#he acts like a pissy house cat anyways

[enbyartist]

This is Artemis Entreri, right?

-

Credits to @abib918 for the idea

[00belle00lovely00]

Well if you also have more ships headcanons, so you also have Bobby x CatNap Headcanons?

G A S P

OH MAH GAWD IM GETTING SO MANY GOOD ONES-

ALRIGHT, I got you bestie! 🫶

💜❤️💜❤️💜❤️💜❤️💜❤️💜❤️💜❤️💜❤️💜❤️💜❤️💜❤️

ALR. I WILL SAY IT. THIS SHIP SHOULD BE LITERALLY NAMED CUDDLES. DON'T ARGUE WITH ME, YA'LL KNOW IT.

Quiet sleepyhead/introvert x lovely and mushy extrovert

Catnap isn't one to go out of his house much. It is either to lay down on a tree and sleep the day away or lay down on any surface that he finds. So, he is quite fond of Bobby because she's the only one who wouldn't complain about his sleeping habits. I mean, sure, she gets quite down whenever Catnap doesn't come along to the group for something fun, but unlike people like Dogday, Kickin, or Hoppy, she would actually encourage his need for sleep as she is aware he does it for his own self-love (in some strange way).

Catnap would TOTALLY randomly slump onto the floor on purpose and act passed out for Bobby to get worried and carry him into his bed. Why, do you ask? Because she ALWAYS. And I mean, ANYWAYS give a forehead kiss before going. Earning a purr from the cat.

They are all on with PDAs. ALL the time. Every second of it. But that's just because Bobby is the one to start it and Catnap is the one to just melt into it.

She'd be pinching on his cheeks like an aunt coming to see you.

Their date? Laying on a beanbag. That's- that's it. That's all they need. A scenario you say? Well...

Craftycorn: "Um... hey Bobby? Everyone's asking where you are, we were supposed to be at Dogday's house to... oh!"

Bobby: "CrAaAaaFtYYyY... *SNIFF*... THIS IS THE BEST DAY OF MY LIFE... I CAN'T ESCAPE THIS... LOVELY... ADORABLE... PRISON!" *Bobby sobbed as she laid on a beanbag, Catnap lying down on her lap.

Bobby would be sending flower bouquets DAILY for Catnap. Charmingly enough it being lavender and rose buds.

Smooches on the kitty!💜❤️ mwa! mwa! mwa! SMOOCH!

Catnap was always very laidback in many times. Tired much, soft-spoken, never really got anybody or anything for that matter. But often times he would get a bit pissy about how Bobby's mushy attitude is to everyone around them. He may not be a jealous typo, not at all, but he can feel a bit detached from Bobby's love from seeing her much more active than he is. So whenever THAT happens, he gives her the ice treatment. And oh boy, ain't that TORTURE for Bobby. The ONE girl who adores hugging and loving others more than anything else in the world is being given the cold shoulder is something worth weeping for. So whenever that happens, Catnap quickly regrets it and makes it up to her by spending the night with her.

Not surprisingly enough, I always headcanon Bobby having attachment issues (which would explain the last headcanon) so whenever she is also she sends as many love letters to Catnap as she can, even though half of the time is given back due to Catnap not being good with words, it eases her to know he is at least reading it

Bobby would pretty much spoil Catnap ROTTEN! In exchange? Catnap would probs call her "little Rosie". Now, you can imagine her kicking her feet, squirming and going absolutely NUTS for that small compliment.

They both like cuddling a lot, while also watching old Disney movies.

EXTRA:

DogDay: "Catnap? Caaatnaaap? Jeez! Where is he at? I can't find him anywhere!"

Bobby: "Let me handle this, 'Day!" *Bobby stepped in, taking a deep breath before kneeling down and making a gesture with her fingers* "pspspspspspsppspspspspsppsspspsp"

*Instantly, Catnap appears.*

Kickin: "... that's disgustingly corny" Kickin added.

Bobby: "Oh, hush" *she turned to look at Kickin while scratching the back of Catnap's ear* "We all have quirks here and there, that is just what makes you the loveliest you can be"

[altheterrible]

Everything in my house smells like cat pee, because Sev just kind of...leaks these days. It's not due to an illness or injury, it's just incontinence related to old age. He's 17 years old, as is his brother Loki, and these things are to be expected. Aside from the urinary incontinence, the little guy is still living a totally normal life. He's thinner than he used to be, and doesn't run anymore, but he can still jump and climb just fine. No trouble eating or drinking. Loves pets and cuddles and being brushed.

Sometimes I worry the smell is something I carry with me outside the house, that I have become the embodiment of the crazy old cat lady stereotype. I know for a fact this worry is not totally irrational, too, because when I'm outside of the house, I can smell how much the band of my Fitbit smells like cat pee, even though I wash it frequently. We clean the carpets weekly, we have covers on the furniture we wash frequently, but still. The house just smells really...pissy.

But honestly? It's fine. Because it's a temporary problem. It's a problem that I am honored to have. I've gotten to watch this little guy live his whole life. He's given me so much love and joy and comfort in the last 17 years that I think I can deal with a little cat pee in return.

Idk. I'm really passionate about elderly pets. People act like they're disposable once they start to be a little more work. And that's despicable.

Anyway.

[antipeegirlarchive]

Miss piss probably denies this but I think the reason she hates Marinette is that she's Chinese, she never says shit when it's non-Chinese characters harassing Adrien, hell even adult characters.

In that episode where he was chased around Paris by adult fans, Chole and Lila touch and kiss Adrien without his consent all the time then there's that male character, don't remember his name but he walks around with a cutout of Adrien and dresses just like him.

Oh nons I'm sure this is just a coincidence 🥺 (<- lying)

She likes to claim that she only hates marinette because she's written poorly and oh so mean to cat noir, but it suuuure is suspicious that the character she hates the most is a girl from China. And! You can't forget alya, a character she also passionately hates, who also happens to be a girl of color 🤔🤔🤔

Even just considering how characters treat adrien, things don't add up. Like sure ok you don't like Marinette because she's written like a stalker. But what about those other people, like the ones handily featured in the "adrien gets stalked" episode. That guy who dresses and tries to act like Adrien and follows him around the city with a lifesize adrien cutout? Pissy loves him. His only character trait is stalking and being obsessed with adrien, but i guess it's ok when he does it. For Some Reason.

And then Chloe and Lila, who are infamous for crossing adrien's boundaries and manipulating him. Remember when lila manipulated her way into adrien's house against his will and then went through his personal belongings. Sure was cool of her! I truly can't imagine why pissy would love the blond blue eyed french princess so much (<- lie). You would think that lila stands out since she has darker skin, but I'm pinning this on how pissy always wants to be contrary and like the unpopular characters. And then she gets mad at you for pointing out that they're kinda the worst

So yeah anyway I'm absolutely positively sure that pissy hating Marinette so much says absolutely nothing about her as a person (<- LYING)

[witchygirl99]

finding a photo of your enemy as a toddler, inukag

Ask, and you shall receive.

1800 words under the cut. Not edited. Written at work so it was a shoddy rush job and everything is very vague and you'll just have to accept this.

I'll write a proper, better video gamer AU one day. For now though...

Won't You Say (You Love Me, Too)

The thing is—

The thing is that Inuyasha isn’t meant to be here. Sure, he’s a little drunk. And sure, Koga’s stupid face dared him, because Koga is both stupid, has a face, and that face is stupid. Inuyasha didn’t have to listen, though. Inuyasha could have done a billion other things, like walk away, or laugh the dare off, or – or – could have even gotten himself another drink.

That… That would have been the smarter plan.

Inuyasha hiccups, flinching at the noise. He is so not supposed to be here.

“Inuyasha,” stupid Koga hisses from below. It’s probably supposed to be a whisper. It’s not. It’s like…quieter yelling, but yelling nonetheless.

Haughtily, Inuyasha glares down at his teammate. The window that he’s jimmied open to break into the Priestess House is still open. It’s unseasonably warm for an autumn night, but it’s strangely comforting. At least, Inuyasha thinks so. That could just be the alcohol talking, though.

“Inuyasha,” Koga hisses again, “what do you see?”

He blinks, frowns, and then squints into the dark room. There’s not a ton of illumination from either the moon, or the streetlights. He thinks, dimly, that this is a…bedroom? A bedroom. This is not, in fact, the office that they thought they were breaking into.

[Read the rest below the cut.]

He takes in a deep breath, brain pinging at him worriedly. He knows this scent. It’s familiar. Too familiar. Inuyasha should know whose room he’s in and it’s on the tip of his tongue – his nose? No, that’s not a saying – when Koga makes another hissing sound.

Ugh.

“What?” Inuyasha snarls, so desperate to glare out the window at his stupid teammate and at said stupid teammate’s face that he nearly stumbles. Bracing himself on the little table underneath, he makes a point to roll his eyes when the wolf demon waves alarmingly at him. “What is so urgent that you need to—”

“I hear them,” Koga whisper-yells, because he’s stupid. “They’re just down the street.”

“What?” he exclaims, but this time it’s desperate rather than irritated. “I thought Miroku said the girls would be gone for at least an hour.”

“Well, his intel is shit,” Koga replies. “Now get out!”

So much for sneaking into their offices to find out if any of their playing strategies would be visible. The regional gaming tournament is only two days away, and every single member of the six-person Priestess team has been dominating the competition. Their battle strategies have taken weaker characters and turned them into something surprisingly efficient. It should be impossible. Character stats don’t lie.

And yet. And yet. The women of the Priestess House have made a mockery of nearly everyone there. And the worst of them?

Kagome Higurashi. The absolute bane of his existence. She came onto the scene about three years ago, rising up the ranks. Inuyasha hadn’t even given her a second thought until The Incident last year.

The Incident, in which she—

“Inuyasha,” Koga hisses again, like an angry cat. A cat. Not a wolf. Inuyasha should tell him this. Inuyasha is desperate to tell him this. “You need to jump out the window, you fuck.”

Right. The Priestess girls were coming back. Kagome would be with them and that would be— That would be bad. Not just because of the breaking and entering, or the trespassing. It would be bad because Inuyasha would have to be around her for likely more than a minute, which would mean that he’d have to stare into those dark eyes and that too-kind smile – like they’re friends, which they are not – and then—

“For fuck’s sake, I’m going to leave you,” Koga states, and that finally drills through Inuyasha’s pretty drunk skull. Can skulls be drunk?

No?

Maybe.

“I’m coming,” Inuyasha replies, pushing upwards, but he’s an idiot. The table underneath him isn’t that sturdy, and so his pressure on it to climb back out the window from which he entered sends a picture frame crashing to the ground.

“Inuyasha!”

“Oh my god, say my name one more time and I will murder you!” Inuyasha snaps. Koga is not helping, that fucking fuck. “Hold the fuck on, we can’t let them know—” And he bends down to grab the frame and put it back. Hopefully whoever’s room this is won’t notice.

And then he sees the picture in the frame, practically mocking him. It’s fucking Kagome Higurashi, no more than four years old and clinging to a small baby who looks distinctly unhappy by the entire experience. It’s undoubtedly her. While there’s more chub to her cheeks, those are the same sparkling eyes and that’s the same beaming smile. He would know that smile anywhere because it always makes him feel off-balance, confused. No one just smiles at people, at strangers. No one just smiles at you while they’re getting destroyed in one-on-one battle, and then shakes your hand with that same happy smile when they’ve lost. They don’t use that exact same smile when they see you again later in the year, at another tournament, and only stop smiling when they beat you so badly—

Oh god.

Oh fucking god.

This is Kagome’s bedroom. This is Kagome’s bedroom and he’s in her room and—

Kagome Higurashi at four years old smiles the exact same way, and she’s clinging to a little boy and that’s a big purple dinosaur right beside her on the couch. A dinosaur. She likes dinosaurs, oh god this is the worst—

“Godspeed, fucker,” Koga whispers-yells. “We hardly knew ye!” There’s the distinct sound of bushes rustling. His own teammate has abandoned him. Inuyasha is going to commit murder.

Firmly putting down the picture frame, Inuyasha starts the careful climb back out the window. He’s got one leg out, half of his body strained to reach the little lip in the brickwork he climbed up earlier. His hands grab at the sill, twisting him, and then he sees it.

It.

The purple dinosaur.

It’s on her bed, perfectly placed and disgustingly cute.

“Oh no,” Inuyasha groans, and then promptly shoves himself out the window. It takes him ten precious seconds to balance, and then another ten seconds to close the window and hide the fact he ever broke in in the first place. At the first sound of voices, Inuyasha freezes against the brick, propped up in a little corner and distinctly not looking down. It’s not a far drop, but the last thing Inuyasha needs is to lose his balance, topple into the garden, and then have the Priestess women come running to see what the fuck happened.

He waits, breath nearly held, until they start opening the door. There’s enough fuss and discussion that Inuyasha feels safe in making his escape, running away like the hounds of hell are chasing him. He doesn’t stop. He doesn’t look back.

When he finds Koga, lounging on the couch and drinking yet another beer at their shared gaming house, it takes a solid ten seconds of very slow counting to remind himself that murder is bad.

Besides, they have a tournament to win on Saturday.

X+X

The next day, Inuyasha finds himself looking for purple dinosaurs on Amazon.

This is, well, not ideal.

“What are you doing?” Hachi asks, eyes narrowed in confusion and then widening in concern when Inuyasha flinches to hide this embarrassing lack of restraint. “Wow, okay.”

“Fuck off,” Inuyasha replies, but he’s too mortified to even make it mean-sounding. He just comes off as pathetic.

There’s a snort in the doorway, and Miroku comes bumbling in with a clipboard. He takes his duties as team manager far too seriously. “What did Hachi do wrong now?”

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” Hachi replies, eyeing Inuyasha again. “He’s the one that went all crazy when I asked him what he was doing.”

“And what was he doing?” Miroku presses. He’s grinning like a fool because he’s the worst. The worst best friend a guy could ask for. Inuyasha doesn’t know why he’s teammates with these idiots. It’s bad enough he’s got to deal with Koga.

