#Not even in a fun was they’re gonna be killed in the most boring miserable way

[makkie-is-screaming]

Killing whoever decided to make the indie genre “pov indie” on Spotify

[thenugking]

Val Rosebrook (they/them)

Race: Half-drow Class: Warlock (Fiend, Pact of the Chain) Background: Noble

Personality: Vain, selfish and immature, but deeply caring of their friends. Val tries to talk their way out of trouble whenever possible, and avoids starting fights for as long as they possibly can--it’s a lot of trouble, and they don’t want to die, thanks. (Their strong self-preservation instinct goes right out of the window when it comes to people they’re attracted to--danger just makes sex more fun.)

Val’s charming, does their best to get along with most everyone they meet, and never demands rewards for helping people. It just makes life easier if people like you, and they tend to give even better rewards if they don't feel guilted into it! It’s a toss up whether any heroic decisions they make happen due to any morals hidden deep inside them, or just because they’re high empathy and it makes them feel really bad when people get hurt.

That said, they care a lot about kids and always step in to defend them--that bit mostly is morals! They usually encourage their companions to make good decisions and sure, they do think killing loads of people is probably bad, but more importantly, they don’t think Shadowheart and Astarion will actually be happy having killed fuckloads of people. Val’s loved ones being happy and safe is generally more important to them than any other ethical concerns.

Backstory: The Rosebrooks are minor nobles who own a village on the road to Baldur’s Gate and are not as big a deal as any of them think. Lord and Lady Rosebrook have been in a miserable arranged marriage for years, constantly cheating on each other behind the scenes, while putting on a front of being a happy, respectable couple--which got harder when Val was born very obviously not fully human.

Growing up… Val wasn’t mistreated, but they were consistently failed by their family. Lord Rosebrook obviously favoured his actual children, Lady Rosebrook always made sure to let Val know she loved them, even though they were a bastard, and that being half-drow didn’t mean they were evil! These are not in fact very helpful things to tell a child, and Val grew up with a lot of internalised racism they’re still hanging onto during the game.

Their best/only friend growing up was their step brother Marcon, one of Lord Rosebrook’s own bastards. They moved to Baldur’s Gate with him a few months before the start of the game, because fuck their silly, stuck up noble family, they’re gonna go and make it on their own! Which for Val, meant living off the money their mother was sending them and spending most of their time lounging about in the Elfsong tavern. (It’s in the lower city! They’re roughing it!) 

They also met Raphael at Sharess’ Caress during this time, and ended up becoming his warlock because it sounded exciting and Raphael was hot. They got a pretty good deal out of it--Val wasn’t in any way desperate and had time to negotiate, and at the time they weren’t a high priority to Raphael in the slightest. But he absolutely uses that initial contract to try and drag them in deeper during the events of the game. Better the devil you know…

Marcon’s father, meanwhile, wasn’t willing to fund an extravagant lifestyle for him, but was willing to use his connections to get him a comfortable job in the Flaming Fists, which quickly started causing friction between him and Val. To Val, Marcon was giving up all their shared principles of “fuck law enforcement” and “having fun instead of getting weighed down under boring jobs”. Marcon felt resentful of Val being entitled and immature about this, when he would love to not have to work as a fist, thanks. Val, who at 23 had spent the last few years desperately trying not to acknowledge that they were starting to age noticeably slower than their human family and that they were going to outlive everyone they knew, didn’t respond well to their immaturity being pointed out. They took this as the final nail in the coffin that Marcon was growing up without them and they were going to lose him. The two of them ended up having a massive argument, which ended in Val storming off to go drink their sorrows away.

While doing so, they met a delightful elven woman named Violet, who reassured them they were totally valid and special and invited them to a very exclusive party at her cool gothic manor house. Val happily accepted. The nautiloid appeared above them while they were on their way there, and Violet pushed Val into its path while running for cover herself.

Relationships: Val would go to the ends of the earth for all six origin companions, with actually quite a fucking lot of complaining. But they’d do it. They never really connect to the later game companions the same way, but these guys are their family. 

They imprint on Shadowheart within minutes of meeting another goth half elf. They’re besties who end a lot of nights gossiping over a glass of wine, and usually the first person either of them goes to for advice.

Being attracted to people they’re scared of, Val starts casually sleeping with both Astarion and Lae’zel very soon in Act One. They flirt with Karlach up until the point she doesn’t pose the risk of burning them when they touch, when they entirely lose interest. Karlach calls them out for playing with her feelings and generally being a dickhead, which shames them into being a bit more upfront about their feelings and intentions in future, and the two of them eventually work through things.

Meanwhile, Val ends things with Lae’zel when they realise Shadowheart might be interested in her and they slowly start becoming actual friends instead. They continue having fun, casual, no-feelings sex with Astarion, until they discover that he’s not actually having that much fun with it, and even more horrifyingly, that they actually might have several feelings. The two of them start slowly trying to work out how to have a relationship based on mutual love and respect.

It takes them a little longer to bond with Gale and Wyll than the others--Val and Gale both consider the other to have too high opinion of themself, and Wyll initially (correctly) thinks Val is a bit of an asshole--but by the end of the game, they’ve all been through hell for each other (quite literally, on one occasion).

Outside their companions, they get along well with Isobel and Aylin, traumabond a lot with Hope, and adore Yenna and the tiefling kids. They fancy pretty much every villain they meet, and sleep with both the Emperor and Haarlep (they would likely have slept with Mizora earlier in the game, but by the time she propositions them, they’ve developed too much loyalty to Wyll to fuck his hot abuser, a fact which annoys them greatly). Val and Raphael flirt throughout the game, although it's entirely unclear whether Raphael’s actually interested at all, or whether he’s just manipulating them.

[inamindfarfaraway]

The Guy Who Didn’t Like Musicals Pitch Meeting

[Should be experienced imagining the voice and acting of Ryan George, who is linked to above.]

Producer Guy: So, you have a musical for me?

Screenwriter Guy: Yes sir, I do. It’s called The Guy Who Didn’t Like Musicals because the main character, Paul Matthews, doesn’t like musicals.

PD: He doesn’t?

SG: No, he can’t stand them. Watching one is his own personal hell. And that isn’t a throwaway quirk, it comes up several times and is integral to the plot.

PD: Isn’t the protagonist typically meant to be relatable to the audience?

SG: Yeah.

PD: And won’t the audience be full of people who like musicals?

SG: Yeah.

PG: Bit of a weird choice, but okay then. So other than the musical thing, what’s Paul like?

SG: Oh, not much.

PG: What?

SG: Yeah, he’s the most average, boring, white middle-class American everyman you can imagine. No desires, ambitions or hobbies; he never expresses much passion for anything except things he doesn’t like. He has an office job at a company that’s so generic, I didn’t even think of what it does. He’s not particularly nice either. Like, when his best friend Bill asks him to help him reconnect with his teenage daughter Alice, he refuses to avoid his own discomfort despite having nothing else to do. And when his other friend Charlotte right next to him is clearly upset because she’s in a miserable marriage to a neglectful, cheating husband, he doesn’t bother to comfort her.

PG: Isn’t the protagonist typically meant to be likeable and interesting?

SG: Yeah, but we’re not gonna do that I decided. So another important character is Emma Perkins, this barista Paul has a crush on. She’s the only reason he keeps going to this crappy café.

PG: And what’s her deal? Is she kind and friendly to balance out Paul being so apathetic?

SG: No, she’s also rude, but she has better reasons for it. She hates her job and has really annoying, mean coworkers her boss favours over her, who just won’t shut up about how great musical theatre is. They all love it so much that there’s a new rule that if they get tipped, they have to perform a whole song and dance routine.

PG: But working for every tip negates the point of a tip!

SG: Yeah, yeah, yeah. Like I said, it's a crappy café.

PG: I gotta say, though, you’re presenting musical fans in quite a negative light there. They are the people whose money we want.

SG: (aside) You haven’t seen anything yet. Anyway, Emma and Paul bond over not liking things and people - it’s cute. But then at the end of the day, a meteor crashes down in a big storm and lands right in the town’s theatre, which is putting on a musical. And the meteor turns out to have evil alien life inside it!

PG: Oh my God. What happens to everyone in that theatre?

SG: Well, it’s offstage, but we find out later that the alien works by taking over your body like a virus and killing you to use you as a vessel for its hive mind. So that probably happens to most of the people. Bill and Alice get out okay, but a lot of people are dead now.

PG: This escalated very quickly!

SG: Yeah, this show does that. It’s a horror comedy; it’s like a sitcom where anyone could brutally die. But here’s the thing: the alien hive mind makes the Infected sing and dance like they’re in a musical, so all the fun, catchy songs are actually it controlling people’s corpses. That’s how everyone knows the lyrics and can move in time to music nobody’s playing. You only hear the music if you’re Infected. And it spreads really fast, so this mindless musical obsession could literally destroy humanity!

PG: That’s so dark and tonally dissonant. But I have concerns about the villain essentially being a living musical, in a musical. Won’t that kinda alienate the audience? As in ‘make them not like it’, not ‘make them aliens’.

SG: No, it’ll be fun. The first song after the intro is very entertaining. There’s this really funny part with a silly, crazy homeless guy.

PG: Ah, yes. Making fun of the homeless and mentally ill is tight!

SG: Not what I… (moving on) and, and, we can cleverly parody musical tropes. For example, Paul’s boss tries to get him to sing an “I Want” song because the Hive want him to be the protagonist of their ‘musical’, but he doesn’t want anything so he’s a terrible protagonist.

PG: Oh, that was on purpose! I thought you were just a bad writer.

SG: Yeah, no, I’m setting up an arc. So the Hive take over most of the town - which is on a island and the bridge gets pulled up, so there’s no way off - including Emma’s café. But she escapes with Paul and they meet his friends from work, plus this obnoxious asshole Charlotte’s cheating with called Ted, who's the worst. But then the Infected police show up, including Charlotte’s husband Sam. She begs him to snap him out of it ‘cause she still loves him, but he pulls a gun on her.

PG: Oh no.

SG: Fortunately, Ted knocks him out.

PG: Oh, good.

SG: But he hits him too hard and his brain falls out!

PG: Wait, even putting aside how unlikely it is that his flesh and skull were broken open wide enough that his whole brain could fall out, isn’t the brain… attached? That’s a very implausible injury.

SG: I’m gonna need you to get all the way off my back about that.

PG: Well, okay then.

SG: So Charlotte has a mental breakdown and Emma suggests they go to her biology professor, Henry Hidgens. He’s an eccentric doomsday survivalist who somehow predicted this exact incredibly specific apocalyptic situation and has a huge house with top-notch security. And he's a biologist, so he might be able to study the alien infection if they bring him Sam.

PG: It’ll be hard to get there safely with the town swarming with alien zombies, especially carrying a dead man.

SG: Actually, it’ll be super easy, barely an inconvenience.

PG: Oh, really?

SG: That part just happens offstage.

PG: So they get to shelter?

SG: They do, so they start to relax for a bit. Except Charlotte, she’s dying inside and stays with her tied-up dead husband. Bill and Ted have this funny argument where Bill threatens to kick Ted’s head, which, you know, is a stupid threat.

PG: It is?

SG: Yeah, because you’d have to kick really high and most people can’t do that.

PG: I thought you would just push the person to the ground with your arms and then kick their head. Most people can do that.

SG: True.

PG: And it would be highly effective. You could kill someone that way.

SG: (getting an idea) You could, couldn’t you? (writes that down)

PG: What are you writing?

SG: Nevermind. Emma and Paul have a nice heart-to-heart where she reveals her backstory. Turns out she had a sister, Jane, who lived a great life, dream job, true love, kid, everything, while Emma left home at eighteen and travelled around being aimless and irresponsible. But then last year Jane died and that’s why Emma came back and is studying, to try to do something with her life now that Jane can’t anymore.

PG: Aw, that’s sad.

SG: Even a zany horror sitcom has its serious moments. So she and Paul bond some more, until Charlotte and Sam burst in.

PG: Wait, what?

SG: The Hive made her think he’d come back to life and manipulated her into letting him go. Then he just killed her.

PG: Dick move.

SG: Massive dick move! So now Ted gets beaten up by the possessed corpse of the woman he loves, after the last things he said to her were mean because he’s the worst. Fortunately, Hidgens kills the zombies.

PG: Oh, good.

SG: But Alice calls Bill and she’s under attack at her school!

PG: Oh no.

SG: If Bill goes to save her alone he’ll almost definitely die. But Paul volunteers to go with him.

PG: So he won’t be nice to his friends in everyday life, but he will risk his life for them?

SG: Precisely, this is really bringing out his inner hero. But when they get there, Alice is already Infected. She sings a whole song about what a terrible father Bill is and he's so guilty that he failed her that he tries to kill himself with the gun they brought. Fortunately, Paul takes the gun off him.

PG: Oh, good.

SG: But he drops it on the ground, so Alice just shoots Bill herself.

PG: Oh my God! Why did he let go of the gun? That was a very poor decision!

SG: Extremely poor, yes. Alice nearly kills Paul too, but the army rescue him. Specifically this secret special unit that I made up called PEIP that deals with supernatural stuff like magic and aliens that most people don't know about. They're ordered to kill everyone to keep the weird stuff secret, but the leader, General John MacNamara, is a good person so he doesn't do that.

PG: So he lets Paul live?

SG: He does, and he sends a helicopter to take him and Emma off the island.

PG: Paul tells him about Emma?

SG: Uh-huh. He realizes that he's in love and finally does want something: to be with her.

PG: Cool, cool, cool.

SG: Meanwhile, Hidgens and Emma are studying the Infected. Emma theorizes that if the brain of the Hive is in the meteor, they could take out all of them by destroying it.

PG: Is that true?

SG: There's no reason it couldn't be! But Hidgens changes his mind about the Hive being evil, knocks Emma out and ties her and Ted up. Then he opens his house's gates because he wants the Hive to get in.

PG: Why does he think the Hive isn't evil?

SG: Well, he's thinking that since humans are so immoral and harmful we're killing the planet and each other constantly anyway, but the Hive will bring peace and harmony. And he loves musicals.

PG: Oh, he does?

SG: Yeah, he's even written his own awful one, and he plays a song he wrote and composed to lure the Infected inside. He's willing to die and doom humanity for his twisted, irrational love of musical theatre.

PG: Really slamming your audience again. Hey, why wasn't he at the musical the theatre just put on?

SG: I don't know.

PG: Fair enough.

SG: So Paul comes back, frees Emma and Ted and they escape, but General MacNamara kills Ted because the soldiers are Infected now!

PG: And this is all onstage?

SG: Yes.

PG: Then it's gonna be hard to get past a division of fit, armed zombie soldiers who can survive not even having brains in their heads.

SG: No, it isn't. Emma shoots MacNamara in the shoulder and that makes him just give up.

PG: What about all the other soldiers?

SG: Please ignore them.

PG: Okay.

SG: So Paul and Emma get to the helicopter and think they've made it, but the pilot is Emma's mean coworker from earlier and makes them crash.

PG: Why is she Emma's coworker and not just the army pilot, if the Hive got there first?

SG: Because.

PG: That works. Are they okay after the crash?

SG: Paul is, but Emma's too hurt to walk. Paul says they should find a boat -

PG: Wait. There are boats? Or does Paul just think there might be?

SG: I have more notes on this town and it has a boating society, so there are boats.

PG: Then why haven't the Infected got in the boats and gone to mainland? Shouldn't they have done that by now?

SG:

SG: ...You're right. I didn't think about the implications. Oh my God, I didn't think about it!

PG: Whoops!

SG: Whoopsie! So anyway, Emma tells him her theory and he goes to blow up the meteor with a grenade.

PG: But then he could die, and right when he actually cares about something. That is heroic. Do he and Emma have a touching maybe-last goodbye?

SG: Kinda. They try to kiss, but she coughs up blood in his face. The Hive knows Paul is coming and lets him in order to infect him. He does his best to resist its control, but it makes him sing and dance and have an existential crisis.

PG: Oh no.

SG: But at the last possible moment, he pulls the pin, blows up the meteor and saves the day!

PG: Wow, wow, wow. Wow.

SG: So we cut to two weeks later. Everyone else in the town is dead, but Emma was saved by the army reinforcements and she's getting out of hospital on the mainland and ready to start a new life.

PG: Well, at least she survived and the Hive is defeated. That's what Paul wanted. But it's still a shame he died.

SG: That's what Emma thinks... until he walks in!

PG: (excited) What?

SG: Yeah, he's okay and he gives her this soft smile and she's the happiest we've ever seen her and they hug.

PG: That's such a sweet ending. After everything they've been through, getting to be happy together feels earned, and I really have warmed up to them both.

SG: And then Paul starts singing.

[Beat. Producer Guy's relieved expression turns to confusion, shock, sorrow and horror as he processes that information and its implications. He stares at Screenwriter Guy, betrayed.]

PG: But that means he's... (SG nods, proud of himself) and Emma's theory was wrong, and... (SG nods again) the Hive is on the mainland now, so the entire world is... (SG nods again) oh, a very depressing ending!

SG: Set to a very cheerful song! The cast even stay in-character for the bows; the Infected bow while Emma screams and cries and begs the audience for help before being dragged away. So what do you think?

PG: That ending will haunt my dreams. But as creative as the premise is and as emotional as it gets later on, I don't know if this will be that big of a hit. The tone changes so fast and jarringly, the main characters aren't that likeable at first and it all just seems pretty niche. And it spends so much time mocking its own genre and audience. I can see it becoming a cult classic, but I don’t think you’ll be able to launch a series with it or anything.

[bisluthq]

you do know that phones exists, right?

why wouldn’t taylor and travis know each other? they likely talk every single day and have spent most of their free time with each other.

even if you don’t see someone for a while, you’re still in communication lol. if anything, they learned more about each other while being apart - they learned how the other person copes with being apart, how much effort they put in when the other is not around etc.

you do not have to be up someone’s ass all day to know them lmao

I disagree very fucking strongly because I think someone can be lovely when they’re very far away and absolutely unbearable day to day. People can also be fun in small bursts but not great for you non stop.

Idk lol like all romance aside, the worst housemate I ever had was one of my then best friends (this experience killed the friendship dead). We spoke every day and hung out pretty much every day, we had done sleepovers at each other’s places actually, we’d gone to a festival together and shared a tent and we were super excited to live together. It was a fucking shitshow because even though we liked each other like actually it didn’t work at all day to day and we annoyed the absolute fuck out of each other (I think she’s a fucking slob lol like that was the biggest problem I had and also really weird like about how she does things and idk what all her issues with me were but it was a mutually miserable experience) she wound up moving out after two months and I replaced her with the best housemate I ever had (who was a literal rando I found on Facebook lol - it turned out we had like one mutual friend but like I don’t think I knew that when I had him move in), who I lived with for 18 months until he wanted to move in with his gf (which like, fair). I did “know” my friend super well but I had no idea what she’d be like to live with permanently lol.

Both times I moved in with people romantically, I discovered a lot of shit about them even though like both of those decisions came out of “well we’re together essentially every night anyway so having two places is stupid” and it did work out in both cases but also again the decisions came out of having almost lived together before (not just doing fun things together). And still it changed the dynamic a lot and I learned a lot of different things about them.

It’s all romantic and shit to say that if you talk a lot and stuff you know the person but it misses out the boring realities of life. I also get that very religious people often move quickly -> straight to marriage and only find this stuff out once they’re actually fucking married but there’s a level of investment there then that people who aren’t religious won’t and don’t have? So like they’re gonna work on things because they sorta really have to whereas many of us would be like “oh my fuck this is terrible” lol.

I guess I’m just a pragmatist re relationships and I don’t believe that a year long party in likely the busiest years of their respective lives sets up a good understanding of what boring day to day shit is gonna look like with that person.

[sweetpxxches]

The little things in Nevada matter most. (Ch. 1)

Hank/Sanford/Deimos/Reader Fic, baby.

This fic has chapters, so this is the first one! I will link the new chapters as ones go by.

Warnings will be listed here as chapters are made, as of now, Chapter 1 contains:

- Alcohol 

- Mild mentions of gore

- Fluff

This chapter’s just the beginning of finding each other out. This is a lot so heck yeah!

Reader is AFAB and uses gender neutral pronouns. (they/them) ^-^

Chapter list: 1 - ?

It was an early evening in Nevada, you missed the sounds of crickets chirping in the night. But due to the events that happened in this place, there is lack of life that surrounds it. All that is left are demons, clowns, sheriffs, and all that utter nonsense that you question how badly this had to be for a state to become it's new circle of Hell. But at that point, it wasn't really worth thinking too hard on. You instead just think about how at least thankful life was to you to give you friends so your life isn't too lonely. Without Hank, Deimos, Sanford, and 2BDamned, life would of been miserable. Despite what they're here for, the red and black tints of the skies seem blue to you. You were sitting on the edge of a bridge, kicking your legs as you took a sip out of soda can, letting the wind blow passed your hair. But you felt the ground rumble and you swiftly got up to face where it was coming from, and you saw the three familiar figures in a truck. With a sigh of relief, you waved at them and they drove by to you. Sanford poked out at the back of the truck, waving. "Hey, Mercenary! We're heading out to look for some bars around here, you up for that?" You shrugged it off, chugging down the rest of your drink and tossing the can over the bridge. "Sure, why not? Not like I got much better to do. Place has been extra quiet since we've bombed one of those factories earlier." You saw Deimos reached out to you, and you grabbed his arm as he tugged you up between you and Sanford. "Welcome aboard, then!" Deimos laughed, patting your shoulder. You smiled at the two, getting yourself comfortable. You turned your head over to Hank, who looked back and nodded. "Glad to see you in one piece, Merc." He said as he started the engine and began driving off. "Good to see you didn't die again either, Hank." You joked, leaning back. It was almost like things were back to normal, the aura of happiness and the cheerful conversations filled your heart with a sense of serenity. It is a rare occasion just to feel the serenity of friendship. Then again, if you could even consider this as friendship. These three made your heart confused, and so your mind. The more you thought about it, the more it felt like you had decisions to make on the long end. Sanford was the gentle yet mature one in the bunch, his body may be brawns but he was also brains. He didn't take jokes a lot, but sometimes he does choose to have fun with others whenever he can, as well as how caring he is for the group. Sometimes you wonder if he's secretly a major softie who would own rabbits for a living. Then there was Deimos, a cunning and suave guy who most would consider a 'bastard' for how he behaves. Always has a cigarette between his teeth as well as a smug demeanor. You couldn't help but smirk at the times of Deimos trying to show off to you a few times when you first joined the crew, and Hank always telling him to keep his pants on. The one time Deimos even attempted went to failure due to him flexing while trying to shoot with one hand, but his hand got blasted off from a heavy bullet blow, making him shriek and fall over. Although cruel, you laughed at his awful attempt at playing Chad. But despite it all, you still care for the goof. Then there was Hank. Quiet, down to business, but has a rather sadistic side of him. You could say he comes off cold, but there are moments in time where he shows a glint of emotion, most of the time when his bloodlust meets a 'sugar high' to the point he can't control it anymore and lets loose his inner need of murder. You find it intimidating, but also fascinating to see how far he can go. Of course most of the time it leads to him getting brutally killed, but somehow a few days later he always ends up coming back... You remember the first time you saw him get destroyed, a large MAG Agent managed to grab him by the head and ripped him apart, and it made you shriek out to him before Sanford dragged you out the room. But it was days later, you saw him come back as if none of that happened, and you just assumed that's how it will always be when Hank dies. And to no one's surprise, you were right. At that point, you began to care less about him getting killed, sometimes you use his body as a shield whenever he's fallen. Makes you wonder if Hank is even human at all, and is linked to some weird spiritual thing. But those were thoughts to keep to yourself, otherwise it'd make the room awkward, especially to Hank.

Despite it all, these three had their own stories and personalities to show, and you love all three of them.

You dazed off from the conversation between Sanford and Deimos, until you heard Deimos say your name. You blinked awake, looking over. "Huh?" "Hey, the ride's over, we found a place to hang out." Deimos got up and bounced off the truck, reaching over to you. You smiled down at him and jumped right into his arms, leading him to twirl you around and settle you down, making you chuckle. Sanford followed along, stretching his arms out. "Seems like this place is a ghost town right now, wonder why." "We're why, Sanford." Hank retorted, stepping out the truck as he placed two guns in his pocket, in case of anything. "Grunts and agents won't fuck with us, now imagine them fucking with us drunk." He scoffed, walking passed the three of you. You placed your hands behind you back, shrugging. "Oh well, let's hope there's drinks at least." The four of you made way into the bar, a bartender was cleaning an empty glass only to spot the four of you, immediately freezing up in fear. "S-Shit! It's you guys again!" The bartender stood back, keeping a tight grip on the glass in hand, but Hank slammed a hand down on the bar table. "Give us drinks, old man. Or it'll be big time for you." Hank ordered, and without hesitation from the man behind the bar, he simply did as he was told, although shaking in fear from the fact all for of you were present. You eyed him carefully, but sat on a stool twirling around it. "I swear, it gets too boring too quick whenever we have days off." Deimos sighed, sitting on a stool next to you. "You're telling me, this place tends to get quiet quick whenever it doesn't get busy. You think those AAHW Agents are planning something big?" Sanford asked, and saw Hank lean against the table, shrugging. "Hope so. If they're just gonna throw more grunts at our way, I'll consider that a big fuck you from them." He huffed, rolling his shoulder. You leaned on the table. "I dunno, if they retreated this long, it's gotta be something good!" Sanford chuckled, nodding off the statement. "Maybe, maybe... hey, I got an idea, let's all drink 'til something happens!" "Like alcohol poisoning?" You raised a brow at Sanford, and Deimos chuckled under his breath. "Right, right, I'm just saying it's our night, so let's make it worth while." The bartender slid down a few shots for the crew, Sanford took one shot with a quick swig, and raised the empty glass. "Come on, now! Let's do it!" Deimos looked at you and Hank, and the three of you shrugged it off and raised a glass to join with Sanford.

