#hey ones that aren’t priest jokes! (but some that still are because I mean come on)

[magneto-burrito]

Wolfwood + Text Posts (Part 2)

[omg-im-such-a-masochist]

PROVE ME WRONG

Prompt: Requested by my sister from another mister @ziasaph I hope I made you proud, babe 😉

Word Count: Long-ish

Pairings: Roman Reigns x Reader (ft. A flirtatious Damien Priest)

Warnings: +18, smut, angst, power play, brat taming, cursing, fingering, blood, jealousy

Editor: @thenightmareismyreality

Tag: @marlananicole , @akiko-tanaka , @waywardwrestlewritingwaif , @sassymox , @nicolewoo , @saccreigns , @wickedsunfire @mindofasagittaruis , @reigns-5sos , @auawdo , @lustyromantic , @yungbludjazz360 , @babydee17 , @drewmcintyrekoccsrocbwdgfan

Notes: *places suitcase down on the floor* Ah, it feels good to be home (aka Roman Reings) 😂 If you’d like to check out my previous works, you can find them on my Masterlist 😉

“Are you looking for someone?” A male voice asked from behind me

I turned around to find Damien Priest staring at me

“Oh no, but thanks for asking” I smiled

“Are you waiting for somebody?” He asked

“Not really” I tilted my head to the side

I wasn’t waiting per say - since Roman didn’t know I was here, it was more of a surprise visit. We hadn’t been able to see each other in two months and I couldn’t stand the distance anymore.

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

“No” I answered and he smiled widely as he scooted closer “But I do have a husband” I laughed

“You’re mean” He joked “But so gorgeous”

“My husband thinks so too”

“He’s a very lucky man” He said, as he leaned into the wall in front of me

“And who’s the lucky gal?” I asked

“I was hoping it would be you” He smirked

“That was smooth” I chuckled “Nice try, though”

“What is it, huh? I’m not your type?” He teased

“You’re a very handsome man. So I’m afraid your looks aren’t the problem” I giggled

“So what is it?” He asked

“She’s taken, that’s the problem” Roman spoke from behind him

“Hi, Ro-“ I began

“What are you doing here?” He spat

“I wanted to see you-“

“Couldn’t you have called first, to let me know you were coming?” He asked abruptly

“Hey man, you don’t need to talk to her like that”

“And who the fuck do you think you are to tell me how am I supposed to talk to my wife?” He stared at Damien “Oh yeah, you were signing up for the lovely ‘new husband’ post a few minutes ago, right?” He smiled coldly

“Keep your fucking dick away from my wife, if you want to keep your manhood intact” Roman pulled me by my arm and made me walk in front of him

“Go to the parking lot” He said

“But the locker rooms are over there” I pointed to my left

“Are you deaf? I said go to the fucking parking lot, Sapphire” He almost screamed

“You better watch your tone with me, Roman-“

“YOU better shut your fucking mouth, go to the parking lot and wait for me there because I’ve had enough of you and Priest for today” He snarled and stormed off

He didn’t utter a single word the entire trip back to the hotel, not even in the elevator

It was only when we were inside the bedroom that he finally said something

“Do you wanna split up?”

“What?” I asked, confused

“Do you want the divorce? Do you want to be single again? Do you want to move on with your life?”

“Of course not! Why would I-“

“Then what was that little flirting scene with Damien back at the arena, huh?”

“Roman, I wasn’t flirting with anyone”

“You’re a very handsome man. So I’m afraid your looks aren't the problem” He mocked me “If that wasn’t flirting, then what is it Sapphire? Please, enlighten me” He stated bitterly

“He asked if I was looking for someone, then he flirted a bit, I told him I was married, he still tried his luck and asked if he ‘wasn’t my type’ I said he was a handsome guy and end of story! There was nothing else”

“Do I really look that dumb to you?” Roman laughed hysterically

“I’m telling the truth!” I answered, completely in disbelief by his lack of trust

“And that was it?” He asked, drying up his tears of laughter

“Of course that was fucking it!” I crossed my arms in front of my chest “What the fuck did you think happened?”

“Do you expect me to believe that nothing happened?” He asked, cynically

“What are you implying? That I fucked him in some dark hallway?”

“Or maybe it was in some empty locker room” Roman tilted his head to the side

“Fuck you!” I spat “I drove eight hours today just to see you, because I miss you! And when I get here I’m kicked to the curb like a sick dying dog? I don’t need this bullshit!” I made my way towards the door but Roman grabbed me by the arm

“I’m not done talking to you”

“But I am!” I tried to pull my arm away from his grip, but he didn’t let go “Let me go”

“No” He said, nonchalantly

“Roman, I’m serious, let.me.go”

“You’re gonna pull out some attitude with me now? Cute” He smiled

“I’m not playing, Roman. I don’t want to talk to you right now” I huffed

He pulled me towards the bed, and shoved me on it. When I tried to stand up and leave, he pushed me down again.

“We can do this all night if you want to” He said, when I tried to leave again

“Fuck off!” I snarled

Roman quickly pulled me by my ankles towards him and straddled my hips, holding my wrists down on the mattress and placing them by the side of my head.

“Sharp tongue today, huh?” He sucked my on bottom lip “I can fix that”

“Screw you!” I screamed

Roman growled and secured my wrists on top of my head with one hand, while the other squeezed my neck

“You’re going down a very dangerous path, baby” He squeezed harder “So you might want to be a little bit wiser with your choice of words”

“How fucking dare you doubt me?” I tried to release myself from his grip “Doubt my fidelity” My knees tried to hit him “Doubt my love and respect for you”

Roman released my wrists and went back to sitting down

“You fucker” I use this new freedom to hit his torso “Get off of me! I want to go back to my house, grab my stuff and leave you alone”

“You won’t do that” He calmly said, as I continued to hit him

“Yes I will! And don’t you worry, when you come back from the road, you will have the house all to yourself! So feel free to bring one of the many road whores with you!”

Roman chuckled “Why would I bring a whore from the road when I already have one waiting for me back home?”

When my attack against him was getting weak from tiredness, he secured my wrists on top of my head once again

“Aren’t you, Saph? My good little whore, so filthy, and all for me” He leaned down and kissed my lips roughly and I took the opportunity to bite his lip harshly, until I felt the taste of blood on my tongue

“Oh, my feisty little bitch!” He smiled at me, with blood staining his teeth “I missed you so fucking much”

Dipping his free hand inside my pants, Roman didn’t waste any time and slid two fingers in me

“My dirty girl is so fucking wet” He began to wiggle his fingers inside of me “You drive me crazy” He growled, biting the top of my breasts through my shirt

“Fuck me, fuck me right now!” I moaned

Roman removed his hand from my pants and shared the juices on his finger between my tongue and his, right after kissing me aggressively as he yanked my pants down, followed by his own.

Holding his length by the base, he slid it in between my folds and teased my clit with his cock’s head

“You want it? Beg for it!”

“Please fuck me, daddy! Destroy me, use me, ruin me, please?”

“That’s more like it” He grinned, before harshly entering me

“Got even tighter without daddy, baby?” He moaned, pounding forcefully “Don’t worry, I’ll fix that for you” He smiled, grabbing my hips and thrusting himself deeper and harder into me

When I was reaching my orgasm, he stopped his actions, which made me look at him confused

“You thought it would be that easy?” He laughed, turning me onto my stomach “No, baby” He slid in me again “I’m very far from being done with you” Roman pulled my hair back, until I was staring at him “You’ll take what I will give you like a good girl”

When I opened my mouth to talk back, he said

“And remember: bad girls don’t get to cum” He chuckled when I kept my mouth shut

And so he began a level of torture that would last all night long...

Please, if you’re comfortable with it, let me know your thoughts on this? Feedbacks are always appreciated 🥰😘

[jaskierisbi]

lines and verses from every amazing devil song that hit

King

But our voices collide with each howl of the tide || Singing all hell and its fire waits for us

All that matters || Is that you’re here

Pruning Shears

My entire life it's running away too fast || Watching everyone I've ever loved walk past || Never really quite getting the knack of || Knowing no one will not || Ever come back for you

Shower Day

Would have stayed if you'd had asked || But instead you just walk past

You're the one who told me my hair looked better black || You're the one who told me to never look back || You're the one who asked me if I'm feeling ok || I said I'm fine || It's just a sitting down in the shower day

Leave the room but you get caught in the rain || Know you should love him but it's such a pain || Would have stayed if you'd had asked || But instead you just walk away

Elsa’s Song

I can hear the cannons calling || As though across a dream || And I can smell the smoke of hell || In every stitch and seam || And like flowers, the bodies tumble || Around this muddied lot || I cannot hear them scream || ‘Forget me not.’

Pray

Pray for me, I'll run until I begin to understand || What holy men really mean || When they speak of sin

God made all man in his image || Honey I'm I'm I'm no man || I'm what’s left when children go to war

Run from you, I'll run until I begin to understand || What holy men really mean when they speak of sand and sons and seams and symphonies and sweat and sex and sin

Why you cannot sleep for sighing || Why womanhood is more than crying || I'm stronger now than you have ever known

The cracks you made I fill with mortar || A broken pot can still hold water || Symphonies and sweat and sex mean nothing when you are obsessed || With sin and soil and strength and song and all the words that came out wrong and him

Little Miss Why So

Did you tell them about the time we met little miss || You'll love the way I tell it || And I'll yell it from the rooftops for you || He says

He says || You're going too fast || You'll burn up soon

I don't know how to reach you when you get like this || I've been waiting for you to come home || I don't know how to reach you when you get like this || I've been waiting for you to come home

Why won't you just tell them all to fuck off love and be mine

He says || Why so sad || I'm here and I'm alive || Stop making up death wishes and take my lifeline

Why won't you believe I love you if I'm not hurting you, he says || Can't you see that I'm enough for you but you don't want me to be || 'Cause that means you'll actually have to be content

Why so why so sad || Stop asking why I'm sad just know it's enough to know I'm sad

New York Torch Song

But your blood does not bleed red no more || It's whiter than the sun burns, bright with every hum || From within this gaping wound of ours || A new us has begun. A new us has begun. A new us has begun

Tear me up and burn me up and rip me up and leave your || Hand on the wall as you go

Are you god or devil, ghost dishevelled || Childhood friend or drunken revel

I cannot find the words to keep you || I cannot find the words to keep you

Two Minutes

It's like all the wallpaper inside my heart || Is slowly slowly peeling off || And I'm showing || All the stains and things || They wrote on the wall before

These hands are growing cold ||They're running out of things to hold || Give me two damn minutes and I'll be fine

If I'm good will you come back || If I'm good will you come back || If I'm good will you come back || To us

Not Yet/Love Run

Sing me awake with a song about pirates || And I will try to harmonise || And sip the sunlight from your eyes || Oh sing me awake || With all the things we’ll do today || But instead we’ll build a den || Out of pillows and get drunk again

If my old mum could see me now || Oh how she’d howl she’d howl

Love run, love run || For all the things you’ve done || Run for all the things that drum || Run for all those pages thumbed

Love run, love run || For all the things we wished we’d done || Run from all you know that’s coming || Run to show that love’s worth running to

All that matters || Is that you're here ||All that matters

- - - - - - - - - -

The Rockrose and the Thistle

n/a sorry y’all

The Horror and the Wild

You are that space that’s in between every page, every chord and every screen || You are the driftwood and the rift, you’re the words that I promise I don’t mean

We’re drunk but drinking (sunk but sinking) || They thought us blind (we were just blinking)

Remember me I ask, remember me I sing || Give me back my heart you wingless thing

Think of all the horrors that I || Promised you I’d bring || I promise you, they’ll sing of every || Time you passed your fingers through my hair and called me child || Witness me, old man, I am the Wild

Wild Blue Yonder

So one last time, love, come and rip my clothes || Get a grip, we're grownups

Come and rip off my socks like you’re blasting the locks off of a bank vault. Halt! || This time we’re done for

Let’s hide under the covers || We don’t know what’s out there || Could be wolves || So hold me, lover, like you used to || So tight I’d bruise you || I’d bruise you, I’d bruise you too

Every stone you threw, I stood on to better see the view

Don't you ever wonder, what could have been? || All those wonders sit in wait for us, we tried

Every brick you hurled, I’ll use to build this world || This world, this world, this world

Welly Boots

And I love you, don’t you know || That I’ll be with you all along, as long as you are kind

And when you scream that it’s not fair || It’s like I’ve gone off to the coast || Left you behind just standing there || Pretending not to see your ghost || If only you could hear my voice || But you are screaming far too loud to hear me swear || Just because I left doesn’t mean that I’m not still there

'Cause you were always strong || When you were young, you’d kick things just to see if they would fall || They said ‘That girl, she’s wrong’ || But I’ll stick up for you, even though you haven’t got a clue, you haven't got a fucking clue

Farewell Wanderlust

He said ‘Hey darling hey, hey darling hey’ || I’m the hardest goodbye that you’ll ever have to say

I promise you I’ll be better || I promise you I’ll try || But like rubbing wine stains into rugs it’s my curse || To try and make it right, but by trying make it worse

I promise you I’m not broken || I promise you there’s more || More to come, more to reach for, more to hurl at the door

Goodbye to all my darkness, there’s nothing here but light || Adieu to all the faceless things that sleep with me at night || This here is not make up, it’s a porcelain tomb || And this here is not singing, I’m just screaming in tune

Fair

It’s what my heart just yearns to say || In ways that can’t be said || It’s what my rotting bones will sing || When the rest of me is dead || It’s what’s engraved upon my heart || In letters deeply worn || Today I somehow understand the reason I was born

She laughs as though she’s not heard the joke ten thousand times before || And he adores her, he watches her get dressed as though she’s hurtling through time

And she brushes her hand through his hair, he’s got so much fucking hair

And he holds her close just to keep the world at bay

"It’s not fair, it’s not fair how much I love you || It’s not fair, 'cause you make me laugh when I’m actually really fucking cross at you for something," || And he’ll say || "Oh how, oh how unreasonable || How unreasonably in love I am with everything you do || I spend my days so close to you 'cause if I’m standing here, maybe everyone will think I’m alright,"

'Cause darling I was born to press my head between your shoulder blades

And calm throughout his melodrama, she will turn and say || "Dear heart, it’s me, it's me || You don’t need to pretend to be someone you’re not || 'Cause it’s not like I’ve never heard you fart and snore || And for some godforsaken reason || I’m still here, love, like I’ve always been before,"

Burying her head into his chest and clinging to the moment || "Where have you been?" she’ll whisper || "I’ve waited oh so long for you to come" || And as the stars above them hum and hear them || He’ll turn to her and say, "That’s what she said"

That Unwanted Animal

You try so loud to love me || I cannot seem to hear || ‘Be good to me,’ I whisper || And you say ‘What?’ || And I say ‘Nothing dear’

I’m the paper cut that kills you || I’m the priest that you ignored || I’m the touch you crave, I’m the plans that you made, but fuck all your plans I’m bored

And you rip my ribcage open || And devour what’s truly yours

'Cause if we join our hands in prayer enough || To God I imagine it all starts to sound like applause

Marbles

And I chipped my teeth on every joke you cracked

You stole the best years of my life || I’ll give them back

'Cause I will wait and hope || Your eyes aren’t rivers there to weep || But a place for crows to rest their feet || And I will wait and hope || And rest my head at night content || Knowing where my marbles went

She sang, ‘Do you think I’m sexy?’ and oh god I really did

Oh, if one more guy calls me darling then I || Swear to you and to god I will murder them all

All the bastards applaud when I show that I’m flawed || You’re not flawed darling, you’re just a little under-rehearsed

I’ve loved you, for a hundred years || Certainly fucking feels like it

The minute I met you, the colours of my life began to pour

And now, even though you’re mad and these memories won’t stay || That's okay || 'Cause then I get to meet you for the first time every single day

Battle Cries

Tell the truth to me, love, does my hair look as nice || As it did when you once tangled up in your eyes? || Look at me as you say this, don’t look at your phone

‘Cause these plates they smash like waves || And the wine stains hide the tears || But that breathing you hear, don't mistake it for sighs || Don’t you realise? They’re just battle cries, dear

And these lines aren’t wrinkles, dear heart || They’re just dollops of paint on a new work of art

And as I walk away, I know I’ve been through the wars || But that creaking you hear in my bones is not pain, it’s applause

This isn’t a break up, dear heart, it’s a season finale

[glytchfic]

We started as a spark. PART 2.

David Dastmalchian x Fem!Reader

Bonjour! There goes Part 2, it’s a bit longer than Part 1. Look, i was truly inspired, okay? Anyway, i’m letting you guys decide which Tom is it, it’s up to you - wink wink -. And I’ve decided to change the name of the story, it’s still from the same song but i thought it was more fitting. 

Special thanks to everyone who’s reading me, i really appreciate it. Comments, complaints, the usual!

PS: Since i’m pretty new to the whole Tumblr thing, can anyone explain to me how am i suppose to do a ‘read more’ option on my post so people who doesn’t want to read it don’t have to scroll for so long? lol, i feel stupidddddd.

Enjoy!

Rating: 18+

Warnings: slow burn, foul language, flirting, sexual tension, drinking, brief mention of marital problems. 

Inspired by the song False Alarm by Matoma and Becky Hills.

___________________________________________________________

‘How about this one?’

‘You are not gonna get laid in this one, trust me.’ my friend tells me.

‘What if, and it might sound totally crazy, I don’t wanna get laid?’ I say, amused.

‘At a wedding? Bullshit.’  

I laugh a bit and go back to my cabin to change again. I look at all the possibilities in front of me, pink puffy dress, green silk dress and a white dress. I scowl looking at the white dress. As if I would wear that to someone else’s wedding. I draw the curtains of the cabin, only in my underwear, and look at Alica.

‘I’m desperate. For the love of God, find me something.’ I whine.

‘Why do you care so much about this wedding anyway?’ she says as she browses through a bunch of dresses behind her.

‘David will be there.’

‘The guy who looks like a serial killer?’

‘He does not -’ I begin, walking towards her, ‘he’s a sweet guy.’  

‘And he’s married.’ she states.

‘Yes, he is.’ I mutter.

After a long silence, she gently slaps me on my arm, ‘Oh my god! Are you serious? I thought you didn’t sleep with married men!’

‘I don’t!’ I defend myself, ‘I just – I don’t know. I wanna be smoking hot at Sean’s wedding and the fact that David is there might or might not have a direct link to my desperate search for the perfect dress. We might never know.’ I say with a bit of sarcasm.

‘Sweetie,’ she puts her hands on my shoulders, ‘I’m sure he’s a fantastic guy, but don’t get too hyped about him. You’re gonna get yourself hurt.’ she says in a gentle tone.

‘I -’ I stammer, ‘Look, it’s just a dumb crush. I’ll be over it after a new one-night stand.’

‘Are you sure?’ she questions me.

‘Sure. I mean, yeah, I’d climb this guy like a fucking tree -’

‘You’re unbelievable.’ she cuts me off.

‘Buuuuuut -’ I motion to her to let me finish, ‘I can’t, and I won’t. I honestly think David and I can be good friends. Whether you believe me or not, I really do think that.’ I reassure her.

‘I do believe you, but please, just be careful. I’m telling you this because I care about you.’ she says while putting a strand of my hair behind my ear.  

‘I know and if you were in my shoes, I would be telling you the same thing.’ I smile at her.

‘I know.’ she smiles back.

I hesitate a few seconds, ‘So anyway, as I was saying: like a fucking tree -’ I joke and start laughing.

‘Oh my god!’ she throws a black dress at my face, ‘go try this one. Hopefully, it’ll help you get some.’

_

Car keys in hands, I lock my car and walk toward the ceremony. I put my keys in my purse and see I have a text message from Alica wishing me good luck for the evening and all. I text back a simple ‘Thanks, love you xx’ and I put in back in my purse. I stop in front of the door, and I observe my surroundings. I see a few faces I recognize, and they wave at me. I wave back and smile at them. This event won’t be that bad. I’ll probably run into lots of people I know – from the industry – that I haven’t seen in a long time. Good opportunity to catch up.

‘Wow! You look beautiful!’

I hear a familiar voice and turn around. I see Daniela – Melchior, aka Ratcatcher 2 – trotting towards me. She opens her arms; I do the same and we hug each other more tightly than I thought we would. I really do enjoy Daniela’s presence, but she lives in Portugal and only come to the USA from time to time for the pre-production of the film so I haven’t had the chance to get to know her as much as I would have liked.

‘I didn’t think you would be here!’ I say, surprised.

‘Me neither, but James convinced Warner Bros to pay for my plane ticket and told them it was work related.’ she says, excited.

I laugh, ‘Of course he did that.’

I’ve known James for years and I would’ve been surprised if he hadn’t arranged for Daniela to be here for his brother’s wedding. James is always like that; he wants to create a sense of family with his crew, and no one is left behind.  

‘I’m so nervous.’ Daniela says quietly.

‘How come?’

‘I don’t know anyone here except for the Suicide Squad gang.’ she muttered, looking down.

‘Hey, gotta start somewhere, right?’ I gently put my hand under her chin, and I slowly raise her head. ‘don’t worry about anything, we got you.’ I wink at her, and a beautiful smile appears on her face.

‘Thanks.’

Daniela is, by far, the youngest of the group. She’s barely 23 years old, she’s from Portugal, English is not her first language, and The Suicide Squad is her first big international role. I remember the first time I saw her, she looked so intimidated being surrounded by all of us, but she’s learning so fast and I can’t wait to see what she’ll give us once we’re on set.

‘Let’s go, it’ll probably starts soon.’ I wrap a protective arm around her, and we walk through the front door.

_

‘I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride!’ the priest exclaims.

Sean grabs Nathasha – now officially his wife – by her waist and they kiss each other passionately. Everyone stands up and applauds to congratulate the newly married couple. Daniela grabs my arm, all excited by Sean and Nathasha walking down the aisle. I look at them, a huge smile on my face, and something – someone – caught my attention in the background.

‘What are you looking at?’ Daniela questions me, ‘hey look, David is over there!’ she says pointing in his direction.

Oh, poor child, if only you knew. Everyone starts following the married couple down the aisle and Daniela gently grabs my hand so we can’t get separated. Walking through this crown of Sean and Nathasha’s friends, Daniela and I find the exit and get there just in time to see the newly married couple leaving the place to go to the reception. I smile as I look at the car disappearing from my sight, I turn around towards Daniela and I freeze, my smile slowly fading away.

‘What’s the matter?’ Daniela asks, worried.

She follows my gaze and sees what I was looking at. David walking towards us, hand in hand with his – I assume – his wife. He waves at us and Daniela waves back at him while I’m still not moving. This shouldn’t be a surprise really. It makes perfect sense that he’s at a wedding ceremony with his wife and – fucking hell – she's pretty.

‘Hi, I’m Evelyn!’ she says with enthusiasm.

And she seems so nice. And has a good vibe. And they look like a great couple. And – fuck – I feel horrible for all the thoughts I’ve had – and still have – about her husband in the last two months. Daniela, still holding my hand, looks between me and her a few times and squeezes my hand a bit as if she was comforting me. I can hear them make small talk about the wedding and all, but I’m not paying attention. I see David trying to catch my gaze, but every time I either look at Daniela or his wife. I feel like such a spoiled brat, I shouldn’t be affected that much by this. I don’t want to marry him goddamn it, I just wanna – but I won’t - have sex with him. It’s just an attraction. A deep, intense and consuming attraction, but still an attraction, nonetheless. Why am I like this?  

‘Are you okay?’ Daniela asks, still worried.

I don’t answer as I look David and his wife walking towards their car, probably on their way to the ceremony. Daniela put her other hand on my back and hugs me a little.

‘I know what it feels like.’ she simply whispers close to my ear.

‘What do you mean?’ I mutter, getting back to reality.

‘I have been there before. It will be fine, trust me.’ she hugs me a bit tighter.

I turn my head towards her, and she gives me a warm smile.

‘Is it really that obvious?’

She laughs, ‘Come on, we have to go.’

Fuck, she knows.

_

Drink in hand, I’m on the dance floor with Daniela and we’re giving everything we have. Screaming the lyrics to the Icona Pop song ‘All Night’, she takes my free hand, and we start spinning, laughing and stumbling around. The last note of the song echoed on the dance floor, and I look at Daniela, out of breath.

‘How long have we been here? Jesus.’ I say catching my breath.

‘Long enough for this guy at the bar to completely undress you with his eyes.’ she subtly points me the direction with her chin.

I turn around to see the handsome stranger and I chuckle a bit. It’s no stranger, I know this guy. I look at Daniela as I finish my drink, I put it on the table next to us and I wink at her before leaving.

‘Hey Tom.’ I say seductively.  

‘Good evening, gorgeous.’ He flirts back in his English accent.  

Tom and I aren’t at our first ride together. We have history together, nothing serious really, but we do appreciate each other a lot. And he’s a good fuck, there I said it. For what feels like hours – who knows how long – we catch up, flirt, have a few drinks, hands wandering here and there. I feel myself getting more and more tipsy as the minute goes by. As Tom was whispering sweet nothings in my ear, something else caught my attention a bit far away. David and his wife, talking. They both move their hands a lot. Oh. I’m an idiot. They’re arguing. Not the ‘imma-scream-and-make-a-scene’ type of argument, but you can clearly see something is going on. After a few minutes, they both seem to have calm down. David put his hand on Evelyn’s hips and tries to kiss her, but she turns her head away, kissing her cheek instead. She gives him a weak smile and leaves. David sighs, rubs his forehead and walks towards the bar.

‘Tom, could you give me a moment, please? I think my friend’s not feeling good.’ I say, worried.

‘Of course, darling.’  

I get up and finally realize that I’m a bit more drunk that I thought I was, but nothing too crazy. I’ve seen worse, way much worse. I stabilize myself and walk towards the other bar where David was sitting all by himself, leaning his forehead against the palm of his left hand as the other was mindlessly scrolling on his phone.  

‘What is a handsome place like this doing in a man like you?’ I say, thinking I’m incredibly funny.

He turns around to look at me, a weak smile on his lips.

‘That was dumb as fuck, I’m sorry. Can -’ I sit down next to him, ‘can I buy you a drink or something?’

‘That’s very nice of you, but I don’t drink.’ He simply says.

‘Oh.’

I look around, a bit awkward. Even though there’s loud music playing permanently, it feels like there’s a heavy silence between us. I decide to stay right next to him and I start scrolling on my phone too.

‘You don’t have to do this, you know.’ He mutters.

‘Oh, I insist! S’cuse me, sir -’ the barman turns towards me, ‘can I have two glasses of water pretty please?’ the barman nods.

‘You’re unstoppable, aren’t you?’ Another weak smile appears on his lips.

‘Always. So -’ the barman puts down the glasses in front of us, ‘you wanna talk about it?’ I risk myself.

‘Not really, actually.’ He sighs.

‘It’s perfectly fine! So, hmm, ah yes! I watched this horror movie the other day, I’m sure you would have love it! There’s this girl, y’know? She slept with a guy she went on a movie date with. After their sexy time this asshole fucking drugs her with – what's it called – that liquid they use on washcloths in movie to make people fall asleep and kidnap them?’

‘Chloroform.’ He chuckles.

‘This! Yes! So anyway, she falls asleep and when she wakes up, she’s tied up on a chair! And then there’s this weird looking naked woman walking towards the girl and turns out this woman is actually a ghost now chasing the girl and the guy slept with her because you can pass this ghost curse through sex. Can you fucking believe that?’

‘I cannot believe it.’ He says, clearly amused.

‘Does it make sense? Should I stop? Sorry, I’ve been drinking tonight.’ I say, a bit embarrassed.

‘No, no! Please, tell me more.’

And I keep babbling about the movie It Follows and as I go, I realize that most of the things I say don’t make any sense at all, but as long as David keeps smiling and laughing, I’ll just keep going. At one point of the story, he bursts out laughing which makes me smile so much that my jaw is almost hurting.  

‘There it is. That smile.’ I simply say.

Hu blushes, ‘Thanks.’

We look at each other for a few seconds and I motion him to drink water, which he does. I do the same and I almost choke on my water when I hear ‘Dance With Me Tonight’ by Olly Murs starts playing. I put down my glass and take David by the arm with enthusiasm.  

‘That’s my song, come on David!’ I pull on his arm.

He laughs and I can feel him letting himself go. He follows me on the dance floor, and I start dancing, encouraging him. He looks around, with a small smile on his lips and he looks back at me, rubbing his neck with his hand. I reach out to him, and he grabs my hands. Laughing and moving around, we can’t stop looking at each other as we’re having the time of our life. I suddenly stop when I feel a hand – not David’s - on my shoulder.

‘I was looking everywhere for you, darling.’ he says slipping his hand down my back, ‘I’m Tom.’ he stares at my partner.

‘David.’ he simply answers.

‘I’m going back to my place, darling. Care to join me?’ he gets closer to me.

Still holding David’s hand, I look between him and Tom, unsure of myself. I glance at David who gives me a reassuring smile. I know he wouldn’t be mad at me. I mean, I do wanna get laid. But.

‘Sorry, Tom. I’m staying.’ I say confidently as I feel David’s hands gently squeezing mine.

‘Oh, I see.’ he bends towards me and kiss me on the temple, ‘call me, okay?’

I nod and watch him leave the place. I exhale deeply and turn back towards David who has a cheeky smile on his face. He rubs my hand a little bit with his thumbs, and he laughs.

‘Did I just cock-blocked you?’

‘I think you did.’ I laugh back.

He hesitates, ‘It’s not too late if you want to join him.’ he says looking in the direction Tom left.

‘No! I -’ I cut him off, ‘I’d rather stay here.’ I say under my breath.

He smiles, ‘Where were we?’ he starts dancing again.

_

Quoting our favorite movies, David and I are walking down my street. I would be lying if I said I was still drunk, I’m not. I haven’t had a drink since I went to see David at the bar, but I don’t feel like I need the effect of alcohol to enjoy myself right at this moment.  

‘You didn’t have to walk me home, y’know?’ I shiver.

‘I know, but I wanted to.’ hey says as he wraps his jacket around my shoulders.

I blush and look down at my feet. We walk down the rest of the street in a comfortable silence and I’m here, wondering what would happen next if he wasn’t married. I push those thoughts away as I see my apartment complex in front of me.

‘Home sweet home.’ I sigh, not wanting this night to ever end.

‘Home sweet home, indeed.’ he replies, ‘look,’ he hesitates a few seconds, ‘thank you for tonight. I truly mean it.’ he says with a warm smile.

I feel my heart beating faster, ‘Anything for you, David.’

He looks down, bites his lips and looks back at me, ‘I forgot to tell you,’ he gets closer, ‘you looked lovely tonight.’ he gently takes back his jacket from my shoulders.

I catch my breath, ‘Thanks.’

‘Sweet dreams.’ he whispers.

‘Good night.’ I whisper back and he smiles.

He turns around and starts walking again. I look at him for a few seconds before I enter my apartment complex with a sigh of – I don’t know – frustration or relief, I wouldn’t be able to say which one.

‘Are you okay, miss?’ Alexander, the night shift lobbyist, asks me.  

‘Yes, I’m fine.’  

No, Alexander, I’m not fine. My core is throbbing, my heart is racing, and I can’t remember the last time I’ve been this fucking horny.  

[gubes-sweaters]

Mind, Body, and Soul 3

Authors Note: This is a Spencer Reid AU inspired by @subspencer​ . This is their original idea and thanks again to them for letting me use this AU. Also, side note I was thinking what type of hair cut Spencer would have in this AU and I’m thinking season 10/11 hair is the most fitting. Just to remind everyone that Lindsey Vaughn, Cat Adams, Spencer Reid, and Penelope Garcia aren’t canon to Criminal Minds, but any other character I mention is.

Content Warning: Drug use (weed), swearing, that’s all I can think of but if there's anything else don’t be afraid to let me know.

Word Count: 3K

You can find part two here

Chapter 3: Snooping Roommates

I wake up to loud banging on my door, a screaming roommate trying to wake me up, and the dead weight of Spencer’s arm that practically has me in a death grip.

“(y/n) wake up I need my straightener that you borrowed. I need to straighten my hair before class and I don't want to be late!” She’s shouting while banging on my door. I turn over and look at my alarm clock and see that it’s only ten am. Great, I’m only going to get four hours of sleep when I feel like I could sleep for a week. This loud banging isn’t doing any favors for my headache either. Then it suddenly hits me that I need to wake up Spencer and get him to hide in my room somewhere because no doubt my friend Stella will barge in. I mean normally it isn’t a problem we’ve been best friends since kindergarten, but when I’m trying to hide a plug that just spent the night, even though he is practically a stranger to me in my room it’s not an ideal time for her to snoop.

“Sorry, I’m awake just give me a second!” I holler back at her, so she’ll stop banging on the door so loudly. I know I’m not going to make her super late because she doesn’t have class until twelve, but she takes forever to get ready nonetheless. I manage to wiggle out of Spencer's grasp, so I can sit up and wake him up. “How is he still asleep or maybe he’s dead that would get rid of one problem at least.” I think to myself while I’m trying to shake him awake and even though I’m joking for a sliver of a second I think he might actually be dead. It wasn’t until he snored ever so slightly and turned away from me I knew he was actually breathing.

“Spencer, Spencer you need to wake up and get in the closet.” I say to him while shaking him even more aggressively.

“Wow, I haven’t thought about being in the closet in a long time.” He mumbles back to me.

“Spencer this isn’t the time for jokes now get in my closet.” I say as I continue to shake him to make sure he doesn’t go back to sleep.

“Wait, I have to do what now.” He finally sits up and ponders my words for a second.

“You have to get in the closet my friend needs something out of my room, and she’ll never let it go if she sees you in here.” I repeat to him for the third time while pointing at my closet.

“Okay, okay fine.” He says putting his hands up surrendering to my ridiculous request after collecting his stuff off the nightstand and pushing his shoes under my bed.

“Hey is everything okay in there or did you go back to sleep?” Stella asks while pounding on the door once more.

“No, I’m just trying to get dressed. Give me a second to grab the straightener and you probably should stop pounding on the door before we get a noise complaint my dad would murder all three of us.” I say before making sure that Spencer is in the closet with the door closed. I hurry and grab the straightener and do a quick once over of my room to make sure that nothing is out of place. I open my door to one peeved friend with her dark brown curly hair going in every single direction. I hand the straightener to her hoping she’ll take it and leave.

“Thanks, also do you have that book you said I could borrow? I’m going to have two hours to kill between classes and I can’t be bothered to drive back home” She asks right before I was about to close the door.

“Oh yeah, it’s in the drawer of my left nightstand.” I say before making a gesture pointing towards it with my head.

“Okay?” She says probably because of my odd demeanor. I quickly shuffle over to my closet basically guarding it with my life. At the same time, she makes her way over to the nightstand and when she looks at it, she lets out a weird chuckle and picks something up. She turns to me as I’m standing in front of the closet. When she turns around she’s holding up a condom. “Goddammit, Spencer!” I think to myself while I think about excuses for why that would be in my room.

“Did somebody get a boyfriend and not tell their friend. Even more importantly, did somebody lose their virginity and NOT TELL ME!” She says in a more excited manner than upset that I wouldn’t tell her something like that. I mean we’re adults not in grade school anymore so it’s not a huge deal.

“No, I didn’t it must be Raven’s. It’s certainly not mine and even if I did you wouldn’t need to announce it to the world, so can you keep your voice down.” I say while partially whispering in hopes that Spencer didn’t hear any of that because I’m not in the mood to be teased, and I’m especially not in the mood for the million questions I get when people find out.

“Raven come here! We need a family meeting!” She shouts oblivious to the company we have with us. Of course, she’s going to run with this and think it’s hilarious because we’re friends it’s what we do. I know she would never do this if she knew that Spencer or anyone else was here because she wouldn’t want me to be embarrassed. Raven walks into the room with her black hair swinging back and forth in her ponytail in unison with her skirt.

“Yeah what’s up?” She asks quickly peaking her head in the doorway because she has a class at eleven.

“Would this happen to belong to you? We know it’s not mine because I have no need for a condom and I think my GIRLfriend would find it odd that I have any. If it’s not yours there’s only one other person in this house that it could belong to.” She manages to say between her giggles putting an emphasis on the girl part, so I can’t use the excuse that it might be Stella’s for whatever reason.

“Guys fine it’s mine but let it go because no I don’t have a boyfriend and no I didn’t lose…you know...it” I trail off trying to be as quiet as possible.

“There’s no need to be ashamed of being a virgin at twenty, but excuse us if we pick on you because you’re the only one out of us who hasn’t lost their virginity. Don’t even try to use the catholic school excuse anymore. It might’ve worked when we were in high school, but it doesn't anymore.” Raven chimes in clearly also having fun in this awkward situation.

“Okay, thanks mom now get out of my room. I didn’t wake up to play twenty-one questions.” I say trying to get them out of my room as fast a possible because I hear chuckles slowly becoming louder and louder from inside my closet.

“We’re only teasing you because we love you but I still kind of want to know why you have only one sitting on your nightstand.” Stella says while sitting it back down and finally picking up the book before making her way out of the room. She stops at the doorway turning to look at me clearly wanting an explanation. Raven being the snoop she is as well raises her eyebrows wanting an explanation too.

“Okay fine I may or may not have thought I was going home with somebody last night and Penelope practically threw one at me trying to get me to go home with him but last minute I chickened out. Are you guys happy now?” I pull the most bullshit excuse out of my ass, but they seem to believe it because they both give a silent nod while walking out and closing the door behind them. I run to lock the door while Spencer opens the closet with his hand over his mouth trying not to laugh.

“That sounds like the most cliché porn plot possible. A sweet little virgin catholic school girl what do you need me to dress up as a priest?” He says in between deep breaths trying not to bust out laughing.

“Don’t even start I won’t hesitate to kill you. No one knew who you came home with I bet I could get away with it, I’ve watched enough crime shows and I listened to my dad talk about it growing up.” I look at him giving him the stink eye trying to be a little intimidating even though I’m obviously joking, but it just makes him laugh more.

“Okay, we’ll see about that squirt.” He says while trying to control his laughter and lays back on my bed. I roll my eyes at the sudden usage of the nickname.

“I’m going to get ready don’t move and if my friends knock on the door don’t answer it. I can drive you back to your apartment after they leave.” I tell him trying to move on while making my way to my bathroom after grabbing clothes from my closet.

“Yes ma’am.” He says mocking me because I’m talking to him in the same way a mom would scold her toddler. In some ways, Spencer acts like a toddler, so I’m justified in the way I talk to him.

