#and then I could have been hanging out with people more interesting than church cops

[sapphim]

forget that they made cassandra straight, the real disservice bioware did to wlw everywhere was making cassandra a protagonist, actually. like, come on. she's MUCH hotter as an antagonist and you all know it.

the moment she stopped wanting my head on a pike they LOST me. what a waste! what an inexplicably rejected opportunity! they chose to pander and this was what they came up with? a loss for women everywhere.

[hypernova-blitz-arts]

Okay so i have an idea- TMC but with a storyline based off of FAITH. basically a crossover. ik it's been done before but i'd like to present my own take on it. Long ass character info list under the cut

Btw if you wanna rb this, please do! It let's me know people are interested

To start, I think the AU would/should be called When Faith Prevails.

The cult still exists, Preacher is the leader of the lower ranking members. The cat is the cult mascot because yes. I'll elaborate later.

All of the humans are traumatized!! Yaaaaay!!!

Mark (Father Heathcliff)

- 36

- absolute wet cat of a man

- takes on a role similar to John

- decided he wanted to be a priest so he could help people. Only wanted to become a priest after an incident in his childhood in which he attempted to finish an exorcism. One which the priest that had been called to the scene died during.

- Continuing the above, the faithful boy did what he could, as he was instructed to by O'Brien. He wasn't fast enough.

- Insomnia, night terrors, PTSD, anxiety, depression

Dave (Father Lee)

- late 50's

- Takes on a role similar to Father Garcia because it's fucking hilarious to me to imagine Dave blasting a demon with a shotgun

- he's too cool that's why he dies later

- cares for Mark a lot, considers him family

- became a priest due to his Visions (TM) as a child. He's been revered as a holy prophet since.

- somehow the most stable guy in this entire AU, had a good family life, decent childhood, stayed out of trouble, a very good child. He's mostly chillin, save for the fact that he Witnesses The Horrors every night in his sleep.

Father O'Brien

- died during an exorcism.

- he done goofed.

Cesar Torres

- Died at 16, somehow aged as a ghost? maybe because he's still attached to his body.

- a spirit bound to what's left of his mortal form. Cannot be at peace until his body is killed.

- an alt possessed him and took his body during a botched attempt to exorcise it out of his house. Turns out there was more than one.

- "talks" to Mark sometimes (leaves things out that mean different things, writes notes)

- "bleeding" constantly

- hates seeing Mark spiral like this

"Cesar Torres"/Alt Cesar

- Killed Cesar and took over his body.

- watch it gain humanity later (i'm sorry but giving Alts humanity and then making them spiral is my favorite thing to do. It's so much fun to watch an unfeeling entity, one made to kill, drive itself insane over being a failure)

- they/it at first, he/it later on.

Sarah Heathcliff

- before i go on, this is only an AU loosely based on FAITH. That being said, Lisa (or any replacement thereof) x John (or any replacement thereof) does not exist.

- 32

- Mark's distant sister, lives in the Cult's apartment building.

- stays away from religion because of her childhood

- some flavor of emotional management issues, that's what makes her so easy for an Alternate to manipulate/begin to possess.

Thatcher Davis

- look, i refuse to make him as young as he is canonically. not as old as Dave, but close. bro is at least in his 40's here. maybe very early 40's but 40s nonetheless.

- cop that hangs around the church for security.

- hangs out with Dave, calls him old man a lot

- trauma. so much trauma.

- Dave taught him how to exorcise an alt out of a given place, but Thatcher has something stronger (a gun)

- "I'm a brave boy" *Sees an alt* "NOT A BRAVE ENOUGH BOY FOR THIS"

Ruth Weaver

- used to live in the cult apartment building.

- She was sacrificed.

- Thatcher is still looking for her.

- He won't like what he finds.

Adam Murray

- He's just Michael Davies here what else can i say

-17

- humanity? gone. none left.

- he's in so much pain all the fucking time help him

Jonah Marshall

- Adam's best friend

-18

- alive. for now.

- anxiety, so much anxiety, hallucinates a lot.

- he knows how to use a GUN in this one folks

Lucifer/The Morningstar/ UNSPEAKABLE

- you see how he looks in canon? make it worse. make it a million times more uncomfortable to look at.

- eyes. All of the eyes. So many eyes.

- limbs? Many. Wings? Yeah, he has those too. They're leathery and bat-like with a layer of blackened feathers along the top.

- merciless

- created the alternates to twist the world to his design.

- likes to watch humans go mental, it's so funny to him <3

Important side characters (mostly Alts)

Six/The Anglerfish

- lures children in to either make them join the cult or sacrifice them, often replaces them with an alt to "spread the vision of it's creator"

- Warned Mark of what was to happen, was there to observe Mark failing his best friend

- bastard. Kill him. Right now.

- him and stanley are one in the same. Six is the anglerfish hiding in the darkness behind its lure. A monster behind a friendly face.

Preacher

- Kind of equivalent to Malphas but usually takes a form like that of Miriam's

- right hand to the UNSPEAKABLE

- bastard boy bastard boy bastard boy

- manipulative little prick

The Sacrifices

- various sacrificed animals possessed by lower ranking alts

Goat

- THE fucked up sacrifice

- little fucking bitchass daddy's boy. Asskisser of the antichrist. Desperate for the UNSPEAKABLE'S attention

- Alu's replacement

[barbasbodaciousbeard]

The Iowa Caucus Happened

A job offer slides into Rafael’s DMs as he waits to find out if it’ll be a new start or prison on February 8.

Accidental Feminist Icon

Delete the Twitter app, Mr. Barba

“Mister Barba?”

Rafael didn’t like hearing his name from the young woman behind him, especially not given what he’d done. He’d texted Carmen on the first day of the trial, and she’d agreed to look into the offers from attorneys he knew, and some he didn’t, while he sat beside Dworkin and emotionally prepared himself to testify. The ones he’d looked at the night before came from people he didn’t like or were last resorts. He’d moved from his visceral response to finding law to back his actions. Applying logic could let him detangle himself from his conflicted emotions. Catholic guilt wrestled his humanity. That said, he also found himself desperate to introduce Ollie to music as Carmen worked from his apartment that first afternoon, not caring for once as the toddler drooled or sneezed or spilled all over him.

“Yes?” he asked, taking his coffee from the cart. “I’m sorry, have we met?”

“We haven’t. I follow you on Twitter.”

“Ah,” he said, shifting awkwardly. “It’s nice to meet you, Miss-”

“Rachel Sullivan. I have, like, a reading Twitter.”

“I’ve seen that! Read with Rachel? Your icon is a copy of Howl?”

“Yeah,” she nodded, chuckling. “I just- listen, I know it’s bad what’s going on and a lot of people are really hurt and going after you. Do I get it? No. But, I think you didn’t get a good choice, and you did what’s right for you. When it seems impossible, it’s not my place to judge something I can’t fathom. And a lot of people feel the same. A bunch of us have a group chat and we hope everything goes well and you get to start again.”

It was a stark contrast to his interaction with mami or emails from church ladies. There was an acknowledgement of disagreement, but he needed more people to respect that they weren’t there like she did. He also remembered watching his father die, and while he didn’t like the man, he regretted not ending that pain. It only drew out hurt for everyone. 

“Thank you, Rachel. That really means the world to me.”

“Good luck today,” she said, giving him a wave when she took her coffee and left. By the end of the day, Rafael hated Peter Stone for being a damn good prosecutor, and he wondered if there were any cases he’d tried, especially the ones before SVU that he was wrong on. He made his way into a new bar, definitely not his usual during all of this, and he sat and drafted his resignation. It took longer than he cared to admit, and he restarted and reread it time and time again. By the time he was drunk, he’d written something he could proofread the next morning and ignored calls from Olivia, Carmen, and mami. 

He decided it was time to do what he had been dreading, logging into Twitter. Since Carmen had cleaned it up, more people had found him, and he was able to easily ignore anything hateful by skimming for murder or murderer in the body of the tweet. He skipped those, and Rafael was surprised to see some apathy, sympathy, or respect for his reasoning. Lazily, he scrolled his direct messages. A select few of the people who knew him contacted him with revulsion, but his filtered messages were filled with vitriol. He found Rachel’s account again, following her back and deciding he could break his unspoken rule of only following people he knew or the occasional blog/podcast/museum/celebrity. If anyone contacted him with kindness, he was now more open to the reciprocity of Twitter; no one would be asking him to prosecute their case soon.  

He saw a message from Tripp Greene. In Harvard, they’d had an unspoken alliance as the two scholarship kids in their cohort, a silent allegiance that continued into law school. There were very few people Rafael respected personally from Harvard, but Tripp had remained kind, even if he worked in something as ruthless as politics. They’d been reunited by Rafael’s uptick in Twitter popularity. He was more proud than he should be by the potential presidential candidates that had followed him. Rafael should have known Tripp would reach out; he was ever the silent cheerleader and had watched a sibling die on life support when he was at Harvard. They’d discussed the morality of pulling plugs and the selfish desire to keep people alive, though most of it had been Tripp talking and Rafael listening.

While moving to Iowa seemed extreme, he was acutely aware that he would end up haunting the DA’s office and Manhattan SVU like some ghost of ADAs past instead of moving forward. His mother had a boyfriend and looming retirement that seemed likely to take the pair to Miami, where she could play grandma to his grandchildren. There was nothing left for him here but Carmen, and while a great friend, she was not enough to erase the last twenty-one years of his life. When Carmen called for the fifth time that night, he ignored it, but it was quickly followed by Answer the phone or I tell Olivia I haven’t heard from you. With a groan, he answered when Carmen called again sixty seconds later.

“I’m fine. I don’t want to delve back into a play by play of my day.”

“That’s why you’re drunk at seven o’clock,” she said, her tone thick with sarcasm as she pretended that solved everything.

“It’s only been two hours?”

“You’re not at Forlini’s.”

“I’m not hanging out with Stone.”

“Send me your location. I just picked Ollie up from mom’s.”

“Take your son home, Carmen. I’ll be fine.”

“But we could talk about how much I also hate Stone. I’ll even stop and let you grab take out from that Cuban place you like.”

“Deal,” he acquiesced, motioning he wanted to close his tab. “Call me when you’re close.”

“Deal. ETA is about fifteen minutes.”

He polished off his scotch, signing the check and tipping well before taking his briefcase and leaning against the wall as he waited for Carmen’s SUV. She waved at him out the window, and he hurried into her passenger seat. Though he always knew that she was a great secretary and assistant, Carmen was proving to be the friend he needed right now. Olivia, in the few phone calls they had, was unwilling to discuss anything but the case. She was in cop mode, and she talked to him like she could swoop in and fix what he had done. While she thought he didn’t know, she’d talked to McCoy, talked to Stone, talked to anyone who would listen. But what she didn’t understand is that he’d accepted going to prison was a possibility, but it was one he felt was worth it.

“Barba!” he heard from the backseat, smiling softly to see Ollie more awake than he’d expected. He’d seen the boy periodically, mostly during evening handoffs when Carmen’s mother would drop him off so Carmen could take him home. There were a lot of single mothers in his life, and all were exceptional. The last few days, Carmen and Ollie both had spent a lot of time with him. He kept introducing Ollie to music and movies and foods like he could make up for everything Drew wouldn’t experience by making sure Ollie did.

“Oliver!” he smiled, twisting around to smile at him. The boy kicked his leg, and the blue stripe on the rubber of his sneakers lit up. “I like your shoes.”’

“Thanks,” he giggled, kicking again. 

“You’re good with him,” Carmen smiled, the navigation now leading her to get his take out. 

“He’s a good kid. Noah made me better with kids. Liv said I held him like a sack of flour at first.”

“You’ll be ready by the time you have your own.”

“I work too much.”

“That can change.”

“I don’t deserve to have a child,” he shrugged, and he could see Carmen purse her lips. “I don’t. I wouldn’t be good at it anyway. Wouldn’t be fair. Besides, I might end up like dad. No kid deserves that shit.”

“Bad word!” Ollie scolded, tablet in hand as he watched a movie.

“Sorry, Ollie. Stuff.”

“You’ve never told me what he did.”

“He wanted heterosexual, toxic machismo and got a swarmy, emotional bisexual.”

“You’re not that emotional.”

“He took care of that,” he said darkly. “I used to cry when he went after mami. That turned his attention to me.”

Carmen knew there was nothing she could say, so instead she silently took his hand, squeezing softly. He was taken aback at first, but he kept her hand loosely in his as his head lulled against the headrest. It was strangely grounding, the physical affection. He’d felt like he was swimming the last few days as memories of his father, his father’s death, his childhood, and each case he tried bubbled up. That wasn’t including the vision of baby drew and Maggie in the hospital room that lingered everywhere. 

The conflicting guilt and conviction he’d done the right thing also broke a damn and the feelings he’d suppressed- loneliness, guilt, abandonment, distrust- were all bubbling to the surface. He’d spent so much of his life trying not to process them so he could focus on a conviction rate and moving forward that he didn’t have the tools everyone else did sometimes. Right now, Carmen felt like an anchor, and he was grateful for her. 

He got out of the car when Carmen parked, ordering enough food for three adults, one take out container containing whatever he thought a toddler could handle. Soon enough, they were settled in his living room and eating, though Ollie had minimal interest in the pork, beans, and rice in front of him. The thought crossed his mind that when he took one of the out of state jobs, he wouldn’t have Carmen there like this. He was sure this friendship would be short lived; when he didn’t need her anymore, she’d leave him. That’s what usually happened, wasn’t it? She just felt bad for him.

“I’m moving to Iowa,” he blurted out before he was able to spiral into the self loathing he’d recently discovered.

“That’s far,” she said, and he thought he could detect sadness in her voice.

“There’s FaceTime.”

“Not quite the same, but I’ll take it.”

“Tripp understands,” he said, sobering up as the food hit his stomach. “He lost a sister. Watched someone dying like with my dad except she’d been born that way. It was years, Carmen.”

“That’s a lot. I’m going to miss you, Rafael. Ollie will too.”

“Come visit. If the tickets are bad, I’ll pay. Or cover renting a car.”

“You’re drunk,” she chuckled. 

“Sorry. Best friend. It’s the rules.”

“We’ll come. But I can afford tickets.” 

“Promise if it’ll make things tight, you’ll let me. You’re raising a kid. No kids means I can afford to get my friend the occasional plane ticket.”

“Deal.”

“Next week, will it be Des Moines or prison? Who knows! I’ll probably grow a beard either way. Think they’d recognize me in prison if I grow a beard?” 

“I’ve never seen you with a beard. Stop shaving and we’ll find out.”

She could see Rafael getting tired, head leaning back against the couch and closing his eyes. She preferred when he joked about all of this. They were stuck waiting, and this time the next night they’d probably know. Ollie climbed between them on the couch, and she realized her boss wasn’t the only one almost asleep. 

“You two can stay,” Rafael yawned, hand smoothing Ollie’s curls back. 

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah. It’ll be nice not being alone in the morning. And you can stay here to work. We didn’t talk about it, but I know you hate Stone. He’s a good attorney. Doing his job.”

“His job is wrong.”

“That isn’t his fault. If another ADA had done what I did? I’d be prosecuting them.”

“Go get ready for bed,” she chuckled, rolling her eyes. As she scooped Ollie up, she kissed the top of Rafael’s head. “We’ll see you in the morning.”

“Carmen?” She turned in the doorframe. “Thank you. For all of this.”

“I’m glad to, Raf. Promise you’ll actually sleep.”

“I promise.”

“Night, Barba,” Ollie yawned, waving over his mom’s shoulder as they entered his guest room. Maybe Iowa was going to be too far if he didn’t go to prison. He was getting quite fond of having Carmen around quite quickly. He wasn’t going to be her superior anymore, so this friendship could be something he maintained. 

Olivia would be a given; even if they were primarily united around work, she was also one of his closest friends and maybe not working together would make him relax. Hell, maybe the end of his life in the city would do it. Rafael couldn’t remember a time he hadn’t felt he was chasing an upward trajectory in New York City. Even at Harvard, the plan had been to return. Maybe coming into Des Moines established would let him feel comfortable just existing. 

He liked cooking and reading in the park and going out dancing on occasion. He rarely had time for two options, and the latter made his cheeks red with embarrassment at the prospect of a colleague seeing him during the outing. In Iowa, maybe he could go dancing and take up a new hobby and wear jeans without feeling like something was out of his control. 

He woke up before Carmen, excited to be able to cook for her. He appreciated the fact she was happy to help him, but she had paused her own life for the last few days. Their friendship was relegated to offices and dinners by the office. He’d come to her baby shower and birthday parties and even a holiday party, but that was it and that had other colleagues present. Except maybe the baby shower, but he was determined to buy up whatever was left on her registry when the day came, using mami, abuelita, and the older women at church as pseudonyms to pretend he’d just let family know. 

“You can cook?”

“I just never had time,” he shrugged, tray coming out of the oven.

“You made pastries?” 

“Pastelitos de guayaba.” Carmen didn’t miss how proud he looked as he admired them. They were something he’d always made with family. “They aren’t hard, but abuelita used to make them for me all the time. Puff pastry, sweetened cream cheese and guava paste. Cafe con leche on the way.”

“You couldn’t sleep?” He shook his head, pouring the espresso and adding the milk before placing mugs at the breakfast counter. His mouth was set in a line now, the corners sucked in as he focused on the countertop. Her hand rested on his, giving a squeeze and he rewarded her with a soft smile. “We’ll be helping you pack for Iowa in no time.”

“I hope,” he nodded, biting into a pastry. Ollie came out, eyeing the countertop. “Want one, Oliver?”

“What are they?”

“Delicious,” Carmen groaned, having torn into her own. That was enough for Ollie, who accepted a pastry from Rafael with a soft Thank you before biting into it carefully.

“Wow! It is good!”

“I’m glad you like it.”

It felt a somber affair, despite the pastries, when Carmen saw him off to court. She chose to wait in his apartment, ringer on high and news coverage on. Ollie was easily entertained by the toys she had in the car, and the phones were forwarded to be answerable on her cell phone. By the end of the day, she’d put dinner in his slow cooker and cleaned most everything at least once. And then her phone rang with his ringer. She’d picked one of the other presets for him long ago, and she watched Ollie with his blocks as she answered.

“Rafael?”

“Not guilty,” he exhaled, still unable to believe it as he surveyed his office to begin packing. Her desk was empty, and he didn’t mind today because if she had been here, McCoy would’ve had her helping Stone. Carmen was his assistant, his friend, and it was bad enough to know Stone would probably take his place at work.

“Thank God,” she whispered. “Did you turn the letter in?”

“I put it on Jack’s desk. I’m hoping to be gone buy his return. I think three heavy boxes will cover it. Plus anything I hung, but other than diplomas most of it came with the place.”

“I put dinner on. Ollie and I ran to the store and picked up short ribs and potatoes and carrots. I needed something to do.”

“Nervous you’d be visiting me in prison?”

“You know damn well juries can be swayed. You’ve done it.”

“And I’m safe. I’ll be there in a couple of hours, okay?”

“Okay,” she said softly. “I’m really glad you get to go to Iowa.”

[clowndaydreams]

Yan!Marvus x Reader

I hope you all like it!

“Can you pass me the potato chips?” You looked over to your companion. Marvus nodded and reached over to get said bag from his side of the couch.

“here ya go.” You grunted a quick thank you to the clown and started to dig in. You had been hanging out with Marvus all day. You still couldn’t believe how friendly you’ve gotten with the superstar since you met him at that concert you went to. It had been a few perigrees since then, but the clown had since made a habit of inviting you over randomly when he was free. You were just happy that he remembered you at all.

Currently though, you were both relaxing on the couch and watching some Slam or Get Culled episodes that he was in. Right now, a season finale was playing. He was the final challenge for that season’s top 2. They had to rap battle him and whoever fared better was the winner.  You glanced over at him. He was in his usual facepaint, but was casually wearing a neon yellow ripped tank top and matching pajama pants with some designer troll logo and ‘JUICY’ all over them. How he managed to look so hot in that would forever elude you. You snapped out of it when he started speaking again.

“u kno, i thought ricard was the better 1 outta those 2.” You pretended to glare at him.

“SPOILERS!” You jokingly huffed, lightly shoving his arm. It didn’t move, as you’d expect.

“LOL! XoD sorry fam, seen dis crap 1000 times alreddy.” Wait, then why did he let you pick this episode? Or even agree to watch this with you? If this was boring you could do something else. And as if he could read your mind, he held up a hand.

“dun worry bout dis. is chill or w/e. butt srsly, u kno who gunna win.”

“Still! I wanna watch it!” You giggled. You both watched on in silence as Marvus was brought on to surprise the contestants.

“How were they behind the scenes?” You asked as you watched the confessionals for both of the contestants.

“ricards moirail b a clown, so me n him knew each other alreddy. he wuz p chill i guess lol.”

“What about Krayaa?”

“turns out she wuz a fangirl. foamin at the mouth n erythng.”

“Really?!” You turned to him to try and see if he was lying. He looked almost bored about it all. Like you were both talking about the weather or something. You wished you could be so relaxed about meeting a rabid fangirl and somehow living to tell the tale. Seadwellers were supposed to be stronger and more durable than landdwellers. At least, that was according Polypa anyway. Huh, you had to remember to check on her later after you got home too.

“ye. she wanted 2 pail after the shoot.” Your jaw dropped. Krayaa was a seadweller! Did he have to listen to her? She could have killed him for not listening!

“Nahhh, no worries,, the contract she signed for the ep woulda had her disqualified and mah bodyguards woulda whooped her b4 she had a chance. ;op” He chuckled. “If she managed 2 get thru them, I aint no wimp.” He added, flexing his arms a little to prove his point. You almost couldn’t stop staring. He had to know what he was doing to you…right? Granted, this was a crush you had no intention of pursuing. If you were speaking honestly, Marvus was a guy who probably didn’t want commitment due to his lifestyle. Even then, he had people throwing themselves at him constantly. People his own species. People who were a lot better fitting with his general aesthetic and not some poor wandering alien that he would DM when he was high when they both should have been sleeping. Your own concepts of relationships and types of love were different. But you could dream, right? You were content with just having him as your designated hot friend anyway. …That did mean you were allowed to drool over him in your mind. As long as it doesn’t get creepy to him. Yeah. You were fine.

“u gud (Y/N)? u tryna lure snacks into ur mouth or smth?” You snapped out of your stupor.

“Ew! Gross! I don’t eat bugs like you weirdos!”

“it aint gross. literally free snacks u can catch. :o)” He laughed.

“Where I’m from they’re gross!” Granted, there were places that did eat crickets and the like on Earth, but you would never tell him that.

“dun knock it till ya try it.” He got up and left the room, returning after a moment with a small box.

“…What is that.” You had a sinking feeling you knew what it was.

“chirp grubs.” He opened it and there they were. Disgusting caramelized crickets.

“I can’t.” You shook your head.

“more 4 me lol.” You looked away as he ate a few of the crickets. You looked back at him when his palmhusk rang. It sounded like a clown horn version of one of his songs. Fitting, honestly.

He glanced at it and rolled his eyes before silencing the phone.

“Who was that?”

“thottie.”

“Oh…” He looked bored again. Not good. What could you talk to him about to keep him interested?

“Uh…You ever get tired of the fans trying to aggressively pail you?” Ok, that wasn’t the best choice for conversation. Your bad.

“i meannn….in the beginning yeah. now its kinda the norm 4 me ufeelme?”

“Yeah, I guess. Does it ever make you feel like you can’t have a relation-er, quadrant?” You assumed it would, but that would also come with fame in general, wouldn’t it? You weren’t sure. Then again, if he didn’t want-

“kinda. i think its kinda funny how i can attract psychos, fans and thots, but not my crushes.” You sat up straight. Marvus had a crush?

“Wait. You…uh…are pale or um….red? for somebody?” You didn’t have the best grasp on quadrant terms.

“lol sumtimes i forget your an alien.” He leaned back onto the couch.

“butt yeah, i have a few crushes at the mo.” He smiled, staring at the ceiling.  Few. He has more than one crush right now. That soft smile said it all. He had it bad.

“…Can you tell me who they are?” He looked over at you and looked sheepish.

“i…dun think is a gud idea.”

“Please? I have to know who the great Marvus Xoloto has a crush on.”

“u kno 1. itll be awk af :o(“ Now you had to know. Now you were thinking about whether or not Marvus had a type. What if they were all mega hot models? Wait! Did he have a crush on Chahut? They would totally have to know each other. Who else did you both know??? He heard of Cirava, but you didn’t think they talked. Who???

“…kk fine. only if u slam a faygo tho.” You gave him a look.

“Isn’t Faygo…not for non-clowns?”

“is just us. whos gunna kno?”

“You promise nobody’s gonna know?”

“on my life. u slam a faygo, n ill tell u who my flush be.” You thought it over. You remembered tasting the stuff at clown church when you went you went with Chahut that one time. Just a sip left you a bit tipsy. A whole bottle may have rendered you unable to be coherent enough to even process who his flush crush was. Would it be worth it? You felt a choice coming on. Either way you had to drink a certain amount in order to maybe try and learn this random troll’s identity. The question was, do you try and counter his offer or just slam the entire bottle and hope for the best?

…

It would be better to respect your own limits. A bunch of your friends had lectured you a few times over putting yourself out just to potentially make a friend. This would piss them off and would probably not end in your favor even if you did decide to just go with it anyway.

“How much faygo do I have to drink?”

“hm…” He got up, went to the kitchen and got a small can of Grape Faygo, a normal bottle for one and a whole 2 liter bottle. “imma b nice. u get a choice. u gotta try 2 finish the can. u get 1 q with the name if u finish the can. Smol bottle gets u 2 qs and the name n the 2L gets u as many qs as u liek. fair enough 2 u?”

…Now you wanted to chug the 2 liter. You haven’t even seen anyone try to down that other than the Grand High Blood once when you took Karako to clown church for the first time. But that guy was a clown and he is HUGE. You, not so much. But, you chose to respect yourself for once. You’d see how you felt after the small can and go from there. You picked it up, opened the can and took a deep breathe. Powers that be, let this not wreck you and let this answer be worth it. If he cops out with his answers, you would try to hurt him. You started chugging. You did your best to try and treat it like a shot like Cirava taught you so you wouldn’t taste the overly sweet flavor too much. After a moment of light agony and attempting to not drown in the soda, you reached the end of the can. You slammed it onto the coffee table and started panting. Ok, you weren’t feeling woozy like before. Maybe those tiny sips when you went to clown church helped your body get used to it.

“u gunna try the otha bottles?” You managed to shake your head. You weren’t gonna do that again. Your head started hurting. You looked over at him. Were his eyes always so vibrantly purple? Woah, now they’re flashing purple. What the heck? Was this Faygo high? You now understood why all the other clowns were so goofy after drinking a cup of this stuff. Crap, now your head was starting to hurt.

“Wh-Who….who is it..?” You started feeling like you were gonna pass out. You laid down on the couch. You needed to close your eyes. That was way too much for you. You felt Marvus pick you up into his arms.

“ye…after u wake up bb.” Wake up? Wait, did he just call you a pet name?! You were about to question him when he tilted his head.

“dangg,, u managed 2 stay awake with chuckles and faygo? ur stronger than i thought. Soz bout this babes.” His eyes became blindingly vibrant again and you blacked out.

[my-brothers-corrupted]

My Brothers, Corrupted

Chapter Three : Section Five : Two Truths and a Lie

Chapter One l Chapter Two l Chapter Three

After a few harrowing days, we tie up loose ends and answer questions, while Anti goes searching for answers in a less orthodox way.

Trigger warnings for sudden distress, physical abuse and restraint, mentions of cutting and blood (not self-inflicted), and emotional manipulation.

Section Five of Chapter Three: Two Truths and a Lie

Okay I usually try to save questions I don’t get to for the next time I get to the boys but we’re just going to have some miscellaneous question time lol so I can clean out my inbox! you can ask anybody anything right now. I’ll probably just clear everything out and then later or tomorrow I’ll set a scene

I do think I want to come back towards more casual answering like we used to at the start, so if I start answering questions at more random times instead of like in two-hour chunks bear with me :)

Except Trick he’s not taking questions D:

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Hey Dap! You feeling any better?

Dap is still cozied up in his blankets, holding you between his pale palms as he rouses himself. He sets you down on his lap.

“Feel very tired,” he confesses. “But not so much in the no-energy way. More like the no-interest way.”

“No interest in what?” asks Red softly, coming over off-screen to set a cup of water on his bedside table. Dapper doesn’t answer, rubbing at his sleepy eyes.

“Glad your color’s up,” says Red, though you can hear the frown in his voice. “You come back much quicker than Blue, honestly. Maybe you didn’t use as much power as I thought?”

Dapper shrugs and his stomach growls, but he doesn’t complain.

Anonymous asked: Hey boys

“Hi,” waves Dapper, smiling for you. “How are you, camera?”

Red chuckles and shuffles around the room.

“It talks to me,” signs Dapper dreamily. “Lots of voices. Cameras, brothers, bears, empty rooms. It talks to me.“

aether-mae asked: Magicians! can you either tell us your location, or tell us a location near you? Are you still in Peru?

“We are in Peru,” says Emmanuela. “It may not be safe to be more specific than that.”

pixie-in-trebleland asked: What are you two up to?

“I’ve got to go get him some breakfast here in a minute,” murmurs Red, coming to set you on the desk in the corner of the square little room, so you can see them better. There’s water damage making the ceiling sag and Dapper scratches on a little red bite on his neck, hugging his filthy white bear to his chest.

“I shouldn’t have spent so much on getting a room for a couple days,” sighs Red. “But he needed to lie down. And I have to admit it’s nice not sleeping on the street for a night.”

spicydanhowell asked: dap, red, when you're up, have you noticed maybe some churches or other places in local communities that have food donations? or actually, all kinds of fruit grow in peru. if you can find some kind of garden or orchard, you could snag some fruit when nobody's around. either of these would be a lot better than shoplifting or robbing houses :(

“You’re probably right,” mumbles Red morosely, dragging his hands through his hair. “I don’t trust those food donation places though. Fucking cops could be hanging out. Scumbags. Worse than American cops, here. Maybe.”

“That only happened once,” says Dapper. “Now you’re paranoid.”

“What?”

“It only happened once,” repeats Dapper, frowning. “That the cop followed you home after you went to get food from the nuns. And then Anti handled it. You’re paranoid.”

Red pauses, his mouth opening and shutting once.

“Dap… bud, you know I don’t remember farther back than Norway, right?”

Dapper doesn’t say anything, picking at the dirt on his bear’s ears.

“There’s no gardens around here that I know of, we’re right in the middle of this ugly city and everything’s apartment buildings and run-down businesses. I’m going to try and find a restaurant that throws stuff out or something before I steal anything, I guess. But I’m scared to be out in public and I just… I just wish we had…”

He kneads his thumb into his palm and goes quiet, his head down from the weight of it all.

cest-mellow asked: hey dok! how are you feeling with the magicians now? any safer than before?

He slept in his own bed tonight, curled up beneath the covers, but when he comes back to you, he looks upset, maybe even tearful.

“I’m sorry,” he croaks, holding you very tight again, rubbing at his wrists. “But I woke up afraid today and I - I - ”

He pauses, staring around him, his mouth shuddering.

“I don’t know, I felt safe yesterday, but I’m worried they did something to my head.”

He pushes his palm against the side of his skull and closes his eyes, biting down hard on his lip.

“Don’t know what kind of powers they have,” he whimpers. “What sort of things they could make me think. I never trust anybody but my family anymore… one time Anti said I could go to the synagogue, but I was too scared even to go… everybody is a threat.”

pixie-in-trebleland asked: They've made a vow to us that they won't harm you, Dok. Don't be afraid :) we got your back

Dok breathes out a low sigh and swallows.

“Okay. Okay. They haven’t hurt me yet. Or the ones I’ve met, anyway. I don’t think that Old Man likes me, JP said… and the medic girl, she doesn’t like me. I don’t want her to touch me.”

He wraps his arms around himself.

pixie-in-trebleland asked: What have you been doing to keep busy, Dok?

“I sleep… I’m so tired. I haven’t really been… coherent enough to do much of anything this last week, but now…”

He chuckles, rubbing his arms. “Well, I confess a little boredom, but that’s the least of my worries, really.”

cest-mellow asked: magicians, did you guys do something to dok’s head?

The magicians seem to have found a way to share JP’s little network for your messages across devices, because you find yourself looking through a phone camera at Genesis and Hermann.

“Oh, yay, it is working,” he says.

“To his head?” asks Genesis.

“Oh, no, no, certainly not,” says Hermann. “What, hit him or hypnotize him or something like that? No, he’s okay. Is he scared of that?”

“It’s not surprising for him to be confused,” says Genesis.

And then, after a moment, she adds, “It was the same way with me, when I started to realize I hated my parents. It’s like - what, am I really thinking these things? Is this really all true? I think it would have been almost a relief to wonder if someone was hypnotizing me, so I didn’t have to admit what I was thinking.”

Hermann gives her privacy to say it, turning away and busying himself with whatever they’re working on. A moment later, he straightens up with his arms laden with bags and boxes and a backpack thrown over his shoulder.

“Good news, though,” he says, smiling at you. “We finished going through all the things they had in the car, so now the medico can see everything that didn’t seem dangerous. Do you think he’ll like having his stuff back?”

“We think this is his,” adds Genesis, holding up Dok’s nice white doctor’s coat. “Yeah?”

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Where'd you find that? I'm sure he'll love to have it back!

“They left their car behind,” says Genesis. “So everything that wasn’t on the backs of the others is with us now!”

nikkilbook asked: Could have sworn Marvin had a Lapwing tattoo...? Pretty sure he was in the Irish order. And just in case, check for the name “Marvin McLoughlin.” Not sure if that’s the one, but I figure it’s worth a shot.

“Oh, I do,” mumbles Blue.

You find him laid out in a new bed, dressed in white, looking very tired, but cozy beneath his covers.

“Yes, I think that’s what it is. A lapwing. I don’t remember well…”

———————

“Oh, Lapwing,” says JP, nodding at his computer. “Oh, excellent. Oh, perfect, thank you, thank you. An Irish magician. I will find him.”

Anonymous asked: Hello Marv, how are you feeling?

“A little zoned out,” he mumbles, closing his eyes. “They gave me something different. I don’t mind, though. It calmed me down. Now I’m not so upset. I felt like I couldn’t even handle last night. But now I’m just drifting…”

He shivers, once.

“I’m just scared of what Anti will do to me… to Trick…”

bupine asked: what else was in the car, magicians?

“Well, we did find some creepy stuff,” confesses Hermann, frowning. “Like… masks and stuff.”

“Chains.”

“Yeah, things to torture people, you know, like - blowtorch?”

“Yeah, that’s the word. And this weird electric set-up. Like these bars that could shock you. Really fucked up stuff.”

“But then the rest of it is just normal stuff!” Hermann puts his hand in one of the boxes and rifles through. “Games, toys, books, art stuff. Mostly clothes!”

“We’ll let the medico look through the rest of it.”

bupine asked: hey anti, is trick ok?

Anti glances up at you, a warning in his eyes.

He’s sitting on his bed, eating cold red curry out of the take-out box while he works on his computer. It looks to be late afternoon with that much light coming in the window.

He doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t move you, either, and you can see a figure laid out in the bed beside him, his messy hair fluffed against the pillows, breathing deep and steady as he sleeps.

aether-mae asked: Hey magicians, i was wondering if we could lead the other brothers who are also separated from the demon to you. Is there a location we could ask them to meet you at?

“Oh, please do,” begs Hermann, eyes wide. “Please bring the other boys here. We would really keep them safe, I do promise. I… I don’t know where we could meet them, I’d have to ask Emmanuela.”

“Good look convincing them,” mumbles Genesis, looking unconvinced, but sad too, because she knows even better than Hermann the way that they were living.

pixie-in-trebleland asked: You need to take care of him, Anti. He can't deal with your crap, okay?

Anti chooses to type his answers back to you. Actually, he doesn’t look to be typing at all, but his words show up on your screen nevertheless.

