#don’t fuck with my noodles David

[gaymurdersalad]

>That’s…

>… That is wonderful, Asker. I guess you’re coming with me.

>You know, I do suppose it would be nice to have someone I… Tolerate around there. What, with that purple fucking menace looming around every wretched corner of my life. This should be a pleasant change of pace.

>Even if you’re not Dear Henry.

>Let’s Go.

[ VWOOM, TRANSITION SOUNDS, WEEP WOMP, YOU’RE GETTING SUCKED INTO AN ALTERNATE DIMENSION! VWOOOOOOP! ]

>Welcome to paradise, Asker. This is my own abode, where I store the personal arcade cabinet we just entered through.

>Right now we’re in my workshop. I would ask you to hold the aggressive comments on my decor. This is not my favorite place to reside— the house doesn’t even mean that much to me, you see; it was some lousy place my brother lived in before his wife kicked the bucket and he soon followed suit. Anyways, as such, I don’t care for upkeep.

>I really only use this place to enter the Flipside and take my fortnightly nap when this bumbling, wretched curse of a body decides it’s had its fill of lucidity.

>… God, look at me rambling. I get giddy when I’m unbothered.

>I am quite surprised we’ve gone this wrong uninterrupted by that slimy purple wen-

>SP- SPORTSY?

>Oh, oh Sportsy— I was so worried! I was so worried you just went off and forgot about me— I- I’m so glad you’re back, I’ve missed ya so much! I wus— Sportsy, I was so worried you left me for good! I know I been gettin’ on yer nerves, I— But I’d never— Oh, Sportsy, I’m so glad you’re back! I’m s-so sorry for earlier, Sportsy, I swear I’ll— I’ll make it up to ya in any way you want! I’m just so glad you’re back! I won’t make no dumb mistakes like that again— I swear! Just— I can take care of ya, I- I missed you so much! This past hour felt like agony wit’out’cha, Sportsy! I missed you!

>Are ya okay? Did anything happen while you were a’wanderin’? Not a scratch, it seems— That— That bullet wound, I hope ya didn’t move around too much, Sportsy, those bandages look… I- I’m so glad you’re alright, Sportsy, I missed ya! Do you need for anything? Can I getcha some water? Oh, Sportsy, yer eyebags are gettin’ kinda noticeable— When’s the last time you ate? I can— I just went out and got, uhm, some groceries, Sportsy! I’ll cook anythin’ ya want! Sportsy, I’m so glad you’re alright… We should— We should getcha to bed, I know you don’t much like sleepin’, but I swear, I can help ya out— You just seem so tired, Sportsy, I— I can make ya anything you want, I got those ramen noodles I seen ya eat a couple times, and I can cook ‘em for ya no problem! Sportsy, I could make ya some tea Like I remember you drinkin’ wit’ that pink friend a’yours! You’re gonna be okay, Sportsy, I- I missed you so much, Sportsy! I-

>GET OFF OF ME, YOU DOG!

>I- Sp- Sportsy- I’m sorry-

>I don’t care, I don’t care! Don’t touch me you stupid beast!

>Anything! Anything fer you, Sportsy, I’m sorry!

>And quit it with that goddamn nickname!

>… I-

>In fact, just— stop! Stop talking to me, neglect whatever doe eyes you’re about to give me, and shut up!

>…

>Who— Who’s that, in the house, Jack?

[ DAVID IS NOW OPEN FOR ASKS FOR THE NEXT HANDFUL OF POSTS BEFORE HE IS CONDEMNED TO HELL IN HIS WORLD FOREVER! ]

#AKA: he’ll only be available for questions for a certain amount of time! #berate him as you please! #murder salad #gaymurdersalad #salad lore #gaymurderdavid event

[intocleanness]

kill six billion demons brainvomit: the sequel nobody wanted, everyone groans at my bullshit

MAYA TEN METI

MATHANGI MANTRA “SLAUGHTER THE GODS AND TOPPLE THEIR THRONES”

lets talk about her for a minute. not like you can stop me.

Maya’s like Solomon David, she’s learned the folly of Sword Law the hard way on a smaller scale but the fact remains: she had everything and then she lost everything. Her entire life, she chased power. When she was a child she came to Meti, begging her for strength. Time and time again Meti denied her. She grew, the war of the demiurges erupted, she got the training she wanted alongside the street urchin-turned-swordsman Incubus. She became a god of the fractured world and returned to her master in all her splendor and glory.

And Meti destroyed her with a single fucking question: “Suppose you win, what then?”

This is where the paths of Solomon David and Maya diverge. Maya realized she had no answer for that, what would happen after there was no more recourse by violence. What do you do when Sword Law is no longer necessary?

She took Meti’s advice: she laid down her swords as ugly pieces of metal for idiots and built a house, learned the herbs of the forest and the taming of animals. She raised a family and was happy for a time. She learned the correct lessons.

And now we must turn to look at Incubus. Because we cannot talk about Maya without talking about Incubus. I apologize but it simply must be done.

The first word I think of when I think of Incubus is “desperate.” He needs above all else to be validated in any way whatsoever, friend or foe. He tells Allison “You need this” like some creepy dream stalker and Maya is only still alive out of hatred for him. It makes sense though, the first we see of him, he’s a feral street orphan that hears Meti and Maya and without hesitation carves his scalp to the bone with a rusty sword. Incubus fundamentally needs to be important to somebody, anybody, in any fashion. Present him with a rat, say “kill it,” and he’ll chop it in half without hesitation. He will do anything to be more than nothing.

He and Maya seem to have a good relationship right up to the moment she decided to actually listen to Meti and cast off the trappings of godhood in favor of leading a normal life. At which point Incubus thought “you can’t discard me. I need to matter. I won’t be discarded!”

And then he murdered her family and ripped the syllables of God out of her head. Then he tried ten times to decapitate her and failed.

Here is where I wind back around to talking about Maya. I don’t have a specific word to describe Maya, but gun to my head? “Hate.” Maya hates Incubus so much she has lived for thousands of years. Maya hates so hard, she can not so much cut as hate you in half. The fundamental principal of her technique, the Maybe Sword, is that the wielder can simply will something to be cut, But as she says, its foundation is in anger and grief, so it is a terrible thing to wield.

Can it kill a god? Maybe.

Maya regrets that she has this knowledge and wishes she was a simple noodle seller, just like Meti told her all those years ago. Incubus? guy sucks wish i didnt have to talk so much about the fucking stinkboy. hes an extraordinarily poor swordsman

#kill six billion demons

[soreddieforit]

do u have any wolfstar hc’s?

yes yes a few!

remus asks lily to teach him how to braid hair when sirius starts growing his out because he starts complaining that it’s getting in his face. truthfully sirius could spell it back but he’s always plopping into remus’ bed asking him to do it instead

i also think remus always has hair ties on his wrist for sirius (james does too)

sirius is absolutely NOT a morning person. he doesn’t want to talk to anyone, doesn’t want to eat anything, he just wants to stew in his own irritation at being awake until he deems it an appropriate hour. but remus tells him that it would make him feel better if he ate at least a little something for breakfast. so sirius ends up at the breakfast table, head on remus’ shoulder and half asleep, picking bits off the plate remus is wolfing down.

as much as i love them and their love for david bowie, i can also see them being punks. like remus finding a place where no one will look twice at all the scars (they might even find them cool). a place when he can just zero in on the music and throw his body around for a while to work out some of his anger. i think sirius would be obsessed with the whole culture surrounding punk as well.

going off that i really see a lot of validity in both angry remus and wet noodle remus. for me he’s a good mixture of both. i think there eventually comes a point where he realizes that never acting out of turn and keeping all of his anger locked in a box (because of fear that people would be afraid of him) has never done him any good. it’s never enough to keep people by his side once they find out about him. so i think he goes through a period where he just says fuck it, and it’s completely warranted, frankly i don’t know how he want angry his entire life. though i think eventually he gets tired holding all that anger and is content with the people who continue to stay with him and love him so he goes back to wet noodle

sirius calls remus ‘moonbeam’ (this one hurts my heart i love them so much)

#mail #wolfstar #remus lupin #sirius black

[two-red-lungs]

Could you write reader finding out food tlb liked from when they were human/their childhood and making it for them as a gift?

I know you wanted a fic but I have so so many thoughts about each of the boys that I'm gonna collect them all in this post!

The Lost Boys: Their Favorite Old-World Foods

Marko:

The little Italian stallion <3333

I HC him as growing up in inner Florence, Italy, during the artistic revolution. He was fairly elite/in high demand as a model

Basically, a brat with an ego

Still despite rubbing shoulders with the greats, he loved to come home to his family’s little city house and eat his mamma’s cooking

I think Marko’s favorite ‘old world’ dish is Garmugia: a simple springtime soup with cured pancetta, lima beans, scallions, and all sorts of other green veggies

It’s not fancy or especially delicious at all. But I think the smell, the taste, would make him freeze up, flooded with memories

and maybe for a second he’d stop being a feral, combative, snapping undead animal, and you’d catch a glimpse of the athletic young human from centuries ago

Dwayne: 

My personal HC for Dwayne is he got put in a residential school for native Americans at a young age, basically ripped away from his family

He probably escaped, hightailing it out at around 16, and then survived alone on the streets of early 1800s colonizer cities with the rest of the dredges of society 

(Which to me gives him a very strong “I fucking hate capitalism I truly hate this country and deep down I do genuinely want to see this broken system burnt to the ground, also FUCK cops” mentality)

I think Dwayne’s most memorable old-world food would be Gingerbread. Not the gingerbread we know: a soft, cake-like bread flavored with molasses, ground ginger, and cinnamon. Very dark and not very sweet

He worked odd (and illegal) jobs to stay alive and when winter rolled around street vendors would sell big hot slices of the stuff

Bringing him some real, legit circa-1810-gingerbread would probably make him remember the far-distant, little moments of actual joy he had in his human life

AND you’d probably be able to convince him to actually talk about his past for once

Paul:

Country boyyyy, I love youuuu

In my mind Paul is rural midwest, late 1800s when the industrial revolution was really kickin’ off and the cities were poppin (with drugs and alcohol lmao)

He was probably raised on a farm & did farmwork most of the time. Picture him in a low ponytail and work duds, pitching hay. That was probably for the best because that dude 100% has dyslexia and a math learning disability

But oooooh he was prettyyyyy and he knew it: I think Paul eventually ran away from his family’s farm and basically became a partyboy in a big city, like New York, and was changed there

I think Paul’s favorite old-world food is (brace for the cliche) Apple Pie!

Probably a rare treat his momma and sisters would cook up in the autumn and winter: smelling a good, home-style pie now makes him think of barefoot evening sitting on the farmyard porch, listening to cicadas

Unrelated, but I think Paul- that’s right, partyboy druggie bonerboy Paulie- still remembers how to tie a hog

David:

I have conflicting thoughts abt this motherfucker

His backstory HC for me is still a little elusive, but I have some basic details for him

He comes from a pretty fucked-up biological family (probably a crazy-abusive dad and absent mother), was 100% drafted in a war at some point (I suspect the civil war), and 100% deserted his station in that war. Out of cowardice, fear, or distain, I don’t know. 

I don’t think David really has a favorite food?? He’ll eat plain rice. Plain, oily noodles. Hard-tack biscuits. Literally anything like whatever it’s not his personal thing

David like drinking and smoking. I think David’s favorite old-world vice is Irish Whiskey. Again, not the drink we think of. A lot less refined, very rough and coarse: it was the most popular and easily-accessible spirit in the 1860s 

I think it reminds him of ‘simpler times’: just him, alone, human, in a dingy old bar, getting the cheapest drink he can get, ducking his head to avoid being seen by military officials and wondering where he can run away to next

Give him a straight shot of Irish whiskey in an old-style enameled bar glass and it’s one of the only times he won’t be full-on Mansplain Manipulate Manwh0re: he’ll probably sit on a beachside bench with you, drinking in silence, watching the waves crashing far away. Lost in thought. Looking as old as he really is.

#the lost boys #The Lost Boys 1987 #my writing #ask box

[nokingsonlyfooles]

Finish the Feed and Plug the Thing!

I write this! Steampunk! Dieselpunk! Indy! Found family! Magic! Listen: social media is very challenging for me, I'm only sticking around here because I want people to look at my work. Did you hit "follow" at some point because you like what I like? MAYBE YOU'LL LIKE THIS!

I SEE 44 FOLLOWERS AND I WILL GET EVERY LAST ONE OF YOU TO CLICK EVENTUALLY! I WILL WEAR YOU DOWN!! I'M A FROG ON THE EDGE! I MEAN IT!

Ahem.

Known readers: 3 (hi!) 1st goalpost: 10?

Known supporters: Still not asking yet, just letting you know, I will take your money when I start posting more story!

And now, so as not to be too ridiculously long for your feed (thank you for your patience) a sample under the cut!

[Ha-ha-ha, yeah, but the thing I'm writing right now is more of a side gig. It's been stressful this week. I fell into a Hazbin Hotel fic that I'm afraid to show anyone, because it looks like I made a Mary Sue and that's not what I'm about. But it's got David in it, who has returned to Soldier On from the grave and begun impacting the plot again. (That's a mild spoiler, but, c'mon, you must've suspected. He's always getting into places he doesn't belong.)

[Mind if I shoot you a few paragraphs from this otherwise useless, self-indulgent thing, so you can meet him in noodle-bird form? The gag about the Stages of Grief was that they are Denial (Charlie), Anger (Husk), Apathy (Angel), Concern For Your Girlfriend (Vaggie) and Blowing Shit Up While Obnoxiously Australian (Cherri) but I trimmed off the opening so it's just David's arrival, and all you see is Serial Murder (Alastor). Oh, god, I am forever explaining myself...]

A glowing orange hand, much the same shade as the portal, peeked hesitantly out of one side, and swiped through the air as if testing the temperature of the bathwater. Finding no bathtub, it eventually lit on the wall, and scratched the wallpaper with a red lacquered talon. It slid down and found the floorboards. “Oh, well,” said a male, but terribly fussy voice. “Might as well give it a shot!”

The hand vanished. An instant later, it returned, clutching the handle of a purple cloth suitcase. The suitcase thumped on the floor, followed by a shiny shoe with a white spat, and a striped trouser leg.

A fiery orange bird-creature in a purple frock coat emerged, trailing red and blue flames from its head like the tail of a comet. Then again, that wasn’t even the weirdest hair in the room right now, let alone historically. “Ah, hello.” He bowed. “Sorry to bother you. Is this the Happy Hotel?”

Charlie squealed. “That guy just deadnamed my Hotel!”

“Sorry…?”

“Hazbin,” said a grinning shadow with narrowed eyes. One might call this the unprecedented seventh Stage of Grief (Serial Murder), and a very good reason to stop at five.

“What is it now?” said the bird, with apparent sincerity.

Alastor materialized, smiling — as always — resplendent in red, and with a razor-thin veneer of patronizing levity concealing his violent nature. “Ha-ha!” Two syllables, not quite a laugh. “We have an Abbott and Costello fan!”