As I finish up taking a shower and running a brush through my hair to not look like I was hit by a truck, I get changed and walk back into my room. I walk out and see that Spencer is once again passed out in my bed. I sigh trying to figure out what to do and for the first time in the past fourteen hours, my prayers have been answered because both of my friends shout their goodbyes as they leave the apartment. As soon as I hear the lock click signaling that they left I open my door checking to see if the coast is clear. Once I make sure I’m safe I walk out to the kitchen and make breakfast. I sit and relax on the island for a second taking in everything that’s happened since last night. I close my eyes and bask in the warm sunlight coming through the window and take in the smell of coffee brewing. I go back to breakfast and I make sure to make enough food for me and Spencer. After I’m done I go to ask him if he wants any food and as I make my way to my room I smell something odd. I can’t place the smell at first over the smell of coffee and pancakes, but as soon as I open my door I immediately recognize the smell. Then I see him laying on my bed smoking a joint.

“Oh hey, you want a hit.” He offers after he seemed surprised to see me as if he wasn’t laying in my bed in my apartment.

“No I don’t smoke sorry, but I made breakfast if you want some.” I say before turning around and making my way back to the kitchen.

“So you don’t smoke, you don't have sex, and you don't really drink or party so what do you do for fun?” He asks while catching up with me. As I plate our food I wonder if I have anything actually interesting to tell him. It’s boring to say “Oh I go to class, then to work, then I study, and sometimes I get more bored than usual, so I knit.” When I figure I don’t have anything remotely fun to talk about I just shrug and give him a plate with pancakes, eggs, and bacon.

“How do you take your coffee?” I ask while pulling two mugs out of the cupboard before grabbing creamer and sugar.

“Like three teaspoons of sugar, but don’t try and change the subject. If you don’t know how to have fun that’s how I’ll make it up to you for helping me out last night. We’ll spend a day, it doesn’t have to be today, but we’ll spend a day where we have a day full of fun.” He says with a proud look on his face, and I can’t help but giggle at the look on his face it’s like he just had the idea of the century. You can tell he’s someone whose smart but is only very book smart because at the same time he has no sense of self-preservation and no common sense whatsoever.

“Okay, well I have to work tonight, but tomorrow I don’t have anything going on. What do you have in mind?” I ask while passing him coffee before joining him at the island with my food and coffee.

“That my dear is a mystery. It’s much more fun when it’s a surprise.” He says while booping my nose before reading what’s on the mug I gave him.

“The BAU? Who do you know that works for the FBI’s behavioral analysis unit or is this just some cute little souvenir?” He asks while looking at me with an eyebrow raised.

“My dad used to work for the BAU but it’s been a while. Right now he’s on a book tour.” I say trying to be brief as possible when talking about my dad.

“So are you super close with your dad is that why he pays for your apartment and gets you gifts like this?” He asks before taking a bite out of the bacon.

“It’s not really an extraordinary gift it’s just a mug first off. Second off how did you know that he pays for my apartment? Were you snooping through my room while I was making breakfast?” I ask genuinely curious how he drew that conclusion. I mean he’s not wrong but still.

“I heard you say and I quote “stop pounding on the door before we get a noise complaint my dad would murder all three of us.” I doubt that you would care what your dad thinks unless he pays for the apartment or this is his apartment, but I’m not sure why your mom and dad would let two other loud ass girls live in this apartment with them.” He says with a smug look on his face as if he cracked a seemingly unsolvable mystery.

“Good detective work Sherlock. I mean yeah you’re right my dad pays the rent for this place, but he and my mom aren’t together anymore, my mom happened to be unlucky wife number four, and to answer your question from earlier no I’m not extremely close with my dad. He was always at work, traveling, or working on his new book I’m pretty sure this apartment is how he chooses to make up for it.” I say very matter-of-factly like it’s nothing I think I’m just numb to it at this point.

“Well, welcome to the absentee fathers club. It’s full of daddy issues and forgotten birthdays.” He says before turning back to his food. Not having a dad around clearly doesn’t bother him, or he’s putting up a pretty good front like it doesn’t bother him.

“Anyway moving away from the subject of childhood trauma let’s move on to our day of fun. I’ll pick you up here at ten am sharp. I will tote you around all day until you learn how to have fun.” He says while doing a horrible impression of Steve Irwin as if we're going on some sort of adventure through the jungle. I just giggle in response as I go to clean up both of our plates.

“I’ll be ready at ten now are you ready for me to take you back home because I have to go to work soon.” I ask turning to face him while I rest my elbows behind me on the counter.

“Yeah let me go get my shoes and I’ll be ready.” He says before hopping off the stool at the kitchen island and makes his way back to my room. I laugh to myself because we just met, yet I get along with him like we’ve known each other for years. I quickly make my way to the laundry room, so I can grab my work shirt out of the dryer and change into it before we leave. I slip off my shirt and slip into my work shirt and tuck it into my jeans, before making my way back out to the living room. As I grab my keys and slip on my vans Spencer makes his way back out to the living room.

“Ready?” I ask him before opening the door. He just nods before slipping a piece of paper into my hand. I didn’t open it at the time. I didn’t even open it until I got off work that night but it was his number.

Me: hey, I just got off work and realized you gave me your number. I’ll see you tomorrow morning. Good Night :)

Spencer: i’ll see you then. sweet dreams <3

As I’m sitting in my bed that night I just chuckle to myself before I turn my phone off and turn over trying to find a comfortable position to sleep in. As I get comfortable and I’m about to shut my eyes I spot that damn condom on the corner of my nightstand once again. Soon enough I finally shut my eyes and I’m able to get some sleep.

——————————————————————————

Taglist: @rexorangecouny @haylaansmi

[toxic-stargod-apologist]

The Church of a Loving God - Eaters of the Dead

Genre: Horror

Word Count: 5,558

Synopsis: In the grim darkness of the far future, countless billions toil and suffer to keep the wheels of the imperial war machine turning. The God Emperor demands blind obedience and the only reward is a brutal death. In the dark corners of this world, among the teeming masses of humanity, Jocasta Theta will find something more; a life worth living, and a god worth believing in.

Content Notes: Cannibalism, Police Brutality

Author's Note: A massive thank you to daddyfuckinlonglegs for all their help and advice, and for motivating me to get back into writing. Jocasta's story will continue in chapter two, 'Love in a Dark Millennium'!

AO3 Link: The Church of a Loving God

The day started with bells. Jocasta opened her eyes and stared up at the ceiling of the bunk house, counting the chimes. Three, four, five, then a raspy, mechanical voice crackled out from the vox caster.

“Theta shift, wake up. Theta shift, wake up. You have one hour before your work begins. Thought for the day; only in death is duty's debt repaid.”

There was a short hiss of static as the vox switched off. Jocasta lay in her bunk for a moment and tried not to think about the crushing heat. The ventilation system for her hab-block had been broken for a month; every night she prayed to the Emperor to send one of his red priests to fix it, and every morning she woke up drenched in sweat. No point dwelling on it though.

She got up and pulled her overalls out from under the bed. Her tiny section of the room was separated from the rest by a threadbare blanket hanging from a string, and as she got dressed she could hear the rustling of nineteen other people doing the same. They were all theta shift, but none of them were part of her work gang. She'd barely spoken to any of them in the three years she'd lived here.

Still, she thought as she pulled the blanket aside, there was no reason to be unfriendly. She gave a smile and a nod to each of them as she made her way to the door. Some of them smiled back. Some of them didn't. All of them looked tired.

The door was jammed, like it had been every morning since the ventilation broke, but it swung open after a few sharp kicks. Jocasta breathed deep as she stepped out into the cavernous, and relatively cool, expanse of transit tunnel forty-one. It was a vast, diagonal shaft formed of buttressed rockcrete walls lined with dozens of metal walkways, all of them bustling with people heading to, or from, their allocated workplace. The steeply sloping floor of the tunnel was covered by rails, along which cargo pallets were constantly moving, and the ceiling was festooned with pipes, cables, and dim, flickering glow-globes which cast the hubbub below in shades of orange and amber.

Jocasta was vaguely aware that there was a universe outside the tunnel – the mountainous hive-city of Gloriana Aeterna stretching up for miles above her, a planet outside, and thousands of planets beyond – but she would never see them. This tunnel, and the chambers branched off from it, had been her whole world since the day she was born. Her little corner of the imperium.

As she made her way down the walkway she scanned the crowd for familiar faces. Most days that search was fruitless, but this was a lucky day. Through the throngs of shuffling figures she spotted an unruly shock of blonde hair, and with a little pushing and shoving she got close enough to recognise the pale, lanky man it was attached to. Exactly who she'd been hoping to see. Surreptitiously she spat on her hand and dragged it through her short red hair; she'd once seen a pict-capture of noblewomen from the upper hive, all of them beautiful and all of them with their hair slicked back.

“Good morning Seth!” She fell into step beside her work mate, who looked down at her with a weary smile that made her heart beat a little quicker. “I'm so glad I caught you, did you hear what happened on sigma shift? Katra, from the market, told me all about it. Apparently the coreward grinder threw a gear just as the shift was ending, which isn't all that strange, happens all the time, but after the technomats pushed it back in they still couldn't get the whole thing spinning. So one of them says 'there must be something stuck in there, we'll just take the casing off and find it'. So then they did, and they saw what was jamming it, and guess what it was? Go on, guess! I'll give you three tries.”

Seth's brow furrowed. He looked up at the roof of the tunnel, his lips moving silently, then looked back down at Jocasta. “Okay, first guess... Was it a sump rat?”

Her mouth fell open. “You knew? That's not fair! You can't pretend to guess if you already knew!”

“I didn't know,” Seth said with a grin, “I just figured it out. There's not many things big enough to jam the grinder but small enough to come up through the pipes. Also I hear rats down there all the time.”

“Ooh, you're such a liar! You couldn't just 'figure that out'. You know I thought I could trust you, but maybe I was wrong. Maybe I'll have to find a new friend who doesn't try to cheat me.” She tried to look serious, but Seth put on such an exaggerated show of remorse that she couldn't help smiling.

“You really can't trust me any more? After everything we've been through? After everything I've done for you?”

She put her hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle. “And what exactly have you done for me?”

“Well...” He leaned down until their heads were practically touching and lowered his voice to a whisper. Jocasta could hear her heart thumping in her chest. “...how about scrounging up something to eat on our break?. One of my bunk mates managed to find some meat. Some unprocessed meat. And since he owed me a favour, I got us a slice to share.”

Her eyes widened. “Are you joking?” she whispered. “You have to tell me if you're joking, you can't just say something like that and not mean it. And what do you mean he found it, anyway? Do you know what it came from? He didn't steal it, did he? Because if he stole it-”

A deafening burst of trumpets rang out from the vox pylons above them. As one, every worker stopped in their tracks. A moment later the cargo pallets below them shuddered to a halt. Silence, heavy and oppressive, settled over the tunnel. Jocasta stole a glance at Seth; he'd already closed his eyes and crossed his hands over his heart in the shape of the holy aquila. She shuffled a little closer to him and did the same.

“Citizens of Gloriana Aeterna.” The deep, sonorous voice came from every vox, in every direction. “Hear me, and give thanks. The God Emperor protects you, his faithful servants, for as long as you dedicate your lives and deaths to him. Through the might of his armies, he protects you. Through the swift justice of his arbites, he protects you. Through the diligence of his administrators, he protects you...”

The familiar litany washed over Jocasta. She's heard it so many times she could recite it backwards. Real meat, though... That was a special kind of gift. Silently, in her heart, she gave thanks for it.

***

It took another half an hour to descend to the ration processing plant. Down here the walls of the tunnel were studded with loading bays and access ports, and the air was thick with industrial smog. The two of them made their way through the murk, moving slowly and cautiously over corroded walkways and down rickety ladders, until they reached the entrance hatch for loading bay seven. Seth started coughing. He'd been doing that a lot recently.

Inside, the noise in the low-ceiling bay was almost painfully loud. Workers from Sigma shift were rushing to and fro, shouting instruction to each other as they tried to unload the last of their shipments. Enforcers holding crackling shock mauls and suppression shields prowled between them, reflective visors covering their faces. Heavy carts trundled over the metal floor grates with their axles squealing, and over it all was the roar of the spinning grinders at the far end of the bay.

The men and women of theta shift were huddled against one wall, staying out of the way until their time came, but between them and the access hatch was an armoured security booth. Jocasta walked up to the mesh grill at the front of the booth and smiled at the grim-faced watchman behind it.

“Jocasta Theta, reporting for shift.”

The man grunted and peered down at his data-slate until he found her name, then pressed his thumb against the screen. He reached down under the desk to pull out two rectangular metal tins, each the size of Jocasta's palm, and slid them through the gap at the bottom of the grill.

“Two ration packs, corpse-starch. No eating between breaks. No hoarding. No trading. Return the tins at the end of your shift. Do you understand?”

The enforcer had said the same words to her every morning for the last three years, and she'd given the same response. “Yes sir, I understand. May the Emperor protect you.”

“And you. Move along.”

Jocasta put her rations in her pocket and went to join the rest of her shift, leaving Seth to report in behind her. She knew almost all of her co-workers by name, even if she hadn't had a chance to get to know most of them, but today there was an unfamiliar face. A man... No, a boy, probably on his first work assignment. Maybe four of five years younger than her? Not even old enough to shave. He looked every bit as scared as Jocasta had been when she started at the plant, and she decided that he needed a friend.

“Hey there kid, welcome to loading bay seven! You're new, aren't you? Please say you're new, if you've been here for a while I'll be so embarrassed. My name's Jocasta. What's yours?”

“Uh...” The boy hesitated, looking down at the floor. “My name is Lansan. It's nice to meet you.” His voice was so quiet she could barely hear him over the noise.

“Well it's very nice to meet you too, Lansan. I guess this is the first place you've worked? Well don't worry about that, we'll show you the ropes in no time. Which section are you assigned to?”

“Um, I think they said I'd be unloading the pallets?”

Jocasta kept smiling, but her heart sank. “Oh, so you'll be working with me! That's good. Did they say who you're replacing?” She already knew the answer.

“Yes, they said the last person got reallocated to a manufactorum on the upper levels. His name was Dillan?”

“Gillan. His name was Gillan.” Jocasta struggled to keep her voice level. Gillan had been nearly forty, with a limp he couldn't hide any more. No manufactorum would have taken him.

She tried to think of something to say, but before she had a chance the bell rang to signal the shift change. The exhausted workers of sigma shift put down their tools and started filing towards the exit, and theta shift moved quickly to take their place. Jocasta walked towards the wide metal shutter on the tunnel side wall, still thinking about Gillan, wishing Lansan wasn't following quite so close behind her. She wanted time to think, but the shutters were already opening to accept the first delivery of the day. She'd just have to wait until the shift was over.

“Alright Lansan, this is the start of the chain. The cargo comes in through here, we jump onto the pallet, then we throw it over so it can be loaded onto the carts. After that it goes through the grinders and onto second stage processing, but you don't need to worry about that bit. Do you have a handkerchief? That's good, tie it around your face. It'll help with the smell. Grab yourself some gloves from the rack, try and get a pair without any holes in them. Let's see... You know how to lift, right? Knees bent, back straight?”

The boy nodded, pulling his gloves on, and she did the same. With a familiar shriek of metal on metal a wide platform rolled into view down the tunnel and pivoted into the loading bay, coming to a halt a couple of feet away from the edge of the floor. Lansan went pale as the smell hit them; the platform was piled high with corpses, collected from all the middle and lower levels of the city. Jocasta saw his expression and gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

“Try to think of it as cargo, rather than people. The city needs to eat. Just be careful when you jump across, you don't want to fall into the pipes.”

He nodded slowly, but she could see his hands trembling. There was nothing more she could do for him except lead by example, so she jumped across to the platform and started pulling a body off the top of the pile. Lansan joined her, gingerly picking up the corpse by the shoulders as Jocasta lifted its ankles. Under her direction they carried it to the edge of the pallet, gave it a couple of swings, then threw it across the gap to where a couple of carters were waiting to load it.

“So, Lansan, how far up do you live?” She was hoping to take his mind off the task at hand, if only so he'd stop being so squeamish.

“Um, about forty minutes walk? We're a couple of levels down from the market.”

“You're not that far above me then! Oh, and you said 'we', does that mean you're still living with your family?” The boy just nodded. “You're lucky. My parents got moved to tunnel thirty-six just after I started working here. Haven't seen them for years.”

“I'm sorry, that must be hard. Not knowing...” He paused for a moment to find his footing as they picked up a particularly heavy body. “Not even knowing if they're still alive, I mean.”

Jocasta found herself lost for words for a moment, and almost slipped on a bloated hand. She wanted to believe the kid didn't mean any harm, but surely he was old enough to know better? Either way, there was only way to respond. “Well if they're dead, I'm sure they died serving the Emperor. You can't ask for anything more than that.” She had to force the words out. You never knew who was listening.

“Oh, yes, of course. I didn't mean... I was just thinking, I don't know what I'd do if my parents got reassigned. I guess they'd move me to a smaller bunk, but I've never lived alone before. Did you ever... Urgh!”

The boy recoiled and fell backwards as the arm he was holding came away from the shoulder with a wet slurping sound. Jocasta dropped her end of the body, leaving it on the edge of the platform, and walked quickly over to him.

“Listen, Lansan,” she whispered as she helped him up. “I need you to be a little tougher, okay? The guards here don't care that you're young, or that it's your first day. If they don't think you can work, you'll get moved somewhere else. Somewhere worse, on the lower levels. Your parents wouldn't want that for you, so just...”

Too late, she saw his gaze move down to the corpse behind her. By the time she turned round it was already slipping over the side of the platform, down into the pipes, and she could only stand there as it disappeared from view. A moment later there was a crash, then a distant, wet thud. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She knew what was coming.

“Worker!” The shout cut through the noise of the loading bay. Jocasta opened her eyes again and fixed her gaze on the floor; she could hear the heavy footsteps of the enforcer walking towards her. A quick glance at Lansan confirmed he was keeping his head down as well. At least his parents had taught him that much.

“Wasting the city's food is a crime. Which one of you is responsible?”

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Lansan opening his mouth, but she was quicker. “It was me, sir. I wasn't paying attention. I'm very sorry, it won't happen again, I...”

“Step off the platform.” The man sounded more bored than angry. Jocasta jumped across to the loading bay and turned to face him, making sure not to look him in the visor. “You have your rations for the day?” She nodded. “Give me one of them.” She fished the tin out of her pocket and the man snatched it out of her hand. He opened it, checked the contents, and dropped it into a pouch on his belt.

It was a lighter punishment than she'd expected. She let herself relax a little. “Thank you sir. Permission to get back to-”

Without warning the enforcer swung his shock maul into Jocasta's stomach. It wasn't a hard hit. It didn't need to be. Her world went dark, then brilliant white flashes danced across her vision. All she could hear was a snapping, crunching sound that seemed to come from every direction at once.

It only lasted for a moment, and when her vision returned she was lying on the ground at the enforcer's feet. She tried to stop herself trembling, but she couldn't. Across the bay she could see Seth staring at her. He looked scared.

The man leaned down to speak to her, his boot inches away from her face. “You're going to go down to the pipes during the first break and retrieve that corpse. You will not be late. You will not return empty-handed. Do you understand?” She opened her mouth to reply, but nothing came out but a dry wheeze. He seemed to take that as confirmation. “Get back to work then. No more mistakes.”

As he walked away Jocasta, still shaking, got back on her feet. The hot, raw pain was starting to spread through her stomach, and she knew from experience it was going to get worse before it got better. It would make the next few hours of work agonizing. And then the pipes... People died down there. She could die down there. All because she'd been too busy trying to help the new kid...

“Um... Jocasta?”

She turned to look at Lansan. There were tears on his cheeks. He looked ashamed.

“I can help, if you want. I can go down to the pipes with you.”

For an awful moment, she thought about saying yes. Maybe the two of them would have a better chance of getting out alive. Or maybe she could run faster than him... She put the idea out of her mind. “Thanks, but I'll be fine.” Her voice was still little more than a croak. “It was only a small one, and it's already missing an arm. I can carry it just fine by myself.”

“But, maybe, I could protect you? Kind of, watch your back?”

Jocasta gave the boy the best smile she could manage. “The Emperor protects.”

***

The area under the ration processing plant was a tangled web of tunnels, pipes, junctions and crawl spaces. Bundles of cables wove through narrow corridors, linking together rusted, humming machines that only the red priests truly understood. Everywhere there was the dripping of oil, grease and other, more organic fluids from the plant above. The lights were so faint that they were little more than stars to navigate by, if they worked at all. The only people who came down here were maintenance teams, and they never made the descent without armed guards. The rats were always watching and always hungry.

Jocasta had no guards, and no weapons except a wrench that Seth had slipped into her pocket as he'd wished her good luck. The enforcers had let her take a lantern at least. The weak, yellow light only reached a few paces away from her. Beyond that there was darkness.

She'd been slow and careful at first, trying to stay quiet, freezing every time she heard something skittering through the gloom, but the morning break was only half an hour long and she knew how much worse things would be if she was late. As she went deeper into the maze she started to move faster, gripping the wrench tightly and hoping her reactions would be quick enough if something jumped out at her.

She walked through one dank, humid corridor after another, rushing down steep ramps and squeezing through air ducts, doubling back on herself whenever she reached a dead end or locked hatch. After a while her pace slowed. Every time she passed a turning she paused, trying to picture where she was in relation to the loading by above her, before choosing a path and continuing.

Eventually she reached a junction and had to stop. There was an opening leading down to her left, but surely the wall of the transit tunnel should be there? And if it wasn't, did that mean she was farther away from it than she'd thought, or had she gone so low that she was underneath it? How long had it been since the break started? She didn't have a chrono. Maybe it had been ten minutes, maybe fifteen. Maybe she'd never find the body, or the rats would find her first. She could hear them, scuttling through the gloom. They sounded like they were getting closer.

She leant against the wall and set the lantern down on the ground. Her hands were trembling. She tried to get her breathing under control, but she couldn't.

Gillan was dead. She knew he was. People didn't just stop working when they had a family to feed, even if they were ill. Perhaps he was just too sick or too badly injured to get to the plant, but the end result was the same. The weak didn't survive for long. Yesterday she'd teased him for the silly little moustache he'd started growing; she'd said it made him look like an old man. That was the last thing she'd said to him, and now he was gone.

Her shoulders started shaking. She wiped the tears from her eyes with her sleeve, then squeezed hard on the metal handle of the wrench. She didn't have time to cry. Somewhere up there Seth was waiting for her. All she had to do was find the body, and then she'd find her way back to him. They'd share good food, and gossip about their shift mates, and then she could tell him how much he meant to her and hope that he felt the same...

She heard it before she saw it; the click, click, click of claws on metal. She swore under her breath. If she hadn't been so wrapped up in her own head... No, there was no time for anger. Slowly, she bent down to pick up the lantern. Her hand trembled as she raised it. There were pale, milky eyes gleaming in the dark of the corridor behind her. Three, no, maybe four creatures, though she couldn't be sure. She'd seen dead sump rats before, and no two of them had the same number of eyes.

Keeping her eyes on the crawling shadows, Jocasta started to back away. One step, two steps, and then, from behind her, she heard a low hiss. Her heart jumped into her mouth. She froze, trying to work out how far away the rat behind her was; it sounded close. A few paces, maybe.

The wrench in her hand was slippery with sweat. She tried to adjust her grip. If she could turn quickly and get in a good swing... But there wouldn't just be one, would there? They never hunted alone. Running was the only option, and out of the corner of her eye she could see the side tunnel that had confused her a moment ago. She still had no idea where it went, but it didn't matter.

Jocasta bolted forwards, ducking through the doorway as a screech went up from the rats. She sprinted down the narrow corridor, leaping over gaps in the floor grating, racing around the sharp turns and sudden twists of the tunnel. The rats were close behind her but she couldn't look back. She couldn't hold the lantern steady, and it took all of her concentration just to stay on her feet in the flickering light.

She ran on, her heart pounding, desperately, frantically looking for some way of escaping her pursuers; their shrill chittering echoed from the pipes around her. Suddenly, through the enveloping gloom, she saw a metal hatch up ahead. She darted through it, slamming her weight against the door, the rusty hinges screeching as she forced it closed. From beyond she heard the rats scratching and clawing at the metal, throwing themselves against it in a frenzy... and then, the sound faded. Listening hard, she could make out the clanking of loose grating beneath their feet, the noise getting quieter and quieter as they abandoned the chase and moved on. Gasping for air, she slid down the door and sat against it.

She was alive.

As the adrenaline receded, she realised she was in a junction room larger than any she'd found before. She couldn't tell exactly how large; the light didn't reach the far wall. What she did see, lying on the metal floor surrounded by broken ceiling panels, was the corpse. For a moment she just stared at it, uncomprehending. She was lost. She'd run for her life. How could it be right in front of her?

Slowly she climbed back onto her feet, walked up to the body, and knelt down beside it. It had taken a beating during the fall, but aside from the missing arm it was still intact. Now all she needed to do was carry it back up to the surface. But that was impossible. The rats wouldn't have gone far. She couldn't outrun them with that much dead weight on her shoulders. She was going to die. Unless... Unless there was another way out of here.

No sooner had that thought crossed her mind than she noticed a faint, pale light from up ahead of her. It didn't look like the flame of a lantern, or the glow of the electric lights that lined the halls of the hive city. It was softer. Gentler. She stood up and started moving towards it.

As she walked forwards the air seemed to shimmer. Motes of light danced around her, swirling in a breeze that she couldn't feel. The space was larger than she'd imagined, and even as the body disappeared from view behind her she still couldn't see the far wall. As she got closer to the glow she saw it was coming from a human shape on the floor; to her surprise she realised it was another, much older corpse. She'd never seen one so decayed before.

The thing that drew her eye though, and the source of the light, was the fungus. It sprouted from every part of the body, pushing through the blackened skin in strangely shaped clusters, not just one type but a myriad of different shapes. There were varieties she'd only ever heard about, and some that were completely alien to her. Fragile looking spheres on delicate stalks, glistening jellies that had eaten deep into the remains of their host, mushrooms of every shape and size. And the colours! She'd thought that all fungi were pale grey, but these were a riot of blues, oranges, pinks and browns, all of them glowing softly in the gloom. It was beautiful.

She stepped forward, holding the lantern as close as she dared. There was a rich, warm aroma rising from the corpse, so strong that she felt light-headed. As she leaned over it she realised there was a pattern hidden in the light. Everywhere she looked, the fungi had formed itself into circles. The motif was repeated across the entire body. Circles overlapping each other, circles within circles, and in the centre of the chest three thick, conjoined circles of bright green mould. They'd grown so that each circle was linked to the other two to form a triangle.

There was something more, though. Something in the centre of the pattern that she couldn't quite make out. She leaned over the body, holding the lantern closer, straining to see what was hidden there... And then her foot slipped. Before she could think her hand jerked forwards to break her fall, and with a wet, sickening squelch it hit the mould and sank into it, the desiccated body's chest cracking and collapsing under her weight.

The smell of rot and death washed over her. She scrambled to her feet and reeled back in disgust, desperately shaking the spongy, stinking slop from her hand. It clung to her skin like glue; she couldn't bare to look at it. She dropped the lantern and pulled out her handkerchief, scrubbing at her arm frantically until it was free of the muck, and then stood there, panting, over the body.

Reluctantly, Jocasta looked at her hand. It was still streaked with grime and dotted with luminescent spores, but she'd done the best she could. The handkerchief was sodden; she threw it aside, then closed her eyes.

“God Emperor, please... Please don't let me get sick. Please show me a way back up. Please let me live, just a little longer.”

She whispered the words into the dark. There was no reply.

It wasn't until she opened her eyes and bent to pick up the lantern that she heard it. The familiar click, click, click, and then a low hiss. The rats had found their way in.

Her whole body went stiff. This was it, she realised. She didn't know where she was. There might not be another way out of this room, and even if there was she wouldn't find it before they caught up to her. All she could do was die fighting; a stupid, pointless death.

She turned and saw the rats at the edge of the lantern's light. Lumpy, misshapen creatures with bony spines and tumorous growths sprouting from their backs. She counted seven of them, each of them as big as a hound and staring at her with murderous hunger. Slowly she reached into her pocket and pulled out the wrench, then stepped forwards to meet them...

And the rats backed away.

She paused. Was this some kind of trap? Were they waiting for her to leave the light? She took another step forwards. One of the rats hissed at her, then turned and scurried into the dark. The others edged backwards.

Jocasta took a deep breath and walked forwards until the lantern's pool of light was behind her. With every step the rats retreated, some of them squeaking and scuttling to the corners of the room. It was as if they were scared. She just stared after them, dumbfounded. But then, she'd asked the Emperor for help, hadn't she? And this... this was a miracle.

For a long moment she stood there, in the dark, trying to think of any other explanation. The rats could have killed her easily. She'd heard of them attacking armed groups when they were hungry enough, and these ones had looked very hungry. Just a few minutes ago they'd been chasing her down. And now suddenly they were scared of her.

No, that wasn't right, was it? They were scared of that old corpse, or the fungus. If they weren't then the whole thing would have been eaten long ago. The rats would eat anything, animal or vegetable, no matter how rotten it was. And if it wasn't the rot, or the fungus, then what else could have stopped them if not the Emperor's protection? And now that protection was on her.

There was one way to be sure. She went back and retrieved the lantern, humming a hymn under her breath, and then picked up the sodden handkerchief. She walked across the room until she saw the last few rats prowling at the edge of the light and threw the rag at them as hard as she could. Before it had even landed the creatures scattered, shrieking in panic.

Jocasta couldn't help but laugh. This was amazing! She'd seen a real miracle, right there in front of her! The body must be some kind of holy relic, hidden down here for who knows how long, and she was the one who'd found it. She wondered if Seth would believe her. In the stories, miracles only happened to holy warriors and saints... Maybe she wouldn't tell him right away. It would be her secret, at least for now.

Sighing, she realised she had more immediate concerns. It would take time to find her way back up to the plant. At least now she wouldn't have to worry about the rats though. She went back to where the ceiling was broken, hoisted the body onto her shoulders, then set off to retrace her steps. As she left, the light in the junction room faded. The sound of her footsteps died away. All that was left was silence, and the soft glow of the fungus, and the clouds of spores that danced through the air without any wind to move them.

[binniedeactivated]

saint. || soobin (2.6)🌪

🖤┊𝔰𝔞𝔦𝔫𝔱 . ೄྀ࿐ 𝖕𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌: 𝖘𝖔𝖔𝖇𝖎𝖓 𝖝 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗 𝖌𝖊𝖓𝖗𝖊: 𝖘𝖒𝖚𝖙/𝖆𝖚 𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖔𝖚𝖓𝖙; 2k

you panic clutching soobin’s wrists trying to get him to stop. you glare down at him and he’s just looking up at you smirking. your father calls you yet again with his voice becoming louder with each step. you tap soobin and he’s still licking you as if your father wasn’t there. he knocks on your door and you hold your breathe, hoping he’d think you were at study group or something. he calls your name again and soobin loved the way you looked with your eyes rolling back trying not to make any sounds. 

you were surprised your father couldn’t hear the wet sounds of soobin’s mouth. he called you about five more times before he gave up, convinced that you were elsewhere. you were still shaking, struggling to hold your breath until you heard the front door close meaning that your father had went back to work. at the sound of the closing door you release a lewd moan that could make soobin cum in his pants. he grips your thigh prying your legs open with his hand still tasting you for all that you were. you were throbbing so hard you knew soobin had to have felt you. you let your fingertips glide through his silky hair. soobin kind of liked when you played with his hair this way. 

“ohmygosh ssoobin”. you whine looking down at him. you bite your lips and let your head hang back again. you were a quivering mess in his hands. you felt a strong sense of pleasure shoot through your torso and it made you hold back from his lips. you scooted back a little with gaspy moans escaping your lips. 

“what are you doing?”. soobin groans and slides you back down on his tongue. the pleasure built up and you were shaking like there was no tomorrow. you move back again. “I ccan’t take it”. you whine. you hear soobin chuckle lowly beneath you. “It sounds like you’re going to squirt this time, hm?”. you pant with a heaving chest being overwhelmed by his tongue and the unbearable sensations you were feeling. you move back again. “ssquirrt?”. you whine. 

soobin pushes you back down again and pins your thighs to mattress paying special attention to your clit now. it only took a couple flicks of his tongue for you to be hit hard with an unsurpassable amount of bliss. your body shakes yet again and soobin is just watching you squirt in amusement. he was proud of himself but he was mostly proud of you for being able to withstand it. when you were finished you couldn’t believe what you’d just done. you laid back on your bed stunned. you felt lips on your cheek making their way to your lips. he pulls away and softly looks at you before snuggling his head into your neck. 

“I’m sorry”. he apologizes. “was it too much?”. he asks again. you breathe.

“no that felt amazing I’m--I just wasn’t used to it”.

soobin smirks at you before pinching your cheeks. 

“you’re a dirty girl getting ate out while your father was at the door”. he laughs and you smack his hand away. “you kept going when I told you to stop”.

“wait until I tell father benjamin about this one”. soobin chuckles. you panic only a little because you knew he wasn’t serious. “you better not. i already confessed my sins to him and he forgave me”. 

soobin grins again, “what are you going to say this time? I’m sorry father benjamin for being such a dirty girl i won’t do it again”. he seductively mocks and you laugh in disbelief. “you really think I talk to him sexy like that? he’s a priest for god’s sake soobin”.   “hey I don’t know how you speak to him. you could have a priest kink too”. he joked.  “that’s a thing?”. soobin shakes his head laughing, “no you freak”. 

you and soobin lay in silence for a moment until you felt the need to speak. 

“this is weird. is this what couples do after sex? they just lay here?”. you ask honestly curious. soobin laughs. “we didn’t have sex”. 

“well is it normal to lay here after cumming?”. you ask again. “yeah you’re supposed to get a bit sleepy. are you sleepy? did i wear you out that much?”. you roll your eyes at him and laugh. “whatever soobin. i’m hungry though. I think my parents went on a date tonight. they’re usually home by now”. 

“hm. when we get married will you still go on dates with me?”. he questions looking up at you. you tried hard to keep yourself from blushing. you instead played with his hair.

“why do you keep mentioning marriage soobin? we’re eighteen”. you mention. 

“I want you to myself”.

“I’m right here”.

“for the rest of my life”. 

“how do you know if you’ll still be attracted to me by then?”.

“I will. I know I will. that’s why I want to make things official. legally at least”. 

“don’t you think you’re rushing? I haven’t even met your parents yet”. 

“psh. like they care. just as long as you aren’t a gold digger they can care less about who I marry”.

“I mean....”. you joke as if you actually were. soobin glares up at you and starts laughing. 

“it would be an honor to be your sugar daddy”. you grin at the thought. 

“well sugar daddy, can you get me a new school skirt and panties? because you just ruined mine”. you joke again and he’s rubbing your tummy for some odd reason. you noticed he was very affectionate whenever he was close to you. 

“whatever you want”. he smiles. you urge him to get up though, because you actually did have to change clothes now that your clothes were ruined. soobin sits a pillow over his face to cover his eyes. you thought it was kind of respectful and pointless at the same time, given the fact that he just ate you out but you applaud his modesty. 

“come on so I can feed you I know you’re hungry”. 

soobin jumps up with excitement not even caring to know if you were dressed yet. you said you didn’t like cooking that much and this was true but that didn’t mean you didn’t necessarily know how to cook. for some reason you felt really pressured to do well with this so you made him the simplest meal you could find which was tacos. It was hard trying to concentrate with soobin staring at the way you swiftly moved around your kitchen. you would call him a creep but you knew he was just admiring you. 

he never had someone take care of him before and now it was kind of addicting for him. of course he loved your company but he loved how you treated him like he was an actual human being instead of the animal that his parents saw him as and sex toy like the girls at school saw him. 

“hard or soft soobin?”.

“I’m soft right now but you can make me hard if you want to”. he replies snarkily and you turn in his direction laughing while wanting to kill him. “hard please”. he answers quickly knowing what you were thinking. you fed him anyways along with a drink. you figured your parents weren’t going to be hungry when they got back so you decided it was best to save the rest as leftovers.

it was quiet after you gave soobin his food and you were cleaning. you turn to check on him, “you okay?”. you ask, and he was just stuffing his cheeks. “is it good?”. you ask again. he swallows of course with food falling down his shirt. “oh my gosh--what do you want to name our kids?”. you laugh at his reply. 

“If you’re going to be cooking for me like this we have to have a family together”. he plots before stuffing his mouth again. you shake your head and continue cleaning. it isn’t like you didn’t want a family with soobin. you actually thought a family is exactly what soobin needed in order to become a better person. just not this young at least. you both had a lot of growing up to do. 

soobin was just finishing his food when you heard your parents car engine in the driveway. your eyes enlarged and soobin gives the plate to you. you sat it on the counter, “go out the front”. you whisper. he collects his things from upstairs quickly and jogs down the steps. he kisses you on your cheek before sneaking out while you were trying to look as casual as possible. soobin races into his car and drives off as soon as possible. he didn’t get too far down the street before he got a call from an unknown number. he declined it at first but it was consistent so he answers with hesitance. 

“hello? whose this?”. 

“soobin? this is yeonjun. where are you right now?”. 

“I’m on my way home--you alright? you sound scared”. 

“come to mia’s house”.

“mia’s house? why?”.

“just come on”. he said sounding worried, hanging up the phone. soobin’s heart sanked and this is what drove him to get over there as fast as he could. and when he did, boy did he regret it. It was a crime scene. the blaring red and blue lights of cop cars flooded the front lawn and officers were walking in and out of the home. there was an ambulance park on the side, assisting someone who was in the back of it. soobin locked eyes with yeonjun who was standing on the sidewalk watching everything unfold. he gets out of his car and jogs to him, 

“what happened?”.

“a house invasion. and I think something happened to mia, again”.

“what do you mean again?”. 

“like what happened at the hotel that night. I think the boys invaded her house”. 

soobin sits his hands atop of his head, trying to cool down. 

“why the hell would they do this shit?”. he asks. 

“that’s exactly why I called you over here. those boys hate you now. and they’ll do anything to make this all seem like it was your fault so they can number one, get revenge and number two, not do much time in prison”. 

soobin crouches to the ground, palming his face in his hand with waves of stress.

“what the fuck am I going to do?”.  

[starlocked01]

Suspended in a Defenseless Test

AO3 @tsshipmonth2020

Masterpost- Previous- Next

Summary-  Patton never had a soul bond. He thought he was okay with God's tumultuous plan for his life- until he met Remus.

