#fuck those guys they’re a pyramid scheme

[captain-gillian]

happy work in progress wednesday! thank you for the tags @welcometololaland & @sznofthesticks

this is a lil snippet from a differnt segment of the 3+1 TK & Andrea fic I’ve been working on

As TK Reyes-Strand walks past the window of a local bookstore, he backtracks to take a second look at the table of jigsaw puzzles on display.

Amongst the safari animals, capital cities, and world monuments is a puzzle of a kitchen where someone has been baking. It reminds him of his mother-in-law’s kitchen, a place of warmth, laughter—though there’s been less and less of that in recent months—and a rarely empty oven.

He hasn’t seen the once familiar fixture of a puzzle spread across the table at her house in recent months—not since losing Gabriel—but something compels TK to buy it for her anyway.

A few hours later, armed with a Tupperware of cookies—his mom’s secret recipe—a box of Andrea’s favourite tea and the puzzle, TK raises his hand to knock at the front door, but before his knuckles can make contact, the door swings open to reveal Andrea beaming back at him.

“TK! It’s so good to see you. Come in, come in.” She beckons him inside, her arms open wide to embrace him in a motherly hug. “To what do I owe the pleasure, mijo?”

open tag and no pressure tagging: @fallout-mars @lemonlyman-dotcom @alrightbuckaroo

[127tyong]

Be There For You

Pairing: Jaemin X Reader

Genre: Smut, PWP (let's be real for a second... just the 1st P) Doctor Jaemin, Public(ish), Good Ending (an ai good ending.) (i know nothing about medicine this is all fiction)

Warnings: Mind break (honestly, not that bad imo)

Word Count: 2k

“Come on, I know you need the money! Just think about it!” Your friend slammed the stack of papers in front of you as you sat at the dining table. “It’s just an experiment, how bad could it be?”

“That’s the problem! Those things are always too good to be true.” You looked at the first page, reading “Sleep Clinical Trial 6.4”. “Like, what if they do something weird to me?”

“They won’t! They’re a legit pharmaceutical company! They give you medication, you sleep for a bit, and then you get like, 500 dollars! It’s not that big of a deal.” She sighed, her hands on her hips. “I did the 6.2 experiment, trust me, I know these guys!”

“Ugh…” You groaned. “Is this a pyramid scheme or something? Why are you vouching so hard for them?”

“Listen, I don’t wanna be that person, but you haven’t paid rent in 2 months. I love you, but I can’t let you keep eating and sleeping here for free. If you’re not gonna get a job, you can either do this, or get out.”

You sighed. “I’ll go. I don’t promise anything, but I’ll at least hear them out.” ~ The next day, you made your way into the trial clinic on the address your friend gave you.

“Hello! How can I help you?” The receptionist, wearing a “Jeno” name tag, asked you.

“Um, hi, I’m here to participate in the sleep clinical trial.” You told him, already nervous and fidgeting.

“Oh, dear…” He clicked his tongue. “Honey, that was yesterday…”

“Fuck! I’m sorry…” You nearly bolted out the door.

“Wait! Miss!” Another man called after you. “If you’re willing to, I’m testing something else out right now, I’ll pay you $2000!”

You spun around. “What is it?”��

He handed you a clipboard, with some papers attached. “Let me take you into my office.”

He dragged you into his office, the grandeur of it shocking you. Rows of bookshelves, giant velvet seats, and an oak wood desk that sat in the middle of the room, a leather chair in front of it. You focused your attention back to the doctor, who was wearing a suit with a lab coat over it, his hair an ash blue color, his glasses resting down his nose. 

“Let me introduce myself, I’m Na Jaemin, MD. I’m testing a medicine right now, it’s a female hormone regulator.” You shook his hand as you sat on the leather seat, him sitting across from you. You flipped through the papers. “What do I have to do for this, exactly?” 

You read the first page. “Project E 1.0”

The subject will be given a shot containing an unlabelled test medication. 

Effects may vary, but it will be used to treat PCOS and other hormone irregularities.

“You just have to take a shot, and I’ll do the rest. I’ll take your blood work, weight, physical changes… It’s supposed to be all good… hair growth, regulates your cholesterol, and makes your breasts bigger.”

“What are the possible side effects?” You asked.

“Hormones can cause a large amount of side effects, like birth control. Although, I must warn you that you are the first person to be administered this drug, which is why the pay is so good. There may be side effects we are unaware of.”

“...So basically you have no idea.” You rolled your eyes.

“Yes, but I’ll be here for you the whole time.”

You nodded. "I'll do it." After all, it seemed more good than bad, and $2000…

"You'll be taking a shot every 2 weeks, which I'll administer, then I'll have you report any changes in your mood, body, etcetera. Sign here, and then we can start!" Jaemin pointed to the last page of the stack he’d given you.

You quickly signed your sanity to Na Jaemin, MD.

~

You quickly realized the bad outweighed the good. Sure, your hair was healthier than it had ever been, your skin was glowing, your breasts grew…

But your back hurts from the weight gain and you’ve never been so horny in your life.

You were sweating, your vibrator overheating, and your cunt was drenched from the constant need of relief.

Your phone shined brightly in the dark of your bedroom. 2 weeks had passed. You needed to see your doctor again.

~

You were put together enough to make the average person think you were okay, but Jaemin could see through you, the pained look in your eyes familiar to him after working in the medical field for years. Mini skirt barely hiding the fact your juices were pouring down your legs, wishing you wore jeans, but you didn’t even have the strength to slide a pair up.

"So, I take it that the past two weeks haven't been the best?" Jaemin's pen clicked to the tempo of the clock ticking. 

"No…" You rubbed your thighs together, your sweat sticking to the leather chair. You could practically feel yourself soaking the leather, still so wet, so needy. “I’ve… had a raised libido, I guess.” Your throat was dry, swallowing.

"Have you tried masturbating?" His words filled you with dread, not knowing if he fully understood.

"Everyday… Multiple times everyday. I haven't been able to sleep properly because of it…" You felt sticky, hot. You could practically smell Jaemin, the scent of his cologne, his musk, glancing at the way his hands moved as he wrote, the veins traveling up his arms. You nearly started drooling, noticing he didn’t have a ring on his finger, imagining his fingers inside you. You shook your head, knowing you couldn’t do this to yourself.

Jaemin kissed his teeth, the pop echoing in your ears. "Is a partner not an option?"

"No, I'm single… Can I go to the bathroom?" You were throbbing, practically able to feel the blood rushing to your clit, your panties rubbing against it too much to handle. You nearly toppled over as you stood up, dizzy, your legs too weak from needing to cum more than anything.

Jaemin stood up then helped you stand up. "Are you okay?" His arm on your waist, the scent of his cologne overwhelming you.

"Is… too much." You whimpered. "Need to cum right now."

Jaemin rushed you into a sterile, brightly lit patient room. He started laying you down onto the small, leather bed covered in a disposable sheet, then shutting and locking the door. "How long has this been going on?"

Tears ran down your face. "Since I took it…"

"Why hasn't it worn off?" He grumbled to himself, pacing around the room. "It's been 2 weeks, it should be out of your system…"

"It hurts…" You cried out.

"Oh, right… Fuck, you should've called me when it started! What should I do?" He touched your cheek, wiping your tears away, the chill of his hand shocking you.

"Make me cum." You cried out, your body burning up. "Doctor, make me cum…"

As he thought to himself, Jaemin thought about how he couldn't fuck a patient, how he was a professional, how he could probably give you a pain medication to make it stop. But then seeing you in agony made him reconsider the fact that he was the one who did this to you, that he was responsible… Then he realized how hard he was from listening to your cries and how much he wanted to help you cum.

Jaemin spread your legs open, sliding your panties off as they stuck to your cunt, soaked. "So wet, cute…" He muttered to himself. His hands grabbed your thighs, squeezing onto them to stabilize himself as he bent down to eat you out.

Licking up your wetness, Jaemin sucked on your clit, flicking at it with his tongue.

"Cumming!" You cried out, your back arching, hips grinding against Jaemin's tongue.

Your pretty, high pitched whines were enough to make Jaemin risk losing his job. 

As Jaemin pulled away, he licked his lips and swallowed the taste of you. "Do you feel better?"

"A little…" You mumbled, sitting up, still dizzy, but less stressed.

Jaemin lowered the hospital bed using the remote on the end of the bed. "Bend over the bed."

“Doctor-” You stood up.

“Call me Jaemin, please.” Jaemin took your hand, spinning you around, then pressing his hand against your back, bending you over, his hand trailing up to the back of your head, pushing your cheek against the leather cushion. Your hands outstretched in front of you, gripping onto the paper-wrapped pillow.

“Jaemin…” You moaned, your voice only a little louder than a whisper, listening to the sounds of Jaemin removing his belt and unzipping his slacks.

His hand slid cupped your ass, watching you squirm from his touch. His tip rubbing your clit, covered in precum, getting even more wet from you. “I promise I’ll be gentle.” 

“Please, hurry up.” You whimpered, crying into the pillow.

“Of course.” Jaemin plunged straight into you, grabbing onto your hips, pulling you towards him.

You never really got a good look at his cock, but it was safe to say that he was longer, thicker than your dildo, or any man you’ve ever been with before. Your back arched instinctively, not knowing how to handle a cock that big. Jaemin was only inside you for a little while, but you were already close, and after a few thrusts from Jaemin, you were at your limit. “Doctor, please!” You moaned out, biting onto the pillow as you came.

Jaemin didn’t know how to react, but he knew how he wanted to react. He grabbed you by your neck and shoved the rest of his length into you. His hand was pressed against your windpipe, making you unable to properly breathe, forcing you to arch your back so you could breathe properly. Once you did, Jaemin adjusted his hand, squeezing onto the sides of your throat. 

“I told you to call me Jaemin.” He whispered into your ear.

“Sorry…” Jaemin’s pace began to quicken. “Sorry, I’m sorry!”

“You should’ve listened to me.” Jaemin started kissing your neck, nibbling, biting, trying to stop himself from pitifully moaning.

“Jaemin! Jaemin, I’m sorry!” His grip on your neck tightened, cutting off your jugular vein, making you feel euphoric.

“You’re so fucking nasty… It’s so beautiful.” He moaned into your ear while you whimpered, begging Jaemin for mercy.

You knew you were an overstimulated, noisy mess, left at the mercy of Jaemin, an overworked doctor who needed you to take his stress out into your pathetic hole.

Jaemin was certain Jeno could hear everything and prayed he would cover his ass. The way you screamed his name was worth it though. The way you shook when you came, the sweet squelching sounds you made, they were all beautiful.

“I’m gonna cum.” Jaemin bit down on your neck, already having left multiple bruises and bite marks on your pretty neck. Treating you how a dog bites down on his chew toy. Forcefully and mercilessly, like you couldn’t feel a thing.

And you basically couldn’t, afterall, all you could feel was how good Jaemin was fucking you. In that moment, Jaemin could’ve done anything he wanted to you and you would’ve nodded your head and taken it. 

Which is why you didn’t even say anything when your insides were coated with a thick layer of Jaemin’s cum.

Jaemin left you for a few hours, letting you get the sleep you desperately needed.

~

When you woke up, you realized you were no longer in pain. Forcing yourself to get dressed, you made your way over to Jaemin’s office.

“You’re up?” He looked up at you over his glasses.

You nodded, sitting back down at the chair you were sitting in earlier, noticing the wet mark was still there.

“Are you still in pain?” 

You shook your head, rubbing your arms.

“Shall we continue the trial then?” Jaemin stood up, removing his glasses and setting them on his desk.

“But I was in so much pain…” You looked up at Jaemin as he walked over to you. “I think I have a solution to that.” Caressing your cheek and gently kissing your lips.

“Please fuck me again, Jaemin.”

“As my patient wishes.”

[thelyingjoke]

hi bow i know we haven't talked in a while but i have been thinking So Fucking Much about DICE lately so i had to ask. u got any DICE hcs?

heyyyyy first off i am SO so sorry it’s taken me so long to get to this. i’ve been going through a lot of complicated personal stuff the past several months and it’s kept me off of social media…but i am back now! hopefully. i may not be the most active but i will try my best!!

