#i just need someone to corroborate this story so I don’t feel insane

[anniesocsandgeneralstore]

okay do y’all remember in 2019 when the mandalorian season one dropped and the fics were also dropping like immediately?? and we all knew that mando’s real name was Din Djarin but for some reason we didn’t know how to spell it so for a long time all fics about him were with the name “Dyn Djarin” until like episode 7 came out or something and it was revealed it was spelled “Din” and everyone scrambled to change the spelling?? or did I just make all this up??

[datleggy]

Let’s take “birth day” literally and have pregnant Buck go into labor someplace really dumb and/or inconvenient.

It's the hormones, Buck would like to say in his defense, but honestly, the omega would have done it even if he weren't nearly nine months pregnant....

The doctor's told him some light exercise will help, even with his due date being so close now, and so after picking Christopher up from school they'd decided to take a nice stroll in the park.

And it would have been nice if some asshole hadn't put his hands on his kid on the goddamn playground of all places! One minute Buck had been struggling to get up off the bench to see why it looked as though Christopher was in a seemingly heated argument over something or the other, with another little boy around his age, and the next said boy's mother was shoving Christopher away with a sharply pointed nail, poking at his shoulder and shouting obscenities.

And Buck was there in a flash, putting himself between Christopher and the woman and telling her to back off. "You don't touch someone else's kid like that, lady. If you have a problem, you come find me."

The woman looks flustered for a moment before raising her voice again, yelling about how she had barely even touched the eight year old, and about how maybe he shouldn't bring his son around other kids if he couldn't learn to play nice. "If you taught that boy some manners we wouldn't even be here right now!"

Buck knows he should have let it go, knows they were causing a huge and unnecessary scene, and this? This next part he totally blames on the hormones. "If your parents had taught you some manners and common sense we wouldn't be here right now!"

And that had only served to escalate the situation to the point where police had actually been called and arrived on the scene--and apparently the woman had been very convincing when she'd burst into tears and told the cops that Buck had threatened her with violence.

Which is how Buck ends up in a jailcell on a sunny Friday afternoon, waiting for Eddie to come and bail him out and worrying frantically about Christopher, who last he saw, as they'd cuffed him and put him into the back of their vehicle, was currently in the custody of a child services worker.

Buck puts his head in his hands and groans, beyond stressed. Not only is this humiliating as all hell, but his alpha is probably going to kill him for letting this shit happen. He should have ignored the woman and walked away with Christopher in tow. Instead, he'd made it worse and gotten arrested for an assault he hadn't even committed. "Jesus Christ."

"Buckley? Evan Buckley?" An officer calls out; he's older, maybe mid fifties, with a faint Southern drawl.

Buck raises his head. He'd only called Eddie fifteen minutes ago, was he really here that quickly? "Uh, yeah, that's me." he says.

"You're free to go; luckily a bunch of witnesses came forward with the same story--you weren't the aggressor here, son. Now c'mon, your kid's waiting for you right outside."

"Oh thank God." he breaths out, immeasurably relieved. But when he attempts to stand up Buck lets out a hiss and doubles over, face contorting in pain.

The officers eyes go wide and he rushes to open the cell, which is nearly empty, thankfully, except for Buck and a slumbering man in the corner, arrested that morning for public intoxication. "Whoa, whoa," the man's eyes go even wider, if possible, when he realizes what's happening. "Shoot, I think your water just broke, young man."

Buck shakes his head, even though the proof is on the bench and soaking his jeans through and through. He whines as the contraction continues, huffing and puffing. "H-hospital. Please." He pleads.

There is no way he's having this baby while still technically in custody at a police station. Hell, they're in a jailcell, for shit's sake. He'd rather give birth like a total cliché and in the back of a yellow taxi!

"I'm gonna have 'em call you an ambulance, but let's get you outta here first." the officer tries to help Buck stand but another contraction hits, this one harder and more agonizing than the last and Buck cries out, his knees buckling under him.

The officer manages to hold him aloft just long enough to reposition him on the floor as Buck pants and tries not to lose it. The contractions are way too close...

The officer radios his men and calls for help. "Need help in the holding cell on floor 2B, we've got a custodial here who's gone into labor. Urgent request for help in holding cell 2B."

Buck can't help but let out a sob--it's even worse than he'd imagined--he's going to end up giving birth inside a jailcell five feet away from some guy who smells like tequila and regret. Alone.

"What the hell is going on in--Buck?!"

Buck sniffles as he turns his head towards the door, where Athena is standing, mouth agape at the chaotic scene before her. "Athena!" he cries, reaching out for her, needy as can be and not giving a damn.

Athena doesn't waste any time, dropping to her knees beside him, letting him rest his head on her lap. She sooths back his curly locks, now sweaty, and look at the officer, asking sharply, "What happened?"

"He was being released when he went into labor--must be from the stress of the situation. Tried to get him up, but that baby's comin' and soon." he informs her, grimacing when Buck whines in pain as another contraction follows his statement, as if to prove the mans words true.

"Eddie," Buck clenches his teeth, tries to stifle another groans. "Need Eddie."

"He's right outside," Athena tells him, reassuringly. She nods at the officer. "Reyes, get me Eddie Diaz, he's a medic and he should be waiting down on the first floor for us. Hurry!"

***************

Eddie's at the grocery store picking stuff up for dinner tonight when he gets the unexpected call. He almost doesn't answer it, when he sees it's from an unfamiliar number, thinking it's spam, but something nags at him to take the call.

"Hello?"

"Hey..."

It's Buck. And he sounds upset.

"Buck? What's going on? Everything alright? Who's phone are you using?"

He can hear Buck gulp from the other end of the line. "I've been arrested. I need you to come bail me out and get Christopher out of police custody." he says, all in one rushed statement, like he'd ripping off a band aid.

"Wha--I'm sorry, what? Did you say you're in jail? And Christopher's with the police? What the hell is going on?" Eddie's not proud of the way he raises his voice, especially not in the fruit aisle, where a mother with her toddler gives him a dirty look on her way past, but he's so shocked and panicked he can't stop himself from blurting out, "Buck, what the fuck happened? You were picking Christopher up from school today! Where does jail fit into this?!"

"Eddie, I'm sorry." Buck sighs. "I swear I'll explain everything when you get here, but I don't have a lot of time left on this call and I'm kind of freaking out right now. Please, can you just--"

"Of course, yeah, sorry, I'm on my way, give me like twenty minutes, ok? I'm across town."

"Thank you." the line cuts off abruptly and Eddie's left to ponder what could possibly have happened to have led up to his almost nine months pregnant husband being arrested as he abandons his cart and runs out into the parking lot.

****************

Eddie nearly gets arrested himself, with the way he's speeding down the highway before turning onto the main road and parking right in front of the station, where only police vehicles are allowed.

The alpha finds his kid with a social worker, happily munching on a donut. “Chris!?” Eddie runs over and engulfs his son in a suffocating hug. “Are you ok? What happened?” 

Christopher pulls away slightly, nodding. “I’m ok. Bucky got in trouble ‘cause the lady at the park lied. Officer Reyes said he’s gonna bring him out soon.” 

The social worker explains the whole story to Eddie, “Thankfully there were a lot of witnesses who corroborated the events. Your husband should be out in a few minutes; it was all just an awful misunderstanding. The woman at the park is in custody right now for giving the police a false accusation and wasting everybody’s time.”  

Eddie’s shoulders slump in relief and he practically falls into a chair nearby, pulling Christopher onto his lap and holding him tight around the middle. “Is he ok? Buck is pregnant. He’s due in two weeks.” 

The social worker gives him a sympathetic look. “I’m sure he’s in good hands. Officer Reyes will have him out here in a couple of minutes.” 

****************

After a couple of minutes turns to five, turns to ten, Eddie starts to get angsty. Which is why it’s a good thing, when he happens to spot Athena rounding the corner and into the station. He calls over to her and she furrows her brows in concern before making her way across to them. 

“Eddie? Christopher? What’s going on?” 

“It’s a long story.” Eddie sighs, “But Buck is being held in a cell right now, they said an officer Reyes was supposed to bring him down here, that he was free to go, but that was forever ago,” he exaggerates. “Can you please find out what’s taking so long?” 

“Of course.” 

****************

Buck sobs openly when his alpha enters the room, “Eddie!” he calls out desperately. 

Athena holds Buck close and looks up. “He’s in labor. Contractions are less than a minute apart. He needs to start pushing.” 

Eddie doesn’t hesitate, though his brain feels like it’s about to short circuit if even one more insane thing happens within these twenty four hours. He drops between Buck’s knees and reaches out to squeeze his hand. “Hey, I’m here, I’m here, you’ve got this, ok? Cause I’ve got you.” 

“I’m scared.” Buck admits, tears sliding down face, and he’s shaking like a leaf, terrified that something will go wrong. “I don’t--” he groans pitifully against another contraction. “Don’t wanna have her in here.” 

“I know baby, I know, but she’s coming now, Buck. She’s not gonna wait for us to make it to a hospital. She’s impatient,” Eddie kisses his hand, squeezing again, comfortingly. “Just like you.” 

Buck huffs. “No, like you. Y-you never wait for your soup to cool down.” 

“My Tia’s sopa is worth the burnt tongue.” Eddie plays along, trying to distract him from the pain. “Baby, I need you to push, ok? I know this isn’t how we pictured any of this, but it’s time.” 

Buck nods through the tears and steels himself. 

“Good, good, now push, c’mon, you can do this. I’m right here.” 

****************

“You look handsome in your mugshot.” Eddie tells Buck, staring at the photo he asked Athena to send him on his phone.

Buck glares at the alpha. “Funny.” 

Eddie leans down to kiss the frown off his face. “Sorry, too soon?” 

Buck turns the other way in bed with an annoyed huff. “You’re on baby night duty for the rest of the week.” he shuts the lamp light off and then the room is dim with just the moon peaking in through their blinds. 

“Hey,” Eddie sits up, tilting his head. It’s been over a month since the incident, and sure, it hadn’t been pleasant, but Buck and their baby had made it through just fine, health intact, and in the hospital Buck hadn’t seemed too phased after the ordeal, mostly content with Christopher and the baby curled up against and on him. “That was a stupid joke, I’m sorry.” 

Buck gulps. He’s being way too sensitive about this. Everything turned out alright and shortly after the whole thing had passed Chimney had even teased him that of course only Buck would have bad enough luck to end up giving birth in a holding cell. And Buck had laughed it off. 

Mostly because he’d been relieved. 

And then of course with the new baby the last month has been a whirlwind of constant activity, of making sure all her needs are met, of making sure Christopher’s not feeling neglected, of debating on when he should start thinking about going back to work and--

Eddie’s heart leaps when he hears Buck’s sharp intake of breath. “Buck?” 

Buck sits up now, too, swiping miserably at the tears that suddenly won’t stop falling. “Sorry, I--ignore me. I didn’t--” he sniffles. “I haven’t really thought about that day since--everything’s been so busy with--you know?--and--” he cuts himself off with a choked off sob. “It’s the hormones.” 

It’s been four weeks now and his hormones from the pregnancy are still driving him every which way and he feels ridiculous right now, crying over something he should have processed a month ago already. 

Eddie wraps his arms around Buck and pulls him between his legs and against his chest. “Let it out.” he says. “I’m here. I’ve got you.” 

Buck curls into Eddie and releases all emotion he hadn’t realized he’d been keeping all pent up inside. The fear, the anguish--Buck lets himself be held, coddled, loved. 

It feels good. 

After he’s cried for what feels like ages Buck rests the side of his head on Eddie’s shoulder and exhales. “You know Christopher wanted to name her Tuubee?” he murmurs. 

Eddie, who’s rubbing up and down his husbands back, pauses a moment. “’Tuubee’?” he repeats. 

Buck half smirks against his shoulder. “Two B. The cell where she was born.”

.

[gofancyninjaworld]

Meta: What rough beast slouches to be born?

Right, webcomic chapter 125 has raised quite a few questions about cyborgs and I purposely left it aside. Until now.  I’m sorry for the length, but I’m only allowed one ‘readmore’. :(

What we knew

Many moons ago for us, 9 or so weeks ago for them, Genos showed up at Saitama’s doorstep like a refugee from another world, telling a tale of destroyed towns, rampaging cyborgs, and desperate revenge quests.   It’s seemed rather far-fetched, particularly as not much has happened on that front.   Over the course of the story, we’ve had little bits of independent corroboration about the veracity of his story.  The town that he was born in was definitely erased from the map.  Yes, a cyborg is wanted in connection with the incident. 

But where is that guy? Does it have anything to do with the powered suit-flogging cyborgs seen early on the series? Does it have anything to do with the ‘glimpse behind the scenes’ chapter the manga offered us with Drive Knight (but no context as to how that glimpse fitted into the wider story)?  Come to that, where are all the cyborgs?

To start with, there are a lot of cyborgs of various sorts in OPM.  Quite a few moons ago, I wrote a bit about them, drawing a distinction between those who used parts to replace lost function and those who looked at it as a change of identity: “Is the Organization a Claw Analogue?”

 Chapter 125 has been surprisingly good about confirming some of what I surmised about cyborgs, but it’s brought some very good additional information!  On we go!

There are cyborgs; and then there are Cyborgs

Our ambassador through the world of cyborgs is new Neo Hero recruit Koko (Solitude), who modified his body for the world of cyborg fighting, only he was a little too successful and no one would bet on him.  We see him scanning various people and passing commentary on them.

The first to give him serious pause is Webigaza, who lost six months of life to getting her body modifications done -- no wonder she’s pissed off that her rival has self-destructed in the interim.

Koko is shaken by her having 71% of her body modified.

obsessive determination is terrifying to look at

Percentage body modification of the sort Koko is used to seeing, 30% maximum, you can do right here right here and now.  It’s equivalent to losing a leg and most of the other. Here and now, we can also do brain implants to control tremors or fits or some neurological conditions,  replace part of the heart, spine fusions, quite a few bits and pieces.  The sort of modifications Koko is used to seeing are very functional ones that make sense for someone looking to get an edge in fighting for money.  They’re also along the lines of what we’ve seen with One-Shotter or Death Gatling.

If you lose and replace all four limbs, that's 50% of your body modified. While quadruple amputees unfortunately exist IRL,  I don’t know if anyone has had the kind of money, physical fitness and pure grit to do that.  Nevertheless it’s not technically impossible. 60% sounds about right before you're now looking at breaking into the more vital parts of your body.  The point at which the risk involved just can't be justified in terms of restoring function or health. I’m emphasising that because I’m going to come back to this point.   He’s shaken because modifications that extensive aren’t about simply gaining an edge; they’re being willing to exchange serious bodily harm for serious power.  It says a lot about who Webigaza is.

Within the Hero Association, I think we do know a hero round about that 60% mark.  Jet Nice Guy comes to mind.  He sports an armored exterior, powerful artificial limbs (which will need internal reinforcement to not just rip up his body), but his innards are all human. After the way he started to bleed out after Nyan slashed him, I realised that the reason it looked like intestines when the Deep Sea King ripped him open is because they were... >.<  Sorry, dude. 

the worst of both worlds -- too modified to have an easy life, still too weak to deal with the real monsters that exist

Scary enough, but then the security staff come in to stop the kerfuffle that Koko and his buddy, Mars Leo, were causing.  Koko scanned them and was stunned into horror:

as disciplined and ruthless a pair of killers as you could never hope to lay eyes on.  Definitely not frothing at the mouth, these two!

These two have modified themselves so extensively they’re almost inhuman. 94, 95% body modification is equivalent to having only 3.5 - 4.2 kg of live mass left assuming an original live mass of 70 kg.  And, if the similar naming convention didn’t tip you off to it, it’s around the sort of hyper-extensive modification we see Genos having. [See under the readmore for a first-principles estimation I did a long time ago.]  Maybe Drive Knight too if he’s a cyborg.   What kind of power have they exchanged their human bodies for?  What kind of people are willing to do that to themselves? Koko is very sure that he does NOT want to know.

When he tells you who he is, believe him

That’s dating advice often given to ladies overlooking obvious red flags  but it goes with great force in OPM. ONE has characters tell us who they are early on, even if it doesn’t mean anything to us for a long time. 

And he’s had Genos be a particularly straightforward and truthful character.  He doesn’t always interpret things correctly, but he says it exactly as he sees it.  Looking at the way the high percentage cyborgs we’ve met thus far either be very inhuman looking or completely disguised as regular human beings,  he’s chosen an appearance that puts both his humanity and mechanical nature on display.

Something that the chapter has brought up that I've kept saying to people on the Discord and on Reddit: there is no medically justifiable reason for Genos to have a body as modified as he does.   Which Genos TELLS US for fuck’s sake.  His giant wall of text is a synopsis, no more and no less.

When he says that “...I asked Professor Kuseno to perform a procedure to modify my body. Then I was reborn as a cyborg for justice...”  (Viz)  “...I begged Dr Stench (sic) to transform me into a cyborg and I was reborn as a cyborg who fights for justice...” (Boon scanslations, who copied verbatim whoever did the webcomic version). It’s nothing to do with health.  Feel free to have whatever headcanons you like, but please don’t confuse them with the story.

But it doesn’t end there.  I look at Destro and Erimin and realise that there’s another perfectly truthful statement that’s been staring us in the face.

Genos knows. Why would he ask a mechanical engineer who uses a wearable battle suit and pilots armed drones to modify his body, let alone modify it to such an insane degree?  Because he knows that Dr Kuseno knows how to build cyborgs like the one who destroyed his town.

We don’t know if Destro and Erimin have any responsibility for the destroyed town, but someone of their ilk does.   Which brings us to a third nakedly truthful statement. When Genos talks of not believing that he could be defeated by anything other than the rampaging cyborg, he’s not anticipating winning because he’s suicidal.  It’s because he’s aware that if he’s throwing rock, so too is his enemy: mutual annihilation is the best he can hope for.

At least until he met Saitama. And started to hope for not mutual destruction, but victory (check the difference in chapter 108 of the webcomic).

a world away from the attitude of mutually-assured destruction he started with.

Stepping away from the text a bit, it casts a different light on why he’s been so desperate to learn from Saitama. Learning Saitama's secret is his balance-breaker. He wants something other than rock, that is guaranteed to smash whatever rock his enemy might throw.    But that’s not all there is.   As Garou said, once he discovered Blue Fire’s flamethrower, once you know how a freakish weapon works, you know it.  Any edge a new weapon might give Genos is liable to be studied and replicated  (see how quickly Dr Kuseno was able to reverse engineer and adapt the principles of G-4′s curving energy beams).   But Saitama’s strength is unphysical: no matter how closely you inspect his body, you can never relate the physicality of Saitama’s body to the power he can generate.  That unphysicality, that’s what Genos wants too.   It also puts in context why he’s been so fascinated by psychic power and wants to learn it if at all possible.

neat trick, I’ll take two!  Genos dodging G4′s beams in chapter 38, and putting the principle of them to good use in chapter 120

And finally, since in his world, knowledge is literally power, it gives yet another layered reason Genos is so determined to keep anyone else from becoming Saitama’s disciple.  If they learn his secret too, then the advantage he seeks will be lost.  (that it doesn’t work quite that way for Saitama is a fact for us to enjoy and for him to find out).

Nothing is as scary as a human being

Nothing is as scary as a human being is one of the things that Reigen says to Tome on occasion. It’s in full force in OPM.  Monsters may be strong, but they all live in the now.  Only a human being could have put together the Monster Association.   When it comes to cyborgs, their abilities may be inhuman but their thoughts, imaginations, morals and appetites are all 100% human.   It’s a terrifying combination.

There’s something I missed when I likened The Organization to a Claw Analogue. In Mob Psycho 100, the protagonists are children and they're fighting an organisation made up of over-grown children -- adults who have refused to grow up. In One-Punch Man, the protagonists are adults and the bad humans in the story are very much adults too.   With calculated cruelty and depravity to match. When The Organization bares its claws for real, this is going to get so brutal.

If Genos has not been standing still, then neither has his enemy.  From the manga, even if we hold Drive Knight blameless and independent of all this mess, his besting Nyan told us that cyborgs can indeed come crazy-strong and highlighted how much more work Genos had yet to do. It also highlighted how very clever and calculating cyborgs can be -- well, they’re human, duh!  If I was worried for his prospects then,  in the webcomic, Genos is nowhere near as psychologically, physically or emotionally ready as his manga version is.   And the guys who look to be his enemies aren’t going to be cutting him any slack.   They’re very real.  They’re not mad.  And they’re closer than he ever imagined.

Fighting monsters is barely adequate preparation for whatever it is that’s to come.

Whenever Genos gets dragged into whatever it is those cyborgs are up to  -- or runs into it, since he claims he’s still hunting the rampaging cyborg -- ‘rough’ doesn’t begin to describe it.

Extra Stuff

Edited from an answer I gave on Reddit to the question of how much of Genos was still organic about 2 years ago.  It’s unexpectedly relevant!

Short answer: by mass, under 10% , assuming he would have weighed  approximately 70 kg. By function, quite a bit.

 The long answer.

I’m going to write this starting from what is most readily observable and readily inferred to the least. In appreciation of this being a work of fiction that treats physical laws lightly, I too am taking a more-or-less approach and will keep technical terms to a minimum. I'm also not a medic and I don't play one on TV -- assume generous hand-wavium. Items in {curly brackets} are incidental notes you can skip.

Level 0: Canonically observable.  The least controversial observation is that Genos does have an organic brain. Genos does not live in a lab, but is able to live largely independently, including being able to eat whatever he likes with no ill-effect. Not just that, but he lives an active and hard-fighting life that appears to do him no permanent harm (I will return to this in a few paragraphs).  What can we take from this?

Edit: There is also ONE’s initial settings for Genos, which I quote here from the Hero Data Book

ONE: There's no need to visit Dr. Kuseno's place every time when his wrist break down, because he got his own spare parts at hand. Dr Kuseno's Lab is there In case for a big reparation job, a drastic upgrade or an examination.

It’s tempting to think that because we see that he definitely has a brain that’s all there is – the brain in a jar phenomenon, so to speak. Something a lot of people miss is that the spinal cord proper isn’t optional either -- it’s a core part of the central nervous system.  Spinal cords are a lot shorter than most people think they are, averaging 12 inches long for women and 15 inches for men.  The rest are nerve processes that can be cut and will regrow (within limits). We’re also happy to allow for nerves and their endings -- there must be an interface for the prosthetics so they're under the fine voluntary control that we see. However, that’s not all that there can be. The Cartesian mind-body duality is completely wrong when it comes to physiology. Our brains are intimately bound with our bodies and our bodies with our brains. So what does one need?

Level 1: Perfusion. This is the most obvious one. Without a blood supply providing oxygen, glucose and removing waste products from our brains, we have 4-5 seconds of consciousness available, 2-3 minutes in which we can escape brain damage and 8-10 minutes in which not to die. So, number one is a reliable blood supply.  Absolutely necessary therefore are a means of generating the various blood cells, perfusing and distributing them and disposing of damaged cells (red blood cells have a lifespan of 1-2 months). While not as acutely important, a self-sustaining blood supply is also the basis of a functioning immune system.  It's a bit of an oops moment when your super-killer cyborg catches a cold and dies.

Accordingly, bone marrow is essential as a source of hematopoietic (blood-forming) stem cells. A suitably reduced blood vessel and lymphatic vessel system is also needed to run the blood where it needs to go. {An awesome feature of living beings is that new blood vessels will be recruited to where they need to go and redundant branches pruned back, a process known as vascular remodelling}. A reduced liver and possibly spleen will be needed to appropriately destroy worn out blood cells. At least one functional kidney, in the role of producing the hormone erythropoietin, without which red blood cells will not be formed. Not essential: a heart and lungs, which he definitely doesn't have. How much blood is needed?  I’ll come to that answer once we’ve tallied how much body is needed.