Day 7 Intruality- A red thread only you can see connects you to your soulmate

There's a red string that joins you and your true love. You all know this. It's not some fairy tale. No matter the distance,  you are connected by an unbreakable soulbond.  The non-believers and sinners like to lie and say they have red strings too but I know God only gives them to the faithful, not the homose-

Patton switched off the radio, shutting down the emphatic pastor's voice. He couldn't comprehend how a God that creates invisible soulbonds to lead his children to their complement would punish those who hadn't found him yet. He had plenty of queer friends gush about finding their soulmate because of the red strings. Why would they lie about the fear they felt as children that they would hate the person on the other end, or that the other person would hate them for being queer?

Then again, Patton had no reason to complain. He never had a red string. And according to the lastest radio prophet, that meant he wasn't of the true faith.

There's no way that man knew what he was talking about. Patton had been a priest. He knew the Lord. But did the Lord claim him?

Patton sighed, eyes on the road. Most days he didn't feel broken or incomplete without a string, but Sundays usually did their best to bring him down. God had a plan for his life, apparently it just didn't involve a soulmate. He could be okay with that.

Until he met Remus.

The man was wild and loved to do fun things unplanned, especially if they were gross. He'd show up and drag Patton out to a public park to go on a hike in the pouring rain or bring over buckets of glitter and glue to make slime. He told crass jokes that made Patton blush and always found ways to cheer him up. Even on Sundays.

Patton loved his company and secretly feared the day Remus found his soulmate and left Patton behind.

He pulled the car into the apartment complex where Remus roomed with his brother Roman and Roman’s soulmate. Patton couldn't imagine how awkward that must get, but Remus loved the arrangement. He parked and was gathering his stuff from the back seat when he felt a presence behind him.

Patton blushed, already guessing what Remus was up to and was not surprised when he looked over his shoulder to find Remus mimicking anal behind him. Remus grinned at having been caught and wrapped Patton into a tight hug around the waist.

"Remus…" Patton gave his friend a withering half-smile.

"It's been too long, Daddy. I missed you!" Remus let Patton twist around to hug him back. Patton let his head rest on Remus' shoulder a moment before pulling back with a nearly genuine smile on his face.

"The correct term is 'Father' and you know I'm not ordained anymore, Rem," Patton reached behind his back and grabbed a bag that he held up to Remus, "how have you been? I brought you this."

It wasn't possible for Remus' eyes to gleam any brighter. He took a hand off of Patton's waist to take the gift but instead of opening it right away, he took a step back and gently grabbed Patton's hand.

"Hey, can we take a walk? RoLo kicked me out for the afternoon because they're being all squishy couple-y today. And I need to tell you something."

Patton couldn't stop the flash of fear in his eyes. So today was the day. His closest friend had found his soulmate and whatever kind of dynamic they had would have to change.

Remus saw the fear and winced, "no no it's not bad, Pattycake, come on let’s walk. I won't be able to explain it standing still." Remus bounced on his toes and swung Patton's hand back and forth almost as if to prove his point. Patton gulped and nodded, closing the car door and locking it behind him before letting Remus lead him off down the road.

They walked in uncharacteristic silence for a few minutes, still hand in hand. It felt like the Mariana Trench had opened between them, horrible dark secrets waiting to come to light.

That was pattonly ridiculous to think but nonetheless Patton could not stop worrying. Remus squeezed his hand tighter and led him down a path off the main road.

"Oh, I know where we're going."

"You remember? After two years I didn't think you would," Remus smiled warmly, leading him to a clearing by a large pond surrounded by trees.

"How could I forget that day?" Patton chuckled and shook his head, "I still don't know how you caught a goldfish with a condom."

"I am a man of many talents, few of them useful, " Remus led Patton to the edge of the pond where a blanket and picnic basket were set up.

Patton gasped, "Remus, what is this?"

Remus gestured for Patton to sit down, "Patton, I have a confession to make. Do you still take those?"

Patton chuckled, sat down on the blanket, and pulled Remus down with him.

"Okay, but only for you, kiddo."

"Did you seriously call all the parishioners that? Is that why they kicked you out?" Remus' grin faltered quickly as the joke was met with sad eyes filled with regret. "Damn it. Damn me, right? I'm sorry Patton. But I do have a bit of a confession to make," Remus took a deep breath and looked in Patton's expectant eyes, "I really… really want to make us official."

Patton blinked in surprise, "but, surely I'm not your soulmate. Aren't you waiting for them?"

Remus deflated but tried to keep the energy up, "I know I'm not your soulmate, Pat, but hear me out. I understand if you don't want to because I'm not your soulmate but what I had in mind was a bit different. I want you to be my queerplatonic partner, not a romantic partner."

"Queerplatonic? I've never heard of that before," Patton mused over the word. He'd always assumed romance and love with a soulmate was the most important kind of relationship the Lord had given humans, but the most important man in his life wanted something different. And specifically not a romantic relationship.

"Okay, confession number two. I don't have a soulmate. In fact, I'm aromantic. I've never had a red string and frankly at this point I never want one. But I still want to be your partner, just not in a romantic way. You mean the world to me, Patton. I know coming to terms with queer stuff hasn't been easy for you but, well, what do you say?" Remus looked hopefully at Patton who stared straight ahead at the water rippling in the light breeze.

"What… what does aromantic actually mean then? I suppose I was wrong to assume it meant 'without love'..." Patton's voice hitched. He looked over to Remus and smiled to reassure him.

"Not experiencing romantic attraction to others, like not wanting to date them or do romantic-y bull shit with them," Remus looked away, heart crumbling as his best friend continued to avoid the big question.

"Oh. Wow…" Patton took a deep breath, "Remus, I have my own confession to make," Remus looked back to Patton, intrigued, "I don't have a soulmate either. And though I've heard of the aromantic community before, I never realized that being aromantic did not mean being resigned to never loving someone else in a deep and fulfilling way. Queer platonic partners, is that similar to dating but without the romance?" Remus nodded silently, hope reblossoming in his chest, "I think I could like that. You are so important to me, Remus. I was terrified you were going to tell me you found your soulmate and had to leave me behind."

"I could never leave you behind, pops!" Remus cried, "just imagine the catholic guilt I'd have for abandoning you!"

Patton giggled and grabbed Remus' hand, "so, I guess… yes! I want to be your partner, Remus."

Remus grinned broadly and tackle hugged Patton. They both rolled off the blanket and ended up laying in the grass and laughing with joy.

Remus sat up suddenly, "did you hear that?"

"What?"

"I'm gonna catch that frog!"

"What??" Patton watched as Remus jumped up and dove straight into the pond, holding a hand up to shield his face as mud splashed everywhere around him.

Remus resurfaced, pulling himself out of the mud with his elbows because his hands were full with a giant bullfrog who looked perturbed at having been pulled from his spot.

Patton squealed with joy, "oh, let's name him Lilypad!"

Remus chuckled, "that sounds like Little Pat, I like it!" He set the frog down in the grass, futility wiping mud from his face and slicking his hair back out of his face while Patton tried to restrain himself from immediately poking the poor animal.

Remus laid spread out on the grass, drying in the sun while Patton grabbed a stick and blades of grass to play with Lillypadton (he liked the flow of that name better). They talked for hours and shared the snacks Remus had set up before Patton arrived. Remus opened the gift Patton had brought and was ecstatic, playing with the neon green tangle toy and admiring the hand-decorated picture frame.

Something welled up deep in Patton's heart, looking at his brand new partner. They weren't soulmates but he was confident the Lord wanted them to find each other and be together this way.

After a while, Patton stood and picked Lilypadton up, returning the frog to the edge of the pond while Remus gathered up the picnic in the blanket like a giant sack that he threw over his shoulder. Patton took his other hand with a smile and they walked back to the apartment.

Remus dropped the blanket by the front door and they could hear the tv playing in the living room.

"Roro, we're back! Y'all better be decent," Remus yelled from the kitchen as he washed the worst of the dried mud from his arms.

"Yeesh! Yes, you can come in," Roman shouted back from the living room. Patton peeked his head around the corner to see Roman and Logan cuddled on the couch watching Netflix. It looked dark and potentially gory so Patton slipped right back into the kitchen with Remus.

"Hey, Pat, I'm gonna go shower off. I've got mud up my ass and it's getting kinda nasty. Make yourself at home," Remus smiled and kissed his forehead. Patton blushed and nodded.

As Remus headed off to get cleaned up, Patton sat himself down in the kitchen, preferring to leave the others alone with their movie.

"Hello, Father," Patton looked up from his phone to Logan who was standing awkwardly next to him.

"You can just call me 'Patton', Lo. I actually prefer it…"

"My apologies. How are you?" Logan asked stiffly, shifting from foot to foot.

"I'm doing pretty well. Thank you for asking. How are you today?" Patton smiled, trying to put the other man at ease.

Logan adjusted his glasses, "I am doing adequately-"

"Lo, just get the drinks. Pat's fine," Roman called from the couch.

Logan bristled, "I apologize for his lack of manners. Do you want anything to drink?"

"No thanks. And thank you, I'm sorry for intruding on your movie date," Patton sighed.

Logan moved to the kitchen to get the drinks but kept glancing at Patton. Patton did his best to ignore the looks, praying Remus would finish up quickly.

Logan cleared his throat, "Patton, are you and Remus dating? He was acting weirder than usual before you got here today."

Patton blushed at the directness of the question, "not like you and Roman are," Patton wasn't sure how to explain it to the two soulmates- if Remus even wanted to tell them.

Roman had stopped watching the television and had his arms crossed over the back of the couch, "I told you, Lo, Remus doesn't have a soulmate. He was just excited to see Pat, nothing more to it."

"Roman, he had a whole picnic planned. That's hardly something you do for just a friend."

"Guys, I-"

"Patton is my Zucchini and you two are just jealous," Remus announced loudly from the hallway. All three turned to look at him and he grinned, "come on Pat, let's leave the lovebirds alone."

Patton jumped up, eager to get away from Logan and Roman’s questions and confusion. He was also more than a little curious about being called a 'zucchini'. He could hear Logan and Roman whispering as Remus led him off down the hall to the bedroom.

"What the hell is a zucchini?"

"I don't know, Roman. Just let it go. We can ask Remus to explain later."

Patton was grateful as the door shut behind him, cutting off the rest of the conversation. He turned to give Remus a quizzical look to find him wearing the tangle toy in his hair like a crown.

"That's adorable. What's a zucchini?" Patton grinned, genuinely this time.

"Ah, sorry. I probably should have asked you first. It's like an alternative to 'boyfriend' for queerplatonic partners. We can go by something else if you don't like it," Remus grinned, patting the bed next to him to offer Patton the seat.

Patton's eyes were shining as he sat down, "oh my goodness, that's adorable! I love it! So do you want to be called my zucchini too?"

"Ehh, Nah it doesn't sound right for me," Remus frowned, laying back on the bed to stare at the ceiling.

"Well," Patton swung his legs back and forth, "what about my squish?" He poked Remus in the stomach, causing a fit of giggles.

Remus sat back up and grinned at Patton, "that sounds perfect! You'll be my zucchini, I'll be your squish, and everyone else will be confused as hell!"

Patton leaned his head against Remus' shoulder, imagining the looks of confusion when they told others.

"Oh hey, I thought of something!" Remus bounced up from the bed and went straight to the closet, rummaging around for something which he quickly found, "since we don't have soulmates, let's make this official ourselves," he held up a variegated ball of blue and green yarn.

"Okay!" We'll have to untie it before I leave but that's such a sweet idea!" Patton couldn't help but think back to when friends on the playground would do something similar, using red yarn during games of pretend to mark their friends and crushes as "soulmates".

Remus cut a decent length of yarn and gently took Patton's hand in his. He tied one end of the yarn around Patton's wrist and held out his for Patton to do the same. Patton tied the other end of the yarn with a small bow and held Remus' hand in his, smiling at his squish.

Patton felt a mild itchy burning on his wrist and looked back down at the yarn. Remus looked too, pulling his hand away from Patton's. As they watched, the blue-green yarn sparked for a minute before returning to normal.

"Well that was odd," Patton was the first to speak.

Remus looked weirded out and tried to untie the bow but found that no matter how hard he pulled, the knot stayed tied. He grabbed a pair of scissors from his desk and tried to cut the loop around his wrist but the yarn passed right through the blades without being severed.

Patton gasped and pulled the thread between them taut before taking another step back. The thread lengthened, magically longer than it had been cut. When he stepped closer it shrunk shorter, much like how other's had described their red threads acting.

"Does this mean-?" Patton asked quietly.

Remus grabbed Patton's hand and dragged him out to the living room, walking right between the couch and the television much to Roman’s displeasure.

Remus held up their bound together wrists, "can you guys see this?"

"You're holding hands and blocking the tv. Yes, we can see that," Roman grumbled at them.

"Is there something we should be seeing?" Logan asked with an edge of curiosity in his voice.

Patton held up the string, "you guys can't see the string?"

Roman and Logan shared a look and Roman answered, "I thought you didn't have a soul thread, Remus. We can't see any string. What's going on?"

Remus turned to Patton with a large happy smile, "we created our own soul bond!"

Logan sat forward immediately, "tell me exactly what happened. Don't leave out any details."

Roman sighed and paused the movie, a smile on his face seeing his brother happy. He had no clue what was going on but he could be happy for the pair and could forgive them for the intrusion.

Patton picked up Remus in a hug and twirled him around, tears of joy spilling down his cheek. They both sat down next to Logan and started explaining the thread and the sparks and the scissors. This led to Logan asking several questions about the nature of their relationship, with Roman interjecting with questions of his own.

When Patton left that evening to drive home, the string magically stretched with him over the miles. He thanked God for Remus and for blessing their unconventional relationship with confirmation they were meant to be together in the way that made sense to them.

[arcticdementor]

“Hey bro! Check out this Nike ad!” This was my entry point into a new world.

…

Since Carlos had lived mostly outside the United States, he was able to follow soccer on a level I’d never encountered in my hometown. Back then, before social media and the advent of scarf-wearing Northwestern fútbol hipsters, big-time European soccer was like the metric system: Known to almost all but ourselves. But Carlos knew, and immediately used LimeWire to curate me a massive archive of 1990s through early 2000s soccer highlights. What was I doing in the world without them?

Oddly enough, in trying to inculcate me in soccer fandom, he started not with game highlights, but with the advertisements. Yes, Carlos was an educator and a voluntary footsoldier for Big Apparel. Going in, I had no clue about high-quality, internationally popular Nike soccer ads. The ads, written by the legendary Wieden+Kennedy firm, were miniature movies, films that were often creatively daring but also quite funny. The most popular of these ads might be “Good vs. Evil,” from 1996, where Nike’s best soccer players team up to play Satan’s literal army. The blending of sacrilege, theology and comedy just worked, like a more ambitious version of Space Jam that somehow took itself less seriously than Space Jam.

…

Yes, I know ads aren’t supposed to be high art. I understand that they are the purest distillation of manipulative greed. And yet, they sometimes are culturally relevant generational touchstones. While Nike was weaving soccer into enduring pop culture abroad, it was having a similar kind of success with basketball and baseball stateside. These ads weren’t just pure ephemera. Michael Jordan’s commercials were so good that, as he nears age 60, his sneaker still outsells any modern athlete’s. “Chicks dig the long ball” is a phrase (a) that can get you sent to the modern HR department and b) whose origins are fondly remembered by most American men over the age of 35.

Modern Nike ads will never be so remembered. It’s not because we’re so inundated with information these days, though we are. And it’s not because today’s overexposed athletes lack the mystique of the 1990s superstars, though they do. It’s because the modern Nike ads are beyond fucking terrible.

…

They’re bad for many causes, but one in particular is an incongruity at the company’s heart. Nike, like so many major institutions, is suffering from what I’ll call Existence Dissonance. It’s happening in a particular way, for a particular reason and the result is that what Nike is happens to be at cross-purposes from what Nike aspires to be.

…

For all the talk of a racial reckoning within major industries, Nike’s main problem is this: It’s a company built on masculinity, most specifically Michael Jordan’s alpha dog brand of it. Now, due to its own ambitions, scandals, and intellectual trends, Nike finds masculinity problematic enough to loudly reject.

This rejection is part of the broader culture war, but it’s accelerating due to an arcane quirk in the apparel giant’s strange restructuring plan, announced in June. Under the leadership of new CEO John Donahoe, Nike is moving away from its classic discrete sports categories (Nike Basketball, Nike Soccer, etc.) in favor of a system where all products are shoveled into one of three divisions: men’s, women’s and kids’. Obviously Nike made clothing tailored to the specificities of all these groups before, but now, Nike is emphasizing gender over sport. Gone is the model of the product appealing to basketball fans because they are basketball fans. It’s now replaced by a model of, say, the product appealing to women because they are women.

And hey, women buy sneakers too. Actually, women buy the lion’s share of clothing in the United States. While women shoppers are market dominant in nearly every aspect of American apparel, the clothing multinational named after a Greek goddess happens to be a major exception. At Nike, according to its own records, men account for roughly twice as much revenue as women do.

You might see that stat and think, “Well, this means that Nike will prioritize men over women in its new, odd, gendered segmentation of the company.” That’s not necessarily how this all works, thanks to a phenomenon I’ll call Undecided Whale. The idea is that a company, as its aims grow more expansive, starts catering less to the locked-in core customer and more to a potential whale which demonstrates some interest. Sure, you can just keep doing what’s made you rich, but how can you even focus on your primary business with that whale out there, swimming so tantalizingly close? The whale, should you bring it in, has the potential to enrich you far more than your core customers ever did. And yeah yeah yeah, a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush, but those were birds. This is a damned whale! And so you start forgetting about your base.

You can see this dynamic in other places. For the NBA, China is its Undecided Whale. It could be argued that the NBA fixates more on China than on America, even if the vast majority of TV money comes from U.S. viewership. The league figures it has more or less hit its ceiling in its home country, so China becomes an obsession as this massive, theoretical growth engine.

…

Here’s the main issue for Nike in this endeavor: The company, as a raison d’être, promotes athletic excellence. While women are among Nike’s major sports stars, the core of high-level performance, in the overwhelming majority of sports, is male. Every sane person knows that, though nobody in professional class life seems rude enough to say so. Obviously, there’s the observable reality of who tends to set records and there’s also the pervasive understanding that testosterone, the main male sex hormone, happens to give unfair advantages to the athletes who inject it.

Speaking of which, there’s a famous This American Life episode from 2002 where the public radio journos actually test their own testosterone levels. The big joke of the episode is just how comically low their T levels are. Sure, you would stereotype bookish public radio men in this way, and yet the results are on the nose enough to shock.

As a nerdy media-weakling type, I can relate to the stunning realization that you’ve been largely living apart from T. Before working in the NBA setting, I was an intern in the cubicles of Salon.com’s San Francisco office, around the time it was shifting from respectable online magazine into inane outrage content mill. Going from that setting to the NBA locker room was some jarring whiplash, like leaving the faculty lounge for a pirate ship. To quote Charles Barkley on the latter culture, “The locker room is sexist, racist, and homophobic … and it’s fun and I miss it.”

…

The “Good vs. Evil” ad boasts a “Like” to “Dislike” ratio of 20-to-1 on YouTube. On June 17th of 2021, Nike put out an ad ahead of the Euro Cup that referenced “Good vs. Evil” as briefly as it could. In this case, a little child popped his collar and used Cantona’s catchphrase. As of this writing, the new ad has earned a thousand more punches of the Dislike than of the Like button.

When you see it, it’s no surprise that the latest Euro Cup ad is disliked. I mean, you have to look at this shit. I know we’re so numb to the ever-escalating emanations of radical chic from our largest corporations, but sometimes it’s worth pausing just to take stock and gawk.

…

But today we are in the land of new football, where we take dictatorial direction from less-than-athletic minors. After her announcement, we are treated to a montage of different people who offer tolerance bromides.

“There are no borders here!”

“Here, you can be whoever you want. Be with whoever you want.”

(Two men kiss following that line, because subtlety isn’t part of this new world order.)

Then, a woman who appears to be breastfeeding under a soccer shirt, threatens, in French, “And if you disagree …”

And this is when the little boy gives us Cantona’s “au revoir” line before kicking a ball out of a soccer stadium, presumably because that’s what happens to the ignorant soccer hooligan. He gets kicked out for raging against gay men kissing or French ladies breastfeeding or somesuch. Later, a referee wearing a hijab instructs us, “Leave the hate,” before narrator girl explains, “You might as well join us because no one can stop us.”

Is that last line supposed to be … inspiring? That’s what a movie villain says, like if Bane took the form of Stan Marsh’s sister. Speaking of which, was this ad actually written by the creators of South Park as an elaborate prank? It’s certainly more convincing as an aggressive parody of liberals than as a sales pitch. Why, in anything other than a comedic setup, is a woman breastfeeding in a big-budget Euro Cup ad?

It’s tempting to fall into the pro-vanguardism template the boomers have handed down to us and sheepishly say, “I must be getting old, because this seems weird to me,” but let’s get real. You dislike this ad because it sucks. You are having a natural, human response to shitty art. This a hollow sermon from a priest whose sins were in the papers. Nobody is impressed by what Nike’s doing here. Nobody thinks Nike, a multinational famous for its sweatshops, is ushering us into an enlightened utopia. Sure, most media types are afraid to criticize the ad publicly. You might inspire suspicion that what you’re secretly against is men kissing and women breastfeeding, but nobody actually likes the stupid ad. No college kid would show it to a new friend he’s trying to impress, and it’s hard to envision a massive cohort of Gen Z women giving a shit about this ad either.

Now juxtapose that ad not just against the classics of the 1990s but also the 2000s products that preceded the Great Awokening. Compare it to another Nike Euro Cup advertisement, Guy Ritchie’s “Take It to the Next Level.”

…

Here’s the problem, insofar as problems are pretended into existence by our media class: The ad is very, very male. Really, what we are watching here is a boyhood fantasy. Our protagonist gets called up to the big show, and next thing you know he’s cavorting with multiple ladies, and autographing titties to the chagrin of his date. He can be seen buying a luxury sports car and arriving at his childhood home in it as his father beams with pride. Training sessions show him either puking from exhaustion or playing grab-ass with his fellow soccer bros. This is jock life, distilled. Art works when it’s true and it’s true that this is a vivid depiction of a common fantasy realized.

Nike’s highly successful “Write the Future” ad (16,000 Likes, 257 Dislikes) works along similar themes.

…

The recent Olympic ads were especially heavy on cringe radical chic, and might have stood out less in this respect if the athletes themselves mirrored that tone on the big stage. Not so much in these Olympics. It seems as though Nike made the commercials in preparation for an explosion of telegenic activism, only to see American athletes mostly, quietly accept their medals, chomp down on the gold, and praise God or country. Perhaps you could consider Simone Biles bowing out of events due to mental health as a form of activism, but overall, the athletes basically behaved in the manner they would have back in 1996.

But Nike forged onwards anyway. This ad in celebration of the U.S. women’s basketball team made some waves, getting ripped in conservative media as the latest offense by woke capital.

…

“Today I have a presentation on dynasties,” a pink-haired teenage girl tells us. “But I refuse to talk about the ancient history and drama. That’s just the patriarchy. Instead, I’m going to talk about a dynasty that I actually look up to. An all-women dynasty. Women of color. Gay women. Women who fight for social justice. Women with a jump shot. A dynasty that makes your favorite men’s basketball, football, and baseball teams look like amateurs.”

When she says, “That’s just the patriarchy,” the camera pans to a bust of (I think) Julius Caesar. At another point, the girl says, “A dynasty that makes Alexander the Great look like Alexander the Okay.” Fuck you, Classical Antiquity. Fuck you, fans of teams. You’re all just the patriarchy. Or something.

Nike could easily sell the successful American women’s basketball team without denigrating other teams, genders and ancient Mediterranean empires that have nothing to do with this. Could but won’t. The company now conveys an almost visceral need for women to triumph over men because … well, nobody really explains why, even if it has something to do with Undecided Whaling. In Nike’s tentpole Olympics ad titled “Best Day Ever,” the narrator fantasizes about the future, declaring, “The WNBA will surpass the NBA in popularity!” ​

…

There are theories on the emergence of woke capital, with many having observed that, following Occupy Wall Street, media institutions ramped up on census category grievance. The thinking goes that, in response to the threat of a real economic revolution, the power players in our society pushed identity politics to undermine group solidarity. Well, that was a fiendishly brilliant plan, if anyone actually hatched it.

I’m not so convinced, though, as I’m more inclined to believe that a lot of history happens by happenstance. If we’re to specifically analyze the Nike Awokening, there is a recent top-down element of a mandate for Undecided Whaling, but that mandate was preceded by a socially conscious middle class campaign within the company.

This isn’t unique to Nike, either. Given my past life covering the team that tech moguls root for, I’ve run into such people. They aren’t, by and large, ideological. Very few are messianically devoted to seeing the world through the intersectionality lens. They are, however, terrified of their employees who feel this way. The mid-tier labor force, this cohort who actually internalized their university teachings, are full of fervor and willing to risk burned bridges in favor of causes they deem righteous. The big bosses just don’t want a headline-making walkout on their hands, so they placate and mollify, eventually bending the company’s voice into language of righteousness.

…

All the guilt and atonement transference make for bad art. And so the ads suck. There’s no Machiavellian conspiracy behind the production. It’s just a combination of desperately wanting female market share and desperately wanting to move on from the publicized sins of a masculine past. So, to message its ambitions, the exhausted corporation leans on the employees with the loudest answers.

There’s a lot of interplay between Nike and Wieden+Kennedy when the former asks the latter for a type of ad, but the through line from both sides is a lot of cooks in the kitchen. Based on conversations with people who’ve worked in both environments, there’s a dearth of personnel who are deeply connected to sports. In place of a grounding in a subculture, you’re getting ideas from folks who went to nice colleges and trendy ad schools, the type of people who throw words like “patriarchy” at the screen to celebrate a gold medal victory. The older leaders, uneasy in their station and thus obsessed with looking cutting edge, lean on the younger types because the youth are confident. Unfortunately, that confidence is rooted in an ability to regurgitate liturgy, rather than generative genius. They’ve a mandate to replace a marred past, which they leap at, but they’re incapable of inventing a better future.

…

Ironically, Nike mattered a lot more in the days when its position was less dominant. Back when it had to really fight for market share, it made bold, genre-altering art. The ads were synonymous with masculine victory, plus they were cheekily irreverent. And so the dudes loved them. Today, Nike is something else. It LARPs as a grandiose feminist nonprofit as it floats aimlessly on the vessel Michael Jordan built long ago. Like Jordan himself, Nike is rich forever off what it can replicate never. Unlike Jordan, it now wishes to be known for anything but its triumphs. Nike once told a story and that story resonated with its audience. Now it’s decided that its audience is the problem. It wouldn’t shock you to learn that Carlos hated the new Nike ads I texted to him. His exact words were, “I don’t want fucking activism from a sweatshop monopoly.” He’ll still buy the gear, though, just not the narrative. Nike remains, but the story about itself has run out. Au revoir. 

[fanficwriter013]

The Tower: The Queen of Asgard - 10

The Tower: The Queen of Asgard An Avengers Fanfic

Series Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Pairing:  Avengers x OFC, Bruce Banner x Bucky Barnes x Clint Barton x Wanda Maximoff x Steve Rogers x Natasha Romanoff x Tony Stark x Thor x Sam Wilson x OFC (Elly Cooper)

Word Count: 2355

Warnings: none

Synopsis: The twins are now three and while the Avengers know that Clint and Thor are the biological father’s none of them know or care which blond, blue-eyed baby is related to which man.  When Riley gets the power to control wind and it becomes evident that she is the heir to the Asgardian throne, Elly, Steve, Thor, and Tony take the twins to Asgard to train her.

Not every Asgardian is happy with their king’s choice of consort, nor the impurity of the heir’s blood.  While others expect Thor to make things more official.  What’s clear is, the role of Queen of Asgard is not easily filled.

Author’s Note: Oops @avengerscompound​

Chapter 10 - Before the Feast

After I’d napped with Thor we went out to wait for the others to arrive. Loki showed up first, fuming no one had come to tell her what had happened.  She ranted at Thor for a while and then strode off in a huff, complaining about the fact that it was always up to her to get to the bottom of these things while Thor was whoring around.

Next, came the Warriors with Riley.  They dropped her off exhausted and while her brother played quietly on the floor she fought sleep in Thor’s lap.

“If you put her to bed, she’ll probably just crash,” I said.

“She’s fine here,” Thor answered as he held her rubbing her back in circles.

I gave a small nod and let out a breath.  “Hopefully they get back soon.”

“My ears are burning,”  Tony said, striding into the room, followed by Steve.  “Are you talking about us?”

“Hey.  Did you have fun?”  I asked.

“So much stuff,”  Steve said.

“Oh, that’s great,”  I said as Pietro toddled over to them with his arms up.  “How about you come sit with us for a bit?”

Tony picked Pietro up and looked at Thor and I suspiciously.  “What happened?”

“Come sit down first,”  I said.

“Something happened,”  Tony said.  Steve gently touched the small of his back and nodded to where Thor and I were sitting.  With a soft sigh, Tony came and sat down beside me.

I tapped my fingers against my wrist nervously, not sure how to proceed.  I took a deep breath and let it out in a huff.  “So, after I left you, that guard took me back to Loki.  She was reading to the kids but Riley was going bonkers.  So rather than stay and talk with her like I said, I asked the guard to take the two of us back here… because you know me.”

“And there’s something and that guard tried to kidnap Riley?”  Steve asked.

I frowned and shook my head.  “Not kidnap, and not just Riley.”

“He wanted you both?”  Steve asked.

“I seduced the king and she’s the filthy half-breed in the way of the throne.”

“Excuse me?”  Tony asked, sounding outraged.

“That’s what they said.  I don’t think they had any intention of ransoming us.”

Tony got up and started pacing, still holding Piet, who was starting to sag against him.  “And this was just allowed to happen?”

“I’m here aren’t I?  Riley is sitting in Thor’s lap.”

“So this was allowed to half happen?”

I got up and approached him, rubbing his arms.  “I wasn’t careful enough.  I thought it was weird when I went from eight guards in formation to just one.  I didn’t trust my instincts and I didn’t do what I said I was going to do.  I should have just sucked it up with the shopping.  So that guy insulted me?  It’s not the first time that’s happened while I was shopping. I should have stayed in the group.  And then I told you I would go and stay with Loki and I didn’t do that either.  I let them isolate me and Riley.”

“No, Elly,”  Steve said, gently.  “It’s not your fault.”

“I still,”  I sighed and collapsed back down on the couch.  Steve wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close.  “Look.  I know it isn’t.  There were a lot of factors involved here.  But it’s not Thor’s fault either.  He was still watching.  He arrived quickly.  And now Loki is out for blood.”

“I assure you.  This is being taken care of.”  Thor said.

“My kid isn’t some filthy half-breed.”  Tony snapped.

“No.  She isn’t.  And if you don’t think Loki, in particular, hasn’t jotted that particular phrase down so she can reign down some righteous fury, I don’t know what to tell you.”  I said.

“I knew I should have gone and made that robot,”  Tony said, mostly to himself.  “Now it’s going to have to have weapons too.  A robot guard.”

“We’re both okay.  I promise.”  I say.

“I have my friends on guard now until this is sorted out.  I trust them with my life.  You do not need to worry.”  Thor assured us.

“Besides, whoever they were, they aren’t the norm.  You saw what the general public has been like with us.”  I said.

“No, it isn’t.  They have been treating us like the chosen ones.”  Steve agreed.

“See.  So except for that little, not so little blip, we’re all fine and it’s going to be okay.  Pietro had a really nice time with Loki.  And look, Thor’s friends wore her out completely.”  I say gesturing to Riley who had fallen asleep on Thor’s chest with her mouth open.

“So graceful,”  Steve joked.

“The kids will be safe?”  Tony asked.

“I guarantee it.  I would not risk them.”  Thor said.

“I don’t like this,” Tony muttered.

“What can we do to ease your mind?  Should we change the subject?”  I asked.

“Maybe,”  Tony said, starting to pace again.  Pietro’s head flopped as he fell into a deep sleep in Tony’s arms.

“How about you show me what you guys got?”

Steve went through the things they’d brought on their expedition.  A set of ornate and perfectly balanced throwing knives for Natasha.  A bow that was beautiful, light and yet had the heaviest draw strength I’d seen in a bow, and yet pulled easily, for Clint.  A collection of rings and necklaces for Wanda that Steve said the vendor just kept adding more and more.  For Bruce, there was a set of what looked like scientific instruments and for Bucky, an Asgardian puzzle cube that Thor said was called a Vanigler.  The most amazing thing though was a bag that one vendor had given them to carry everything that seemed to hold its own pocket dimension.  You could fit as much as you wanted into it and it got no bigger or heavier.

We put the babies to bed and not much later some attendants came to get us ready for the feast.  I was taken to a large bath by two female attendants.  It was white marble and the size of a small pool, and so warm that steam came off the surface.  They scrubbed me down and washed my hair.  When I got out they rubbed scented oils into my skin, did my makeup and hair and dressed me.  The dress was stunning.  Floaty robes in champagne that had a long slit up one leg.  Over the bodice was a gold breastplate with black scrollwork.

I came out to find Steve and Thor dressed in very similar armor.  Thor’s was black and silver with a red cape, while Steve’s was silver and navy blue.  Tony was wearing one of his two-piece Burberry suits in black.

“Well, would you look at all of you,” I said.  “Don’t you all look handsome.”

“You look stunning, El,” Steve said.

The door to the children’s room opened and Sif came out with both the children who were wearing white robes with gold ropes holding them together.  Riley had a bracelet on from home that was made of plastic rainbow beads on a piece of elastic.

“Wow, look at you two,”  I said as Riley bounced excitedly at Sif’s side.

Tony came over to them both and crouched down.  “Look at my precious little man.”  He said tickling his side.  “And the little princess.”

“My warriors!”  Thor said proudly.

“I wanna be a wawwia,” Riley said bouncing over to him.

“When you are older,” Thor said, picking her up.  “Are we ready?”

“I think so.”  Steve agreed.

We were led down the halls to where the feast was set to be held.  As the sounds of people talking and celebrating got louder Loki came striding down the hall.  He had shifted genders in the meantime and was in his full regalia of green and gold with his horned helmet.

“Brother!”  He said, sounding angry and agitated.  “Did your council advise you what was going to happen at this feast?”

Thor looked at Loki confused.  “They said it was just to announce the heir and my consorts.”

“They have the stage set for a bonding ceremony,” Loki said.  “There is a high priest waiting.”

Thor laughed.  “You jest brother.”

“I do not,” Loki said.  “They think you have remained unattached too long and now there is an heir you must bond.  They intend to force it.”

“What do you mean bonded?”  Steve asked.

“It is like your Earth custom of marriage,” Thor said.

Tony shifted nervously and Steve seemed to freeze.  “We can’t.  We can’t do that without the others.”

“They are saying if you cannot adhere to Asgardian customs you are not fit to rule,”  Loki said.  “Of course, that leaves me in charge, so if you’d like to back out.”

Thor turned to us and gave Riley to Steve.  “Wait here.  I shall go and figure this out.”

He strode off leaving us with Loki, Sif and the warriors.

“You should prepare to do this if you care for him,”  Loki said, sounding slightly more concerned than he normally did.  Pietro started reaching for him and Tony handed the little boy over.  Pietro immediately scaled up onto Loki’s shoulders and rested his chin on his uncle’s head, his little face poking out between the horns.

“Just me, or all of us?”  I asked.  My stomach had started to churn and I was feeling a very powerful desire to vomit all over him.

“They have prepared for all three, but any one of you will do,” Loki replied.

I looked at Steve.  “I don’t want to do this without the others at least knowing what’s happening.  It’s not fair on them.  I’ll do it though if it protects Thor.  But you, you can’t do this without Bucky.  If Thor can’t get them to change his mind, you can’t do this.”

Steve nodded.  “I know.”  He said and took my hand.  “I would marry you, El.  You know that right?”

I nodded and tears pricked my eyes.  “It has to be with him here at least.”

“Thank you.”  He said softly and kissed my cheek.

“Don’t sweat it.  It’s probably just chuckles here stirring the pot.”  Tony said.

“Watch yourself, Stark.  Everyone else here might care that you’re a consort, but I don’t.”  Loki sneered, pulling himself up straight like he was about to fight.

“Can we please not fight right now?”  I said.  “What about you Tony?  Can you do this?  Because that’s my main issue.  The others should at least be witness to it.  But I’m the spare.  No one is particularly going to be more upset they aren’t here for this.  They’ll understand.  You think Bruce will understand.”

“El,”  Tony said taking my hand.

“No, it’s okay.  I’m not saying that like it’s a bad thing, you each have your special person.”  I said.  “I’m loved on pretty hard by all of you.”

He came closer to me and looked me in the eye.  “El, I love Bruce.  And you’re right, he is special to me.  But if you’re gonna say there’s a special person for each of us, that’s you, honey.”

I swallowed thickly.  That had never really occurred to me before given that I’d come in last and sometimes it was just about impossible to pull Bruce and Tony apart from each other.  But, even though Tony had in the past hurt me more than anyone else had ever hurt me, he was in the group because of me.  I leaned in and kissed him and he pulled me a little closer to him.  “I’ll do this with you if that’s what you want.”  He whispered.

We stood around waiting, speculating on why this was happening and what it actually meant.  After what felt like hours but was probably only twenty minutes, Riley picked her head up from Steve’s chest and pointed.  “Daddy!”

Thor emerged from around the corner looking defeated.

“They’re forcing it?”  Steve asked.

“I was able to delay it.  But they insist.”  Thor said.  “We have a week to come to an agreement between us and plan the ceremony properly.  Would the others come if I sent for them?”

I nodded.  “I think so.  Did you want to do this with all of us?”

“I would prefer not to have my hand forced.”  He said.  “This should have been something I got to come to in my own time.”

I came over and wrapped my arms around his waist.  “I’m sorry they’re putting you in this position.  I’ll do this with you though.  You don’t have to worry about us letting you down.”

“Thank you for understanding, Lady Elise.”  He said sagging against me a little.

“Are we still going in?”  Tony asked.

“You will be expected to show,”  Loki said.

Thor huffed and his hand opened and closed on my back.

“You otay, daddy?”  Pietro asked.

“You wanna doe home?”  Riley added.

Thor smiled sadly at them and didn’t say anything.  I looked up at him and caressed his jaw.  “Did you want to go?”

“Go where?”  Thor asked.

“Anywhere.  Back to our rooms.  Back to Earth.  Away from here and the feast.”