“Abbott and Costello?” said the bird. He shook his head. “Sorry, it’s always a bit disorienting. Must’ve dropped my timely references. Mind if I go out and come in again?” Without pause, he exited via the portal, and climbed back in. He pointed a knowing finger at Alastor. “Abbott and Costello! The comedy duo! Vaudeville! Oh, you must be ancient…”

Alastor was still smiling, with narrowed eyes, one of which gave a slight twitch.

“I don’t get it,” the bird admitted. He leaned closer and blinked at the smile. “Are you feeling quite well? Do you have head trauma?” He laughed. “Or do I?” He touched his own head, feeling it, and the flames, with both hands. “I do seem to have something worthy of traumatizing. Does anyone have a reflective surface?” He glanced aside at the man in red, who was still grinning. “...Although I quite understand if you’ve covered them all.”

“...Who the fuck are you?” said the Radio Demon, with unusual clarity.

“David Valentine!” He extended a hand, which was not accepted.

The spider recoiled.

The bird did, too, but only a half step. “Sorry?” He leaned forward cautiously. “I have a few other names, if you don’t like that one? Um… Oh, God, have I been here before?” He took a single step towards Angel. “Listen, whatever I did, I assure you, I am perfectly… I am reasonably sober now, and I will never do it a…”

“We’re very pleased to meet you, David!” Charlie said, pumping his proffered hand. “Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel!”

“What is it now?” David said, blinking. He laughed. “Oh, I get it. I get it! That’s hilarious!” He clapped Charlie on the back. When he looked up, there was a grinning face with a twitching eye examining him from a near distance. He backed off a pace and straightened his cravat with a polite chuckle — followed by a shriek. “Christ! is that an actual eyeball or a clever design? Is my tie alive? Is that me? Is this even a suit? Are we all naked?”

Nobody was offering any opinions on the ontological nature of living clothes, but they did seem a bit perturbed by the cravat with the expressive eyeball, so he tucked it back into his vest.

“Sorry! I know I’m being a bit weird, but I’ve travelled quite some way and I may not technically be authorized to be here.” He grinned, displaying neither tongue nor teeth but a gullet full of yellow flame. “But that’s never stopped me! Hmm…” He turned, touched a hand to the centre of the portal, and collapsed it back into nothingness. He winked. One eye was pitch black with a single fleck of white serving as a pupil, the other glowing yellow with a red iris. “Before someone notices!”

“Can I get you a chair?” Charlie whispered in Alastor’s direction. Unfortunately, it was more of a stage-whisper.

Several shadow tentacles sprouted, though they were not aimed in Charlie’s direction. Yet. “No.”

David Valentine was making do with the reflective surface of a glassed-in Lillith poster. He combed back his hair, or whatever that was, with both hands, then examined the hands, both sides. “It’s not quite what I’m used to, but I think it suits me. Love the manicure!” He laughed. “It’s nice to have something corporeal of my own again. I’ll have to oil my hair with lamp oil! Ah!” He turned and posed in front of the glass. “And so thin! Really, incredibly…” He glanced at the others. “Please tell me, has Persephone been winding us all up? Is there food in Hell?”

Angel lifted a hand and volunteered, “Yeah, but it’s shitty and expensive.”

“Oh.” David pointed and nodded. “Like Vegas.”

Angel cackled. “Yeah!”

“Lobsters scream when you drop them in boiling water,” Niffty said, vibrating with joy. “Most things scream when you drop them in boiling water.”

David leaned down and measured her little body with one hand. She was still vibrating. “Is child labour legal in Hell?” he said.

“Yeah,” Angel said. “But I don’t think Niff qualifies. I ain’t sure what she is.”

“Unhinged,” Niffty said. She smiled — she had been, and it was terrifying, but now it was more. “Are you a bad boy?”

David gave an airy laugh. “I make a good girl!”

Vaggie introduced herself, spear point first. “Listen, cabrón, where, exactly, are you from?”

“Exactly?” said David, blinking. “Oh, dear.” He sighed, shaking his head. “That’s always a bit difficult. I have what you’d call a ‘context-based’ memory…” He pointed a sharp finger. “You know that thing where you get up to do something, and you go through a door, and you forget why in fuck you got up in the first place, so you’re just sort of wandering around pointlessly and trying to remember so you don’t have to turn around and go back?”

There were a few puzzled nods. The gentleman with the evident head trauma abstained, but David quite understood.

“Well, I’ve been through several doors to get here and I’ve left a lot of context behind me. I am positive I don’t belong here, but, let’s see…” He counted on his fingers. “I’ve sinned, I’ve died, I’ve continued sinning, and I’m very much hoping to be a better person…”

“That’s what we do!” Charlie said.

“...for the sake of my friends — one of whom died to get away from me…”

“Pardon?” said Angel. “You wanna back up, there?”

“Oh, he’s just being silly,” David said. “I’ll find him eventually!” He cleared his throat. “...and the other of whom is rapidly nearing the end of her finite existence. I fucked up her whole childhood, and it looks like most of her adulthood, and I was really hoping to make amends before she goes into hiding like he did. Oh! And I’m not at all interested in going to Heaven,” he added, with a firm shake of his head. “No. I’ve been — to my version of it, anyway — and it’s terribly dull.”

Charlie’s expression fell. “What?”

The strident sound of a game show buzzer played. The audience seemed very disappointed. Alastor joined them. “Aww. That’s a real shame. But thanks for playing!” He strode forward. “The Hazbin,” he paused, for emphasis, “Hotel is only concerned with redeeming the souls of worthy sinners in need of a second chance. Interloping travellers who are,” he popped up over the flaming bird’s shoulders and made a beaky mouth with one hand, “‘not at all interested’ in going to Heaven need not apply!”

[I dunno. I'm trying to get over myself and numb the shame, but if you like the style, I write like that! That's me! I've written a lot more! And if you hate it... Please don't tell me,. It's a work in progress. I may never show it to anyone anyway. I just think David would do well there, if they don't kill him, and he has a good reason. He just found Hyacinth again!]

#tin soldier and soldier on #long post #free fiction #writers on tumblr #indie fiction #writblr #steampunk #dieselpunk #magic #harry potter alternatives #dramedy #anarchist fiction #socialist fiction #new reader drive #ocs #original characters #character development #potential sexymen! #if i seem desperate it's only because i am! #hazbin hotel #only incidentally but they are guest starring in this post #i can't resist a dysfunctional found family #if i ever finish this i promise i'll mention it

[radioromantic-moved]

i'll take care of you (it's rotten work) (yeah it sure fucking is)

this is so unbearably sweet by my usual standards for this ship...but also i'm kind of proud of it i'm afraid. if you'd rather read on google docs here is a link :) otherwise cytrex fluff (or what passes for fluff when it's them) under the cut

"Cyril, I am dying.”

“You’re not dying,” Cyril says patiently. “You just have a cold, and your immune system is still getting used to being off the station for the first time so it feels worse than it is. You’re going to be perfectly fine in four days or so.”

“If it’s not that bad, why are you sitting on the corner of the bed wearing a mask?”‏‏‎‏‏‎ ‎Trexel‏‏‎ ‎asks, in a checkmate sort of tone. 

Cyril clears their throat self consciously. “I mean, just because it’s not that bad doesn’t mean I want to catch it.”

“Quisling,” mutters‏‏‎ ‎Trexel, before launching into a series of raspy coughs. “I’m writing you out of my will,” he wheezes.

“I was in your will?” asks Cyril, who is, embarrassingly, a little charmed by this.

“Maybe. Whatever.” He rolls over and smushes his face into his pillow. “It just figures that everyone is too preoccupied to say their final goodbyes,” he bemoans, muffled. “Sure, David, your first friend in your entire slimy little clone life is lying here on his deathbed but you’d rather suck face with your idiot grand duke than offer even a smidge of solidarity to me in this--this--ha-chmph!”

“Don’t sneeze into your pillow, you’ll get snot on it,” Cyril scolds him. “Look, you know I’m not Bathin’s biggest fan either, but David clearly adores him and the feeling is mutual as far as I can tell, so just let them have this. Also, we are living on his planet, so try to play nice.”

Trexel‏‏‎ ‎rolls over blearily. “Say something mean about Bathin,” he urges. “I miss when you would do that. It’s my dying wish, Cyril.”

Cyril sighs deeply. “Trexel,‏‏‎ ‎if you somehow take a drastic turn for the worse before the end of today, I will make up a new insult to call Bathin and get it put on your tombstone.”

“Promise?” he asks with shining eyes and a little congested snuffle for extra effect.

“Cross my heart.”

“Thank you, Cyril,”‏‏‎ ‎Trexel‏‏‎ ‎says sweetly. “I lo--um, I l-like you. Very much.”

“I like you very much too, Trex,” Cyril says, and stars and planets they do in fact actually mean it. “I’m gonna make you some soup.”

“You can’t cook,”‏‏‎ ‎Trexel‏‏‎ ‎says suspiciously.

“First of all, rude, and second of all soup is barely cooking, it’s just throwing a bunch of things in a big pot. I can put things in a big pot!”

“I do like a big pot,” he ponders aloud. “Don’t burn anything down.”

Cyril giggles, which turns into a laugh bordering on the hysterical. “You’re one to talk, buddy. Also, so much of this place is water I don’t think I could burn anything down if I tried. But I will be careful. Get some sleep.”

Trexel‏‏‎ ‎nestles under the blankets, looking rather peaceful, especially for him. Cyril’s heart does a thing that might at one time have been cause for panic, but has now become rather routine. 

And as just about anyone could tell you, Cyril Andromedus is a sucker for a routine.

--

The soup is salt, noodles, carrots, seaweed and meat. The seaweed is perhaps an unconventional addition, but‏‏‎ ‎Galactonium‏‏‎ ‎has bred this stuff for flavor, and there are over 50 unique‏‏‎ ‎Galactonian‏‏‎ ‎strains of edible seaweed (and just as many strains of…another kind). Even Cyril hasn’t memorized all of their names yet. Maybe next time they have a free day.

They bring the soup back into the bedroom and set it on‏‏‎ ‎Trexel’s nightstand. Their patient is still asleep. They go to wake him, but hesitate for a minute. Unconsciousness is perhaps the only state in which‏‏‎ ‎Trexel‏‏‎ ‎Geistman‏‏‎ ‎could be described as being calm, and it’s a pleasant novelty.

“A surprise party for me?” he murmurs. “Y’shouldn’t have. Eat the whole cake myself, don’t mind if I do…”

Upon seeing him beginning to drool on the pillow, Cyril snaps themself out of it and gently shakes him awake. “Soup delivery,” they announce.

Trexel‏‏‎ ‎emits an incomprehensible noise and slowly sits up.

“No cake?”  

“Even you would not want to eat a cake I baked.”

“You underestimate the amount of things I’ll eat,”‏‏‎ ‎Trexel‏‏‎ ‎counters. 

They hand him the bowl of soup, a spoon, and a tray (because they really do not want to wash these sheets until they absolutely have to). Trexel‏‏‎ ‎takes a small sip. “Hm. That’s…you know what, that’s okay,” he declares after a minute of deliberation. “Sorry for underestimating you.”

“Trexel‏‏‎ ‎Geistman‏‏‎ ‎apologizing for something?” Cyril gasps. “Never thought I’d see the day!”

“Shut up, I apologize all the time!” he protests. “Just only when I’m wrong, and that doesn’t happen very often, so there.” He coughs.

“I’m honored to have witnessed it.”

“You should be.” He slurps his soup aggressively.

Cyril leaves while he’s preoccupied to read for a while. They have about ten minutes before they hear a plaintive “Cyril…” coming from the bedroom.

Cyril closes the book and goes to check on‏‏‎ ‎Trexel. The soup bowl is discarded, empty, on his nightstand. 

“Do you need more soup?” they ask. “I didn’t make a lot of it, it was kind of a small pot, but if you want I guess I can--”

“No, it’s fine,” he interrupts them. “I’m full on soup for now. I just. Um.”

He avoids eye contact with them, sneezes and swipes at his nose.

“Trex, what is it? Are you actually dying?”

He mumbles something under his breath, too quiet for them to hear.

“C’mon,‏‏‎ ‎Trexel, I’ve heard worse from you on a regular basis, I’m sure of it.”

Trexel‏‏‎ ‎looks hesitant, sneezes again, then forces out, “I would just. Like it. If you stayed here for a little while. And kept me company or something.”

Cyril blinks, caught off guard, then smiles softly. “Okay. I can do that.”

They sit on the bed, still near the edge, but risk scooting in a little closer to where‏‏‎ ‎Trexel is bundled under the covers. “Do you just want me to sit here?”

“You can talk if you want,” he says. “I can’t contribute much. My throat hurts. I don’t like it. I’m used to talking much more than this. S’difficult.”

“I can imagine. Oh my goodness, if you want me to talk, let me tell you about the‏‏‎ ‎Galactonium‏‏‎ ‎library! There are these jade designs on the walls and a fountain and more real paper books than I’ve ever seen in my life, and books written on all sorts of things OTHER than paper, I didn’t even know you could DO that, and Bathin told me I could volunteer there! And at the museums, too, if I wanted, and--”

Trexel‏‏‎ ‎makes a growly noise.

“--and, you know, that’s fine or whatever but I would have found a way to volunteer there even if he didn’t give me permission. He doesn’t control me or anything. Anyway, there were even books in other languages, and oh my VOIDS there’s even an OLD EARTH ARCHIVE like, IN THE LIBRARY, not off in some corner or anything, there’s real actual books and letters and magazines from Earth! I checked out so much stuff and I can’t wait to learn about the cultural context of all of it. When you’re feeling better, we can go together.”

“That sounds awful,” mumbles‏‏‎ ‎Trexel‏‏‎ ‎sleepily. “But I’ll do it for you.”

They rub the back of his head. “How selfless of you. You’ve come a long way.”

“I guess I have,”‏‏‎ ‎Trexel‏‏‎ ‎says softly, in a voice that sounds like maybe he’s realizing it for the first time. “I guess I have.”