“What about this makes you think I’m not taking care of him?”

scunneredzombie asked: Y'know Anti... as horrid as all the things you're doing are, I'm starting to notice something. In your own weird way, you really do adore your brothers. You've said before you're incapable of love but, honestly? I doubt that. You love them. You want family just as much as they do. Why not give it to them, Anti? Why do you have to hurt them, why not allow you all to be a family? A normal, healthy, family?

Anti’s mouth opens angrily, and then he blushes dark, realizing he’s been caught red-handed showing mercy to one of his puppets.

“I do not adore him,” he sends you, eyes flashing. “He’s a guard dog. But if you want to believe I’m secretly a soft, loving, lonely little boy, hey - go right the fuck ahead.”

He smiles meanly at you.

“Family is a manipulation tactic. Trickshot is a pet.”

Anonymous asked: “What about this makes you think I’m not taking care of him?” Because you're you. Do we even have to elaborate?

“I can be nice,” types Anti, and gives you a mocking smile.

Trick shifts on the bed next to him and Anti’s face returns to apathetic concentration, putting another chopstick-full of curry in his mouth.

“Anti,” mumbles Trick, half asleep. Anti reaches back without looking to rub his back and Trick sighs warmly.

Anonymous asked: Magos, your goal is admirable, but you should know that it's futile on its current course. Do any of you have phones? Computers? Radios, even? Do you ever leave base? Do you have family, friends, with those things who live off-base? Then you're not secure enough to hide from the demon. He'll find you all, kill you all, and take Dok back for himself. If you can't find and save ALL the brothers soon, you'd just as well drop Dok off where the demon can find him, and maybe you'll survive longer.

Genesis has a fight in her eyes and she opens her mouth to speak, but before she can, Hermann is speaking, louder than you’ve ever heard him.

“Well, maybe so!” he says, scattering the birds from the trees.

He puts his head down and repeats it.

“Maybe so. Maybe the monster will find him again. Maybe the monster will find us and take him away. But I think… I think a week, two weeks, a month of being treated like a human being, as long as we can give him or his brothers being treated like a human being, with kindness, with respect, with basic needs - that…”

He nods his head, slow.

“That is worth it. That is worth whatever happens. That is a cause to die for. You hear about tragedies, sometimes, from afar, and so many people must have felt so hopeless… alone, even as they died. A moment of mercy is worth it. Maybe I can’t save them, but… I can help. I know that the magician is alive because of me. And that was worth it. I believe that, I do.”

He stares at the floor for a moment, and then, a little reddened from the passion of it, he turns to smile at Genesis and mumbles something about bringing Dok the first of his things before turning to shuffle away.

Genesis shoots you a look.

“Hermann is a man of God,” she says. “But I will fuck your shit up! Your monster was a little bitch on the shore of that river, there, I said it! Ran with his tail between his legs! Fuck it! We’re going to do the best we can. And if that doesn’t work, well, I’ll leave it to over-invested poets like that dumb-ass to make it okay.”

She beams fondly after Hermann and scoops up the rest of the boxes and backpacks, but as she moves, you see the smile on her face flicker away into worry.

Anonymous asked: Hermann, I think the glitch might be hiding somewhere in Asia, from what I can see.

“Oh, tell Emmanuela!” calls Hermann, when Genesis catches up to him.

“Oh, I don’t remember what JP said about sending the messages.”

“There’s like a button that - that one?”

“I don’t - oh, and then, Emmanuela - oh, it’s gone!”

“Is it with her?”

“Is it - yeah, I don’t know.”

“Oh.”

“Oh.”

They pause, looking at each other.

“I’ll text her,” says Genesis.

—————————

You find Emmanuela in a small white office, flowers blooming on the shelf beside her. She’s writing something. She barely looks up as the message reaches her computer.

“Thank you for telling me,” she says.

The dark sheen of her hair glows in the morning light, falling down her back.

“You were right to mention it. You seem to be right. The sunbirds were a young order. Small and intimate. Not someone I’ve communicated with before, but someone I know of. Caleb was their leader’s name.”

She pauses for a moment in her writing. Her expression does not change. She stares ahead.

“The sunbirds are dead,” she says, and continues her work.

immabethehero asked: Red, Dap, if we said we could get you somewhere safe and off the streets, but away from Anti, would you take it?

Red glances at the camera, his eyebrow quirking up, a deep frown on his mouth.

“That sounds suspicious,” he says, getting a cup for water. “And I’m trying to get back to Anti, not farther away from him.”

He can’t keep a little irritation out of his voice.

bupine asked: we kind of do know why anti stole the brothers away. it's to do with a man called jack, who anti used to be friends with. we think he's still alive, but even anti doesn't know where he is. the brothers used to be friends with him. we don't know what happened to him, but all this revolves around this man.

“Hm, okay,” says JP, working at his computer, books stacked around him. He stretches his wrists, thinking. “I guess I could look for a Jack in the Lapwing records too. Ireland has a large magical order, though, even bigger than the whole of Peru.”

Anonymous asked: Hey Blue? Trick is... taking a social media break from us so we can't talk to him. I'm sorry he didn't take things well but you're right in taking care of yourself first. We need you to have your head on straight and you're heading in the right direction and we support that. We'll help you however we can.

“A social media break,” says Blue, and a laugh starts before the rest of the message registers.

“What… he won’t even talk to you?”

He pauses, staring at the wall.

“Give him time,” he mumbles finally, grief in his voice. “I’m sure he’ll… I’m sure he’ll come around, right?”

For a moment, there is nothing but the movement of footsteps in the hall and the buzzing of the lights.

And then, weakly:

“He didn’t… come to see me this morning. He comes to see me every morning… so I’m not alone all day.”

Swish, swish, click. Footsteps past his door. Thrumming lights. The largeness of his room and the smallness of himself inside of it. He rubs his own arm.

bupine asked: we're not trying to hurt trick, anti. we just want to know he's alright. how has he been? he won't talk to us anymore.

“Oh, I know you’re not,” types Anti, now not even looking at you, playing with Trick’s hair. Trick hums contentedly and scoots closer to Anti, relief so great it looks painful flickering through his face. “I know how attached you are to all of them. Some more than others, sure. But I know.”

He scratches his hand across Trick’s scalp. There’s a faint meowing outside the door, confused.

“He just needs a rest. Not like him to come begging to me, so I know he must have been really upset. Dok’s not here to comfort the little baby, so I’ll have to.”

Anti pauses, scratching beside Trick’s ear, humming a little as the light pours in. A big pink flower blooms on the headboard, but Anti hardly seems to notice.

“Then again, it is nice to have someone all sweet to myself again. I miss sleeping with my Dapper. And Trick is just so - ”

The typing pauses. Trick has slid an eye open, staring wearily, brokenly, lovingly up at Anti.

Anti runs his thumb down his face. He looks so much like him. Anti had almost forgotten. It’s been a long time since he spared Trick a glance. It used to upset him, the similarity there. But now…

Anti scratches gently through his beard, watching his boy. Maybe he’ll cut his hair today.

aether-mae asked: Dok! You need to get the magicians to find Red. We can try and get his location as best we can but we need to get him to you asap before he can get to anti

Dok recoils, holding his shoulders. “What - lead Red here? No, no, no, Red should be with Anti. We all should. I should be with Anti. Nobody here understands! Even if they are nice, they don’t understand and they never will! And Red - Red killed one of them. If there are people here who don’t like me, I can only imagine what they might think of him. No, no, keep him far away. I bet it’s easier for Anti to find him if he’s not here. Anti will get Red and then Anti will get me, too, and everything will be okay.”

pixie-in-trebleland asked: How do you all protect yourselves from attacks? Do you even get attacked, magicos?

“Ah, well,” says JP, continuing to type. “We’re in a very secure location, I can tell you that. It’s hidden in more ways than one. No one has ever attacked us at our home base, except one time when she was young Juana was possessed! But that hasn’t happened since. Something would have to get inside that was already a threat. And to be fair, there are quite a few powerful magicians here. Emmanuela, Christof - ”

He blanches and cuts himself down, a sudden grief twisting up his mouth.

Anonymous asked: Hey Anti can you let Trick feed his cat please? I know you won't do it but someone should.

“He feeds that cat just fine. It can wait another half hour for him to wake up.”

He is smiling down at Trick, watching him drift sleepily besides him. He doesn’t know why he suddenly feels so fond of him. Been too long since he had Dapper. Or anybody. He’s just been watching Blue sleep all week. Trick doesn’t even know you’re there, and Anti does not give it away.

Anonymous asked: Blue, you're going through a fucking lot right now. I can't imagine what it's like for you. But! What I can imagine is you at least getting to see everyone again! Don't ask me how, but I know there are currently people (good and safe people) out there researching on what's happened, how to help you, and even who you used to be. Please don't give up, there is hope out there, and we'll do our best to support you and let you know what's going on with your brothers.

Blue clasps his hands together, nodding slowly, too tired to cry.

“Thank you. I’m… I’ll do my best.”

He rubs at his face and breathes out a shuddering breath.

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Blue? Do you trust the magicians??

“I don’t know,” he says, very small and very tired. “I don’t know anything anymore. Magicians are just people. And people can always turn out to be hateful. I don’t know.”

Anonymous asked: Anti, please just let Trick rest for the night... He feels really dejected because Blue wouldn't come with him, as you see, and he's really not doing well without any brothers, besides yourself, to help take care of and to live with.

“I think it has been hard for him, being away from everyone,” agrees Anti. “So needy.”

He smiles, but then a flash of anger rises on his face.

“Of course, that’s why Blue was supposed to come home. So Trick could have someone to take care of and be taken care of by. Guess I’ll just have to keep him in line myself.”

spicydanhowell asked: hey red? anti's actually quite close to finding dok, and the magicians have kept him healthy and fed, so if you go to them they will give you protection from the police, food, and medicine, and anti will come get you soon, And dok is missing you both so much :( anti will never find you if you run around like this. the magicians are really harmless. it would be best for dap to go there right now so he can be fed and medicated and get back to anti quickly. love you hunny, be safe.

Red squirms, standing close to Dap protectively. “I don’t know what they would do to a kid as powerful as him,” he says. “And even if they’re nice to Dok, we - we both hurt them. I killed that guy with the book and Dapper stabbed one and tortured the other.”

Dapper stares at his bear, seeming to not even hear.

“I don’t know. I don’t like it. I don’t - I just - I just want to go back to Anti!” He clutches his fists, overwhelmed. “And we can’t go anywhere now anyway. We don’t have a way to travel until I get more money and I got this place for another couple nights. As long as the cops don’t find us. And I think I’m even more wanted in Peru than I am here. I just - I want - ”

He cuts himself off again, biting down on his lip.

spicydanhowell asked: marv, chase is just sleeping, okay? i think he's really worn out from all the emotion. he's okay though. anti is being kind to him. he hasn't been punished. please don't worry dear.

“Oh, good,” breathes Blue, closing his eyes. “He’s not hurt. And maybe - maybe he’ll come see me when he wakes up. If Anti lets him. He wouldn’t choose not to come see me…”

Anonymous asked: How are you feeling right now Marvin? It might be good to get it out there if you're feeling up to it.

“Please don’t worry,” he murmurs. “I’m just tired. I’m starting to think this fatigue won’t go away. I can’t even walk today. The nurse has to help me. Still got this in my nose.”

He tugs wearily on his nasal cannula.

“Just feel… alone. And pretty pathetic. And I’m angry, I’m angry, I’m so angry.”

He covers his face with his hands.

“At everything.”

Anonymous asked: how long is the psychiatric hold supposed to last? were you evaluated yet blue? sorry if that's personal, but i guess this is actually a fib so maybe not.

“Someone’s supposed to come talk to me today. I just had an entrance exam. The only asked me like five questions. I think the doctor had been waiting for an admission like this. I don’t know how long they can keep me…”

spicydanhowell asked: its okay if you want to stay away a little longer red, but the magicians have told us that theyd happily take care of both of you. there are no hard feelings. they really, truly care about your family, and it is the best way to get back to anti. he is going to get there soon, and he'll be glad you took dap to a safe place

“I don’t need anyone taking care of my little brothers for me!” snaps Red, heat and shame rising in his cheeks. “And Anti would not want us to be there. No matter what choice I make I know that much for certain.”

pixie-in-trebleland asked: What else did you find?

“Hey, medico?”

There’s a knock on his door and Dok jolts up, blinking ans clutching you to his chest. Hermann pokes his head in a moment later, smiling gently.

“Hey, we’ve got some of your stuff from the car you guys took. Do you want to see it?”

Some of his stuff?

Dok blinks and then nods slowly, trying not to get his hopes up.

Genesis and Hermann bring him two backpacks, two boxes, and his own little draw-string bag. Relieved, he opens it a finds all of his own clothes inside.

“Thank you,” he gasps, clutching one of his three shirts to his chest.

“We got rid of anything electronic,” says Genesis. “Figured that was safer.”

A worm of distress wiggles through his chest, but he’ll take what he can get. “I know the way you think about my brother. I’m glad to have - oh!”

His coffee! From Trick!

He nearly drops you to hold it, squeezing his hands around the bag.

“We’ll let you look through it,” laughs Genesis.

“Yeah, let us know if you need anything,” adds Hermann, smiling.

They leave and shut the door behind them.

The lock does not click.

Dok stares up at it for a moment, thinking.

But he’ll focus on this for now.

Most everything is either his or Dapper’s or Blue’s. He hopes Red and Trick have most of their things. He has Blue’s clothes and more jewelry than he expected in one of the boxes, stuff he’s never even seen Blue wear before. Dapper’s clothes are here too - there’s more of them than Blue’s and Dok’s combined, hot sweatshirts and starchy dress shirts, nice pants and tight black shoes, even though he never leaves the house. One of the backpacks has paper, sketchpads, watercolors, colored pencils, chalks, and erasers. Dok puts a sketchpad beside him to look at later. Dap’s puppet toys are here too, and some nice red cloth and fairy lights. Dok can tell some stuff has been taken out, like collars and wrist restraints.

aether-mae asked: (For the magicians) Great! Yes! We would be more than happy to bring them to you, but we just need a location to ask them to come to. I was thinking we tell them anti is going to collect them there

Emmanuela drums her fingers along her desk, tilting her head at you.

“If there are others who can make it back - and if we can confirm that they aren’t possessed by the monster - your friends can come to the Church of Santo Domingo. We could meet them there. We are not far. They could wait by the skull of Santa Rosa inside. Be cautious not to lose their trust.”

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Hey Dap! Does the Church of Santa Dominigo ring any bells?

Dapper’s head perks up.

“Red and Blue would not let me see her!”

“Are you talking about that day you ran off?” frowns Red.

“I went to the convent, and I hid in the corner, and across the street was the church with her skull, and I wanted to see. In Saint Dominic’s Church. But we had to go rob a car instead.”

He puts his head down on his hand.

“You got a churro, though,” says Red uncertainly, confused by his mood. “That was good, right?”

Dapper stares at the wall, eyes downcast.

Red glances at you. “It’s, uh. In the middle of the city. Hard to miss. I’ve passed it many times.”

spicydanhowell asked: red... i don't want to upset you... but how else is he going to find you if you keep running around like this? the rule of thumb when you're lost and waiting for rescue is to stay in one place, and the best place to be would definitely be the place anti is going to go to once blue is out of the hospital. you might be there a only a few days, and you won't have to go hungry, or lock dapper up in a room or handcuff him to a church pew. you'll be safe. you'll get home, i promise hunny.

Red lets out a frustrated huff, trying to pretend he’s not considering it. It would be so nice to feel like Dapper was safe somewhere, even if they were prisoners.

“Anti… Anti’s going to find us. He is.”

They could have plenty to eat, they could sleep in beds, they could -

“Well, I don’t know that,” he interrupts himself, scowling. “We’re both much more wanted than Dok is. I don’t know if he has a criminal record at all. They could just turn us over to the police. For all I know, you’re one of them!”

He scuffs his foot against the floor, irritated by his own helplessness.

“Never mind,” he grumbles. “I gotta focus on right now. Dap, I’m going out, okay, I’ll be back in a couple hours.”

Dapper jumps out of bed, alarm on his face, and races towards his shoes by the door.

“Dap! No. You could have another snap at any time. You need routine, right? A steady environment with no surprises. You’re staying here.”

Almost panting, Dapper tugs his right shoe on, tying the laces tight, tight!

“Dapper, come on, are you kidding?” Red stalks over to him and snatches the other shoe out of his hand before he can put it on. “I could get in a fight! It’s not safe. And I’ll be more discreet alone.”

But Dapper isn’t listening, or if he is, he doesn’t agree. His hands scramble up for the shoe, once, twice, but when Red doesn’t give it to him he grabs his brother’s jacket and looks up at him with big puppy eyes, desperately sweet, and once again Red feels his skin crawl from the falseness of it, and he knows that his brother is trying to manipulate him.

“Is Anti the one who taught you to act like a fucking two-year-old to get what you want?” he asks, before he has thought the words through. “Or have you always been this much of a baby?”

The expression slides off Dapper’s face. Now he stares dead-eyed at Red, his big eyes cold and motionless. He seems suddenly hollow, like his heart was pulled out of his chest, like he doesn’t remember what it is to emote, like he feels nothing at all, and this time, it is the truth of the expression that makes Red’s heart clench in his chest.

He backs slightly away from his little brother.

Jameson keeps staring at him, those pale eyes fixed like a dead thing’s upon him.

aether-mae asked: Hey Red, we’ve been talking with Anti and arranged for him to pick you up at the Church of Santo Domingo. he will collect you if you wait by the skull of Santa Rosa. Then you’ll be back with your brothers!

Red stares at you, expression uncertain. He glances down at Dapper, on the floor on his feet.

“Right,” he says slowly. “Anti would definitely pick a very public, very Catholic, very close-to-where-we-were-when-the-magicians-found-us church to meet me at.”

Red stares down at Dapper’s shoe in his hand for a second.

“Sorry,” he says, but you don’t know who to. “Just… forget it.”

Anonymous asked: If family is a lie then you wouldn't kill people just to keep them safe. If they're just pets you wouldn't care than half of them are gone right now. If you didn't love them you wouldn't hold onto them so tight. You may not be a uwu secret softy, but even a bastard like you has weaknesses. And you have five of them, Antisepticeye.

“Please.” Anti scowls as the words appear, letting Trick get up beside him, rubbing at his eyes as he starts his late day. “You wouldn’t care if someone stole three of your dogs? The dogs that greet you every day when you come home, the dogs that sleep next to you and keep you warm, the dogs that guard your door when you’re in danger and wag their little tails when you pat them on their dumb little heads?

“And secondly, I love killing people. I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’d kill one of them if I had to, I would!”

He stares after Trick, moving around the room.

“I would. I could. Wouldn’t even hurt…”

Anonymous asked: Ohhh what’s this Anti? Is Marvin’s magic making you all soft and feel-y? Better be careful, love.

“Aw, you are all some real fuckers today, aren’t you? You know what, Trick was right!”

He flicks you off unceremoniously, smiling smugly.

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Dap? Are you comfortable with leaving on your own if you needed to?

Dapper sighs a very long sigh, so his whole chest seems to deflate. He doesn’t even look at you.

“No point.”

Anonymous asked: Anti your lack of self awareness is kinda hilarious. Mr. "no one will take my boys, stay away from my family" claiming he could ever kill one of them.

The message never reaches a camera, but Anti is too hooked up to his system to not receive it himself. You see his ears redden a little and he takes his hand off Trick’s back, where he’d been rubbing it, but Trick, apparently safely and blissfully convinced that Anti is in a good mood with him, is already leaning forward to wrap his arms around Anti’s neck and put his head down on his shoulder, murmuring something you can’t make out.

Anti’s can’t push him away. His expression is a little angry, but not at Trick.

aether-mae asked: Dap if you go, red will surely follow after. He’s already starting to realise anti is treating you all badly, and with more brothers away from him than with him, there’s more of a chance than ever to be free. Do it for them, Jamie

“Always just go back to Anti,” mumbles Jameson, slinking back towards his bed. “I don’t even feel like a person anymore.”

Red looks disturbed by the sudden change in mood, but he’s grateful Dapper’s not trying to leave anymore. He nods to himself and starts putting on his own shoes and jacket.

“Almost want to run away just to spite him,” JJ confesses, staring at his brother’s back. “But it’s not him who wants to do anything that he does - say anything that he does - treat me the way he does. It’s just Anti’s influence on him. I know what that feels like. I wanted to keep him safe from this, when I was young, the way he kept me safe. Made me feel safe. Let me live a real life, if only for a short time. Now I don’t think I have the strength to save anyone. Anyway, it’s so hard to trust myself when I’m psychotic. I’ll have lost track of everything again soon.”

He lies back, staring at the ceiling.

“Probably better that way. It’s difficult to remember… difficult to see who I am now. Look at this place… look at me. He broke me in just like he always told me he would. I’ve never known a fatigue like this.”

Anonymous asked: I know this isn’t the time for this, but it is beyond refreshing to see you Jameson.

Jameson manages a real smile at that - wide and white, laughter making his chest shake.

“I wish I had my medication. I could be so clear. I can’t remember the last time I felt this clear. How… cold it is.”

“I’m, uh, leaving,” says Red. “You okay?”

“Just go,” signs JJ wearily. “Your mind is set.”

Red looks at you. “You want to come with me or stay with him?”

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Red, you better get going. The more you dawdle, the less focused you're gonna be

“Yeesh, I get it,” he says. “Everybody likes the little guy. Bye. Dap, two hours max. I’m locking the door out here. Handcuff’s attached to the handle and the beam here. Better than your wrists, right?”

His brother looks at him but doesn’t wave him goodbye.

Red leaves him alone.

cest-mellow asked: dapper, i think you should go to the church, be with dok and have a safe place to eat and sleep, have routine. even if it’s without red, we could get him there, too, he’ll surely follow you once he knows. and if anti tried to take you again you have tons of magicians to keep you safe. i really think you should leave once red is gone.

“He’s locked me in. Maybe I could rip the beam off the wall or sneak out later, but… I don’t know. What would you have me do? I’ll be back in my own head again soon. I’m hallucinating right now and most of the time, lately. My paranoia is unbearable, I don’t even trust Red. It would take me days to get there, on foot or stealing so I could take a bus. I could go into a catatonia again and then authorities would get involved and I’d go to prison.”

He rubs slowly at his face.

“What… what would you have me do? Would you have me go? Maybe it doesn’t matter… Maybe I could try.”

aether-mae asked: Jamie please, we will guide you, we promise. You’re so close, so so close. If you reach the church we can reuinite you with doc AND get you a warm bed, warm meals and protection from anti. You can do this, you can be strong just for a little longer

“Comfort means little to me. It never lasts. I don’t believe anymore that my strength has any bearing on what happens to me. Nothing is in my control. This life is not mine. Easier to be Dapper.”

He laughs a little, splayed out on the bed.

“When I forget I want to remember again, but when I remember, I know it’s better to forget…”

He stares at the ceiling.

“Could leave the city and begin walking again, I suppose. It’s a long walk. But pain is just pain, it passes, and then it means little whether or not it passed, it’s in the past. I’d like to see Henrik, even if he is a ghost, I’d like to see Henrik and have my medication and hold onto him when he was scared. He doesn’t like to admit it but he’s often scared, shh. I’d like to see him again.”

pixie-in-trebleland asked: There's always a point, Dap. Maybe you can save your brothers If you got away....even for a little while

Jameson stares up at whatever he sees for a long time. His finger reaches up to trace the lines of it, branching and broken, back and forth, stuttering or whole.

“I think… it’s cruel that Anti lets you watch,” he says after a moment. “Because… you have hope that none of the rest of us have. And I think the most likely thing is that one day, you’ll see us give the last dregs of it up, and maybe some of us will die. Or maybe that’s just… my hope… Maybe I’d just like this last part of myself that still hopes for something I can never have to die.”

He puts his finger down and touches his heart, his eyes weary.

“If you’d still like me to run… tell me again in a few hours, when Red is back and sleeping, and we can try, perhaps, if I’m well enough. If only to remind him… if only to remind myself… that I still possess the ability to make choices for myself. That I am still an adult.”

He turns on his side, curling his arms around himself. “Perhaps I’ll sleep a while. I can hear something coming down the hall towards me. I’d like to be unconscious before my mind decides it is a monster.”

spicydanhowell asked: hey marv? sorry to bug you again but- since you have your head on a little straighter right now, and jameson is remembering himself better at the moment, is there anything you want to say to him? from the real you to the real him? he could definitely use a bit of encouragement.

“Oh, is he feeling okay?” murmurs Blue. “Poor suffering little hideaway.”

He’s sitting up in bed now, a little color back in his cheeks and, speaking of color, he’s got a little box of pencils and a coloring book. He’s filling in a little ocean scene with fish.

“Um… just… if you could tell him… I love him and I’ll find him again.”

He pauses, staring at his own wrist for a second where the white hospital band hangs.

“If not in this life, then in another one.”

He bites down on the back of his pencil.

“No, don’t say that, I’ll scare him. I’ll find him again. I’ll see him again and I love him, I do.”

Anonymous asked: blue, being suicidal was a lie, right?

“I… oh, don’t worry. Yes, I’m… just… quite sick.”

You can see his coloring page. He hasn’t been able to stay within the lines, but whether it’s from his trembling hands or his damaged eyesight, you can’t say.

“And I don’t know what Anti will do to me if I can’t be his anymore. And I don’t know if they’re so far away Anti won’t find them. Or if they’ll be arrested. Or if maybe it’s better for them to be where they are and never see me again. Or if it would be easier to die.”

He adjusts his nasal cannula, sniffling. “Can’t die til I know they’re all going to be safe without me… but I feel, already, like I’m dead. I don’t know how I’m ever going to escape this place.”

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Hey Anti, how's Trick holding up? Can we see him?

Anti’s got you on his shoulder again, so you can’t see much but his hands, examining the price tag on a bright blue hoodie with white strings. He glances at you and scoffs, but obliges you, taking the hoodie off the rack and heading down a few aisles.

“How do you like that?” he asks, holding up the sweater.

Trick startles and turns away from a row of wine, plucking at his white t-shirt. “Oh! For me?”

“If I don’t have to buy Blue new shit, might as well get my good one something fun.”

He ruffles Trick’s hair and makes him laugh, shoving back at Anti’s hands. His face has a nice warm color to it and his hair is clean and soft.

“Maybe I’ll dye your hair,” says Anti suddenly.

“Oh - yeah?”

“Yeah. You used to have it dyed. I didn’t mind.”

Trick is willing to take just about any form of Anti’s attention and even the thought of having his hair dyed makes his face light up. He touches his fringe hopefully and smiles at his brother.

“Get yourself some snacks,” says Anti, playing with his hair again as he passes him. “Whatever you want.”

“Okay!”

Anonymous asked: Marv don’t give up hope so soon, there’s still so much we can do.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I think it’s just hard to be alone in the hospital.”

His eyes water and he turns away from you.

“But!” he says a second later, turning back with a smile. “I have a coloring book! So I’m just going to think about fish for a while. Oh, and a counselor lady came to talk to me yesterday and it went well. Really nice. I wish Trick could talk to her. And she kept going ‘given what Dr. Siong says’ so I think they’re talking about keeping me here a while. Because they know I might not be safe at home.”

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Marv...if Dap had a chance to get away from Anti...would you be upset with him?

“Upset with him! No, never. Fuck, I understand, don’t I? I’d run away with him if I could and the two of us would go live somewhere nice where we were safe with each other - home to Ireland, maybe. I don’t even remember the sight of it, you know. Not the smell or the taste in the air. It’s a foreign country to me. Or I’ll take him to England and he can have tea like he likes and there will be other people who speak BSL so he doesn’t feel so apart from the world. We’d go out on walks everyday and he’d never have to see his door closed again if he didn’t want to. Find jobs and buy him a violin with the money. A violin and charcoal and clothes and food and everything he wanted. Pets, I don’t care, anything he wanted.”

He laughs and puts his hand over his heart. “Oh… upset, no… but even if he has to go now, and I could never see him again… it would be worth it to know that he was safe. At least one of them could be safe.”

Anonymous asked: That’s good that others are trying to help! Y’know marv, I recently started baking and I made macarons for the first time! I made them entirely too sweet lol but due to my stubbornness I ate them all anyways haha. It was a fun experience! That’s what matters, anyways. So when you get out of here and away, what would be the first thing that you would make?

“Oh, macarons, those sound good right now. And fun to bake, yeah… geez, what would I make? I don’t know. Oh… brown butter noodles. With the bread crumbs. Or pecan pie, maybe, or… oh, I would die for some of Chase’s - ”

His mouth pauses on the word and his eyes darken, a vague memory sitting in the place of the word.

“Oh, I can’t… remember.”

He chews on his nail for a second.

“Brown butter noodles,” he says after a moment, shaking it off and smiling again. “Parsley and bread crumbs and so many carbs. I’d eat a whole box of it.”

Anonymous asked: That’s good that others are trying to help! Y’know marv, I recently started baking and I made macarons for the first time! I made them entirely too sweet lol but due to my stubbornness I ate them all anyways haha. It was a fun experience! That’s what matters, anyways. So when you get out of here and away, what would be the first thing that you would make?

“Oh, macarons, those sound good right now. And fun to bake, yeah… geez, what would I make? I don’t know. Oh… brown butter noodles. With the bread crumbs. Or pecan pie, maybe, or… oh, I would die for some of Chase’s - ”

His mouth pauses on the word and his eyes darken, a vague memory sitting in the place of the word.

“Oh, I can’t… remember.”

He chews on his nail for a second.

“Brown butter noodles,” he says after a moment, shaking it off and smiling again. “Parsley and bread crumbs and so many carbs. I’d eat a whole box of it.”

Anonymous asked: Um actually I don’t think we’ve asked you this yet, but do you want to be called Blue? Or Marvin? Does either bother you at all?

“I don’t remember being Marvin at all,” he says, a little wistfully. “The name doesn’t mean anything to me anymore. Blue seems strange, knowing Anti gave it to me… but it’s also the name my brothers know me by. So I’ll be Blue for them, as long as I can. Maybe someday I could be somebody else. But you can call me either, I don’t mind! I’m glad to have that old name in my memory.”

bupine asked: what colour are you thinking of dying trick's hair, anti? not blue, red, or green, i assume. gonna complete the set of colours and go for yellow?

“No,” mumbles Anti. “I don’t answer to you, you can wait and see.”

Anonymous asked: Wait, a blue hoodie with dyed hair... I'm assuming you're thinking green for the color? Wouldn't that be a very "familiar" sight, uh? >_>

Anti ignores you, though, once again, you see a little color rise to his ears. He’s sitting with Trick on the bus and you can hear his little brother chattering about some game he heard about at the store. He doesn’t mind the sound of him ranting, even though they’re by far the loudest group on the bus.

“Okay, go,” nudges Anti when a stop comes, and Trick gets up obediently.

“Bye, Anti!”

“Bye, bud.”

Oh! Bud! Trick grins. “You’ll come home later?”

“Yeah, just give me a little while.”

“I could cook you something!”

Anti glances down at his hands. Even he isn’t sure how corporeal he is these days.

“Um… sure.”

Trick claps. “Okay! Okay, yeah, cool, whatever.” He calms himself down and gives him one more wave, heading off the bus.

Anti lets himself continue, waiting for his own stop, pulling out his phone and typing away. You’re on his shoulder so you can see that he’s hacking into a police database in Ecuador right there on his phone.

“Sick of trying to split myself in half trying to go back to Peru and look for them in form,” he sighs, a little sing-song. “From now on my investigations are happening from right here. Red and Dapper are sure to have run into trouble already… just have to find the right criminals.”

Anonymous asked: Marvin, how are you doing? Do you feel more safe now that the hospital is holding you?

“I… still feel scared about what’s going to happen - with my health and with going home and to Trick and the others - but… yeah, I do, I actually do. I’m just trying to focus on being here, while I’m okay. Having a good couple days, if I can, just sleeping and trying to find stuff to do.”

He laughs wearily.

“Is Dapper this bored and alone all the time? Cause I - ”

Someone knocks on his door. He looks up, startled.

“Hi, Matthew.”

“Hi,” he answers the nurse, finding a smile.

“Your brother Connor is here to see you?”

Blue lights up with hope, his hands coming together.

“Oh! Yeah, you can send him in.”

The nurse smiles and opens the door wider before turning to leave, revealing his brother standing in a red t-shirt with a backpack slung over his shoulders, his healthy hair, cut just the same as Dok’s, beginning to get low over his eyes.

“Hey B-blue,”  he says, shuffling his feet.

“Trick,” melts Blue, tears rising to his eyes. “Listen, I’m sorry everything got so out-of-control so fast. Sweetheart, it’s not because of you, okay? I still - ”

“You don’t have to apologize,” mumbles Trick, running a hand through his hair before slinking over and sitting down beside him, still staring more at his feet than at Blue. “Can you just… explain?”

bupine asked: tell him about how anti's lied to him, marvin. he has to know, even if he won't believe you.

“I’ll tell you everything,” swears Blue, reaching out to touch the side of his face, his voice shaking with the love of it. He knows every freckle on Trick’s face that no one else has, knows the small scar at the bottom of his chin and the small stammer of his voice. His little brother. “I love you so much and that will never change. It wasn’t about you, of course it wasn’t. I just need you to listen, alright, and even if it doesn’t make sense at first, you have to try to believe me. Okay?”

Trick nuzzles against his hand a little, his big eyes wide and trusting. “Okay, Blue,” he says, his mouth trembling a little. Blue knows sometimes it’s hard for him to hear that he’s loved, but he means it.

“I didn’t have a stroke,” he croaks.

Trick’s eyebrows lower. “You didn’t?”

“No, Trick, listen, you remember how my hands had been hurting me, and how Anti had been forcing me not to use my magic?”

“Because it could lead people to us, because he couldn’t hide your signal.”

“Right. Well, he found a way to strip that power out of me and take it for himself so he could hide it beneath his own. I know it sounds crazy! But you know magic is real and you helped Anti drag me down to the river, didn’t you? It was some sort of spell, some really dark spell. He cut my arm and he took my power from me. It’s why his power has been so erratic lately! Mine and his are struggling inside him.”

Trick stares at Blue, then at the ground. At Blue, at the ground. Swallows hard. “Okay… okay, let’s say that’s true for a second. I still don’t understand why you won’t come home to me…”

“Trick, I’m just - ” Blue’s voice breaks. “I’m just scared, okay! I know he’ll keep hurting me!”

“But you… you’re my big brother, shouldn’t you come home and protect me?”

“I - Trick, please, I’m sick, I’m really sick, and I’m scared, I just - ”

“Even though he did this to me when he heard you wouldn’t come home?” sobs Trick, and he pulls up his shirt and reveals thick swathes of bandages wrapped messily around the whole of his torso, blood welling on to white.

Blue is speechless, choking, staring at his chest.

“He won’t let me see Noodle,” Trick sobs, collapsing onto the bed. “He said he took him into his room but I can’t hear him meowing, not ever! I think he killed him!”

He unravels into weeping, clutching at Blue’s bedsheets. Blue cannot speak at all.

“I think he’ll kill me too if you don’t come home!”

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Trick, listen to your big brother. He wouldn't lie to you.

“Maybe Anti does hurt me sometimes, but he still loves me!” shudders Trick, sobbing as Blue leans slowly down to rub his back. “What would we even do, if we tried to get away? Have you thought about it at all?”

“I don’t know,” whispers Blue. “I don’t have magic anymore, so he couldn’t track me through it. I don’t think I’m well enough to run right now, though… Maybe we could soon. We could try and get your cat and then… I think the doctor here would try to help us.”

“Really?”

“We could maybe get to another country, live with electronics, hide, find a way to stay away from him.”

“Where would we go?”

“I… don’t know. Anywhere. Back home, maybe… but maybe that’s too predictable. Somewhere I speak the language. America, maybe, or Spain, or back to South America. Maybe I could even hurt him, before I went, so he couldn’t catch us.”

“H-how would you do that?”