He sighed.  “You know I can’t do that.”

I leaned against him, gently stroking the back of his neck.  “Someone attempted to murder your daughter today.  You could say she is too shaken for a public event.  That you are still concerned about her safety.”

“It would definitely be better to keep her guarded at the moment,” Sif said.

Thor thought for a moment.  “Okay.  We call it off.”  He turned to Sif.  “Thank you. Can you handle that?”

She bowed and jogged off down the hall.

“So where to?”  Steve asked.

“Back to the rooms.  I’ll have food bought up.”  Thor said.

“That sounds like a good idea,”  Steve said.  “We can still have a party for the kids, and then… we’ll talk.”

Thor gave a sharp nod and we all turned and began our trek back to our chambers, completely unaware exactly what I’d just agreed to.

// NEXT

[sophiepowers]

since @petrlosingwendy is mad about me talking about jordan here’s my anger in an essay under the cut

All right, Petunia. Wish me luck out there. You will die on August 7th, 2037. That’s pretty good. All right. Hello. Hello, Chicago. Nice to see you again. Thank you. That was very nice. Thank you. Look, now, you’re a wonderful crowd, but I need you to keep your energy up the entire show, okay? Because… No, no, no. Thank you. Some crowds… some crowds, they have big energy in the beginning and then they run out of places to go. So… I don’t judge those crowds, by the way, okay? We’ve all gone too big too fast and then run out of room. We’ve all made a “Happy Birthday” sign… Wait. You get that poster board up, and you’re like, “I don’t need to trace it. I know how big letters should be. To begin with, a big-ass ‘H’. Followed by a big-ass ‘A’ and… Oh, no! Oh, God! Okay, all right. Real skinny ‘P’ with a high hump, and then we’ll put the second ‘P’ below the hump of that first ‘P’, sort of like a motorcycle sidecar situation. And now I have no room for the ‘Y’, so I’ll do a kind of curled-up noodle ‘Y’. Block letters and cursive look good together.” And then you go to write “Birthday” and you totally forget the lesson you just learned with “Happy.” You’re like, “Yeah, but the past is the past. Big-ass ‘B’. Surely more letters will fit in the same space.”You’re very friendly here in Chicago. I mean, we’re all violent here, but you’re very friendly. No, really. And I don’t like confrontation, ’cause I’ve never been in a fight before. Though, maybe you could tell that from the first moment I walked out on stage. I don’t give off that vibe. Some people give off a vibe of… Right away, they’re like, “Do not fuck with me.” My vibe is more like, “Hey, you could pour soup in my lap and I’ll probably apologize to you.” When I walk, for real, my feet go out like this. I’m so open and vulnerable. I look like a doll that you point out molestation on. “Show us on this white comedian where the man touched you.”It’s been a while since I’ve been home to Chicago. I got married since then. Thank you. I married my wife. I love saying “my wife.” It sounds so adult. “That’s my wife.” It’s great, you sound like a person. I said it even before we were married. We were just dating, and we were once getting on an airplane, and Anna’s ticket didn’t say anything and my ticket said “priority access.” It doesn’t matter why. But we were getting on and I said, “Uh, can my wife board with me?” And they were like, “Yes, of course. Right this way.” And I was like, “Oh, that is so much better than all those times I was like, ‘Can my girlfriend come?'” And, yeah, I shouldn’t have said it that way, but still. “My wife” just has some kick-ass to it, you know? “Get away from my wife! No one talk to my wife!” Marriage is gonna be very magical. “I didn’t kill my wife!” That’s like, “Ooh, who’s that fella? I bet he did kill his wife.” Being married is so nice. I never knew relationships were supposed to make you feel better about yourself. That’s not really a joke, that’s just a little sweet thing I like to say. ‘Cause I’d been in relationships where I got cheated on, like, long ones. I don’t know if you’ve ever been in a long relationship where you got cheated on, but it changes your whole worldview. ‘Cause when I was a kid, I used to watch America’s Most Wanted. You know how kids do. And I would always think to myself, “How could another person kill someone? How could a human being kill another human being?” And then I got cheated on, and I was like, “Oh, okay.” “I’m not gonna do it, but I totally get it.” And I don’t mean in that way of, like, “No one else can have you.” I don’t care about that. It’s just creepy to have an ex out there after things have ended badly. They have a lot of information. Anyone who’s seen my dick and met my parents needs to die. I can’t have them roaming around.I talked to a lot of people before I got engaged, you know. And I heard this expression about whether or not you should get married. This is an old expression. People say this. They say, “Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free?” You ever heard that before? It’s a bananas insulting expression… to an entire gender. But also, it makes no sense. “Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free?” You’re not allowed to milk a cow that you don’t own. That’s not even a situation. Was that a problem at one point? Like, in the dairy community? Was that happening a hundred years ago in some village? Some Dutch prick was sneaking in at night being like, “Ah-ha-ha, I take your milk.” And the farmer was like, “Well, then, this is your cow now.” And he was like, “No, no proof of purchase.” And he ran off into the night. That sounded Dutch, right? You know what that… you know what that expression means? It means, “Why would you marry a woman if she’s already having sex with you?” Which has nothing to do with what relationships are even like anymore. Now, it’s like, “Why buy the cow?” Uh, maybe because, every day, the cow asks you when you’re gonna buy it. And… … you live in a really small apartment with the cow, so you can’t avoid that question at all. And also, the cow is way better at arguing than you are. And the cow grew up in a family that knows how to argue. “Why buy the cow?” Uh, maybe because every time another cow gets bought, you have to go to the sale and you have to sit next to your cow at the sale, and your cow looks over at you the entire time like… And does not enjoy the sale at all… even though she’s the one that wanted to go to the sale. And she’s especially mad because that farmer and cow met, like, eight months after you guys met. “Why buy the cow?” Well, let’s be real here. You’re very lucky to have the cow that you do have. “Roping in cows and getting milk out of them was never anything you were known for, John.” By the most liberal of estimates, there have been about eight cows total, several unmilked, and… a lot of people think that you like bulls, and if you just bought… They assume it. When you search your name, the third thing to come up is like, “John Mulaney bull?” And if you just bought the cow, nobody would say that anymore. They’ll still say it. ‘Cause there are those guys who, they buy a cow, and then on the side, total matador, but… But, for real, Chicago, why buy the cow? Let’s be real. Why buy the cow? Because you love her. You really do. And, yeah, yeah… Sure, she’s a bossy little Jew, but… … she takes care of you. And you don’t wanna be some old man stumbling around, like, “Hey, you seen any loose milk?”My wife is Jewish. She’s a New York Jew. I did it! Now, I was raised Catholic. I don’t know if you can tell that from the everything about me. My wife is Jewish, I grew up Catholic, so we got married by a friend. Being married by a friend is a beautiful ceremony that alienates both families’ religions, while confusing the elderly people at the wedding. “What’s the name of the bishop?” “That’s actually stand-up comedian Dan Levy. He was the host of MTV’s Your Face or Mine?” I saw a lot of Catholic weddings, though, because I was an altar boy… And a hush falls over the room. Isn’t it weird how that became a scandalous thing? That was just some boring shit I had to do on weekends. But now, it’s like saying, “I was a French maid for a period of time. I was treated well in my day. I worked for a variety of sirs.” No, being an altar boy was just a boring gig, you know? You’d serve Mass and then you’d serve weddings sometimes. My brother was once an altar boy at a wedding, and he was standing there with another altar boy in this big, packed church in Chicago where we grew up. And the bride was coming down the aisle, and the organ was playing, and all the pews were filled, and the bride got all the way to the altar, and the groom lifted the veil off of the bride, and right at that moment the other altar boy said, “Aw, she’s ugly.” And then they looked, and they were right next to the video camera. And I know that’s awful, but wouldn’t you give a million dollars to see that wedding video? It was the best moment of this stupid woman’s life, and she’s walking down the aisle, and the organ’s like… And she gets all the way to the altar to her betrothed, and he unveils her to the world and to the eyes of God. And right at that second, for no reason at all, some Cheeto-fingered, rat-mustached, 13-year-old prick decides to go, “Aw, she’s ugly!” Hopefully the videographer knew some sound editing so he could fix it to be like, “Aw, she’s beautiful. She’s enchanting.”I grew up Catholic. I don’t go to church anymore. But I went on Christmas Eve with my parents, ’cause you know how you lie to your parents. So… we go into the church and I was like, “I got this under control.” And then I got schooled because they introduced a bunch of new shit. No, I was going through Mass and I was batting, like, .400. And then in the middle of Mass, the priest said, “Peace be with you.” And everyone said, “And with your spirit.” And I was the one pre-Y2K asshole going, “And also with you. What? Huh? What? Huh? What? When? When?” For those of you that aren’t Catholic, I don’t mean to exclude you, even though we love to exclude you, but… There’s a part in church where the priest says, “Peace be with you.” And for many, many years, we all said… – “And also with you.” – Very good. But they changed it to “And with your spirit.” Because that’s what needed revamping in the Catholic Church. That was the squeaky wheel that needed the grease. In Rome, they were like, “Let’s see. What problems can we solve? Problem one. No.” I’m actually glad they changed that, though. I never liked “And also with you.” I always found that clunky. “And also with you.” That’s not how you talk. – “Have a nice day.” – “And also you having one.” It’s just a little bit wrong, isn’t it? It’s just a little off. Like, when someone’s like, “How are you?” And you’re like, “Nothing much.” And it sort of makes sense. Never begin a sentence with “And also.” You just immediately sound caught off-guard. It sounds like if at the first church ever, like, they weren’t expecting it. Like, the priest was like, “Hey, this is the first time we’ve ever had church. I just wanna say, ‘Peace be with you.'” And they were like… “What? Oh. Uh, yeah. And also you should have some.” “Hey, that’s good. Let’s keep that for 2,000 years. And then change it to trick John.”My wife and I don’t have any children, we have a dog. We have a little puppy named Petunia. She’s a tiny little French bulldog puppy. I like having a puppy that’s a bulldog, ’cause it’s like having a baby that is also a grandma. Her body is young, her face is as old as time. She definitely saw the Nazis march into Paris. She always gives me this look of like, “Oh, the things I have seen, you cocksucker. You have no idea. The Gestapo threw my printing press into a river. But, go, tell your fucking jokes. Bring me my dish.” She said that. Petunia… Petunia is my best friend in the world. I give her a million kisses a day. She does not like me, and barks at me and bites me all day long. We had to get a dog trainer into the apartment because Petunia is a bad dog. We tell her that every day. We go, “Hey, you’re bad at being a dog.” So, the trainer came into the apartment. Sorry, didn’t even walk into the apartment, walked into the threshold and went, “Oh, okay.” Like she was an exorcist or something. She said, “I see what the problem is.” She said, “Petunia has become the alpha of the house.” And then she pointed at me, she said, “You are no longer the alpha of the house.” And in the back of my head, I was like, “I was never the alpha of the house.” I turned to my wife, I was like, “Let’s pretend. It’ll be fun. Yes… My title of alpha, which I once had, how can I reclaim it? Because that was a thing that existed at one time.” She said, “You need to show dominance over your puppy.” These are things people say to me. I said, “How do I do that?” She said, “Well, let me ask you this. Who eats dinner first, you or Petunia?” I was like, “Petunia eats dinner first. She eats dinner at 5:00 p.m., ’cause she’s a foot long and two years old.” She said, “No, you need to eat dinner first. Because the king eats before anyone else eats.” Oh, yes, and what a mighty king I will be, eating dinner at 4:45 in the afternoon. “Look upon your sovereign, Petunia, and tremble. My lands stretch across this entire one bedroom, and I eat dinner whenever I choose, as long as it works for the schedule of a dog.” She said, “Now, you don’t actually have to eat dinner before Petunia. You just have to convince Petunia that you’ve already eaten.” So… for the past month, I shit you not… before my wife and I give Petunia her dish, we take down empty bowls and spoons, and in front of her, we go, “Mmm, dinner. Mmm, good dinner.” Like we’re space aliens in a play about human beings that they wrote, but they didn’t work that hard on. “Mmm, we’re eating dinner.” Meanwhile, Petunia’s just staring at us with her Paul Giamatti face, like… “You’re not eating dinner, cocksucker. Dish, now.”I have a wife and a dog, and we just bought a house. We have a new house. It was built in the ’20s, but it was flipped in 2014. Which means it’s haunted, but it has a lovely kitchen backsplash. Actually, we didn’t buy a house. A bank bought a house, and I’m allowed to keep my shirts and pants there while I pay it off for 30 years. The woman from the bank came over and she showed me my mortgage broken down month by month for 30 years. And she said, “So, for instance, this is what you’ll pay in July of 2029.” And I burst out laughing. I was like, “2029? That’s not a real year. By 2029, I’ll be drinking moon juice with President Jonathan Taylor Thomas. I’m not gonna be writing you a paper check.” I like having a house, but I loved looking for a house, ’cause I love real estate agents. I mean, they are the true heroes. They really are. Have you ever watched HGTV? Real estate agents have to deal with the dumbest people in the world making the biggest decisions of their lives. Every episode of HGTV is like, “Craig and Stacia are looking for a two-story A-frame that’s near Craig’s job in the downtown, but also satisfies Stacia’s need to be near the beach which is nowhere near Craig’s job. With three children and nine on the way, and a max budget of $7… let’s see what Lori Jo can do on this week’s episode of You Don’t Deserve A Beach House.”I loved our real estate agent. It was so fun to hang out with her. It was like hanging out with my mom. ‘Cause, you know, real estate agents always look like your mom. And they have various Chico’s accoutrements. They always have kind of fun mom energy. And they’re always, “So excited to see you two.” We would have little conferences before we walked into a house. She’d go, “Let’s talk. Let’s talk before we go in.” We’re, like, two feet from the door. “So, there’s no toilets. And I know that was on your list. But I think I can get him to budge. Let’s go.” So, we’d have a real estate agent, and then, like, the house would have a real estate agent who’s just some guy sitting in a big chair. And these two always hated each other. They’d be like, “Hi, Tony.” “Hi, Kim.” It’s like, “Jesus Christ! What, were you two in the Eagles together? What is the animosity about?” Our real estate agent wanted us to have a baby more than anyone else in our lives, more than anyone in our family. She hinted about it constantly. Every room she walked into, she’d be like, “So, this could be an office.” “Or maybe a nursery.” “Yeah. No, like we said, we don’t know if we’re gonna have… ” “No, no. I know, I know, you know. You don’t know if you’re gonna have ’em, but you know. You know, you never know. Sometimes you don’t know what’s gonna happen, and then… you know, something happens.” “Well, yeah, that’s how all of life works.” “Okay, all right. Okay. Uh-huh. Mmm. This is an on-fire garbage can. Could be a nursery.” She showed me a backyard once. She goes, “I don’t even like this backyard for you.” I was like, “Oh, do tell.” She said, “It’s all pavement. I think you should have some grass out there. You know, in case you have a couple… little guys… running around in the grass.” And I got offended on behalf of my imaginary kids. I was like, “Hey, lady. I went outside about as much as Powder from the movie Powder. My children are not gonna be playing out on grass. They will be up in their rooms playing violent video games and catfishing pedophiles. These are my children. And that’s my wife!”I didn’t mean to make it sound like we don’t want children. We don’t, but I didn’t mean to make it sound like that. See, I just don’t think babies like me very much. Sometimes babies will point at me, and I don’t care for that shit at all. Like, I’ll be on an elevator, and a baby will be there in its big, like, stroller activity tray, just, like, working on one Cheerio with Bobby Fischer-like intensity. And it’ll look up at me and go… I like to lean in and go, “Stop snitchin’, motherfucker.” And then walk off. ‘Cause you’re never too young to learn our national no-snitching policy. My friends have babies and I don’t do so well with them. I had a run-in with a two-year-old girl. I know there are better ways to start that story, but… My friend, Jeremy, has this two-year-old girl, and I really like her. She’s a sweet kid. I really like his daughter a lot. But I was over at his family’s house for the Fourth of July, and he had his daughter on his knee. And it was a very lovely day. His whole extended family was there. And he was bouncing his two-year-old up and down, and he pointed at me and he said to his two-year-old, “Do you know who that is? That’s your Uncle John.” And I was like, “Oh, my God. That’s so sweet. I’m her Uncle John.” And then the baby pointed at me and said, “Uncle John has a penis.” I thank you for laughing, because no one did that day! Fell deadly silent, is what they all did. Hey, do you know what you’re supposed to say when a baby points at you and knowingly says, “He has a penis”? No, I’m asking, ’cause I don’t know what to say in that situation. Here’s what I went with that day. I said, “Oh, come on!” I don’t know. I thought that’d be good. But then it just made it worse, ’cause it sounded like the baby and I had an arrangement not to talk about it, and she had violated my trust. Like, the baby had been like, “Do you have a penis?” And I was like, “Yes, I do, but you’re a baby, so discretion is key.” And then the next day she goes, “He has a penis,” and I go, “Oh, come on! Someone can’t keep a secret!” Luckily, Jeremy’s wife saved the day. The baby’s mom saved the day. She came in and she picked up the baby, and she was like, “It’s okay. She’s just going through that phase where she says penis and vagina a lot.” Aren’t we all? And, by the way, it would’ve been a totally different situation if the baby had said vagina. Like, if a grown woman had walked in the room, and the baby had been like, “She has a vagina,” the woman could be like, “Yes, I do, and it’s magnificent.” And we would all be like, “Hooray! You are brave!” No one wants to applaud the penis of a 32-year-old weirdo.It’s fun to be married. I’ve never been supervised before. I’m supervised. She studies what I do. Like an anthropologist. She’ll be like, “Sometimes, he will watch a movie on TV even though he already owns that movie on DVD. Pointing this out to him confuses and upsets him.” I had no supervision when I was a kid. We were free to do what we wanted. But also, with that, no one cared about kids. I grew up before children were special. I did. Very early ’80s, right before children became special. Like, I remember when milk carton kids became a thing. When they were like, “Hey, we should start looking for some of these guys. I don’t think they’re just blowing off steam.” No one cared about my opinion when I was a little kid. No one cared what I thought. Sometimes, people would say, “What do you think you’re doing?” But that just meant “Stop.” They didn’t actually wanna know my thought process. They didn’t want me to be like, “Well, I was gonna put this bottle rocket into this carton of eggs, so that when I lit off the bottle rocket, the eggs would explode everywhere.” “Oh, well, that’s very interesting. And what brought you to this experiment?” “Oh, well, thank you for asking. Well… you know how I’m filled with rage? I’m so horny and angry all the time… and I have no outlet for it. So… eggs.” Your opinion doesn’t matter in elementary school either. It matters in college. College is just your opinion. Just you raising your hand and being like, “I think Emily Dickinson’s a lesbian.” And they’re like, “Partial credit.” And that’s a whole thing. But in elementary school, it doesn’t matter what you think, it just matters what you know. You have to have answers to questions. And if you say, “I don’t know,” you get an X on your test, and you get it wrong and that’s not fair, ’cause your brain has never been smaller. Also, that’s not how life works. I’m in my 30s now. If you came to me now and you were like, “Hey, John, name three things that the Stamp Act of 1775 accomplished.” I’d go, “I don’t know. Get out of my apartment,” you know? But when you’re a little kid, you can’t say, “I don’t know.” You should be able to. That should be an acceptable answer on a test. You should be able to write in, “I don’t know. I know you told me. But I have had a very long day. I am very small. And I have no money. So you can imagine the kind of stress that I am under.” Or if it’s one of those true or false questions, you should be able to add a third option which is, “Who’s to say?” Kids are much more supervised now, but also, they have a lot of rights. Like, that’s the biggest civil rights increase I’ve seen in my lifetime. The rights of children have gone through the roof. I had no rights when I was a little kid. I remember, one time, I walked into a supermarket by myself, and I walked in through the double doors, and the woman behind the register just looked at me and she went, “No!” And I went, “All right.” And I turned around and left. That’s how broken I was.And there weren’t special things for kids the way there are now. Like, we would just go see movies. Any movie. Like Back to the Future. That was a movie everyone could see. Kids could kinda see it. Great movie, right? I rewatched it recently. It’s a very weird movie. Marty McFly is a 17-year-old high school student whose best friend is a disgraced nuclear physicist. And, I shit you not, they never explain how they became friends. They never explain it. Not even in a lazy way, like, “Hey, remember when we met in the science building?” They don’t even do that. And we were all fine with it. We were just like, “What, who’s his best friend? A disgraced nuclear physicist? All right, proceed.” What a strange movie to sell to be a family movie. Two guys had to go in and do that. They had to be like, “Okay… we got an idea… for the next big family-action-comedy. All right, it’s about a guy named Marty, and he’s very lazy. He’s always sleeping late.” “Okay. Is he cool like Ferris Bueller?” “No. But he does have this best friend who’s, you know, a disgraced… nuclear physicist.” “I’m confused here. This best friend, this is another student?” “No, no, no. No, this guy’s either, like, 40 or 80. Even we don’t know how old this guy’s supposed to be. But one day, the boy and the scientist, they go back in time and they build a time machine. Whoa!” “Okay. I think I see where you’re going here. They build a time machine, and they go back in time, and they stop the Kennedy assassination.” “Ah! Oh, wow, that’s a really good idea, I mean, we didn’t even think of that.” “All right, well, what do they do with the time machine?” “Well, now I’m embarrassed to say. Ah, well, all right, all right, all right. We thought… We thought it would be funny, you know, if the boy, if he went back in time and, you know, he tried to fuck his mom.” “I don’t know. We thought that’d be fun for people. But, no, good point. No, he doesn’t get to, he doesn’t get to. ‘Cause this family friend named Biff, he comes in and he tries to rape the mom in front of the son. The dad’s gotta beat the rapist off of her. And also, we’re gonna imply that a white man wrote ‘Johnny B. Goode.’ So, we’re gonna take that away from ’em.” “Well, this is the best movie idea I have ever heard in my life. We’re gonna make three of them. Now, you say they go to the past. How about we call it Back to the Past?” “No, no, no. Back to the Future.” “Right, but they go to the past.” “Yeah.”Kids have it very good now. My friend’s a teacher. She told me that, uh… the parents will take the kids’ side over the teacher now. That’s insane. That never happened. My parents trusted every grown-up… more than they trusted me. I don’t mean coaches and teachers. Any human adult’s word… was better than mine. Any hobo or drifter could have taken me by the ear up to my front door and been like, “Excuse me! Your kid bit my dick.” And my mom would be like, “John Edmund Mulaney, did you bite this nice man’s dick?” And I would be the only one who’s like, “Hey, doesn’t anyone wanna know why… his dick was near my biters… in the first place? Isn’t anyone curious… as to how I had access?” Don’t get me wrong, my parents love us. They just didn’t like us. We weren’t friends. People are now like, “My mom’s my best friend.” I was like, “Oh, is she a super bad mom?” My parents didn’t trust us, and they shouldn’t have trusted us. We were little goblins. We were terrible. I remember, one time, we were going to this resort for a vacation when we were little kids. Three weeks before we went to the resort, my dad sat us down and he said, “All right, we’re going to a resort, and I’ve just been informed that the man who owns the resort only has one arm.” And we were like, “Oh, yes! Yay! Yes!” “Now, I’m telling you three weeks in advance, so that you will not freak out when you see that he only has one arm.” “Oh, we’re gonna freak out so bad!” “Yes, John, you have a question?” “How did he lose his arm?” “That’s exactly what you won’t ask.” And then I did ask. I went into the kitchen one day, and I was like, “So, how’d you lose your arm?” And he was like, “Well, I was born with only one arm.” And I was like, “Nah.”No, my parents loved us. It’s just, like, they were the cops, you know? And we were criminals. So, we didn’t get along. We only got along in that way that, like, cops will sometimes be chummy with criminals. Like, when my dad and I would talk, it was like that scene in the movie Heat, when Robert De Niro and Al Pacino sit down in that diner. We kind of had that rapport of, like, “Hmm, we’re not so different, you and I. You have your law practice, and me, I have all these fucking markers.” “I guess we both have responsibilities when you look at it that way.” My dad would respect it if I could get away with breaking a rule. We had a rule in our house, you were not allowed to watch TV on a school night. So, every school night, I would 100% be watching TV. And I would hear my dad coming, I would immediately turn the TV off and grab any book, magazine, periodical, anything. And I’d open it and pretend to be doing homework. My dad would walk in the room and he would go, “What are you doing? Are you watching TV?” And I’d go, “No, man. I’m not watching TV.” And the TV wouldn’t even be dark yet. It would still have, like, a neon green halo around it. It’d be sizzling like a glass of Pepsi. And I would look my dad in the eyes and go, “No, I’m just reading this Yellow Pages.”My dad loved us. He just didn’t care about our general happiness or self-esteem. I remember, one time, we were really little kids. I have two sisters and a brother, and all four of us were in our family car ride for three hours going to Wisconsin. My dad was driving, going down the highway in our white van with wood around the side. ‘Cause you remember when you wanted your car to be made of wood? You remember that era? Where we were like, “How much wood can we get on this car… without it catching on fire?” But then the big announcement. “We here at Plymouth-Chrysler can put a saucy stripe of wood safely on the outside of your car, for all those times you’ve looked at your minivan and thought, ‘Huh! It needs a belt.'” So, we’re going on the highway. We’ve been on the road for three hours. And in the distance, we see a McDonald’s. We see the golden arches. And we got so excited. We started chanting, “McDonald’s! McDonald’s! McDonald’s! McDonald’s!” And my dad pulled into the drive-thru, and we started cheering. And then, he ordered one black coffee for himself. And kept driving. And, you know, as mad as that made me as a little kid, in retrospect, that is the funniest thing I have ever seen in my entire life. How perfect is that? He had a vanload of little kids, and he got black coffee. The one thing from McDonald’s no child could enjoy. My dad is cold-blooded. He once shushed a kid during Lion King on Broadway. That actually happened. We were at Lion King on Broadway, and there was a five-year-old behind us going, “Look, it’s Pumbaa! Look, it’s Timon!” And my dad turned around and said, “Are you going to talk the entire time?” He’s my hero.The weirdest thing when I was a kid was how much they scared us about smoking weed. They scared us about it constantly. And I’ve been on tour this year… Marijuana is legal in 18 or 19 states in some form or another. It’s insane. Yeah, well… All right, don’t “whoo” if you’re white. It’s always been legal for us. Come on, sir. We don’t go to jail for marijuana, you silly billy. When I was arrested with a one-hitter at a Rusted Root concert, I did not serve hard time. I think I got an award. Eighteen or 19 states. And, by the way, I agree, it’s a very good thing. But it’s also a really weird thing, because this is the first time I’ve ever seen a law change because the government is just like, “Fine.” You know? I’ve never seen it before. Like, gay marriage and healthcare, we have to battle it out in the Supreme Court, and be like, “Gay people are humans.” And they’re like, “We’ll think about it.” But with weed, it was just something we wanted really badly, and we kept asking them for 40 years, like, “Excuse me.” And then suddenly the government became like cool parents, and they’re just like, “Okay, here. Take a little. We’d rather you do it in the house than go somewhere else… blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.” Those stupid parents. And that’s a big deal because they scared us about weed constantly. It would be on our sitcoms. We’d be watching Saved by the Bell, we’d be having a great old time. And then, suddenly, a character we had not seen before would show up with some weed and the episode would stop cold in its tracks. And they’d always hold the joint… The bad guy would hold the joint in a villainous way. They’d always offer the joint in a way that no one ever holds a joint. Like it’s a skull in a Shakespeare play. And now it’s legal, and that is great news. Unless you’re a weed dealer, and then it is terrible news. And I don’t just mean because they’re about to lose out to Amazon.com. I more feel bad for weed dealers ’cause they’re about to find out that we only showed them a certain amount of politeness because they had an illegal product. And we don’t show that same politeness to people who deliver legal products. Like, when the Chinese food delivery guy comes, we don’t let him hang out after he’s delivered the Chinese food. And we don’t look the other way when he says weird shit to the girls we’re hanging out with… to try to preserve the relationship. And we definitely don’t give him some of the Chinese food. He’s never like, “Hey, can I get in on those dumplings?” And we’re like, “Yeah, we’re all friends.”What are you, on your phone? Hey, V-neck. Hey! – What’s your name? – Sam. Sam? Cool! What do you do to afford V-necks, Sam? Typing numbers. Ah… numbers, the letters of math. I’m sorry to bother you. I don’t mean to single you out. I hate when people get pulled out of the audience. Like, are you familiar with the Cirque du Soleil, Sam? They’re a group of French assholes that are slowly taking over America by humiliating audience members one by one. We once went to see Cirque du Soleil at Navy Pier when I was a kid, and my brother came, and he was 12 years old. You remember being 12, when you’re like, “No one look at me or I’ll kill myself.” And these French bastards come into the crowd, being like, “Le volunteer!” And they pulled my brother up on stage, and I was like, “No!” And they brought him up, and they reached into his sweatshirt, and they were like… And they had planted a bra, and they pulled out a bra and they were like… And everyone at Navy Pier was like “Ah, ha, ha, ha, ha!” And my brother was like, “That’s great!” I have had other jobs besides comedy.I was an office temp for a while. I really miss that. I loved being a temp, because I would just go from office to office and be terrible at a different job for a week. And then you just get to retire like Lou Gehrig. You’re like, “Thank you. No one will ever see me again.” And they’re like, “Goodbye!” I worked at an office once on 57th Street in New York City. I was there for a couple weeks. I was in a cubicle next to this other cubicle. This woman named Mischa sat in the other cubicle. I want to get the number right. I think Mischa had… about 900,000 photos of her daughter up in her cubicle. Almost like she was trying to solve a conspiracy about her daughter, A Beautiful Mind-style. I think about Mischa two times a week… because of a phone call she had next to me one day. It was one of my first days, and I was sitting next to her. And her phone rang, and this was her call, and I’m quoting. Her phone rang and she said, “Hello? Hush!” And then she hung up. Think about that two times a week. And I didn’t know her well enough by then to be like, “Hey, what kind of a person are you?” You know? Who could she have been talking to? “Hello? Hush!” This was a place of business. My only thought was that it was the CEO of the company being like, “Mischa, help. I’m doing a crossword puzzle. I need a four-letter word for ‘be quiet’ right now.” – “Hush!” – “You’re promoted.”I temped at a little web company on 25th Street in New York City. It was a small web company owned by this old man who was old, old, old money New York. His name was Henry J. Finch IV. Like old, old, old money. Like, his money was in molasses or something. He owned this web company. I have no idea why he owned this web company. I think he won it in a rich man’s game of dice and small binoculars, or something. Mr. Finch wore linen suits. He had suspenders, he had a bow tie, he had a hat, he had a cane with an ivory handle. I’m giving you more description than you need, ’cause I need you to believe me. This was a real person I knew in the 21st century. Mr. Finch was in his 70s. He had an assistant named Mary. She was in her 50s, she was Korean. I don’t know why he had an assistant. He did not need one. Unless he needed someone to be like, “Remember, Mr. Finch, at five o’clock, you need to keep looking like a hard-boiled egg.” One day, Mr. Finch came into the office. It had been raining. Everything I’m about to say to you was said in front of me on that afternoon. Mr. Finch walked into the office, and he was wearing a raincoat, he was wearing a rain hat, and he had his cane. And he walked in and he said, and I’m quoting, “Ah! One feels like a duck splashing around in all this wet! And when one feels like a duck, one is happy!” And then Mary yelled, “Ooh, ducklings!” To which Mr. Finch replied, “Too old to be a duckling. Quack, quack.” And then walked into his office. I think about that every goddamn day. I mean, imagine you’re me. You’re a 22-year-old temp, and you’re so hungover, and you just wanna die every day. And then that happens in front of you, and I don’t know, gives you hope? And I did that a little fast. Let me break that conversation down for you. Mr. Finch walked in, and he began a conversation the way anyone would. “Ah!” “One feels like a duck splashing around in all this wet!” The rain. “And when one feels like a duck, one is happy!” Now, that’s debatable. But rather than debate that point, Mary brought up a new, separate, but interesting point… which was, “Ducklings!” But Mr. Finch, ever the realist about his own age and mortality… said, “Ah, too old to be a duckling!” As if to say, “My duckling days are behind me. Mary, don’t you see? I’m a duck now. And to prove it… Well, I’ll say just about the most famous catchphrase a duck has… ‘Quack, quack.'” And I knew right at that moment, by the way, that it meant nothing to Mr. Finch, what he had said. Crazy people are like that. They have unlimited crazy currency. Like, if I had gone into his office a couple weeks later and been like, “Hey, Finch, you remember that time you were like, ‘Too old to be a duckling. Quack, quack’?” He would just be like, “Ah, perhaps I did quack! But such is life for an old knickerbocker like me.” Like, he’d say something else crazy.That’s the wonderful thing about crazy people, you know? Is that they just have unlimited currency. The things they say mean nothing to them, but they mean everything to me. I was once walking into Penn Station in New York. I was walking down 31st Street towards Eighth Avenue. I’m walking down 31st, there’s this woman standing at Eighth and 31st. I have my little roller suitcase. You can all imagine. I’m walking towards her. She’s smoking a cigarette that is not lit anymore. She’s watching me walk, kind of scanning me up and down, as if she had Terminator vision… where she could see little bits of data, like, “Little honky ass,” and could read information. As I walked past her, she said this to me. I walked past her and she said, and I’m quoting, “Eat ass, suck a dick and sell drugs.” Very dirty, yes? A very upsetting thing to hear, yes? I’m sorry you all had to hear that, but at least you all got to hear it as a group. I was alone out there that afternoon. And she said this totally unprompted. “Eat ass, suck a dick and sell drugs.” It wasn’t like I had paused in front of her and been like, “What should I do with my life?” So, I walk away from her with this to-do list. And I like structure, I like a to-do list. It did dawn on me that that list of things does get better as it goes along, when you really think about it. ‘Cause it starts in a pretty rough place. It starts with just about the worst task a to-do list can start with. But by the end, you have your own small business. And isn’t that the American dream when all’s said and done? That if you eat enough ass and suck enough dick, one day you can sell drugs. Imagine you did all that to sell drugs and then they legalize drugs, and you were like, “But I…” This has been a real thrill to perform here, by the way. I just wanna say that in all sincerity. Thanks for coming to this. Really, really appreciate it.I wanna tell you one more story before I get out of here, about the night I met a guy named Bill Clinton. Now, I don’t… Some of you know who that is? For those of you that don’t, he was President of the United States from 1993 until 2001, and he is a smooth and fantastic hillbilly who should be declared Emperor of the United States of America. Now, I know you know who Bill Clinton is. But I was doing a show at a college, and I mentioned Bill Clinton, and, like, they kind of didn’t know who he was. Like, sorry, they knew the name, right? But they only knew this 2015 Bill Clinton, who’s a very different Bill Clinton. Have you seen his ass lately? What the hell is he trying to pull? He’s all thin now, and he wears these little tight suits, and he’s got these grandpa reading glasses, like, “Hey, I can’t do nothing to nobody no more.” “Oh, me? I’m just an old, old man. I don’t have the appetites.” You know? And he’s always flying around the world with Bill Gates trying to cure AIDS.That is not the Bill Clinton that we all signed up for 20 years ago. Our Bill Clinton was like a big, fat Buddy Garrity from Friday Night Lights-looking guy, who played the saxophone on Arsenio, and his work in the STD community was not in curing anything at that time. That was the man we all elected president. That was the Bill Clinton that I met. I got to meet Bill Clinton when he was Governor Clinton in 1992, when he was first running for president.And I got to meet Bill Clinton because my parents had gone to the same college as Bill Clinton. They’re a little younger, but they went to the same college. So, when he was first running for president, he would have all these big, like, alumni fundraisers, and everyone who went was invited to go. Now, this was really cool for a couple reasons. One, I got to meet Bill Clinton. But two, I got to watch my parents watch someone they went to school with become the president. And that is super funny to see, ’cause think about some of the people you went to school with. Now imagine they’re becoming the president. Imagine Sam was becoming the president. It would stir up strong emotions. And my parents had very different opinions on Bill Clinton.My mom loved Bill Clinton, ’cause Bill Clinton was always a really charismatic, handsome guy. I mean, think about how many women he got in the 1990s when he looked like Frank Caliendo doing John Madden. Now… imagine him as a college student. And my mom tells me that there was this sort of chivalrous policy on campus back then, where, late at night, if female students were leaving the library unaccompanied, male students were encouraged to wait out in front and offer to walk them home. That sounds good, right? So, my mom tells me that Bill Clinton would be out in front of the library every single night… just being like, “Hey, can I walk ya home? Hey, can I walk ya home? Hey, can I walk ya home? Hey, can I walk ya home?” And one night, my mom was leaving the library, and Bill Clinton was like, “Hey, can I walk ya home?” And my mom was like, “Hell, yes.” So… This is absolutely true. My mom, little Ellen Stanton, walked arm-in-arm with Bill Clinton to her dorm. And she was like, “You know, I wanted to invite him up for a beer.” And I was like, “Thanks, I’m nine.” But… her roommate was upstairs, so she lost her chance with Bill Clinton.Now, my dad, on the other hand, hated Bill Clinton, because my parents were dating during this time. And also, my dad’s a much more morally-upright, conservative kind of guy. He always told me that he hated it in college that Bill Clinton could, quote, “Get away with anything.” Can you imagine how he felt later?So, one day, this invitation arrives for a fundraiser where you could meet Bill Clinton. My mom opens it first and she goes, “Oh, we have to go. We have to go see Bill.” And without looking up at her, my dad just says, “Why? It’s not like he’s gonna remember you.” One black coffee. Same motherfucker. So, my mom says, “Fine! I’ll go and I’ll take John.” And I was like, “Hell, yeah.” And I slid in the room in my First Communion suit, ready to go. ‘Cause I loved Bill Clinton. I was ten years old. If you were a kid when Bill Clinton was first released, it was the most exciting thing ever. We’d never seen a cool politician before. And he would go on MTV, and he’d have cool answers to kids’ questions. They’d be like, “Governor, what’s your favorite food?” And he’d be like, “I don’t know, fries?” And we’d be like, “Yay, we eat fries!”I learned to play his campaign song on the piano. It was “Don’t Stop” by Fleetwood Mac… from Rumours, an album written by and for people cheating on each other. He let us know who he was right away. So, I went with my mom, as her date… to reconnect with Governor Bill Clinton. We walked into the ballroom. It was a big hotel ballroom. It was the Palmer House Hilton, big Hilton hotel ballroom. Walked into the ballroom, it was packed with people. It’s actually the ballroom from the end of the movie The Fugitive, remember? So, that ballroom. So, my mom and I walk in, it’s packed with people, the… Sorry, the end where Harrison Ford, as Dr. Richard Kimble, bursts in to confront Dr. Charles Nichols, right? Okay. So, that ballroom. So, my mom and I walk in, it’s packed with people. Why does Kimble confront Nichols? Well, I know we all know this, but… No, no. But, but, but… Kimble, he found out that Nichols, along with Devlin MacGregor and Lentz, who has mysteriously died, they had hired Frederick Sykes, the one-armed man, to kill Kimble. Kimble’s wife wasn’t even the target. I know we all know this. But they were gonna kill Kimble because he wasn’t gonna approve certain liver samples to pass RUD-90. So, Kimble finds out about all of this, and, of course, he’s furious. And he bursts into the ballroom and he goes, “You switched the samples!” And Dr. Nichols is like, “Ladies and gentlemen, my friend, Dr. Richard Kimble.” What accent did that guy have, by the way? He goes, “You switched the samples! And you doctored your research! So that you could have Provasic!”Anyway, so it’s that ballroom. So, we walk into that ballroom. It was packed with people. It was packed with people. A real Who’s Not of Chicago celebrities. Walter Jacobson was there. Walter Jacobson was the local Fox anchor. He’d do fun things where he’d go undercover as a homeless person. And he’d be like, “Oh, what time is the soup?” And they’d be like, “Man, you’re Walter Jacobson.” He was there. Everybody. And on the far side of the ballroom, under a spotlight, we saw a little bit of silver hair. And it was him… Bill Clinton. The Comeback Kid. But he was surrounded by reporters, and photographers, and Secret Service. So, what are you gonna do? Well, if you’re my mom, you ball up the back of my sport coat, and you push me forward like a human shield. And then you start jogging while yelling, “This ten-year-old boy has to meet the next president of the United States!” Kind of implying that I might be dying. My feet were not on the ground. She was swinging me like a snowplow. I was just mowing down fat Chicago Democrats. I pushed past all the reporters, I pushed past all the photographers. We pushed past all the Secret Service.We land at Bill Clinton’s feet. Bill Clinton turns, looks at my mom and says, “Hey, Ellen,” ’cause he never forgets a bitch, ever. My mom melts. She goes, “Hi, Bill.” Then it is revealed that she has no plan. So… she pushes me towards Clinton and she goes, “This is my son, John, and he’s also going to be president.” And I was like, “What the hell are you talking about? I’m not gonna be president.” And I know now that I’m definitely never gonna be president. Not unless everyone gets real cool about a bunch of stuff really quickly. Based on my ten-year-old memory, Bill Clinton is about 13 feet tall. And he leaned down, because, well, I was wearing this button that I bought outside the fundraiser. It was a cartoon button of George H. W. Bush, and it had a quail flying over his head, and it was shitting on his head. And it said, “Bird-brained.” And I thought it was very funny. And Bill Clinton leaned down so that only I could hear and he said, “Hey, man, I like your button.” And I said, “You can do whatever you want forever.” And he took my advice. And… it was the best night of my entire life.And I got home that night… I got home that night, and my dad was still awake, like, reading angry under one lamp, just like… And I went up to him and I went, “Hey! I’m gonna be a Democrat.” “And I’m gonna vote for Bill Clinton.” And without looking up at me, my dad just said, “You have the moral backbone of a chocolate éclair.” You know, how you talk to a child. So, here’s the end of that story. That was 1992.Let’s flash forward five years to 1997. It is now 1997. I am a sophomore in high school, Bill Clinton is in his second term as president. And on the morning that the Monica Lewinsky scandal breaks on the cover of The New York Times. It had been on the Drudge Report, and then it was on the cover of The New York Times. That morning, I wake up to the newspaper hitting me in the face. I am a teenager asleep in bed, and the newspaper hits me in the face and falls open on my stomach. And I open my eyes to see my dad standing there dressed for work, and he says, “The other shoe just dropped.” And then my dad went in to work to find out that his law firm had been hired to defend Bill Clinton.Good night, Chicago. and thats mulaney for ya

[my-brothers-corrupted]

My Brothers, Corrupted

Chapter Three : Section Four : Quiet the Voices

Chapter One l Chapter Two l Chapter Three

Returning from his adventure, a shaken Red tries to look after Dapper and starts to see everything in a different light. Dok does some research and gives up a secret, and Trick wants Blue to come home from hospital - a conflict that becomes a vital one. Meanwhile, Anti is beginning to develop a strange attachment.