#if this shows up in fandom tags i will be passing away forever. #my invisible letter trick pleaseeeee do not fail me now <3 #cyril andromedus and their malewife. whatever. #nyx makes something #ship: folie a deux #self ship #self shipping

[aeide-thea]

tagged by @bill-blake-fans-anonymous :3

favorite color i’m allergic to single favorites bc really what i like is color palettes! like. hm. ochre and stormy blue-grey and mossy grey-green. neon chartreuse. highlighter yellow. marigold orange. really saturated electric or else cobalt blue. either Restful or Vivid depending on mood basically. (‘blue-bleak embers, ah my dear, / fall, gall themselves, and gash gold-vermilion...’)

currently reading oh god i’m technically in the middle of both a memory called empire AND john m. ford’s aspects still, probably i should finish at least one of those... also i was listening to a bit of the fellowship of the ring in the car the other day (thx, libby!), so i guess that belongs on the list too? (and then there’s the tbr pile from my last used-bookstore trip, which is like. märchen auf deutsch and medieval verse romances and a hopkins biography. but i can’t in good conscience count those as ‘currently’ reading, they’re in the wings at most.)

last song we truly went on a WHOLE musical journey while i was drafting this post, let me tell you. everything from early-00s french indie pop to david lang’s ‘just (after song of songs)’ (which is an incredible piece, for the record—feels like having yr brain carded). but just at the moment we’re up to patrick wolf, from the god’s own country soundtrack, which:

and i long to be carried on just once to be lifted strong out of the loneliness and the emptiness of the days

i mean. don’t we all.

last tv show this feels like cheating somehow but it was in fact last week’s episode of the great british bake off! which seems not-unrepresentative really: i like watching people do creative crafty things; i find food really conceptually interesting (flavors, textures, history, politics...); and i like how warmly collegial gbbo in particular usually is.

last movie oh god, something very quintessentially my dad... state of play (2009), our netflix history informs me. which was very much not high art but like. for the particular sort of thing it is (attempting to uncover a coverup, people are getting killed, you know the drill)‚ i’ve seen worse? russell crowe served p good ‘tired and jaded but still trying wearily despite himself to do the right thing,’ which—having put that into words, no wonder i didn’t hate it more, that’s geralt right there, lmao. different avatars of the same essential blorbo nature. :3

sweet/savory/spicy savory AND spicy! ugh now i’m thinking dreamily of laksa and also of the various spicy lamb noodle things at xi’an famous foods. spicysavorywithnoodles my beloved.

currently working on my sleep schedule, with—really not very much success, if we’re being honest. it’s gotten very fucked and it’s getting in the way of doing things i’d like to do and i feel like shit about it! but every new day is a new opportunity to chip away at things (zie says thru gritted teeth).

tagging god, i don’t know—@theunembarrassedalto, @mosspig​, @toads-revisited​, @klaproos, @proudheron​, and @e-b-reads​, maybe? but only if you feel like it. and as ever, anyone else who'd like to be!

#today is a bad pronoun day lol #i tried out a few different things in that last parenthetical and none of them felt good but what can you do. #also whoops i took so long to finish filling this out that it's after midnight and no one will see it now‚ probably! story of my life #mundanities #memes

[screechthemighty]

*yeets this at the fanbase while we’re all experiencing emotions* anyways I’ve had chunks of this rotating in my brain literally since I started writing the fic, so I’m happy to have it out of my head and in front of your eyeballs! Mild CW but this one discusses loss, grief, and references child abuse, so it’s a bit sadder compared to previous chapters. But there is some comfort, I promise. AO3 link in a reblog, but you can also read it here!

meet me at our spot: part 3/6 (2021)

After the bruise incident, she really shouldn’t have been shocked by anything Jake did. But she had to admit, him showing up with his shoulders dusted in snow and his coat wrapped around the shoulders of a man she’d never seen before was…unexpected.

“Should I call someone?” Gena asked.

“No, no, I’ve got him. Can we…?” He gestured to a booth.

“Yeah, go ahead.” She wasn’t exactly crowded, not with the snow coming down the way it was. “Coffee?”

“For me. David?” The man he was with didn’t respond. “Hey, Davito, you still with me?”

“No,” said the man abruptly. “No, no, coffee will give me a panic attack.”

“All right, all right. Hot chocolate? My treat.”

“...yeah. Yeah, okay.”

“Coming right up,” Gena said. She kept an eye on the table as she did. Jake sat on the opposite side of the table from David, holding both his hands, trying to rub warmth back into them. She couldn’t quite hear whatever it was they were saying, but she could make out Jake’s tone: calm, soothing, like he was talking David down from a nightmare. “...okay, two things you can smell,” Jake was saying as Gena walked over with their drinks. “This one’s easy. We’re in a diner.”

“Coffee,” David said without hesitation. His eyes stayed fixed on their hands. They were shockingly blue, almost uncomfortably so. “Uhm. Bread, I think. Little burnt.”

“Bueno, bueno.”

Gena cleared her throat to get their attention before getting too close. “Tried to make sure it wasn’t too hot,” she said as she set the hot chocolate in front of David. “But be careful with that, okay?”

David’s eyes fixed onto hers. “You’re Gena?”

“Yeah, that’s me.”

David held eye contact for an uncomfortable two heartbeats before turning his attention to the hot chocolate. “He never shuts up about you,” David said. One pale hand wrapped around the mug. “Seriously.”

“Hey,” Jake said, a little sternly, a little embarrassed. “One thing you can taste, you punk. Carefully.”

David took a careful sip of the hot chocolate. Some of the intensity left his eyes. “Fuck that’s good,” he breathed. “I’m okay. I think. I think I’m here.”

“Atta boy. When did you eat last?”

David took a longer sip of the hot chocolate instead of answering. Jake sighed and glanced up at Gena again. “Do you have anything light? Soup or…?”

“Chicken noodle. Is that okay?” she asked David.

David laughed a bit frantically. “If you bring a trash can with it?” he replied. “Sorry…nothing personal, I just don’t know how I’m gonna react and I don’t want to puke on your floor.”

“I can do that. What about you, Jake?”

“I’m okay.”

David laughed again. This time he sounded incredulous. “Okay, no…”

“Hey, cállate.”

“No, I’m not eating unless you do.”

“Brat.”

“Nosy.”

“Fine, eggs and toast.” Jake’s quiet exasperation was undercut by how damned soft his eyes were. Worried, relieved, too much of both to be really annoyed. “Sorry about him.”

“Don’t be. I’ll go get that for you two.”

Despite their earlier banter, they stayed quiet while waiting for their food. David kept drinking his hot chocolate; Jake drank his coffee much more slowly, carefully scanning David like he was making sure the other man wasn’t about to bolt. Gena came back with the food first, then a small trash can, just in case. “You sure there’s no one I can call?”

“No one who can help,” David muttered into his mug.

“I’ve got him,” Jake said. He finally looked up to smile at her. “You doing okay? How’s the boys?”

“Cold. Not happy winter break is almost over.” Gena glanced out the window and sighed at all the snow. “Hope you two didn’t walk too far in this.”

“Nah, just from the parking spot.” Jake looked back at David and sighed. “C’mon, you’re going to be like this?”

David was holding the bowl of soup close to his mouth while staring intently at Jake. Seemed like he was taking that I don’t eat until you do thing very seriously. Jake rolled his eyes and took a slightly-too-big bite of eggs. “There,” he said around the mouthful. “Eres un dolor en mi culo, lo sabes, ¿verdad?”

“No habla español,” David smirked before sipping from the broth.

“Yeah, yeah…”

They went on like that for a bit, though David’s dogged insistence of only taking a sip when Jake ate something fell away quickly. Soon Gena was looking at one empty bowl, one empty plate, and David falling asleep with his head on the table. Jake used that opportunity to walk to Gena at the counter. “I know, it’s a big ask, but do you mind if I let him rest? Twenty minutes, tops. I just need to get him a room for the night.”

“For you, I’ll make an exception.” Gena lowered her voice, just in case. “Is he okay? Really?”

“He’s…” Jake glanced back at David. The worry returned to his eyes. “...had better days. He’s not a bad guy, really, just got unlucky.”

Gena believed him. It was a common enough story, even before the world went to hell. “There’s people in the city who might be able to help,” Gena said. “I can try to get you numbers if…”

Jake grimaced. “Thank you, but I don’t think he’ll go for it. Burned by the system one too many times. He trusts me and I’m trying to keep it that way.”

“Fair enough. Are you okay?”

He looked a bit shaken, and not just from the cold. He wasn’t even trying to hide it with a smile, which worried her more than anything. “Deja vu?” Jake admitted quietly. “Had to deal with this kind of thing before David. It’s…hard.”

That would do it. “Is there anything I can do?” she asked. “Anything at all?” He shouldn’t have to hold this alone, especially not if it was digging up bad memories.

“You’re already helping.” Jake smiled at her weakly. “At the risk of sounding weird, I can think in here. More clearly than I do out there, anyway.” It was a little weird, but at the same time, she understood what he meant. She felt the same way about her kitchen at home. Things always made more sense in there. “Just need to gather my thoughts and figure out my next move. I could use some more coffee, though.”

“You’ve got it.”

For the next half hour, David dozed in the booth while Jake took to his notebook. He seemed to calm as he wrote, as if getting the problem onto paper was making it easier. Gena kept the coffee coming. Eventually, Jake seemed to return back to his usual confident self. “Figured it out?” Gena asked as he paid.

“More or less. Thanks for letting us stay.”

“Of course.” Gena glanced out the window. “Snow’s let up. Think your luck might be turning around.”

Jake followed her gaze. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess so.”

.

“I get why you like her.”

Jake glanced David’s way. The other man was curled up in the passenger’s seat, Jake’s coat wrapped around his still-too-skinny frame. Jake was going to have to figure out how to get him his own coat without tipping off Marc to the missing money. “What?”

“Gena.”

“Told you she was great.”

“Hmm. Not just that.”

“What do you mean?”

“She’s sad. Like you.”

Jake hesitated.

He thought about protesting, but he knew it wouldn’t go anywhere. David…knew things. Jake still didn’t know how, and he wasn’t sure David did, either. But he’d found out about Marc and Steven, knew their names without Jake having to tell them, and that was the tip of the iceberg. It made him a great informant, especially now that he was clean, but it also meant that Jake couldn’t bullshit him.

Instead, though…

“Sad like me. You think so?” Jake asked softly.

He’d caught glimpses of…something with Gena. He hadn’t bothered her about it, of course, but he’d noticed. He just wished he knew what to do. It wasn’t like he could butt in the way he had with David. David was an emergency case (literally, Jake had to drag him to the emergency room first time they met). Gena was a grown woman who didn’t need the local alley cat getting into her business.

(He’d finally had enough free time to watch Aristocats. He just kept forgetting to tell her. Indirectly venting about Khonshu’s bullshit and listening to what was going on in her life always took precedence.)

“Lot of people are sad these days,” David said. He sounded half-asleep, but that was better than sounding like he was dissociating again. “To be fair. But yeah. You two just carry it the same.”

“Oh? How’s that?”

No reply.

Jake waited until they were at a stop sign before looking at David again. “Davito?”

David suddenly sat up. His eyes darted around the car, his hands pulling the coat around himself more tightly. “What…ah, fuck, what happened?”

Ah. Well, at least it hadn’t been an immediate fear response this time. “David zoned out a bit. You’re not hurt. Hey, Jack.”

“Jacob.” Jack stretched out in the passenger’s seat, enough that even Jake could hear his joints pop. “How did you know it’s me?”

“Because you sound like a dollar store Indiana Jones.” A cigarette packet suddenly smacked Jake on the side of the head. “Fuck you, too.”

“Hmm.” The packet lifted itself off the floor. Jack caught it out of the air, took one out, and stuck it in his mouth, grinning smugly. “So, how’s your little hive mind doing?”  

“They’re fine. Marc has a girlfriend now.”

“Depressed sad sack Marc got a girlfriend?”

“Hey, you’re not allowed to call him that.”

“Whatever. What’s she like?”

“Don’t know. Haven’t been around her much.” He wanted to. If it were up to him, he’d vet every single person who entered Marc’s life. “Seems all right, though.”

“Hmm.” Jack raised an eyebrow knowingly. Little shit. Only Karami was allowed to give him that look. “Got a light?”

“No smoking in my car.”

“Why do you keep them in here if you’re not gonna smoke?”

“Because I don’t spend every second of my life in this car. And if you ask Cyndi for a light, I’m kicking you out.”

“No, you won’t.”

No, he wouldn’t.

But Jack didn’t ask Cyndi for a light, and Jake had other things on his mind. So, he let the bratty behavior slide. This time, anyway.

.

The boys were with their aunt. They were probably gorging themselves on pizza and watching two movies before bed instead of the usual one they were allowed. They were taken care of. Gena didn’t have to worry about them.

So why the hell couldn’t she stay focused?

It was a girl’s night. That was the idea, anyway. Her, a few friends from church (her old church, before she switched someplace closer with fewer memories), a couple of their friends, going out to have a few drinks, talk about life, enjoy themselves.

But all Gena could do was stare into her barely-touched Sangria and try to fight off a deep, strange sense of dread. Not dread of something happening; dread of something that might happen. She’d thought it was worry about what might happen to the boys (because it had been like that for a long time, terror gripping her throat whenever they were out of her sight, nearly strangling her a few times), but…no. No, it wasn’t that.

Gena let go of her glass and started fiddling with the ring on her left hand. It felt so heavy there. Was that the problem? Just a general unease that came with having it back on? It had been almost three years…

Cameron suddenly sat down next to her. “I swear, every damn bar I’ve been to lately has been so quiet,” she said. “You’d think people would be cutting loose a bit more.”

Gena hummed in agreement. She was surprised, too. So much of the city was still borderline lawless, with people turning to at least half the deadly sins to cope (or due to the lack of real consequences). Bars seemed ready-made for that kind of behavior, but all she saw here was a barely occupied dance floor and a huddle of people watching a sports game. The sports fan barely made a sound outside the occasional group groan of disappointment, and even the dancers were subdued. Maybe that’s why I feel off. The atmosphere is rubbing off on me. “At least I don’t have to worry about my drink as much,” Gena said.

“True enough.” Cameron’s voice lowered conspiratorially. “Bartender’s kinda cute, though.”

Oh. Oh. There it was.

She might have been overreacting to innocent girl talk, but Gena couldn’t trust it. She could never trust it again. Not when she’d heard that kind of thing before.

You know, my nephew lost someone, too. Maybe you two could talk?

The singles group is taking new members. It might be good for you.

You’re still so young, Gena. And those boys are going to need a father again one day.

That had been the one that finally made her snap. They had a father. They’d had a father for almost ten years. Did people really think she could swap out one man for another? Two years, three years, fifty, it didn’t matter. She couldn’t just act like Mo had never existed, and she’d made that very clear.

This time, she didn’t have the energy. Gena forced herself to look at the bartender. Nothing about him stood out to her, though that may have had something to do with her mental state. “I guess so,” she said dully. No. No, I can’t do this. “Watch my drink? Need the bathroom.”

“Yeah, sure thing.”

Gena didn’t stop to analyze Cameron’s expression or tone. She moved as fast as she could to the bathroom. The women’s room was unoccupied, but she still locked herself in a stall. Gena braced herself against the doors and waited.

The tears never came. Instead, she only felt a deep, crushing weight in her chest, the same one from that day three years ago. It had nearly drowned her then. She’d been able to pull herself up with the boys and the diner, with the few things left in her life that still gave her some joy (or at least some distraction), but now she didn’t have that. All she had was grief.

I can’t go back out there.

But she couldn’t stay in that stall, either. She’d probably already telegraphed that she wasn’t happy. Hiding in the bathroom would only make things worse.

Damn it. I didn’t want it to go this way.

Gena took a deep breath. She might not have wanted it, but it was the way things were going. Time to deal with the problem before it dealt with her. At least she had an out. The boys and her had made a pact that could use each other as an emergency excuse. My mom won’t let me or oh, I have something with the boys that night usually did the trick. She’d probably feel guilty about lying later, but right now she just wanted out.