Additionally, since part of perfusion is getting rid of metabolic waste, a liver and kidney will be absolutely indispensable.  

Level 2: Homoeostasis. A living organism has a very narrow range in which its internal environment, such as oxygen saturation, temperature, pH (acidity or alkalinity) amongst other things can vary without harm.

There are around 40 or so hormones, the signalling molecules that keep us going as functional concerns, regulating such things as blood pressure, salt/water balance, available energy, sleep cycle, body temperature, mood, immune system... the list goes on. Each has a stupid number of secondary functions and interacts with others in a ludicrous number of ways (note highly scientific language). Their levels vary and change on the order of seconds to hours. It's a good job that the main organiser of homoeostasis, the hypothalamus, is part of the brain. {Incidentally, this is why a brain-dead cadaver cannot be kept ‘alive’ on life support indefinitely – everything falls out of sync and eventually to pieces.} To do this artificially is to have your cyborg never leave the lab: if you're not constantly monitoring and adjusting levels, then they will die. Fortunately, as mentioned, a living, functional brain has the control network needed to keep everything working without the extensive and expensive effort. Just add air, water and food (in that priority).

At this point, we've already met most of the organs needed to maintain homoeostasis in their capacity of maintaining a blood supply. We need to add some bone, not just to serve as a niche (living environment) for the bone marrow and its stem cells mentioned previously but as a source and sink for minerals, the adrenal glands and the thyroid gland. Finally, one must not forget pancreatic islets -- or it'll be for nothing as he goes into a diabetic coma.

Level 3: Energy.   Speaking of food, a brain needs essential fatty acids for turnover and lots and lots of glucose for energy. It’s entirely possible to supply nutrients as total parenteral nutrion (TPN for short).  People whose digestive systems have completely failed get individually formulated TPN solutions, which requires that they spend several hours a day feeding it into their blood supply. Not something we see Genos do.  And yes, you heard it here: not everyone poops, but everyone sure as hell pees.  While a brain only weighs about 1.5 kg, it uses up about 500 calories a day as glucose, so 700 ish calories a day should suffice for all the needs of his live mass. This bears no relationship to the amount of food we see Genos put away on occasion. Why hasn’t he wrecked his liver in a matter of weeks? The answer would appear to lie in the artificial digestive system Dr. Kuseno has given him which turns food into biofuel. It must be patched into a feedback loop which allows it to only supply what’s physiologically necessary at any given time. Lucky for some!

Level 4: So how much body does that add up to exactly?  Nothing says you have to keep the necessary organs and blood vessel network the same size. With only a 1.5 kg brain to support, many can be shrunk a good 50% if not more. A total living mass of 7 kg would be quite feasible. We know from organ-on-a-chip experiments (and from unfortunate people who have lost part of their organs) that provided the essential architecture of the tissue is respected, they will work fine. Nothing says you have to keep them in the same place as the original organs were -- you can encapsulate it all in a can and shorten the nerves serving the organs to a more rational, manageable length. It's nice and compact and can be protected as heavily as the brain is.

Now we’re in a position to answer how much blood Genos has. There are about 70 ml of blood per kilogram of body weight, so at ~ 7 kg, we’re talking about 500 ml of blood. For comparison, the typical 70 kg person has 5 litres of blood. Why does this matter?  Because it allows us to answer a question many may be curious about: how often does Genos get hurt?

The answer is: Almost Never. With so little body, and with most of that body consisting of aptly named vital organs, even small injuries can turn catastrophic in no time.  Genos will bleed out with around 150 ml of blood loss, which is less than half of what is donated in a typical blood donation.  Horrible and dramatic as the smashes he gets into are, it’s more akin to a Formula 1 race car tumbling end over end and catching fire, only for the driver to walk out unscathed.  His cyborg parts are replaceable and can be sacrificed to protect what’s irreplaceable if need be.

[ashfountainfanfics]

“This is ridiculous,” Mike sighs in exasperation, “my friends and I had nothing to do with any of this.”

The detective at the other end of the table doesn’t seem to accept this. She’s a recent transplant from another state. Most of the Derry police department leaves Mike be, summing up his interest in police matters as a side effect of his fascination with Derry history. She doesn’t seem to be interested in giving that same assumption.

“You keep saying that,” she pushes, “but I think it’s strange that you show up to all the crime scenes and that two of your friends harassed one of the victims. Not to mention that Henry Bowers was found dead under your place of residency.”

Mike is growing more and more frustrated. It was surreal when the police showed up at dinner last night. The Losers Club plus the small group of cops nearly overwhelmed the small Italian place they’d been enjoying.

Bev, Ben, and Eddie are sitting in the lobby while Richie and Bill are in cuffs. Mike is somewhere between the two options or so he figures. He’s not sure he likes those odds.

Detective Lopez fixes him with a look that lacks any hint of retreat or gentility. She’s a no nonsense kind of woman. Her curly, dark hair is cropped in a pixie cut and her face is bare and set in a deadpan expression. Her blouse is a gray button up and the lanyard of her badge is tucked under her collar.

“It’s a small town,” Mike responds, “coincidences are everywhere.”

“Nothing is ever just a coincidence. Did you know Mr. Bowers?”

Mike calmly explains how Henry Bowers was the resident bully when they were children. How often that bullying went past simple pranks and low grade violence. To stop at calling Henry a bully was like trying to call Ted Bundy just an unfortunate date.

“You can ask Ben about his scar, that should give you a clue.”

“I understand that Mr Bowers had a history of violence and mental illness-“

“Being an angry white boy is not a mental illness,” Mike points out.

“Agreed,” Detective Lopez says flatly, “but that isn’t my point. My point is that several children and a man named Adrian Melon are dead and the escape of Mr. Bowers does not correlate with those deaths.”

“It doesn’t correlate with the arrival of my friends either. They weren’t here.”

“But you were.”

Mike is taken aback by the remark. All this time he’s been keeping watch, dreading the day that Derry needed saving but looking to save it nonetheless. Not that this town ever gifted him much beyond tolerance. He has no adult friends here, no significant others, only a series of routine faces that note his presence. Derry, Maine isn’t friendly or good. It’s not even scenic but he wanted to save it anyway. His jaw tightens.

“Of course I was here. I live in Derry. I’ve lived here most of my life, where else would I be?”

“You didn’t know these kids. You didn’t know Adrian Melon. Why did you visit the crime scenes? What business did you have being there?”

Detective Lopez is standing over him now with her hands planted on the table. She does this all calmly with very direct body movements. She never lets her frustration get to her. She harnesses it into orderly conduct and in a way it’s terrifying.

But she’s an outsider without all the facts. You can tell she comes from a big city by her demeanor and her thought process. Often a crime is committed by someone close to the victim or someone that makes themselves close. Contrary to the movies, the person most likely to kill you is the one in plain sight and right next to you. Monsters that hide in the dark and stalk you like prey aren’t the norm.

Mike is glad that he and his friends got rid of that norm for Derry.

“Detective Lopez? Have you ever seen someone die-“

“Of course I have. I’m a homicide detective.”

“I wasn’t finished,” Mike insists, “I was asking if you’ve ever seen someone die when you were a child?”

This gives her pause. Her elbows soften the smallest amount and her hesitancy is plain to Mike. She doesn’t sit. There’s no way she’s backing down that quickly but it’s clear she’s listening.

“I can’t say I have, why?”

“If you take the time to look into me a bit more you’ll know that my parents died in a fire and I was in the other room. I was too little to help them. I couldn’t save them.”

Now Detective Lopez sits down. Her posture is unnaturally straight and her gaze is still unwavering. This is either the best she can do to convey being receptive or it’s the most she’s willing to give.

“Can you imagine the sort of impact that has? I couldn’t even put down a sheep on the farm I grew up on. The idea of causing harm to anyone or anything, indirect or necessary or otherwise, still makes me sick. So please, Detective Lopez, don’t insult me with what you’re trying to infer.”

“Be blunt then. What were you doing?”

“Trying to see if there was a way to stop it. If you look at our history, you’ll see there’s a pattern. Every 27 years since the town was formed, a stretch of terrible things happen. That’s longer than I’ve been alive. Longer than my family’s been in Derry.

I thought maybe if I could pay attention for the next phase I could find the connection. I could save them.”

Mike can see that she’s regarding him as an absolute looney but Mike hopes it’s the harmless kind. She can picture him tinfoil hat and all if it means she doesn’t see him as a murderer.

“And what did you find?”

Mike decides that this is as good a time as any to tell one last lie. It’s not like she’d understand the truth of the matter. She’s the type to only accept hard facts and indisputable evidence. There isn’t anything he can show her to back the truth. Nothing but a lot of rubble on Neibolt street.

“I found nothing. Whatever makes this town the way it is, it’s not for me to understand.”

It’s not entirely a lie. Pennywise was just a part of what made Derry the way it is. Its death isn’t going to cure Derry of its bigotry overnight. There will still be small minded people, violent people. Mike will never understand that.

“So you’re giving up? Just like that?”

“I almost died because a literal living relic of my past broke out of an insane asylum and tried to kill me. I think that’s a sufficient wake up call that I’ve wasted too much time on this town and my own baggage.”

Mike can’t tell if she’s buying it or not. Detective Lopez gives away nothing. She’s an absolute professional to the core. Mike respects that. Derry could use someone on the force who can’t be swayed.

“I may need you to call you back in to corroborate a few stories so don’t skip town,” she gives him a curt nod, “You’re free to go.”

Detective Lopez opens the door to Mike’s freedom. Mike has a feeling that the others have been given similar instructions or that they will be given them. He wonders briefly if they should have thought ahead to confirm a set story with each other but he thinks better of it. None of the Losers are crazy enough to tell the truth.

“Hanlon, wait,” the detective stops him as soon as he’s out of the door frame, “tell your comedian friend that making jokes isn’t going to work with me. It’s not endearing and he’s digging a much bigger hole for himself.”

“Ma’am, with all due respect, trying to get him to stop is a joke in and of itself.”

—-

“Her first name is Jennifer!” Richie shouts as if wounded, “Last name Lopez! What did you want me to do?”

Richie can tell that his lawyer is not amused. His voice sounds really far away and it is. He’s driving to Derry as fast as he can.

“Richie, this isn’t your usual legal trouble. This isn’t stolen material or a damaged room-“

“That was one time and I was still a baby! How was I supposed to know what ecstasy looks like? You’re about to see the podunk town I grew up in, man.”

“They’re talking homicide!”

“I still cry over Bambi, for fuck’s sake. Do you seriously think I’d kill anyone for fun?”

“Of course not.”

Roger Clemming has been Richie’s lawyer since the start of his career. He’s a cousin of his manager and normally Roger has no qualms about representing Richie. Most of his legal cases aren’t even his; the man doesn’t write his own stand up so he can’t exactly be held responsible if it’s stolen. Richie Tozier is an easy client.

“I didn’t even mean to kill him. He had Mike and it was clear that old Bowers was totally batshit. I reacted. I don’t know.”

“So we have a witness. That’s good. The more witnesses the better. I just wish you hadn’t pissed off the Detective.”

“Yeah yeah I’m an asshole but I didn’t say anything about the case. And I stayed away from ass jokes!”

“I’m sure that’s what will save you.”

The Derry police station is not a big place. The holding cell is visible to the front lobby and there’s only two private rooms; the sheriff’s office and an interrogation room. Richie can see Eddie, his arms crossed and his face looking like he bit into a lemon.

Stressed out, Eddie spaghetti? You’re not on this end of the station.

“Be honest with me, Roger, am I going to jail or not?” Richie clings to a rare moment of seriousness.

“You defended someone from an escaped convict. If you sit back and don’t make an ass out of yourself we may not even go to court.”

Richie sighs and he wishes he could telepathically share this news with Eddie. He stares down Eddie in the hopes that somehow they do share a psychic link. Eddie remains pissed at some very specific wall instead.

“And, uh, my friend? Bill?”

“I’m not sure a trial can be avoided on that, but as long as there’s no physical evidence then the best they’ve got is circumstantial with no real motive. They’ll be grasping at straws if they charge him. Dead kids do make for angry parents though and sometimes they’ll pull a guy to trial because they’ve got no one else to blame.”

“So 50/50 chance?”

“40/60 of an arrest being made and I can’t begin to estimate the odds on him being found guilty. That all comes down to the kind of town your Derry, Maine.”

“Fuuuuuuuuuuuck!” Richie groans and buries his face into his free hand.

“Watch it, Tozier,” the nearby cop warns him.

Richie apologizes and feigns composure.

“Sorry kid,” Roger’s using his turn signal given the soft ticking in the background, “I’ll do my best but I make no promises.”

Richie mutters a sentiment of gratitude before hanging up. It would still be the better part of a day and a half before his representation gets here. Technically he’s not even sure if Bill wants Roger to represent him but Richie figures it couldn’t hurt to arrange it. After all, do either of them really want to trust whatever a Derry lawyer looks like?

---

Bill settles in for the night. To be honest, he’s slept in far more uncomfortable places than a holding cell. He wasn’t always a big famous writer. He remembers when he had to sleep in his shitty, used Toyota back in the early days. Now he’s got two houses, a celebrity wife, and a second movie deal. None of which he’s particularly sure he wants anymore.

It’s startling how unconcerned Bill is about the charge against him. He’s been taken in on suspicion of murder but Bill knows damn well he didn’t kill that kid and Detective Lopez doesn’t have much of anything on him except that he was seen yelling at the child earlier at the day and had been spotted at the carnival. 

Bill didn’t want to seem entirely unhelpful though despite knowing they were never going to catch what killed that boy. He offered an account of what he thought was an animal attack but it was difficult to make out. Richie’s lawyer probably won’t like that he talked without him present but Bill doesn’t really care.

Bill blamed the yelling on a mental breakdown. His hometown memories were complicated and a failing marriage and work pressure wasn’t helping. When he saw a kid about Georgie’s age living in his old house, he lost it. It was easy to sell this because it wasn’t really a lie. Detective Lopez did make a comment to Bill about how childhood trauma seems very convenient in this town but Bill didn’t know how to respond outside of confusion.

“All right, everyone,” a tired cop announces into the lobby, “Y’all should get yourselves to bed. Visiting hours are over.”

The other members of the Loser’s Club are essentially draped across each other in the lobby and half asleep already. Ben is in the middle like some sort of handsome centerpiece. He has an arm over Beverly and Mike is leaning on his free shoulder. Meanwhile, Eddie is sitting on the floor at Ben’s feet looking tense and irritated.

They gather themselves up except for Eddie who continues to sit on the floor.

“Eddie, honey,” Beverly says softy, “it’s time to go.”

“Richie and Bill didn’t do anything wrong. I will leave when they do.”

Bill chuckles a bit at this and looks over to Richie on the other side of the holding cell. The look on his face gives him pause because it’s not what he was expecting. Eddie looks genuinely frightened in here. He’s also watching Eddie as if looking at the last boat on a sinking ship; one that’s just too far out of reach. Bill isn’t sure what to make of that.

“They’ll be okay,” Mike assures the sulking man on the floor, “I know these cops. They’re decent.”

Eddie doesn’t respond.

“Sweetie,” Bev is getting a hint of irritation to her voice, “we can come back in the morning.”

“I refuse to get up. This is a protest.”

Bev sighs and looks to Ben.

“We’re going to have to force him.”

“Force him?” Ben asks back incredulously, “Force him how?”

“Ben, he weighs 90 pounds soaking wet, what do you think?”

“Oh Lord,” Mike immediately understands the implication.

Ben thinks about it for a second and it dawns on him the same exact time it dawns on Eddie. Ben is briefly horrified by the idea.

“You wouldn’t” Eddie challenges him.

Ben looks helplessly at Bev who shrugs as if to say that there’s no other way. Eddie recoils as Ben clearly accepts his orders and approaches Eddie with strong arms ready to lift him. His stance is that of someone attempting to capture a wild animal.

“Don’t touch me! Don’t you fucking touch me!” Eddie screams while rapidly kicking his legs to slide away.

Bill again turns to get Richie’s reaction to all this. He’s pleased to see Richie desperately stifling a chuckle. The cop stationed here for the evening seems to be frozen in disbelief as one grown man is trying to catch another and that other fully grown adult man is essentially crab scuttling his way to safety.

On reflex, Eddie sends a hard kick and gets Ben right in the shin. Ben stops his pursuit to cradle it.

“Eddie! What the hell!?” Bev scolds him.

“Now that’s enough!” the cop finally sees fit to reanimate, “I’ve seen some bull shit in my day but I won’t have a brawl in the station! Sort yourself out or I’ll put you in holding! Got it?”

Eddie gets up from the floor.

“Oh no,” Richie says quietly.

Bill’s confused but looks back to the scene playing out before him. Eddie looks apologetic and humbly confronts Ben.

“Sorry, Ben” he says meekly.

“It’s just my shin,” Ben responds, “It’ll bruise but it’s fine.”

“No, I’m sorry about this.”

Eddie uses his whole body to send a punch right into the side of Ben’s scruffy and very shocked face. Eddie’s fist retreats just as quickly as it had departed and he’s shaking out the pain of contact. Ben cups his cheek, obviously not very wounded. The man’s essentially built like a brick house for fuck’s sake. This does get the cop moving though.

Eddie is escorted into the holding cell with Bill and Richie. Richie looks in awe of Eddie either because he was so reckless or stupid Bill can’t figure which. He does have sneaking suspicion however that Eddie’s little stunt has more to do with Richie than with Bill himself.

Eddie is still pouting and sits square on the floor all over again.

“The little guy will be free to go after he cools down, unless you want to press charges,” the cop asks Ben.

“What? No. No… it’s fine.”

Mike quietly exits as quickly as possible. He’s clearly done with the nonsense that just played out. Bev and Ben stay behind a minute as Bev checks his cheek over again. Bill can make out the soft conversation they’re having but just barely. She’s apologizing for her plan, saying she didn’t think Eddie would fight that much.

“No no, it was a good idea,” Ben assures her.

Bill can see the way that comment washes over her. Ben was always full of a certain sincerity and purity that none of the other Losers ever really had. He’s soft and probably the only one of them that didn’t end up with a ridiculous amount of paranoia or cynicism. Bill doubts that Ben is unscathed but it looks like he at least had the good sense not to unleash his unknown trauma on anyone else.

Unlike Bill and his marriage to Audra.

It’s painfully clear to Bill right now just how much Audra looks like Beverly. They’ve got similar frames, similar facial structures and they’re both redheads. Granted, Audra’s red comes from a salon but it suits her as naturally as it does Bev. They could be sister’s.

‘Why can’t you be how I want you to be?’ Bill remembers saying to Audra not long before he took off to Derry. He’s disgusted with the comment now. He’s disgusted with the fact that he kissed Beverly and it meant more to him than his entire marriage. He’s disgusted with himself.

“See you in the morning, boys,” Bev waves to everyone in holding.

She doesn’t give Bill any special treatment. No lingering eye contact or wistful gaze. It’s as if she never had a crush on him at all, as if they’ve never shared anything. Before it always felt as if she was looking to Bill and now she’s looking at Ben.

Despite a sense of heartbreak, Bill takes comfort in that difference.

---

There’s only two beds in the holding cell. One of which is already taken up by Bill who is sound asleep. Eddie is still sitting on the floor and up against the wall. He watches for the cop to doze off. Sure enough, he’s starting to snore in his chair.

Eddie quietly and carefully scootches over to Richie. Richie’s been lying on other cot, entertaining himself with some sort of impromptu, silent puppet show. He breaks from it as he notices Eddie encroaching on his personal bubble.

“Hey,” Eddie whispers.

“Hi…” Richie answers.

Eddie isn’t sure of how to move forward. Originally he had mapped out exactly what to say after the gang’s celebratory dinner. He was going to apologize for kissing Richie, explain again that he had panicked. He would ask that they move forward from this and go back to normal. He wanted to reassure him that he is very alive and not going to die anytime soon too. He wanted to know how much it meant to him that Richie cared so much. He never knew he was that important to anyone.

Eddie did not plan on embracing his inner chaos and landing himself in a cell for the night. He still isn’t entirely sure what came over him in that moment. The idea of leaving just hit so hard and quickly that he couldn’t do it.

“I went to jail for you,” he glares at Richie.

Well that’s not a good start, Eddie mentally notes.

“I see this. I’ll file it under your list of uncharacteristically brave fuckery.”

“I mean that I want to talk. We need to talk.”

“Oh.”

There’s a pause between them. That pause grows into a prolonged period. That period slinks into awkward silence. Eddie is aware since he brought up the conversation that he should actually start it but his head is empty. All he can think about is how the stab wound in his cheek hurts and how flustered Richie looks.

“Look, man,” Richie gives in, “We don’t have to talk. I get it. You panicked. Case closed. Mystery solved. We both deserve a Scooby snack for that epic conclusion.”

Eddie realizes for the first time that Richie is hiding behind his humor. He feels like an idiot for not noticing sooner but his eyes are a dead give away. Richie is making more eye contact now than usual. It’s like he’s forcing himself to present a put together facade. He’s watching Eddie to make sure he believes it.

Eddie wonders if it might be prudent to look at Richie in a different light. In childhood, he was always just that asshole friend. He liked to pick on him but never past annoyance. You’d think trying to steer clear of Henry Bowers would have made Eddie resistant to a friendship built on teasing. In retrospect, Eddie’s not sure what did open him up to it. By all logical accounts, Richie shouldn’t mean much of anything to Eddie and vice versa.

“Why do you do that?” he decides to approach it directly.

“I’m a comedian, Eds. Cracking a bad joke is as natural to me as breaking wind.”

Eddie could easily feed into this but he doesn’t want to. He physically sits up straighter and takes a calm breath in. It’s tempting to write Richie off as immature and continue down the rabbit hole of humor at Eddie’s expense but he refuses. Richie is keeping a secret of some kind which seems painfully obvious to Eddie now. If he’s ever going to move forward from recent events he’ll need to know what it is.

“What are hiding?” he leans in close.

Richie’s face loses all color. He stammers for a moment and Eddie is secretly pleased with himself. He’s so used to Richie getting at him that it is deeply satisfying for the tables to turn. Eddie tries not to stay in that mentality though. He wants answers not revenge.

“Bill’s the one with the stutter,” Eddie points out, “fess up. You’re hiding something from me and you’re using your crap jokes to do it. I won’t go to sleep until you tell me what’s going on.”

It seems a little overkill but Eddie is feeling the dramatics today. They saved each other’s lives earlier. They should be able to talk. Eddie debates their closeness as he waits for an answer. Sometimes it felt like they were the closest two people in the room and other times they were the furthest. Eddie wants to know why.

“I- uh,” Richie is sweating at the forehead, “I want to say first that- shit no. Okay, growing up I- fuck no that’s going to take forever.”

Eddie continues to glare down his friend. It’s not that he wants to force the truth out of him but rather his concern is growing. Showing Richie his soft side doesn’t come naturally though. So here he is trying to be a good friend but acting like a displeased asshole.

“Okay, here goes,” Richie takes in a breath of confidence, “Dinner.”

“...dinner?”

“Yes.”

“What about… dinner?” Eddie says bewildered before getting accusatory, “I swear to God, Rich, if this is a set up to a mom joke I’ll-“

“Dinner!” Richie says again a bit too loud.

The guard stirs. The two men freeze. A few seconds later a loud snore emerges. Eddie sighs in relief. He’s done just enough to end up in here. He doesn’t want to get in enough trouble to stay.