NOW FOR THE QUESTION !!! DICE is a little funny for me…i love them so much and yet my mind’s perception of them constantly shifts…i can never seem to think of anything concrete for them. i love most theories about them to where i can’t decide which ones to believe in myself. like the 11th member…i really like all of the explanations people make for them. from cameraperson to pet to kokichi’s twin. I can’t decide which i like best so they’re all true at the same time for me.

for things that i CAN decide on…hm. Well they are Definitely orphans to me. and i think that like…that horse head in kokichi’s room? they all have one of those. they like to wear them regularly i think. it’s an extra mask. it gets pulled off their faces scooby-doo style to reveal the clown mask underneath.

and i Really like the card nicknames headcanon. but i think they have more than just standard deck names. like there’s Heart, Spade, Club, Clover, Ace, Joker. then you’ve got shit like Wild +4. Basic Darkness Energy. A Deal With Dark Ruler. Sour Cream From Steven Universe. they’re an unpredictable bunch…you can never guess what nickname they’re gonna use next.

the last one actually has an explanation. in an rp from like. jan 2019 i think? it was with DICE members and one of them pointed out how this guy’s hair looks like sour cream from steven universe

and in hindsight their hair is actually not that similar at all they are both just pointy. but that has stuck with me. and it’s funny. so i’ve been calling that member Sour Cream ever since

and speaking of comparing media…i imagine the group to have a dynamic similar to Giovanni’s Boys (gender neutral) from one of my favorite shows, the hit webseries epithet erased. they’re a gang of teenage petty criminals who are initially low-ranking members of an Actual criminal organization pyramid scheme but they eventually leave after giovanni proposes making their own evil organization. they’ve got goofy nicknames like Dark Star and Crusher and Flamethrower and Car Crash (but you can only get one if you earn it). giovanni wants to be a supervillain so bad and he is the sweetest guy ever who loves his minions so very much. these snippets from the book really fit DICE i think!

i look at them replacing hot dogs with cattails, and i nod and think…yes…DICE would do that…stupid but fun…that’s all they want…

they have their differences. giovanni and his boys (gender neutral) are very stupid. but i think the fundamentals of them both being groups of teens who just want to have fun and commit harmless petty crimes and who care so much for each other is Wonderful. i often think of this song to be DICE’s theme song even if i don’t think they are actually like how the banzai blasters are in the song. they’re smarter. But it’s a banger. i find them both very very fun (i think about kokichi saying lines from ee often…i have a list)

And this is not really a headcanon but i like how in the group photo everyone else has pants that at least Reach their ankles but kokichi is a rebel and wears pants that are just slightly too small for him. why does he do that. Weirdo (affectionate)

[1moreoffkeyanthem]

what do you like most about writing each south park character?

Oh MAN I love this question! I’ve only ever written from the perspectives of Stan, Kyle, Kenny, Cartman, Butters/Marjorine, Craig, and Tweek, so I’ll be focusing on those seven!

Stan I adore making him a massive simp like ohhhh my god Stanley Down Bad Marsh my son hes kind of a loser sometimes and we love him for it! He’s definitely one of my favorites to write and I project onto him a good deal and have a few running gags with him, like a lot of the time I put him in clothes that I actually wear, have him reference media I enjoy, make him vegetarian every single time, just… Stan. What an icon. I love when he’s just so Done with the shenanigans around him too lmao

Kyle is my other favorite, easy, like he lends himself out so well to serve as the voice of reason and there’s so much to do with his character over every au! The majority of my Kyles are very empathetic to a fault, mostly idealistic in their worldview, very introspective, which is super fun to explore! It’s also fun to delve into his hypercritical side, when he portrays a false confidence that he doesn’t feel, when he’s everyone’s go-to. I really enjoy writing style because like yeah they’re in love, but they’re best friends at the root of that, and it’s important to me that their relationship is built off that bond.

Kenny! Dude Kenny is such an inherently complex character, whether you factor in the immortality or not, but he’s so interesting because he’s kind of a comic relief character on the surface, but holds this deep melancholy. He’s another favorite of mine to write and I have so many headcanons for him, like how he’s incredibly good at reading people, super good at making friends and cheering people up. Also I LOVE making Kenny unhinged as shit, like he is my vessel for inappropriate jokes and out of pocket comments, just so much eccentricity because he deserves it damnit! King shit. Or princess shit, perhaps ;)

Ok Cartman, I had SO many hang ups writing Cartman when I first started. I had absolutely no clue how to tackle him, because I don’t really like writing truly evil characters, and when I was super new to sp fanfiction I thought that was the only way I could really do him, that or leave him out. But YALL!!!!!! Once I realized I could write him as actually caring for his friends but just being an abrasive fuckwad for the hell of it, everything changed!!! He is SO GODDAMN FUN TO WRITE like the Cartmanisms are delightful to come up with and he is EASILY one of my favorite characters to include now! His commentary is fucking hilarious and he will deadass just say anything, I can’t BELIEVE I spent so long avoiding writing him bc he’s a blast and the most unserious guy you will ever meet also he absolutely reads fanfiction that guy is devouring dead doves. One of these days I’ll make a list of my favorite cartmanisms I’ve written.

Butters/Marj, so I don’t necessarily have more of an attachment to either version, but I think my favorite thing about writing them is the speech pattern! Butters has more of a hesitant way of talking and that’s honestly super fun to translate into writing. I like making them a really nurturing character, like as the station medic in ATLCTS, but also pretty gullible to shit like pyramid schemes like in the OrangeJuiceVerse. Another character that I hesitated to write from for a hot minute because I wasn’t sure how I wanted to go about it, but Butters/Marjorine is really fun to switch up the rhythm of the prose!

BY FAR my favorite thing about writing Craig is giving him pointless beef with Stan, like when this mf does not care about shit except his bf and stripe it’s so fucking funny to me. In In The Truly Gruesome I had SUCH a blast making him so quick with the comebacks and the nonchalance like bruh he is so damn funny for no reason that’s probably one of my favorite Craigs I’ve written. His relationships with people in his life are really cool to explore too, like in the later OJV he’s really good friends with Kyle, and their differences in personality that au are super cool to work with!

Similar to Butters, Tweek is fun to write because of the distinct speech and thinking pattern! His prose, the slight stutter and hesitation, like you can tell when it’s Tweek talking. That’s part of the reason I alternated chapters in Broken Bottles From Apartment 2 between him and Kyle, because of the juxtaposition of their ways of thinking and talking. Whereas Kyle is concise and deliberate, Tweek is more scattered and sporadic, which is an interesting contrast!

Aight man that’s it for this ask, I hope I made some semblance of sense, thank u for asking about this!!!

[kindofwriter]

And another thing I love about OFMD is that it’s full of all those much needed male friendships straight people are always claiming are more important than queer rep.

From the first episode the crew of The Revenge are a little team - they may not like their captain (yet), but they seem to get along pretty well together. They all collectively agree that shared story time is worth quelling a mutiny for.

Oluwande immediately jumps to helping Stede make the best out of his situation with Badminton, earning him the respect of the crew when he really didn’t have to.

Wee John and Frenchie play about with the gunpowder together on the beach, whilst Buttons tries his best to bond with Lucius.

Oluwande and Frenchie literally inventing pyramid schemes together at the party.

Everyone supports each other’s ideas during The Fuckery, and they all join forces to cheer Roach on in his chopping off of Lucius’ finger.

Frenchie, Pete, and Wee John pooling their brain cells to build the wall for nana.

Lucius being soft with Ed in the blanket fort; the entire crew rallying around him because he’s upset.

Fang and Ivan seem like pretty close bros, and even Izzy, for his unbelievable amounts of fucked up, has a level of camaraderie with Blackbeard’s old crew.

Stede returns home to find himself with a whole new group of guy friends who suddenly find him intriguing and relatable.

Not only is this a delight to see, done genuinely and without the intention to queerbait, but it actually adds to the romances. Black Pete and Lucius have an adorable friends to lovers thing going on. Ed and Stede, whilst clearly head over heels from the start, are first and foremost friends; they do silly things together and enjoy each other’s company. And (though Jim’s not a man but I adore them so let me finish) the reason Jim and Oluwande work so well together is because we’ve seen them as ride or die friends and they’re adorable.

Both. Both. Both is good!

[butchsophiewalten]

I just realized i havent really talked about the Poppy Playtime Thing yet and i want to because i actually find it really interesting. I’m sure a lot of us have heard by now about MOB Games’ (the company behind Poppy Playtime) attempted entrance into the NFT space, in which they made one tweet about a future NFT drop and got so much backlash that all traces of it were gone within hours (nearly, anyway. it’s the internet in 2021 people obviously screenshotted)

and like this is really funny and really embarrassing. They haven’t said anything publicly about this since so they’re clearly trying to pretend this didn’t happen (i think they didn’t realize just how hostile their audience would be to something like this lol)

A lot of people are really upset with them for this, and that’s fair I think. There’s a lot of really good moral reasons to be opposed to NFTS and cryptocurrency. But for me the biggest thing about them is always going to be that they’re fundamentally stupid, and are literally a pyramid scheme, and in order to get invested into them you’ve gotta be really gullible, really money-hungry or both.

And it makes me think of how weird Poppy Playtime has felt this whole time. It’s too-precise, too-polished, a lot of people have caught onto how similar it feels, just in Vibes, to other games that achieved mass popularity thanks to the YouTube horror Let’sPlay community, particularly Bendy and the Ink Machine. It feels very much like it’s trying to replicate the success of something like that or FNAF or Baldi’s Basics, but shit like that is inherently really volatile, yknow? FNAF was lightning in a bottle, BatIM and Baldi’s were a flash in the pan, and in order to make money like those guys did, you’ve gotta capitalize on your success really quickly.

It’s no mystery as to why Poppy Playtime showed up with a whole cast of colorful, iconic, marketable characters, put them in a setting fundamentally designed to make you want to see physical merchandise of them, and then started producing and marketing merch extensively as soon as they saw demand for it. And this really just feels like a funny side effect of that. They saw an opportunity to make money, went for it, and backed out the fucking nanosecond it seemed like it was going to put their other financial ventures in jeopardy. Which is skeezy, for sure. but somehow i find it more compelling than I do disgusting. There’s a sad desperation to it that reminds me of like, Hello Neighbor. I wanna see what ends up happening to this thing.

[well-shit-im-a-morosexual-now]

"Recipe for Disaster" sounds like a perfect title for MC and Mammon lmao

Human cooking channel youtuber AU! Hear me out!

Mammon's a model who made a YouTube channel to come across as more relatable and get more fans (earn more money). During his first ever video he makes a stew for lunch out of anything and everything he finds in the fridge while talking about what it's like to be a model etc. (Time is money and he's all about efficiency and that includes multitasking). And the concoction he creates is so bizarre that 90% of the comments are talking about his food rather than his actual modeling career.

Mammon has a nose for sniffing out the newest schemes business ideas if nothing else so his whole channel becomes dedicated to making bizarre food out of whatever ingredients he has at hand and feeding them to his less than willing brothers. His channel grows in popularity (it helps that not only do all his brothers look like super models they're also some of the weirdest people anyone has ever seen. Half his viewers are convinced they're all just characters that these guys are playing. Some of them have theories that all the brothers are based off a sin, kinda like that one spongebob theory. One of his subscribers swears that one of the brother's- Stan maybe? actual name is Satan and everyone else has just been hearing it wrong)

MC has a much smaller channel, at first they use it to talk about tips for photography (HC that MC is a photographer and all those professional pics of the brothers on Devilgram that could only have been taken by someone else was actually taken by MC) and then it pretty much becomes a vlog where they rant about one of their roommates (Solomon) and how he set the kitchen on fire three times during the last 5 days but still happily ate the burnt food (charcoal. It was charcoal at that point). It eventually evolves into a channel of them fixing Solomon's nightmare fuel food and making it something actually edible and this actually makes their channel grow somewhat. (And no it's not just people coming in to catch the occasional glimpse of their other roommate's shoulders)

Eventually Mammon gets a comment saying MC should fix Mammon's food.

He goes on a full rant about how there's nothing to fix and his food is good so what if it's so spicy one of his victims brothers passed out that one time that's just cause they have no taste.

He ends up watching MC's latest video then and ends up binge watching them all through the next few days and getting a stupid crush

Someone links MC to his rant video, and they make a video on how all his recipes seem really unique and how they'd never have thought of that by themself and they don't actually look hazardous to humanity as a whole like Solomon's food is but here's how you fix it so that it's actually edible and won't make you meet God

He sees this and isn't sure if he should be giddy because they praised him or pissed off because they tried to fix his creation. He obviously chooses the latter and rants about them while making something that looks suspiciously radioactive

MC replies with a video complimenting all the ingredients he chose and explaining them while simultaneously calling him an idiot for dipping his bare hand in boiling water to take out potatoes and ending it with a suggestion to get pot holders to drain the water and take the potatoes out after they cool

He replies with a video about how he's not gonna waste money on pot holders when his hand works just fine before he makes chocolate sauce and black licorice mashed potatoes and uses his bare hand to fish out the potatoes just to spite them.