She still stopped to check her expression in the mirror before she left. You’ve gotten too damn good at looking like everything is fine, Gena thought to herself. She’d exploit it for now, but…damn.

Get home. You can cry about it then.

She walked out of the bathroom, plastering a concerned look on her face as she went. Carmen had been joined by a few of the others–Antonia and Tasha. You can do this. “Sorry,” Gena said, sounding a bit more like herself even if she didn’t feel it, “Ricky called. Sounds like a stomach bug. I need to get back.”

The lie slipped out so easily. She probably should’ve been more worried about that, too. She was more worried about the fact that she didn’t think they bought it. No one actively tried to talk her out of it, but Tasha did hit her with the Are you feeling okay yourself, hon? Then again, maybe she thought the “stomach bug” was catching.

Fine by me. It was better than the alternative. Gena did have to talk her way out of being escorted home, but managed to get away before her mask slipped.

Gena made it all the way down the street before realizing she had no idea what to do now.

She couldn’t go back to the diner; she’d taken the night off, and abruptly coming back would just raise questions. She didn’t want to go home either; the boys were with her sister overnight, and the thought of being alone in her apartment terrified her. It would be a haul to get to her sister’s, and on top of that…

Can I face them right now? She didn’t want to burden them with her pain. She’d done everything she could to avoid that. If she saw them now, when it was still so heavy in her chest, she might not be able to avoid it.

Gena kept walking. Maybe all she needed was time to clear her head. The days were getting longer, so she wouldn’t have to worry about nightfall for a while. As long as she kept her head on straight, she’d be fine.

That was the hard part, though. Her thoughts kept racing away from her, chasing after how quiet the streets were, how empty everyone seemed. How unfair it all was. It took the sudden gurgling of her stomach to knock her out of her thoughts. “Well, no wonder you’re such a mess,” Gena scolded herself. “Shoot, girl, get something to eat.”

Fortunately, she didn’t have to walk much further for options. She was a little overdressed for the bodega’s deli, but figured she probably wasn’t the weirdest thing the owner had seen that day. The bodega’s cat, a tiny orange and white thing, watched her with judgmental eyes as she waited for her sub. “My mascara running or something?” Gena asked.

The cat’s tail twitched, both at the sound of her voice and the jangle of the door opening. Whoever walked in caught the cat’s attention; it jumped down from its perch on the shelf and trotted past Gena for the door, meowing loudly as it went. “Chiquitita, que bueno verte!” said a voice Gena recognized immediately. Sure enough, it was Jake Lockley who straightened up, holding the cat in his arms. The cat purred so loudly even Gena could hear. “¿Has atrapado muchas ratas hoy?”

“Ella no ha cogido una maldita cosa,” said the owner. “¿La misma orden?”

“Solo los cigarrillos…” Jake did a double-take as his eyes slid over her. “Señora?!”

Gena was suddenly much, much more aware of how overdressed she was for the location than she had been. Not too much–it had just been some drinks with the girls, not a visit to a five-star restaurant–but he’d only ever seen her in her work uniform or jeans and a t-shirt. The yellow dress she was wearing then wasn’t her nicest one, but with some jewelry and make up, it was a whole lot dressier than usual. “I know,” Gena said, “bit much for a bodega run.”

“I mean, world’s gone tits up, might as well.” His smile lost a few watts as he looked at her. “You…okay?”

Damn it. The mask must’ve slipped. It had been so easy to let go when it was just the cat watching her. “Night didn’t go how I wanted,” Gena said.

“...didn't go how…did you get stood up? Do I need to hurt someone?”

He was audibly trying to joke, but something in his eyes said he was a little serious. That, strangely, broke her walls down more. “No, it’s…a bit more complicated than that.”

Jake’s smile faded. He nodded, carefully examining her face, barely seeming to notice as the cat meowed at him and bumped her head against his chin. After a second, he turned to the owner. “Oye, Artie, pon eso en mi cuenta, ¿quieres?”

It took Gena a moment to mentally translate. “Oh, no, Jake, you don’t have to…”

“It’s okay. I owe you for letting David sleep at the diner.”

That was months ago, Gena thought. She almost said it aloud, but something stopped her. Maybe it was the earnest look in Jake’s eyes; maybe she couldn’t help giving in to the craving for some kindness in this damn world. “Well…thank you,” she said. “Really, thank you.”

“Of course.” Jake smiled at her briefly before turning his attention to the snack aisle. He had to shift to holding the cat in one arm as he started grabbing items off the shelves–Takis, a bag of lollipops, mazapan. “What’re you drinking?”

“Surprise me. I trust your judgment.”

“I accept the responsibility.” Jake carefully deposited the cat back on the shelf, pausing to let her bump her head against his. “Lo sé, yo también te amo.”

Gena was starting to think Jake was actually a cat in a human body. It’d sure explain a lot.

In the end, he grabbed two bottles of vivid green soda and paid for everything in cash. “No te metas en nada de lo que no puedas salir,” said the cashier, presumably Artie.

“Puedo salir de cualquier cosa,” Jake replied with a grin. He stopped to give the cat one last kiss on the head before holding the door open for Gena. “Mantente seguro.”

The smile fell off his face once it was just the two of them out on the street. “Do you need anything?” Jake asked as he handed over her food. “Is there anything I can do?”

He was looking at her the same way he’d looked at David–like he’d move the whole world if she asked him to. Gena’s instinct was to brush it off, try to act like everything was fine, but…

Damn it, she was so tired of carrying this around on her own.

“Nobody did anything,” she said, just to clarify. “Some friends invited me out, girl’s night kind of thing, and I thought I’d be ready for it. But there’s…”

Gena hesitated, her thumb brushing over her wedding ring. She might not have wanted to carry this alone, but she didn’t think she was ready to reveal the whole load, either.

“...parts I wasn’t ready for,” she said finally. “And I’ve already had to explain that to one too many people. I didn’t want to do it again, so I left. No one’s fault.” Just a whole lot of shit timing. “I’d go home, but the boys are with my sister until tomorrow, and I don’t want to go back to an empty apartment, so…now I don’t know what to do with myself.”

Jake nodded, muttering something under his breath to himself. She could hear the gears turning in his head as he stared just past her ear, digesting everything she’d said. “Okay,” he said finally. “How do you feel about foriegn language films?”

“Haven’t seen enough to have an opinion. Why?”

“Because I was headed to see one and I wouldn’t say no to some company.” Jake looked at her more directly. “For the record, you wouldn’t be inconveniencing me. I like this one and I’d like to show it to you. You don’t have to worry about bothering me, so…if you’re really not interested, you can just say so. I won’t mind.”

Despite that reassurance, Gena still caught herself hesitating, mulling the option over. It definitely was a solution. Sure, she’d never spent time with Jake outside the diner, but…

Screw it, he’s already seeing you have a bad day. Might as well.

“What movie are we seeing?” she asked.

And that was how she found herself sitting on a dollar store blanket at the park while an animated Japanese film played on an inflatable screen. Howl’s Moving Castle, apparently. The boys were starting to get into anime, but she’d never heard of this one. Gena wasn’t sure what to expect going in, but…

It was nice. Nice like watching her favorite movies on a Saturday back when she was a kid. She couldn’t tell how much of it was the movie–the beauty of the animation, the sweetness of watching the little family start to form under unlikely circumstances–and how much was the heady relief of finally feeling relaxed, but she enjoyed herself regardless. She enjoyed herself enough that she almost forgot she was there with someone.

Jake stayed on his own side of the blanket and didn’t talk; the few times Gena glanced his way, his eyes were fixed on the screen, a slight smile tugging at his lips. One time they happened to glance towards each other at the same time. Jake’s smile widened; it was only then Gena realized she was smiling, too.

“What’d you think?” Jake asked suddenly and eagerly as the movie wound up and everyone around them started leaving.

“It was good!” Gena said. “It was. I really liked it. It’s weird, though, I’ve got this urge to clean my place now?”

Jake laughed. “No, I know what you mean. You know the animation’s good when it makes cleaning romantic.” He started gathering up their trash. “And that breakfast. The eggs almost look as good as yours.”

“Never heard that one, but I’ll take it.” The eggs had looked good. “I like Sophie.”

“I like Sophie, too. She reminds me of my brother Steven.” Jake gave Gena a careful hand up. “They’re both tougher than they realize.”

He walked her almost the rest of the way back to her place, chatting about movies–the one they saw, other ones by the same studio. He was trying to figure out how to bribe a friend of his into watching Porco Rosso, had been for years, but it feels like we only hang out when it’s work-related. He stopped mid-sentence to abruptly ask how the boys were doing, looking almost embarrassed he’d forgotten. She told him they were doing fine. Enjoying school more than I thought they would.

She wanted to take that as a sign they’d be okay. She really did. Fortunately, talking to Jake drew her away from that line of thought before it got too deep.

Good as it was to see him, Gena’s self-preservation kicked in before she got home. “I’m not too far away,” she said. “I’ll be all right from here.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure. Thank you for everything. I…I really needed that.”

A night out without expectations. Just the chance to have fun and not think about all the shit the world had gone through lately. All the shit she had gone through lately.

“Any time. I mean, any time I’m in town.” Jake suddenly looked self-conscious. It was a look she wasn’t used to seeing on him. “I’m gonna be for a few more days, I think. If there’s…anything you need while I’m here…" He rubbed the back of his neck. "It's the least I can do. Todos para uno, uno para todos, ¿no?"

That felt like a lot more than a lighthearted, if cliché reference. She got the feeling he was trying to tell her something more but wasn’t sure how to say it. He had that move the world look in his eyes again, even if it was a bit hesitant. Like he wasn’t sure how she’d respond to it.

Gena couldn’t blame him for that. They’d definitely crossed some kind of line that night–not the line, of course, they’d never be crossing that. But…

No. He wasn’t just a regular anymore.

“I’ll take you up on that,” Gena said, stepping closer and holding out her hand, “on the understanding that it goes both ways. Whenever you’re in town and whatever you need. Deal?”

Jake looked at her hand, then made fleeting but meaningful eye contact. His face opened up, the hesitancy giving way to a genuine, warm smile. “Deal,” he said, shaking her hand. “Goodnight, Señora.”

“Goodnight, Mr. Lockley.”

Contrary to what she’d said back at the park, Gena didn’t really end up cleaning her place when she got back home. She did tidy up a bit–picking up a few things that she’d been content to leave out of place until then, loading the few dishes that lingered in the sink, putting away the makeup she’d left on the counter in her rush to get out the door. It took a bit more effort to also take that makeup off, but she didn’t need to contribute to stress’s war on her skin by not keeping it clean. She’d be back to her acne-ridden teen years if she wasn’t careful. On the plus side, washing her face made the rest of her routine seem easy in comparison.

She still hadn’t taken off her wedding ring by the time she was in bed.

Gena started at it through the moonlight filtering in through the blinds. It made the silver seem almost luminescent. “You’d like him,” she whispered. “I really think you would.” Mo liked almost everyone he met, but someone like Jake…

Yeah, they would’ve gotten along.

Gena cradled her left hand against her chest and closed her eyes.

Next thing she knew, it was a new day.

.

Gena wasn’t behind the counter when he showed up that night. Instead, he spotted her sitting in one of the booths with her boys.

He hated the fact that his first instinct was quiet dread.

Jake had seen her with Ricky and Ray before, of course. They were usually there when he came in at nights during the school year. Gena was always good with them, and they weren’t afraid of her. Well-behaved, sure, polite when they weren’t interrogating Jake about whether or not he was flirting with their mom, but it wasn’t the nervous, unwilling obedience of a kid trying to survive.

He knew a thing or two about how that looked.

It was a relief to see her boys be kids–complain about schoolwork, drag their feet about cleaning up, mumble the odd complaint under their breath–without the kind of harsh reprimand he still braced himself for. He hated that Wendy still had her grips in him like that, that he still searched for danger in every child he saw (in every slightly older little boy with a little brother who still looked to him for guidance). He especially hated that he was on guard for it now, with a woman he actually liked. Maybe even trusted. Gena was kindhearted, a good woman, but that didn’t stop the fearful child in him from worrying.

You never knew what tragedy would do to someone.

Jake tried to keep his eyes on his notebook. It didn’t work. He kept watching them as subtly as he could. Ricky was building something with play-dough and sticks; Ray, meanwhile, was showing Gena something from a book. He couldn’t quite hear what they were talking about–it sounded like something from a movie–but Gena was listening attentively. She looked…

He didn’t want to brag, because there was really nothing to brag about. Jake had learned to read people, to peel back the obtuse levels of facial expressions and societal norms, because he didn’t have any choice. Knowing what people might be thinking kept Marc and Steven safe. (Kept him safe, too, but he’d always been able to take a punch better than they could, so their safety was the more important goal.) Even as an adult, it meant he was good at gauging people’s threat levels.

There was no threat there.

The sadness still lingered in Gena’s eyes as she watched Ray skim the pages, but only when he wasn’t looking at her. Even with the edges of that pain, she looked…relaxed? Jake had to mull over that one for a bit, trying to figure out why it was so familiar.

Then it hit him.

They were fifteen. Marc hadn’t been having a great week. He’d shut down pretty much the second he heard Wendy start screaming, leaving Jake to race them up the stairs. He probably could’ve hidden in their room–he knew Wendy well enough by then to know that she was too drunk for the stairs–but he’d had enough. He might not have known what, specifically, had made Marc so much worse this week, but he wasn’t going to let it stand. He’d rummaged around their room, grabbing a handful of their squirreled away cash and taken the window to get to the street. Elias wasn’t home, making it easy to start walking towards the deli Marc liked so much. He hadn’t been sure it would work–it was a trick he’d tried before, to mixed results–but this time, when he let himself slip back, when Marc took his first steps and realized where they were…

He went inside. He got himself a sandwich and a soda and had dinner in the back corner. Jake watched it and let the mixture of his and Marc’s relief lull him back into their mind. Everything around them might have been horrible, but this…this was safe. They were safe. Even if it was temporary, the pain was outweighed by the normalcy. Just a sandwich in a deli.

Just two boys getting to spend time with their mother.

Gena kissed Ray’s forehead. Jake had to look away and breathe through a new, harsher knot in his chest.

He tried not to think about that one.

.

The dropping temperatures of autumn always made her feel safe. In her experience, it was the heat of summer that brought out the worst in people. Once the days got shorter and people started spending more time indoors, she didn’t feel quite so tense. Sure, the world was never completely safe, but she worried a bit less that the kind of crime people like Daredevil fought off would come to her doorstep.

Then one late autumn morning, she came to open the diner and found the glass door smashed.

Gena froze. The scene felt so unreal. She knew she should do something, but her mind stalled out, reality blurring around her. She didn’t realize she’d started walking forward until a hand grabbed her arm and started dragging her back. “...no, I don’t know if they’re still inside…Gena, don’t go in there.”