“You and me. Dinner. Us. Dinner. Together. Y’know, dinner?”

Eddie rolls his eyes and relaxes his shoulders. So it’s not a joke about his mom but a joke nonetheless.

“Oh. I get it. Ha ha, very funny. Like a date,” Eddie comments sarcastically.

“Yes.”

Richie isn’t grinning. He not casually avoiding eye contact either as he does with a usual set up. Instead he’s looking directly at Eddie with everything he’s got. It’s the ‘please believe me’ look from before but in an entirely different context. It’s sincere.

Jesus Christ, I think he fucking means it, Eddie panics.

“Okay,” he finds himself saying even as confused internal screaming fills his insides.

“Shit. Really?” Richie is as shocked as Eddie is.

“Yeah.”

“You’re going on a date.”

“Yes.”

“With me.”

“I guess.”

This is all on the premise that Richie is released in time for a date. He may end up in real jail. Then what would they do? A prison dinner date doesn’t have the most enticing ring to it.

Eddie feels like a part of him has detached from his own brain. Whatever his body is doing is past his control now. The surrealism of this unexpected direction broke him.

“Move over,” Eddie demands quietly.

Richie backs up as far as can, looking absolutely befuddled. Eddie climbs into the small space left on the cot. He’s tired. There’s only two cots and one is taken. It makes direct sense to share at least when you’re not entirely in your own body anyway.

Eddie remembers briefly about how the two of them would often share the hammock as kids. Eddie unceremoniously plopped himself in and fought for space so often that it became customary. He never did it to anyone but Richie though. He was the only one.

Richie braves putting an arm around Eddie and at first Eddie’s spine goes rigid. He’s not ready to think about this, not even sure if acting on it is right yet. He still feels far away from all this even as he Richie’s body heat cradles him.

Something about the way Richie’s hand cups the small of his stomach feels...good. Eddie’s body relaxes and he realizes how fucking exhausted he is. It’s been an exceptionally long 48 hours. A little shut eye and a cuddle isn’t so ludicrous. Even if it is with Richie Trashmouth Tozier.

“Just keep it in your pants,” Eddie yawns before falling asleep.

[crystalninjaphoenix]

Resurgence

A Jacksepticeye Fanfiction

Part Fifteen: Ignorance Is Bliss

First Part | Previous | Next

Summary: The boys are scrambling to figure out how to reach Jackie. Meanwhile, those two detectives are starting to realize things in the world aren’t what they thought.

(Sorry it’s been a while updating this, I had other things I wanted to write. But I hope this part will be worth it)

“Please pick up, please pick up, please pick up,” Lydia whispered, listening to the phone ring on the other side. She’d already tried calling Malcolm’s cell three times, and nobody answered. Now she was resorting to calling his roommate.

After some time, the line picked up. “Hello?”

Lydia let out a deep breath of relief. “Hi, Benji. Is Malcolm home? I’ve been trying to call him for an hour now and he hasn’t picked up.”

“Oh yes, he’s been home for a while. Shut up in his room, though. Do you want me to go get him?”

“Yes, thank you.” Lydia waited in silence, tapping her fingers nervously on the arm of her couch she was sitting on. It was quiet in her apartment, with Rachel having already gone to bed. Over the line she heard footsteps and then a knock on the door, followed by quiet conversation.

“Hey, Lyd, what’s up?” Malcolm’s voice had a shaky note to it. “It’s pretty late, what’re you calling for?”

“Just making sure you got home alright after the late shift,” Lydia said slowly. “Y’know, with how far away you live from the station.”

“I’m fine, I’m fine, I took a shortcut. Is that everything?”

Lydia bit her lip. “Why weren’t you picking up, then? I called your cell three times before I decided to call Benji.”

“My phone...broke,” Malcolm said slowly. 

“Broke?!”

“Broke. While I was on the way home.” A pause. “Anything else?”

“What’s wrong, Malcolm?” Lydia asked.

“Noth-nothing’s wrong!”

“I know you well enough to tell when something’s up,” Lydia said in a low voice. “And I can tell that you’re kinda freaked out right now. So what’s wrong?”

For a moment, there was nothing but interference on the phone line. And then: “Do you...want to meet up tomorrow? I know we have the day off, and maybe...we could meet at the park? Around one or one-thirty? And I can tell you what happened then.”

“You can just...tell me over the phone—”

“No!” Lydia had to lean back from the phone after that word was screamed in her ear. “I—I mean, no, that’d probably be a bad idea. Actually, when we meet up, can you leave your phone at home?”

“Why on Earth—”

“Lydia. Trust me on this.”

Malcolm’s tone silenced her. “Alright, then. I’ll see you tomorrow, one o’clock?”

“Yeah. Bye, Lyd. See ya tomorrow.”

Since they weren’t working that day, Lydia didn’t wear the pantsuit she wore for work. But, she noted, her button-down shirt was still more professional than the purple hoodie Malcolm wore every chance he got. He was currently hiding in the hood, avoiding looking at her while the two of them sat on one of the benches next to a path. “So...?” Lydia prompted.

Malcolm sighed. “I...fuck, I don’t know where to start.”

“Well, it can’t be that hard.” When Malcolm didn’t answer, Lydia sighed and continued. “Look, you weren’t this on edge when you left the station last night. So something must’ve happened between you leaving there and getting home. Your phone...broke, or whatever, so does that have anything to do with this? I bet if you just share what’s on your mind, you’ll feel better. Or if you don’t, I can help you out with whatever it was.”

“I saw a demon,” Malcolm blurted out.

Lydia blinked. “Uh, that was a serious offering, Mal.”

“No no no, really,” Malcolm hurried to say. “So, I took a shortcut through the north part of town—”

“Are you insane?! Do you even know how many dispatches are sent there every week?!”

“Yeah, yeah, but nothing’s ever happened to me there. I know the spaces to avoid. But, uh, I ended up seeing that vigilante in red. He seemed to be in a hurry, and I just...followed him. And, well...”

Lydia listened in silence as Malcolm spilled out everything that happened the previous night. From the vigilante meeting with that magician, the suspect in the Brody case, to the vigilante turning out to be Jackie Parker, another part of the case, to the most insane details: the magician destroying Malcolm’s phone with what was apparently real magic, to him running home, and seeing something out of the corner of his eye...

“It was a demon, I know it was,” Malcolm finished, eyes wide. “It—it disappeared, but I could hear it, like—like static. And I think it was smiling at me.”

Lydia leaned back, staring at her partner. “Mal, are you off your meds?”

 “No, no, I am not!” Malcolm slapped his leg with the flat palm of his hand. “This is a different issue! I’ve just had all of my life and beliefs thrown out of balance, because fucking demons don’t exist, except they do! Fuck!”

“Okay, okay, calm down, dude,” Lydia patted his back in a soothing manner. She didn’t quite understand what was happening. The two of them were skeptics, they’d always been, but now Malcolm was shaking like a leaf and claiming he’d seen magic.

“You don’t believe me,” Malcolm said, narrowing his eyes.

“Well...no,” Lydia admitted. “Honestly, I would be calling Benji and asking him if you’d really been taking your medication, if you hadn’t insisted I leave my phone at home.”

“I think it can use phones to watch people,” Malcolm said, folding his arms and shrinking a bit. “And I know that sounds like a paranoid delusion, but it’s the only conclusion I’ve drawn for everything that happened.”

Lydia sighed deeply. “Look, if you’re sure about this, then I’m not gonna talk you out of it. But I’m gonna ask you to double-check with Benji about the meds.”

“Alright, alright,” Malcolm relented. “But I’m pretty sure I’ve been taking them like I’m supposed to.” He stood up. “And now I’m gonna...I’m gonna go home, if that’s alright with you. I don’t...really feel like being out and about.”

Lydia nodded. “Fair enough. Get some rest, dude. I’ll see you later.” After Malcolm had walked out of sight, she too stood up, and started in the opposite direction. She really didn’t believe his story about magic and demons. But she did believe that he saw the vigilante meet with that magician. And that he figured out who the vigilante actually was beneath that costume. Technically, she wasn’t on duty today. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t, say, go visit a certain Mr. Parker in a certain apartment. 

She didn’t want to arrest the vigilante like some of the more extreme members of the department did. She just wanted him to stop, and leave the crime-fighting to the ones whose job it was. This wasn’t a comic book; running around in a mask and hooded jumpsuit just made you look like an idiot, even if you’d managed to actually catch a fair number of criminals. It didn’t matter what the end result was, just what you did to get there. And vigilantism put yourself and others in danger.

Not to mention, if she went to talk to him...he could tell her what really happened last night with Malcolm. He could tell her that her best friend wasn’t losing it. Or maybe he could tell her he was, but support her in the efforts to help him.

But first, she needed to stop by her apartment. She’d need backup for this.

“So, let me get this straight,” Rachel said, not taking the eyes off the road while she drove. “Malcolm follows this vigilante last night. Finds out who he is, and that he’s meeting with someone wanted by the police. Then he gets caught eavesdropping, the guy steals his phone, blasts it with bloody green lightning, am I getting that right?”

“Yep,” Lydia nodded. “We’re getting close to the apartment complex, by the way.”

“I see. And, after he sees this happen, he seeing a...floating eyeball?”

“That’s what he said.”

“And gets threatened by the wanted man, runs, and sees a demon that can apparently use phones as its own personal spy cameras.”

“Yep.”

Rachel whistled. “And now you’re planning on confronting this vigilante man in the hopes that he can corroborate Malcolm’s story?”

“No, I’m confronting the vigilante man in the hopes that he can explain what happened, and I can talk him out of crime-fighting.”

“And you need me for this?”

“Figured I might,” Lydia shrugged. “You have your whole lawyer-talk thing going on. You can be pretty persuasive.”

“Aw, thank you, love. Is this the building?”

“Yeah, just pull up in that lot over there, we can walk.”

A few minutes later, the two of them were outside Jackie Parker’s apartment door, knocking. Or, more accurately, Lydia was banging on the door while Rachel was standing off to the side, watching with a resigned look. “Mr. Parker, I know you’re in there!” Lydia was shouting. “I really need to talk to you! Don’t worry, you’re not in trouble or anything.”

“I think that would make him think he was, wouldn’t it?” Rachel pointed out.

Lydia made a shush sound. After a few silent seconds, she continued banging, even harder this time. “Parker, open up! This is really important! So I’m demanding at this point that you open this door!”

The door swung open. Not all the way open, but enough for a person to stick their head out of the apartment inside “Will you ever learn how to manners, detective?!”

Lydia blinked in surprise. “You’re not Parker. You’re that doctor fellow. What are you doing here?”

He scowled, folding his arms. It was indeed the same doctor from last week, just wearing a turtleneck sweater instead of a hoodie, with the addition of a pair of glasses. “Well, I live here,” he said sharply.

“You do not. You have an apartment on Greenway.” Lydia narrowed her eyes. “Though I suppose it’s possible that a mysterious disappearance for nine entire months with no explanation whatsoever could lead to them selling it.”

“Precisely.” The doctor adjusted his glasses. “Now, what is so important that the police have come to break down my friend’s door?”

Rachel poked her head in between the two, making Lydia realize that she’d been subconsciously leaning closer to the doctor, edging in. “Well, it’s not the police actually. Hi, my name is Rachel Kikelomo, are you that doctor with the strange last name that Lydia won’t shut up about for the past week?”

The doctor took a step back. “If she has been complaining about a Dr. Schneeplestein, then yes, I think I am. And...you are not a member of the police, are you?”

“Well, technically I’m a member of the judicial system, being a lawyer and all,” Rachel said coolly. “But I’m not here in that capacity. And Lydia is not here as a detective, since today she is off-duty.”

Lydia coughed awkwardly. “Rachel is my...partner. She drove me here and is...support.”

“Ah! I see!” The doctor raised an eyebrow with a smile. “Well, in that case, this is slightly better. We have had enough of police running around. But you are looking for Jackie, are you not?”

Lydia nodded.

“I—I’m afraid he’s not here.”

“Not here?!” Lydia repeated incredulously. “Where else could he be?”

“Well, he has a job, you understand.”

There was something more to it. Lydia noticed the way the doctor’s shoulders had tensed, the way he was very deliberately blocking her view of the rest of the apartment, the way his voice had cracked. “Well, can I have his cell number to call him then?” she said calmly.

“I do not think—I do not think he would appreciate me giving that out to you.” The doctor shifted on his feet.

“Well, I guess that’s understandable.” Lydia leaned forward. “But what isn’t, is the fact that you seem to be hiding something.”

The doctor bristled. “I do not appreciate such accusations.”

“It’s not an accusation if it’s the truth.”

Rachel opened her mouth to say something, then decided against it. She took a step back. She’d been with Lydia long enough to know when she was getting ready to do something rash.

“Even if it was, which it isn’t,” the doctor continued, “since you are not on duty, and would not have a warrant anyway, you must leave when I ask you to, and cannot come inside.”

“Oh, really?” Lydia backed up a few steps, looking for all the world like she was retreating. And then she rushed forward and threw her weight against the door. It flew open, and she landed flat on her face inside the apartment. She groaned. Honestly, she’d been expecting more resistance, apparently the doctor wasn’t as strong as she’d thought, which still wasn’t that strong.

She climbed to her feet and looked around the apartment living area. This was the second time she’d been in here, and it looked basically exactly the same. Not only because the furniture and everything was the same, but also because the same collection of people were inside. Brody was curled up asleep on the beanbag, arms wrapped around his head like he was protecting himself from something. Sitting on the couch was a man who she couldn’t quite remember the name of, but who was dressed in a fancy vest and bow tie. His hands were frozen in midair, apparently having been interrupted in the middle of making a gesture of some sort. Next to him was—it was that crazy magician fellow. He was holding a black wand with white tips in his right hand, and had a strange book open, propped against his left hand. Both of them were staring at her like they’d been caught with their hands in the cookie jar.

“I’m really terribly sorry about all this,” Rachel sighed, entering the apartment. “Are you alright doctor? She pushed you right over.”

“Yes, I am—I am fine,” the doctor said, sitting up from where Lydia had knocked him down in her rush to get into the apartment. He accepted Rachel’s offered hand and let her pull him to his feet.

The magician snapped his book shut. “What the fuck are you doing here?” he growled.

“Well, certainly not looking for you,” Lydia growled right back. “I just wanted to find Mr. Parker. Though, you know, now that I’m thinking about it, you could probably tell me the same things.”

“Nope, not doing this, goodbye.” The magician stood up, but was interrupted from leaving when the other man—Lydia was pretty sure his name started with a J—grabbed his arm. The magician looked down and watched as the man made some gestures, too quick for Lydia to catch but apparently he understood perfectly. “Fine. Fine, one chance.” He plopped back onto the couch and glared at Lydia.

She sighed deeply. “Look, Mr. Moore, if I’d seen you even just yesterday, I one hundred percent would be calling the police right now. But apparently Malcolm heard you talking with the vigilante last night—who turned out to be Mr. Parker—about finding the Brody kids and getting them back, so now I’m in doubts that your confession was actually real.”

“Well, I really confessed, didn’t I? It’s not like one of my friends was about to get detained and most likely ultimately arrested, probably eventually giving in to his clinical depression again, and thus probably giving the real culprit what he wanted, which pressured me into saying whatever I had to in order to make sure that didn’t happen.”

 Lydia truly, honestly didn’t know how to respond to that dump of information and sarcasm. Luckily, Rachel jumped in. “So it sounds to me as if you were just protecting your friend there,” she said. “Possibly not only from the police, but from whoever really took the Brody children?”

The magician stared at her. “I didn’t say I knew who took the kids.”

Rachel chuckled. “I never said you were implying you did. But the fact that you assumed that says a lot.”

“Well...fuck.” He slumped a bit deeper into the couch cushions. The other man next to him was smiling. “Don’t give me that look, JJ. That’s called a ‘shit-eating grin’ and it’s not something you give to your friends.” The man—JJ, apparently—gestured more. “Oh, shut up.”

“You know who took the kids?!” Lydia gaped. “Well, why didn’t you tell us?! We could’ve used that lead, and avoided almost arresting him.” She pointed at where Brody was sleeping. “He must look a lot like you guys, if we believe the security footage. Is that why you didn’t say anything? Because you thought ‘there are already five of us, they won’t believe one more exists’?”  

The doctor coughed. “It is bit more...complicated than that, I’m afraid.”

“What? Are you all quintuplets or something?” Lydia threw her hands up in the air. “Can’t get any more absurd than this!”

“Ah, love,” Rachel piped up. “Do you still want to see the vigilante man? I thought you intended to confront him at some point.”

Lydia had almost forgotten about the fact that she now knew who the vigilante in red was. “Yes, yes I do,” she said. “Is he really at work? Or are you all just hiding here like—like cowards?”

Silence. The three awake men exchanged sad looks. “He’s...not at work,” the magician admitted. “But he’s...not...here, either.”

Lydia took in the sad glances, the awkward explanation. “...something happened, didn’t it?” she asked softly. “Something happened to him.”

“The less you know, the safer you are,” the magician said, tapping the wand against his leg. “But...yeah. We’re...working on fixing that. Have been since last night, actually. Chase gave in and crashed, as you see. But the rest of us...”

“I’m...sorry,” Lydia whispered. She’d just barged right in here, in the middle of their crisis situation, and unknowingly made everything worse. You’d think that she’d learn how to think things through in her years as a detective, but nope. She’d always trusted the thinking to Malcolm.

The silent man, JJ, made a few small gestures. “He wants to let you know it’s okay, you didn’t know,” the magician said. “It’s, uh, sign language.”

“I see,” Lydia said. She wanted to ask more, to know more, but she couldn’t tread on their hearts anymore. But... “Just...one more thing. Last night, Malcolm said he ran into Parker and you, and he...saw some strange things.”

The magician raised an eyebrow. “You mean, like this?” He snapped his fingers, and a small burst of green sparks and fire flew out from the site of impact.

“Holy shit!” Lydia gasped, stumbling back a few steps.

“Hmm, wha...?” There was a sudden surge of movement as Brody opened his eyes and stretched. “Wha’s happ’ning?”

“Good morning, Chase!” The doctor waved from his spot by the door. “Or should I say good afternoon, because you fell asleep earlier this morning. Sorry about the commotion, I think the detective was just leaving?”

“Detective?” Brody blinked the tired out of his eyes and stared at Lydia with no recognition whatsoever.

“Yes, the detective lady,” the doctor continued. “From the case about the kids. She wanted to talk to Jackie, though I’m still not sure why.”

“Th’ kids?” Brody looked confused for a moment more before suddenly bolting straight into a sitting position. “Fuck, right, the kids! Oh my god, I’m so—god, I must really be tired, damn, I can’t believe I forgot they—fuck, I’m horrible.”

“You are not horrible, you have a lot on your mind, and just woke up.” The doctor walked over and sat on the beanbag next to Chase. “Is fine.”

“Alright, if you say so.” Brody rubbed his eyes, then looked over at Lydia. “Did you...want to talk about something?”

“It wasn’t about the case,” Lydia hurried to say. “It’s just—my partner, last night he saw your friends talk, and then some...unusual stuff happened, and I just wanted to make sure he wasn’t...imagining things.” She glanced over at the magician. “But apparently, he was right. Magic is real, I...fuck.” She looked at Rachel. “Tell me I didn’t hallucinate that.”

“The sparks?” Rachel looked a bit pale. “You did not. That is...some new things to take into account...”

“Yeah, no shit.” Lydia was starting to feel a bit dizzy, which was to be expected when one’s world got totally turned upside-down. Magic was real...she looked at the magician. “If...you really can do that, then...Malcolm, my partner, he saw some more things. A floating eyeball—”

“Sam,” Brody said. “They...were with Jackie. We need to find them too.”

Ah. It had a name. And existed. Fantastic. Lydia could feel a stress headache blossoming. “He also thought he saw...he said it was a demon, following him?”

The atmosphere in the room immediately changed, becoming sharper, more tense. All of the men exchanged glances. JJ signed something. “He said don’t think about it,” the magician translated. “Or, well, it sounded a bit more polite the way he spelled it out. But that’s the gist.”

Lydia stared. “Are you telling me...that demons exist?”

JJ signed something else, very rapidly. “They do, but this isn’t...that,” the magician translated once more. “It’s very complicated.”

“I beg your pardon, but why can’t we learn more?” Rachel asked. “Wouldn’t that be better to prepare ourselves?”

“Not when knowing this thing can draw his attention to you,” the doctor said in a hushed voice. “Not when he gets stronger the more people know. And quite a few know already.”

“Ignorance is bliss,” Brody said. “Really. Just forget about it, and you’ll be fine. Tell your partner to forget too.”

“I...don’t quite get it, but I’ll believe you, I guess,” Lydia said slowly. Maybe she should just forget this whole thing ever happened. Go about her business like nothing had changed. It would probably be better for her mental health that way. “Rachel, I’m ready to go now. You?”

“Yes, yes, we should,” Rachel backed out the door, and Lydia followed her. “Thank you for accommodating us.”

“It was no trouble,” the doctor muttered, clearly implying it was.

“Alright, well,” Lydia said awkwardly. “Guess I might be seeing you?”

“Hope you don’t!” The magician called, earning himself a smack on the ear from JJ.

“Yeah, well, same, honestly. Bye.” Lydia shut the door.

The boys listened to her and Rachel’s footsteps recede down the hall. When they could no longer be heard, Marvin opened up the book again. “Okay, let’s give it a couple more go’s,” he said.

Are you quite sure about that? JJ asked. You’re starting to develop those black bags under your eyes. Practicing all night without sleep can’t be good for your soul and body.

“I’ll be fine,” Marvin shrugged. “I think learning how to open dimensional portals is a bit more important than sleep.”

“Jamie is right,” Schneep said. “If you do not sleep, you are no good to anyone.”

“Says the guy who runs on coffee like a car runs on oil.” Chase rolled his eyes. “Hypocrite.”

“Cars don’t run on oil,” Marvin pointed out.

“Oh, shut your face, I’m tired.” Chase yawned, as if to accentuate this. “I was having a good time, and then that detective lady and that other one woke me up. Who was that, again? Did she ever introduce herself?”

“That lady was a lawyer, and she was the detective’s girlfriend,” Schneep explained. “At least, I assume so. She was introduced as a partner, in that sort of awkward way you do when you are not sure where the other party stands.”

“I see,” Marvin hummed. He gripped his wand tightly and swirled it in a circle. Green whisps appeared and whirled about for a few seconds before dissipating. Marvin frowned. “That was a fluke, it didn’t even get close but I can do it better next time.”

I don’t believe you can, JJ signed with a sigh. I think you’re severely draining your energy, and you should really sleep in order to recover it.

“I’ll sleep when I’m dead, which could be soon if I don’t figure out how the fuck to get Jackie back and stick it in that—that glitch bitch’s face.”

Chase wheezed, and then leaned over as he devolved into laughter. “Okay, okay, I love it,” he said after a while. “That’s the best thing I’ve heard in ten months.”

“He would not like that.” Schneep sounded vaguely amused by the idea.

JJ shook his head. Clearly, you are all loopy from lack of sleep. We all need to go to bed, NOW. He emphasized the “now” part by making the sign a bit sharper than it normally would be.

“Okay, fine, maybe you’re right,” Chase relented. “Marv, bedtime.”

“Don’t try to dad me, it’s not gonna work,” Marvin grumbled, rereading the instructions for the spell.

“Do not make me count to five,” Schneep added with a smile.

“Two dads! Ay!” Chase made finger guns. “Now you have to listen.”

