#I NEED HIS SILLY LITTLE FRENCH MUSTACHE | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

altagraye · 1 year

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Warnings: nsfw, 18+ only, smut, cussing (c’mon people it’s me), squirting, smacking, manhandling soft!dom x innocent!reader, Lloyd has an innocence corruption kink, dark main character, unprotected sex ( put raincoats on peeps!), age gap (reader is of legal age), reader is 25, Lloyd is 40, Lloyd (yeah he is definitely a warning) .

Author's note: This was written on a very very old tablet and or my regular cell phone. I apologize for any mistakes. My laptop is currently broken.

Part 1: switchblade serenade

You were 25, with the face of a young Jennifer Aniston but cursed with a nasty scar above your eyebrow, and your palette painted in the goth style. Or as much of it as Lloyd would let you wear. Today you were dressed in classic cotton stocking, the ones that hugged your thighs and left a few inches of skin before your plaid skirt was covering you.

Lloyd absolutely showered you in gifts, a pearl necklace that accentuated a few sparse moles on your declate. Classic black nails, dotted in silver glitter- a touch all your own.

You stood by Lloyd's side as the corrupt goons exited the building. Yeah, they were his confidants and informants, but we always have to keep our eyes out for them. It’s easy to get back stabbed when you aren’t looking. While the last one was still in the room, his back to you, Lloyd took pleasure in lifting your skirt and coaxing at your skimpy clothed cunt.

He wanted a lacy thong on you, icing on his Cupcake. The heavy cedar double doors closed finally. Leaving you two alone, at least for now. His perfect blue eyes glazed over you for a short moment, admiring a fine piece of art like you, before his lips crashed into your own. You couldn’t help but moan into his rough kiss. His mustache brushing your soft lips, itching just a little. His wide hands slipped underneath the spaghetti strap of the thong and gripped the plump globes of your ass.

The both of you were finally alone after many long hours of being in stupid planning meetings on where the next target was and how to initiate the hit. Effortlessly he lifted you up and set you down on the fancy french table. Your insides were begging, burning for him to fuck you silly.

You tangled your fingers into his hair as he moved onto your jugular, sucking on it hard, showing how much he wanted you.

“Been waiting all day for this. Kinda just wanted to fuck you with them here. But, now I can screw you as hard as I want.” Lloyd rambled semi- to himself and half to you. Your heart was beating loud in your ears, until you heard the familiar clank of his belt buckle.

You closed your legs immediately. He growled and turned you over onto your belly. Dragging your torso so that you hung from the edge of the table. Your skirt lifted, with a sharp sear he smacked your ass.

“You're gonna be a brat now? Need me to fuck you til your pretty little brain melts? Answer me Cupcake.” you yipped with each swat of his heavy hand.

“It’s friday! It’s friday! It’s finger me friday” You pouted. You knew he didn’t like rules. And rules were for the good and the weak. To keep the intimacy interesting, you set up a specific flavor of sex for Lloyd to adhere to depending on the day.

Smother me monday- for when either of you felt like face-sitting, or when Llyod wanted to motorboat you.

Torture tuesday- when we pushed our limits of pain while we fucked each other.

Whack off wednesday- we can only pleasure ourselves on wednesday. No matter how hard it got, even if we were inches from each other.

Toys for thursday- only reaching orgasm from toys on this day.

Finger me friday- Lloyd can only make you cum with his fingers, today.

Shibari Saturday- when Lloyd treats you like his cute little rope bunny.

Sinner Sunday- sunday is kind of a free day. But when it’s not, he gets to cum in you however many times he likes.

Lloyd inhaled a big sigh, and rolled his eyes. "For once, your rules aren't boring. So I'm glad I forgot them, just wish I could break them more often." His hands traveled up and down your thighs.

His breath ghosting over your knees as he slowly pried you open again. One arm encompassing your torso to drag you closer to him. With one look, you were caught in his trance. The two of you were much like a drug to one another.

none of you being able to survive without the other. If anyone saw the two of you separately, they’d think you would carry on living your very separate lives. but, you couldn’t breathe without him. simply inseparable, however strange the circumstances.

Lloyd kissed up your torso, his hands skirting underneath your shirt, removing the garment to reveal your smooth skin. Your arms embraced the sculpted curves of his back, still an exquisite form of a man regardless of his more mature years. After all, you liked a man who knew what he was doing.

with his mouth, Lloyd took the front zipper of your bra and unzipped it. Your full, round womanhood only for him. He was awestruck. as if he were witnessing the hope diamond.

“you’re so beautiful for me, Cupcake. Can’t wait to be inside you. Love your cute moans when I fuck you with my fingers. My Baby-girl.” Lloyd said breathlessly, and without shame he took pleasure in sucking your hardened nipple into his mouth. twirling his tongue around to savor your salty taste.

His hand snaked down, slipping past your thong, coaxing your aching needy sex. You moaned almost immediately, Lloyd paid attention to your swollen clit. His mustache hairs tickle the buttery soft flesh of your breast.

You couldn't help but open your legs wider and thrust your hips for some kind of friction. You needed him like you needed oxygen.

