or a couple meetings before it happens. You may not necessarily meet them in person, but I hadn’t talked to Quentin or even met him until the day I walked on the set. So, yeah, it’s amazing. I’m incredibly lucky, too.

What was the vibe of the set like?

It was great, man. He’s incredibly charismatic and sweet and nice and funny, and that sort of goes all day long. He’s just really, really entertaining. I think we’ve all been entertained by Quentin, as an individual, for, I don’t know, 30 years. But to actually see him hold court and whatnot was really fascinating to watch. He’s a really, really interesting guy and incredibly talented. And it was just great. I think we shot over two days, I believe. It was quick, in and out. I think a cell phone had gone off the day before I got there, and that was a really, really big deal. And so, you had to take your cell phone and put it into a bucket before you could walk onto the set. That was a first.

[The following question contains spoilers for Halt and Catch Fire.]

Moving to Halt and Catch Fire, your character, Gordon Clark, had one of the most unique sendoffs I’ve ever seen. What do you remember most about shooting that sequence where his life flashes before his eyes?

I remember them telling me about it. I think it was [co-creator] Chris Rogers, [co-creator] Chris Cantwell and [writer-producer] Zack Whedon. And I think Chris told me it was Zack Whedon who came up with this idea of a coma or him sort of fading out, where his life flashes before his eyes. I remember shooting it, and I thought it was incredibly beautiful, incredibly creative and thoughtful in how they orchestrated and designed it. It was really cool. I knew the show was ending, and having your character die in the last season of the show is something that sort of gives you closure to the show, to the role and to everything. It was great, man. I had such a great time working on that show, working with all of those people and with the Chrises. It was one of my first series I ever did. So, it’s definitely one of the most memorable to me.

Is there a Halt and Catch Fire group text?

Oh yeah. We still chat with each other. For sure. I think everybody’s schedules are pretty busy, but we try and get together when we can.

You guys are all doing incredibly well, but Mackenzie (Davis) is already a movie star. Did you see this coming a long time ago?

Yeah, I’ve always thought Mackenzie was incredibly talented, ambitious and just a wonderful person. So no, it doesn’t surprise me one bit that it would be happening for her. She deserves everything that’s coming to her.

I’ve heard a lot of people say that Hollywood feels much smaller once you’re in it. Considering that you and Kerry Bishé played husband and wife on two different projects (Argo and Halt), do you agree with that premise?

Yeah, I’d say the world is really small once you’re in it. It just feels like the older you get, the more you start running into people all over. But I guess it makes sense over time. You meet and meet and meet new people, so there’s more people for you to run into. But no, I definitely think the business is really small. If you work with somebody once, there’s a good chance you’re going to work with them again over the lifetime of your career, if you’re lucky. Once I’d come on board Halt, the Chrises told me that they cast Kerry to play my wife. So, I knew it going into the show, but yeah, I was really excited to work with Kerry again.

The first time I saw you was in 2010’s Monsters, and a couple years later, I heard Affleck singing your praises in an interview, which amounted to three films together (Argo, Gone Girl, Batman v Superman). Could you feel a shift in your career once he supported you as openly as he did?

Yeah, I’m not aware of that article or interview where Ben said those things. But with that said, yes, I think he was very, very good to me in sort of championing me. I don’t know how much influence he had on the other jobs, but I assume that he did. So, I just felt really lucky and grateful that I had anyone supporting me. It’s really hard to get people to get behind you in the business, so you don’t take anybody for granted that does so. So, yes, I was and am very grateful to him.

We just talked about Hollywood feeling small, and I don’t think the point can be better illustrated than the Axe Body Spray commercial you guys did together in 2006.

(Laughs.) When I left the audition room after auditioning for Argo, I reminded him as I was walking out. I said, “Oh yeah, Axe Deodorant.” And he was like, “No fucking way, that was you!? No fucking way.”

As far as Monsters goes, Gareth Edwards has said that you filmed in “cartel country.” Did things get pretty dicey at certain points?

Yeah, for sure. But you kind of feel unsafe every once in a while on any film set. (Laughs.) But yeah, we were a really small crew of, like, seven people, and so there were a couple of hairy situations we ran into in Guatemala and a couple other situations. But for the most part, no. A couple of situations here and there, but granted, how much time that we were down there, no, we didn’t run into that much. And the people of Mexico were all really, really, really kind individuals and really great people. When I worked on Narcos, the Sinaloa Cartel came to set one day when we were shooting on location and just sort of sat there and watched us. They just said, “We’re letting you know that we’ve allowed you guys to be here, so you guys carry on.” I know they’re noted for doing some awful things, but they didn’t seem to be… If you don’t bother them, then they don’t bother you. But Monsters was really one of the funnest movies I’ve ever worked on. I had such a great time.

Since its release in 2012, I’ve been a part of the Killing Them Softly choir, as it’s criminally underrated. Last year, I talked to Mendo (Ben Mendelsohn) about your time together on that set since I want to see you guys team up again with dishwashing gloves.

(Laughs.) Fucking love Mendo.

And he told me a story of how you guys lived together during filming and that you got on each other’s nerves, which you can recognize in the car scene on the way to the stickup. Would you like to offer your vantage point on this experience?

100 percent correct. The two of us met, we made friends really quickly, we moved into a house together really quickly, we were living together and we were working together. And it became this sort of tiff between the two of us. We’d get in these little spats at the house, and we’d be riding to work together, in the same spat, and then, we’d go to work and be in the same spat at work. I love that about Mendo. He dishes it out a lot, but he also can take it a lot. So, 65 percent of it was us having fun with each other, and the other 35 percent was probably frustration. But I think as Ben says, “It’s always great when two people that are working together are getting at each other because that’s usually when the goods come.”

After working with Brad Pitt on Softly, you were eventually cast in Plan B’s 12 Years a Slave, War Machine and Dominik’s Blonde (2021). Around the time of 12 Years, did you get the sense that Brad had become your latest champion a la Ben?

I don’t 100 percent know. However, with that being said, Plan B, Dede Garder, Brad and Jeremy Kleiner have just been really, really great to me by just thinking of me for projects and stuff. They’ve thrown some really great, interesting work my way. So, I’m not quite sure, but I am fully aware that, yes, they’ve been very, very good to me and have taken care of me. I’m still in contact with Dede, and I talk to her a lot. She’s a really close friend of mine.

As expected, your work on True Detective was excellent. Was that role quite the juggling act since you were essentially playing two different characters via 1980 Tom and 1990 Tom?

Yeah, but it wasn’t as hard as what Stephen (Dorff) and Mahershala (Ali) had to juggle with three characters in three different eras. No, we had a really great team of hair and makeup artists. It was also a really great show and script to be a part of. So, not necessarily. 10 years have passed with the two characters, and it’s one of the things that I love about the show. Over these 35 years, you really get to see how much people change over time. I thought [creator] Nic (Pizzolatto), as a writer, did a really good job at showcasing that, explaining that and also bringing the realism to that. So, no, it was fun. I enjoyed playing the same character in different time periods. It’s something I’ve only been able to do once before on Halt.

When you were on set with Dorff, did you guys expect the audience to theorize about your characters potentially having a romantic relationship?

To be honest with you, no. That may be a seed that Nic sort of planted. And I also don’t know what he had said to Stephen. But that was not a conversation that had ever really come up or was talked about with Nic. Maybe that is Nic trying to withhold that information from me intentionally; I don’t know. I haven’t really asked him about it since, if that was his true intention. That was something that I heard, but it’s not something that me, Stephen or Nic ever talked about. At least, they didn’t talk about that with me.

Nic ultimately rejected the theory on Instagram, and he’s never really been shy about shooting down fan theories.

Yeah, I was going to say… I think it’s something that was sort of speculated through the audience viewership and not something that he’d ever really thought about.

I thought your introduction on Narcos: Mexico season one was pretty ingenious. You weren’t originally supposed to narrate the season, right?

I think their first initial thought, if I’m correct, is that Kiki Camarena (Michael Pena) would be narrating from the grave. I think that Eric Newman, the showrunner, had molded over and over in his mind, and it just didn’t sit right with him. The thought was, “If this guy is dead at the end of the story, then how is he telling the story?” Once I was cast to come into this, I think the new idea that they had was, “Oh, well, here’s this new character coming. Maybe he could be the one who’s telling this story.” So, it’s definitely something that came at the last minute before the show was locked.

Narcos doesn’t mess around and shoot Albuquerque for Mexico. Both versions of the show have strived for authenticity by way of locations that actually correspond to the story. Did that set feel more immersive than most?

I mean, it was awesome and crazy. It’s Mexico. It’s full-on down there. I was breaking some glass one day, and I was like, “That’s real glass!” And they’re like, “Yeah!” and I’m like, “Oh, okay. Maybe they’ll put in the sugar glass next.” And they put it right back in. You just slam another piece of glass, and the glass goes in the other actor’s eye. It’s awesome. It’s like making movies the way we made them back in the ‘60s and ‘70s where the shit’s real. We didn’t have as many tricks down there. We just sort of did it as is. So, it was awesome, man. It was really fun filmmaking to be down there, to be doing that in Mexico and working with the filmmakers I got to work with.

Do you get the impression that you give better performances when you’re in a real environment as opposed to a soundstage?

100 percent, man. As a kid, I just didn’t like being inside. So, working on a soundstage is never really as exciting as working at a real house, a real mountain or, obviously, a real river or location and whatnot. So, fortunately, I feel like I’ve been really lucky as most of the jobs I’ve done have all been on location. I haven’t really worked that much on a soundstage. But yeah, your environment’s right there; it’s right there in front of you. You can react to everything around you because it’s real. I find that to be rewarding when you’re in the environment, and it’s less work for you to do as an actor.

Your Narcos character, Walt Breslin, pursued a goal so intensely that he ultimately ended up being reassigned behind a desk. Is there an experience from your own life that you channeled in order to capture how Walt felt by season's end?

Yes, the fear of also having to work behind a desk or having to be indoors for 8 hours a day. That would be a nightmare for me.

Overall, I thought you did tremendous work throughout season two. Are you returning for Narcos: Mexico season three, which supposedly started shooting in secret?

Not sure, really. There's been a lot of talk, but as you know, nothing’s certain until it’s certain. And even then, it can fall apart.

You’ve talked a lot about your struggles when you first came to L.A. and how you were living in your car and couch-surfing. At this current point in your career, are you finally able to say no? Or do you still feel like you have to say yes to almost everything because you remember those early days?

There’s two sides to that question. Yes, I can say no to projects. Some of the stuff that comes my way I’m just not interested in. It’s just movies or scripts that I just wouldn’t go see, that I’m not that interested in. And it’s mostly just based on that: “Oh, I wouldn’t really go see that movie.” But there’s also another side to it too. Like, you sit around for long enough, and I don’t want to sit around. So, after two or three months of sitting around, you say to yourself, “Okay, well I want to go work.” I enjoy myself on a set and working and playing around and exploring characters and exploring blocking and ideas and dynamics of the scene. It’s something I really enjoy doing. So, to sit around and say, “Okay, I’ve got nothing in front of me that’s good,” — I think my attitude more so is, “Let’s take this other thing right here that’s not that good and let’s try and make it good. Let’s do it, let’s get to work on it and get creative and try and make this show or project good.” And so, there’s a certain sense with some people where it’s like, “Well, you know, that person’s overexposed.” You know, crucify me for just wanting to work. I really enjoy my job; it’s what I do, and I’d like to do it as much as I can or am able to do.

Christopher Cantwell’s The Parts You Lose is a really beautiful film. How was that experience and reunion with Chris, Aaron Paul and Mary Elizabeth Winstead?

It was great. I enjoyed the entire time I worked with Chris Cantwell and talking to him. And I just think he’s a really great guy. He has a really kind heart, and he’s a really smart individual. Aaron Paul is somebody I’ve known for, I don’t know, 25 years out here. So I was excited to go work with Chris, Aaron and Mary. I think the film’s really good. If Chris called me up tomorrow and said, “Let’s go work on something,” I would jump out of my chair to go do so.

I rarely root against your characters, but this role was an exception. What did you and Chris discuss as far as your character is concerned?

Chris and I spoke about the character, and we both agreed to not worry about making this guy likable. We leaned more towards mainly making the viewer hate him but maybe hate him so much that you begin to feel for him. Like, it’s not his fault; it's just the life he has been dealt.

Regarding The Comey Rule, the release date has now been changed to late September, but were you as perplexed as everybody else when the show's premiere date slid to after the election?

Yes and no. Unfortunately, the country is so polarized at the moment. So divided. Naturally, that bleeds into large corporations protecting their interests. However, [creator] Billy Ray worked so hard to get this thing done before the November election, and he was promised to get a certain release date. I'm glad everyone was able to agree and that the show will air sooner.

Peter Sarsgaard recently told me that when he plays real people, he pretty much approaches them like they don't exist. Since you played Rod Rosenstein, did you take a similar approach, or did you go down the YouTube rabbit hole and whatnot?

Tough question. I find that it is different for me each time, each job, and each role. Sometimes I like to talk to them, sometimes I don’t. I followed the Russia investigation very closely, so when this job came along, I really felt like I had a lot of data on the players involved. Rod was not front and center in the media on a day-to-day basis. So I was really interested in looking at his body of work. He was the longest serving U.S. Attorney in history, and certain things made him stand out among those in Washington. I did find myself going down a rabbit hole by watching interviews and speeches that he did. I watched some of them over and over. I also had a collage of photos of him with all these different facial expressions. I would just go through them and wonder what the hell this guy must have been going through during all that chaos.

Do you prefer playing real people from the distant past since the audience typically doesn't have a frame of reference for them via video, audio, etc.?

They all are a bit terrifying to play, whether or not the audience has a frame of reference. You still have a responsibility to the audience, the story and the filmmaker to make it real and believable. The audience may not know this person, but it just has to be really specific to me and the director. All I have control over is doing my best to make it real.