Trigger warnings for panic attacks, emotional and physical abuse, and hospitalization.

Section Four: Quiet the Voices

Anonymous asked: Red?! Are you okay?? Please check on Dapper! Make sure he hasnt over-done himself. Are y'all gonna be okay??

Red can still feel himself shake.

Shake so hard he stumbles, shake so hard he trips, and tumbles to the ground beside Dapper, panting on the floor next to him.

“Dap,” he croaks. “Carver.”

Dapper’s nosebleed and the remaining trickle of blood hanging down his chin makes him look astonishingly pale, and Red pushes himself back up again to steal a washcloth from the motel bathroom, soak it in water, and clean his reddened face. He holds Dapper’s head in his arm and eases him into his lap, stroking away the blood, his fingers fluttering to find the heartbeat in his throat.

“Fuck, Dap, what did you do?” he whispers.

Dapper lets out a small breath across his lap, his eyes twitching, and when Red reaches out to find his palm, Dapper wraps his fingers around his hand and sighs.

Anonymous asked: Red, are you okay? Are you back with Dapper now? What you just went through is a lot to take in, and you can process it later, but you might need to focus on Dapper for the moment. Stay strong, we believe in you!

“Okay - okay, I can focus on Dap. I’m cool, I’m cool. It’s fine,” pants Red, pulling him into his arms. Dapper does not protest except to reach back for the warmth of his chest, and a moment later Red is setting him down on the bed and lying him gently back. Dapper gives another long, shaky sigh, his eyes cracking open and then sliding shut again.

“What did you do to yourself?” murmurs Red. “I didn’t want… I didn’t mean…”

“Anti?” ask Dapper’s hands.

Red pauses, licking his lips. Maybe it would be more comforting to Dapper if he were Anti instead of Red. Red can’t take care of him like Dok or calm him down like Trick or be a good big brother to him like Blue. He definitely can’t look after him the way Anti does. But a part of him is still looking at that image of Dapper - of Jameson - back in Marvin’s home, staring at him from the doorway like he was looking for something inside of him. He sighs and pushes his hair out of his face and gets up to get a little plastic cup full of water.

“Just hold on a second, Dap.”

Anonymous asked: Red I am so confused on what you want. And maybe that’s totally valid because you’re a trauma victim so these things are going to happen. But one of these days you’re going to have to figure your shit out and stop comparing everything little thing wrong with you to everyone else!! So you’re not the best at comforting, there are a lot of people who aren’t comfortable with that type of thing. That’s okay!! But pretending to be someone you’re not is what got you into this head space from the start!

“I want to be someone other than who I am!” shouts Red, striking the side of the sink, and then immediately he regrets it, and his eyes are guilty, and he’s holding his head in his hands. “Sorry, sorry….”

He fills the cup up, trying to breathe.

“You talk about pretending to someone I’m not but what if - aw, fuck it, you’re just going to tell me I’m secretly a good person again.”

He’s moping and he knows it. Suddenly it makes him angry. He strikes the sink again, but purposefully this time, and draws himself up, meeting his own eyes in the mirror.

“Okay, fuckhead,” he mutters. “You’ve got a little brother to take care of, and maybe he freaks you out sometimes cause you’re a coward, but he’s sick and he’s in pain and I’m the only one who’s here to take care of him. He’s my little brother and he - he used to trust me.”

Red picks you and the cup up again, his mouth set.

“I need to make him trust me again. I need him to feel safe. I want him to feel safe. Just because I’m in pain doesn’t mean he deserves to be too. That’s my job. Even when I was Jackie, that was my job. I look after my little brothers. No more fucking sulking.”

Anonymous asked: What do you want to hear from us, Red? What do you want us to say? That we hate you as much as you hate yourself? Well we fucking don’t and I don’t think it’s even possible.

“Look, I appreciate you guys being here, I do, but sometimes you just… you don’t even feel real. I don’t know. I wish there was someone who was… who was real and with me and could actually… I don’t know. I’m sorry, I don’t mean to make it sound like you’re not - like you’re not enough, I just - ”

His eyes burn for a second and he forces himself to straighten again, keeping it together. He’s got more important things to worry about.

“Anyway, I’m sorry, but a couple days of nice words aren’t always enough to make someone forget they’re a fucking murderer. I trust you guys and I’m trying to believe you, I just… need you to meet me where I’m at a little. I’m trying. I swear I am… I’m bad at it but I want to try. I don’t want to be a miserable person, you know. I don’t think I used to be.”

He closes his eyes for a second, sitting down next to Dapper.

“I think I used to be…”

“J-joy,” signs Dapper softly, his eyes cracking open to look at him. “Tired…”

“Hell, buddy. I know, I know. I’m here.”

Anonymous asked: Do NOT say you’re Anti, Red. Don’t do it. He has you, Red, no one else. You can’t keep wishing for someone else to be there.

Red comes back with the cup of water and you hear him sigh, deep and tired, but he nods at you too, and sits down on the bed beside his brother.

“It’s Ro, buddy. Can you sit up for me or do you need help?”

Dapper’s eyes flicker open and he stares at him through a weary haze. He doesn’t move, and when a moment has passed, Red leans gently down and picks up his head, drawing him against his chest to drink.

Red strokes his back and holds him close, watching his throat move and his eyes flicker.

“I’m here,” he says softly.

“Red,” says Dapper.

“Yes.”

“Promise you’re not Anti?”

“I promise, buddy.”

“Promise, promise, promise?”

“Dap.” Ro enfolds his hands in his own. “Dap, I promise. It’s me. And just me.”

Dapper’s purple-circled eyes well up for a second and he closes them, breathing shaky breaths.

“Are you in pain?”

“Anti can never know about this,” whisper Dap’s hands. “I… I have kept it a secret for so long…”

Red pauses, staring at the wall. And then:

“Holy shit. You’ve always known you could do this.”

Dapper covers his face with his hands and nods slowly.

“And you… you kept it from Anti.”

Dapper breathes out a terrified little whine.

Red’s heart is pounding in his chest.

“Going to… to punish me, Red-Red?”

Red looks so stressed for a moment that he might collapse. But as soon as it appeared, it’s gone again. He curls himself slightly tighter around his body.

“No… no, let’s not worry about it. I’m impressed you - he’s possessed you and you still never…”

Dapper giggles frantically and then sighs, rubbing at his teary face, shaking his head.

“I think… when you’re feeling okay, we need to talk about… a lot of things. A lot of things. But I promise this time I - I’m going to listen, too.”

“No yelling?” asks Dapper.

“No. No more yelling. Not if I can help it.”

Anonymous asked: Thank you, Red.

Red’s head ducks for a second and he stares at the bedsheets.

“Gotta start trying to fix my messes somewhere.”

Dapper tilts his head at him, worry in his eyes.

“Talking about sad things,” he signs, confused.

“I… no, don’t worry about it. Just rest for a minute.”

“Talking about me?”

“No, no. About me. My shit, not yours.”

Dapper’s mouth opens in an o and he nods, frowning.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

“For what?”

“Don’t know,” says Dapper. “What should I be sorry for today?”

Red stares at him, flummoxed.

“Nothing… nothing. You’re not in trouble.”

Dapper taps his chin like he’s thinking and then accepts it, coughing. Red leans forward, worried, and pats his belly. Dapper is in a much calmer mood than he was earlier - sunk back into some weird headspace. Red doesn’t know why he always seems to come back to this. Maybe it’s who he really is - a timid, docile little people-pleaser who really likes to be held.

But something about it feels false.

He thinks maybe that’s a part of the reason he stopped being his brother.

Sometimes he looks at Dapper, simpering under Anti’s arm, and he knows he’s looking at a lie.

“I’m sorry,” says Dapper again.

“For what?”

“Don’t know…”

A lie that must burn to tell, over and over and over again.

Anonymous asked: Hey Red, are you back with Dap now? How are you both doing, is Dap okay?

“Are you okay?” asks Red.

“Really quite tired. Really quite hungry.”

“You can sleep if you want.”

“No,” says Dap, blinking at the ceiling.

“Um, okay. I have communion bread.”

“Don’t look like a priest to me.”

Red frowns and opens his mouth, ready to find a way to soothe down Dapper’s confusion again, or repeat his name, or -

“Oh,” he says. “That was a joke.”

Dapper’s weary blue eyes shine.

Red snorts and then pushes gently at his chest. “Dumb-ass.”

“I’m okay, Red.”

“You really scared me.”

“You scared me too.”

Red nods, his mouth twisting. “Yeah… yeah, I’m sorry for that. For yelling.”

“I think I threatened you,” says Dapper. “I’m sorry too. And for sending you back in time.”

Red breathes out a shaky laugh.

“Still… still can’t believe that really happened. That you can really… fuck, Dap. Was it real?”

“Is anything?” he asks dreamily, staring at the ceiling.

“I mean, like… did that moment really happen?”

“I’d have to check. I lose track so easily these days. Maybe it did and maybe it didn’t. Or it happened if it happened but if it didn’t it didn’t, you understand.”

“I don’t.”

“If you fit in just right and acted normally it might still be in this timestream. If you didn’t, you probably hatched a whole new timeline.”

Dapper’s face fills with distress for a second. “I can’t keep making those. I make so many messes and never fix them. I used to remember all the rules, but often these days they disappear from my head and I can’t find them, and the voices whisper new ones to me, and I do what I’m told. I lose great gaps of things. Memories and timepieces. I am a bad time traveler.”

Red flounders, patting his sleeve. “Um… I’ll get you that bread.”

“Really quite hungry… really am, please feed me, been good.”

“Okay, buddy. Okay.”

nikkilbook asked: You’re right, Jackie. We aren’t real. Just like you’re not real, not in the way that counts. I can talk to you and you can talk to me and we can buoy each other up but we can’t touch each other, can’t be that body in the room with you, the person who brings you the heavy blanket and turns out the lights. We can’t be that uniquely human sensation of taking up space next to one another. And I promise, we’ll do our best with words, but sometimes you need more. And it hurts, and I’m sorry.

“You really don’t have anything to be sorry for,” says Red, unzipping his bag to get Dapper his bread.

“This our daily bread,” you see Dapper signing distantly on the bed, rocking himself a little. “And forgive us our trespasses…”

“I really think you guys do the best you can. It… it means something that you stick around. That you put up with all of us. Even when things are bad. You’re still here. It makes me feel a little less disgusting. Makes me feel like we’re worth watching over, just a little at least.”

Anonymous asked: Red, it’s completely understandable. It’s like having an internet friend! You love talking to them but sometimes you just really need a hug and they can’t really give it to you. You’re right, we should recognize that you’re trying and we do. We’re sorry for expecting so much at once, that’s not fair at all and I’m sure it’s overwhelming sometimes. You should really communicate this stuff more though, but thank you for telling us :)

“Haha. Thanks. Yeah, you are internet friends. No worries, I think you’re all trying to get the right messages into my head - most of the time. Some of you are rougher than others, some of you are really gentle with it. Maybe we need a little bit of everyone.”

He finds the bag of wafers and pulls it out of his backpack.

“And we’re all working together towards the same goal, most of the time. We’ll find a way back to Anti soon. And then, you know, I think he’s going to make a lot of it better. If he was worth leaving that house behind for, he must know how to talk me back down again, and I’ll stop feeling bad. But right now, I just… I just need to make sure he’s okay.”

He turns to look back at Dapper, blinking drowsily on the mattress. He’s not in a scary mood at all anymore and Red feels much more in control.

nikkilbook asked: Not sure how good a job I’m doing at watching over you. I really upset Blue earlier.

Red stares up at you, alarmed. For a second, his mouth is open, and then it closes again, and he is frozen in the middle of the motel room, staring down at the communion bread like it’s imparting secrets to him.

“Don’t owe us anything,” he mumbles finally, turning away. He doesn’t ask how Blue is.

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Dap??? Are you okay???

“I’m doing okay now, I think,” murmur his pale hands. “I shouldn’t have done what I did. I think Anti will get it out of Red’s head one way or another. And then he will use me even more, and I will have to be even more of a good boy, and it will be very, very confusing, going back in time to make his changes. Back and back and back and back. I expected within four years he would work me to death or drive me to it, but I think we ought to cut it back to one or two. I get so very confused. He will make me change so many things when he finds out. He will make me change everything and I will lose track and very bad things happen when I lose track.”

He pauses, staring around the room.

“Don’t even know when I am now. But usually better not to know or I get so angry and fierce and bite and then get punished. Oh, dear, Dapper, bad puppy. Oh! Hungry!”

Red is coming back towards him with the bread. He smiles winningly and holds out his hands. Red looks mildly alarmed by his begging, but he tries to smile back and pulls open the bag for him.

“Sorry it’s… just bread,” mumbles Red.

“Bread and meat is all I like anyhow.”

“I don’t want you to get scurvy.”

“I never do.”

“Anti must feed you well.”

Dapper throws his head back and signs out his laughter.

“H-A-H-A.”

Anonymous asked: It’s not your fault either, man. Life just throws us some not so great curve balls and we got to deal with the aftermath. But don’t worry, we’re not going anywhere, alright? You should probably get some sleep, bud.

“I think you are talking to me,” says Dapper. “That is very sweet of you!”

He leans in conspiratorially.

“Today the red man is listening to me a little,” he says. “So either it’s one of the nice hallucinations or he is less of a ghost than he was before. Look, he gave me little crackers.”

He pops more of the communion bread in his mouth. He’s gone through most of the bag and he’s still eating like he’s starving. Red rubs nervously at his own shoulders.

“Okay, buddy?”

“Okay, okay,” promises Dapper. “I’ve had so very much worse.”

“They’re right, you should try to sleep in a minute, okay?”

“Okay. Okay.”

He grabs another handful of communion bread and then pauses, looking at Red, and sets it down on the bedside table.

“All done?”

“Plenty for me,” says Dapper, smiling at him.

Red stares.

“You sure? We have more.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah, no worries. Don’t stop on my account, I’m fine.”

Dapper claps his hands together and then picks up the bread again.

Red shifts nervously back in his seat.

They do not have more.

scunneredzombie asked: Being a murder, especially since none of the murders were your choice in the first place, doesn't take away from all the good things about you, Red. No matter how many people he makes you kill, you'll always still be the hero who cares for his brothers, the one who fights for his family, the one who stops eating just to make sure his brothers are fed... I hope one day you can be free from the self hatred, but I don't think that can happen under Anti's watch.

“They are saying many things,” says Dapper. “You are talking about me?”

“No, what did I tell you?”

Dapper sighs. “Talking about you. Your shit.”

“Yeah. I don’t want you to worry about it.”

“Nobody wants me to worry about anything,” he says, his hands slow. “Am I so fragile?”

Red pauses. Opens his mouth and then shuts it again.

“Or am I too dumb for it?”

“No! It’s not that. It’s not any of that. Well… you are kind of fragile right now, right? Confused and stuff?”

Dapper’s face falls and he looks down at his legs.

“But even if you were totally okay - ”

“If I weren’t psychotic you would tell me things,” says Dapper, suddenly smiling too bright.

“No, Dap. That’s not what it is.”

Dapper falls silent again.

“I’m sorry if I make you feel that way.”

“Anti says that’s why no one likes me.”

Red feels suddenly as though he’s been punched. He staggers about mentally for a second, trying to fit this into his worldview, but it doesn’t.

“What?”

Dapper doesn’t answer. He stares down at the plastic bag. Empty of all communion.

“Anti said… that no one likes you?”

No answer.

“But you’re like… Anti’s favorite. And the baby. You’re his little - like, his puppy. He calls you sweetheart and sleeps next to you. He likes you. More than anybody. Why would he…?”

Dapper’s hands stir on his bedsheets.

For a second, Red’s heart picks up, and he sees something moving in Dapper’s face, something important and true, and he feels himself rise like a moth to the light, he is an explorer on the edge of a discovery, he -

“I’m ready for bed, I think,” says Dapper, and wriggles under the covers. “You can sleep next to me and hold onto me, I won’t notice.”

Red stares for a second, and pauses, and touches his face, and then he looks back at your message and thinks about murder and self-hatred and the partnership they share in his family, and he feels sick.

But Dapper’s probably just confused, Red figures, getting to his feet. Dapper’s probably just misunderstanding.

“We should talk about this when you’re feeling better,” he says, pulling Dapper’s sheets up a little higher. Dapper’s eyes hold no grudges against him. His mouth widens into a smile and his exhausted eyes slide shut.

Anonymous asked: Dapper isn't confused, Red. Anti really does say that to him. We've seen some of it.

Red… Red doesn’t know how to process that.

He takes one of the pillows from the bed and lies down on the floor, still holding you, though he doesn’t know why.

“Maybe… you’re confused,” he says, but the words sound hollow.

“Well,” he tries again. “Sometimes Anti says things he doesn’t mean.”

Even emptier.

“Anti… loves Dap.”

There is nothing in those words at all, except a bitter taste left at the end of Red’s tongue.

“He has to…”

If Anti doesn’t even love Dap, then…

“I’m ready for bed too,” mumbles Red.

Anonymous asked: Wanting to try is enough Red, it's enough. Magic makes you really hungry apparently, can you get Dap some food? You're doing the best you can, we know.

“Wanting to try is enough,” murmurs Red. “For now, it will have to be.”

He turns his head to look back at Dapper, up in the bed above him, where he belongs. Suddenly Ro is exhausted. He hasn’t been sleeping well, and there’s other kinds of exhaustion, too, some of them more tumorous than others.

“Because tomorrow I’m going to have to go steal some more food. And if any cops get their sights on me…”

The machete Anti gave him is still in his backpack.

“Well, it’ll just be another day of damnation.”

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

Anonymous asked: Magicians, is there anything you can tell us about Blue? He got his magic stolen and now his vision is messed up, he’s very cold, and the roots of his hair are turning white.

The dreamy murmur of early-morning Spanish chatter greets you through the audio of JP’s computer.

“Well, I was on the other side of town by then, so what was I going to do?”

“… did not want the other pastry, and I said - ”

“No one had to! I mean, it was confusing, yes…”

“And then I just copied the programming, moved it on to here, check that it was secure, and - ” JP pulls the tape off his computer camera with a flourish, beaming as his face appears in your vision. He’s sitting at a long lunch table in a huge yellow room like a gym. Tall rectangular windows let in the song of birds chattering almost as loud as the crowd of people arrayed around him.

Nina is perched beside him, her eyes untrusting, but Genesis, on her other side, waves and smiles at you. Down on the other end of the table, past a single, empty chair, three small children are arguing over who should have the last of the jam and cheese for the small white rolls they’re eating. Juana, her wrist wrapped in bandaging from the bite Anti gave to her, is standing over them and trying to get them to cooperate. And across from JP, you catch the dark sheen of long, beautiful hair - Emmanuela, sitting quietly beside you, rings shining on her folded hands.

“Tada, there they are!” crows JP, pushing you back to let you have a good view. “I feel like I’m live-streaming, haha. So you see? He talks to them through the cameras, but there’s no magic in them.”

“The source of control is the monster itself,” nods Nina.

“You should have seen the way he threw the little sweet one around,” adds Genesis emphatically. “He would strike him when he was scared and then when he got up from it there would be violence in his eyes.”

“What are they saying about white hair?” asks Nina, leaning in. “And the cold?”

The magicians turn to look at you.

immabethehero asked: Hey magicians? What happens when a magician loses his magic? Because the demon stole the magician's magic and they're both suffering for it. The magician's hair has gone grey and he had to be hospitialized and the demon's not much better.

Emmanuela does not react, spreading cheese across one of her white rolls, but the others - JP pulls back, turning to look at his wife, and Nina puts one hand on his shoulder and one hand on her stomach, her face stern and scared. Genesis, for her part, is already yelling.

“What, to strip magic away? That’s dark dark magic, that’s bullshit, you are joking!”

“Genesis,” scolds Juana, covering the ears of a little girl.

“He can’t just do that to him, that’s horrible, that might be worse than killing him!”

“It is not,” says Emmanuela steadily.

“Mama, is he even going to survive that?”

Emmanuela’s eyes are dark, ringed in her neat, perfect make-up.

“We’ll have to see how Hermann’s healing holds up. That he has survived this long, I think, is more than magic or science. He shouldn’t be with his tormentor as he recovers. I hope, for his own sake, that the monster has convinced him he loves him again, or the distress might be too much for him.”

They all fall silent, faces down-cast.

“We will ask the Old Man,” says Emmanuela. “If there’s anything to help him. Yes? JP, go now.”

“You got it, Mama,” he says, flashing you a cheerful smile despite everything and turning to quickly wheel down the hall. Nina gets up to follow him, but Emmanuela reaches out to put her hand on top of Nina’s, and she is stopped short, sinking back in to her chair.

Anonymous asked: I know it’s difficult being in a new place without your family around you, especially when things seem a little twisted, but it’ll be okay. Just one step at a time, right? You’ve been through worse and you’re still alive and kickin’ like the badass you are! Trick said he doesn’t want you to be scared, he wants you to be brave. It’s alright, bud. We’ll figure this out together. We’ll be okay.

Dok holds you sleepily close to him, pleased to have messages to keep him company, even if he’s too tired to emote much back at you. He still hasn’t slept on the bed they gave him, but he did sleep. Wrapped up in the big white comforter like a caterpillar in a cocoon, he curled up in the corner with your camera against his belly and slept til the sunlight and the birds woke him up.

“I want to be brave for Trick,” he tells you, rubbing at his tired eyes. He has a little more color in his cheeks this morning. He puts a hand on his stomach and winces.

Anonymous asked: Man, you’ve been fighting for a long, long time. Do you remember the last time you’ve gotten to loosened your shoulders to release the tension? Walking around whenever, where ever without punishment? Being able to sleep without worrying about how much shut eye you’d actually be able to get before running again? Henrik, you’ve been hurt for a long, long time. It’s time to heal my friend. We love you too much to see you or your brothers like this. Just take a deep breath and get some rest, love.

Doktor flinches at the sight of his name, a little frightened to realize it’s true - no one is here censoring what you say to him. He feels trapped in this little room, but, in a sense, he is forced to accept that he has a different kind of freedom than he had before. He’s yelled a lot of vicious things at these people over the last week - attacked them, too - and no one has punished or hurt him. No one called him useless or threatened to cut his voicebox out if he didn’t shut the fuck up.

He wonders if they would let him wander around if he asked. He wonders if he could be safe here for a little while. If he could have a little time to heal. At long last.

His stomach twists uncomfortably with both hunger and guilt.

“No,” he croaks. “No… I don’t deserve… don’t you know how much worse the others have it? Blue could be dying, and I’m… I’m… warm and s-safe and - ”

There’s a soft rapping on his door and he jolts, pushing himself back against the wall so hard he strikes his head and winces.

“Hey, medico,” calls Hermann’s small voice. “Could we maybe get some of the breakfast in you? Bread and, uh. I don’t know the word. Like fruit, but… punched.”

Dok stares at the door, blinking.

“Can I come in?”

cest-mellow asked: dok, why don’t you try talking to hermann? get to know at least one of them, maybe it’ll make it easier to trust them and feel a little safer here.

Dok bites down on his lip, running his hands along the black back of the camera. He breathes out a shaky breath. He wants to gain their trust. That’s what he decided. He does. And he wants you to know he’s trying. He’s trying.

His mouth opens with a croak. He closes his eyes and tries again.

“Yes… I’m hungry.”

Hermann’s socked feet shuffle eagerly on the other side of the door. He pauses to compose himself and then slowly pushes the door open.

He’s a handsome young kid, really, very dark, with short, coiled hair. A crucifix dangles in the middle of his shirt, the metal hot against through the fabric. Dok guesses he’s in his early twenties, a little taller than Dok, a little stronger too, but too soft-faced to be frightening.

Then Dok sees the tender way he steps and he remembers Dapper coming home blood-stained and signing about the magician he stabbed, Red looking numb against his shoulder, and fear grips Doktor’s stomach like he’s been punched. He must be angry, he must be very angry. And Jose and Christofer are dead because of his family. He’s probably poisoned the jam. Doktor needs to throw up. He scrambles to his feet, panting, back to the wall.

“Hey,” says Hermann, backing away again a little, the joy falling off his mouth again. “Oh, it’s okay, sir. Should I just leave it here?”

“Mmh,” groans Dok, hiding his face in his hands for a second. He slips into frantically-lined German. “I know you promised they wouldn’t hurt me, but… I… I…”

“Hey,” repeats Hermann, even softer. “It’s okay. Why don’t you, um. You should tell me something. About yourself.”

Doktor can barely stop thinking of blood and knives. He tries to fix himself on the question. Something about himself. When was the last time he talked to anybody other than Trick and his brothers?

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Yay! Asks are back on! Hehe, Dok, try and have your guard down for a moment. You get to have a breather. No one is out to hurt you for now. Think of Trick and Noodle :)

Dok runs his hand over his face, trying to breathe.

“My brother…. has a cat,” he manages weakly.

“I like cats,” replies Hermann. “What kind of cat?”

“A little yellow kitten.”

“What’s his name?”

A shaky laugh falls from Dok’s mouth. “Pot Noodle.”

“Pot Noodle!” Hermann laughs. “Noodles like the long strings?”

“Yes. Yeah. It makes my brother laugh.”

nikkilbook asked: Dok, when the fires started at the river, Hermann here was with Blue, making sure he was safe from the flames. He healed him as best he could, even though he was feeling weak himself. When Trick made it to the water, Hermann kept them both safe as he could. I promise, Hermann won’t hurt you.

Dok pauses, staring at Hermann anew.

“What are they saying over there?” asks Hermann fondly.

Rubbing his arm in contemplation, Dok stares at him a moment longer before glancing down again, a sudden relief washing over his body, though a faint hint of something more bitter crosses through his face.

“I’d really love for you to eat,” says Hermann, holding the tray out again. “Or maybe you don’t like bread and smashed fruit?”

He’s eaten mice before.

“Thank you,” he says softly, feeling calmer, and reaches out to take the plate before he’s interrupted by the light sound of wheels spinning as JP comes down the hall.

“Morning, Hermann, morning, medico. Hey, I thought you’d want to come to the library with me.”

Something lights up in Doktor’s blood. You see his eyes widen and his posture straighten, taking a tentative step forward. Books are Christmas presents and one-dollar treasures to be found at garage sales or hand-me-down shops, not something you just get to have a hundred of. When was the last time he was allowed to go to the library?

“Really?” he croaks.

“Yeah, man, yeah,” says JP, already wheeling away. “Hermann, come with us and we can have some chill time, chat, have a nice breakfast. I figure you’ve been cooped up in that room way too long, amigo. We’ll grab our books and go to the garden. How does that sound, magic cameras? You can help us look for stuff about your sick friend.”

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Dok! Keep your eyes peeled for info on Blue, yeah? Hopefully with the help of the magicians, you might figure out what's wrong with him.

Dok nods eagerly, now doubly excited. He can check out a library and finally do what he’s meant to do - find a way to care for his brothers when they’re ill.

“Yes, please,” he says. Hermann claps his hands together and steps back into the hall.

“Awesome! Here, it’s this way. Don’t be nervous, okay?”

He hasn’t been out of this room all week. He steps out into the corridor and breathes. Fresh air from the windows, though it is a small, tight corridor, yellowing and out-dated. Fluorescent lights sigh down at him, but turning his head to look out the window -

“Oh,” he says, very small.

The most neatly-kept little garden he’s ever seen, blooming for the spring. Meticulously tended-to grass with pink and purples flowers growing in good rich dirt. Hummingbirds buzzing around small heavy fruit trees. Bushes and roses and vines. It’s not outside of the building, but within it, surrounded by a square of corridors, two stories high, and then the blue sky far above.

“The part of the country I lived in before was so dry,” he murmurs. “Grass wouldn’t grow.”

“Oh, it’s like that here,” Hermann smiles. “But in Peru, many gathering spaces have great lovely gardens in the centers. If you see grass, if you see plants like these, you know that somebody spent a lot of time and probably money too to make it bloom like this.”

It’s a nice thought. Dok has a faint memory of flowers growing up out of the floorboards of his home. Crocuses torn up in Red’s hand and Blue staggering deliriously around the house. He wonders if he’s that ill now.

They walk down the corridors past doors identical to his own and then arrive at an elevator. JP brings them down a level and Doktor gets a second shock when he steps out - rows and rows of books in short wooden shelves, the thick smell of dust and glue and paper, delicious.

“Books about real magic are rare,” says JP. “We’re proud to have the ones we have. Hey, pick out one or two books and we’ll go back to the garden to eat and talk.”

“Okay,” says Dok.

“And, uh… a word of warning. Jose was like a son to the Old Man before your friend killed him and stole the book from him. He knows everything there is in this place, but… he can be grumpy with anyone. Tell me if you need anything.”

JP wheels down the aisle and Hermann smiles and steps away too, to give Dok some space.

“I can just get a couple, they said,” murmurs Dok. “Which aisles should I check?”

There’s a poster with different categories on it, like a Dewey Decimal system for magic. It’s in Spanish, but Dok can figure out most of the basic words.

Magical History

The Essence of Magic

Modern Magic

Talismans/Charms/Transfer of Magic

Legends

Magic by Country/Ethnic Magical Traditions

Or….

Dok hears shuffling down at the very last of the aisles. He could grab just one book and then go talk to the Old Man.

bupine asked: ooh, i'd like to see some magic legends! that'd be so cool! and you'd have cool stories to tell blue when you see him again! :D

“Yes, that could be very interesting. I wonder how much of this was compiled by people who weren’t even sure they believed in these things, and how much of it was from people like me, who have seen these things up close.”

He heads down the aisle, turning his head side-to-side. Eventually his eyes alight on a book written in English and he takes it, scanning the cover.

“Sub-Human, Inhuman, Parahuman: A Compendium of Fabled Human-Level Intelligence or Intelligence-Mimicking Magical Creatures”

“Sounds very technical,” he laughs. But when he opens it up, there are illustrations inside in beautiful colors and his mouth widens from the excitement of it, running his hands lovingly over the pages, breathing in the smell of the books.

pixie-in-trebleland asked: You should check down the aisles about the essence of magic and the transference of magic....I think Anti might have taken Blue:s magic for himself.

Something hot and painful twists in Dok’s gut at the mention of it and for a moment he sees again before himself Blue and Anti laid out side by side on the shore of the river, and hear his own voice crying out.

“I trusted him, how could he…?”

He shivers and blinks, switching aisles.

He doesn’t find any English here, and the words are a little harder for him to figure out. Eventually, recognizing the word “Talisman” he selects a book that your translation software interprets as “Magical Transference and the Movement of Energy at End of Life to Lasting Talismans and Other Magical Items.”

“I think that works,” says Dok, heading back towards the elevator.

nikkilbook asked: Use your discretion, but it might be useful to ask what the book Anti had Jackie steal was about. He said he only skimmed it, so maybe there was information about ramifications in that one.

“Oh,” says Dok, nodding slowly. “Yes, that’s a very good idea. Um, excuse me.”

“Hi, man,” says JP, wheeling up to him. He’s come out of the Essence of Magic section and his lap is filled with books.

“Do you know what book my brother, um. Stole?”

JP pauses, blinking. “Hermann, do you know what book the red man stole?”

“No. It was a new book. Jose was bringing it back to us before he was killed. He got it from America. Black, black magic, the Old Man says. Usually he brings us many books, you see, big shipments he’s collected, and he comes back with stories and presents for us and - well, he’s gone now, I suppose. But this time, he only bring one book back, so we know it is powerful. The Old Man might know more.”

Dok shuffles on his feet, staring back at the end aisles. He is afraid to be convicted for what his brothers did. He is afraid to admit that he has done things just as evil. And maybe all of them lead to grief like this, and he just didn’t think about it, and he was cruel.

nikkilbook asked: Deep breaths, Dok. We can debate the ethics of what you did or didn’t do, whether you were in control of your actions and whether that excuses it or not, ‘til we’re blue in the face. Focus on what you’re trying to do—save your brother’s life after something horrible was done to him. That’s honorable. That’s good. That’s who you are right now.

A small smile lights up Dok’s face and a moment of pride washes over him. He found the books. He’s going to check them out. He’s going to find something for his brother. This is the sort of thing real healers do. How long has it been since he touched a medical journal? The thought makes him chuckle and he hugs the books to his chest.

“Yes. Okay. We’re going to help Blue.”

“Want to sign them out?” Hermann taps on a book between the elevator and the stairs with a space for him to fill out the books and the date and his name. Dok watches JP check out his books and then the pen is handed to him. He looks mildly alarmed, but he straightens himself out and leans down to fill it out. When you check to see what name he has written, it reads Dok H.

It’s good enough for now. He’s regained his appetite and suddenly he’s starving. Hermann picks up the breakfast tray and leads Dok into the elevator, smiling reassuringly at him. Dok turns away guiltily, but he’s smiling too.

dancing-anon asked: Wonder if there's anything about a being like Anti in the book? Dok, it might be worth looking. See if there's anything useful?

“Ja, okay.” Dok, like most of the boys, is well accustomed to following orders and suggestions and he looks amicable and pleased, his cheeks brightening the more he walks around. He doesn’t even cast a longing glance back at the library - he’s obsessed with the books in his hands, feeling like a real researcher again, running his hands over the binding lovingly. He has a lot of passion that often sleeps and it’s rare that it has a chance to wake up.

The elevator opens and they wander into the garden. Dok feels his heart pick up fast from the sudden joy of it and he has to take deep breaths to calm himself down, embarrassed by how glad he is to be outside and surrounded by life again. It’s been such a long time since he saw much of anything other than the rocky, barren mountainside outside of his window. He wishes Anti would keep them in nicer places and then renounces the thought. They get along okay.

They sit down at a little porch table in the middle of a garden and Dok’s mouth waters. Hermann sets the food in front of him and begins discussing the books with JP. Dok turns uncertainly to his book, not sure he’s ready to eat.

“Okay,” he says. “Okay. It’s a pretty big book. A being like Anti, huh?”

He opens the creature fables book up and finds that the Table of Contents lists things by country of origin. He flickers through the first few pages and finds a page titled “First of All: The Sorcerer Himself.”

Dok settles down.

“There is, in a sorcerer, nothing inhuman, nothing sub-human, nothing parahuman. It is the nature of mankind to be attuned to that which is above and beyond the natural world. We are straight-backed that we might turn our eyes up to the stars, with hands made for grasping, inclinations seeking higher powers in every nation ever developed, and wills made for progress.”