Marvin closed his eyes and sighed deeply. “Alright, fine.” He closed the book. “But once I wake up, I’m going straight back to working on this. We’re gonna have to double up if we want to use the beds here. Dibs on the one in Jackie’s room.”

Yet, he still couldn’t sleep, even an hour after everyone else had crashed. It wasn’t for lack of trying, or for lack of exhaustion. But he couldn’t stop thinking. His thoughts kept whirling through his mind in a cyclone, unable to halt for one minute. It seemed like everyone had been pretty safe during the week he was away. Nothing had happened until he ran into Jackie and Sam, and now look at where Jackie was.

Maybe...maybe there was a reason for that. He was the only one of the group with power. And he was the only one who...maybe stood a chance against him. Maybe that was enough to earn his attention.

He slipped out of the bed. He grabbed a pen and piece of paper from on top of one of Jackie’s dressers, scribbling a note to the others before creeping out into the main living area of the apartment. He put the note on the coffee table, then opened the window to the fire escape and climbed through.

He’d find a solution on his own. And if he drew Anti’s attention to him in the process, what of it? At least then it would be away from the others. At least this way, they’d be a little bit safer. They wouldn’t know anything about where he was or what he was doing, and it would be fine that way. After all, not knowing was a blanket of protection.

In another world entirely, someone was watching him leave through a broken computer screen, the only one that was lit up on top of a pile of more shattered screens. Its plug was dangling limply, but the picture was crystal clear. He was screaming at Marvin, telling him to turn around, to go back so he could protect them, to remember that there was safety in numbers. When Marvin didn’t listen, he banged his fist against the screen in a fit of frustration, making the image cut off entirely. Tears were threatening the corners of his eyes.

The pile shifted beneath his feet. When he tried to stand up, cords wrapped around his wrists. When he tried to kick his feet free, wires wrapped around his ankles. There was laughter, more laughter, seemingly as ever-present as the red glow all around. The cables dragged him down and he disappeared.

[magic-and-moonlit-wings]

Chapter 30: This Is Not Enrique!

Becoming The Mask

Hey, guess who just realized they never got around to posting this chapter on tumblr?

"Oh! I almost forgot to tell you!"

Toby paused their video game and started rooting under his bed.

"This'll cheer you up. Remember that Heartstone piece you gave me?"

He pulled out a shoebox.

"I've been keeping it in the dark, mostly. Dunno if sunlight would actually hurt it, but quartzes lose some of their colour if you leave 'em in the sun and, considering what sunlight can do to trolls, I didn't want to take the chance. Figured a magic troll-rock would be even more sensitive."

Toby opened the box. Jim blinked twice at the orange glow, brighter than he expected it to be, before realizing the box was lined with foil. The Heartstone sat in a little pile of dirt.

"Obviously I can't recreate the pressure down in Trollmarket, but I filled a baggie with dirt down there after you gave me the seed crystal so I could, you know, at least copy the local mineral composition? And I've been measuring all its planes," pointing to a notebook wedged between the foil and the box wall, "and it's nearly a whole millimeter longer. That's, like, insanely fast when it's not salt or sugar grown on pipe cleaners."

"Tobes, that's … this is amazing."

"I mean, it could also be growing faster because it was recently cut," Toby acknowledged, "like Nana's friends' flower cuttings. Or like how martial artists break bones on purpose so they heal stronger."

"So, I get the box as protection from the sun, and making sure the dirt doesn't just get everywhere, but what's the foil for?"

"If the glow is magical, I thought maybe reflecting it back on itself could make a feedback loop and it'd get stronger."

"I am Gun Robot," Jim's phone began chanting. "I am Gun Robot." Toby's phone started buzzing and chanting as well.

"Hi, Mary?" said Jim.

"Hey, Darci, what's up?" said Toby.

"We need into Trollmarket," said Mary briskly. "Get Toby, Darci's filling him in, and meet us in the canals."

"Jim's right here, actually –" said Toby in the background.

"Whoa, wait, what happened?" asked Jim.

"Claire found a goblin in her room and her brother's missing and Blinky doesn't have a phone. You know, we should really fix that."

Jim had gone cold. He listened with half an ear as Mary talked about burner phones and emergency contact lines. Had Otto gone after Enrique? To attack him on suspicion of treason, with three confirmed traitors involved in his planting? Or to recruit the Changelings' newest surface agent before anyone else could get to him?

"Jim? You still there?"

"What've you done with the goblin? They're vengeful. Hurt one and you'll have the whole swarm after you."

"It's fine. Claire locked it in a cat carrier. We're bringing it with us."

"No!"

Toby looked over at Jim in askance.

"We probably shouldn't bring a goblin into Trollmarket. You guys are at Claire's house, right? Her parents are out?" If Claire had been the one to notice Enrique was missing, that meant she was probably babysitting.

"Yeah?"

"Tobes and I'll meet you there. We can sneak back out if her parents get home, and then they won't freak out coming home to find both their kids missing."

Toby closed the Heartstone box and slid it back under his bed. "We'll be there soon, Darce."

Claire was pacing on the porch when Toby and Jim got to her house. She practically dragged Jim inside. Toby took care of locking both their bikes to the porch before following them.

The cat carrier was on a table in the living room. Darci and Mary were on the couch, Darci holding a baseball bat. Claire was still pacing, recapping how she'd found the thing in her room (Toby shuddered) and her brother's crib empty.

"But why was the goblin alone?" Jim wondered out loud. "Goblins are pack creatures. They should've called for help by now."

"I don't care!" Claire snapped. "Just armour up and make it tell us where Enrique is!"

Jim got out his amulet. It ticked, the hands shifting to a new position – not all of them going clockwise – and the Trollhunter's armour appeared in a flash of light.

"I'll need to open the cat carrier."

"Better you than me, buddy," said Toby, picturing sharp teeth and looking at Jim's armoured hands.

Jim unlatched the cage, pulled out the squirming towel-shrouded beast, held it securely under one arm, and uncovered its face. Its eyes and Jim's bugged out in surprise at the sight of each other.

"Ssshh," Jim soothed. "It's okay, little guy." He adjusted his grip on the creature to hold it more like a baby. "Claire, this isn't a goblin; this is a baby troll. I've seen a few like him down in the market. He probably got curious about the surface, wandered off, and followed your scent."

Jim started backing towards the door.

"Here's the plan. I'll run this little guy back to Trollmarket – his family's probably freaking out – and you four stay here and keep looking for Enrique. I'll bring Blinky and AAARRRGGHH back with me to help search."

"… You're lying," Toby realized.

"What?"

That was said by Jim, Claire, Darci, Mary, and possibly the 'baby troll', but it was hard to tell under so many other voices.

"I – I don't know about what, but you lied, just now. That's exactly the kind of slightly-too-perfect excuse you use for cover stories."

No witnesses, no space for questions, and getting potential corroborators alone so they could be filled in before being questioned.

"Busted," said the 'baby troll'. Toby hadn't imagined that Cockney accent.

Jim hmphed. "Well, now we are. I can't believe that was my tell. I can't believe someone figured out that was my tell."

"How'd you end up the Trollhunter? Always thought that gig went to, you know, the trolliest troll."

"Everyone did. I was a surprise."

Claire picked up the nearest thing – a pillow – and held it up threateningly.

"What's going on?"

Darci got off the couch and gently swapped Claire's pillow for her bat.

Jim turned blue, and sprouted tusks and a tail. The metal horns on his helmet turned into real horns. Holes appeared on the sides of the helmet to let out his ears, which grew long and twitchy.

He let go of the 'baby', which landed on all fours and would've bolted if Mary hadn't pounced and caught him in the towel again.

"I'm a Changeling. I've been living as James Lake Junior for sixteen years." Jim summoned his sword, spat on the blade, and turned it around. "As you can see, Jay-Jay is perfectly fine. Also, that's what goblins actually look like. Note the mutton chops."

"So, if this isn't a goblin –" Mary stuffed the towel into the cat carrier again, "what are you?"

"I'm a Changeling, too – wuzznit obvious?"

"He's … Enrique."

Claire dropped the baseball bat.

"No. That is not Enrique. You – you kidnapped my brother?"

"Or, had him sent into sanctuary, away from an increasingly dangerous world," Jim offered. He made his sword disappear.

"Oh, god." Claire looked like she was about to faint, or throw up. "That's why you offered to babysit, isn't it? So you could switch Enrique for – this thing!"

"Naw, that was after the swap," the green Changeling said. The cat carrier stood on its end, like a bucket, with the door open. He'd wrestled his way out of the towel enough to stick his head and one arm out.

"I just wanted to check how he was settling in –"

"Settling in? You invited a monster to replace my baby brother and wanted to know how well he was settling in!"

"He's not a monster!" Jim insisted. "Getting out of the Darklands is a rough transition. It's harder for Changelings on our own. I didn't want him to feel isolated."

Claire punched Jim. Toby winced. It probably hurt her hand more than Jim's face. More weakly, tears in her eyes, she punched him over and over in the chest.

"You took my brother from me. Now he's all alone in the Darklands …"

"He's got the goblins. They'll tend to Human Enrique's every need. The Nursery is one of the safest places in either of our worlds. If any harm came to Human Enrique, Changeling Enrique wouldn't be able to transform anymore."

"How can I possibly believe you when you've lied to me all this time?"

"Hey, I never said Enrique wasn't a Changeling. The only stuff I've lied to you about either wasn't your business or would've put other people in danger."

She hit him in the face again. He grabbed her fist.

"I get that you're upset, and that's your right, but I'm not just going to stand here and let you keep hitting me."

He let her go. Claire picked up her bat again, and pointed it in the smaller Changeling's face.

"Bring. Enrique. Back! Right. Now."

The green Changeling bit the end of the bat. He didn't bite it off entirely, just held onto it with his shark-like triangle teeth. It looked like Claire was playing tug-of-war with a particularly ugly dog.

Jim sighed heavily.

"It doesn't work that way. The Nursery's not easily accessible, and he's been there for months, not aging. Even if we could bring him back tonight, he'd look like he's regressed in development. Any pediatrician would notice, and then your parents would get upset, and if you tried to prove to them what happened, that would just put you in danger."

"Bular'd love an excuse to eat a whole fleshbag family," Enrique's replacement agreed, without letting go of the bat.

"Actually, Bular died yesterday, but there're still other Changelings who'd take action if they saw our secret about to be exposed."

"He's dead?!"

"Wasn't Bular one of the scary-evil trolls Blinky warned us about?" said Darci. "The gummy guys?"

"Gumm-Gumms. Yes, officially, most Changelings work for them. I failed an assignment, he decided I was a traitor, and I had to kill him in self-defence."

"… Is that how your mom found out?" asked Toby, before it occurred to him that Jim might not want to talk about that particular detail.

Then he decided it didn't matter. Toby didn't think this was hitting him as personally as Claire – if he had the timing right, then this Jim was the only version of Jim Toby had ever known – but it still hurt, finding out that the guy he'd considered his best friend had been keeping so many secrets from him. As long as Jim was sharing answers, Toby was going to keep asking questions.

"Wait, does she know about the Changeling thing, or just about the Trollhunter thing?"

"Both. And, yeah. Draal brought her to Trollmarket to keep her safe and I had to tell her everything."

"The Boss is gonna have your hide," said the green Changeling. Jim made a non-committal noise and didn't look at anyone. Claire made an angry noise, tugged the bat out of the Changeling's mouth – leaving ugly scars on the tip – and thunked her weapon against the armrest of the couch.

"You can't just replace my brother," she snapped. "You are not Enrique."

"You don't exactly get a say in this, Big Eyes," Not Enrique shot back. He turned into a baby – they all jumped – and wailed, before turning back into a troll. "What exactly do you think's gonna happen if the parents get back to find something's happened to their ángelito precioso?"

Jim covered his eyes and groaned. "Don't antagonize her."

"And you!" Claire rounded on Jim. "When exactly were you planning on telling me about this?"

"… Ideally never?"

"Yeah, that's what I thought you'd say. No wonder you kept telling me not to practice trollish at home! I can't believe I ever trusted you! I can't believe I ever liked you!"

"Uh, Claire?" said Mary. "This is probably super-cathartic and I hate to interrupt, but your parents are supposed to get back in like, two minutes," waving her phone, "so maybe for now we should roll with the fake-baby thing and Jimmy-Jam and TP should am-scray."

Toby never should have let them find out that Nana called him Toby-Pie.

Claire pointed her finger half an inch from Jim's nose, making him go cross-eyed. "This isn't over."

Jim looked at the Changeling. The other Changeling, Toby mentally corrected. Jim said something another language, which didn't quite sound like trollish. Not Enrique shook his head and waved Jim off. Jim said something else, which got a snort and a short, barked answer.

"So what were you and Not Enrique saying at the end there?" Toby asked on the bike ride back to his house.

"I asked if he felt safe being left alone with Claire or if I should sneak back over and lurk on the roof. He doesn't think she has the nerve to actually go through with hurting him or telling her parents. Then he promised to steal her phone and call me if anything did happen."

"What language was it?"

"Eh … It's what we spoke back in the Darklands. Some trollish, some goblin, handful of human words, plus a few terms Changelings invented ourselves. No one exactly taught us to talk, so we had to pick it up by trial and error."

That raised a lot of questions and alarms in Toby's mind that he couldn't quite find the words for.

"All things considered, I think that actually went really well," said Jim. "Reactions have been a lot less murderous than I've been trained to expect."

Many questions and alarms.

"Did you ever plan to tell me?"

"No. I mean, I thought about it, especially after Draal found out and made me tell Blinky and AAARRRGGHH, but I was scared you might hate me, or that I'd get you killed for knowing things you weren't supposed to."

Jim laughed the kind of laugh that came from stress, not humour.

"I am the worst Changeling ever. A decade and a half without a slipup, and then nine people find me out. Or a few dozen, if you count the Ghost Trollhunters, but considering I'm technically supposed to kill anyone who finds out I don't know how it counts when somebody finds out who's already dead."

"The Ghost Trollhunters know?"

"Well, it's hard to keep secrets from people who could be watching you at any time through a magic artifact you literally can't get rid of. I'm almost glad you know now. A bit less lying, a bit less sneaking around. Still some, because I really should've noticed you following me to the market that time and I can't afford to get complacent like that. But –"

Toby looked at Jim in concern when Jim cut himself off.

"I'm being selfish. How are you feeling about all this?"

"Mostly confused," Toby admitted. "I … I understood, kind of, when I found out about trolls and that you hadn't told me. The whole 'sworn to secrecy' thing. But once I knew that … then you knew I'd keep secrets for you. Even something as big as that. So, it hurts that I thought you'd told me everything, and then found out you didn't."

They didn't say anything for a block and a half.

"You can still stay with me and Nana, though. Until Dr L's ready to forgive you for the whole 'stealing and replacing her baby' thing." That would probably take a while. "Hey, does this mean we can talk to Dr L about troll stuff?"

"Better if you don't. She doesn't know there are actual human teenagers involved. Tell you what – you four talk it over, and once you're all ready to tell your families, then we go to Mom."

Toby nodded. As a Responsible Adult, she'd probably feel obligated to tell their families.

"Any other secrets I should know about?"

"… I know who a few other Changelings are in their human identities. But I can't tell you who or confirm if you guess, because those aren't actually my secrets to share."

"Fair enough."

Once they got home, Toby texted Darci and Mary with the new information Jim had shared. He left it to them to update Claire. They'd known her longer. They'd have a better idea of what and how to tell her while she was upset.

Previous Chapter (Claire first finds Not Enrique)

Table of Contents

Next Chapter (Otto and Strickler begin their power struggle)

[tarysande]

You mentioned previously issues Chloe definitely has regarding self-worth and being worthy of love. Would you be willing to expand on that?

In a heartbeat.

Some of this is inference, but I do think there’s some pretty significant support for everything in the show. I’m going to try and break it down into eras of Chloe’s life.

Chloe, her parents, and her childhood/youth: Chloe is an only child who was born to parents who had essentially given up on having children/believed they couldn’t have children. While this means she was doubtless loved, I think there’s also a strong likelihood that love came with a side of relief that bordered on desperation. From things she’s said to Lucifer, we also know Chloe would’ve liked to have siblings; this indicates she felt lonely, always wanting something she couldn’t have. 

We know Penelope is dramatic; there’s no reason to believe she was any less dramatic about her precious miracle child. John was definitely the stable one, but he worked a dangerous job–every family connected with law enforcement knows, on some level, the day may come when the parent doesn’t come home. So, Chloe grew up with a kind of low-grade fear in the background of family life. We also know Penelope was (because she still is) constantly either working or trying to get work as an actor. Chloe’s response to her mom “using” Trixie as a prop indicates that she still, even years later, has a lot of strong feelings about that side of things. To me, this indicates that Chloe being an actress wasn’t so much about what she wanted as what Penelope wanted–I think this is supported by the fact that her first movie is what can perhaps generously be termed a B-movie, and one where her breasts were bare no less. In other words, Chloe looked to be following in her mother’s footsteps.

So, I need to talk about acting and self-esteem for a second. Given what we know about Chloe as an adult, I don’t think she was thrilled about Hot Tub High School… but it was a means to an end. Do the crap movie so you can maybe get a better one and hope you don’t get typecast as the actress with the boobs (guys, there are a lot of reasons actors insist on nudity clauses in their contracts). Acting, especially in Hollywood, focuses a lot on looks. You cannot avoid it. So, doubtless there was a lot of pressure on young Chloe to look a certain way, be a certain size, be pretty, don’t be too clever, be likable, do what they say. Chloe was conditioned to think this way because of the world she was traversing from childhood.

And it was a mask. It was something she put on to please her mom. It was a way of receiving praise. And of course she wanted praise. She had few friends (another trait that has carried into adulthood), didn’t have a “normal” life. And Chloe is sensitive. We see over and over how sensitive she is, how she’s the first to touch someone’s shoulder when they’re in pain, how she can step into the shoes of someone to see things from their point of view to talk them out of shooting a gun, for example. I don’t think it’s a stretch to imagine she was very lonely. 

But she had her dad. Kind dad, loving dad, stable dad.

And then she didn’t.

We know this loss is the catalyst for her leaving acting and joining the police force. She was only 19; in a lot of ways, she stepped off her mother’s path and immediately onto her father’s—I don’t know if Chloe has ever truly figured out Chloe’s path. I think she becomes a cop for good reasons, but there’s no doubt her father’s death—and wanting him to be proud of her the way she wanted her mother to be proud of her as she pursued acting–is a huge motivation. I suspect she put her nose down and studied and excelled and didn’t make any friends at the Academy because Chloe can be intensely single-minded.

Chloe and Dan: We know Dan is the first friendly face Chloe sees when she joins the Department. In a different story, of course that would mean theirs is a match made in Heaven (groan)… but this show tackles psychology more realistically than that. Chloe, still looking for praise and for guidance and for someone to be proud of her, throws herself willingly into Dan’s orbit. She takes all the years of loneliness and the disconnected life of an actor (acting is strange because for a few weeks or months you are intensely close with everyone around you and then you disperse and chances are most of those super-close relationships fizzle) and she devotes herself to the first man who shows interest and is kind to her. For a while, she follows Dan on his path: Dan becomes Detective, Chloe becomes Detective. But, as we see, Chloe isn’t a detective like Dan is. She isn’t about open-and-shut or following the rules if the rules are stupid and her gut is telling her something else. She follows her gut and luckily that often leads to evidence she can use. Still, she’s a woman in a man’s world; she says as much. Nothing is easy and, I suspect, she still feels lonely. She still feels like it’s Chloe against the world even though she’s just trying to help people. Which brings us to…

Chloe and Palmetto: Probably just as Chloe’s starting to feel like she belongs–she and Dan are married, so that’s an identity; she’s a mom, so that’s an identity; she’s a detective, so that’s an identity–Palmetto happens and she is suddenly *cough* kicked out of Heaven and left to a personal Hell. Everything (except Trixie–but of course she worries about Trixie and all these changes) starts to fall apart. People at the precinct range from dismissive to outright cruel. She doesn’t have a partner; no one wants to work with her (she’s lonely again, and also stung that people who previously claimed to like her immediately turned their backs when she didn’t fall in line even though she’s certain the line is based on a lie). Chloe may not be as dogmatic about not-lying as Lucifer is, but she still hates dishonesty.

It’s heavily implied that her relationship with Dan starts breaking down around this point. We know it’s likely because Dan is being torn apart by the lies he’s telling her, but Chloe doesn’t have any idea; with her intuitiveness, she picks up that something is wrong, but she blames herself. Chloe doesn’t have a circle of friends; she doesn’t have people to lean on; her dad left (not by choice), her mom fell apart (leaving her to be the grown-up way too young) and is often gone. Eventually, Chloe and Dan separate and we know Chloe sees this as necessary but also a failure; she takes things personally and doesn’t have a support network or family or history of shrugging things off. She is sensitive and perceived failure, perceived rejection, hurt her deeply. She puts on a brave face because she’s Chloe Decker and she is strong and independent and tough (she has to be) but inside? Inside, she’s thinking “Of course, he left. They always leave. There’s something wrong with me.” (Which is corroborated by her reaction when Pierce leaves her so abruptly: more on that later.)

Chloe and Lucifer:

So, Lucifer enters Chloe’s life. He’s… totally insane, in her opinion. But he gets results. More than that, he wants to work with her. She doesn’t trust all the attention he lavishes on her (she’s doubtless thinking “Ugh, he only wants one thing.”). This is important. After everything she’s been through, Chloe doesn’t open up easily and she doesn’t trust easily. Even though he’s weird and has his stupid metaphors and thinks he’s the Devil, Lucifer appears to like her more than anyone else has in ages.

Here’s what’s even more important: he looks to her for guidance. He trusts her as an expert worthy of listening to. He doesn’t always understand why she wants things done certain ways but he values her opinions. At this point? I don’t think Chloe has felt her opinions were valid for a very, very long time. If ever. I love Dan now, but in the flashback ep, we see how dismissive and Dan-knows-best he is; that was unhealthy for her. Bad conditioning. Because at the heart of it, Lucifer’s bad childhood conditioning may be more dramatic and obvious, but Chloe is actually hurting and broken just as much. 

Suddenly, she’s not as lonely. She’s got Lucifer around to bounce ideas off of and sit on stakeouts with. Yeah, he comes with a side of sexual innuendo and some mind-boggling bad decisions but she starts tentatively feeling like she’s part of a partnership. And, time and time again, Lucifer sticks up for her, tells her how great she is, makes her feel important and valued. She’s sensitive and she’s intuitive and even if she rolls her eyes, she knows he’s not lying to her. She just doesn’t know how to process everything; no one treats her the way Lucifer treats her. No one listens to her the way Lucifer does. Lucifer doesn’t brush her aside. He’s aggravating and annoying and funny and clever and from the moment she sees the scars on his back she wants to protect him from whatever hurt him so badly. 

So, yes, of course she lets herself be vulnerable. It’s been so long and she’s so scared and… and we know what happens. Chloe runs smack into Lucifer’s problems without really understanding what they are. The (sometimes massive) stumbles in their relationship come from not clearly communicating, which is the slow death (or stillbirth) of any relationship.