“I wasn’t do anything,” he tries, but Hachi’s just shaking his head.

“Looking at his phone. I don’t know.”

Miroku turns to him, a shark that smells blood in the water. “Your phone? Who are you texting?”

“No one,” Inuyasha scoffs. “Fuck off.”

This gets a nod, and he has one moment of hope that Miroku won’t push the issue when his best friend hums. “You’re right. You have no friends outside of this team.”

“I’m not his friend!” Koga yells from somewhere else in the house.

Inuyasha sighs.

“So you must have been watching something.”

“No,” Hachi argues, “he was holding his phone like this. He was reading something, or maybe scrolling?”

“Inuyasha can’t read!” comes Koga’s voice again. They all ignore him.

“You’re not on Instagram,” Miroku hums, playing fucking Sherlock Holmes. “And you’re definitely not on TikTok. Discord is just another form of talking to people, so that’s out.”

Growling, he shoves his phone in the pocket of hoodie and gets up. “I am leaving.”

“Ooh, he’s leaving,” his friend continues, blue eyes alight with something dangerously close to glee. “Fuck, it has to be about Kagome then. That’s the only time you get this pissy.”

“Ha!” Hachi laughs because he, too, is the worst.

“That’s my future wife!” Koga yells from the other room, but that’s just because he’s delusional. As if someone like Koga could fucking rub two braincells together enough to impress her. Inuyasha’s face does a thing at the very thought.

“Oh my god, it is!” Miroku cackles.

“No,” Inuyasha answers, and he thinks he does a pretty good job of remaining calm. “But fuck you, anyways.”

“Are you reading her Wikitubia again?” his friend asks and that is it—

“One time!” Inuyasha yells, storming away from the main room. “That was one time!”

His teammates’ laughter follows him all the way back to his bedroom. Shippo, rubbing at his eyes after his nap – because he acts like a literal child, it’s embarrassing – just stares at him confusedly. “What did I miss?”

Inuyasha doesn’t stop walking. “Absolutely fucking nothing.” He gets into his room, shuts the door with a disturbing amount of care, and then leaps onto his bed to try and suffocate himself with a pillow. The walls of their gaming house aren’t that thick. If he tries hard enough, Inuyasha could hear the shit they’re undoubtedly still talking about him.

One time, Inuyasha pathetically whines in his head. He was only caught staring at her Wikitubia page one time. He was sizing up the enemy. Looking for weaknesses to exploit. That’s the only reason he did it. Just like that’s the only reason he watches her YouTube videos religiously, at least once a day, and always at night once everyone else has fallen asleep.

It’s not because of anything weird. It’s because she’s the enemy. She’s the competition. Inuyasha must figure out a way to destroy her.

Later that night, when he goes back to re-watching an old YouTube video of hers – one Kagome had posted within the first month of her rise to so-called fame – that he sees it.

It.

The purple dinosaur.

Sitting propped up on some pillows, like a prized treasure.

“Motherfucker,” Inuyasha snaps. He doesn’t stop the video, though. There could be secrets. Weaknesses to exploit. Yadda yadda yadda, he’s not in denial, this is only his third time watching it, blah blah—

Kagome smiles in the video and his chest does the thing.

Inuyasha sighs. Miroku can never, ever see his browsing history.

X+X

Tagging: @ideasthatbuildcities​ @wolfcry77​ @alerialblu​ @misspepperpottss​ @sailorbabydoll92​ @willowandfog​ @amethystablaze​ @fawn-eyed-girl​ @noyourenotreal​ @hnn-wnchstr​ @liz8080​ @nsr0716​ @superpixie42​ @itzatakahashi​ @mandirox89​ @inussunflower​ @cstormsinukagblog​ @nartista​ @hopidoodle​ @princessinume​ @lavendertwilight89​ @anxietyaardvark​ @omgitscharlie​ @theinuyashareader​ @ruddcatha​ @umacaking​ @kagometaishostory​ @cammysansstuff​ @sacred-arrow-writes @sacred-arrow @gicu2 @neutronstarchild @kalcia

[uwumessenger]

Can we get general headcanons for a scenario where obey me MC attending their sister's wedding and their sister is MC from mystic messenger 😳😳 I just think it'd be so funny for them to meet each other lmaooo and can mystic messenger MC be getting married to saeyoung ❤️ I love your blog btw you have some cute stuff 😭

mystic messenger x obey me simp nation RISE

ah yes i have been itching to get my hands on this request haha and thank you!! BUT OMG HAVE YOU BEEN IN MY BRAIN? BC OKAY SO LIKE TO FALL ASLEEP I ALWAYS NEED TO HAVE A SCENARIO PLAYING IN MY HEAD AND THIS WAS ONE OF THE SCENARIOS I HAD ONE TIME CJZMNDMSM i dont have an irl crush so all my romantic imaginations consist of the mystic messenger and obey me bois 😌💅🏻

Mystic Messenger MC is Obey Me! MC's sister and she invites the OM MC as well as the demon brothers to her and Saeyoung's wedding!!

(for the sake of lessening confusion, y/n is YOU and mc is the mystic messenger mc (and you can pretend it's you too or an oc i dunno) so let ur imagination run wild!!)

it's also assumed that y/n has already met the rfa, and y/n and mc do not have any other family members. but for some reason i picture that the reception count is large idk maybe all the mystic messenger characters have/made 20 mutual friends each djsksnjs just pretend the reception room is full 😭

also includes one or two spoilers for another story and the main plot for om!

this is long as hell btw dsjkskdjkjd but i separated it into parts + bolded stuff so hopefully it’s not as messy ! enjoy !

when y/n first got news of their sister's engagement, they talked everyone's ears off for WEEKS.

luckily diavolo was like you know what you can go if you take the brothers with you!!!

y/n was scared at first mainly bc um they are demons? and sometimes they act like 7 year olds? but ur like aight bet let's do this!!!!

time skip 2 the day of the wedding

(if ur a gal) y/n's sister made her the maid of honor

(if ur a mans) y/n will be the person walking mc down the aisle

so y/n had to be there fairly early to help with everything as well as get ready for the ceremony and reception

the entire 2nd floor of the nearest hotel to the wedding venue was rented out thanks to jumin !

the brothers took up a total of 2 rooms...lucifer, mammon, and asmo to one room / satan, beel, belphie, and levi to another

lucifer needed to be with mammon and asmo and practically kept them on an invisible leash considering that they have pretty bad self restraint in terms of their sin

but jumin also had to pull some strings to get the ceremony at a space station...hip hip hooray

the station said it was strictly only immediate family though, so the ceremony was just mc, saeyoung, y/n, jaehee (only bridesmaid/maid of honor if y/n is a boy), saeran, yoosung, jumin, zen, and v

saeyoung is in awe as he watches mc walk down the aisle...hes dreamed of this moment his entire life!

who would have known they'd actually manage to get married in a space station?? :')

after saying their vows, mc and saeyoung kissy kiss and all is HAPPY

idk how weddings work in terms of scheduling so let us simply time skip to the reception

the brothers pull up skrrt earlier than most guests but they arent the first ones to arrive

cue mammon, levi, and asmo arguing over where y/n should sit

satan interrupts and clarifies that y/n will be sitting at the head table with their sister. they r salty

oKAY UHHH time to start the reception!!

y/n and zen duetting???? beauty and the beast????? as they escort mc and saeyoung in for their slow dance???? YES PLEASE

like in the style of ariana grande and john legend

when the brothers see y/n as they sing the first line of the song they ! almost ! combust !

mc and saeyoung slow dance to the song and everyone has tears in their eyes. yoosung is crying into saeran's arms as saeran holds back tears. jaehee is crying bc she and y/n coordinated the entire thing and shes happy but also feeling stressed.

dinner is buffet style, and lucifer's attention and energy is now directed toward beel. this is a formal human event and not one of diavolo's parties where people are used to him hogging everything down...

but y/n was smart enough to help get the brothers' table to be seated next to the buffet so after all the other tables get their food beel could secretly go ham

the first interaction between rfa and the brothers happen between lucifer and v

v could see that lucifer was kinda struggling and decided to check in on him before checking in on the other guests

they end up talking a lot. mostly about how they both lied to their respective squads to try to protect them from the truth

lucifer of course tones the story down and doesnt give away that they r demons, though

y/n saw levi all pissy alone at the table so they grabbed yoosung and introduced him to levi. they were awkward at first but once yoosung mentioned LOLOL levi was all ears and they bonded over different games

y/n stays a bit to make sure levi doesnt reveal anything sus

meanwhile, asmo is flirting with zen. complimenting his singing from earlier as well as his rat tail

zen mentions that asmo's skin is glistening and the two of them go crazy over different skincare brands

asmo may or may not have accidentally said that he uses a lamb blood and aloe vera mixture yes i just made that up which confused zen but zen's reaction further confused asmo until asmo remembered !! im in the human world

so he played it off as a joke and told zen that he shouldnt furrow his eyebrows much otherwise he'll wrinkle quicker

as saeran walks to the ice cream station next to the buffet he sees beel holding an entire tray of fish with a suspicious looking belphie standing next to him

when belphie and saeran lock eyes the energy in that corner of the room turns so dark that you could see storm clouds forming over them : ◉ ∧ ◉ : ╏

anyway jaehee, like v, was checking in with the guests when she spots mammon investigating a gold doorknob

mammon nearly shits himself when jaehee taps him on the back and asks him if he is okay

satan compliments elizabeth the third when he sees jumin petting her on the balcony. they talk about cats for a while and jumin tells satan that he enjoys the company of another man elizabeth deems worthy to be in her presence

by the end of the night

everyone is helping with cleaning up the ballroom after all the other guests have gone

jumin thinks that beel is cool, since he ate all the food provided as well as the mochi party favors

mammon volunteers to take home all of the extra centerpieces and decorations. before lucifer says no, mc and seven tell mammon hes more than welcome to take them all home. it would just sit in their house and collect dust, anyway

when everyone is back in their hotel room (y/n stays with jaehee for the night so mc and saeyoung can get it on) yoosung invites levi to play some games with him in his room

zen shares a room with yoosung and eagerly watches the two boys playing

asmo needs to follow his sleeping schedule so he peacefully goes to sleep while dreaming of not-so-appropriate things. he’ll be back on his bullshit tomorrow

lucifer is trying to help mammon figure out a way to organize all the freebies he got to prevent all of it from falling everywhere when they go back to devildom. he also sets a centerpiece aside for diavolo to keep. cute!

belphie is knocked out and so is beel (food coma)

satan stays with jumin for a bit, wanting to be around elizabeth the third a bit longer, then returns to his room around 2am. he sees that levi isn’t back in the room and texts for him to return soon.

bonus!

mc and saeyoung are <3333333′ing

unfortunately y/n and jaehee can hear it, as well as v since their rooms sandwich mc and saeyoung’s

[abalonetea]

Just Keep Breathing: Chapter Two

I was partnered with @the-dot for the @originalfictionbigbang​! Thank you for working with me, Dot!

Here is the first chapter! I’ve split the first 10k words between four chapters, and will be posting them all in a masterpost in just a moment!

Summary: It’s the height of storm season and everyone in Hi-Banks, Florida is getting ready for the bad weather. It should be a year like any other - but on the tails of a national pandemic, a new disaster strikes. More than one new disasters. So many disasters that Eddie Carver would like to put some of them back, thanks. He’s just a down on his luck guy living in the local trailer park with his boyfriend. He’s not interested in dealing with the revival of an old murder case - which he knows nothing about, thanks -, the storm season of the century, or…zombies?

Yeah. Absolutely not interested in the zombies.

This black-comedy follows the inner workings of a small town as they band together to survive, and the young man - reckless, mean, angry, written off b the big city folk come to look into a cold case - that might hold all of societies survival in his hands.

Forget about society.Eddie’s only interested in keeping his friends alive.

Chapter Two – The Hunt Shop

The Mason family has owned a bait and tackle shop out on the north edge of Hi Banks for almost a solid four generations. It’s a good twenty minute walk from the trailer park, which isn’t that bad when it’s not also pouring down rain. As it stands, they’re both soaked by the time they hit the long dirt road that winds towards it. The sides are pitted out from constant tire tracks, turned into thick puddles of standing water and mud.

The rain lets up to a light drizzle, but it’s too late for that to be helpful. Eddie makes a point of splashing his feet in as many of the puddles as he can.

Carson’s the one who calls out, “truck,” when twin headlights appear in the distance. It’s got a massive dent on the passenger side and the fender looks like it’s held on with duck tape.

Lincoln Wiltshire, the deputy, pulls over. He’s a tall, skinny man with a hooked nose and a scar on the side of his neck. Every time he’s asked, Lincoln tells a different story about how he got that scar. Eddie’s pretty sure it’s something mundane and stupid, like a fishing accident.

“You boys having trouble?” Lincoln asks, rolling down his window and half leaning out it.

“Truck still won’t run,” says Carson. “We’re stuck hoofing it everywhere.”

“And the power’s out at the trailer park,” adds Eddie.

“Shit, already? I was hoping it might stay on a while longer.” Lincoln scratches at his side burns. “Wonder if it’s out where I live, too.”

“Store had power last time I was there,” says Eddie. There’s no need to specify. Everyone just calls it The Store.

Carson asks, “you coming from Red’s?”

“Was getting some more shells.” Lincoln gestures at the brown paper bag in his passenger seat. “I wouldn’t hold my breath on anything with him today, boys. He’s in a rotten mood.”

“Eh, we’ll take the risk. I want something hot to eat tonight, you know?” Eddie says “Shit. You think he might have some of that soup still?”

“Maybe,” says Carson. And then, to Lincoln, “can you do me a favor? I was only at the docks for like an hour earlier, but Clancy didn’t show up.”

Lincoln frowns. “Now that ain’t like him.”

“No, it’s not. He’s always there, doesn’t matter the weather,” says Carson. “Figure maybe you could swing by his place, see if he’s...I dunno. Gotten into something.”

“Sure, sure, I’ll do that before I go home. Thanks for the heads up, Carson. You two stay out of trouble now, you hear me? I don’t want to get any calls out there.”