“You’re with him at the house. He trusts you. Even if we could just get one blow on him before he gets away…”

Anonymous asked: Oh g-d Trick...what if you just ran? Got as far away as possible where there are no cameras for him to find you? We could get someone to help you if you wanted.

“Someone could help us,” whispers Trick.

“If I told the doctor and the counselor, they might be able to keep us both away from him! What if you told them you needed to be monitored too, Trick? We could get police involved. We’d be in the records, people would watch out for us. Maybe we could even contact the magicians in the area! Or the ones who took Dok!”

Anonymous asked: I don’t like the feeling about this, forgive me for being apprehensive, but Trick weren’t you just excited about Anti dying your hair? Do you actually want to leave or are you trying to get information?

“He was just scaring me, I’ve been trying to be good…” hiccups Trick, simpering fearfully and reaching for Blue’s hand. “Blue, he looks at me like he’s going to kill me, I’m so scared…”

“He dyed my hair too,” he laughs morbidly. “I remember it, just a little bit… waking up with my hair blue, not knowing my own name…”

Anonymous asked: As comforting as that would be, I don’t think the police or medical staff would be enough...you would need the magicians

“Right, right,” murmurs Blue, chewing on the nail of his thumb.

“How would you contact them, Blue?” asks Trick, with his big puppy eyes.

“Oh, I think I used to remember a way…”

“But you’ve forgotten it now?”

Blue’s face falls. “Yeah. I’m sorry, honey.”

“It’s okay, Blue. It’s not your fault. Anti must have really wiped your memories. So we can’t contact them unless you remember. What else could we do?”

bupine asked: blue. marvin. while trick's here, get the doctor's here. show them what anti did. make sure he doesn't go back home.

Blue nods swiftly and grabs the call button, pushing it quickly. He beckons for Trick and pulls his brother into bed beside him, wrapping his arms around him and holding him close until he hears Trick’s breathing begin to calm.

“My little brother. You don’t have to go home ever again if you don’t want to. I’ll look after you, I…”

He pauses, breathing in, glancing at Trick.

“What?” mumbles Trick, slumped wearily against him.

Blue pauses again and then laughs. “It’s stupid. I think you got a new shampoo is all. Haha, rose smell.”

“Oh, yeah,” giggles Trick. “Flower smell.”

spicydanhowell asked: yeah actually that's a good point uh.... chase.... i don't mean to upset you hun but where the hell are your loyalties rn?

Trick buries his face in Blue’s shoulder.

“I just want everything to stop hurting,” he chokes. “I want my twin and my cat and for everything to feel okay. You’ll make it better, Blue, won’t you?”

“I’m doing everything I can, I am, I am.” Blue smothers his hair in kisses. Trick smiles, clutching on to him.

Anonymous asked: Blue... it might be best to go to the house with Trick. I know, trust me, how scared you must feel, going back to your abuser, your near murderer... But you need to be there for him. You need to be there for your little brother.

Trick stares up at him with his big eyes. “Oh, Blue, maybe it would be safer if we made him think you had come around… You could act really sick and I would take care of you and he wouldn’t be angry with either of us, and then, when you were better, we could attack him and get Noodle and just run. Wouldn’t that be easier? To make him think everything was okay, so neither of us would get beat?”

Blue tilts his head back and forth, thinking. “Mh… maybe… he knows I’m angry with him but I could be too tired to fight, and then one day… element of surprise might be better than him trying to get to us here while I recovered.”

“I know he’d let me take care of you.” Trick snuggles warmly against him. “We’d be okay for a little while.”

Anonymous asked: Hey Trick does Anti know you’re here?

“Oh, no, I told him I was going to get food… stalls are close, remember?” Trick smiles up at Blue.

A little too wide.

Blue looks back, beginning to frown.

Anonymous asked: Blue... I really don't... know if that's Trick... We haven't seen Anti hurt Trick or Noodle lately, and Trick shouldn't have been able to believe what you said with how much Anti's been hypnotizing him. Be careful what you say. Anti could change his shape even before he took your magic.

“Trick,” says Blue slowly. “Why would the cameras have seen something different than what you’re telling me?”

“They lie!” Trick’s eyes flash with hurt. “O-or th-they didn’t see, he did it late at night! Look, look!”

He pulls up his shirt again, and the bandages too, so Blue can see thick, weeping cuts. Blue turns away, nauseated. He can’t bear even to think about Trick getting hurt like that.

pixie-in-trebleland asked: What exactly was Anti off to do, Trick?

“He doesn’t tell me where he goes, most of the time…”

Anonymous asked: Trick that's such a smart idea! Good thinking, good job. Maybe consider it Marvin? Just playing up being weak and sick for a while to keep you both safe? Either way, probably not a good idea to discuss this on Anti's system. Remember, he see and hears everything the camera does.

“Yeah, we could just hide,” says Trick. “We could just pretend for a while. You should have come with me yesterday, shouldn’t you have!”

“I… I don’t know. Maybe.”

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Wait! I thought you wanted nothing to do with the voices in the camera, Trick.

“I got a little freaked out last night.” He rubs at his eyes. “It’s… hard to believe things like what you’re telling me.”

“You… came around pretty fast today,” mumbles Blue.

“After he c-c-cut me like this!”

bupine asked: shit, chase, what did he do to you? did he stab you?

“He just wouldn’t stop cutting my chest up.” Trick reaches out to grab Blue’s wrists. “Isn’t that awful, Blue, isn’t that just awful? Why would I deserve that now, let me ask you? Why would anyone be bad for Anti when he could do this at any time? Even in the hospital, if he really wanted to, don’t you think?”

“Trick,” breathes Blue, trying to pull away. “Trick. Too tight.”

“Well, sorry, Blue, I think I’m just having another b-b-b-b-breakdown, isn’t that too bad? How I’m always c-c-c-crying?” He squeezes down hard on Blue’s wrist above his IV and Blue yelps, struggling against him.

Anonymous asked: Blue DO NOT look at Trick's eyes, keep your eyes up to see the nurse, keep alert to protect your brother. Okay?

Blue scrambles for the call button again, trying to get the nurse, but his brother just sneers at him.

“Oh, puh-lease, you think I’d let a call go through? You can’t even call for help when I’m around, you really think you can run away from me? America, Spain? You’ll never make it out of this fucking room before I saw that you were gone! I’m everywhere, kitten! You’re as stupid as you always were, thinking you could run away from me forever! You couldn’t even stop me from stealing your brothers in the first place and now you think you can steal them back from me? You’re pathetic!”

Anonymous asked: Blue, Blue, Marvin, Marvin, that's not Trick, Anti is in your arms, that is NOT Trickshot!!!

“Get away from me, Anti!” Blue screams, ripping out his IV, his cannula, and his heart monitor as he tears out of bed, but the steady beeping rhythm on the screen does not change for a second, alerting no one at all. “You fucking liar!”

Anonymous asked: oh just fuck off Anti. Horrible actor honestly.

“Second time you fell for it,” Anti jeers at Blue, crossing his arms on the bed, and then his form shifts, and he’s red-haired and freckled, with dark, worried eyes. “Oh, Blue, I’m right here, I’m right here… big brother’s going to keep you safe.”

“Fuck you!” snarls Blue.

“Keep your voice down… wouldn’t want me to have to possess whatever nurse comes through the door, would you, kitty?”

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Marvin, get the HELL outta there!

Blue wrenches the door handle, but it has an electronic lock for psychiatric patients who might try to run, and Anti’s already beat him there.

“Uh-oh,” sings Anti.

Anonymous asked: Not really sure that's Trick. No offence if it is you, bud. He's not acting like himself. And we haven't seen him get hurt at all. In fact Anti's been practically in love with him the past few days.

“Oh, I get it, I get it,” laughs Blue, almost hysterical. “Can’t have Dapper as your puppy so you gotta find someone else to make into your little baby. Makes sense. No one really loves you so you’ve got to force someone to pretend. The younger and more malleable, the better.”

Rage flickers through Anti’s eyes, but he does not move.

“Seem to remember you being pretty in love with me a couple times there, sweetie.”

“Shut the fuck up. None of it is real, Anti. You will never get what you want from us. You will never know what it really is to be loved.”

“Must be missing out on so much.” Anti rolls his eyes. “Stupid cat.”

“Stop calling me that! I don’t even like cats!”

“Yes,” says Anti, his mouth curling up. “I made you not like cats, my deer. Your obsession was so annoying. And when I came to torment you all, and found my way back to you, I strung your little idiot cats up by their throats outside of your little portal and listened to you weep over their tiny bodies. Athanasius and Queenie. You don’t even remember now, do you?”

Blue is stopped short, wheezing like he’s been punched in the chest.

He doesn’t remember.

But the feeling of it - the emotion of it - is still with him and he feels it again now.

“Oh, oh, oh,” he weeps, crumpling. “You killed my cats, you killed them!”

“I been haunting your steps for a long, long time, Marvin,” says Anti, getting to his feet and circling him. He transforms again and now he is a small, green-haired young man in a black t-shirt and ripped jeans, his throat open. “And you really think you could ever get a step ahead of me?”

“I hate you so fucking much,” chokes Blue.

Anti steps down gently on the back of his throat.

“I know.”

Anonymous asked: antisepticeye hurts the boys the same way Jack hurt him because he's an edgy toddler, more news at 11 🙄

“Shut the fuck up,” snarls Anti, backing away again. “Like you know anything about what he did to me! Shut the fuck up.”

Anonymous asked: Anti, do you seriously think you'll ever be powerful enough to keep all of them under your wraps? Are you that far up your own ass? Your level of un-self-aware egoism is astounding.

“Well,” laughs Anti, his eyes burning like an effigy. “I’m not willing to give up yet.”

He leans closer into Blue’s space, teeth bared.

“I never will be.”

Anonymous asked: Anti you are the definition of annoying now would ya fuck off for a bit?

“I let you have your little talk with Trick last night,” scowls Anti, crossing his arms off his chest. “Geez, you act like I’m not your favorite character!”

Anonymous asked: Marvin throw stuff around, break stuff, make as much noise as possible to try to get the attention of anyone around there!

���Or you could not do that!” pipes up Anti, and thick vines burst out of his backpack and wrap themselves around Blue’s body, making him shriek and pinning him back against the wall. A flower blooms inside his mouth and makes him choke, effectively gagged, while Anti hums, trailing forward with his knife flipping up and down.

“Poor thing,” he says.

With his cannula gone and his mouth full, Blue can’t seem to get enough oxygen. The blood rushes painfully up to his head, blinding him for a second, and he all but faints in the grip of his own magic, shuddering.

“Just be good for a second,” says Anti. “It’s so much easier.”

Anonymous asked: Anti you taking your master-issues out on these boys is quite the spectacle. Your entire existence has *revolved* around just getting back at Jack for how long now? "Long long time" is right. He created you acting like this, and now all you do is act like he made you to. Never stopped being a puppet.

Anti stomps his foot like a kid, his mouth filling up with fangs and antlers budding on his skull again. “Please! He would be horrified to see what I’ve become! He never would have expected this, not in a million years! Oh, JJ’s my little puppet, huh, was that a fun bit for all of you, thinking of the little baby tucked up in his box, just a body for me to use? Well, I took it a step further, and then another, and another! Now he’s much more than a vessel and I stole all five of his boys! Where’s his little hero, now, huh? Music pumping behind him in his stupid video, that dumb outfit all fixed up from the first time. I was supposed to be beatable. I’ve overcome everything he ever planned for me.”

He grits his fists hard, panting.

“And now he doesn’t even seem to know it… won’t even try to stop me, like he doesn’t care! Fucking Jack!”

Blue stares at him, panting through his gag.

Anonymous asked: Doing this will not solve your problems, Anti, in fact it will make them worse. The boys will kill you for this, don’t make this mistake.

“There are some things worse than death,” hisses Anti, stalking forward.

Anonymous asked: Trick, I know you don't want to talk to us, but Blue is in trouble at the hospital

Trick’s cameras are deactivated for messaging, so they receive nothing at all.

whydoilovesomanyvillians asked: Oh I dont think that's trick at all

“Sure you don’t want me to pretend again?” asks Anti sweetly, turning back into Trick. “Isn’t it easier this way?”

“Not real!” Blue screams through his gag.

“But it felt real for a moment, right?”

He chokes on a sob, not wanting to admit it.

“I know it did. And that feeling that everything would be okay, and that you were safe, and that you were with someone that loved you? Kitty, I can do that again so easy. Fit right back in your head where I belong and make the whole thing seem understandable. Or I could just wipe you clean again… you’d be so content, just like you were for those first few weeks. Now that the magic’s gone, there’s no conflict at all between us! Everything could feel okay. Sometimes things go bad with us, it’s true. But I’ll always set them right again. Okay?”

Blue shakes his head frantically, tears sliding down his face.

“Well, you’ll come around,” coos Anti, stroking his cheek. “Everyone always does for me.”

Anonymous asked: How many times are you going to try to do this Anti? It’s the same song and dance literally every other week, don’t you get bored? Why not start a garden? You can trample as much life as you want there :)

“You’re the ones always playing the same song and dance,” he growls. “You say the same things every time you see me. Aren’t you tired of circles? I was. But I guess you’re a lot more helpless than I was back then.”

Anonymous asked: None of this is *fun* Anti. When have any of the cameras, specifically us, wanted you to do shit like this? Since when have *your* viewers, not his, wanted this? You think you're a favourite, special boy. You're an entitled child who takes out his feelings about his own abuse on his master's other toys.

“Every time you saw me you were so excited,” he protests, looking almost taken aback. “I know it was fun for you because you kept coming back. Once, I just - oh, I just glitched for one moment! Over his eyes! You talked about it for weeks, that one glitch. It was always easy to get your attention. You wanted me. And I was the favorite, I was! Even he said so. Wouldn’t put me in polls because he knew I’d win.”

He laughs, running his hands through his hair, a little mollified, actually. “Fuck, it all felt so stupid at the time… but things were a lot easier, back then, in some ways. I just wanted one thing. I don’t know, it makes me want to just kill them all and keep pretending I could ever get to him. Oh. What a time we had.”

Anonymous asked: What the fuck?? This is not going to happen! Where is Trick?? Surely there is a camera at home that we can get him to talk to us on. Trick??? Please man we need you! Blue needs you!

There is a camera at home. In the kitchen, you can see Trick, swaying back and forth as he stirs up satay noodles, singing to himself. Cavetown. Noodle swims around his legs, chirping happily and begging, and Trick leans down to give him a bit of his namesake, stroking his head, cheeks rosy.

Anonymous asked: oh trick baby if that camera's receiving messages i'm so sorry, i feel like you're about to get a lot of people yelling at ya

No worries, it isn’t. Trick doesn’t want to talk to you. He has Anti!

Anonymous asked: You hate circles? Then why are you perpetually going in them? Literally everything so far has been a circle! Same old same, every single day. Break them, they regain everything, break them again, they regain it all. Circles, circles, always and forever, Antisepticeye.

Anti scowls and crosses his arms over his chest. “Well, I’ve won both times, haven’t I? Be quiet, I’m about to turn you off. Trying to have a talk here, thanks.”

Anonymous asked: this time you made the circle yourself. you have become what you hate. good going, jerk.

“Good going, jerk,” repeats Anti, giggling. “Why - why is that so funny to me? Is that the worst you can think of to call me? Blue, can’t you think of something worse?”

Blue spits the flower out. “Dick-faced pig!”

“There you go.”

Anonymous asked: Marvin, I know you don't remember Jack, but he made you into more than just a magician. Magic or no magic, you are strong and you are clever, and you don't have to put up with this. Jack made you and your brothers to be actors but this isn't your only role.

Blue stares at you, his chest convulsing. Fuck, but he wants that to be true.

“Sappy,” critiques Anti, shoving you away.

asexualzucchini asked: Back off anti your time is up. They don't want to be with you

“My patience with this conversation is the only thing that’s up,” says Anti, throwing his knife up and catching it. “I’ve said my piece. You’ll think about it, Blue, won’t you? Well, you will, whether you want to or not.”

He snaps his fingers and the vines retreat towards his backpack. Blue gasps desperately and crumples to the ground.

“You want to stay here, fine, whatever,” says Anti, yawning. “I can get you back whenever I want to. Just sneak in here and possess you, or fake the signatures from the doctor for your release, whatever. And now I know every escape plan you were thinking about, so how about we just don’t bother? I’m in the camera out in your hall, through the hospital, etc, whatever, so running isn’t going to get you anywhere. Also, I’m the name on your insurance, and I could pull it at any time, so why don’t you keep that in mind. Me, I’ll just be chilling at home, finding my missing boys, Trick in my lap, adoring me… doesn’t sound too bad. You’ve accomplished nothing, Blue. But, uh, yeah. Have fun with your fish.”

He picks up the coloring book and chucks it at Blue, letting it flop against his chest.

“Wait a second, I skipped a message, hold on.”

bupine asked: trick, blue. a little while ago, the magicians who have dok arranged for a place to meet red and dapper. the church of santo domingo, by the skull of santa rosa. i don't know if there's a way you can get there, but if you can, you'll see dok again. he's pretty happy there, and would love to see you both again. especially you, chase. we don't know if red and dap will go, or at least red, but you guys would be safe with the magicians. if you can get there safely, of course

“Ah,” says Anti, very slowly, and lets his teeth click together for a second, closing his eyes. “Ah.”

A smile blooms like a crescent moon across his mouth.

“The Church of Santo Domingo. Yes, in Lima. We passed by it many times. I know exactly where it is. I know exactly where it is.”

His eyes open again. Smiling at Blue.

“Henrik is still in Lima.”

Anonymous asked: Okay with the acknowledgement that this is completely desperate and outright stupid on my part: NOODLE! I know you can't read but look! Blinky light! Come play with the camera! It's shiny and important and what a shame it would be if anything happened to it and Trick had to take it from youuuu

“Mrr?” Noodle leaps up onto the counter, looking at the camera in the corner of the ceiling, but Trick just laughs and scolds him, plopping him back on to the floor.

Anonymous asked: You call this winning? You're literally missing more than half the set, two of your so-called pets have almost regained themselves completely, you're full of magic that's killing you, and one of your only dogs is biting you every time he sees you. If you call this "winning" I find that hilarious.

Anti’s mouth twists. He crosses his arms over his chest and scowls.

“Your… ears blush?” coughs Blue, staring at him, wide-eyed. “You’re so physical now… you have real blood in you, don’t you?”

“Shut up!”

whydoilovesomanyvillians asked: You act so big and strong but you only have 2 boys not even

“Sounds like I’ll find the others soon enough,” snarls Anti, hefting his backpack and stepping over Blue’s body. “I don’t have to talk to any of you, you know…”

“You can’t even handle c-cameras,” pants Blue. “Wait til it’s the five of us telling you you’re pathetic.”

Anti’s foot connects with his nose. Blue wails as blood pours out, clutching at his face and collapsing on to his side.

“Soon as you’re well enough to travel,” glowers Anti. “We’re heading back to Peru to get all three of your brothers.”

Anonymous asked: Anti you dumbass, leaving physical evidence. Blue, the doctors will know what happened now. Don't let him convince you he can "fix" this too, he literally broke your nose and beat you up.

“Vines are gone,” says Anti. “He’s obviously collapsed and busted his nose trying to get up too fast. Guest registry has Connor’s name on it, so by all means have him banned.”

“They’re right, though,” whispers Blue. “You will never make this right between us. Too much hurt, Anti. There are things the heart remembers.”

Anonymous asked: (This was still your magic, Blue... Can you reach out to it? Would it still know you? Something small, even?)

Anti opens the door, glancing back to him, perhaps just savoring the sight of him in pain. Blue stares back, salt and copper on his face, shaking.

His magic, his magic. His warmth and his strength and his sight and one missing piece of his shattered heart.

Flowers and flame, life and warmth, cupped like butterflies in his hands. Magic tricks for two small, dark-haired children. A bouquet of roselilies for Red to take on a date he doesn’t remember. Heating Dok’s numb hands between his own after a twelve-hour surgery. Weaving dandelions into Dapper’s hair. The protection of flame. Crocuses growing up through the floorboards.

Reach, Blue. Reach, Marvin. It’s yours.

His fingers unfurl. His eyes watch him go. He holds out his hand and tries to remember what it was to make it all move. His magic.

Nothing.

Blue crumples on the cold linoleum of the hospital floor, silent, and Anti is gone.

End Section Five of Chapter Three:  Two Truths and a Lie

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #295

i’m not listening to music so am blanking on lyrics to put here lol

Who’s your favorite rapper? And your favorite song by this rapper? Eminem. "Cinderella Man" is probably my favorite, or "Space Bound." How about your favorite band? And your favorite song by this band? Ozzy Osbourne, if I had to pick solely one. God, picking a favorite song, though... idk, maybe "Trap Door," but it's almost impossible for me to decide. Have you ever had the cops called on you? For what? No. Would you rather be home alone, or have people with you? Why? I'd rather have people home, but alone in my room. I just feel less lonely. Have you ever dropped a class in school? Which class, and why did it suck? I dropped some class in college that I can't remember the name of... I completely misjudged what it would be like. I had absolutely zero interest. I feel like I've dropped another, too? Have you ever taken someone back, who ended up just hurting you again? No. Do you have a little sister? What’s her name? Nicole. What was the last thing you printed? Is there even ink in your printer? Something for school, I'm sure. Do you remember the first time you ever drove a car? Who were you with? Yeah, my driving instructor in HS. Have you ever been in handcuffs? Why, exactly? Yeah, to be transported from the ER to psych hospitals, as well as handcuffs among other restraints when going to court to explain why I was eligible for an earlier discharge from the hospital. That's one of the scariest experiences of my life, feeling like a bound lunatic. Have you ever had to be put to sleep at a hospital? Why? Yeah, for two surgeries. Do you actually have a calendar on your wall? What are the pictures of? I have two old meerkat ones that are just for decoration. Have you ever been on a cruise? How many? Where did they go? No. Do you have a favorite author? No. Does your significant other boss you around a lot? I don't have one, but I wouldn't tolerate that shit. Do you know anyone who has overdosed? Me, but I obviously lived. I think I've loosely or distantly known people who weren't so lucky. Are you a fan of PDA (public displays of affection)? As long as it's not too intense, I think it's sweet. It's beautiful to see love expressed. When was the last time you went bowling? A few years ago for Girt and my first date. Do you personally know anyone who is transgender? I do. Have you ever written anything longer than 10 pages? Yes, for school essays. I think my longest was about toxic masculinity. I'm actually really proud of it; I think my instructor used it as an example for her next semester's students, given that I was notified of an influx of views on it. Do you have any names picked out for your future children? What are they? Hypothetically speaking, if I had a daughter, Alessandra is her name, period, lol. I would like to name my never-happening son Damien, but I'd be more open to suggestions from my partner. Have you ever been given a lapdance by an actual stripper? Oh yikes, no thank you. Do you have/want any piercings? I have a good number and seriously want more. What side of the bed do you sleep on? More towards the left. Who is the last person you told a secret to? Nicole, about Misty coming down here for a visit. Have you ever been on an island? Yes, just off the NC coast during a 4th grade school vacation. It was amazing and even had wild horses. What's your favorite job you've ever had? I guess GameStop was the best, since I was actually interested in what I worked with. Do you have any vacations planned? No. Do you enjoy getting manicures/pedicures? How often do you get them? I mean it's nice I guess, but it's not something I'd spend money on. Have you yelled at anyone today, and why? No. Do you own anything with your state or providence's name on it? No. Do you like the Paranormal Activity movies? Yeah. Paranormal is my favorite subgenre of horror. What's your favorite way to eat peanut butter? On waffles, haha. Do you like bows? Yeah, they're cute. Have you ever made a 'haul' YouTube video? No. Has a boyfriend ever made you breakfast? Yeah, that was quite ordinary with Jason since his original intention was to be a chef. What do you gather your change in? My wallet. Do you like to play Angry Birds? I never have. The movie was cute, tho. Do you like Cheez-Its? Oh GOD. I looooove Cheez-Its and they need to be kept away from me to avoid bingeing on them. Have you ever been pulled aside for a random bag search at an airport? I don't think so, no. What’s your favorite flavor of Jell-O? Watermelon, I think? Or strawberry? Do you have any games on your computer? Which ones? On my personal laptop, I have World of Warcraft, Alien: Isolation, Resident Evil 6, and both Amnesia games. I think that's it. What's a musical instrument you think sounds really beautiful? Violins. Do you have a favorite type of pasta? (like a shape of noodles, not dish) I'm not particular about this, really. What's the coolest natural event you've ever witnessed? Maybe the blood moon. Are there any waterfalls near where you live? No, just dams. Do you personally know anyone who is an author? I know people who have had smaller works published, but calling them an "author" feels odd since it's not their actual career or anything. Is that rude? Do you own a polaroid camera? No, but that'd be cool. Do you think you’ll ever end up in rehab? No. Who’s your favorite Kardashian sister? I don't have an opinion. Is there someone you absolutely cannot stand but have to tolerate? My sister's husband. "Absolutely cannot stand" might be a bit strong, but... Do you want to go to pregnancy classes? If I was to ever be pregnant, no. My mom would be able to answer all things related to this, haha. Do you ever cringe at the thought of living in a disgusting house? Yes. What color are your bathroom towels? We have a variety. How often do you let cleavage show? I'm not very revealing, but I'm also not self-conscious of allowing some. Does vintage stuff appeal to you? Yes! Where do you want to go? I'd love to visit Sara again, but not so long as Covid hangs around. Have you ever had feelings for two people at the same time? Something like that with Jason and Juan before I chose Jason. I don't even really know if I like-liked Juan versus just being flattered by him. Would you ever throw out or give away something an ex gave you? I mean, what's the item in question? And are we on good terms (not that that would always matter)? What's the biggest annoyance in your life right now? Right now, Covid. I know, surprising I didn't say "not having a job," but so long Covid is an issue, I don't think I would be comfortable having one. I can't bring that shit home to my weak mother. Who do you feel most comfortable talking to about anything? Mom. What do you want right this second? To actually be skinny again. It's hard to believe in my teens I thought I wasn't. Are you one of those people who never drinks soda? I'm actually quite the opposite... It's sad, I know I'd have less trouble losing weight if I could just stop drinking it regularly. Have you ever been afraid to get up and go to the bathroom? ... No...? Have you ever paid for any kind of online membership? I don't believe so, no. Who’d you last see in a tux? Hm. Probably when I shot a wedding. Out of everyone you know, who has the most heart? Uhhhh I dunno. Who’s the bravest person you know? Probably my mom. Who would you want to have your back if things got tough? Again, my mother. Have you ever dated someone who was really sporty? Nah. Are you any good at writing? I think so. What’s your favorite form of writing? I don't know if it counts as a "form" as much as it is a subject, but RP. Writing with characters you yourself have created and actually engaging with other's inventions is very fun. Have you ever done something terrible, but took forever to feel bad? Yes, over things I'd said to Jason following the breakup. It literally took years because I was so convinced it was all justified. What did you dream about last night? I don't remember. Sure feels great though that my nightmares are chilling out. What profession do you admire the most? That's tough, but probably those that put their lives on the line for others, like firefighters. I also have massive respect for people like doctors, given all the time and work they put into their education to become one and help others. Have you ever made a fake profile, for any reason? No. Have you ever questioned your sexuality? Well, seeing as I was an initial homophobe that eventually realized I was bisexualllll... Do you have a garden at your house? No. Do you like making puppet figures with your shadow? When I was a kid, sure. Have you ever played strip poker or would you ever? No, but I won't say absolutely never if I was just with my s/o. It's not something I'm actually interested in doing, though. Would you date someone who didn’t want to have sex until they were married? Yep. Would you date someone who went to church on a regular basis? To be totally honest, I don't know if me and a person that actively religious would work out, but I'd try it, ig. What is your favorite curse word? I say "fuck" way too much lmao. It's an intense word and I'm a passionate person, lol. What movie do you know just about every line from? None. Do you prefer cupcakes or muffins? Cupcakes. What are the three “nevers” of your life? To name just a few that I'm absolutely certain about, I'd never do hard drugs, commit murder (unless in self-defense, but is that even "murder?"), or abuse somebody. Last board game you played? I think it was "Sorry!" when I was babysitting Ryder. Last card game you played? Christ, Uno. My niece went through a phase of like obsessively playing it with me because I would let her win. Last thing you got for free? Christmas gifts. How long have you been tattooed? If you’re not, do you want to get tattooed? I got my first tat the day I turned 18. Last baby shower? My sister's last year. Last wedding? A repeat photography client's. Her family is lovely. Last funeral? I don't think I've been to a funeral (not wake) since I was maybe a preteen and my childhood babysitter died... It's sad that I didn't go to my grandmother's, but I didn't really have that choice. What is your band’s name? Or fantasy band ;)? Haha, my Rock Band one was "Bullets and Butterflies." How many different strip clubs have you been to? None. Do you have any nieces/nephews? Technically a lot, but only three are regular parts of my life. How many cars have you ever owned? Me personally, none. Can you do math in your head well? ABSOLUTELY not. Who is your favorite Star Wars character? I only care about the Ewoks ok. I'm not a fan of the franchise. Have you ever been to a bachelor/bachelorette party? No. Have you ever bailed anyone out of jail? No. Have you ever given someone a fake phone number? No. Do you have any bumper stickers on your car? N/A Have you ever gone golfing? Only mini-golfing as a kid. Well, and on an anniversary date with Jason. Actual golfing doesn't interest me. If you became famous for something, what would it be? To be entirely realistic versus idealistic, probably something I wrote. How many friends do you have that are married? A whole lot. Do you still have your wisdom teeth? Yes. When you were a kid, were you ever afraid of cooties? No, it was just a playful joke. Do you ever go Christmas caroling in December? No. Do you like mango? Mango flavored stuff, oh yes. I don't like actual mangos; they're too mushy. What was the last thing you got falsely accused of? I don't know. Have you ever been kicked out of a store? No. What does caffeine do to you? Nothing, really. I think I'm too accustomed to it being in my system. Would other people describe you as creative? Very. Would you rather paint or carve a pumpkin? Hm, maybe paint. Names of best friends you've had: Brianna, Kimberly, Jenna, Megan, Mini, Sara... I don't remember them all. Were you one of the smartest in your class? Through most of my school experience, yes. Will you let your kids have a YouTube channel, do you think? If I wanted kids, it would depend on their age and what they were making. Have you ever owned a designer purse? No. Do you like the taste of Tums? Taste, yes. Chalky texture, fuck no. I like the chewy ones, though. Are you currently learning a new language? No. What culture are you most interested in learning about? Maybe Indian? Do you own anything skull print? Oh, loads of stuff. Who are the three people you consider yourself closest to? Mom, Sara, and uh... Dad. Do you like crackers with your soup? Soggy crackers are gross. I don't really like soup, anyway. Which ex of yours means the most to you? Sara. What is something that never fails to make you feel accomplished? Cleaning. Do wooded areas freak you out in the evening or night? No, I love 'em. Have you ever ridden on the back of a motorcycle? No, I'm not comfortable with the idea of riding one. Do you iron any of your clothes? No. Do you think long, straight hair is pretty? Yes, if it's healthy. Do you have a fireplace in your home? Yes. Did you have a class pet in grade school? No. Have you ever owned an aquarium? No. Do you prefer mints or gum? I'd say gum. Popsicles or fudgesicles? Ohhh, fudgesicles. What is your favorite flavor of hot pockets? I only even moderately enjoy the ham and cheese ones. Do you like apple juice? Yeah, but there's definitely better juices.

[hobohumanitarian6]

This is a long post so please be warned!!! I need to get some things off my chest....

⚠️ TRIGGER WARNING POSSIBLE⚠️

Feedback to this post is open-ended. You cannot offend me and will not be blocked.

⭐ So here's the thing: one of my late grandmother's friends just posted that her 29 year old son died in his sleep with seemingly no explanation. This really shook me I guess. For one, I used to hang out with this kid during the summers a lot. My specific memories are very vague, but deep in my consciousness I know that I have called him friend in the past. For another, many things lately have been prompting me to ask the difficult questions ie

Why in the fuck am I here?

What's the meaning of it all?

When is my life going to get better?

How do I prepare myself for better things?

Am I blocking me or is something else blocking me?

What am I doing wrong that the universe doesn't think I'm ready for a new chapter?

Am I really with the right person?

What about the afterlife?

Am I going to be silenced or speak out?

What if I can't do some of things I want/dreamed of?

What is going to satisfy me if my future doesn't go as planned?

⭐ I've been doing quite a bit of soul searching through all of this, established the framework of the person I want to be and

BAM! 🧱 💥 🏃🏻‍♀️

Straight into a fucking. Brick. Wall.

⭐ I am in one of the worst continental states in the US (by even statistic) and before all of the shutdown and pandemic began, I had plans to be relocated with my new job, a place to call home & reunited with family by June 1st. Clearly that didn't happen....

⭐ I am spending $900 a month for a 250 ft² motel room just so I am not out on the streets.

Homelessness. Can we talk about that for a second? People getting arrested for being out past curfew because they don't have a place to go, put in jail because they're in the way, not tested or treated for the virus because they generally have no insurance, giving people loads of food stamps so the emergency assistance funding is broke-

600 dollars of groceries is a lot if you have a fridge, freezer, microwave, oven, toaster, etc not if you have to buy your food from overpriced convenience stores and gas stations and fresh food from grocery stores that 70% of the price is for the packaging it comes with!!

Soup kitchens closing because they don't want to risk contamination. Who's feeding those without a hot meal? Do they realize malnourishment is the quickest way to get sick with any pathogen!?

Shelters closed because of overpopulation. Domestic violence homes turning battered women and children away because there's too scarce of resources and funding. Yet people care about big corporations going bankrupt? Please tell me what the difference is between a goddamn human fucking life and a couple lawsuits because you didn't know how to prepare for an ever-changing economy.

Thank the universe i am sheltered with minimal resources to take care of myself and I have a steady job due to an enormous company's "chance on a down-in-the-dumps contractor." This job I have held steadily for a year despite chronic health issues has been the best thing to happen to me by far in a long time. I am definitely not by any means complaining about my job or that I even have life necessities right now. Several million don't have that.

⭐ The problem with this state is there are no resources for a person who's struggling to make an honest living. I lost my apartment two years ago because I had to take a medical leave of absence at my job then, got behind on rent and was evicted without a chance to catch up. The power was cut three nights before I had to leave, and I owe a deposit on the electric company to get any type of service back in my name. The realty company who owns the apartment complex will not allow a payment plan without a fraction of the principle paid down, so therefore I cannot apply for private or realty housing and I have been on the waiting list for federal housing assistance for 3 years without a single word. I also had my bank card stolen with my ID when I was trying to catch a bus to work a few weeks after that so whoever it was made small purchases that my bank applied interest and late charges to so that is also standing in debt. Thank universe my current employer allows direct deposit to a savings account at a bad credit institution or I'd be royally fucked.

⭐ Before I made the hard decision to doll out almost a G a month just for a room, I tried sleeping in my pickup. I even took the effort to pallet it for a platform bed & make benches to live in free campgrounds, cemeteries, truck stops, boonie dead ends, and behind abandoned buildings. I had a 12V converter that I connected to a rice cooker and made a tin can stove to grill small portions of meat on a single-egg mini skillet. I kept getting chased off by rangers, cops, annoying people trying to do crack and not get their lives better, and eventually violently detained for "suspicious activity" - I was thrown on the ground, put in handcuffs, patted down by a male officer with no female present, searched my vehicle without consent & written a citation: this was 2 am, I had a campsite reservation, I was clearly sleeping & my vehicle was current. The officers did not give me their name or numbers so I could not make a report.

⭐ I have chronic health issues - hip dysplasia & hyper mobility (not severe enough to be EDS), anemia, rexhia (NOT PRO ANYTHING), pre diabetes, H.S, BPD, PTSD, endometriosis & chronic migraines. I have filed time and time and time again for medical assistance but have always been denied. Every time I try to see a doctor, they claim I have this-or-that infection caused by this-or-that disorder, sent to an overpriced pharmacy with illness-irritating antibiotics that just keep me in an unending cycle of flares and barely-managable pain. Do not let anyone privileged or wealthy confuse you - you are not treated the same if you don't have coverage. Sorry to say but it is indeed a fact.