Chloe and Lucifer and Heartbreak:

This is the hard part. This is where the writers did not pull their punches even though so many others would have. The audience gets a more intimate peek inside Lucifer’s head because we see him so often with Linda. But here’s the thing: When Lucifer left Chloe without a word, his actions destroyed all the progress she’d made since meeting him. Suddenly, she’s unlovable again, she was left again, she was replaced instantly, she very literally was kicked out of a personal Heaven into an unrelenting Hell-loop where every time she turns around there’s Lucifer but he’s different he’s not the Lucifer who told her she was special. We, the audience, know Lucifer’s reasoning but Chloe does not. From Chloe’s point of view, Lucifer is hot and cold constantly and she never knows which he’ll be. He cares but not the way she wants. He cares but won’t let himself say he cares. He cares but pretends he doesn’t. He is a goddamned mess, and she cares about him but it is so unhealthy for her. Even though Lucifer claims he doesn’t ever want to hurt her or lie to her, in a lot of ways his treatment of her borders on emotionally abusive. He just doesn’t know it and she thinks, because of her poor self-esteem, she deserves it. I think it is vitally important to understand that from the end of 2x13 and throughout the entirety of season 3, Chloe is dealing with heartbreak. But she’s Chloe Decker. She can’t just quit. She can’t cry all day and stop going to work. She has to help people. 

Chloe and Pierce:

Obviously, Chloe never really loved Pierce. She’s been in love with Lucifer the whole time even though I’m sure no one wishes she could get over him more than she does. But let’s talk about Pierce: Chloe starts out with a bit of a crush. He’s handsome, sure, but again, here’s the most important part: when he tells her she’s his best detective, when he tells her she can’t have the union rep job because it’s for washouts, when he compliments her solve rates, he’s pouring his praise and pride into the dry well. Chloe doesn’t trust Lucifer’s praise anymore, since he hurt her. But Pierce’s praise substitutes and it’s the praise she craves; the pride he claims to feel for her and her work and her specialness.

Pierce still messes with her self-esteem though. She asks him out, and he rebuffs her (she’s unlovable, there’s something wrong with her). When he asks her out (sort of), she dives in headfirst because she is so desperate to feel loved, to feel connected to someone again. And Pierce feeds her every morsel of ideal romance he can manipulate. He tells her he’s all in. In every way, he gives her what she thinks she wants: stability, normalcy, not Lucifer. 

Everything about the Pierce breakup is about Lucifer breaking up with her, leaving, and coming back different and, apparently, no longer interested in her. Just like Lucifer’s rage at Pierce in the aftermath (”How could you hurt her?”) is 98% displaced rage at himself because in that moment Lucifer realizes what he did to Chloe and how much he hurt her. She speaks the heart of her issues herself: “I’m just trying not to take it personally, because it’s not like it’s the first time this has happened. So, I just wonder if it’s something I’m doing.” Of course she thinks it’s something she’s doing; again, some part of her thinks it’s what she deserves, somehow. (Which makes her tearful confrontation with Lucifer later in the episode all the more heartbreaking.)

The whirlwind part of the romance–supported by her revelations in 3x22–is that, as Lucifer’s off playing Chloe to solve a case, she’s playing Lucifer to “be happy.” From her perspective, Lucifer takes what he wants, he’s spontaneous, he doesn’t feel guilt or shame, he’s never lonely or alone, life’s always a party and he’s always the star; he’s happier than she is. He’s everything she’s not (in her opinion): charming, lovable, attractive, someone people want to be with. He does the choosing and leaving. The irony, of course, is that in “playing Lucifer” she ends up alone in a party bus, drunk and sad and lonely and regretting her life choices. Which is, as Amenadiel points out so eloquently early in the season, the hard nugget of truth at the heart of all Lucifer’s outrageous behavior. And, I think Chloe starts to realize this, which is why the scene in 3x23 can happen and be meaningful.

Now, Chloe’s not stupid. She’s still hurting and still bleeding but I think Lucifer’s mania about “going back to normal” in 3x23 is eye-opening for her, too. It’s too desperate, and damn if she doesn’t know desperate. Her whole “relationship” with Pierce was her ping-ponging from desperate fix to desperate fix, trying to feel happy and not alone again. It was doomed to fail for more reasons than Pierce being, you know, a villain and a murderer. 

What Next?

Sorry to break it to you, but neither Chloe nor Lucifer is actually in an emotional or psychological place to be blissfully happy right now (even aside from the revelations of the finale). Chloe has to keep figuring out what she wants without reference to the men in her life. Lucifer has to genuinely understand what he did wrong and how badly he hurt her because otherwise they won’t be able to return to the place of love and trust and mutual pride they were about to dive into in 2x13 (which still would’ve ultimately faced the issue that he hadn’t convinced her who he really was; that knowledge is NECESSARY for their relationship. The problem wasn’t that Dad was manipulating her, it’s that Lucifer, by omission, was).

Chloe knows Lucifer has the capacity for so much good, so much love, so much tenderness and kindness and gentleness. She sees to the heart of him in ways he can’t even see himself. That said, Lucifer needs to see Chloe less as a miracle on a pedestal and more as a woman with wounds and imperfections and agency; he absolutely needs to get over thinking of her as someone to be “protected”; she can take care of herself and as long as he’s more worried about protecting her than being her friend and partner and lover, they can’t be in a healthy relationship. They both of them need to get past idealized notions and start dealing with the real guts of good relationships: trust, trust, communication, and trust. Even when it hurts. Even when it’s ugly. Chloe is not something that can “fix” Lucifer any more than Lucifer can “fix” Chloe. They are catalysts for each other but the change has to happen from within. (Linda’s like “Right?? I keep saying that!!”)

Do I think they can get there? Hell yes, I do. Do I think it’s a three-episode arc? Ohhhhh nooooo. Even if they go the “We’re in a relationship” route there are massive hurdles to jump and numerous lessons to learn. It’s definitely a season. It’s going to be fascinating and is yet another reason someone needs to save lucifer ASAP. 

In sum, everyone needs to spend more time on Linda’s great couch and Linda needs to get paid more.

[shadowsof-thenight]

Had a voice: Chapter ten

Story summary: For two years you had let him dictate your every move. Dictate your time, your friends, your work. Everything, literally.  And for the life of you, you could not understand why you’d done so.

Now, here you were. In a beautiful but still strange city that had never become your own. And you were all alone. It was time to take back your life.

Ship: BuckyXreader

Words: 1680

Warnings: none for this chapter.

A/N: So,again sorry for the delay. Between the holidays, birthdays and a heavy workload, I find it hard to finish the chapters each weekend. Especially since my meds seemingly don’;t work and I am constantely extremely tired.

Anyway, this chapter is still not how I envinsioned it and I am not sure I am really happy with it. But I didn’t want to make you wait any longer, so i’m posting it anyway. By the time I will post it on Ao3, i will edit it again.

I created a Ao3 account last week. Shadowsof_thenight. not much had been posted yet, but I will work on that. I will, at least for the time being, keep posting here as well.

***

Masterlist                                             Story Masterlist ***

You paused,taking another moment to think of what you were about to do. Not that the task at hand was so enormous, it was just daunting to do. It was something you usually would evade, postpone. You weren't sure how it would be received and for some reason that was incredibly important. Looking at the closed door in front of you, you tried to gather up the courage to open it. The door had no remarkable features to focus on. It was a simple white door with no handles.  They would open if you gave them a little push and could swing in either direction. Nothing fancy, just doors.

Beyond those doors was one of the two massive gyms that the tower held and in it would be a few recruits trained by one certain soldier. Upon your request, Natasha had told you just where to find him. She had also tried to tell you that he didn't need you to say the things you wanted to say. She had even warned you that he was never very good at accepting words of this kind. Still, you had told her, it was important for you to say them anyway. You needed him to know how you felt. Even if he could not respond to it properly, or even at all. You just needed him to listen. To know how much his behaviour in the past few weeks had meant to you. And perhaps you needed him not to be grossed out by the gesture.

With a deep sigh you pushed against the door, surprised by how little resistance met your arm. A door this size, should be heavier. The door swung open wide and as you stepped through it, closed behind you just as easily. Swinging ever so slightly, until it was still once more. Slightly apprehensive you straightened your shoulders and walked further into the gym, scanning the room for the man you were looking for.  

In front of you the recruits he had been training today were packing their things and you sighed in relief. He would soon be alone. While you needed to say it, you didn't really need, or more accurately want, an audience. In fact, this was nerve-wrecking enough as it was. An audience would probably shut you up entirely. You weren't exactly known for your brave character after all.

The determination you had felt when you spoke to Natasha wavered quickly, when you noticed that he was in fact not alone at all. However, you told yourself, you'd come this far. No turning back now. If you wanted to change your life, you should change your actions, and stop running away from things that scared you. Like saying something nice to a person that was slightly intimidating.

“Hey Y/N” Steve said, once he noticed you walking in their direction, “Wanda isn't here” he said, his face displayed confusion.

You could not blame him for it. You had never been up to the gym. In fact, you once mentioned hating gyms with a fiery passion. This confession had had everyone laughing loudly. It had been true, though. Working out was something you did for your health and as little as possible. There was no fun to be had for you. And with your current funds, it had been running. Which you hated even more and you cancelled at the slightest possibility of bad weather. Really, it was nothing short of a miracle that you moved at all.

“I know, She's in her room,” you began with a smile, before turning your body towards his companion, “ I was actually looking for you”.

Bucky eyebrows shot up as he looked back at you, seemingly a bit surprised by this. Steve however, just nodded, perhaps he had thought you'd seek out Bucky at some point.  He returned your smile as he waved in goodbye, leaving you and Bucky alone. Your palms were sweaty already.

“What can I do for you?” Bucky wondered. His tone was a forced jovial and light. He was obviously trying, but his fidgeting hands were betraying his uneasiness. His fingers pulled at the hem of his shirt as his gaze dropped to your feet. You almost chuckled. He had seemed so confident and at ease, when he had helped you out. And now here he was, pushed out of his comfort zone by a simple conversation. Keeping a smile on your face you began speaking, hoping he would relax quickly. You did not want to be the reason of his discomfort.

“I just...wanted to say thank you” your voice a little timid. Thank you didn't seem to be enough. He had been so gentle and comforting as he listened to you talking through your panic attack. And after that, when he took care of you.

He was so kind to you, even though he barely knew you. After the words had left your mouth, you looked down at your hands with a new-found interest, had they always been this pale? When Bucky didn't respond, nor looked up from the ground, you knew you had to be the one to break the silence.

“I'm sorry you had to witness that freak out” you quickly said, risking to glance up from your hands and towards his face. His fidgeting had stopped and he now looked at you with a confused look etched on his features.

“Nothing to apologise for,” he grumbled, offering a small smile.

“I must have looked like an idiot” you chuckled at your own expense, your eyes trained on you hands once again.  

“No you didn't” he replied with an intensity you had not heard from him before. He, again, seemed determined to make you feel at ease.

“Seriously!” he added after a few seconds and you looked into his eyes now.

“I just, should've held it together better.” Big displays of emotion had always been something you struggled with. Having someone be witness to a panic attack was therefore horrifying to you. You felt weak, silly.

“Says who?”, he wondered, his voice an octave higher,”We all respond differently to things. And we hardly ever know beforehand. This triggered a past trauma for you. That it nothing to be ashamed off” he stated firmly.

“Trauma, right” again your hands became insanely interesting.

“Don't try to downplay it” Bucky took your hand in his and squeezed it. You smiled at him and again apologized, explaining that it felt stupid to be so easily triggered.

This seemed to anger Bucky as he fervently tried to convince you that it had not been stupid at all. That what you had been through was not easy and in combination with your young age, it wasn't strange at all that it had induced a trauma.

“But compared to what you and the others go through on a weekly basis...” you trailed off.

“There is no comparing those two things. Trauma is trauma and we all can use a little help with that sometimes”

Bucky still held our hand in his as he said those words and you could feel something stir inside of you. Your stomach flipped and you blushed. He was such a good person and you really wondered why so many people seemed to fear him. He was a little gruff at times, but he was caring and kind and understanding. Many people could learn from him.

“Well thank you for helping me and for taking care of me the past few weeks. I don't know...If you hadn't been there.” again you trailed off, unsure of how to explain all the things you felt, “If there is ever anything I could possibly do for you,...I might not understand, but I'm a good listener”.

“Thanks” he chuckled.

Behind you the doors to the gym swung open again and you quickly glanced behind to see the smiling face of Natasha. Bucky dropped your hand and it suddenly felt cold, missing the absence of his warmth.

“Are you guys joining us for dinner?” she called out and you could not help but smile. This group of people had not known you a few weeks ago, and yet they were so accepting of you. You and all your traumas and weirdness.

All throughout dinner you kept glancing at Bucky as he looked relaxed, at ease in this group. He laughed as he mocked Sam. Became boisterous with Sam as they tried to prove something to Steve. Listened intently as Bruce was telling him some story.  It was nice to see him like this. And it made your stomach do some flips again, which confused you a little.

As he caught your eye he smiled with a nod, raising his drink. Raising your own in response, you wondered if he too had felt something shift during your talk earlier.

“Perhaps you should try being a little more subtle” Natasha joked as she leaned over. With wide eyes you stared at her, had you been that obvious? She chuckled and shook her head ever so slightly as she saw the horror cross your face.

“Don't worry, men are usually oblivious to these things” She whispered and gave you a side hug, before returning to the food in front of her.

Taking a deep breath you tried to relax your shoulders and turned to focus on your food as well. You wouldn't want to give anyone a reason to tease you. Especially since these sudden feelings confused you. And even more so, because Bucky would probably be mortified if he knew.

Soon you were pulled into conversation with Wanda and Vision, as  they spoke of movies she had recently shown him. Wanda explaining certain subtleties which he had missed, asking for your corroboration with that. It wasn't long before you felt an ease come over yourself as well and conversations all around seemed to flow easily. It was nice. A new experience, being amongst friends and not worrying too much.  

Chapter 11

Tags: @gracelynn318

[mrsspidermanmaryjanewatsonparker]

...

“I was really enraged over “One More Day”. Having been on the Ditko side of the argument for so long, I finally saw that Marvel was totally against letting Peter Parker age and develop new stories. I had planned on protesting the books. But, then they hooked me with the creative teams. Then, they brought back Norman Osborn.”

 Er no they didn’t they brought HARRY Osborn back...pointlessly....

 “Plus, they were trying new stuff and it wasn’t terrible.”

 By new stuff I wonder if they mean ‘Guess who this Goblin themed character is’ and ‘Oh no Spider-Man is framed’ or ‘Yuk yuk Peter just can’t get a date lulz!’

 And by not terrible I wonder if they mean ‘Hey look it’s the Chameleon and his whole history with Peter Parker is being ignored so we can imply he’s raping a woman’ and ‘Here watch this woman take advantage of Peter when he’s drunk before turning on a dime into a racist and sexist sterotype of Latin American woman’ or ‘Let’s ruin the Lizard and Kraven’s Last Hunt for everybody’.

  “What was going on here? Constant creative rotation to keep things fresh and lively?”

 Fresh as in a fresh way to suck shit as inconsistent story and artistic beats pile up to insanity.

  “Villains being reintroduced as the classic threats we know them to be?!?”

 Because we didn’t have that before OMD and needed the marriage gone for that to be the case.

  “Then, we got to see Marcos Martin and Dan Slott on the book. Spider-Man had entered into a new Golden Age. ”

 John Romita Senior’s run was a Golden Age.

 Roger Stern’s run was a Golden Age.

 2004 was a Golden Age.

 Mary Jane dates a loser cleberity because she’s out of character whilst Peter Parker invades people’s privacy which is even MORE out of character and here comes Mysterio alive and well ignoring everything we knew about him for the past 10 years isn’t a Golden Age. Its just hot trash.

  “But, what of Mary Jane? She was Peter’s wife and the mother of their disappeared baby. Would we ever get some sort of closure? Hell no. What was more surprising was how little it mattered.”

  WTF does ‘it didn’t matter’ even mean in this context?

  It mattered to most of the readers hence they kept teasing us with reconciliation to spike sales over and over again before just giving us an AU book...then bringing them back for real!

  “ Does that say a lot for Mary Jane and her defined role in the Spider-Man universe. I venture to say that it did. But, why are now realizing the futile nature of Peter being married and its importance to Mary Jane?”

 Yeah. It’s so futile to have character development for the lead and second biggest character that was the bedrock of 20 years of stories that by and large were better than the objective trash that followed int heir wake and fundamentally damaged both characters going forward.

 “Mary Jane has always never made sense for Peter Parker or Spider-Man. It was wish fulfillment for a guy that went from puny nerd to crushing multiple samples of poon in a three year period.”

  This sexist bullshit again.

  Beauty is in the eye of the beholder and even if that wasn’t true Peter is himself attractive and even if he was ‘average looking’ someone as attractive like MJ would marry someone like Peter all the time in the real world.

 It was their personalities and shared histories that made the relationship make sense.

 To dismiss MJ’s backstory and the inter-personal emotions between them that made the relationship happen is ignorant and a clear sign of either not having read or not having paid attention to the material.

 The hard truth is MJ pretty much ALWAYS made sense for Spider-Man. She wasn’t wish fulfilment she was her own well rounded character who organically developed in tandem with Peter, as Nick Spencer himself has corroborated.

  “Gwen was his equal,”

 How?

 Gwen was more financially affluent than Peter, had a higher social standing afforded by her father’s job and their comparative wealth to Peter.

  If we are talking her brains, Gwen wasn’t anywhere close to Peter’s league. Peter was the kid whipping up web-fluid in his bedroom as a teenager. Gwen was...someone who was in his science class. A statement that could apply to Harry.

  “ Betty was the older woman and Mary Jane was the neighbor’s niece thrown upon him. ”

 Betty was younger than him canonically Stan lee said so in a letters page but even if she wasn’t in the context of the times she wouldn’t been a few years removed from high school and Peter would’ve been a senior. Big whoop.

 Betty’s place has little to do with her age but more to do with just being his first romantic experience.

  As for MJ putting aside how she was retconning to not be his neighbour, that assessment for her character applies to the Silver Age and literally no other period of time beyond it. That was NOT her role in the Bronze age in the 1970s, the DeFalco run of the 80s and obviously not the time during the 1990s or 2000s when they were married.

  WTF is with his toxic notion that a character is not allowed to develop FFS!

  MJ hasn’t been the nieghbour’s blind date for him for the majority of her existence.

   “Mary Jane doesn’t even show up until the classic final page of her debut issue. Sure, it’s one of the best entrances in comic history. However, Mary Jane already feels like a put on intruder into a world that she doesn’t understand.”

  Correct and Norman Osborn wasn’t revealed as the Goblin until 4 issues before that, Gwen Stacy didn’t die until 7 years after that and Venom never showed up until 22 years after that.

  I guess all that shit is irrelevant to the character and mythology of Spider-Man and is just totally optional and superfluous.

  I’m sorry I never realized only the first 4 years and few months of Spider-Man mattered.

  I never realized Venom, Hobgoblin, Carnage, KINGPIN and all the OTHER shit from after ASM #41 were ‘intruders’ in Spider-Man’s world.

  Give me a fucking break.

   “She spends the next year dancing through the comic and pushing off the boys. ”

  And again, the early years of a character don’t = the inherent nature of the character that is never allowed to develop beyond that ever. If it did the X-Men would’t ever need Wolverine or Storm and Dick Grayson being Nightwing wouldn’t matter at all.

  “Peter grows closer to Gwen until she eventually dies, then he’s forced back onto Mary Jane. ”

  No, he and MJ over the course of 2 years of masterful stories by Conway gradually grow closer organically.

  Can you spell ‘Gwen Stan’?

  “Mary Jane rejects him, then he starts associating with related ESU students, Marvel Team-Up guest stars and the Black Cat.”

 That’s YEARS later. Gwen dies in 1973. Peter and MJ hook up in 1974. They break up in like 1978!

  “When all of those go into the crapper, Mary Jane shows up and he proposes. ”

 Oh dear god this is a quintessential example of buying into Marvel propaganda.

 That isn’t the sequence of events.

  First of all MJ showd up DURING his relationship with Felicia.

 THEN she revealed she knew he was Spider-Man and became his confidant.

  THEN peter and Felicia broke up.

  THEN he and MJ began growing closer and closer.

  THEN he had one last fling with Felicia following a seeming rejection by MJ.

 THEN he proposed to MJ.

  All that shit played out between approximately 1983-1987. That’s about FOUR YEARS of publication with THREE titles running simultaneously!

 “Parker gets rejected, then MJ accepts due to a pending marriage in the Spider-Man comic strip.”

 Again no. Yeah the wedding we got occurred due to synching with the newspaper strip but the build up to it was in the works for years by DeFalco and Frenz who were in charge of the book and embellished by Peter David and other people on the satellites. It wasn’t intended as actually leading to them crossing the threshold as man and wife but the build up to make that happen and for it to hypothetically happen anyway still existed.

 “That’s right, kids. Peter and Mary Jane only got married because Marvel wanted to tie it into an unrelated storyline in the national newspaper comic strip.”

 Again that’s true but the build up for to nevertheless make sense in story was still there and still paid off 4 years of character development.

  “The key point of Peter and MJ’s relationship was based on editorial interference. ”

  Peter and MJ’s relationship began in 1973 nearly 15 years before they got married and it occurred out of a sincere desire by the writer to tell a story about grief.

 “Tom DeFalco had actually spent a storyline early explaining how MJ figured out Peter’s identity, but kept it to herself. ”

 Er...no he didn’t. He explained she knew his identity but never explained how.

 And...this kind of egregiously undermines the central argument right here.

  “Then, made a very reasonable argument for why she could like Peter as a friend. ”

 And then along with Frenz his collaborator and Peter David spent the next 3 or so years developing their relationship as clearly much more than friendship so why is this fuckwit taking one line from ASM #259 totally out of context and ignoring all the stuff it led to.

 Oh right....in order to support the argument via lying.

  “Cut to two years later....”

 It was more than 2 years.

  “forced attacks and a second rejected marriage”

 Forced attacked? Alastair Smythe made the natural presumption that MJ was affiliated with Spider-Man based upon his encounter with her in ASM Annual #19.

  “then MJ is cool about dealing with Peter.”

 No. MJ has a change of heart after resolving her commitment issues directly connected to her estrangement from her sister and her bad blood with her father which Peter helped her to resolve in the course of the story where she accepts his proposal.

   Learn to read the damn stories!

  “Why was it such a big deal? Why did we loft MJ up to this status that doesn’t seem deserved?”

  Because it was wholly deserved based upon the actual stories that were written and not the propaganda assessment this article is pushing.

 “The marriage issue is so confusing. It happened in the first Amazing Spider-Man issue I ever read and most of the imagery has come to dominate my opinion of Spidey through the years. Whether it’s the marriage nightmare with the villains attacking the guests or the robbery with Electro; these images are what I see in my head when I see Spidey. Everything after that point was an excuse to force MJ into action, whether it was Venom attacking for the first time or the creepy landlord stalking her. ”

 Putting aside how ‘everything’would have to mean literally 100% of each Spider-Man story ever when there were many issues MJ either didn’t appear or had a small role...why would this be a bad thing?

  You have a supporting character...they are important...they are used within the narrative...this is bad because why again?

  The sexism and hypocrisy is strong with this point because half the time MJ gets shit because she didn’t do ENOUGH in the marriage. But when she is involved within the super side of things in some capacity it’s forced and bad.

  How?

  A super villain knows Peter’s identity and invades his home, targeting someone clone to him who he maybe lives with. That’d been happening since the silver age with Aunt May, Betty Brant and Gwen Stacy.

  As for her getting kidnapped by a stalker, this happens in real life especially to women and famous people and famous women. Spider-Man is a reflection of real life so WTF is the problem with this? HOW is this forced.

  “For next decade, everything became about MJ’s pregnancy, habits and constant fears for Peter.”

  Again, ‘everything’ would need to mean 100% of stories.

 MJ was pregnant for under 2 and a half years, not a decade.