“That wasn’t our fault!”

“I don’t care who starts the fight, I’m the one that has to pull pants on to come finish it. I’m looking to not leave the house again tonight, so. Behave.” Lincoln jabs a bony finger at them.

Carson rolls his eyes. “Whatever.”

Eddie parrots, “yeah, man, whatever.”

“Maggots, the both of you,” huffs Lincoln, but he makes sure to pull away slowly so as not to splash them in muck.

They get about ten steps before Eddie asks, “so, uh, you worried about him?”

“I mean, yeah. Sort of.”

“Ain’t he a jerk?”

“Sure. But like, not all the time. And it’s weird. He’s always at the docks. Like, I’ve NEVER not seen him at the docks, Eddie. I dunno. I’ve just got a bad feeling about this.” Carson shrugs.

Maybe it makes Eddie a worse person, but he’s not too concerned about Clancy one way or the other.  The guy has a mean streak the size of the Grand Canyon, and a habit for acting like he’s the boss down at the docks. He’s not, clearly, but the guy has been working there forever at this point, so everyone mostly just ignores it.

Silence falls over them. The sloshing of Eddie’s boots is the only thing between them, until the shoddy looking wood building of The Hunt Shop comes into view. There’s a massive concrete raccoon statue out front. It gets decorated every time a holiday comes around. Right now, it’s got a massive yellow tarp wrapped around it in lieu of a rain coat.

The front door is propped open, the heavy twanging bass of the radio thudding out. Eddie ducks in first, glancing around.

For the most part, the hunt shop hasn’t really changed in...well, ever. There’s an old singing bass above the gun rack, and a mounted deer head on the wall just behind the front counter. Red is stretched out on a chair behind it, booted foot flung up onto the counter next to the register and an open can of beer.

“Lincoln was right,” says Eddie. “You look pissy.”

“Ey, if it ain’t my favorite scarecrow.” Red thunks his boot back down onto the floor. “Lemme guess, the power’s out.”

Eddie finger snaps at him. “Bingo!”

Carson stomps in just behind him. “Cat broke our damn window.”

“A cat?” Red snorts. “You know, I think you might have worse luck than I do.”

Eddie hops up onto the counter, next to the register. He helps himself to the open, half-warm beer. “Lincoln says you’re in a pissy mood. What’s up?”

“Ugh. This damned weather,” says Red. He uses his foot to push the wheeled chair away from the counter, and then spin around so he can slap a hand against the calendar hanging up behind him. “Look at this. I’ve got two days, and then I’m supposed to be going on my hunting trip.”

“Damn, is it that time already?” Eddie passes the mostly empty can to Carson.

Carson rolls his eyes. “Thanks.” And then, “isn’t that storm supposed to hit this weekend?”

“I’m thinking about just hunkering down out there,” says Red.

“That’s stupid,” says Eddie.

Red slaps the calendar again. “I’ve never missed a trip. I’m not gonna let it get passed over because of some rain. It’s, what, a cat two? I’ve spent worse storms out on the swamp. I figure there’s no power out there anyway, so what would I be missing?”

“The sun,” says Eddie.

At the same time, Carson says, “the hunting.”

Red scowls at them both. “Neither of you know the meaning of the word fun, you know that? I swear, I don’t know when you guys got so boring.”

“Around the same time we started dying from hunger,” quips Eddie.

“Fine, fine, we’ll go get something to eat. C’mon. I was gonna close up anyway.” Red hauls himself out of the chair and around the counter. He leads the way out of the shop – Carson closing the door behind them when he brings up the tail – and around to the back of the building where his camper’s parked.

The radio is already on inside, a woman’s voice, “and as if the predicted overly active storm season isn’t enough, we’re having more and more cases of this unknown virus showing up. We actually have managed to get an interview with Charlie Santero, the governor of Florida, where we get his personal thoughts on the situation.”

“Ugh, shut that off. I hate that guy,” says Red.

Eddie slaps the radio off. “So, food?”

“Chili,” answers Red. He grabs a bowl out of the fridge and shoves it into the microwave.

“Gross,” says Carson.

Red flips him off. “You’re the ones that came over.”

The microwave beeps. Red pulls it out and tosses it onto the little table on the other side of the kitchenette. He grabs three spoons and drops them down, too.

“Alright. Dinner’s served.”

* * *

It’s dark by the time they leave Red’s, all three of them loading up into Red’s old wood backed pickup. They roll the windows down, letting the stiff Florida air into cab.

Eddie sits on the far end, arm flung out so the mosquitoes slap into it as they rush past. “So, think we’re gonna get hit bad this summer?”

Red groans. “Do we have to talk about the storms? I’m trying to think happy thoughts about this week.”

Carson says, “I’ll check up on the shop for you.”

The tires catch in one of the ruts, splashing mud up onto Eddie’s hand. “Gross.” He pulls it in, wiping his palm off on his shorts. “I’m thinking it’s gonna be a small one. Just because it’s always small when the people on the radio talk about it. They’re always wrong and stuff.”

Red whacks the back of one hand against Carson’s shoulder. “Smack him for me, will ya? You’re gonna jinx my trip if you keep talking like that, scarecrow.”

Carson shoves at the back of Eddie’s head, pushing hair into his face. “Don’t jinx him.”

“Ow!” Eddie rubs over dramatically at the back of his head. “Fine, fine, I won’t – hey, knock it off already!”

They pull all the way through town towards the trailer park and are almost at the chain link fence around the place when the flash of red and blue lights come into view. Red cuts the engine. “Alright, nope. I’m checking out. Whatever you two did - “

“We didn’t do nothing,” says Eddie, the words a low sort of whine. “I’m telling you!”

“Looks like you did something,” says Red. “And I’m not interested in being involved. Sorry.”

Carson grunts, giving Eddie the stink eye.

Eddie shakes his head. “I didn’t. I’ve stayed outta trouble and you know it, man. I’ve got – fuck, nothing on me right now.”

“Whatever,” says Carson, slinging open the door. “Let’s just get this over with.”

Red doesn’t have a record, per say, but he likes to steer clear of the local officers all the same. The moment that Eddie and Carson are out of the truck, it peels into reverse and vanishes, a squeal of tires on the pitted pavement and a spray of muddy water up onto the other side of the road.

Carson says, “you’d tell me if I’m about to walk into something, right?”

“Yeah, man, I’d tell you,” says Eddie. “But I swear, this has nothing to do with me.”

“Ugh,” says Carson, and Eddie totally agrees with that. They head up into the trailer park and true to their luck, the sheriff’s car is parked right outside of their little hovel, along with a little shiny black car that doesn’t seem to fit in with the rest of Hi Banks.

Sheriff Bianca is sitting on the hood of her car smoking a hand rolled cigarette, short black hair pushed away from her face, the thick scar over her cheek visible even in the wane light of the street lamp. “There you are. We were waiting for you. This is - “

“Agent Smith,” says another woman, long blonde hair pulled back away from her face and an ashy pallor to her skin. “and my partner, Agent Russo.”

“We didn’t do shit,” says Eddie, lower lip jutting out.

Carson shoves him. “Idiot. Stop running your mouth.”

The corners of Bianca’s mouth twist up at the edges, just a little bit, and then instantly take on that hard slant again. She slides off the car, putting the cigarette out on the bottom of one mud caked boot and then tucking it into the front pocket of her uniform shirt. “Boys, they’re here about the Mulborne Case.”

There’s a beat of silence.

One.

Two.

Three.

Eddie lets out a bark of laughter, just can’t help himself. “What, really?”

Smith asks, “does that mean you know the man?”

“Of course I do. Everyone knows Benny,” says Eddie, with a shrug of his sharp, bony shoulders. “Ain’t this thing solved?”

“Yes,” says Bianca, a little tersely.

“On a local level,” answers Russo. “But we’ve recently been informed of something that’s brought the case into a larger light.”

Carson squints. “You two aren’t cops.”

“We’re with the FBI,” says Smith.

Eddie snorts. “Bullshit.”

That takes Smith off guard. “Excuse me?”

“The FBI out in Hi Banks? Yeah, I don’t buy it,” says Eddie. “This town’s barely on the map. What the Hell would send you people out here, huh?”

“We’re not allowed to discuss that information while the case is still under investigation,” says Russo. “You’re - “

“Eddie, yeah, and he’s Carson, and I’m sure the sheriff’s gone over all’a this with you. You realize how late it is? Some of us actually have to work,” says Eddie.

Smith gives him a tight lipped smile. “I’m sorry about the time. We got a little turned around on the way out here.”

“Not my problem,” says Eddie.

Russo says, “it might be. It’s been brought to our attention that you had contact with the men who were murdered.”

“They went missing,” corrects Bianca. “There was no proof of foul play.”

Eddie juts out his lower lip. “Yeah, sure. I fixed up their van when they came through, big fucking whoop. How about I just make this real easy and tell you exactly what I told her?” He jerks a thumb at Bianca, who rolls her eyes. “Their van was trashed. I fixed it. That’s my job, okay? That’s it. They paid in cash, big bills, and then they left and I never saw them again. End of story.”

Carson says, “you should try and find someone smarter to ask about it.” He slings an arm around Eddie’s shoulders and hauls the other man up against his side. “Eddie’s got a brick for brains. Even if something weird was going on, there’s no way he would’ve noticed it.”

“Bitch,” mutters Eddie, but he doesn’t protest. Easy out’s, right?

A phone goes off, some lame shrill tone. Russo excuses himself and steps away from the group and Bianca asks, “did you figure out where the machinery went?”

Carson grunts. “Probably Milo hawked it. Pretty sure his ma’s rent was due this month. We didn’t really look that hard.”

Smith questions, “machinery?”

“Carson works at the docks,” says Bianca. “A few parts went missing earlier this week.”

“Not that it’s any of your business,” says Carson, gruffly. “Look, no offense but we’ve already done this once. We don’t know anything else about it, and I’ve got work tomorrow. Can we wrap this up?”

A car door clicks open behind them. Russo, still on the phone, waves Smith over. Smith nods and then excuses herself, all polite, “thank you for your time. I’m sure we’ll be in touch,” before heading over. They climb in their little black car and leave.

Carson scowls at Bianca. “Seriously?”

“Trust me,” says Bianca, dryly. “It’s not my idea of a good time, either. I thought that we were done with this.”

Eddie snorts, already heading towards their trailer. “Yeah, fuck off about that. I am done with it.”

He’s pretty pleased when Carson just goes on and follows him, not so much as a goodbye tossed Bianca’s way.

[waitineedaname]

frame the halves and call them a whole

also on ao3

--

“Alright, I’ve got a bad one.”

“Oh, lord.”

“Brace yourself.”

“I’m bracing!” Sasha made a show of gripping the short carpet on her living room floor and Tim grinned, leaning back against her coffee table.

“Would you rather… date a spider with the head of a human, or a human with the head of a spider?”

“Jesus. I see someone has been reading the discredited statements.”

“Guilty.” Tim shrugged cheekily. 

The two of them were sitting on the floor in Sasha’s flat, and she’d long since lost track of what time it was. Ever since they’d been moved to the Archives, they’d made an agreement to go out and do something together once a week. Sometimes that meant getting sloshed and losing at pub trivia, sometimes that meant dragging each other to whatever new film had made it to theaters that week, and sometimes that meant playing sleepover games in the middle of the night, as if they were twelve year olds and not thirty-somethings with 9-to-5’s. Neither of them had the energy to go out drinking and there wasn’t anything good in the theaters that week, so the third option had won out. They’d ended up on the floor when Sasha made an ill-advised comment about not being ticklish and Tim called her bluff. She’d dissolved into hysterical giggles and he’d said something about how being an oldest sibling meant having a sixth sense for someone’s ticklish spots, and then he’d gone very still and quiet. She’d taken his hand and squeezed and initiated the game of would-you-rather they found themselves in now.

“Okay. Let me think about this.” She drummed her fingers on her lips contemplatively. Tim smiled in that fond way he did when he didn’t want to outright laugh at her. “Are the human and spider bits proportional?”

“Ooh, very good question, Sash. Let’s say they’re the normal sizes for your average spiders and humans.”

“So my options are a human head scuttling around on spider legs or a human with an absolutely microscopic spider head?”

“Yep!” Tim said, popping the ‘p.’

“I’m going to go with option A. I mean, if it’s a human head, I could still hold a conversation with it, right? And I don’t think spiders would make good kissers.”

“I think some of our statement givers would disagree with that judgment.”

“Please don’t tell me we have a statement about a human body with a spider head. I don’t think I could take it.”

“Sure do! Statement number 9170108, or something like that. Some freaked out old coot convinced his neighbor’s head was fake and he was keeping a tiny little spider underneath the fake head.”

“Christ. I’m glad Jon didn’t ask me to look into that one. I might have quit on the spot.” Sasha laughed.

“Aw, and then leave me and Martin to deal with Jon? You know how he gets with the spider ones.” 

“Hm, fair. The Archives need someone sensible around.”

“Hey, you’re not the sole voice of reason down there!”

“You’re right. Martin can be fairly practical when he wants.” She failed to bite back her smirk when Tim clutched his chest, feigning pain.

“Oh, how you wound me, Ms. James! Here I was, thinking it was Tim and Sasha versus the world, but you’ve betrayed me for Martin!”

“Is that your proposal for a Scott Pilgrim reboot? Am I Ramona in this scenario?”

“No, we’re both Scott Pilgrim because combined, we can equal the pure sexual energy of one Michael Cera.”

“Eugh! Gross!” She retched and kicked at him, making him laugh. 

“I’m kidding!”

“You better be! Any and all horniness for Michael Cera is banned in this flat!”

“That’s fair.” He caught her foot and shoved it back at her. “Knives and Ramona were both way too good for him, anyway. They should’ve ended up together at the end.”

“That’s the first intelligent thing you’ve said all night.”

“You’re really not pulling any punches tonight, huh?”

“Nope. My turn. Would you rather...” She crossed her arms and stared him down long enough to make him squirm, “get stoned with Jon or Elias?”