MC replies with a video on how to fix the dish so the flavours won't clash while still keeping the essential ingredients but doesn't mention his hands

He gets a set of bright yellow pot holders and (to be on the safe side) oven mitts with little crows on them ("because your hair looks like a crow's nest") in his P.O. box.He uses them in his next video to make a batch of ketchup and peanut butter cookies

MC fixes another one of Solomon's messes that ended with something with the same consistency of glue stuck to their ceiling while happily snacking on ketchup and peanut butter cookies

This back and forth goes on for a bit, Mammon refuses to change his recipes but they still silently exchange gifts

Obviously their (now shared) viewers notice and start calling out for a collab

MC agrees immediately but Mammon refuses (he's shy fuck he couldn't imagine meeting them face to face) but the draw of money (not their puppy dog eyes in the last video!) makes him agree. They discuss the details over email and agree to do it at his house because he's got the bigger kitchen

They meet at his house and it's awkward at first because he's red af and can't meet their eyes and all his brothers are crowding the doorway to the kitchen and giggling but once the filming starts they fall into an easy routine. They riff off each other and move around the kitchen comfortably as if they've been working together for years. That doesn't mean they don't still argue though, but there's no hostility in it. Mammon gives out the idea of his latest recipe and MC plans out the specifics so that they can execute it. Since it's their first video they make something small and work together easily. Their spicy mayonnaise cupcakes turn out perfectly and are actually good considering none of the brothers are rushing out of the frame.

They are asked for more collabs and they do because they had fun in the first one. The viewers now have to watch two obviously pinning idiots being disasters in a kitchen together. (Just because MC can fix recipes doesn't mean they aren't a mess). They have to watch Mammon go from blushing and stuttering to casually offering MC his finger to lick when he gets icing on it. They have to watch MC going from lowkey flirting to pulling out brightly coloured clips and pinning back Mammon's bangs while his hands are kneading dough. They have to watch the brothers slowly warm up to MC until they're being treated like they've been part of the family from the very beginning (yes this includes viewers catching the first few seconds of an hours long lecture that MC gets from Lucifer). They still have their own channels but they also start up a new channel called 'Recipe for Disaster'. This channel also has vlogs of them randomly buying ingredients for their next cooking video.

Of course there are the rumours and speculation of whether or not they are actually dating, people shipping them, Levi comes up with a ship name, others saying how weird it is to ship real people. MC and Mammon neither confirm it or deny it. During the early days before they had a joint channel Mammon would loudly protest to any such claims while MC just fondly smiled in the background. And sure now he refers to MC as his partner a lot but he could easily mean partner in crime against the food pyramid.

Their viewers finally get their answer when MC one day walks out into one of Mammon's videos in sweatpants and one of his shirts, sleepily kisses him on the cheek and he doesn't even twitch as he says "Mornin' Babe" and continues with his monologue while they grab the milk and walk off frame. They don't even stop to think about whether they should edit it out because they've been dating for one and a half years now. But obviously everyone freaks out and just - Mammon reading the comments with MC looking over his shoulder:

"Heeeeey? Did people just not know we were, ya know, datin'?"

" ...that's weird."

"Wasn't our first video on Recipe for Disaster me tellin' them you were my partner?"

"Yeah weird...the Internet's full of freaks. Remember that time they all thought you were a demon and started mailing holy water?"

"Yeah, what the fuck was that 'bout? Stan got fuckin' pissed!"

I'm tired af & I'll do the rest later! Pls let me know what you think tho❤

[brujahinaskirt]

@missn11​ says:

Ask and ye shall receive, fellow neonate! <3 Bear with me, because I’m about to hammer out 2000 words very quickly...

This massive rant by its topic nature is sort of Nines-critical, so lemme start by saying that, in my own way, I love Rodriguez. (I was partially self-burning in the shitpost that ignited this rant because I SEVERELY exaggerated Nines’s canonical shadiness levels in my ancient fanfiction, and for no other reason than because I was a teenage edgelord. I am appropriately embarrassed, but only by my excess and melodrama, not by Troika’s characterization. I think the writing behind VTMB’s Nines is superb.)

When it comes to Bloodlines, I think he’s one of the most psychologically interesting profiles in the game. In fact, I could never get into LA by Night because they so de-toothed Troika’s vision of him. Not to say LA by Night’s Nines was a poorly-developed character in his own right, ‘cause he wasn’t at all, but “my” Nines will always be unapologetically and only Troika’s: boiling angry, viciously pragmatic, a survivor who doesn’t let anyone too close lest they see through him, whose over-the-top confident façade cracks a little more every time his back’s against the wall. Troika’s Nines is the epitome of greater VTM’s “fallen rebel” archetype, and even though we don’t get to see it on all playthoughs, that makes it even better and more believable.

But as with all characterization in Bloodlines, we have to read between the lines and between our own play styles a bit to piece the truth of the puzzle together...

Besides the direct evidence Troika gives us—i.e. the music cues, which are a bit overbearing if I’m honest (sorry, Troika! ilu); the absence of Nines in Rosa’s prophecy re: people you can trust; and the overt warnings Camarilla-aligned characters give us about him—the biggest red flag about Rodriguez, imo? It’s twofold:

the way the characters he surrounds himself with talk about him and the type of vampire he chooses to fill his den. Namely: Nines exclusively recruits angry, spurned, mistreated people who are younger and far less experienced than he is

those messy, ugly, fleeting moments where you see his toughguy everyman personality crack

So! Starting with point one:

THE PERSONALITY CULT ITSELF

We can’t deny that Nines does not surround himself with peers. He surrounds himself with followers—people who don’t challenge him in any way, who are fanatically loyal, who openly profess their worship of him and their conviction he could never/would never do anything wrong. If you listen to how Damsel and Skelter talk about him, it’s with frightening adulation, often repeating Nines’s lines word-for-word without truly understanding the argumentation behind them. (Damsel’s the main offender here with her “IT’S A PYRAMID SCHEME… it just makes sense, you know? It just makes sense!” And then, of course, she gets pissed and refuses to speak to you when you push her into elaborating.)

Nines has clearly made himself much more than just a friend-figure or a Sire-figure to them. He’s utterly and completely mythologized by the LA Anarchs, held up next to other politically mythologized names like George Washington and Ho Chi Minh. His followers love him… but there’s a pecking order, and like good body shields, they believe their lives don’t matter as much as he matters. And they love that, too. They want to die for Nines. They’re not just willing to or resigned to it; they’re eager to die. Damsel will volunteer this information the first time you meet her. She just can’t wait to prove herself by taking a bullet for goddamn Nines Rodriguez. It’s literally how she introduces herself to new people.

And yet Nines deliberately withholds his attention and time from his followers. He uses his attention as a reward, as incentive. He rations some care and reassurance and help—makes you feel good and gives you reason to crave his attention—and then he pushes you away, back into his adoring ranks until the next “two minutes” you earn from him in which you’re special enough for such an exceptional, important, cool guy to talk to. That’s a classic manipulation tactic, and a classic personality cult tell.

And Troika is so damn fuckin’ brilliant about it because they don’t stop at showing us that an Anarch-aligned fledgling might feel this way—no, they make the PLAYER also feel this way. On our first playthrough of Bloodlines, we’re desperate to talk to Nines. We want the reward. “Let me finish the plaguebearer quests… let me run to the Elizabeth Dane… I hope Nines talks to me again now! Quick, to the Last Round! Maybe if I say the right thing to make him like me, he’ll give me another free EXPERIENCE POINT!” (iirc he’s one of two characters who will do so, and the only one who gives multiple points.)

But at the end of the day, Nines is indisputably the leader of the Anarchs, and even fledgling figures that out. (“Sounds like you’re the Prince of the Anarchs.”) He’s very much the Baron of Downtown LA, even if he won’t use that language. As for the grating day-to-day management and leadership stuff that might make him somewhat unpopular among the Anarchs, though? He fobs all that stuff off on Damsel!

Damsel, his Minion No. 1—whom a lot of players will hate on their early playthroughs, because she assigns tough missions with little to no reward. Damsel, who has no real power role in the Anarchs and functions only to serve Nines. You help Damsel, and you do Nines’s work—i.e. you do the work of the Barony of LA—and he doesn’t even have to take the admiration hit by having to ask you himself.

There’s only one non-follower of note around Nines. It’s Jack, and by his own words, he’s not one of Nines’s people; he disparages them, in fact. And we’ll notice that Jack—who is stronger, older, and wiser than Nines—very much doesn’t talk about Nines the same way Nines’s followers do. While Jack doesn’t directly insult him and occasionally defends him, Jack also has a downright shocking response to the announcement of the Blood Hunt. When fledgling desperately asks what they can do to help Nines—Jack says, word-for-word: I could give a damn.

Something ain’t quite right about this place.

Moving right along:

NINES IS A FAKE ALPHA MALE WHO KNOWS HE’S GOING TO DIE

Part of why Nines is so attractive to someone scared and weak like our fledgling (or Skelter or Damsel) is that he seems utterly fucking untouchable—like nothing scares him, and that must be reassuring when two of your age-old enemies are moving into town. But Nines’s tough, cool, Devil-may-care persona outs itself as a protective shell, too… and this is another thing I think Troika handled so subtly and so well.

You’ll notice that even Nines’s voice is dramatically different in a couple different situations: when Ming Xiao is borrowing his body, when he’s afraid, and when he’s distracted or deeply disturbed. (A successful Malkavian mind read will really slam a crack in his coolguy persona. For a second, the nonchalance shatters and he childishly screams SHUT UP!)

But whether you Malk him or not: In those isolated moments, the Coolguy Nines Rodriguez we normally see frays. Physically, even! His accent loses its burr (that ballsy rural American everyman accent), shoots up to a higher register—and reveals a much softer voice than the one he uses in front of other people. No wonder; part of Nines’s charisma comes from his performance of masculine confidence, and even if it’s not a toxically patriarchal masculinity in the way we often picture it, the fact this performance cracks at all shows it’s not his genuine self. He’s acting. In the way a lot of toughguy men do—but for Nines, whose survival depends upon attraction now, he’s acting toughguy for his very life.

I think those little fray-under-pressure moments are the “real” Nines, or as close as we’re going to get: scared, desperate, worn-down, and very aware of his doom.

Now, all that said…

BLATANT FALLEN REBEL CONCEPT APOLOGISM

I don’t think we can quite throw Rodriguez into the same Mean Monster Morality Dungeon for Evil Vampires as other Big Bads in LA. This is where motivation comes into play, at least for me. We know Nines can be merciless and violent, and he doesn’t hesitate to sacrifice his own soldiers (namely, um, US!) to protect his holdings. But he does seem to have a twinge of genuine anger over injustices wrought upon “little people” (look no further than Nocturne)—one that seems like it stems from a sense of right v. wrong rather than sheer pragmatism. This stands in stark opposition to the rationed pacificism of characters like LaCroix, who simply doesn’t want the headache of cleaning up a pile of dead humans on his nightly to-do list.

Nines also, of course, just doesn’t have the same kind of disaster reach other Bloodlines Big Bads do in how much harm he can cause. When LaCroix gets up to some bullshit, he crashes the national economy. Nines, like, crashes a car into a corporate office window or takes over a street or something. Can’t really compare the two when it comes to the scale of damage done.

And even Nines Rodriguez is, for all his strategy, still an honestly angry person. Not all of him is fake—what’s troubling about him is what he’s willing to sacrifice and do to satiate his anger-passion. It’s the standard Brujah emotional-moral struggle. Even though I agree with much of what he says about bloodsucking late capitalist vampires (tbh he seems to hate vampires in general!), one wonders if it’s not partially the anger-passion that’s warped him into the façade of a noble leader he’s become. It’s not a pure anger anymore; he’s weaponized it in selfish, unhealthy, destructive ways.

But if he’s a fallen rebel—and since he is still apparently capable of some genuine anger and sadness—then we can infer he wasn’t always like this. He fell, and narratively, that’s key to understanding Clan Brujah. Maybe he fell in a way all of us angry rebel-types risk falling if we let our hatred of the bloodsuckers in real life outgrow and consume our care for the real-world little people.

I think we also have to appreciate that—as far as we know—the shady shit Nines does, he primarily does to prolong his power. But for a threatened Anarch like Nines, power doesn’t mean expansion or accumulation as it might for an ascending Ventrue; it primarily means survival. The Camarilla and Kuei-jin incursions into LA have numbered his days, and he can’t possibly have any delusions about this, no matter how much he swaggers. So he does what he can do with the skills and limited resources he has. He corrupts vulnerable, angry, abused people by giving them the appearance of friendship, family, and hope they can become stronger—much like effective gang leaders do.