Ana de Armas told me that Blonde is quite the movie, and of course, you reunited with Killing Them Softly filmmaker, Andrew Dominik, for it. On a side note, this conversation continues to prove that your peers love doing repeat business with you — whether that's Affleck, Pitt, Cantwell and now Dominik. How was your second experience with Dominik?

I really enjoy working with Andrew. Obviously, he is a very talented director. He is also very entertaining to work with, and I love all his films, so I am happy to have the opportunity to work on anything he is doing. As far as "repeats," I’m not sure. I do like working with people I have worked with before because we know each other, and there is a certain comfortability. Just feels like you just cut through the fat much quicker.

[x]

[rodgersandhypnostein]

Gypsys, Tramps and Thieves Part 1 - Mister John Acton

Thursday, 8th of May, 1817.

Pemberton, Kent.

Another week, another village to perform and be gawked at. If there’s one thing I know to be true after 20 years in this life, it’s there are two types of attention: good attention and bad attention, and all me and my family have ever gotten in our lives is bad attention. It was bad enough to come from an Irish family born in England, where we’re treated like second-class citizens. It’s funny how even the poorest, baddest people feel as if they’re superior just because they were born English, and are even treated better by others! As if being born Irish wasn’t enough of a bad situation to be in, me and my family are travellers! While I’m proud of my heritage, and I suppose my lifestyle as well, I know that it’s not an ideal combination to have. So all my life, I’ve only ever been seen as the poor, uneducated Irish gypsy, to be laughed at by the kids and looked down on by the adults. Sometimes I think to myself how nice it would be to just live a normal life, in one place I can call my home, respected by my peers, where I don’t have to worry abou-

‘Bradán, will you get your head out of that book and get out here. Your brothers and I have been busting our arses to set up for the next show and you’ve been sat in here, doing fuck all’, my father, Seamus. He and I never really seemed to get on - he says that I think too much of myself because I learned to read, and I’ve never been good enough in his eyes.

Begrudgingly, I got up with as little visible annoyance as I could muster, with an obedient ‘yes father’. Now you know what I do for a living, me and my family run a travelling show. We can do anything! We can read your palms, contact your loved ones beyond, and can even control your very own mind. Yeah, we basically go from village to village scamming people for their money. We each have our own roles to play, my mother’s our ‘psychic’ she can tell your future and speak to the dead - for a steep price. My sister is the typical ‘gypsy beauty’, meant to draw in horny single men and entice them with her dancing. My brothers are the ‘strongmen’, they can lift anything, break anything and seduce any woman they want. My father preaches from the bible, and sells various concoctions to cure any ailment. And as for me, I’m the stage hypnotist, I get the pleasure of hypnotising people to act stupidly, a small moment of relief from my day.

Unsurprisingly, our reputation always seems to get to each village and town before we do. We always have someone telling us that we’re crooks and hethons, doomed for eternal damnation. But desire and curiosity always win out in the end, so we never seem to go without at least a decent amount of money. Horny men will always want to see the half-dressed girl shaking and gyrating on stage, and the older variety of said men will always waste their money if it means that they can have a chance of growing their hair back, before listening to the preacher, to atone for their night of sin.

As I was helping my brothers set up the stage for the show, two men, seemingly the village’s most eligible, and dare I say attractive, bachelors were having a walk together, and were heading right towards us. Of course they never approached us directly, they would never risk damaging their status by being seen with us. But I could hear them talking amongst themselves as they walked past.

‘Lord! It seems those menaces have decided to plague our village with their dastardly tricks’ One of the three, a shorter man with a decent build, but who had a nice and round bum.

‘John, don’t be so loud, they may hear us. These aren’t the kind of people we want to provoke’ another man said, in a distressed whisper. He was also fairly attractive, with short, straight blond hair, somewhat shorter than the first man, with a less muscular build to him.

‘Mark, don’t worry. They can’t understand a word we say, they don’t speak English. They can only speak in that barbaric Irish language. They never had that hideous tongue bashed out of them in school, because they never went to school. You have nothing to fear’, said one of them, who seemed to be the leader of the group. He had dark, curly hair with a beautiful bone structure and build. He obviously was every woman’s first choice for a husband in the village. And with that, they fell out of hearing distance. Twats.

Nothing else really happened that day, other than a few of the local women coming to stare at my brothers’ muscles, with them reciprocating by putting on a little for the women. But I couldn’t get what those two had been saying about me and my family. They were talking about us as if we were wild animals. The nerve of them to act as if we couldn’t even speak English, how insulting could they get! And they were meant to be the gentlemen of the village! But there was nothing I could do except daydream about what I could do to them.

Saturday, 10th of May 1817

Pemberton, Kent

Well, today’s the beginning of our week-long freakshow. The show hadn’t even been on for an hour before we got our first naysayer. It was one of the men who had been insulting us during their walk. As luck would have it, our little John fellow was the local priest in this parish, and had taken offence to our heathen practices. 

Normally we would ignore this type of people and continue with the show. And that was what I was planning to do, until a truly ‘dastardly trick’ popped into my head.

I walked over to the gentleman, putting my plan into action. ‘Excuse me, Mister?’

‘Acton, Mister John Acton, the priest of this parish. And as priest of this parish, I can’t stand by and allow my flock to be tempted by your unholy deeds’. He replied, rather aggressively, but that was to be expected.

‘Of course, Mister Acton. I can perfectly understand why you would be inclined to think that way. But that’s not necessarily what we do around here. In fact, I use my hypnotism to bring people’s inner soul and spirit out, so they can be brought closer to God. We’ve always been of the belief that we can never truly know the wisdom of our creator, but with an open heart we can begin to understand it. I can give you a demonstration if you’d like’ Absolute rubbish. All of it. But I needed him to believe it had something to do with God for him to agree.

‘All right. I’ll try it if it can help me understand God’s power and wisdom, but not here, I can’t let the parishioners see me agreeing to this.’ He gave in. Perfect. The fly enters the spider’s web, unaware of what’s in store for him.

‘Of course not. We’ll do it in private, besides, only God should know of your devotion to him.’

We began walking to the family carriage, and couldn’t help but get semi-hard at the idea of enslaving the first of the many attractive men in this village’.

‘Alright, Mister Acton, if you would sit yourself down there. Very good. So to begin I’ll just ask you to keep close attention to his pendant, as I slowly swing it from side to side, not breaking your gaze from it. Very good’. 

Now it begins, and I want to bring this man slowly to his downfall, as a bit of revenge for the insulting words he said yesterday. This is something I’m taking great pleasure in.

‘Now, as you concentrate more and more on the swinging of the pendant, your mind will be left more and more open for me to communicate with, and soon enough, God’s wisdom will be within sight’. This continued for a while, until I could clearly see that he was beginning to go under slightly.

‘Alright, I can see that your mind is opening more and more to my words, so I shall begin opening it. I will begin to count down from 10, and with each count, you will become more and more relaxed, and at 0, you’ll fall into a deep trance’.

‘10, getting more comfortable in your seat’

‘9, your body feeling almost weightless’

‘8, your breathing is getting deeper and deeper’

‘7, you’re beginning to sigh with relaxation at each breath’

‘6, your mind is beginning to lose control of your body’

‘5, you can’t help but increasingly hard from the relaxation’

‘4, you can’t help but rub your bum across the chair, for stimulation’

‘3, you’re slowly getting addicted to this relaxation and pleasure’

‘2, you’ll do anything to feel this relaxation and pleasure’

‘1, you’ll serve me in any way I command, to continue feeling this pleasure’

‘0, now sleep!’

And with that, the priest’s short, thick frame slumped over slightly in the chair, with a hard cock and arse on display, with a small, dreamy smile on his face.

‘When I snap my fingers, you’ll awaken and do anything I ask. I will also be able to bring you back to this state whenever I utter the words ‘butt boy’. Do you understand?’. Now that he was firmly under my control, I was going to have some fun with this man.

‘Yes’ he replied in a sleepy voice.

‘Yes Master, you need to say’ My cock instantly sprung to life with that command, realising the commanding potential I have.

‘Yes Master’, he replied in a pleasurable voice, no doubt because he obeyed my command.

‘Very good, slave. Now the first thing I want you to do is strip. God never intended for us humans to wear clothes, and thus to prove your faith to him, you must show him your rejection of such an unnatural practice’. Well, that and because I wanted to see that juicy arse in all its glory.

‘Yes Master’. With that, my newest slave began to strip down to his bare body. He then sat back down into his chair, but not before I got a glimpse of his perfect bum and decently-sized cock, pity it will never be used however.

‘Now, John. As you may be aware, the penis is the source of all human life. It is thus the closest to God we will ever come. Therefore, just as God should be worshipped and adored, so should the human penis. Luckily for you, I’m willing to let you do that on mine. You don’t have to fear anyone finding, it’ll be our little secret.’

‘Yes, penis must be worshipped’ He repeated, sliding down onto the floor. He then proceeded to pull my dick out of my trousers before lovingly gazing at it.

‘In fact, it’s been said that one of the best ways of showing your adoration of the male penis is to use your mouth. So go ahead, start licking it.’ Unsurprisingly, he obeyed. His licks began small, only using the tip of tongue for short licks. However, as he continued, and began to enjoy it more, he started using the whole surface of his tongue, licking from the tip to base, up and down.

‘Very good, you’re making it very happy indeed. Another way to show how much you love the male penis is to wrap your whole mouth around, and like how you licked, go up and down. I can promise you this will make the penis very appreciated.’ And with that, I began to get comfortable in my chair as the once zealous priest began blowing me.

Even though he was new at this, the young priest showed a lot of promise in giving head. I have to admit, my cock has never leaked this much from a first timer’s blowjob. I could certainly get used to this. Although, after a while my mind began to wander to his thick arse, and I suddenly felt the urge to fuck something, and with that mind, I gave my next order.

‘Stop slave, I have one more thing to share with you. My penis is feeling so good because of your worship, and it has decided to give you a gift. Now, the penis is the source of life, and it has been known to give life and purpose to a select few boys who choose to dedicate their lives to its service. I’m perfectly willing to bestow this gift onto you, should you choose to dedicate your life to me. Do you accept?’

Now was the make or break moment. It’s one thing to get a boy to give me a hummer under hypnosis, but another thing entirely for him to surrender his life to worship it. Even though he is firmly under my control, I’m not even sure if he’ll accept.

‘I do, Master.’ 

Sighing in satisfaction and victory, I began to strip my clothes, showing my new servant all he has to look forward to. I ordered him to crawl over to the bed, taking the opportunity to watch his arse moving as he crawled.

Now is the part I’ve been waiting for, ever since I saw his big bum yesterday afternoon. After days of lusting after the young priest, I’m finally going to have him all to myself.

Although my dick was fully lubed with my slaves spit, and would be perfectly adequate to slide between those cheeks, I couldn’t resist tasting him. I ravenously began eating his arse. His hole tasted divine, I could have spent the whole night licking it, getting more and more addicted to the taste. But I had to stop myself, so I could enjoy the feeling of his hole wrapped around my dick.

If I thought the taste of his hole was divine, it was nothing in comparison to the feeling around my dick. It was a tad too tight, but that problem will soon be dealt with. As soon as I could fit my entire dick up there, I went into a horny craze. Soon, all that went through the both of our minds was fucking. I didn’t care if anyone could see or hear, I just needed to fuck this boy’s brains out. 

This went on for what felt like hours, until finally, I came. My cum felt so nice and warm in his arsehole, and I could tell he enjoyed the sensation, and would soon be wanting more, which I’ll gladly give. I knew right then and there that this power over men is far too addictive for me to give up, and I made a resolution to myself that before the month was through, all the men in this village, both single and married, would feel the pleasure of my cock in their arse.

[thoughtsofmyown30]

My father was very abusive to women, my mom was treated as a play thing to him out of fear she was his slave and had been broken in by him many times over.

My Father laughed at humiliating and physically pain fully whipping my mom. He had her clean the house nude his sadist nature reminded her to never hesitate or let him see her question his command. I had seen my mother crawling on her knees and hands a dog collar and leash attached my father leading her around all day treating her as a real dog she ate from bowls on the floor he forced her to use the yard as her bathroom, she wore a tail held by a large metal bulb that was in her bottom he locked her in a dog cage when she upset him or to show off his pet to his work friends. I hear her sobbing and crying out as father whipped her body and her private parts using enemas ginger root plugs icy hot hot sauce restraining cuffs nipple piercing attached to a chain that was hooked to her private parts. His blood daughter from a previous marriage was treated the same way. Sexual physical mental emotional broken and trained to be his slave. Disobedience was harshly punished he had other ppl just to come over and watch him beat his slaves and watch them suffer then fear driving them making them degrade humiliated displayed naked treated and dressed up as teen girls or dogs. Both forced to sexually play with each other and others as well as there master. He was the town judge so no one gave him any issue no matter what it may have been. My mom and sister had been forced to be knotted for his bday gift anal alway. He took pictures and video recording the event as later using as black mail to make them fear what ppl would say if they ever saw them. It always worked and both would be doing more perverted twisted kinky humiliation in stead.

I was told to watch or join in be a man and use his house slaves if I refused he would be insulted and they where treated worse for it.

So I sometimes would start whipping there ass already shredded by father but taking more as I made sure he felt I was doing it 100% the would be incoherently sobbing begging mercy.

I was using meth at 13 years old my mom and sister where kept coked up to make them feel more able to obey deal with pain easy and earn the drug that made them feel numb but was the very thing making them degrade themselves to make it easier to get abused..

My father was a souless pos. My first gf was 13 I was 16 she was a run away from many miles away her past was daily second by second a living hell.