⭐ With this job I work 40-50 hours a week, eat as healthy as I can on a dime sized budget, and cover all my expenses. Yet I cannot move forward in this state on to better things. I want so badly to have a family, to go to college, etc but I cannot do this with living month to month someplace that isn't even my own.

⭐ The emotional affect this has had on me is tremendous. I am embarrassed of my situation, and never allow any guests in fear they'd judge me. I never take any photographs, which is heartbreaking because it has been one of my long-time hobbies. I am extremely guarded and I lie about small details to protect myself. I have severe trust issues and I always hold a dagger at my waist because I have to assume any minute you'll pull out a Glock.

⭐ Naturally I am an empath and this has brought me more compassion and understanding than I ever thought possible. The police brutality against people of color and racism in socio-economic programs truly breaks my heart because as a white female and all the struggles and discrimination I've endured, I can only begin to understand it's 1000x harder for people of color especially. I stand behind your protests 100%. I beseech you, go fight for what you deserve! I will be begging higher powers for your protection indefinitely!

⭐ I have gained a new perspective on non-profit organizations and volunteer work. Some are truly amazing and their stories move people to tears; others are truly wicked stealing from the poor, embezzling cash flow for their own vanities. Please please please research the charity you are interested in thoroughly before getting involved. Volunteer work will always be appreciated- and will teach you many invaluable lessons. If you help these organizations and need help yourself: respect yourself, hold yourself high, and ask for the assistance. They will generally be more inclined to help. If you are turned away, try not to be bitter. Administrators only do as they see fit.

⭐ That's another thing - bitterness. This has been the most vile and roughest character default I've ever had to battle with myself. When you've been through the shit and you can't see the sewer (sts) it's so easy to stay in the dumps. It's so easy to feel entitled because you've clawed your way to the top. It's easy to feel angry with everyone because it's you vs the system. It's so fucking easy to give up completely and stop trying and just lay down and die. It's easy to step in front of a two ton bus, oncoming freight train, taking the entire package of extra strength Excedrin not because you have a migraine, but just not to feel a thing, go completely numb for one single second. It's easy to go down to the head shop and get a nickel bag of weed to chill and get a 5$ pizza and forget you have responsibilities.

IT'S SO FUCKING TOUGH MAN

⭐ Growing up strictly religious, I tend to shy away from Christianity or other "preachy religion" now. I hate having Jesus shoved down my throat at a service before a hot meal on a Tuesday night and the "speaker" automatically assuming I need to stop smoking crack and going to jail and get my life back on track and God will bless me when I'm in the 46% who has never been to county and hold a job while trying to get back on my feet.

ADDICTION IS NOT POVERTY GUYS

I still support people who go to church and speak in tongues if that satisfies them. I still support people who are strictly vegetarian and make a pilgrimage to the mecca if that satisfies them. I still support people who have 7 two week long feasts a year for something that happened 4000 years ago if that satisfies them. I still support people who believe in baptisms for the dead and not drinking coffee if that satisfies them. I still support people who call Jesus the Nazarene and believe that Lucifer the Dark Lord will prevail if that satisfies them. I still support people who call down the power of the moon into their plant babies and give thanks to the triple goddess if that satisfies them. I support religion or practices of all kinds.

I believe I was meant to be tolerant and be good to others. That this life will give back what you put in. That there is a higher power that governs all and it is up to you to determine just what that is to you. Not to tell people what is wrong with their lives just based on your personal story.

⭐ During this pandemic, I have done a lot of soul searching. Journaling, listening to podcasts, listening to seminars on values I'd never know existed, trying to discover who I am. This journey has included empathy training, reiki, yoga, somatic movement, feldenkrais methods, and astral meditation. I just have a list of these questions I'd like answered or given suggestions to:

What do you believe is the meaning of life? Is there any philosophers, speakers, teachers, theologians, writers, musicians etc that can help answer this?

What is your definition of religion in it's rawest form?

Do you know of any resources I may not have thought of?

Is there any criticism you can give good or bad?

Am I focused on one thing and neglecting another?

Do you have any further opinions on the topics listed above?

Do you have a suggestion of the next right step?

Do you have ideas on how I can help with the aforementioned problems?

How do I stop feeling like I'm wasting my time?

How do I find contentment in everything should I die tomorrow?

What is your opinion of the afterlife?

How do you find happiness in the midst of bullshit?

What did a friend/relative/mentor tell you when you were going through an existential crisis?

Have you felt trapped too? Due to the covid or otherwise?

Any curse words, songs, books, movies, etc of use?

🌸🌸I sincerely appreciate any feedback 🌸🌸

[therandomfics]

Unknown: 2

The breakup had taken place almost a year before. The separation period followed, and then finally the long awaited divorce. None of it was ideal, but it was better than being trapped in a loveless marriage, and at least it was no-fault, so it was a pretty seamless process. The marriage itself lasted 4 years, and you’d been with your ex-husband for two years prior to that, so seeing 6 years wash down the drain with a slam of a gavel wasn’t picturesque. It just... was. 

Your now ex-husband, Luca, was a trained competitive boxer. His physique was something to admire, but the more he trained, the less compassionate he became. Everything was fine until the night he put his fist through the wall next to your head when you’d asked him about a coworker who’s number kept showing up on the phone bill. Apparently, he was sick of the questions and wanted to take a more direct approach. At that point, you made the intelligent and conscious decision to pack your bags while he was gone and make yourself disappear. 

Finally, you were free. You could be your own person again. You could date. You could sleep until 4PM on your day off if you wanted to, and most of all you didn’t have to worry about anyone’s temper anymore. 

You’d set up your meeting with Sonny to be at 9:00AM the next day, which was convenient because you didn’t frequent church on Sundays and your schedule was open. Your mother was persistent that if you’d just find time for Jesus you’d see that you weren’t alone after all. She meant well and to some people she was a saint, but lately you were beginning to feel like maybe she was more like The Nun than anything. 

With a garment bag draped over the back of a park bench, you sat and bounced your foot idly waiting for your meeting to commence. Coffee warmed your hands and occupied your mind with each small sip, careful not to burn your tongue. 

“Hey, are you Y/N? 

You brought your attention back to the present and nodded. “You must be Sonny.” 

“Nice to meet you, and thanks again for letting me check out the merch before I commit to buying,” he said, keeping a respectful distance between your seated figure and his standing one. 

A brief smile flashed across your face before you stood and picked up the bag. “No problem. Take a look. I trust you not to run off with them.” 

“No problem. I used to be a cop. I know that kind of shit isn’t really the experience you want when you’re trying to make some extra cash,” he replied nonchalantly. Extending his reach, he grabbed the bag from you carefully and unzipped it, taking a peek inside. 

“I guess they’re authentic,” you offered after a moment. “I mean I know they’re real but they’re like.. supposed to be MLB legit.” 

He nodded in agreement. “Yeah, they look like they’re the real deal. This works out really well. Buddy of mine was looking for some to replace some that he lost, and this is gonna be such a great surprise for him.” 

“That’s awesome. I’m pretty sure somewhere I have some signed cards. I could let you know if you’re interested?” 

“That’d be great. I appreciate it.” He reached into his pocket and handed you a carefully folded stack of bills, which you happily accepted. 

You pocketed the money and then nodded at the garment bag. “Hang on to it. If you’re ever out this way again, let me know and I’ll get it back from you. I usually use it to keep my one good dress safe, but it’s kind of retired now.” 

“Give me a call if you’ve got anything else you want to get rid of. Thanks, again. I appreciate it. Have a good day.” 

“You too.” 

On your way home you couldn’t stop yourself from thinking about how attractive your new Yankee’s buyer was, and how you were thankful that he wasn’t some creep that tried to rob you or talk you down on the pricing. Of course you knew that selling things online was always a risk, but it seemed like this one had finally paid off.. Didn’t hurt that he used to be a cop, either, you thought to yourself. Maybe there really were some good people left - although, if you asked your Mom, she’d definitely say it had something to do with the church. 

You wrinkled your nose and locked the door behind you as you entered your apartment again. As you crossed the living room towards the couch, you inadvertently looked at the hall closet that held all of the memories from your marriage. 

“Not today,” you said aloud and collapsed onto the couch. Today was for resting, not for dredging up old memories and making yourself want to day drink before noon. No. Today was going to be different. At least, until your phone rang and it was Sonny. 

“Hello?” you answered, feigning ignorance as if you hadn’t saved his name in your phone already. It felt desperate for a moment - were you that lonely? 

“Hey, Y/N. This is Sonny. We just met up and I bought those jerseys?” 

“Mhmm. Is everything okay?” 

“Well yeah but, I just took a closer look and you left something in the bag that I didn’t intend to buy.” 

“I’m so sorry. What did I leave behind?” you asked, furrowing your brow as you ran through a list of things you could have potentially given a perfect stranger. 

“In the bottom of the bag there was a bracelet. One of those charm-y ones with all the different trinkets.” 

“Are you sure?” You’d never owned one of the styles in question. In fact, you rarely wore jewelry because you always had to take it off before seeing a patient anyway. 

“I’ll send you a picture.” 

A moment later your phone chirped and you opened the message from Sonny. It was in fact a charm bracelet, but it was not yours. It was, however, one that you’d complimented your ex-husband’s coworker for wearing one time. You remembered it vividly because it was a testament to her love for the beach. Only, you had no idea how you’d ended up with it in your home, more specifically in something that he’d left behind when you separated. 

“Ah.. well. I guess that’s mine.” Your heart was in the pit of your stomach as you realized that your concerns had been completely valid, despite how long ago it was. 

“I’m already back home but if you want, I can meet you a little later? I’ve got a family obligation this afternoon.” 

“Sure. Yeah. Just give me a call when you’re free and I’ll grab it from you. Thanks, by the way, for being so honest. That’s really nice of you.” 

You could nearly hear his smile through the phone. “Sometimes I think I’m the last decent guy in New York.” 

A bubble of laughter filled the air of your apartment and you shook your head. “And you’re humble. Talk to you later. Bye.” 

As you ended the call, you felt your uneasiness give way to what you could only remember as butterflies. It had been months since you’d laughed, let alone at someone or something you barely knew. Perhaps things were beginning to look up. 

[stilwaterskeeter]

If Lin Survived...

Because Lin is my very favorite character from the games and I think it’s incredibly ridiculous how she died, I’ve decided to spend my free time working Lin into the other games in the Saints Row series...because that’s what being productive is like for me

It’ll be split into 4 parts, one for each game (duh), with the first game being the smallest since she’s already in that one and there’s very little else to be altered for this and the third will likely be the largest. Because the first game is the shortest, I’m putting the readmore between that one and the 2nd game

Saints Row:

Obviously Lin survives, this entire posts hinges on her survival in “Liberation”

The Playa pulls her out of the water with them and calls an ambulance once on shore.

The Playa probably also tried to give Lin CPR themself until the ambulance arrives, they then continue on with the mission “No Time to Mourn” where they hunt down and kill William Sharp for revenge

They’re unsure if Lin survives until a few days later when Julius tells them he finally heard word that she’s alive in the hospital still treating other injuries they found and currently in an induced coma they put her in that ultimately only lasts for a few days, a week at the most

There’s an additional mission between the events of “Liberation” & “No Time to Mourn” and the final Westside Rollerz mission, “Semi-Charmed Life”

It’s a similar mission as “Visiting Hours” in Saints Row 2 where you escort an injured Johnny out of the hospital while being attacked by Ronin

Julius has a few Saints stationed at the hospital to make sure no Rollerz show up to finish the job and kill Lin themselves for the deceased Sharp and angry Price

Lin wakes up when The Playa’s shift is active, and decides herself that she’s spent enough time hospitalized and takes The Playa with her so they can leave

It’s a “stealth” mission (term used incredibly loosely) where you’re taking out and avoiding security/cops and then driving to the church to see Julius

Queue Lin being incredibly angry that she didn’t get to personally take William Sharp out but also surprised and thoroughly impressed with The Playa for doing it, especially so soon after they were dumped into the waterways

This also means she gets to pop her head into other mission arcs and crap, mostly just to give Dex or Johnny a hard time but she’s there and gets a little more depth to her character as a result

Instead of the scene of Donnie looking at a picture of Lin during “Battlefield Promotion,” it’s a scene of Lin showing up at his garage and surprising him because you can tear their relationship (platonic or romantic) out of my cold dead hands

Saints Row 2:

The Boss asks Johnny about her when Johnny’s talking about where everyone is but he admits that he’s not entirely sure because she didn’t really keep up with him while he was in prison, not on her end at least

With an added “I mean it’s not like she never showed up but I think it was mostly just to make sure I wasn’t dead yet. She’s tough but I don’t think she could handle anymore of us going out after what happened with you and that damn boat and then everyone else scattering to the wind and backstabbing us.”

Johnny also mentions that last he heard of what she was actually up to, was that she was still hanging around with Donnie and street racing, but otherwise he’s as much in the dark as The Boss is at the moment

Lin ends up seeking out The Boss herself, rather than waiting around for them to find her

She shows up during the cutscene after “Down Payment” when Johnny is complaining that they need to start recruiting again

Johnny makes a wisecrack at her timing of course “Oh, look who decided to finally show up, you’re just in time to clean up since you missed all the festivities”

And of course she shoots back, “Shut the fuck up, Gat. I got here as fast as I could, it’s not like you two assholes sent me an invite. I had to stop by Aisha’s and ask where you were.”

She’s wearing a unique version of one of those leather vests members of The Brotherhood wear that’s all red and has her name patched on, she probably also has a unique patch on the back since she’s not actually a Brotherhood member, she wouldn’t have any of their affiliation patches aside from the colors of the vest

Johnny immediately calls her out for flying their flags, he uses it as a moment to give The Boss a rundown of who the Brotherhood is, “They’re these tatted up, leather wearing freaks that drive around in big loud trucks. If you ask me, I think they’re compensating for somethin’”

Lin just rolls her eyes “I’m not in The Brotherhood, Johnny. Donnie is.”

“Oh, so that makes it better? You’re not affiliated with those assholes, just your boyfriend.”

“He’s not my boyfriend! And what was I supposed to do? You’re dumbass got yourself put on deathrow when you botched the plan to take out Troy,” Lin points to The Boss, “And you’re dumbass got fucking laid out in a fucking boat explosion! I couldn’t exactly run the Saints on my own when half our crew got busted and the other half dropped their flags as soon as everyone else ditched us.”

She then offers to help them with The Brotherhood, which starts another argument with Johnny and ends with Lin revealing that aside from Donnie, none of the other Brotherhood members should know that she was a former lieutenant in the Saints

Which Johnny also has something to say about how Donnie struggles to keep his mouth shut, and Lin responds with that he’s gotten better with that and that he’s got more incentive to keep her secret since he’s too worried about her getting hurt or killed for something like that after what happened with the Rollerz

Lin works with Carlos a lot since she’s a source of inside information for the Brotherhood

They end up having an older sister-younger brother relationship because she offers to show him the ropes while The Boss is busy with all the miscellaneous other missions and activities

She also gets upset at The Boss for threatening Donnie and almost getting him killed by Maero, and later again for roughing him up trying to find Carlos

When she’s chewing them out for when they fought Donnie to find Carlos, The Boss mentions what happened and why

It’s a really somber scene

“He could have died, Boss! He’s already on thin ice for the stunt you pulled with the cars, he’ll be lucky if The Brotherhood doesn’t kill him themselves now! I told you to keep him out of it this time!”

“Carlos is dead, Lin. Jessica chained him up to the back of some truck and drove around the fucking docks, dragging him behind it.”

“He’s what?”

“I had to fucking put a bullet in his head, Lin. He’s fucking dead! I really couldn’t give a single fuck if Donnie’s okay because he’s part of the reason one of our own people are dead now.”

Later there’s a cutscene where she’s hanging out with Donnie at her place and she brings up the Saints and admits to him that she’s working with them again and tells him about Carlos

Donnie apologizes about what happened with Carlos

Maero ends up busting in with some other members, revealing that they know Lin is a Saint and believing that Donnie has also actively been working with them and that the crap about being threatened and roughed up was just a cover.

Lin groans because “Not this fucking shit again” and pulls Donnie with her into cover behind the counter and pulls out a gun she had stashed in one of the kitchen drawers

She gives Donnie a kitchen knife and pulls out her phone between shooting at The Brotherhood members to call The Boss

She gives Donnie her phone as she covers him so they can run out the back door and get in her car and drive off, so Donnie has to relay her messages to The Boss, Pierce, and Shaundi back at the hideout

Ultimately they make it to Donnie’s garage and The Boss and Pierce meet them there with Shaundi staying back at the hideout “in case brotherhood try raiding there while they’re gone”

When they show up to the garage, they find out that Lin got shot in the side and you have to protect Lin from a few waves of Brotherhood with Pierce while Donnie tries to patch Lin up 

Afterwards, Lin and Donnie spend their time hanging out at the hideout now

Because Donnie’s sticking it out at the hideout currently, much to Johnny and The Boss’ dismay at first, to keep him safe from the Brotherhood, there’s a few comedic moments when The Boss and the others are trying to plan their next moves and look to Donnie hoping he might have some helpful information by some miracle

Spoiler he never does, he just gets Real Frightened because he’s so use to them just beating information out of him

Lin ends up being The Boss’ ride off of the weapons shipment in “The Enemy of My Enemy”

Queue a comedic conversation about how The Boss is shocked she can not only drive cars damn good but can apparently drive boats too

Lin remarks with how she can’t be “the best racer to ever come out of Chinatown” if she’s only good at racing cars, implying she’s also skilled flying as well as watercrafts simply because she wanted to be the best racer across all fronts

During the end of the epilogue mission arc, after the fight with Dane Vogel, she’s on the bridge with Johnny fighting off the cops on the bridge

Saints Row the Third:

Lin isn’t part of the crew staging the bank robbery at the beginning of the game, in fact, for the most part, she stays behind on a lot of stunts like that and is kind of like the 2nd in command after Johnny with the Saints

Because while Johnny is always busy being the face of the Saints now and going out to wreak havoc and rob banks and shit with The Boss, someone has to stay behind and run things at Stilwater

Lin is the one running things in Stilwater because she’s not interested in all the fame and publicity the Saints are otherwise working with now, and prefers to stick to their roots and do a lot of the nitty gritty work that the others don’t have the time for anymore while they’re busy filming or doing various other things to keep up their image

She shows up with Pierce at the end of “We’re Going to Need Guns”

She’s actually the one driving the helicopter and Pierce is hanging out the side with an annihilator rpg

After The Luchadores raid Johnny’s funeral, she offers to try and join one of the crews as a means to get inside information because “It’s what I always do, I go undercover, I help you ruin their sorry lives, they find out, I get hurt, and then I get to sit back and relax while you deal with the rest of their crap.”

The Boss elaborates that he doesn’t think her plan would work any because 1. These aren’t street gangs like the Rollerz or the Brotherhood, she wouldn’t blend in as well and 2. She’s a Saint, there’s no way she’d be able to go under the radar let alone work as a double agent for them

Lin probably has a comment like “God, we really did ruin our reputation if we’re fighting corporate assholes like Dane on the regular now.”

You can also pry wlw Lin from my cold dead hands so:

She absolutely makes passes at Kinzie and later on Viola in their idle banter when you have them both as homies

Kinzie responds back with a comment that implies she would be interested but also referencing one of her,,,very many kinks like she does

Lin is taken aback by her forwardness but takes it as a challenge

And Lin never turns down a challenge

Viola is a lot less into Lin’s flirting, wanting to keep their relationship strictly professional and generally not approving of Lin’s headstrong and sarcastic personality and her general distaste for all the popularity and “corporate bullshit” the Saints are involved in now

Lin then does of course let up on the flirting since Viola’s made it clear she wasn’t interested

Viola then has a comment about how Lin stopped

It’s a very tsundere type banter of Lin being cocky and Viola adamantly denying caring about it at all, just that she didn’t expect Lin to give up so easily

There’s also a banter with both Shaundi and Lin as homies that reveals that they had a brief stint where they were sort-of-dating and that Lin had also appeared on Shaundi’s show at one point

They make a few comments that leave why they stopped seeing each other pretty vague and open-ended

Shaundi says something about how it was fun and she enjoyed it a lot and she doesn’t really understand why they ever stopped

Lin follows up with some vague reply about how Shaundi was just too busy with the show and all the fame stuff and she was too busy running the gang in Stilwater so they just stopped eventually

She responds pretty hostile to The Boss letting Matt go at first because she doesn’t trust him not to come back for their skins

She does relent pretty quickly though when someone mentions that Matt’s only 16

During Threeway, she attempts to go do whatever The Boss doesn’t choose

So if The Boss goes to save Shaundi, Viola, and Burt; Lin takes Angel and attempts to stop Killbane from escaping, ultimately failing to do so though

And if The Boss goes to kill Killbane, Lin tries to go save Shaundi, Viola, and Burt, but doesn’t make it in time

She’s really fucking pissed at The Boss in this ending

During the cutscene introducing the Daedalus when the Saints are throwing a party, she’s just in the background with a drink in her hand, she refuses to toast with the others

Saints Row IV:

Personally, I think this would work best if she replaced Gat’s recruitment in the story, but I’m gonna write that part sorta vaguely so it works with or without Gat

Just like in SRTT, Lin for the most part is uninvolved with the Big Plans that the boss is getting up to, instead still hanging around Stilwater and running the gang operations there while The Boss and the rest of the crew works at everything else

She is however for the most part, having worked past her grudge against the Saints moving up in the world and has settled that it’s possible to have the best of both worlds in this case with The Boss doing all the Big publicity and movie shit and herself handling all the gang’s Actual gang business

During Zinyak’s invasion, she calls The Boss to ask him what the fuck is going on and stuff

The call cuts out when she’s mid-sentence and later on it’s assumed she died when Zinyak blew up Earth

Eventually, Kinzie finds her pod on the Zin’s ship along with Donnie’s

This prompts The Boss to go and save both of them from their respective nightmares

Lin’s nightmare is all about William Sharp kidnapping her and torturing her and ultimately attempting to kill her in the waterways

Donnie’s is reliving the SR2 Brotherhood mission when Maero attacked him and Lin and Lin got shot during the firefight and they weren’t sure if The Boss was gonna make it in time and she might die

Lin’s loyalty mission is driving around and fighting off enemies while she steals car parts to build herself a racing car in the simulation for the fun of it and for old time’s sake

I have a few ideas for a super outfit but I figured since a lot of the super outfits reference other characters and games and stuff, I’d make her’s a reference to a character known for racing?

I figured Speed Racer would be a pretty neat reference to use? Idk I almost suggested Penelope Pitstop so I think this is a much better option

The blue of the shirt and the yellow gloves are replaced with purple versions of them and the red neckerchief and socks are replaced with yellow. And fuck helmet safety because that part of the outfit is just omitted here

[blooblooded]

High School Story Act 1

KASSIDY NGUYEN

Twelve years to the day had passed since Kassidy Nguyen’s mother had taken her own life, and things weren’t exactly getting any easier. The passage of time did not heal all wounds; how could it? It was like her other mother and her brother were like open wounds, just walking around tearing and re-tearing themselves open. Every year it was the same and every year she did the same thing: avoided thinking about it.

In the bathroom, she avoided making eye contact with herself in the mirror. This at least was not anything new. She never looked at herself in the mirror, or if she did she spared only the slightest of glances to make sure that she did not have anything stuck in between her teeth or that her masses of unmanageable kinky blonde hair was not sticking up everywhere. Not that it mattered, since no matter what she did she always looked like a clown. It didn’t bother her much any more, it just affected her in this small uncomfortable way whenever she was around mirrors.

Instead of fixating on this-- something that even on the worst of days, Kassidy was not prone to-- she washed her hands, wiped them haphazardly on her pants, and left.

At least it was still relatively early into the first semester of her 4th highschool year, so she wouldn’t be missing out on much homework if the night went poorly. Not that Kassidy cared much about school or grades either. She had a pretty clear idea of her trajectory and it looked something like following in her mother’s footsteps and joining Eden’s bevy of law enforcement. Didn’t need good grades to become a cop. Didn’t need much of anything. Kassidy didn’t have much of anything. 

She made her way into the kitchen of their small apartment and sat down at the table, pulling her legs up and crossing them. The table was round and made of synthetic wood, since the real stuff was too expensive for the majority of the people who inhabited the underground city. Various plates and used utensils covered the surface in a way that was more lived in than it was messy. Well, it was also messy. Kassidy shoved a couple of plates out of the way so that she could comfortably rest her elbows on the table. 

There was a hole in the wall next to the table. Kassidy looked at it. She looked away.

It was like this every year, but every year the severity of her family’s behavior worsened. Every year it felt like they lost their grip on each other a little bit more.

Her communicator buzzed from inside her pocket and she pulled it out to check for any messages. The device’s rectangular screen had a crack in it from all the times she had dropped it. Sometimes this annoyed her, but where was she supposed to dig up enough credits to pay for a new screen? It buzzed again as her brother kept messaging her.

>christopher.nguyen: tell ma i’m gonna be out late tonight

>christopher.nguyen: we’re making signs for the workers march tomorrow

Kassidy rolled her eyes. It was good that he had found something to do with his energy, good that he had found people to relate to and hang out with, but it was starting to get annoying.

>kassidy.nguyen: don’t leave me with her she thinks all 3 of us are gonna hang out here

>christopher.nguyen: you didn’t hear her screaming at me last night?

>christopher.nguyen: just because i made one comment about police brutality in eden????

>christopher.nguyen:  didn’t even say anything offensive

>kassidy.nguyen: i heard you punching the wall and screaming at her right back you idiot

Kip sent a hybrid laughing-crying emoji, which was what he usually sent when he couldn’t think of something reasonable or normal to say. Kassidy replied with a long string of skull emojis. She shifted her position in the chair so that she was more comfortable. 

>kassidy.nguyen: iits fine. You shouldn’t have to torture yourself thinking about mom.

>christopher.nguyen: neither should you though.

>kassidy.nguyen: i don’t even remember her

>kassidy.nguyen: i mean like not as much as you

Kip sent her about 50 laughing-crying emojis in a row, which was just...impossible to discern. She decided to ignore him since he was being his usual self and opened up the internet so that she could watch videos of people slipping while waiting for the metro and nearly having fatal accidents.

This was where she was supposed to start on her homework, but nothing could motivate her to do so. She didn’t have anything that needed to be done immediately, or at least, she didn’t have anything that she couldn’t procrastinate on. It wasn’t like Kassidy was on the AP track; the only classes she was taking were the ones she absolutely had to for graduation--- the basic 4th level courses. If she absolutely needed to, she could always just cheat off of her best friend Esther Bellamy, who was generally the type to complete her homework.

Half an hour passed and her mother let herself into the apartment, struggling slightly with the keycard as she did so. She walked through the living room and into the kitchen and looked disoriented as she did so due to the novelty of getting home before 10:30. Before saying anything to her daughter, Dana Nguyen put her briefcase down on the floor and slumped down into the 2nd of their 3 chairs.

Kassidy looked a lot like her mother. They both had the same small and slouching way about them. Of course, her mother wore glasses and had straight black hair that was already peppered with grays. And of course, Kassidy was more prone to smiling and laughing and the light in her eyes hadn’t yet been dulled. They were blood related, which was something that her brother could not say. At least he could reach things in high places for them.

“I thought that I wouldn’t be able to get home at all,” her mother complained. “It’s like shit gets piled on top of me on purpose. Practically had to sneak out of my own office because if Anderson or Middleton had remembered I was there they would have jumped down my throat with this Mena Olowe fiasco. Jesus, I could pass out.”

“Did you pick up food?” asked Kassidy.

“Did you?” snapped her mother, pulling at her tie and unbuttoning her top buttons.

Kassidy scrolled boredly through a scary story message board. She knew better than to roll her eyes. 

Dana Nguyen rubbed her temples like she was getting a headache. “Sorry. Long day Where’s Christopher?” Whenever she used Kip’s full name, it meant that her anger was still simmering underneath the surface. “If he’s still out he could bring back pizza.”

“Uhhhh.” Kassidy scrolled more intently through her communicator so that she appeared busy. “Huh?”

While pretending to be hyper-focused on the story of someone claiming that the Red Religion was driving people mad, she watched her mother unwind. She watched as she slid her little shoes from her feet and unclasped the lanyard from around her neck. Her mother took an elastic from her wrist and tied her hair back with it, the greys at the sides springing out to frame her face. She rubbed her face again then stood up, went to the refrigerator, and grabbed a beer can. Without bothering to pour it into a glass, she opened it and took a sip, her shoulders relaxing.

Kassidy looked at her mother. She looked at the hole in the wall. 

Sometimes it felt like her family was crazy and she was the only one who didn’t blow up or freak out. Except that wasn’t true at all. Kassidy still blew up, just not over stupid shit. 

The story she was reading was actually pretty interesting, not that she believed it. Religious people were messed up and deluded, but not deluded enough to start brainwashing people and draining all the blood out of their bodies. Eden had a long history of fervent state atheism which meant that anyone with a more complicated belief system didn’t completely mesh well. It was difficult to be understanding; none of them believed in Science. They were the sorts who liked to hold onto the intangible and somehow that gave them comfort, instead of being comforted by the material world around them. Kassidy always shivered when she walked too close to their Churches. But their whole thing was that they were caring and compassionate, surely not the sort who would engage in blood sacrifices.

Well. From time to time, Kassidy enjoyed a good shiver.

Time passed. Her mother opened another beer and the skin of her cheeks started to flush. It was good that lately she had switched from liquor to beer. A couple years ago when Kip was in the Youth  Detention Center, she had drunk so much that Kassidy was always worried about her. The scary thing was that back then, her mother wouldn’t even cry despite the crushing waves of unhappiness that radiated from her. She would just stare at nothing, drink, then stare at nothing some more. As unsettling as that was it was better than crying. Kassidy had never seen her mother cry.

“Where’s your brother?” asked Dana Nguyen. Already she was looking rumpled, like the part of herself that was well put together immediately fell apart when she was home. “He’s not-- do you know where he is?”

“Uhhh,” said Kassidy awkwardly. “Yeah. Kind of.”

“And that is?”

She clicked out of the forums and pulled up her messages. “EWP meeting. Again, I think. Uh. I think he wanted to stay busy tonight, you know? He wanted to be with his friends.” How terrible it was that she could say that Kip had friends and she didn’t. All she had was Esther. If joining a stupid club was the way that one made friends in Eden, Kassidy did not want friends. The loneliness that she had known all her life was at least familiar.

The thin metal beer can crinkled as her mother gripped it, then threw it into the recycling bin. Her face grew redder. “EWP,” she said, bitterly. “EWP. You know, he is exactly like his mother was. Harry never shut up about the Workers’ Party, she never stopped trying to get us to unionize, never could be quiet about how she thought the Central Committee was corrupt. And look where it got her. Look where it’s getting him.” 

“The EWP isn’t that bad.” It was true. They weren’t. The Eden Workers Party was a popular organization for working class leftists who were averse to the organized crime connections that all the other labour-parties had. While it was considered fringe-- after all, Eden was a one-party system on paper and had been for over two hundred years-- it was accepted as something that passionate yet overly idealistic people involved themselves with. Mostly they protested things like low wages and prohibitive housing costs and were either ignored or laughed at. 

But Kip was not a part of the Eden Workers Party anymore. He had found something even more niche, more anti-capitalist, more extreme. Kassidy didn’t entirely understand it, but the thing that she understood well was how much her mother would flip her shit if she ever found out.

“So he’s out, what, painting posters or something?” asked her mother.

“I guess,” said Kassidy, who did not actually know. She pulled up her contact information for Esther.  

“Unbelievable.” Standing up once again from the kitchen table, her mother got a 3rd beer from the fridge, then went to the beat up couch that was the centerpiece of their living room. When she sat, she didn’t curl her legs up like Kassidy did, rather, she seemed to deflate and slouch even more. “He is unbelievable.”

For a moment, Kassidy wondered if she should join her mother in the living room. How was she supposed to shoulder all that misery? She didn’t want to, but she knew that she couldn’t just leave her by herself, not today. She began to message Esther.

>kassidy.nguyen: can you call me so i can escape?

>kassidy.nguyen: my moms in a weird mood again

No answer.

“Unbelievable,” Dana Nguyen repeated, staring at the hole in the wall. “I don’t know what to do with him, I can’t get him to listen to me. I don’t know what to do. He’s-- he’s practically a grown man. He’s going to get in trouble someday.”

Kip had already been in a lot of trouble.

“I have people breathing down my throat all day, I can’t have my kid out there screaming about, I don’t know, stupid politics. Do you know what it’s gonna look like if he gets himself arrested? We arrested 3 of those socialist nutcases today for vandalizing a train station, can you imagine what would happen if Kip gets wound up in all that? The media gangfucks me hard enough already.”

“Ugh, gross Ma, don’t say gangfuck,” Kassidy glued her eyes to her screen. “That freaks me out.”

“The media gangfucks me during every press conference, Kassidy,” said her mother, who finished off her 3rd beer of the night. “I’m the Central Committee’s whipping boy, something goes wrong in Eden, I’m the one who gets the fucking blame. It’s nonstop, if it’s not one thing, it’s another. I don’t want this. I didn’t want this. If he gets arrested for I don’t know, destroying something, I can’t just bail him out.”

>kassidy.nguyen: she’s getting all crazy again i can’t deal with her by myself.

Her mother looked like she was melting on the inside. Kassidy cleared her throat to try and make a joke.

“It’s fine if you don’t bail him out, Vega will just do it for you.” She tried to arrange her face into something that resembled a smile. Why did she feel so awkward all of the time? “She’s done it be--”

“Is that supposed to be funny?” Dana Nguyen put her hands over her face. “Fucking Vega.”

This did not seem exactly fair. Eden’s Chief Personnel Officer Vega Pelenato had been a part of Kassidy and Kip’s lives as long as she could remember. Vega was the kind of person who picked up garbage that wasn’t her’s, she was a comfortable and trustworthy presence. Back when their mother wasn’t doing well and Kip was in the Youth Detention Center, she would check in on Kassidy a couple nights a week and bring her food. She had always figured that if she got in trouble, she’d call Vega first.

Defending Vega was the right thing to do.

“What’s wrong with Vega?”

“Shady. She’s shady. She wants my job.”

“Thought you didn’t want your job, Ma.”

Dana Nguyen just closed her eyes and slumped over on the couch so that she was lying down. 

(I DON’T KNOW WHERE TO GO WITH THIS)

AJAX GUTTIEREZ

It wasn’t usual for AJ to have enough time to grab a coffee and enjoy it before class. Generally he ran late. Not just in the morning either. It seemed as if he never had any time for himself, as if he was always doing things for other people and shoving his own needs down so deep that they could not be reached.

That morning however, as if through some miracle, everything was running smoothly. The metro eran without any weird delays or hiccups. The kids he babysat did not drag their feet for once as he got them ready for school. He didn’t have to run or wheeze or neglect to feed himself just because he was doing his job; he actually had time to enjoy the morning.

It was a novel experience. He was usually so busy.

The cafe which he frequented was located on the university floors of the Education District. It was one of the cheaper ones, despite its proximity to the sprawling section of classrooms which students who were enrolled in the Business and Marketing programs went to. Not that being on the Business track meant someone had money necessarily, but as a generalization, it did.

AJ did not have any money. It wasn’t like he was not being payed; his employer was the 2nd wealthiest individual in Eden— directly behind West Agapama’s shipping (and smuggling) empire. He got paid enough to pay the exorbitant tuition fees for a degree that did not guarantee a career in the future, but that was it. Sometimes he had money for coffee. Usually he did not. When he did have the money to treat himself, he ended up not having enough time due to having to drag the kids out of bed and making them get ready for school in the morning. 