If he’s morally nastier than other power-players like LaCroix in some way, imo, it’s here. It’s the intimacy with which he manipulates the people around him. LaCroix may lie to you; Strauss may withhold information from you; Ming Xiao may double-cross you. But none of them ask that you love them. That’s not their goal; that’s not how they operate. None of them expect or encourage anyone to happily die for them of their own free will. If they get you killed, you’ll die resenting them—resenting that you had to die, at all.

But when you die for people like Nines Rodriguez, you do it willingly, if only because you believed he cared somehow and that he’d fight tooth-and-nail for you, too. You believed that you were a member of his little outcast family—or that you would be, if you just proved yourself a little bit more. If you just fought a little harder. If you were just a little happier about having the chance to die for the cause. Maybe if you die for Nines, then Nines will love you, too.

I don’t think he does. I don’t think he will. If he’s a true fallen rebel archetype, I don’t know if he can anymore.

That’s enough Anarchs for now! I’m gonna peace out with some copy/pasted lyrics from the theme song of Nines’s den: the ballad of the charming and vengeful Lecher Bitch. Stay sharp, my little Bloodlines fanatics!

Tell me your story Don't worry, I've been there Crown me your savior Don't worry, I'll be there

[Chorus] I said hey You're coming all the way I've got some hell to pay I'm diggin' all the way All the way down I said hey You're coming all the way I've got some hell to pay Gonna rip you every way On the way down again [Bridge] Don't belong lording above me Won't be hard to pull you underground It won't be long 'til you love me And I'll be coming at your back To break it down

[of-forossa]

🔥 x3

// there's a balance that i think people should try to strike between style and substance when it comes to this whole roleplay shebang we've got going on in the rpc. themes, icons, graphics, the writing itself-- i fear we reached a point of critical mass years ago where we've traded a genuine love for storytelling and character development for beauty pageantry... and we never came back. that isn't to say that any of those aforementioned things are bad (they're fantastic when done well, honestly) but i don't think they should come at the cost of legibility or writing quality like i've seen happen in many cases.

if i can't read your theme or your writing, i'm out. yes this ties into the first one but it's separate because fuck me if i haven't passed up on a lot of muses because they focused on gussying things up rather than making it user friendly. please... please just... just use times new roman, man. use colors that don't blend! i'm just a humble man scratching his head and squinting eyes that probably need glasses at a jumble of cursive-ish font and links hidden in stars and other millions of shiny things. have mercy on me.

don't be afraid to write villains just because people can't distinguish the bad guy from the writer. don't let people talk down to them either, or act all billy badass to them without reprisal, especially when you drink nails and eat milk for breakfast. whether you're a canonical destroyer of worlds or a homebrewed sunnovabitch with a grudge against sunshine and rainbows, you're allowed to portray a bad guy as a bad guy and kick the stuffing out of muses that dare to hee-hee and hardy-har-harr at you because they think they can get away with it. go blow up a city, subjugate thousands with dark wizardry, set up a pyramid scheme or six, be evil and don't let anyone tell you not to be.

[vtmb2s]

ahem. Essentials (4, 5, 7) + Life (8) + Death (1, 4, 9, 12) for Helena >:)

ESSENTIALS

4. Which Predator type do they most align with and why?

I know I previously said scene queen but now that I thought about it she’d be too independent to really have a scene. She’s probably a graverobber more than anything 😳 she certainly prefers feeding on mourners and whoever else is around to visit funerals or graves. They’re usually distraught enough to be easily manipulated - not that she’s apathetically taking advantage of mourners of course, she thinks that experiencing emotions like loss are a way to stay close to your humanity… she didn’t know any of those people but I suppose it works for her 🤷‍♀️ Of course mourners are her favorite prey at funerals but if the recently deceased looks particularly nice… who is she to say no to a pretty corpse 😔 She doesn’t strictly stick to funerals of course, sometimes a rando in a club or a nice blood bag will do the job too. During her early vampirism days/months they certainly do.

5. Who Sired them, and into what Generation were they Sired? What’s their relationship with their Sire like, and what were the circumstances of their Embrace?

Her sire is Christian de Clermont, a 7th generation Toreador, meaning she’s 8th generation c: He himself was sired in 1678 and was a french nobleman/one of Louis XIV’s courtiers in life. Christian first noticed her at a play she did with her acting class where she played a minor role and well, she’s beautiful and talented so he immediately became obsessed with her. They officially met sometime later, after Christian probably obsessively tried to find out who she is, where she lives etc. and started dating. She reminded him a lot of his own sire, Simonetta (who you will meet in fbn as a fledgling 😏) and he fell in fake toreador love with her so he decided to embrace her. It happened on a date when she was over at his house, she had no idea what he was and just thought he was a very charming rich guy who fell in love with some weirdo girl. Little did she know it was just your classic toreador obsession embrace :/ Helena was angry and refused to speak anything to him but the bare minimum after he embraced her. Needless to say, she left him as soon as she could, which caused him to sink into a deep depression until he forgot her as soon as his next obsession hit ❤

7. Which Disciplines do they possess, and which do they favor using?

Auspex and Celerity c: As a toreador she could use Presence too of course, but she always had that natural charisma and insists she doesn’t need it ❤ there are situations where she certainly DOES but well. That’s where Celerity comes in, she’s very fragile so no use in a fight and can’t always talk her way out of everything so sometimes you gotta run fast 😔

LIFE

8. When they were Embraced, what was the aftermath like? Did they fake their death, do their loved ones think they went missing, etc.?

She was embraced in 2004, on a date like I said. Christian faked her death (corpse and all), called in a few favors to create a fake alibi and told the cops she left his home after they spent the night together. The police just assumed she became the victim of a killer :/

As for Helena herself, she was FURIOUS. Having your entire life taken from you without your permission is bad enough but the way it all happened. Had she been an established, somewhat famous actress she could have lived with the knowledge that she died a poetic death, a beautiful actress being murdered at the height of her career. This way people just think she’s a nobody wannabe star who died after hooking up with some rich guy, probably just sleeping her way up -_-

DEATH

1. What have they spent most of their years as a Kindred doing?

Well she was pretty much embraced into the Camarilla, Christian being the Baron of Bel Air (IK it’s an anarch title but Therese, known camarilla... person, is the baron of Santa Monica so maybe L.A. is just fucked up. Whatever the title, it’s his domain) so when she wasn’t sulking in despair at her new condition she spent her early nights running errands for higher-up vampires. Like the werewolf blood thing in the game. She tries to get into their good graces at first but kind of stops as soon as she realizes it’s all just a pyramid scheme and that she’s just a tool to those people. Fledglings have it so hard 😔 She kind of starts just doing nothing and helps out the fledgling (dead sire 2004 bloodlines fledgling) before leaving L.A. in the end. She goes “road tripping” (just aimlessly leaving this fucked up city) with her new A-list actor not-yet-boyfriend and probably settles in San Francisco. Her old home :-) As much as she’d love to go back to acting, she’s legally dead so she’s just vibing for now.

(I might also just make her the fledgling again but without the dead sire... we will see.)

4. Do they have a coterie? What position do they take in that group, if so? Otherwise, do they have any notable Kindred (or other creatures) friends?

In Erinverse, her temporary coterie consists of, well, her, Erin, Serena and sometimes Sam when she’s not busy looking at mummies (if I have a million L.A. vampires they might as well be friends). I think she and Erin would meet early on in Downtown and Helena agrees to help her out because, well, Erin’s nice. Then they pick up Serena on the way when they go to club Confession. It’s only for a few nights obviously and they all part ways in the end, Helena leaving LA, Erin living in the sewers and Serena… well idk what she does. Sam also leaves L.A. with Beckett but they occasionally get postcards and letters from her :-)

As for other friends, most L.A. vampires don’t like her that much, she’s kind of known for her lack of loyalty to any cause :( She’s good friends with the Hollywood Anarchs though!! She likes Isaac (until she spots too many similarities to Christian. Being a shitty sire 🤝), VV and Ash… everyone else in Hollywood is a Nosferatu though so that's it.

9. What’s their haven like?

The downtown apartment… she only lives there for a week or so, so it’s less of a home and more like a hotel she’s temporarily staying in. With dead neighbors. I haven't decided where exactly she lives in modern nights/after leaving L.A. but probably a nice little place with Victorian-esque decorations :-)

12. Regardless of whether or not they adhere to Camarilla rule, have they ever broken any of the Traditions?

She’s usually pretty good at keeping them up only to avoid trouble but the Masquerade. She tells her sister and mom she’s “alive”. She’s sure her family won’t tell anyone, not knowing the danger she puts them in :/

[aliteralgrizzlybear]

I remember seeing a post that says "a lot of people from cities say/think they're from small towns and they're wrong" and it bugs me a bit -- not because they're wrong, but because +at least in the US) there's a lot of overlap, and this ignores the broad middle category of Small Cities, which are a mixture of the worst of both worlds:

Buses exist, but they don't work, don't run on time, and usually cost more than you can afford. This means that you live in the same amount of area as a big city, but you still have to drive or walk to go anywhere unless you want to be an hour early or late and have a curfew of When Buses Stop Running, which is usually by dusk, and also usually includes weekends and holidays.

No maintenance of city services. Water and sewer companies that are contracted under a city don't do their jobs until sewage is literally flooding into the streets. Roads don't get fixed, or they get halfway fixed before the money runs out, and then there's a bulldozer and a bunch of traffic cones sitting out for 6+ months blocking a major through-way. Buses, despite being inaccessibly expensive, only get fixed when they break down to the point of not being able to move, and are never cleaned beyond a quick sweeping. That overwhelming smell of piss in the seats of the 5? It's been there since 1993. It'll be there until 2030, because there's no ventilation. Roads would be better off if they were dirt.

There will be more than one grocery store: there might be three! You will have to drive to all three grocery stores to find anything you need beyond the most basic staples of food and hygiene, because they're all supplied by UNFI and UNFI is constantly fudging one store's order so they can fulfill another, and they're all "who gives a fuck about this shithole town anyway?"

Everyone still expects you to grow old and die there. That sounds like the worst possible fate, but the wage difference between what you get at a shitty part-time job and the minimum income needed to move away, even just to a different small city, may as well be billions of dollars, because you can't make that happen.

Oh, jobs. There are jobs. They exist. Would you like to work at one of several fast food places, one of the three grocery stores, The Mall, the GameStop (which is the only normal store in The Mall that hasn't closed down five times) the "adult store," or as part of a pyramid scheme? In all cases, your job will short you on your paychecks, be run by that creepy guy who has definitely wanted in your pants or bullied you or both since high school despite him graduating years before you, put you on part time and schedule you just under full time hours and making sure you're constantly understaffed so that you get maybe one five minute break in your 5 hour and 45 minute shift and a totally different schedule every week that you only get to find out by driving back on what may or may not be your one day off, labor laws and basic human decency be damned. Also get used to the army recruiters dropping by and asking you if you want to do a job that Totally Won't Traumatize You And Force You To Commit Murder.

Just like actual small towns, there's nothing to do except "hang out" or go to a bar if you're old enough. There might be two more bars than you'd expect to have in a small town. They are all owned by one guy. They are all exactly the same.

Yes, there's a Wal-Mart on the outskirts of town. It's a desolate thing.

Just outside of your small city are the farms. Beyond those are forests and highways and... more farms.

There is some kind of public works attraction because someone thought making an old-fashioned carousel, or a big modern park, etc., would bring in tourism. It cost the city so much money. It's practically derelict.

The last census counted potentially more than 50,000 people. That's a lot of people! You will only see the same hundred or so people the entire time you live there. There are no events where you can meet more people. You still only hang out with the people you knew in high school. If you're straight, you're either married or you've run out of people in your dating pool. If you aren't straight, you're desperately trying to move to a less small city so that you don't kill yourself before some right-wing Christians get the chance.

On that note: your city was planned with the idea that 10,000 people living there was a few decades away. Now there's more than 50,000 people. Enjoy the wonder of a big city traffic jam on your rural and neighborhood roads, every single day. Also enjoy power outages whenever the weather requires air conditioning or heat, whenever the wind gets high, during nearly every thunderstorm, and whenever an electrical transformer explodes because it hasn't been maintained in 30+ years.

Everyone talks shit about the other towns and small cities that aren't the one you live in, knowing that people in those places talk shit about yours in exactly the same way.