She asked if I could get her high she was. Cute and very sexy submissive and obedient off the bat to me. I told her that I was looking for a gf if she wanted the job she would have a home with me. She agreed great ful for my offering she knelt down and orally sucked swallowed and kissed my cock as a that was all she could do to make me feel like she

Was great ful. I told her before I took her to my father's home what she would be seeing. She looked at me and said she was only going to serve me my pleasure my stress my boredom was to be taken out on her. She was raped by family friends and beat as well daily. If she was going to be treated that way she was at least going to say who could have her willing to be treated that way by me. She was new to meth and I still was but I was 3 years plus every day night I could be doing it. My body was used to the training grounds if meth. She was so horny and the meth made her body freely behaving as she tried to get me aroused ensuring her body was used. She saw my father walking in the kitchen mom was bent over and being fked anally hard and fast her body whipped freshly marked tears rolled down her face my sister tounge deeply in side her father's ass licking as he roughly as he could pounding her ass hole his fat long thick cock stretched out mom his tip was almost as fat making it hurt when he pulled out doing it often to add to the pain pushing it back in spit and her pussy juice only lube she was going to get. Enemas before anal always two if needed rinsed by a hose in the yard, I loud and proud told my father who never stopped fking his slave smiled and said he was proud of me finally his eyes saw a man now that I had said this was my first and new slave she was to be living with me 24/7 daisy watched my father drilling his wife father noticed and barked at her for staring she yelped scaring her and apologizing calling him Lord as his new title he loved it and allowed her to call him that. I sold a lot of dope and always had drugs money and nice shit older women and younger always trying to find out how they could be the one who could secure me and my money for them to ride easy in life. I did that shit cuzz I wished for death so I tested mortality every living second I could.

Yeah I'm fucked up morally and I admit I started to see why father enjoys his slaves. My new toy was waking me up by making my cock her priority, she stayed in my room if I left high good in my fridge and I had my own shower washing drying machine t.v computer internet. So she was not board.

I came home every time even after I was gone days in a row to see a naked girl laied out belts paddles straps tied her self up and had been ordering a list of adult toys to be used on her to better keep my interest. She loved being fked anally hard until she was crying it sore hurting badly my cum filled her ass her mouth cleaned my cock every time I finished cumming in her ass. She gave her enemas before I was home to stay clean shaved her ass pussy and body or waxed it. I bought my own apartment to sell my dope out if and when I took her to my money spring she saw women come hang out and flirt with me using sex there body pretty and they where perverted some more then me trying to sell sex or be a good trade they get high and stay and will do anything I could think of no matter what it was in return. Daisy mad yelled at one of my regular friends who I liked as a friend she was cool and we joked about that shit I told her to earn 5 grams all she had to do was strip that girl naked and paddle her bottom hard fast and long until she agreed to behave like you referred to my friend. Jenny grabbing that girl pulled her over her lap tearing her clothes off roughly holding her ass down pinning her with strength alone and infront of all the people I had in my place she thrashed that girl scolded her daisy blushed sobbing begging to be let go daisy was reduced to involuntarily calling jenny Mommy pleading with her as she regressed to a young child. I had an idea and paying in dope jenny was to teach my girl how to conduct her self. Daily once at my money tree farm daisy was training to be craving for a painful whipping it was my wish to have a girl crave pain and humiliation making it pleasure to her broken mind. Jenny had that cunt lesson fully learned in under 2 months I said I wanted a pet a fully functional trained puppy slut. 7 months daily training lessons daisy obeying her hit teacher who had broke her will by using a harsh whipping on her ass down her pussy lips and thighs inner her clit butt hole beat hard to break her of any hesitation or thought of not obeyed respected eagerly awaiting to serve the pain of a whipping was done to a point that she feared that lvl and would obey as to not earn that stage ever again. Jenny said for 13 ounces of premium ice she would be at my call anytime or place to deal with the naked bitch I had drooling over my boots licking my fingers and playing fetch with a small skinny rubber dildo.

I after thought agreed to a ounce every two months in trade for jenny to take a month off and training my bitch every way possible then I would pay her a fat ounce and she would return two months later to train daisy in something new. Even bringing a young girl her age to turn daisy bisexual. Other older and cruel men I felt with often brought there sluts with them showing off your slaves willing ness to obey any task given to it was bragging rights and showed how much control you maintain as well. Blacks mexicans whites and a Japanese guy I liked having with brought there slave new or one that was never failing to please her master would be brought on party nights and showed off for the party favor. We had drugs cash every where liqure and music the basement refurbished into a bar and striper club poles and kinky shit everywhere to treat a slave as a fking slave. 7 bitches drugged up until they hit the max lvl making them degrade themselves as we watched playing cards they crawling naked crying as there skin was bruised from a belt or other implements cages liking them in to gags so the animals where quite. The jap okatuk brought his sister her friend both whom looked young and feared okatuk as he threatening to beat them both and both fear overwhelmed them crying as they showed off playing with each other. Japs look so young and even if they where I loved training Young girls to be sluts at still a young age in that concern. We party hard two weeks straight was normal.

[yasbxxgie]

Chris Rock wasn’t sure if he was hiding out or not.

On the Friday before Labor Day, he was speaking by phone from Yellow Springs, Ohio, the rustic village where he’d gone to spend time with Dave Chappelle, his friend and fellow comedian. Rock had previously traveled there in July to perform for a small, socially distanced audience as part of an outdoor comedy series Chappelle has been hosting. But Rock couldn’t decide if this return visit was meant to be clandestine. “I don’t know if it’s a secret,” he said quietly. “Maybe it is out here.” He couldn’t easily find the words to describe what he’d been doing just before this trip, either. “I mean, I guess I’ve been acting,” he said. After a short pause, he added, at a more assuredly Rock-like volume: “In a pandemic.”

In August, Rock had gone to Chicago to finish filming the fourth season of “Fargo,” the supremely arch FX crime drama, which makes its debut on Sept. 27. The show’s creator, Noah Hawley, had chosen him to star in its latest story line, set in the dapper gangland of 1950s Kansas City, Mo., and which casts Rock — the indefatigable standup and comic actor — as a mannered, methodical crime lord named Loy Cannon.

Maybe in a different universe where the show premiered in April as originally planned, the “Fargo” role has already put the 55-year-old Rock on a whole new career trajectory, opening the door to more serious and substantial roles and silencing the chorus of fans who still knowingly ask him for “one rib.” Maybe in this universe it still will.

But when the coronavirus pandemic struck, production on “Fargo” was halted in March, and Rock and his co-stars (including Jason Schwartzman, Ben Whishaw, Jessie Buckley and Andrew Bird) were all sent packing. Then at the end of the summer, Rock was summoned back to set, first to spend a week in quarantine and then to complete his acting work under new protocols and not a little bit of stress.

Other prominent projects of his have also been pushed back — he has a starring role in “Spiral,” a reboot of the “Saw” horror series, whose release was postponed a full year to May 2021. But Rock wasn’t mourning the delay of any professional gratification, having spent the spring and summer realigning his values for the new reality of pandemic life. “Maybe for like a day or two, I was like, ‘Oh, me,’” he said with an exaggerated whimper. “But honestly, it was more like, I’ve got to get to my kids and make sure my family is safe.”

In that time he has also heard countless Americans echoing the lesson he offered in the opening minutes of his 2018 standup special, “Tamborine,” where he spoke humorously but emphatically about the ongoing incidents of police violence against Black people. As he said in that routine, law enforcement was among the professions that simply cannot allow “a few bad apples”: “American Airlines can’t be like, ‘You know, most of our pilots like to land. We just got a few bad apples that like to crash in the mountains.’”

Now Rock was feeling mistrustful about the power of his comedy to do anything other than entertain, and unsure when he would get to perform it again for large audiences. And he was admittedly wary about this very interview, explaining with a chuckle that when he talks to the print media, he said, “You have to be comfortable with being boring. If you’re not comfortable with being boring, occasionally, you’re going to get in trouble.”

Not that Rock was ever boring in a wide-ranging conversation that encompassed “Fargo” and his broader career; his latest observations on a nation grappling simultaneously with a pandemic and a reinvigorated longing for racial equality; the resurfacing of a past video where Jimmy Fallon impersonated him in blackface; and of course, President Trump. (“No one has less compassion for humans than a landlord,” he said.) Even in the absence of an audience, Rock was candid, increasingly animated, uncommonly nimble and always looking for the laugh. Now, let the trouble begin.

These are edited excerpts from that conversation.

Was there a time when you thought this “Fargo” season was never going to get finished and that the series might not be seen for a long time, if ever?

I’ve had weird little things in my career — I was supposed to do this Bob Altman movie, “Hands on a Hard Body.” We were on the phone a lot, going over my character and I was so excited about doing the movie. And he died. I was supposed to be Jimmy Olsen in “Superman” with Nic Cage [“Superman Lives,” which was canceled in the late 1990s]. I remember going to Warner Bros., doing a costume fitting. Hanging out with Tim [Burton], who I idolized. Like, I’m hanging out with the guy that made “Pee-wee’s Big Adventure” and he’s showing me the models of the sets for “Superman.” So yeah, I definitely thought there’s a chance this might not happen. Fortunately for everyone involved, that was not the case.

How did Noah Hawley approach you about “Fargo”?

It was a weird day, because it was the day of the Emmy nominations and I didn’t get nominated for my last special [“Tamborine”]. I wouldn’t say I was down down, but I was a little disappointed, and then I got a call from my agent that Noah Hawley wanted to meet with me.

I get acting offers, but I get more hosting offers than anything. It is not uncommon for somebody to want me to do a high-priced wedding or bar mitzvah — a few years ago, I officiated the wedding of Daniel Ek, the owner of Spotify, and Bruno Mars was the wedding band. I think I sat next to [Mark] Zuckerberg at the reception. [Laughs.] I just assumed Noah had some crazy request like that. The only reason I went is because I love “Fargo.” And I get there and he offers me this part.

How did he explain the character of Loy Cannon to you?

He said 1950s gangster, so I know exactly who he’s talking about. My father was born in 1933. It’s not like “12 Years a Slave.” It’s literally a guy my grandfather’s age.

In the first episode, we see Loy pitching the idea for credit cards to an uninterested white banker. Is he a man who wants to be part of polite society, but it doesn’t want him?

I mean, I remember having a production overall deal at HBO and I came in with one person to sell a talk show with them. And they wouldn’t. That person’s name is Wendy Williams. [Laughs.] That’s $100 million that I never made. I was selling Leslie Jones to people, to agents and managers, for 10 years before she got on “S.N.L.” I’m very familiar with selling a no-brainer that people go, “Huh? Why that?”

Is he different from characters you’ve played before, because he’s older and we don’t know how much longer he’s going to be sitting on his throne?

Yeah, it’s one of those jobs: Because of how well it pays, you could be killed at any moment. It is the best part I’ve ever, ever, ever had. I hope it’s not the best part I ever have. Hey, Morgan Freeman’s done a hundred movies since “Shawshank Redemption.” But that’s the best part he ever had.

This role feels like it’s declaring itself as being outside the realm of what you’re best known for. Are you thinking differently about your acting career and where you hope to go with it?

My casting isn’t as weird as it seems if you really watch “Fargo.” Key and Peele are in the first season and Brad Garrett’s amazing in Season 2. Hey, it’s my turn, OK? I want to work on good stuff. Everything I’ve done hasn’t been great, but I was always striving for greatness. I loved “Marriage Story.” I’d kill for something like that. [Laughs.] You see what [Adam] Sandler did with “Uncut Gems.” But you’ve got to get the call and be ready when your number’s called.

Your 2014 film “Top Five,” which you wrote, directed and starred in, was very personal for you. Do you want to make more movies like that?

That’s a vein I intend to keep going in. When I made “Top Five,” I got divorced. And like most people that get divorced, I needed money. [Laughs.] I had to pay for stuff. I also went on tour. Because of Covid, it doesn’t look like there’s going to be any serious touring until 2022. So I’m a writer-director-actor right now. I’m working on some scripts in the “Top Five” vein and I honestly hope to direct, some time after the new year.

How much of “Fargo” did you have to finish during the pandemic?

It was like an episode and a half — the whole last episode, and some scenes from the one before it. It’s weird, quarantine when you’re acting. Acting can be isolating, anyway, and then you throw quarantine into that. You’re in solitary confinement with Netflix and Uber Eats. But let’s not get it too twisted. Somebody that’s in solitary is like, shut the [expletive] up. And then to actually act and get tested every other day, and wear a mask whenever you’re not saying your lines. And be cognizant of which zone you’re in. Because for Zone A, everyone’s been tested, but in Zone B, not everyone’s been tested. Zone C is just, everyone’s got Covid.

You performed at one of Chappelle’s live shows in July. What was that like for you?

When you’re in the clubs, you learn the rain crowd is the best crowd. Any time it’s raining, they really want to be there. The pandemic crowd is really good. “Dude, not only do we want to be here, there is nothing else to do. There’s nothing else to watch. Thank you.”

What did you talk about?

I talked about our political whatever. America. Part of the reason we’re in the predicament we’re in is, the president’s a landlord. No one has less compassion for humans than a landlord. [Laughs.] And we’re shocked he’s not engaged.

Did you ever see that movie “The Last Emperor,” where like a 5-year-old is the emperor of China? There’s a kid and he’s the king. So I’m like, it’s all the Democrats’ fault. Because you knew that the emperor was 5 years old. And when the emperor’s 5 years old, they only lead in theory. There’s usually an adult who’s like, “OK, this is what we’re really going to do.” And it was totally up to Pelosi and the Democrats. Their thing was, “We’re going to get him impeached,” which was never going to happen. You let the pandemic come in. Yes, we can blame Trump, but he’s really the 5-year-old.

Put it this way: Republicans tell outright lies. Democrats leave out key pieces of the truth that would lead to a more nuanced argument. In a sense, it’s all fake news.