Tim groaned so loud she worried her neighbors would complain. “No. Absolutely not. You cannot make me choose that.”

“Hey, you asked about spider people!”

“Yeah, and I’d argue that dealing with my bosses while stoned is worse than a human head skittering around on the walls!”

“Oh, come on. Jon isn’t that bad.”

“Sasha. You were friends with him in Research. I was friends with him in Research. Last time we got drinks, he talked about South American moths for forty minutes. I’m getting a headache just thinking about listening to him while he’s stoned.”

“Maybe it’ll calm him down.”

“Maybe.” Tim pouted, and Sasha did her best not to giggle. “Alright fine. I choose Jon, but only because I cannot imagine Elias getting within eyesight of anything as fun as weed without shriveling up and acting like an affronted Victorian gentleman.”

“Okay, first of all, the Victorians loved drugs, they were high on opiates all the time-"

"Like hell am I doing opiates with Elias."

"Second of all, I may have looked into what Elias was like before he got promoted…” She trailed off and bit back a laugh when Tim's jaw dropped.

“No.” 

“And he was a major stoner.”

“You can’t just say these things. I refuse to accept it.”

“I’m serious!”

“Are we talking about the same Elias? The Elias Bouchard that uses words like grandiloquent and apropos? The Elias Bouchard that gets pissy if you round up on your time card?”

“You know what’s even worse?”

“Please don’t make it worse.”

“I’ve seen him wear those socks with weed patterns on them.”

“I told you not to make it worse.” Tim wailed and covered his face. “I swear, if I saw that, I would gouge my eyes out without hesitation.” Sasha patted his leg sympathetically. 

“Well, good thing you chose Jon, then.”

“I guess so! Fuck’s sake.” He sighed and flopped over onto his side to lie on the floor. Sasha laughed at him goodnaturedly, and then joined him on the floor. She expected him to be thinking of his next would-you-rather prompt, but after a long minute of him silently running his fingers through the carpet, he surprised her by asking, “Do you ever miss Jon?”

“Sorry?” She said, confused. “We see him every day, Tim.”

“No, I…” He huffed, “You know what I mean. Do you miss the Jon we knew in Research?”

“Oh…” Sasha caught onto his drift and fell silent, unsure what to say. Tim was clearly brimming with emotions that he was struggling to get out, so she let him take a minute.

“Not saying he’s a completely different person now, but… I don’t know. We used to get drinks with him. He used to laugh at our jokes. He used to make jokes. Weird, dark jokes, but still jokes, you know? But these days, it’s all business, all the time. I don’t think I’ve seen him smile in months. All… All snappish comments and ‘research this, call this statement giver, stop goofing off during work hours.’ Never mind that just a year ago, he was the one using work hours to show us cat videos because he got distracted during his lunch break.” The side of Tim’s face was smushed into the floor and his one free eye was focused on the whorls he was creating with his fingers in the carpet. Up close as they were, Sasha could see the light scar on his chin that he’d once told her was the result of an ill-advised dare as a child, when his brother had challenged him to see if they could jump off the back deck of their house. She touched it, and he leaned into her hand, eyes distant and sad. “I just…” He spoke softly, “I miss my friend.”

“I miss him too.” Sasha said honestly, though she knew Tim was taking it harder than she was. “You know it’s not your fault, right?”

“I know that.” Tim said, and she believed him. “It’s this stupid job. The stupid Archives. I miss being in Research, where I could make fun of the weirdos in the Archives, but now we’re the weirdos in the Archives.”

“We work at an institute that studies the supernatural. I think we’re the weirdos no matter which department we’re in.” She said, aiming for some levity and feeling relieved when Tim let out a soft huff of laughter.

“Fair. Still. The vibes in there are…”

“Bad.” She finished for him.

“You can say that again.” He finally shifted to look at her again. “If you were the Head Archivist-”

“Tim-” She warned, not wanting to dig up an old sore point. 

“I’m serious. If you were the Archivist, do you think you’d act like this?”

“Would I push you away, you mean.” She said. He shrugged and nodded. “I don’t know. I really don’t, Tim. I’d like to say I wouldn’t, but who knows what kind of pressure it involves. I can be just as intense as Jon when I feel pressured.”

“Yeah, but you’d be way nicer than him.”

“You don’t know that.” Sasha said, firm but gentle. 

“...Guess I don’t.” Tim sighed and shut his eyes. She reached down and squeezed his hand. He squeezed back.

“Next time you’re missing Jon, call me instead, okay? Or Martin, he’d love that.” She ran her thumb over his and gave him a small smile. “You can always count on me.”

His gaze is impossibly soft as he looks up at her, and he seems to almost forget to respond at first. “Yeah.” He finally says. “I can always count on you, Sash.” A cheeky grin spread across his face, breaking the tender moment. “The Pilgrim to my Scott.”

She laughed and let go of his hand to push his shoulder into the leg of the coffee table playfully. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“It makes perfect sense!” He protested despite his own laughter. “Okay, maybe it doesn’t make sense, but it’s the thought that counts. I’m poetic.”

“No, you’re sleep-deprived.” She sat up enough to eye the microwave from her vantage point in the kitchen. “Oh lord, it’s 2am, no wonder. You always get sappy at 2am.”

“I do not!”

“You do. Big sap.” She patted his cheek playfully and stood. “Want me to get you some extra blankets for the couch?”

“That’d be great.” He hauled himself to his feet, groaning all the way. She snickered.

“You sound like an old man.”

“I’ll have you know, I’m young and spry.” He complained, stretching.

“Mhm.” She rolled her eyes and went to the closet.

“At the prime of my life.”

“And yet you make dad noises getting out of a chair.”

“Hey, lying on the floor isn’t good for your back! Aren’t you older than me anyway?”

“Maybe, but I’m not the one complaining about my back.” She cut off whatever complaint he had prepared by throwing a quilt at him. He caught it and stuck his tongue out at her. She returned the gesture and grabbed another blanket. “Are two blankets good?”

“That’s perfect.” He took the blanket gratefully and settled on the couch. “Should I make breakfast as thanks?”

“You don’t have to,” Sasha immediately said out of politeness, but then added, “But if you want to make pancakes…”

“Understood. I’ll see you bright and early with some pancakes, then.” Tim smiled up at her and made himself comfortable on the couch.

“See you in the morning, Tim.” She turned to walk to her room, but stopped at the doorway when Tim piped up again.

“Sasha?”

“Hm?” She looked back at him and saw his best flirty grin on his face. He winked and blew a kiss at her. More than used to his nonsense, she gasped and pretended to catch the invisible kiss, then promptly put her hand to mouth and pretended to eat the kiss. Tim clutched his heart and fell back onto the couch, trying to act like he wasn’t holding back laughter. “No, you’re so cruel!”

“Good night, Tim.” She said, closing the door behind herself before her poker face could break.

“Good night, Sasha.” She heard through the door, full of fondness and amusement in equal parts. 

Sasha rolled out of bed the next morning to find Tim making pancakes, as promised. They sat at her kitchen table and bickered playfully about movies; Tim listened patiently as she infodumped about the history of science fiction as a genre, and she let him rant for the fiftieth time about Indiana Jones. Tim insisted on washing the dishes like a gentleman, and Sasha insisted on squirting bubbles out of the dish detergent bottle at him. They didn’t speak a word about work or their conversation from the night before, but she hugged him very tightly before he left, as if conveying all the emotion she could through touch alone. From the way he squished his face into her shoulder, it seemed the message came across. 

“I’ll make sure to get you the spider guy’s number.” He said when they finally pulled apart, and she snorted.

“You’re insufferable, you know that?” She said, shoving him out the door.

“So I’ve heard.” He winked and walked backwards down the hall outside her flat. She sighed and waved, a smile on her face as she shut the door.

If he bugged her and Martin more than usual after talking to Jon the following week, she didn’t mention it.

[aconitewolfsbane]

Well, I hate my brother...

My brother, well, one of them, is an arsehole. Okay, honestly, both of them are, but this is about the oldest one.

He’s being getting absolutely fucking terrible these last few years. Seriously, it’s pretty much elder abuse, so tw:abuse if you need it.

I mean, wow. Here’s just a short list of his arseholery. Putting under the cut because damn, there’s a lot. Stuff in bold means it’s an ongoing issue that we’ve been dealing with for years:

-- I’ve caught him with his hands in mum’s purse when she was in the shower. He immediately denies it, despite me seeing his hand literally in her purse. -- When she was diagnosed with cataracts (which she’s since had the surgery for, and is okay now), he told her that he had cleaned when he clearly didn’t, because he knew she couldn’t tell the difference. -- He picks random fights with mum, then denies that he started it. Even after being told to go to his room to cool down, he waits until I’m gone before coming back out to start on her again. He has driven her to tears on multiple occasions like this. -- Despite knowing that she’s a diabetic, he steals her limited food supplies. He always claims “Oh, I didn’t know...” yet doesn’t hesitate to do it again. -- Even though she’s on a pension, and he gets one of his own, every single one of her paydays, he jabs his hand out demanding money. Throws a goddamn fit if she tries to tell him that she can’t spare it. Continues being an arse until she either gives him her taxi money for next week, or he manages to steal it from her bag. -- When she had cataracts, she had to walk slower and more carefully to make she that she didn’t fall over anything. He decided that she was too slow, and instead of going around the other side of the house and coming in the unlocked back door, he pushed her out of his way. Thankfully, I was nearby and managed to catch her. -- Because of her cataracts, he started waling around the house in one of three things. His underwear; his adult diapers (he drinks too much coke, and it’s wrecked his guts); his damned birthday suit. Yes, he walks around naked sometimes in the house where he lives with his mother, and his sister. -- When we reminded him that he lives with his mother and sister, and we don’t want to see him at all, he called me a bitch for not wanting to see one of my brothers naked. -- Opens her mail without her permission. This is because when she had the cataracts, she let him open and read out some stuff because she couldn’t do it herself, and he seemed to have taken that as an open invitation. -- If she’s on the phone, regardless of if it’s outgoing or incoming, he tries to listen in. If he can’t, usually because I’m there and he knows I’ll yell at him for it, then he’ll wait until I’m gone and harass mum until she tells him who she was talking to. We started just saying “santa clause. he said you aint getting shit this year", and he started to back off. -- Has THREE showers per day. Denies it. And yet, there’s only three people in this house. Someone is having a shower at 4-5am, again around 8am, and then again at night around 8. It’s not me, and it’s not mum. I sarcastically suggest someone is breaking into the house early every morning to have a shower, and he leaps at the idea, claiming that’s exactly what happens. And if I suggested that the cats are having showers at 4am, he’d try to convince us that’s true too... -- Has her fearful of being hit. He’s about 6 foot tall, and she’s barely 5′5, so... -- Has almost hit me multiple times, because I was trying to tell him to stop being such an arsehole to mum. He responds by calling me a bitch. -- Walks up and down the hallway in heavy boots. He’s destroyed the lino. We have both told him not to do it; as it’s annoying, and keeps us both awake; he yells like we’ve told him that he has to give all of his comics to charity. -- Complains whenever mum asks him to do even the simplest job. -- When she had cataracts, he was being a shit about sweeping the kitchen floor for mum. I told him. “Geez, it’s not like she’s asking you to donate a bloody kidney.” His response? “Yes it is!” He compared helping his legally blind elderly mother with a small bit of housework to be the same as undergoing major transplant surgery. -- Throws tantrums, because he has the reasoning skills of a 3-year-old. “I want this!” “Sorry, but no.” “I WANT!” “No. How about this instead?” “No! I don't want that!” “Well, I can’t get the other thing.” “I WANT IT!!” -- He also tells us he’s going to the shops. If we want him to get us something and start getting out the money, he throws a tantrum. He decide that he doesn’t want to go to the shop anymore, and storms into his room. Half and hour later, he slips out and goes to the shop. We don’t get the thing that we needed. However, if we gave him the money to get food for everyone including him, like hot chips, he’ll rush out the door.

The following stuff are things that I actually have dates for. (I only decided to start writing all his behaviour down last year...) I won’t write the dates though. Each entry is from one single day.

-- I made burgers for mum and I, because he’d already eaten something from the shops. He threw a fit because he’s a bottomless pit who buys a weeks worth of tv dinners, eats them all in three meals, then complains about not having any food. -- Demanded $10 from mum so he could go buy milk. She only had the money she needed to get into town the next day. He threw a tantrum. Tried to bully her travel money from her. She had to threaten not to give him any money when she got her pension to make him back down. He later went and got the milk with his own money. -- In the course of ONE DAY, he argued with mum at least FIVE TIMES about: the mess in the laundry that he didn’t clean up when he was told; the fact that he refuses to deal with the rubbish properly, including separating the recycling; and the fact that he wasn’t getting money because he was acting like a shithead. -- Walked around naked again. Mum tried to tell him why he shouldn’t do that. He called her a stupid bitch, threatened not to give her his share of the rent money anymore. I reminded him that if we can’t make rent because of him and get kicked out, he’ll be kicked out too, and we’ll fucking burn his precious comics to stay warm. He backed down. -- Stole mum’s food again. Called me a bitch when I tried to explain that taking other people’s things without permission is called stealing. Threw an old phone book at me. When mum and I tried to quietly discuss what to do about his behaviour, he suddenly decided to start mopping the bathroom floor, just so he could eavesdrop. Then he started thumping repeatedly up and down the hallway outside my bedroom door, knowing that I was trying to rest because the stress gave me a headache. He then started up with mum again, because he thinks he has the right to take whatever food he wants. This was after I brought each of us a 30pack of eggs on Sunday. By Tuesday, he had only 6 left. This shitstorm happened on Friday, when he’d decided that mum not scoffing all her food by then meant that she didn’t want it anymore, and he helped himself. -- He change the batteries on mum’s pay TV remote, but somehow, he managed to pull the case apart, damaging it. (The bottom edge was lifted up, and there was a noticeable crack in the casing.) He of course, denied ever being near it, despite the fact that he’s always randomly changing the batteries despite there being no noticeable issue with the current ones. He threatened to take his freshly boiled cup of tea and throw it at my legs to scald me. Reached for his mug whilst glaring at me. I had to thump him to make him realise that I’m not scared of that pissy little baby. Then, once I had gone back to my room, he came back out and started yelling at mum, blaming her for the fact that I saw the remote and realised it was damaged. He threatened to give me serious burns over a TV remote control.