There is a doctor's office and a dentist, and even a specialist or two beyond that -- possibly more than one office of each. You will not drive as far as the people in neighboring small towns to get to them. They will be just as overworked and unhelpful for you as for the people coming from out of town.

[doc-pickles]

it’s nothing funny just to talk (p. 1)

What happens when you text that random number graffitied on a bathroom stall in your favorite bar? Jo Wilson is about to find out. - In which Bar Princess and Doctor Evil Spawn meet via text.

More Jolex on your timeline because y’all seemed to love what I posted before! Also I’ve posted this whole piece on AO3 as well so it might look familiar.  

this idea came to me in a fever dream and i am not sorry that y'all have to deal with it. 99% of this fic will be in "texting" format, so be prepared for that. 

Jo is regular Alex is italics

Saturday 11:04 PM

heeeeey is thiss doctor evil?

I gotta say ur phone sex namee needs sum weerk

u soud like a comic book village 

fuck

village

VILLAIN

Who the hell is this? And how did you get my number? 

i’m just a girl at thee bar!!!! 

Joe’s Bar?

noooooo

i’m at enerlad city bar

You didn’t answer my question. 

u asked a quesitoon?

whata was it?

i’m goos at takifjg tests 

How’d you get my number?

it qas in the bathrooom!!!

it said “for a good tiem txt dr evil spawne” 

so I did

I am ready to havee fun

You’re drunk, obviously, and I’m going to have to kill Cristina for putting my number up. 

ooooooh is thatt ur girleifnd?

hirlefiend 

girlfriend**

Wow you’re really gone. And hell no, she’s my roommate. One of them. 

ooooh how many do u hav

roomees not girlfriends 

Three. Two girls and a dude. 

intereeesting...

well it’s tome for fireball shoots

steph is yeeling at me 4 txting too much

goodbey doctor eviel apawn!!

Oh lord. Tell Steph you need water. Or an IV. 

I’ve got her. she’s throwing up on her shoes. thanks doctor. - steph

  Sunday 10:11 AM

You know you’re pretty funny, Bar Girl. 

jesus christ what fucking time is it?! 

10 AM

I’m assuming you have a massive hangover. 

hold on I can’t hear you over the sound of me vomiting

TMI as the kids say these days. 

what’re you a grandpa or something?? 

No I just don’t know how to use text lingo. Except WTF. I know that one very well. 

quick question

who the fuck are you?

Dr. Evil Spawn. You found my name graffitied in the bathroom of Emerald City Bar. 

holy shit

I thought I dreamed that... WHAT THE FUCK

Nope. I’m real. 

holy shit i’m so sorry

my texts were so annoying

Who hurt you? I mean you were shitfaced, I’m assuming someone broke your heart into tiny pieces. 

the opposite actually, I was at a bachelorette party

not mine, i’m so single it hurts

Ahhh that makes sense. So you got shitfaced in solidarity? 

exactly you get it

you seem like you’d be the DD at a bachelorette party

Well seeing as I’m a dude I don’t do Bachelorette parties. 

Well I did go to one, but that’s a different story.  

hmmm you seem like a very interesting man doctor evil spawn 

going to bachelorette parties, living with women who aren’t your girlfriend 

OMG ARE YOU DATING THE GUY YOU LIVE WITH?!

George? No absolutely not. And before you ask, my other girl roommate is gay. 

so you’re single?

i’m only asking so when you murder me the police have as much information as possible

Haha very funny. I would be a terrible murderer. 

you didn’t answer my question

Fine. Yes I’m single. 

i’ll note that in the “serial killer file” i’m building 

gotta go, I have to do work :/

Have fun, don’t die. 

  Sunday 8:38 PM

Arizona is trying to set me up on a blind date. 

who’s arizona?

My gay roommate. She wants me to meet this “bubbly blonde” she knows from her pilates class. 

ahhhh. why don’t you go?

Bubbly blonde is not my type. Sounds like she’ll spend the whole date talking about how much she loves dogs or her knitting hobby. 

Plus she does pilates, that tells me more than enough. 

you’re making some good points. I don’t pity you. 

You better not. How was work?

the longest day of my life

it was just paperwork, I don’t actually work on the weekends

What do you do?

hmmmm that’s exactly what a serial killer would say

i’m an elementary school teacher

Oh so you sing and dance and paint pictures all day?

what school did you go to?

were working on multiplication tables and basic photosynthesis tomorrow

Wow that sounds like a lot.

it’s may, ive got three weeks of school left so I have to cram all the crap we didn’t cover into these last few weeks 

Ahhh that sounds more accurate.

and what do you do? 

besides text strangers that you don’t know

I’m a pediatrician. 

oh so you make kids cry and wipe snotty noses all day? two can play at that game

Well we both have to deal with snotty noses sooo...

I GET IT!! Doctor Evil Spawn!! 

why evil spawn though? 

I wasn’t this nice when I started med school. My personality is an acquired taste. 

ha! that’s a funny joke. 

so if you’re a fancy schmancy doctor why do you live with three other people?

I’m only a resident, not making the big bucks yet. Everyone else is a doctor too. 

are they all pediatricians?

No. Arizona is too but Cristina is a cardiologist and George is a trauma specialist. 

interesting!! I too live with my coworkers. it’s not fun. 

the table is always covered in craft supplies. 

Well I can never read the grocery list on the fridge. Stupid doctors script...

oh that’s a classic. you’re pretty funny Dr. Evil Spawn

Thanks Bar Girl. 

I gotta go. monday tomorrow and you know how fourth graders can be. night!! 

Night . 

  Monday 9:47 AM

there’s not enough coffee in the world for monday mornings. 

  Monday 10:52 AM 

Sorry I was yelling at the interns. We have a decent coffee cart here. Keeps me alive. Are you texting in class?

no it was recess

now they’re at spanish class

i’m not totally irresponsible 

Oh good to know the future of America is in good hands. Teacher Princess is “not totally irresponsible”

teacher princess?

Well, Cinderella lost her shoe, you puked on yours. Same thing. 

wooooooooow

that was so uncalled for...

I thought it was funny. Gotta go set a broken arm. 

broken arm vs. adverbs... can we switch? have fun lol

  Monday 3:26 PM

I don’t even think I know what an adverb is. 

how did you become a doctor??

Don’t need to know adverbs to fix a couple broken bones and snuffy noses. 

oh darn I should’ve gone to school for seven more years then

Haha. How were the adverbs?

better than expected, grading papers while I wait for my roomies to be done

we carpool, saving the environment and shit

Okay Eco Warrior.

you text like a 60 year old man

you’re not a 60 year old man are you?

No I’m a 28 year old man though

28 a doctor and you’re single? your personality must be worse than you described 

I’m a busy man, I don’t have time to settle down. And I have no desire to. 

yet you have time to text a complete stranger? 

hmmmm interesting...

Ouch, that one hurt Princess. 

steph is making me socialize with the other teachers

if I don’t respond, they killed me or dragged me to an essential oil party

Hahahaha

  Monday 5:18 PM

Did you get roped into a pyramid scheme?

nooo but therew as wine

I should sotp drunk texting you so often 

It makes your presence that much more entertaining. And bearable. 

woah woah dude

i’m a gem 

I can tell. Elementary school teacher with a heart of gold. 

awwww your too sweet tome

It’s a Monday. Who the hell gets drunk on a Monday?

teachers

we deserve it

You’re a teacher and you’re single and still going to Bachelorette parties. You’re what, 23? 

i’m 25 and i’m doing greta thanks you very nuch 

cnat believe that i’m supplying my perosnal info to a serial killer

What makes you so sure that I’m a mass murderer? 

ur weird nickname and ur intimate knowledge of the himan body

Mmm yes well a good amount of women do find themselves screaming around me often. Or under me. On top of me...

omg are you sending me dirty jokes

you’re crazy 

What can I say. 

Gotta go, I’m on call tonight. Get to bed safe, Bar Princess. 

mmmkay thanks Doc

  Wednesday 11:29 AM

What do you think is worse: School lunch or hospital food?

hospital food, no doubt

thursday is mac and cheese day here... I could bathe in that stuff

We have Spaghetti Wednesday but that’s the only good thing here. 

mmm how depressing

the teachers do a pot luck once a month and that’s always good

the art teacher next door to me makes the BEST blueberry muffins. 

Lucky. All I get here is vending machine cookies. Anything interesting happening in the elementary world? 

a first grader got lice last week so naturally we all have it now

I had to chop off six inches of my hair

Holy crap. Lice can be vicious, be thankful you didn’t have to shave your head. 

it feels like I did, my hair hasn’t been above my shoulders since the backstreet boys were still touring

Wow. I’m glad to know you’re well cultured. 

of course I am

gotta go, kids are back from music class

Don’t be too hard on them, they deserve a break every once in awhile. 

  Thursday 3:06 PM

Incoming Voice Call

“Jenna you forgot your lunch pail. Have a good day!”

“Hello?”

“Hi Mrs. Peters. I didn’t grade Henry’s test yet, I’ll have it tomorrow. Thanks bye!”

“Helloooo?”

“Steph I gotta grab my things, I’ll be there in a seco- oh shit. Hello?”

“Bar Princess?”

“Doctor Evil Spawn? I must’ve butt dialed you, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay I... I don’t mind the interruption. Are you leaving work?”

“Just about, we’re wrapping up the solar system and I have to bring home the diorama.”

“I was never good at the models, I prefer working with the real thing.”

“Oh ho, a man that works with his hands. I can appreciate that.”

“You know now we’re officially talking and we still don’t know each other’s names.”

“Well around here I’m Miss Wilson, but you can call me Jo.”

“Jo. Hmm I like chicks with dudes names. I’m Dr. Karev but you can call me Alex.”

“Well nice to kinda meet you Alex. I’ll talk to you soon, I gotta get out of here.”

“Talk to you later.”  

  Thursday 4:34 PM

I wouldn’t mind if you were my teacher.

how did I know you’d send me something along those lines

I’m predictable. I’m still calling you Bar Princess. 

as you wish doctor evil spawn

I get to assist on a surgery today. Tonsillectomy. 

like removing tonsils? that’s awesome

for you, not for the kid

Oh she’ll be fine, she gets ice cream and jello for a week.  

okay yeah I might be jealous of her now

id love to be off work for a week and have you waiting on me hand and foot

the ice cream is a nice bonus

You think that’s my job?

well you said you aren’t making the big bucks yet so.... yeah 

Keep dreaming. I’ll talk to you later, gotta scrub in. 

have fun!!!!

[dyscrasia-eucrasia]

Part 7

<<Prev | Next>>

"Hey giiiirl," Lexi said when Angel answered the Facetime call. "It's been foreverrrr, how are you?" 

Lexi Christo was a micro-influencer from Richmond, Virginia. She was tan, blonde, and had the whitest teeth Angel had ever seen on a person. He'd become influencer buddies with her during a pole dancing expo he'd traveled to a year ago. She wasn't a dancer herself, but had been there to support another micro-influencer who danced as a hobby. Angel had met her in the hotel bar as she went around taking selfies with as many guys as she could, and they struck up a conversation, working out a deal to both post the selfie to their Instagram accounts and tag each other. 

She was alright, as far as he was concerned. She had two cute pomeranians and hustled fitness shakes in what he could only assume was a pyramid scheme. She was image obsessed, but who on Instagram wasn't? The only problem he had with her was that she came off as a super Jesus-freak online, but in person she was one of the hardest partiers he'd ever met. 

A call from her generally meant she was planning something big and fun and wanted as many influencers to show up as she could get. 

"Oh, y'know, wasting all of my talent on podunk Charleston, the usual," he replied. 

"Are you laying in bed? I'm not interrupting a dick appointment, am I?"

"God, I wish I was getting dick right now. No, I'm just resting my leg, I pulled it funny on the pole last night." 

"Oh, bummer. Is it serious?" 

"No, it happens sometimes. Just need to ice it and stay off of it for a day." 

"That's good… speaking of dancing, I've got a proposition for you." 

"Oh no, what are you planning?" 

"So my sister is getting married in a few months, and I'm putting together a bachelorette party for her. It's gonna be so lit, I've got so many local influencers coming. We're gonna stream it on Instagram Live and everything. And I want you to be our stripper." 

"Lexi, you know I'm gay, right? I don't do hen shows." 

"No no no, that's why you'd be perfect! That way none of the guests will end up trying to fuck you." 

"Well, jeez, take all the fun out of working…" Angel joked. He'd never fucked someone from a club. He'd thought about it sometimes - the money would be nice, of course - but it always came back to his online reputation. Had to keep it clean to attract those brand deals. 