 Not every story revolved around her fears for Peter.

 Her smoking habit lasted for less than 2 years too.

 And there was after all a period of time when Peter wasn’t even the main character of the damn series.

 And of course the notion of ‘everything’ or even ‘most things’ REVOLVING around MJ is bullshit because hate to break it to you but MJ was never the main character, Peter was.

 Everything revolved around him and since she was his wife a lot of stuff revolved around her which is called ‘Godd Wrting’.

 Notice how a shitton of screen time and subplots revolve around the wives of the main characters of drug dealer and mafia boss Walter White and Tony Soprano in the 2 most critically acclaimed TV shows of all time, Breaking Bad and the Sopranos.

  USING supporting characters and giving them screen time is IMPORTANT!

  It’s also the reason people hated Aunt May for decades until JMS started doing this in 2001! That’s near damn 40 years of Aunt May being mostly underutilized and useless to the point where people hated her and wanted her to die. THEN a lot of stories or story moments began involving or revolving around her and opinions changed.

  “The comic was quickly becoming a relationship drama, when we weren’t dealing with fake robot parents, clones, the Superhuman Registration Act or Aunt May getting shot. ”

 a)     The dumbass who wrote this referred to events across the decade following the marriage and then included 2 things AFTER that point in time

b)     This is again a lie it wasn’t a relationship drama

c)     God forbid there be relationship drama in a book that heavily involved soap opera elements and also the real life of the hero who could be you, i.e. someone who has to deal with relationship drama a lot because most people in real life do

 “Enough was enough, as the time came to re-evaluate what MJ brought to the team. ”

 A grounding for Peter. Character development for him. Strong female representation. A human hero who didn’t need to fight villains to be heroic. A realistic flawed and complex human character in a series all about that? A confidant for the main character? An exposition device?

  “The answer was that she is a party girl who worked better as an X Factor.”

  Get fucked and read some comics beyond the Silver Age hack.

MJ STOPPED being a party girl or an X-Factor in 1973!

  “The mystery created by Romita and Lee was long dead and that revealed something didn’t work. ”

 It’s so interesting this author will quote one line from ASM #259 and then totally ignore the rest of the entire issues which developed MJ into a supporting character and confidant who mirrored Peter.

 Because she just didn’t work.

  Get fucked.

  “MJ isn’t meant to be understood by Peter, she’s out of his league.”

 There is no such things as leagues. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder and any two people with enough time, compassion and empathy can come to understand one another. Peter came to understand MJ via her tragic backstory which echoed his own.

  “Ultimately, what matters is that Mary Jane stays a viable character in the Spider-Man universe”

 Which she was for over 2 decades and even longer before that when she stopped being a party girl.

  “While she is a personality mis-match, she’s a life-long friend that knows a lot about the man behind the mask. ”

  How are their personalities mis-matched.

  “That kind of grounding is absent outside of a direct family tie to Peter. When MJ makes Mephisto end their marriage during “One More Day”, ”

  GET FUCKED!

  Mj doesn’t MAKE Mephisto do shit. This is yet more of the author swallowing and regurgitating Marvel’s sexist lies. Peter put MJ on the spot with an untenable position then she sweetens Mephisto’s deal. Mephisto made the offer though. MJ didn’t make anyone do shit, especially Mephisto. She just complied with his wishes.

  “she whispers something that we don’t find out until “One Moment in Time”. Unfortunately, this twist is negated by the fact that Peter forces MJ to remember their life together as it was, but the duo chooses to split and move on.”

 Fuck this article even fails to accurately represent the events of the bullshit storyt hat supports their claim.

 MJ’s whisper to Mephisto takes places before he changes time and Peter forcing MJ to remember (more like he forces her to not forget) occurres for unrelated reasons after time has been altered. The two things aren’t directly connected.

  Moreover the duo don’t CHOOSE to split, MJ leaves him.

 At least represent the bs you are defending accurately.

  “It’s a tricky setup, but it’s one that has led Spider-Man back to the promise of the early 1980s”

 It’s not tricky it’s hacky.

 It didn’t lead Spider-Man back to the promise of the 1980s because things weren’t written as well.

 Moreover the early 1980s were when O’Neil was writing Spider-Man and the series sucked shit, why would you want to go back to that?

 In fact even if it didn’t suck why would you want to go BACK to something antiquated as being 25-30 years old FFS!

  “There are multiple people in his life demanding certain things, but they all want to push him forward. Even Mary Jane has setup her own business and works as an outside factor in Peter’s life.”

All of which didn’t require ending the marriage or a deal with Satan to facilitate.

 “The book is “The Amazing Spider-Man” for reason and not “Mary Jane Knows Best” for a reason.”

 Get fucked the book was never that during the marriage either.

 “ Supporting characters work when they have a defined role for our central figure.”

You mean like a life partner, best friend, confidant and life line to normalacy.

 “After a quarter century in the main book, MJ lost that focus and the story suffered.”

 After what feels like a quarter century reading this article I feel like my brain has suffered from the lies and misinformation contained within it.

 “While we have turned back the clock on that matter, something harsh remains. Why can’t a woman be on par with Spider-Man?”

She can be but when she is sexist jackasses like this knock her down and just plain lie, misrepresent or twist things to pretend things are untenably bad when they aren’t.

 “ Much has been made out of his MC2 counterpart Spider-Girl. Sure, it’s his daughter as a legacy character keeping the identity alive, but she manages to find time for her retired father in her book. But, her book keeps getting cancelled and the readership of that title is a tenth of what Amazing Spider-Man pulls down. Point rested.”

 Point no rested.

 Spider-Girl suffered in sales because it was a female led book at a time when that wasn’t something the market was kind to. It suffered because it was a mass market book sold on the direct market. It suffered because it underined Marvel’s desired narrative and was spearheaded by a former EIC, people who traditionally generate a lot of bad blood courtesy of consequent editorial regimes who throw them to the wolves. It suffered because they wanted to promote another character with the name. It suffered because it was an out of continuity title.

 It has shit to do with anything related in this dumpster fire of an article.

  In summary:

  This article is hot trash peddling sexist propaganda in line with a false narrative Marvel wants.

 Kill it with fire.

But what can I expect from a writer who doesn’t even know Eddie Brock wasn’t a photojournalist or thinks Ned Leeds was ‘tricked’ into becoming the Hobgoblin.

[snowyseahorse]

All of them

why do you do this to me

flower crown: when did you last sing to yourself?

Are We There Yet by Timeflies and Chase Rice

fairy lights: if a crystal ball could tell you the truth about anything, what would you want to know?

Where to find Better People

daisies: what is the greatest accomplishment of your life?

Pulling myself out of my worst emotional/mental state like a year ago and evolving because of it (and I guess my grades too lol I have a 4.0 and I’m taking 4 AP tests monday-wednesday)

1975: what is the first happy memory that comes to mind, recent or otherwise?

Dancing in my room and Feeling Good

matte: if you knew that in one year you would die suddenly, would you change anything about the way you are now living?

I’d tell the truth more and tell people I love them and take easy classes because What’s The Point and make out with more people (I haven’t made out with anyone in like 6 months I’m sad) and get my driver’s license and cry more

black nail polish: do you have a bucket list? if so, what are the top three things?

I don’t! I just want to be happy. Nothing else matters.

pantone: describe a person close to your life in detail.

Jeremy @diediedie000000000000000000000 is my closest friend right now and he’s fantastic. He has the most confusing eating habits and I don’t even try to understand them; he’ll eat like 3 servings worth of pastries and beef jerkey and sunflower seeds and 5 thin mints for breakfast. His metabolism is golden too, so he eats so much but has no body weight or fat. His hair is black and long enough to run my fingers through, which always messes it up. (but he says he enjoys it so it’s all good) He likes the aesthetic when it’s wet and all over the place, but doesn’t like actually having wet hair. His skin is perfect too and he has cute little freckles below his eyes that make him look like a literal angel. He doesn’t like drawing attention to himself but is a sluT for attention from his friends, so when I randomly take pictures of him he looks so bashful and pleased and adorable and tries so hard not to smile. On FaceTime sometimes he’ll just straight-up ask for attention and I turn off my laptop and we both lay down on our beds and make noises at each other. It’s so hard to believe that he used to ignore me in the hallways because he’s shy. I’d pass him and call his name or touch his shoulders and he wouldn’t even make eye contact. He also lied and said that he doesn’t like cuddles, and now he’s one of the most physically affectionate people I’ve ever met. (he also said that he didn’t like to say “I love you” to his friends and guess what else changed) Even at school he’ll get really close and just touch my leg or my side. (our computer graphics 2 class probably all thinks we’re dating) He does this cute thing where if I pet his nose he like leans his head into my hand like a cat and my brain is just like oh my gosh protect this human. He has a lot of cute mannerisms too. When I’m on the call and he has to put his phone down he makes the same little face that he uses for literally every snapchat he sends, with his lips pressed together and his eyebrows raised. If he’s explaining something really intensely he will sometimes curve his fingers like he’s holding two tennis balls and tense up his entire body. He’s an enneagram 4, which basically means that he gets high off of being special, and we use it as a meme when we’re talking about him. Whenever I do something weird I ask him if it “satisfies his ennegram 4” and he replies that it does. He also likes doing things that make him feel closer to someone, I guess because it reaffirms his importance and reliance. Wearing no makeup or having messy hair or singing in front of him are things he really appreciates(I’ve done all three). I’m painting him as really soft and pure but he also can be quick to retaliate (”if someone starts something, you can be sure I’ll finish it”) or become defensive if he considers himself provoked. He doesn’t like having people dislike him though, and is really proud of not hating anyone or having any real enemies. His memory is terrible, especially at night, and honestly it’s a miracle if he remembers anything that happens past 9pm. Even his short term memory after dark is pitiful. There was one night where I tested him and told him to remember a song, and 10 minutes later when I asked he has no idea what I was talking about. I’d ask him to corroborate the story but there’s no chance that he remembers. The lack of memory makes him really doubtful of facts too. My favorite test is to ask “Jeremy, did I grow up in a fjord?” (I didn’t) and he usually starts with “no”, but if after he answers I don’t say anything, he always changes to “yes?” and prompts my “JeremY, this literally happens every time. You KNOW that I didn’t, and just because I stay silent doesn’t mean that you’re wrong.” Am I a bad person? He really just needs to be protected; I’m so worried that one day he’ll literally sell his soul or do drugs or blow all of his money and just think nothing of it. I would never trust Jeremy with finances. He’s an impulse buyer, and sometimes also gives people way too much money to eat spicy food or something else unpleasant; it drives me insane because I despisE spending money. Video games are another one of his vices. He’s amazing at every game he plays. It’s really just excessive at this point. Pokemon is his childhood and he destroys me on Pokemon Showdown constantly. (I’ve never played a proper pokemon game) He got me into PS, eating in my room, and RWBY, and I introduced him to Be More Chill and Heathers and Hamilton. He can sing really well, which is only further proof that he’s actually an angel. I feel like we have a pretty good balance as friends. He tackles his emotions head-on while I avoid them at all costs. He like to be able to rely on other people and I only want to rely on myself. He only owns one pair of shoes (by choicE) and I love feeling pretty by wearing makeup and outfits I like. He keeps his family out of his social life and I tell mine everything. He’s a wonderful friend and I don’t deserve him at all but I try my best to.

moodboard: do you feel you had a happy childhood?

Yes! My family is wonderful so I got lucky.

stars: when did you last cry in front of another person?

I don’t know. I usually don’t. It was probably Jeremy though.

plants: pick a person to stargaze with you and explain why you picked them.

Jeremy,,,,,, because he’s my closest friend.

converse: would you ever have a deep conversation with a stranger and open up to them?

To an extent. It depends on who they are.

lace: when was your last 3am conversation with someone, and who were they to you?

I haven’t stayed up until 3am probably since I was dating my ex boyfriend, so him.

handwriting: if you were about to die, and you could only say one more sentence to one person, what would you say and to whom?

Probably tell my mom that I love and appreciate her.

cactus: what is your opinion on brown eyes?

They wonderful and u n i q u e

sunrise: pick a quote and describe what it means to you personally.

“It is a dangerous thing to unbelieve something only because it frightens you“ - Cheshire Cat in the book “Heartless“ (I just really like it because it’s so consistent with truth and fighting against oneself)

oil paints: what would you title the autobiography of your life so far?

I don’t know, maybe something about evolving and getting through thing and becoming better. Maybe “Better” because it also aligns with the OneRepublic song

overalls: what would you do with one billion dollars?

I hate spending money, I’d probably just hold onto it forever

combat boots: are you a very forgiving person? do you like being this way?

I used to be more so, but life isn’t as black and white as it used to be. 

winged eyeliner: write a hundred word letter to your twelve year old self.

Literally 12 year old me was doing fine. She doesn’t need a letter. 14 year old me maybe did.

pastel: would you describe yourself as more punk or pastel?

pastel

tattoos: how do you feel about tattoos and piercings? explain.

I don’t think I’ll get any more piercing than the ones in my ears now because earrings irritate my ears and it just wouldn’t be worth it. I like the look of tattoos that are slightly darker than the skin, and are on the person’s hands or waist, but I probably won’t get any. I don’t know. People can do whatever they want with their bodies.

piercings: do you wear a lot of makeup? why/why not?

Foundation, eyeliner, mascara, concealer, some highlighter. I just like the look of it.

bands: talk about a song/band/lyric that has affected your life in some way. 

I don’t know, but TOP is always a good choice for this. I made my Depression Castle in minecraft listening to them.

messy bun: the world is listening. pick one sentence you would tell them.

I believe in you

cry baby: list the concerts you have been to and talk about how they make you feel.

The only one that made me feel anything was when I saw OneRepublic with my ex boyfriend. He started talking about depression and my hearT.

grunge: who in the world would you most like to receive a letter from and what would you want it to say?

I’ve talked about the first person I was in love with, and I’d probably want the letter to be from her because we don’t talk that much now. We’re going to prom in the same group and she’s going to be so gorgeous and I’m going to gravitate to her like I always do and I don’t know. I just want to know that she doesn’t hate me.

space: do you have a desk/workspace and how is it organised/not organised?

Yes! I’m sentimental as hec and so I have pieces of paper from my friends and small things and sticky notes all over the back. (actually I calligraphied “Riley” and “Katherine” onto sticky notes a while ago to put there because I don’t have anything physical to remind me of you two)

white bed sheets: what is your night time routine?

Call Jeremy, brush my teeth, floss, I’m probably already in pajamas, take my makeup off, unmake my bed, take my bra off, get into bed, say goodnight, sleeP

old books: what’s one thing you don’t want your parents to know?

That I masturbate………. My mom was talking once about how I might not orgasm until I’m in my 20s and that’s ok, and I just kind of laughed. It would probably be fine if I told her but ya know

beaches: if you had to dye your hair how would you dye/style it and why?

I just redyed it pink today!

eyes: pick five people to go on an excursion with you. who would you pick and where would you go/what would you do?

Jeremy, Marissa(she doesn’t have a tumblr), @parksandrecmeup, @sparklygemsuniverse, and @internet-pringle and honestly I’d go anywhere with them

11:11: name three wishes and why you wish for them.

Happiness (it’s what I always wish for at 11:11)

That my future will be wonderful

That the world will improve

painting: what is the best halloween costume you have ever put together? if none, make one up.

When I was smol my mom sewed this thick piece of fabric together and we painted and stick feathers to a mask so that I could be Hedwig from Harry Potter. I was so warmmmmmm

lightning: what’s the worst thing you’ve ever done while drunk or high?

Never been either because I’m boring

thunder: what’s one thing you would never do for one million dollars?

Kill someone

storms: you on only listen to one song for the rest of your life, or only see one person for the rest of your life. which and why?

Song, because I can still go about my normal life and interact with society

love: have you ever fallen in love? describe what it feels like to realise you’re in love.

Twice! The second time was better and softer. I was always smiling and happy, and texted him 24/7. My heart felt like it glowed.

clouds: if you’re a boy, would you ever rock black nail polish? if you’re a girl, would you ever rock really really short hair?

Nah. I like my hair

coffee: what’s your starbucks order, and who would you trust to order for you, if anyone?

Hot chocolate because I Avoid starbucks, and anyone can order for me tbh

marble: what is the most important thing to you in your life right now?

Myself *sunglasses emoji* (I’d say Jeremy but like he doesn’t need my help, my main goal is helping myself)

[daydreambouquet]

Nothing is a dream

I’ve got a lot of writing that I want to get done, but there never seems to be enough time to just sit and think and write and focus.

I tell myself that I will only post things that are finished, because its always best to have a fully formed story before releasing it to the world. 

But maybe I just need to relax a little, take it all a bit less seriously. Let’s loosen up and just write for the hell of it. See where it goes.

So I’m going to scribble down as I go. Starting with this one, a continuation:

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

01 - Another Shade in Dreamland

Tifa sat perfectly still, tapping her fingers together in her lap. The room she was in was small, white, devoid of everything except the very basics. She wasn’t sure how much time had passed. There was no clock on the wall, but Tifa felt certain that a long time had come and gone. 

People came and went. Most of them asked her questions. She really had no answers. And they wouldn’t answer hers, so everything seemed pointless. Sometimes she felt she recognized the person who entered. Once it was an older man, thin, short, with a crooked posture and wirey glasses on the bridge of his nose. He reminded her of someone vile that she might’ve once known. It was so hard to concentrate nowadays. Images and people would trigger memories or glimpses of dreams though she couldn’t really say which was which.

“Do you know where you are?”

Edge, she knew. They’d moved her from Gongaga to Edge weeks ago. Or days ago. 

“What can you tell me about the other world?”

Once or twice Rufus came to visit her. He kissed her hand and told her he would make things right, then she never saw him again. Perhaps he was too embarrassed to have her in his life anymore. Insane, she’d heard people say. She was insane. 

“What can you tell me about the other world, Tifa?” 

She’d seen Cloud a handful of times too, always solemnly standing outside the open door as another person was ushered in to meet with her. He would steal glances at her, but never came in to speak. She saw the pain in his eyes, as if this too were eating him up inside. Then she thought of Denzel and remembered what they’d gone through together, how he’d barely hung on back then. 

Back then. They could all get by with skinned knees. Back…

“And the General wants an update. When was the last time you spoke with your husband?”

Tifa slowly turned towards the woman speaking. It was Elena, but Tifa knew this was only a shade of Elena. A dark duplicate. A mirror in the mirror. 

“Husband?” Tifa repeated the word. It sounded strange, foreign. 

“Yes,” Elena huffed and tilted her head, “Cloud. When was the last time you really spoke with him?”

“We never married.”

Time went by, but the days never changed. She’d demanded to speak with Tseng at first, knowing that he’d be able to corroborate all of her story, but when he was led to her room, the Turk refused to speak. Dark eyes regarded her sadly, like a hopeless case, and he sighed. She thought for a moment he would whisper close to her ear that he was working on a way to get her out, that he was on her side in all of this, but he never did. He merely shook his head. 

He was protecting himself, she reasoned. He didn’t want to be taken down along with her as crazy. He’d lived in this world long enough, in secret, she thought. 

“The child. Do you remember his death?”

Tifa nodded. Reno spoke to her now, lazily looking down at a series of papers attached to a clipboard in front of him. 

“Tragic,” Reno commented, exhaling. 

Yes, tragic. She agreed, and as Reno left she spotted Cloud standing in the hallway again. A forlorn lover, watching his world fall apart. But that wasn’t really him. He was gone, she knew, and the person standing in the hall was just another shade in dreamworld. Not real. 

“What can you tell me about the other world?”

The other world. It was such a strange question. She couldn’t bring herself to answer because this is the other world. She couldn’t comprehend the question of it. What exactly did they expect her to say? It was like being thrown into the middle of a conversation without knowing the subject matter or the speaker. 

“Don’t you think it’s possible, Tifa?” The man across from her was someone she felt she should’ve known. “Don’t you think the timing of this so-called alien entity matches up quite perfectly with Denzel’s death?”

His death. Denzel. Memories flittered against her skull like trapped birds, moving so fast she could hardly grasp any. 

“And don’t you think it’s remarkable that the alien entity would assume the form of Zack Fair, the long-dead best friend of your lover.” A pause as if she was supposed to agree, then a breath and the speaker went on, “Your lover who was so affected by Denzel’s death that you had to leave him?”

Nothing was certain. 

“Isn’t that an odd coincidence? Cloud can’t recover, and you imagine Zack, the very symbol of traumatic death, has torn you two apart. You imagine a whole world where this symbol of death haunts him, keeps you from him. Literally infects him and makes him do terrible things. Such as leave you and become a hollow shell. An emotionless monster.”

She tried to focus on specific things about the speaker, about the subject matter, but it was so hard to concentrate. Her head ached. Her heart was a mess of knots. 

“A broken husk under the unswaying command of a ghost.”

She’d had it wrong this whole time. Her brain was a jumble of images and random bits of dialogue. Lonely nights on Mideel. A sweeping vista of the wastelands from high atop a fort lookout. A dark ruined city in the rain. These were all just constructs she’d made to escape the reality of her relationship falling apart and his death. 

Denzel. The phone call that changed their world. The boy fascinated with sleep, because when he slept he dreamed, and whatever it was peering at him through the looking glass of night was not some maligned interstellar being but a sick sad disease, and he was a fragile damaged child. A child she couldn’t protect, and Cloud couldn’t suffer another loss. Cloud never recovered. She’d left. 

She remembered it now. She’d had a particularly vivid dream, just before she met up with Cloud in Gongaga. Yes, she’d dreamt of finding him near the church of Midgar, though she couldn’t remember there being any flowers. She’d held him close, and when she awoke in Edge, years apart from the demise of their relationship, she’d felt more alone than ever before. 

She missed him, and all those dreams had just been a terrible way for her to cope. The only way her broken heart could. It was so plain to see now. 

Tifa sipped coffee from the cup in front of her. She’d been in the WRO’s custody for weeks. Or months. There was no way to tell.

“The other world,” she repeated the words carefully.

But how could she tell if any of it was real? At night she still dreamt of another place, but it was fragmented and foggy. There was fire and chaos, and she thought perhaps her memories of Nibelheim were getting mixed up with fiction concocted in her head. 

It couldn’t last forever, she knew. Everything comes to an end.

Her coffee was cold, and she bit the edge of the styrofoam cup softly like a nervous tick. 

“And all you’re trying to do in this other world is reach him. Does that sound like you, Tifa? A miserable sad woman, searching endlessly?”

She wanted to believe them all. She wanted to get better. But something was always off. Something she couldn’t quite see or touch. It moved ahead of her in the dark, slipping between realities, and the overwhelming sensation of loneliness gripped her tight. 

“No. Your brain is just processing trauma the best it can.”

“The best it can,” she echoed. 

But it never helped. Knowing the truth meant nothing. And at night she still dreamt of another world opening up. A consistent place of nightmarish creatures in a dark rainy city. She was with him here, in this strange other place. She knew they were together somehow. But she never saw him. 

“You know he’s here, Tifa. He’s waiting for you. Your husband.”

She could only feel him like a pulse. Like a part of her heart that was gone, so far away, yet still in sync with her body. The real Cloud was off somewhere with the real Tifa. And she was… not real. She was a mirror of something she’d lost. Or she’d lost something in the mirror. She couldn’t remember which, and really what did it matter?

All she knew was she couldn’t give up. Because when she dreamt, she was back through the mirror, still searching for what she had lost. It was endless, timeless. An infinite blackness stretched outward into a sea of stars. 