That section above? Happened last year, between April and November. This year, he’s:

-- Threw a tantrum because I informed him, well in advance, that I wouldn’t be able to buy pizza for dinner on his birthday this year. (We’ve planning on moving soon, and I needed the money to start stocking up on supplies, and saving for the usual expenses.) Mum offered to buy him a frozen pizza when she went shopping on the Tuesday before his birthday. He started on her because he apparently wants an expensive pizza that someone else pays for and he doesn’t need to cook. He got into the shower, and we could still hear him complaining.

And this morning: He left no hot water for mum. It’s winter here in Australia. She’s 69 years old, with diabetes, a bad leg, a heart condition and finally, PTSD from her time in the Homes. (Church/state run orphanages, loaded with sexual abuse and mistreatment. She was part of the Stolen Generation, and has been granted a settlement through the recent Redress Scheme for victims of systematic abuse. A small settlement, nowhere nearly enough for the abuse and trauma she lives with, but we didn’t expect the church to even admit that they’d fucked up anyway. Getting anything was a surprise, TBH.) All this, and she had to have a cold shower in winter. She simply asked him not to take so much hot water. He threw a tantrum, denied having more than one shower a day, screamed at her as she stood there shivering in a towel. I stepped out of my room to get him to back off. He started on me. I got so fucking pissed off that I grabbed the broom handle and belted the piece of shit a few times.

Violence is literally the only thing he understands. Every time he starts to get shitty, he will continue until I threaten violence. Then he realises that he’s gone too far and sent me over the edge, and he backs down. But he’ll still grumble and call me a bitch for trying to get him to stop bullying our mother. He’ll also try to slip out and keep arguing with her the moment I’m back in my room. Which he did as I was writing all this. And yet, he still expects her to give him money every single time he puts his hand out. She only does it because it’s not worth the tantrum he’ll kick off if she doesn’t.

And just in case you think I’m talking about a dirtbag teenaged brother, or a moody toddler?

He’s 41 years old.

As for calling the police... Tch, they’re useless around here. They were called to our street because of a massive brawl where our fence got damaged, and started point blank they they probably wouldn’t be able to find anybody who was involved. They’d just suggest family counselling. (Mum got counselling in the Homes. That person also molested her.) So we’re very against any sort of counselling. It’s already destroyed this family more than once.

Plus, we live in government housing, which means there’s rules we can’t fight against or appeal, because the government does whatever it wants.

If the police come to the address too often, we’ll be kicked out. If my brother is arrested and jailed, we’ll be kicked out. (There’s some rule that there has to be at least as many people living in the house as the number of bedrooms. Three bedrooms, so three people. If he goes, we’re on the streets, or will be shoved into cramped flats to slowly die.)

We’re also barely making ends meet. Without him paying part of the rent, we’re screwed.

Anyway, I just mostly needed to rant.

[crystalninjaphoenix]

The Second Crossover Episode

Septics Inverted

A JSE Fanfic

People seemed to really like the first one, so I wrote another! Because there are a lot more boys that can meet each other across worlds, and a lot of these encounters are going to be...not so good. But some of them could be positive! Be optimistic, despite how most of my AU is just...villains

Again, you can find Swap Boys content on @huffle-dork​​‘s blog!

Read the intro story: Part One | Part Two

Various other AU-related stuff found here

Still not sure about adding the taglist to not normal AU material, but here I go anyways | Taglist: @evyptids​ @awkward-bullshit​ @watermelonsinmyattic​ @asunachinadoll @a-humble-narcissus @metautske​ @odysseus-is-best-boi​ @acuriousquail @beerecordings

Alt spent what felt like an hour wandering the streets before he finally admitted it: not only was he lost, but he wasn’t even in his city anymore. He recognized absolutely nothing. Every street turned where it was supposed to be straight, and every twist was actually a crossroad. He didn’t know where he was, or even how he got here. Alt stopped running right under a street lamp, looking around at low, dim buildings he’d never seen before.

He sat down hard on the curb and put his head in his hands. Why did this happen to him? Why couldn’t he just go home, see his cat, and be left alone? He wanted to blame Magnificent, but the magician had been seemed just as confused as he was back in that museum-type place. So he didn’t even have that explanation. He could feel tears prickling at the back of his eyes. He didn’t belong here. And he didn’t know how to get back, or if anyone would bother to come look. Nobody looked the last time. His shoulders started shaking as he let the tears fall.

“Excuse me? Are you okay?”

Alt looked up, hurriedly wiping his eyes on his jacket sleeve. There was a man staring down at him with concern. He wore a dark red hoodie and black jeans, and he...almost looked like Jackie. But less tired, and with longer hair, long enough to be held back in a ponytail that peeked out from inside the jacket’s hood. “Wh—yeah, yeah I’m...fine,” Alt said, pulling up his bandanna.

“Most people don’t cry when they’re fine,” the man remarked. “What’re you doin’ out here? Don’t you know it’s dangerous?”

Alt laughed. “You’re out here.”

“Well, I can take care of myself. Not everyone can. Not that I’m saying you can’t,” he hurried to add, seeing Alt’s eyes start to darken. “I just want to make sure you’re not in trouble. Or, you know, causing trouble.”

“I’m fine,” Alt insisted, resolutely turning away. “I’m just...lost. I’m new here.”

“Well, do you know where you need to go?”

Alt could feel the tears again. But he blinked them away. “I can figure it out.”

The man gave him a peculiar look. It wasn’t pity, thank god, but it was something similar. Sympathy, maybe. “Look, I’m still worried about you, not gonna lie. I’m out here with a friend of mine. If you want, you can just...hang around with us? It’s better to travel in a group.”

His instinct was to deny help again. But he forced himself to take a step back. He was alone in a strange city, Magnificent was on the loose along with what must’ve been some sort of evil duplicate of himself, and he had no idea what to do. And this guy wasn’t being a bossy ass about going with him, just giving him an option. “...fine,” Alt grumbled, standing up. “Maybe for a little while.”

The man practically melted with relief, smiling. “Great! I left him over on the corner, he was texting a friend. C’mon, I’ll show you.” He started to walk away, making sure Alt was following him. “Oh, my name’s Jackie, by the way.”

Alt faltered in his steps. “Wait, really?” He’d just been thinking about how this guy reminded him of Jackie. Was this...?

“Yeah. You, uh...okay?” the other Jackie asked. “You got really pale all of a sudden.”

“I just—I have a friend named Jackie, too,” Alt explained. “You, uh, kind of...remind me of him.”

The other Jackie laughed. “Cool. Good to know we’ve got another doppelganger out there. Besides you, I mean.”

“We?”

“Yeah, me and my housemates. We all sorta look alike. Some differences, but in general we’re, like, clones.” Jackie looked ahead. “Oh hey, I can show you. Chase!”

They’d reached the street corner, where a man was leaning against the pole of the traffic light. He was wearing a red snap-back cap pulled down, and was absorbed in his phone. The man looked up at the sound of the name ‘Chase.’ “Oh hey, you finally decided to come back. Find out what that noise was?”

Alt stopped, staring with wide eyes. He wasn’t sure his heart was beating. “Ch-Chase?” he asked in a strangled voice.

This other Chase gave him a weird look. “Yeah, that’s my name. Why, you heard it before? And also, you okay, dude? You look like you’re having a heart attack.”

Alt took a few steps back, reexamining what he was seeing. There was a lack of toned muscles that came with a life of fighting crime, and no freckles in sight. But there was absolutely no doubt. He’d know Chase’s face anywhere, and this was him, but he was so different. And wrong. Alt found he was breathing very quickly but he just couldn’t stop. “Th-this isn’t how it’s s-supposed to be,” he said, gasping. “I just want—I just want to go home. Why can’t I go home?!” When he shouted that last question, a glitch slipped in, vibrant pixels blinking into existence and fading away again.

The two others immediately snapped into action. The other Chase dropped his phone, letting it fall to the ground, and his hand went to his belt, where he pulled out a gun that had been belted there. The other Jackie jumped back, reaching into his hoodie pocket and pulling a large pocket knife out, flipping open the blade. “What do you think you’re doing?!” Chase demanded, pointing the gun at Alt.

Alt, for his part, was just even more confused, but that confusion was now mixed with fear. That caused his glitching to intensify. “I—I d-don’t know what—what are you—”

“What, did you think you could fool us like that, Anti?” Jackie demanded.

“Anti...?” For a moment, Alt panicked, thinking these bizarro versions of his friends somehow found out his real name when he’d never even told the real ones. But then he remembered. “W-wait—do you think I’m that—that other glitch? Black clothes? Eye-patch and scarf?”

“Well who else—?!”

“Jackie, wait.” Chase reached over and slowly lowered Jackie’s arm so that the blade of the knife wasn’t pointing at Alt anymore. He did the same thing with his gun. “I think we should hear him out.”

“Hear him—” Jackie glared at Chase, clearly exasperated. “C’mon, this is clearly a trick.”

“Well, I think maybe it’s not,” Chase snapped back. “I mean...look at the effects. They look...different.” He made a vague sort of gesture to the glitches surrounding Alt. “Anti has always had the same ones, why change now?”

“Uh, how about to fool us?”

“Jackie, just...trust me on this.” Chase looked back at Alt. “So, you’re saying you saw Anti?”

“Y-yeah,” Alt stuttered. This rapid turn of events was making his head spin. “He found me, and he offered to help me because apparently I don’t know what I’m doing, and I told him to fuck off and ran away.”

“Good idea,” Chase grinned. “If you hadn’t done that, there’s a good chance you’d be dead right about now.”

“I—what?” Alt stared incredulously at Chase. “You’re serious?”

“Dead serious.” Chase nodded sadly. “The whole bunch of us have been targeted by him multiple times. He’s serious bad news. People around him disappear, and if they’re lucky they’ll reappear needing therapy. He’s been after a friend of ours for a while now, and eventually he’s gone after the rest of us. That’s why we all live together, safety in numbers, you know?”

Alt’s glitching had completely subsided, but he hadn’t even noticed. He knew there’d been something off about that guy. The way he laughed, the way he never blinked, the way he referred to Alt as “human” as if he wasn’t. And why he’d been so insistent on helping Alt mere moments after acting all pissy towards him. It must’ve been a trap.

“Look, dude.” Chase put the gun back into his belt. After a moment of reluctance, Jackie folded the blade back into the handle of the pocket knife, but didn’t put it away. “If Anti’s got his eye on you...you’re in trouble. You need to get somewhere safe.”

Alt looked around. “I don’t...know where safe is. I’m not from here.”

Chase and Jackie glanced at each other. “Well, I think it would be better if you...stayed with us, then?” Chase suggested hesitantly. “Not permanently if you don’t want to, but...we have some protection set up at our house. It...might help?”

Alt considered it, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets as he thought. It would be pretty nice to have a place to stay in this new city. And, well, it was Chase. Maybe not the same Chase, however that worked, but Chase nonetheless. He was a good guy. “Okay,” Alt breathed, nodding. “Maybe for a little.”

Chase smiled. “That’s great dude! We can head home now, cut the night short. This is a bit more important.” He laughed. “Oh, hey we, uh, never caught your name. What was it?”

“I’m Alt,” Alt said immediately.

“Alt? Cool name. C’mon, we can show you the way.”

“No,” Anti whispered, eye locked on the feed from the street’s CCTV camera. “Nò,̢ ͝n̵o,̧ no!̡” He rammed his fist into a nearby metal shelf, hard enough to scrape the skin off the knuckles. As always, he felt nothing. “You fucking i̷d͞io̵t̸!”

Sam flew over from their perch on top of one of the CPUs, gently rubbing against the curve of Anti’s neck, catlike. He absentmindedly reached up to stroke them with one finger. “I guess it’s not really his fault. He’s not from here, he doesn’t know. Not even the people who live here know. But...who trusts a total stranger just like that?!” Sometimes, despite his ability to step into the deep recesses of their minds, Anti felt he would never understand humans.

He leaned closer to the screen, debating whether or not it was a good idea to swoop in and get the kid out of there. It would certainly get him out of immediate danger, but then again, he might go running back into it afterwards, still refusing to accept Anti’s help. Not to mention it might paint him as even more of a bad guy. “What’s this guy’s deal anyway?” Anti muttered. “Where did he come from? Why can he glitch? You wouldn’t happen to know, would you, Sam?”

Despite the throwaway nature of the question, Sam zoomed up in front of Anti’s face, swishing their tail once. They’d agreed early on that that gesture meant yes. “Wait, you do? How? What’re the answers?”

Sam, of course, didn’t answer, though their iris squished flat in an are you kidding me? look. “Right, right, can’t talk.” Anti watched the kid and the two freaks on the screen for a moment. “Alright, guess it’s time to play the guessing game. You know the drill, Sam, I spit out random ideas and you confirm yes or no. Let’s make this one quick.”

By the time they reached the house, Alt had managed to fill in the other Jackie and Chase about everything that happened, all the way from the colorful lights that had taken him and Magnificent to the museum, to seeing that weird other almost-Magnificent in the black mask, to his encounter with Anti. They listened carefully, taking every detail. Or at least, Jackie did. Chase took a slight detour to text someone on his phone shortly after Alt mentioned the black-masked magician. But he listened after that.

“Here, we are, home sweet home,” Chase said, pulling open the door. “After you, new dude.”

Alt ducked inside, taking in the spacious living room with an archway leading to what looked like a dining room, and an open hallway ending in a flight of stairs. It looked friendly enough. But instinctively, his eyes darted about, taking in the entrances and the windows. There was a man sitting in one of the armchairs, wearing a red vest and a derby hat, face hidden behind a book. Alt glared at him. He seemed familiar.