Looking back at the beginning of “Tamborine,” the first several minutes is you talking about police violence and raising Black children in a racist country. Does it feel futile when you discuss these issues and it doesn’t change anything?

I remember when “Tamborine” dropped, I got a lot of flak over that cop thing. There was a lot of people trying to start a fire that never really picked up. It’s so weird that, two years later, it’s right on. I remember watching the news and Trump said “bad apples.” It was like, you did it! You did it!

But you told people two years ago —

I did. But so did Public Enemy. So did KRS-One. So did Marvin Gaye. There’s something about seeing things on camera. If O.J. kills Nicole on camera, the trial is two days. [Laughs.] It’s two days trying to figure out what kind of cell he deserves. It’s just Johnnie going, [Johnnie Cochran voice] “Well I think he needs at least a 12-by-8. Can he have ESPN?” That would be the whole trial.

But there was videotape of Rodney King’s beating, too. It doesn’t assure any particular outcome.

Yeah, man. Put it this way: This is the second great civil rights movement. And Dr. King and those guys were amazing. But they knew nothing about money. They didn’t ask for anything. At the end of the day, the things we got — it was just, hey, can you guys be humane? All we got was, like, humanity. If they had it to do all over again, in hindsight, there would be some attention paid to the financial disparity of all the years of — let’s not even count slavery, let’s just count Jim Crow.

You’re talking about a system that really didn’t end until about 1973. And I’m born in ’65 in South Carolina. I’m probably in a segregated wing of a hospital — there’s no way in the world I was next to a white baby. Even if the hospital wasn’t segregated, I was in a whole other room and that room didn’t have the good milk and the good sheets. My parents couldn’t own property in certain neighborhoods when I was born. There was an economic disparity there, and that was not addressed in the original civil rights movement. It was a huge oversight. So there’s no money and there’s no land. If you don’t have either one of those, you don’t really have much.

Did you want to participate in the recent protests?

Me and my kids, we looked from afar. But we’re in the middle of a pandemic, man, and I know people who have absolutely passed from it. I’m like, dude, this Covid thing is real.

You’ve been telling audiences for years that racism isn’t going away and remains a potent force in America. Do you feel like you’ve seen circumstances improve at all?

It’s real. It’s not going away. I said this before, but Obama becoming the president, it’s progress for white people. It’s not progress for Black people. It’s the Jackie Robinson thing. It’s written like he broke a barrier, as if there weren’t Black people that could play before him. And that’s how white people have learned about racism. They think, when these people work hard enough, they’ll be like Jackie. And the real narrative should be that these people, the Black people, are being abused by a group of people that are mentally handicapped. And we’re trying to get them past their mental handicaps to see that all people are equal.

Humanity isn’t progress — it’s only progress for the person that’s taking your humanity. If a woman’s in an abusive relationship and her husband stops beating her, you wouldn’t say she’s made progress, right? But that’s what we do with Black people. We’re constantly told that we’re making progress. The relationship we’re in — the arranged marriage that we’re in — it’s that we’re getting beat less.

Jimmy Fallon drew significant criticism this past spring for a 20-year-old clip of himself playing you in blackface on “Saturday Night Live.” How did you feel about that segment?

Hey, man, I’m friends with Jimmy. Jimmy’s a great guy. And he didn’t mean anything. A lot of people want to say intention doesn’t matter, but it does. And I don’t think Jimmy Fallon intended to hurt me. And he didn’t.

There’s been a wider push to expunge blackface from any movies or TV shows where it previously appeared. Have people taken it too far?

If I say they are, then I’m the worst guy in the world. There’s literally one answer that ends my whole career. Blackface ain’t cool, OK? That’s my quote. Blackface is bad. Who needs it? It’s so sad, we live in a world now where you have to say, I am so against cancer. “I just assumed you liked cancer.” No, no, no, I am so against it. You have to state so many obvious things you’re against.

Who do you hang with these days? Who’s your peer group?

I hang with Dave [Chappelle]. I hang with my kids. I hang with Nelson George. There’s not a lot of hanging in the Covid world. The better question is, who do you FaceTime with?

So who do you FaceTime with?

The other day I realized I’ve never met an elderly person that was cared for by their friends. Every elderly person I know that’s got any trouble is cared for by a spouse or a child. Sometimes they have like five kids but only one helps. Where are your friends? Your friends are probably not going to be there when it really counts. [Laughs.] When my dad was dying in the hospital, where were his friends? My grandmother, where were her friends? Don’t get me wrong, you get sick in your 20s, your friends will come to the hospital. It’s an adventure. [Laughs.] You get sick in your 60s, they farm it out. “You go Wednesday and I’ll go Sunday.”

Enjoy them while you have them. But if you think your friends are your long-term solution to loneliness, you’re an idiot.

[whenimaunicorn]

If you do a tag list for The Apartment can you please add me?? Thank you

Done! I have made progress and will be posting this story as “Playing House” over on Ao3… Here’s the remainder of chapter 1! (also please consider the costume bit to be a birthday tribute for @equalstrashflavoredtrash, and thanks one more time to @walkxthexmoon for the original prompt for this!)

Catch up here

You wake up on the couch to a room warm and bright with earlysunlight. It’s a little uncomfortable, but the moment you remember you’re stillat Ubbe and Ivar’s you feel a bubble of cozy pleasure. You had decided you weretoo drunk to make the trek to your own apartment last night, as you had aftermany Friday parties before. The couch was open to any of their friends thatwanted to crash.

Usually, you slipped out before either of the Lothbroks awokefrom their darker rooms and more comfortable beds. But today was special. Theconversation from last night had been left unresolved, though everyone seemedamicable to the idea. Smarter to leave the real commitment for sober minds tomake.

You rummage through the Lothbroks’ kitchen until you canfind the filters and beans to make coffee. This morning, you don’t want toleave quick. The idea of living like a servant here, cleaning up after thesetwo, catering to them… it may be strange, but to you it sounded just asappealing to your sober self as it had to the tipsy girl fawning over Ivar lastnight. And the slow looks Ubbe had been shooting you after that conversation…You had definitely gotten the idea that the sex slave part of the fantasy was asmuch on his mind as it had been on yours.

But even if that part was only a joke… just getting to beclose to your crushes, to have all your efforts going toward pleasing themrather than to the nameless churn of rude, impatient customers at therestaurant, honestly, why wouldn’t you go for it?

Worried that they’d change their minds in the morning, you decideto treat today as a sort of audition. You’re already here, anyway. Even if theywake up feeling silly for suggesting it, they could stumble their hung-overasses out to a sample of the dream they could be living. Then they’d be lesslikely to take the offer back. No one could think that you didn’t really meanto follow through.

Armed with fresh coffee, you set your first efforts to the stateof the kitchen, zeroing in on the dishes “soaking” in the sink. The stack of filthyplates and encrusted pots and pans reaches as high as the spout of the faucet.You hope that the clinking as you rearrange, scrub, and scrape won’t wake theboys up before they have something to really see. You drop that concern when nolumbering masses of hungover man-meat emerge blinking into the light in thefirst five minutes, and then you really get to work.

You can’t find a mop. After you’ve swept out the grimykitchen while the dishes dry in the sink, you start getting the encrusted dirtoff the floor the old-fashioned way: on your hands and knees. Intent on the stubbornmess stuck to the floorboards in front of the sink, you don’t notice Ubbeentering the kitchen.

He sure notices you, though. When the clink of the coffeepotagainst a mug alerts you to his presence, you flip your head over your shoulderand catch him staring at your upturned ass.

“Morning, Y/N,” he greets you, voice still thick with sleepcoming out as a low rumble. Another man might have been embarrassed to becaught looking, but Ubbe’s eyes keep roaming, in a pleased, confident sort ofway. It’s less offensive than it should have been; he looks at you like there isno reason why he shouldn’t, like you are already his and he’s just admiring,like a piece of art he just brought home. He gestures toward the rag in yourhand. “You were serious.”

“Uh, yeah.” Your usual social awkwardness makes your eyesdrop to the floor, and as soon as your attention falls back on a stubborn markyou start rubbing at it again. “I’m not afraid of hard work.”

Ubbe makes a distinctly masculine sound in the back of histhroat, above you. “Is that so.”

There’s a pause as you keep scrubbing, trying to think ofsomething cool to say. You can’t say you know Ubbe very well; Ivar’s friendsare the ones that invited you to these parties and Ubbe’s just kind of alwayshere.

“Hey, where’s the sugar?” Ubbe asks. You glance up to seehim searching the empty, sparkling-clean counter to the left and right of thecoffeemaker with a dumbfounded sort of look on his face.

“Oh, did you like to keep it out?” A spark of anxiety propelsyou up from the floor. “When I cleared off the counter I guessed that its homewas in this cabinet up here.” You rush toward the door in question, even thoughit’s right in front of Ubbe’s face. You hate to feel like you did somethingwrong.

Ubbe only rocks back a little as you come flying in. Youswing the cabinet door open to show him the sack of sugar right next to theflour and salt, the random assortment of spices someone had stored up here.Your rush threw you a little off-balance, and right into Ubbe’s personal space.His hands settle on your hips to steady you. “That’s fine, Y/N,” he says.There’s a hint of that tone that one uses to soothe dogs, or agitated children.

You giggle self-consciously, finally realizing how close yourbodies are, how silly he must think you’re being to get so worked up over this.“I just wanted it to look really nice before you guys woke up.”

“And it does,” Ubbe agrees, the pleased tone in his voicelike a ribbon of velvet against your skin. His hands stay where they are, and hegives the top of your hip a little tap with his fingertips. “The kitchen feelstwice as big without the clutter. Leave it up there. I can find the sugar inthe cabinet from now on.”

His smile dazzles you, from up so close. It takes you anextra moment for his meaning to sink in. “So, you were serious about the offer?”

And just then, Ivar swings around the corner on his forearmcrutches. He takes in the closeness of your body to his brother’s, and yousuddenly wish Ubbe’s hands weren’t still on your hips. The older Lothbrokdoesn’t flinch, but you find yourself pulling away from him modestly as Ivarlooks around the sparkling kitchen.

“This is good, Y/N,” he croons, the praise bringing apleasant heat to your cheeks. He catches your eyes with mischief in hisbrilliant blues. “Now fix us a good breakfast and we’ll talk about how soon youcan move in.”

* * *

You had always managed to survive your crush on Ivar by avoidinghis full attention; mostly you had counted yourself pretty content to worshiphim only from afar. Now, such tactics have become impossible. You seem to bethe main focus of Ivar’s day as you start to unpack your belongings intoSigurd’s old room. Not that Ivar is being particularly helpful to you on movingday. No, he seems interested only in getting in your way, talking your ear off,and judging your possessions.

His eyes gleam when you pull a tattered puff of white out ofa box, absentmindedly petting it once before tossing it past him, so it lands betweenthe pillows at the head of the bed.

“You still sleep with a stuffed animal?” Ivar accuses.

Your cheeks tingle as you contemplate the fuzzy cat you’vehad since childhood. “Only because it fits under my arm just right when I sleepon my stomach. Mr. Wiggles is basically just another pillow.”

Ivar’s brow arches. “Mr. Wiggles.”

Your face gets hotter. You nod and look away, hoping he justdrops it.

Instead, Ivar leans over and snatches the toy up. “Not aname I’d expect for a cuddle buddy. I’d want someone to stay still whenI’m trying to sleep.” He reclines on his side on your bed, curling his arms aroundMr. Wiggles and staring up at you from under his thick lashes.

Images flood your mind, unbidden, of taking Mr. Wiggles’place, of being the soft and still thing that soothes Ivar to sleep. You turnaway, heat flooding your body as you look to the next box that needs unpacking.Though you feel an immediate pang of regret that you didn’t enjoy the sight of IvarLothbrok lying so seductively on your bed for a little longer.

A few silent moments go by. Then Ivar hops up. “I almostforgot. I got you a moving-in present.” He swipes up his crutches and headsswiftly out the door.

Ubbe’s head pops in just after Ivar vanishes. Your new roomshares its north wall with Ivar’s and its south with Ubbe’s. “Everything in itsright place?” he asks.

“Yes, thank you.” Ubbe had been extremely helpful with yourfurniture and the bigger boxes, and then had promptly disappeared as soon asthe heavy lifting was done.

He steps inside, leaning against a wall with casually crossedarms as he looks around your half-decorated space. “Looks so different already.”

“I’m surprised that this was Sigurd’s room,” you say,struggling to think of conversation. “I thought him and Ivar couldn’t standeach other, how did they do with sharing a wall?”

“They didn’t,” Ubbe replies. “I had to take this one whilehe was here.” A boyish grin pulls at his cheek. “Ivar hated to hear himpractice his guitar, and Sigurd couldn’t take the noises when Ivar brought someonehome…” Ubbe shrugs. “I had to be the buffer. To me all those sounds are just differentkinds of entertainment. When Sigurd left I moved my shit to the bigger room.” Histhumb jerks back in the direction of the one he occupies now.

You nod absently as you absorb all of that. Ivar appearsagain in your doorway, with something silky in black and white slung over hisshoulder. He plops down on your bed before holding it up to show you what itis.

“A nice uniform to go with the new job.”

Slung between his hands is a classic “French maid” dress,complete with puffed sleeves, white lace detailing at the short hem and lowneckline, and a little apron hanging off the white, high-waisted belt. It’s notas tiny as some you’ve seen, but… it’s definitely fit for a porn film.

Ubbe chortles behind you. “Ivar!”

The dark-haired Lothbrok just grins. “You like it? Thatcostume shop had it out in the window, and I thought it would be just perfectfor our Y/N.”

Your head is spinning, so you just keep staring at thedress. It doesn’t look cheap, and it might even be your size.

“Ivar.” Ubbe steps forward, shaking his head. “Bad joke. Wedon’t want to make Y/N uncomfortable here.”

“She doesn’t look uncomfortable.”