What felt like hours that were only minutes, Hank, Sanford, Deimos, and yourself decided to be reckless. Sanford was a strong one, taking the shots like they were water, while Deimos was making his way to getting on Sanford's level, as for Hank, it was hard to tell if the alcohol hit him at all. But unfortunately, out of this bunch, you were the weakest to alcohol, your mind was buzzing on your eighth shot, seeing the three mercenaries become six, or is it seven? You couldn't tell. But you snapped away when you felt Deimos tugging you over for some kind of sluggish dance. "C'mon, Mercenary! Let's fuck around for a while, will ya?!" He chirped, and you made a groggy 'wait no' as he pulled you around all playful, laughing his ass off. Deep down, you can't wait to kick this guy's ass once things die low. But as of now, everyone was getting tipsy, and who knows what nonsense they'll pull. The only thing you're hoping is Hank won't pull out a gun and shoot around like an idiot. Deep down, you feel like he'll do that. "Deimos, let go of me you idiot!" You shouted over his goofy laughter, but he ended up slipping off and having you two fall on the ground. Hank shook his head, sighing at the sight. "You two shouldn't have alcohol." He snorted, looking over to Sanford who was growing just as buzzed as the other two. It felt like he had to babysit you three, but Hank was personally enjoying the sight of his mercenaries being themselves with no consequences. After a few hours, the rest of the group was smashed. You couldn't tell who you were clinging on, but they were struggling to keep you in their arms. "Shit, what time is it? Is there a place to even hide?" Deimos slurred, wiping alcohol off his mouth. It seems the bartender made his way out before they could even ask for more, which made Deimos growl in frustration. "Dammit! That asshole ditched us!" He raised a fist, but Sanford held his shoulder. "Relax, soldier. We're done for the night. I'm fucking wasted!" He snorted, keeping a firm hold onto you. You looked up at Sanford, noticing you were facing his bare chest, making your eyes widen and have your cheeks flare up.

“Uh...” You blinked.

“Yeah, Merc?” Sanford looked down, noticing your expression. “Shit- you good? You look sick.” He stumbled up and settled you on the table, but you just seem dazed at how nice his body is. Or maybe that’s the alcohol speaking. Unfocused, you grabbed Sanford and Deimos by the shoulders for support. “Maybe we should head back to the hideout we had last time, hardly anyone... goes there.” You paused and blinked at the floor, seeing your feet stumbling. Hank seemed to be the only one capable of keeping his composure, though not really attempting to give anyone a hand at all. “You know what, since I’m not the one who’s fucked up here, I’ll drive everyone back. I figured you three wouldn’t control yourselves, not like I’d be surprised about it.” Hank left out the door, leaving the rest of you to struggle along the way. It was like a difficult obstacle in stepping from point A to point B, Deimos and Sanford pulling you around for support as you all waddled your way to the truck. It was a blur the moment you slumped into the back of the truck, the only thing you could feel was your brain growing an immense fatigue as well as someone keeping your body up. The moment you passed out, you could only feel the nausea upcoming. 

When you woke up, you were welcomed to a face between the bare chest of Sanford, which made you immediately bounce off. But the moment you did, your head pulsed in a sense of pain and confusion, making you hiss under your breath, gripping your forehead. “Son of a bitch...” You muttered, but you saw that Sanford and Deimos were still asleep. Despite them being out cold, you really didn’t expect to have Sanford allowing you to get that handsy with him. Or maybe he wanted you to be comfortable... then again, those were comfortable. But the thoughts went away quick when you felt your head spin, stomach ready to hurl. You went over the edge of the truck, throwing up the excess of what was left in your stomach, the hangover lighting up slightly from the release. You looked over to the edge ahead, seeing a familiar building. It seems that Hank managed to drive everyone home. You really couldn’t help but be thankful that Hank was at least caring enough to drag everyone back. Where Hank was is nowhere to be found, but you can assume he must of went inside without you and the other two. You looked over at Sanford and Deimos, you’re sure they’ll be fine on their own, no one comes here nor interferes in this area. Sluggishly, you rolled out over the edge of the truck, hopping off with a simple thud to the ground. As you dusted off and made way inside, you saw Hank just hanging out on the couch, head held back with a cigarette in his mouth. 

You always found it adorable how he is in his most calm state, you sometimes wish he was like this more often. Though unfortunately, he’s the least likely to contain himself. You could tell he’s still awake, because the moment you shut the door, he spoke. “You’ve finally managed to get up. Head still hurtin’?” You turned over to him, seeing he’s still lazy about. “Yeah, but I’ll get over it. Sanford and Deimos haven’t gotten up yet, but hey, I’m here.” You walked over and sat on a seat beside him, patting his head which only made him grunt at your brave actions. “Remind me to tell you guys when you have one too many, you guys were drinking for hours.” Hank sighed, pulling the cigarette out his mouth, letting the smoke pass his nostrils. “Sorry, I didn’t even catch the time when we even started. Sanford shouldn’t of challenged us... then again, you won anyway.” 

“That’s because I didn’t overdo it. Sanford tends to have too much fun on his free time.” Hank shrugged, “Besides, if I joined in the nonsense no one would be able to take anyone back home. I ain’t risking to crash into a building drunk, won’t be too fun missing my shots.” You could only chuckle, watching him wave his hands about. He wasn’t expressive in face, but his hands were. You wondered if it was a good idea to kill time with him if you would just...

“Hey, Mercenary.” Hank spoke up. “Oh! Yeah?” You blinked back out of thought, looking at him. “I was wondering... couldn’t help but notice how it was kind of cute to see you try and cling onto me earlier when you were drunk.” Your eyes widened in embarrassment, looking away immediately. “G-God! Are you serious?! Fuck I’m sorry, Hank- I really didn’t mean to-” “It’s fine, dear.” Hank waved it off, you can tell there’s a smirk under there. “In fact I didn’t mind you getting handsy.” You puffed your cheeks at him, then giving him a hit in the head, making his shoot up immediately. “Ow- hey!” Hank huffed, rubbing his head. “Bad enough I got my head kicked in everywhere!” You crossed your arms, feeling your cheeks warm from the flustered reaction. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. I just don’t like it when you make a fool out of me, you always do that with everyone.” He looked at you, tilting his head lightly. “Now you know it’s not me trying to be a dick to you, Mercenary. I just do it because I thought maybe you wouldn’t mind me teasing you.” It took a moment, then you realized the way he worded it. You said he does it to everyone in the group, so does that mean he does it to ease everyone because he likes them? You blinked, looking at Hank. “Wait, you mean just me, or?”

“I mean everyone, you think I don’t bother Deimos and Sanford?” Hank continued for you, crossing his arms. It seems like dots are being made here, and you weren’t sure how to feel about it. Does he like the three of you the way you like them in return? It made you wonder. But you didn’t want to invade Hank’s personal stuff, you felt like he wasn’t aware of his own emotions. “Huh... Well, I guess I feel a little better about it now. Don’t know what you get out of it, though.” Hank looked over to you when you spoken that, and he looked back at the window, putting his cigarette out on his arm. “Honestly? Don’t know myself either, but it makes me feel a little better knowing it makes you guys get a kick out of my words, hahah.” 

You couldn’t help but smile at him, maybe he is feeling for certain things he wasn’t aware yet. And honestly, you want to help connect these dots for not only himself, but for everyone else. Maybe there is a spark that needs to be set alight, just unsure where to start. But as of now, you just want to enjoy the silence that remains in the room, closing your eyes as you smelled the remaining smoke in the room from Hank’s cigarette.

Maybe this little break for the group isn’t so bad.

[robinrequiems]

ok ig cashier damian is my latest hyper fixiation, so let’s add

• Ight so, on fridays, jon cannot come in all the time, very rarely can he. and when he does. he sees a very cute sleepy damian who also wants to punch him:)

• damian is just a mess. he didn’t have time to fix his appearance because as soon as he got out of school, he had to change in a shitty unsanitary grocery store bathroom.

• it was not fucking fun. it never is. damian is so over it. jon normally sees Damian working on homework quickly before putting it away when Jon or other customers show

• damian cannot be asked to look like a normal human being when he just finished 7 sad hours of school in ANOTHER shitty uniform. he hates uniforms

Jon: you look like you’re gonna fall asleep

Damian: ugh, look who it is, the good boy from metropolis who doesn’t look like a creep at all when he comes here just to talk to me. woo hoo!

Jon: nice to see you too

• jon normally sucked on lollipops when he didn’t want to chew on gum, plus sometimes he chews on gum really aggressively and it hurts his jaw

• but let’s talk abt jonny: star athlete ( I’m a simp for athletes jon, please kill me. he’s a basketball player in this though. he got the height for it anyway ), himbo-vibes, and overall sweetheart.

• at least that’s what everyone else thinks. his life is a cycle. A very miserable cycle. It’s honestly tiring and hurts his head and generally takes his mood down

• but then he drove to bludhaven in his new car and brand new license. and he saw him.

• sure he’s seen moody teenagers working at stores before, but this boy; Damian, by his name tag, was different. He SENSED IT

• jon found that he liked different

• damian.. just didn’t easily talk with Jon like so many did at home. he liked a challenge

• and Damian was his challenge

• so he wasted so much gas and time and money to visit him.

• he was so whipped

• he was attracted to him. just the way he did things. like goddamn. ok.

• then his friends and him took a trip there. it was Saturday, they were gonna leave on Sunday. it was for Kathy’s birthday. He had no idea why she wanted to go here.

• oh. yeah. The idiots taken in for underaged drinking. Jon didn’t drink. ( he was a good boy and designated driver ) so he was just there trying to get the officers to let his friends off the hook

Damian: oh look, guess the good boy isn’t really a good boy.

Jon: Damian—? No! I’m here to get my friends out!

Damian: figures, you’re too innocent to do bad things.

Jon: what did you do then?

Damian: well wouldnt my you like to know

Dick: Damian! There you are! Sorry, I was calling up some parents- who is this?

Damian: Good boy.

Dick: ah.

Jon: Jon Kent.. nice to meet you

Dick: wait. As in Clark Kent?

Jon: yeah? that’s my dad

Dick: aw your dad used to babysit me

Damian: can we go now

Dick: hush Damian, I’m feeling nostalgic

• so Damian learned jons name. And jon got to see Damian in regular clothes, so that was cool

• he also got in trouble and couldn’t see Damian for a month because his parents were upset about what happened.. understandable, but jon was still upset

Tai: soo, that was him?:)

Jon: shut up

• tai accidentally found out about cashier boy, it was very funny for tai. not Jon. he teased jon for being whipped.

• sure jon liked damian for his looks at first. then he liked him for him.

Jon: dad, some guy named dick said hi

Clark: jon it isn’t— wait-

Jon: he said you babysat him

Clark: really? You saw him, how did he look? I haven’t seen him since he was a kid!

Jon: um. good?

Clark: where did you see him?

Jon: ..the police place

• his parents put a tracker on jons phone. now they were so confused why their son kept going to Giant Beagle in bludhaven. it was. weird.

• they just- was he meeting someone?? why was he doing this? WAS HE GETTING DRUGS? wait. no. it’s jon. jon couldn’t even stand the smell of cigarettes

Lois: jon.. honey.

Jon: yeah?

Lois: why do you keep driving to bludhaven? I’m worried about you and want to make sure you aren’t doing anything.. bad. Or dangerous.

• granted, it was very dangerous going out there, but he liked it. he liked the thrill of when he got to walk damian back sometimes! HE WAS GETTING CLOSER TO DAMIAN!

• oh also. it turns out damian gave him a fake number

• rude.

• damian always warned him though. and tried to make jon not walk far. jon was.. jon was a good boy. he would never survive in bludhaven frequently, jt worried humored damian.

• sometimes jon came by during the day. Damian’s Sunday shift was in the evening while his Saturday one was in the morning. jon got to go get lunch with him sometimes if Damian felt like there were enough people around that would know if he got kidnapped or not

Damian: why do you bother talking to me? most get bored of me and my attitude.

Jon: I find it charming. you’re fun to talk to. you feel so real. almost everyone in my life feels artificial and like I’m living in a disney Chanel movie.

Damian: *he laughed* oh?

Jon, loving Damians laugh rn: yeah! it’s like they’re.. androids or somethin’.

Damian: why don’t you just find someone snarky from metropolis?

Jon: it wouldn’t be as fun then.

Jon: i like a challenge.

• getting to know damian was like trying to beat the hardest level in his game. it was mind blowing how many times he basically had to restart. Damian was also like a Rubix cube, but jon will get there. He already has 1 side done on it.

Jon: so you live with your brother?

Damian: yes.

Jon: nice

• jon didn’t pry. Damian and dick had became forgotten after bruces death, a lot of the kids did. they just all disappeared from the media like ghosts.

• so jon didn’t know that dick wasn’t his blood relative, or that Damian was Bruce’s child. no one really did

• it wasn’t like it mattered though anyways

Damian: basketball is lame.

Jon: have you ever played?

Damian: yes. it sucked ass

• jon has helped Damian restocked late at night sometimes. Damian doesn’t like him touching things, but the faster he does it, faster he can go home to get his pets, alfred, and his idiot brother

Damian: you waste a lot of gas coming to see me.

Jon: it’s worth it.

• jon had to get a job. boo. he worked on days he didn’t have practice and sadly, on sundays.

• he was a worker at a small cafe, he was just a waiter there

• and then one day, on a Sunday, Damian came in with a few people. WAIT DAMIAN CAME IN

Jon: DAMIAN

Damian, clearly startled: what the fuck, jon!

Jon: why’re you here! how long are you staying! ARE TOU REALLY HERE!

Maya: is this who you were talking about?

Damian: shut up.. but calm down, idiot.

Damian: .. you got a haircut.

Jon: you- you noticed? sorry I couldn’t come this week. was busy this week and needed to catch up on sleep.

Damian:’it’s fine. I guess I really should give you my number now.

Colin: that was smooth

Jon: really?

Damian: mhm. after you seat us, dumbass.

Jon: oh right

• and Damian did give jon his number

• a real one dw

Maps: he was cute.. he single?

Maya: he wouldn’t be single if Damian just manned up

Colin: they practically just stared at each other the whole time when they thought the other wasn’t looking

Damian: wait he was looking at me?

Maya: oh damians so whipped.

• oh how the cashier is falling for the waiter

• sounds like a hallmark film.

• next week jon did end up visiting him in ‘haven, and drove him home.

• damians feet were hurting and he was tired so he didn’t even bother to argue.

• jon couldn’t come to visit his favorite cashier during winters a lot, he may of liked his new “dangerous” life, but he heard how bad the roses could get from Damian

• damian was a bit sad and moody because of that. but shut up. you don’t know anything dick

Dick: you know.. you should invite him inside

Damian: so you can embarrass me? no thank you.

Dick: me? embarrass you? never. but come on, you have never shown interested in anyone before! I wanna meet him!

Damian: you already did. At the police station. you forget or something?

Dick: .. that wasn’t really the best first meeting. come on. please?

Damian: no.

[chainofclovers]

Grace and Frankie 7x1 - 7x4 thoughts

Meh? Like...I love them so much, but...meh?

(I did enjoy this line about brunch.)

I really loved season 6 of Grace and Frankie. I thought it was well-paced, largely very well-acted, generally well-written, and it culminated in a massive moment of character development for the title characters, who, having spent years growing closer and being there for each other when others could not or would not be, finally articulate to each other that they are the primary person in each other’s lives. Platonic gal pal soulmate BFF emotional support witches 4 lyfe!

I know progress isn’t always linear, and in fact is very rarely linear, but after a moment that significant, you’d think the writers on this show would maybe come up with some more interesting things for these characters to do than spin in circles?

@bristler and I watched on Friday night, and just this morning over breakfast had a good conversation about the first four episodes of the new season now that they have settled in our brains a bit. We concluded that the writing (often noticeably clunky, like the dialogue is responsible for more narration than usual) and the tone (aggressively wacky) feel really off, especially compared to the prior season. I think we diagnosed the big issue, which is that Lily Tomlin and Jane Fonda are by far the most talented actors on this show (if you disagree, fight me in the parking lot) and it feels surprisingly unfortunate that their characters have, to this point in the new season, pretty much figured out their perspectives on each other. No matter how people feel about Grace and Frankie’s sexualities, the whole show has been about them finding each other and getting in deeper and deeper, and it’s less interesting to watch other characters have realizations about that than it is to watch Grace and Frankie having realizations about themselves. If the title characters are now limited to reacting to other people’s actions, and the title characters are played by the best actors on the show, the whole show’s gonna suffer. And is suffering, very much so, at least for these first four episodes. I’m definitely still excited for the final twelve in 2022 (twelve! I cannot believe this season will have sixteen eps!), but I’m pretty disappointed so far.

Stuff I Loved:

The family brunch. These families have been entwined for so long, and the backstory for this particular brunch was so fun (even though I didn’t care for the effects they did to depict Grace and Robert 25 years ago; there was no need for a visual flashback in the scene). I love that Grace hit Frankie with a wiffle ball bat. I love that the two couples realized some of the emotional reasons behind their decisions to lie to each other about Bud’s Bunny and about M’Challah. I love the way Jane Fonda sounds uttering the phrase “Bud’s Bunny” with little to no irony. I love that Grace is able to recognize and articulate just how deep and miserable her anger issues were, albeit with the continued help of her omnipresent martini, and that Frankie told her she’d now make up a holiday in order to spend more time with Grace. I really, really hope Frankie does exactly this at some point in the remaining episodes of the season. I love that Grace is generally a pretty good person now, with aspirations of being a delightful person. I love that she and Frankie don’t have it in them to stay angry with each other, and I love all the evidence that they really, really talk to each other about everything now.

Frankie talking to the man at the office (I don’t remember who he was supposed to be? A toilet manufacturer? I didn’t mention this before, but I actually got pretty high while watching?!? Believe it or not, this was the first time I smoked pot and watched Grace and Frankie at the same time despite having enjoyed both activities on their own for quite some time. I would recommend the combo! And I think I still pretty much got what was happening) about paying for the toilet parts with candy. This whole subplot with the money laundering was absurd and not that interesting, but I loved this particular scene because it was finally evidence of some really thoughtful writing. The concepts aren’t enough! You have to write them into good dialogue! And the whole cash/candy thing was a moment of dialogue that only someone as hilarious as Lily Tomlin could pull off. Which she did, IMO.

In a show about super messy people, Coyote has stayed sober this entire time. He is sober, employed, in love, and preparing to buy a full-sized house with his partner. He hasn’t murdered anyone in his family. Hasn’t even attempted murder once.

In 2017 or whatever, Grace Hanson would have been furious about Frankie using obscure Beatles references like a treasure map when hiding the cash. But here in 2021, she cooperates and even gets in on the fun. The writing is very unsubtle this season, but that did feel like a reasonably subtle moment that shows how good of a partner she is for Frankie. (Platonic, of course! So platonic. Female friendship, amirite?)

Stuff I Did NOT Love and Felt Incredibly Negative About:

Brianna. I can only conclude that June Diane Raphael has decided she’s happy with playing a character whose primary role in life is to be hot and mean. She succeeds at being hot and mean, but I have reached my limit with this character. I realize we’re only a quarter of the way into the season, but I don’t think I can take another arc about her learning to compromise only to reveal to Barry that she never intended to compromise at all. At this point, it’s both abusive and boring. How?! The Grace/Brianna parallels aren’t interesting anymore, because one character has grown and the other is stagnant. I get that Brianna was raised in an emotionally stilted environment by two unhealthy people. But I think it would be very cool if she could learn something from her mother at this point. Grace has put a ton of effort into dealing with her “rabbit-killing, mad-at-the-world anger.” She’s put a ton of effort into figuring out what makes her happy, what she wants her life to look like. She’s even started accepting her age and abilities without shame. And that growth is believable; Grace is still short-tempered and she still slugs back way too many martinis and she struggles to articulate certain things, but she’s grown into a truly lovely human. And while, as a daughter with a mother, I can absolutely attest to the fact that it can be difficult and uncomfortable to learn lessons from one’s mother, Brianna really, really should. Grace spent decades letting anger and shame trap her in a small, miserable life. Brianna—and even Mallory, who just seems like a vapid idiot this season—are traveling that same path, but there’s someone right there who could really help, maybe even more than Frankie helped when the Hanson girls were first growing up.

The arraignment. The scene might’ve been salvageable if it was filmed from Grace’s perspective, and filmed to reflect how surreal and improbable it all was. But speaking of non-linear progress, this scene erased everything Nick Skolka has done to put himself in my good graces (LOL) over the past couple seasons. I mean, I tried, man. I even wrote fic about Nick, Grace, and Frankie making a genuine effort at polyamory. But the arraignment is so emotionally manipulative, such a slap in the face of everything Grace has worked for, and while we’re certainly “supposed” to feel the weight of the moment, I mean, it’s not like we’re supposed to be like, “Oh, cool, we’re in a rom com now! This is adorable!” it still felt bad and unearned and slapdash.

And I want Frankie to process these things with her! Frankie seems so happy to have all this information about Grace and how Grace feels, but I want to see scenes in which we can gain an understanding of how Frankie actually feels. Hearing Frankie talk to other people about how Grace feels is interesting, but it’s like there’s no room in these episodes for us to learn anything new about Frankie herself.

Grace’s transitional wig. Is so. Bad. It is. Such a. Bad wig. Oof. I mean, I like what they’re doing with Grace’s hair from a plot perspective, although (see one bullet up) I would really like to get more of an understanding of what’s happening in Grace’s head, not just on top of her head. And gosh, Frankie would be a really good person to talk to about this in a conversation that lasts longer than 30 seconds. But the wig! She’s in a wig in all four episodes, of course, since Jane Fonda went grey and cut her hair short before they started filming this season. The wig for episodes 1 and 2 is fine; it’s a good approximation of Grace’s typical hair, and of course we know that canonically Grace’s hair isn’t 100% her own hair anyway. But the wig with grey roots looks so weird. The part that’s growing out doesn’t look the same as the hair on the wig from 1 and 2. And the grey roots look like a yarmulke. I cannot wait to get to the point in the season when Grace goes all the way grey.

(One more thing about the hair. I can’t let it go. I paused the show while we were watching to rant, but I’m not done.) I had the great privilege of seeing Jane Fonda in person at a protest in 2019. She is an insanely beautiful human. She was growing her hair out and it was partially dyed blonde and partially grey. It looked really cool. I am not ashamed to say I spent that day learning many things about the climate crisis and about Jane Fonda’s hair. Having seen her in real life with her real hair looking that fucking great, I just have a an extra-large grudge against everyone involved in that horrible wig. The wig is necessary, but it didn’t have to be this bad.

What Do I Care About Now?

I am pretty intrigued by the way Grace threw out her real age in a conversation with Nick and Elena. She has nothing to fear anymore! She’s so chill about aging! What could go wrong? I assume that Nick and Elena maneuvering for Nick to be on house arrest in Grace's house specifically has to do with the fact that Grace is 82. She’s gonna find out that Nick is allowed to be with her because she’s ancient and helpless and the court took pity. Or something like that. She’s going to feel betrayed on top of feeling stifled and overwhelmed by Nick’s presence. I want to see where this goes for sure.

Other than that, and other than the fact that I really do continue to believe this show is moving in a direction in which Grace and Frankie will choose each other, I feel very whatever about this whole thing. I love this show and I will always appreciate this show for giving me some incredible characters to spend years of my life writing about, and for bringing me some pretty amazing friendships. Speaking of those friendships, yesterday @ellydash and @telanu and I were talking about some of the incredible TV we’ve watched recently, like Ted Lasso and Hacks and Fleabag and Killing Eve, and how great it feels to watch beautifully written TV crafted by writers who are profoundly—organically yet intentionally—attuned to even the most minor character’s rhythm. The disappointment of these first few episodes of the new G&F season feels like a mild disappointment rather than a sharp heartbreak, and that has a lot to do with being deeply invested in other shows that could also go in all kinds of different directions but with writing I fundamentally trust.