“Hey, Jameson?” Jackie said, entering the house after Alt. “Put the book down, buddy. I think you should meet someone.”

The man put the book down, and Alt gasped. He looked like Dr. J. What was the deal with the lookalikes?! For his part, this Jameson looked just as shocked. But he smiled, and gave a gentle wave. {Hello, there.}

Alt shrieked, backing up quickly and running into the now-closed door. He scrambled for the doorknob. He couldn’t—not this again—

“Alt! What’s wrong?” Chase waved his hand in front of Alt’s panicked face. “What happened?”

“He’s in my head!” Alt cried. “I can’t—I c-can’t—”

“Whoa, dude, it’s fine!” Jackie placed a reassuring hand on Alt’s shoulder. “Jameson can’t talk, but he can project—you know, in a telepathic sense. He’s just saying hi.”

Jameson had closed his book and stood up by this point. He walked over to the coffee table and grabbed a pad of paper and a pen. He flipped through it until he found a blank page, and started writing.

“Look, I promise you it’s fine,” Chase said to Alt, his tone reassuring. “If he could mess about in there, he would’ve done it by now.”

“How do you know he hasn’t?!” Alt demanded.

Chase hesitated. “I guess we don’t. But that’s what trust is.” He paused, and looked back over to Jameson. “You sure?” he asked. Jameson nodded.

“What’s happening?!” The question came out sounding more panicked than he would’ve liked.

“It’s okay, Alt,” Jackie said. “Jameson just told us that since you’re uncomfortable with the whole...mind situation, then he won’t project to you. That’s what the paper is for.”

Jameson smiled again, a bit smaller this time. He held up the paper for Alt to see. Unfortunately, he was still across the room. Alt’s eyes narrowed. He glitched closer, causing Jameson to jump, and grabbed the pad straight out of his hands, reading what he’d written. I’m terribly sorry. If I’d known how you felt about it, I never would have tried in the first place.

Alt glared at Jameson. “Fine. Fucking fine, whatever.” He shoved the paper back at him, then glitched onto the couch, ending up curled into the side.

Jameson blinked, looking back and forth between Alt and Jackie and Chase. “It’s a long story,” Jackie sighed. “We should wait until everyone’s home to explain it.”

“Lemme guess,” Alt piped up. “You have another housemate who’s German? Goes by the nickname Schneep?”

“Yeah, actually,” Chase said, visibly surprised. “That’s the doc. He usually works late at the clinic. How did you know?”

Alt laughed. “Well, sounds like I didn’t know everything. Never would’ve pictured Schneep as the doctor. God, this is—this is fucked, dude.” He shivered. “I—I don’t know what’s going on. Everything is switched around and I don’t...I don’t know why.”

“I actually have a theory,” Jackie said, flopping down on the opposite end of the sofa than Alt. “But I should probably wait until at least Schneep is home.”

“What makes you think I am not already?”

Alt jumped at the sound, twisting in his spot to see a version of Schneep, wearing a white coat that was torn at the cuffs over a blue sweater, leaning against the arch to the dining room. There was a steaming coffee mug in one hand, and his blue eyes were rather intense through the pair of glasses. Alt just stared at him. He couldn’t have heard Jackie, could he?

“When did you get home?” Jackie asked. “I expected you to be—be working for some time now.”

“It was a slow day.” Schneep walked over and plopped into the other armchair. Jameson also sat, reclaiming his seat and leaving Chase the only one standing. “I decided to come home early. And it seems I was a good idea, because I would have missed that.” Schneep took a sip of the coffee, staring at Alt over the top of the rim. “You are not Anti. But I saw what you did, and that is what Anti does. I wonder why this could be.”

“Uh...I don’t know,” Alt said, honestly bewildered at this point by all the differences, yet all the similarities as well.

“Alright, time for my theory,” Jackie said, sitting up straight. “I think you’re from another dimension. A parallel universe.”

Everyone seemed to sharpen at that. “That’s possible?” Chase asked. “I thought that was science fiction.”

“So did I!” Jackie said excitedly. “But I can’t think of anything else. Alt seems to know who we are, but things are different, and he has the same powers as Anti but is also clearly not the same—even that Magnif-who cares could be explained. He kinda sounded like a different version of Marvin.”

“Marvin?” Alt asked.

“He’s...one of the housemates,” Chase admitted. “But look! He’s not the same as your version. He’s a bit of a bitch sometimes, but not, like, evil.”

Alt frowned. He hadn’t stuck around to see much beyond the first confrontation between the magicians, but that didn’t seem right. But...as he thought back on those memories, he started to wonder if he was wrong. The images were spiraling in front of his vision, and...maybe he’d been {wrong}? Maybe he’d been wrong. This Marvin dude was fighting Magnificent, after all. “Fine, whatever,” Alt grumbled, slumping further into the couch. “Just don’t make me look at his ugly face.”

“I doubt you’ll ever even see it,” Chase chuckled. “First of all, never takes that mask off, he’s a bit sensitive about it. Second of all, he’s pretty much a hermit, goes back and forth between the basement and his room and only comes out for food. Pretty easy to avoid the guy.”

Alt rolled his eyes. “Didn’t you guys say you had another one beside him?”

“Jack,” Jackie explained. “He’s asleep right now. Plays video games for a living on YouTube. Also kinda reclusive, doubt you’ll see him at all.”

Alt checked his bandanna, it had started to slip and needed readjusting. He didn’t like how these guys were talking like he’d already moved in. He was just staying with them for a little while, that was all. Just long enough to figure out what the deal with Anti was, how to get him off his trail, and how to get home. That was it. {But who knows how long that would take?} Could be a while...

“Do you guys...have an extra bedroom?” he asked. “I’m...kind of tired.” It was all of a sudden, too. The long night of adrenaline must’ve been wearing on him.

“You can use mine,” Chase offered. “I can crash on the couch while you’re staying.”

“Oh. Uh, thanks, man.”

“No problem, dude,” Chase gave a thumbs-up, accompanied by a cheesy grin. Alt couldn’t help but smile at that, not that they could see it under the bandanna. Guess some things were universal constants.

“Oh, before you go upstairs,” Schneep said. “Jameson is wondering if there are any others from your universe who came over, if that is indeed what happened. And I am as well, frankly.”

Alt thought back on it. “I don’t think so. Other than”—he made a face while simultaneously shuddering—”Magnificent. I haven’t been able to find any if they did come through. And...I think the two of us were the only ones in range? So...no, the answer’s no.”

Chase had no idea where he was, or how he’d gotten here. One moment, he and the others had been looking for Alt, after that stupid magician had gone after him again. They’d been getting close, he was sure of it, but then the next moment there had been a noise and a rush of colored light, and Chase had found himself standing in a park, completely alone. 

This wasn’t the same city. He’d been patrolling it for years, he knew his city, and this wasn’t it. But the question was, where was he then? And where were the others?

After a while of wandering, he came across a drug store. It looked abandoned, or more accurately that surreal sort of empty that only came late at night when the white lights of the store showed off how few people there actually were. There was only one car in the parking lot, an old minivan. A woman with shoulder-length blonde curls was walking towards it, clutching a white paper bag in one hand and her keys in the other. Chase was hesitant to approach her, since it could easily come off the wrong way, but after a moment of silent thought, he decided it would be for the best. He’d just make sure to keep his distance.

He approached her slowly, staying a few feet away when he called out, “Excuse me?”

The woman dropped her paper bag in shock, two bottles of over-the-counter medicine falling out. She spun around, eyes wide. “Chase?!”

Chase gaped in turn. “Stacy?” He hadn’t recognized her. She looked...different. In tons of minute ways, but what he noticed was what he called the “tired parent look.” He’d seen it enough on Jackie, but never Stacy. She didn’t have kids, that’s why Jackie asked her to babysit for him. Did she? “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize it was you.”

Stacy didn’t say anything, just took a few steps toward her car. She adjusted her grip on her keys while also fumbling about with the clasp of her purse. She seemed...on edge. Scared, even. “Uh...” Chase glanced around. The parking lot was as empty as before. He pulled off his mask, thinking maybe that was the problem. “You okay there?”

“Fine!” Stacy squeaked. She’d managed to open the purse, and was now looking for something inside without taking her eyes away from Chase. “I was just—ah, Trev got sick and we were out of cold medicine, so I went to pick some up and I left them with a sitter—told the sitter to expect me back in twenty minutes, it’s already been twelve, I think—”

He had no idea what she was talking about. But he was picking up that she was...scared of him? Of him? That couldn’t be possible. Something must’ve been up. “Well, you dropped the bag of medicine,” he pointed out helpfully. “Here, I can help you pick it up—”

“No!” The word was more like an instinctive shriek. Stacy had pulled her phone out of her purse at this point. “I mean, thank you but I’m fine, I’m good, you don’t need to come any closer.”

“Stacy, is something wrong?” Chase asked, eyes lined with worry. “You’re acting strange.”

“No, I’m not! You—you—you know that.” There was a small flash from her phone’s camera, and Stacy immediately paled. “I-I-I-I didn’t mean to take a picture. You know how this works, new camera so confusing!” She laughed nervously. Her thumb was moving across the screen, tapping in very specific places.

“Stacy, if you’re in trouble, you know I can help you out.” Chase was starting to get desperate at this point. There was no way he could be misinterpreting this. She was scared. Of him. All he could think of was that maybe being seen with him was a risk of some sort. But what could she have gotten mixed up with for that to be a problem?

“I highly doubt that, Chase.” She made eye contact with him, and Chase realized she had been vaguely watching his hands the whole time. Her thumb had stopped. “Not when you know what the trouble is.”

“When I know what—?”

The question was cut off when Stacy suddenly dropped her phone with a small gasp. It landed screen-up on the asphalt of the parking lot. The phone was showing nothing but blank static. And then, with a fizz and a hiss, the static spread out from the phone, until it was a solid mass on the pavement. Chase gaped at it. The mass glitched, and morphed, and suddenly in a blink there was a man standing in front of Chase, dressed in dark colors except for the green scarf around his neck and the white eye-patch covering his right eye.

He looked familiar. But...it couldn’t be. “Alt?” Chase asked hesitantly.

The man looked at him and shook his head. “Not the one you know.” He turned to Stacy. “This is going to take some explaining, but basically this guy’s safe.”

“I’m safe?!” Chase repeated, bewildered. “Alt, what’s happening?”

“You shouldn’t c̛all̛ ̀me̷ ̶that ,” the other Alt said, his voice gaining an electronic filter. “It’ll probably just confuse you.”

Chase folded his arms. “I can’t possibly be more confused than I am right now.”

Stacy looked at the other Alt. “Anti? I’m...actually with him on that.”

Chase blinked. “An-Anti?” he repeated.

“My name,” the other Alt—Anti—confirmed. “The real name of your Alt, too, though I got the impression it wasn’t something he gave away easily—and now you’re staring at nothing like you’re having an existential crisis, great.”

It couldn’t be possible, could it? Alt couldn’t have been hiding that this entire time, right? Why? Chase turned around and put his head in his hands as he took this new fact in.

“Hey!” Anti pixillated into existence in front of him, glaring. “Crises later! We got more important shit to worry about!”

Stacy sighed. “He always does this.”

“Because it’s true! God, how can you get a̢n̶yt͏hin͝g̛ done like this?!” Anti grumbled indistinctively for a few more seconds, then fixed Chase with his best dead-eyed stare. It worked; Chase immediately stiffened. “Look, my fr—acquain—compan—fuck, I don’t know how we relate to each other, but their name is Sam and they told me you, and this Alt I met earlier, are from a parallel universe.”

Chase had to laugh at that.

“What are you...? I'͝m seŗi̴òus, Vlog-Man.”

“I know, I know you are, but...” Chase forced himself to stop “It’s just...god, that sounds so absurd. My life has truly become a comic book.”

“Well, you got the outfit for it, hero-type,” Anti said, giving Chase a once-over. “I hope you’re at least better than the one we have now.”

Stacy shuddered at that, just straightening up from where she’d bent over to pick up the bag she’d dropped. “Anti...if-if he’s alright, then I didn’t need to text you?”

“Not really. But it’s good practice for if the other one shows up.”

Chase looked between them, head turning rapidly. “Okay, so lemme get this straight. I am in...an alternate dimension. Alt is also here. You are not the Stacy I know, and you’re not...Alt. I’m assuming there’s another me here? Is that what got you so on edge, am I, like, a supervillain here?” He asked the last question with a crooked grin, but it slid off his face when Anti and Stacy still looked dead serious.

“Not exactly a supervillain, but not a shining example of a good person, either,” Anti drawled.

“Oh.” Chase fell silent for a moment, then started up again with what he thought was the most important topic. “You said you saw Alt? Was he okay?”

“He was,” Anti said grimly. “I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but Alt’s gotten himself into some real serious shit. He’s in danger.”

The five of them sat around the kitchen table. Jack was still asleep, and would be for a while, and this Alt person had just stopped moving around upstairs. “So, to get to the point of this,” Jackie opened up the meeting. “What’re we going to do about him?”

Marvin scowled, leaning back in his chair. “I don’t fucking know. The other me was an asshole, you think this other him is one too?”

“Actually I think he’s the good twin,” Chase laughed.

“I do not think he functions on the same rules,” Schneep said, staring at the ceiling like he could see through it to where Alt was sleeping. “For one thing, I do not think he needs to take the naptimes. And I thought that he was very immune to whatever it is Jamie does.”

{He is,} Jameson confirms. {Or at least, his mind is a beast to get through, walls made of titanium. This one, however...most unusual. His mind is like an open door, but surrounded by traps. Easy to get into, provided you don’t set any of them off.}

“You didn’t seem to have much trouble,” Marvin said, a smile ghosting around his lips.

{Well, I have a lot of practice,} Jameson replied with the same phantom smile. {And it seems someone left the door open in the first place.}

“Y’know, we still haven’t answered Jackie’s original question,” Chase said. “What are we going to do with him?”

Schneep shrugged. “Well, I was thinking that since last time we did not learn the hows and whys of the glitching, we could try again?”