“I hope these magicians believe in evolution,” grumbles Dok.

“While some believe a genetic component may be involved in the development of magical prowess, others insist that it is exposure and exposure alone that awakens a power within a young magician. It may be difficult to parse out. Someone with magical parents is more likely to be exposed as well as more likely to receive the potential genetic factor. All this is to say that, when we discuss the magical parahuman creature, the sorcerer himself belongs to the species of homo sapiens and no other.”

“Okay, blah, blah, blah,” says Dok. “I can check out the section on Ireland, if you want? To look for Anti? Anything in particular I should check?”

I’ve listed out nine possible pages Doktor could turn to in this book in the section on Irish fables. The first three commented numbers on this post will be the ones I put up. Some of them are irrelevant to the story in most regards, while others might be relevant to some of our magical boys.

bupine asked: 3!

Dok flips through the section on Irish creature fables and lands on a page with a picture of a smirking young girl holding a chunk of what looks to be a dripping comb from a beehive, her eyes glowing faintly green. Her clothes are very neat and smooth, but she’s littered in leaves and twigs and her hair is a mess. She wears a strange wood crown on her head.

Excerpt taken from the journals of explorer-sorcerer Joshua Mars, visiting Ireland in the year 1900.

“I had heard legends of a changeling human returned to mankind after years of living with the Fae in the other world and had to seek her out. I discovered her living half as a wild thing and half as a peaceable member of a family near to Dublin. Having been raised by the Fae since infancy, it was clear that she had no understanding of human norms, and was, in fact, barely even human now herself. She was possessed of bizarre powers entirely unlike those I have ever encountered of a sorcerer, marvelously powerful but not given in the slightest to violent ambition. As she developed alongside the Fae, she became accustomed to a strange diet of milk, honey, some vegetables, and nothing else. Though I expected that a human girl would develop scurvy and malnutrition, she appeared entirely healthy. I begin to suspect she is so entrenched in magic that food is only one means of sustenance to her. She was, moreover, apparently entirely happy with the human family which had adopted her and seemed to take a joy in learning human customs, though her family reported she could be manipulative when she needed to be - likely a result of spending years imprisoned in the courts, using her wit and her sweetness to maintain favor that she might survive rather than be eaten like many Changeling children.

The creature which had replaced her in her crib was, as she reported to me, identical to her physically, a hateful creature settled into human society some countries away.”

“This is weird,” says Dok. “We’ve veered into weird legend territory.”

“That book is entirely self-report,” JP tells him, tapping on the back of the book. “It may be very inaccurate. But parts of it are supposed to be reputable.”

pixie-in-trebleland asked: um… 9?

 Dok flips to another page.

Excerpt taken from an existing record dating back to the 1700s, a record of the history of a town near Cork.

“Matthias McCoy was confined to an asylum nearby, and as such we are in need of a new butcher. He reported a story which some folks have taken as fact, perhaps the return of an old god. Superstitions are all aroused. He screams about seeing a boar dripping with blood in the woods, twice the size of a house. Petrified by dread, he watched as the boar approached him and then opened its mouth to speak to him. What exactly it said is impossible to understand from him, but he insists on the truth of it. We are all in a confusion.”

“Very nice,” snipes Dok, frowning at the picture of the enormous, bloodied boar, intelligence in its pig’s eyes. “Horrible.”

peptobismethan asked: 9?

 Another page has a picture of an old woman dressed as a bird. She is wearing a bird headpiece that falls over her eyes, leaving owl’s eyes to replace her own. She is patterned in black and white like a snowy owl and she holds a cane, her face cold and deadly. Other than the outfit, she looks to be human.

Excerpt from the Head of the Order of the Lapwing (name confidential), 1927.

“We believe we may have seen the re-occurence of some great being of power, though it is impossible, thus far, to say if she is a mimic or a true incarnation of the sort of power once attributed to gods such as Macha. She dresses in the feathers of owls and the birds flock around her in terrifying droves wherever she goes. Or perhaps she grows the cloak of feathers out around herself like wings. She has been spotted multiple times in areas where children have vanished. Certainly she is not a benevolent presence.

My own dear (name confidential) finally put some certainty to these rumors when he came across her in the forest where our home lies. Using his own young powers, he was able to escape her wrath, but not before he saw something that, if I am to be honest, puts terror in my bones. He tells me that the birds did not merely flock around her, but rather, that when she would pluck the feathers from her cape, they would suddenly come to be from the feather alone, a fully-formed bird. If this is true, and not some illusion or spell of mere transformation, it could be that this being possesses that one most terrifying of powers: that of creation itself.

I expect me and mine will have to be the ones to contain this creature, before it takes more innocent lives.”

Author’s Note: this was the last passage included in the journal of the Lapwing King. Subsequent leaders do not record the tale that followed.

“Hey,” says Hermann softly, noticing Dok becoming too engaged. “Let’s take a break and eat something, okay?”

Dok blinks and closes the book, nodding. He doesn’t know if he’s going to find anything about Anti in there, anyway. As insane as his brothers’ powers are, they still always seemed rather lawful to Dok. Perhaps it is their taken-for-granted presence in his own life that makes them seem unmythical, but one way or another, he’s hungry.

He butters a roll in strawberry jam and tentatively puts a piece in his mouth. Suddenly his stomach is screaming at him. He’s fucking starving. He eats one roll with jam and one roll with cheese, but he doesn’t touch the coffee Hermann brought him, staring mournfully at the cup and clutching his empty palm in and out, in and out, in and out.

“You could check the other book if you wanted,” says JP. “Or we could talk a little bit. Emmanuela was hoping we could ask you some questions, you see. Just a few minutes conversation, if you want. And I’ll keep checking my books for something to help your friend. What do you say?”

Dok’s eyes narrow suspiciously. He drums his fingers on the back of the camera, thinking. Soon he’ll be overwhelmed and need to return to his room to hide - he can feel the anxiety rising steadily.

bupine asked: have a talk with them, h, you've barely spoken to anyone other than your brothers for so long! also, why aren't you drinking the coffee? i thought you loved that stuff

“It’s not Trick’s coffee,” mumbles Dok, pushing at the cup. “Trick bought me coffee for Christmas but now I’ve lost it. I think maybe he has it with him.”

Suddenly he wants very badly to go home. He picks at the hem of the stranger’s shirt he wears and stares at his shoes.

“They’re right,” says JP, smiling at him. He’s always smiling at him. Why is everyone always smiling at him here? In public people look at him strangely, he feels. “You haven’t talked to anyone in a long time. Nobody’s going to hurt you.”

“Alright,” grumbles Dok. He knows he needs to make some kind of progress around here. “But if you want to ask me a question, you’re going to have to answer ours too.”

He pulls you a little closer to him.

“Sounds great,” says JP. “Why don’t you start?”

Dok blinks.

What, he gets to question something?

“What is this place? Where am I?”

“It used to be a convent,” says JP. “We’re in Peru. It’s very secure here. Where did you live, before you came to Peru? Where are you from originally?”

Dok pauses, his mouth drying a little. “We… I don’t know if I should…”

“Do you travel around a lot?”

“Yes… we… we were in Norway last.”

There’s a little anguish in his face as he admits it, but he says it.

“And where are you from originally? And the rest of your family? Are you all from the same place?”

Dok is staring at his shoes again.

He doesn’t remember living in Germany at all.

Just has the accent left over.

He can’t get the words out.

Anonymous asked: Jp, slow down a little. You said a question for a question, so let H here breath a little. Dok it’s okay, maybe you could write down your answers instead? Would that work better for you? Just take it easy, bud.

“Alright, alright,” JP back off, putting his hands in his lap. “No worries. Just one question.”

“Just one,” croaks Dok.

“Where are you from?”

bupine asked: you can do it, dude. anti will never know anything you say here, he has no ways to trace the cameras back right now. you can say literally anything. we believe in you, h!

“Mh,” groans Dok, rubbing his face. “Yeah, okay. I’m German, I think. My… my family is Irish and British.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” laughs Hermann, waving his hands. “You’re not all from the same place? You’re identical brothers.”

“That’s not something we talk about,” says Dok lowly.

There’s a pause. Birds are singing.

“Anyway, it’s my turn. How many of you are there?” asks Dok.

“Here at the convent?” asks JP. “Me, my wife, Hermann, Emmanuela, Juana our cook, the Old Man, Genesis, and the three children. Throughout the country, however, we have about a hundred members.”

Dok’s eyes widen. “There’s that many magicians?”

“Just a hundred is not so big for a whole country. Some countries are much more magical than others. In America, you wouldn’t believe how few they are. Witch trials, you know.”

Dok can’t help but snort, rubbing at his face. “Okay… okay, I’m getting my head around it all.”

“I have a question,” says Hermann. “What does the… the creature that you… the… glitch one. What does he call himself?”

Dok blanches and shakes his head, drawing in on himself. Hermann waits, but Dok doesn’t move, not even to look at you.

“Maybe something smaller?” suggests JP. “Maybe the name of your brother with the magic? We’d like to see if he’s registered with any of the national orders.”

“Blue,” whispers Dok.

“Like… his Christian name, you know? Maybe a last name too?”

“Just Blue,” repeats Dok softly.

bupine asked: you can do it, dude. anti will never know anything you say here, he has no ways to trace the cameras back right now. you can say literally anything. we believe in you, h!

“Mh,” groans Dok, rubbing his face. “Yeah, okay. I’m German, I think. My… my family is Irish and British.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” laughs Hermann, waving his hands. “You’re not all from the same place? You’re identical brothers.”

“That’s not something we talk about,” says Dok lowly.

There’s a pause. Birds are singing.

“Anyway, it’s my turn. How many of you are there?” asks Dok.

“Here at the convent?” asks JP. “Me, my wife, Hermann, Emmanuela, Juana our cook, the Old Man, Genesis, and the three children. Throughout the country, however, we have about a hundred members.”

Dok’s eyes widen. “There’s that many magicians?”

“Just a hundred is not so big for a whole country. Some countries are much more magical than others. In America, you wouldn’t believe how few they are. Witch trials, you know.”

Dok can’t help but snort, rubbing at his face. “Okay… okay, I’m getting my head around it all.”

“I have a question,” says Hermann. “What does the… the creature that you… the… glitch one. What does he call himself?”

Dok blanches and shakes his head, drawing in on himself. Hermann waits, but Dok doesn’t move, not even to look at you.

“Maybe something smaller?” suggests JP. “Maybe the name of your brother with the magic? We’d like to see if he’s registered with any of the national orders.”

“Blue,” whispers Dok.

“Like… his Christian name, you know? Maybe a last name too?”

“Just Blue,” repeats Dok softly.

Anonymous asked: Dok tell them a little about Anti and Marvin. They'll be able to piece together a lot more about all this magic stuff than just you on your own. Working together will be your best bet in helping Blue recover, okay?

“Blue is…” Dok swallows and closes his eyes and tries again. “Blue is magic. He always has been. Before we caught him, my other brother would call him the cat or the sorcerer…”

“Okay,” murmurs JP, writing it down in a notebook, which only makes Dok’s chest feel tighter.

“He can make flowers bloom or fires start.”

“He can do both?” asks Hermann, startled.

“He - yes, can’t you be invisible and make ice too?”

“I can only be invisible because of my talisman,” says Hermann, touching his crucifix. “It has some of my father’s power in it. Your brother must be a really powerful magician.”

Or used to be, he thinks, but, wisely, does not say it out loud, and the small pride it gives Dok steadies him just a little bit.

“Yes… he is. But he shouldn’t use his powers. Then people can track him. That’s how I wound up here,” he adds bitterly. “But my other brother is magic in elec - electr - elec - ”

He cuts himself off, swearing in German. He can never get that word right and Trick’s not here to help him.

“El - eck - triss - itee,” he manages. “Computers obey him.”

“Okay,” says JP, more uncertain. “Sure. Okay, yeah, maybe that can help us figure some of this out.”

“But you won’t track him or anything, will you?”

JP glances over at Hermann. Hermann is staring at Dok.

“Don’t worry about that right now,” he says gently.

Dok huddles slightly in on himself.

“We just want to try and find out where you and your brothers came from. If you don’t remember how you came to be with the creature, what if you left important things behind?”

“Important things?”

“Well… jobs. Responsibilities. People who loved you.”

Dok sees Trick with his crinkle paper and Red rubbing at his fingers. Dapper staring out the window like he’s waiting for someone. Blue screaming that he won’t be Anti’s, he won’t, he isn’t meant to live like this.

And something like an old, old memory of soft, loving hands and a great loud laugh ghost through his head.

He covers his face with his hands. Hermann reaches out to touch him, but Dok flinches away.

“Sorry,” says Hermann. “Sorry.”

“Too much,” says Doktor. “Our turn, stop.”

pixie-in-trebleland asked: What's your order called, JP?

Dok points at the camera, grateful to be relieved.

“If we’re conforming our name to the same style as the other national orders, we call ourselves the Order of the Raven. But generally, amongst ourselves, we are just the Friends of the Bird. Medico, do any of your other brothers have powers?”

Doktor grits his teeth and plays with his hands, but he nods his head sharply, once. “Yes. But that’s all I’m saying.”

bupine asked: jp, why don't you talk about yourself a bit? maybe that will make hen more comfortable opening up

“Hell yes, let’s speed date,” grins JP.

Hermann shoves his shoulder. Tone it down, JP.

“Ah, sorry. Okay. Well, I am thirty-three, I am a correspondent here. So basically, people tell me when there are problems that they think are magical and I find a way to help. I married Nina three years ago, she is the absolute sun to me, and we are expecting a baby in July.”

He beams.

“I came here when I was about eight. My parents kicked me out after my powers started up. They can be a little scary for some people, you see. So of course the Order took me in. I spent the rest of my life here, raised by this Order, as did many of us. Good times, man.”

Dok’s mouth flickers. He nods, settling a little.

“How old are you, medico?”

“Um.” What does the fake passport say again? “Thirty-four.”

“Very nice. Hermann, you are the baby.”

“We have little kids around here!”

“You are still the baby.”

“JP!” Hermann shoves his shoulder again and JP laughs and returns the push.

Anonymous asked: JP, I understand that time is of the essence and you want to learn more about the brothers, but, maybe you can ease up on the questions a little bit? Ask more about Dok himself and not just his family? This is all really stressful all at once, and Dok's only just left the little room. He has a lot on his plate.

“Yes, that’s okay,” says JP. “Yes, it is. I don’t mean to overwhelm you, amigo. I worry is all. It’s been a week and we want you to settle down just fine and feel safe. We’re worried, though, that your other brother might have done something very bad. Not only to your Blue, but to another group of magicians. And we just need people to be safe. We can lighten up for now, though, huh? We can lighten up. We just want you to feel safe.”

Dok nods slowly. He doesn’t want to be touched by the sentiment of it, but… he is.

“What kind of a doctor are you?”

Dok licks his mouth, blinking a couple times. What kind of a doctor is he? Oh, this he knows the answer to, doesn’t he? Somewhere?

“I’m… a surgeon,” he says.

“Hey, that’s really cool.”

“I was a surgeon. I was - ”

A red pump, pump, pump in his palms.

“I was a heart surgeon. I saved lives. I did.”

Anonymous asked: H, remember that there is no consequences for talking too much or not talking enough. If there’s anything you want to talk about you can, and if you don’t, that’s okay too.

“I can say whatever I want,” mumbles Dok, brushing his hair from his eyes. “I really can. If I said I hated him, he wouldn’t come and hurt me.”

JP and Hermann are quiet on the other side of the table.

bupine asked: h, i think you should tell the magicians about blue and your other brothers. we won't say anything if you don't want us to- that choice should be left up to you. but i believe it would be helpful for everyone if they knew more about you guys. you don't have to mention anti if you don't want to

Dok sits on the cool little chair in the garden, and smells the scent of the books, and feels the wind in his hair, and tastes jam and cheese and bread in his mouth. He can hear Hermann’s soft breathing. He swears he can feel somebody else’s heartbeat in his own palms.

He’s very tired.

“I have… I have two older brothers. They are twins. Red and Blue. Red is… talented. He is swift and strong and he fights very well. He loves my other brother and always obeys him. He is supposed to make sure the rest of us obey too, but he’s often very bad at that. Because he is supposed to be mean, you see, but generally, he is soft and he doesn’t like to hurt things, and he cried when he stepped on a mouse once, I remember. He doesn’t ever eat enough because he feeds us first. I wish I had more vitamins for him.”

JP is not smiling now. He has found a different look of calmness, his hands folded in front of him, like a therapist practiced at being comforting. Dok can only meet his eyes for a moment, and then away again. He would like to be back with his family. He would like to be free to talk about them. To be free to talk to anyone about anything and make friends and feel normal, and not like his whole life is a disgusting secret.

“Blue is his twin and he’s allowed to be kind, so he is, very kind. His job is to look after me and Trick and Dapper and Red, but he can fight too, when Anti tells him. I guess… maybe he’s dying now. I miss him. He gets bad rashes on his hands. I need to get some skincare cream or something. I think they hurt him badly.

“I do have another brother with magic, but you wouldn’t believe me if I told you what he can do, ha.”

JP’s mouth curves back up again.

“Bet. Bet mine’s wilder.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You tell me yours I’ll tell you mine.” He winks.

Dok pauses. Then a short laugh comes out of him and he leans forward.

“Okay, bastard,” he says, making JP laugh in earnest. “He’s a time traveler.”

“No way,” says Hermann.

“Whoa, whoa, hold the phone,” says JP, jerking back. “That’s not something magicians can do. You’re kidding, you’re uh - what’s the phrase? Pulling on my leg.”

“What did I say?” teases Dok, sitting back.

“I mean it, I don’t think magicians can - can do that, you know? That’s - like it’s not supposed to be possible. People have tried.”

“Evidently not hard enough,” says Dok, flushing a little with the pride for his baby brother.

“He’s a sorcerer?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I guess. He doesn’t call himself that. Or I don’t think he does. He stays in his own room, you see. I… my other brother keeps him in his own room. So I never really… I have to make sure he gets his medication. For his psychosis. I don’t get to check in with him often. Hey, but wait, you have to tell me your power.”

“I’m sorry to hear about your brother,” says JP. “It must be hard for him, stuck in one room all day. Anyway, I’m a… how would I say it in English?”

“He can turn people into animals,” says Hermann.

A sudden panic rises in Dok’s throat and he isn’t even sure why. He laughs nervously, scooting slightly back.

“Hope you won’t do that to me,” he says, a tremble in his hands. Or to Anti.

“No,” says JP, so sincerely his tone becomes sad. “No, I swear. I’ve done it only twice before and it was… horrible.”

Dok shivers and nods, rubbing his hands together. He wishes he had his scalpel or his gun. Not to use them, just to… just to have.

“You love your brothers,” says Hermann fondly.

Dok looks at the ground, blushing a little, and nods.

“They love you.”

“Yes.”

“You have another two?”

“Trick and my… other brother. Trick is my twin and he’s my heart too, you know, he’s my… he knows me.”

Dok taps on his chest.

“He knows… he knows my… he knows me.”

He puts a hand over his heart.

“We don’t want any of them to get hurt,” says Hermann. “Okay?”

Dok breathes in. Breathes out.

“But my other brother, him, you - you would hurt him.”

JP is suddenly clenching his fists, staring down at the table. Hermann puts a hand on his wrist and speaks for them both.

“We just want to make sure that the whole of your family is as safe and well-loved as it can be. Okay?”

Dok rubs at his arms, his eyes pricking. He thinks he’s about ready to go back to his room. He doesn’t want Anti to come get him anymore. It’s not safe for him here.

spicydanhowell asked: henrik... we need you to tell him his name is marvin. please?

Marvin?

He’s stopped short by it suddenly. He’s staring at you.

Marvin?

That’s not Blue’s name, is it?

Marvin.

Damn, he really had forgotten it. Marvin. It… rings with something, in his head. It means something, in his head. He likes the name. He hates the name for making him feel something like this. Something he knows he’s not allowed to feel.

“I’m sorry,” sighs Hermann, drawing back. “It’s just… look, somebody else would know more about this than me, but I’ve talked with Nina and Genesis enough to know that… sometimes, you can think someone is your family, but they don’t even love you right. You know? Or if they do love you, they don’t love you enough to stop hurting you. They don’t love you enough to let you go.”

Dok’s eyes burn hard. He swallows slowly and turns his head away, pretending to be listening to anything other than Hermann. This is why Anti says don’t talk to strangers. Don’t talk to anyone. Don’t talk to anyone but Trick and me.

Marvin.

Anti only ever wiped Blue and Red last fall. Doktor, for his part, still remembers when Blue came home slung across Red’s shoulders. When Blue was locked in the basement and Red was screaming, his wrists between Anti’s teeth. When they came home to find that both of them had forgotten who they were. They were brothers and Anti took the memory of Trick and Dok and Dapper out of their heads like it meant nothing. Took the memory of themselves out of their heads like it meant nothing. Marvin. Marvin and J -

Dok blinks rapidly, startled by his own thoughts.

“Jackie?” he whispers, befuddled.

Someone is touching his shoulder and he tries to come back to the present, shaken. It’s Hermann, close at hand, Hermann who saved Blue from what Anti did to him, Hermann who promised not to hurt him even after his family killed his friends.

“Hey, hey,” soothes Hermann. “Are you okay? Are you with me? Maybe we should go back to your room. Do you think so?”

Doktor stares around him. The world is bright and beautiful and he is safe here. No one is going to hurt him. No one is coming to hurt him. He can say whatever he wants. It doesn’t mean betrayal. It doesn’t mean he’s not still Anti’s. It’s just… one rule broken. One memory returned. It doesn’t mean anything. Not really. Right?

“My brother,” says Doktor softly. “The magician… Blue. His name is Marvin.”

Anonymous asked: Marvin has a Raven tattoo, the same Raven the magicians here all have!

“Ah, excellent news!” says JP, beaming at you. The frustration he tamped down at hearing Doktor defend Anti is fading already. “I swear, I’m going to find this poor man even if a first name is all I have to go by.”

He sighs, relieved to know the name and nationality at least. He’ll check Germany, England, Ireland, Peru, anywhere - and if you say there’s a bird, he’d just about bet his life that this Marvin sorcerer was stolen from an order of magicians. They might even still be looking for him, wondering what happened. He just needs to find out why - why this is all happening, why a monster would steal someone like this, and better yet, how he’s going to stop it.

“Here you go, Medico,” he says, handing Dok his camera. Dok accepts it gently, and holds you, close, close, against his chest, and no one comes to hurt him for the things that he has said today.

Not yet, anyway, reminds a soft, seething voice in his head. Not yet.

Doktor shivers in the warm equator sun.

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

Anonymous asked: Hey Blue. How’s your pain?

He shifts awake and finds you set beside him, along with a little note.

Went to pick some stuff up from the house. Be back soon. Love u bitch - Connor

He tries to grin and it comes out weak. Sighing, he picks you up and rubs the sleep out of his eyes, warming up in the afternoon sun.

“It’s late again,” he mumbles. “I sleep all day and shake all night.”

He glances around, but nobody’s making it obvious that their watching him. He kind of wants water, but he’ll wait til Trick comes back to ask for anything. Part of him knows that Anti is his worst enemy. The other part is still terrified of the world outside their family. He sighs and scratches his arm.

“My pain’s okay,” he tells you gently. “It’s this fatigue that’s fucking killing me… and my… my eyes… and the weakness, and the feeling of being far away, being really far away, like I couldn’t even touch everything around me if I tried.”

He gropes for his blankets, his gown, his own skin.

“Like the world’s not even real. Simulation.” He reaches out his hand like he’s pushing through a veil, slightly breathless from taking. There’s still oxygen in his nose.

nikkilbook asked: Marvin, I’m disappointed. You say he broke his promise, but neither of you had a damn clue what you were getting yourself into. Neither of you had any idea what being trapped under Anti’s thumb would be like. Red climbed with you up that mountain, and he tried his best to keep you all safe, even when that ended up looking like hatred. And you were ready to walk away and die. You left him in that cellar. You don’t deserve what happened to you, either of you, but Anti is the villain. Not Red.

“You really think I don’t have anything to be upset about?” asks Blue, and his heart monitor picks up. “You’re disappointed in me? You think you get to be disappointed in me? I was fighting - you all told me to fight - and I needed my brother and Red - I told Red I would die and here I am, half-blind and in pain and still stuck with Anti - and he walked away. I would rather he had stayed and the two of us had both died, and Dapper too, and Trick and Dok, and then this would be over, and we wouldn’t all be in pain anymore.”

He covers his face with his hands and his chest begins to shake, and shake, and shake, and then he is crying, pushing you away from him, leaving you back on the dresser.

“I don’t even know half of what you’re talking about,” he sobs, hiding his face. “You just like Red better than me. I just wanted him to stay with me and he left, he left me. I trusted him. I trusted him with everything. I don’t care if he was scared. I was scared too and he was a coward and I’m tired of letting other people tell me how to feel. You don’t get to be disappointed in me. I’d rather be dead than still living like this. I’d rather Red had killed me himself than turn his back on me like that! Leave me alone!”

A nurse appears in his doorway, alarmed, and moves forward to hold his shoulder, asking him if everything’s okay, but he just shakes his head and can’t stop crying, so the nurse sits down beside him and rubs his shoulder, frowning and checking his vitals.

whydoilovesomanyvillians asked: I dont know if anything I say can make you feel better but for what it's worth red knows what it was like now before everything when you all lived in a house together and chase was going to get his kid for her birthday and when you had plants in your room.

Blue pauses in his crying and blinks, confused and frowning at you.

“Sir?” asks the nurse, having his attention better now. “Can I do anything for you?”

“Can - can I have my pain medication upped one more time?”

The nurse pauses. “You didn’t know?”

“Know what?”

“I had thought you would have been told by your brothers. We’re planning to discharge you today if you’re still feeling up for it.”

Blue blinks again, touching his chin.

“I’m sorry, sir. Are you sure there’s nothing I can get for you?”

His gaze drifts to the window and he sniffles, rubbing at his arm. “No… no, thank you.”

“Okay,” says the nurse, getting to his feet.

“W-wait,” calls Blue before he can go. “If I asked to stay longer, could I?”

“You’d have to talk to Dr. Siong. I can assure you we don’t make plans to discharge anyone until we’re confident they’re ready to head home. We have a lot of plans for your home care in place and we’ll be seeing you for weekly appointments. Is there something that would prevent you from returning home?”

Blue licks his mouth and then, after a moment, shakes his head. “No. I guess not. Thank you.”

The nurse smiles and leaves him.

Blue picks at the hem of his blankets, a slight tremble on his mouth, and tries to wipe away the rest of his tears.

“I… I don’t know what you mean. If he’s remembering things, he should be careful. Anti will probably just wipe it all clean or make him too afraid to fight again. He shouldn’t go looking for answers.”

Anonymous asked: Hey bud, I know now isn't a good time, but what can you tell us about magical exhaustion? Dapper just used a lot of power, what should we do?

Blue’s face goes through the five stages of grief in about three seconds and then he’s reaching out to grab you again, struggling to sit up in his bed, wiping at his eyes. “Fuck, is he okay? Is he sick? Are they safe? Did he have to protect them from someone?”

His eyes are seeing guns and knives outside the window and he grabs at his short hair, breathing fast. “He’s so fucking powerful, I never understand him. Usually I think he just faints and then recovers in a couple days, but really he should eat a shit ton of good food, have plenty of quiet time, try and get up and about in a couple days instead of spending all his time in one fucking room… I hope they’ve got enough to eat, magic makes you so hungry. Use up too much of it and there can be really bad consequences, like, uh…”

Blue bites down on his lip, staring at the wall. After a moment he gestures frailly to the whole of himself.

“Just… watch over him, please…”

nikkilbook asked: Ok, hang on. Just for giggles, when did he walk away? Call me dense, but I don’t... remember that? He was there with you on the mountain, and then everything exploded, and then Anti was wearing you and Red was muzzled, and then he had his butt handed to him by Dapper and then they were handcuffed together and Anti had you down at the river. What am I missing?

“Red was the one who walked me towards the river,” croaks Blue, shaken again. “And then you told me Anti was going to take my magic away from me… and I turned to him and I told him, I told him, I said ‘Red, I think Anti’s going to kill me and he - he - told me to be good and he - ”

Blue swipes angrily at his face, scowling. “You think you remember that moment better than me, huh? You think I would forget that? I don’t want to talk about this anymore!”

nikkilbook asked: You’re right, I had forgotten that. I’m sorry.

“Ugh,” says Blue, rubbing at his face. A part of him wants to apologize too, but he doesn’t.

scunneredzombie asked: Marvin, I'm so sorry for what you've gone through. You must be hurting so badly right now... Red betrayed you. He broke his promises. You have a right to be angry. What he did was the biggest break of trust I can imagine. But also, understand just how terrified he was at that moment, you know? Try to see his side through your anger, as much in the right as you are.

“I don’t want to see anyone’s side right now,” croaks Blue, hugging himself. “I just want… I just want…”

He was going to say ‘to go home,’ but the version of home that he wants to return to doesn’t exist anymore. He shivers and hugs himself tighter.

spicydanhowell asked: marvin, it's okay to be upset. i get it. the things you're feeling right now make perfect sense. if it helps at all, you should know that right now, jackie is sticking his neck out 24/7 to keep jamie safe. he's being brave, and trying to be like you. henrik is trying to help you the best he can. you are allowed to be angry, and depressed, and anything you need to be. i'm so sorry for everything that's happened to you.

“Oh,” whimpers Blue. “Oh, I hope he is looking after Dapper… I hope that he would, I… he was so violent with all three of them for a while there. He was so angry he took it out on us. But I think he’d protect him. I’m glad he is. He better keep him safe. And himself, too. Stupid Red. I’m so - ugh, ugh.”

He feels ugly and angry and stupid and mostly alone. But not entirely. Not entirely. He puts you on the bed beside him.

“Thank you. Yeah. It’s not… it’s fine, I’m fine.”

nikkilbook asked: Blue, Red’s trying to help Monochroma, but he’s on the verge of a meltdown himself and he doesn’t trust himself to help Dap the way he needs it. What would you do to help Dapper when he’s gone grey, and what should we make sure Red does to help himself?

“My little brother. I - I - ”

Blue shakes his head at the world around him, trying to think. “I never get to see him enough, I don’t know anything about what Anti does to him. I was with him a little when we were traveling, and when we first got to Peru. He just - he’s not a complainer, he’s tough. He just - when he’s too confused to be sure of who he is, he acts the way he’s treated. Or that’s what I think. That’s what I’ve noticed. If you treat him like a kid, he’ll be a kid. If you treat him like a friend, he’ll be a friend - no grudges, no hesitation. If you treat him like a threat…”

Blue stares down at his hands, closing his eyes.

“He can be a very powerful little threat. Just - just try to treat him like an adult.”

He pauses.

“And Red should… Red should sleep. He’s been avoiding it since the nightmares started. Lately I see him get scared out of nowhere. I don’t know. I think, somewhere along the line, in those days after Christmas, he found a breaking point he didn’t know he had. And he doesn’t know how to get past it.”

Anonymous asked: I know Marv, he hurt you, we know. Its perfectly fine to feel betrayed. But when you see him next, can you try to fix this?

“Am I going to see him again?” whispers Blue. “Will I ever? Am I going to… survive this? Not just being sick, but… being Anti’s?”

Anonymous asked: Blue you’re allowed to feel whatever you want to feel, and I technically don’t even have to say that. If you’re mad at Red you’re mad at Red, that’s it. But at least kinda promise that when you two meet up again that you’ll hear him out? Let him explain his side? After everything you two have been through you at least owe him that, nothing more nothing less. That’s all I gotta say, Marvin. I hope you feel better soon, bud.

“Thanks,” he mumbles. “But I think I… I think maybe I hit a breaking point too at some point. And I don’t know how to make it right anymore. If I see him, I… if I see him…”

He trails off, squeezing his eyes shut.

Anonymous asked: I know it hurts, Marvin. I'm sorry we couldn't stop him. Can you try to breathe through it for now? This will all be over soon enough, it'll be okay.

“Don’t know why you’re all so fucking good to my family,” he croaks. “But I’m glad. So there’s someone in my corner.”

He tries to take a deep breath and his vitals steady out a little again.

“This will all be over soon,” he whispers. “This will all be over soon. One way or another.”

Anonymous asked: If you see him whatever happens, happens. We’ll all get through it together. We’re here for you, although it may not seem like it from time to time, but we love you a lot. We’re sorry for upsetting you, Marv.

“Don’t want you to apologize,” murmurs Blue. “I never want you to feel like you have to be sorry for being here. I’m just… I’m just…”

He breathes out a shuddering sigh, trying to keep it together.

“Just being a baby, I guess. Just a little sad. And pretty tired. Pretty fucking tired. But that’s not your fault.”

Anonymous asked: I think you will, Marvin, I really do.

Blue sighs a little.

“Thank you. Someone should keep the hope, cause I am just… I am running low over here.”

“Hey, man!”

And just like that, a ray of sunshine through his door. Blue can’t help the small smile that upturns his mouth. He lies back in his bed, his heartrate slowing again on the monitor.

“Hi,” he whispers, letting his eyes slide shut.

“I’m coming home, I’m coming home,” Trick is singing badly, loudly, perfectly. “Tell the world I’m coming home! Let the rain - ”

“Stop,” laughs Blue.

Trick leans down to kiss his face with a loud “mwah.”

“Whatever you say, baby boy.”

“No,” groans Blue. “You’re terrible.”

“Because today,” continues Trick, unpaused. “Is a good day! A going home day! And you can have!”

He leans down to kiss Blue again, on both cheeks this time.

“Whatever you want!”

“Food that’s not from the hospital?”

“Gotcha right here.”

“Clothes that don’t show my ass off?”

Trick giggles and hefts the other bag in his arms.

“A nice hot bath?”

“There is hot water at the house.”

“Whoa, wait, really?”

“You’re really going to like it, Blue’s clues.”

Blue lets his eyes slide open again, grinning slyly - but the smile falls away again.

“What is that?”

Trick is wearing a yellow t-shirt and torn jeans stretching down towards his ever-immaculate Converse. He’s got a bag full of dabao take-out hanging off his arm and another plastic bag full of clothes in the other hand. And on his face -

Trick changes his angle so he’s only halfway facing Blue, his smile trembling for just a second. “Ah, don’t worry about that, Blue.”

Blue’s heartrate is heading right back up.

“Trickshot. Look at me. Who. Hit you.”

Anonymous asked: Trick did something happen? Are you okay? Anti didn’t do this did he... >:((((((

“Ah, ah,” laughs Trick. “Uh, well.”

Blue is trying to get out of his bed.

“No, no, no, hold on,” panics Trick, still trying to keep his smile up, hurrying to stop his brother from rising. “You’re still weak and hooked up to everything and… and…”

The way Blue is looking at him stops him short, pain and humiliation washing over him. He puts his head down shyly, his cheeks reddening, and both you and Blue get a better look at the wide purple bruise blooming from his chin to his ear.

Blue reaches up very slowly, as if to touch it, though he never does.

“Please,” whispers Trick. “You’re not supposed to care how it happened, you’re just supposed to take care of me afterwards, right? That’s the rule? I just want to have one happy day.”

Blue is still fixated on the bruise, his eyes watering, his hands outstretched.

Not the slightest wisp of blue passes from his fingers to his face.

He stares down at the floor, his face almost grey, and Trick reaches nervously out and puts a soothing hand on the side of his neck.

Anonymous asked: Oh no Trick! Hope you're okay! You should probably tell him the truth, because if Blue thinks you're lying is might stress him out, and that could be bad for his condition. If it's hard to talk about, maybe take it slow? There's no rush, but please try to be honest.

Trick heaves out a deep, embarrassed sigh, glancing around the room. “I… I…”

“Just tell me, Tricky,” mumbles Blue, managing to look back up at him again, and the look in his eyes just about breaks Trick.

“Okay,” he chokes out. “It was Anti but he didn’t mean to!”

“Motherfuck,” Blue whispers, yanking at the medical bracelet on his wrist, his eyes set on the window.

“He came home really upset last night and covered in blood! I was worried about him, and I guess I asked too many questions, because I just - I just - it was my fault, I - ”

“It wasn’t your fault,” snaps Blue, loud, too loud, and Trick shushes him desperately, looking up at the hallway. “It wasn’t your fault. Don’t say that it was!”

“Okay, okay, yes, sir, yes, Blue,” promises Trick. “Please, we need to keep a low profile. Anti doesn’t want the doctor to see this so he just said come get you and get you discharged as fast as possible. Okay! So! Think you’re up to getting some clothes on? I’ll call a nurse and get you all ready with some oxygen and a wheelchair.”

Blue’s heart drops for a dozen different reason and he ends up just staring, overwhelmed and exhausted.

Anonymous asked: Ok what happened with Trick, and this news is a lot to take in. But we've got to focus. Blue, do you think you'll be okay and able to stay healthy if you leave the hospital? It might be difficult to go against Anti's decision to leave, but if you need the hospital's resources, it could be really important for you to stay longer. What do you think would be best for you?

“The doctors say you are all okay to go,” soothes Trick, holding his brother’s hands. “I checked with Dr. Siong myself, and she’s nice, and she cares about us, even if she is kind of nosy, and she told me all alone.”

Blue sniffles, his eyes red, and Trick’s stomach hurts for him.

“And I’m going to take care of you. Anti says I can. I’ll be with you in our room, and I’ll get you anything you need, and help you if you need. Next week, we’ll come back for your appointment and if you feel bad still you can tell the doctors then. So we’ll come back.”

Blue barely hears him. He is still staring at that bruise, his fingers curling in his lap.

He can’t leave Trick at home without him anymore.

“Okay,” he says.

Trick’s face lights up, relieved and excited, and he squeezes gently at the scratchy bandages around Blue’s tired hands.

cest-mellow asked: trick, do you think anti will actually let you get the things blue needs? much less come back for another appointment? he’s already started to kill blue, what makes you think he’s not stubborn enough to stop?

Trick flinches and wraps his arms around Blue’s shoulders for a second, like he’s protecting him. “He - he’s worried about Blue. He wouldn’t hurt him. He wants him to get better, he does. He’s been watching over him at night for weeks. He won’t let you die. That’s why he brought you here even though the doctors are dangerous.”

He draws back away to look Blue in the face. “He won’t let you die… you’re the last piece of the perfect set, remember?”

Blue sets his head down against Trick’s stomach, shaking his head.

“Just a pair now, Trick. And not exactly perfect.”