Also Jane Fonda and Lily Tomlin are my forever faves and my appreciation for their performances and general awesomeness onscreen and in life is undiminished. So that’s pretty cool.

[ladyloveandjustice]

Fall 2020 Anime Overview

I started out watching the a ton of anime for the Fall 2020 season, but then ended up not being caught up with most of them by the the time the end rolled around. I still pretty much intend to catch up with Yashahime Princess Half Demon someday (I do like the three leads, it just the plot’s been dull as dirt and the fights aren’t very inspired either) and though I dropped Wandering Witch after bad press started rolling in (I CANNOT deal with pointless tragedy in my current state of mind) I might check out a few more episodes someday just to from my own opinion. For now, let’s just quickly review the anime I DID manage to finish on time this season.

Sleepy Princess in the Demon Castle

Sleepy Princess in the Demon Castle is exactly what it says on the tin: Princess Syalis isn’t too bothered about being captured by demons and locked in their castle, but she does value a good night’s sleep, and she is absolutely ruthless when it comes to getting it- so ruthless, in fact, that the demons realized it might not be that she’s trapped in here with them, but that they’re trapped in here with her.

Sleepy Princess is top tier comedy comfort food. It rarely got a huge belly laugh, but it always but a smile on my face and was a great thing to watch before going to bed. Syalis’s single-minded search for some shut eye is a joke that could have gotten old very quickly, but the show consistently found creative ways to expand on the gags and build it’s world and a fun cast of characters along the way. 

Though Syalis is downright brutal to the demons when it comes to getting what she wants (and has a knack for getting herself killed at well), thanks to a demon cleric that offers easy resurrections, you never feel too bad for anyone involved. In fact, the demons and Syalis form a strangely heartwarming bond over the course of the show , and it’s clear by the end that Syalis definitely has the ability to come and go if she damn well pleases and just finds this castle a fun place where she can find respite from her princessly responsibilities. 

A nice bonus for those of us who like a little subversion is that the show has a lot of fun playing with standard adventure tropes- the demons often lament that Syalis is not at all what they expected from a captive princess, for one, but my favorite fun little twist is how Syalis feels about the hero currently on a (seemingly endless) quest to rescue her- she manages to both hold him in contempt AND consistently fail to remember his name. That level of disregard takes some impressive effort.

The show has the same director as the Gekkan Shoujo Nozaki-kun anime and as such has a similarly nice comic and visual flourishes throughout. It definitely gets two sleepy thumbs up for me.

Jujutsu Kaisen

Jujutsu Kaisen follows a young man named Yuuji Itadori who, after tangling with a demon, ends up with one inside him. With a death sentence hanging over his head, he’s inducted into a school for “jujutsu sorcerers”, and begins training to use his newfound powers to defeat demons and curses.

Jujutsu Kaisen quickly tells you on no uncertain terms it is Action Shonen, introducing a huge cast of a characters and powers and super high stakes and hey there’s even gonna be a tournament arc soon. It is really, really pretty to look at, with a killer opening and ending, some seriously great animation and cool visuals for the fights especially. But is it particularly memorable otherwise? Noooooot really, so far. The sea of technobabble it tends to descend into when trying to explain how the various powers work often has me zoning out and wishing they’d just let me watch the pretty punches. The villains and the general plot isn’t particularly compelling. The characters are nice enough, but haven’t given me much to be attached to so far. Though I do appreciate this one dude who is the embodiment of millennial ennui:

I’ll keep watching though, because it is a visually stunning, action-y thing to my turn your brain off to and god knows I want to turn my brain off all the time lately. 

And the characters do have potential- the One Girl of the main group, Nobara, has a really fun personality in that she’s a total shitlord doofus brawler who can thus doof around with our equally dumbass protagonist, which is an pretty fun, unusual personality for the One Girl to have! Her interactions with Maki, the weapons expert senpai girl, are promising too. I’m just waiting for her to actually, you know, DO something that really shows off her skills- I’m told she DOES eventually get to (gasp) win fights on her own and do cool stuff, but so far show has kind at that of failed miserably and underused her like most action shonen underuse their girls. Plus, taking Yuuji out of the group for such a long stretch seems like a weird choice, we’ve been deprived really seeing him for relationships with his peers. The pacing seems off. But maybe the upcoming tournament arc will make up for that and actually be worthwhile!

Talentless Nana

In a world where kids with superpowers are sent to island schools to fight mysterious “enemies of humanity”, one class of such kids is thrown into chaos when they find themselves targeted by a deadly force.

It’s pretty much impossible to talk about Talentless Nana without discussing how it deviates dramatically from what its premise appears to be in episode one, so I’ll just say if you like stories with superpowers and intrigue, you should definitely sit through that first episode and see if the plot that’s eventually revealed is something that you’re here for. But if you want to avoid spoilers, DON’T GO BELOW THE CUT, because I’m about to get very spoilery.

Basically, Talentless Nana pulls a bait and switch, starting it’s first episode posing as generic superhero anime where the protagonist appears to be your standard meek-but-powerful anime boy (Nanao) who just needs some support and encouragement from a pink haired mind reading manic pixie dream girl (Nana) to unlock his self-confidence and ~true power~ (ugh)...only to take SHARP swerve when  Nana ruthlessly murders Nanao and reveals she’s been sent by the government to take out the superpowered kids one by one because THEY are the considered the true enemies of humanity. Oh, and she doesn’t have any superpowers, or “talents”- she was just able to sus out everything Nanao was thinking through basic deductive reasoning because he was so flippin’ obvious and basic.

As my love for a certain character in a certain game may have clued people into, I am ALWAYS delighted when what appears to be a generic, underwritten girlfriend character is then revealed to be an interesting, ruthless mastermind. And having an anime appear to be about a bland boy with a Dream Girlfriend but then actually turn into a show about a deeply cynical, morally dubious girl who’s clearly holding down a lot of messy feelings as she considers everyone her enemy...well, it may be a cheap trick to some, but it also feels a little bit like justice for all the underwritten female characters sacrificed to bland male leads. It’s still rare enough that I dig it when it happens. And the metatext of Nana zeroing in on this kid as the most standard of main character boys, assessing him as the biggest threat because of it and knowing the perfect way to take him out, is pretty inherently funny to me.

But if the show JUST banked on that twist and was about Nana brutally and cynically slaughtering these kids, it would get boring quickly and Nana would be a bland character herself. Fortunately, it doesn’t go that route. Nana struggles and grows a lot over the course of the show. She finds opposition in transfer student Kyoya, a stoic (and socially awkward) young man who pretty quickly becomes suspicious of her. A lot of the tension from the early episodes comes from her sweating as she tries to outmaneuver him and she makes plenty of mistakes along the way. She also slowly but surely starts to question her mission, and we get an idea of her backstory and how the government specifically has groomed her into believing people with powers to be evil. That belief is one that’s challenged by her friendship with another girl, and it’s pretty rewarding to watch Nana’s feelings and world expand little by little.

The show is definitely a little schlocky-some of the plots (as well as the general premise of the government thinking this is the optimal way to get rid of their superpowered kids problem) fall apart if you think too much about them, and some of the kids Nana goes up against are sleazy and unlikeable in over the top ways (which makes it easy for her to stick to her convictions all these kids deserve to die at first). In particular, I have to give a heads up for some sleazy guys doing and saying sleazy things, though the show never gets too overbearing or graphic with it (and the gore is generally PG-13 level as well). 

Basically. There are some truly ridiculous happenings in this show. But how ridiculous and pulpy and over the top it is can be part of the appeal, and it’s fun to just sit back and watch the spectacle of Nana and her peers head-scratching machinations. 

So, while certainly not an anime with airtight construction or flawless quality and depth, I found Nana an overall entertaining watch, especially as a fan of cat-and-mouse murder-y shenanigans, and thought it has a very compelling main character and managed to end on a heartwrenching (but earned) note. I definitely wouldn’t say no to a second season and would be interested to see where things go from here.

[lloydskywalkers]

planetary go

me: hey this would be a great time to actually do some of that oc development I’ve been planning for the last two years

also me: lloyd has no good very bad spiderman day

i’ve had this in my drafts for...over a year now, i think?? it’s entirely self-indulgent and i was very much committed to never posting it ever, but it’s oc day, so. maybe i will leave it up for five minutes before hiding it again gdhjkfg

(for background, the oc is Rachel, who’s Brad’s friend from school and a useless nerd, and one day i’ll actually take the ideas i have for her further, but today she’s just a kid who got her hands on an axe)

In theory, bringing Lloyd on their school’s annual planetarium field trip sounded like a great idea. Brad’s been trying to get Lloyd to hang out with them in a normal setting for forever now, and he knows that, as much as Rachel secretly enjoys waving at Lloyd during life-or-death situations because deep down she’s an adrenaline maniac, he also knows she’s been wanting to have five minutes of peace and normality with him as well.

As for Lloyd, Brad’s pretty sure he doesn’t even know what that is, but there’s always time for a learning curve.

Plus, Lloyd deserves it. As soon as Brad managed to get wind that the only education his friend’s had is Darkley’s — which is a tragedy, honestly — he’d started scheming a way to sneak Lloyd into his school. Only for the fun stuff, of course — he’s not about to subject Lloyd to the horrors of Pre-Cal, or AP Physics.

A field trip, though, is perfect. All the fun parts of school, without the actual busy work or potentially anxiety-inducing memories of school hallways. Sure, the planetarium their school insists on visiting is boring as it gets, but it’s still better than math class. It’s a full hour-long bus ride away, too, which means that by the time the teachers or the ninja catch wind what’s happened, they’ll be home free.

(Well, Brad thinks so. If Lloyd didn’t end up clearing this trip with the ninja and snuck out instead, he’s not sure their school bus is up to outrunning a bunch of dragons. It’d be funny to watch, though.)

The point is, it had been a great idea, until Rachel went and fell asleep in the first five minutes. Which would’ve been fine, except Lloyd took one look at her and decided that he liked the idea of being asleep too, so now Brad’s lost two friends to naps, and he kinda needs them awake, because hour-long bus rides are boring.

He eyes the two where they’re sleeping in disdain. Some friends they are. He contemplates shoving them both off the school seats for a second, and watching them sprawl all over the floor like a pair of idiots, but he decides against it. Lloyd’s packing a little too much power, and he’s seen Rachel when she’s angry. Also, he watched the news report this morning, and he knows the kind of night Lloyd had. Brad’s still trying to figure out how he doesn’t have ugly bruising all up the left side of his face, much less a decent night’s sleep.

Nah, he’ll let them sleep for now. He can read Lloyd’s comics in the meantime, since he doesn’t have school books. Brad can be nice, when he wants to. Not that it’s going to make up for the hour long bus ride on his own, but he can suck it up this once, he supposes.  

If only that had been the worst of his problems today.

*********

“This is a terrible plan.”

“What do you mean?” Brad’s eyebrows furrow. “This was your plan.”

“Well, yeah, okay, fine, but I mean—” Rachel shrinks in her seat, still rubbing sleep from her eyes as she glances around at her classmates on the bus warily. “I didn’t really think it through,” she mutters.

Brad rolls his eyes. “Kai’s not gonna find out, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Oh, it’s not Kai I’m worried about,” Rachel scoffs. “I figured that out. Lloyd was right, Kai’s just a big softie. It’s Nya you gotta worry about.”

Brad scoffs. “Wimp.”

“Fine, you can face her down when she comes at us with all the wrath of god for hijacking Lloyd for the day.”

Lloyd shifts guiltily where he’s crammed in the seat between them, jacket hood pulled over his head, as it that’s gonna hide who he is. “I don’t have to come, guys.”

“Yes, you do,” Brad immediately responds.

“We want you to come,” Rachel says, emphatically.

“You can’t just ditch us, you’re the only exciting part of this dumb field trip,” Brad adds. “Plus, it’s like, way too late to back out now. We’re ten minutes from the planetarium, you should’ve spoken up earlier.”

“You deserve a normal day out,” Rachel steamrolls over Brad. “You’re coming.”

“Okay,” Lloyd says, still unsure as he glances around. He’s starting to wonder how, exactly, he managed to sleep through the better part of this trip. The West Ninjago High school bus is chaos incarnate, the high school students crammed in the seats all chattering loudly and occasionally chucking everything from straws to entire notebooks at each other.

Maybe he should get his reflexes checked, he thinks dully. Then again, it’s not like the school bus is an immediate threat. It’s pretty nice, actually — a lot nicer than the buses they used to have at school the guys taught at, at least.

“We do need to work on your disguise, though,” Rachel mutters, surveying his outfit. Lloyd tugs anxiously on the school jacket Brad lent him, the dark blue fabric scratchy and uncomfortable. Luckily, Brad and Rachel’s school doesn’t require a uniform, so his casual outfit blends in just fine. The jacket’s just a field trip requirement.

Why he’s crashing their field trip, he’s yet to figure out, but they’d made it sound fun, and he hadn’t had anything better to do today, so Lloyd Garmadon’s now Brad’s distant cousin from Metallonia. They haven’t decided on his fake name yet, because Rachel wants to use Luke Skywalker, and while Lloyd isn’t great at going undercover, he’s not that bad.

“Here,” Rachel says, rifling through her backpack. She pulls out a pair of glasses, unfolding them and handing them off to him. “The lenses are fake, don’t worry.”

Lloyd stares at the glasses in his hands. “This is my disguise?”

“Yeah,” Brad nods. “Like Clark Kent.”

“Clark Kent has the most obvious disguise ever.”

“Yeah, but no one ever finds him out.”

“Because it’s the comics. This is my life. Something’s gonna go wrong.”

Rachel doesn’t seem to share his concerns, pushing the glasses toward his face. “Just put them on?”

Lloyd sighs, complying. He slides the glasses on, frowning at the unfamiliar weight. “There,” he grumbles. “How do I look?"

Brad snorts, but he gives him a thumbs up. Rachel turns a weird color and coughs quickly, before saying what Lloyd’s pretty sure is “they’re alright”.

He’ll take it.

“So I’m good to go?” he asks, glancing at the teacher up front anxiously.

Brad and Rachel stare at him. Lloyd isn’t a fan of the looks on their faces.

“Well, you’re gonna have to…talk with your mouth closed a little more,” Brad winces. “The uh, the teeth.”

Lloyd shuts his mouth tightly. Right. His genetics.

“And um…” Rachel bites her lip. “Is there any way you could, like…turn the brightness down?”

Lloyd frowns. “The what?”

“The uh—“ Rachel gestures to her own dark brown eyes. “The eyes.”

Lloyd folds his arms, glaring at them. “This is part-human discrimination.”

“It is not—“

“Yeah, the only part we’d discriminate you for is the lame part—“

“We’re just trying to make sure no one figures out you’re a big ninja celebrity!”

Rachel immediately claps a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide. Lloyd sinks lower into his seat, and Brad cringes.

“Sorry,” Rachel whispers.

Fortunately, no one else seems to have overheard, or they simply just don’t care. Lloyd straightens up a bit, still wary, but he uncrosses his arms.

“Yeah, I get it,” he sighs. He closes his eyes, focuses briefly on the thrumming power that’s always in his veins, then opens them.

Rachel looks guilty, and Brad snorts.

“They’re, um, they’re red now.”

Lloyd bites back a curse. “Darn it.”

By the time they reach the planetarium, Lloyd’s finally got his eyes to stay a color Rachel says could be normal, and Brad says is lame. Lloyd’s eyes are itching, and he’s starting to have seconds thoughts about this, because the kids in the seat across from him are giving him weird looks.

“D’you think they recognize me?” he asks Rachel under his breath, pulling his hood back up over his head.

Rachel looks over, and her lips pinch. “I don’t think so,” she says. She gets a weird look on her face. “I think they just…like you.”

“Like me?” Lloyd frowns. “They don’t even know me. I haven’t even said one word to them.”

Rachel stares at him, the weird look replaced by a blank one. “Lloyd.”

“Yeah?” he blinks.

“Never mind,” Rachel sighs, and Brad snickers. “Hey, we’re here.”

Lloyd’s stomach does a little flip, which is ridiculous, because he’s faced things ten thousand times more terrifying than a field trip.  Maybe it’s the fact that he’s got a miserable track record with disguises, and really just acting in general?

Yeah, that could be it, Lloyd thinks. He never could pull off accents, unless you wanted like, an Oni one, which was useless anyways, because any Oni would probably just kill him for being a blood traitor on the spot, and anyone else who heard it would go running for the hills, or lock him up, or—

“—c’mon, Lloyd, we’re going!”

Lloyd snaps back as Brad shoves at him, forcing him out of the seat and into the aisle. He stumbles in with the other high schoolers crammed in the bus, all fighting to get to the front exit first, and is immediately onset by claustrophobia.

“Move it, people, come on—” Rachel shoulders her way past him, shoving the people in front of them until they’re stumbling forward, gradually thinning up the crowd. “I hate this bus,” she grumbles beneath her breath. “It’s like a mosh pit, but without any of the fun."

“I can start kicking kneecaps in,” Brad offers.

Rachel glances back at him, unimpressed. Lloyd considers it briefly, before quickly schooling his expression into “unimpressed” as well. Brad deflates.

Rachel finally gets them out by sheer value of being taller than most of the other kids, and Lloyd can’t help but be grateful as she tugs him in front of her, letting him escape the bus first. This last about half a second, because he immediately comes face-to-face with their teacher.

“Uh. Hi,” Lloyd says, weakly, as the teacher frowns at him.

“I don’t remember you,” he mutters glancing down at his clipboard, where he’s been checking off students. “Do you sit toward the back?”

“Ah, no, sorry, he’s with us!” Rachel says quickly, coming to his rescue. “He’s a visitor, just checking out the school, y’know?”

The teacher narrows his eyes. “Is that so,” he says, and Lloyd shrinks under his gaze. “And you’re who, now?”

“He’s my cousin,” Brad answers for him. “Luh — Floyd. Floyd…Calrissian?”

Rachel makes a muffled sound of agonized exasperation. Lloyd has to violently stifle the urge to stomp on Brad’s foot.

“Yeah, Floyd,” Brad nods, steamrolling ahead. “He lives out of city, in, um…“

“Ignacia,” Lloyd says, seizing on the name.

“Ignacia, yeah!” Brad snaps his fingers. “You know how it is there, real small town. He’s checking out schools here, so I thought I’d…bring him along…for the day.”

The teacher stares at them all for a beat, then shakes his head, looking uninterested. “You’re supposed to check him in, you know, but we’re already here. Nothing for it now. Keep an eye on him, Tudabone. Miss Lennox, you keep an eye on them both.”

“Yes, sir,” Rachel says, ignoring the face Brad’s making. “Thanks, sir.”

She seizes both their arms, dragging them away before Brad can make any kind of undoubtedly snarky remark. Lloyd’s too relieved to be out of the teacher’s stare to complain about being manhandled — he hadn’t realized how much he didn’t like teachers. Real good to know that he’s scarred for life thanks to Darkley’s, apparently.

“I thought you were gonna be from Metallonia,” Rachel hisses at him as they pass through the sliding doors, interrupting his train of thought.

Lloyd bristles. “I blanked, okay? It was the first thing I could think of on the spot. At least I did better than Brad.” He glares at him. “Lafloyd? That’s my name now?”

“It’s better than whatever you could come up with,” Brad shoots.

“Really?” Rachel turns on Brad. “‘Cause — Floyd Calrissian? Seriously? And you gave me heck for wanting to call him Luke.”

“Whatever, Miss Lennox, snooty teacher’s pet—”

“Oh, just ‘cause I didn’t spray-paint the teacher’s lounge—”

“Hey, here’s a fun idea, why don’t you drop it.” Lloyd glares at them both, immediately silencing them. Rachel makes a face, but her cheeks darken, and Brad glances at the floor. Lloyd watches his sneakers on the linoleum, where bright colored solar systems have been inlaid in fun little patterns.

“Lafloyd is a funny nickname,” Rachel suddenly remarks, quietly.

Lloyd stares at her, hoping it conveys the utter, crushing betrayal. Rachel just grins brightly back at him.

“Lafloyd Calrissian, from Metallnacia,” Brad snickers, and Lloyd feels a headache coming on.

At least it’s not Lloydkins, he tries to convince himself. Floyd is not the most awful option here. It could be worse.

*********

The planetarium is actually pretty cool, more so than Brad was selling it as when he termed it “the most boring school trip conceived”. The domed, dark room is quiet and comfortable, and Lloyd could go for a really long nap in here, if time permitted. But then the ceiling lights up in constellations and the teacher starts introducing some visiting Serpentine professor, and Lloyd figures taking another nap would probably be rude. He’s here to hang out with Brad and Rachel, after all, he can’t sleep through the whole thing.

Plus, astronomy is fun, now that he’s getting to actually learn about it from a nice planetarium seat, as opposed to hurtling through space on a nindroid spaceship in a desperate attempt to stop the Overlord from ending the world.

Not that it’s going to stop him from bragging about it.

“I’ve been on an asteroid,” Lloyd remarks under his breathe, as the professor starts detailing the orbital paths of comets. “It’s not as cool as it sounds.”

Rachel chokes where she’s sitting beside him, coughing out what might be a laugh. Brad stares at him, before casting his eyes to the ceiling digging his hands in his hair. “Of course you have,” he mutters. “Why not. Been to six different realms, what’s one asteroid?”

“You’ve been to other realms?!” Rachel hisses, looking equal parts flabbergasted and wildly interested. “Which ones? What were they like? Did you make it to that one that’s supposed to have fire-breathing dogs?”

“Shh!”

All three of them shrink in their seats as the teacher hushes them. Lloyd swaps looks with Brad, who’s already smirking at the familiarity.

Lloyd grins back, a bubble of happiness rising in his chest. His recently-rebuilt friendship with Brad has been slow-going at best — mostly because of how busy Lloyd’s schedule always is — and he’s been quietly fearing that the bridge their friendship was built on might’ve been a little too burned to build back. That there’s too much distance between them now, with how different their lives are.

It’s nice to proven wrong, he thinks. In fact, this entire field trip thing was a good idea, in hindsight. He’s having a pretty good—

The back door slams open with an almighty crash, and several shrieks ring out as a frazzled, deranged-looking man in a stained lab coat stands highlighted in the doorway, one accusing finger pointed toward the Serpentine lecturer.

“And you thought you could escape me, you halfwit snake.”

—oh for crying out loud.

“You,” the lecturer says, his face paling as he takes a noticeable step back. “You’re supposed to be in prison.”

“It didn’t agree with me,” the man cackles, his expression manic under the spiraling lights of the solar system. Brad and Rachel’s classmates are rooted to their seats, watching the scene unfold with wide eyes like some terrible soap opera. Their teacher’s kind of just gaping at the entire thing, like he can’t believe this is happening. Lloyd can completely sympathize.

“Should we call the police?” Brad whispers uncertainly, his eyes wide.

“No way, the police are useless,” Rachel hisses back. “Lloyd, use your zappy power-thing.”

The crazy guy continues before Lloyd can form a response. “So you’ve regressed to teaching now, have you? How the mighty have fallen.” A leer drags up the corners of his mouth, and Lloyd’s hair stands on end. Nope, he doesn’t like that—

“Luckily for you, I perfected the serum even without your help,” the guy continues, and the lecturer makes a strangled sound of horror as he pulls out a syringe. “Or unluckily for you, I should say."

The deranged man then grins, looking entirely too unhinged, and Lloyd’s stomach drops. He’s on his feet before his brain can catch up, ignoring Brad and Rachel’s yelps of alarm as instinct wired into his limbs drives him towards the guy before he can do anything, because Lloyd knows that look and he’s definitely going to do something—

“This is the turning point, old friend,” Crazy Guy hisses. “Now, no one will ignore me, ever again!”

He raises his hand, the syringe glinting in the dim lights of the planetarium. Lloyd puts on a burst of speed, mere yards from the guy, if he can just—

“Lloyd, wait!”

The man slams the needle into his arm, injecting the vivid purple right into his bloodstream. Lloyd reaches him just as the last of the liquid’s draining, launching himself from the top of one of the seats as a student screams, and kicks the syringe into an arching spiral away from his arm.

Oh, mistake. Big mistake. The guys gives a loud shriek, and the slight change in air pressure is all the warning Lloyd gets.

He whips back around to the students, eyes wide as he screams a warning. “Get down—!”

There’s a spectacular purple flash, and Lloyd goes flying, hurtling backward and smashing through an entire row of seats. This wouldn’t be so bad, except then his head cracks against something entirely too solid, and Lloyd’s vision goes out in bright, incredibly painful fireworks.

On second thought, this was a bad idea, is his last conscious thought, before the fireworks go dark.

*********

Lloyd jolts back into awareness to a throbbing pain in his head, and a feeling similar to someone trying to tear his arms off. He moans, blinking hazily as sound filters back in with consciousness, the unfortunately familiar sound of panicked screaming and destruction filling his ears.

That’s a bad sign, he thinks dizzily.

“Oh, thank FSM — he’s waking up! Lloyd, Lloyd, can you hear me?”

Brad finishes this last statement by yelling it in his face, and Lloyd flinches back, his head pounding.