“Henrik...” Jackie warned. “You know that Alt can probably die, right? Not like him.”

“I know, I know,” Schneep sighed. “But I think it would be worth a try.”

“I’m just gonna say that I’m still pissed you didn’t share like you were supposed to,” Marvin muttered.

“I was going to! It was a two-week arrangement! Is not my fault it started to fall apart and got out.”

“We’re not going to go full operating-room-magic-basement on Alt,” Chase said firmly. “Not when there’s a chance he could just tell us.”

{I agree with Chase,} Jameson said. {We will not resort to that until we have no other way.}

Jackie sighed. “Well, that’s better than nothing, I guess. And we’re not going to kill him.”

The others all murmured agreements. The real question was, why would they get rid of their one possible chance to figure out how Anti worked? Why would they pass up an opportunity to get rid of him forever?

In the corner of the dining room, a hidden camera buzzed, the sound too quiet for the human ear. Usually it didn’t do that. But a spark of dark green electricity had just invaded its systems, and it was reacting badly.

At least three from the parallel universe had made it over. But where had the third gone? And more importantly, were there any more? Only time would tell.

[relucant]

i am legit so terrified my mother is going to give herself a stroke before i escape in a week. and because she cares about nothing except her own anxiety and the cat, despite my begging her in literal tears to help put a plan in place for what happens to my father if that does happen, to the shock of no one, she has done zero to make that happen even a little.

i mean, the cat is sick, which obviously puts her even more on edge than always -- i love the cat more than life itself and i would take a bullet for him in an instant, but he is pretty much her therapy animal and the only thing keeping her even remotely tethered to this earth. and he’s 11, and has liver problems, so yeah. it’s scary. but like, it’s also basically textbook UTI -- which last week at the vet, even before he started feeling sick, the vet was like “i’m going to go ahead and test him for a UTI, i think it might be possible.” i hate it when people are like “oh, it’s okay, he’ll be fine!” because maybe he won’t be, and that’s terrifying, but also like... the cat’s having some intestinal ickiness and doesn’t feel good isn’t quite apocalyptic yet.

and my father is garbage to be in the same room as, absolutely, but like... there’s also ways to cope somewhat with him, and she just is in such a constant spiral of literally paralytic anxiety that she just... won’t do absolutely anything to make her life slightly less miserable even it requires changing her behavior even a tiny bit.

“he just... he just came in here earlier, and just, i had all the magazines stacked up on the chair, and he just picked them up and threw them on the bed!” okay yeah, because he’s an asshole with dementia, but like, can you tell him not to do that? “stop attacking me!”

having a full-on panic attack, sucking in breaths, finally gasping out, “he- he came in here, and he said he was going to do laundry!” while bursting into full sobbing. “he- he can’t do his laundry! he doesn’t use bleach, and he- he just throws his underwear full of shit into the laundry!” yeah dude, that’s fucking awful. but erupting in earsplitting shrieks of “NO YOU CAN’T FUCKING WASH YOUR UNDERWEAR YOU HAVE A PAIR BECAUSE I JUST FUCKING CHECKED” well, have you considered, “no, don’t, they need to be bleached, i’ll do it tomorrow.” 

obviously, “calm down” has never made any situation better in the entire history of anything, ever. and her situation sucks. mine is probably worse in the immediate, because i have two parents who don’t know or care that, like, i’m a human being and not their maid/emotional support punching bag, respectively, but i have a way out, and she doesn’t, so that’s awful. and it’s going to be awful, at least until he dies, but again, like, it doesn’t have to be absolutely, intentionally as horrifying awful as it can possibly be, because making anything a little better would require her, like, doing something.

i keep trying to get on her case about looking into, like, actually getting treatment for her crippling anxiety disorder, even though i’ve been on this futile merrygoround for at least a decade and the circle never changes, because she’s so wrapped up in her cocoon of anxiety i don’t think she wants it to change.

every single time i bring up the possibility of just talking to someone about how bad it is -- like, i dunno, her shrink to start with, who it’s a miracle i even finally got her to go to that even, and i am dubious she’ll continue after i leave, even though she likes her shrink and also her shrink will come to the house, or even just her GP, who she also likes -- she just immediately reverts into, like, “well, maybe i should just start taking my xanax every day again.” no like, dude, that’s like... not a treatment for chronic anxiety. “well it says anxiety on the bottle.” yes. for like... a plane trip.

this exact back and forth has happened probably 50+ times, and she just deletes it and reuses it over and over.

“but -- but i don’t want to quit drinking! i can’t, not right now with what’s going on!” like honestly fair enough, that train has left the station. so like... okay, don’t. if you go to a doctor who refuses to treat you unless you quit drinking, like... go to a different doctor. i asked my shrink, and she’s kinda like yeah, obviously, drinking isn’t great on psych meds, but for most anxiety meds, it mostly just decreases their effectiveness (and don’t drive, which she doesn’t anyway), not kill you, and still probably better than nothing.

and then after the xanax response, and then the drinking response, she just shuts down any further attempt at the conversation and starts crying about whatever asshole thing my father last did, which she completely did not in any way at any time ask or tell him to, like, not do that. until she’s so upset she starts banshee shrieking at him for doing a thing she never once told him not to do. (or vice versa)

and i realized the other night that what gets to me so much (among a million other things) is like... the exact shitty ways he behaviors towards her, and that she comes sobbing to me about, are like... unsettlingly similar to ways she behaviors towards me, if in different ways.

like, come into her room, sit down, talk blankly at her about stupid shit and then get annoyed when she tries to actually respond? kiiinda like every time she comes into my room, sits down, complains to me about the exact same thing she complained about last night, and then gets upset when i try to have a back and forth conversation.

“he just -- he just says the same thing, over and over! five times in the last two days if we have money for the gardener! he’s asked me twice today what the baby’s name is! he told me three times he’s going to go get the mail! it’s like talking to a r*tarded toddler!” (excuse that word, not sure how to rephrase)

yes mom, and that’s the 10th time this week you’ve said it’s like talking to a toddler, and i’ve said yes, it is like talking to a toddler, because he has dementia, he cannot form new memories, and two minutes later you just wail that it’s like talking to a toddler, again.

and the cycle continues, because i know perfectly well it’s as pointless to think there’s any chance of her making any significant changes in her behavior or grasp on her mental health, any more so than my father whose brain is nearly chewed up and spat out by now. but she’s still in there just enough that i can’t help feeling like i could almost get through to her if i could figure out how. and when she’s not near my father, like when we were up in new jersey with my brother and sister in law and baby nephew, her anxiety abated to the point that lke, yeah, she still had a meltdown when faced with like, a single step, despite being surrounded by three able-bodied adult humans, but overall, mentally, was like at like 70% a fairly normal elderly woman, kinda dotty but doting on her grandchild and puppies and basking in at least one of her children turning out with an apple pie life (about 15 years later, but still pretty perfect). and so i’m haunted by all the what-ifs, what if she can just survive until my father dies and she’ll be okay, so maybe i can still help, so maybe i should keep trying, even though i know, i know, i know.

and i try to keep in mind that it’s also easier for me because, like, my father more or less likes me, as a person -- i don’t think he’s ever loved me, or is capable of love (except for our pets, which honestly is a fairly big redeeming factor, i suppose) but he thinks i’m interesting, and my brother, and that if he was manipulated into having kids by whatever the hell he used to do, his resentment of our existence is tempered somewhat by the fact that he’s kinda pleased with how we turned out, and i have one or two pleasant memories of sitting on the trunk of his old car as a small child pointing out the pleiades, or drunkenly reciting ts eliot on the kitchen floor. my mother does not get that leeway; he thinks (or acts, at least) that since he did his duty and got married and procreated, her entire existence should be devoted to his convenience -- not even comfort, just convenience, and making herself exist as little as possible.

which plays into the cycle again because then i, unfairly, resent my mother for that more than him, because it genuinely did not occur to me even as a precocious kid that fathers were supposed to, like, love their children until i was at least in middle school if not later; it still jars me sometimes, bitterly, when i see dads who are just like in love with their kids. but my mom was my mom, so as it became clear that she never actually wanted to, like, parent anyone either, she’s the one my hurt and pissiness channels to.

anyway if anyone actually read all of this, i know i say the same shit over and over about this, but it’s so complicated not many of the few people i talk to one on one know what’s going, and i don’t want to over-vent, but i feel like i’m about to claw my skin off with the anger and frustration and regret, so thanks.

in a funny-scary sign-off, so i finally convinced my mother to get a mini-freezer so i can stock it full of real food before i bounce to eurasia next week, and it came today; instructions said to let it sit for a few hours after getting it in place before plugging it in, so i hauled it into a convenient dining room corner and forgot it. fast forward i come out to the kitchen to check on the huge vat of minestone soup i’m making and my father is lumbering triumphantly out of the kitchen pantry with a frayed probably 40 year old extension cord in his hand.

i blink at him, immediately concerned. he’s like, “i think i’ll go ahead and hook up that new... thing-a-ma-jig! ‘cause the thing on the plug, it’s got the three things [prongs], but the things in the walls, they’ve only got the two things! so i’m gonna just go ahead and plug it in here!”

i’m like, “NONONONONONONO!” because like (a) common sense and (b) the manual was specifically like do not do NOT use an extension cord, and if you MUST make ABSOLUTELY SURE it has these EXACT SPECIFICATIONS and is IN NO WAY SHAPE OR FORM SOME DECREPIT CORD-SNAKE YOU DUG OUT OF THE DUSTY BOWELS OF YOUR KITCHEN PANTRY (i may have exaggerated that last bit). he’s like what?? i explain that to him, in fewer words, and that i in fact have an adapter specifically to convert two-prong to three-prong.

he’s mystified, demands explanation of how that works; i try to elaborate, that i put the two prong end in the wall and plug the freezer into the three-prong end, and just blank looks. “well i don’t think that’s going to work, i think we should just use this.” i just kinda take it, tell him i’ve got it under control, ignore his aggrieved hissing, and walk away.

i go to tell my mom this, because like gallows humor or gtfo i guess -- she’s like jesus even i realize that’s not a good idea -- and only then do i realize that the extension cord he had so proudly produced was in fact a two prong... to a two prong. so either he didn’t notice that, or more likely, just intended to jam the two prongs into the extension cord and just leave the third prong kinda just... out.

and it’s sad as hell, because dude was an electrical engineer who worked at the absolute cutting-edge of the aerospace industry, like literally worked on apollo 11 at cape canaveral and dementia has eaten his brain to the point he doesn’t understand plugs. but. sometimes you take the laughs where you can get it.

anyway one week one day from right now my plane takes off so please can just like (a) my cat (b) my mother and (c) my father hang on that long (in that order) until i have enough distance to get my fucking head on straight again for a tiny little bit.

[theguyeveryonehates86-blog]

Part 1 of many

I am 32 married, house, car, two dogs, a job, fit, happy, healthy, friends, and family.

Until ...

One day in 2014, moments after I had asked for a divorce from husband, my world came crumbling down. I moved 1500 miles to the land of Minnesota where I have struggled to keep my head even close to the surface of being okay financially, mentally, and physically. Things progressed and I began to use drugs and liquor, In and out or rehab, living on the street, and taking advantage of the niceness of others if they would let me rent from them, especially if i would promise money, lose my job due to my depression and anxiety, spend my savings on drugs to masc my pain, and not have any money for rent.

2016(feb)- im single, living it up, drinking stuff, i was doing drugs, having sex for drugs, sex for places to sleep and then I got really sick. I go in to the doctor and i was diagnosed GohnaClamidyaSyphilAids. I hadnt been sexual with a wide variety of people, but it seemed wierd to have all to these at once. Thats the first time i kind of noticed the drugs and sex were a whole different ball game in minnesota...but things cleared up .....it took a while because im allergic to pennecilin, got my counts up, I went from and aids diagnosis to a undetectable viral load, healthy, but not happy.

I still had a hole inside me that was getting bigger. I was no longer using meth i wasnt talking to my druggin people, i was developing "friendships" in the sober community, i was maintaining a job, i had a car, living in a sober house, and that stupid depression started feeding off the guilt and shame from being used by those guys to be their host of all their std's, and I got weaker amd BAM BAM-Hit it. I hit the druhs hard... with the same guys who had most likely givwb ne the stds.this time......another STI. Whatever, im a slut, perdect at leqst Im being validated, and was fixed with a pill. Im not having the time of my life, I should be, Im in my early 30s. I get into rehab, I get "better" but now im not getting attention from guys around me. I am not dating, im not havung sex, im not communicating very well with the guys around me, im jusy becoming bitter, and passive agressive, and talking so negative about myself and others, it has to be my weight their weight, , my teether arent brite enough, i dont have a good enough job, i dont have new clothes, Im this, that, and the other thing, and when a guy did talk to mw(which i think was a bet from his friends cuz by this point im shrek amdbbn ive been used to look like a foolby guys in the pasr) i would start to play this game, i woukd flirt along with them, ask the right questions, pretend im interested im their dumb job or their cat matilda, or ur stuck in a bad relationship the passed two years...blah blah blah

I stopped caring and i was becoming a mean girl. Likejanice, and regina had a baby....

Sex, well since my extravaganza of all the stis, and my trust of guys plummeted, how do you get all of them at once, unless your being targeted is what i wqs thinking.

The drug world can get intense. A lot of lying, stealing, cheating, games, unless...They were only that way with me. I always kinda knew that these guys werent supportive of me like they were eachother. It didnt seem like they trusted me. I mean I didnt steal their drugs like their buddies dis, maybe i did in different ways, but nothong on purpose, I would get shorted on my bags, and i would get setup by them to look like a fool. I was not getting invited to the sex parties, and they would make snyde comments while i was naked like how small my penis was, or that my butt was too small, too much Bush, not enough bush, back hair, ass hair, no hair muscles are too small, too much fat, blah blah i would act too crazy when i shot up meth. I was now an outcast in the drug world, the sober world, the lgbtqia world, and im feeling more alone each and every day.blah blah blah poor me get off the drugs.