One of the baristas at this particular cafe was his acquaintance, he had briefly dated her about a year previously and while the two of them had not remained close, they would still talk or hook up from time to time. When she noticed him, he nodded at her. Girls liked him, most of the time they would blush or giggle when he flirted with them. It was more difficult for him to hook up with guys. 

“Whaddya want, Gutierrez?” asked the barista, who was tall and slim and had an aura of bored disinterest about her. She had been in one of his Marketing classes, before she had been forced to drop out of school because her financial aid stopped coming through. “Haven’t seen you in a hot minute.”

AJ shrugged as he studied the iridescent signs that exhibited the various drinks available. “Haven’t had time.”

“Still working the same gig?” The name tag that she wore on her green apron read ‘Qian’, which was her surname— not many people had the privilege to call her Jenny. AJ had, back when he was sleeping with her, but it hadn’t worked out. “Still a miserable bastard, huh? You should come sling drinks with me.”

“You know I can’t do that,” said AJ. “Can I just get a coffee with cream and a shot of caramel?”

Qian nodded and got to work.There were no other customers waiting in line; either they populated the more popular coffee shops that were around the STEM classrooms or it was simply a slow day. Things like that were impossible to discern. He watched her work and envied the simplicity of a job where tasks were straightforward. All she had to do was follow the recipe and smile at the customers. There was no room for fear and speculation, she didn’t have to feel anxious about losing a couple of children or fucking up so monumentally that she got hung up by her toes in a meat packing plant. Customer service sucked too, but it came with less dangers.

AJ hadn’t considered his babysitting job personally dangerous until recently. Now he was brainstorming ways to get out of it but came up blank every time.

Compulsively, he checked his communication device for messages, but saw nothing. 

“Aren’t you graduating this year?” asked the barista. Steam from the latte machines made her straight dark hair stick to the sides of her face. AJ remembered how pretty she was and remembered how lonely he was now. “Marketing, right?”

“Business and Marketing,” said AJ. He took his cup of coffee when she handed it to him, it was too hot for him to drink immediately so he lingered. “Actually I just have 10 credits left. The end is in sight, haha.”

“You gonna work for Prosperity?”

“I mean, I sort of am already if you think about it.” He watched as she shook her head in kind disbelief. Nobody took him seriously. “I’m going to talk to Mr. Prospas about it later on in the semester, after I’ve started working on my thesis. Market research analyst, right? There’s always room for that kind of work in a huge company like Prosperity. I’ve been working for him on the books for almost 5 years, off the books for much longer. That’s gotta mean something, am I right?”

“Working as a babysitter,” said Qian. She wiped her dark hair back from her face. AJ didn’t correct her.

What was he supposed to say, that he had been forced to watch out for a known crime lord’s kids since he was 12 years old? That kind of thing was completely unbelievable. Even when he said it to himself, it sounded unbelievable. For nearly half his life, AJ had taken care of people who were not himself, had been left with minimal time for himself and his interests. Had he cultivated compassion for others during that time? Who was to say. All he knew was that he never had any time for himself, that he never had any time to do what he wanted to do. It was one of the reasons all of his relationships fell apart in the first place. 

(EDIT THIS SHE ALREADY GAVE IT TO HIM)Qian pumped a couple of squirts of caramel flavoring into AJ’s cup and handed it to him. The cup was warm in his hands. “You need to get out of there, man,” she said, and a cautious tone lent itself to her voice. “You know it’s not safe, right? I read about how EPD found some guy with his eyes sliced out of his head and his throat cut the other night, they’re trying to tie it back to Prosperity.”

“Could have been anyone,” said AJ, who knew exactly who she was talking about and exactly what had happened. Even those treacherous thoughts made his heart palpate. “What about AGA? What about the Reds? Or those socialist whack jobs, I heard that last week a couple of them beat the shit out of some guy just because he had an expensive communicator. This Colony is a shithole, Jenny, no wonder the Central Committee has been panicking. Every time something violent happens— so every day-- the cops try to pin the blame on one of the five families because they’re too stupid to figure it out for themselves.”

“Uh huh,” said the barista. She smiled at him a little like she didn’t believe him. “Sure. You need to get out of there. That shit ain’t safe for people like us.”

He already knew what she meant by ‘people like us’. People who didn’t have the means to post bail or people who didn’t have the flashy names to become media darlings. She meant people like him. People who might someday be found slashed to pieces in a warehouse, people who the police wouldn’t care about. AJ took a sip of his coffee. It was too sweet but bearable, he just wanted to sit down and not have to talk to his ex.

Come to think about it, AJ had a lot of exes.

He retreated to the relative privacy of one of the back corners and sat down. Not many students were currently occupying the small room; an accounting professor who he recognized was meeting with a mentee nearby and a couple shared a breakfast of bagels in the opposite corner next to the door. In theory the lack of distraction would lend itself to him being able to get more work accomplished before class, but AJ knew that he would inevitably start scrolling through the feeds on his communicator and waste all his time.

He took his tablet out of his tote bag and activated its keyboard function. One of his professors had assigned a short analysis of product proliferation, or what occurs when an organization markets endless variations of the same products. Take for instance Prosperity Inc, which made its money feeding the people of Eden. The majority of Prosperity's sales came from cellular agriculture— the in vitro cultivation of animal cells on a massive scale, then marketed towards the lower and middle class as an accessible alternative to traditional animal protein. But the company also raised cattle in the flat fields on the surface above Eden, and slaughtered them in the traditional way, then marketed them to the elite who could afford it. In this way, Prosperity sold the exact same product— animal protein— and almost entirely cornered the market.

Although AJ understood this concept of diversification and monopolization well from having grown up around it, he couldn’t bring himself to write about his own experiences. It just didn’t seem right. Instead he stared blankly at the screen of his tablet, his mind drifting every now and then to the conversations around him. He typed one sentence, then deleted it. He typed another one and deleted that one as well.

What was the point of going to college? The pit of fear opened up in that dark place in his chest and he struggled to swallow it down. Whenever he was still and quiet for too long, the terrible thoughts about how he was never going to be able to provide for himself and for his mother swirled up from that dark place. Even if he was able to graduate, he had no relevant job experience in his field. His only hope was to beg for the job he wanted and pray for the best.

To distract himself, AJ pulled up a crossword app. The clue that he got stuck at was 53 Across: ‘Pass (off) as genuine.’ Muddling over it took him a good 5 minutes until he recalled the word ‘foists’. 

In the reflective glass of his tablet’s screen, he could see his own face and he looked away, unable to stand making prolonged eye contact with himself. A few strands of hair were escaping from his short ponytail and he slicked them back with one hand, drinking his coffee with the other. What was it about his own image that caused him such internal disgust? It had never been like this before, it had slowly crept up on him seemingly without cause. The strange thing was that his self esteem was not low, he often felt proud of himself and his self-efficacy. To his knowledge, he was not overcome with shame or guilt. This was different. AJ did not want to watch himself slowly sink into the thick mud of his life.

He pulled up his textbook, read a sentence, and found himself unable to focus. But looking back at the crossword he was working on also could not hold his focus.

Vibrations in his pants pocket alerted him to a message on his communication device and he pulled it out and checked it. The youngest kid who he babysat, a 9 year old, had left him a string of smiley-face emojis. Not just a string, like 25 of them. Valentine was an excitable and loving child, but he never could leave anyone alone. AJ had tried to explain that he had to go to school too, but it just didn’t get through.

Without anything of importance to say to the kid, AJ put his phone face down on the table. What is someone supposed to say to a bunch of random emojis sent with no context? The kids were supposed to be in class anyway. At least the older one never messaged AJ or reached out to him. It was hard enough to deal with one needy child.

Unable to focus on what he was supposed to be doing, he pulled up his newsfeed. In 6 months Eden would have its first serious Mayoral election in over 10 years. Or perhaps, the first serious Mayoral election in 57 years? On paper, Eden did not have political dynasties, but for nearly 6 decades, somebody with the last name ‘Malena’ had been head of the Central Committee. The current Mayor, Jay Malena, had been elected when AJ was 12, after his father Jack Malena had stepped down from office. And when AJ’s mother had been young, Awhina Malena had been in power. It wasn’t something that bothered him, at least not that much. AJ wasn’t interested in politics because he couldn’t see how they materially affected his life.

No matter who had control of Eden, things weren’t going to get any better, at least not for him. Nothing ever changed. 

Anyway, the Mayor was only one part of the Central Committee. There was of course also a Commissar for each of the 10 Districts who supposedly had the best interests of their constituents in mind. Then there was the worthless Police Commissioner, the Minister of Science, the Comptroller, and the Chief Prosecutor. All in all 15 people who held Eden in their hands. They were the people who got payed to sit around on their asses all day while the five families— owners of the megacorporations which actually influenced Eden— did whatever they wanted.

The current newsfeed had a picture of Mayor Malena sweating in front of the cameras during his latest interview. He was a sharp, good looking man with big square teeth like chunks of marble. Moderately likeable, shiny and stupid. The shitshow that would rise up if he lost to his challenger, the flashy and dangerous idiot West Agapama, was unthinkable. Not just for the Colony. AJ’s boss would finally lose his mind. 

At least AJ knew who he’d be voting for. He didn’t know much, but he knew that. 

The youngest kid he babysat sent him another string of smiley face emojis. The corners of AJ’s mouth tightened and he tapped out his own message.

>ajax.guttierez: stop playing on your comm

>ajax.guttierez: you’re going to get in trouble

Valentine replied with yet another incoherent bunch of emojis and gifs. AJ turned his device off vibrate, unable to engage in any more emotional labor.

It wasn’t that he didn’t care about the Prospas kids. They were just a lot to deal with. The basic expectations of his job was that he made sure that they were safe, that he made sure they went to school, and that he entertained them briefly after school and took them where they needed to go. It was not part of his job to be their friend or act as...as some kind of surrogate older brother. AJ knew from terrible experience just how badly that could go and how much he could lose if he let himself get too attached to one of them. He kept himself closed off for the most part, he tried to keep himself professional.

Professional. He did not want his profession to be watching out for his boss’s kids for the rest of his life. He could not let that happen to himself, he needed to move on for his own sake as well as his mother’s sake.

His poor mother…

AJ took another sip of coffee and dialed his mother’s number on VidChat. Usually she slept in, she had always been a night owl, even when his father was still alive. Now she had good reason to sleep the mornings away. On the 3rd ring, she picked up her communication device.

“Ajax?” she said, her voice still sleepy. She was still in bed, her long brown hair uncovered. AJ took after his father more than he took after her, but he could still see his own traits in her long curled eyelashes and her slight overbite. “Are you getting breakfast before class?”

“Yeah,” AJ answered, even though he wasn’t. He didn’t want to waste his money on an expensive bagel or something when he had food back in the apartment. Well, technically there was also food in the kitchens of the Prospas family home which he and his mother shared, but he didn’t want to be accused of stealing. “Just checking on you. You weren’t up when I left.”

His mother rubbed her eyes. “I was up until 3, I think. I get caught up, you know. I keep praying that things will get better for us, I know God is listening. He’s always listening.”

“Uh-huh.” His mother had only started getting into religion a couple of years ago, when the Red religion gained popularity due to some scriptures getting spread online. AJ didn’t care for it or understand, but it was good for her. It gave her something to do, people to talk to, and faith to hold on to. It was better to think that the God from beyond the Rift existed and was listening to her when she was sad or in pain, better than not having anything at all. He had tried to get into it at her behest, but the bloodletting aspect of it made him queasy.

“Someday we won’t have to struggle or suffer anymore, you know? God is coming back someday, He’s coming back soon. Nobody will put us down anymore, nobody will hurt us anymore because you and me, we’re God’s children. He loves us, someday He’s going to come down from the Rift and protect us.”

“Yeah, I know he’s gonna do that, Ma. I know.” AJ turned his head to eye Jenny Qian up behind the counter and watched her bend over to pick something up. Seeing the thin slip of pink underwear show above her pants reminded him that it had been over a month since he last had sex. Probably not the best thing to contemplate while calling one’s mother.

“He’ll get rid of all the evil here. We won’t have to hide underground anymore because He’s going to purify the world.” Helen Guttierez’s face, tan and lovely, was so full of devotion towards her son that once again he wondered if he should go to one of the Red Churches, if only to give her peace. “Everyone will be happy the way that they were in the old days, before the Rift opened.”

Whenever AJ looked up while on the Surface Levels, he could see the impossibly dark red Rift pulsating far above the Dome. It made him sick to look at it for too long, so alien and unnatural. Nobody understood it, other than it had appeared suddenly 873 years ago and had ended almost all human life on Earth. It was a miracle that the few who survived the physical changes of that time were able to band together and form the 11 Colonies.

Then again, history and science had never been AJ’s strong suits.

“If God listens to anyone, it’s gonna be you,” he told her, just so that he could see her smile, that smile that was both like and unlike his own. 

And his mother did smile at him. She sat up a little straighter in her bed, which was covered in pillows and extra blankets for her comfort. She was a good mom, she had always given AJ the love and emotional support he needed to grow. None of this was her fault.

“Do you want to get dinner tonight?” she asked. She fumbled around on her bedside table to find her glasses and AJ wondered if he would also need glasses by the time he was 40.

“I’ll try to figure out something to do with the kids. Yeah, yeah of course.” AJ watched the little screen as his mother’s upper lip curled in disgust ever so slightly. “I’ve been so busy lately. You know.”

“You’re getting older. That’s what happens. You can’t— you aren’t that little boy you used to be. I loved you then and I love you now, just like I’m going to love the man you’re going to be. Growing older and more responsible isn’t going to change that, I pray for you every single day. Every day.”

A handful of students walked into the cafe, laughing and joking amongst themselves. More business and marketing majors, nobody overtly from the upper class.  AJ recognized most of them but wasn’t close to any. It was so easy for him to have fleeting relationships, romantic or otherwise. Even committing to a platonic friendship was difficult and growing more difficult by the day. It was hard for normal people to trust him once they found out who he worked for, and the people who were interested in him despite that? They were not the kind of people he wanted to associate with. 

The only person he actually wanted to associate with was his mom. It was fine to have short flings with people so that he could have casual sex, but anything beyond that? No. It was not worth it to drag out his history in the process of bonding with another human.

But the sound of a group of friends laughing together made something sharp and hungry twist deep in his gut.

His mother was still talking. “We could go to that restaurant in the 7th District that my friend Nneka owns. Their food is so good, cheap too. I think you’d like it.” 

“Vegetarian?”

“Yes. Of course. Of course it is.” She stretched, then rolled her shoulders back and in doing so, the collar of the oversized pajama shirt she slept in slipped down just enough to reveal a bite mark on her neck. It looked new.

It only took that to make AJ’s legs begin to shake. He pressed the hand that was not holding the communicator down on one thigh to try and control himself. “You OK, Ma?”

If she realized that he was upset, she did not show it. After all this time she minimized and brushed things off so that AJ wouldn’t get upset and do something stupid. The one time she slipped up and admitted to how scared she was, he’d flown into a rage and the aftereffects had not been pretty. That had been when he was 16 and he had ended up in the hospital. If he tried to stand up to the person who was hurting his mother now, as an adult? He’d end up like the guy Qian had told him about, the one who had been tortured before getting his throat slit.

Sometimes the best thing to do was not fight back. 

“I’m OK, baby,” she told him, and her smile took on an aspect that his never could: understanding. “It’s like I told you, God’s taking care of me. He never puts anything on our plate that we can’t handle.”

The nearby group of students were still laughing as they waited for their coffee orders and suddenly AJ couldn’t stand it. It made him want to lash out at them and he knew he couldn’t. He continued to press his fist into his leg as hard as he could and hoped that it would keep him calm. How could they be laughing? How could they have friends? When other people in Eden were so...stuck.

“Would you tell me if you’re not OK?” he asked his mother. 

“Of course I would,” she said, and he knew that she was lying. It showed itself in the way she did not look him in the eyes. Even without looking at her he could tell. “I know. You take care of me too.”

What was he supposed to say in response to something like that? When he knew that he did not. When he knew that he was about as effective an influence in her life as God was. If he kept pressing, if he kept asking her if she was OK, she would get upset with him, something which he could not bear. All he could do was grit his teeth and watch, pretend that he was not watching. All he could do was remain passive in hopes that he did not make anything worse. It was like that. She was not the only person who he wanted to protect, as loathe as he was to admit it.

AJ pressed his fist even harder into his leg— as hard as he could-- but it didn’t hurt; he didn’t feel it at all.

KIP NGUYEN

“You have the 16th highest GPA in your cohort,” said Ekala, one of the many Special Education counselors in the Ed. District. “That’s amazing, Christopher. That’s unprecedented. You can do anything you want to, if you put your mind to it. You can get scholarships, grants, all kinds of things with grades like that. Don’t you feel proud of yourself?”

Kip Nguyen, leaning back in his chair inside of the drab little office in which he had been meeting Ekala weekly for the last 4 years, looked up at the ceiling. The white plaster made him feel trapped. The tiny room with only enough space for a desk and an extra chair also made him feel trapped. He jiggled his leg. “No. Nope. Why should I?”

His SpEd counselor’s face was kind. She was kind. He knew that she actually cared about him and that she wouldn’t have chosen to go into the career path that she had if she didn’t have empathy. It was just that empathy and compassion didn’t matter in Eden, not really. Those weren’t traits that changed things on a large scale. “You’ve overcome a lot in your life. You’ve accomplished a lot. You should feel proud of yourself.”

“Why?” Kip asked again. He kept jiggling his leg.

“Because— because you should. //I// feel proud of you, you know.”

At a different point in his life, that kind of validation might have meant a lot. Now it was just sort of useless. Kip hated sitting in a chair in front of her for an hour every week. It was increasingly difficult for him to restrain himself, since he wanted to jump up and move around and talk. Whenever he was in meetings with teachers or his SpEd counselor, he could talk, he just couldn’t say the things that he wanted to say. In order to keep himself safe, he had to make himself...less than he was. Less energetic, less noisy. If he acted in accordance with his nature, the people who were in positions of power over him might get mad.

“I’m glad that //you// feel proud of me,” Kip told her. “But I don't think that really matters. Why does that matter? You know? For my future?”

Ekala looked at him flatly. She was young, less than 30 anyway, and kept her hair in short cornrows. The black uniform that every teacher, counselor, and professor wore in the Education District did not serve to make her prettier, it served as a reminder of who was really in charge. It served as a reminder that when it came down to brass tax, she held power over him that he could never contest. “You don’t feel proud of yourself for your hard work? You’ve come a long way in just two years.”

“It doesn’t //matter// if I’m proud of myself. Materially, I mean. It does not matter. The system doesn’t care about my self esteem, it doesn’t care about anyone.” As those words were coming out of his mouth, he realized that he needed to shut up. His Special Ed counselor wrote something down on her tablet, then looked back up at him like she expected him to say something else crazy. As usual, he could not help himself. “How does being proud of myself help pay 25,000 credits a year for college? It doesn’t.”

“Your grades mean you’ll qualify for scholarships.”

“They don’t give out scholarships to people like me.” It was true. She would try to dispute it but Kip knew it was true; he had talked to other people who had been arrested, other people who had been locked up either in the Youth Detention Center or the Prison District itself. His new friends were in the most part college students majoring in law, economics, or journalism, and all of them were being crushed by mountains of debt that they would never be able to pay off, no matter how hard they worked. Their backgrounds meant that the sprawling college administration hesitated to grant them any money, and their interests only solidified this. Eden did not reward those who were interested in social services or public works, Eden only rewarded those who could contribute to concrete betterment. In the Colony, STEM was everything. “They don’t give scholarships to anyone like me.”

That was not to say that he did not want to go to college. The idea of going into a career where he did something that changed things, a career where he was actually able to help people was like a far off dream to him. It just wasn’t feasible.

“You say that like you’ve already decided that you’re not going to try,” said Ekala. She rested her chin on the palm of her hand. “Is that why you don’t feel proud of yourself?”

Kip exhaled heavily and vigorously rubbed his head with his left hand, his uninjured hand, messing up his hair. “You’re not listening to me.”

“I’m listening to you.”

“//No//, you’re not. I’m //trying// to explain that it doesn’t //matter// because I either have to be in debt for the rest of my life or beg for scholarships I’ll never qualify for because I was in the YDC for 8 months. It doesn’t matter how I //feel// unless somebody does something to actually change things.”

Nobody listened, nobody ever listened. It was why he always had to make a scene to get his needs met or to get his points across. It was easier to be quiet and just take things, but Kip couldn’t do it. He couldn’t ever shut up and act passively, he couldn’t ever roll over. It made things harder for him and it made people dislike him, but it was better than acting like a doormat. He would not let people walk all over him.

When he was agitated he could not stop jiggling his legs or picking at himself, which was to say that he was always jiggling his legs or picking at himself. It took all his self control not to start scratching at one of the zits on his jawline.

Ekala’s face was very kind and understanding. She was a good person, he could see it in her eyes. He could see how much she wanted to help him, she just didn’t understand and would never be able to. “I’ve told you before that having to be detained as a minor doesn’t necessarily mean anything; you can even petition to have your record expunged. Do you want to fill out some scholarship forms with me? I could--”

Kip stood up without warning and realized that he had clenched his fists. WIth great difficulty he unclenched them. He knew that his eyes, which were already too big, were probably bulging out of his head. Due to the lack of space and the forcefulness of his movement, his chair scooted back toward the door when he stood. Aware of his capacity to make other people feel frightened because of his demeanor or his actions, his heart rate increased at the thought that he might frighten his counselor and make her press her panic button and throw him back in the Youth Detention Center.

He could not go back there. He could not be trapped like that again.

But his counselor did not react with fear. She smiled at him kindly. There was a big gap between her front teeth. “OK. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Do you need space?”

He grabbed up his bag which had been sitting at his feet and shouldered it. Everything he wanted to say to her swirled up from his heart and he had to keep his mouth clamped shut so that he did not start yelling again. Kip wanted to yell at her. It wouldn’t make him feel better, just like punching walls didn’t make him feel better. The only purpose yelling would serve would be to expel an iota of the endless energy his mind and body produced.

Ekala had given him an out though. That was more than most teachers did for him.

“Yeah. Space,” he said, not looking at her.

“Can you check in with me tomorrow then?”

Kip nodded. What other choice did he have? His heart pounding, he left the miserable little office. Even though he had recently turned 18 and was legally an adult in the eyes of the state, he was still being controlled by others.

The floors that he attended most of his classes on were similar to the floors of the normal high school. It wasn’t like the Prison District or anything, there was just a smaller teacher to student ratio. Supposedly the extra teachers were there to give students who needed more support the help that they needed, but Kip didn’t believe that for a second.

(I DONT KNOW WHAT TO WRITE. KIP BEING ANNOYING)

“What’s wrong with your hair?” he asked Esther. Usually her limp orange hair fell flatly to her shoulders, but now it had some volume to it.“Why did you fuck with your hair? Haha, did you curl it? You look like a, a, I don’t know. You look bad.”

Esther didn’t answer him, she just fluffed up her hair. Kip attempted to put his hands in it and mess it up and she smacked him in the face. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Ow!” He tried harder to mess up her hair and she smacked him again. Kip tried to hit her back but missed because she was slightly taller than he was. “What’s wrong with me?? What’s wrong with you??” They swatted at each other furiously for a couple more seconds before separating, breathing hard.

It had been like this with Esther ever since they were kids. Kip had met her when he was 8 and she was 7 and they had been squabbling ever since. Something about their personalities did not mesh, maybe because of certain similarities that they shared. Both of them were eldest children with high intensity and a list of diagnoses. They loved each other very much, they just didn’t like each other.

“Nothing’s wrong with me,” said Esther. She was already beet-red.

“Nothing’s wrong with me either!” responded Kip. 

There was absolutely something wrong with both of them. 

“Take some deep breaths then or something, you look manic. Are you off your meds?”

“Oh, that is so patronizing coming from you. You really are nuts, Esther. You take some deep breaths.”

“No, YOU take some deep breaths! Goddammit. I hate you.”

Kip laughed, feeling his body grow light with his fondness for his friend. She was a good match for him. Even fighting with her was fun, he liked to fight. Sometimes it was easy to forget his loneliness, that void filled with distractions such as politics or arguments online. Those distractions were destructive and he knew it. Being around people who cared about him was the truest form of distraction.

“How are the twins?” he asked her

“Oh my God, so annoying. They both have a crush on the same boy and they won’t shut up about him, I want to shove them both out of a window.”

“How would that even work? What happens if the guy actually likes one of them back?”

“The other one would kill that twin and act as a replacement, I guess.”

Kip tried to mess with Esther’s hair again and she widened her candy-apple green eyes at him as a threat. At her feet, the Creature which was her constant companion wound itself between her legs, rubbing itself at her ankles and making a curious sound, something in between a growl and a purr. It was a lethargic beast and only really seemed to be slightly cognizant, only really becoming active when Esther’s emotions ran high. Most of the time, Kip tried not to look at it so that he didn’t look like he was crazy. He wasn’t crazy, not the way that Esther was. He didn’t see things that weren’t really there. But it seemed as though she and him were the only people who could see it.

It was not the only black and gelatinous creature in Eden, but it was the only one that Kip had actually been close to. The others oozed around in the cover of the alleys in the Lower Districts, or scurried chattering into the pipes when he walked by. A few times he had seen them following people around. Some of them had legs like Esther’s did but most of them wriggled unnaturally like cat-sized mounds of black jello. To his knowledge they were harmless, bycatch that had fallen out of the Rift centuries ago. 

Esther’s monster raised it’s skull-like head to gaze at him out of its empty eye sockets. He quickly looked away. Not real not real not real.

“Is your hand OK?” said Esther, noticing the injury for the first time. 

He opened his fingers and made a fist a couple of times, wincing. The wounds on his knuckles had not yet scabbed over and it was painful to move it. It was bad, but it wasn’t broken; he knew from experience what it felt like to break the bones in his hand from punching something.

“Did you punch a wall again?” Esther asked him. Kip glared at her and felt his face grow hot. He didn’t need to answer. “Why do you keep doing that? Did you go to a doctor?”

This was starting to feel like an interrogation. “Doctor? No way I’m going to a doctor for this. I’m not like you people. I’m fine, you should see the wall in my kitchen.”

“‘You people’? If you were like me, you wouldn’t have hit the wall in the first place. You would be able to stay in control.”

He cared about Esther and her awful little siblings and loved them with his whole heart, but sometimes they really got on his nerves. They thought that they were better than he was and he tried not to hold that against them. His friends in the revolutionary socialist group he had recently joined talked a lot about how Artificials were a physical manifestation of how the bourgeoisie wanted to separate from the proletariat-- the rich had practically invented a new species of human. Posthumans. Genetic engineering and biotechnology operated to keep the wealthy in control, then allowed them to say it is in their nature.

Kip knew what people like Esther really thought about him. They thought he was a bug.

It was a struggle. He cared a lot about individuals, but if he started to think about what that meant in the context of the big picture, he started to get upset. 

Kip tugged the sleeve of his heavy old police jacket down over his injured hand to hide it. He’d gotten a lot of questions about his jacket when he started going to EWP meetings-- and he had gotten straight up hostility when he graduated to going to United People’s Liberation Org meetings. UPLO was strongly against Eden’s police state, which was fair since police misconduct was a hot topic in leftist circles. But the jacket had belonged to his birth mother. It was one of the only things that he had of hers.

It was also black, so it went with everything he wore, which meant that he wore it every day. Even though he had hit his growth spurt a few years ago and was reaching 5’10”, it was still too large for him. Whenever he could not find it, or whenever it got dirty or caught on something, he felt scared that he would lose it. And he would lose her again.

He didn’t remember the day that she had killed herself but he knew that he had been there. They had found him in a closet. One time Ma had gotten so drunk that she had told him when she found him, she had picked him up and there had been blood all over his clothes. So that meant-- so that meant he must have touched...

It was a good thing that he didn’t remember. Kip didn’t remember a lot of things. 

“What’s your girlfriend’s name again?” he asked Esther, trying to change the subject and take his focus away from his dead mother.

“Rosie. Rosaline Church. I wouldn’t have met her if she hadn’t been changed to my cohort this year.”

It took a lot for Kip to keep the look of judgement from his face, he always felt a twinge of disgust when he heard that relatively common surname. It was hard to not feel biased. His healthy mistrust of organized religion led him to be wary when it came to people who were raised in any of the Church-run residential group homes in the Lower Levels. In his opinion, organizations such as that needed to be eradicated by the State. “Still going good, huh?”

Esther shrugged. “It hasn’t been a month yet but yeah, I like her. She’s...solid? I don’t know how to describe her. She doesn’t get freaked out by things.”

“Of course she doesn’t get freaked out, she probably deals with fucked up shit all the time. You know those religious people dunk babies underwater, right? Did you know they practice circumcision? Ugh, I mean, right? Isn’t that insane? That’s like, that’s just so--”

“I don’t know anything about it,” Esther cut him off before he could start ranting about all the crimes of religion. “When she talks about her gods it sounds like it makes her feel safe. I don’t think that’s that bad, you know? It’s just something people start thinking when they don’t want to accept that nothing happens after you die. At least she’s not one of the Rift worshippers. I think you’d like her.” She took out her communicator and pulled up a picture so that she could show him.

In the picture, Esther looked genuinely happy. It was not often that her eyes lit up when she smiled; usually she was so glazed over and vacant. She had her head resting on the broad shoulder of the other girl, Rosaline Church. Rosaline’s smile was also completely genuine. She had a handsome butch look about her, and the picture froze her gazing at Esther in the same way that she would gaze at an angel.

Still, Kip did not trust this new union. 

He raised his eyebrows. “OK. I see why you like her. Her arms are the same size as your waist.”

“Sometimes I really want to kill you.” Esther put her communicator back into her purse. 

“Just staying.”

“Right, like I’m just saying that sometimes I want to blow your brains out. You know that my mother raised her voice at Eddie last night because he tried to karate chop the kitchen table? That was all you.”

It was funny but it was also very much his fault. He and Kassidy always got into fights and the Bellamys had learned it from them. It was not the kind of behavior their mother would approve of. Back in middle school Esther had been in a fight with another kid and her mom got so angry that she made sure that kid would be in the Youth Detention Center until he turned 18. People like Esther and her siblings weren’t allowed to be physically violent, they could only express their rage in more acceptable, more insidious ways.

“Your mom’s gonna kill you if she finds out that you’re dating someone like a Church kid,” Kip told Esther. “She wants you to settle down with another Artificial, not some religious orphan pleb.”

“//If// she finds out.” Esther said glumly. “That’s not going to happen.”

“You know about class consciousness, right? My friend Lee told me about it. It’s the beliefs a person has about their social class. Your mom has strong class consciousness, it’s been like a decade and she still thinks I’m going to steal your shit. ”

“I don’t care.” She rolled her eyes.

The 5 minute bell rang. Kip sighed. He did not want to run back down to the Special Education floors. They were more controlled than the normal floors of the high school. He could not stand it. Even though he loved learning and enjoyed his classes, he could not stand being so watched and confined. The student-teacher ratio was higher on those floors.

“Just prepare yourself for when your mom does find out.” Kip checked his communicator for messages. “You’re gonna eventually slip up or get snitched on. And it isn’t cool to hide that you’re dating her, she’s gonna start thinking you’re ashamed of her eventually.”

He watched as Esther’s skin flushed and hated how easy it was for him to pick up on people’s sore spots. 

“Sorry,” he said. “Have you seen Kassidy today? I haven’t been able to get a hold of her. We were going to do something last night but I kind of dipped out because my mom was pissing me off.”

“She’s been weird lately,” said Esther, taking a step back to signal that she was ready to get back to class. “I think she’s mad at me, I kind of ignored her messages last night but I was with Rosie.”

“Kassidy wouldn’t care about getting ignored, people ignore her all the time.”

“I don’t know then.” Esther shrugged. “I’ll see you later. Want to get together tonight?”

Kip shook his head. “Nah I’m going to meet with some UPLO people and paint some signs. A couple of them are protesting AGA’s union busting practices.” He heard his friend make a scoffing little ‘ugh’ noise under her breath, but she was too far away for him to react to it. His heart twinged. “It’s actually really imp--”

But she was already gone.

Kip checked his messages again only to be met with nothing. He walked back to the elevator and pressed the button that would take him down to his floors, using his injured hand. He pressed a little too hard and winced, then leaned back against the rail and waited.

At times it was frustrating to feel like there was nobody else who shared his values. For a long time it had felt like he was alone, even when he was around his friends and his family who cared about him. Now he was finally starting to feel less alone, he had found people who truly understood him and who had shown him that it was OK to be passionate and sensitive. It was OK to care so deeply about things.

The thing that was hardest to accept was that he could not make others care as deeply as he did. No matter how much he yelled or screamed or fought, other people would not be able to see his point of view unless they were willing to.

It...hurt.

It hurt badly. And over the years, Kip had dealt with a lot of pain.

He looked down at his injured hand, with its scabbed over and cracked knuckles.

He made a fist. In the secrecy of that elevator, a translucent blue bubble of energy formed around his closed hand, protecting it completely from everything outside. When he unclenched his fist, that bubble disappeared and he was left vulnerable again. Sometimes Kip wished that he could create a bubble big enough to protect his whole body, so that at least physically he would never be hurt again-- but he did not know how to control this strange thing that he could do and he knew that it was not safe for anyone to see.

KASSIDY NGUYEN

Since waking up at 6:00, Kassidy had burned herself with her new straightening iron no less than 5 times. The contraption was difficult to use and it took forever since the texture of her curls was so coarse and because her hair was so thick. She had separated it all into sections to make it easier on herself like the tutorial online had instructed, but in her mind it was tedious and next to impossible. The air in the bathroom smelled like burning hair and she had reddish burn marks on her neck from accidentally touching herself with the iron.

Still, she was determined to look less ugly. 

She had bought some make-up after school the day before as well and began to clumsily apply it. The cosmetics aisle had been overwhelming, there were simply too many choices. Who needed that many choices when it came to make-up? It seemed like the cosmetics aisle was better stocked than the cereal aisle. Kassidy hadn’t known the first place to start. She had grabbed some foundation that may or may not have been a match for her medium skin tone. Really she just had to hope for the best. She had bought a tube of mascara and a little stick of plum lipstick as well, paying for it with money that her estranged grandparents had sent her for her 17th birthday.

Kassidy leaned close to the mirror so that she could apply the mascara without blinding herself. Her hand was shaky as she held it and dragged the wand across her stubby blonde lashes. Because she didn’t have eyelid creases she was unable to produce the effect that she wanted and the mascara ended up clumping despite her efforts.

She looked at her reflection and saw a different person. Usually her hair curled up to about shoulder length, but straightened, it fell down to the middle of her chest. The makeup didn’t quite match her skin tone, but it covered up the dark circles under her eyes. For the first time in as long as she could remember, she didn’t hate looking at herself. She did not immediately want to look away. Kassidy practiced smiling with her plum painted lips.

Her heart beat faster. This wasn’t terrible. She had been afraid that she would look like an embarrassment but she looked nice, especially when she smiled. She looked like somebody who she would want to be friends with.

Somehow this prospect frightened her more than being ugly.

Somebody banged on the bathroom door. “Hey, let me in,” said her brother. “Why is the door locked? What are you doing?” He rattled the doorknob, unable to help himself.

Kassidy looked at herself one more time in the mirror and wondered when the last time that she had made eye contact with herself for so long had been. Then she opened the door and let her brother into the bathroom, which was more or less a narrow hallway with a shower, toilet, and sink crammed into it.

“Why are you up so--” Kip began, then froze, staring at her. His face, at first bleary from sleep, grew shocked and his big brown eyes strained in his eye sockets. For a second he appeared to be uncharacteristically at a loss for words.

She crossed her arms and hunched her shoulders. Instead of the baggy jeans and t-shirt she usually wore, she had put on black leggings and a green tunic she had purchased from one of the Church charity bins. It was strange and new and she waited for him to react or say something, say anything.

Kip started to laugh. He shook his head. “What are you dressed as?” he asked her. “What did you do to your hair? It looks so-- so stupid! Oh my god, oh my god, what’s going on? Are you wearing make-up? What is this? What are you dressed as?” He kept laughing.