“Stop that, you’re hurting him!”

He registers that as Rachel’s voice, coming from near his left side. He cracks his eyes back open, trying to get his bearings, and realizes that he’s being dragged forward. The pressure on his arms must be Rachel and Brad’s grip where they’ve got them slung over their own shoulders, they’re hauling him away from — from what?

“The crazy scientist guy lost it,” Rachel explains, her breath coming in sharp pants. “I think he’s got some big grudge against the lecturer, or something? Like, really intense drama—”

“That’s not the point!” Brad hisses. “He just turned himself into a freaky lizard monster, how are you not focusing on that?”

“Details are important!” Rachel snaps back, flinching as something explodes from behind them.

Lloyd blinks again, trying to get his dazed brain to work with him again. His first thought is, I didn’t know I was Spider-Man.

His second thought is that he needs to get with the program, now.

“Where’d’e go,” Lloyd slurs out as he yanks his arms from their hold, stumbling briefly before he finds his balance. He wavers as a searing pain slices through his head, and he grits his teeth, pressing a hand to his temple as he takes quick inventory. Other than his head, everything else seems to be in working order, he finds with relief.

Which is a really good thing, because it sounds like mutated science guy is about to try and start snacking on high school students like popcorn shrimp.

“He’s still back in the show room, but — Lloyd, you need to sit down,” Rachel says, her hands flitting toward his head anxiously.

“Yeah, you hit your head bad,” Brad echoes, his eyes wide. “I mean, the crack was epic, but you were passed out for like, ten minutes or so, which is bad.”

“M’fine,” Lloyd waves them off, blinking in an attempt to get the room to stop spinning. “Everything’s gonna be fine. Here,” he shoves his phone into Brad’s hand. “Call the guys if I’m not back in fifteen, okay?”

Brad and Rachel stare at him like he’s lost his mind, their eyes wide and faces pale. Which is rude, they could at least try and have some confidence.

“Lloyd—”

“I got this,” he says, and gives them a thumbs-up. Or he’s pretty sure he does, his vision is still doing that weird wobbling thing again. “I do this like, every day, guys. Just get somewhere safe, okay?”

Before either of them can protest, Lloyd takes off sprinting back to the show room, where the worst of the roaring is coming from. He grinds his teeth as another chorus of screams ring out, green light already flashing at his fingertips.

No luck. He’s got no luck at all.

*********

“We’re so dead.”

Rachel doesn’t even respond. She’s just standing there, rooted to the floor while their classmates run screaming past them for the doors, her fists clenched.

“His team’s totally gonna kill us,” Brad continues, trying to stifle mounting panic. “Kai’s gonna roast me alive. We’re gonna die.”

Rachel still doesn’t answer, staring after where Lloyd disappeared, her jaw working.

Brad shakes his head, flinching as another roar echoes from the back. “Let’s go.” They should probably at least honor Lloyd’s final wishes, he thinks, dizzily.

Rachel shakes her head. Brad’s stomach begins to sink.

“Rae, come on,” he implores. “We gotta go, Lloyd said—”

“No,” Rachel cuts over him, and Brad’s stomach finishes sinking right to his shoes. There’s something dangerously stubborn in her eyes. “We can’t just abandon him,” she continues. “Friends don’t leave other friends to fight crazy mutant lizard monsters on their own.”

Brad gapes at her. “Uh, yeah they do, if one friend is a super-powered ninja, and the other two are just average joes!”

Rachel whirls on him, and his sputtering dies in face of her glare. “Brad, it’s just Lloyd, all on his own! And he’s already concussed, he needs our help!”

“What help?” Brad throws his arms out, helplessly. “What are we even supposed to do?! We don’t! Have! Powers!”

A high-pitched explosion echoes from the back, as if to emphasize his point.

“Didn’t you go to a school for evil masterminds?” Rachel snaps back, and Brad flinches. “Use your brain, come up with something!”

Brad sputters at her, but she’s darting off before he can reply, fiddling with something on the wall. Brad fists his hands in his hair in frustration, trying to formulate an explanation that while he did, of course, go to a school for evil kids, he never actually got to the part where they taught him how to fight, much less defeat giant mutated lizards, and he has no idea what to do about it. If they were going to be of any help to Lloyd, they needed to make sure they weren’t giant liabilities, first off, and then they’d have to find out what the scientist had actually done to himself, and if there was a way to reverse it.

“And we’re gonna have to — holy FSM, is that an axe?”

“Yup,” Rachel says, testing the weight and swinging it briefly. “It is.”

“Where did you get an axe?!”

“From the glass box for fires and emergencies, duh.” She swings it again for emphasis, then nods in satisfaction. Brad jumps a foot back.

“Don’t you want to be a doctor?” he yelps. “What happened to ‘do no harm’?”

“That thing is trying to eat Lloyd,” she snaps. “So yeah, I’m gonna do some harm. Are you coming or not?”

Another explosion goes off from the halls inside the planetarium, and two of the kids on the basketball team run by screaming. Rachel blows her breath out, sets her jaw, hoists the axe and takes off after the high-pitched sound of Lloyd’s powers.

Brad looks at the exit, then back at the hallway of doom. He brings his foot down hard, and groans. “I — you — gah, we’re so gonna die.”

He grabs the fire extinguisher and heads after his friends.

*********

On the bright side of things, Lloyd’s managed to get all the high schoolers and their dumbstruck teacher out of the show room, and hopefully they’re now running to safety. He got the poor lecturer out too, even if it was a ridiculously close call and he’s gonna look like a rabid lizard attacked his right shoulder the next two weeks. Now the only ones duking it out in the room are Lloyd and Mr. Crazy Lizard Guy, so the chances of collateral have gone down, at least.

On the significantly less bright side, Lloyd might actually be losing this fight. He’s not sure, because the room’s pretty dark and the only real light is from some distant solar system the ceiling’s still whirling them through — which is really not helping with his headache, or spinning vision — but the fact that Lloyd, trained ninja that he is, hasn’t already obliterated this desk-job half-insane scientist is a bad sign.

As it turns out, fighting half-concussed just isn’t Lloyd’s strongest point. Which is dumb, because you’d think that by now, he’d at least be used to it.

“Infuriating child, why won’t you die—!”

Lloyd yelps, twisting aside as the mutated lizard-guy takes another swipe at him, razor-sharp claws whistling through the air where his head just was. Lloyd powers up a burst of green to retaliate, only to look back up and find that there are now three lizard monsters swimming in his vision, warping and swaying like snakes.

He shakes his head, desperately trying to re-focus, but it’s a fatal hesitation. The next swipe lands solidly against his side, and Lloyd cries out in alarm as he’s sent flying again, slamming into the auditorium seats before tumbling to the floor.

“Ow,” he coughs into the carpet, propping himself up with his arms and trying not to throw up. He’s going to feel this tomorrow — and look it too, probably. Man, the others are gonna kill him—

Scaled claws suddenly slam into the floor next to him, and Lloyd yelps, flinching back and craning his head upwards.

“Next time, know your place,” Crazy Guy hisses through jagged teeth, eyes flashing in deadly intent. Lloyd’s brain slams into panicked instinct, and he grasps at his powers, preparing to blast the entire room—

Thwack.

Lloyd stares with dinner-plate-sized eyes as Rachel appears from nowhere, swinging an axe straight into the mutated man’s raised arm with a wild shriek and a startling amount of force.

“Go to hell, you maniac—!”

Her next hit finds a shoulder, and before Lloyd can blink the guy’s scaly right arm is gashed open, his mouth open in an agonized howl as he staggers back. Rachel’s eyes are wild as she gasps heavily, brandishing the axe like a baseball player gearing up to swing. Lloyd manages to gape for a good three seconds before someone’s hands are pulling him to his feet, dragging him back.

“Move, move you moron!” Brad’s yelling, as he slings Lloyd’s arm around his shoulder and retreats. It takes Lloyd another second to realize he’s not yelling at him.

Rachel is still staring at the monster, her face pale and axe held aloft, frozen by shock. Or terror, either one’s fair game.

Lloyd snaps himself out of it, shrugging off Brad as the world swims again. He darts forward, grabs Rachel by the hand and pulls. He snags Brad as they go, hauling tail away from the still-howling scientist and throwing them behind the control podium at the back of the room, just barely sliding in behind them and out of lizard guy’s sight.

“We’re gonna die,” Brad gasps, his dark hair a frazzled mess. “It’s been real nice knowing you guys, we had a good run—”

“We are not gonna die,” Lloyd hisses, blinking black dots from his vision, That’s probably a bad sign. He shakes his head, fixing them both with a glare. “What are you guys doing?! I told you to get somewhere safe!”

“What, and let you die?” Rachel whispers back hotly, her hands still shaking around the axe she’s clutching, an odd green liquid dripping from the blade that Lloyd doesn’t wanna think about right now. “You were getting trashed out there!”

“No I wasn’t!” Lloyd defends. “I was just—”

“You think you can stop me?!” Crazy Guy’s voice roars across the room, and Lloyd pulls Brad and Rachel closer to him, ducking down lower. “Insignificant children, you’ll be the first to fall to my reign!”

“Wow, he’s really gone off the deep end,” Brad mutters, as if that, of all things, has jolted him from his ‘we’re gonna die’ mindset.

“I told you, huge grudge,” Rachel murmurs back.

Lloyd briefly wonders just how, exactly, he managed to end up with two utterly insane people as friends, then remembers who he is.

“Okay,” he breathes, pressing a hand to his throbbing head again and squeezing his eyes shut. “Plan. Need a plan. Um.”

“We got one,” Brad offers, exchanging looks with Rachel. “Uh, sort of.”

Lloyd looks between the two of them, trying to ignore how they suddenly blur into four of them.

Rachel makes a face. “Brad’s going to hack the light system and we’re going to get really, really annoying.”

Lloyd stares at them. “Absolutely not.”

Brad and Rachel glare back stubbornly, the planetarium lights dancing over their faces, their expressions set in shaky determination as the lizard guy continues to tear the room apart, searching for them. Lloyd’s hit by another vicious wave of anxiety. Brad and Rachel aren’t his team. They’re just — they’re just people, his friends, maybe, but civilians, he can’t ask them to—

“It’ll be fine,” Rachel assures him, the effect somewhat ruined by the manic way she’s clutching her axe. “I’ll be your eyes, so you’ll actually know where to shoot.”

“You can throw that axe at him, too,” Brad mutters, eyeing it warily.

Lloyd shakes his head. “No. No way, it’s too dangerous. You guys are gonna run, and I’m going to take care of him myself, because it’s my job.”

Brad and Rachel have those glares on again. “Sorry, Lloyd,” Brad says, with a burst of confidence Lloyd really wishes didn’t exist. “This isn’t Darkley’s. Friends don’t bail on each other. Also, you’re obviously gonna die if we don’t help out. No offense.”

Lloyd puffs his cheeks up with air, then slowly blows his breath out. This is an awful idea.

But he’s to the point where he’d admit that he’s concussed to Nya, and that means he needs all the help he can get.

“Okay,” he sighs, heavily. “Okay, but one rule — you are all staying far behind me.”

*********

Rachel breaks the rule in the first five seconds, but it’s only to stop Lloyd’s skull from getting banged up any further, so he’ll let it slide for the time being.

Also, he’s too busy trying to listen to her harried shouts over Crazy Guy’s enraged screaming to be mad at her now.

“Five — no, six o’clock!” she shrieks at him, tugging on his shoulder to move them out of the way. “Six o’clock, ten feet!”

Screwing his eyes shut against the dizzying lights, Lloyd hurls a streaking ball of energy where Rachel’s told him, and is rewarded with a screeching cry of pain.

“Nice!” Lloyd winces as Rachel yells directly in his ear. “Sorry, sorry — you hit him dead on!”

“Please tell me he’s down.”

“Uh, I think he might — oh, nope, he’s getting back up, but he looks a little dizz—yyyy duck, duck!”

Lloyd grabs for Rachel’s hand and pulls her down with him, sending them both sprawling across the floor as a something large whistles overhead.

“He’s tearing up the seats and throwing them at us,” Rachel pants, sounding indignant. She’s got a death grip on his hand, which might hurt if she wasn’t shaking like she’d shotgunned energy drinks.

Lloyd gets it, even if his adrenaline high of terror is more because he still can’t see straight.

He can see enough to tell that the lights of the planetarium are still going berserk above them, flashing from panel to panel and lighting up the dark room in a dizzying kaleidoscope of changing skies. It’d be super cool if it wasn’t one) really disorienting, and two) taking place while a mutated monster of doom tries to murder high schoolers.

“Guys, get up!” Brad’s scream echoes from the control podium, where he’s spinning them through Ninjago’s nearest satellites now. Lloyd feels the floor vibrating a second before the lizard monster comes barreling toward them, screeching in fury. Rachel sucks in a sharp breath of horror, and Lloyd’s stomach drops as he runs into another row of chairs. Reacting half on instinct, he grasps Rachel by the arm, pulls her close, and gasps out a ‘hold on’ — then, briefly siphoning the green power — tosses her straight up in the air, soaring inches from the ceiling.

Lloyd barely registers Brad swearing in shock as Rachel screams, but he’s too busy counting the seconds as the lizard monster charges him.

One, two—

Lloyd sidesteps, wind whistling past him as he narrowly avoids being pummeled again—

Three, four—

Lloyd sends two screeching bursts of energy into the monster’s back, a howl of pain missing with a sizzling sound as he goes flying across the room—

Five—

Lloyd skids back into place, and throws his arms out just in time to catch Rachel as she comes screaming back down.

“Sorry,” he pants, carefully setting her on her feet. She’s rattling in place like a wind-up toy now, but Lloyd can just see her giving him a shaky thumbs-up through his spinning vision.

“L-little more warning, next time,” she gasps, sounding winded. “Would be nice.”

Lloyd feels a flash of guilt bubble up, followed by a helpless burst of frustration. She shouldn’t be anywhere remotely near this kind of situation, neither her or Brad — they’re his normal friends, he’s supposed to go on dumb boring field trips with them, not blow up half a planetarium in a fight for their lives.

Rachel suddenly goes rigid, then grabs his shoulders and pulls him back. “He’s up!” she yelps. “He’s coming, he’s rushing us—”

Lloyd can see that, through the dizzying lights of the nearest solar system. “Get behind me!” he orders, just in time to get sent flying by a torn-up chair the guy’s chucked at them.

A litany of curses streams through his brain as both him and Rachel cry out, and Lloyd barely has the sense of mind to wrap himself around her before they slam back into the floor, rolling several feet before Lloyd’s head slams right against the stairs with another solid crack.

So many aspirin, he thinks faintly, as the world pulses in and out in dizzying flashes of white. Gonna need so many aspirin tonight.

“—et up, Lloyd, come on—”

That’s Rachel’s voice, a vaguely functioning part of his brain notes. She sounds upset, all scared and worried, which is…that’s bad, right? Lloyd’s not sure, there are like, five of her all up in his face right now—

A roar sounds closely behind her, and Rachel’s expressions spasms in panic. Lloyd’s vision finally solidifies just in time fore her to throw herself over him, and panic screeches everything back into awareness, but it’s too late because the lizard monster’s right on top of them—

Another solid crack rings out across the room, but this time it’s not Lloyd’s head. Crazy Guy howls in pain as he staggers back, clutching his head where the fire extinguisher struck his temple. Lloyd stares blankly as Rachel shakily lifts her head, before Brad’s suddenly in front of them, grabbing them both by the arms and struggling to haul them up.

“Get up!” he yells, dark eyes wide but glinting in determination. “Don’t just lay there, you’re the green ninja, come on!”

“Shu’up,” Lloyd slurs, but Brad’s words are enough to cut through the hazy film inside his head. He staggers to his feet, highly conscious of Brad and Rachel supporting both arms. This is beyond humiliating, what kind of—

“Children.” The guttural hiss has all three of them freezing in place, hair standing on end as lizard-like eyes pin them in place, glinting yellow in the flashing lights. “All of you, infuriating bugs to be crushed beneath my feet. Your deaths will be the first in my new reign—”

Irritating monologuing aside, Lloyd can’t help but be grateful for the way the guy pauses to detail their deaths, because it gives him a split, beautiful second of clarity to finally send a concussive blast of green hurtling dead on. There’s a high-pitched shriek as it sends him flying, hurtling across the room and smashing into the bottom edge of the planetarium screen with a blinding burst of sparks.

“Now that’s more like it!” Brad crows, watching as the lizard guy flops to the floor. “That’s what you get for messing with us, you ugly—”

The lizard guy pushes himself to his feet, briefly swaying dizzily before turning furious, burning eyes on them.

Brad swallows. “Did I say ugly? Actually—”

Lloyd’s already gearing up for another round, green sparks lighting on his fingers as Rachel brings her axe up again — when an ominous cracking sounds from above them. Lloyd glances up, the frantic flashing of the cracking planetarium screen nearly blinding him, and his eyes go wide.

“Get down!” he cries, pulling Brad and Rachel and diving beneath the control podium. And not a moment too soon, because in the next second the entire planetarium screen comes crashing down with an exploding screech, large chunks of mangled ceiling smashing down on the guy, pinning him firmly in place.

Lloyd, firmly crushed between Brad and Rachel, but otherwise spared any further head trauma by the solid control panel sheltering them, gives a shuddering exhale of relief.

“Well,” Rachel finally says, with a shaky laugh. “You probably won’t have to worry about boring field trips here anymore, Brad.”

Brad makes a pained, weary sound of exhaustion, and simply buries his face in Lloyd’s shoulder.

*********

Lloyd’s used to the after-battle adrenaline crash, for the most part. Brad and Rachel, as it turns out, are not. Five minutes after the paramedics have stopped fussing over them, leaving all three wrapped in the ugliest orange shock blankets Lloyd’s ever seen, there’s a sudden weight on both of his shoulders. Lloyd blinks, his head swiveling to where Brad and Rachel are snoring on either side of him, then sighs, staring upwards. At least they’re warm, he tells himself, even though it’s starting to get hot under the shock blanket.

Despite the screaming sirens all around him and the frantic voices of the students, Lloyd’s almost tempted to drift off himself. With the loss of adrenaline, his head’s really starting to hurt by now, and the flashing lights of the ambulance aren’t helping his headache in the slightest. He’s just deciding that dozing off with his friends is a good idea, when a familiar sigh has him yanking his eyes open.

Lloyd immediately wants to close them again. Kai and Nya are standing in front of him, arms crossed in identical expressions of disappointment, though it’s tinged mild amusement.

“Hi,” he croaks. He glances between Brad and Rachel, still snoring peacefully against his shoulders. Traitors. “Um. You got my text, then?”

Nya gives him a careful, judging look. “A month. You’re grounded for a month, at least.”

“Oh, come on,” Lloyd moans. “I was living my teenage years. Having a normal day.”

Kai snorts loudly, glancing back at the smoke still rising from the planetarium. “Totally normal teenage stuff, huh.”

Lloyd drops his head back, squeezing his eyes shut. “S’not fair,” he moans. “It’s not my fault trouble’s always following me.”

Nya’s expression eases up, and she shakes her head, uncrossing her arms. “Hey, we’ll have a normal evening back at home, okay?” She eyes Brad and Rachel, her lips quirking in amusement. “You can have a sleepover with your friends, or something. I’ll braid your hair.”

While the idea of anyone going remotely near his head sounds awful right now, Lloyd can’t help but smile back.

“Sounds like a plan,” he yawns. Anything to get them out of this parking lot. At least he knows what he’s missing out on with school, now.

Really, he doesn’t get the hype.

[theres-an-impulstor-among-us]

Brain spiked, and I have an idea. An idea for a sequel to the Powerful Soul fic. Oh boy here we go :)

Pungence decides to tell someone about his.. experience. Most likely Bdubs. They, obviously, don’t believe him. The next round, he notices Zedaph eyeing Bdubs and Beans. He takes it upon himself to save them from whatever Zed is planning by protecting him all game. Long story short, he fails. Miserably. Bdubs and Beans join the traumatized club. :D

*vibrates with excitement* MORE HACKER ZED YESSSSS

(also this got way deeper than I thought it would lol)

If you haven’t read the first part, go do that now!

…

  It’s been several rounds since the… incident, and Pungence still can’t look at Zedaph without feeling a chill run down his spine. He can still vividly recall the agony of having Zedaph rip through his code like it’s made of paper, the terrifyingly calm look on Zedaph’s face, the way his eyes bored into Pungence’s soul. Every time he sees Zedaph now, he quickly has to make sure he doesn’t end up alone with him. He doesn’t know if Zedaph remembers the experience as well as Pungence does but he certainly doesn’t want to risk anything.

  Finally, Pungence can’t take it anymore. 

  Before the next round starts, as everyone is chatting in the lobby, Pungence grabs Bdubs’s hand and pulls him away from the others. 

  “Pungey, what are you doing?” Bdubs asks confusedly. “Are you okay?”

  “No, I’m going crazy!” Pungence whispers back. “Do you remember a round a while ago that just ended abruptly without you voting anyone off?”

  Bdubs frowns, thinking hard. “Um… which round?”

  “If you have to ask, then you don’t remember.” Pungence sighs. “Look, I know this is gonna sound weird, but that Zedaph guy is… he’s… magical.”

  Bdubs stares at his brother. “Magical?”

  “I don’t know how else to describe it. Listen, I was imposter a few rounds ago and I killed him in navigation. Next thing I know, he’s confronting me as a ghost in medbay and he… he…” Pungence hesitates, unsure of how to describe his experience. “He tried to possess me. I don’t know what he did exactly but it… it was absolute agony. Dude, he stuck his hand through my chest and I felt like I was gonna die, that’s how bad it was. He managed to stop me from getting teleported to the meeting and when he somehow killed me, the whole round ended immediately and I-.”

  “Okay, whoa, whoa, whoa.” Bdubs places his hands on Pungence’s shoulders, stopping him from speaking. “Take a breath, Pungey. Are you sure that wasn’t a nightmare of some kind? Cuz I don’t remember any of that.”

  “That’s something else I’m really worried about,” admits Pungence. “The fact that nobody except me seems to remember it. I don’t even know if Zedaph himself remembers.”

  “Have you asked him?” Bdubs asks.

  Pungence shoots his brother an unamused look. “Yeah, I went up to him and said, “Hey, do you remember being a ghost and thoroughly traumatising then viciously murdering me after I killed you as imposter in a round that may or may not have existed or am I just going crazy?” He confessed immediately.” 

  Bdubs rolls his eyes. “Sarcasm duly noted. Now are you REALLY sure it wasn’t a weird nightmare?”

  “Do you think I’m lying?” Pungence demands.

  “No, I don’t think you’re lying. Just… mistaken, maybe. Mistaking a dream for reality.” 

  “I’m not-!”

  “Guys, we’re getting ready to start,” Grian calls just then. 

  “Coming,” Bdubs calls back, before turning back to his brother. “Look, don’t worry about it. If it WAS real, nothing’s happened since then, right?”

  “Only because Zedaph hasn’t been murdered first since that round,” Pungence insists. “Seriously, please, listen to me. If you get imposter, DO NOT kill Zedaph, especially not first. It’s not worth it, man.”

  Bdubs just brushes his brother off. “Don’t worry so much. Everything that happens in this game is for fun, remember?”

  Pungence mutters to himself as the game starts. “Uh huh, yeah, a fun game about murder. All fun. So much fun.”

  Half to his relief, Pungence is assigned to be crewmate this round. He glances over at Bdubs, then Zedaph, but there seems to be nothing unusual about them. 

  He decides to do his tasks as quickly as possible so he can keep an eye on his brother for the rest of the game. 

  Meanwhile, Zedaph decides to do his scan first, so he heads straight for medbay. He finds Grian already in there, depositing the sample.

  As Zedaph hops onto the scanner, he spots Bdubs and Beans coming into the room. The door slides shut behind them, and Zedaph immediately knows what’s about to happen. 

  Sure enough, Bdubs swiftly kills Grian right at the sample station, a split second before Beans shoots Zedaph off the scanner. 

  Fighting through disorientation and nausea, Zedaph immediately shoots up as a ghost and catches the doors as they slide open, pushing them closed again without touching them. 

  Bdubs and Beans, who were just about to leave, turn and stare at Zedaph in surprise. “Wait, how are you doing that?” Beans gasps. 

  Bdubs wordlessly dashes for the vent but Zedaph waves his hand towards it and it locks. Spooked, Bdubs backs up to join Beans by the wall opposite the sample station.

  “How are you doing all this?” Beans demands. “You’re dead.”

  “And you two are the imposters,” replies Zedaph calmly, before glancing at Grian, who is standing frozen by the sample dispenser, eyes fixed on him. “Grian, go do your tasks. I’ll handle this.” 

  After a moment, Grian nods and disappears through the wall. 

  “Handle what?” snaps Bdubs. “What are you gonna do?”

  “What I always do when I die first: experimentation.”

  Bdubs’s eyes widen and he presses himself against the wall, as if trying to phase backwards through it like Grian did. “P-Pungence was right! You DID do something weird to him a few rounds ago!”