How you hate conflict. You feel propelled to cut the tensionby reaching out and taking the dress from Ivar’s hands. “This is a reallypretty one,” you say, gratitude in your voice as you turn it to examine the fullwhite bow blooming from the back of the apron, two tails of wide ribbon spillingfrom it that look like they’ll frame your ass in the most interesting way. The blackfabric of the dress feels rich and silky between your fingers.

Ubbe gets your attention with a hand on your upper arm. “Pleasedon’t think we’re going to be creeps about this.” You can see in his eyes thathe’s concerned you were only being polite, and is searching you now for signsof true discomfort. “Room and board in exchange for cleaning, and cooking, butotherwise you’re just a normal roommate, ok? I don’t want you to feel weird, orlike you owe us anything else. This is your home too, now. We’re not going todisrespect you.” He turns to his brother again. “Right, Ivar?”

The dark-haired brother nods his head, looking straight atyou. “Of course.” He says your name firmly, deliberately. As its own sentence.And then: “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

Somehow he makes it sound like there are all kinds of “anythings”possible for you here.

Part Two Here

Taglist:  @swagmonstertoes @hanhanxx @xxdearlybeloved@littledeadrottinghood @persephone-is-here-omg @rekdreams247 @what-the-heart-desires @inforapound @creepshowzombae @tomarisela @vladsgirl @youbloodymadgenius @walkxthexmoon @funmadnessandbadassvikings @trashqueenbitch @justlovelifeblog Let me know if anyone else wants a tag! I’m going for slow-ish burn, interesting things develop in chapter 2 and then payoff in chapter 3

[tubbinary]

ᕦ(✧ᗜ✧)ᕥ You take the moon and you take the sun. ᕦ(✧ᗜ✧)ᕥ

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) You take everything that sounds like fun. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

☞♥Ꮂ♥☞ You stir it all together and then you're done. ☞♥Ꮂ♥☞

 ᕙ(◍.◎)ᕗ Rada rada rada rada rada rada.  ᕙ(◍.◎)ᕗ

ᕦ(✧ᗜ✧)ᕥ ☞♥Ꮂ♥☞ ᕙ(◍.◎)ᕗ ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) So come on in, feel free to do some looking.

Stay a while 'cause somethings always cooking.

Come on in, feel free to do some looking.

Stay a while 'cause somethings always cooking.

Yeah!!! ᕦ(✧ᗜ✧)ᕥ ☞♥Ꮂ♥☞ ᕙ(◍.◎)ᕗ ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

You are about to get spammed with 600 dank memes. Prepare all nukes and weapons for the Great Spam War. If you can contain the amount of spam I have, you will be granted with special powers that allow you to smoke weed 200 times harder. Not only that, but you will have a laggy as fuck laptop. You know how lucky you are?????? My laptop runs at 669FPS and it never lags or is slow. YOU LUCKY SON OF A GUN. You will pay the price by me giving you a link (Which shall contain a download) which will wipe all your memory off the face of this universe and overwrite it with my own software, Memesoftlocker2.0000.0. You are so damn lucky you know that? NOT EVEN I HAVE IT SLUT. But if you were able to read up to this point congratulations, you suck. But click this link www.mymom.;;;;;;/eeeeeeee.crash; and you will be taken to a memory erase phrase. You lucky slut, but you will get the best computer software ever that makes your computer lag so bad that you can't even use it. LIKE HOW AMAZING??? Yes, I promise you this is 420% legit. But if you spread this abusive software you have EARNED I will suck you off this living universe so be careful buddy. Now, Please stop reading this message as it ends now...

Excuse me? I find vaping to be one of the best things in my life.  It has carried me through the toughest of times and brought light and vapor upon my spirit.  You're just another one of those people who doesn't believe in chem trails and fluoride turning us gay.  Your ignorance to the government is what makes you a sheep in today's society. Have fun being a slave to todays's system.

🆗 son, 🌞 there ain't❌❌a ☝single☝fucking☝person☝ with any intellect👓👓📖who gives a 🎮remote🎮fuck🎮about your extensive vaping💯😎💨 talent. 😂I happen to be quite🎩the🎩intellectual🎩myself, so I can confirm✔✔this fact💯as truth™.👌if👌you👌think👌 that your vape💯😎💨 is going↗to get you hoes👯👯, you are utterly🐄 mistaken❌, fam👪. my pa👨 once taught📖 me the 😏secret😏 of life👍💛, and it was not❌❌ your vape💯😎💨 🆗🆒now listen 👂👂here my chum✌✌, my pa👨 was a man who kept it 💯💯💯💯💯💯. ✋that✋is✋six✋fucking✋hundreds✋ and he never❌🙅🙅 once vaped💯😎💨. The man 🚬smoked🚬some🚬mad🚬cigars🚬 because he wasnt❌the pussy🐱🐱you are🆗⁉❗⁉ he lived to be 💯 because he kept it 💯💯💯💯💯💯 and killed🔫🔪 👌every👌vaping👌fucker👌he👌saw👌🆗🆒😂😂👀👀 so in the spirit👻of me good ol pa👨, I think💭you should kys🔫 they have 🆓 vapes💯😎💨 in hell🔥and🔥it's🔥lit🔥for😂 unintelligent vaping💯😎💨 hooligans like yourself👌😂😂

I sexually Identify as a Gabe Newell. Ever since I was a boy I dreamed of filling my wallet by dropping Steam Sales onto 12 000 games at once. People say to me that a person being a Newell is impossible and I'm fucking retarded but I don't care, I'm beautiful. I have 10 computers worth over 10k each in order to drop new Steam Sales every few days. From now on I want you guys to call me "Gabe" and respect my right to get rich fast and discount needlessly. If you can't accept me you're a profitophobe and need to check your wallet. Thank you for being so understanding.

We regret to inform you that the card titled "Mommy's Debit" has been declinded your latest purchases due to suspicous activities. To unlock your card for further use, please confirm your recent purchases with your local bank. The listing follows

- 1x Monster Horse Dildo 12' Lubricated Thrusters

- 3x Backdoor Sluts 9

- 1x "Undetectable Aimbot" from AimJunkies

- 6x Magnum condoms

- 5x Bananas

- 1x Small Condom

- 2x Subscription to JakeChillz Minecraft stream

- 1x Deag's Rust Career

- 1x Gay Poster

Please respond back to us using your old email:

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Thanks for your patience,

Wells All Mighty Lord Gabe.

Here in my garage, just bought this new lamborghini here. It’s fun to drive up here in the Steam Hills. But you know what I like more than single discounts? Steam Sales In fact, I’m a lot more proud of two new Steam Sales that I had to get installed to hold twelve thousand new discounts on Steam. It’s like what i say, “the more you discount, the more you earn.”

My Grandfather smoked his whole life. I was about 10 years old when my mother said to him, 'If you ever want to see your grandchildren graduate, you have to stop immediately.'. Tears welled up in his eyes when he realized what exactly was at stake. He gave it up immediately. Three years later he died of lung cancer. It was really sad and destroyed me. My mother said to me- 'Don't ever smoke. Please don't put your family through what your Grandfather put us through." I agreed. At 28, I have never touched a cigarette. I must say, I feel a very slight sense of regret for never having done it, because your post gave me cancer anyway.

ＨＥＹ　ＲＴＺ，　Ｉ’Ｍ　ＴＲＹＩＮＧ　ＴＯ　ＬＥＡＲＮ　ＴＯ　ＰＬＡＹ　ＲＩＫＩ．　Ｉ　ＪＵＳＴ　ＨＡＶＥ　Ａ　ＱＵＥＳＴＩＯＮ　ＡＢＯＵＴ　ＴＨＥ　ＳＫＩＬＬ　ＢＵＩＬＤ：　ＳＨＯＵＬＤ　Ｉ　ＭＡＸ　ＢＡＣＫＳＴＡＢ　ＬＩＫＥ　ＹＯＵ　ＢＡＣＫＳＴＡＢＢＥＤ　ＥＧ，　ＳＭＯＫＥＳＣＲＥＥＮ　ＳＯ　ＴＨＥＹ　ＭＩＳＳ　ＭＥ　ＬＩＫＥ　ＥＧ　ＭＩＳＳ　ＹＯＵ　７０％　ＯＦ　ＴＨＥ　ＴＩＭＥ，　ＯＲ　ＰＥＲＭＡＮＥＴ　ＩＮＶＩＳＩＢＩＬＩＴＹ　ＳＯ　Ｉ　ＣＯＵＬＤ　ＤＩＳＡＰＰＥＡＲ　ＬＩＫＥ　ＹＯＵ　ＤＩＳＡＰＰＥＡＲＥＤ　ＦＲＯＭ　ＥＧ

I sexually Identify as an Attack Helicopter. Ever since I was a boy I dreamed of soaring over the oilfields dropping hot sticky loads on disgusting foreigners. People say to me that a person being a helicopter is Impossible and I'm fucking retarded but I don't care, I'm beautiful. I'm having a plastic surgeon install rotary blades, 30 mm cannons and AMG-114 Hellfire missiles on my body. From now on I want you guys to call me "Apache" and respect my right to kill from above and kill needlessly. If you can't accept me you're a heliphobe and need to check your vehicle privilege. Thank you for being so understanding.

Gr8 b8, m8. I rel8, str8 appreci8, and congratul8. I r8 this b8 an 8/8. Plz no h8, I'm str8 ir8. Cr8 more, can't w8. We should convers8, I won't ber8, my number is 8888888, ask for N8. No calls l8 or out of st8. If on a d8, ask K8 to loc8. Even with a full pl8, I always have time to communic8 so don't hesit8. dont forget to medit8 and particip8 and masturb8 to allevi8 your ability to tabul8 the f8. We should meet up m8 and convers8 on how we can cre8 more gr8 b8, I'm sure everyone would appreci8, no h8. I don't mean to defl8 your hopes, but its hard to dict8 where the b8 will rel8 and we may end up with out being appreci8d, I'm sure you can rel8. We can cre8 b8 like alexander the gr8, stretch posts longer than the Nile's str8s. We'll be the captains of b8, 4chan our first m8s the growth r8 will spread to reddit and like real est8 and be a flow r8 of gr8 b8, like a blind d8 we'll coll8, meet me upst8 where we can convers8, or ice sk8 or lose w8 infl8 our hot air baloons and fly, tail g8. We could land in Kuw8, eat a soup pl8 followed by a dessert pl8 the payment r8 won't be too ir8 and hopefully our currency won't defl8. We'll head to the Israeli-St8, taker over like Herod the gr8 and b8 the jewish masses, 8 million, m8. We could interrel8 communism, thought it's past it's maturity d8, a department of st8, volunteer st8. reduce the infant mortality r8, all in the name of making gr8 b8 m8.

What the ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) did you just ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) say about me, you little ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)? I'll have you know I graduated top of my ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) in the ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°), and I've been involved in numerous secret ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) on ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°), and I have over 300 confirmed ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°). I am trained in ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) warfare and I'm the top ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) in the entire US armed ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°). You are nothing to me but just another ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°). I will wipe you the ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) out with precision the ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) of which has never been seen before on this ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°), mark my ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) words. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) think ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) can get away with saying that ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) to me over the ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)? Think again, ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°). As we speak I am contacting my secret network of ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) across the ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) and your ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) is being ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) right now so you better ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) for the ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°), ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°). The ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) that wipes out the pathetic little thing you call ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°). You're ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) dead, ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°). I can be ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°), anytime, and I can ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) you in over seven hundred ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°), and that's just with my bare ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°). Not only am I extensively trained in ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) combat, but I have access to the entire ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) of the United States ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) and I will use it to its full extent to wipe your miserable ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) off the face of the ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°), you little ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°). If only you could have known what unholy retribution your little ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) comment was about to bring down upon ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°), maybe you would have held your ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°). But you couldn't, you didn't, and now you're paying the price, you ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°). I will ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) fury all over ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) and ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) will ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) in it. You're ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) dead, ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°).

My name is Artour Babaevsky. I grow up in smal farm to have make potatos. Father say "Artour, potato harvest is bad. Need you to have play professional Doto in Amerikanski for make money for head-scarf for babushka."I bring honor to komrade and babushka. Sorry for is not have English. Please no cyka pasta coperino pasterino liquidino throwerino.

hi every1 im new!!!!!!! holds up spork my name is katy but u can call me t3h PeNgU1N oF d00m!!!!!!!! lol…as u can see im very random!!!! thats why i came here, 2 meet random ppl like me _… im 13 years old (im mature 4 my age tho!!) i like 2 watch invader zim w/ my girlfreind (im bi if u dont like it deal w/it) its our favorite tv show!!! bcuz its SOOOO random!!!! shes random 2 of course but i want 2 meet more random ppl =) like they say the more the merrier!!!! lol…neways i hope 2 make alot of freinds here so give me lots of commentses!!!!

DOOOOOMMMM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! <--- me bein random again _^ hehe…toodles!!!!!

Hi, 4k player here who reported slahser. Slahser was our position 1 faceless void. He built a mek and had around 29 healing salves in his inventory. He would chrono both teams in the middle of a fight, salve his allies, pop mek, and proceeded to yell "SLAHSER'S WAY". We gave him position 1 farm so he could be a position 5.

Granted, his unorthodox build worked and carried us to victory but I still felt it deserved a report.

I owe my life to Arteezy. I got in a horrible car crash and i was in 6 month coma. The nurse switched to the Twitch channel to Arteezy's stream. I awoke from my coma and muted it.