Kassidy punched him in the arm and Kip laughed harder. She punched him again. “I’m trying something new, asshole.”

“You look like a clown. Why’d you put that shit around your eyes, it’s totally uneven.”

Hot anger rose from her chest to her face. She could feel it roiling beneath her skin, even though she knew that she never blushed. Her skin was already a dark tan with warm undertones, if she blushed it was hard to see it. “Shut up,” she said, pushing past him and stomping out to the kitchen. He continued to laugh at her as she went, it was never a normal laugh, always a braying belly laugh. 

Was it that bad? Were they going to laugh at her too? She would rather die. It wasn’t anything new to get made fun of but after she had tried so hard to make herself more presentable, Kassidy knew that getting laughed at would be unbearable. 

In the kitchen, Dana Nguyen was already awake and ready for work. She had her head down on the kitchen table, wallowing in whatever depressive thoughts had overcome her that day. Her job was important so Kassidy didn’t understand why her mother acted like she hated going in every day. As Eden’s Police Commissioner, she was one of the most powerful people in the Colony after the Mayor and the Central Committee. 

“What are you two yelling about now?” she asked Kassidy without moving.

“Kip is a fucking prick.”

“I’ve known that since he was 13.”

“I’m going to push him down the stairs.”

Her mother lifted herself up, her glasses crooked on her face. She did not appear to have slept well the night before. When she saw Kassidy, she squinted at her and frowned like she smelled something bad.

“What?” Kassidy asked, angry and hot with blood. She crossed her arms. “What do you wanna say, Ma?”

P.C. Dana Nguyen vaguely gestured at her daughter. “Is this some kind of... of scheme that you’re pulling, or should I be worried about you?”

Scheme? Kassidy didn’t pull schemes. She didn’t say anything, she just smoothed down her hair and skulked around behind the table to get into the fridge. The inside of it was empty except for mustard, a couple of nutritional shakes, and a 12 pack of beer. Something about seeing her family’s lack of food made her grit her teeth and swallow down her hateful words. Where did her mother get off on judging her when she didn’t ever go to the store to buy things to feed her family?

She shut the fridge and poured herself a cup of coffee, took a sip, then almost had to spit it out. Sludge. It was so thick that it was no good to her either.

Kip came out of the bathroom and pulled up a chair at the table, still laughing.He didn’t have any space to laugh at her! He wore the same stupid old police jacket he wore every day, still had acne on the sides of his face, and the only reason he didn’t have a unibrow anymore was because he had begged for laser hair removal for his 16th birthday. For some reason he thought the sight of his sister actually making an effort was hilarious. She made an obscene gesture at him and drank her undrinkable coffee.

“She’s dressed like a clown,” Kip repeated to their mother in a wheezing, high pitched voice intending to mock. Kassidy’s fingers tightened around her mug because she wanted to throw it. “Ma, ma, look. Look!”

Their mother smacked him. “Will you shut up? Kassidy, what’s going on? You going on a date or something?” Her brother cackled.

It was better not to say anything. After all, it wasn’t like she could tell them the truth! If her mother learned the truth of who she had been hanging out with lately, she would freak out and ruin everything. That couldn’t happen.

Very carefully, she set the mug on the counter next to the sink. She didn’t wash it out. Dishes rarely got done in their household, they just rinsed things off and re-used them. It was easier that way. For some reason, Esther’s little siblings always whined and complained when they came over and had to eat off of their dishes. 

As calmly as she could, Kassidy turned to face her family. She shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal. “I just wanted to look pretty today, that’s literally it. I just wanted to look nice.”

For a moment, her mother and brother stared at her like she was an animal in the zoo, as if they could not comprehend this simple desire. And then Kip started to laugh at her again.

“Why would you try to look pretty?” he asked her. “You’re never gonna be pretty!”

Kassidy knocked her mug off the counter, sending it to the floor where it shattered. She turned and stormed out without another look at her family, grabbing her bookbag on the way. As she left, she could hear her mother start to scream at Kip.

They couldn’t help being the way that they were. They had known her her whole life so it was hard for them to be nice to her.

As she made her way to a cafe she had never been in, Kassidy thought about the person who had only ever been nice to her.

She thought about the person who she had been focused on for days.

Her name was Cassiopeia Agapama, but she liked to be called Casey, and Kassidy had never met anyone so dynamic. Casey was always in motion, but not in the same way that Kip was; she was graceful and had complete control over her body in the way that a dancer has. Even though she was an Artificial, she hadn’t been tweaked in that way that made all of them look unnatural. Her black eyes were turned up at the corners which made it look like she was always smiling-- and she was always smiling with those straight white teeth that contrasted perfectly against her dark, clear skin. It was difficult to look at her, not because she was so beautiful-- and she was beautiful, just not obviously so-- but because something about her was impossibly compelling. It was like looking at the heart of a star.

Casey waved Kassidy over. She and her sister were already seated at a booth. “Hiiii,” said Casey, and when Kassidy sat down beside her, she immediately touched her hair. “Wow. You straightened your hair? That’s so crazy.” Casey’s own hair was dyed pink and fell right below her ears in countless micro-braids. 

Whenever Casey touched her, Kassidy felt afraid. She knew that Casey was dangerous, she knew who her father was and what Casey had probably been exposed to her entire life. Simply being close to Casey filled her with adrenaline and every smart part of her brain told her that she needed to run away. But she could not. That same fear also compelled her to be close to her.

“I wanted to try something new.”

“Aw, I like it.” Casey hid her smile behind a hand bedecked with silver rings. “You look tiny without it all poofy. You’re itty bitty. Teeny tiny.”

“You missed a spot in the back,” said Casey’s sister, whose name was Ayda. Unlike Casey, Ayda was obviously beautiful, but not at all compelling. She was tall and heavy, with soft feminine features. While Casey was energizing, Ayda was languid and slow. It was impossible for them to be blood related; Ayda was certainly adopted seeing as she wasn’t black, but Kassidy was too uncomfortable around her to ask. “It’s like, sticking up. In the back.”

Kassidy flattened her hair down with one hand. Any moisture in the air would just make it poof up again. Casey laughed but it didn’t seem like she was laughing at her, at least not on purpose. It was more like she was laughing at the situation.

“You didn’t get it…” said Ayda, who cut her eyes up briefly at Kassidy before returning to her communication device, which she never seemed to stop typing on.

“Your hair looks fine,” laughed Casey.

“It doesn’t. It really doesn’t,” said Ayda. 

It was hard to understand what was going on between the two of them. That was not because they were wealthy. After all, Kassidy had been friends with Esther for years and she wasn’t weird in the way that Casey and Ayda were weird. It was like there was a joke they knew about that Kassidy was not privy to. Even so, she wanted to be in on the joke.

Being around Casey felt like someone was always paying attention to her. She had never felt that way. So even if she was strange and frightening, the attentiveness made Kassidy want to spend time with her.

It had been a long time since she had made a new friend. It had been years, since the only real friend she had ever made was Esther. Ever since Casey had introduced herself to her in class several days previously, the icy ball of loneliness inside of Kassidy had started to melt.

“Don’t tell me that you did that to yourself just because you started hanging out with us,” snickered Ayda. She wound a strand of her own long dark hair around one finger as if she was bored. When she smiled, only one corner of her mouth turned up. “Aw. That’s sad. Peeeeer Pressurrre...”

That made Casey laugh as well, but it was short, more of a reaction than anything else. Laughing. Always laughing. Again, Kassidy swallowed the urge to laugh with her, whatever joy Casey felt was contagious.

It wasn’t that Kassidy was unhappy, but she wasn’t happy either. She wasn’t exposed to people who were happy all the time. Her mother never laughed and rarely smiled. Kip laughed and smiled a lot, but lately that laughter and those smiles were more angry than happy.

The small moments where she did feel happy were ones she wanted to cling to. It was why she had made up her mind to hang out with Cassiopeia after the other girl first seemed to extend her friendship to her. It was nice to feel...light.

The funny thing was that over the handful of times they had hung out, Casey didn’t seem to talk to anyone else or even message anyone else. Well, everyone knew her-- how could they not, with who her dad was. All kinds of rumours went around school about the kind of person Casey was. All kinds of rumours about how she hurt people. Kassidy couldn’t see any of that. She saw someone who gave her her full attention and was always laughing.

Maybe she really was stupid. A small part of herself believed that, it was the part that told her that she could never ever tell her brother about her new friends because if he found out, his eyeballs would burst from all the screaming.

“What do you want for breakfast?” Casey asked her. Casey had already ordered a mug with a latte in it, and her sister was sipping on orange juice. 

Kassidy, who had a total of 12 credits left in her account, had no intention of wasting any more money. This was not the kind of place that people who were like her went to get breakfast before school. She shrugged. “I ate at home.”

“Really?”

“Uh.” It was hard to lie when Casey was looking at her. Kassidy lied all the time but her brain felt frozen then. She glanced to the side to break the intense eye contact with this strange girl. “Well.”

Ayda snickered.

“Do you drink coffee?” asked Casey. “It’s good here, I promise. Can I buy you a coffee? I bet I could pick something for you that you’ll fucking love, it’s one of my talents.”

This was how people ended up selling their souls but Casey’s little pink braids circled her head like a halo. Again, Kassidy had to swallow the strong instinct to run which interfered with the hysterical feelings of happiness. She would rather feel happy.

“Yeah, OK,” she said, too stupid to think up anything clever. “Thanks.” She watched Casey get up and walk to the cafe’s counter, where the other girl proceeded to give her complete focus to the barista who was working.

This was really scary. Kassidy wondered if her makeup was melting off her face because of how hot and sweaty she was. That was the last thing she needed.

“Oh my goddd,” said Ayda as she typed into her comm without looking up. 

Unfortunately, with Casey out of the way, Kassidy was comfortable enough to be a bitch right back to her. She scowled, which wasn’t helpful when a person wasn’t paying attention. “Hey,” she snapped. It must have surprised Ayda because her whole big body flinched at the aggressive tone of voice directed towards her. “You gotta problem? What’s so funny?” Ayda’s size relative to hers didn’t scare her, she had squared off with a bully three times her size as a middle schooler. This was the kind of person she got the distinct impression could not fight even a person who weighed 93 pounds.

You can always tell when a person isn’t used to being talked to in a certain way.

Blood rushed to Ayda’s face and turned her light olive complexion pink. Kassidy felt herself blush as well, although there was no reason for it. “Funny?” asked Ayda in a high pitched little bitch voice of a person who acts tough but is scared of direct confrontation. She kept typing but was now looking at Kassidy.

“You keep laughing.”

“No I don’t.”

“Yeah you do. Why the fuck are you laughing at me?” Kassidy made a jerky aggressive gesture with her chin.

Suddenly it felt like her body was covered in something thick and sticky, like honey. Heavy. Alarmed, she touched her own face as if to see if something had dripped on her from the ceiling, but there was nothing. The sensation was so alarming that for a moment, she forgot to breathe. Stupid. She was so stupid, what was wrong with her? Why was she even trying to make new friends? She was so unlikable and ugly, Casey was probably only pretending to be nice to her so that she could make fun of her. Unbidden, these negative thoughts about herself were more concerning than the sticky heaviness that seemed to crush her.

The strange feelings left as quickly as they had come. Kassidy gasped.

Something was wrong but the pieces of the puzzle were not all available to her. They never were. She usually just assumed that she was going insane.

Ayda stopped typing. A call beeped on her communication device and she swiped to ignore it. She glanced at her Casey, who was still chatting with the barista up front as she waited for coffee, like she was checking to see if she was looking back. “My sister is funny, that’s all.”

The tone in Ayda’s voice was not explicitly hostile, but there was still hostility in her. Kassidy knew when she was getting fucked with or bullied, and as genuine as Casey seemed to her, her sister seemed superficial. Like every other mean girl bully. The best way to ward someone like that off was to hit them right back.

The kid who had bullied her back when she was in middle school had been named Ben. Why was she thinking about him? She never thought about him anymore. He had been big and mean too, and when Kassidy finally got tired of him shoving her around, she and Esther had figured out a way to hurt him worse than he could hurt them.

But Kassidy wasn’t 12 anymore. She couldn’t just hit people and make them leave her alone. That stops being an option when you grow up.

“I didn’t even know that Casey had a sister,” she said, proud of herself for the way she was about to twist the knife in. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you on TV when your dad does something, even though he doesn’t shut up about her in his interviews. I’ve seen him say ‘Casey this, Casey that’ but he’s never talked about you. I’ve never even heard anyone say your name. You shy or something? You awkward? To me it looks like your dad is hiding you.”

The sounds of the other people in the cafe were loud in comparison to their own table. Ayda’s eyes were so large and placid that Kassidy could see her own distorted reflection within them. And beyond them was...nothingness. That was not to say that she got the impression that Ayda’s mind was empty. It was more like there was a...blankness inside of her that, like her eyes were dark pools of water that were impossibly deep. She grew more uncomfortable and was unable to keep making eye contact.

Again, a call beeped on Ayda’s comm, and this time she answered it.

“What’s going on?” The voice on the other line was a boy’s, funny and round sounding like he had some kind of speech impediment, but not any speech impediment Kassidy had ever heard. “Who’s bothering you, eh? Tell him to fuck off.”

If she craned her neck, Kassidy could see the little screen that was strapped to Ayda’s wrist, but didn’t feel like it. Very briefly she could see a blur of black and pink. In Eden, it was considered very rude to VidChat with someone without earbuds in, especially in a public place like a cafe. It certainly wasn’t normal.

“If he’s hurting your feelings, tell him your dad is going to break his fingers with a sledgehammer,” said the boy with the funny voice. “Quit crying and bitching and whining to me about it if you aren’t gonna do anything about it.”

Kassidy picked up her own portable device and pretended to message someone so that if other people were staring, they’d think that she was normal. 

Usually she would be hanging out with Esther and Kip right now. They’d be doing the same things they always did, talking about stupid stuff and arguing. All of their lives were changing. She was happy that Esther had a girlfriend now, just like she was happy that Kip had found some kind of purpose in his life, but she missed them.

“It’s not a boy, it’s one of my sister’s creepy new projects,” said Ayda into her communicator.

“I’m right here,” said Kassidy. “I can hear you.”

Before things could continue to escalate, Casey returned with a mug full of liquid and whipped cream.Before she sat down, she put the mug into Kassidy’s hands. She glanced at Ayda, who rudely had her communicator on, and her face lit up. “Mart-o!” she exclaimed, and grabbed at Ayda’s wrist so that she could get a good look. “Heyyy, my fav-o-rite greasy boy!”

The mug was warm in Kassidy’s hands. She looked down at it and saw that there was a star drawn in chocolate syrup floating on top of the whipped cream. When she lifted it to take a sip, the liquid was too hot to drink. For a second she wondered if Casey had just handed her poison because her fucked up evil dad wanted to do something that would hurt her mother, the Police Commissioner. She would probably drink it anyway though.

Casey pulled Ayda’s communicator off and fiddled with the settings so that the little screen expanded, then set it propped up in the middle of the table so that everyone could see it. Now that Kassidy could get a better look, she saw that the person who had called Ayda was a boy with pink cheeks and fluffy black hair. He looked a bit younger than she was and the room he was sitting in was strangely decorated in earth tones and rough furniture. He gave Kassidy a sneer.

“Have you met Marty?” Casey asked her. “He plays Candle Quest with Ayda. Marty, this is my new friend Kassidy. Doesn’t her hair look cute?”

“I didn't think you were capable of desiring friendship,” said the boy, Marty. He messed with a handheld game console, his image being captured by a desktop computer that he was sitting in front of. “I thought you didn’t have feelings. Like a reptile.”

Casey laughed. “What are you talking about? That is so funny!”

Kassidy blew on the mug of coffee and took a careful sip. The taste was something that she could not place, sweet and grassy. It wasn’t bad. She looked at the little star drawn in the whipped cream.

“We’re skipping class anyway,” Casey told the boy in the communicator. “We have to run back home because there’s a package coming that Yura and Emily can’t sign for.”

“I can’t skip class,” said Kassidy.

“Nobody said that you’re included in this…” said Ayda. “What makes you think you’re included? You can’t ever come to our house. Our dad has like, a picture of your mom on the wall that he throws knives at. You will never step foot inside of our house.”

“Haha, well maybe someday!” Casey patted Kassidy on the back and it was hard for her not to stiffen at the touch. “We’re all getting along so well right now anyway, you guys. What are you doing today, Marty? What are you up to at the unwashed freakshow?”

Marty didn’t answer or even look back up. He typed something on his handheld device. On the wall behind him hung a strange looking long-gun that resembled the ones in videos about the time before the Rift split open. It looked like it was made out of wood, a commodity that was next to impossible to procure in Eden. Kassidy squinted to get a better look at it.

The gun didn’t have a visible magazine and appeared to have two barrels. The sling that it hung on had been decorated with shiny circles that could have been badges, but were too far away to recognize. Even if one of Marty’s family members was a cop-- as legally, the State did not allow private citizens to own firearms-- a cop would not own a gun that looked like that, much less display it. It looked like it belonged in a museum.

She wanted to ask him about it. Instead, she drank the strange drink that Cassiopeia Agapama had bought her. 

They-- well, mostly Ayda and Marty-- continued to talk and bicker about things and people that only confused Kassidy. She felt like such an outsider, she didn’t know anyone who they knew. Sometimes Marty used words that she had never heard before, which lost her even more. When she checked her own communicator for messages, Esther hadn’t sent her anything and Kip had sent her a single laughing-crying emoji which reminded her that she wanted to kill him.

“Are you 18 yet, Kassidy?” Casey asked her. She rested her chin on one hand; her fingernails were long and sharp and painted pink.

“I will be in January.”

“Oh, my birthday is in November. That’s exciting, you’ll be able to vote on Foundation Day in May. Aren’t you excited to vote in our first real election in decades?”

To disguise her confusion, Kassidy took another long sip of her drink. “Uh. I mean. I guess? I’m not really into politics. I think things are basically fine.”

Casey leaned closer to her. “Don’t you think that the government should have less control, though? Especially when it comes to the free market. I think the state needs to get out of people’s business.”

“I don’t really care,” said Kassidy, who already knew she would be voting for Jay Malena in May. Voting for West Agapama, the guy who consistently terrorized the police and made jokes about her mother in his television interviews was not going to cut it for her. Even Kip was going to vote for Malena, and Kip’s whole life revolved around politics. Malena was OK. Whenever she saw him on TV, he was always smiling, and one time she had met him when she was in the Capitol column with her mother. He had even shaken her hand. “I don’t understand any of it.”

It wasn’t the answer that Casey wanted to hear and she could tell. She chewed on her lower lip.

From Ayda’s communicator, Marty exhaled loudly. “Voting is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard of, I don’t understand why you people vote. Why do you think you know as much as the people who are already in charge.”

“Oh, shut up freak,” snapped Casey. Anger flashed across her face like a thunderclap, blinding and awful, and it vanished as quickly as it had arrived. When it came down to it, she was capable of being terrible.

“Ugh.” Ayda rolled her eyes. “Dumb!”

“It’s stupid,” he continued. “Everything you’ve told me about your dad running for king or whatever is stupid. How is some random person supposed to become a ruler? How are random people supposed to make a choice about that? The way we do things up here now makes more sense, we’ve fought for years for one powerful leader. You people are the dumb ones for voting.”

Whatever secret joke Marty shared with Casey and Ayda was incomprehensible to Kassidy. To her it sounded like he lived somewhere that people did not vote, but as far as she knew it was mandatory across all of Eden’s Districts. And outside of Eden and her equally democratic sister Colonies of Serenity and Green River, there was nothing. There was poisoned air and twisted mutants, transformed by the Rift.

The thoughts she was having were illogical.

Still, Kassidy stared at the strange gun behind Marty. What use did firearms have…She finished her drink.

“Your life is terrible, Marty,” said Casey. She poked the screen with her finger like she wanted to poke him and he stared at her nonplussed. “You have the worst life. Your life is actually tragic. You wish you were sitting here with us, talking about voting.”

“I am sitting with you and talking about voting.”

 Casey jabbed the little screen with her sharp manicured nail. She was...she was a lot like Kip in some ways, which was disturbing. They were both creatures of pure impulse, but what was annoying in her brother was fascinating in Casey. It was hard to look away. “Why are you so sassy today, huh? You think we don’t outnumber you just because you see Kassidy here?”

“Don’t break my comm again,” Ayda whined. “Case…”

Marty’s face was soft but his big black eyes were mean. He glanced briefly at Kassidy, who was still watching him intently. “What is sassy?”

“Bitchy. It means bitchy.”

“You’re the bitch.”

And Kassidy couldn’t take it any longer. She cleared her throat awkwardly, which surprised the sisters and reminded them of her presence. “Marty, what class are you in?” she asked him, but in her heart she already knew the answer. “Are you a 1st year? You might know my friend Esther Bellamy’s younger siblings.”

Ayda’s cheeks flushed and she grabbed her communication device like she had been doing something wrong. Casey laughed, shaking her head. “What? You don’t need to talk to him. That’s crazy. Hey, did you like the drink I picked out for you? Didn’t I tell you that I have a special gift when it comes to knowing what people like to eat? I did good, right?” She reached out like she wanted to touch Kassidy’s hair again but pulled back her hand.

“It’s fine I guess.” When she said that, Casey’s eyes went wide like nobody had ever given her a lukewarm reaction. Kassidy pressed on, the inexorable curiosity propelling her. “Do you not go to school, Marty?”

“Obviously I don’t go to school.” He was playing with his handheld device again and unlike his friends, did not seem to be bothered by the question. “School is stupid and a waste of time, why would I go to school? I couldn’t go to school even if I wanted to. Not that I would. I don’t.”

The state intranet was closed to other colonies. Even if someone from Green River or Serenity wanted to communicate with Eden, they could not unless they accessed one of the specific channels only intended for trade. Over the decades there had been dozens of hacking incidents directed from other Colonies and such communication was illegal.

Considering the type of man West Agapama was though, and considering that his fortune had been made shipping goods to and from the sister Colonies, this was not that surprising.

So Marty didn’t have a speech impediment, he had an accent. Accents in Eden were divided primarily between the Upper and Lower Levels-- anyone talking to Kassidy could easily figure out where she was from. Maybe everyone who lived where Marty lived spoke round little words like he did and didn’t understand what ‘sassy’ meant.

“I didn’t realize you were smart,” said Casey in a voice that could have been kind or cruel. “That’s nice.”

“I’m not smart,” said Kassidy, who believed that she wasn’t. “I saw the rifle behind him. Nobody in Eden has firearms like that, not even in a museum. Marty, is that yours? What do you need that for in Serenity? I always heard that they don’t have weapons at all there, at least that’s what my brother told me, but he’s always talking out of his ass.”

“I’m not from Serenity.”

Ayda groaned but did not make a move to turn off her communicator and banish Marty.

“Green River?”

“Nope.” Marty looked up from his game. “But my friends Wera and Seth are from Green River, we all play Candle Quest together. I wouldn’t want to be from there either, no way. That’s what I’m saying, everything I hear about the Colonies sounds so stupid.”

Poison air. Mutated flesh. The Rift, red and hungry across the sky.

Kassidy looked at the very normal and fluffy haired boy on Ayda’s screen like he was an exotic animal. Her heart beat faster. “So,” she said slowly. “So...so you mean that you’re not…”

The game that he was playing made a series of beeps and chimes and Marty smiled. He still had a lot of baby fat in his cheeks so smiling made him appear chunkier.. He put his handheld device down, quite proud of himself. “Can you really not beat that level, Ayda?” he asked, mockingly. “Yeah. No. I’m not from Serenity or Green River or Eden or any of the stupid Colonies. I’m from the Northern Territories.”

AJAX GUTTIEREZ

As usual, it had been an ordeal to get the kids up and ready for school. There was always some excuse they pulled out to avoid getting out of bed or to avoid getting ready. The two of them weren’t bad kids, they were both well behaved compared to what AJ was like at their ages. But for very different reasons, they did not want to go to school.

AJ sat on the metro with his elbows resting on his knees. He was exhausted, since he had put off writing a paper for too long and it was due that morning. Luckily he was still young enough to be able to pull all nighters, but whenever he blinked it felt like his eyelids stuck together. He rubbed his eyes but it didn’t help. Since the Prospas family home was located in District 1, the uppermost and wealthiest residential area and the only one located on the Surface, there weren’t many commuters going down to the Education District in the Mid Levels.

“I’m hungry,” whined Valentine, who was the youngest one at 9 years old, and who had undoubtedly had about 12 hours of sleep that night. “Can we go to the cafe to get doughnuts? I didn’t like my cereal, I want doughnuts.”

“You should have thought about that when you didn’t eat all your cereal,” said AJ. The kid was sitting next to him and kept trying to hold his hand, which he was getting a little too old for. AJ kept pulling his hand away. 

“I told you that I didn’t like it!” The only reason Valentine got away with acting the way that he did was because he was cute. His hair stuck up from his head in a loose afro and he had huge eyes, genetically modified to be yellow. His teeth were genetically modified as well; canines and incisors just large and sharp enough to give him a lisp. Because of this, and because of his genuinely happy and loving nature, he was never punished for misbehaving. “Can you get me doughnuts so I won’t get hungry at school?”

“No. You can’t have sugar for breakfast, it isn’t healthy.”

“I’m gonna be hungry though. I’m hungry now. Rome’s gonna be hungry too, he didn’t eat anything, right Rome?”

Rome, who was 14 and sitting on the other side of Valentine, briefly glanced over before re-focusing his own yellow eyes on his hands in his lap. “My stomach hurts. I think I’m sick.” Rome was the kind of kid who got scared whenever he had to get on public transportation, which was every day. 

“You’re not sick,” said AJ.

“I think I’m sick.”

“You’re making yourself sick because you’re thinking too hard about it.”

“Can I stay home from school?” Rome glanced back over at AJ. He looked scared and unhappy, but he always looked scared and unhappy. Rome kept his hair very short and neat, he buttoned his shirts all the way up to the top, and constantly worked himself up over nothing. “I feel like I’m going to throw up, I don’t want to go to school if I’m going to throw up. I’m nauseous. I don’t feel good, I’m sick. My stomach hurts.”

“If he gets to skip school, I get to skip school,” said Valentine. When he smiled he showed off incisors. The appearance of the Prospas children, with their glowing yellow eyes and sharp teeth, really revealed the values of their father. After all, he had paid ridiculous amounts of money 3 separate times to get his sons to appear predatory. Most Artificials just ended up appearing luminously beautiful in a way that was offsetting.

“Nobody is skipping school,” he said, shaking off his negativity. He pulled out his communicator to distract himself. “Your dad will get mad at me if I let you do that, he wants you guys to have a good education, it’s really important. Don’t you want to go to school and learn stuff? Just quit thinking about how you feel sick, Rome, I thought you were going to meet up with your new friends and go to class together.”

Rome looked back down at his hands. “I don’t think they’re really my friends. It’s only been two weeks. How long does it take?”

“They’re nice.” Valentine attempted to stick a hand into his brother’s bookbag and take something out of it, but Rome pulled the bag away and set it on his other side. “I like them. I like their hair. I want somebody to be my friend. Why does nobody in my class like me? Did you know that there’s something living in our shower drain, AJ? It’s like, it’s like blah blah blah, I think it talks to me more than people in my own class. AJ. Hey, AJ!”

The two Prospas children were difficult for AJ to take care of because they were unlike normal children in many ways. He cared about them and wanted them to be happy, but it was easy for him to feel irritated by the burden of his responsibility. Luckily he didn’t have to worry about them getting into fights or becoming violent with other children like Ben ---well. He didn’t have to worry about that aspect of their safety.

The metro lurched to its final stop before it started making its way down to the Mid Levels. A few more people walked in, probably professors. AJ briefly assessed them to determine whether they might be people who would do harm to the kids out of hatred for their father, then went back to his communicator.

He had been messaging a guy on a hook-up app for the last 24 hours. Talking with Jenny Qian really reminded him of how long it had been since he had gotten laid. It was going well, the two of them were planning on meeting up soon. It would be some much needed stress relief.

The guy, whose name was Harlan, seemed nice enough. Not that AJ cared about personality in this context. The important thing about this guy was that he was attractive-- thin, with a cheeky face which he hid behind a neat little beard. That was all AJ wanted when he was looking for a guy to hook up with: somebody cute and fun. His profile said that he was into some seriously stupid stuff though, but that was best not to dwell on. Whatever Harlan did in his free time, politics or whatever, AJ didn’t care about it  too much.

AJ accidentally opened his DMs to reveal a nude picture that Harlan had sent him the previous night. Panicking, he clicked out of the page and shoved his communicator back into his pocket before one of the kids glanced at it. Even as an accident, if he exposed them to something like that, their dad would absolutely beat him to death with something imaginative and then leave his body somewhere public. 

He sent Harlan a quick message about getting together that night or the night after but didn’t expect him to get back to him any time soon. The guy didn’t seem like an early riser, the ones who are simultaneously lazy and clever never were.

It would be nice if he was able to spend more of his time doing what he liked to do instead of worrying about dragging kids around.

“I hate sitting by myself at lunch, but I bet you like doing that, don’t you Rome?” said Valentine. “I bet you like sitting by yourself, don’t you? Don’t you? Hey! AJ! Didn’t you hear me say there’s something that talks in the shower? You didn’t laugh!”

AJ pinched the bridge of his nose. 

A few of the other passengers were talking amongst themselves but AJ was not listening to them. For all he knew they could be AGA goons who were there to kill him and kidnap the kids so that West Agapama could blackmail their father. Richard Prospas constantly worried over scenarios such as this, but to AJ’s knowledge it was not something that would ever happen. Agapama didn’t mess with other people’s kids, nobody who belonged to the Four Families did. Even in organized crime one had to have standards which expressed a code of honor. 

The real threat that AJ had to worry over was ordinary people. People like him. People who were poor and angry and had been wronged in some way by Prosperity, either through job lay-offs or through violence. It was those kinds of people who were desperate enough to act drastically and it was those kinds of people who posed the greatest threat.

Over the years, AJ had never had to protect the kids from anything. There was nobody who wanted to hurt them; how could anyone ever want to hurt a couple of sweet but stupid kids? He wasn’t really needed. He was not a bodyguard, he was a baby-sitter and he was tired of it.

The metro stopped at the first station of the enormous Education District and the people in their car started to get off. AJ pocketed his communicator, grabbed Valentine’s hand, and jerked his head toward the door to indicate to Rome that there was no wiggle room for truancy that day. Their stop was never crowded because they got there early and because the only people who rode in their car were from the 1st Residential District too. Rich people. Rich kids. It was easy to get on and off; some metro stops in the Lower Levels could take the better part of half an hour to navigate.

The best part about the Education District was how safe it was. You had to scan your ID in order to access each floor, which meant that nobody from the University floors could wander down to the elementary school floors, and vice versa. This could become an irritating problem when one needed to get to one’s child or sibling in an emergency, but it meant that unauthorized adults were unable to interact with kids at any time. Apart from the Capitol, it was the District with the highest level of security. AJ never felt anxiety when he was dropping the kids off for the school day.

Sure, kids could be violent too. He had learned that lesson when the eldest Prospas brother got himself sent to the Youth Detention Center indefinitely after he attacked a middle-school girl. At least that was one problem he didn’t have to worry about anymore. But the younger two were not anything like Ben: neither one of them had an aggressive bone in their bodies, so AJ didn’t worry.

He thought about the paper that he had due that morning and sighed. He’d get a B on it, a C at worse. AJ took his hair out of its ponytail and finger-combed it. Sleep. Rest. When was he going to just rest?

“Are you sure I can’t get a snack?” asked Valentine.

AJ adjusted the child’s shirt collar with practiced firmness. “Yeah. When you get home.” At this point in his life he was immune to the high pitched whining that followed saying ‘no’. With a gentle push, he let him know that there was no room for discussion there. The 9 year old made his way toward the elevators that would take him down to the elementary school floors. AJ watched to make sure he didn’t try to sneak off.

Without asking, he already knew that Rome wanted him to stay with him until his friends showed up. As quiet and aloof as he was, it was harder to understand Rome and his needs than it was with his brothers. It would be easy for AJ to leave him by himself and go write his paper, nothing would come of it and nobody would even know because Rome was not the kind of kid who was always running to his dad. AJ had left him alone when he was distressed before, multiple times. Despite that, he figured he would wait around with him until 7:45 at the latest.

In the meantime, he mindlessly checked his comm. Nothing on the news feeds was new. More election stuff. Every time he saw a picture of Agapama’s face smirking or winking, he felt irritated because he suspected that he was only running to boost his company’s power-- and it was working. AGA was more profitable than ever, which was amazing seeing as it had been all but bankrupt less than 20 years ago. People could say what they wanted about the guy, but he was a savvy businessman, much savvier than AJ’s current employer.

How was it even possible to not turn a quarterly profit when you had a stranglehold on the markets due to a monopoly on one industry? People needed to eat. What kind of idiot manages a company like that but still manages to have costs greater than its revenue?

Those kinds of thoughts were treacherous but as time passed, he had more and more like them. All he really wanted was to be an asset to Richard Prospas. He wanted to be useful and help manage the numbers side of things, wanted to see the other pieces of the puzzle. 

Better to keep his hopes realistic. AJ opened up a picture of some leather shoes he wanted to buy for when he had to present his thesis next semester.

Rome wasn't looking at him. “I forgot my tablet at home,” he said.

“Hm?” AJ opened up a different option for shoes that were cheaper but looked about the same quality. Suspicious. Why would they be a whole 100 credits cheaper? Unless they were actually made of plastic or something that he didn’t want on his feet.

“I didn’t do my geometry assignment last night.”

“OK.”

“I was-- I don’t know. I didn’t even forget it, I just didn’t do it and I don’t know why. I don’t know why. I can’t get a bad grade on it though, it’s making me feel sick. I feel nauseous.”

“Right.”

“Do you think I should just copy someone--”

AJ put away his communicator suddenly. “You know, if you start doing stuff like cheating and copying other people’s work, you’ll get caught eventually. That will be way worse than getting one bad grade on something. Think about it.” He watched Rome hunch his thin shoulders and look at the ground. “You’re better than that, OK? You’re way better than that. Don’t cheat, you’re too smart.”

The kid snuck a glance at him and AJ had to try not to grimace; the yellow eyeshine was the worst when lighting was poor enough to produce a glow effect. “Can I tell you something?”

“Shoot.”

“I think there’s something really wrong with me. I feel--”

Whatever it was exactly that Romeo believed was wrong with him (AJ could think of a great many things off the top of his head as all of his psychosomatic issues changed from day to day) it was interrupted by a sudden excited shriek. In a split second, AJ dug his hands into his pockets to grasp his knuckledusters and had them over his fingers. His fists were clenched before he even turned around and adrenaline coursed through his body. This was it. This was it, this was it, this was it.

It wasn’t it.

Turning, AJ saw that it was only a couple of kids waving at Rome. He unclenched his teeth, forced his shoulders to relax. As carefully as he could, he slipped the harsh pieces of metal from his hands and back down into his pockets. While not illegal per se, if any authority figure saw him with weapons in the School District they would have him arrested. If that happened, his mother would have to bail him out and he couldn’t handle the thought of it.

His heart pounded in his chest. What was he so scared of? Throughout all the years, nothing bad had ever happened.

He passed a hand over his eyes. “Your friends?” he asked Rome.

Rome just scratched anxiously at his face.

The kids were twins, a boy and a girl, who were so eerily identical that it was clear that they were Artificals. They were white, with orange hair and long gangly limbs that gave them coltish gaits. They hurried up to Rome and AJ noticed the fine quality of their clothing and all-around cleanliness. When they got close to Rome, the two of them blushed prettily.

“Hey,” said the girl one.

“Hi!” said the boy one. “Hi, how are you?”

“I’m fine,” said Rome who appeared to have stopped breathing. He tried to smile at the other children without showing his sharp incisors and it came off as insincere. He had not been made with a face good for smiling so this was not entirely his fault. “How-- how are you guys?”