  “Oh, he remembers that?” Zedaph frowns. “That’s not meant to happen.”

  “What?!” yelps Beans. “You’ve done this before?”

  “I’m still figuring out my abilities. Being killed first gives me enough time to do some experiments. I’ve never done it on two imposters at once before, but hey, this should be interesting.”

  He reaches towards Beans and Bdubs, who are suddenly gripped by an invisible force. They struggle in a panic, Bdubs more so because he remembers Pungence’s description of what he went through last time. 

  Suddenly, the doors creak open a crack and a figure appears, managing to tumble through the door before it closes behind him. He scrambles to his feet and rushes towards Zedaph. “Stop! Stop it!”

  Zedaph holds out his hand and grips Pungence in the same invisible force. “You remember what I did to you a few rounds ago?”

  “Y-Yes, and I don’t want you to do it again! I’m sorry you got killed but I don’t want you to put my brother and Beans through what you did to me.” Pungence gazes at Zedaph with pleading eyes. “Please, Zedaph. You don’t have to do it. There’s no reason for it.” 

  “Pungence, these two are imposters,” Zedaph says, confused as to why the crewmate is getting in his way. “They killed me.”

  “It’s just a game, though! They’re not actually hurting anyone! But you, you’re… You really hurt me. And you’re about to really hurt them too.”

  Zedaph stares at him with a mixed expression for a few seconds, before glancing back at Bdubs and Beans, who are clearly still terrified. 

  “You’re right,” he says slowly. “It’s just a game. I shouldn’t be hurting people.”

  Pungence dares to breathe a quiet sigh of relief. “Yes.”

  “Then all I have to do is make sure I don’t hurt them.”

  “Wh-Wha-?”

  Zedaph drops Pungence on the ground and reaches back towards the two imposters, phasing his left hand through Beans’s forehead and his right through Bdubs’s. 

  Both of them scream, causing Pungence to flinch. 

  “Okay, this doesn’t seem to be working,” says Zedaph, retracting his hands. He frowns in thought. “It seems I need more practise with these weird ghostly abilities. Next time, I think I’ll try to possess an imposter and see what happens.”

  “Next time?!” Pungence yelps. “No, there can’t BE a next time! Zedaph, you’re hurting people! You need to stop and just let us play the game!”

  “I don’t WANT to hurt people!” Zedaph’s composure falls away for the first time. “I’m not trying to hurt anyone! All I want is to understand. When you were imposter, I felt overwhelming rage and hatred in you. But if this is just a game, why were you feeling such a strong desire to kill?”

  Pungence hesitates. “I… I don’t know…”

  “Exactly. There seems to be more to this “game” than meets the eye, and since I seem to be the only one who is able to access the code, it’s up to me to work it out.” Zedaph glances from Pungence to the two imposters, then back to Pungence. “I’m sorry for hurting you. I’ll make it so that you won’t remember this experience next round.” 

  Before anyone can respond, the room is engulfed in a white light, enveloping everyone inside. 

…

  “Pungey? Hey, wake up. Snap out of it.”

  Pungence opens his eyes to find Bdubs and Beans standing in front of him, the metallic interior of the lobby visible behind them. “Hey. You alright?”

  “I think so.” Pungence frowns. “What just happened?”

  “Dunno,” says Beans. “Grian thinks the game glitched or something; it just kicked us back out to the lobby. He’s having a look at the settings to see if something’s wrong before we go back in.”

  Pungence pauses, glancing around the room. He can’t remember anything from last round, except an uneasy feeling deep in the pit of his stomach. 

  “Were either of you the imposter that round?” he asks.

  Bdubs shakes his head. “Don’t think so. Honestly, I don’t remember.” 

  “Me neither,” Beans says.

  Pungence’s eyes land on Zedaph and their gazes meet momentarily. The uneasiness in Pungence’s stomach grows. 

  “Does something seem wrong to you?” 

  Bdubs glances at his brother with a concerned frown. “No. Why? Hey, are you sure you’re alright? You’ve gone pale.” 

  He follows Pungence’s gaze and blinks at the sight of Zedaph standing across the lobby with Tango, Impulse, and Skizzleman. His eyes flicker to Beans, then back again. Now, he too can feel the discomfort between them, a palpable tension that can’t quite be explained. As if the four of them have shared a harrowing experience that they can’t quite remember. 

  Across the lobby, Zedaph can sense that Pungence, Bdubs, and Beans are agitated at the sight of him. He glances away after a moment, trying to concentrate on the conversation the rest of Team ZITS are having next to him. But he can’t. Something keeps drawing him back to the fact that no matter how hard he tries, he doesn’t seem to be able to completely erase the experimentation experience from his victims’ minds. He doesn’t like hurting people, physically or mentally. It’s troubling to him that he can seemingly not control certain aspects of his powers.

  But he can’t stop the experiments now, no matter how much worse things get. 

  Not if he wants to figure out the true secret buried deep in the game that calls itself Among Us.

[onecanonlife]

careful son (you got dreamer's plans)

Wilbur gasps back to life with mud between his fingers and rain in his eyes.

Wilbur was dead. Now, he is not. He can't say that he's particularly happy about it.

Unfortunately, the server is still as tumultuous as ever, even with Dream locked away,  so it seems that his involvement in things isn't a matter of if, but when.

(Alternatively: the prodigal son returns, and a broken family finally begins to heal.  If, that is, the egg doesn't get them all killed first.)

Chapter Word Count: 5,895

Chapter Warnings: swearing, violence, blood, choking, attempted murder, manipulation, and references to past abuse

Chapter Summary: Wilbur and Tommy speak to Dream. It doesn’t go fantastically (though Wilbur does beat him up, so there’s that).

(masterlist w/ ao3 links)

(first chapter) (previous chapter) (next chapter)

Chapter Six: hide your soul out of his reach (ii)

Most people never think to guess that he is Technoblade’s brother.

There is a reason for that, of course; they are both adopted, for one thing, and they look nothing alike, which is why he used to like to say that they were twins. It was always funny, to watch Techno roll his eyes and get all exasperated and try once again to explain to him that that’s not how twins work, Wilbur, and it would always make him feel warm inside, because no matter his irritation, Techno never quite got around to saying that they’re not.

But whether by blood or no, he is Technoblade’s brother, and he has something of the Blade in him, something of his simmering rage, something of his inclination toward violence, the urge for blood howling in his soul, screaming at him to protect what is his.

And so.

“Hi, Tommy,” Dream says. “It’s good to see you,” and Wilbur is moving without having given himself permission to do so, a wordless snarl curling in the back of his throat. For a moment, he forgets where he is, forgets what he’s here for, forgets who he has at his side. His attention is focused on one thing and one thing only, and he launches himself forward, and the sudden sting in his knuckles as they impact porcelain is nothing in the face of the grunt that Dream lets out, surprised and pained. A crack rings through the room, and he withdraws his hand to see a new break in Dream’s mask, a new fracture, and nothing is so satisfying as the knowledge that he put it there.

Dream is staggering back, seeking to regain his balance. Wilbur regards him for a moment, his head strangely clear, and then decides not to let him.

They go down in a heap, Dream’s head bouncing off the hard obsidian floor with a gratifying thunk. Wilbur lands squarely on top of him, and his fist flies once, twice, three times. Into his mask, over and over, and the cracks widen, and the mask is breaking, and he wants to see it shattered, wants to see it come to pieces—

There is someone saying something, someone shouting. He’s not paying attention. They can wait.

Because then, Dream starts to laugh.

And the thing about it is, it doesn’t sound like what Wilbur knows his laugh is, that wheezing tea kettle noise that everyone always made fun of him for.

(gentle teasing, back in the old days, back when they were all friends, when this server was a safe place, a good community, back before it all went wrong, and perhaps he should wonder what happened to make that Dream into the monster that he is now, but he hurt Tommy and he doesn’t care)

Instead, it’s quiet and low and steady, and there is a smugness to it, a superiority even under the breathlessness, as if this is where he wants to be, as if everything is going according to plan, some plan of his, going right even though Wilbur is sitting on his chest and doing his level best to beat his face in, and—

How dare he have the nerve

(how dare he have the nerve)

to laugh

(to laugh when he’s just destroyed everything around him)

after all that he’s done

(and leveled the very thing that he fought so hard to reclaim but if he cannot have it nobody can and he laughs for the joy of it, the terrible, terrible joy)

to everyone, to the server, to Tommy?

He made a list, when he woke up. He made a list. And he’s accomplished the first goal. He’s found Tommy. And his mind is separating, splitting in half, and one half has control of his body and one is watching from the outside, and the one with his body takes his hands and puts them to Dream’s throat. He can feel his pulse, rabbit-quick. His skin is warm to the touch.

He presses down, and Dream stops laughing.

The half of him that is watching begins to scream with a voice that sounds like his father’s. Begins to shout, asks him,

(can you kill a man in cold blood?)

and the answer is

(yes)

because he knows what monsters are, knows that he has one pinned beneath him, and he knows that he is one too, and only a monster can kill another monster. He will suffocate the life from him, and the world will be better for it. He will suffocate the life from him, and Tommy will be safe.

It’s one of the easiest decisions he’s ever made.

But someone is still shouting, shouting words that enter one ear and rattle around in his skull and fade away without making any kind of sense, and he ignores them. Except then, he can’t, because there are hands on his shoulders, hands trying to pull him back and away, and he resists them, doubles down, places more pressure on his stranglehold, because he wants Dream gone and he wants Dream dead and he’s not going to stop until he’s paid in full—

“—bur, please!”

But Tommy sounds scared.

Like a rubber band released, he comes back together again. His grip goes slack. He allows Tommy to pull him off.

“You can’t—” Tommy is saying, is babbling, and he has tears in his eyes, and it doesn’t make sense for him to be crying, because Dream was the one who hurt him, so he should want Dream gone, right? “Wil, you can’t, you can’t kill him, we need him, we need to talk to him, and he doesn’t, he doesn’t deserve to die, Wil, he doesn’t, so you can’t—”

“Doesn’t he?” he asks, and is surprised by the hollowness of his own voice.

Tommy falls completely silent. For a long minute, the only sound in the cell is Dream wheezing, coughing, struggling for air.

“I don’t know,” Tommy says, and he sounds so miserable that Wilbur regrets asking the question. “Maybe. I mean, I think about stabbing him every time I see him. But I—I don’t want him dead, alright? He’s in prison, and he can’t hurt anyone anymore. So I don’t want him to die.”

He hurt you, Wilbur doesn’t say. He’s still hurting you.

Because Tommy is pale and trembling, his hands shaking where they’re still gripping Wilbur’s shoulders. Because there is a waver in his voice that is wrong, that doesn’t belong, that Wilbur has heard only a handful of times before. Because sometimes, Wilbur will look at him, and his eyes will be far too old, older than any sixteen-year-old’s should be, and part of that is on him, he knows, he knows, but Dream is responsible for so much of the rest.

“I don’t want him to die,” Tommy repeats, and Wilbur realizes that he’s been silent for too long, that Tommy must have taken it as disagreement. “And I don’t want you to kill him, okay? Not like—not like this.”

He’s not entirely sure what that’s supposed to mean.

He opens his mouth, and no sound comes out. So he clears his throat and tries again, and he’s not sure why he’s so hoarse, since he wasn’t the one being strangled, but his voice is a croak.

“Fine,” he says. “But you can’t—if he so much as looks at you wrong, I’m not about to fucking hold back. You get that, right? I’m not letting him—I wasn’t there when it counted. So I’m gonna make it count now. I’m doing my damnedest to make it count now. So if he does anything, I’m not letting it go. I’m not letting him do shit.”

Tommy’s hands tighten. For a second, Wilbur thinks he sees tears in his eyes, but then he blinks, and they’re gone, so perhaps it was his imagination. He has to think it was his imagination, because otherwise he’s going to lose his mind. Because Tommy doesn’t cry. Almost never cries. And if he cries now, it’s either because Wilbur’s fucked up massively, which is bad, or it’s because Wilbur has done something right but it’s overwhelming him because he’s not used to things going right, which would be worse. So much worse.

“Okay,” Tommy says. “Yeah. I—thanks, Wilbur.”

“Not to interrupt,” Schlatt says, and Wilbur flinches with his entire body. He’d forgotten that Schlatt was here, and now Tommy’s looking at him in confusion, and now is not the time for this. Now is definitely not the time for this. Schlatt is over by the entrance, he thinks, but he doesn’t dare turn to look. That’s too obvious. “Because this is very touching and I’m real happy for you, but he’s up again.”

He draws in a breath. And looks past Tommy. Dream is on his feet.

He exhales.

“I won’t kill you,” he says, and his voice is far cooler, far steadier than he feels, “because Tommy doesn’t want me to. That’s it. That’s what’s keeping you alive right now.” And he stands, and Tommy stands with him, shifting to be at his side rather than in front of him.

Dream inclines his head. “I get it,” he says, and Wilbur feels a vicious spark of delight at how terrible he sounds. “Thank you, Tommy.”

“Oh, shut up,” Tommy snaps. “I’m not doing it for your sake. You great green bastard.”

“It’s been pretty boring since the last time you visited,” Dream continues, as if he hadn’t spoken, and if Wilbur couldn’t hear the evidence in his voice, he would assume that the last few minutes hadn’t happened, either. Since when was Dream this unflappable? That’s not the Dream that he remembers.

(he remembers more than one Dream. he remembers the Dream who invited them to his server, who offered them a home and friends, who played war games with Tommy and Tubbo but was always so very gentle with them, who was considerate and funny and someone Wilbur was glad to call a friend. he remembers the Dream who fought against the independence of L’Manberg, cunning and bitter and angry and loud about it. he remembers the Dream who sided with Pogtopia, who always sounded as though he was smiling, laughing at all of them, like they were all a great joke whose punchline had yet to be told. he remembers the Dream who gave him the TNT, who told him to blow them all sky high, and the way his blood sang in anticipation in return and Dream knew, then, he knew what Wilbur was planning, he could tell by that damn smile)

(Ghostbur remembers the Dream of Tommy’s exile. but Ghostbur didn’t know any better than to like him, and he can’t trust memories that are colored by that)

“Tough shit,” Tommy says, more confident now, and if he thinks he has the lead on this, Wilbur’s content to let him take it. “We’ve got questions and you’re going to answer them.”

“What makes you think I have answers?” Dream asks, and—

Is he always this purposefully obtuse?

He glances at Tommy’s face, takes in the frustration written there, the resignation. Apparently so.

“If you don’t think you can help us, then we’ll just leave,” Tommy says, and it’s an odd statement, but apparently, Tommy knows what he’s doing, because Dream takes a step forward. Just one, though, and Wilbur would like to think that he knows better than to get any closer.

“I can help,” he says. “I’m glad you came to me. What’s the question?”

Silence falls for a moment. Tommy’s eyebrows go up, and Wilbur chances a glance back at Schlatt. He’s still hovering near the entrance, by the lava, and its glow permeates through his figure, a bit, rendering him translucent. His eyes are narrow, fixed on Dream.

At least he’s taking it seriously.

“Right,” Tommy says. “You’re going to make me spell it out, then. You said you could bring back Wilbur. That’s pretty much the whole reason why we left you with your third life. But, and I don’t know if you noticed this, but here he is, see? So how the fuck did you do something from in here, or if it wasn’t you, who the hell was it?”

“I did notice, actually,” Dream says, more than a bit wryly. “Hi, Wilbur, by the way. Nice to see you again.”

“I think that you should drown yourself in your sink,” Wilbur replies with an easy smile.

“So, that’s the question?” Dream says, ignoring him once again. “You want to know how I did it?”

“And why,” Tommy puts in. “Why would be good to know too, since I didn’t ask you to. You know.”

“I do know,” Dream agrees. “I have to say, I was kind of surprised at that. I thought you wanted your brother back?”

Tommy sputters. “Wha—of course I do! Did,” he tacks on, with a sidelong glance at Wilbur. “Uh, ‘cause I don’t have to anymore, because he’s here. Look, could we stay on track?”

“Sure, sure,” Dream says. “I mean, I’m not sure exactly how much I can tell you. Resurrection's a tricky business, you know. Lots of moving parts. And you get it if I don’t want to give away all my secrets. Do you want anything to eat? I can’t give you much in the way of variety, but I thought I’d offer.”

There’s something about this that Wilbur doesn’t like.

“No, we don’t want your fucking—your fucking raw potatoes,” Tommy says. “That’s disgusting, and you are a sad, pathetic man because that’s all you have to eat. Wilbur, isn’t he a sad, pathetic man?”

He nods absently. He should be chiming in. He shouldn’t be making Tommy do all the work, shouldn’t be making Tommy confront Dream himself. But there is something creeping over his mind, a nameless dread, stealing his words. And under that, a realization, one that makes no sense at all but that he is increasingly certain is right.

“You’re saying that like I have a choice,” Dream protests, sounding so mild, so even-keel, and it’s wrong, there’s something wrong with this picture. “Potatoes is all I’m given. Maybe if you talked to Sam and got him to give me something else, but unless you do that, it’s potatoes all the way.”

“I’m not getting you things,” Tommy says. “We’re not friends. You need to stop talking like we’re friends. We’re not friends, I don’t like you, I don’t like who I am around you, and I’m not talking to Sam about your fucking potatoes, Jesus Christ.”

“I mean, okay, but you can’t complain about the food when I try to give you some—”

They keep bickering. Wilbur’s only paying half of his attention to the conversation, only enough to make sure Dream doesn’t try to pull anything too terrible. The rest of him is frantically working, thinking, trying to puzzle out why this is pinging as so very off.

“I’m a good businessman, Wilbur,” Schlatt mutters, and Wilbur jumps, because he is right by his ear, the fucking stealthy ghost bastard. “I know stall tactics when I see them.”

“He’s stalling?” he asks, and only realizes his mistake when both Tommy and Dream look at him. But Schlatt is right; Dream is stalling, has been going out of his way to change the subject and goad Tommy into an argument, and that means— “You’re stalling. You’ve got no fucking clue what’s going on, do you?”

Dream laughs. “Oh, come on now,” he starts, but Wilbur’s got his number now, and he’s not going to allow him space to breathe or to spin a lie.

“No,” he presses, “none of that. No potatoes, no fucking with Tommy’s head, no games. I’m not playing games. You would’ve been so quick to gloat, if you had been the one to do this. So quick to hold it over our heads. And even if you hadn’t, but you knew who did, you would’ve dangled that information in front of us like a, a fucking carrot on a stick. Instead you’re rambling about your food and trying to pick a fight. You didn’t know I was alive until I stepped foot in this cell, did you?”

Dream is silent. His mouth is thin. There is a stream of blood slowly trickling out from under his mask.

“Holy shit,” Tommy says. “Holy shit. You bastard.”

“Well then,” Wilbur says, “I think we’re done here. Tommy, do you think we’re done here?”

“Yeah,” Tommy says, shaking his head. “Yeah, I think we are.”

He turns to call out to Sam, to tell him that they’re ready to leave, but there are footsteps, and he wheels around again to see that Dream has moved closer, far too close for his liking and far too close to Tommy.

(there is something)

“Okay, maybe I don’t know why Wilbur’s back,” he says, “but don’t you think that’s concerning? It could’ve been anything, with any goals. I could help you figure it out.”

Tommy winces, and Wilbur once again feels the urge to drive his fist into Dream’s face, to put his hands around his neck and squeeze. He refrains, if only because of the look that it put on Tommy’s face the last time, the fear it put in his voice.

(there is something very wrong)

“We don’t need your help,” Wilbur jumps in before Tommy can answer.

“Right, yeah, we don’t—Sam! Sam, we’re ready to go!” Tommy calls.

“You say that now,” Dream says scornfully. For a second, Wilbur fears that he’s going to try to come forward more, to make an attempt to get out when Sam comes for them. But instead, he stands where he is, crossing his arms. “I know things about this server that no one else does. You need me.”

“We need you like we need a heart attack,” Tommy snaps. Beside him, Schlatt mutters something inaudible.

“Maybe you do,” Dream says, and then, inexplicably, his tone lightens. “I hope you visit again. I like seeing you. And this is the first time I’ve had so many visitors at once, so this was fun. We should do it another time.”

“I think that you should shut up and stop talking now,” Wilbur says, eyeing the lava as it continues to flow over the entrance. Is it taking too long? How many seconds has it been? Sam is there, isn’t he?

“Well, you three are always welcome to come back,” Dream says. “I’ll be here. Unless I’m not.”

Wilbur’s blood runs cold.

(can you see it?)

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Tommy demands. “You’ve got nowhere else to go. You’re going to be staying in here for the rest of your sorry fucking existence, and I’ll come back here to tell you all about all the fun things you’re missing out on because you decided to be a fucking dickhead toward all of the people that used to care about. How’s that, then?”

“As long as you visit,” Dream says mildly. He’s smiling. There is blood on his lips.

“He’s looking at me,” Schlatt whispers. “He’s looking at me, Wilbur, oh god oh fuck he is looking right at me, how the fuck is he—”

Dream tilts his head. Schlatt cuts off, making a choked sound.

“I’m still the admin of this server,” Dream says. “Putting me in a box doesn’t change that. So if you’ve got more questions, I’m happy to answer them whenever.” His smile broadens. “Not just about this, too. If the Egg ever starts being a problem, feel free to come to me. Not like I’ve got anything else to do.”

Finally, finally, the lava curtain drops. Sam is standing on the other side, entirely too far away, and the platform is approaching, entirely too slowly. Wilbur feels locked in place, mind ringing out with three, three, three. He shouldn’t know that. He should have no way to know that, admin or not. He shouldn’t—so how does he—?

(look closer look closer do you see it do you see it do you see there’s something wrong with)

“The Egg?” Tommy asks, and the platform is here. Tommy hesitates, clearly torn between staying and following this new line of questioning, and going. But then, he shakes his head vigorously. “No. No, we’re not doing this. Goodbye, Dream.” He strides out onto the platform.

Wilbur lingers a moment. Schlatt has disappeared.

Dream is staring at him. He can’t see his eyes, but he knows, deep in his soul, that they are boring into his.

So he turns on his heel and joins Tommy on the platform. It begins to move, and he can’t help the glance back over his shoulder. Dream is still there. Unmoving. And if he does make a motion, he doesn’t do it until they are across, until the lava has dropped back down, masking him from sight.

..........

The pressure in his chest lifts as they step outside. He sucks in a deep breath, relishing the fresh air in his lungs, air that is bright and clean and smells of grass rather than hard stone and the bitter heat of lava. The sun is bright in the sky, and he has to blink a few times to readjust to the light.

“I’m sorry you didn’t get what you wanted,” Sam says.

“He’s a dickhead,” Tommy says, oddly quiet. “Didn’t really expect much.”

“Well, I’ll let you know if he says anything to me,” Sam says, and then winces. “Anything relevant, anyway. He talks a lot.”

Tommy snorts, looking away. “Tell me about it,” he says, and his demeanor is definitely strange, subdued. He seems better, less fidgety than when they were inside, but still not at ease. “Or don’t, actually. I don’t want to hear about what that sick, sick man tells you.”

“Probably for the best,” Sam agrees, and then turns to him. “It was nice seeing you, Wilbur. Welcome back to life, I guess.”

There are a multitude of ways he could respond to that. Thank you would be easiest, would be what’s expected. Part of him wants to answer with something snarky, something sarcastic, something that reveals just how much he appreciates being here, but he won’t do that, not with Tommy standing right there. He’s trying to be positive. Trying to be better, trying to at least pretend to be happy. For him. He needs to keep to that, especially now, after whatever the fuck that was in there. So, thank you it is, then, and he opens his mouth to say it, except what actually comes out is, “He can’t get out of there, can he?”

Sam is silent for a long moment. His face does something that Wilbur can’t quite interpret, not with the mask covering half of it, but his eyes go a little wider, his brows a little more furrowed. It’s almost like understanding, or perhaps pity, and Wilbur doesn’t like either option. He doesn’t want to be understood, not really, doesn’t want people to think they understand him before he expressly allows them to, and he has no use for pity.

(villains are not meant for pity, and he still has Dream’s blood on his knuckles)

“No,” Sam says. “As long as I live, he will never set foot outside this prison.”

He says it with such conviction that Wilbur has to believe him. But somehow, it doesn’t set him much at ease. He can’t stop thinking about it, what Dream said, what he implied that he saw, the way he stared, motionless and intent and predatory, in a way, even though he was weaponless and armorless and subsisting off of raw potatoes. He should hold no power, be no threat, and yet, Wilbur can’t make himself relax.

“Alright. Thank you, Sam,” he says. Sam nods.

“Of course,” he says. And then, he’s stepping away, heading back into those dark walls, to that swirling portal that opens for none but who the warden wishes. And then, he is gone.

“Right then,” Tommy says, after a beat of silence. “Home?”

“Yeah,” he says, and feels exhaustion settle in, that constant companion.