"C'mon, pleeeeaaaase! I'll pay you and everything." 

"Bitch, you'd better pay your dancers!"

"Of course I would! But you'll get paid plus you'll get exposure from a ton of influencers. C'mon, it'll be so much fun."

"For you. I'll be working." 

"Work can be fun. C'mon, pleeeeeaaaase!"

"Okay, okay! I'll do it, jeez. Stop grovelling." 

"Omigod, thank you!" 

"Yeah, yeah, don't mention it." 

"Excellent. I'm so excited. So anyways, what's happening with you?"

"Oh, not much. Just thinking about boys, y'know how it is." 

"Speaking of boys, you should totally DM Clayton Howard. He's actually out in West Virginia right now." 

"Whaaat? What's he doing out of L.A.?" 

"He's doing some sort of cryptid hunting show with his crew. They were hunting Mothman, and then something called Flatland, or something like that? They almost got shot by hillbillies in the episode that went up today." 

"No way. How did that even happen?" 

"They were in the woods looking for the Goatman and I guess they got too close to some hillbilly shack or something because someone fired a shotgun at them."

"Wait, what's the Goatman?" 

"You know, from the creepypasta?" 

"Girl, you know I hate horror." 

"Well, there's this story about a Goatman who lives in the woods and smells like blood and it can shapeshift or whatever and sneaks into groups of teenagers."

"Ugh, creepy." 

"I know! But anyways, Clayton's in your state, you should totally DM him and try to hook up. Or at least shoot a collab." 

"I dunno, Clayton's got like 100k followers, I doubt he'd talk to someone with less than 10k…"

Angel didn't get to finish that thought when his phone started to buzz. The notification that popped up at the top of the screen showed an incoming call - not Facetime, just a regular phone call. And the caller ID was someone from his contacts: Demie. 

He sat up, suddenly flooded with energy. It had been two whole days since Demie had called him, and he'd figured that Demie just didn't want anything to do with him anymore. 

"Lexi, I gotta go, I'm getting a really important call," he said, words tumbling rapidly out of his mouth. 

"Ooooh, is it for a dick appointment?" 

"If I play my cards right, it is," he said with a grin. "Talk to you later, byeeeee!" 

He hung up the Facetime call before she could reply, smashing the answer button on the incoming call. 

"Hello?" He said. He instantly cringed. That 'hello' had sounded too excited. He was afraid of coming off too strong and scaring Demie away. 

"Uh… Angel?" Demie asked. 

"Yeah, yeah, this is Angel. What's up, man?" 

"Hey, uh, so Elaine said you called. Sorry I didn't call back, I was dealing with some shit." 

"Hey man, that's fine. Is everything okay?" 

"Yeah, I'm fine, there were just these punkass kids trespassing on my property and scaring my goats so I was putting up signs all day--"

"Wait, you have goats?" Angel interrupted. 

"Uh… yeah?" 

"What, do you live on a farm or something?"

"Huh? No. I grew up on a farm, but I moved away and shit. I just have some goats." 

"You really like goats, huh? I mean, you dress up like a goat, you have goats…" 

"Uh… I guess." 

"Have you ever heard of the Goatman?" 

There was some silence on the other end of the line. Angel was afraid the connection had dropped, so he asked: "Demie? You there?" 

"Yeah, I'm here. What about the Goatman?" 

"Oh, apparently there's this Youtuber who's in town and is doing a show about cryptids. I dunno, I thought that since you like goats, maybe you knew about the Goatman and had checked it out--" 

"Cryptids are fucking bullshit, you know that, right?" Demie said. His typically monotone voice had just an edge of anger to it. 

"Oh, yeah, I know--" 

"Like they're just stupid stories made up by drunk rednecks who don't know what a fucking owl looks like, and all the people who go hunting them are just running around trespassing on private property." 

There was silence for a little while. 

"Hey," Angel said gently, "are we cool? Did I say something wrong?"

He could hear Demie take a deep breath, and then let it out. "Yeah, no, it's fine." 

"'Cause I didn't mean to upset you. You know that, right?" 

"Yeah, I'm fine. Was that all you wanted to talk about or did you call about something else?" 

"Oh, no, I didn't actually call about that, I was just talking to someone about it. I was calling to check in, y'know? Wondering how the song writing was going and all that." 

"Um, it's going fine, I guess."

"I was reading the Wiki page for Orpheus, it said that he had the power to, like, make anything that heard his music do whatever he wanted. I can see why you'd like him as a musician, I bet that would be a cool superpower to have." 

"Um, yeah, look, about that--" 

Angel's phone vibrated with a notification for a text. He pulled the phone away from his ear to look at it. It was a text from Lexi, stating: 'I DMed Clayton ur number. Ur welcome. 🍆💦'

A second later, a number he didn't recognize with a California area code lit up his phone with an incoming call. 

"Oh, shit," he mumbled. He wanted to keep talking to Demie, especially since he could tell he'd offended him somehow and wanted to clear the air. But at the same time, Clayton Howard had been his internet mancrush for ages. 

"Hey, Demie, sorry, I'm gonna have to go, I have to take this call. Can I call you back later?" 

"Um, yeah, I guess--" 

"Okay, byeeee!" 

He fumbled with the phone, ending the call with Demie and hitting the answer button for the unknown number. 

"Hello?" He asked. 

"Hey, is this Angel?"

"Yeah?"

"Hey dude, this is Clayton Howard…"

[wheremytwinwatches]

[Where My Twin Watches]: Full Metal Alchemist Brotherhood Episode 10

Time to watch Brotherhood, the charming show where absolutely nothing bad is going to happen this episode, right?

Right?!

Starting off with [EXPLOSIONS], looks like a flashback to the Ishvalan Civil War/Genocide, troops in blue running and falling as they charge Ishvalans in a ruined town. Up until there’s a snap of fingers, and the screen turns red. And out of the smoke comes Roy, thinking about how he’ll do everything he can to protect the people he loves.

Jeez. This show’s not pulling any punches when it comes to the reality of war, is it?

In the aftermath of the attack, Roy’s explaining this philosophy of protection to Hughes, who likens it to a pyramid scheme. And the only one who really profits from such a scheme is the one at the top of the pyramid. Hey, Fuhrer! How’s the weather up there?

Roy continues to be incredibly unsubtle about his goal of becoming Fuhrer, Hughes jokes that it’ll at least be fun to watch. And maybe his “naive idealism” can do some good? But as easygoing as Bradley generally acts (this is the guy who easily cut down Mr. Freeze, moves at Homura speeds, and ordered a freaking genocide), I don’t think he’s just gonna step aside if Roy asks nicely.

Back to the present, seems Roy was remembering this as a dream, taking a nap in his office. Not much time for sleep, with all the preparation for the Central transfer.

Episode 10 - “Separate Destinations”

Well, that music’s not ominous at all!

In the hospital Ed’s recounting what happened in the Lab, complete with illustrations. Armstrong and Hughes are discussing the ouroboros tattoos and TC, and all the other mysteries surrounding the case. Of course, any answers they might have gotten are now under a ton of rubble.

...Is that really such an issue? I mean, a good portion of the cast are matter manipulators, can’t Armstrong just punch the boulders out of the way?

Hey! Stop eavesdropping, Brosh!

Ross is smart enough to not sneak a listen on her superior officers. And ooooh dear, it’s the big cheese himself.

Bradley says he’s stopped by for an informal visit. Heard that Ed was injured, thought a nice melon might cheer him up. Um. Ok?

Uh oh. Bradley picked up that Armstrong has been “checking up” on some of the senior staff. And he’s frowning now. Um.

“And now you… my revered Fullmetal Alchemist…” holy crud his voice went all gravely

“Tell me what you know about the Philosopher’s Stone.”

“And I hope for your sake… that you don’t know too much.”

This is bad this is really bad the Goths were bad enough but if the Government really was running that Lab then these guys just trashed a project of Bradley crap crap crap

Wait, what?

“Ha ha ha! I’m only kidding! There’s no reason for you to be so uptight!”

Hold up, what the hell was that all about?

Bradley’s saying that he knows there’s been some suspicious activity in the military lately, and something “needs to be done about it.”

...I’m still mostly convinced that you’re up to something, Bradley. But I’m not sure what.

Ooh, seems all the researchers assigned to officially study the Philosopher’s Stone have been going missing. Goth’s covering their tracks? And Bradley shows elements of being a spymaster, even with his informants he doesn’t know how much the Military’s been infiltrated, beyond “they know a lot about us.”

Now, a direct order from the Fuhrer; “To forget this matter and all that it concerns.” Since the best defense against spying is discretion, they need to keep this to themselves… up until Bradley thinks the time is right to confront them directly.

Hmm. I’m getting elements of conflicting plans here. The Goths are up to some evil involving Ed as a “sacrifice”, the leader of a genocidal government that was researching/making Philosophers’ Stones… There’s something going on here, I just can’t quite pin it down yet. Need more info.

Then all this plotting is interrupted by Bradley going out a window to escape his bodyguard. Still not seeing the Fuhrer in the best light, but you can’t deny that the character Bradley is a riot.

Winry stops by with some train tickets for Ed. Where are you off to, before you’re even healed up fully? Dublith? Play on Dublin? Oh, we finally get to meet this mysterious Teacher! Who even now has the Giant Suit of Armor shaking in his plate boots. A tough taskmaster?

Ed points out the town on a handy map, looks like it’s in the Southern Quadrant. But something shocks Winry about the trip, a town right before it?

“It’s the holy land of Automail engineering. It’s Rush Valley!” Well someone’s excited. Ooh, do we get Winry traveling with the Elrics? Also, predicting an upgrade in Ed’s future, if Winry’s that impressed with this place. What’s so special about it

Aw come on Ed, stop being such a pill. It’s not like you’re hurting for money as a SA. Maybe there’s elements of wanting to keep her out of danger (because you poor boys are trouble magnets), but you can do it! Also, moves my ship along? Please?

[Huges]: “She’ll make you a fine wife, someday.”

[Ed]: “Don’t start that again!”

Speaking of wives, Hughes is heading off to work, Elicia’s being painfully adorable, asking if Daddy can get home early that day. (!) Hughes says he’ll try to get back as soon as possible (!!), Mrs. Hughes tells him to not be late (!!!), Hughes says he’ll probably not see Winry again before she leaves (!!!!!), oh my LETO how many death flags can they wave at us?!

Damnit damnit damnit he is so dead. Why? Why do you have to kill off Hughes?! Guy’s a family man, he’s funny, he’s lighthearted. There’s enough tragedy in this world of lost limbs and genocide and soulbatteries already, you don’t have to up the ante! Uuuuugh. So annoyed at the blatant post-credits last episode, I’ve been delaying watching this one because I was so afraid of this. Gonna stop watching those from now on, too much spoilage potential.

“Oh, and tell the boys I said goodbye.” AAAAAARGH

“You just make sure to come visit us anytime you’re in Central, okay? Our home is your home too. ‘Til then… Take care of yourself.”

AAAAAAAARGH

Uuuugh, let’s try and move on. The Blond Kids are off on the train, Ed explaining that they’re off to visit Teacher for a couple of reasons, namely he’s tired of losing fights. Sadly he and Winry start squabbling about fighting, she wants them to stop. That’d be nice, Winry, but someone’s gotta stand up to the Goths. Also, they want to center themselves, boost their morale, and seeing an old teacher might help with that. As well ask her what she knows about the Stone.

Wait, what? Ooooh crap. They haven’t seen her since before the Incident, have they? So they’re gonna walk up to their Alchemy Teacher and have to explain “Yeah, I lost two limbs and my brother lost his entire body because we broke The Big Rule of Alchemy. So about some more alchemy training?” They are so dead.

Back in Central, Hughes is doing some research, going over the riots in Liore. Hey, don’t you diss Leto, random underling! Been a lot of stuff going on in the East Quadrant, as well as the North and West. Not the South? Current theory is they’re all too scared of the Elric’s Teacher to mess with her turf.

Suddenly, Hughes stands up, says he’ll be in the Archive room. Figure something out?

In the room, music’s picking up, Hughes is circling places on a map. What is- Oh. Oh my Leto. I think I just realized.

Liore, other uprisings, the Ishvalan Genocide...

The Philosopher’s Stone needs human sacrifices, and a Transmutation Circle.

We’ve already seen there can be a TC the size of a city.

Who’s to say there can’t be one the size of a country?

That’s it. That’s their plan. Craft a nation-sized Alchemy reaction. Create the True Philosopher’s Stone from the sacrifice of thousands, if not millions.