I feel like all of this has stemmed from my divorce. I had told my husband I was not attracted to him anymore, that I wished he had a bigger penis, I hated edward mya, i didnt like him following me and that I thought Bathsheeba was a fucking stupid name for a fucking stupid cat. I started giving him reasons too follow me, check in on me, track my phone, (which he still is im sure of it) Well, A reason.. Started "cheating" i found that meth and sex was a lot of fun...yes I am the villan in my own story but as hopefully you can see, it takes two to tango. In an attempt to have my own separate life with friends I would drink after work, my husband would get his pissy pants on, or jealous, or whatever and drive thru the parking lot lurking to see if I was there. One night I decided that ill let me fuck some strangers. #bathouse #guesswhowasthere

Anyway, he waited for me to come out of the bathhouse we had a talk, i asked for the divorce, it was a fairly pleasent divorce. He was already dating, i found my love in a needle things were just peachy.

[kit-kat-draws2798-blog]

Finally got around to updating him~

He's one of my favorites, not gonna lie-

Anyways, I hope you guys like him ^^

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

~BASIC INFO~

Full Name: Raiden Labs

Meaning of name: Thunder and Lighting

Nickname(s): Tba

Gender: Male

Age: 24 years old

Date of Birth: 9/29/??

Race/Species: Half human, Half cat

Native language: English

Languages spoken: English, he doesn’t have time to learn another language

Orientation/Sexual Preference: Bisexual

Zodiac Sign: Libra

Religion: N/A

Occupation: College student and a medical assistant at a nearby hospital. Has a couple misc jobs as well.

Are They Dead: Nah. All hell would break lose if he died.

~MEDICAL INFO~

Blood type: O

Mental Disorder: None, but mental state is a bit questionable

Will develop Psychosis later on.

Fears(s):

Losing his brother

Failure

Losing control/ his sanity

Being alone

People finding out what he has done

His parents

Water- to a certain extent.

Etc

Allergies: N/A

Habits:

Paces when anxious

Gets violent when angered

Compulsive liar

Acts calm even when he really shouldn’t

Bottles up emotions until he cannot anymore

Cleans a lot: somewhat of a neat freak

Tends to lock up most of the rooms in his house. This is mostly to keep Simon away from things he doesn’t need to touch.

If given the chance, he sleeps. He really doesn’t care where he is, he will sleep if he’s tired. However, it’s really hard to wake him once he’s unconscious. You'd have to hit him pretty hard to wake him up lol.

Skills:

Is decently built, so he’s pretty strong. Can carry people around his size.

Can act to avoid suspicion. Aka: Charismatic

Has experience with medical supplies/Chemicals. Pretty much almost has his medical license.

~APPEARANCE~

Height: 6’1

Weight: 172 lbs

Hair color: Snow white

Eye color: Purple

Skin: Pale af with freckles sprinkled on his face

Clothing/Style: Look at ref

Jewelry/Accessories: A collar with jewels embedded in it.

Scent: Cologne

~PERSONALITY~

Overall: Raiden is outgoing and very out there. He’s loud, warm, and overall just nice to be around. Although he can be a bit suggestive/flirty, which he gets a bit of crap for. However, he doesn’t go so far that he begins to become creepy. Raiden can also be really calm in nature; which can be unnerving at times due to how unnatural it seems. He is also compassionate and kind, usually to his friends and family. When he is angry, however, he gets very emotional and violent. He usually takes out his frustrations out on objects but he will hurt people too depending on the situation. After he’s done being pissy, however, he will not speak and will only look at someone if they’re trying to talk to him. Raiden at times can also go into these depressive states. This is because of the amount of guilt he holds and often blames himself for not preventing any of this. He also tends to hide things at times, when he feels like it is necessary for only him to know something. He also owns up on things he believes is his fault.

How he acts around strangers: Raiden is polite and warm to new people. Although it really depends on the age on how exactly he’ll act. With older adults, he is more reserved and a little timid for a while but eventually opens up a little. But with people around his age, he tends to be more outgoing and treats said person like they are friends. (Whether it’s a good or bad thing lmao)

How he acts around friends: Raiden is very energetic and bubbly. He treats them like family and is generally very open. He is also pretty affectionate, giving hugs to his really close friends all the time.

How he acts around Simon: Acts like the typical older sibling; teases, jokes around with, and overall has a good time with him. However, he can be kinda stern and scolds him occasionally like a parent would. But most of the time he’s lenient and will only tell him off if it’s particularly bad.

How he acts around Asher: Raiden is very gentle and loving with Asher. He’s hyper aware of his feelings and his body language. Raiden also tries to make sure he’s happy and is even more affectionate to Ash than to anyone else really. Raiden tries his hardest to be a good bf ;;v;;  

How he acts (or acted) around his parents: Very withdrawn, gave them empty looks, and overly cautious when they were in the room. Was also very hostile

Likes: Being around people he likes, music, fresh air, feeling loved, video games, peace and quiet, Warm things, large blankets, Confidence, Knowing outcomes of situations, various types of tea, sweets, sour foods, light rain, etc.

Dislikes: His parents, being alone for too long, spicy foods, the unknown, blood and guts EVERYWHERE, cold weather, etc

Hobbies:

Reading

Playing video games

Sometimes cooks for his own enjoyment. But it’s more for necessity rather than fun.

Does various dangerous activities for fun. Like breaking into places, trespassing, stealing, etc

Random af cosplay (When he can afford it)

Most Prized Possession: Key ring

Flaws:

Bold

Reckless

Can be overemotional

Overly calm

A bit perverted/flirty

Aggressive and violent when angered

Shuts down sometimes. He doesn’t say/do anything when he does this

Battles emotions

Pet Peeve: When people being rude to his bro. He also doesn't like when people break promises. Especially when he's close with said person.

Crush/Greatest Love: Asher <3 fav.me/daztezt

Love Song: Stay Stay Stay By Taylor Swift

Theme Song: Castle of Glass By Linkin Park

Battle Song: It's Not Over Yet - myuu

~FAMILY~

~(Mother/Father/Sibling/Grandparents/etc)~

Name: Sophia Labs (Mother, deceased)

Age: 36 at death, would be 49 if she was still alive.

Gender: Female

Hair Color: Light brown

Eyes Color: Blue

_ View On Him/Her: Raiden despises her. She was abusive to him and his brother, and he's ecstatic to know that she’s gone. However she was nice once, and he low key hoped for her to go back to that state. That never happened before she died.

Name: Jacob Labs (Father, deceased)

Age: 37 at death, would be 50 if he was still alive.

Gender: Male

Hair Color: Black

Eyes Color: Grey

_ View On Him/Her: Doesn’t hate him as much as his mother, but still doesn’t like him. He was always gone (often with other women), so he didn’t form that great of a bond with him. Besides, when his father was around, he was overly strict and somewhat abusive. Raiden also didn’t really like how he never tried stopping their mom from hitting or yelling at them.  

Name: Simon Labs (Younger brother, Alive) fav.me/dax2zlo

Age: 18

Gender: Male

Hair Color: Black

Eyes Color: Blue

_ View On Him/Her: Loves and cares for him, almost to the point he cares for Simon more than himself. Even after all the things he’s done, he still doesn’t want to lose him. After all, he’s his only surviving family. In a way, Simon is kinda like his son since he’s actually the one who took care of him the most. His mother and father didn’t really bother paying much attention to Simon. This only made their bond even stronger. They often can just communicate with just gestures or noises.

(Lover)

Name: Asher

Age: 23

Gender: Male

Hair Color: Copper

Eyes Color: Blue

_ View On Him/Her: Raiden has a great attachment to Asher. They were friends for a long time before they got together and they are close. Raiden is comfortable with telling him almost anything and loves spending time with him. Ash fills in the empty gaps that Raiden had before. Raiden would be absolutely devastated if he lost him.

Though it’s kinda funny that even as headstrong and forward as Raiden is, he was initially really scared to even mention his feelings to him and kept it to himself for a long while. For about a couple years or so.

Pet(s): N/A

Notes:

Carries a huge key ring with a bunch of locks around with him at all times. Doesn’t let anyone touch them.

When angry his eyes turn to slits and his tail poofs up.

Prefers not to hurt people if he can help it. He only does it out of necessity (Like self-defense) or if said person made him uncontrollably mad.

Has extremely high pain tolerance. I mean, he’s been shot before and he took it unnaturally well.

When he was younger, he would often defend his brother at home, causing him to take the brunt of the beatings.

Can be very secretive, even with Simon sometimes. He very much dislikes worrying people around him.

He is albino. He kind of wishes that he wasn’t, due to the teasing and that he is physically not able to dye his hair. He’ll always stick out.

Despite all that has happened, he still somehow maintains a social life.

Often sings this song when he needs to calm himself or someone else: www.youtube.com/watch?v=u41DQn…

Mainly became a doctor to make sure Simon and the other ones around him don’t die. If he wasn’t in such a bad place, he would’ve become an actor.

He can’t really swim due to no one really teaching him properly. *coughs* His father threw him into a nearby lake until he got too frustrated with him *cough*

Some people kind of think of him of a “cool dad” lmao

Really enjoys upbeat music. EX: Pop, electronica, electro swing, etc

Art and character belong to me!

Asher and Simon Belong to

KoKo-The-Rabbit

[fictional-scenarios]

Loved the Rohan answer, haha, how about Rohan with an s/o who has fat cat?

Glad you liked it! 

Rohan living with a fat cat

Living his entire life hating cats and disliking how they ‘stare’, Rohan never once pictured or thought of what it would be like sharing a home with one. At first he’s adamant of it not coming, lowkey urging you to get rid of it since he really doesn’t want to deal with it’s fur or animal needs. 

I could see him trying to play it off like he’s allergic at first, using that as an excuse to avoid living with the cat. However, after figuring out that you’re just as insistent on not getting rid of it, he’ll act pissy and whine but ultimately allow his home to be shared with the animal. He’ll still complain about it, however, and whenever your cat even looks in his direction he’ll straighten his back and squint right back.

“There it goes, always staring at me!”

Since it’s fat he’ll teasingly tell you he’s going to stop refilling it’s food bowl so it can lose weight, or he’ll jokingly whine about how much food he has to buy and how the creatures eating him out of his house and home. If it plops down and scratches, he’ll rub his belly and comment on how fat it is, no matter how many times you tell him to leave the poor thing alone.

After a while of living with the cat he’ll stop complaining so much since he get’s used to it. It’ll turn into a daily grind sort of thing. Wake up, get ready, make breakfast, fill food bowl, etc. He still isn’t terribly affectionate towards the cat since he still is persistent about not liking them.

He says this, yet there’s countless times he’s fallen asleep with the animal stretched out on top of him.

Sometimes he’ll actually talk to it when he thinks you can’t hear. If you’re in another room once in awhile you’ll hear “What do you want?” and you just know the cat made it’s way into his room to watch him draw. He tries to keep it out of the room while he’s working since he feels it’s a distraction, and he’s worried it’ll try to jump up and attack his pen, yet somehow the cat finds its way in anyways.

Another thing you’ll hear is possibly him showing the cat his artwork, taunting it for not understanding fine arts. You once heard the cat swat the page out of his hands and then “Stop stepping on it! You’ll rip the pages! ___ get it out of here!”

-Mod Cassie

[thefearofcod]

5 and 23 for an oc of ur choice yes

h e c k you’ve given me too much responsibility here. Now I’ve got to waste a bunch of time trying to pick someone I think you’ll like, or at least find interesting. And ideally avoid talking about Sadie afuckinggain.

So. Warren T. Void, attorney at bears. He started, like literally all of my ocs, as a joke which is no longer worth explaining because you had to be there, drunk and watching my family play Scrabble. Warren exists in a world that fluctuates between noir PI tropes and absurdist urban fantasy; cell phones don’t exist but most things run on maglev, and it’s always raining. There are a lot of stray cats and also small things with too many legs and not enough eyes that’ll crawl into your drink when you’re not looking. He’s not a real lawyer as far as anyone can tell, but if you hire him to investigate something he will bring you results. He will not tell you where he got those results. You may not want those results. But once he hands you the battered manilla file with what he found, it’s your problem. Pay him again, and he’ll take your case back up, maybe. The files are all battered. I think he spends his evenings pre-battering them. He spends a lot of time in Big Mike’s Cheesecake Emporium drinking shitty coffee and looking at the dirty windows while Big Mike’s wife makes shady deals in the back room, hopefully only with mortal men.

The office across the hall belongs to Dr. Dick Necrosis, courtesy of @harkerling when we were cussing someone out iirc. Dick is a dentist and he ostensibly runs a private practice but he’s almost never home. His door gets vandalized a lot and he might be a wendigo or maybe just bi, idk.

ANYWAY YOU ASKED ME A MEME.

5: their shortcomings

Warren sees what he wants. Sometimes this is helpful: he’s good at following leads people might not see, he’s willing to look in weird corners of houses that nobody else wants to look at for too long. But he’s also very subject to the detective’s curse: the answer is right under his nose but he’s too busy looking for it to actually find it. He’ll think he had a kidnapping case but it’s a murder, he’ll be certain it’s a haunting but it’s just a person secretly living in your walls. He focuses in on his job, whatever it is, and will not set it aside until it’s finished. If I were gonna do something other than poke at this setting when I’m bored (or repurpose it for nwod games lmao) I’d give him That One Case he could never solve but I don’t know what it would be and I think his demons are a touch more literal than all that anyway.

23: how they act when they’re sick

HE’S SUCH A BABY. One common cold and he’s draped across his desk sneezing into an old case file, wheezing that he’ll die and Dick across the hall will only find him when he starts to stink. But he’s NEVER too sick to work, so he hauls himself around the city in his ugly tan raincoat, you know the look, while sneezing and oozing and making sounds like he’s in an old timey TB ward. He goes to the cemetery and complains about mortality to Si, the pissy tradgoth who probably isn’t Osiris but you never know, who absolutely does not fucking care. Then Miep at Big Mike’s hands him some soup and tells him to go sleep it off, which he does. Across his desk in his work clothes.