Trick’s mouth trembles. He pulls slightly away.

“Well, you can’t stay here any longer,” he says, soft. “Anti will not let you. He’ll… he’ll possess you and carry you home if he has to.”

Blue covers his face with his hands.

Anonymous asked: Blue, you should tell the doctors about the bruise, the abuse. Maybe they can keep you safe from Anti.

“How could they keep me safe from Anti?” mumbles Blue. “Who could ever keep me safe from Anti?”

Anonymous asked: Seems to me the doctors would sooner believe Blue and Trick are abusing Anti rather than the other way around due to that 7-year-old kid facade he has going on...

“Maybe… maybe I could tell them we’re all being abused?” croaks Blue. “But then… I don’t know… he’d still be able to come see me.”

“Blue!” cries Trick, hurt flashing through his face. “What are you - is that really what you think? Why - why don’t you want to come home to me? Did I do something wrong? Are you going to leave me too?”

“It’s not you,” protests Blue. “I’m just - I don’t want - ”

“I know Anti has a temper sometimes, but he risked all of us being found to bring you here so you could survive this! He didn’t mean to hit me either! It’s not his fault!”

Blue’s mouth opens and closes.

He remembers Anti’s threat to hurt Trick and Noodle and he says nothing, his teeth closing with a click.

bupine asked: trick. anti has said before he'd be willing to kill YOU, mentioned it offhand like it was nothing SEVERAL TIMES. he doesn't care for any of you. he never has. and i don't think he cares about a perfect set anymore either. you need to be away from him, dude. i'm sorry

Trick’s eyes widen, but not from the news. He’s staring at you like you’ve spat at him. He reaches out for the camera, but Blue snatches it away. Suddenly they are staring at each other with a hardness in their eyes. Trick’s mouth trembles and tears wet his eyelashes.

spicydanhowell asked: hey marv... just between the two of us... if you wanted to, you could tell a member of the hospital staff that you're scared to go home and that you're severely depressed. they may be able to keep you longer for observation. i know you don't want chase to be left alone with anti anymore... but theres not a lot you can do in your condition to protect him. if you wanted, you could tell someone about his suicide attempt. they might offer him some help?? i'm sorry honey :(

Blue covers his face with his hands and tries to breathe.

“I want - I want you to get the doctor for me.”

Trick recoils, his eyes burning with fear. “Blue - ”

“Please, Trick! Just - !”

Trick stares at him, panting. His breathing is picking up in his chest and he looks dazed and afraid.

“You can’t do this,” he gasps, grabbing his shirt. “You - I want - I want you to come home with me, I want - I don’t understand, Anti said to bring you home, you don’t w-want to come home withe me, you - ”

“Trick,” begs Blue, exhausted.

“I b-b-brought you red curry,” he says, tears beginning to come down his face. “I brought you red curry and s-s-some of Dok’s clothes cause I don’t have any others and I want you to come home! I’ve been waiting for you to come home! Please, you’re scaring me, I c-can’t - this is bad!”

Anonymous asked: Trick, this is gonna sound strange and cryptic as all hell, but for things to make sense and to avoid getting hurt, it's gonna be best for you to not ask too many questions about why anti and Blue aren't seeing things the same way. I know that's confusing but answers will come. Instead of asking for those answers, you need to look for them. In other words, keep your mouth shut and your eyes open. You'll see.

Trick tries to grab the camera again, but when Blue protects it, he backs away, alarmed. He stares around the room like he’s hoping someone will show up, looking lost.

“Blue, come on,” he whimpers. “I don’t understand what’s happening. You’re going to make Anti angry again and then we’ll both get beat! He could take my cat away!”

Blue sniffles once more and then he drags himself sitting up and grabs the call button beside his bed. Trick hugs himself, his eyes wide and his chest hyperventilating, but he doesn’t try to stop him.

Anonymous asked: Trick you know the way he treats you isn’t right. The way he treats any of your brothers isn’t right. He almost killed Blue! That should be enough reason to get the hell out of there and get some help.

“Blue had a stroke!” shouts Trick, trying to grab you again, forcing Blue to all but curl himself around you. “Shut up, I hate you! You haven’t changed! You helped take Dok away from me! All of you are traitors and I don’t care what you have to say! Anti loves me, shut up!”

He pulls back again, scared to hurt Blue, and between his stammer and his anxiety he is beginning to have difficulty speaking, but he continues on in a frantic rush.

“No, no, no, he does treat me right,” he cries, grabbing his bag off the floor. “I was going to show you, I wanted to show you. I was going to take you home and the house is so nice and I’ve been eating good food every night and he gave me money to get you clothes and anything you need, and, and, and I wanted you to meet my f-friend at the food stands, and he said sorry to me last night, Blue, I was going to tell you, I wanted to, I was so happy.”

He sinks to the floor, holding the little bag of take-out and Dok’s clothes. “He said he was sorry right to me and he let me wash the blood off him and he hugged me and said he wanted to be with me more often, that he’s missed having time for me, and I’ve been so lonely, I’ve been waiting for you to come home, he loves me, why does everybody always leave me behind, he said I’ve been good lately and that he’d get me something to play with so I wasn’t so bored. And now he’s going to be so so angry with me! I c-can’t breathe!”

Anonymous asked: Trick none of this is your fault.

“Nobody ever wants me,” cries Trick, curling down on himself in the middle of the floor, wheezing. “I’m a fuck-up. This is why I’m at the bottom and everybody’s least favorite. Blue’s job is to love me and even he doesn’t want to come home with me. I’m a fuck-up.”

Blue is slumped back in his bed, his face dull, too dizzy to rise again. He can barely concentrate enough to listen to him.

spicydanhowell asked: trick, chase, this sucks, i know, but anti does not love you. the only reason you're being so loyal and you arent suicidal is because he's been hypnotizing the fuck out of you. he did this to marvin On Purpose. he hit you On Purpose. and if either of you were hospitalized, anti's little child disguise would not be able to visit you if you didnt consent.

“I like it when Anti makes me look at him!” says Trick. “He makes me feel better!”

“Trick,” mumbles Blue, trying to reach for him. “Trick.”

badlypostedeverything asked: Trick, you know how you have a life here? You could have that away from Anti. He doesn't keep you safe, he's why they chase you. Your brothers all love you, they just know more of the truth

“I want Dok to come home,” sobs Trick, coughing as he tries to breathe, his breaths coming too fast, much too fast, his face red. “I want Dok, haven’t you seen him, where is he, when is he coming home? Dok loves me.”

Anonymous asked: He’s a liar, Trick, that’s what they do. They hurt you, apologize and give you shit to smooth it over only to hurt you again. It’s a cycle, Chase. I’m sorry, but it’s not real.

The bruise on his face aches deeply. He grabs his hair and presses his head against his knees, wheezing.

“B-b-blue,” he stammers, beginning to be afraid. “Blue.”

“I’m here, amata…”

“Can’t breathe, can’t breathe - ”

Blue squeezes the call button again, sinking against his pillows, his face grey.

bupine asked: we've seen dok. he's ok, the magicians are taking care of him. he loves you, trick. he always has. he wants what's best for you, and i can assure you, what's best for you right now is this.

“Oh, Dok’s alright,” breathes Blue. “And they’re looking after him…”

A flicker of confusion passes through Trick’s worldview, but for now, he just holds on to the news in the middle of his maelstrom.

“He does love you,” whispers Blue. “I do too.”

“You don’t have to pretend,” sobs Trick. “Red never does. I’m just another chore to you.”

“No,” croaks Blue, with real despair. “No.”

“Sir?”

There’s a nurse at the door and the humiliation of being found like this only makes Trick falter more, beginning to get faint.

Anonymous asked: What’s wrong Trick?

“I’m going to be punished,” he wheezes. “He’s going to be angry at me.”

The nurse calls for back-up and moves to Trick’s side, putting her hand on his back and encouraging him to breathe.

“In and out with me, alright? In,”

Trick coughs and coughs.

“It’s alright, sir, let’s just focus on your breathing and then we’re going to get you whatever help you need. In?”

Trick sucks in a desperate breath.

“And out.”

“Can you please get my doctor for me?” mumbles Blue heavily, trying to keep his eyes open to speak with the nurse who’s checking on him. It’s the same nurse who told him he would be discharged today. “I’m not ready to go home.”

Anonymous asked: We haven’t seen him yet, Chase, but I’m sure he’d want you to stay strong for him. Be brave y’know? Why don’t you try to calm down and then we can talk? In and out nice and slow, bud. Deep breaths.

Trick’s breathing pauses again.

“Sir, please, keep it up, you’re doing great.”

He manages another breath.

“In, out. Good!”

And another.

“In, out. There you go. There you go.”

But he’s staring at you now.

“And in… out…”

Wondering which one of you lied to him.

“There we go, sir. There we go. Are you feeling alright?”

He shudders, still holding his chest.

Staring down at Dok’s clothes.

“Fine,” he says, his voice gone flat.

Wondering which one of you lied to him and what other things you’d be willing to say to trick him.

spicydanhowell asked: fuck, no, trick, i don't know why that person said we haven't seen dok. we have seen him. he had good food to eat and read books just the other day. he's looking for you. he's been upset, but he's being brave. i'm so sorry for everything you're going through. I'm /so/ sorry.

But Trick isn’t looking at you anymore.

He gets to his feet, his face blank and reddened with crying, and leans down slowly to pick up Dok’s clothes and his take-out.

“I’ll go fetch the doctor,” promises Blue’s nurse.

“Sir, is there anything I can do for you?” asks Trick’s nurse. “We have a full psych team at this hospital, if there’s anything you need - ”

“Thank you,” says Trick. “But it’s okay. I have a counselor.”

He’s getting to be so good at lying. English accent in the middle of a panic attack. Connor, not Trick. Trick, not Chaser.

“Trick,” murmurs Blue, looking very small in his big white bed. “Trickshot… I… I just…”

Trick turns and leaves the room without looking at him.

spicydanhowell asked: marv you need to say something to stop him from leaving the hospital. hell, say you think he'll kill himself so someone will speak to him again, don't let him go home and get beaten :'( i'm sorry this responsibility is falling on you. you should be resting.

“Please bring him back,” he croaks.

He wants to be that coherent. He wants to tell them something alarming enough to involve security and force Trick to stay. He wants to be able to think about even lying about Trick killing himself without the words getting caught in his throat.

“Please bring my brother back, he could hurt himself, he could - he - ”

“Please try to stay conscious for a moment, sir,” murmurs a nurse, rubbing his shoulder gently. Trick’s nurse goes after him, but Blue doesn’t know what she’ll be able to do. He’s so tired.

scunneredzombie asked: Oh Marvin, why did you do that..? Trick must be so lonely in that house with just Anti, all alone. He needs you... Unless you have something planned here? Why are you staying in the hospital?

Blue covers his mouth with his hands and ragdolls against his pillows as his nurse leaves to get the doctor.

“Oh, don’t say that, don’t say that, oh, don’t say that,” he begs. He’s past the point of crying anymore; he just rocks himself. “I don’t - I didn’t - please. I can’t go back to Anti. I didn’t mean to hurt Trick! I love him, I love him, I do!”

He curls in on himself. He feels like his pain medication couldn’t numb a bee-sting. He chokes and must swallow back vomit, groaning from the toll of it all. He was broken in half on the shore of that river and so much of him was gone when he woke up in one piece. So much of him is gone.

bupine asked: trick, this is what's best. please try and listen to blue. and blue, if you start to doubt, remember this: anti hurt your brothers and made them thank him for it.

Blue lies in his bed with the camera he was given in his hands.

With you in his hands.

Safe on his lap.

“Matthew, how are you? The nurses have just told me you don’t feel ready to go home.” Dr. Siong pulls up a chair beside him, a professional, warm, worried little smile on her mouth. “What can I help you with?”

Her calmness is like a cold bucket of water after Trick’s passion and distress. Blue feels like his whole body is a dead-weight, and there’s nothing much left to keep his spirit in anymore. He’s so cold. He’s always so cold.

“I’m scared to go home,” he whispers, his clouded eyes fixed on her. “I think I’ll die if I do. And I don’t want visitors, please, just Connor, please… please, I think I’ll kill myself if I have to go home.”

She scoots her chair forward a little bit, letting the smile fade, now pure sympathy, and she reaches out and puts her hand right there on her wrist.

“Thank you for telling me,” she says. “We’re going to do everything we can to keep you safe. You don’t have to go home.”

Blue slides back against his pillows, ashen, as she begins arranging for a psych eval and a meeting with a counselor. She says they’ll move him somewhere else for supervision. He doesn’t have to go home.

Not today, anyway.

He falls asleep.

scunneredzombie asked: I understand you're afraid Blue... You're, honestly, right to be after all that happened. Don't feel like you've done the wrong thing. Did the nurse manage to catch him?

Trick is gone out the door before she can grab him. You can hear the street chatter around you and feel his shaking gait as he moves. He’s thrown you in his backpack. He hears the beep of the message and ignores it.

Anonymous asked: Blue the only ones pretending to care are Anti... and you. You may deny it but you're seeing bad and trying to label it as good but the only one you fooling is yourself. You're feeling unsafe and unloved because you're looking for safety and love in Anti and are inevitably not finding it. Those traits exist, but with your other brothers, not him.

The rattling of the bus fills your camera with a dull steady rocking thud and makes you shake a little on Trick’s lap.

He stares down at you, the little handheld he’s carried with him for a week straight, even on the plane with Blue unconscious on his shoulder, even through doctor’s appointments that terrified him, even through long, long nights alone. Just in case your messages returned to him. Just in case Dok returned to him, even in the smallest way. Just in case somebody would be there and willing to listen to him when he felt all alone.

His mouth is a thin scar on his face and his eyes are red and blotched beneath his hood.

He deletes the message with the nail of his thumb. Click.

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Trick, honey, we all love you. Your brothers love you. We promise you aren't a fuck up. You are SO much stronger than you think you are.

His eyes grieve.

Click.

scunneredzombie asked: Trick, try to understand how Blue feels, please. He 'had a stroke' and he's afraid to get hurt again, especially under Anti's care. I'm sorry you felt tricked. You don't deserve that when we're one of your only outlets to the rest of the world. We /have/ seen Dok. And we know for a fact that he is being treated wonderfully. He's being fed, he was given clean clothes, he has books to read... No one meant to trick you.

“Either you said you hadn’t seen Dok to try and stop Anti from finding out you know where he is,” he says in his pale little rasp. “Or you said you did see him to make me calm down so that Blue could get the doctor.

“Either way you’re trying to keep my brothers from coming home to me.”

Click.

Anonymous asked: We’re sorry, Trick. We overstepped. You don’t have to forgive us, but we’re always here for you and we always have been. We do love you, and we’re sorry for taking that for granted.

He barely looks up at this, his mouth thin. He wishes he were fucking drunk.

He has money for Blue’s clothes. He could probably stop somewhere.

He shakes his head, biting his lip. Dok wouldn’t like it.

But Dok isn’t here… maybe he never will be again.

No, he’s already on the way home.

scunneredzombie asked: Neither of those are true, actually, at least coming from me. Trick, buddy... now really isn't the time to be childish. You should be preparing for... home. What might happen if you come back without Blue?

“Don’t call me childish.”

badlypostedeverything asked: Dok doesn't want anti to find him. He wants to see you but not Anti

“You’re a liar.”

Anonymous asked: Would you tell Anti? If we had seen him?

“Yes.”

immabethehero asked: Trick, are you alright? Try to find a place where you can rest, just don't go back to Anti!

The bus rattles to a stop down by that little house at the end of the neighborhood.

Don’t go back to Anti.

He almost laughs, but he’s too tired.

The shakiness comes back to him as he walks, stepping out of the bus, towards his house, through the door. Noodle squeaks delightedly and runs up to curl around his legs, but Trick ignores him, letting his bags fall to the ground.

“Trick?” calls Anti from his room. “You’re home earlier than I thought you would be. Everything go okay?”

Dead-faced, tears dripping again, Trick steps into Anti’s room.

Anti looks up and his face changes. “What? What is it? Where’s Blue?”

And Trick moves forward

And kneels down beside Anti

And curls into a ball before him, sobbing at his feet.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

Anti stares down at him, disbelief filling up his face.

“He wouldn’t come home with me, Anti, he wouldn’t… he was going to tell the doctor he was suicidal so they’d keep him… I tried to convince him, I did, I did! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

“Okay,” whispers Anti. “Okay. Don’t… don’t cry.”

Trick will work himself into another attack this way, shaking this hard. So small and so distressed at Anti’s feet.

“Okay,” repeats Anti, very soft, and curls his body around him, holding him there on the floor of his room, his hands on his shoulders, his head pressed against his own, the both of them bowing together, Anti’s weight on top of him, until Trick is still again.

“Don’t let go of me,” whispers Trick. “I won’t,” says Anti. “I won’t.”

“Would you do something for me? Please?”

“What, amata? What?”

Trick holds the camera out to him.

“Can you turn them off?” His face shines silver with tears. “Can you please make them stop talking? I can’t hear this anymore.”

Anti stares between him and the camera, and you do not see derision on his face, or irritation, or even victory, not for a second.

“I know you said to keep it with me at all times so you can see me, but I just want you to make the voices stop,” chokes Trick. “Like you do with the voices in my head.”

Anti reaches out for you.

“Yes,” he says, taking the camera. “You don’t have to listen to that if it doesn’t make you happy. I’ll make them stop, Trick. You don’t have to.”

One glitch. He turns the messages off.

End Section Four of Chapter Three: Quiet the Voices

[lonely-bored-writer]

Winchesters meet the Phantoms Ch. 24

Danny hissed, pressing his back against the seemingly warm concrete warehouse wall. Straining his hearing, his ears picked up the soft stumble of steps, and hushed whispers. At this moment Danny would rather be babysitting Satan's kid right now.

"Did you see where the freak is?" All he wanted was a bathroom break, how was he supposed to know he was landing near hunters? Another wise left him as his eyes fell to the blood clinging onto blue jeans. Yea he should have just gone straight to the Winchesters, things rarely go well for him. A ring, and bang followed a few feet away from him causing him to jump.

They were going to find him soon, he had to move, but the good question is what the hell it was they shot him with cause it burns like hell.

carry on my wayward son, they'll be peace when-

"Fuck" Danny whispered, wrangling his phone out of his pocket and hitting mute... The damage was done.

"He's over here!" Danny growled, taking a dash towards the exit, hearing gun fire ring behind him. He can do this, he can. First, can't let Sam ring through can he.

"Hey Sam, now's not a good time." Danny rushed, falling through the floor fast, barely missing another bullet. A string of curses followed his disappearance, and he settled a few floors below.

"Were those gunshots? Danny, what the hell?" Sam's worried voice filtered through as Danny picked up hurried footsteps running down the stairs. A sigh of relief left the teen when his eyes landed on the much healed, and less painful leg. "Are you okay? Do you need help? where are you?"

"Sorry, I got spotted by some hunters but I'll handle it." Danny responded, hearing footsteps get closer. "I'll just be a little late, okay?"

"If anything, call us. Okay?' Sam's voice held no room for argument, not that Danny would have argued with him.

'Yea, I'll see you." Danny sighed, and slide his phone away. The Footsteps grew louder, as Danny sided. Quickly he lined up the boxes littered around the floor against the door, mostly for telekinetic practice but also to keep them busy for as long as possible. Releasing a breath, he turned invisible and stepped through the wall. Picking up and flying towards the store he saw. He doesn't care what happened, he needs a bathroom and a snack.

"We'll be back soon." Sam spoke, an apology clear as day on his face with Dean already out at the car. Danny decided to be nice to Dean's moodiness all things considered. He appreciated Sam holding back a minute to check in and make sure Danny would be alright.

"It's fine, you guys go. I'll keep the baby but actually basically an adult, busy." Danny waved off with a small laugh. "I've got this, and if he suddenly starts crawling on the ceiling I'll call you and higher a priest." Danny joked, earning a laugh of Sam.

"Thanks, we owe you." Sam smiled, giving his byes to Danny and then Jack before leaving with a sparing glance backwards.

Danny smiled awkwardly at the kid before him. The kid just sat on the couch, looking just as out of placed as Danny felt. Of course Danny did not like the fact that someone who was basically just born yesterday was taller than him, and already looked his age. It wasn't fair, not like things often are at his height, but it's still saddening.

"So, what'd you like to do?" Danny asked, watching the kid's face contort in confusion. "Like watch TV, or a place to go out an eat, or games?" Danny continued, only watching the confusion grow.

"I like nougat..." He spoke, taking a pause before adding on. "and burgers."

"Okay, what about TV?" Danny questioned, motioning towards the TV settled in the den. He was only met with another confused stare which caused Danny to sigh. For the son of the literal devil this kid was extremely clueless. That's fine though, experience with new ghosts has trained Danny for this. Regardless of how much Danny would much rather be back at school, with Theo. "Cartoons it is." Danny flicked the screen on, watching it steal all of the kid's attention.

The older of the two held back a laugh, maybe it wont be all that bad if all he really has to do is sit here with the kid. Not that it's much fun, if Jack has enough sense, Danny might be able to take him out for ice cream or to an arcade. There's nothing worse than boring babysitters. The Winchesters didn't give him much to go on besides keeping the nephilim alive and out of trouble.

Which really means they shouldn't have chosen Danny because trouble always follows the young college student everywhere. Nonetheless, everyone seems to think he's the best choice for very important jobs. You would assume people would realize that's not the best idea.

"Can people do that?" Jack's voice broke through Danny's thoughts. He turned his attention to the television which happened to have Scooby Doo on. Shaggy had done the cliche Scooby run, stuck in place for a second while in the air. Danny chuckled for a second, regardless of how the kid looked or what powers he has, he really is just a kid.

"Nope, its just cartoon logic. It stuff that only works in shows like this." Danny waved towards the screen for emphasis. "After this episode, I'll show you the Looney Tunes. Now that's a melting pot of Cartoon logic." Danny laughed, turning to the show.

"So, what are we feeling for lunch?" Danny asked, opting to sit on the counter rather than a chair. The kid was seated at one of the counter seats, watching Danny with a confused and intrigued stare. Danny sighed, shaking his head. Sometimes he forgets this kid didn't experience a lot of things. He can't be surprised that the Winchesters didn't bother to try and have the kid experience the world a little. But, hey if he was gonna babysit, it was going to be a good time for the both of them. "Okay, what do you like? Nougat, right?" Danny continued.

"Yea... and burgers." Jack answered, Danny really should just get used to the kid's constant state of confusion. Danny paused, thinking through what they could have for lunch.

"Okay, I've got an idea." Danny declared, grabbing a set of keys of the wall. He started for the door, before looking back and seeing Jack still seated. "You coming?" The college student ask motioning towards the door. Danny raised an eyebrow at the look of surprise the kid gave him.

"I can come?" Jack asked, standing up. "I can't really... go places." He added, looking confused and surprised. Danny inwardly sighed, he gets it he does. Jack was powerful, he had people after him, but Jack was also just a kid. Regardless of age. As much as he trusts the Winchesters' judgement, this was one thing that he can't get behind.

God, Danny sounds older as the day passes.

"Well, I'm not them." Danny shrugged with a grin. "So, you're invited." The grin dropped to a pleased smile and the look of excitement that took on the kid's features.

"Okay, so let me get this straight." Danny all but growled, watching the sad kid. "Dean wants to kill you just because your dad is Lucifer?" Danny can't really say he's surprised, he just figured Dean had grown more as a person than that. Parents' don't dictate who you are or who you will be.

"He doesn't like me." Jack answered, looking down. Danny sighed, taking a seat next to the young nephilim. Before he could speak up, Jack continued. "What if I am evil like he says? I've hurt people." Jack looked up, tears lining his eyes and regret clear as day. Danny swallowed, he's had these conversations with himself one too many times.

"You're not." Danny shook his head, placing a comforting hand on the kid's shoulder."Trust me, I know. Who your parents are, what abilities you have, what prophecies say, or hell what even God says. It doesn't define who you are."

Danny watch the sadness and doubt still swirl in those blues, okay Danny really needed to work on his speeches. It's not like he's been giving them as often as he used too... That was now technically Theo's job.

"Look, I was supposed to be evil. Worse than Satan himself." Danny spoke, watching the interest and surprise weigh into the kid's eyes. Danny nodded at the look of slight disbelief. "I know right? But I was, but I didn't. Which means you don't have to be."

"Sam says that." Jack spoke, looking down.

"But you look up to Dean." Danny concluded, watching Jack nod. "Dean's a little rough around the edges, but trust me. He'll come around."

"I hope he does." Jack responded, he didn't look as lifted as Danny would have liked, but it was better than he looked a few minutes ago.

"How about this, tell me what you can do." Danny asked, trying to less the tension. Jack's confused look made Danny sigh. "You know, like Angels fly, I can turn invisible, and like a ton of other things but thats besides the point." Danny shrugged, he'd rather not go into all the details.

"Like... Cas flies?" Jack asked, Danny smile and nodded. He'll try to help the kid while he's here.

"Hey, are you free?" Theo's voice filtered through the speaker. Danny smiled, glancing over at the half angel sleeping soundly on the couch nearby. Making his way towards the kitchen off to the side, Danny answered.

"Hey babe, yea. Jack just fell asleep." Danny responded, resting back against the kitchen counter. He's mind running through all they've done in a short time.

"How's the kid holding up?" Theo asked, Danny can hear typing in the background. Leave it to Theo to call him while he's busy with schoolwork. Danny couldn't help but smile before answering.

"He's a tough kid, we're getting along pretty well." Danny replied, musing about how well he helped Jack find a few parts of his abilities. He felt a little sad having been reminded of how Jack got into this place. "He's dad's not the greatest and no helping him. His uncles aren't the worse but... The kid deserves better." Danny sighed, running a hand through his hear.

"Hey, at least he has you right now, right?" Theo responded, the typing halting for a moment. "Anyone with you on their side is going to be okay, I would know." Danny smiled, huffing a laugh.

"You're cheesy, you know that right?" Danny asked, smiling at the ground. Sometimes he wished Theo was there, but at least he knew he was safe back on campus.

"But you love meeeee." Theo laughed, typing continuing. Danny barely picked up the sounds of footsteps approaching the entrance of the bunker.

"As much as I love talking to you, looks like I gotta run?" Danny sighed as the steps got closer. He heard Theo shuffle around for a bit before the other student sighed as well.

"I need to see on of my professors, so call me later?" Theo asked, and Danny nodded. "I love you."

"I will." Danny smiled, pushing off the counter to greet who ever was about to come in. "I love you too."

"Dean, I get it." Danny pulled Dean aside after the Winchesters got back. "I get why your worried about Jack being evil-"

"He is!" Dean cut in. "He's done so much da-"

"No, you're going to listen first." Danny cut Dean off, being met with a surprise look. "You can't tell me Jack is evil because his not human, you can't tell me its because of his dad, you can't tell me its because he lost control of his powers and hurt people, and you can not tell me some prophecy bullshit okay?" Danny paused to take a breath, leaving room for Dean to speak up, which he didn't.

"You should know this, considering me. Considering the many friends you've made on the field." Danny sighed. "All I'm saying is, regardless all that, Jack is just a scared kid who looks up to, and just wants to not feel like a monster. Think that over okay, be easier on the kid." Danny finished. He watched Dean inhale before responding.

"I'll try." Dean spoke, glancing over to the room beside them.

"That's all I ask." Danny gave a small smile before shaking his head. "Okay that's over, I'm tired of sounding like Sam."

"Which Sam?" Dean laughed as the two walked back to the others.

"Both."

[ansgar-martinsson]

The Best Intentions - Part 34

“Hey,” Ansgar said quietly. “What do you care what she thinks?” He stepped closer to her, nearly eclipsing all of the space between them. He cupped her face in his hands, thumbs brushing idly along her cheekbones. “Honestly, tell me why you care? Because you absolutely should not.”

“Because it’s true,” Joline’s eyes lifted to his - big and bright with unshed tears of self-loathing, like a child who’d been scolded. “Isn’t it?”

Ansgar laughed. “No, it’s not true. Not by a long shot,” he said, chuckling. “Jesus, Joline, you’re one of the most successful people I know.”

She frowned, and wrapping her fingers around his hands, pulled them off her face, holding them just by her heart. “But… I’m not. How do you mean? You… you know so many successful people. So many people who make hundreds of millions of kronor every year and….”

“I’m not talking about money,” Ansgar interrupted sternly. “I’m talking about true success.”  He stepped to her side, tucking her arm beneath his, and began walking out of the copse of trees. “Something I measure not by kronor, but by… I don’t know, something less tangible, but I know it when I see it.”

“Describe it to me. What is success to you?”

“It’s…,” he breathed. “It’s doing what you love. It’s… living the way you want to live. Control over your own life, your own decisions. It’s caring for others. It’s comfort. It’s getting up in the morning with the actual desire to go to work. It’s dreaming big and having those dreams, through hard work, become a reality. I mean, if your sister in law’s dream was to be a wife and a stay at home mother, then she’s a huge success. If it was her dream to, perhaps,” he frowned, “I dunno… be a barrister, then, she’s not a success. She’s a failure.”

“Hm,” Joline intoned. “I suppose.”

“And take you,” he said. “Your dream, from what I can see of you, at least your primary dream, is not to be solely ike your dear, dear sister in law,” he laughed. “Quite the opposite, in fact. I can’t picture you leading such a boring lifestyle. Your dream is to entertain, to build, to run the very best theatre you can, one of the most prestigious theatres in the world, and my God, but you’re doing it, aren’t you?”

She remained silent.

He stopped walking, giving her arm a small, gentle tug. “Aren’t you?”

She nodded. “Yeah,” she said. “I am.”

“Then, you’re definitely a success. Success is wholly subjective, my darling, remember that. Her success is not your success, and frankly,” he started walking again, facing forward, his nose in the air, “she’s a bitch for making you feel the failure. Besides,” he said in a false plummy tone, “I don’t associate with failures, how could you possibly be a failure.”

She laughed, leaning her head into his shoulder. She gave him a small push with her hip. “She’d probably feel the same way about you, you know,” look down on you with your…. with your situation. Divorced, no kids.”

He lifted one shoulder in a gesture of ennui. “Eh. Let her have her… feelings. I don’t give a rats arse about her opinion of me. She wouldn’t dare say anything of it to my face, I’d cut her down in an instant for her bigotry. I’ve not cared about the judgment of others for years, I’m not going to start caring now.”

“I wish I had that attitude,” Joline said.

“Ah but you do, on the outside. I’ve seen it,” Ansgar said. “You just feel comfortable enough sharing the deeper side of yourself with me.” He smiled gently. “That side that’s there before your shell hardens over to hide a wound. And…,” he sighed, “I… I thank you for that. I feel the same about you, that… and I….”

BOOM!

A clap of thunder railed off in the distance, echoing through the trees, the sound bouncing off the side of the hill and the water. Ansgar peered up toward the west, where the setting sun was suddenly occluded by dark, threatening clouds. “Damn it to hell,” he said. “We’d better go.”

Joline followed his line of sight. She sighed. “What’d I tell you? Always rains when I come up here. Never fails.”

Ansgar grinned. “Stayed beautiful out here just long enough for us to… to make love.”

Joline snapped to attention, her head swiveling sharply toward him. “Is that what that was?”

Ansgar shrugged as he opened the passenger door for her. “I think so,” he said, shutting the door behind her and leaning on the window ledge. “Don’t you?”

She said nothing, but stared wide-eyed at him, as if he were reading her mind, as if he’d somehow invaded and buried himself deep beneath some private part of her, and the strange thing was… she liked it.

“Well,” Ansgar said, drawing his hand over her cheek, “I think the look on your face says it all.” He trailed his fingers down her neck to her shoulder, and down her arm as he strode back around the car. He folded himself into the driver’s seat, and started the engine. The seat readjusted itself to his height. “Better get the top up, eh?”

“You okay to drive?” Joline asked.

“Sober as a priest,” he said, looking back to ensure the top had secured itself. He pushed the shifter, putting the car in gear. “Besides, I’d best take the helm if it’s going to storm.” He backed up, turned the car, and drove back down the long, winding road to the main highway. “Where to now?” he asked, moving his hand from the gear shift to her knee.

“Anywhere,” she said absently.

“Feel better, darling?” he asked, concerned. “About… about what your sister in law said to you? You still seem a bit off.”

“I’m okay,” Joline replied. “It’s just that… she told me she’s pregnant again, too. Rubbed it in my face like it was some prize she’d won and I came in second place because I’ve never had children. It’s like, it’s all she talks about. Ever. And the look on her face when she told me they were having another baby, it was… so smug, I wanted to smack the look off of her.”

“Oh, really?” Ansgar’s blood went cold. Cold with the knowledge of his own fate when it came to having children, of his own failure… if that’s what it was… on that front. Of his own tamped down jealousy for his brother and his children… his beautiful children. Damn. He swallowed hard and plastered on a wide smile, hiding behind it. “What did I say, Joline?” He turned on his turn signal and merged back on to the E4. “Hmmm?”

“Her success is not my success,” she recited.

“Yes, very good,” Ansgar replied instructively. “And there is no way in hell you are second best to your sister in law or anyone else.” He looked at her and gave her knee a squeeze. “Remember that.”

“Well, okay,” Joline mused. “But you still owe me that ice cream with M&Ms.”

He sighed, thankful for the sudden turn in conversation. He’d tell her, yes. Eventually, but not yet. Not so soon. “M&M’s eh?” He pulled a comically mock frown. “I thought for sure after what we just did you wouldn’t need M&Ms anymore. Am I second best, then? Am I not a good enough replacement for your tiny candy coated chocolate tidbits?”

She gave him a false look of resignation. “Sorry, Sgar,” she sang. “Nothing can replace those tiny candy coated chocolate tidbits. Ever.”

Ansgar gave her a doe-eyed look, batting his lashes. “Your first love, eh?”

“Yeah,” she said airily. “But not my last.”

“Ice cream with M&Ms it is,” Ansgar declared. “And I know just the place. It’ll take about an hour to get back,” he peered at the clock, “it’ll be about nine thirty when we arrive. Would you be terribly upset if I took you home after? I hate to, honestly I do, but I need to get up at oh-fuck-thirty in the morning tomorrow.”

“Why?”

“I’ve got to catch a six am plane to Ystad. Going to watch the nieces and the nephew for the day whilst my brother and his wife go to a wedding. Magnus’ former boss is getting married… for the third time, apparently.”

Joline beamed at him, laughing. “Ansgar Martinsson: babysitter extraordinaire. Who’d have thunk it.”

“That’s me,” he said. “And a damn good one I am.”

She snorted. “Somehow, I doubt that.”

Ansgar cringed, sucking air through his teeth. “Yeah, not my strong suit,” he rumbled. “There shall be a lot of candy type bribery tomorrow, and a bag full of expensive pressies, and a bit of PlayStation, and a smattering of kid things on Netflix.”

“I would expect nothing less,” she smiled.

“I aim to please.” He grinned. “Listen, I’ll text you tomorrow. All day if you like. We can even Face Time when the children are napping. Then, I can meet you on the Monday at the theatre, say at 10 am? For business, of course. We’ve some work to do on the engineering plans. Need you to sign off on some more things.”

“Ooh, sounds exciting,” she joked, insinuating her hand between his thighs, curling her fingers around his flesh. “I’ll sign off on anything for you.”

He purred, revving the engine to echo the sentiment. “Keep touching me like that and I’ll not make my flight in the morning, and you definitely won’t get your M&Ms.”

She pulled her hand back as if burnt.

He laughed heartily. “Yeah, I see where I stand now. I get it.”

The lamps in the lounge glowed in the window, a mother’s touch, to welcome Joline home. She knew the polite thing to do would be to invite Ansgar inside, offer him a drink and introduce him to her mother. The possibility that he might accept, rather than respectfully decline, had her too worried to offer it. She wanted to put her mother’s mind at rest, that Ansgar wasn’t the beast or adulterer that she potentially believed him to be. But Joline wasn’t ready. For each mile they drew closer, she wrestled with how to handle her developing relationship with him and her family dynamic.

She often didn’t bring the men she dated into her home or to her mother or introduce him to her brother or her nephews. The inevitable questions that Joline couldn’t answer would surface and the awkward stilted conversations that followed a short-term fling annoyed her. They only way to avoid those weird talks was to not allow men into her life, at least not entirely. Although her feelings for Ansgar changed, she couldn’t be sure if his had changed for her.

Until she knew, she couldn’t bring him into her life. He’d already claimed a place with the boys and with Elias. The questions and the explanations and Joline’s inevitable heartbreak that loomed in the future kept her from committing to Ansgar and inviting him all the way into her life. He’d said to trust him, and she was trying to do that. She wanted to believe that he was hers and she belonged to him. But she didn’t believe in herself enough to giver herself over to it. She didn’t believe that she could find another relationship of substance after a ten year marriage. How could she? How did she move on from that?

She simply tried, one step at a time. “Thank you, Sgar – for earlier… about Leah,” she murmured just over the oppressive beat of the driving rain on the durable vinyl of the convertible top.

“Of course, darling,” he said turning the car off and killing the ambient light of the car’s dash.

“She means well, she does,” Joline explained with a shrug. “She doesn’t intend to be the bitch.”

“You don’t have to explain her behavior to me.” He pulsed his hand around her thigh, which was noticeably higher than when their journey from Uppsala began. “Or make excuses for her. My concern is you.”

Joline swiveled enough to pillow her head upon the headrest and looked at him. She wasn’t in any rush to leave Ansgar’s presence, even if she was a few feet from her door. “Leah, she’s good people… she is. She almost idolizes Elias and they do make beautiful children together. If I’m honest, I’m looking forward to being an auntie again.”

“What’s your favorite part? About being Aunt Joline?” His questions appeared innocent enough, but his hand under her skirt scooted higher.

“I get to be the fun one! I take the boys to the zoo, to the park, bike riding, out to the pier to watch the wind surfing and the pedal boats. Adrian and Hugo are good boys, I rarely have to discipline them. And when I do, I turn them over to Elias for that.” She sighed inwardly. “Sometimes that’s the hard part, taking them home at night… Elias and Leah get to tuck them up, read them stories, making them breakfast in the morning. It’s a rare treat that I get to babysit them for that part. Leah doesn’t like to be away from them… ever.”

Ansgar made a sound, an abbreviated sound of humor. “I can see that in her, sure.” His thumb grazed over the smooth skin of her thigh.

A far off look washed over Joline’s face as her eyes unfocused and almost looked through Ansgar. “I’ll find my shell again. I will. I… well, I didn’t want you to think poorly of her. She means well.”