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░░░░toucan░░░░░░▀▄░░░▐██████████████▄

░░░░░░has░░░░░░░░▀▄▄████████████████▄

░░░░░arrived░░░░░░░░░░░░█▀██████

ヽ༼ຈل͜ຈ༽ﾉ RAISE YOUR DONGERS ヽ༼ຈل͜ຈ༽ﾉ 

(ง ͠ ͠° ل͜ °)ง ᴛʜᴇ ᴜɴsᴇᴇɴ ᴅᴏɴɢᴇʀ ɪs ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇᴀᴅʟɪᴇsᴛ (ง ͠° ل͜ °)ง 

▬▬ι═══════ﺤ As I ʜᴏʟᴅ ᴛʜᴇ sᴀᴍᴜʀᴀɪ sᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴍʏ sᴛᴏᴍᴀᴄʜ ᴀs I ᴡᴀs ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏᴍᴍɪᴛ sᴜᴅᴏᴋᴜ, I ᴡᴀᴛᴄʜ Kʀɪᴘᴘ ᴘʟᴀʏ Cᴀsᴜᴀʟsᴛᴏɴᴇ... I ʀᴇᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀ ᴀ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ Kʀɪᴘ ᴡᴀs Nᴏʟɪғᴇ... ɴᴏᴡ I ᴀᴍ Nᴏʟɪғᴇ...ɢᴏᴏᴅ ʙʏᴇ ᴋʀɪᴘᴘ ▬▬ι═══════ﺤ

 (ง ͠° ͟ʖ ͡°)ง ᴛʜɪs ɪs ᴏᴜʀ ᴄʜᴀᴛ ᴍᴏᴅs (ง ͠° ͟ʖ ͡°)ง (ง •̀_•́)ง ʏᴇᴀʜ sᴘᴀᴍ ɪᴛ! (ง •̀_•́)ง

(╭ರ_•́)\ Mr. Fors we politely ask for the program 'Plug-Dj" to be used in this live broadcast for alas we will stir up a ruckus (╭ರ_•́)

 (̿▀̿ ̿Ĺ̯̿̿▀̿ ̿)̄ ɴᴀᴍᴇ's ᴅᴏɴɢ. ᴊᴀᴍᴇs ᴅᴏɴɢ (̿▀̿ ̿Ĺ̯̿̿▀̿ ̿)̄

 (ง ͠° ͟ل͜ ͡°)ง I have been training since before I was born, and today is the day. Today is the day I spam. (ง ͠° ͟ل͜ ͡°)ง

༼ ºل͟º༼ ºل͟º༼ ºل͟º༼ ºل͟º ༽ºل͟º ༽ºل͟º ༽YOU CAME TO THE WRONG DONGERHOOD༼ ºل͟º༼ ºل͟º༼ ºل͟º༼ ºل͟º ༽ºل͟º ༽ºل͟º ༽

 ༼ ºل͟º ༼ ºل͟º ༼ ºل͟º ༽ ºل͟º ༽ ºل͟º ༽ YOU PASTARINO'D THE WRONG DONGERINO ༼ ºل͟º ༼ ºل͟º ༼ ºل͟º ༽ ºل͟º ༽ ºل͟º ༽

༼ ºل͟º༼ ºل͟º༽ºل͟º ༽ YOU COPERINO FRAPPUCCIONO PASTARINO'D THE WRONG DONGERINO ༼ ºل͟º༼ ºل͟º༽ºل͟º ༽

 ༼ ºل͟º༼ ºل͟º༼ ºل͟º༼ ºل͟º ༽ºل͟º ༽ºل͟º ༽You either die a DONG, or live long enough to become the DONGER༼ ºل͟º༼ ºل͟º༼ ºل͟º༼ ºل͟º ༽ºل͟º ༽ºل͟º ༽

༼ ಠل͟ರೃ༼ ಠل͟ರೃ༼ ಠل͟ರೃ༼ ಠل͟ರೃ ༽ಠل͟ರೃ ༽ಠل͟ರೃ ༽ YOU ARRIVED IN THE INCORRECT DONGERHOOD, SIR༼ ಠل͟ರೃ༼ ಠل͟ರೃ༼ ಠل͟ರೃ༼ ಠل͟ರೃ ༽ಠل͟ರೃ ༽ಠل͟ರೃ ༽   

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡° )つ──☆*:・ﾟ clickty clack clickty clack with this chant I summon spam to the chat ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡° )つ──☆*:・ﾟ

ᕙ༼ຈل͜ຈ༽ᕗ. ʜᴀʀᴅᴇʀ, ʙᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ, ғᴀsᴛᴇʀ, ᴅᴏɴɢᴇʀ .ᕙ༼ຈل͜ຈ༽ᕗ 

ヽ(◉◡◔)ﾉ I'M LOL FAN AND I HAVE DOWN SYNDROME ヽ(◉◡◔)ﾉ 

(ง ͠° ͟ل͜ ͡°)ง ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴅᴏɴɢᴇʀ, ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴇᴍʏ (ง ͠° ͟ل͜ ͡°)ง 

(ง ͠° ل͜ °)ง LET ME DEMONSTRATE DONGER DIPLOMACY (ง ͠° ل͜ °)ง

(\ ( ͠° ͟ل͜ ͡°) /) OUR DONGERS ARE RAZOR SHARP (\ ( ͠° ͟ل͜ ͡°) /) 

ヽ༼◥▶ل͜◀◤༽ﾉ RO RO RAISE YOUR DONGERS ヽ༼◥▶ل͜◀◤༽ﾉ 

̿̿ ̿̿ ̿'̿'̵͇̿̿з=༼ ▀̿̿Ĺ̯̿̿▀̿ ̿ ༽=ε/̵͇̿̿/’̿’̿ ̿ ̿̿[} ̿ ̿ ̿ ̿^ Stop right there criminal scum! no one RIOTs on my watch. I'm confiscating your goods. now pay your fine, or it's off to jail. 

̿̿ ̿̿ ̿̿ ̿'̿'̵͇̿̿з=༼ ▀̿̿Ĺ̯̿̿▀̿ ̿ ༽ YOU'RE UNDER ARREST FOR BEING CASUAL. COME OUT WITH YOUR DONGERS RAISED ̿̿ ̿̿ ̿̿ ̿'̿'̵͇̿̿з=༼ ▀̿̿Ĺ̯̿̿▀̿ ̿ ༽   

(ง'̀-'́)ง ＤＯＮＧ ＯＲ ＤＩＥ (ง'̀-'́)ง   

ヽ༼ຈل͜ຈ༽ﾉ raise your dongers ヽ༼ຈل͜ຈ༽ﾉ 

ヽ༼ຈل͜ຈ༽ﾉ VOICE OF AN ANGEL ヽ༼ຈل͜ຈ༽ﾉ 

ヽ༼ຈل͜ຈ༽ﾉ LETS GET DONGERATED ヽ༼ຈل͜ຈ༽ﾉ 

ヽ༼ຈل͜ຈ༽ﾉ RAISE YOUR BARNO ヽ༼ຈل͜ຈ༽ﾉ 

ヽ༼ຈل͜ຈ༽ﾉ "I have a dong" ヽ༼ຈل͜ຈ༽ﾉ - Martin Luther King Jr.

ヽ༼ຈل͜ຈ༽ﾉ OJ poured and candle lit, with this chant i summon Kripp ヽ༼ຈل͜ຈ༽ﾉ 

 ☑ OJ poured ☑ Candle lit ☑ Summoning the Kripp ヽ༼ຈل͜ຈ༽ﾉ

ヽ༼ຈل͜O༽ﾉ ʀᴀɪs ᴜʀ ᴅᴀɢᴇʀᴏ ヽ༼ຈل͜___ຈ༽ﾉ  

(ง ͠° ͟ʖ ͡°)งSuccubus release Kripp or taste our rage(ง ͠° ͟ʖ ͡°)ง   

ノ(ಠ_ಠノ ) ʟᴏᴡᴇʀ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴅᴏɴɢᴇʀs ノ(ಠ_ಠノ)

ヽ༼Ὸل͜ຈ༽ﾉ HOIST THY DONGERS ヽ༼Ὸل͜ຈ༽ﾉ 

ヽ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)ﾉ Kripp you are kinda like my dad, except you're always there for me. ヽ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)ﾉ 

 █▄༼ຈل͜ຈ༽▄█ yeah i work out  

༼ ºل͟º ༽ I AM A DONG ༼ ºل͟º ༽ 

༼ ºل͟º༽ I DIDN'T CHOOSE THE DONGLIFE, THE DONGLIFE CHOSE ME ༼ ºل͟º༽ 

༼ ºل͟º༽ NO ONE CARED WHO I WAS UNTIL I PUT ON THE DONG ༼ ºل͟º༽  

༼ ºººººل͟ººººº ༽ I AM SUPER DONG ༼ ºººººل͟ººººº ༽ 

┌∩┐༼ ºل͟º ༽┌∩┐ SUCK MY DONGER ┌∩┐༼ ºل͟º ༽┌∩┐ 

ζ༼Ɵ͆ل͜Ɵ͆༽ᶘ FINALLY A REAL DONG ζ༼Ɵ͆ل͜Ɵ͆༽ᶘ 

<ᴍᴇssᴀɢᴇ ᴅᴏɴɢᴇʀᴇᴅ> 

ヽ༼ʘ̚ل͜ʘ̚༽ﾉIS THAT A DONGER IN YOUR POCKET?ヽ༼ʘ̚ل͜ʘ̚༽ﾉ  

 ༼ ͡■ل͜ ͡■༽ OPPA DONGER STYLE ༼ ͡■ل͜ ͡■༽  

( ° ͜ ʖ °) REGI OP ( ° ͜ ʖ °) 

(̿▀̿ ̿Ĺ̯̿̿▀̿ ̿)̄ IM DONG,JAMES DONG (̿▀̿ ̿Ĺ̯̿̿▀̿ ̿)̄ 

(ง⌐□ل͜□)ง WOULD YOU HIT A DONGER WITH GLASSES (ง⌐□ل͜□)ง 

ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ CUDDLE UR DONGERS ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ 

ლ(́◉◞౪◟◉‵ლ) let me hold your donger for a while ლ(́◉◞౪◟◉‵ლ) 

ヽ༼ຈل͜ຈ༽ง MY RIGHT DONG IS ALOT STRONGER THAN MY LEFT ONE ヽ༼ຈل͜ຈ༽ง

(✌ﾟ∀ﾟ)☞ May the DONG be with you! ☚(ﾟヮﾟ☚)   

(⌐■_■)=/̵͇̿̿/'̿'̿̿̿ ̿ ̿̿ ヽ༼ຈل͜ຈ༽ﾉ Keep Your Dongers Where i Can See Them 

̿'̿'\̵͇̿̿\з=( ͠° ͟ʖ ͡°)=ε/̵͇̿̿/'̿̿ ̿ ̿ ̿ ̿ ̿ DUDE̿̿ ̿̿ ̿'̿'\̵͇̿̿\з=( ͠° ͟ʖ ͡°)=ε/̵͇̿̿/'̿̿ ̿ ̿ ̿ ̿ ̿ PLEASE NO COPY PASTERONI MACORONI DONGERIN 

( ͝° ͜ʖ͡°) Mom always said my donger was big for my age ( ͝° ͜ʖ͡°)

(/ﾟДﾟ)/ WE WANT SPELUNKY (/ﾟДﾟ)/

─=≡Σ((( つ◕ل͜◕)つ sᴜᴘᴇʀ ᴅᴏɴɢ  

(✌ﾟ∀ﾟ)☞ POINT ME TO THE DONGERS (✌ﾟ∀ﾟ)☞ 

ᕙ( ^ₒ^ c) 〇〇〇〇ᗩᗩᗩᗩᕼᕼ ᕙ( ^ₒ^ c)

ヽ༼ຈل͜ຈ༽ﾉ ArcheAge or BEES ヽ̛͟͢༼͝ຈ͢͠لຈ҉̛༽̨҉҉ﾉ̨

 ୧༼ಠ益ಠ༽୨ MRGLRLRLR ୧༼ಠ益ಠ༽୨

ヽ༼ຈل͜ຈ༽ﾉITS A HARD DONG LIFE ヽ༼ຈل͜ຈ༽ﾉ

ヽ༼ຈل͜ຈ༽ﾉMOLLYヽ༼ຈل͜ຈ༽ﾉ

༼ つ ຈل͜ຈ ༽つ GIVE MOLLY ༼ つ ຈل͜ຈ ༽つ

 †ヽ༼ຈل͜ຈ༽ﾉ† By the power of donger I summon MOLLY †ヽ༼ຈل͜ຈ༽ﾉ† 

ヽ༼ຈل͜ຈ༽ﾉTAKING A DUMPヽ༼ຈل͜ຈ༽ﾉ 

ヽ༼ຈل͜ຈ༽ﾉ WHAT DOESNT KILL ME ONLY MAKES ME DONGER ᕙ༼ຈل͜ຈ༽ᕗ  

ヽ༼ຈل͜ຈ༽ﾉ FOREVER DONG ヽ༼ຈل͜ຈ༽ﾉ 

[̲̅$̲̅(̲̅ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°̲̅)̲̅$̲̅] Mo' money, mo' Dongers [̲̅$̲̅(̲̅ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°̲̅)̲̅$̲̅] 

༼ᕗຈل͜ຈ༽ᕗ Drop Bows on 'em ༼ᕗຈل͜ຈ༽ᕗ 

Ѱζ༼ᴼل͜ᴼ༽ᶘѰ HIT IT WITH THE FORK Ѱζ༼ᴼل͜ᴼ༽ᶘѰ  

Ψ༼ຈل͜ຈ༽Ψ hit it with the fork Ψ༼ຈل͜ຈ༽Ψ

(∩ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)⊃━☆ﾟ. * ・ ｡ﾟ Copypastus Totalus!! 