She closed her eyes. She wanted to sleep. There was nothing but interrogations and long periods of silence. Sometimes she stared out the window into a gray seasonless sky. They gave her sheets of paper and pencils, asked for anything about the other world. But everything she wrote, no matter how meticulous she spelled her words out, became illegible formless symbols the next time she glanced down. It was maddening. She was mad. 

Her brain oscillated between fitful sleep and wakefulness. She stopped looking for Cloud outside the doorway when it opened to allow some interrogator to enter. Nobody harmed her physically, but she got the sensation that she was being drugged at one point. She’d given up trying to break out, trying to plead or bargain, trying to assert authority or utilize her relationship status with Rufus. Nothing worked. 

She was stuck. And it truly felt like she’d never be free.

[nh935]

Creepy America Episode 6: Myths & Legends

Creepy America Episode 6 Myths & Legends Clifton, Virginia

I had a roommate in college, Jonas something-or-other, who tried to get me interested in Dungeons and Dragons. The idea was that you’d make up a character with all these different abilities and stats and whatnot and someone running the game would tell you what was happening and you were supposed to tell them what you wanted to do. Then you’d use some dice and the numbers on paper to figure out if you were successful.

I never really got into it, it was just too strange, but one of the things that was interesting to me was the stats. They were numbers to determine your characteristics, things like Strength, Dexterity, and so on, and there was one for Intelligence and one for Wisdom. Intelligence was supposed to be your regular smarts, like math and history, but Wisdom was your street-smarts, your gut, and it let you do things like notice things in the background and tell if someone was lying.

I liked that, and I feel like it describes the difference between me and Zoey. Zoey wasn’t the smartest; whenever she didn’t understand something, she came to me, and that happened often. But she was wise. It was Zoey who could tell when someone was lying, when something was out of place, and when things weren’t right. If there was something spooky going on, she picked up on it way faster than I did, and to this day I believe that’s why some people can walk through haunted locations and feel nothing while others see shadows and hear screams. Some people are just better attuned. If that truly is the mechanism behind sensitivity to the supernatural, then Zoey was certainly much wiser than I. Virginia alone proved that.

***

We entered Clifton sometime in the afternoon. The town was small, smaller than Hurricane, even. The actual downtown area had less than fifteen buildings in it, and as I pulled off to the side of the road, Zoey stretched in her seat.

“Goodie, lunch time. I could use a break.” she said.

I shook my head. “Nope. This is the next place we’re setting up.”

“Why?” she asked, looking at the small cluster that was Main street. “This place barely has anyone in it.”

“No idea. But it’s on the itinerary.”

She frowned and opened the glove box to retrieve the stack of papers we had our roadmap notes on. After flipping through them, she withdrew a paper and read “Clifton, WV, Creepy America location. Home to the ‘bunny man’ bridge.” She put it back in the stack. “Well, that explains that.”

I groaned. “So you’re telling me that we just spent all that time just to drive somewhere that we know has nothing?”

“I think I’m telling you it’s time for a lunch break.” She opened her car door and climbed out.

Part of me wanted to get back on the road and keep going, but I exited the car with her and crossed the street to a pub-style restaurant. Halfway across the road, though, she stopped.

I paused and looked at her. “You okay?”

“Yeah, just… weird cold spot.” She shivered.

I raised an eyebrow at her, but said nothing and continued into the pub, a large place made out of dark wood. Despite my desire to get back on the road, I couldn’t help but feel my mouth water as the scent of deep fryers and seared meats hit my nose. A sign said “Seat Yourself”, so we took a table near the bar.

At the bar was a man, disheveled and distraught, with red eyes and the shiny trail marks of tears running from the corners of his eyes. He brought the bottle in his hand up to his mouth, swayed and then barked “Anofer!”

A different man behind the bar shook his head. “You’ve had enough Tom.”

“You can’t tell me wha’s enough, not wif’ my daughter in the ground and nobody worryin’ ‘bout the killer.”

“You know that’s not true. The police…”

“The police are blind fools!” he yelled. “I told ‘em who it was. I told ‘em it was the Bunny Man! I saw ‘im, axe an’ all, an’ now Janice is dead an’ everyone thinks I’m crazy, or did it, an’... an’...” he broke down sobbing and the man behind the bar took him by the shoulder and escorted him out.

Zoey and I exchanged looks.

“So…” she began.

I shook my head. “No. We are not staying here.”

“C’mon Liam, why not?”

“Because it’s just going to be a waste of our time. Like the dogman was.”

“The dogman was different.”

“How?”

“There’s just… I don’t know. Call it a hunch.”

I raised an eyebrow. “A hunch?”

“Yeah.” She waited for me to respond, then sighed. “Alright, alright, I know it’s not a lot to go on. But we’re already here, and we already budgeted the time and money to stay here for a bit. So why not?”

I thought about it for a bit, then shrugged. “Alright, I suppose we can stay a bit longer than just lunch.”

***

We couldn’t talk to Tom; when we tracked his house down and asked to interview him, a woman I presumed to be his wife cussed us out then slammed the door in our face. But after asking some of the locals, we learned that Janice was in high school, and, well… you know how high schoolers are.

I’m going to skip most of the interviews, because they simply weren’t very helpful. Too few of the details were corroborated, and too many people spent time talking about irrelevant issues and potential theories. The more kids we talked to, the more obvious it was that we were hearing rumors and not facts.

We did hear some things repeated often enough to seem true. Janice’s body was found out in the woods. The murder weapon was an axe. Janice’s father, Tom, had gone looking for her after she hadn’t come home for several hours after school, and it was him who found the body. He also saw a figure nearby, a tall, bearded man in a bunny suit, standing a ways away with a bloody axe, who disappeared when he looked away for a split second.

And everyone knew who that was: the bunny man.

Which is where things disintegrated into speculation again. The bunny man was a lunatic, he was a prisoner, he was a ghost and he was a hobo who lived out in the woods. It was the typical contradictions you would find among any local legend. Even more problematic, there were some people who thought the bunny man wasn’t real, or at least, Tom’s story wasn’t, and there was a more sinister motive behind it.

There was also a smattering of stuff online. Apparently, there was a weirdo who had threatened some people with an axe while wearing a bunny suit, but that was about it. The main version of the legend, that he escaped an insane asylum into the woods and was never caught, had been thoroughly disproven by a local historian. Beyond that, there was only hear-say.

“Well,” I said as the high-schooler who had been eager to share in his theory that Janice’s former boyfriend was somehow involved scurried off to parts unknown, “that was a bust.”

She frowned at me. “What do you mean?”

“I mean there’s nothing here. Just a children’s campfire tale and an unfortunate dead girl stuck to it.” I started to pack up the camera we had been using back into its carrying case.

“And that means what, exactly? That Tom just made up the story about the axe man in a bunny suit? There’s a lot saner ways to deflect guilt.”

“Well I never said he was sane.”

I started to lift the bag off the ground, but Zoey grabbed my arm, forcing me to look at her.

“Can’t we stay here for a bit longer?” she pleaded. “Please, Liam?”

I sighed. “You still have a hunch, don’t you?”

“...yeah.”

“Alright, but just until tomorrow morning. Once nothing happens, we pack up and leave.”

***

When we made it back to where the R.V. was still parked, there was a small crowd of people gathered at one end of Main Street, blocking the road, backs turned to us to stare at whatever it was that held their attention. Zoey and I traded glances at each other, then moved to join them.

“Alright everyone, I’m going to need you to back up a bit” a man in a brown sherrif’s uniform said, waving his arms in front of the crowd.

“It’s Tom, isn’t it?” someone called.

“Now we don’t know that” the sheriff replied. The unknown voices continued to gossip.

“Well, it’s either him or the bunny man.”

“You can’t believe that nonsense, can you?”

“Well just look at it!”

We were close enough to see now. There, in the middle of the road, was a body. At least, I assume it was a body. By the time we got there, it was covered in a white sheet, edges and corners turning red from soaking in blood.

That was hardly the most interesting part, though.

Surrounding the body on the far side were several stakes in the ground, no higher than three feet in the air. Pinned to them, like some bizarre diorama of Roman crucifixion, were rabbits, nailed into the wood stomach up so that their paws were outstretched in a position of defensive fear. The wounds from these nails all leaked blood into the dirt.

“Look!” the sheriff shouted, face visibly turning red, “you’ve all had a nice oogle. Now I need you to scurry off so we can wall off this scene!”

Begrudgingly, the people left in twos and threes. A breeze passed by and Zoey shivered again.

“Creepy, huh?” I asked as we meandered to one side of the street.

“It’s not that,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s just so damn cold.”

I moved my hand through the air. It didn’t feel too bad; it certainly wasn’t warm, but it was by no means cold. “It feels fine to me.”

“Really? You can’t feel that?”

I shrugged.

“Anyway, that’s not important” she declared with a wave of her hand. “What is important is that there’s something here.”

“Yeah, I can’t argue with you there.” I scratched my head. “But why now? I mean, the bunny man urban legend has been around for decades but this seems to be the first time it’s gotten a verified body count.”

She smirked. “Well, that’s our job, right? Finding out. Question is, where do we start?”

“Well, there was that bridge…” I remarked.

***

Bunny man bridge was… anticlimactic, all things considered. The supposed hot-spot for the maybe maybe-not ghost of the serial killer was little more than a short white brick tunnel than ran under a railroad. It wasn’t even long enough to get properly dark in there. Supposedly he had hung himself here, but I didn’t see how because there was nothing nearby to hang a rope to. But with the whole rabbit-pole thing, I supposed all bets were off.

Originally, we were going to stake the location out in our car, but after only a half hour there, the same sheriff from before rode up and told us that we couldn’t park our car in the middle of a roadway, so we were forced to park it about three miles away at a general store and walk back. He also told us that we couldn’t hang around the bridge, but we ignored that part.

We stayed as the sun went down and continued to stay as the night dragged on. Once the sun had disappeared, the trees lengthened into long shadows, tall and slender entities whose silhouettes hid the inside of the forest from us. What we could see was what was illuminated by the moon and stars, as well as the occasional house light from deep in the woods, shining like  will-o-wisps; a floor of leaves, small ridges and hills, and the dark shapes of man-made signs and fences were all painted in a sheen of gray that is night light.

As ten dragged to eleven and eleven to midnight, the air got oppressively cold. My breath was visible and I was shivering now. I turned to Zoey and cleared my throat. “Ready to…”

“Shh!” She grabbed ahold of my shirt and dragged me into a shadow under the bridge. Her camera was pointed into the woods, so I followed its end and pointed mine at the same spot.

There, in the dim light, was a figure. Tall, how so was impossible to tell, but it was obvious even from this distance. The darkness blocked most of his features, but there was no hiding the most obvious one: the dirty pale purple of a full-body suit with two ragged rabbit ears at the top of it.

Its route took him closer to us and we both stopped breathing, stopped moving as he passed. Now we could see a dark black beard pouring out of the mouth area, dark eyes where the suit was cut out to allow for vision, and a large dull and chipped red axe hanging from his side. His footsteps were shuffling plods that kicked up the leaves. His other hand was dragging something large and brown and with relief I realized it was a deer carcass. Its eyes were stuck in glassy panic and its throat was slit so deep that the dragging almost threatened to tear the head off. He didn’t so much as look at us as he moved deeper into the woods.

Without a word, we followed behind.

It was nerve-wracking. There’s no way to move silently in a forest and every leaf crunch and twig snap sounded like the boom of a cannon. Most of them he ignored but when the noise was particularly loud, he’d stop and look up. We’d have to duck behind a tree or rock and wait until we heard those plodding shuffles again, then quietly resume trailing him. It continued in this way for what must have been hours, but with every moment spent hiding, he got just a bit farther ahead until he crested over a ridge quite a ways away. When we caught up, he was gone.

After waiting five minutes to confirm he was no longer near, Zoey whispered “I think we lost him.”

I nodded. “Time to head back, then.” I turned around and stopped. “Um, where exactly is back?”

She squinted into the night. “I can’t tell, none of this looks familiar to me.”

“Same here.”

She cursed. “Alright, follow me.” Zoey climbed down the ridge and started walking in the direction we came. I walked behind her.

Suddenly, Zoey tensed up and held her hand up to me to stop.

“What?” I asked.

“Movement, up ahead.” She pointed to some trees.

“Maybe it was just a deer?” I couldn’t even convince myself with that tone of voice.

She twirled and stared at a spot behind me. “It’s… circling.”

I swallowed and moved with her, back to back to cover blind spots.

“Do you hear that?” she murmured to me.

“Hear what?” I replied.

“Silence. The animals have gone quiet.”

There was a sudden explosion of leaves and dirt to my left. I spun to face it. It was the bunny man, and up close, he was even more terrifying. Now I could see the wild and mad look in his eye as he swung the axe, blunt-end first, towards me. I yelped and tried to bring my arm in front of it but it was too late. The metal end hit my head with the force of a truck. My ears rang. I saw stars of white in my vision. I tried to blink them away and backpedal, but my foot caught on a branch and I fell. All sounds morphed into weird echoes, like I put my head in a fishbowl, and there was a tunnel of black crawling around the ends of my eyes. I saw the strange bearded rabbit man bend over and grin at me and I just couldn’t take any more.

My eyes forced their way closed.

***

I felt the sensation of warm air licking my face. I twitched my cheek in response and the motion awakened all of my nerve ends, bridging back all my pains and aches in full force. Groaning, I opened my eyes.

I was still in the woods. Around my hands was a rough and scratchy rope tied to the tree at my back, holding me up in an uncomfortable half-sit. In front of me was the orange glow of a campfire, the source of the warmth. Outside of that was just shadow.

I saw movement to my left and I turned to it. The bunny man. He was walking back, axe hanging from one hand, pieces of wood in the other. He threw one into the flames and sat across the fire from me. As he did, he picked up a small object, my camcorder, I realized, and opened it up.

“What is this?” he asked, pointing it at me.

“I-i-it’s a camera."

He stared at me with a total lack of recognition for the words."

"It records things," I clarified.

He pressed a few buttons. I saw the little red recording light come on just as he grunted and threw it away into a pile of leaves, taking a seat across from me at the fire and staring at me.

I did the same. Now, in proper light and with no distractions, I could see the smaller details. He was a white guy, hard to tell in the full-body rabbit suit. The only places his skin showed through were in the various rips and tears in the suit that lived alongside stains of all different colors, as well as his hands, which were large and gnarled. His beard was scraggly and unkempt; chunks of dirt resided in it. And the smell… it was the scent of an outdoor outhouse, only worse.

I got my feet from under me and stood, slipping one or two times from the fatigue as I did so. He watched this awkward display while remaining immobile, following me only with his eyes.

“Wh..who are you?” I asked.

“I’m surprised at you. Can’t you tell?” His voice was deep and rough. It reminded me of the sound of tires on gravel.

“You… you look like the bunny man…”

“There you go then.” He rose and lifted the axe up.

My heart leapt into my chest. “Wait wait! Y-you didn’t answer my question!”

He stopped, towering over me and staring down at my crouched form. He didn’t say anything.

“I mean...” I licked my lips, “you act like you’re him, but the legend looks fake. Mismatched details, and things. A-and this is the first time there’s ever been bodies. So are you him or are you pretending?”

He continued to stare.

“You know,” he said at last, “I wish more of your kind just stopped to think, like you just did. You really have gotten dumber over the years.”

“So you’re not then?” I wanted to keep him talking, mostly to buy time until I could think of a way to escape… but part of me was truly curious.

He turned to his axe, then to me. After making what looked like a shrug, he sat the axe down near the tree and turned away from me. “No, I wasn’t. This flimsy… shell is a matter of necessity. I used to be great, a god, even. Leshy, man of the forest. They worshiped me. They feared and loved me all at the same time. Some even gave their lives in my name with a smile on their face.”

“So what happened?” I twisted my hands around the ropes, looking for weak points.

“The god of light.” He spat on the ground and turned back to me, making me stop my escape attempt. “He and his ilk entered my land, turned my people away from their own religion. There was not enough to sustain my form. I had to hop from one shell to the next, trying to find enough to sustain me.”

“Enough what? Faith?”

He nodded, dark eyes twinkling in the fire light.

“That… that doesn’t make any sense.”

“Maybe not to you.” He jabbed his finger hard into my chest and his tone turned angry. “You were made with a spirit, a life force, so much so that you feel free to waste it on whatever grabs your attention. I am only soul, a personality alone, forced to feed on your scraps like some kind of dog.”

I winced. The area he poked me at was sore; I was sure it was bruised. “So... you’re taking the faith people use on this urban legend? And stirring up more with the murders?”

He nodded once again and grabbed the axe at his feet, beginning to raise it. “It’s a shame I have to kill you. You possess a rare intelligence.”

“Wait! Wait, just please one second, I can help you!”

He lowered the axe to his feet and waited.

I gestured to the camera on the ground with my head. “I m-make stories. I-if you let me go, I can tell people about you. Show you to the world. Get people to believe in you.”

He shook his head and chuckled. Then he laughed, loud and hard. “So that’s your game. You had me going for quite a bit with the clueless act. Very well done. But I won’t let you bind me to a form, not so close to the time of ascension. Though,” he said as he raised the axe above his head, “thank you for removing my guilt for this act, you piece of warlock scum.”

“No, please, I-I-I didn’t…”

A sudden flare of orange filled the forest as a towering pillar of flame suddenly erupted deep into the forest. The bunny man turned around to watch it rise, then glared at me. “Friends of yours? No matter. I’ll be back for you.” He trekked into the woods in the direction of the fire, leaving me alone in the small camp.

I strained against the ropes at my wrist. No use. They were too tightly tied and too thick. Panicked, I scanned the camp for something, anything to help me out. It wouldn’t be too long before he came back.

“Psst!” Zoey’s voice hissed from behind me. I looked back to see her standing behind my tree.

“Zoey?” I whispered. “Was that you?”

“Yeah. If camping with my family has taught me anything, its how to build an irresponsibly large fire.” She withdrew a pocket knife and sawed through the rope. “C’mon, lets go.”

“Wait.” I ran back over to the camera on the ground, picked it up, and then began to follow her. We did an awkward crouch walk through the trees, trying to move fast and stealthy.

“Did you figure out who the hell that is?” Zoey murmured to me.

“Not who, what.” I gripped the camera tightly as I went. “I think he’s an old pagan god of some kind. Needs faith to live. Nobody believes in him any more, which is why he’s squatting out in the bunny man’s skin. He’s stealing that faith.”

Just as I finished, I heard a roar from behind us. No mere growl, this was a roar you would hear on something primal and ancient, like the battle cry of a T-Rex. Hazarding a glance behind me, I saw his silhouette. Except it couldn’t be. No silhouette could reach that tall like that, and you can’t see shadows in the dark.

Or against the night sky.

There was a tug on my shirt as Zoey grabbed me out of my trance and yanked me onto the road, bunny man bridge directly in front of us. “C’mon!” she yelled. “There’s a safe spot two miles up the road!”

“We’re not going to the car?” I asked, wide-eyed.

“Trust me.”

There was another ear-splitting howl behind us and I nodded.

We took off as fast as our legs could carry us. Neither one of us were in particularly good shape but adrenaline made up for the slack and turned us into Olympic sprinters. Around us, the wind started up, whipping the trees around like a hurricane. The shadow continued to chase us, darkening the forest into a void, swallowing any lights from the houses or ambient light from the sky.

Zoey kept going, past the bridge, past the intersection we had our car parked away from, and further north. I pushed myself to follow, but it was getting harder. My lungs burned. My sides felt like stitching threatening to burst and spill my insides out. My legs were burning too, and the protest they gave was making it hard to keep the rhythm up. Zoey was feeling it as well. At one point, she started to stumble and I had to grab her and stand her upright.

And still the shadow continued to advance. It was no more than five feet away now.

“How much further?” I barely managed to pant.

“There!” She pointed to a building about fifty feet away. “We just need to get to the parking lot.” I could barely make it out in the fading light, but I couldn’t see anything special to it. Certainly no reason to believe it could protect us. But I was far beyond questions at this point.

I gave one last push. This wasn’t adrenaline, this was pure willpower at this point. My body was threatening to break, I could feel it. Just to the parking lot, I told myself. Almost. Just to the parking lot…

I bounded over one last hurdle, a small patch of grass, and I was there. I turned around to see Zoey three feet behind, still struggling to make it. The darkness, practically a pure void now, was right on her heels. Some of it had gathered into a hand and was reaching out to grab her, mere inches away from her head.

I reached out my hand and she grabbed it. I pulled with all my might, toppling us both over onto the pavement just as the hand tried to snatch at her. It instead collided with the empty air in a shower of white sparks. Golden-colored crackles of lightning burst from the spot as the sound of sizzling and the smell of fresh ozone ripped through the air, causing the shadows to rush back and retreat inwards until all that was left of the advancing threat was the bunny man,

“You…” His voice quivered with rage. “This is who aids you?”

I couldn’t say anything. The only thing I could do was lay on the pavement and force air into my aching lungs.

He brought his fists up and pounded on the invisible barrier, causing another shower of sparks and lightning. When he lowered his arms, I could see the smoking burns on them.

“I’ll remember your faces” he vowed. “I’ll remember and I’ll tell the Parthenon, old and new. There will be no mercy for warlocks who ally themselves with the god of light.” He turned his back to us and walked into the forest just as the sky began to brighten into the twilight before dawn.

For the longest time, neither of us did anything. We just sprawled on the pavement, gasping for air, feeling the burn of our unhappy muscles. Once my breathing became more controlled and burning sensation faded into a less intense ache, I looked around at my surroundings.

The building was large and white structure, with a spire reaching into the air. I couldn’t read the blue korean letters written above the doors, but the large cross on the steeple let me know where we were.

“A… church?” I gasped.

“Yeah.” Zoey panted for a minute before continuing. “I remember when my old church did this whole ceremony to turn the ground holy before building a new wing. Did the parking lot too.”

“How did you know it would work?”

“I had a hunch” she replied.

I stared at her. Then I laughed. Zoey joined in too, and we filled the morning air with the sound, celebrating the bizarre victory.

I’ve gotten some flak from trusting Zoey’s hunches and her “spooky sense”, as the fans liked to call it. Most people chalked it up to lazy script writing. But those people never got to see it in action, and I did. And it wouldn’t be the last time it saved our lives.

[vitalmindandbody]

I Croak To Lady Gaga’s Concert And I Literally Feel Reborn( This Way)

Hey, person! Kelli here. How’s everyone doing today? Good? Just fine? Great? Well, speedy interrogate for you: Did you know that if you go to a Lady Gaga concert, your entire life exactly fades away and you become good-for-nothing because Gaga is everything? Haha, yeah. That happened to me Monday night when I went to Lady Gaga’s World Tour. “Shook” is too simple-minded a word to describe the experience. “Spiritual” is closer, but the only word I can come up with that accurately describes how I seemed during and after that concert is “I am nothing; Gaga is my religion.”

I was invited to the show as part of Verizon’s new partnership with the World Tour, and they sure know how to treat a female( Gaga ). A group of us were taken to Citi Field in NYC on a fancy-ass bus, which is something we then filled up with other Verizon consumers/ clients at a large tent/ makeshift stage set up in the Citi Field parking lots. Basically , what happened all night was Verizon gave us the full VIP treatment as part of a publicity for their brand-new reinforces method: Verizon Up.

How the honors program labours is you download the My Verizon app, and as you spend money on acts like your monthly telephone statutes, you compile reward levels. One spot can get you flooring tushes to a Lady Gaga concert, but the tickets are first come, first provided, so the only catch is that you have to use the app consistently to get updates on the latest spates. But those deals can literally territory you free storey seats to Lady Gaga, so SET UP THEM ALERTS, BABY.