Ansgar drew her attention back to him by touching her cheek with a gentle swipe of his unoccupied hand. “I can form my own opinions about her. I’m only sorry that she made you feel bad when you already angry with me.” He smiled crookedly.

Placing her elbows on the console, Joline breached the car median and kissed the lifted corner of his lips. “Don’t do it again.”

“I won’t do it again,” he recited, his tongue in his cheek though he planned to live by it. He tucked his hand between her thighs, encouraging them to split a bit more.

She beamed and retreated back to her side of the car again, to her previous position. “You know, it’s kind of encouraging, this being an auntie thing… again. It’ll be great to have another niece or nephew. Another hellion to unleash on Leah, if she ticks me off. Another person to love, really…”

As if she’d just confessed her heart to him, as if he’d been waiting for her to say it, Ansgar kissed her. He kissed her passionately, reverently and entirely. His tongue stole into her mouth to taste that word or that emotion from her – or chase it away and replace it with lust. He either wanted to take it from her and hold it within himself or wipe that four letter word from her palate and put desire there instead. She couldn’t read him. She couldn’t be sure.

His fingers deftly invaded below, coaxing that word from her lips again or filling her core with splendid sensation. Joline whimpered, widening her legs, offering herself up for the taking, however he wanted her. She lifted her hips, heedless of the place or the neighbors whom might catch an eyeful. Her arousal had been ebbing and cresting since the journey back from Uppsala, Ansgar kept her teetering on the edge with ghosting touches and deliberate squeezes. He made her aware, keenly aware that he was close to her sex all night.

She hummed and moaned in approval as his fore and middle finger pumped a lazy rhythm. Her hand shot to his as she began to climb. Ansgar tore his mouth from hers with a heated, “Nuh uh uh!”

She cursed into the closed area of the car, “Fuck!”

His fingers stopped within her, no more flicking, no more massaging, no more grazing. “Be a good girl. Pry those fingers off me and I will continue.”

She obeyed at once, panting to manager her body’s basic desire to seek pleasure quickly. She surrendered to him, to her man.

“I don’t need direction to find your orgasm, darling,” he whispered. He circled the spongy ridge inside her with a teasing fingertip. “I know. Patience and I’ll make your heartbeat echo through your core.”

Joline threw her head back, training her hands into the leather of the seat under her, and sang her pleasure. “Oh!… Ah… Sgar… I… fuck – just there!” She gasped and held her breath, squeezing her eyes shut, as he swirled her g-spot.

“Now, listen to me… Christ, so wet… While I’m away in Ystad,” he alternated between pumping his fingers in time with the syllables of his words and orbiting her chaos point. He watched as her jaw dropped and her shoulders lifted in need. “No orgasms. Do you understand me?”

She whimpered again, biting her lower lip, trying not to squirm.

“Open your eyes, darling. Tell me that you under—Uh uh uh uh… don’t come yet!” He slowed the teasing down.

“Sgar… please…” Then she hissed as her body clenched in anticipation. She gulped and gasped, desperately trying to follow his direction.

“Tell me that you understand!”

“Yes!” Her body bowed involuntarily.

“Good girl. Your orgasms belong to me. There will be none without me. Will you wait for me, Joline? Until I return?”

“Yes…”

“Say my name.”

Joline licked her lips, tasting her climax… so close, so close…  “Yes, Ansgar!”

Swiftly, he gave her the high that he’d been promising for the past hour.

*~*~*~*~*~

Joline’s mobile pinged with an incoming message as she was making breakfast with her mother. Emelie looked pale and moved with a jittery nervousness. She couldn’t focus, so Joline stepped up.

Ansgar’s message arrived in the midst of whisking eggs. Ingrid has decided pulling my hair is more fun than her binky. Beans has built a castle in every room of the house. Axel slept through most of it. Any tips for me?

Tell Ingrid, the little brat, that those curls are for the lady grown-ups and adult activities! Hands off.  Joline typed back.

She’s not backing down.  His reply was almost immediate. What else have you got?

Have you tried bribery yet? Coffee. All the coffee… and M&MS! Joline typed back.  Bribery for the children. Coffee and M&Ms for you.

I should’ve known.  Have you left any for me?

Joline put her mobile aside. “Mama, why don’t you take a load off? I got this!”

“Your cooking is mediocre, my love. I—“ Emelie gasped as she tried to lift the milk from the fridge. Her hand shot to the small of her back.

Her daughter dropped the whisk with a clatter and went to her. She saved the milk from its fate of a puddle on the kitchen floor. She supported her mother into one of the kitchen table chairs, hoping the episode would pass quickly. Joline knelt in front of her, tabling the bottle, “At least you’ll eat a meal, mama.”

*~*~*~*~*~

I missed waking up beside you this morning. Remind me not to let you sleep alone anymore.  Ansgar messaged again a few hours later.

Joline sat in the lounge pretending to read through some of the upcoming budget proposals for the new season. The costume shop had a huge expenditure list, and she was looking for avenues to cut or at least shave a bit to be able to afford it. The numbers and bullet points only floated in front of her face like a collage, her focus mostly on her mother. Emelie had finally settled upon the sofa, but she seemed restless with her knitting needles.

I’m not doing my job right if you need reminding.  Joline answered, smiling at the device.

I assumed I was being thoughtful to let you sleep in when I couldn’t. Am I in trouble?

Not at all, I understand. How are the children? Are you surviving?

They don’t all nap at the same time, I’m learning.

I’m sure you doing great with them, Ansgar. They’re all still breathing, right?

All alive… and kicking. Literally. Axel may be have a future on the roster for Sweden national football team.

Joline cracked a smile, imagining Ansgar with an infant. The large, broad man cradling a newborn baby appealed to her, his protection, his strength to defend the helpless child.  At least he’s awake now. You can bond over manly things.

Sometime later, Joline messaged him again as she thought over the day before, all the ups and downs they’d been through, from the picnic, to Leah, to Elias, to their spur of the moment journey to Uppsala. She thought she should clear up something for him, whether he knew it or not.  I’m faithful to you, Ansgar. So there’s no confusion.

[ayma-nidiot]

In the White Light - Prideshipping fic Chapter 16

Chapter 16 – Rival of the Pharaoh

The KC Grand Tournament that played out over the next several months featured some fascinating people. Not the least of which was a man with long, pink hair and many winged-beast-based cards. This man was no match for Yami Yugi, however, who unsurprisingly won top prize. The pharaoh’s finals match was so fun to watch that even the losers were thrilled.

All losers, that is, except for Rex Raptor and Weevil Underwood. After a “valiant” effort to worm their way into the tournament, they still managed to lose in one turn to the pink-haired man. To add to their misfortunes, neither boy had been able to exact the revenge they badly wanted.

“We can’t even find Yugi and Joey!” Weevil sat on a nearby bench in a humble park.

“Haven’t you heard of this thing called ‘we can just duel them at school?’”

“Haven’t you heard of this thing called ‘we don’t even go to the same school as them, you nitwit?’”

“Yeah, kind of hard to do, when you think about it.” Rex took a seat next to Weevil. He pretended not to notice the bug duelist slightly turn away from him. “Especially for me. Your family’s almost as loaded as Kaiba, so you could probably move to Domino City whenever you want. But for us poor, average Joes, it’s not that easy. Hell, it took me most of my allowance money just to come here for the Egy- I mean, the cheese festival, as well as to the KC Grand Tournament.”

Weevil still didn’t have the heart to look at Rex and spoke to him while absentmindedly staring at pigeons eating off of the ground. He even fetched some of his own snacks from his handbag to feed to them, if only as a distraction. “I can understand why you wanted to come to the ‘cheese festival,’ but why the KC Grand Tournament? We didn’t even arrive in time to sign up.”

Rex scooted a bit closer to Weevil, hoping to the gods that the shorter duelist could see the couples walking by. “I mean, after all we’ve been through during the whole Orichalcos brouhaha, you still don’t know?”

“Know what?” The dinosaur duelist was so close that when Weevil subconsciously stuck out his hand, his fingers lightly brushed Rex’s.

“Ugh, you may be book smart, but you could stand to be a little more… well, other kinds of smart!” Rex couldn’t resist moving his hand on top of Weevil’s. “I… Weevil, I… I think… that I l-”

“W-Wait, do you hear something?” Weevil intentionally ruined the mood, in part because he was way too nervous, but also because he really could hear something. “That deep voice definitely sounds like the pharaoh’s. Why don’t we check it out, and maybe challenge him to a duel while we’re at it?”

“A… A duel.” With a frown on his face, Rex followed Weevil in the direction of the voice. “Yeah, whatever you say.”

Rex felt so downtrodden that he had nearly walked right into Yami Yugi’s line of sight, if not for Weevil pulling him from behind a bush and ordering, “Get down, you dimwit!”

“So.” Kaiba stood in a secluded part of the park, along with Yami Yugi, Joey, Tristan, Téa, and Mokuba. “Now that you’ve taken the KC Grand Tournament Crown, you plan to ride on that victory all the way to ancient Egypt. We’re going to save your other High Priests from dying. Do I have that right?”

“Yes. Now is the time. I will take my kingdom back and make things right!”

“Um, question…” Tristan weakly raised a hand. “How are we going to get there?”

“Ah, I must have forgotten to mention it. Well, you’ll find out soon enough.” Yami Yugi took a deep breath before starting the Incantation. “Ikustaka ukuyiras imay… Uomo irotih…”

“Hey, check it out, Weevil!” Fascinated by the rising water, Rex got out from behind the bush. “Yugi’s using some kind of weird magic.”

“You’re supposed to keep a low profile!” Weevil ran after Rex but could not catch up. “Get back here, dino brain! Wh-Whoaaaah!”

“Weevil!” Rex’s voice was barely audible in the deep water.

“Heeeelp!” Weevil quickly began to run out of air. “I can’t swim!”

Rex swam through the strong current to catch Weevil from falling any further. Hmm… So why are we struggling, yet Yugi and the others don’t seem to have a care in the world?

The ocean water soon receded. “That… was close…” Weevil breathed in a short-lived relief. “I think we’re out of the woods now.”

“Guess again, bug boy!” Rex held on even tighter to Weevil. The air grew thin for a spell before they began their rapid fall to the vast desert below. “Yaaaaaah! I can’t fly!”

“No shit, Sherlock! Who clued you in?” Weevil wasn’t scared, even in this situation, and quickly found one of his strongest cards. “Perfectly Ultimate Great Moth, come forth!”

Having landed gently on the sand dunes, Yami Yugi and his company remained unaware of their hitchhikers.

“Whoa, this place is… um…” Téa didn’t yet know what to make of her surroundings. There were only sand dunes and occasional wilted trees as far as the eye could see. “Neat, I guess?”

“Yeah, except it’s missing a few cars,” Joey spoke up.

“And burgers,” Yugi added.

“Where did you come from, Yug?” Joey had to do a double-take at Yugi and Yami Yugi. “I thought that the pharaoh’s spirit was inside you. You mean to tell me you now have separate bodies?”

“It… appears that way.” Yami Yugi was just as confused as everyone else.

“If you nimrods didn’t figure it out already, we’re in ancient Egypt.” Kaiba already wanted to half-shift and move away from the idiots surrounding him.

“Come on, rich boy, it was just a joke… Anyway, about saving those priests. I say we just go find the bad guys and give them what for!”

“Put your dueling arm down, dog.” Kaiba’s interjection didn���t calm Joey at all. “Then again, I’m not surprised your first thought is to fight and not strategize. Furthermore, do you even know where to find these ‘bad guys’ you speak of?”

“W-Well, no…”

“My love, please. If we are to fight, then let it not be amongst ourselves.” Yami Yugi spoke to Joey with a kinder tone. “I want to defeat the enemy too, but I want to keep the casualties to a minimum, unlike… last time.”

“I… I’m sorry, pharaoh. I should have thought first.”

“It’s okay. What matters now is that we go to the palace at once to see if the priests are all okay.” Yami Yugi took a few steps forward while everyone else followed. “However, I will have to ask you all to remain hidden. If we’re discovered, a time paradox might happen.”

“Oh!” Mokuba exclaimed. “You mean when you change something in the past, and it will dramatically change the future?”

“Hey, you’re pretty smart for a fifth-grader, Mokuba.” Tristan was impressed.

“Hehehe… Well, I am vice president of KaibaCorp.”

Just then, a shriek interrupted the pleasantries. “Waaaaaaaah!”

“I thought parachutes weren’t invented yet…” Joey took a look to the sky. “Wait a minute, those aren’t people in parachutes! It’s Rex Raptor and Weevil Underwood!”

“Oh my gods, they’re coming right for us!” Tristan yelled.

“Huh?”

Before Téa could get a handle on what was going on, the Perfectly Ultimate Great Moth barreled into the nearest sand dune. As Weevil got up, he started coughing vigorously to get the sand out of his throat. “Gaah! It’s too damn hot!”

“I’ll say!” Rex had to dig through the sand to recover his beanie. “And crash landing made me want to use the bathroom all of a sudden.”

Weevil got up, taking Rex with him by the shirt. “Is bathroom humour all you ever think about, dino brain?”

“You!” Joey and the gang had caught up with the misfit duo. “What are you two shrimps doing here?”

“Um… You see, what had happened was-”

Before Rex could make a fool of himself, Weevil cut in, “Isn’t it obvious? We came here to get revenge. As his greatest rival, I still have a score to settle with the pharaoh.”

Kaiba couldn’t believe what he had just heard. “I’m sorry, did you just say what I think you said? That an irrelevant worm like you is the greatest rival of the pharaoh?”

“Well, yeah! Haven’t you heard of Weevil Underwood, the regionals champion?”

“Okay, you worm. Let’s get a few things straight before we begin our mission – which, by the way, you and that pea brain should not be on. First of all, no. I am the pharaoh’s greatest rival. Secondly, show a bit more respect to him.”

“Um, don’t you mean ‘dino brain?’ Eh… Forget it.” Rex quickly realized his error and let Weevil do all the talking.

“I am an even better rival! My Perfectly Ultimate Great Moth can turn your Blue-Eyes into bug juice in no time!”

“And by ‘no time’ you mean the six turns it will take to summon it.”

“Um, Kaiba…?” Yugi showed concern. “We have more important things to worry about. Shouldn’t we get going?”

“Hmph.” Kaiba was so annoyed that he didn’t even want to hold hands with Yami Yugi during their walk to the palace – not that Rex and Weevil had any business knowing about his choice of partner, anyway.

“I suppose I’ll just have to prove to you that I’m the pharaoh’s true rival. Hehehe!”

“Maybe I can duel Kaiba myself! Of course, after I beat Joey.”

“Why are those two fucktards still with us?” Kaiba shook his head as the palace was finally within view. “I should have just buried them in a sand dune and put them out of their misery.”

“Hmm…” Yami Yugi looked back at Rex and Weevil again. “I don’t know why, but they look stronger than the last time I’ve dueled them. Perhaps they can be of some help to us.”

“Tch. Okay, but I’m only going to tolerate them because it’s you, pharaoh.” Kaiba allowed Yami Yugi to lead them to the end of a hallway, which housed a great balcony. “Maybe they’ll be good bait.”

“Oh!” Yami Yugi suddenly stopped and hid behind some crates, as did his companions. “There’s someone there!”

Joey squinted closer at the man who appeared to be speaking to the crowd below. “Hey… He looks just like the Dark Magician, Yug!”

“It’s…” Yami Yugi’s eyes widened in happiness. “Mahad! And Isis, Shada, and Karim, too! Thank Ra…”

“Babe…” Kaiba was more interested in what the High Priest Mahad had to say.

“Citizens of Egypt! I bring you most grave news…” Mahad paused as his expression became sorrowful. “I regret to inform you that His Majesty the pharaoh, as well as His Eminence Priest Seto, have just died.”

“It… It can’t be…” The crowd lamented.

Mahad allowed the people a few minutes to mourn their king and priest before continuing his address. “Exactly how they died, I know not. How we will choose a new pharaoh in this trying time, I know not yet. But this I know: Priest Aknadin has deceived us all! He is an accomplice to the evil sorcerer Anubis, and as such, I believe he is partly responsible for the pharaoh’s and the priest’s deaths! If anyone can give us, the council, information as to his whereabouts, you will be greatly rewarded. He who can give us his head will receive a greater reward still.”

“Ooh, I wonder what kind of reward?” Weevil cackled. “I don’t suppose that includes rare cards?”

“Or untold riches?” Rex surmised. “Ah…”

“And to think, all we have to do is- Rex?”

“Ah… Ah… ACHOO!” Rex’s sneeze was as loud as a locomotive, drawing attention from not only his companions, but also the High Priests.

“You idiot!” Joey chided. “Now there’s going to be a time para… uh…”

 “‘Time paradox,’” Weevil finished the sentence, shrinking as Mahad approached them. “B-But… I think we have bigger things to worry about!”

Mahad scrutinized the intruders, and his gaze stopped on Yami Yugi and Kaiba. “Pharaoh? And… Priest Seto? You are… alive?”

“…” Yami Yugi didn’t try to hide his identity as he and Kaiba stood up. “…Mahad. My friend, it has been a while.”

“What’s going on?” The curious crowd wondered.

“Your guess is as good as mine.” Kaiba reluctantly followed Yami Yugi and Mahad to the balcony.

“My brothers and sisters! Osiris grants us fortune on this day! The souls of our pharaoh and Priest Seto have taken physical forms once again! Behold!” Mahad gestured towards the pair.

“Our king! He yet lives!” Overjoyed, the people fell to their knees, speaking a silent prayer to the gods.

“Huh.” Kaiba couldn’t decide if he was irked, or if he secretly enjoyed this attention.

“Mahad.” Yami Yugi looked to his faithful companion. “Allow me to address the people.”

“Of course, Your Majesty.” Mahad stepped aside.

“My friends… I don’t know who could still oppose us, even after the Dark One’s defeat. But I do know this: I promise with all that I have that I will protect you from whatever the darkness throws at us.” Yami Yugi reached backwards slightly, lacing his fingers with Kaiba’s. “I swear on my love for Kaiba.”

“Huh? Who’s this ‘Kaiba’ the pharaoh speaks of?” asked a young common woman.

“Must be Priest Seto’s new form… or whatever,” answered the woman’s brother.

“Now that you mention it, the pharaoh doesn’t look exactly the same, either,” added their younger brother. “Still, if His Eminence Mahad says it is them, then I will believe.”

“And I have another announcement to make.” Yami Yugi took a deep breath as he held Kaiba’s hand tighter and turned to him. “After all of this is over… After I’ve ensured that the dark forces are no more… You will have a new queen, and his name shall be Seto Kaiba.”

“Ph-Pharaoh!” Kaiba blushed deeply; he couldn’t look at Yami Yugi nor the even noisier crowd.

“That is, if my beloved wills it.” Yami Yugi kissed the back of Kaiba’s right hand.

“Let’s see. I can receive the royal title I’ve always deserved and become the husband of the man I love?” Kaiba stooped a bit lower. “And you honestly expected me to say no?”

Yami Yugi let out a small giggle before standing on his tiptoes to kiss Kaiba. To their joy, the people largely accepted their relationship.

“So… Yugi had a boyfriend all along.” Rex scrunched up his face. “If only I could be that bold.”

“Bold enough to do what, exactly?” Weevil asked.

“Er, nothing!” Having no desire to speak to Weevil, Rex got up to leave. “Just… uh… Bold enough to go find those enemies that pharaoh dude was talking about!”

Just then, Joey could hear the faint sound of evil cackling from the outside. “Well, Rex Raptor, you’re not going to have to look very far.”

It didn’t take long for Mahad to notice the noise, too. “Hey! Who goes there?”

Isis stepped forward. “It doesn’t matter who it is. In the name of the pharaoh, we priests will vanquish any enemy that comes before us!”

It was at that moment Weevil had an idea and whispered to Rex about it. “Hey, Rex. If there was any time to show off what great duelists we are, this is the time.”

“Huh?”

Rex didn’t have time to react as Weevil brought the both of them before Mahad. “Excuse me? Mr. Mahad… um… sir?”

“Pharaoh?” Mahad turned around. “Who are these two? Are they friends of yours?”

“You… could say that.”

“If you like, we can go defeat those enemies for you!”

“Yeah!” Rex spoke up. “You priests can just sit back and relax!”

“Is this what you mean by ‘being some help to us?’” Kaiba questioned.

“Mahad, let them go.” Yami Yugi gave the two short duelists a warm smile. “I have complete faith in them. In the meantime, we will need to study our enemy closely.”

“Th-Thank you, pharaoh, sir!” Weevil gave one last bow before heading out with Rex.

“Hehehe…” Rex laughed while rubbing his hands together. “Suckers! Now the reward is all ours!”

[misha-moose-dean-burger-lover]

Baby (IV)

“I could’ve done good,” Baby grumbled, his chin in his palm as he sat on the white wicker chair next to Dean, in the outdoor cafe while Sam and Cas talked to the second witness. “I just needed another chance.”

“When the Priest asked you your religion, you made a joke about Vicecity.” Dean reminded, smirking a little because he could, and he was so past that stage. “You needed more than a chance.”

“I’m sorry, but they didn’t mention it in my finishing school for muscle cars.” Baby threw back.

“As if I did a thesis on witness-interrogation for my Hunting 305 class at community college.” Dean replied, but there was no sharpness in his tone. Mere humor. Baby made a sound that sounded increasingly like a whine, and Dean was satisfied.

“You really have no idea what you’re missing out on,” Baby suddenly said, all serious.

“What?”

“I mean Cas, Dean. Cas.” He repeated, turning his eyes back to the trench-coated angel, looking much shorter than he was supposed to, next to Sam, standing stiff and wide.

Dean could feel the impending lecture in the air. About Cas. About how he and Dean should solve their differences and like, get together or some shit. He’d gotten enough of those, combined with disapproving looks from Sam, on the nights they let loose and hung out together drinking. But before he could reply to that which wasn’t said yet, he was cut off.

Baby was talking about something else. “His wings, Dean. His magnificent wings.”

“What? You - you can see them?”

“No, but if you try hard enough, you can feel them.” He justified. “At least, I could feel them.”

Dean was quiet, because he knew the other wanted to keep speaking.

“When its just him in the back, like most of the time? He lets them sprawl over the seat. And I can feel it. Its a tingling feeling, but it’s there.” He paused. “He never sits on them, you know.”

“Well, one would think that he wouldn’t sit on his wings, right?” Dean pinched his eyebrows together.

“I mean,” He chastised. “It’d be so much easier, if he just folded them up or something. But, no. He never hurts them, he’d never ruin it.”

Dean blinked. “That’s…something.”

“That’s impressive.” Baby corrected. “And, of course you know, he’s so fast.” He let out a whistle.

The tone was different.

The almost reverent tone was replaced by admiration. Maybe attracted, even. “When he flies, Dean, he’s something else. I can’t see him, he isn’t in our dimension when he does it, but can’t you feel it too? Like, damn. That’s fast.”

Of course, Baby would like speed. That part was kinda obvious.

But Dean had thought about it many times before, too. He knew Cas was an angel, even though he not have even half of his powers anymore, and none of that personality. He knew his best friend had wings, he knew that he once flew. With the birds in the sky, maybe the aeroplanes even higher, through the clouds and through the skies, Cas had flown. Faster than all of them.

It was an exciting thought.

Now, though. Dean hurt as much as anyone else did when he thought of Cas’s lost wings. The loss of his ability to fly. He couldn’t imagine what that’d be like. It’d be even worse than losing Baby.

“And when he lost them,” Baby went on, almost in sync with Dean’s head. “I saw how he troubled he was. He had trouble sitting in all that place so empty, by himself. I was there all those moments that you were, Dean,” He paused, serious again. “Maybe you were looking away but I wasn’t, and I saw his heart break each time something reminded him of flight.”

No, I was looking too. Dean wanted to say. But he nodded and made a sad noise in his throat. I just didn’t know what to say.

“I may just be a car,” Baby went on and Dean was surprised at the insecure, humble edge to his ever-confident tone. “I may not be a match for wings of any kind. But I swear, its not about being his wings. If only I could be his wheels.”

Dean listened, dumbstruck.

“That’s too literal a metaphor.” He almost choked on his own voice.

That’s my line. His eyes added.

“Well, where were you when he needed to hear that?” Baby challenged, showing protest with a mutinous lip. He jutted out his chin. “You had a chance of saying it to him.”

A dark cloud went over their conversation. Dean replied, prompt and frowning. “I blew it, okay? I added to his hurt, was a shitty friend overall. I blew my chance.” Dean looked away, away from Baby, and away from Cas, metres away. “And I couldn’t have said it as prettily as you just did either, so there.”

There was a moment of silence.

Followed by a rustle of fabric, and a hand on his shoulder. A hand, just a hand. But there. And giving him hope. Reminding him of home. Like the Chevy Impala ‘67 had always done.

“You,” Dean let out. “You’re really my car, aren’t you?”

“I’m your Baby, yes.”

“Well, Baby,” Dean said, in the same breath for the first time, sounding like he meant it. “Couldn’t you just have, like, given me those lines then? Through the speakers or something?” He smiled, bringing the focus back to lighter matters. “Been my wingman once more, like you’ve been since I started picking up one night stands at 18?”

“What can I say?” Baby smiled, and his fingers around Dean’s shoulder squeezed. “I’m just a car, Dean.”

“Just a car,” Dean repeated, mockingly. “Are you kidding me, Mister-really-sucky-puns?”

“Well, right now, I’m not just a car. Probably this time tomorrow, I’ll be one again.” He grinned, standing up. “I’m gonna go join 'em. You coming?”

“Are you,” Dean groaned, standing up. “Are you gonna use that line on him?”

“Well now that you’ve verified that it’s a good line, I’ve gotta, don’t I?” He smirked, back in his stride. “They say, there’s no such thing as a missed opportunity for a pick-up line.”

“You’re such a -” Dean rolled his eyes. “And I’m not even gonna ask who they is, because its probably 16 year old me.”

“Nah, you were 23.” He laughed. “At sixteen, you were not a hundredth as much of a 'player’ as you think. I should know.”

“Just go.”

Just go hit on my guy, and be done with it. Dean wished he could say it out loud, even in a joking tone, to the man - car - one who probably knew him the best, after his brother. But of course he couldn’t. That needed like many more years of character development before he could call Cas that out loud.

“And shut your face.” He added, because well, he’s Dean, son of John Winchester, isn’t he? “Don’t bother Cas too much.”

Rolling his eyes, Baby strolled off, smoothly leaving Dean frowning behind, with parting words of the most annoying kind. “You wouldn’t kick my ass or anything even if I did. Sure, he’s Cas. But I’m still your Baby, and you’re kind of a sap so you love me too.”

Dean swore under his breath, and to not give him the pleasure of having won the round, determinedly didn’t respond.

**

Dean walked towards the decided restaurant, a small-ish place, which probably didn't serve too much alcohol. Beer, though, would definitely be available.

Well, it would have to work, wouldn't it? Because he sure as hell needed some booze in his system to get through this evening.

This date.

With Cas. And Baby.

He didn't even know why he was doing this. He could've said no - well, theoretically, at least. He could've spent the night at a bar, instead of this diner. With strangers he'd forget the next day - instead of people who actually meant something to him. Maybe even back at the motel, where Sam was, forcing Sam to watch crappy TV with him, instead of look for more cases.

But here he was.

He pushed open the door, the fluorescent 'Open' sign swinging as he did, and looked around for familiar faces.

His eyes found Cas, sitting by himself on a table for four, doing absolutely nothing except looking at the squeezy ketchup bottles, arranged neatly on the table.

Dean sighed, as he made his way over to him. He'd noticed Cas had his trench coat off, but the rest of him was the same. He looked good, of course, but not as though he dressed up for a date.

Of course, Dean hadn't done anything either. It'd been a randomly spontaneous decision to shave at six in the evening, or replace his old red flannel, with a slightly less worn green one. Of course.

A flicker of a thought went through him, as a scene went through his head. He'd once gotten Cas - Steve, actually - dressed up for a date. (More like dressed down, but okay.)

Well, Cas clearly hadn't remembered any of it. Sure, the obnoxious blue vest was absent, but the blazer and tie was pretty much his uniform. Not a Gas 'N Sip uniform - kinda like his custom hunting attire.

In any case, the buttons were all done, all the way to the second, and the collar was fairly formal with the tie blocking any sliver of skin, which may otherwise have been visible.

No big deal. Dean too had folded up his sleeves, for just the heat.

"Hey," Dean sat down across Cas, and the latter looked up at him. "Reading the ingredients of ketchup, are ya?"

"No," Cas smiled, wider than the joke was funny and deserved. Dean was pleased, and he instantly mirrored it. "I know what tomato ketchup is made of."

"Vegetables," Dean clicked his tongue, and winked, referring an older joke, of a simpler time. Cas nodded, remembering surely, and there was quiet for a moment.

"Where's," Dean cleared his throat, and forced the warm comfort of this setup - with Cas - away, with his next words. "Where's Baby?"

Cas shrugged. "He's not been with me for a while now."

Dean blinked. "But -"

"He had something to attend to." Cas recalled.

"He's my car," Dean narrowed his eyes, suspiciously. "What business would he have, something that he couldn't ask me - or you, or Sam - for?"

Cas was surprisingly relaxed. He didn't even have his squint on. "I don't know, Dean, but nevermind. At least you're here."

Dean succeeded in not blushing, but it was a heroic effort.

Sure, he and Cas had some unresolved tension, going for pretty long now; but blatant lines and declarations was not their type of gesture. He was not used to Cas softly looking at him, and telling him that he was glad Dean showed up to their date. This was not up his alley.

"Heh," He stammered. "You hungry? I sorta am. I'm gonna go order, alright? Will get you whatever I have, minus the pie and extra cheese."

Cas began to say something, seemingly to tell Dean that there was a waitress around who'd take their order, but Dean was on his feet and on his way to the main counter.

He leaned on it with his elbow, and did not look back at Cas, lest he should lose it and freak out again. He waited his turn, while the lady spoke to another customer.

It was in another moment, and when his eyes fell on a clock that showed twelve past seven, that a strange thought struck him.

Why wasn't Baby here yet? Fashionably late doesn't really fit into this scenario, of having a diner-made dinner with 2 guys you just hunted vampires with, supposedly a date.

Could it be that - and Dean melted against his resolve and stole a glance at Cas, who wasn't looking at him anymore - Could it be that Baby set them up?

Was he gonna ditch them for the entire evening? Was this - was this a whole plot to get Cas and him on a date?

Okay, Dean was probably overcalculating the facts he had, and overinterpreting. But, the idea suddenly seemed fitting. Why else would Baby not be there? Why else, would he invite Dean to a date, for him and Cas? Why else would he insist on his coming too? Why would -

Wait - what if he was right?

What then?

Dean bit his lip, and the lady behind the counter, in a waitress's uniform and a customer-service smile, finally turned to him. Dean stammered over his order, his head swarming with a million possibilities.

Even their table now seemed like it was a table for two - probably two considerably large men. But two.

She told him that he could go sit, they'd get the order to the table.

He nodded weakly, paid with a tip, and turned back to get to his table.

He was all prepared to propose his theory to Cas - live up to his name, and make the already awkward situation more so - and gauge his reaction. Hell, he was kinda prepared for a full evening, just with Cas. Who knew? Sometimes Dean's courage surprised him, and most of that was around Cas, for obvious reasons.

But as soon as his eyes trailed up to their table, he was stumped.

Baby was there.

He stared, his jaw slack and eyebrows raised, more disappointed than he'd ever admit aloud. In the matter of minutes, it was as if he’d gotten his hopes raised. Baby was right there, sitting next to Cas, squeezed into the same seat as him, their shoulders touching, talking in his usual animated manner.

"Welcome back," Baby greeted Dean with a toothy smile, as Dean took his spot. "Sorry I'm sorta late."

"Yeah," Dean wondered if he'd have trouble hiding his disgruntled frown, but he forged a small smile and was good. Cas certainly looked more satisfied and settled now, with Baby's arm slung around him - well, around the seat, but that was like the oldest trick in every guy's playbook. "Where were you?" He asked, instead.

Baby shrugged, to avoid answering the question. Dean furrowed his brows and was about to repeat and prod, when Cas spoke up. "I think we were both beginning to wonder if you wouldn't come."

A smug smile spread across his face. "Oh, no. I wouldn't miss this, for the World." He gestured with his eyes, at the other two. "And not show up? What do you mean, like, you thought I invited you two on a date and ditched y'all?" His eyes fixed on Dean's. "Set you up, or something?"

"No," Dean began to protest, the lie ready on his lips.

"Don't worry," Baby leaned back, probably even leaned more towards Cas. As if there needed to be any less distance between them. "I wouldn't do that kinda stuff. Like, I'm personally into this thing you two have going, but I'm not gonna meddle and make the move for you. You do you."

Dean rolled his eyes, while Cas looked more surprised.

"If you wanted to be worried about getting set up, though," He added. "Keep a lookout for Sam. His shipping is getting out of control, I heard Charlie say once. He could do this sorta thing, where he invites the both of you to a movie and then makes an excuse for himself."

Dean glared at him, while Cas pursed his lips. "That happens. Often. Dean and I watch the movie, because Sam has great taste."

Dean wished the floor would open up and swallow him. "Uh-huh," He managed, flustered.

"And what, you dumbasses thought it was not a date, because?"

"Because it wasn't." Cas clarified, perfectly serious. "We didn’t ever call it that. We didn’t do date-things. It even ended with us going to our own rooms, and not with a kiss." Cas spoke, in an adequately soft voice, as if somehow Dean wouldn't hear it then.

Dean face-palmed, wondered what he'd done to deserve this, and the blood rushing to his cheeks made his blush prominent. "Goddammit, Cas." He had half a mind to get up and depart, but it’s not like the other half of his head would ever give in to such a sane and healthy decision.

"Oh, hell yeah," Baby laughed, throwing his head back. Both Dean and Cas’s eyes flitted to his bared neck and collarbones, with as much haste as they returned to each other, almost shy of being caught in the act. "I’m even more excited about this date now!"

**

And so, the evening went on. Stories were exchanged, and it was a light-hearted meal. Cas and Baby sat as if glued at the hip, and Dean ate more aggressively any moment he thought of it. There were bad jokes all around. Some more food. They didn’t budge away from each other. Dean got over it slowly. Okay, that was pretty much a lie. At one point during the date, Dean couldn't take it anymore, and spoke up before he could shove those words down his gut like he’d been doing all evening.

"You realize this is a kid-friendly place, right?” He looked up at them. “I mean, you can stop sitting like there's no space left in the entire diner." He crossed his arms across his chest.

It was true. They together fit in the seat, which Dean could fill all by himself, if he tried or spread his legs.

Cas, almost curiously, looked at Baby - their faces unbelievably close - and the bastard shifted obligingly - probably an inch though. "You're right." He agreed, earnestly. He shuffled another inch. But only that much.

"Hey, I don't mind," Baby cajoled, and looked mischievously at Dean. "But, if Cas does, I could always sit next to Dean instead."

"Don't even," Dean growled back.

"Well!" He threw his hands up, in mock exasperation. "There's no other spot for me to sit? You want us move to a larger table for dessert, Dean?"

"Just pull a chair." Dean rolled his eyes. “Sit on the third side.”

"Good idea." Cas agreed, and the way he looked at Dean, so completely sincere and genuine, that Dean had to blink a bunch of times and look away, defeated. What was it about these two that made him go wild?

"Like, sit in the middle?" Baby whined, eyeing the spot. "But, I'm not really the middle in this relationship, am I?" He added, wickedly.

There was a moment of silence.

Dean swallowed, his eyes strained on his plate.

Baby went on, his tone an edge of flirtation, with slick humor. "Why doesn't Dean shift to the middle, huh, Cas?" Cas shrugged, and Dean thanked any luck he had, that Cas hadn’t said ‘good luck’ like the last time - because he’d go nuts.

"Your thoughts, Dean?" Baby winked straight at him, and for a moment, Dean's eyes flickered between Cas's and his faces, wearing opposite expressions but somehow synonymous, and you know what? This was probably how a stroke felt. He could swear his chest hurt. 

"You can fucking sit on top of each other, you jackasses." He hissed, through his teeth, dedicating all of his attention to the food in front of him, as he drank his beer obstinately, from the bottle.

"We might," Baby led with a wink, again. "But is that a yes, on being in the middle?"

Jesus Christ.

Dean Winchester regretted all of his life decisions that led him here. Everything. Every fucking little detail, that had brought him here, on a motherfucking date, sitting across the two most gorgeous men he'd ever laid eyes on. One, too damn straight-faced, the other the goddamn opposite. It was a deadly front, and Dean was terrified for himself.

Yeah. He regretted every damn thing he'd ever said, which had brought him here, and conveniently landed him the butt off all the bottom puns possible in this scenario.

“I’m gonna throw my fucking plate at your face, you son of a -” His voice rose with every syllable, until Baby was laughing again - smug-faced and satisfied, like the look he always got when Dean reacted out to something he pulled. Dean, a pissed scowl on his lips, continued to glare at Baby, who doubled up laughing each time their eyes met. Cas looked at Dean, and only Dean. A dedicated tilt of his head.

There was a slight tug at the corner of his lips. Dean knew he’d lose it if Cas ever outright smirked at him - but this was enough to fluster him. “But why?”

Huh, so the sonuvabitch understood.

Dean passionately glared back, and it was enough to make Cas crinkle his eyes into an iconic smile, all dimples, gums and crowfeet. So, at the end of the day, it wasn't Dean's fault he was rendered speechless, and incapable of retorting. It was Cas's.

**

Tagging @hellodean-sam @moderatelypanickedbisexual @love-nakamura @casbiotic @blazeeblake @dean-is-bi-till-i-die @lykanyouko @victorian-sexstache @crack--attack @johnlockshire @kitsuneharo12 @emilydakitten @midnightmarauder3 @eyesofatragedy67 @malevolent-dean @skeletonsinzeeclost @awkward-penguin-in-a-trenchcoat @demonsofhunting @american-phycho @insomniac-with-a-juice-pouch @gigisfavourites @sammyimpala-67 @ain-t-bovvered @fictionfucker @adventurous-blob @styggtroll @petrichoravellichor (helped me choose) @iamcharliebradburylevelperfect

Has this gotten too weird? Tell me to stop, and I will. If not, mwuahahaha, here I come, more date scenes! Also how do I make Baby go back somebody got any ideas

Thank you for reading! ALSO I HAVE TO SHOW YOU SOMETHING @lovenakamura MADE! BASED ON BABY #1

THANK YOU, I AM SO FLATTERED YOU MADE THIS ♥️