So they do. They go home. They run into no one on the way, once again, and Tommy notices his confusion about it this time and tells him that no one truly lives in the area anymore, not since L’Manberg’s third and final destruction, and Tommy says it in such an offhand way that he doesn’t have a good response to it. Doesn’t have a good response to the way he seems to accept its loss, as if it was inevitable, only natural that everyone should have up and left the area, and it’s true that Wilbur wanted the nation gone but he never wanted Tommy to suffer for it, not really.

(though he didn’t care who suffered in the end, in that room covered in buttons, his anthem, that glorious song scraped into the walls, the music crescendoing with the explosion and then the ringing, blissful silence)

(no, he didn’t care who suffered, by the end)

He doesn’t know what to say, so he doesn’t say much, not until they’re back at Tommy’s house, the hole he dug out in the side of the hill and has made his own. He doesn’t know what to say, all of his old charisma failing him, so he watches Tommy for a little while as he knocks about his chests and goes to harvest a few carrots and rants about things that have been happening on the server lately, little things, minor things, things that conspicuously don’t involve Dream at all.

“Tommy,” he finally manages, “are you alright?”

Tommy stops where he is. “Course I am,” he says. “Wilbur, I’m a very big man, you know. It’s going to take more than one green bastard to unsettle TommyInnit.”

“It’s alright if he unsettles you,” he says. “Prime knows he unsettled the hell out of me.”

Tommy stares at him, and then looks away and into the chest he’s got open.

“Yeah,” he says, quieter this time, “I know.”

Wilbur waits.

“It’s just that—” Tommy says, “It’s just that I hate him, so much, and I hate what he does to me. He gets in my head so easily, even when I know to expect it. He’s so good at fucking with me, and I can’t stop him. And I tell myself, each time I go, that this’ll be the last time, this’ll be the time I put it all behind me, but then it’s a couple of weeks later and I go back again, because I think part of me misses him. How fucked up is that? I know exactly what he is, and part of me still wants to think he’s my friend.”

He says it all vehemently, but so very softly, like he’s trying not to hear it himself.

“It is fucked up,” he agrees, matching Tommy’s tone. “But that’s not your fault. It’s his.” He hesitates. “I’m sorry I made you go with me. I shouldn’t have.”

Tommy wheels on him, eyes suddenly blazing, and he slams the chest lid closed.

“You didn’t make me do shit,” he snaps. “Nobody makes me do shit. I do what I want. And I wouldn’t have felt any better if I knew that you were in there with him alone. Think that would’ve been worse, actually, so shut the fuck up about it.”

“I—” he starts, and then stops. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

He needs to be better about this. Needs to be better about remembering that Tommy is more than capable of making his own decisions. He is a child still, and ought to be protected, but he doesn’t need coddling, doesn’t need babying. There is a fine line between those things, and it is a difficult one to walk.

“Of course I’m right,” Tommy says. “I’m always incredibly correct. You should stop apologizing so much, though, it’s weird. Or wait, actually, do it some more, tell me all about how I am very right and you, Wilbur Soot, are very wrong and dumb.”

It’s an obvious ploy to lighten the mood. He can’t bring himself to go along with it.

“Why did you stop me?” he asks. “Actually, though. Not because he didn’t deserve it or some shit. That’s bullshit and you know it.”

Tommy scowls, his shoulders tensing.

“And what if I do?” he says. “Maybe he does deserve it. Doesn’t mean it should happen. I told you, I want to stab him really bad, but that doesn’t mean I do it. It wouldn’t be fair. Or very satisfying.” He crosses his arms, and for a moment, the image of him in the present is juxtaposed over a younger Tommy, in the exact same pose, arguing with Techno or Phil or him over some stupid, childish thing. Wilbur blinks, and the image is gone. “Besides, we did need him. To talk, that is, even if he turned out to be fucking useless.”

Alright, he can believe that.

(but he sounded so very scared, and)

“Did I scare you?” he blurts out. He regrets the words instantly, but he can’t take them back. “With what I did?”

He’s expecting Tommy to answer with a resounding denial, no matter what the truth actually is. He’s not expecting him to flinch.

(they are in that dark ravine and Tommy is conspiring with traitors and he’s screaming at him, half angry and half desperate to make him understand, to keep him on his side, to get him to see that they have each other and no one else, that no one else can be trusted, he’s screaming and he takes another step forward and he’s not expecting him to flinch)

“You didn’t see the look on your face,” Tommy says. “It reminded me—”

He cuts off, but Wilbur is capable of reading between the lines.

“I’m sorry,” he says, somewhat helplessly.

“You are better, right?” Tommy says. “I mean, really, you don’t—you don’t feel like you did back then, right?”

He’s trying to keep it casual, like it’s not a big deal, like he’s not desperately searching for the answer as to whether or not Wilbur is still insane.

Wilbur’s heart is doing something strange. Something that hurts. Or perhaps that’s just guilt.

“I am,” he says, “I am, I swear. I just—I saw him, and I couldn’t hold back. I know that how I was—how I was then, I don’t understand how you don’t hate me for it, but I look back, and I know now. I do. I’m sor—”

“I don’t need you to apologize again,” Tommy cuts him off. “I—I am actually very fucking sick of apologies, I’ll have you know. But I never hated you, Wilbur. I was really angry, after you—after you went and did that, but I didn’t hate you, and then I was sad, and I just wanted you back. The real you. And I was upset and angry because I knew I could never have that. Except I do now, right?”

“You do,” Wilbur says, because there is no other way he could possibly respond to that. “I swear, you do.” And he opens his arms, and after a second of hesitation, Tommy comes over and sits on the bed next to him, and slumps into his embrace, and Wilbur holds him against his chest because it’s all he can do.

(all he can do to hold him like this and hide from him that the darkness is not gone, that there is something in him that still calls for the destruction of everything and everyone for no reason other than why not, something in him that wants to pour oil over the world and light the match and take himself along with it, something in him that has broken once and will do so again, at the slightest provocation, something as fragile as a sheet of glass already cracked or a bird’s wing once fractured from the fall and never healed right)

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I wish I had been,” he says, ignoring Tommy’s request for no more apologies, ignoring the fact that wishes and could-have-beens and what-ifs are useful to exactly nobody. “Ghostbur wasn’t exactly a great help, I know—”

“Oi,” Tommy says, pulling away to look him in the face, “don’t insult Ghostbur. He was doing the best he could. Maybe he didn’t really understand a lot, but he was there. Even when nobody else really was. He was—he was better than nothing, you know? He tried to make people happy. So don’t make fun of him.”

“Okay, okay, I won’t,” he says, and for some reason, thinks about the flowers he still has. He’s not sure why he kept them, why he bothered to retrieve them from the locker at all. But he did, and he has them, and they’re the only thing in his inventory at all. Cornflowers. Blue.

(he tried to make people happy but he failed, didn’t he, so how much could he possibly have mattered? he failed in a different way from Wilbur-when-living, but he failed all the same, and that is another thing they have in common, loathe though he is to admit it)

Tommy seems content with this, and he leans forward again with a sigh.

“We’re gonna have to go check out that Egg, aren’t we?” he mutters into Wilbur’s shirt.

“What makes you say that?”

“Dream mentioned it,” Tommy says. “I hate letting him yank me around. But he could be involved with it, maybe. Could be trying to—to hatch something, or something like that. I wouldn’t put it past him. So we’ve got to go see what the thing is all about.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say that you have to do anything,” Wilbur says. “You deserve a break. You don’t have to play hero.”

“I’m not playing hero,” Tommy murmurs. “I am a big damn hero. Never really got a choice in that, did I?” He pulls back again, letting Wilbur get a good look at the way his eyes have begun to droop. It’s no wonder; it’s been an exhausting day, even if it’s only late afternoon. It’s a good thing, really, because that means he doesn’t quite notice the twisted expression that Wilbur is sure is on his face. “No, but there are people I want to protect. My friends. Like Tubbo. And Sam. So we should go see the Egg and make sure it’s not gonna hurt them.”

Wilbur looks at him, at this child who has gone through more than any child should and has come out the other side still standing, still determined to help his friends, still loyal to a fault, and he wonders how he could ever have suspected him of turning against him. How he ever could have managed to fuck up with him so badly.

“Okay,” he says softly. “We can go see the Egg.”

Never again, he thinks. I swear to you, I’m not fucking up again. And ignores the dread that’s pooling in his heart.

They’ll go visit the Egg. Assuage their curiosity. And then, finally, perhaps, some peace.

[thatbloodymuggle]

the one with the slumber party

Tongue Tied (jj maybank) 3/?

masterlist

word count: 3.3k

warnings: cursing (but when isn’t there any)

read it on wattpad

playlist

-

"That's what, a three-story fall to the deck? I give you about a one in three chance of survival."

Rosie watched from her spot on the wooden railing of the deck of the under-construction house as John B waved his foot off the edge of the roof.

John B hummed in contemplation, "Should I do it?"

"Yeah, you should jump," Pope held up a drill as if it were a gun, "I'll shoot you on the way down."

"You're gonna shoot me?" John B held up his hands to form the shape of a gun.

"Yeah"

Rosie laughed at her friends' banter and took a sip from her half-empty can of beer. Before John B could do anything stupid, Kie sauntered out onto the deck.

"They're gonna have Japanese toilets with towel warmers," she cried with a look of disgust.

"Of course they would, why wouldn't they?" JJ piped up from his spot on an elevated board. Kie continued ranting about turtle habitats, but was drowned out by JJ, "I can't have cold towels!"

Kie paused and gave John B, who was still teetering on the edge of the roof, a judging stare, "Can you please not kill yourself?"

"No no, let him. I believe in you, JB! Spread your wings and fly!" Rosie giggled, swinging her legs back and forth. John B shot her a devious grin.

"Don't spill that beer," JJ eyed his friend on the roof, "I'm not giving you another one."

As if on cue, John B nearly lost his balance and dropped the can of beer onto the deck below. The dark liquid spilled across the deck with a loud clatter, "Oh, shit."

"Of course you did."

"Smooth"

"Might as well jump now!"

"Dumbass"

John B groaned in distress as his friends laughed at him. He was saved from their torment by the screech of wheels against concrete.

"Hey!"

Rosie's eyes shot towards the driveway and widened upon spotting a familiar, plump security guard. She hopped off the railing just as Pope called out to the others, "Hey, uh, guys? Security's here!"

Pope, Rosie, Kie, and JJ all moved to clear out while John B lingered for a moment longer.

"Humpty Dumpy! Let's roll," JJ called out to grab his attention.

While the group of Pogues climbed down from their spots around the deck, JJ continuously taunted the security guard, Gary, drawing even more unnecessary attention.

"JJ, shut up," Rosie lightly shoved the blond to get him moving. "Let's go!"

The teenagers wove their way through the poles and wooden planks littered around the house, cheering the whole way. Rosie laughed as Pope nearly tripped over a pole. This time JJ shoved her to keep her moving.

The next 20 seconds were a shit show, to say the least. Sprinting full speed towards one exit, only to turn abruptly go to the next. Running into multiple security guards and escaping their clammy grip. Trying not to get caught, but also having fun doing so. The more the old men shouted after them, the more the teenagers laughed. They jumped one by one over a newly-constructed wooden fence. Rosie hauled up Pope, who fell face-first onto the grass.

John B's van pulled out into the street with perfect timing. JJ, Rosie, and Pope hopped into the large car one by one. They all cheered in victory once John B zoomed off, leaving the guards in the dust. But the moving van didn't discourage Gary the security guard, who continued to chase after them on foot.

"Check out Gary gunnin' for a raise," Pope laughed.

JJ stuck his head out of the door with a grin, "Come on Gary!"

"You're gonna give him a heart attack," Kie warned him, but couldn't contain her laughter.

JJ turned back to John B driving the car, "Hey slow down." The van slowed, allowing the old man to catch up, but not enough. "You're so close, you can do it!" JJ taunted him, and tossed him his empty beer can, "there you go!"

"Stop, JJ, Stop."

Kie yanked the blond boy back inside the van as she began to feel bad for the security guard.

"He's gonna go into cardiac arrest if you keep it up," Rosie added, sliding the side door of the van shut.

"Oh come on, that sort of initiative is just begging to be punished," JJ protested but let her close the door regardless.

Adrenaline still pumped through Rosie's veins. She subconsciously bounced in her seat in excitement. The teenagers fell into scattered conversation as John B drove through the Figure Eight. Rosie stared out the windows at the pristine white houses and matching boats. She often forgot that she had once lived the Kook life when her father was still around. It was so long ago now—nine years—that she tended to forget that part of her life ever existed. Slowly the white mansions morphed into wooden shacks and unmowed lawns.

The Cut. Her home.

"Where we goin'?" John B called out to his friends.

"The Wreck for me and Rosie," Kie replied.

Rosie sent her a soft smile. She was lucky to be working alongside one of her best friends, but Rosie knew that she'd have to start working full-time soon. The money she'd saved for the past few years was good for now, but certainly wouldn't last forever.

"Got it. Pope, JJ, how does touron-hunting sound?" John B glanced back at his guy friends with a devious grin.

"Perfect. They're just in season, too," JJ smirked, earning a slap in the gut from both Kie and Rosie.

"I mean, I don't have a choice, do I?" Pope laughed.

"Nope," JJ and John B spoke in unison just as the van pulled into Kie's dad's restaurant.

"And this is where we part ways," Kie slid the van door open and jumped out, quickly followed by Rosie.

"Don't do anything too stupid," Rosie added. She gave a pointed look to JJ, who raised his arms in surrender.

"Can't promise anything," JJ taunted before closing the car door again, effectively cutting them off. The beat-up van pulled out of the parking lot and drove off down the road—most likely towards the beach full of clueless tourists.

"Boys," Kie shook her head and laughed. The two girls entered the restaurant for their night shift.

The rather large restaurant was nearly empty apart from an old couple sitting in the far corner. But the peace and quiet didn't fool the two girls. 4:30 PM was the prime time to get ready for the dinner rush.

"You're late," Kie's dad peeked his head out from the kitchen with a glare. The teenagers made their way to the back of the shop and into the kitchen.

"Sorry, Mike, we completely lost track of time," Rosie put on her infamous puppy dog eyes. She grabbed her apron from the wall rack. "It won't happen again!"

Kie's dad scoffed, "Yeah. That's likely," he shook his head at the two. "Just finish up meal prep, and I might forget you were late."

As he walked to the table with the older couple, Kie turned to face her friend, "You are such a suck-up, Rosie. I don't understand how you do it."

"Years of practice with these babies," Rosie fluttered her eyes before widening them again to resemble those of a kicked puppy.

Kiara rolled hers, "Yeah, yeah. Might've worked this time, but they won't save us from my dad again if we don't start chopping tomatoes."

Rosie nodded in agreement and the teenagers set to work, chatting the entire time.

Dinner service went off without a hitch. Before anyone knew it, the last customers had exited the restaurant leaving the Carrera's and Rosie. As they got ready to close up, the previously boring news report on the TV suddenly became interesting.

"Hurricane Agatha is moving closer to the coastal Carolina's as we speak. Citizens are advised to take shelter and brace themselves for the storm. We'll likely see the worst of it tomorrow evening," the voice of the reporter reverberated throughout the restaurant. Rosie frowned and looked out the window to see that it was, in fact, raining.

"Well shit," Kie mumbled.

"That doesn't look good," Rosie added.

Kiara's dad redirected the teenagers' attention from the TV screen, "We're good to lock up now. Don't bother coming in tomorrow," he nodded his head from Rosie to the news report. "Do you need a ride home?"

Rosie gratefully accepted his offer to avoid a miserable walk through the rain. The rest of the night went by in the blink of an eye and before she knew it, Rosie was passed out face-first, still fully clothed, on her bed.

-

Rosie spent almost the entirety of the next day prepping for the oncoming storm, napping and reading. It was by far her most boring day in the Cut since she'd returned a few days earlier. The wind and rain were picking up rapidly, causing anxiety to erupt in her stomach. Rosie wasn't afraid of storms, but she'd never had to wait one out alone. She reached for her phone to call John B and ask if she could spend the night at the Chateau, but there was no signal. The girl tried to calm herself by picking up another book, but the howling wind and pouring rain made it impossible.

Frustrated, she slammed the book down and grabbed her dad's old raincoat from the coatrack. Rosie went to pick up her car keys but decided against driving. Her car was parked in a safe place now, and she certainly couldn't afford a new one if it were to get destroyed.

With an exaggerated huff, Rosie zipped the massive coat up to her chin and threw the hood over her head. The layer of protection proved useless as soon as she opened her door. The piercing wind blew her hood back and rain pelted her face and hair.

"You've got to be kidding me," she grumbled to herself.

It was difficult to see more than 10 feet in front of her, but Rosie forced herself to continue onwards. The thought of the Chateau and a warm set of sweatpants from John B motivated her to break out into a run. The sooner she got there, the better.

In just ten minutes, Rosie had reached the old fisher shack. She sighed in relief. For a moment, she thought she'd get blown away by the wind and never be seen again. The teenager broke into a sprint and didn't stop until she was at the front door. She took off her coat and swung the unstable door open.

Sure enough, there sat John B on the striped couch with his partner in crime, JJ.

"You can walk, Rosie. It'll be fine, Rosie. Don't take your car, Rosie," the girl strode into the room, "God, I'm so fucking dumb!" she cried. She tried to wring out the water from her soaked hair but to no avail.

"Hey, we actually agree on something!" JJ shouted with a stupid grin. He held up his hand awaiting a high-five, only for Rosie to swiftly hit him upside his head.

John B tried not to laugh at her drowned-rat appearance, but his attempts were futile. She really did look horrendous. "Here," he tossed her a nearby towel.

Rosie took it graciously and began to dry off her hair. "At least one of you is helpful. Do you have any spare sweatpants and a shirt I can borrow?"

"You're staying?" John B asked, only to get a smack upside his head like JJ.

"What, you'd rather me go back out into that?" Rosie screeched.

"What? No, I meant—

"Yes."

"—shut up JJ—of course, you can spend the night. I'll go grab you some clothes," John B rushed off to his room and away from the fuming girl.

Rosie huffed and turned to face JJ, who was still wearing a smug grin.

"Of course, you're enjoying this," she glared at the unfazed blond.

Before he could retaliate, John B came rushing back into the room with a pair of grey sweatpants and a tie-dye shirt.

"Here," he handed them to the soaking girl.

She snatched them and rushed to the bathroom to get out of her soaking clothes. The oversized pants were instantly warming as she slid them up her shivering legs. Rosie pulled the large t-shirt over her head and attempted to detangle her hair with her fingers. 'Of course, John B wouldn't own a brush,' she thought to herself. Once she'd deemed her appearance half-acceptable, she folded her wet clothes into a neat pile and exited the bathroom.

Now warm and dry, Rosie fell back onto the comfy striped-couch next to John B with a sigh.

"Better?" he laughed.

"Much."

JJ and John B carried on with whatever conversation they were having. Rosie let her eyes flutter shut and her body sink into the couch. She was just on the verge of sleep when John B's voice pulled her back,

"Oh my God, our 7th-grade yearbook photos were legendary. Pope had that huge zit that looked like a third eye, my head was shaved, you had that massive black eye, and Rosie was missing one of her front teeth!" John B and JJ howled in laughter as they reminisced on their past.

"Yeah, thanks to Blondie, over here. Do you have any idea how much money it costs to replace a missing tooth?" Rosie grumbled with her eyes still closed.

"That was one of my finer moments. Golf ball to the face? Genius. And it wasn't even on purpose. I'm just naturally that good," JJ praised himself as if 'unintentionally' injuring her was an art.

"Yeah, 'cause your black eye was so much cuter," Rosie scoffed, now opening her eyes to look at JJ. "Soccer ball to the face is fucking classic."

John B laughed at his bickering best friends. Having met the boys in 4th grade, Rosie had so many priceless memories with them. Rosie transitioned from a Kook private school to the Pogue public one after the death of her dad, and they were the first (and only) friends she made. Rosie didn't mind the transition—she and her mother had always been Pogues at heart with a Kook father and husband. But switching schools is never easy. Truth be told, Rosie, JJ, John B, and Pope hadn't changed much since elementary school. In part because they grew up together, but also because they still had a similar childlike inkling for adventure.

"How did your feud even start?" John B asked with an amused grin.

"He broke my arm."

"She broke my nose."

"Well yeah, we all know about that. But it started before then," John B laughed. His two friends both stared at him like he was crazy. "Like, JJ. Obviously you pushed Rosie off her bike and broke her arm for a reason," he tried to explain further.

"I dunno, cooties?" JJ shrugged.

John B rolled his eyes but dismissed the subject regardless. Instead, the group continued reminiscing on their favorite stories growing up together. The more they talked, the louder the storm raged and the darker the sky grew. The lights flickered before going out completely, leaving the three teenagers in darkness.

"I think that's a sign," John B sighed. "It's getting late anyway."

JJ and Rosie both nodded in agreement. Rosie suddenly realized how tired she was.

"I got spare room," JJ announced, walking off towards the room in the back of the shack.

"I'll take the couch then," Rosie yawned, searching for a blanket.

"Rosie, you can't sleep in here," John B said.

She furrowed her brows, "What? Why not?"

He gave her an incredulous look, "Um, hello? Raging storm? Room surrounded by windows and an unstable door? No way," he pulled her off the couch.

"Well, where am I supposed to sleep then?" Rosie frowned. A smirk tugged at John B's lips and realization dawned upon her. Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open, "No. Absolutely fucking not. I will not be sleeping with JJ," she cried. Rosie ignored the muffled laughter coming from the bedroom JJ was in.

"Don't be so dramatic. It's a big bed, and it's just one night. You'll be fine. And if one of you kills the other, I'll take full responsibility," John B called out while walking backwards towards his own bedroom.

"Why can't I just sleep in yours?" she whined.

"Because my bed's a twin. Suck it up, buttercup. Sweet dreams!" John B laughed and shut the door to his room, leaving Rosie alone in the hallway.

The girl groaned, but trudged towards the spare bedroom, nevertheless. JJ was already underneath the covers in the middle of the bed with a dumb grin.

"Slumber party!" he shrieked in a feminine voice.

"You make sleeping outside in a hurricane sound more appealing," Rosie grumbled. She attempted to shove his body over to one side of the bed, but he wouldn't budge.

"Move."

"No."

"Move!"

"Ask nicely. What's the magic word?"

"Please move, you brainless fool."

JJ scooted a few inches to the right giving Rosie about 1/3 of the bed. She readied herself to physically haul him over, but was far too tired. Instead, she made a show of getting under the covers, making sure he could sense her displeasure.

"Bastard," she mumbled.

Rosie turned so her back was facing the boy and closed her eyes, hoping to fall asleep as soon as possible. They immediately shot back open as she felt an arm drape itself over her waist.

She violently slapped JJ away, "Absolutely not!"

"Aw, don't be a party pooper, Rosie. We're having a slumber party! You can't have a slumber party without cuddling," the blond laughed, tightening his grip around her.

"I don't cuddle with idiots," she hissed and attempted to push his arm away. He wouldn't budge, and she quickly grew tired of pushing. Rosie paused for a moment to recollect her strength, before trying to push JJ off again.

"Hmmph, someone needs to hit the gym," JJ mumbled into his pillow. Rosie sighed and gave up her struggle. She'd just wait for him to eventually move his arm instead.

But minutes passed, and JJ's arm remained around the girl's waist. JJ's heavy breathing soon turned into soft snores, and Rosie felt his grip begin to relax slightly. She decided to seize the opportunity and lifted his arm. Just as she began to move it away from her body, the boy shifted in his sleep. He subconsciously retightened his grip, this time pulling her even closer than before so that her back was against his chest as if she were a teddy bear.

Rosie stiffened, but the body heat radiating off of JJ and the steady beat of his heart against her shoulder were undeniably soothing. The tired girl gave in and relaxed in his grip. Her eyelids fluttered shut, and she felt herself slipping from consciousness. In a matter of seconds, Rosie was lulled to sleep by the sweet sound of the raging storm outside and JJ's soft snores.

And what a good sleep it was.

-

taglist:

@tangledinsparkles @lovelymaybankk @my--heroine @thelonelyumbrella @floretsoleil​ @flick24​ @books-netflix-and-pizza​

-

this chapter was mainly filler and def not my best work, but I tried to make it cute at the end :)

[prayerith]

it’s beginning to look a lot like checkout

summary: Joey is trying to survive working as a cashier during the holiday season. When a cute customer manages to turn around his entire day, he doesn't think he'll ever see the guy again. But when he keeps turning up, will Joey manage to form a relationship with him?

howdy! yes, i’m posting a multi-chapter fic for once. you can also read it on ao3 here <3 hope y’all enjoy!

Not for the first time today, Joey eyed the speaker embedded in the ceiling above his cash register and wondered how difficult it would be to smash it from the ground. Sure, it was a few feet up, but if he threw something hard enough at it, he could probably damage it, right? The stapler at his register wasn’t too heavy, but it was solid enough that it might fritz it out. Then again, he would almost certainly be fired, but he would take that if it meant that the speaker was at least non-functional. Anything to stop being forced to listen to that damn Christmas music.