LITERALLY appreciating my goddess @ladygaga tonight TY #VZUp for drawing “ve been meaning to” my entirely senseless life I am not worthy #JoanneWorldTour pic.twitter.com/ hVKodBE3 2V

— Kelli Boyle (@ kellixboyle) August 28, 2017

There are a few each level of tickets through Verizon Up. When you accompanied Lady Gaga’s World Tour with the Dream ticket, you get flooring sits to the concert, access to their pre-show kiosk with food, refreshments, and a DJ, a backstage tour of the venue, and they are able to even acquire a meet and greet with Gaga herself. It’s a pretty cool thing.

But we’re here to talk about Gaga, so let’s f* cking do it. I’m one of the most important Beyonce stans in the universe( self-proclaimed ). I’ve exclusively been to a handful of concerts in my life, and majority of them ought to have hers. But I’ve too loved Lady Gaga ever since her “Bad Romance” daytimes and have always wanted to see her live. And people, Gaga is just as good as Beyonce in my thinker now. I know I am literally good-for-nothing and Gaga and Beyonce are the world so my opinion is that of the lowly boor I am, but that is the highest flattery I am capable of giving. There’s a rationale beings weren’t pissed when Beyonce stepped out of Coachella and Lady Gaga took her place. It’s because Lady Gaga is. An. Icon.

The #JoanneWorldTour dissolved me. I no longer dwell. @ladygaga pic.twitter.com/ dm3MwNk1nD

— Kelli Boyle (@ kellixboyle) August 29, 2017

I’m the first to admit I’m a total snot when it is necessary to musicians without even being one myself. I can carry a motif, but I play no instruments and couldn’t write a carol to save my damn life. But I did grow up doing musical theatre and dancing, so I set a lot of value( speak: literally all of the values) on stagecoach presence and product quality. I’m not going to see anyone live unless I know they put on a roughly perfect show that extends the whole nine yards for everything involved.

In my opinion, if you aren’t going to dance, what’s the phase? Why would I want to see someone was stand on stage for hours? If you’re not going to sing live, or if you don’t sound good talk live, are you even a vocalist? So to summarize that all up: I am a music snot and simply like luminaries even though I am a flare piling of dumpster garbage myself. Go it? Great. Moving on.

Lady Gaga is my everything now. Don’t get me wrong, she’s always been an incredible creator, but seeing her live was the closest stuff I’ve ever felt to finding Jesus. Everything she did was perfect. The singing, the dancing, the visuals, everything.

Lady Gaga saying “I’m a free bitch baby” is my religion #JoanneWorldTour pic.twitter.com/ sOG7QC 6Xek

— Kelli Boyle (@ kellixboyle) August 29, 2017

There was one point when she was singing “John Wayne” that she propped the side of her body on the side of her hunched-over dance collaborator and withstood the regulations of physics and gravity while having both hoofs in the air but just any substantiate underneath her. I still don’t understand how it happened, and I will likely waste the rest of my life trying to person it out. And don’t even get me on the vocals she was providing throughout the whole show. Just like Beyonce, she chimes better live. And the RIFFS, sugared mother of deity, my ears have never heard anything so pure.

And you know how she has a beautiful affection with Tony Bennett? Well, he was at the concert on Monday to corroborate her and sat, like, six sits away from me in the Verizon Up slouse. He is a treasured angel whom we must protect at all costs. Gaga dedicated “Come To Mama” to him, and you can bet your sweet ass I invested the entire hymn staring at Bennett like the move I am so I could watch the affectionate pride on his appearance. Back in 2011, before their Grammy-winning album was even realized, Gaga sang “The Lady Is A Tramp” with Bennett on his album,. When provide comments on the experience, Bennett — one of the most famous vocalists of all time — said about Gaga, “I never met a more talented person in “peoples lives” … I remember she’s going to become as big as Elvis Presley.”

Honestly, where is the lie? Starting to a Lady Gaga show isn’t only your typical concert. It’s a showcase of one of the most talented artists our generation is to be able to are presented in the primary of her career. We may be the ones paying for a ticket, but once the prove starts, it seems more like you’re her what she’s owed rather than her add you an aesthetic busines. Imagine her stellar Super Bowl accomplishment, but two hours long and with much more unforgettable minutes. She doesn’t begin the show by propelling from the stadium ceiling; she literally exactly step on theatre slowly and starts singing, and it’s electrifying. She knows she doesn’t necessity death-defying routines to amaze her concert-goers — all she requires is a stagecoach and a mic.

There’s a certain kind of stage presence hotshots like Beyonce and Lady Gaga possess that oblige fans go insane the moment they step on theatre. It’s the elusive “it” quality everyone talks about but can never seem to really define, and that’s because “it” is beyond definition. It’s simply a commonwealth of being that exclusively people who were meant to perform on stage are born with. It’s not learned, preferably it exists within a musician and is finely aria over time. And witnessing that quality live acquires you feel like the rest of the world doesn’t prevail outside of this act. You’re seduced in, you’re accessed, and then you leave a little different than you were when you came in. It’s like a shot of vitality immediately into your bloodstream, and not many artists can make a person feel this way.

It’s why we residence such a high value on musicians. Their aptitude makes us feel like the world is one monstrous pool of possibility that we would be luck to only dip our toes into, let alone dive in headfirst. If you’re find specially low-pitched given the government of the world, going to see Lady Gaga’s World Tour. It will pump the much-needed life back into you, and you’ll leave experiencing like you simply witnessed a piece of record you’ll to tell your grandchildren years from now.

In her chant “Angel Down, ” Gaga sings,

In a macrocosm where it seems like every news story is a bad one and the future seems dismal, Lady Gaga reminds you that just because we’re young, doesn’t mean we’re incorrect, misguided, or naive in our convictions. Her discography historically celebrates everything millennials appraise: equality, truth, following, passion, and being unapologetically, authentically you. The World Tour couldn’t be more perfectly epoch, as its message serves as a reminder of the things millennials importance most and emboldens “youve got to” never forget the importance of those qualities.

“Let’s do this one for Texas since I acquire their hat.” Lady Gaga dedicating “Million Reasons” to Houston #JoanneWorldTour pic.twitter.com/ R4uPEgjgxH

— Kelli Boyle (@ kellixboyle) August 29, 2017

So if you’re feeling specially useless in the face of all of the bullsh* t going on in the world, disappear construe Lady Gaga live. It’s the fix you need.

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[firedupreadytogousa-blog]

Day 13 (1/31): “Lenin wanted to destroy the state, and that’s my goal too. I want to bring everything crashing down, and destroy all of today’s establishment.” #PRESIDENTBANNON

Featuring: -Yesterday, In Trumpland- The Resistance Report- Weekend Actions-

-YESTERDAY, IN TRUMPLAND-

FEATURE: Making Sense of the Last 72 Hours and Why It’s So Significant

In the last 72 Hours we have had a massive attempt to consolidate power and test “our country’s willingness to capitulate to a fascist regime.” (Follow Link to Read Original Jake Fuentes Article)

An irresponsible Muslim ban that intentionally included green card holders (aka permanent residents of the US) to cause chaos.

The Department of Homeland Security defies orders from Federal Judges and the Whitehouse is silent. They essentially crossed their arms and said, “Make Me!”

 The Immediate Firing of the Acting Attorney General last night when she stood up for the constitution and told the DOJ to not defend the law because she deemed it unconstitutional

The National Security Council Shake up, which puts Steve ‘Neo-Nazi’ Bannon in cabinet level position usually reserved for Generals, without confirmation and almost ensures Trump never has to hear suggestions he wouldn’t like.

The gutting of the State Department to block opposition of these moves as it relates to diplomacy. (Previous reports said the State Department was resigning in waves… turns out it was a purge).

Trump has also demoted the Acting Director if Immigration & Customs Enforcement (ICE).

From all of this, the Trump administration is clearly pushing the boundaries of our government’s system of checks and balances (which they have no regard for) and testing how far they can push things legally and get away with them.

 So is the Muslim ban just NBD?

No, it is still a big deal because there is a good chance that it is unconstitutional, the Whitehouse never consulted Congress or appropriate lawyers before enacting the EO, it keeps us less safe by angering our allies, and is now propaganda for ISIS who are currently hailing Trump’s EO as a 

victory by exposing that the US has declared war with Islam. BUT, despite all of this, if you take a step back, it’s not their end game. They want to see if they can just go over the heads of the Judicial branch and get away with it, AND they want to have the appearance of looking reasonable when they eventually back off of 20% of it, when, in reality, they will get 100% of what they wanted in the first place. It’s like when you ask your parents for an insanely ridiculous car for your 16th birthday, knowing the car you want is also ridiculous but not as absurd as the first, so that after they shut down your first request doesn’t seem so extreme after all and you get what you want? That is what it seems like they are attempting to do and it’s a classic business negotiating tactic.

Also it’s worth noting is that Rex Tillerson, Nominee for secretary of state, was surprised and upset that he was not included in the drafting of this legislation… he also opposed several of Trump’s key stances during his confirmation hearing… coincidence?

Is Trump the One Thinking of All This?

Maybe and Maybe not. It seems that the brain child around this whole strategy is this sinister Bannon character who has been plotting this for a long ass time! In fact, he is quoted to have said “I’m a Leninist… Lenin wanted to destroy the state, and that’s my goal too. I want to bring everything crashing down, and destroy all of today’s establishment.” The establishment to him includes republicans and democrats. It’s been circulating that Bannon is using Trump to push this agenda to destroy the state and his unprecedented rise to power and known fascist views corroborate this theory. This has sparked the hashtags #STOPPresidentBannon, #PresidentBannon, and #ImpeachPresidentBannon to start trending rightfully putting this guy in the spotlight as a direct threat to the rights of the American people.

 So How Do WE Stop This?

Some may disagree, but it is OUR take that everyone has a role to play in stopping this consolidation of powers and attempt to flirt with fascism and destroy American ideals. And this must be a bi-partisan effort:

The People & The Art of The Protest. People are showing up and showing out in masses almost organically now in opposition of this hostile takeover of our government. Protests are great for showing unity and rejecting what is happening and sending a message through the media to others and the world that this is not what America Stands for (Not to mentioning pissing off Trump because you cannot be the populist president without being popular). But protests can’t just become the new Brunch, where you show-up, get your fill, feel satisfied/ drunk on the feeling of sticking it to the man, and then go home. The importance of protesting is to get the attention of YOUR elected officials, like we did with Chuck Schumer in NY and pressuring them to bend to the will of the constituents. You do think by visiting your elected officials at their offices, their houses, with phone calls, faxes, emails, letters!. The Indivisible Guide explains this method! So keep resisting.

The Press. The Press MUST go deeper and stay on stories like the NSC shake-up or what happened with the Gutting of the state department instead of the obvious stories that are low handing fruit. Don’t just stay on the surface and ask the tough questions! Don’t allow for conflating facts and pivots, expose them for what they are doing! Keep on Russia and the larger story of the Kermlin’s continued influential role in our government. Keep on The Fact that Trump is still profiting from Foreign governments because he has not divested his assets and we need to see his tax returns. Don’t let up, don’t get distracted! Also Stop airing Spicer on TV and Stop bringing on Kellyann Conway for itnervies, they are a distraction. If you choose to do that, air them with a delay to put up the actual facts while they LIE. And DO NOT air the State of the Union addresses Live whenever that is.

Our System of Checks and Balances. It is obvious to see that our system of checks and balances is failing us now. And there are many reasons for it. You have a dictator in office who will metaphorically chop off the head of fire anyone that opposes him in the executive, a gross abuse of executive orders that are being signed straight into law without consulting any member of the legislative branch (thanks Obama for that one… he wasn’t perfect let’s be clear), a covert staffers on the Hill who are circumventing the norms to most likely garner favor with whoever is coming in next, and a Congress with 2 spineless heads in Paul Ryan and Mitch McConnell who would rather see a collapse in the American system of government than let go of their political hard-ons of being able to pass anything they want with a GOP controlled government. SHAME!

Legislative Branch Needs to Be United! Cannot express the importance that this must be a Bi-Partisan effort! The democrats seem to be finally uniting to help block this legislation by introducing new legislation, starting with the mass boycott of the inauguration, and continuing to Resist by filibustering the Supreme Court pick whoever that may be. And I would argue they skip the State of the Union as well. Thanks to a lot of pressure, the resistance movement has made on a grassroots level. But we will need Republicans to join in and set their excitement of being in power aside, easier said than done, and stand up and fight for us! There have already been some GOP members that have started to break with the President, but we need more.

 Updates on Refugee Ban

 Yes, even as of 8:30pm last night, border officers were still not complying with the Federal Judge’s Stay. However, another WOMAN (hey girl hey!), Acting Attorney General Sally Q. Yates, courageously stepped in and ordered the DOJ to not defend this EO As it is unconstitutional. Which SURPRISED Trump and almost immediately he moved to FIRE Ms. Yates on the grounds that she decided to defend the constitution instead of listen to what he says to do and hire someone else who would do what he said. If you are thinking that is effed up, you would not be incorrect in your judgment. Senate Dems have said they will call for an investigation into those persons who did not comply with the federal judge’s orders. It is important to know that Ms. Yates is a holdover from the Obama administration where she was the deputy Attorney General, however she was confirmed with bipartisan support.

 Jeff Sessions, the nominee for the Attorney General of the US is the one who is intended to fill that vacancy. So on a phone call Sunday night w/ Moveon.org, they emphasized that they, along with the ACLU, and members of congress would be asking for additional time to re-question Sessions on his stance on the ban before voting since this role is key to establishing whether or not the DOJ will defend the ban and more of Trump’s horrible executive orders! TBD on what Happens.

 Important FACTS to know if you’re going to get in Facebook/ family arguments.

It takes 2 YEARS for ANY Refugee to be vetted and granted entry into the United States. It is actually our most intensive screening process.

The Whitehouse is now trying to blame Obama for their major FAIL as they say the list of 7 countries were initially his idea! However, they are not even close to being the same!

“Terrorism by Muslims makes up one-third of 1 percent of all murders in the US.” And none of the countries on this ban have had people that have killed Americans on US soil. Also, “you are more likely to be killed by your own clothes than by an immigrant terrorist.” SHAME

Rudy Giuliani unknowingly confirmed suspicions that this was a disguised Muslim ban because he just couldn’t help himself.

 Again, we can all agree we want to keep our country safe. But we WILL NOT abandon our American Values and what this country stands for!

 OTHER HAPPENINGS YOU MIGHT HAVE MISSED

 Fox News’s initial reports of the heinous massacre that occurred in Quebec misidentified the suspect as Moroccan when in fact he was a MALE WHITE SUPREMICIST and Trump enthusiast who killed 6 Muslims and injured 9 in a mosque! They have still not taken this False Reporting from their website. The Whitehouse even tried to cite the shooting as a reason for the ban… against Muslim and Refugees… #SpicerFacts. The suspect has now been charged with 6 counts of manslaughter. Which makes you wonder, with all this talk of National Security,  who is really a bigger threat to your safety?

 Trump signed an EO meant to help small (and frankly large) business by easing the amount of federal regulations they have to comply with. The EO basically states that for every new regulation, 2 other regulations must be removed. And that’s basically it. So one might say this will totally help, especially struggling small businesses! Others will logically think, this is just going to create multipart regulations. But, as with most that has happened thus far, logic need not apply. This is in line with his campaign promise to cut back on regulations for businesses.

The Department of Interior is the latest on a growing list of departments that have been gagged by this administration according to, SURPRISE, another leaked memo. This includes the Bureau of Land Management, US Fish and Wildlife Service, National Park, Ocean Energy Management, INDIAN AFFAIRS, and others. We are, I’m sure, moments away from following their rogue twitter account… any second now.

Reports have surfaced that Trump will be bringing VP Mike Pence’s unconstitutional religious freedom act to the federal level, by “[rolling] back and nullifying President Barack Obama’s 2014 executive orders which protect employees from anti-LGBT workplace discrimination while working for federal contractors” because of “religious” reasons aka legalizing homophobia. Wow are all those “Gays for Trump” and Deploraball attendees excited now?! This is just another reason why someone like Jeff Sessions cannot be the Attorney General. Dems must continue to hold strong and filibuster Trump’s Supreme Court Pick! However, the GOP could easily evoke the ‘nuclear option’ and kill that idea real quick.

Russia has arrested its top cyber security expert on grounds of treason for providing the US intel about the election hacking. YES remember the hacking! Russia is still not off the hook. They also found an ex-KGB chief murdered in the back seat of a car. This is SUPER SHADY because he was linked to the MI6 officer that compiled that infamous dossier that might actually end up being true. Maxine Waters (Rep. D- CA) announced on Twitter that Dems would be making a statement pertaining to Russia this AM, so TBD on that. I know what you’re thinking, this is turning into the worst TV drama of all time, but unfortunately, unlike The saga of Nick Vail on The Bachelor, this is REAL LIFE!

With a heavy heavy heart, I’m sad to tell you there were 2 American casualties in the Al Qaeda raid in Yemen on Sunday. One was a Navy Seal who was a SEAL Team 6 member and the other an 8-year old American Girl. It seems like the first major military advance by the president was a hot mess… and with Bannon on the National Security Council as a principal things might get even more dicey. Our soldiers lives are not a political game. Steve Bannon must be stopped!

 - RESISTANCE REPORT- THE RESISTANCE IS REAL, LIVE, AND GROWING! JOIN THE FIGHT!

- Steve Mnuchin Finance Chairman: Committee Vote TODAY! Devos Vote TODAY! SESSIONS Vote TODAY! Keep calling or FAXING if you cannot get through! Schumer and Gillbrand are now united in opposing all! Let’s get others going!!!

- Attorney General Sally Q. Yates, courageously stepped in and ordered the DOJ not to defend the EO and the DHS to comply with the Federal Stay. She was aptly fired by Trump quickly thereafter. Cannot express how worrisome it is when folks are going to be fired for 1) upholding the law and 2) for disagreeing with the president. It’s. About. To. Go. Down! #RESIST

- Democratic Members of Congress took the floor to express their outrage and commitment to work to overturn Trump’s #MuslimBan in Congress and urge their fellow Republicans to join them. They also are contemplating to filibuster the hell out of what every Supreme Court Justice Nominee Trump puts forth. However, they are still debating if this is the best move in the long run. I will be a Chuck Schumer’s office at lunch today to let him know how I feel about that.

- An internal memo from the gutted state department has confirmed their opposition to the Ban. And Obama finally speaks out in support for The Resistance! Looks like everyone is joining the “opposition party” these days because defending American Values is the cool thing to do!

- Washington Stand UP! First state to formally sue Trump over the immigration order #MuslimBan.

- Other corporations quickly denounce Trump Ban including Ford, Coke, and Goldman Sachs among others.

- Google announces it will donate $4M to support organizations dedicated to refugees and their employees celebrated by having their own rally against Trump’s immigration ban.

- The Koch Brothers (who are largely responsible for the messy boots presidency that is DJT and funding the GOP H8 regime) came out against the ban.

- People are starting to delete their Uber App because their CEO was one of the first to jump on the MAGA train and complete took advantage of the NYC taxi strike… Not Cool Uber. (I deleted my account). Didn’t stop him from attempting to clap back though by snitching on other companies on the same advisory board as him. Didn’t really work though because the people are #woke. Can’t wait to jump into a LYFT or try JUNO.

- Also we’re up to 16 on the GOP side not supporting the ban! this is a list of all members of Congress and their responses to the #Muslim ban! Memorize this, and never forget!

- The Boy Scouts open membership to Transgender Children. If kids can get it, like wtf is wrong with adults?

- No Tweet is safe! It seems that a 2011 Tweet from Trump Hotels has been resurrected, and the responses from people are hilarious!

- The “expert” Trump is using to confirm his voter ban, since his golfing buddy story didn’t work out, is actually registered to vote in 3 different states! I mean you can’t make this up people.

- Looking ahead for 2018, the shady AF republican Gerrymandering (or redistricting) is getting crushed in the courts RN. This is a HUGE victory because it essentially will not let the GOP rig the voting districts in their favor. There are 33 Senate seats and all 435 seats in the house are up for grabs. So Mark your calendars for Nov. 8, 2018!

- London and Scotland are Resisting as well protesting this ridiculousness in solidarity with US! We are not alone! British Parliament went HAM on Trump yesterday in the cheekiest fashion, and 1 million Brits signed a petition to not allow Trump to some for a state visit.

 - ACTIONS- AS A CONSTIUENT YOU HOLD ALL THE POWER!

ACTIONS FOR TODAY (3 INSANELY IMPORTANT THINGS GOING ON THIS WEEK)! CALL, FAX, GO TO SENATOR’S OFFICES! Find you Senator’s Contact INFO HERE. Find a local protest event HERE. Find FAX numbers HERE.

COMMITTEE VOTES TODAY (1/31)

1) Steve Mnuchin Finance Chairman: Committee Vote in the evening for Finance Chairman. Government Goldman Sachs exec whose company is accused of illegally foreclosing on homeowners. This guy is scummier than scum and totally is the SWAMP!

2) Jeff ‘too racist to be an Alabama Fed Judge’ Sessions committee vote is TUESDAY 1/31 at 10AM! ANYONE Dem or Republican who votes yes for this guy deserves to be on your SHIT LIST FOR LIFE. Never forget who thought this was ok. ASK FOR A DELAY! HE wrote some of the language in the Muslim Ban!

3) Betsy ‘Guns should be in Schools to fight Grizzlies’ Devos- Department of Education. She is the 1st person to be nominated who has NEVER attended a Public School, taught at a public school, or had a child attend a public school. Yet she wants to be in charge of them… to destroy them. She has a failed track record of implementing charter schools in Detroit. And Because Grizzlies was a serious answer! She is unfit to serve.

4) Tom ‘healthcare is not a human right’ Price Department of Health and Human Services. He wants to gut the ACA.

 SENATE FLOOR VOTE TOMORROW (2/1)

5) REX TILLERSON FULL SENATE FLOOR VOTE… remember Marco ‘pump fake’ Rubio caved during the committee vote so now it goes to the floor. He is SUPER chummy with Russia and is CEO of Exxon Mobil (conflicts of interests much?).  ASK FOR A DELAY! Need to question his stance on ban!

 COMING UP

- Andrew Puzder- Department of Labor: Hates the Department of Labor, yet wants to run it… to DESTROY IT.

- Rick Perry- Department of Energy: Vowed he wanted to get rid of it, was nominated for it, had no idea what it did, acknowledges he’ll have a learning curve, but still wants it… hmmmm this position involved looking after our Nukes… hmmm. *Palm to face*

 UPCOMING DEMONSTRATIONS & TRAININGS- Join Events in Links

NYC- Cick Here for a Full LIST for NYC events

1/31 (TUE) 12:30pm-1:30pm Rally to Stop Trump’s #SwampCabinet @ Chuck Schumer’s Office. 780 3rd Avenue

1/31 (TUE) 6pm- What The F*^k Chuck Rally- Grand Army Plaza in BK

1/31 (TUE) 6pm-8pm Women’s March: Write In and Postcard mailing, Dream Baby downtown

1/31 (TUE) 7pm-8:30pm Rise & Resist Meeting 208 W 13th Street

 Washington DC

1/29 (SUN) 10am: Oppose Betsy DeVos! Columbus Circle, Washington DC

4/15 (SAT): Tax Day Rally to demand Trump turn over his Taxes. Everywhere. Link will show you where your local march is

4/29 (SUN): People’s Climate March

5/6 (SAT) 10am-5pm: The Immigrant’s March on Washington

6/11 (SUN) 10am-6pm: National Pride March