But whose plan is it? The Goths? The Government?

...but Hughes isn’t going to find out, is he? A long-haired silhouette just walked in and closed the door.

[Hughes]: “Cool tattoo you got there.”

[Lust]: “Those are your last words? Wouldn’t you rather scream?”

Leave him ALONE

NO

Wait, he got out? He got stabbed through the shoulder but he got out? How oh HELL yes knife to your fucking forehead, you bitch! You don’t mess with

FUCK YOU NO

you got a knife to the brain you don’t get to just calmly take it out no

Receptionist starts joking then realizes that Hughes is injured, he just walks past and says he needs a private line. Yes ok need to tell Roy about his but she’s not as dead as you think she is.

Wait what Hughes why are you walking away. Oh right Military either infiltrated or in on the whole thing, can’t use a military line. Get to a phone booth, use an outside line. Holdup while Eastern receptionist follows protocol, yet another STUPID death flag as Hughes drops a picture of his family… but this took too long. There’s the sound of a gun cocking-

Wait, Ross?! What are oh nonono please just be misguided don’t be part of the conspiracy.

Oh. Right. The Goths have a shapeshifter.

Come on, Hughes. Keep stalling, the phone’s not hung up so if it’s connected then Roy can hear this and get you help. And while the knife didn’t kill Lust it did slow her down so yes you’ve got another one you can

You. God. Damned. Bastard.

Envy has taken the form of Mrs. Hughes.

A shot is fired.

Only now, when it is too late, does the call get through to Roy. And Envy hangs it up.

[Envy]: “You humans don’t make any sense to me. You throw away your lives for nothing.”

hughes comment indicates hughes Goths inhuman hughes chimeras?

“Gracia… I’m so sorry… Elicia… Remember, Daddy loves you… I’m sorry.”

And Hughes bleeds out in a phone booth.

...The Blond Kids are enjoying pie on the train. It was baked by Mrs. Hughes. As was a quiche.

Ed talks about how Hughes is annoying, stopping by his hospital room every day.

Al thinks they should figure out some way to thank him next time they’re in Central.

We’re spared the scene of Hughes being discovered. But now we bear witness to his funeral.

[Elicia]: “Mommy? Why are they putting all that dirt on Daddy?” [Gracia]: “They’re burying him, dear.” [Elicia]: “But if Daddy gets buried, then he won’t be able to do all his work.” [Gracia]: “Elicia…!” [Elicia]: “Daddy said he has a bunch of work he needs to do! No, stop it! Stop putting dirt on him! Daddy!”

Armstrong is crying. Bradley is visibly shaking. Roy looks down.

The sun sets, as Roy chides Hughes for going and getting promoted to Brigadier General, rather than helping him climb through the ranks.

Riza walks up to the colonel. Who admits a large part of him wants to figure out human transmutation now.

[Riza]: “Are you alright, Colonel?” [Roy]: “Yeah, I’m fine. Except… It’s a terrible day for rain.” [Riza]: “What do you mean? It’s not raining.” [Roy]: “Yes. It is.” [Riza]: “Oh. So it is.”

…

Time resumes as Riza goes guns-akimbo at Scar, who dodges into the alley. The alley with Al still in there. Uh oh. And oh my Leto Roy, don’t you dare complain at the lady who just saved your life. “Useless on rainy days” indeed.

…

Roy’s investigating the events of Hughes’ death now, looking into the Archive Room. A trail of blood went to the phone room, and the receptionist reports that he came in, but then left without dialing a number. Roy identifies the code Hughes used as one used only for military emergencies. But he doesn’t know why.

Riza brings Armstrong, who says they have a list of suspects, but can’t determine their identities. And when Roy presses for details, Armstrong has to refuse. Right, the order from Bradley, he can’t talk about the Goths. But he does get a workaround, saying the Elrics were in town for a few days.

From all that, Roy’s able to determine a group is suspected of the murder, an officer above Armstrong ordered him to keep quiet, and the events involve the singular goal of the Elric Brothers: The Philosopher's Stone. Roy’s clued into the conspiracy now. So, in order to solve the mystery and get vengeance for Hughes, he’s going after the senior staff. With Riza at his side.

And so the episode ends, with Roy on a manhunt in the military, and the unknowing Blond Kids cheerfully laughing as their train heads south.

[awake-not-today]

Namkook The Gifted Hands / Psychometry au:

Detective Kim Namjoon is investigating the case of a child disappearance. When the child's body is found, Namjoon finds himself trailing a murderer.

During his investigation he remembers a run in he'd had with a graffiti artist one night, and the artwork he'd done depicting the scene in which the child's body was found.

The graffiti which had been painted a month before the discovery of the child's body.

Jeon Jungkook is a small time graffiti artist with a secret, the power to see the memories of any living thing he touches. He hides himself away from the world, ashamed of who he is, that is until he's thrown head first into a murder investigation and becomes the prime suspect.

Part 6 of ?

Chapter masterlist

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Namjoon didn’t exactly have a lot to go on.

He couldn’t access the evidence, not while it was still being processed at least, and it’s not like he could ask for any details regarding the case. Gwon wouldn’t tell him shit, and Seokjin was determined Namjoon should let it go and take some time off. Anything that could be of help was off limits. Useless.

But what he did have was a paint can, some less than helpful pictures of the graffiti, and the knowledge that the killer had a gash on the back of his neck from the fight they'd had earlier. It wasn’t much, but at least it was something. Namjoon pondered on it, giving Taehyung a small wave as he left the apartment. What could he possibly gather from what he had?

The paint can seemed to be the most crucial thing he had so far, and the knowledge that the very brief time he'd seen the guy's face, at least partially, was that he was young. A student perhaps? There was an art school not too far from him. It would make sense. But then that posed another problem. How many students used spray paint? How many males? Namjoon groaned, closing his eyes and leaning back in his seat. His head was fucking pounding. The hit he'd taken was pretty hard, but at least the ice had taken down most of the swelling. Small mercies.

Getting to his feet, Namjoon wandered to the bathroom, taking a couple of painkillers from the bathroom cabinet. He moved to the kitchen area, grabbing himself a glass of water to swallow them down. He kept his eyes on the paint can sat on his coffee table as he downed his water, debating the next step. He supposed he could go to the university and ask, but then they’d probably ask for a warrant and Namjoon had no way of getting one of those.

The other option he had was going to the art store the paint came from and hope the had a list of names on record. There was so many art stores in Seoul though, and it could have come from anywhere. He didn’t even know where to start, where do students buy their materials. Namjoon frowned and worried his bottom lip, a habit he had when he was deep in thought. Who would know where to go? Who knew the ins and outs of Seoul? Only one name came to mind.

Hoseok.

That little bastard knew everything about this city, constantly looking for new ways to make money. He lived for the hustle, of course he'd probably have some knowledge of the students in the city. Easy targets, young and dumb. Exactly what Hoseok liked. Namjoon moved quickly, grabbing the first shirt he could find that smelled vaguely clean, and threw it on before grabbing his jacket and the paint can to go find his roommate.

The streets were busy at this time, late afternoon. People leaving their jobs and stopping for food and drinks, exactly the right place for Hoseok to be with his latest venture. He heard Hoseok's laugh before he saw him, bright and cheerful as he joked with the customers at his food van. He stood in line, waiting until the customers dispersed, and approached quietly.

“Welcome to Hobi's food van!” Hoseok hadn’t looked up yet, tucking away the money he'd recieved. “What can I- oh! Namjoon!”

“Hoseok.” Namjoon smiled, leaning against the counter. “I need your help.”

“What’s up?” Hoseok handed Namjoon a fish cake, smiling. Namjoon took a bite and almost groaned, as much as Hobi was a little shit, he sure made some good food. Namjoon swallowed, setting the wooden stick down on the side, and looked at Hoseok again.

“I need you.” Namjoon thought for a moment. “And your van.”

Hoseok didn’t reply, instead laughing. Namjoon didn’t laugh, keeping his face serious. Hoseok blinked, mouth closing. “What? No! This is the busiest time, Joon-ah. I’m making money here!”

“Hoseok. You owe me.” Namjoon smiled now, or more grimaced. Hoseok just looked confused. “I sold my car for and put all of my life savings into that fucking pyramid scheme of yours.”

“Network marketing was a great opportunity, Namjoon.” Hoseok looked affronted. “It’s not my fault.”

“You can trust him, Joon-ah! He's a great guy!” Namjoon mocked Hoseok's voice, making the other swat at him. Namjoon took a step back to avoid it. “Give me your van, Hoseok.”

“No.”

“Fuck. Fine.”

Hoseok rolled his eyes as Namjoon walked away, turning to apologize to the customers who'd lined up behind his friend. He picked up a cloth, wiping down the counter, and opened his mouth to speak when the customers were suddenly moving away. It took him a moment to realize what was happening, the people looking smaller and smaller in the distance. The van was moving. Someone was driving it away. Fucking Namjoon.

Ten minutes and a busted nose later, Hoseok sat in the passenger side of the van, holding a napkin to his face. Namjoon shot him an apologetic glance, and Hoseok huffed.

“You know if you had just let me use the van this wouldn’t have happened.” Hoseok pouted, actually pouted like a petulant child, and slumped in his seat. “I’m sorry about your nose.”

“Yeah?” Hoseok glanced at him, tossing the bloody napkin down by his feet. “At least we match. Where are we going anyway?”

“Uh.” Namjoon chuckled nervously, not wanting to piss Hoseok off anymore than he already had. He suspected giving his friend a punch to the nose was a bad move. “Well. I was sort of hoping you could tell me?”

Namjoon reached into his jacket, pulling out the paint can and handing it to a very unimpressed and impatient Hoseok. Hoseok rolled it in his hands, looking at the label, before giving Namjoon a bewildered look.

“What am I supposed to do here? Paint arrows to direct you?”

“I need to know where it came from.”

“What am I? Fucking psychic? I’m losing profit here, Namjoon. And a friend if you don’t stop fucking around.”

“That paint can belongs to the murderer.” Namjoon mumbled as they stopped at a red light, he turned a little in his seat. “I think they're a student. I need to know where students from the art school get their shit.”

“And you just assume I know that?” Hoseok sighed heavily, passing the paint can back to Namjoon who slipped it back into his jacket pocket.

“I mean I thought you could help.” Namjoon faced front again, waiting for the light to change. “After all there’s a cash reward for the person who helps find him.”

“How much?” Hoseok was interested suddenly. He'd set up the van tomorrow.

“A half a million won.”

“Take a right here. I know the place.”

The store was small, tucked away in an alley. It made sense, it was right by campus and the prices were sufficiently lower than the larger chain stores nearby. Namjoon approached the counter, pushing Hoseok who seemed set on trying a good cop bad cop routine on this innocent store owner. Not happening. The owner was a stout man, late fifties. Thinning hair and round glasses. Friendly. A welcoming smile.

“Good evening, gentlemen. What can I do you for?”

“We need some information regarding a potential customer of yours.” Namjoon showed the man his badge, earning a curt nod. “We believe he's a student at the art school.”

“I’m sorry, detective. Students make up most of my clientele here.” The old man looked almost sad.

“He uses spray paint. He's a graffiti artist.” The old man opened his mouth again to speak when Namjoon handed him the paint can. “Can you tell us anything?”

The old man frowned a little, looking down at the can. His eyes lit up then, moving the can closer to his face to read the name of the shade on the lid. Namjoon looked at Hoseok, sharing the same hopeful expression. The man knew something.

“There’s only one person who uses this shade, I have to order it in.” The old man explained, grabbing a heavy book from under the counter. He opened it, flipping through the pages. “He has it delivered to his house. I sent the wrong shade once and he came by here. Real eerie kid. Made me nervous.”

“Do you have his name? His address?” The old man shook his head as he flipped through the book, squinting. Finally he stopped, running his finger down the page.

“The delivery boy has the address but he's visiting family back in Busan.” Namjoon's shoulders visually slumped, defeated. “What I do have is his name.”

Hoseok was practically vibrating in his seat as they drove away from the store, excitement brimming inside him. In another life Hoseok would have enjoyed being a detective, Namjoon thought to himself. But he chose the other side to get his kicks. Crime pays more. Namjoon held his phone to his ear as he drove, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. The second Taehyung answered he spoke, ignoring Taehyung's greeting.

“Taehyung, are you at the precinct? I need you to run a name for me.”

“What’s the name?” Namjoon could here the clicking of Taehyung’s mouse faintly.

“Jeon Jungkook.”