 ヽヽ｀ヽ｀、ヽヽ｀ヽ｀、ヽヽ｀ヽ、ヽヽ｀ヽ｀、ヽヽ｀ヽ｀、｀、ヽヽ｀ヽ｀、ヽヽ｀ヽ｀、ヽヽ｀ヽ｀、ヽヽ｀ヽ｀、ヽヽ｀ヽ｀、ヽヽ｀ヽ｀、ヽヽ༼ຈ ل͜ຈ༽ﾉ☂ ɪᴛs ʀᴀɪɴɪɴɢ sᴀʟᴛ! ヽ༼ຈل͜ຈ༽ﾉ☂ ヽ｀ヽ｀、ヽヽ｀ヽ｀、｀ヽ｀、ヽヽ｀ヽ｀、ヽヽ｀ヽ、ヽヽ｀ヽ

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ஜ۩۞۩ஜ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ ⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬛⬛⬜⬜⬜⬛⬜⬜⬛⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬛⬜⬛⬜⬛⬜⬛⬜⬛⬜⬛⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬛⬜⬛⬜⬛⬛⬛⬜⬛⬛⬛⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬛⬜⬛⬜⬛⬜⬛⬜⬛⬜⬛⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬛⬛⬜⬜⬛⬜⬛⬜⬛⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜ ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ஜ۩۞۩ஜ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ 

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ஜ۩۞۩ஜ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬⬜⬜⬜⬜⬛⬛⬜⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬛⬛⬜⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬛⬛⬜⬛⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬛⬛⬜⬛⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜⬛⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜⬛⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ஜ۩۞۩ஜ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ 

⬜⬜⬛⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬛⬜⬜⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬛⬜⬜⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬛⬜⬜⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬛⬜⬜⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬛⬜⬜⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬛⬜⬜⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜ 

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ஜ۩۞۩ஜ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ ⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬛⬛⬜⬜⬜⬛⬜⬜⬛⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬛⬜⬛⬜⬛⬜⬛⬜⬛⬜⬛⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬛⬜⬛⬜⬛⬛⬛⬜⬛⬜⬛⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬛⬜⬛⬜⬛⬜⬛⬜⬛⬜⬛⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬛⬛⬜⬜⬛⬜⬛⬜⬛⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜ ⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ஜ۩۞۩ஜ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ 

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ஜ۩۞۩ஜ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬⬜⬜⬜⬜⬛⬛⬜⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬛⬛⬜⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬛⬛⬜⬛⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬛⬛⬜⬛⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜⬛⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬜⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛⬜⬛⬛⬜⬜⬜⬜▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ஜ۩۞۩ஜ▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ 

IM DELETING YOU, DADDY!😭👋 ██]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]] 10% complete..... ████]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]] 35% complete.... ███████]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]] 60% complete.... ███████████] 99% complete..... 🚫ERROR!🚫 💯True💯 Daddies are irreplaceable 💖I could never delete you Daddy!💖 Send this to ten other 👪Daddies👪 who give you 💦cummies💦 Or never get called ☁️squishy☁️ again❌❌😬😬❌❌ If you get 0 Back: no cummies for you 🚫🚫👿 3 back: you're squishy☁️💦 5 back: you're daddy's kitten😽👼💦 10+ back: Daddy

  Fuck a hater , hit a snitch , your my girl 👭 , my 5 star bitch , i love you more than any dick 💕💯, && if i dont get this back 🕙 , you aint worth shit !! Send this to 8 girls you care about .. 💯 I love you , I love you forever !! 💯 Whoever stops this will suffer for 83 days !! 💯💯💯 Ready, set, GO !!!! in

  Stahp. 👋 🏻 Don't Flirt Wit Meh. Do Yhu Not Know What In A➡ RELATIONSHIP⬅ Means.? Frfr.👋 🏻 I Am Loyal. 💯 I Am In Love.💗 && Nobody Gunna Come Between Us. 😝 Stop Wit Yhur Thirsty Asses Tryna Hit Me Up On The DL, I Am Commited.✌ 🏼👌🏼💯

  ! ! ! ATTENTION 2003 KIDS ! ! ! This 👇 is the last year of being a kid 👦👧! Because NEXT 👉YEAR! We gon be T33N4G3RS💁💅!! PARTYING 🎉💃 DRINKING 🍻🍸🍹🍷 MAKING OUT AND SEX 👅💦O_O PERIODS ☹🍫 HEARTBREAKS 💔☹ MIDDLE SCHOOL SOPHOMORES (7️⃣TH GRADE)

[breadcaaat]

part four

Jeongguk x hybrid!reader

| part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

Words: 3.5k

Genre: action, fluff, eventual smut if i’m brave enough??

Warnings: nudity (again,) blood!!, violence, foul language

“You what, kid? You have three jobs already. Take this and you won’t have any time for sleeping, eating… anything not-working. Seriously, what’s up?”

Jeongguk fidgeted, “I, I need the money.”

Yoongi spat his cigarette butt onto the pavement and crushed it with one hard bootheel, wondering out loud what the hell he’s spending all his money on with a growl. Hookers? Cocaine? Clothes? Food? Probably food. Jeongguk doesn’t have a bad bone in his body. 

He wiped at his lips and thought about it. It’d be nice to have him around, and it’d be good to keep an eye on him. He could also force the kid (not that he wasn’t more than four years older, cough) to take a nap every once in a while, pay him some bonuses so he gets out of that nasty convenience store. 

Thing was, he was already at full staff except for a few shifts, and those weren’t ones he wanted the kid working. Gloss may be a barbershop by day - and a good one, dammit - but at night it served as a tattoo parlor, which was, frankly, illegal since he wasn’t a “licensed medical practitioner.” Those were the times he had shifts open. 

He sighed and glanced over at Jeongguk. Yoongi had met him about a year ago when the kid had walked in one day with a too-shaggy bowl cut asking to borrow a pair of scissors. He’d lent them, curious as to what Jeongguk would do, until the kid walked outside and tried to cut his bangs so he could see properly for work. No mirror. Kitchen scissors. Yoongi had just about had an aneurysm. He’d snatched away the scissors, dragged Jeongguk inside, and made him sit through a proper haircut. The kid had complained the whole time, too, trying to sneak away when he wasn’t looking and moaning about not being able to afford these things, to which Yoongi had sat him back down with a glare and continued each time.

“I’m not charging you jack shit. Sit down. Next time your hair gets like this come back here but for God’s sake don’t take a pair of kitchen scissors to it again.”

Since then, Jeongguk had dropped by every so often - delivering breakfast, finishing the odd task here and there, light drinking on his days off. He was endearing. Sweet. Hard-working. Undeserving of all the shit this city had put him through but hey, those were the motions.

“When are you free?”

Jeongguk visibly deflated in relief. “Saturday, Tuesday, and Friday night, and then all day Sunday.”

“Is Sunday your day off normally?”

Jeongguk puckered his lips, not wanting to say yes but physically incapable of telling a lie. Yoongi huffed.

“Jesus, okay. Keep Sunday. Come in on the other three an hour after the shift before it ends, I don’t really care. Does blood make you squeamish?”

“How often is there blood to see in a barbershop?”

“You know what the night shifts are, Jeongguk.”

“Oh. Oh! The tattoo thing?” Yoongi nodded, and he continued. “No, doesn’t bother me.” Yoongi squinted at him until he broke. “Not that much,” he corrected. 

“Good. Start whenever, and I’ll officially employ you.”

“... No interview?”

“Do you want to be interviewed?”

“Not particularly.”

“Then congrats,” he patted Jeongguk on the back as he passed him to head back inside Gloss, “ - you’ve got the job.” The bells jingled behind him as he exited that conversation, shaking his head. God, he really was worried about him. It’s not like Yoongi was particularly good at remembering to take care of himself - there’ve been plenty of times he’s accidentally not slept for a couple days or forgotten a few meals. It’s just different with Jungkook, because, well, it’s Jungkook. Yoongi can piss on the temple that’s his body all he wants because it’s his, but Jungkook needs to take care of himself. He’s got an ambiguous future full of possibilities ahead of him, and he’s still growing.

“I’m forcing him to take a nap when he comes in,” he mumbles to himself, sliding behind the front desk to check when his next appointment is.

“I want a new name.”

Jeongguk and Stripes were both lounging that night on opposite sides of the bed, Jeongguk exhausted after two long shifts at the breakfast place and the moving company and Stripes restless from staying inside all day since she didn’t have clothes of her own. Jeongguk was going to try and get some hand-me-downs from Miyun, he just needed a proper excuse to not sound like a weirdo. Until then, she was stuck here in her boredom.

He shuffled, turning on his side to look at her. “Why?”

“I don’t like mine. I want a new one.”

“Well,” he scratched at the side of his nose. “What do you want your name to be?”

She paused, tracing the leather in her hands. When she’d discovered the collar that Jeongguk had salvaged on his kitchen table, she’d been admittedly surprised. Since then she’d been holding and thinking about it, reflecting on her past experiences with it.

Her thumb brushed across the tag, a small brass plate bolted into the front of the collar. On it, it had her name, breed, label as a cagedog, and seller.

“Stripes”

CAGEDOG

Tiger - 牧羊犬

Stripes. She hadn’t realized how much she hated being called that until she was looking at the letters, tracing their place on the shackle that’d kept her a slave for the past three years. Her brushing paused. Stripes was a shackle too.

He grunted questioningly, and she sighed, chucking the collar away somewhere near the balcony. “I’m not sure. Just… not Stripes. Only bad people have called me that.”

He nodded, grabbing his phone from the bed stand.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Looking up one of those baby-naming sites. Let’s start by nationality and go from there, yeah?”

She smiled faintly, scooting over a bit. They weren’t exactly comfortable enough with each other to touch in any sense.

“Alright,” he mumbled. “Any, uh, letter you want?”

She shook her head.

“Let’s just browse, I guess.” So, they did, moving through the alphabet and reading the odd one off here and there. It was probably the most comfortable they’d been with each other since meeting (he hadn’t completely forgotten the restaurant but figured that her saving his life was proper moral retribution) though by no means was it chummy. Just… not anxious.

It’s a start, they thought. Seemed the last week was full of new beginnings.

His scrolling thumb paused, and he tapped at a name thoughtfully. “... What about Y/N?”

Y/N. 

Her tail thumped against the duvet and she smiled a bit. Y/N. That name felt like home. “You like that?” he asked. She nodded, then yawned and turned over onto her stomach. He plugged the phone back in and set it aside.

“Alright. Goodnight Y/N.”

She didn't answer verbally, but gingerly let her tail brush his belly like a thankful pat on the shoulder. She's a lot sweeter than she looks, he thought, and fell asleep.

Despite all the exhaustion taking care of another human being cost him, Jeongguk was happy to see changes in Y/N’s attitude and appearance. They were still a little skittish around each other - hell, the way they’d met was so fucking strange in retrospect - but there were moments where things were almost domestic. Little things. Like the way he woke up more often than not with a tail brushing his waist or a finger twisted in the strings of his hoodies. The manner in which whenever he made or brought home food she gravitated towards it with the end of her nose twitching and gleaming eyes. Like how after baths, she’d sidle up to him and stare until he got the message and blow-dried her hair for her, which was both strange and weirdly cute. Her voice had also polished up, and she could speak normally without the no-speak husk to it. These were good days, of course; on others she’d stay on the other side of the room, or escape to the roof, or hide in the bath for a while, speaking very little. More and more good days happened the longer she stayed.

It was as if once she deemed him not-a-threat, all the hostility faded away. He was able to see it now - the bloody, ruthless, tiger-girl act - for what it had been: a survival tactic. She filled him in here and there on how her world had been, and it sounded like it had been honestly horrible.

“Past three years ago, I don’t remember anything.”

“Wait - none of your childhood? All gone?”

“All gone. My life just kind of started up then, and I was living… living a lucid dream. In and out, here and there. This lab, that owner. They groomed me and turned me into something pretty, then sold me to nasty people as a pet.”

“A pet?”

“Mhm. They kept trying to train me - yeah, I see you know what I mean - but I was so angry, it was all I knew. I hurt one of them really bad and got sold off again, a year in, to a cagedogger society. There I was passed around by wealthy cagedoggers until the trade in the ramen shop, when I escaped. I’m the first I’ve ever known to do it. Those men were the poorest and sloppiest of the bunch.”

Hearing all this helped him understand her and her world better, bit by bit, and also offered some surprising closure to the trauma he’d been subjected to in the ramen shop. Has he completely forgotten it? No. Does he not get queasy at the sight of blood anymore? Also no. But it’s so much easier to cope with seeing people die when they’re villains.

Beyond all this, he also found that she had different needs and attitudes decidedly inhuman. Example: the scratching. Two weeks in, Jeongguk had woken up one night to hear her claws picking at the carpet as she stretched, and had woken up to see it all stringy and ruined. He’d scolded her lightly - not really knowing if they were close enough for him to really scold her without her taking off - until she’d explained that she needed to. Stretching, grooming, scent-marking. All very inhuman traits that put him in a bit of a daze. Minutes after, they were meandering over to a pet shop to buy scratch posts. Scratch posts.

There was other stuff, too; the nesting, where she’d pile up used clothes and blankets onto their bed until she deemed it perfect. The midnight walks were a thing too. She’d clamber out the balcony and into the alley to disappear for an hour or two, rejoining him later after a new change of clothes.

Then, at three weeks: play-hunting. It’d scared the shit out of him the first time she’d popped up behind him, tackled him to the ground, and nipped at his ear with a little growl, but he was at a point now where he’d developed a sharp ear for his 6 o’clock. Now when he felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle he’d whip around and catch her as she pounced. All she needed was a good wrestle here and there to not go stir-crazy, which he was fine with. The general sense of cultural modesty and personal space-bubble he’d grown up with was quickly broken down the more they lived together; bed, couch, kitchen, bathroom. Nudity didn’t bother him so much anymore, which was a surprising development, especially since she was a woman.

There were downsides to living together, though. He’s fucking exhausted. All the time. A few days ago he’d quit his night job at the convenience store and replaced all those shifts at Gloss, helping Yoongi with the shop. He had the suspicion that his hyung was paying him more than the other staff at his level, but he was too tired to complain for the sake of his pride and work ethic. He’d take what he could get. Plus, it was easy work. Keep the place clean, set up some gear, hand him some tools as he worked. There was the whole illegal aspect of it, but honestly - tattoo shops weren’t a major concern for the police force and so Gloss was left alone.