Mohamed was on the phone. He was the one holding her arm. The other cook, Bill, hovered nearby, jumping from foot to foot as he watched the door. Gena’s mind raced as she stared at the shattered glass. How badly had the diner been damaged? What could they have taken? She’d done the bank dropoff recently, but there were other things, things that people might try to resell, and her front door was broken. They were in her space, whoever they were.

How could this happen? Who would do this?

“The police are on their way,” Mohamed said suddenly. “They said not to go inside.”

“I locked the safe, right?” Gena said, or thought she said.

“You always lock the safe and it’s bolted to the floor. Everything’s going to be okay.”

She didn’t believe that. She didn’t believe it for a second. They’d been in her space. They might as well have broken into her home.

Is this happening? Am I having a nightmare?

No. It was real. This was happening and she had to deal with it. She tried to tell herself that, tried to force through the fog that shrouded everything in that veil of unreality, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t do anything but stare.

The police showing up jarred her out of it–or, at least, it turned on the autopilot part of her brain that knew the bare minimum of what had to be done and started doing it. She spoke to the police, answered their questions. She called the rest of the staff to let them know they didn’t have to come in today. She fended off the handful of regulars who showed up, letting them know that the diner might not be open today. No, she didn’t know when they’d be open. Yes, she was okay. It felt like hours before the police finally let her in, though she wasn’t sure how long it really was.

Going back inside nearly made her shrink back into herself again. The inside was a mess. Broken glass from the door, things knocked over and broken, probably by accident. They’d mangled the register getting into it, and scratched up the safe and the floor around it trying to get in. Bill was cursing up a storm; Mohamed, meanwhile, only surveyed the scene with quiet frustration. “...least I don’t leave my fucking knives here,” Gena heard Bill say as she stood in her office. “Who the fuck steals a skillet? And how’d they get cans out without being spotted? Can’t go to a fucking food bank, you’ve got to…”

“Bill,” Mohamed said quietly.

“...oh. Shit. You okay, Mrs. G?”

She hadn’t realized they were staring at her until then. “I’m fine,” Gena said. She needed to do something. Anything. “I’m gonna start…start tidying up. Maybe we can still open…”

They couldn’t and she knew it, but her mind still clung to the hope that this was fixable. That they could just tidy up and re-open and pretend everything was fine.

That didn’t happen.

It wasn’t just that dealing with the police had taken hours, cutting through breakfast and pushing into lunch. Every attempt at cleaning only uncovered new problems, new things missing that they’d need. The walk-in freezer had been left open enough to make her worry about the food kept close to the door. A lot of the pantry had been taken. The missing odds and ends added up more and more. They couldn’t get the register to work and to top it all off, the stove was acting up. That probably had nothing to do with the theft; the stove had been acting up for a while. But it felt like a slap in the face on top of everything else.

Billy bit back his curses and did his best to try and work on the stove. Mohamed checked in on her occasionally, quietly asking if she was okay, no matter how many times she insisted she was. She had to field a few more calls, a few more curious passers-by. Pretty much everyone said the same thing: Let me know if there’s anything I can do. Let me know if I can help.

Gena wasn’t the type to turn down help usually, but today their words felt like a mirage. She felt so detached from everything. Even with people actively there, actively helping, she felt so alone. It didn’t help that she never really got to see the boys. She had to call her sister, ask if she could get them from school and look after them for the night. Ray had video called her to make sure she wasn’t hurt. Gena was surprised she made it through the call without scaring either of them, but…maybe that was part of the autopilot, too. One of the things she was supposed to do. Protect her babies, shield them from all this.

Even if that meant closing herself off from them a little bit.

I may not be home in time for bed…listen to your aunt, do your homework…yeah, I’ll be back before school tomorrow. I love you…

She just hoped they didn’t see how numb she really was.

Eventually, the inevitable hit. They definitely weren’t going to be able to open, not today, maybe not even for a few days. “You two can go,” Gena said. “Don’t worry, I’ll…I’ll count all this as work done today…”

The cooks exchanged a glance. They hadn’t been working together long–Bill was one of the newer hires she’d taken on after half the planet vanished–but it hadn’t taken them long to get on the same wavelength. “Are you sure?” Bill said carefully.

“I’m sure. Really, go home. We can figure this out tomorrow.”

Mohamed gave her a look next, one she recognized immediately. “You’re going home too, right?”

Damn it. She’d known the man for years, but she still hated how perceptive he could be. “I’ll be right behind you,” she said. “Just need to finish cleaning up in my office.”

It wasn’t a total lie. She had…kind of planned on leaving at some point. She knew she should. All that was left to do was make sure there was nothing valuable left and get out of there.

But once she finally convinced Mohamed and Bill to leave, once she was really and truly alone, Gena couldn’t make herself leave. Not even for her own good. Not even to get home to the boys. She puttered around the same spaces as the sun set, tidying things that didn’t need tidying, staring at all the things she couldn’t fix. Frozen.

Afraid that it would all get worse if she left.

She was back in the dining area, just standing there, when she saw movement out of the corner of her eye. Someone was standing by the door, staring in with a shocked expression. For a long moment, she didn’t recognize who it was. Then…

“What happened?!”

Jake. Jake? When had he gotten back? When had he grown facial hair?

Again, Gena moved by auto-pilot, walking to the door to let him in. The longer she looked, the more she recognized him…same eyes, same hat, same dark hair curly poking out from under it. She’d never seen the leather jacket before, but it was the mustache more than anything that threw her off. “Are you hurt?” Jake asked once he was inside. “Who did this?”

I’m not hurt. I don’t know. What the hell is that thing on your face?

She opened her mouth to say one of those things. Maybe all of them.

What came out instead was a sob. Every tear she’d held back, knowingly or unknowingly, suddenly came flooding out of her. “Gena, Gena, hey…hey, easy…” Jake’s hands rested on her shoulders; without thinking, she leaned into the touch and against his chest. Any other time, any other day, she wouldn’t have done that. She didn’t know if he wanted to be touched like that, she had no damn clue, but she wasn’t thinking straight. She just…hurt. It all hurt, so damn much. Worse than it had when he’d found her in that bodega a few months ago.

Fortunately, Jake didn’t flinch away. He wrapped his arms around her carefully. “Hey, hey. Te tengo. Estoy aquí.” His voice was calm, soothing, like he’d done this before, and his embrace was gentle and warm. “Está bien. Shh…”

She thought the tears would never stop, but eventually, they did. Her first thought when her mind finally stilled was that she’d never heard him call her Gena before. Just Gena.

Her second: Damn it. I cried all over his shirt.

“I’m sorry,” she said as she pulled away.

“Hey, don’t. You have nothing to be sorry for.” Jake kept his hands on her shoulders, but she didn’t mind. It was the only thing keeping her present. “Here, sit down, I can…get you water, or…” He looked around. The slow realization on his face of how bad it really was nearly set her off again. “What can I get for you?”

“Uhm. There’s water bottles in the fridge.” They hadn’t taken that, at least. “Just…don’t mind the mess. It’s been a day.”

“Yeah, I can tell.”

He came back with two bottles of water. They sat in one of the corner booths, Jake facing the door, Gena with her back to it. At least from here, she didn’t have to see how bad it all was. “What happened?” Jake asked after she’d had some of the water. “If you’re up to telling me…”

Gena sighed. “I don’t know. I don’t. They just…came after we closed. They were gone by the time I got here. The police are looking into it, but I don’t know…”

Didn’t know if she’d get any of her stuff back. Didn’t know how long it would take to fix this. Didn’t know how.

“I don’t know what I’m gonna do,” she admitted. “I thought I had this, but it’s all just…” It’s too much. It’s too much. I can’t do it, I never could, I was stupid to think I could. “Shit.”

She pressed her hands against her eyes, hard enough that she saw stars. At least she hadn’t put on makeup this morning. She would’ve really been a wreck if she had. Jake’s careful hand on her forearm drew her back, but it didn’t stop the fresh wave of tears. “Hey,” he said gently, “of course you have this.”

“I can’t do it on my own.”

“You’re not alone. I know you’re not.”

“No, that’s not…”

It loomed over her, then. The thing she’d never told him about. The thing she’d barely spoken about to anyone for three years. The thing that, she now realized, had wrapped itself around her throat from the second she saw that shattered door. This wasn’t just inevitable because of the crime around the city. It was inevitable because…

You could never do this without him.

“...that’s not what I meant,” she said. “I…”

Gena took a second to compose herself. She could have let it drop, but…

No. She couldn’t. Not tonight.

“...I need to…” She cleared her throat. “I’ll be right back.”

Jake stayed where he was, but she could feel his worried eyes on her as she walked back to her office, to the desk and its locked drawer. That drawer had been forced open, the papers inside ruffled through, but the thieves hadn’t touched the framed picture at the bottom.

Thank God they hadn’t. She would’ve had this meltdown a lot sooner if they had.

She carried the picture back to the booth, sat down, and held it out to Jake. It was of the outside of the diner, back when it had first opened. She was there, the younger version of herself, standing between Mohamed and…

“I was married before,” she said. Her hand shook as she tapped the figure to her right. Dark skin, going through his afro phase at the time, brown eyes and the most dazzling smile. “Mortimer Landers. Mo. This place was…ours, you know? Our dream. He dragged his buddy Mohamed into it after his restaurant career didn’t pan out, and…” Gena pulled her gaze away from the picture to look around the diner. “This was our place.”

Jake nodded. He held the picture with the same care he’d held her. “Did he…” He hesitated. “Did he…go missing? Like the others?”

“No.” This was the hardest part, but she pushed on. “But…half the drivers on the George Washington did. That’s a lot of cars without drivers. There was a massive pileup…” Her breath caught in her chest as she said the next words: “It took them three days to pull his body out.”

Jake inhaled sharply. She could see him putting the pieces together: the bitterness around Valentine’s Day, the fact that she would’ve shut him down if he’d been flirting with her, the things she wasn’t ready for, the wedding ring she didn’t wear until it was necessary to ward off interested men. Not a messy breakup or a divorce.

Something a lot more final.

“Gena, I am so sorry.”

She’d heard those words before, thousands of times. Somehow, it felt different when he said it.

“…I thought about closing the place down, you know? With the world being what it was, with him gone, I wasn’t sure if I could keep going. I needed to provide for the boys…but I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t bring myself to…” To kill him again. “Mohamed said he’d stay. I thought I could make it work. I really thought. But it’s been so hard, and now this…”

A slap in the face. Or maybe a sign.

“This is all we’ve got, and I can’t even keep the place from being robbed. And I don’t know what we’re gonna do…” It really was all they had. God only knew how long it would take her to find another job if this didn’t work out, if they had enough money to last until she did, how the boys would handle losing the one thing they had left of their father. “I’m failing them. I…”

“Hey. No, no, no, no, that is not true.” Jake took her hands, holding them tightly. “You are not failing those boys.”

“They’re at home while I’m here having a mental breakdown, how is that not…”

“Gena.” He squeezed her hands tightly. “Listen to me. Those boys love you, okay? And I know how much you love them. I can tell. I’ve seen failures before and that’s not you. Shit, if my mother were half the woman you are…”

Jake stopped suddenly. His gaze darted away as his eyes squeezed shut. The gesture was defensive, like he was bracing himself.

Gena didn’t like that look.

It was over quickly. Jake took a deep breath and opened his eyes to look at her. “You had something unimaginable happen to you,” he said finally, “and you’re still…good. That is not failure. You just need some help. Nothing wrong with that.” He said it so earnestly, so fiercely, that Gena actually believed it. “Look, I don’t know the first thing about diners. I don’t know what it’ll take to fix this. But I will do what I can and I will stay here all night if that’s what it takes. Whatever you need.”

Her chest felt tight again, but this time for completely different reasons. It wasn’t from the gaping hole of her grief. She didn’t feel whole or full, but…something had slotted in to make it a little less empty.

Maybe it would be enough.

“I don’t know where to start either,” she admitted.

“Well, lucky you, I’m good at planning.” Jake smiled, gentle and genuine. “No problem’s too big that you can’t break it down. That’s the first step, right?”

She could have told him to leave, could have insisted that she leave the way she’d insisted Mohamed and Bill leave, but…

For the first time, this all seemed manageable. She wasn’t floating on autopilot. She was sitting in the diner booth, Jake’s hands holding hers, present and there. It was a problem. A problem she could maybe fix.

A problem she could definitely fix with some help.

“Okay,” Gena said. “Okay. But, uhm…” She cleared her throat, trying to force her mind into business mode. “...if we’re gonna do this, I think we’ll need some coffee.”

“Yeah. Definitely need some coffee.”

She got the coffee on, and then they got to work.

Jake wasn’t exaggerating; he was really good at breaking down a problem. It involved one of his notebooks and a lot of lists, but the more they looked at the problem areas and figured the next steps, the less overwhelmed she felt. It didn’t take her long to start taking the reins more. Jake stayed at her side, doing whatever she asked without question. Turned out he was pretty good at taking inventory, too.

“Okay,” he said at one point as they compared her last food inventory list with their new inventory. “Before we get too depressed, is there any upside to this?”

Gena sighed heavily. “I mean. Guess most of what they took needed to be replaced soon anyway. And…” Despite herself, she smiled. “You’ll be happy to hear we still have eggs.”

Jake grinned back. “Well, thank God for that.”

They had to stop for a break eventually, and the thieves had left behind enough food to make a few sandwiches. A second bit of luck. “You should let the boys help pick out replacement stuff,” Jake said as they ate. “They might like that. Being involved in the process and all.”

“Yeah, probably.” She’d been meaning to let them into the business side of things if they wanted, thinking maybe it would bring them closer to Mo, but she’d never been able to figure out how. It could be a good place to start. “He would’ve liked you. Mo, I mean.”

“...you think so…?”

“Yeah. Yeah, he was…an old soul. Guess that’s what happens when you name your kid Mortimer.” Gena chuckled. “So he would’ve liked your style. He loved a good hat, too. Though, speaking of, I’ve gotta know…”

“You’ve gotta know about the mustache?”

“Yeah, what happened there?”

“I wanted to try something new. What do you think, not working for me?”

“No, no, actually, it suits you.” She meant that, too. It had been a bit of a shock at first, but now that everything had settled into place, it definitely suited him. “I like it.”

She’d never seen Jake look so pleased.

They kept working. Even as it got late, so late it was probably the next day, something kept Gena going. Maybe it was the coffee, or Jake’s enthusiasm, or the momentum of finally feeling like they had the problem under control, but she was going to stick with it for as long as she could. They worked on reinforcing the front door. They worked on tidying things up some more. At some point on a whim, Jake started working on the stove. Gena helped. It was stupid, and she knew they’d probably need a real mechanic, but it was one thing that was bugging the hell out of her. A problem she’d put off too damn long. No time like the present to try.

“Okay, so, I think that looks right.” Gena compared the image on her phone screen to the repairs they’d made. It really was amazing what you could find on the internet. “What do you think?”

“Yeah…close enough to hold until you can get a pro in here, anyway.” He wiped some grease off his hands, staining the front of his shirt. He’d had to strip off the leather jacket and his hat to work; somehow, his hair had gotten even curlier the longer he worked. “Do you want me to try it?”