“Kip taught me new karate moves the other night,” said the boy, arranging his arms into an awkward fighting stance. His form was all wrong but his bright green eyes and lazy smile showed that he wasn't serious about it. “It’s pretty cool, do you wanna fight?” Without warning he faked a punch at Rome, then playfully got him into a loose chokehold. Passive as ever, Rome tried to cringe away but was at a disadvantage due to being shorter; his terrible yellow eyes started to glaze over with tears and he looked to AJ for help. Oblivious to the fear, the other boy tightened his grip like he was going to try to disastrously flip him.

AJ grabbed the gangly kid by the back of his sweater and peeled him away from his charge. “Uh-uh,” he said sternly. “Nope. No fighting.”

The kid tried to twist away and kicked ineffectively at AJ’s shin. “Heyyyy!”

“What’s your problem?” demanded the girl. She had her arms crossed and her pointy face screwed up in an unpleasant expression. “He’s just playing around.”

“I don’t care, don’t let me see you touch him like that again.”

At this point Rome’s skin glistened with perspiration. He hunched his shoulders and pulled at his collar, unable to pull his gaze away from his own feet because he was so mortifyingly embarrassed.

Playing or not, AJ couldn’t let either of the kids he watched over get hurt. More importantly, in his mind, he could not permit them to be exposed to violence. There would be enough time for that in their lives later.

He released the boy and watched him dart back to his sister’s side. “Are you going to introduce me to your friends, Rome?” he asked.

“I feel nauseous.” 

AJ took a deep, calming breath.

The girl opened up her purse, took out a stick of gum, and handed it to Rome. “Here, it’s mint, if you chew this you won’t feel as sick, even though it’s all made up in your head. I’m Evangeline Bellamy. My brother is Eddie. Who are you?”

Bellamy was a common enough name in Eden. They were probably harmless. AJ looked at Rome and the way he was chewing the gum and not flinching away when the boy twin, Eddie, patted him on the back. This was not so bad. He overreacted, he often did. All this was was something new.

“I’m Ajax.”

“Yeah, OK, who are you?”

“I watch after Rome and his brother.”

“A babysitter? That’s very very sad and depressing, what are you, like 30?”

There was nothing he could do about kids being snotty towards him. He supposed that he should be more thankful that Rome and Valentine were so well-mannered and would never dream of mouthing off to an adult they didn’t know. AJ grimaced a smile and checked his communication device. The guy he had been talking to had messaged him back.

“Why do you need a babysitter, Rome?” asked Eddie. It seemed as though the greatest physical difference between him and his twin was that she stood straight and rigid, while his posture was hunched over and droopy. He kept his arms crossed over his chest like he was insecure. “That’s weird. We’re the same age, we’ve never needed someone to ride the train with us.”

“We’ve been riding the metro by ourselves since we were like, 9,” said Evangeline.

“My dad is overprotective,” lied Rome, a person who had hyperventilated and cried the last time he had tried to get on a train by himself. “He’s worried I might get hurt.”

>lee.harlan: How’s it going?

>lee.harlan: Come over to my place tonight?

His comm buzzed a 3rd time. Harlan had sent him a picture of himself with an obvious erection, only wearing underwear. The guy was clearly exaggerating about a couple things in his profile. AJ fumbled to swipe the picture away again.

It was better than nothing. A distraction from his life would make him happy, for a while. For a while he wouldn’t have to think about his mediocre grades, or worry about his mom.

>ajax.guttierez: Is 8 OK?

Harlan sent back a winky face and for the first time that day, AJ felt himself smile. Just a little. There was something silly about another adult man using emojis-- every other man in AJ’s life was so serious. He couldn’t imagine Mr. Prospas sending something like that, nor Ib or Scotty who were his own bodyguards. This was good. This guy was going to be good for him, just a shallow funny distraction.

Beside him, the Bellamy twins were talking excitedly to Rome about something or other and Rome didn’t look like he was about to stress-vomit for once-- but he wasn’t laughing or smiling either. Uncomfortable perhaps, but not scared. It was probably not great that the other kids moved so quickly and awkwardly, but at least they weren’t trying out more stupid karate moves. 

AJ cleared his throat. “You good, Rome? I gotta get going.”

“Why wouldn’t he be good?” demanded Evangeline Bellamy as she rummaged through her purse for a yellow scrunchie, with which she tied her hair out of her face. “Of course he’s good. Do you not think everything is good?” AJ smiled at her tightly.

Instead of using his words, Rome just gave a little shrug, which AJ took as a yes. He turned and left, heading for the elevators that would take him up towards the University floors. 

He just wanted to be done with college, with OK enough grades to get an OK job. Hopefully he would work for Prosperity. With all the ass-kissing he had done lately, he figured he deserved it.

On that thought, he dialed his boss’s number as he got on one of the elevators.

Richard Prospas picked up on the first ring. “Is everything OK?” he asked immediately without so much as a hello. He was intense and high-strung and plagued by migraines, which wasn’t the best temperament for a CEO of a large company to have. Ever since what had happened to Ben, he had been intensely concerned about the development of his younger two sons-- who were, as far as he was concerned, his only sons.

“Just checking in,” said AJ. “Rome just told me he hasn’t been doing his homework, do you know what’s up with that?” For a moment he felt guilty about betraying the confidence of a child who trusted him, especially since he knew Rome would get in trouble over it later. What were his priorities though? AJ cared about Rome’s wellbeing, he just cared about his own well-being and the well-being of his mother more. It was important that he continued to ingratiate himself with his boss so that he could move up in the company, so that he could make more money and receive more respect.

“Goddammit,” swore Prospas. “What is wrong with him? That means he lied to my face, you know. He told me he had finished everything this morning. What is wrong with him?”

“Maybe he needs to see a therapist. He makes himself freak out by overthinking and then--”

“He doesn’t need a fucking therapist, he needs to grow up and start being responsible. At this rate Valentine is more responsible than he is.”

“Oh, absolutely,” agreed AJ, groveling as usual. Valentine was not responsible at all, with his clinginess and his imaginary friends. “Absolutely.”

“He knows that he’s going to be in charge of the company when I retire. He needs to be working hard and making connections, not hiding in his room all day. I don’t understand him, I don’t understand him at all. That-- that funny wheezy breathing thing he does is going to drive me up a wall.  At this rate he’s going to be a piss-poor leader, if he runs my company into the ground I swear to God that I’ll force the Board to make his brother CEO.”

“I don’t think anyone is going to be good enough to fill your shoes, sir.”

“Thanks, AJ.” For a long minute, Prospas paused. Then he cleared his throat. “You know, your mother is really starting to freak me out with her religious shit. Last night she-- she has these fuckin’ cuts on her stomach. Is she doing alright? She’s not going to try to kill herself again, is she? I can’t deal with that any more, I just can’t. It was awful the last time. I couldn’t sleep at all, you gotta picture it, I would lie awake all night just terrified that she would slit her wrists or something.”

Air suddenly would not fill AJ’s lungs and images he had tried to forget flooded his mind. His left hand clenched into a fist.

“You there?” 

The elevator was not moving fast enough. AJ forced himself to suck in a breath. “She’s fine,” he said, keeping the anger and fear out of his voice. “That’s how-- you know about the Rift religion? They do that. Something about blood, I don’t know. It’s how they worship. She’s fine. She’s happy, I think the church gives her a sense of community. She keeps telling me about how happy she is.”

“Oh, good,” Prospas said absently. “Thanks.”

“Of course,” said AJ, thinking about how his mother had tried to overdose the day after that Prospas sent his father into an Agapama storehouse to get shot. AJ had been 16 years old, and so angry that he pulled a knife on him. Prospas had his own bodyguard Scotty hold AJ’s arms behind his back and then beat him with his blackthorn walking stick. The severity of the beating left him with a concussion that he had to go to the hospital for. The memories served as a reminder to never fight back. “Anything.”

“Remind me to give you some different work one of these days. You’re too good a worker to keep wasting on the kids.”

AJ’s heart fluttered and the bad memories were pushed to the back of his mind. The past didn’t matter. All that mattered was the future. His future.  “I-- I would really enjoy that,” he said.

“Really?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Great. Maybe you can help with some numbers that aren’t adding up, I’ll tell the guys. Look-- I have to go. I have a meeting with one of our suppliers. Great talking to you, Ajax.” And he hung up.

AJ realized that his hand was still clenched into a fist. The elevator dinged and he walked out into the University floors, absentmindedly scanning the ID chip in his wrist as he went.

When he did not know how to feel, he generally busied himself and pushed the emotional aspects of his mind to the side. He had things to study. He had a paper to finish. The things in his life were not all bad. The things that hurt him, the fears that always crept in could be put into boxes for him to deal with later. He didn’t know anything else.

What he did know was that he was going to go to town on Harlan that night. A welcome distraction.

KIP NGUYEN

(I DONT KNOW WHAT TO WRITE HERE. KIP IN THE LIBRARY, SPACING OUT)

“Who are you?” he demanded, preemptively defensive. It wasn’t fun to get caught spacing out, it always made him feel like he had done something wrong. “Do you need something?”

The girl didn’t jump back or flinch the way that people usually did when he moved too fast or talked too loud. There was something gently familiar about her, with her solid build and her broad face. She wore a faded sweatshirt and a pendant with a deity on it around her neck. She looked at him in a way he wasn’t used to and he couldn’t put his finger on what it was. “You OK?” she asked in the low, coarse tone of the Lower Levels.

The question was so preposterous that he was unable to contain his reaction and tried to make himself a threat by looming over her. The girl still didn’t flinch, she gazed calmly up at him.

“What?” exclaimed Kip, puffing out his chest. “What the fuck, man, don’t just ask strangers how they’re feeling. It’s not normal. What’s wrong with you?”

She put her hands up to placate him but didn’t appear to be mocking. Her brown eyes were unremarkable except for their steady kindness. “Sorry, you just don’t look so good. What’s so wrong with checking in?”

Kip glanced down at the girl’s religious necklace, then glared at her. He knew what those people were like. They could sense weakness and used that to their advantage when proselytizing people. The way that they had formed religious branches of social services sickened him-- didn’t they understand that nonreligious mutual aid programs already existed? A firm believer in Eden’s state atheism, he took pride in never having been inside of a church. 

“Do you need something from me?” he demanded. He took a step back to give her some space, disturbed that she had not been flustered by his posturing. People didn’t just come up and talk to him, and when they did they never stayed calm for long. “What do you want, huh?”

“Seriously? You don’t know who I am?”

“How would I know that?!”

“I’ve been going out with Esther Bellamy for two months. I know who you are, I know all about you.”

The ghost of a memory attempted to move through Kip’s synapses and failed. In a vague way, he knew about Esther’s girlfriend. He knew she had talked to him about her and he knew that she had shown him pictures of her on more than one occasion. But the fogginess that had been filling his brain since he woke up that morning prevented him from accessing this information.

He shook his head and then slapped his own face hard.

The girl finally flinched when she saw him hit himself. “Don’t do that, what’s wrong with you?”

Kip snapped his fingers. “No. Yes. Church. Rosie Church. Rosaline Church, yep, I got it. Shit. I know about you, my brain just doesn’t kick in until I get my morning, uh, coffee…”

Rosaline stared at him without saying anything. Her thick eyebrows were knitted together in an expression that was either confusion or worry. This was the same expression that well-meaning adults got, not other kids.

Anger flared in him. Who was this stranger to judge him, to worry about him? He was sick and tired of being worried for and over. There was nothing wrong with him. There had never been anything wrong with him. He was-- he was simply in an environment that was not conducive to his health. “Whatever. What do you want from me? Are you looking for Esther? She has therapy this morning, she’s not coming back to school until noon.”

“I know Esther is at therapy,” said Rosaline. “I talk to her. She’s my girlfriend. No-- look, I’m not trying to get into your business…”

“But clearly you’re about to anyway.”

Rosaline shrugged. “Esther cares about you and your sister a lot, I care about her. I think it’s pretty simple. Anyways, I was just wondering, do you know who your sister has been hanging out with over the last couple weeks?”

“Nobody. She doesn’t have friends.”

“Wow. That’s-- no.” Rosaline pushed her shaggy hair away from her forehead. “So, OK. There’s this girl named Ayda Jay in my cohort and she’s pretty much the worst person I’ve met in my life, I don’t know, it’s like she wants people to feel bad about themselves. She’s quiet but she’s always talking to this guy on her comm and lately she’s been talking about your sister. Like making fun of her and stuff.”

Unfortunately, this wasn’t anything new. Bullying wasn’t anything new. There had always been bullies. Kassidy was small and ugly and over-reacted to things, she was an easy target. When he could, Kip tried to protect her, especially when the bullying became physical. Hell, he had gone to Juvie because he had protected her in middle school back when Ben Prospas was picking on her. When he had seen that huge Artificial take his fat hand and shove his tiny sister down to the floor, something broke in Kip’s brain. He couldn’t even remember attacking Ben, it was like he had gone to sleep and then woke up in the Principal’s office getting screamed at by his mother. Compared to that, some girl making fun of Kassidy was nothing.

“Thanks,” said Kip in as mocking a voice as he could manage. Religious people were really too sensitive. “Really. I think Kassidy is tough enough to deal with some mean words.”

“You don’t get it. Ayda Jay is related to Casey Agapama somehow, I think they’re sisters or cousins. They live together, they hang out together. Your sister has been hanging out with Casey Agapama, man. I’d be worried if I were you.”

In his shock, Kip grabbed Rosaline by the shoulders with both hands and brought his face close to hers. Rosaline’s eyes widened, she grabbed one of his wrists and twisted it so hard that she flipped him around and wrenched his arm up behind his back. It hurt but Kip could not even think of the pain.

Casey Agapama.

He knew about Casey Agapama. Everyone did. Her rat bastard venture capitalist father was unspeakably wealthy due to the labor he exploited from his workers. People were terrified of Casey, they said that she was a sociopath. She didn’t so much get into fights as she did beat the crap out of other kids for no reason. People said that she had stabbed a teacher and gotten away with it. When she walked down the halls, everyone else got out of her way.

In 4 years of secondary education, Kip had only seen her once. She had shoved him out of his chair in the library while walking past him when he was 15. She hadn’t even looked at him, it was like she had done it out of pure boredom.

What was Kassidy doing around a girl like that? Surely even she wasn’t that stupid.

Rosaline released her grip on his arm. “Don’t just grab people like that. You scared me.”

“What the fuck?!” groaned Kip, rubbing his arm where Rosaline had twisted it. He was used to scuffling with people who were 30+ pounds lighter than him, not people who were sturdy like she was. “Jesus, fuck my tits, my sister is gonna get fucking killed!! That’s why she’s been messing with her hair and shit, like all that make-up shit, she’s trying to impress that freak!”

“Wow, you cuss more than anyone I’ve ever met,” said Rosaline. “ Maybe you should--”

“My sister is associating with someone who could rip her arms off and you’re telling me not to fucking cuss?!”

“No, I’m just making a comment, calm down.” Rosaline put her hands up, as if that was going to calm him. She was looking at Kip like she expected him to attack her now, and that was a look he was used to, a look that was worse than pity or concern. Dangerous. Bad. When people like Rosaline Church saw Kip, they did not see a well functioning member of society, they saw a dangerous individual who might hurt them. Kip did not want to hurt anyone, he knew his heart was gentle, but he could not help the way he talked or reacted to things. 

(I DONT KNOW HOW TO WRITE THE KIP/CASEY FIGHT THAT BRINGS EVERYONE TOGETHER)

[humansofap]

I drive up Springwood Ave. to Ridge on a sunny September morning. The streets are virtually deserted and the empty lots and buildings look foreboding. I am on my way to meet Barsheen Ridout, a 57-year-old, long-time resident of Asbury Park who I befriended while taking street photos. He stopped me in front of the barbershop and asked me about my camera. We got to talking about photography and Asbury Park in general. When I told him about my project, he was suspicious, maybe even angry. His exact words were “What I want to know is why a little white girl gives a shit about the west side of Asbury Park and the people who live here!” I had prepared myself for a question like this, but was taken aback at how much I had upset him. I tried to explain how I felt that all stories need to be told and I wanted to help tell them. This seemed to assuage him a bit, and he begrudgingly agreed to meet with me to be interviewed.

I had asked him to pick a spot in Asbury Park that had the most meaning to him, and he told me to meet him at his childhood home on Ridge Ave., which is where I am headed now. I pull up to the house and Barsheen is waiting for me with a wistful look on his face. He tells me this house brings back so many memories. It was his aunt’s home and he lived with her on and off throughout the 60’s and 70’s. His life has not been easy but the times he spent in this house with his aunt were happy ones. Looking back, he realizes this home in Asbury Park was a safe haven for him.

“I lived here from when I was very little until I was 9. Both my parents were IV drug users. Dopers. My father was a pickpocket and my mother did anything he told her to do. It was in my blood, in my family’s blood. So my aunt was raising me. When I was 9, me and my sister decided to run away to go live with my parents in New York. We moved to Harlem and ended up living in 4 different places over 5 years. We were gypsies. Within the 5 years a lot of stuff happened. My father was in jail for shooting somebody. And then the same guy that killed my mother stabbed me. So my father was in the penitentiary and mother was dead and us kids had no one. So I came back to Asbury and my aunt’s house when I was 14.

I came back after the riots. Everything was so different. It was amazingly different. Sometimes I feel a little disconnected and connected to this place. It’s hard for me to say but every time I came back there was something new. It’s an interesting perspective because I wasn’t always here but I always came back.”

We decided to walk around a little so Barsheen can describe what the neighborhood looked like when he was growing up. There is an empty lot next to his aunt’s house that he tells me there used to be full of trees and the kids would call it “the woods” and play in it. He points out a house across the street and tells me it used to be a candy shop owned by Puerto Ricans. As he talks, I can see that the memories are transporting Barsheen to a different time and he gets more animated as he points out different buildings, recalling his old neighborhood.

 “These all used to be older houses but they all got knocked down and built over. My aunt used to send me to the store around the corner. There used to be a gas station right here. Lake Ave. is a whole lot different than it was back then. The whole avenue was full of stores. That used to the be nun’s home and the catholic hall. There was a church on the other corner.”

 We walk up Lake Ave. and it is hard to imagine the bustling neighborhood he is describing. Barsheen points to one of the very few businesses that are open.

 “That liquor store been there forever, since I can remember. See there are 3 things you can count on in a poverty-stricken area. Liquor stores, churches, and laundromats. Those things will always be there in low income areas. That shit right there’s been killing us for a long time. Because you won’t find that in suburbs. You can’t walk to the liquor store in the suburbs, you gotta get in your car and drive there. But in every inner-city poverty stricken community, you can walk to numerous liquor stores. That fires me up. I used to frequent the store a whole lot in the 80’s. Now understanding the science of control and conditioning, about how the establishment that kills a community can stay in the same spot for the past 40 years makes me understand it a little more. None of it is owned by members of the community. Indians run the liquor store. In the 60’s Caucasians owned it. In the 80’s they took it over. Now I’m not talking about the owners. I’m talking about the condition of the institution. That they can come to a place like this and profit. The circumstances and situations.”

 As he speaks, he raises his voice and is growing more and more upset. A man on a bicycle rides past us and stops to stare. Barsheen tells him “peace” and assures him we are fine, and he rides away slowly. We are standing in front of a non-descript building and I notice that Barsheen is looking up at the second floor.

“Up top here used to be a gambling club called the 54 House. From when I can remember till the late 80’s. I remember it when I was a kid, then I remember when I was old enough to go in it. We’d play cards, shoot dice, it was a social place for the community. Even in the 70’s when I was a teenager the block was alive. It was a construction town. There were a whole lot more people and whole lot more buildings. This was the construction man’s and the common man’s place to socialize. They had a charter from the city to have a social club.”

I am curious about what police presence was like at that time and whether they were ever shut down.

“They [54 House] did illegal activity, however the guy who ran it for years, who was called Rayfield, was partners with a guy called Artesia Moore. He [Moore] was an ex police officer and he married into a family that owned the Arking lounge. He worked for the gangsters. When his father in law passed away, Artesia’s wife gave him the racket for the town. So him and Rayfield ran it. This was left alone by the cops. They were left alone as long as no drugs were involved. I’m not sure what happened to it [54 House]. I left Asbury for a while and when I came back it just wasn’t there no more”

We decide move our conversation to Kula café, a block away. Big glass windows afford us a great view of Lake Ave. We are right down the block from 2nd Baptist church was where Barsheen was baptized. He tells me it was THE church back then. He tells me it’s where “all the uppity people went.”

He tells me that the café we are sitting in used to be a drug store. There used to be a bar across the street called the Turf Club in the 50’s and 60’s. It was home to many famous performers including the then up and coming Clarence Clemmons. He tells me that both sides of the street were full of bars and lounges. There was the Paramount Pool Hall. It used to be a movie theater until Barsheen’s cousin, Robin Hill bought it and turned it into a pool room. On the other side of the block was Cuba’s bar.

“My aunt Evelyn Smith, worked there, she was barmaid. The husband was Cuba and the wife was Mini. When the gangsters came down to Asbury and they would bring black folks with them, they would break the glasses afterward. [They didn’t want to keep glasses that black folks had drank out of] So my aunt would ask if she could take them home instead. So she had a whole collection of glasses.”

I am slightly taken about by this. I am trying to understand the demographics of the west side at that time. I ask if the neighborhood was mixed.

“In the 60’s a lot of Italians owned things, like all those stores we call bodegas now. The paramount was a black club, the turf club was black too. Cuba’s was not. It was the elite. The borderline was the railroad track and Asbury Ave. Past there you didn’t find too many black people in the 60’s. If you went to Cookman Ave., you knew you had to act right. You knew you were someplace special. You better act right in the white folk’s shit. Cuz the borderline was the goddamn tracks. Then the riots happened in the 70’s. After everything was burnt down, there was a portion of Lake Ave. that was left empty on both sides. It never got rebuilt. Recently they built a few homes on both sides. Maybe in the 90s. But it’s never been the same.”

Barsheen tells me that in the 90’s there were black-run businesses in Downtown Asbury Park, which are all gone now; a result of gentrification.

“They had Freeman’s bakery and a black woman ran it. Bond St. and Cookman, that whole side was run by black people. There was a deli on the corner, then a barber shop, then the Jamaican guy’s clothing store. Then they pushed him out by raising the rents and now he’s in Collingswood barely making a living. They pushed everybody out!”

I want to know what growing up in Asbury Park was like for him and how it affected him personally.

“This whole area right here was all lower income. This was all stores and above them were tenements. So when I came back in 79’ that’s when I was hustling. My whole crew was doing it. I would stand on this corner right here and I could see all the way down this block. I could see all the way to the bar and I could see everybody hanging out there. And I’d get butterflies all in my stomach. I was going to that corner, it was my destination. I was going to sell drugs; I knew it was dangerous. And I’ve never told anybody this but every time I did it I was so scared. A lot of my friends died or are in prison. Yeah a lot of them. My father and mother were both dopers. I sold drugs all my life, in and out of the penitentiary. Then I finally went through recovery and got clean and identified that it’s a disease. Part of it was hereditary.”

I wonder out loud if he feels like this is a continuing problem in Asbury Park.

“That’s a really complex topic. Parents passing it on might have a lot to do with it. There’s a documentary and the guy phrased it so well he said “We didn’t bring the guns here, we didn’t bring the drugs here, we didn’t invent no poverty, we didn’t invent racism. But you hold us guilty when we can’t rise above it.”

My oldest daughter for example, is an accomplished lawyer living in Voorhees in a beautiful home. She came from right here. Both her parents were drug users. She was raised in the same house in the same environment as my step son. He’s still bumping his head. So environment plays a part but it also doesn’t. If we had more resources dedicated to us, we would have a better chance to succeed. I’m not holding to the environment 100%. The cocaine epidemic of the 80’s destroyed us [the black community]. Every block had a crack house. Everybody in this community was smoking. It affected everything very badly. That effected the next generation. I’m a survivor of it. I know people in the penitentiary for life because of it. I have close friends who died because of it. My mother’s dead because of it. This isn’t something I read about, it’s something I’ve lived.

I’ve been pondering on your question you asked me the other day about how we feel about the gentrification. One: why would you want to be someplace where they don’t want you anyway? And two: if you don’t own anything in the community, the community ain’t yours. It’s who owns it who has the voices when they go to town meetings. There are very few black people that own houses. If you own something you have a voice. But most don’t own. If you don’t own it, it isn’t yours. You and I both know this. Change in constant. And sometimes change is good. Because at one time, in this town everybody knew everybody. Is it all bad? No. This place we’re sitting in is a good change. People died for me to have the right to vote. Medgar Evers died registering people to vote. But I don’t think my vote honestly makes a goddamn difference.”

I ask if he feels like he has emotionally detached himself from Asbury Park. He seems conflicted in that he says he won’t stay some place he feels like he is not wanted, but at the same time this is his home.

“I guess it’s a paradox. It’s hard to explain. No I haven’t [emotionally detached]. I have a son here who just had a son here. I have other family in this city too. I’m 57 years old. I haven’t survived anywhere else but in the hood. This is all I remember and know. This is my home.”

I ask him if he hopes his son stays and builds a life in Asbury Park. And he replies that he hopes he does not. Barsheen wants his son to see the bigger world, see beyond this town. He says he sees too many of the young people here get caught up in it. The ones that might fall victim to the environment. He believes that success means a lot of different things to different people. It has a lot to do with ambition.

“My son lives with his sister, in the same household. His sister is doing really well in school and already has college credits. My son is always with the boys, he’s a member of the Olds. He’s got a job. He gangster raps. He graduated by the skin of his teeth.”

I’m finding it interesting that the girls seem to be more motivated that the boys and I ask if he feels the same way. He says that he knows both men and women who he grew up with who have succeeded in life and built names for themselves in the community. But he admits that the women do tend to do better.

 I ask him why he thinks that is. He gets very quiet, and the silence stretches across the table and engulfs us.

I am not leaving without an answer and I dare to ask again, “why?”

Barsheen’s eyes fill with tears and his voice shakes as he finally replies.

“Do you know that the black man is an endangered species in this country? They kill them when they want to. Trying to kill our hopes, our dreams, our spirit, our ambitions. And then when they can’t do that they put a bullet in our head. What you talking about WHY. You want to keep it for real? You asked me why? Why? That’s why.”

[miss-musings]

My List of Top 10 Blacklisters

Let me say right off the bat that it was really difficult to compile this list. Because while I feel a lot of one-off Blacklisters are pretty much throwaways, especially all the different cults and kooky people that the show likes to keep introducing, many of the better ones (IMO) were bad guys who had been around for multiple episodes, maybe even entire arcs or seasons.

So, picking out my Top 10 -- based on how unique they were, how memorable they were, how intimidating, how threatening they were to the main cast, etc. -- was relatively easy, but ranking them was difficult. Because, again, a lot of them get way more screentime than others.

So, I'll try to rank them based on a combination of how much I personally liked them, how much of an overall impact to the story/characters the Blacklister had relative to their screentime and build-up, how well the actor did with the role, how unique and memorable they were, etc.

You'll notice that people like Laurel Hitchen, who was an antagonist but not technically a Blacklister, isn't on the list; and you'll notice that "good guys" like Dembe or Marvin Gerard who were technically Blacklisters, but weren't antagonists for Red or the Task Force aren't on here either. Tom, who flip-flopped between good guy and bad guy as the show progressed, isn't on here either; but that's because there's so much material to judge from as he was a main cast member for at least three seasons, which is unfair.

Anyway, without further ado: my list. Again, feel free to disagree and make your own lists if you like.

(EDIT: I’ve done a follow-up list of ‘Top 10 Best One-Off Blacklisters’, because so many of the below entries had multiple episodes in which to be menacing.)

Note for future reference: this list only includes Blacklisters up through the end of S5.

###

HONORABLE MENTION: MR. KAPLAN

I really wanted to put Mr. Kaplan on this list, and I had at one point, but then I realized I forgot one of the more imposing Blacklisters and had to slide him into the spot where I had Mr. Kaplan. The only reason I took her off completely rather knocking every lower-numbered entry down a spot, was because while I really liked Mr. Kaplan up until S3c, I hated how the showrunners forced the storyline where she had once been Liz's nanny and hated Red for doing her and the Keen family wrong. I love Susan Bloomaert and think she's a very talented actress who's incredibly underrated; but I loved her character more when she was on Red's team -- his cleaner, his friend, his confidant. Granted, there were some really good episodes with her as an antagonist, but I hated the way she died -- throwing herself off a bridge.

Anyway, again, I want to emphasize that this list is purely subjective. So, if you think I've done Mr. Kaplan a disservice, feel free to make your own list to give her to honor you believe she deserves. As I said: I loved Mr. Kaplan, but I felt the whole S4b storyline completely assassinated her character as we knew it up to that point.

P.S. I also feel like GREGORY DEVRY should get a shout-out, but I’ll probably include him in my list of Best One-Off Blacklisters.

10. LEONARD CAUL

This is one of those entries where I guess I kind of cheated. Caul didn’t really end up being an antagonist for Red, Liz or the Task Force. But he was introduced to us a little ambiguously with him developing photos of Liz and Red, listening to the police scanner -- and then holding Liz at gunpoint (briefly) in Red's Bethesda apartment... I really liked all of that and how it was kind of vague from the beginning whether he was on their side or not. Granted, he doesn't get much screentime even in his own episode, and honestly, after S2, I'm not really sure what happened to him. I know he was hanging around with Red up until the S2 finale or thereabouts, but yeah, whatever happened to that guy?

Anyway, it was a really tense episode, and I felt like Caul brought a level of adrenaline and urgency to the situation with Red and the Cabal, as well as the show in general.

9. IAN GARVEY

You'd think Garvey would be higher on this list, but I was never really a big fan of him. Granted, he did pose a pretty serious threat for our main crew, after he stole the Real Reddington’s bones, killed Tom and his goons knocked Liz into a coma. And the actor did a fine job. But, I just felt that -- up until his connection to the Reddington family was revealed -- he was just kind of cartoonish. A dirty cop who runs a drug cartel? Yeah, I don't care.

But, again, while I don't really like Garvey, I felt like he had such an impact on the show and the characters that he deserved a spot -- even if it was a low one.

8. MADELINE PRATT

The only female Blacklister to formally make it onto the list. (Sorry, Mr. Kaplan.) I thought her character and this episode was incredibly well-done. It was a little bit of a heist storyline, and Pratt was a good foil for Liz and Red, forcing both of them to open up in ways we hadn't seen before (up to that point). Liz became more comfortable doing criminal-type things, using her slight-of-hand, infiltrating locations and lying/manipulating people; while Red, conversely, became more human and opened up about why he has been so distant with people and the hurt he has experienced in the past.

Also, Madeline is one of the few past/current love interests of Red that we see on the show, and I really like Jennifer Ehle (mostly because of the 1995 version of Pride & Prejudice). I felt like she matched well with Spader and wasn't overpowered by his always-charismatic performance. And, while we only ever saw her in this episode and briefly in 2x14, I felt like she deserved a spot because she was such a unique character and that episode introduced a lot of character details and traits that became important later.

7. THE STEWMAKER

I really, really liked the Stewmaker -- both the bad guy and the episode. The only reason I didn't put him higher on this list is because I feel everyone else is too good (or bad, depending on how you want to look at it) to be displaced.

So, I remember reading on one of those TV-watching websites that if you weren't entirely sure about a show but you wanted to give it a chance, you should watch at least four episodes to see whether it was any good. By the fourth episode, the show should have established its characters, its dynamic, its continuing plot points, its feel, etc. Pilots, of course, always feel a little different than the shows themselves because they're filmed months before any other episode; so you have to give shows a chance to establish themselves and walk on their own two feet.

So... when THIS was the show's fourth episode... oh, buddy.

The Stewmaker posed a serious threat as he was the first person to ever hold Liz captive and feel the wrath of Red for such an offense. The episode gave us the infamous Parable of the Farmer; and continued the then-mystery of Liz finding out about Tom's shady past.

But, as for the character himself, he was just really weird. Walking around naked while he was working, but having that mask on; disintegrating bodies; having his dog with him; actually being a family man but having this criminal work on the side. And, also, we had a little bit of interaction where Liz was actually trying to do her job (for once) and profile him and use that info to her advantage.

He was a character that I feel the show has tried to redo several times -- the kooky weirdo who's very calm, apologetic and doesn't like violence but who is also fascinated by death, bodies, etc. But, of course, this was the FIRST time the show had used such a character, so it was much more memorable then and not so watered-down.

In any case, I really liked the Stewmaker and thought he was a fantastic Blacklister for the show to have in its fourth episode of the entire series.

6. MATIAS SOLOMON

So, this is actually the spot where I had Mr. Kaplan. But, while I was doing some background research on my #1 choice, I ran across Edi Gathegi's name and remembered that I left Solomon completely off the list. He had been an antagonist throughout the whole of S3a and then came back for his namesake episodes where he and his crew attack Liz and Tom's wedding, Liz gives birth to Agnes, and later she "dies" with Red by her side.

Solomon is either directly or indirectly responsible for a lot of major shit that happened on this show -- hell, just in those two episodes. And, I really like Gathegi's performance, especially considering how Solomon was a little Extra™. So he had to play him as dramatic with a penchant for flair and style ... but without him becoming cartoonish. He was just a little bit eccentric but could still hold himself and lead a team of goons in shooting up a church.

Again, I hated to leave Mr. Kaplan off the list but I felt it was a greater disservice to not put Solomon on it, considering how much of a threat he posed to our main cast throughout various points of S3.

5. THE DECEMBRIST (A.K.A. ALAN FITCH)

This is basically just an outlet for me to talk about how amazing Alan Alda is and how much I love him and wish the show hadn't killed his character off. Seriously, he's just so adorable, and it was hilarious to see him partly playing against type here. Fitch was intimidating, but I also kept wanting to give him a hug.

And, I felt like that was how Red felt toward him. He hated Fitch for the whole bullshit in that raid on the Post Office, but yet, he also respected him. That look on his face when he's having that last conversation before the bomb on Fitch's neck goes off... just heartbreaking.

And while so many actors seem to bow under the weight of Spader's performances, Alda is also one of the few actors who I felt like was on-par with him in terms of charisma and acting chops. It seems he just strolls onto the set and does whatever is required of him without a care in the world. "Need me to be gruff and menacing? I can do that. Need me to be sad and fearful? I can do that. Need me to look bored and indifferent? I can do that." God, I just love Alan Alda, and I want to give him a hug. 

But, seriously, Fitch was a Blacklister who's impact on the story goes all the way back to setting Berlin on Red decades before S2 takes place, and he was one of the few people (at that time) who seemed to know Reddington from the pre-Night of the Fire era. (It's unclear now whether that was actually true; he probably knew the REAL Reddington, but never knew our guy was an imposter.)

Anyway, Fitch had a major impact on the story because he was the one person/thing who had a connection to the raid on the Post Office, the Cabal and Berlin. So, he definitely deserves a spot on this list. And also, ALAN ALDA!

4. BERLIN

This is a weird entry, because Berlin is hardly in either of his two namesake episodes; and even when he is, his identity is obscured until the very end of "Berlin: Conclusion."

Berlin had been built up for a long time, and while I still am so frustrated that it was never addressed how he organized a giant criminal syndicate from inside a Russian prison. Honestly, for as much as for as long as he was built up, I feel like the pay-off was a little bit disappointing. Which is why he’s at number four for me.

Still, when he came back in the first half of S2, he was such a good baddie. I absolutely love when he and Red meet on Coney Island, and that weird, dynamic and layered conversation that they have. And overall, Peter Stormare's performance is fantastic. He's mustache-twirling, sure, but he was so intimidating at the same time... threatening Liz, capturing Naomi, being responsible for the attacks on Cooper and Meera, etc.

He had a tremendous impact on both S1 and S2a, so he definitely has to have a spot.

3. ALEXANDER KIRK (A.K.A. CONSTANTIN ROSTOV)

Like Berlin, Kirk is hardly in either of his namesake episodes, but we get to see him more fleshed out as a character/villain in S4a.