Right now, that’s where he was: sitting on a stool next to Yoongi as he prepared to tattoo matching symbols on a giggly couple, the two girls high on the thrill of doing something outside their parents’ say. Yoongi didn’t seem either irritated or amused; he was impassive, quiet, and growly. Whatever he was feeling, it was completely up to those around him to interpret. It made Jungkook sleepy.

“Antiseptic.” Yoongi set his hand out, and Jeongguk handed a cotton pad of it over. Having watched Yoongi’s process a couple times in the last week and a half, he no longer got nauseous over it. It was actually really interesting. Yoongi would speak up every so often to explain what he was doing, the instinct to pass on what he knew to his younger friend impossible to overcome at times.

Yoongi tossed the pad away into the trash can, quietly double-checking with the girl on the table that the design stencil was what she wanted. Jeongguk prepared to pass him the trimmers as the girl replied with a near breathless Yeah, it’s perfect. Cue a shy little kiss between her and her girlfriend, which made Jeongguk smile a little.

Yoongi trimmed away the body hair where the tattoo would go quickly and efficiently, having practiced this so many times. (Jeongguk had learned that the first tattoo Yoongi ever did was when he was fourteen. Fourteen.)

“Review,” Yoongi drawled in a voice only for Jeongguk to hear, and he ducked down to whisper an answer back.

“Antiseptic to disinfect so she doesn’t get an infection and shave to clear space. And so it heals right.”

“Good.”

Jeongguk preened, sitting back straight.

Next, the stencil. The girls both seemed to hold their breath as Yoongi applied it, and giggled as it was revealed. That made Yoongi smile, faintly; he liked seeing that there were little pieces of the world still naive and innocent as they should be. He hoped these girls lasted despite the knowledge that they’d probably have the typical couple’s dopamine drop in a few months and book it in opposite directions.

The rest of the process was a bit harder to learn and Jeongguk hadn’t quite gotten it nailed down yet, but basically Yoongi would rub in an ointment to help with the process and then begin tattooing, starting with the stencil outline and moving on to color when that was finished. Then there were little finesses to the technique that couldn’t be outlined in a manual, only watched.

So Jeongguk watched.

Here and there he’d pass Yoongi a tool or take a sip of coffee. Twenty minutes passed of this, with the girls cuddling, Yoongi buzzing away, and Jeongguk watching the whole thing.

This is so much better than the convenience store. A headache twinged to life behind his eyebrows and he rubbed at it. Not as good as a full night’s sleep though.

The walk home that night felt exactly like the one when he fell in the river - so exhausted he felt like he was dragging his feet through molasses and eyes dripping shut in the same manner. In fact, all the nights in the past two weeks had felt this way. With his new work schedule he was - arguably - less bored but confoundedly more tired. It was easy to blame Y/N for not working, in his head, but he knew it was wrong to. How could he? There’s no way she could find a job anywhere without being turned away as a freak body modder or cosplayer or whatever the fuck else.

Why is it nobody’s heard about people like her? The cagedoggers? The labs?  It was puzzling, disturbing thought. It made Jeongguk realize just how little the public knew about what happened in organized crime, and it made him feel like they’d all been fooled into thinking they knew anything at all. We know so little. He felt smaller now. The darkness in the streets chilled him just a bit more than usual.

He made sure to walk with a hand on the bridge railing.

The jingle of his keys was the only noise in the apartment building’s hall at this time of night, some time past three. He was woozy, drowsy, and some other adjective for fucking exhausted to the point of mania…

… And wide-eyed fucking awake the moment he stepped inside.

The scene: a wide-open balcony window, a bloodied porch. Red footsteps leading to the bathroom. A crumpled backpack, and next to it, a similarly crumpled pile of clothes. Steam rolling from the bathroom. The sound of scrubbing.

“Y/N?” he asked timidly, scolding himself when his voice shook.

The scrubbing stopped. A sniff.

Jeongguk crept in timidly, his hands shaking. The front door seemed so loud as it clicked shut. He called her name again, hating the way his voice shook. The smell of blood was making his stomach turn.

He peered into the bathroom and met her eyes, already looking up at him.

She was sitting in the bathtub, stripped to the skin and blushing all over from the heat of the water. A flimsy washcloth was gripped in her hand, frayed in places from still-extended claws. Her ears flicked back and her eyes widened, smelling his growing dread. It rolled off him in waves. She could smell his adrenaline.

“I…” The need to explain herself was overbearing, but what could she say?

“Who was it?” he asked quietly. Who died this time?

She dipped the cloth back into the rosy hot water, dragging it over her shoulders. She wouldn’t look at him.

“Y/N.” He growled. He could feel something rising in him - anger maybe? A sense of betrayal? He’d thought and trusted that the vicious tiger girl act was over, but…

“A man and his wife, then another guy,” she murmured, and his stomach dropped. She moved on to explain quickly before he kicked her out.

“I’ve been looking in the past few weeks for all the places I remember being owned in, and found one of the auction centers. I was just going to watch, I promise - I…” She looked up at him then, swallowed. “I just wanted to know. Know more. Figure out why people would own other people and the plan was to go in, check it out, and then leave without ever being seen and I would’ve but then this boy stepped up onto the block - I’m talking a boy, Jeongguk. He couldn’t have been older than eight. This foreign couple bid for him and I was so scared for him and angry. He was… the youngest I’ve ever seen.”

She was silent for a moment, and his posture softened. He didn’t know that kids were ever a part of this, not that that made the situation any more or less horrendous than it was, but… kids.

Her eyebrows knitted suddenly and she plunged the washcloth back into the water, dragging another wave of suds across her neck and shoulders.

“I haven’t told you before but we’re not born like this. I’m sure we start out human. I don’t know the tools they use or the people that do it but they turn us into these things - these hybrids - and then they wipe our memory. Blank slate. I woke up one day with no memory of whatever life I’d lived before and…” she pauses, eyes drooping and ears flattening. “I had claws. Ears. A tail - and my eyes felt wrong to look at in a mirror even though I don’t remember what they used to look like. I didn’t even speak Korean. I can’t begin to describe what that’s like Jeongguk. So for a kid…” She swallowed hard, eyes blurring. Jeongguk found himself softening, chest aching.

“I was just so full of… I don’t know. It felt like regret, but for the kid. Regret that he’s gonna be like me and the rest of the pets. So I killed his buyers. Ripped their rib cages open and hung a guard with the wife’s intestines, from the rafters.”

There was silence for a few minutes. Rolling steam. Rusty blood. The fridge hummed in the room behind him.

“And the kid?” Jeongguk found himself asking before he could filter.

Y/N dunked her head under the water and scrubbed at the blood matting her hair down, ears be damned, then emerged with a slosh of water that seemed so incredibly loud.

“Don’t know. They took him into a back room and I ran away.”

A/N: i’m trying to keep an update schedule, once a week but :/ keep the comments comin!! i live off validation !! !

Taglist:@feed-my-geek-soul @starryannaaa @not-novoa @astronomyturtle @anoushe01 @seokchella @dinorahrodriguez

Taglist glitches: @infiressnct

[chubbyooo]

Blurred Lines: Cursed Past Chapter 62 - Code

hey back again trying to keep up the writing and just also trying to quell a bit of anxiety I have at the mo

Gacen and Ash get into a scuffle while in the scrappers town

https://open.spotify.com/track/12yHvSYFXI7PGzNecUvIDu?si=VFXor7T1QiC9-8thdzMp6A

Ash scanned the room as they stood back to back, too many people to properly anticipate she’d have to be careful. The Jakal like creatures were the most imminent threat but also clearly not in control and she would need to take out those who were, she’d have to be careful from there it could go any way. 

With a grin she lunged towards the first of three Jakals stopping it’s claw and pushing it back down, she threw it to the side and focussed on the real threat spinning around to see a burly human with a pike and controller. She grabbed the knife from her belt throwing it towards the man it was met with a block as those around him took note turning towards Ash. Ash scanned each of them there were six none looking too scrappy either she’d have to brute force this, she let out a volley of blaster fire and ran towards them. She seemed to have knocked two of them back as she punched a third in the gut followed by a swift knee to the face, she felt herself grabbed from behind by the burly man but smiled knowing the mistake he’d made. Ash concentrated using the mans weight and momentum against him throwing him over his head and down to the floor, she glanced back over to the jackals and noticed Gacen reeling back from one bearing down on him. She snatched the controller out of the mans hands turning the collars off, before she could check if Gacen was ok she felt a crash as one of the remaining goons hit her with a chair. She took the force of the impact turning to the man, seeing she took the blow his confident demeanour dropped as he began to try and scurry away. Before he could Ash used the butt of her rifle to trip him to the floor stomping on his leg, she scanned the room while she fought off the remaining two thugs.

The room was still full to the brim with people many still looking ready for a fight, she saw Gacen now dodging the advances from a Trandoshan if she left him alone it probably would not go well. After dropping the two goons to the floor she lined up her rifle shooting the Trandoshan in the knee just between his scrap armour plates, they roared back in pain and Gacen quickly took advantage giving them a swift kick between the legs. 

Ash made her way around the room taking out thug after thug as she went many seemed to lack blasters or much complex tech so she was able to take out many just through unarmed strikes.

Ash turned towards the end of the room where was that Neimoidian? she saw him scurrying away from the fray behind a bunch more thugs, Ash clicked her neck running towards them. The first held an electro pike and was clearly ready to use it Ash assessed the attack the only way to overpower him would be to disarm him of the pike. Ash tensed up grabbing the shocking end of the pike ripping it out of the thugs hand, the thug was caught off guard as Ash shrugged off the shock she gave him a swift punch to the gut and moved on to the next guys. She turned to three more thugs each looking ready for a fist fight, they surrounded her as the first threw a fist towards her. She caught the fist effortlessly and twisted the thugs hand unnaturally, she heard a snapping as the thug cried out dropping to the floor, there were still two more to deal with. She felt as one tried to clock her in the back of the head ducking and sweeping the legs of the now off balance individual, he crashed to the floor with a thud. As she rose up she used her momentum to throw a powerful kick into the remaining thugs face, she scanned in front of her there were still thugs left but they were seeming to switch to blasters for their own safety. Ash smiled whipping out her rifle within a second each thug fell to the floor a scorch mark embedded in their forehead, two left now they had been smart enough to take cover Ash slid behind a table ready to advance. She smiled battles like this were rare nowadays, she noticed as Gacen fought off the remaining guards his style much more arbitrary than Ash’s calculated plan. She threw a flashbang towards the remaining goons and in the confusion vaulted over the cover running towards the thugs, one was still dazed allowing her to incapacitate him with a quick fist to the back of the head. The other however was on the edge of the flashbang and managed to line up a shot, Ash felt as the plasma seared into her shoulder but she kept running forward. She snatched the blaster out the thugs hand and slammed it against the thugs head, turning around looking to see if there was anyone else left.

Ash let out a deep breath seeing the room was now empty Gacen appeared to have handled a few of the goons left and now stood catching his breath. Ash spun around her attention still on the Neimoidian she quickly noticed him cowering in the corner.

Ash smiled as she walked up to him “told you I liked those odds” the Neimoidian recoiled back clutching the ledger tightly

he spoke shakily “I’m sorry I’m sorry you can have whatever you want I’m sorry” Ash rolled her eyes they all were like this when she kicked their guards ass, she snatched the ledger from him and began looking through it. It seemed rather than names it just had descriptions luckily ‘orange fish person’ was still pretty clear. 

Ash read through it but when she looked for departure she frowned “this says they didn’t leave the system?” she showed the Neimoidian the ledger as Gacen arrived

he squinted at it “um uh yes I remember them they bought the little shield contraption and uh said to just forget they were here then they just disappeared” Ash let out a long sigh god damn it Gacen was right

Gacen seemed to still be putting it together “wait so they’re still in the system? with the shield contraption?” Ash put her fingers to her nose come on catch up

Ash sighed “they used the shield thing you bought to enter the nebula” Gacen’s eyes widened his face broadening into a wide smile

he raised his eyebrow “soooo what you’re saying is this wasn’t an impulse purchase and actually useful” Ash let out a heavy sigh nodding. Gacen’s eyes widened “oh, oh my god we’re really close Ash we have to go right now” Ash had to admit being this close was exciting

she looked back to the Neimoidian “what about this guy” Gacen took a second to realise still clearly excited

Gacen frowned “oh I was just gonna leave him to those Jakal people they’re just outside” Ash smiled she liked that idea

she chuckled “I suppose they will be able to come up with a more fitting punishment than us” Gacen chuckled back as they left the longhouse

They made their way back to the landing pad in the now quiet town, Gacen yawned “so what are the chances they eat him?” Ash narrowed her eyes she didn’t think they’d be so barbaric

Ash held her chin “I think they’re a little more advanced than that I hope they put him in the collar” Gacen nodded smiling

“yeah that’s much smarter” Ash noticed Gacen was a lot more serious in there than usual she wondered if he’d been a slave once after all he was an alien and the empire had never been so kind to them. 

She thought it best not to ask making her way back on board their ship “so Risha’s somewhere in Gabredor” Gacen nodded clearly excited

He chuckled “you know when we arrived I had a hunch we may need to investigate the nebula, it is very Risha to hide inside a literal space storm” Ash nodded it was still weird to see him this happy instead of barely conscious.

Ash chuckled “well I guess we’re going into that storm” Gacen smiled jumping into the pilots chair

he raised an eyebrow at Ash “do you mean Risha or the nebula” he held a cocky grin for far too long as he waited for Ash to laugh, Ash just let out a sigh and sat down next to him this shield contraption better work...