Normally, he couldn’t really hear the music pumped through the hardware store at which he was (regrettably) employed, being too quiet to hear over the general din of a retail environment. The only exceptions were with songs he knew, which he was able to pick out easier, or when there was hardly anyone in the store making noise to drown out the speakers overhead. However, that all changed when Thanksgiving ended. Once that happened, corporate switched their generally palatable 70’s playlist to Christmas music, and Joey’s annual nightmare began.

That’s not to say he didn’t like Christmas; he wasn’t religious, so he didn’t really celebrate it except in the most bare-bones sense of getting his dad and sister a present on the day, but he thought the holiday season in general was fine. It was listening to the same damn songs for hours on end that was driving him up the wall. While he might hear a repeat or two on the standard playlist if he had a long shift, when Christmas rolled around, it was very possible to hear the same song three different times in only a few hours. If Joey ever met the person that designed this playlist and told their store to play it, he would give them a piece of his mind—and a piece of his fist besides.

Damn brain, he thought, resting his chin on his elbows, which were crossed on the counter. Can’t pay attention to somebody when they’re talking to me, but I can’t stop paying attention to Christmas music. Figures.

Furtively, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and checked the time: 3:15 pm. Only forty-five minutes until he got to clock out, but he knew this would be the longest part of his shift. It was after lunch but before most people got off work, meaning that business had slowed to a crawl. Normally, he was grateful for any downtime at work, especially later in his shift, but as “Silver Bells” started up for the fourth time that day, Joey was actively wishing someone would come to his register, just so he would be able to tune out the music.

The irritation from the music just added to everything else miserable about working in retail; Joey’s knees were killing him from having to stand all day on a concrete floor, and he was in that half-bored, half-stressed state that came with a slow moment at the register. He wanted to zone out, think about what he would make for dinner or come up with something fun to do with Serenity over her school break, but he couldn’t risk getting interrupted by a customer. So, he was stuck, unable to sit and rest his knees and forced to pay attention to his surroundings. Which, unfortunately, included the music.

The tell-tale beeping of a register being activated was a welcome distraction, and he picked his chin off his elbows to look in the direction of the noise. It wasn’t especially eventful; just his coworker, Ryou, being forced into scanning some lady’s entire basket, despite the fact that she was at a clearly labeled self-checkout register. Joey felt bad for him; Ryou was a sweet guy, which meant that he often got roped into doing way more than he should. He did, however, have more than a passing interest in the occult, which he weaponized against customers that pissed him off, so he was helpful to have around when dealing with someone annoying. He was a real wild card; Joey appreciated that about him.

“Hello? Can I check out here?”

God damn it.

“Yeah, sure thing!” Joey said, putting on his best Customer Service Voice. He whipped his head back around, coming face-to-face with the customer who had managed to sneak up on him, despite his earlier promises to not zone out. Immediately, however, Joey forgot everything about work, his mind going blank except for one thought: this guy was cute.

At first, Joey had made eye contact with his hair, rather than his face, given that the customer was pretty short and his hair was pretty tall. After a stray thought as to how much gel someone had to use to get it to stay that way, his eyes dropped to his actual face; that was when his brain had really started to short-circuit. How was he supposed to focus on making this guy pay for his stuff when he had such clear, violet eyes, such a friendly smile? Joey was only human, after all. The glimpse of a leather choker underneath the scarf the customer wore only made things worse.

“Is everything alright?” Fuck, the customer must have asked him a question. Not only that, but all his stuff was on the counter, and he was looking at Joey with an expectant, if confused, expression.

“Uh, yeah, just zoned out for a second.” It wasn’t a lie; he had zoned out, but he wasn’t going to tell the customer why. He grabbed the customer’s first item—a string of white Christmas lights—and scanned it as quick as he could, hoping to make up for lost time. “Did you, uh, find everything okay?”

“Yes, I did, thanks,” the customer responded, sounding just as friendly as he did when he first asked to check out. “I’m glad you still had some white lights! I really needed them, and they were sold out at the first two stores I checked.”

“Oh yeah? I’m glad we could provide, then.” Joey continued scanning his items, noting that they were all Christmas decorations. He found it odd that the only lights the customer wanted to buy were white and blue, but maybe he was going for an unconventional Christmas tree design. Joey wasn’t here to judge people’s purchases, only make sure they happen. “Alright, your total is $32.64, cash or card?”

The customer held up a debit card in response, and Joey indicated the card reader in front of him. He finished paying in relative silence, leaving Joey to almost-zone-out at least a dozen more times, getting stuck on different aspects of the customer’s appearance. How much work is it for him to dye his hair three different colors? His nose scrunches up when he concentrates, that’s cute. Would it be too weird to ask for his number?

Too quickly, however, the card reader beeped, prompting the customer to remove his card. “Thanks so much!” he said, with a smile that was too charming for Joey’s poor, flustered heart to take.

“No problem,” he managed to say, despite being sure that he was going to ascend out of his body at any moment. He grabbed the customer’s receipt from the printer and handed to its owner; if he held it in a way to where he ensured that their fingers didn’t brush, well, that was self-preservation. “Thanks, and have a nice day.”

“Thanks, uh, Joey,” the customer said, peering at his name tag, “and happy holidays!” He waved goodbye with the hand not holding his bags, still with that blinding smile on his face, and turned to leave. Joey propped his chin back on his hand and watched him walk to the exit door, smiling at the way he pulled his scarf up over his nose before facing the cold.

“Fall in love with a customer, Joey?”

Joey yelled, losing his balance and nearly smashing his chin onto the counter, before he caught himself and spun around to face the person who had just spoken. “Ryou, what the fuck? You can’t just sneak up on me like that, you’re gonna get me killed.”

Ryou giggled, his elbows on the low wall that separated self-checkout from Joey’s register. There wasn’t a customer in sight—which meant that Joey was now fair game for ridicule. “Not my fault you were distracted. He’s cute though, did you get his number?”

“No, I don’t even know his name,” Joey grumbled. That made him remember that the customer had said his name, though, which made his face heat up. Didn’t think my name could sound that nice. He peeled open a new plastic bag, just for the sake of having something to do that meant he didn’t have to look Ryou in the eyes. “Besides, I can’t just ask a customer for his number! What if he thinks I’m weird, and writes me up, and gets me fired?”

“You have a point.” Ryou hummed, tapping his finger on his chin. “But what if he thought you were also cute?”

“It’s not like I’ll ever find out.” Joey sighed, putting his head in his hands. “He said he went to other stores for white lights before he found them here, which means he probably doesn’t live around here, which means I’ll probably never see him again. Better to just forget about it.”

Ryou made a sympathetic sound, and Joey didn’t have to see his face to know he was looking at him with pity. “I suppose,” he said slowly. “Still, you seemed happy when you were talking to him. You never smile like that when you’re working, it was a nice change.”

Joey just sighed again, before the clearing of a stranger’s throat made him look up to realize that someone was ready to check out—right as the strains of “Blue Christmas” reached his ears from the damned speaker above him. Right, he had work to do, and on-the-nose Christmas music to endure. He plastered on his Work Smile, ready to greet his customer with all the fake friendliness a retail employee could muster.

Ryou was right; while talking to that cute customer, he had been genuinely happy. Unfortunately, it made his return to dismal reality all the sadder.

[adamarks]

simon snow has fucking dragon powers or some shit and this is my goddamn proof

Whilst you people were having a meltdown over Baz and Simon not hashing it out (Simon’s not in a place of understanding his self worth enough for that yet.), I was having a meltdown about Simon Snow The Literal Fucking Dragon. 

Now, this is obviously going to have major spoilers for Wayward Son. I’m going to assume you’ve read it if you’re reading this. I’ve put a lot of thought into this theory and this is a long ass post so I’m putting it under the cut. Now. Let’s go, lesbians!

First and foremost, let’s start with the wings and tail. 

Simon’s wings are established at the very beginning of Wayward Son to represent something. We don’t really get to quite know what that something is until they start referring to Simon’s wings the same way they used to refer to his magic. 

The most direct reference to Simon’s wings symbolizing his magic is in Simon’s section of the prologue at the very end of the book:

“It’s time for me to stop pretending I’m some sort of superhero. I was that-- I really was-- but I’m not anymore. I don’t belong in the same world as sorcerers and vampires. That’s not my story.

Dr. Wellbelove said he could remove the wings. And the tail. Whenever I’m ready. I could go back to school then, or get a job...”

This section directly confirms that yes, these wings are a metaphor for Simon’s magic. They’re all he has left connect him to the world of magic. They’re the only thing still making him feel even remotely on the same level as Baz and Penelope. (This book really was all about the concept of self-worth and how completely lacking it affects not only us but those we love. Phew, talk about a doozy. No wonder we’re all crying.)

Now that we’ve established that Simon’s wings, at the very least, are his one tether to magic, let’s drive the nail into the coffin of the wings and tail being absolutely, 100% symbolic of his magic. 

As I mentioned earlier, the book starts treating the wings exactly the same as it treated his magic. This even starts before Wayward Son. The first mention of Simon’s emotions relating to his wings and tail is in the first book. In the epilogue, in Baz’s section, during the dance scene. 

“His tail whips out of my hand. It tends to slash around when he’s upset.”

This really starts to come out in the last fourth of Wayward when he’s “itching for a fight.”

His wings constantly poke, prod, and generally annoy Baz and Penny because he refuses to put them away. Almost.... like... how his magic..... felt suffocating.... and too much... and he couldn’t push it back... or tamp it down. *cough*

Okay, so that was all pretty basic, boring, base-building stuff, yeah?  Pretty “whatever we get it.” 

Well, here’s where it starts to get fun. 

Let’s talk about Simon’s Mirrors.

Lemme just explain what the hell a mirror is, first. In case we all flunked our high school Lit classes. 

A mirror character is, in simple terms, a character that acts, looks like, or reminds you of one of the main characters. Through these “mirror characters” some important information about the main character is revealed to us subtextually. 

Let’s name our Simon mirrors:

Ebb 

Agatha (she’s being developed as her own character but that’s not stopping her from mirroring our good lad.)

Aunt Fiona (to some extent anyway. she doesn’t really factor here.) 

There might be some minor ones I’m forgetting (I’m not including foils) but these are our main guys. 

I put Ebb on the list first, but let’s start with Agatha, the cranky heroine of our dreams. 

Throughout the whole first book, Agatha is shown to be Simon’s mirror. Them both mooning over Baz in almost the exact same way. (Jesus Christ they’re embarrassing to watch.) The waiting on rooftops, the handkerchief. (Don’t get me started on Simon carrying around Baz’s scarf in Wayward. I’m soft and everything hurts. Our poor, stupid, stupid boys.) It’s not exactly subtle. 

In Carry On, Agatha reveals just how much Simon also resents his fate. He never really expresses it, but Agatha is reflecting to us how he’s feeling. They both get progressively less resigned to the bullshit “Chosen One” fate as the book goes on. They both make it out alive. Maybe everything will be okay. 

But then Rainbow rolls up with a Sex On The Beach and Gucci sunglasses to tell us that “fuck no everything’s not okay.” (She’s right. God, I could go on a rant about how no one ever talks about how you feel when you’ve defeated the villain. When you’ve escaped the dungeon. Hhhhh)

Wayward Son immediately sets Agatha up as even more of a mirror than she was in the first book. We’re shown right away that the two of them are both in a depressed funk. They’re both at “15%” and miserable. These two are echoing each other like NEVER before and I am LIVING for it. 

Like, we even get this amazing bit in Chapter Four:

“That would feel like an answer to... the question of me. Then I could say, ‘Oh, that’s who I am. That’s why I’ve been so confused.’”

They! Are! Struggling!

Now, how does this relate to Simon having literal fucking dragon powers? Good question, thank you for asking. 

In Chapter Fifty-Six, when Pen and Agatha are stuck in the back of Fuckwad Vampire #3′s car, Agatha says this:

“I honestly thought I could walk away from it all-- like magic was a place. Like magic was a person. Or a habit I could break.

When Simon first came to Watford, he couldn’t make his wand work. He could barely cast a spell. He thought they were going to kick him out, that he wasn’t magic enough. 

“You don’t do magic,” Penelope told him. “You are magic.”

I... am magic. 

Whether I like it or not, whether or not I claim it. Whether or not I carry my wand. 

It’s in me, somehow. Blood, water, bone.”

They!! Are!! Both!! Magic!! 

Magic is in them! Magic is with them! They’re made of the stuff! They can’t cut off this part of them, no matter how much they want to. (lmao. talk about good old internalized homophobia. I don’t really have an opinion on what Agatha’s sexuality is, btw. I’m using homophobia as a blanket term because I have no clue what’s up on that front.)

Simon is made of magic. He doesn’t want to remove his wings. Even though he has to hide them. Even though he thinks he’s a Normal now. Like Penny said, “an aeroplane is still an aeroplane even if it’s on the ground.” (I’m not sure that’s verbatim, apologies.)

Simon still has magic. We just can’t see it. He’s made of magic. He is magic. He was literally conceived during a spell. Bitch is as magical as you can get. 

But where is the magic???? Where’d it go???? Hello????

I’m getting there. I promise. First, we need to talk about Ebb. 

Ebb wasn’t only Simon’s weird Aunt figure; she was his mirror. Ebb was what would’ve happened to Simon if he hadn’t rejected the mage at the end of Carry On. Ebb just gave in. She didn’t want to fight anymore, and she figured Shithead The Great knew more than she did. 

God I just fucking hate Mage so much like holy shit. Anyway, anyway. 

Ebb was the strongest magician next to Simon. She didn’t want to fight. She didn’t want to use her magic for any great purpose. She just wanted to be. Agatha even reiterates this in the epilogue of Carry On.

 “Like, they couldn’t just let her be.”

(No, Simon doesn’t miss killing things in Wayward. He misses excitement and having a purpose. He mainly misses having a purpose. Not having one of those fucking sucks.)

What the fuck does Ebb have to do with this? Why can’t I just get to the point?

My point is!

My Point IS!

That goddamn dragon with the sheep was supposed to remind you of Ebb.

So, let’s do the math. If 1=1x1= 1 then...

Ebb = Margaret = Simon

Sure, sure we had Simon screeching that he wasn’t a dragon. But Margaret was immediately like, 

“Not yet.” She pets his wing. “Are kitten. Someday dragon. Someday ferocious.”

Simon smells like a dragon, but also apparently “smells like iron.” Whatever the fuck that means. I mean I guess it means that Baz could still sippy sippy. (Which is gonna happen or I’ll eat my own toe.) 

One more thing: 

“I wanted wings,” he says. “I wanted to fly.”

“Why tail?”

“I wanted to be free!”

Gee, that sure sounds like what Agatha was saying earlier, huh?

YEAH OKAY HE’S HALF DRAGON!! WE’VE ESTABLISHED THAT!!! WHAT THE FUCK AM I ON ABOUT!!!!

Omg thank you for asking. I’m going to blow your mind with my final point. 

The Final Point: The Baz Problem.

Wayward Son is, by all accounts, Baz’s book. It develops everyone beautifully and everyone has an arc, but this book is where Baz gets to shine. 

We found out in this book that vampires are immortal.

This introduced a whole new issue, an issue that surfaces every time immortality is introduced as a possibility for one character but not the rest. 

Someday, Baz will be left alone.

He’ll inevitably outlive everyone he cares about. We all know our poor, beautiful, delicate bastard boy couldn’t take it. How deeply he cares is his most beautiful and wonderful trait, and this could break him. 

I wonder, how long does a dragon live?

Penny talks about the improbability of Simon and Baz in Chapter Three. 

“Star-cross’d lovers. ‘From forth the fatal loins of these two foes.’ The whole shebang.”

Simon’s magic was always described as smoke and fire. The first creature we learn about Simon fighting was a dragon. (Chapter 1, first page of Carry On)

“You’ve slain a dragon, Simon. Surely you can manage a long walk and a few buses.”

 God, I just really hate Bitchface the Mage. Anywho.

Simon. The One Who Came to End Us. Simon. The One To Save Us All. Simon is the dragon and the knight. He’s his own worst enemy. His arc will be completed once he accepts the “dragon” part of himself. It’s poetic as fuck, I must admit. 

Simon has to find love and care for himself, and then this baby dragon will be grown. He’ll be “on top” as Margaret had said. (God, could you imagine all the dragons waking up? How fucking epic would THAT be? Fingers crossed.)

The monster that drains living things and the monster that burns all in its wake. These losers are starcrossed, but they complete each other. Dumbasses. I just love them so much why can’t they get their shit together. 

Simon and Baz’s storylines are utterly intertwined. They’re perfectly matched. Simon might not know it, but their hearts are already tied together; they beat in sync. They’re two stars orbiting each other. And, if we’re all very lucky, maybe they won’t crash. Maybe this story won’t end in flames. 

So, in conclusion, I really really really want Simon to breathe fire. The only other way I could see this twisting is the wings somehow going away and Simon getting a regular-magician amount of magic. That’s kinda lame tho and doesn’t complete his arc correctly. This dumb boy is a dragon now and there’s nothing we can do about it. (EDIT: actually yeah simon’s not gonna lose his wings no way in fuck. check out my meta.)  Also? I would sell my soul to see Simon getting really possessive over really weird objects for his hoard. 

Thank you for sticking with me this far, dear reader. I’ll leave you with this thought: Baz is Donkey and Simon is the dragon from Shrek. 

Check out my other meta on the future of simon and baz’s relationship and how penny and agatha relate 

scarf meta as well check it

Gonna be tagging peeps so this can circulate better. 

@carrybits @neck-mole @watfordwallflower

[moonraccoon-exe]

Hi, Connie. I know it's been a while since you did any headcanons and idk if you still do them, but I'm curious of your opinion. I realize the wall is one giant quarantine bubble, but the people are still free to do as the please inside it. How do you think each of the chocobros would handle an Insomnia-wide quarantine like what's going on in most of the world right now? What if one of them got sick (assuming a FFXV equivalent of COVID-19?) How would Regis, as King, take care of his people?

PS: Aparently the Keep Reading line is having some troubles. May appear right under the question (how did it get THERE?) or nowhere at all lol pls forgive tumblr he trying. 

HEEEEEEEEEELLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

It’s definitely been a while since I did any headcanons, but that’s because school has kept me busy like crazy, and when I have spare time, I put it into my two big fanfics going on (I don’t want people to wait too much!) but I’ll definitely keep doing these, every single one of them, until I finish, even if it takes me years and years <3

The ask prompts are one of my favorite things in the world so of course I’ll keep them going!

HOH

YOUR PROMPT IS SUPER INTERESTING!!!!! AYYYYY, let’s see what this raccoonie brain has there!! 

FFXV Insomnia in a quarantine

First things first, the government

Regis, as King:

Regis is going all the way into making sure EVERYONE can stay home.

Regis is going to ask the other countries to lend Lucis money. As in. M I L L I O N S.

“Your Majesty, you ARE aware we’re nowhere half to repaying that debt in a near future?”

“THIS IS A LITERAL PLAGUE WITH NO CURE YET THAT’S KILLING DOZENS SOME OF WHICH THEIR FAMILIES CAN’T SAY GOODBYE TO AND YOU W O R RY  A B O UT   T HE  E  C O NO M Y   ¿¿¿? ?!??”

Regis has brain and, most importantly, humanity. He’s definitely going to put the country in debt for the next 15 kings is that helps people right now.

Mostly because he’s aware it’s no one’s fault. 

Regis is announcing what he’s going to do to keep people safe publicly:

The next three months of any loans are forgiven. Mortgage, rent, water, electricity, and all the public services will be free for the next three months. If you own any debts, be it a house or a little clock, you don’t have to pay on the next 3 months, and instead that amount will be divided into future months in small amounts so it’s recovered in the medium or long run. No one needs to spend one gil in any of the basics, don’t worry about that, it’s covered, government’s got you, SO PLEASE STAY HOME. 

Regis is aware that some people can’t stay home because what little they earn is what they spend in basic food; Regis is going to spend lots of the money he burrowed in them.

Regis is going to pay as well to teachers and artists for online classes and entertainment, because he’s aware of the mental/emotional distress people can be in after certain time indoors. 

Regis is going to put most the money in the medical and cleaning services.

Regis is going to keep online and phone polls for people to fill in particular cases (I still need to go out because I need to go look after my mother each friday, I still need to go out because I need to go get medicines each certain time at this district) so the Citadel’s intel know best what to do.

Regis is going to make sure to have teams sanitizing public transport and places everyday.

Regis is a no-game man, dammit.

((Regis is the reason Insomnia only needed three months before being free))

Makes sure the media broadcasts not only the death cases, but also and most importantly the healed cases. Not gonna let the media get stupid with this for money or paranoia, no sir

Noctis, as prince

DID YOU THINK HE WAS JUST GOING TO MOP, THIS IS THE PRINCE

(Remember the game tells us he was a damn good prince as in politically? what a bean <3)

Noct was taken more off guard; Regis acted immediately like a (good) madman, Noctis still needed a bit to process it

Noct is who comes up with some ideas that Regis puts into action (the phone/online polls, the online classes, for example)

Noct too manages some of the intel going on during quarentine to see how the city is progressing and how else they can help.

Noctis is in charge of the interviews along the...health minister (?) everyday, while Regis stays at work and intel.

Noctis makes sure to do a livestream each certain days to greet the people, answer questions, or just have a bit of fun, and to remind them to stay home and to keep the spirits up. We know Noct would rather rot in boredome in his sofa because Sleepy Boy, but he knows the effect he has on his people, so he does the livestreams for them; to keep them entertained, informed, and simply to keep them sane.

Noctis came up with the idea of making an app/text service for those that suffer of domestic violence; “staying home” sounds easy to him because he has a huge house and a good family, but he’s aware that not do everyone. 

(Putting a keep reading here)

Noctis

Sleeps it away lmao

Honestly Noct doesn’t have much troubles with the whole “stay home” thing. He likes home. He LOVES staying home. LET HIM STAY EVEN AFTER QUARENTINE IS OVER.

Noct has videogames and his bed. You don’t need to tell him twice to stay home. 

Noct sleeps most of the day. 

Noct decides to not shower everyday.

The only trouble Noct goes through is that his room starts getting super messy everyday and Ignis isn’t going to appear to help him out. 

Noctis spends his time doing homework and mumbling about how “teachers didn’t use to give us this much homework until quarentine, this is just their excuse goddammit fuck this shit”

I feel you Noct

Besides that, videogames, trash food, and sleeping.

It’s 9 pm, he’s in pajamas. That he hasn’t taken off in three days. 

It’s 6 am and Noct is out of bed. He hasn’t slept since 2 am.

What is this guy’s sleep schedule.

Despite the careless and carefree attitude, Noct still worries. He still has to stay the most informed, as the prince, of the international and national situation, and it sometimes gets stressful.

When Noct sees numbers grow and a gloomy future, he gets stressed but won’t say it; that careless attitude is his way of coping. Like pretending it’s not true.

Noct worries about the poor, too, and the low and working class. He too came up with more ideas along with Regis to keep them safe too and not force them to work while the middle and upper classes stay indoors like it’s not the big deal.

Noct thinks a lot about Prompto. He knows he doesn’t need to go out too much, but he also knows how much of a terribly, horribly emotional distress Prom is in when staying at his house for too long.

Noct takes up on video-phoning Prom, everyday. His best boy can’t be sad, stressed, or messed up, and he’s going to keep him sane and cheer him up everyday. 

Noct may or may have not ended up inviting Prompto to spend quarentine at the Citadel with him. He hadn’t finished saying it when Prom was already at the Citadel’s door asking to be sanitized before going in.

If he got sick, everyone around him would be more scared than him LMAO

“OHNOTHEPRINCEISILLHE’SGOINGTODIEIAMNOTREADYFORTHISNOOOOOOOOO” 

Noct: so can I skip online school like this?

He’d be looked after with almost paranoia, there’s only two of the Lucis Caelum alive and honestly losing the heir and only one that can have kids at this point to the virus woulnd’t be very epic on history books

Noct IS worried, just pretending he’s not. 

Noct is going to avoid Regis LIKE A PRO. He’s going to ask to live somewhere else, will ask to sanitize his room and keep it locked, will ask that Regis gets nowhere near ANY of his belongings. Basically, Noct is going CRAZY over avoiding Regis...so Regis doesn’t catch it :’’( 

What a pure bean

Even if Regis tries visiting him, and even if the whole place is sanitized and like a little bubble away of the rest of the world, Noct will still not want him to come inside. 

Honestly, this is going to make Regis really, deeply sad and maybe even hurt. He wants to stay positive, but he keeps thinking of what if Noct dies to it, and not only dies, he’d also die without having held him for a last time or seen him.

They meet through the window. They phone each other and just touch through the closed window... :’) </3

Noct knows he may be over protecting Regis, but he’s honestly not going to have it any other way. He has way more than enough watching his old man grow old too fast from the Ring to run the risk of giving him this stupid virus. If he has to make his old man sad in order to keep him healthy, SO BE IT. 