“Might as well.” The prospect made her stomach twist, but…well, better to know than not. “Just don’t burn your hand off.”

“I’ll be fine.” He straightened up and took the knob. “You wanna say a prayer? I forgot all of mine.”

“Oh, Lord, bless this stove?”

“Good enough.”

Jake carefully turned the knob. The stove clicked once, twice, then as the knob was fully turned…

Fwoosh. Right to life on the first try.

“Yes!” Jake yelled. Gena yelled, too, wordlessly, thrilled. It was a simple thing, and a temporary stopgap at that, but damn if it didn’t feel like a win. She hugged him again impulsively; he hugged her back, actually lifting her up a bit in his excitement.

“Thank you, thank you…”

“Hey, I’m just glad that worked,” Jake said as he put her back down. The hug lingered for a moment longer before Jake cleared his throat and looked away. Gena was caught off guard by the look on his face when he did. He was smiling, but he almost looked overwhelmed.

“Hey, are you okay?” she asked.

“Me? I’m…” Jake ducked his head. “Yeah, yeah, I’m…really good, actually.”

There was something else there, too. She could tell. But whatever that undercurrent was, he was smiling–not the forced smiles she’d seen on his face before, but something genuinely happy.

He’d tell her on his own time, she figured. No sense in picking at his wounds before he was ready.

“What time is it…?” He pulled away to check his watch, then did a double-take. “Ah, fuck.”

“What?” Gena looked, then winced. “Well…”

All night. They really had been there all night. A look out of the kitchen confirmed it. The sun was rising. She still had a few hours before she had to get the boys to school, at least. “You want some eggs?” she asked.

“I could eat. Sure.”

They had eggs and toast and one last cup of coffee each. Jake volunteered to stay with the diner, just to be sure no one tried anything, but there was no way Gena was going to let him do that. He’d already done so much, and he looked bone-deep exhausted. He wouldn’t be talked out of walking her home, though. This time, they went all the way to her doorstep.

She figured he could be trusted with that.

“If there’s anything else you need…”

“You’ll be around, I know. How long?”

“I’ll let you know when I do.” He yawned noisily as she pulled out her keys. “Ah, lo siento, hermanito…”

“What was that?”

“Just thinking out loud.” He shrugged. “Tell the boys I said hello?”

“I will. And hey, even if we’re not open today…you can stop by if you’ve got time. Okay?”

“Might take you up on that. Sleep well, Gena.”

“You, too.”

Still no señora, Gena noted as she watched Jake walk away. Seemed like they were on a purely first name basis now.

She didn’t mind. It felt right.

Gena managed to get back up to her apartment and inside without waking her sister (fast asleep on the couch) or the boys (both still in their beds). She watched them both sleep for a bit before going back to her room to finally get changed.

She’d sleep for a little, get the boys to school, and then figure things out from there. Make the right calls to get the door fixed, set up something to fix the stove permanently. Start replacing things. Get them back up and running. Even if the police never found whoever had stolen from her, she’d start over. She could.

She really believed that now.

.

He knew he needed to sleep. Marc needed it, if nothing else. They had work to do while they were here, and they wouldn’t be able to get it done if the body was sleep-deprived.

But Jake couldn’t bring himself to do it. Not yet.

He paced around the hotel room, running the events of the night in his head over and over. He kept catching glances of himself in the mirror. Marc hated the mustache. He’d only kept it for this long to be sure that the bastards in Sweden that had spotted him were thrown off the scent. It wasn’t worth revealing himself to convince him to keep it, so Jake accepted the fact that it’d be gone soon.

Instead, he imprinted the memory of how he looked in his mind as clearly as he could. Clothes he’d picked while he was fronting and stashed with David for the next time he was in the city. Facial hair he liked. And…

He wrapped his arms around himself, hugging himself, as if he could push the memory of Gena’s hug into his skin and keep it there. No one had ever hugged him before. They’d hugged the body while he was present, but whoever it was always thought he was Marc. No one had ever hugged…Jake.

Not until today.

He knew he needed to slip back. Marc had work to do, and a girlfriend–no, a wife, Jake was still getting used to the change–to get back to. Steven needed to get his handful of moments in the sun. The body needed rest.

But he stayed up, basking in the joy of being Jake Lockley until he couldn’t keep his eyes open.

#moon knight #gena landers #jake lockley #this is really long I didn't realize until I pasted it here LMAO #fic: meet me at our spot

[imogenswax]

Something about peppers… I just remembered and I had said that like I don’t know I tetrazzini or early moussaka or something like that and I remember fucking gosh and then I realized you’re not gonna kill me but sure it’s like if I’m not a caddy and retarded around people I could do that once you I got that yeah I’m sorry I get too ridiculous when it comes to some of that stuff because I have a lot of different reasons I guess I don’t know there’s like a never mind I can’t believe I remember that why did that just doesn’t mean it’s yours if I didn’t babysitters babysitters my babysitters a Macy made it is a Macy made of some sort I think that me and Nick could agree on that I there is something there it’s like it’s like a blue kind of like yeah you know what people are people and like let’s say lives in and have integrity and stuff like that excellent sort of Afro Asian twist it’s really kind of cool and serious but also full of lighters and stuff I guess there’s a lot of that there is though I was like what in the fuck that means that understanding equipment and leave in Roblox a long time… Roblox that’s all they’ll have just like all we have or Facebook it’s like that most of the people I know though do you travel other places so you don’t need to just play Roblox if you have integrity you can move anywhere in the map except that I am probably not gonna wanna get into a fight with anybody Greek or Italian today Texas or Spanish or Portuguese you know just to yeah I know oh shit yeah I know they’re always looking up in certain things well it’s in something all right but you know it’s a very morbid science speaker science that Ronis that no wrong wrong no it depends on what

L what does shit it’s a Perrone‘s I see it San Francisco treat what a nasty fucking nightmare all I can think your place there must’ve been some kind of jealousy component that I missed it I’m sorry it was I accused of social climate… I guess I was accused of Social climbing:-)… What nosy no that’s not me I don’t ever get into situations like that and I think you guys know why Gramma never loved you like those cart archetypes of people so you don’t you don’t just go to the Gramma store and shop for love you don’t we just go to the daddy store and shop for daddy love you don’t just go to the store of anybody and do that he got to know somebody on a personal basis and decide if you love them or you do not the ice cream I watched David eat this soup and I could taste it really easily because I’ve had it before and I could taste where the noodles and I just made me want to puke I don’t like everything that there is to eat out there I guess so there’s a lot of food this late just based on lake necessity I get that to you like if you need a hand River super what the fuck ever like just do it goulash fuck it you know that I don’t know I think that lake kids today have Mike Best and kids in America have stoves that work instead of just stoves that like blow up and your sisters face or something like that Jesus Jesus I you know it was not my first inkling to be like the person to make an ass of myself to protect another person but I actually feel pretty good about it yeah no it’s true it’s true great lakes bought a dick kind of moment I can’t wait to off lot it’s it’ll get better don’t worry oh shit great lakes wow is that a fucking joke well how much for one of the great lake white men dicks… Elon musk… Are you still trying to Merck little baby Apple or safaris are so disgusting it’s all about killing little babies and raping them in the butt hole especially if they’re of a different ethnicity apparently

[a-supernatural-writer]

Send me random shit to ease my anxieties about starting my new job tomorrow.... please🥺

#the lost boys #the lost boys 1987 #pls help #ANXIETY #new job #new job make me nervous #I’m making ramen for dinner cause comfort food #also watching ghost hunters #it’s a night #MY WATER WONT FUCKING BOIL #i’m a mess #they’re only noodles Michael #don’t fuck with my noodles David

[gallusrostromegalus]

Just Some Proof I'm Writing This Fic:

The Fic has turned into a fucking Monster now, but I have the Tentative Chapter Titles for all of The Power Of Friendship (And This Gun I Found!)!! It's a Long Post, so the whole list is under the cut, but the Seasons are called:

Season One: Channel Island Caper

Season Two: Battle Royale With Cheese

Season Three: Make Lovecraft, Not Warcraft

Season Four: The Height Of Idiocy Is About The Same As This Tower

Season Five: Santorini Dreamin'

Season Six: It's The End Of The World As We Know It

Season One: Channel Island Caper

Episode 1: It's Not Like Any Of Us Were Going To College Anyway

Episode 2: There Was Definitely Room For Both Of Them On That Door

Episode 3: Parks And Desolation

Episode 4: A Very Particular Set Of Skills

Episode 5: How to Mine For Phish

Episode 6: We Can Have A Little Murder. As A Treat.

Episode 7: The Clown Pagliacci

Episode 8: Kink Shaming Is My Kink

Episode 9: Monster Mash (ed peas)

Episode 10: Does Anyone Know Where The Mountain Dew Is?

Episode 11: The Mortifying Ordeal Of Being Known

Episode 12: Friendship Speech

Episode 13: The Theological Implications Of Bugs Bunny

Episde 14: There's No Business Like Show Business

Episode 15: When Did Mötley Crüe Become Classic Rock?

Episode 16: Noodle Incident

Episode 17: This Episode Contains The Worst Joke You've Ever Heard

Episode 18: Dante's Disco Inferno

Episde 19: Ancient Egyptian Large Hadron Collider

Episode 20: That Belongs In A Museum!

Episode 21: My Husband With An Economics And Finance Degree Helped Me Write This Chapter

Episode 22: The Gods Have No Fury Like A Parent Scorned

Season 2: Battle Royale With Cheese

Episode 23: Maybe Next Time Use LoJack?

Episdoe 24: Ancient Egyptian Large Hadron Collider, Now With Pictures Because I Heard Y'all Were Stupid

Episode 25: Having Fun Ain't Hard, When You Have A Library Card!

Episode 26: Terms And Conditions Apply

Episode 27: Foresight is 50/50

Episode 28: Do You Do Children's Parties?

Episode 29: Ivermectin

Episode 30: Clown College Dropout

Episode 31: In Which You All Get To Learn About My Special Interest

Episode 32: IntricateRituals.meme

Episode 33: Ride Of the Valkyries

Episode 34: Math Problem

Episode 35: Because Things Went So Well With the Hindenberg

Episode 36: It's Like A Seder With Vincent Price

Episode 37: Feature Creep

Episode 38: Man's Best Friend

Episode 39: Above All, To Thine Own Self Be True

Episode 40: So Long, And Thanks For All The Fish

Episode 41: Midnight Bender At Bernie's

Season Three: Make Lovecraft, not Warcraft:

Episode 42: Breakfast Club

Episode 43: Monster Factory

Episode 44: Beautiful And Terrible As The Dawn

Episode 45: One Is A Genius, the Other's Insane

Episode 46: Mine Will Be The Shiniest Empire

Episode 47: He'll Kick Himself When He Remembers The Rocket Boots

Episode 48: Deus Vult, Motherfuckers

Episode 49: Frankenstein Has Some Regrets

Episode 50: Scooby Doo Hall Scene

Season Four: The Height Of Idiocy Is About The Same As This Tower

Episode 51: Who's on First, What's on Second-

Episode 52: Chess With A Pigeon

Episode 53: Master Of Ceremonies

Episode 54: The Steaks Are High

Episode 55: Fuck Around-

Episode 56: -And Find Out

Episode 57: Beach Episode

Episode 58: An Old Priest And A Young Priest

Episode 59: Nobody's-Getting-Any-Slumber Party

Season 5: Santorini Dreamin'

Episode 60: Ignoring The Most Important Dungeons And Dragons Rule

Episode 61: Two Wrongs Don't Make A Right, But Three Thefts Do!

Episode 62: (in)Human After All

Episode 63: Destroy Your Local Golf Course

Episode 64: GIRL'S NIGHT!!

Episode 65: You Can Keep Your El Dorado, And To Hell With Burgundy!

Episode 66: It's Constantinople, Not Istanbul

Episode 67: The Most Dangerous Game

Episode 68: 'What I Did On My Summer Vacation' Essay

Season Six: It's The End Of The World As We Know It :)

Episode 69 (nice): It's Just A Jump To The Left!

Episode 70: At Least David Bowie Isn't In Here, Fondling His Balls?

Episode 71: All According To Keikaku

Episode 72: A Stranger In Paradise

Episode 73: Oh Mama I'm In Fear For My Life From The Long Arm Of The Law

Episode 74: That Left Turn At Albaquerque

Episode 75: The Power Of Friendship (+4 ATK/+10DMG)

Episode 76: Ammemoarpigi

Episode 77: I Hate Ending Stories, So I'm Not Going To.

I seem to be clocking an average of 5K per chapter so this beast will probably be... 385,000 words (72% of a Le Miserables) when I'm done?

lol.

#The Power Of Friendship (And Thins Gun I Found!) #Yugioh #YGO #fanfic #If I post little updates it makes me work On The Thing

[khaleesiofalicante]

“These reporters need to chill the fuck out,” Lexi groaned, flinging the magazine to the ground. “The whole country thinks I am dating David. David who’s like a fucking brother to me.”

Max scrunched his nose in disgust. “How can you even say that with a straight face?”

“Oh please, Max you claim to hate him and then you stalk his social media every night with a smile on your stupid face.” Lexi grinned.

Max quickly sat up in his chair and glared at his cousin. “I hate-stalk him. There’s a difference. And I do not smile, that is my look of planning murder and getting away with it.”

“David is a nice kid.” Uncle Jace offered.

Max glared at him too. “You are biased.”

“Alright, that is enough. No one is killing the Prince of France,” Dad shot a look at him. He looked at Lexi. “What do you want to do about this? Do you want to let this blow over?”

“How have people not guessed already. Like, have they ever met a lesbian?” Max asked, grateful they had steered away from dangerous topics.

“Well, there is a ton of fanfiction…” Lexi grinned but then her expression turned serious. “No, I don’t want this to blow over. Not again.”

This came to me while I was making noodles

I think...I think you should make more noodles.