“Okay, hold on.” A clacking of his keyboard and a few moments of Taehyung’s breathing later he came back on the line. “Alright. Jeon Jungkook, twenty one years old. Pulled in on a misdemeanour a few years back. I’m sending his address to you now.”

“Thanks, Tae.” Namjoon beamed, Hoseok giving him a thumbs up. “When this is all over I'll make Seokjin hyung promote you.”

Namjoon ended the call and handed Hoseok his phone, telling him to pull up the address Taehyung had sent him. Hoseok was bouncing in his seat, thrilled with the turn of events, or more thrilled with the prospect of having a half million won in his wallet. Either way Namjoon was grateful for the enthusiasm. He set the GPS in Namjoon's phone and sat back, settling in for the drive.

“So. Taehyung.”

“No, Hoseok.”

“He’s got a nice voice.”

“He’s a nice guy.” Namjoon shit him a glare. “Too nice for you. And you are going to stay away from him.”

“We’ll see.”

The apartment block they pulled up to was empty. Not a single light on in any of the windows, the whole place vacant. Namjoon huffed in his seat, frustrated, pressing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. Another dead end. Unsurprising. That was just Namjoon's luck. Hoseok stepped out of the van and backed away from the building, squinting. Namjoon watched him for a moment, quirking an eyebrow when Hoseok turned to him, pointing a finger toward the rooftop.

“There’s a light.”

Getting out of the van, Namjoon took a breath to calm his nerves. He hadn’t thought this far ahead, and the kid could be dangerous. He looked to Hoseok and motioned with his head, making his way toward the steps that led up to the roof. “You stay behind me, alright? Don’t do anything until I give the go ahead.”

The look on Hoseok's face let Namjoon know that Hoseok wasn’t about to try anything, he looked terrified. Probably because he was realizing that he was about to come face to face with a child killer. Namjoon was scared too.

The rooftop was empty, a small brick building standing in the centre of it. There was nobody around, and a quick glance through the window revealed the building was empty, lived in, but empty. Pressing a finger to his lips, Namjoon waved to Hoseok, telling him to stay put as Namjoon dared inside.

The place was a shack. A kitchen come living space with a small bedroom and a tiny bathroom. Someone had been there, or was still there, steam still rising from the kettle on the shitty stove. Namjoon kept low, creeping through the place with his hand on his gun, ready to pull it out if needed. There was nobody inside, but the sound of tins clashing together told Namjoon there was someone outside. Namjoon followed the sound, careful not to let his presence be known. Through a doorway, Namjoon could see him, or at least the back of him, messing with paint cans on a wooden shelf. Namjoon mentally prepared himself, reaching out to pull himself up, and knocked over a glass. Shattering it.

For a beat there was nothing. Namjoon stopped breathing, internally berating himself for being such a clumsy asshole. Footsteps headed toward him, getting closer and closer, and Namjoon made a snap decision. He stood upright and charged, gripping the guy's shirt and shoving him back hard. The guy stumbled back, rubbing his chest where Namjoon had slammed his hands against him, curling in on himself.

It was him, Namjoon told himself. Certain. He couldn’t forget those eyes.

“Remember me?” Namjoon dared a step closer, watching as the kid looked up at him curious. Confused.

“Pu-public urination?” Namjoon had forgotten about that, fighting the flush of embarrassment threatening to rush over his cheeks.

“Detective Kim Namjoon. You are Jeon Jungkook.” Namjoon moved closer still, Jungkook backing up. “And I've got some questions for you.”

Tag list: @yoongi-bearr @triheartedhero @doriadoo @rosybabytae @spookidema

[violetsystems]

#personal

The biggest edition to my footwear collection is still the cat sleeping at my feet as I type this.  She doesn’t use the other litter box at all which is understandable.  That’s my default these days.  Whether things are understandable or not.  Or maybe whether I really deeply care or not.  I was riding the train home during rush hour yesterday and somebody was playing trap out of a chik-fil-a backpack.  I was done with everything at that point I just muttered “Fuck Chik-Fil-A” loud enough to hear.  It didn’t help the dude’s backpack was in my face.  His friend picked up on it and understandably I got off the train at the next stop.  There’s been a lot of people following me around these days and making me feel unsafe.  Unfortunately nobody will listen to me about it so I just end up understanding the situation.  My understanding lately has been to keep myself safe by walking away from everything.  Like somebody assaulting me and my mom on her birthday wasn’t enough evidence that I’m being targeted.  That’s crazy talk to people out here.  Are you sure you aren’t just imagining things?  I ended up taking the Ashland bus home again which ironically is a far rougher neighborhood.  I honestly don’t think anybody with a Chik-Fil-A bag is going to understand the finer nuances of why I’m offended.  I honestly don’t want to have a conversation with that type of person.  I don’t have time to be the steward and sheppard of the lost flock everywhere I go.  And yet people have these societal expectations of me that never seem to deliver.  They walk all over me without my consent and I just have to nod.   I have existed within this hidden framework of rules for years bumping up against the fence over and over again.  No matter what I do somebody seems to jump in and assume control over what I’m trying to do with my life.  Like I never asked.  Literally nobody gives me a chance to speak other than on Tumblr on the weekends.  I’ve described the kinds of behavior I’ve been subjected to for years.  For years people told other people behind my back that I was crazy, antisocial and worse.  But they never understood until recently that I actually had a very dangerous point.  This is traditional gaslighting and in America I think it’s the norm.  I was reading how the American economy is literally financed by debt fueled by overconsumption whereas in China it’s fueled by debt driven investment.  I have as many bills to pay as the next person.  I spend a little time every day to manage a spreadsheet like a journal in regards to how much money I spend.  I’ve done this for years by myself just like I’ve worked out my feelings in real time on the internet.  There’s no shortage of people trying to get you to spend more money.  It seems that people only value you in America based on how much money you are able to spend.  I bought a pair of Gore-Tex converse for seventy dollars.  They’re literally the illest shoe in context of people’s understanding of how I wear clothes.  I don’t sit here and spend hours talking about the clothes I wear.  Nobody cares.  I’ve been invisible for years or worse.  I’ve been a wink or an inside joke that people abuse to sell their products, images, and manifestos.  When I make a valid point it is met with laughter behind my back and mined for intel and dirt in secret.  Laughter and comedy in America is rooted is some deprecating humor.  It makes sense when you tie this into bullying.  People want you to feel bad about yourself for a lot of reasons.  It’s mostly an act of devaluing your self esteem.  That you aren’t enough.  So you’ll spend more or try harder for people who wouldn’t do the same for you.  It’s a pyramid scheme staring you in the face on a dollar bill.  And then there’s the things that money can’t buy.  That some people care about and other people just overlook time and time again.  Self respect at the end of the day or the beginning of a new one is hard to come by.  It’s understandable why I keep to myself in that respect.

I can’t change how shitty I’ve been treated.  I live with years of it.  I thought it might get better clearing it up in a journal.  Writing about how I feel about this or that is about as close to a vibe check as any.  And still people try to play these games with me in real life.  The games prove nothing.  It’s just an excuse to pit people against each other and tear down power.  Like you are cordially invited to the wood chipper or meat grinder.  Your opinion matters.  Except when it doesn’t.  After all these years feeling lost and alone is still my problem.  I recently have come to embrace this.  Who wouldn’t want to get lost and alone with me?  There’s people I don’t want to be lost or alone with.  Because I’ve been there facing myself in the mirror.  We can talk for hours about all the good we are doing and there’s no record of any work or activity to show for it.  When I was on Facebook I used to relentlessly post my miles I tracked in my running app.  They’d go ignored for years.  I’d check into the gym and it would echo in the digital staleness of the platform.  Really nobody cared or understood what these things meant to me.  The minute I would share something that inspired me I would be talked over or the conversation would shift to another person.  I just basically defaulted to thinking nobody cared about me.  I didn’t want to burden the world with how that made me feel.  But I wrote about it here week after week.  And I never lied when I sat down to sketch it out.  It’s just that nobody really understood how bad everything had gotten for me.  I have lived a literal fucking nightmare for the last two or three years.  Ironically I quit drinking around the same time.  That part was me understanding I wasn’t doing anything positive for myself with that habit.  People asked in a hushed whisper online if I “got help.”  I just fucking quit.  Like I quit huge portions of my life that were complete bullshit.  I’m constantly reminded how I don’t fit into those parts of my life when they return to haunt me.  Ignore my pain for years and then suddenly show up again to try the same old socialite bullshit.  We’re all in this together.  Except when people alienated me for years.  This isn’t something new or shocking for me.  I understand other people are coming to the very same realization.  People in America use the English language like a bulldozer.  They talk emphatically with a concerned tone about how much they care.  They never give you a chance to question why.  They’re always doing the questioning.  They always have the right answers tied to the right texts that nobody has ever really heard of.  I get these emails about how my name was mentioned in this or that academic paper.  I have to pay a fee to sign in to find out which.  So literally I have to pay a fee to figure out who is plagiarizing and conceptualizing my life.  Just like I bought all this street wear gear to be noticed and just ended up victimized and shunned.  There’s a wall out there for sure you can’t pass.  It’s a fence that has no logic other than rich people who don’t think you’ve paid enough to be human.  And these are numbers that don’t really work well with a nonprofit salary.  And yet I still do what I can with it and hold my ground.  Because this shitty behavior is not sustainable.  And the real vibe check is that I am done with everything and beyond anger and frustration.  Sadly I’m the one with the answers to my problems.  And the only answer I’ve found is staying away from the disrespect.  That and saying what I feel whenever I feet like it.  Because nobody cares anyway.  They’ll applaud how brave I am then figure out a new way to poke me with a stick.

I’ve always thought the best I could be was being a good person.  I’ve made a lot of sacrifices nobody understood to be that person.  People distrusted me for years.  I only recently began to realize that this was not my fault.  I can’t possibly do anything else in my life to get people to trust me.  People have dug down so far deep into my life it is insulting.  If you bring it up to anyone the first thing they’ll do is doubt you.  Typical stage one gaslighting.  “How can you be sure?” in a concerned tone is really just “Why are you rocking the boat?” in America.  I can be sure enough that most people out here don’t value the sacrifices I’ve made.  They can’t fathom them because they don’t pay attention.  They say they know me behind my back.  How that one time they saw me out of context.  People for the record haven’t hung out with me for months if not years.  I used to play magic down the street and then people got cocky.  Now I play Hearthstone online and developers still get cocky but it’s far different.  There’s an actual community there with complex thoughts on everything.  Some of them I agree with.  Other things like Hong Kong I feel are none of my fucking business at this point.  I don’t think anybody cares about the nuances of how unhappy I am with politics these days.  I keep out of discussions now because they go nowhere.  Americans want you to say things out loud so they can put you on record.  Somewhere they can either use your opinion to sell a product or a service.  Maybe even a patriotic ideology.  I write enough reviews on Amazon to know the functionality of that.  Somebody asked the other day if an acrylic paint I reviewed could be used on silk fans.  I answered the question as non-biased and informative as I could for a white guy and moved on.  For a person who drinks as much coffee as I am nobody understands that I have a subscription.  I spent seventy dollars a month for a month’s supply of single origin coffee.  Meanwhile people at work are always trying to sell me on something else.  How my coffee habits are meaningless unless I spend money into this or that pool.  How Blizzard is evil and doesn’t deserve my support.  How I need to convince people my view on Hong Kong is correct when they’ve never even been there.  There’s times when my opinion is valued and I share it.  And then there’s times when people don’t listen to a word I say.  They have absolutely no understanding of why I live and breathe let alone choose to support.  They show no care.  They simply target, bully and neutralize.  If they fail they deal with the awkwardness of their assault by pretending I don’t exist.  That’s the real wall.  How you will never be good enough in some people’s eyes.  Because you might just realize your value and leave all together.  Take your money, your care, and your attention elsewhere.  Maybe even to another country where the debt is driven by investment instead of hyper conspicuous consumption.  Really after all these years of suffering in America I feel like I have no value to this country.  I’ve been raked under the coals so much and scrutinized for no reason.  If people really were watching and paying attention they’d know how much hurt I’ve been through.  I’ve stayed accountable for my actions so I could live in a space where I could love myself.  Which makes it highly understandable why I keep to myself and stay out of the public eye these days.  It is not safe for me and has not been for a very long time.  You can only be brave for so long until somebody finds a way to make you a martyr.  In that respect I’ve carried enough crosses to know you’ll never cross that line with me.  Especially if you eat at Chik-Fil-A in 2019.  Eat a real fucking chicken sandwich you dumb fuck.  <3 Tim