Unlike most villains, we actually got to see quiet moments of Kirk, where he was caring, respectful, loving and just ... generally not villainous. Most of these other Blacklisters never got those opportunities, and Kirk -- in hindsight -- was built up as a kind of hero out of a Greek tragedy. Odette tells Liz that he was a kind, caring and gentle man up until he found out about Liz’s identity as Masha and her connection to Red. Then, he flipped his shit and did whatever it took to get his (step)daughter away from him. And, honestly, I really liked his little farewell speech to Liz about how she would only ever remember him as a villain who kidnapped and threatened her and her child; and she would never remember him as the young, happy father who held her in her arms, excited at what the future would hold for their family.

God, just thinking back to that speech makes me feel such sympathy for the man... not the one he became but the one he used to be. Kirk was hurt and betrayed multiple times by Katarina, the Real Reddington, the Fake Reddington, and all these other people who played him like a puppet for their own ends. Really thinking back on it, it’s no wonder he became the broken man he is, so desperately trying to cling to this frayed prospect of happiness with the family he once had. Yes, he was hoping that Liz or Agnes would help cure him of his disease, but I truly believe that was only a bonus in his mind and he was really hoping to piece his family back together -- to have a second chance in his (step)daughter’s life and help her with her newborn.

He’s also one of the few villains with his own arc who WASN’T killed off at the end of said arc, so I REALLY hope he comes back. I doubt it, but I would really like to see it. Maybe he could help Liz understand what all happened with Katarina, Real Reddington, Fake Reddington, and everything on the Night of the Fire.

And, again, like with Fitch, he was a really important Blacklister as he was connected to both Red’s past and Liz’s. And, that scene where he’s about to kill Red, and the two stop to reminisce about Katarina, who she was, and how important she was to them ... that’s the kind of depth we don’t get out of most Blacklisters.

Honestly, even though his introduction to the audience was a little too Darth Vader/Alias-esque, I still really enjoyed the range of emotions Ulrich Thomsen got to run through in his portrayal, especially in that final episode. And while he doesn’t really have a lasting effect on the story once his arc is resolved, he was a major threat to everyone, including Liz, and the main characters to make major decisions in the latter half of S3 and the first part of S4 that showed us who they really are.

So, yeah. IMO, he deserves to be this high on the list.

2. ANSLO GARRICK

It might seem a little weird to have a one-off villain this high on the list, but Anslo Garrick -- both the character and his namesake episodes -- was an actual game-changer. Here we were, skipping along through S1, pretty complacent and chill. And then all of a sudden, Anslo Garrick shows up and turns everything on its head. The Post Office is under attack; Ressler gets seriously injured and he and Red have to make due hanging out together inside the box; Cooper et al is captured; Liz and Aram, who have little field experience between them, have to team up to try to get to safety. Luli is killed; Dembe is almost killed; Liz is threatened; Red is captured and later escapes.

God, so much happened in those episodes, and I still think “Anslo Garrick: Part One” might be the best episode of the show to date. Seriously. Even though Red and Liz have zero screentime together, that episode is just SO GOOD. Intense, dark, with high-stakes and important character moments -- and there have been very few episodes like it since.

But, anyway, as for Anslo Garrick himself... he isn’t really all that much. He was a rabid dog sent by Fitch to bring Red in. He was intimidating, coarse, violent and gave zero shits about his actions.

This entry doesn’t really celebrate who the character of Anslo Garrick was, but more of what he represented and the major impact he had on the show at that point in time. He introduced us to Fitch, who first brought up the whole “Cabal” storyline, which was responsible for a lot of shit in S2 and S3a.

Again, Garrick woke us viewers out of our little complacency that Red & co. were just going to glide through their Blacklisters with only a few cuts and bruises and no real stakes (outside of the Tom/mystery storyline that was going on at the time). This was a good kick in the pants to make us realize that we were wrong.

So, yeah. I feel like he deserves to be Number 2.

1. THE DIRECTOR

So, you’re sitting there, wondering who the hell could be sitting at Number 1... above Garvey, above Kirk and Garrick and Fitch and everyone else?

It’s the man who if I could push a button and bring any of the show’s dead character back to life, he would be the one I’d pick:

Peter Kotsiopulos, The Director ... played by the amazing David Strathairn.

Even though he appeared in 12 episodes over what amounted to an entire season of the show (from 2x09 to 3x10), I really wish The Director hadn’t been killed off. Seriously, I have no idea how much money TPTB had to throw at Strathairn to get him to appear for as long and as many times as he did, but it wasn’t enough. I've always said that this show deserves a Big Bad (assuming that Red isn’t it), and he would’ve been great as the Big Bad for The Blacklist.

While Strathairn's basically just reprising his role as "Unethical and Shady AF Government Official and Resident Mustache-Twirler" from The Bourne Series, it's a role he's REALLY good at. And even though he didn’t get a lot of quiet moments to be humanized or come across as sympathetic, like Kirk did, I still feel like it was such a bitch move for Red and his crew to play on The Director’s feelings for/obligation to his wife as their opportunity to abduct him. I know that Liz was facing trial for murder and desperate times called for desperate measures, but I can just imagine that poor lady sitting in her therapist’s office, wondering where her husband was only to find out that he was a villain who had ditched her and fled the country, when that wasn’t the case AT ALL.

Yeah, I know The Director’s an absolute piece of shit who’s responsible for threatening the entire Task Force, publicly demonizing Liz and almost killing Red... but he was so good at being bad that I wanted him to stick around long-term. I wanted to see him and Liz have more interactions; and again, Stathairn was one of the few actors who held his own in scenes with Spader without any effort.

He was also the first one, as I recall, to set Liz on this path toward Katarina Rostova’s backstory and finding out how alike the two of them were. Remember in 2x19, he remarks how much Liz looks like her mom, and I feel like that sends Liz down a road to get answers from Red about who she was and what his connection was to her mom and her family.

But, anyway, yeah. I just love David Strathairn; I loved him in this role, on this show; and I loved how diabolical, manipulative, and just conniving his character was. I also just absolutely love the look on his face in 3x10 when he and Red are watching Laurel Hitchen on the TV and Hitchen just outs The Director as a member of the Cabal. He just goes from angry and staring daggers at Red to flustered and “oh shit” in an instant.

So, just like my Fitch entry was my opportunity to celebrate how amazing Alan Alda was, this is my chance to celebrate how underrated David Strathairn is as an actor and how much I wish he was still on the show.

But, putting all of that aside, why should The Director as a character be ranked above all those other people as a better Blacklister?

Because, The Director represented the Cabal, which was an entity that had been built up from 1x09 as a major force that had power to easily destroy everything Red, Liz and their crew was trying to work toward. They sent Braxton after info about the Fulcrum, they sent Karakurt to frame Liz, they sent that team of commandos to attack Red. They were a force that seemingly could not be stopped, and the Director was at the head of it all.

And, while I can’t find it anywhere (so help me out if you know what I’m talking about), I know there’s a saying about how the worst man is the one who does evil in the name of good. And that’s The Director. He is the embodiment of all the worst parts of The Blacklist’s villains, actual real life government officials and humanity at large. He has dozens of people killed without batting an eye because it’s all in the interest of “national security.” Or so he tells others. But, deep down, we all know that he’s only really concerned about his own self-interest.

Now that the show has killed him off, obviously, there’s no way for Strathairn to return as The Director; but perhaps, if/once the show delves more into Katarina and Red’s backstory, maybe we will see a Young Director in a flashback so that we can see exactly how he was connected to Katarina, the Cabal, and that whole mess with the Fulcrum.

Plus, I can’t get over how awesome his interactions with Liz were, and Strathairn’s delivery of the now infamous line, “I know who you really are, Raymond -- who you are TO HER.”

###

Again, if you disagree, feel free to reblog with your comments or your own list. This is all purely subjective, but -- because we’re on this crazy-long hiatus until January -- I felt like it was good to fill the time with SOMETHING. My goal with this isn’t to give a definitive list and that’s it; but rather, to prompt discussion about the topic.

Thanks for reading all the way to the end and cheers! ~mm

[prophet-rebellion]

This is a bit of what went down is GS but is by no means every golden highlight I can think of, just got too long

Omfg, alright, so I just took an instant run down memory lane and now it’s STORY TIME. As some current information, I would still be in girl scouts right now had my troop not gotten disbanded. But uhhhhh, it did so there ended my “been doing this shit since kindergarten”

I could have joined one of the other local troops, but whenever we had more than my troop I usually wanted to hit a kid. I did not like kids from other troops and on more than one occasion this led to almost a brawl-- I had a hard enough time not decking my own troop members every week because they were all younger than me save for the leaders daughter (a few months older) and I had anger issues big time, my sisters usually hit the damn nail. (Save for this one really cute girl who was maybe a year older than me??? We were in a parade with her troop and she was cute. But we’ll get to why my mom and troop leader almost killed us all that night in a second.)

So we’ll start of the minor bs first. Now, my first year as a gs was spent with a different troop, there were 3 of us. So when that broke off I found a girl whose mom ran one and I joined. Automatically this was a much larger troop and much more rowdy so I should have seen something coming from the get-go, but no.

Now, the girl I had befriended was named C.C., she was the oldest of her own siblings, and to be perfectly honest, had I not been trapped in gs with her for years, I can safely say our relationship would probably be a lot more hostile, if we even knew each other. However, on more than one occasion over the years our pride got in our way as the two oldest girls in the troop and this lead to a few issues. I was gonna try to go in order but uhhhh, screw it. At one point we went camping and fucking uh, we got into a fight and she threw a fucking lamp at my head and then I tried to fucking jump her. We made up fast, but we broke the lamp and screwed a few other things up.

Also, our troop was really big on like, camping (but this site gave you everything so I mean????) and it used to be that all the adults could come on the trip and when they did they would have this special milk carton and it was the “grown up milk” and they told it was like, goat milk or 2% and we didn’t want any of that shit. So no way there. Yeah, as me and C.C. got older we realized they were drinking after most all of us were in the cabins asleep (these were not gs designated camp grounds, they were public places they did this). Just getting shit faced. Which led to them like, banning all adults except the troop leaders eventually.

Also, our secondary troop leader had this thing where she would like, moon people. And she thought this was the greatest god damn thing because she was, in her own words, “no way a small lady, so it’s a ‘bright’ full moon.” NONE OF US WERE SAFE. NONE!! She mooned every one of us, typically more than once. One time in public and we quickly scurried away from the cop that rounded the corner (running from cops happens on the down low more than once to us).

However, people outside the troop were never safe either. I brought my ex boyfriend along on a trip when were still together a few years back. It was around Christmas, the troop leaders kids didn’t want to go to the drive in show so there was space for him in the van. The only reason he came with is because his mom locked him out of his house while she was gone (a lie, his sister was home, he just wanted to hang around me more.) I warned him, WARNED HIM, that if I said turn around to do as I say, no questions asked, as fast as you register it. But god fucking forbid he listen to me. So, we went to the light show, I had my first kiss (regrettably) in a cramped van with my gs troop while no one was fucking looking. And this kept up!! A lot!! So when we got back to the house the two of us were outside and he kept trying to kiss me! and I told him it was a dumb idea, bad timing. So as soon as I pull back again the girls just burst the fuck onto the porch and just dumb popcorn on us. The secondary leader had thought this would be funny, I did not. And in a rage (anger issues, again) went into the house where they were losing in and im covered in popcorn, it’s everywhere on me, in my clothes, and I had to stop kissing my bf. So yeah, I was angry and flipped the hat off my mom head before storming back outside. Only moments later to hear the door open as I stood talking to him. The second my secondary leader stepped out and I saw the look on her face I whipped around where I stood and told him to do the same. Did he listen? No. (It’s fine, it was early punishment by the universe and I thank them.)

But those of us in the troop had it worse. Like, okay, the winter previously (I think it was before, maybe like 2 before??) we decided we wanted to go on the polar express. And it’s a Christmas only kind of deal so we racked up the money and went to go take the ride. Now first off- they told us there was unlimited hot chocolate. They were wrong. My troop kept getting more and eventually our car ran out for at least a bit. Second, there are still videos of the crew leading a ton of us down the isle doing like, some line dance thing/activity? Now, as far as the mooning goes. Oof. So, there’s of course curves on this train ride, we live in the mountains. And before we came up to one we didn’t see, our secondary leader stood up and mooned the two girls from our troop beside her!! I think they were being assholes but nothing was justifiable for what happened next. We hit the curve, and these two girls get there faces mushed against the window by the “full moon.”  To this day I feel sorry for these two.

I also scared the Santa who came around asking us what we wanted for Christmas because I very enthusiastically yelled “Soul Eater!”

Okay, so like, I’ve already forgotten a lot of what I was going to say!! But!! Girl Scout camping trips. Like, for actual ranks. Gods, the last one I ever went for was  a Cadet. Not the point, point is I should have had my gay awakening earlier, and I’m sure I did, I’m just fucking dumb met some hella people there. So aside from the fact I can never forget because I raced C.C. into a subways before going to a camp out, bit the dust, and now have a scar on my knee from eating concrete. Not the point though!! I went on one and when we got there we were put into the coldest, oldest, most run down site there. Further from everything else. We had gone a for the past few years, but this was the first that was a Cadet only deal for me and C.C. And automatically our neighbors are these chill girls!! They were cool. They were very social and I warmed up to them pretty quickly. There were 4 of them: Monkey (loved getting up into the rafters), Loud Mouth (Loudest and certainly the most out going), Katniss (loved the series), and No-name (Last day she decided on SugarHead).

I got closer to Loud Mouth more than any of the others and she did some bs, if was fucking hilarious. Also learned to never, never play truth or dare with them because it will go to hell, every time. There were so may cute people though!! So!! MANY!! But yeah, so we all picked our camp names. Mine still makes me cringe and I’m glad Loud Mouth just called me a nickname variation of it.

But uh, there was one girl I used to chat Soul Eater with, we exchanged numbers after camp but eventually we lost touch because I suck ass at communication and my phone got destroyed so I lost her number (same with another girl I used to talk to). There was also another camper named Cyprus. I thought it was a fake name but apparently not?? I loved her name. I met her when we I showed up to make a Harry Potter broom. A little late becuase again, furthest camp site from anyone, but for the most part we hit it off well at first, didn’t talk much at all the last day though. But it’s such an odd name,  and because all the campers were local, a few years back there was a girl at a con who could have been her from the vague memory I had and her friend goes “Hey Cyprus, look at this” and I just whipped around and worked up the nerve to ask if it was. It was not, but it was worth the ask.

Okay this went from like, borderline illegal to gay so one more thing-- the parade girl-- and we’re good. Because this if long as shit right now.

So my troop was in the parade every year, without fail we were in most of them at least. But we never, never missed being in the Christmas parade (god, for one year I just wanted to watch the damn thing, but no, we just had to be in it). So at some point in the year we decided to invite another local troop on with us, and of course I wasn’t the happiest about it. Until I got there and there was a hella cute girl there!! Like!! Hell yeah!! How the fuck did I think I was straight, this is just painful to relive all my gay ass moments in gs But the point is that it was cold as fuck for them and I’m a living ass heater, but I was not going to pas up hot food. Se we took off running, me, C.C. and this other girl, past our float and past a few others to get free hot apple cider. My mom was pissed but it;s hard to take her seriously when shes dressed like an elf. Next, we finish our cider and then up ahead we see a funnel cake car and we just lost it and take off yet again. We had enough money to get like two but before we could by any nice hot fluffy fc we were chased away by my mother and troop leader who were livid. But it was worth it.

But yeah, I loved gs, even when I grew away from it at the end. Didn’t realize I’d miss it as much as I did once we were disbanded by the council. But the shenanigans we got up to in the church that we met in the last few years were wonderful. I swear it’s fucking haunted though. I also feel asleep in the hallway one time texting my ex during a meeting. They just kinda left me. The secondary leader knew I wasn’t as interested in what she was getting the younger kids to do, and since the primary leader didn’t show up a lot over the last year I was allowed to just kind of chill in the kitchen with her while she made snacks. I was mostly the taste tester and ranted to her a lot about things.

Y’ALL STILL CATCH ME READY TO THROW HANDS WITH PEOPLE OVER COOKIES THO. LIKE, ALL THIS GS COOKIE FLAVORED SHIT HIT OUR SALES HARD IN OUR AREA AND WE HAD TO UP THE PRICE AGAIN, WHICH HIT US HARDER. I’LL STILL THROW DOWN OVER THAT. I am very, very passionate about cookie sells no matter how much I hated them.

[aion-rsa]

Evil Season 2 Episode 6 Review: C Is for Cop

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This Evil review contains spoilers.

Evil Season 2 Episode 6

Hands in the air. Dueling procedurals get arrested for resisting the officers on Evil season 2, episode 6, “C Is for Cop. This is one of the most harrowing episodes of the series on many fronts. The monster of the week is not a demon or a creature or one of the deadly sins. As Kristen (Katja Herbers) told her daughter Lila (Skylar Gray) last week: sometimes a monster is a person who forgets who they are. This week’s evil represents a constant reminder.

The team is called in to assess a very different kind of evil than they’re usually assigned. A white cop shot an African American woman at a traffic stop because he thought she was pulling out a gun. It turned out to be a cell phone, but he swears he saw a gun. He believes he saw the weapon because, well, the devil made him do it. The police brass says they’re loath to call in the clerics, but the young cop, who knows Kristen and can place her children as the “funny kids” in the school carpool, believes he was temporarily possessed at the time. More than that, he will swear to it on a stack of Bibles.

The team immediately pegs the cop as a racist trying to mount what Kristen calls a “Twinkie defense” in front of a grand jury. David Acosta (Mike Colter) walks out of the initial meeting, but he has been preparing for just this sort of scenario from the beginning of the season. Leland Townshend (Michael Emerson) has been race-baiting the soon-to-be-priest in the most passively aggressive ways. David’s superiors at the church have tried to curtail his homilies, they’ve turned a blind eye to his complaints about his special case exorcism. Now he is being asked to grant absolution to a big part of the problem.

The police sigil is an interesting invention. The producer Mick Carr (Fredric Lehne) says it is a TV good luck charm which goes all the way back to Dragnet, and can be seen on C.H.I.P.S and Starsky and Hutch, but it could be that Evil’s creative team just want to subvert an algorithm with a glut of Google searches. This episode is extremely subversive, not only in how it twists expectations, but in the way images interact with each other. During one scene, Carr takes Kristen aside during a walk-and-talk with the entire team. Ben and David are shot in very deliberately separate angles. It’s almost like they are not occupying the same space. When Orson’s ghost comes calling, it subconsciously mirrors encroaching reality.

Read more

TV

Evil Season 2: Katja Herbers Talks Jinn and Dark Tonics

By Tony Sokol

The LeRoux murder investigation gets so deep, it actually appears Homicide Detective Mira Byrd (Kristen Connolly) will close it. But, just like every foreboding entranceway any character encounters, it is bashed open, and cold as hell. “C Is for Cop” is a transitional episode into a larger conspiracy. The 4chan postings of the “Protectors,” and the subtle harassment beginning as a masquerade of solidarity are new dangers to the team. Who do you call when you need to call the cops on a cop? This episode shows you can’t even call a priest or the CIA.

Ben’s (Aasif Mandvi) night terrors are amazing during this episode. They are highlights with hidden epiphanies, and painful to watch and digest. No one wants to see Ben in pain. We certainly don’t want to see his demoness turn him into a pin cushion, but the kicker is even worse. She implies that he deserves it, and Ben makes an admission to David which says she is on to something.

I don’t know if the lie detector sequence is the most extreme gore the series has presented so far, or if it feels that way because Ben is a main character, but it was brutal. And he’s barely over his trip in the elevator. If he and David are being squeezed by whatever force is behind the police force while Kristen gets a get-out-jail-free card, something big is coming. They are being subtly separated by so many personal attacks, and the balance shifted during the episode. Ben and David bonded in ways “the magnificent” one had reserved for Kristen.

When Leland tried to reconcile with Sheryl Luria (Christine Lahti) after their implosive engagement, Kristen’s mother warned him he wasn’t the first demon she’s dated. Well, “Eddie, my Eddie” seems to be proof she was not bluffing. When Emily starts burning dollar bills in the name of unspoken truths, it sends Kristen’s daughter, Lexus, running out of the room. But that must have been the intent. The spell was on the girl, who rats her mother out the first chance she gets. Now even Kristen’s daughter knows she’s a killer.

Kristen is just asking to get caught in the final sequences. Why does she haul out her lucky axe? She’s got a couple dozen knives Detective Byrd already catalogued as having no serrated edges, but Kristen’s got to grab the one solid piece of evidence to hang her moments after she calls in her personal cop. The outcome of this raises more than the usual questions. Mira lets some killers go because some people deserve to die, she is part of that TV cop show syndicate which believes in injudicious justice.

Damnation comes in unexpected ways, and Evil is offering some signposts in Kristen’s slow corruption. The producer of the world’s biggest cop show tells her, outright, “we gotta stick together.” When Kristen gets her final reprieve, David and Ben are both sidelined by visible police harassment. She calls a cop friend, the same friend who offered the most rational reason for horrifically wrong fatal decisions. And the same one who tells Kristen to shut up and say she saw a Black man in the backyard. Mira and Kristen are conspirators.

The devil comes in many forms. Evil is having a blast expanding on them. The season is at its midway point, taking a short break before the next installment, and we still have no idea what sentence will be spelled out in the opening popup book. If ever we needed Sister Andrea’s (Andrea Martin) translational skills it is now. “C is for Cop” may be the end of a chapter, or the beginning of a new interpretation.

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Evil airs Sundays on Paramount+.

The post Evil Season 2 Episode 6 Review: C Is for Cop appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[olympianpandback]

May 10

We headed to Crater Lake fairly early because it is a 3 hour drive. It is always a scenic drive On the Volcano Scenic Byway.  We parked behind an RV from Alaska and the lady who was in that RV came up to talk to us about our RV. She has friends who are looking for a leisure travel Van. We head a nice long chat and went over to look at Crater Lake.  It's impossible to really describe and I am sure the pictures won't do justice for the sights we saw. There is still up to 8' of snow around the buildings.   We found a campground along a river that was nice and quiet until after we went to bed.  We had no idea about any train tracks somewhere near us, at least 4 trains rumbled through that were not very loud, except for the train whistle. We met our neighbors who are from Beaverton. He is a retired financial guy and his wife Faye finally retired from part time work at the church so they could travel. He was in the army from 59 through 61 and extended for a year because of the Berlin wall and the Cuban missile crisis. He was supposed to go to Germany but got a fever 3 days before the unit shipped out and the shipped unit out without him and 2 of his buddies. He never worked in his MOS (military occupation specialty), in artillery again. He spent 2 years in the active reserves and  2 years in the inactive reserves and got called back to active duty again. What a “lucky” guy. His wife worked as a ground crew member for American Airlines for 10 years then took a leave of absence for 5 years so she got credit for 15. They flew a lot to Europe mostly to France and travelled as much as they could on her D1 pass. The campground owner Steve has Scottish Highland cattle on his 140 acres because they eat the BlackBerry bushes and all the other brambles that no normal cattle will eat. He doesn't even have to feed them during the wintertime because they just disappear into the BlackBerry bushes and stay healthy during the weather. If he gets a male cow, they eat it. On the way to this campground South of Roseburg Oregon. we saw a great deal of devastation from recent for fires. It actually looks like it happened in the last year not later than 2 years. There is a lot of cleanup and trying to salvage usable lumber. We rounded one curve and there was the stump of a tree lying across the guardrail that was at least 2' in diameter that had just been cut out of the road not long ago from the looks of the cut. I can't imagine how long the delay had been before they got a crew out with the right equipment to move that log off the highway. Just another trip of discovery for us seeing such beautiful scenery and meeting so many nice people it's hard to describe in words or pictures.

May 11

We left mid-morning after another good conversation with Rich and Kay. We headed for the coast and got here midafternoon after stopping to get some to die for Apple walnut fritters at a local bakery. On the way here, we saw a spot that is called the Dean Creek Elk viewing area. Supposedly up to a 140 elk use this area as grazing ground. We didn't see any when we stopped on the way to the next campground. The campground is nice, but the bathrooms are closed and it's only private campgrounds that are having their bathrooms closed according to the host. We found out later that was probably a cop out to keep from cleaning them. This is an RV resort that people stay at year-round a lot of time. After dinner we went back to the elk viewing area Around 7:15 and saw about 40 or more cows grazing in the field. We hung around for about 20 more minutes hoping to see a bull, but none showed up. At least we can say we have seen elks and cross that off our list of wild animals. Tomorrow we head north a couple of hours to depot Bay. We hope to see some whales from the shore and will definitely take the 1 and 1/2 hour whale watching Tour, if we can book one.

May 12

On our way out of town we decided to go by the viewing place one more time period There were 40 or 50 cows out there but again no male elk. We headed North to Depoe Bay to try to do a whale watching cruise. We had checked with a campground just North of there who said their bathrooms were open. It was one of campgrounds in our group for big discounts. We drove there and found out that they had no cell phone signal. Even though I don't keep up with the blog as much as I would like to, we still need cell phone signal. We came back to town to another campground. Their bathrooms are open and it was a nice campground. They didn't offer a discount for veterans and I started to leave but Elizabeth wanted to stay there so we signed in. Marilyn gave us a 10% discount because I was such a nice man. Her words not mine. She also suggested a whale watching tour with a marine biologist area We were going to book a 12 o'clock tour, but we would have been on the boat for an hour and a 1/2 without anything to eat so we pushed it forward to the 10 o'clock tour. We got a text later saying that the 10 o'clock tour had been pushed up to 9:30 because they expected heavy seas that afternoon.

May 13 Whale watching trip

We were worried about a place to park the RV so we got there very early and parked in front of the jump off point. The leader was a very nice marine biologist who was passionate about her work we got a 15 minute lecture on whales before we went down to get on the boats . We got on the big boat which is a navy seal assault boat that had been retired. They asked who wanted to sit up front and we volunteered. It was a raw day and going to be cold and windy no matter where you were sitting. There are a group of whales come North from Mexico and hang around Depoe Bay while others continue on to the Alaskan water for feeding in the summer.ie Carry the biologist had named all the whales who stay around the area.  It was foggy and around 46 degrees when we left. Sees were chopping but not too bad at first.  We went buoy that had some sea lions on it. Then we meandered around following the other boat and listening for spotters looking for spouts. Carrie had also trained a dog that she rescued to smell the whale spouts which smell like the worst fart you've ever smelled and the dog Coda had been trained to detect those smells from an early age. Coda ran all around the boat from side to side and front to back sniffing the air, but we never saw a whale. We saw a lot of kelp and birds. The marine biologist says if we come back in August-September, the whales will be swimming up next to shore and we heard the same from locals later. So much for good timing. The Internet said whales should be here now!  We will head north trying to find some more whales because they only move at 4 miles per hour and we can overtake them. As we came back into the dock area we saw a mama seal and her baby seal who just been born that morning. On the way back to ,the dock Carrie asked if we were ready for some bumpy rides. We had no choice but to say yes and she opened up that seal boat with its twin 200 (I guessed at the size) HP Evinrude engines. We were hitting the bottom of some waves and riding over the top of many of them. It was a very fun ride for me and Elizabeth enjoyed it somewhat. We decided to eat in town and got to a restaurant just dead opened so we didn't have to wait area I had a seriously good clam chowder Elizabeth had a beer-based Tillamook cheese soup. It was in a brewery so we had craft pilsner for lunch. Everything was very good and I took a nap we got back to the camp after setting the RV up.  I spoke to our neighbor to our South who is a retired Air Force avionics technician, meeting his children here for the weekend into two other RVs.  We had a nice chat about the military, his travels around Europe and working on F-15s and 16s. He also gave me some insights into the Olympia peninsula where he and his wife had lived for many years. Our neighbor to the North is a retired civil servant, mechanical engineer who helped build the submarine base in San Diego and worked there most of his career. We briefly discussed COVID and his wife who is a nurse says they were waiting to get the Johnson and Johnson shot because it doesn't use MRNA to send signals to your body to protect yourself from the virus but actually uses a strain of the virus to make you immune to it like a flu shot. He said it wasn't really worried because it only affects a minor percentage of the population who have comorbidity issues most of the time. He and his wife have been full timers for several years in their 5th wheel. Again, you meet some of the most interesting people just by casual conversations. You know how shy I am so it's hard to meet strangers.

May 14

We drove north to the Washington border and found refuge at a National Guard base with an electric only hook-up for one night $15.  It’s clean, quiet and near the “latrine”.  Elizabeth prefers bathhouse/restrooms.

[analogscum]

HELLS ANGELS ON WHEELS (1967, d. Richard Rush)

Way back in 1966, before he was reduced to a Johnny Depp caricature and the personal hero of that one libertarian douchebag in your college Philosophy 101 class, Hunter S. Thompson burst onto the literary scene with his debut book, Hell’s Angels: The Strange and Terrible Saga of the Outlaw Motorcycle Gang. Expanded from a 1965 article for The Nation, Hell’s Angels introduced America to not only the Doctor’s freewheeling, lysergic brand of prose, but this new underground culture of the motorcycle gang. No longer the leather-bound toughs of The Wild Ones, these bikers were hairier, freakier, and ten times more drugged up. They didn’t even bother to ask what you had for them to rebel against, they let their chains to the talkin’, maaaaaaan.

Hells Angels on Wheels roared into movie theaters the following year, when the Summer of Love had cooled down into the Winter of…I guess still Love? I dunno. I imagine the film must’ve been very shocking in its day and age, but for today’s viewer, Hells Angels on Wheels is notable for other reasons, namely its nascency. It represents ground zero for an entire sub-genre which played a major part in cementing the explosion of creativity that was American cinema in the 1970s, and provided a launching pad for a number of players who would go on to become indispensable cornerstones of that scene. But, before they could do that, they had to shoot a bunch of establishing shots of bikes parking in places.

In the spirit of the Peace movement, why don’t we be generous and describe the narrative structure of Hells Angels on Wheels as…episodic? Yeah, that’s the ticket! Basically every scene in the movie follows this structure: the Hells Angels show up somewhere and park their bikes for like five minutes, go into a place where everyone hates them, get into a fight with the people who hate them, then leave when either they kill someone or the cops show up. That’s it. That’s the whole movie. The audience’s surrogate is a young man named Poet, who quits his job at a gas station when a customer is a total jerk to him. Then his bike gets sideswiped by one of the Angels, who has, shall we say, questionable facial hair. Either this guy’s mustache just grows weird, or they did a terrible makeup job on him, anyway, you be the judge:  

So Poet’s headlight is damaged, and he proceeds to start a fight with the Angel with the questionable facial hair. Now, instead of just beating him to death with some wrenches, the lead Angel, Buddy, appreciates Poet’s ability to scrap. They all hang out for awhile. They get into a fight in a bar with a rival biker gang. They get into a fight at a carnival with some sailors. Then they all go back to a swingin’ pad full of groovy wall decor and have a drug orgy for what feels like nine hours. At one point, a painter who looks and talks suspiciously like Hunter S. Thompson — floppy hat, sunglasses, gruff mumble — begins doing body paint on all the women, which takes up roughly six hours of this nine hour scene. But most importantly, Poet falls for Shrill, one of the biker mamas who he can tell is a little too smart to be around this scene, because so is he. Just one problem: Shrill is Buddy’s woman. I’m sure this won’t lead to awkward, poorly choreographed violence at all!

Speaking of, kudos to the filmmakers for going for realism; there’s a lot of handheld camerawork, plenty of Nouvelle Vague-influenced jump cuts, and the film seems to feature quite a few actual Hells Angels. In fact, Sonny Barger, the president of the Angels’ Oakland chapter, gets his own title card in the opening credits, even though he appears on camera for less than two seconds. Surely this title was properly earned, and not the result of any threats against studio people with switchblades. However, we’re talking about an era where filmmakers still hadn’t quite figured out how to properly choreograph a fight scene, so every scuffle still kinda looks like drunken acrobatics. And the death scenes are even worse. Here’s a short list of how people die in this movie: they’re awkwardly knocked down and punched once; their car is run off the road but otherwise totally unharmed; and their bike runs into a two by four, slowly tilts over, and catches on fire for no discernible reason. It’s a shame that the one thing that reads as hokey in a movie dedicated to portraying the reality of this violent lifestyle is, well, the violence.

Eventually Poet is made a “prospect” by Buddy, and the whole gang hits the road. One of the bikers and his woman get married at a Catholic Church in Nevada. There are more fights with people who don’t like them. In once scene a biker drives his bike up a real tall hill for awhile. One biker gets arrested on a murder beef, but the gang busts him loose less than a minute later, because stakes or tension is for squares, I guess. By far the most interesting part of this movie is watching the relationship between Poet and Shrill develop, and how that begins to threaten Buddy. These two are joined together by their discontent: they both want something outside of the ordinary from life, but are paralyzed by their self-destructive tendencies. This is especially true of Shrill, who isn’t happy unless she is causing unhappiness all around her, which leads her to play Poet and Buddy off of one another, until it all blows up in a powerful final confrontation that is unfortunately capped off by a truly stupid coda that never should’ve happened.

Hells Angels on Wheels was directed by a gentleman named Richard Rush. Though he wouldn’t be as prolific after the sixties, and hasn’t directed a feature film since 1994’s Color of Night (speaking of truly stupid codas that never should’ve happened), this film helped propel him to greater artistic heights: 1970’s Getting Straight was a critical darling and called the “best American film of the decade” by none other than Ingmar Bergman; 1974’s Freebie and the Bean was a box office smash and more or less invented the buddy cop movie; and 1980’s The Stunt Man earned him two Oscar nominations. Richard Rush has kinda been forgotten these days, but, I mean, François Truffaut called this guy his favorite American director. Have YOU ever been François Truffaut’s favorite anything? I doubt it, he’s been dead since 1984, genius.

Eagle-eyed viewers may have noticed that the cinematography on Hells Angels on Wheels was credited to one “Leslie Kovacs.” If you’re a hopeless dork like me, you probably whispered to yourself, “I bet that’s Lázló Kovacs.” Well, fellow hopeless dork, we were both right: this was one of Kovacs’s first American feature jobs, after shooting commercials and nature documentaries for much of the early sixties. He continued to collaborate with Rush throughout the seventies, as well as lensing classic films by the likes of Peter Bogdanovich, Bob Rafelson, Martin Scorsese, Dennis Hopper, and Norman Jewison. Shockingly, he never won an Oscar, but odds are if you paint a mental picture of American cinema in the seventies, you’re imagining an image shot by Lázló Kovacs.

That finally brings us to Poet, who was played by a young upstart named Jack Nicholson. Is it even necessary to point out that he’s the best actor in the film? Well, he is. The character is a bit underwritten, but he makes the most out of it. Nicholson can do more with a smile or a glance than other actors in the film attempt with an entire monologue. Best of all, he still hadn’t gone full on bug-eyed, jive talkin’, scenery chewin’, Lakers court side Jaaaaaaaack yet. There’s a vulnerable, wounded quality to his acting here that is incredibly compelling, I would argue that he perfected it in Five Easy Pieces, one of yours truly’s favorite films of all time, before moving on to the more ostentatious work that would net him 3 Oscars and turn him into a tabloid playboy.

Hells Angels on Wheels would help establish the counterculture motorcycle gang as a cinematic force to be reckoned with, at least on the drive-in circuit. More quick and dirty films of that ilk followed in its wake, such as The Wild Angels, Born Losers, and Hells Angels ’69, before one such film broke on through to the other side: an acid-soaked exploration that pitted the battle between the bikers and normal society as the struggle for the very soul of America in the Vietnam age. Oh, and they brought Kovacs and Nicholson along too. Obviously I’m talking about Otto Preminger’s Skidoo.

Nah, just kidding, I’m talking about Easy Rider. Released in 1969, the film proved to be the flashpoint for the most artistically fertile decade in the history of American cinema. And to think, it all may not have happened if it wasn’t for a little movie that’s mostly establishing shots of bikes being parked.