#ALSO PRINCE OF FRANCE YES PLACE #lbaf #david beauchamp

[heroofpenamstan]

—OC PROFILES: JOANNE & MICHAEL

tagged by the lovelies: @shallow-gravy​, @shellibisshe​, @belorage​, @honeysides​, @strafethesesinners​, @faithchel​, @blissfulalchemist​! thank you, dears! x since i’m tragically late to the party as per usual, not going to be tagging anyone since i assume most of my mutuals have done it, but if you want to go right ahead and tag me too so i can see! :”)) also, fair warning: 80% of the questions i answered at ungodly hours overmedicated on paracetamol and it shows because re-reading this in the morning was a Yikes

GENERAL

name: joanne burton alias(es): jo, annie ( mike exclusive ), burton, dep, jr. deputy, rook, traitor, sinner, wrath/pain in the ass ( john exclusive ), rabbit ( jacob exclusive ), heinous fucking bitch—( also john exclusive ), black widow ( new dawn au ) gender: cis. female age: 29 birth: 30th october, 1988 place of birth: meridian, idaho spoken languages: english; may or may not recite some hebrew lines over the holidays sexual preference: bisexual occupation(s): junior deputy of hope county, montana/menace to all cultists everywhere ( in a certain radius of said hope county, montana, anyway )

APPEARANCE

eye colour: brown hair colour: black height: 157cm ( 5′2 ), or approximately 7′11 when balancing on michael’s shoulders to peer inside john’s windows scars: split right eyebrow ( thanks, jake ), minor cuts and incorrectly healed bruises and gashes, scarred bullet wound on left hip ( you’re welcome, jake )

FAVOURITE

colour: orange or yellow or cyan, or whatever is more stupidly eye-catching and not at all fit for her current environment song: i’ve been thinking by handsome boy modeling school food: various stir-fries, fruits and protein ( or anything that she claims to be “healthy” when, truly, bitch is one step away from living off of instant noodles and canned pineapple and cigarette buds from dutch’s stash ) drink: beerherbal teas and infusions

HAVE THEY

passed university: no, but passing the police academy was already a pleasant enough surprise for her had sex: today? no. two weeks ago? probably had sex in public: probably said two weeks ago gotten pregnant/ someone else pregnant: yes, but we don’t talk about it kissed a boy: yes ( derogatory ) kissed a girl: yes ( affectionate ) gotten tattoos: yes, loads: most were practice scribbles for her ex-girlfriend, and the only true meaningful one she possesses is lydia, scrawled into her pinky in remembrance. otherwise, john seed do not even engage with that rusty ass tattoo gun— gotten piercings: yes, loads multiplied; if there’s a place for a piercing in her ears, she has them. also, an old septum piercing she hasn’t worn in a hot second been in love: yes, loads squared ( girl rents out her heart on the weekdays and cries about the scratches she notices on saturday, but still repeats it all over again come monday; falling in love for her is easy, but actually loving someone and getting over her self-loathing to do so is a whole different ball game ) stayed up for more than 24 hours: she’s probably on hour 31 as we speak ( someone knock her out pls )

ARE THEY

a virgin: whitehorse has heard enough horror stories in the break room between her and joey to last him a lifetime a cuddler: closeted cuddler, yes a kisser: most definitely; woman has to play up her natural assets scared easily: her response time is too lagged for that jealous easily: depends; she’s more jealous of what she should have/could have/would have had in a general sense than being jealous of a particular person or a thing trustworthy: in her own way, yes dominant: disgustingly so submissive: not in this lifetime in love: very much so single: very much so part 2

RANDOM QUESTIONS (tw for self harm/suicide mention)

have they harmed themselves: yes, but it’s more by means of unintentional yet severe substance abuse thought of suicide: not as often as one would assume; joanne has a very strong sense of self-preservation, but tends to run from her bleak reality by means of one harmful way or the other attempted suicide: once or twice during her lowest points in life wanted to kill someone: on the daily have/had a job: girl had juggled three part-time jobs; there is nothing she fears anymore have any fears: ( see above ) to fall back into old bad habits, loss of control, death, failure, a bad future, poverty, being abandoned and forgotten, long stays at a hospital, the judges, the bliss, the power of john’s hair gel

FAMILY

sibling(s): micah burton ( older brother ) parent(s): abigail burton née belman ( mother ); jim burton ( father ) children: asher seed ( daughter in new dawn au ) significant other: jacob seed ( circumstantial lover/”could do without” mentor/#prisonwife #prisonhusband #imkidding #kinda ) pets: boomer for the cuddles, cheesecake for the throttles ( bitch naturally attracts the judges but will forget her dog 101 and run away like what does she think will happen then?? )

GENERAL

name: michael scott-hughes alias(es): mike, mikey, mickey ( mary may exlusive ), mike the bike/fall’s end’s bicycle, resistance’s poster boy, manwhore, cassanova, the archangel ( joseph exclusive ), the antichrist ( also joseph exclusive ), war dog, hughes boy ( fairgrave exclusive ) gender: cis. male age: 30 birth: 6th july, 1988 place of birth: fall’s end, montana spoken languages: english, russian, basic chinese mandarin and turkish sexual preference: pansexual occupation(s): residential shady, shady man ( international arm’s dealer, most recently demoted to local resistance leader and occasional general goods store co-owner )

APPEARANCE

eye colour: green hair colour: brown height: 181cm ( 5′11 ), and 6ft on tinder jkjk man’s confident enough to not grasp for that extra inch, unlike someone ( john ) scars: heavily burnt left hand ( from trying to fish out his ex girlfriend’s boiling corpse r.i.p. to that steaming puss— ), gash on his right temple, nicely healed gun wound on left shoulder, not so nicely healed amputated right hand ( man’s not having the best time in my canon, is he ), various incorrectly healed cuts and bruises

FAVOURITE

colour: green and rustics song: wild world by yusuf/cat stevens food: unlike the faker above, michael actually likes to cook and eat healthy meals, so anything from salads to veggies to oatmeal to soups will do ( and meat; man’s been a vegetarian for a grand total of 4 days in his entire life ( or 14, if you count the time he got abducted to john’s bunker womp )) drink: sugary drinkswhiskey, fresh juices, “water can be so, so sexy, annie—”

HAVE THEY

passed university: no, though michael really busted his ass to self-educate on subjects that will be beneficial to his line of work had sex: we stopped keeping tabs and numbers nearly ten years ago had sex in public: we stopped blinking at these types of shenanigans nearly ten years ago too gotten pregnant/ someone else pregnant: yes? no? maybe? ( mike’s too afraid to even think about it, but hopes he hasn’t fathered any babies any time soon ) kissed a boy: yes ( affectionate ) kissed a girl: yes ( affectionate² ) gotten tattoos: yes: the sword of damocles on his left inner forearm, intertwined snakes running across his right ribs, a tiny smiley face on his ass lord save him gotten piercings: yes, and everyone hated his attempt to revive the 90s with his lil earring like c’mon you already have a reputation of being a sleaze— been in love: yes, but surprisingly not as many times as one may think ( truthfully, three times: mary may, lana, joanne mary may again ) stayed up for more than 24 hours: sometimes it just cannot be helped

ARE THEY

a virgin: maybe in a past life as an amoeba a cuddler: yes ( try to escape his hold during a summer night i’ll give you 5 bucks if you can break the deadlock ) a kisser: he just exists to smooch at this point scared easily: truthfully, he’s quite desensitized as is, so it’s really hard to truly rock him jealous easily: no; though he might get a bit petty and bitter if someone mentions merle and mary may becuase, like, c’mon, mary—merle briggs? trustworthy: one of his better traits, but past events have shown that boy tends to lose some of his morals for love dominant: yes submissive: yes part 2 man will accommodate and switch it up in love: often single: loosely, often

RANDOM QUESTIONS (tw for self harm/suicide mention)

have they harmed themselves: michael has bad mental health trips stemming from having a lot of insecurities as a child; these may evolve into bad habits and pure recklessness on his part to prove his worth thought of suicide: these thoughts don’t come often, but when they do, it’s harder for him than most to shake them off and recover attempted suicide: once, during the boiling pit incident wanted to kill someone: yes, but it comes more from need than want usually have/had a job: yes, though no retail until he was 30 and stuck providing hope county with slugs and bullets have any fears: loneliness, rejection, abandonment, repercussions and consequences, not being good enough, powerlessness, loss, the angel pit, the process of dying

FAMILY

sibling(s): none, but: jackson hughes ( uncle ) parent(s): jessica hughes née scott ( mother ), david hughes ( father ) girl i have his whole family tree drawn up like you wouldn’t believe children: andrew hughes ( son in new dawn au and maybe canon ) significant other: mary may fairgrave ( childhood sweetheart/awkward ex/once in a rare cosmic event fuck buddy/volatile lovers ) pets: peaches loves him she doesn’t; she just wants to chew on his hair

#tag game #deputy joanne burton #michael s. hughes #oc: get to know jo #oc: build a bicycle #my stuff #far cry 5 oc

[proxyedgy]

Today is April 6th!

To celebrate this wonderful occasion, here are 33 Hakumen fun facts:

1. Hakumen’s mask can come off, but nobody knows what his face looks like. Indeed, this may very well had been retconned after the first game and we’re none the wiser

2. Hakumen’s sword, Ookami, is over 2 metres long, being actually taller than Hakumen himself. You know what they say about samurai with long swords...

They can do some badass poses

3. Hakumen has 16 eyes. Not a single one of them is on his face

4. Hakumen is Toshimichi Mori’s favourite character, making him the worst Blazblue character by default

5. Hakumen approaches every situation with almost mechanical detachment, as he has perfected the art of being a dick

6. Despite everything, Hakumen still cares for the other Six Heroes. Yes, including Terumi. Especially Terumi. Don’t believe anyone that tells you otherwise

7. Hakumen's hobbies are unknown, as he doesn’t like anything, but some say he bakes sweets in his spare time

8. Hakumen is the only character in Continuum Shift not to have an alternate gag ending, since he’s boring af

9. In every game of the franchise, Hakumen’s plot relevance changes. By the time CentralFiction comes around, his only contribution is to die so Terumi can become the cishets’ favourite main

10. Before the 2.0 update to Cross Tag, Hakumen would speak Japanese in his special interaction with the Six Heroes, despite whatever vocal settings the game had for him. He could do that because he’s Hakumen, and he doesn’t give a fuck about your voice settings

11. My friend has asked me at least three times what the hell this hole in Hakumen’s armour is for

I still don’t have a good answer to that

12. In the main series, Hakumen only has three files for in-game portraits, because emoting is for the weak

13. The only thing Hakumen players know is to press D. Yes, they’re winging everything else, the goddamn menaces

14. In CentralFiction there is no Unlimited Hakumen

but he got this new move instead which is arguably worse

15. Hakumen’s sword can cut through projectiles. Because fuck you that’s why

16. The Hakumen at the end of Terumi’s arcade in ChronoPhantasma is not real but the pain and suffering he caused me when I first started playing are

17. I only defeated this bitch with the “deny Astral Heats” ability and I’m still salty about it

what the hell was I supposed to do, grab the bastard?

18. HAKUMEN is sometimes written as HAKU-MEN or HAKU=MEN in the games. Nobody knows why

19. Hakumen shares his voice actor (David Vincent in English, Kakihara Tetsuya in Japanese) with Jin Kisaragi, much to the surprise of the 7 people that bought Cross Tag without knowing Blazblue

20. Hakumen’s name can be translated as “white mask", but you can also read it as “white noodles” if you want, no one’s gonna stop you

21. Technically Hakumen and Jin Kisaragi should not be able to exist at the same time, but since Hakumen is really cool he gets a pass (Jin is on thin fucking ice though)

22. Although some think the insides of Hakumen’s armour are silent, the little horns on the sides of his helmet are, in fact, antennas, so he’s always tuned into the radio. He can’t turn it off

23. Some of Hakumen’s sprites have his hair as a separate object

The first time I saw this one in particular I almost had a heart attack

24. At the time of the Dark War, the OLN wanted to capture the Six Heroes, but never went through it because Hakumen scared them (no, really)

25. Hakumen has a technique called Time Killer, which “strips a target of all their remaining time in the world and instantly kills them”. Anybody could achieve the same result by stabbing their opponent, but Hakumen trademarked the term, so he’s technically the only one who knows it

26. After losing to Hakumen many, many times in my first playthrough of Calamity Trigger, every single time I see this portrait without fail I will say:

“stick that damn sword up your ass” 

27. Hakumen is currently only at 20% of his usual jerkassery, and he better stay that way if he knows what’s good for him

28. When Taokaka steals food from Hakumen, he drops a tiny Pakumen-shaped foodstuff, though it’s anybody’s guess as to where exactly it comes from

29. When electrocuted, Hakumen’s sprite has no body inside the Unit, so the “white void” part of his speech is probably not metaphorical

30. Hakumen’s speech also has a funny quirk in that every time he says it I can feel my soul leaving this earthly vessel, just for it to be drawn back through sheer force of anger

31. In gameplay, Hakumen’s techniques are named after nature, seasons and Buddhism, as he denounced his Catholic upbringing after donning the Unit

32. Hakumen is canonically British, as if we needed any more reasons to hate him already

33. Finally, for the last fun fact, I would like to remind everyone that Terumi is very much jealous of Hakumen’s enormous, beautiful, honking great knockers

and that’s why he stole the Unit back.

#rambly #hakumen #blazblue #long post #hakumen is very cool and i love him very much and i also hate him very much #the better jin kisaragi

[peppermint2d]

Love your hcs!!!! Can I get some for Murdoc? <3

Of course! Thank you so much for your ask, you literally made our day we've been freaking out since we got it! These headcanons are a little all over the place, but we hope you like them ♥ If you liked this, please send us an ask!

tw: Murdoc

Assorted Murdoc Headcanons

is a midnight snacker and likes to snack especially after sex

will cook an actual meal at 1 a.m.

an actual meal meaning kraft mac and cheese

he loves driving but has terrible road rage

but most of the time he doesn't have a license because of his DUIs

because he can't drive, you have to drive him around, and he is the WORST BACKSEAT DRIVER

he yells nonstop

"Take the left"

"Google says to go straight"

"Who is smarter me or google?"

he puts his shoes up on the dash and leaves dirt there

he is always late everywhere "it's fashionable, love"

he blasts music too, so loud you can't hear the GPS, so loud he broke the speakers

he will talk about how he is better than what is playing unless it's David Bowie

he sings along loud too

if the music isn't making you deaf, then he is

he loves to fuck with the buttons in the car, always moving the windows up and down and adjusting his seat

sometimes you gotta put him in the backseat with the child lock on so he will stop moving the windows and opening the doors while you're driving

he also tries to GRAB THE WHEEL WHILE YOU'RE DRIVING

one time you had to use a dog collar to leash him to the backseat so he won't climb into the front and TOUCH THE STEERING WHEEL

he doesn't mind the collar because he's a kinky bastard

"babe make the collar tighter babe"

"Murdoc shut up I'm literally trying to drive"

he sticks his head out of the window like a dog

if the other cars are bad drivers he will stick his head out and yell at them and you gotta drag him back in like cyborg noodle in stylo

he cracks dad jokes and they are really bad

"Wanna grab lunch? Are you hungry?"

"I'm not hungry, I'm Murdoc!"

cue the sound of everyone groaning cuz it's the third time he's said that joke today

We thought long and hard about what his ice cream order would be and we decided on:

a waffle cone since he likes to use his tongue 🥵

fruity flavours like rainbow sherbet, cotton candy, and definitely piña colada

he tops it all off with whipped cream, rainbow sprinkles, and a cherry

He does the thing where he ties the stem of the cherry to really show off what his tongue does 😏

Ficlet

"Murdoc, this is a bad idea... You don't even like chocolate!" You really didn't think that bringing your boyfriend to an ice cream shop would become this intense.

"Love, bad idea is my middle name." He licked his lips and turned to the cashier. "I want to do the banana split challenge."

The cashier was in shock. The Banana split challenge has never been successfully completed. Many have tried and many were fools. "Are you sure you want to try it, sir? You only get five minutes..."

"No, Murdoc, this is insane. We have to go meet the band after this for dinner. This will spoil your appetite!" You tugged on his arm, trying to break the determined stare he was giving the challenge advert.