Ignis

He’s fine.

He’s just so cool with this.

“Ah, of course. A plague. It was our turn, as was expected.”

...w...what are you talking about, Ignis.

He’s barely impressed. 

Master of following instructions, they told Ignis to stay home and THAT he did.

The store? The neighbor? Just an inch outside his main door? NO. THAT’S NOT INDOORS.

It’s not that he’s paranoid, he’s just not bothered by the idea fo not going out and he knows that the more he stays home the faster this will pass that he just. Stays in, sometimes not even looking out the window for a day or two.

Ignis still phones Noct each two days to remind him his room is messy do something because I won’t, or do nothing, the cockroaches will help you with the crumbs and leftovers in a day more.

Ignis isn’t bored. He still has home office and paperwork to do, the poor, young, miserable thing. 

In his spare time he likes doing stuff he likes, as he normally didn’t have the time to do. 

Ignis is making sure to call the other chocobros to make sure they’re ok. He’s particularly attentive to Prompto.

Boy is having video calls with Gladio because Best Friends. 

Ignis attempts to do as your raccoonie; will try to finish two-week worth of his paperwork in one or two days t o have the rest of the time free LMAO

(I hope, unlike me, he’s succeeding at that)

Ignis worries mostly about others and the outside Lucis. He takes up on the advantage of being bros with the prince to suggest something, that Noct can suggest to Regis to make it better for as many people as possible.

If he got sick, he’d attend hospital and not go out until he’s 100% okay AND spent 2 weeks with no fall back into it. 

He’d thank the doctors and nurses like every five minutes honestly. Iggy appreciates they’re doing such high risk job, keeps admiring them. Dammit.

He would accept no visits. Is it the prince? tell him to FUCK OFF. 

Mostly the throne family Ignis won’t dare visit even after he’s healed.

“IGNIS IT’S OK YOU’VE BEEN FINE FOR A MONTH”

“TALK TO ME WHEN QUARENTINE IS OVER AND/OR THERE IS A VACCINE, GET THE FUCK OFF MY FRONT YARD”

Ignis is not overly worried about the illness. He has stupidly strong defenses and can see himself getting out of this. He worries just what’s normal but keeps spirits up with all the numbers of healed cases.

Go Iggy! 

Gladio

Surprisingly, he’s taking this really well.

Gladio’s sort of more scared than the rest at the news; he was so prepared for physical enemies, the idea of an abstract, non-physical one suddenly sweeps him off his feet.

But he handles it well. So long he doesn’t watch the news.

Gladio won’t listen or read the news on the virus; he’s aware of it, he’ll take care and be careful, but he won’t read or hear numbers or updates, he’ll just live this out until it’s over.

Gladio takes his mind off it with indoor exercising, lots of it. 

Gladio’s job was mostly physical, so he takes on the advantage that he has nearly no chances of home office to do stuff he likes; mostly, this nerd will drown in history documentaries on KupoTube, will watch the equivalent of Disney and Dreamwork movies, will read like the world is ending, and will take up on online courses.

He likes crafts. Okay? Leave him alone and let him give his baby steps into watercolor painting. 

Gladio is video calling Noctis. To force him to exercise LMAO

“OY, NOCT, THIS IS PRE-RECORDED, DO YOU THINK I’M AN IDIOT? COME BACK HERE TO YOUR COMPUTER OR IT’LL BE WORSE”

Gladio is holding back a Desperate-To-Go-Out Iris.

She’s not irresponsible, she just HATES INDOORS LET ME GO OUT IT’LL BE JUST AROUND THE BLOCK

Gladio’s not letting Jared go ANYWHERE

“SOMETHING HAPPENS TO YOU AND I DIE, YOU STAY HERE, I’LL GO BUY GROCERIES AND DON’T YOU DARE GET ANYWHERE NEAR ME AFTER I’M BACK UNTIL I’VE SHOWERED”

Gladdy it’s ok :’)

A bit paranoid when it comes to others, though will still be a bit paranoid about himself.

Gladio is mostly calm about it; just a few times every now and then he’s stressed and a bit too troubled for an easy sleep.

Video calls Iggy every day because Best Friends.

Iggy keeps him sane, the baby :’(

Honestly, Gladio also makes sure that Ignis is ok. Ignis is always looking after all other three, but Gladio is who’s most aware of looking after Ignis. Ignis won’t say it, but he’s probably feeling very lonely after a month indoors, as his family won’t pay much attention to him. Gladio’s making sure to keep him happy, distracted, and in good spirits, and in company.

If he got sick, he’d probably have a very bad emotional time at first.

Gladio would cry and think nearly for sure that he’s dead already.

Not like in drama, he would seriously get sad and be very, very scared :’(

Same than Noct, he wouldn’t let Clarus near him or any of his belongings, nor Jared. Not Iris either, of course, but he worries more for the older men.

Gladio would probably not do very well emotionally in hospital. He’d spend there the necessary time, but then he would probably like most to be in an apartment for himself if available or in his room without letting anyone near. 

Gladio will keep thinking of the chances to live or die, of how scary the idea of a virus with no cure is, will get really gloomy and negative on it.

His family try to provide emotional support, but every time they call Gladio just drowns himself in ideas like what their family would do if he died and it just makes him sadder

The doctors and Iggy are what keep his spirits up, to be honest.

The sadness lasts the first days. AFter that, Gladio’s going to handle the ilness like a DAMN WARRIOR

“YOU INJECT THAT THING, DOC, BRING IT ON”

A new treatment and the consequences are unsure? BRING IT ON.

Whatever it is, Gladio’s HEAD IN FOR IT

Baby boy just needed some time to process it. After that he’s just taking it so lightheartedly, even the doctors get cheered up at his bright attitude towards it.

“You’ve progressed on a 1%”

“HELL YEAH ONE PERCENT!!!!!!!!!!! :D”

What a beautiful boy omg

Prompto

This one is the chocobro that REALLY gets hit by quarentine.

Prompto’s not hyperactive, he can stay indoors if they ask him to...the problem is his house.

Prompto gets easily anxious staying at home for too long. He spent his childhood locked away in there, isolated. No parents, no friends, nothing. He stayed locked away in what was the toughest moments of his life. He doesn’t hate indoors, he hates indoors at his house. It brings all of that back.

Prompto’s trying to keep all the lights on to make it less like in his childhood; gets easily guilty remembering the huge debt the King put himself into so he doesn’t have to pay for electricity and now he’s wasting it. 

Prompto gets easily anxious around food nowadays. Remembers it was staying indoors doing but eat what got him so fat and lonely.

(Prommy it’s ok, fat is not bad :(( this poor angel )

Honestly Prompto’s so busy emotionally stressing over being indoors at his house that the pandemic in the world isn’t even super concerning, it’s just as if there was a storm outside; he knows it’s bad and that not everyone can stay safe from it, but he’s just worried in his own situation at home.

His parents get to stay indoors with him for home office, which is as good as it is bad.

For some reason it’s not so comforting because it makes Prompto think of how absent they used to me. For some reason, it also IS comforting because unlike his childhood, at least they’re there now.

Prompto tries to make the best out of this and tries bonding with them when they’re not busy.

It actually works <3 They don’t get overly emotional or anything but they get to spend some good time together, watch movies, talk more, etc.

It helps Prom with the food issue that Dad does the cooking this time.

Good as his parents are with him during quarentine, it’s home, like the physical place what keeps gnawing at his emotional health.

Prom is going to try EVERYTHING to keep himself distracted. 

Iggy phones him constantly, which helps a lot. Noct videocalls him everyday, which really keeps him up.

Prom is taking BUNCHES of online courses and classes, bECAUSE THIS BOY LOVES DOING AND LEARNING STUFF

Week 6 of quareantine, Prompto has made his own jacket out of kitchen towels. It’s...actually impressive.

If he got sick, he too would be paranoid.

More than sad, Prompto would be openly scared and nervous.

EXTRA

The chocobros as a Four:

They’re having online video parties and meetings.

The four got a pizza each. They’re video meeting, and pretending it’s the same pizza lol

“YOU ATE THE LAST SLICE HOW DARE YOU, I TOLD YOU I WANTED IT!!! >:’‘(”

The guys are showing their quarentine achievements to each other.

“Look, I’ve let my feet nails long because I don’t need shoes anymore and I shaped them like I’m a dragon haha”

“Oi look, I learned a new trick with my yo-yo”

“Look how GREASY my hair is right now haha. what do you mean if I’m attending the national interview later like this, of course I am”

The chocobros are sending each other online courses that they think the others or one of them will like

They’re having one of those online movie in different computers together. 

Also multiplayer games because they can.

Ignis wins every time. 

The chocobros are playing a 4-members Squad mode in Battle Royale games. Noct and Prom are okay. Ignis is the Pro. Gladio is the bait.

Iris:

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Cor: 

Cor is surprisingly calm about this.

Cor is spending his time meditating.

Cor has barely any paperwork, as his work is mostly physical, so he gets a lot of time free with Regis’ politics for a proper literally-no-need-to-go-out politics. Meditation that is.

Cor is phoning Prompto each now and then, too. 

Prompto would answer happily that he’s fine and with no virus. Cor finally once tells him he’s not asking if he’s ok about the virus. Prom needed no more explanation and just said he was ok, if a little sad.

Cor is working out at home.

Cor is getting bored.

Cor is reading, watching series, or meditating, or cooking just for the sake of it.

Cor just has one problem.  He’s a workaholic. You give him no work, this man starts slowly having a meltdown and descent into the abyss of madness. He needs to die of stress, how else do you expect him to live?

The first weeks were fine. After the first few weeks Cor starts getting anxious about needing work to do.

Cor you stupid thing 

Cor is starting to get distracted in meditation because he keeps getting anxious about working in something.

Cor starts phoning Regis.

“Do you have any paperwork for me now?”

This is every two days. 

Regis COULD have given him something. Regis doesn’t. Cor needs to learn to know how to be AT PEACE FOR FUCKING ONCE.

Cor is making paperwork up to work on lol

Cor was diagnosed with the virus. They put the virus in quarentine for its safety. 

[leverage-ot3]

notable moments from The Beantown Bailout Job

leverage 2.01

(see link for a video on this episode that captured literally all of my reactions and will undoubtedly capture yours too)

Manager: You found that stolen Monet in Florence, saved your company a $25 million payout. That identity-theft case, you saved $15 million.

+

nate sees .00005 seconds of normal life and yeets the hell out

- - - - -

(The lobby is teaming with people when Nate walks in. A sign shows that Sophie is starring in The Sound of Music. He sees Parker at the ticket counter)

Parker: Picking up for one.

Ticket Agent: Last name?

Parker: Parker.

Ticket Agent: First name?

Parker: No. Just one name.

Ticket Agent: Great. I hope you enjoy it.

(Parker turns to see Nate across the room and smiles)

Hardison: Parker?

(Parker looks to her right to see Hardison. The sound of Eliot’s laughter from across the lobby draws Hardison’s attention)

Eliot (to women): All right. After the show, then. I'll see you.

(Eliot turns and sees the others. The all meet in the center of the lobby)

Nate: Eliot.

Parker: Nate.

Hardison: Parker.

Eliot: Hardison.

Eliot: So, how have you...

Nate: Good. Good. Great. You?

Eliot: Fantastic. Six months of traveling. Did a couple of big jobs.

Hardison: eah. Me, too. Great off time. Well, I bought an oxygen tank. Cool, nice.

Parker: Yeah, super. I've been really super, too.

Nate: Yeah, she didn't tell me that you guys would..

this is that dinner scene from shrek 2 right???

also, parker’s lil smile when she sees nate, hardison’s big smile when he sees parker + hardison says parker and eliot says hardison = ot3 acknowledging each other

- - - - -

Hardison: I didn't know you could sing.

Sophie: You know. Not as well as I act, but, yeah.

Hardison: Oh

- - - - -

Sophie: Uhhgh…

Hardison: Yeah, you know, I'm sure the reviews will be...

(Sophie hands Hardison her phone)

Hardison: …on the news website already.

Parker (grabs the phone): Really? Wow. "Never before has a production of 'The Sound Of Music' made me root for the Nazis. (Hardison gestures something like ‘WHY’ to Parker and she gestures something like ‘JDJSJSJ SORRY’ back)

POOR SOPHIE LMFAO

- - - - -

Sophie: No. No, no, no. Stop it. There is nothing you can say that's gonna make me feel better.

Parker: I know what could make you feel better. We should steal something.

Nate: No, no.

Sophie: Yes! We could do it together.

Eliot: I like this. Get right back up on the bike.

Parker: Bike of crime.

Nate: Didn't you earlier tell me how great your new lives were?

Parker: Yeah, well, I stole the Hope Diamond.

Nate: What?

Parker: (Everyone looks surprised. Eliot looks like he is going to say something.) And then I put it back. Yeah, 'cause I was bored. Didn't care.

Hardison: I spent three days hacking the white house e-mail. No buzz.

Nate: See?

Hardison: But we are doing some pretty hinky stuff in Pakistan. Hinky.

Sophie: Look, I'm miserable. They're miserable. (to Eliot) Okay, what have you been doing the last six months?

Eliot: I was in Pakistan. (Parker grins)

Hardison: You see what you did? You took the world's best criminals, hitter, hacker, grifter, thief, you took us, and you broke us.

Nate: No, no. I-I, what I did, I taught you how to help people. That's all.

Parker: Exactly.

Sophie: Yeah.

Eliot: This is the problem, with being the good guy. It gets under your skin.

Sophie: Look, Nate. You have to have some poor, little lost soul somewhere who needs a little extra-legal aid.

Nate: Look, we all agreed that we'd just move on.

Sophie: Yeah, but we're... We're thieves.

Nate: Not me. Look, it was great. It was fun. It was wonderful while it lasted, but I was drunk most of the time, to be honest with you. And I… A little crazy.

Eliot: Yeah, but you were good.

Parker: You were the best.

Hardison: We were the best.

Parker: Yeah.

Nate: Listen, really, I owe all of you. And I'm very proud of what we did. I-I really am. But I got my life back, and I intend to keep it that way. And I am not a thief. (stands up) It was great to see all of you. Good night. (leaves)

BIKE OF CRIME + also bruh let them have their found family, nate

- - - - -

(Nate enters the dim room and looks around. Behind him, the Thug opens the door and comes at him with a knife. Nate sees the reflection in a pot lid and turns to block the blow. Sophie comes in behind the Thug)

Sophie: Oi! Does your mother sew? (headbutts Thug) Stitch that.

(Thug runs out of the condo. Nate runs out after him, but Thug gets away. As he reenters the condo, Sophie hits him in the head with a cookie sheet and Nate falls to the floor)

Sophie: Ah! Bugger

she tried, your honor + her tough talk and then AH BUGGER

- - - - -

(the next morning, Nate wakes up on the couch to the sound of Parker eating. Parker is wearing a Nun’s habit, smiles and moves away. Sophie comes downstairs wearing Nate’s shirt)

Nate: That's my shirt.

Sophie: Yeah. I stayed the night to make sure you were okay. You what? But don't worry. I didn't look under your bed. I know that's where guys keep weird, kinky stuff.

Nate: There's nothing under my bed.

Parker (opens cupboard): This is all coffee.

Nate: Get out of there! (sees Hardison and Eliot at the table) What are you guys doing? (gets up) Come on, get out of here. Get all this stuff out of here. You're planning something. I know it. Come on. Get out of my house.

...

Hardison: Look, nobody else is gonna help that guy and his little girl. Okay, that's what we do. We help people. By the way, I compared Sophie's description of your attacker to the accident footage from the security camera.

(Hardison pushes a few buttons on the laptop and zooms in on the Thug’s face to begin a facial recognition search through various cameras in the area)

Hardison: Do you realize, on average, people are caught on security cameras 13 times a day? ATM cameras, traffic cameras. It's crazy, man, but we can track him. We can. Well, I lost him in this.

Eliot: Yeah, well, I found this empty briefcase belonging to a Matt Kerrigan at that intersection.

...

Eliot: Yeah, well, the problem is, these two cats went down to the safety deposit boxes.

Parker: Which is the only room in every bank, with absolutely no cameras.

Hardison: Which means we up, baby. (puts on a priest’s collar) They tried to kill Kerrigan for what was in the briefcase. We're gonna steal it back.

Eliot (laughs): She was dressed that way 'cause she's doing a con.

Nate: What, you thought she was dressed like a nun for no reason?

Eliot: It's Parker.

...

(Nate walks away)

Sophie (to Eliot): So, you going?

Eliot: I'm not going anywhere. The man has 700 sports channels.

Sophie: You want to see what he's got under his bed?

Eliot: N-no, I do not.

Sophie: Icky

- - - - -

(Parker opens her Bible to reveal a lock duplication kit with a depression in the plastic of the master key)

[Flashback]

(Parker takes the key from the Bank Manager’s pocket as Hardison talks, pressing the key into the form before replacing it into the Bank Manager’s pocket)

Hardison: And the children... The children thank you. They will send you a card just as soon as we buy them tiny pencils. And teach them how to spell. It's a two-step process, you see.

[Bank Vault]

Parker: Superglue and a heat-activated polymer to set it. Seven seconds, instant plastic key. (hands Hardison the Bible) Shake it.

Hardison: What?

Parker: Shake the bible.

Hardison: This is even more wrong.

(Hardison: takes the Bible and begins shaking it while Parker picks box 5076)

they’re so competent ugh

- - - - -

Hardison: I did look for you. For six months.

HE LOOKED FOR HER FOR SIX MONTHS

- - - - -

Parker: I think people are like locks. Really complicated and frustrating. But you can't force them. You have to take time and be fiddly.

Hardison: Fiddly?

Parker: You learn to be patient, and just wait until you hear the...

(the lock opens and the door swings wide)

- - - - -

(Hardison is sitting on the couch going through some paperwork and working on a laptop. Several boards have been set up with information about the case)

Nate: Now, this is not "gone." This is "more."

Hardison: Yeah, I, uh, I scanned the documents in Leary's box, but I wanted to print out a few pages.

Nate: I asked—I asked Eliot to get rid of this stuff. Now there's more stuff.

Hardison: Did you? Oh, we-we crossed, but didn't see each other. He didn't tell me.

Nate: Oh, that's how you're gonna play this?

Hardison: Oh, man. Look... (stands up and sniffs)

Nate: What?

Hardison: Is that... What is that aroma? That's that apple shampoo that's open.

Nate: You've been up in my shower, rummaging around?

Hardison: Man's in a strange bathroom, he's got a lot of time to kill... Nate, Nate, Nat-

I CANNOT

- - - - -

Nate: Grew up in the same neighborhood. The O'Hares are mobbed up. These are all mob businesses you're talking about here.

Hardison: Mob?

Nate: Where's Eliot?

Hardison: Oops.

Nate: What?

[Warehouse]

(Eliot is going through boxes when his phone rings. He answers)

Eliot: Yeah, Hardison. This is the third place I checked. It's all the same. What do you mean mob?

Thug: Hey!

(three men approach, one of them the Thug, who has his nose bandaged and is carrying a baseball bat)

Eliot: Oh, that mob. (hangs up)

hardison’s “whoops” followed by I HAVE TO WARN MY BOYFRIEND + in this episode we have eliot using a baseball bat as a weapon which is yet another piece in the continuation of eliot using things as weapons that are not supposed to be used as weapons

+ he apologizes to the guy that just had a nose job for beating him up and punching him in the nose he’s baby

- - - - -

(Nate opens the refrigerator to find it full of Hardison’s orange soda)

Nate: Seriously?

(Nate turns to see the island covered in food and dishes)

Nate: You know, guys, there is a dishwasher here.

Eliot: You're out of ice.

he literally can’t get rid of them + also I WONDER whose orange soda that is

- - - - -

parker robot dancing in the 80s jacket and looking DIRECTLY at eliot lmfao

- - - - -

Nate: What? Sophie, how do you catch mob guys?

Sophie: Ah, two glasses of Chianti and a story about my grandma in Sicily

- - - - -

Nate: Well, yeah. I mean, if you have a body in the trunk of your car, you're gonna drive under the speed limit, aren't you?

Parker: You know, when you're sober, your metaphors get creepier

- - - - -

eliot and parker sitting next to each other? cute

- - - - -

Hardison: Mr. Leary, I'm Detective Costello, with the Massachusetts State Police. This is Detective Costigan. I believe you met with our chief, Lieutenant Bonanno

more aliases to keep track of

- - - - -

Parker: We're investigating your colleague Matt Kerrigan's (air quotes) "car accident."

Leary: So you don't think it was an accident?

Hardison: Of course not. She did the finger thing. You got that. Everybody gets that.

Parker: Did I do it right?

Hardison: No. No. This guy just... (pulls picture from his pocket)

~ a few moments later ~

Parker: I did it right, didn't I?

Hardison: It was perfect.

Parker: I knew I did it right.

Hardison: It was beautiful execution. Absolutely.

Parker: Just like you taught me. I did it. (she smiles brightly)

Hardison: Yeah. Yeah, you did it. I like it. Yeah. (gives her a thumbs up)

SHES LEARNING IM SO PROUD OF HER

- - - - -

Eliot: Hey, this detonator - If I'm around the corner, is it still gonna be in range?

Hardison: Should be. I haven't worked out all the kinks yet. Sometimes the things just go off.

Eliot: Whoa, whoa, wait. Hey. I thought you said this thing was safe.

Hardison: Mostly. Mostly safe. I was very specific. Sometimes the frequencies get messed up.

Eliot: What frequencies, man? Huh? I got these things in my pants.

Hardison: Like, you know, a garage-door opener, a car alarm.

(a car alarm chirps then goes off, making Eliot jump. He moves away angrily)

Parker: What are the odds that Eliot's crotch will actually explode?

Eliot: Damn it, Hardison! (stalks off)

chaotic ot3

- - - - -

Sophie (shows passport): Annie Kroy.

O’Hare (grabs passport): Name's familiar.

Sophie: My family does business in North London with Terry Adams, and a couple of other organizations. We handle the money.

Nate (getting up): Yeah, see, what they do is they clean the money.

some people think that annie kroy is sophie’s true identity. I think, if anything, it would be her duchess alias but can you IMAGINE mob child sophie??? also, hi. im jackie and I wholeheartedly believe annie kroy has killed a man.

- - - - -

(Eliot is parked outside of the bank when Leary comes out, looking at files. Eliot hits a remote and the sound of gunfire fills the street as the squibs go off. People scream and Leary dives for cover. Eliot laughs and closes his window.)

chaotic eliot

- - - - -

Leary: And for that, the government hunts them down like dogs. People like me, we took billions from the banks. Billions. And what did the government do when they finally caught us? They wrote us a giant check and begged us to make it all better.

that’s disturbing

- - - - -

(Parker uses a taser on O’Hare and Hardison pulls up a recorder)

I think that was the first time parker tasered someone and we love to see it

- - - - -

Nate: So, how did you do it?

Eliot (gets up): Detonator, (holds up remote, reaches into his shirt and pulls out ketchup wrapper) ketchup.

Nate: Ah, the classics.

Sophie: Oh (hops happily), I love a good death scene

- - - - -

parker in a nun costume smelling money and saying “ahhhh” is certainly a mood

- - - - -

Leary: I was tricked. I was tricked. It wasn't me, you understand?

Bonanno: Somebody tricked you into bringing a briefcase full of evidence of your own crimes straight to the police? Come on, Mr. Leary. Nobody's that smart. Get him out of here

THEY ARE T H A T SMART

- - - - -

Zoe: Thank you. There are wolves in the world. But sometimes they're the good guys, I guess.

I didn’t like that whole metaphor because it felt kinda cliche but whatever, they ARE the good guys

+ bruh why is hardison wearing glasses??? him and eliot will sometimes wear them and honestly I don’t know who actually needs them and for what at this point ???

- - - - -

(Nate enters the condo to find that Hardison has installed five of six large monitors on the wall and is working on the last one)

Nate: Whoa, whoa. What are you doing there?

Hardison: I'm running this cat 5 cable to the--

Nate: Oh, no, no, no, no. You don't understand. No, I don't want to have these monitors in my apartment. No.

(Parker opens the door and walks in carrying a large painting)

Parker: Coming through!

Nate: No, these must go. What? No! Parker, no! Not that paint--I don't ever want to see that painting.

Parker: (shaking the painting as she talks in a funny voice) “Hi, I'm old Nate, and I live here, too."

Nate: You can't just break in here and start hanging--

Hardison: Oh, yeah, yeah. For repairs or renovation, your landlord has full access to your dwelling. It's in the lease.

Nate: What are you doing reading my lease?

Hardison: I bought the building.

Nate: You bought the... You're my landlord?

Hardison: Yeah. (holds his hand out for a fistbump) Yeah.

(Nate looks away, then hears the sound of a chain saw. He turns to see the end of a chain saw come through the wall)

Nate: No, no! No! No!

(Part of the wall falls to reveal Eliot holding the chainsaw and grinning. Nate coughs and both Parker and Hardison put their arms around him)

CHAOTIC OT3 + THEIR TIRED DAD