"Garçon," he said with a bad french accent and too much flair, "bring me the banana!"

All the other patrons were looking at you two now. Whispers filling the air. "Not the challenge..." "He has so much still to live for..." "Another gone too soon..." "What is a banana..."

You took the table for two by the window since Murdoc wanted "the pedestrians to know of my greatness!" You ate your scoop while he waited for the server to prepare the dish, trying to avoid the gazes of those looking at you and your green man.

"Now, let's talk strategy." Murdoc reached out his hand in a gimme motion. Usually, that hand gesture meant that he had a new lyric to write down and that he needed your purse notebook, however this time, he started to sketch his enemy. "I say I eat the banana first. Give the ice cream time to melt so that I won't spend so long trying to break off pieces, yeah?"

"I mean, I guess, but wouldn't liquid ice cream take up more room in your stomach than solid?" You pointed out.

"Love, if the ice cream is solid, I'll have a brain freeze!"

"That only happens to people with brains, you should be fine."

"You wound me."

When the banana float arrived, it was monstrous. Even though Murdoc may act like a child, they used adult sized portions.

The whole thing may as well be bigger than your head. You stared wide-eyed as they placed it down on the table with an audible thud. Murdoc, however, only seemed to grow even more excited. “You’re really doing this?” you looked at him with the last bit of hope that maybe he’d just give up.

“I am.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Oh shut up.” You listened as the employee who brought out the ice cream quickly explained the rules of the little competition one last time. 5 minutes. Finish the ice cream. Then finally, they set the timer.

Murdoc wasted no time, immediately working through the ice cream. It was, quite a sight, you thought. Like a little kid presented with dessert, eating as fast as they could. It was actually very amusing. Kinda gross, but still amusing. He tried his best to go along with his plan, moving the ice cream around to eat the banana first. It seemed though, that he did not account for how fast he could eat the banana. “It’s still so frozen.” he pouted as he tried to scoop off bits of ice cream, breaking the scoops up in what you assumed to be an attempt to melt it faster.

“It’s ice cream, Mudz. I don’t know what you expected.”

“Ha ha.” he rolled his eyes at you, then turning back to the huge bowl in front of him he committed to just eating the incredibly cold, and still not liquid, ice cream.

He ate all that a lot faster than you expected him to. You could only imagine the brain freeze, or how cold that would feel on your teeth. Murdoc seemed unfazed though. He powered through. And you weren’t sure if it was a surprise to you or not, he finished on time. You were shocked he ate all that in so little time but the more you thought about it, was it really that surprising? This is Murdoc we’re talking about here. When the timer went off, the employees came out to cheer for him, and the other patrons as well. Apparently, no one had ever done that before. Murdoc however, had pushed the large bowl away from him and had his head laying face down on the table.

“Mudz? You alright?”

“Brain freeze.” he groaned back at you, but he still didn’t lift his head.

“Oh you poor thing. You’ll live.” you rolled your eyes at him, but he still didn’t move. “Come on, you beat your challenge, we gotta go now.” you stood up and walked around the table to his side, nudging him slightly.

“Noooo it’s so bad, love, you have no idea.”

“Babe, I’ve had brain freeze before.”

“Not like this.”

You rolled your eyes at him again, not that it did much as he was barely looking at you. “You did this to yourself.”

“I’m dying.”

“You’re not dying.”

“I am.” You stared down at him, and after a moment, decided it was enough of his whining. “Ok, we’re going now, let’s go.” You pulled him up by his shoulders, then dragged him up the rest of the way. The whole time he complained and whined. He really was a child. The whining continued as you dragged him out of the shop, out to the parking lot and into the car. Constant mumbling of “brain freeze” and “love it hurts so bad” had you wanting to laugh at him if it weren’t for the fact that you were the one putting up with him. Even in the car, his whining continued.

“Murdoc you’ve been whining about your damn brain freeze longer than that stupid challenge even lasted.”

“Cuz it hurts.”

“Well, what do you want me to do? I told you not to eat all that.”

“Alright, mom.”

“Ugh” His whining continued on and on for what seemed like forever to you. You blocked it out after a while. Then suddenly, he just stopped. “Hey babe,” he said, and you looked over at him to see him staring at you with a shit-eating grin. Well, that was a change in mood.

“Yeah?” you asked him, almost cautiously.

“I won that challenge.” Oh. That’s where he was going.

You sighed, “Yeah, you did.”

“Told you I could.”

“Mhm.”

“I think that calls for celebration. And also, an apology from you love. For doubting me.” You looked at him again to see him wiggling his eyebrows, one of those signature Murdoc smirks on his face.

“You’re gross.”

#i love you anon #ask #murdoc niccals #murdoc #murdoc gorillaz #gorillaz headcanons #gorillaz fanfiction #gorillaz fandom

[lune-hime]

Garden of Tulips (Levi/Reader) Tea Time # 2 ~ Shower Mishap

~Click me for more chapters~

“What did it look like?”

“Hmm?” Levi looked up from his place next to your sleeping form. “The titan that tried to snack on my darling granddaughter.” “Ugly as fuck.” “Aren’t they all?”

Levi recounts memories of the reader and their shared life together while she recovers from a serious injury.

!!WARNINGS!! - Violence, gore, smut, wholesome content ;)

So these little Tea Times were written as little filler-memory chapters to place in between the main story line.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Y/N.” Hange drawled. She clumsily attempted to sit cross legged along the dining hall bench, her legs not quite folding correctly. When she almost tipped over the side, Erwin used his quick reflexes to snag her by the arm and place her upright. You sloppily turned your head to give her as much undivided attention that your remaining active brain cells could muster.

“Please enlighten everyone on the shower story.” Her request brought a giddy smile to her lips. Levi immediately cast you a quizzical look, his gaze drowning in beer. Your face heated up like an oiled saucepan but thanks to the excessive drinking it made no difference to your already rosy complexion.

“But it might be too unprofessional for the Commander.” You shot a sassy look at Hange over Levi who was seated between the two of you. Alcohol was quite the bold word choice inducer as you definitely would not have phrased your sentence with so much gusto if you were sober.

“What in the fucking hell  kind of story is this?” Levi asked darkly, his pupils dilated so far they eclipsed their usual silver. There was a preciseness to his phrase despite it being slurred. Indeed, the only soul at the table who knew of your unintentional shower adventure was your former squad leader. Erwin chuckled softly and Mike quirked an eyebrow at you.

“We drink as friends tonight, Y/N. No one will get you in trouble for just telling a story-” Erwin began his explanation calmly but paused when he locked eyes with Levi’s burning glare. It took what was left of his composure to refrain himself from laughing at the tiny fireball across the table.

“But only tell it if you are comfortable doing so.” The commander flashed a dazzling smile before taking a hearty swig of his drink. The man may have been inebriated but he was still so much more put together than the rest of you. Well, with the exception of Mike of course.

“It’s not that bad, don’t worry about it Vivi.” You reassured the steaming man between giggles. You reached up to gingerly pat his cheek a couple times, his glare turning into an intensely childish pout that he would definitely deny later.

“So you’ll tell it?” Hange chittered, practically vibrating with excitement. You nodded lazily, swaying a bit but steadied by Levi’s secure arm around your waist.

“Okay so, it was during my first few months as a cadet-”

↞♞♘↠

You had come to terms with the fact that you were going to be tired on a daily basis. Since you had joined the cadets it was nonstop physical and tactical training that bored into the innermost parts of your brain and body, immersing you in a constant state of exhaustion. Your grandmother’s war stories about her painful life in the military were indeed accurate (well, yours were much less scandalous than hers); it’s no joke how far the organization pushes every limb, muscle, fiber, and atom within your being.

Which was why you couldn’t be happier that you had an hour of free time to shower after your training session before you had to meet your mentor. Plush towel hanging off your shoulder, you rounded the corner of one of the many hallways of the vast compound and practically skipped into the bathing area.

The steam from the showers was thick at first and obscured the space as you passed through the initial chamber to enter the main bathing area. The only element of the atmosphere that told you other cadets were occupying the room was their loud banter and laughter. Only, it wasn’t the feminine voices you were accustomed to hearing and you’re pretty sure you just heard Connie’s na-

“Y/N!?!?!” A voice shrieked, immediately scuttling to the side upon discovering your arrival. When your vision adjusted to the thick steam, your eyes widened in shock when you spotted Eren's very exposed form through the haze.

"Ohmygodohmygod, Eren I'm so sor-" You blabbed, immediately trying to look anywhere but the boy's nether regions. Before the split second it would have taken to cover your eyes, you were startled by an immense figure in your personal space. The shadow gave you zero time to shield yourself from the Michaelangelo’s David that was possibly the cockiest cadet on the premises.  

"Y/N, I didn't know you were so bold. Come to play?" Reiner cooed, smirk widening as he watched your face heat up to the scalding temperature of their showers. He made no effort to hide his manhood, as Eren did, and actually attempted to emphasize it by propping his leg up against one of the benches littered throughout the bath. You were frozen in embarrassment and as much as you wanted to punch him right in the spot he most yearned for you to gaze upon, you couldn't do it.

"Walls, Reiner do you have any shame?" You spat back, your muscles still seized up with your beyond awkward encounter.

"None if it comes to you, sweetheart." He chuckled confidently. Before you could quip back another response, a blur shouting your name dashed towards you and turned your vision black. The hands over your eyes became your sole protector from the copious amounts of naked men.

“I know you are dumb, but you really need to watch where you are going.” Jean scolded from behind you in a hushed tone. You let out the balloon of a breath you had been internalizing. If you hadn’t believed in angels before, Jean sure as hell was your angel now. He abruptly turned around and began waddling the two of you towards the entrance when you heard agile footsteps circling around you. Jean suddenly halted, the unexpected loss of movement sending you flailing.

“Hold up, Jean. Maybe she knew exactly where she was going.” Reiner purred. You felt Jean’s breath quicken against your ear and his grip on your temple tightened momentarily. You didn’t need to physically see Reiner’s face to picture the shit-eating smirk edging its way into his features.

“If you wanted me, Y/N, all you had to do was ask.”

The sound of wet feet against tile grew closer until you felt unwanted puffs of air leaving feather-light touches on your face. Jean suddenly flung you sideways like a cooked noodle, placing himself between you and Reiner and causing you to squeak in surprise.

“Fuck off Reiner. She doesn’t want to see your tiny dick.”  Jean spat back. A chorus of snickers resounded through the bathroom.

“She was trying hard just a moment ago to avoid the temptation.” Reiner huffed. His arrogance was like a tough stain that you couldn’t get out, no matter how hard you scrubbed.

“Sadly, I did see it and Jean’s right.” You groaned. Your best friend let out a snort followed by the laughter you could feel rumbling from his chest.

“You must not have gotten a good look at it then-”

"If you don't get out of our way, no one will get the minute pleasure of seeing your dick again." Jean sarcastically threatened.

"Please, Reiner, give it a rest." A soft voice pleaded to your right. You recognized it as a familiar cadet, one Jean had grown quite close to.

"Everyone else besides you is uncomfortable here." Marco's even tone was music to your reddened ears. There was a palpable silence of which you presumed was the soundtrack to an alpha male staring contest. Then, Reiner huffed and backed off seeing that the odds were against him.

"Fine, fine. You know you can always call on me Y/N." Reiner chided before sauntering back into the shower.

"The only call he'll be getting is from the infirmary." You grumbled under your breath.

“Can’t keep it in his pants for five minutes can he?” Jean scoffed lowly as he began leading you to the doorway.

“I mean he’s not wearing pants…” You mumbled, still trying to recover from the overwhelming shock and embarrassment. Jean stopped you at the entrance to the connecting hallway.

"When I let go, don't you dare look behind you." Jean warned, playfully swaying you back and forth.

"Okay just let me go!" You sputtered and swatted his arms before he released you.

You fixed your gaze on the tile walls and heaved a sigh of relief.

"Thanks Jean, I owe you one." You said, voice regaining its composure.

"Whatever, just buy me some food when we go into town next." He replied. You heard him turn around and begin padding back to the showers when you realized your shoulder was missing a fluffy presence. Your towel must have fallen off during your steamy showdown.

"Jean wait!!" You exclaimed. You turned around and in the waning of your flustered hysteria forgot you were technically still in the boy's bathroom. Both your and Jean's eyes almost popped out of their sockets.

"Shit, Y/N what did I say???" Jean exclaimed, hands immediately flying to cover his crotch. You breathed a heavy exhale, feeling the flames scorching your cheeks once more.

"Dammit, I'm sorry! My towel fell-" You sputtered and cursed at yourself for letting the heat flood your brain cells too.

"Ah! Y/N-" Marco appeared with your towel, only he was sporting his birthday suit as well. Oh, this could not get any worse. You were the embodiment of a beet, cheeks puffing in fear and eyes screwing shut.

"I have your towel, I was going to place it by the doorway but-um-here." Marco gently grabbed your hand and placed the towel in it. He laughed nervously and retreated back into the bath.

You turned back around to face opposite of the doorway and slumped your head into your hands exasperatedly.

"You good now?" Jean checked, slight annoyance evident in his tone.

"No." You whimpered in utter mortification.

“Reiner’s just a dick who thinks that everyone wants to see his own.” Jean said with a roll of his eyes.

"It was an accident, so don't worry. Plus this gives me prime blackmail material." He snickered. You shot him the middle finger over your shoulder.

“How am I going to face anyone in that room anymore?” You groaned sadly, the last three minutes of excitement playing on an endless loop within your mortified mind.

“Easy, if they bring it up just kick them on any part of their body you saw today.” Jean snickered.

“But I saw every-” You started to protest and then gasped in horror. Your humiliated expression deepened Jean’s smirk.

"We'll pretend it never happened. Now please, go to the proper bathroom before you play with the crazy lady. You stink."

↞↠

“Y/N? What’s wrong?” Hange asked, taking a break from poking at the titan’s dirtied toenail. When her apprentice approached the titan holding area she looked absolutely worn out.

“I have the extreme urge to scratch my eyes out.” You groaned, setting your bag of notes down and crouching in the grass next to her.

“Please don’t, today I need you to help me scratch Bean’s eye instead.”

↞♞♘↠

Levi’s grip threatened to shatter the glass pint as he brought it down onto the table with too much force.

“If we had been together when this happened I would have ripped off every one of their micro cadet penises.” He hissed, the alcohol turning into flames within his eyes.

There was a moment’s pause before the entire squad leader table erupted in laughter. The guffaw rattled the wood paneling and caused confused cadets to turn their heads in shock. Erwin accidentally snorted some of his beer and was now struggling with it coming out of his nose. Seeing the commander in such a state caused the same exact thing to happen to you, the burning of the alcohol hurt almost as much as your stomach did from hilarity. Mike kneed the table so hard that it sent his drink flying at Hange who moved out of the way to dodge it, only to smack into Levi’s chest. The action caused the two of them to double over and flip off the bench which only caused the rest of your table to create a larger cacophony.

Nights spent in cherished company like these were ones you held close to your heart.

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