With a wet pop he released your nipple, snickering at the way you were so easily coming undone for him. An audible gasp sprung from your lungs, stemming from the force he used to thrust two girthy digits into you.

A low growl billowed from his chest. Feeling your insides made him dangerously hard. The sponginess of your g-spot, it made his mouth water.

Lloyd was relentless. His index finger and middle finger working you open. You could hear your heartbeat pumping hard with each beat loud in your ear. Each time he thrust his digits in, it took your breath away and made you melt around his fingers by the passing second.

Without missing a beat Lloyd came up to trap your gasping lips in a wet, sloppy, kiss. You swear you were losing brain cells now. You didn’t care who heard you. the only thing that existed was you and him.

Your muscles began to contract so sweetly, fuck it felt so good!

“Daddy! Fuck. MMMMM, Gonna cum!” you whined. A hot sear, quick, and without pain- only made you moan more. He had slapped your cheek. Maybe you were being a brat?

His pupils dilated, he loved being called Daddy. Almost as much as he loved seeing your pretty mouth around his cock.

“You need to ask permission to cum. Are you already dumb just from my fingers?” He already knew the answer to that question. You nodded your head, a tear starting to form. You wanted to cum so bad! you wanted to clench his fingers, but somehow you knew that wasn’t enough. You needed to get fucked senseless by his thick cock.

“D-D-Daddy!” you were so close.

“Daddy. What?!” Now he was thrusting harder than before, making you see stars.

“May I cum, please, Daddy?!!” you whined out, feeling yourself lose control. Lloyd’s bicep tensed, moving so fast, hard, and deep inside you that you forgot where you were.

“Cum on my fingers, my sweet dumb Cupcake.” His lips forming a sinister smile. Your head flew back, hitting the table with a thud, but it didn’t hurt. A sound escaped your mouth, the kind you had only heard in porn. Desperate, and at your limit, but begging for more.

A loud gasp came from your left, “Oh my god. Oh my god! What the fuck?!” You were so confused by this, you thrashed your head to the side where the sound came from. Seeing the source, you wanted to throw up and disappear all at the same time. She had seen you. No one other than Lloyd was allowed to see you, all of you. Your nakedness was only for him. Your rule, not his. One he kept very close to his heart.

His fingers were ripped from your center and you missed the feeling of being full. But all you could think about was her wide-eyed, staring at your naked form. She didn’t deserve to see you. You closed your legs, with shame building up inside you.

You immediately covered your breasts, and turned, facing the opposite way of Suzanne. Lloyd grabbed something from the table, something metallic.

“Stupid Bitch!! Gimmie a reason not to shoot you! Get out!!!” Lloyd cocked his gun, ready to anihilate whoever saw his precious Cupcake. The door closed quickly but the rage was already boiling over in his mind and his heart. However stone-like that heart may be. He would set the whole world on fire if it meant saving his Cupcake.

“MORON!!” he fired the entire clip into the door anyway. You flinched from his screaming. Triggering old wounds, long scarred over. You covered your ears from the ear-drum piercing sound of the bullets. It was never like the movies, it was always much louder.

Your chest heaved with every breath. You were hyperventilating. tears streamed down your face. She saw you. She saw you. You know she did. You saw that look on her face. That disgust. That shock.

Lloyd came into your line of sight, but it was like he wouldn’t register in your mind. His hands came over your shoulders warming them. And you continued to cry.

Lloyd gently took your hands away from your ears, “Hey. Hey. It’s okay. Daddy ran the mean Bitch away. No one will see you now. Just me, Cupcake. Only for me.” he dotted your neck and shoulders, and hands with the softest kisses. Bringing you back from your dark headspace.

“Lloyd?” you asked. becoming more aware of his presence. He cracked a smile, but his eyes were still filled with concern.

"Heya, Sunshine." He smiled wider. One hand cradling your head and bringing you in for a hug. He knew you needed that pressure. To bring you back to him. You were far from the epitome of mental health, and frankly so was Lloyd. Maybe that’s what made you two mesh so well, despite being almost complete opposites.

“No one, saw me right?” you asked barely above a whisper, your eyes searching Lloyd’s face for confirmation; he’d never lie to you.

“Not a soul, Baby, I promise.” He reassured you. He picked you up and put you on a nearby couch. Sometimes the goons and clients liked convenient comfortability.

The cool genuine leather of the couch gave you goosebumps. Your body was still naked, but as long as it was just the two of you, you didn’t care. He started with a kiss. Romantic and soft, for once not fighting for dominance. You didn’t know which you liked more. Him manhandling you or being so utterly soft for you. Whatever the choice, it still made you undeniably horny.

Lloyd could tell you were back in the saddle, and took his shirt off and unbuttoned his pants, dragging them down slowly. He did enjoy teasing you. But he always gave in and gave you what you wanted or rather what you needed. and right now you needed him to fuck the worry away.

if it was one thing, Lloyd could take care of you. As he topped you, you were the one to pounce. You wrapped your legs around his sculpted, slim, waist. You felt his hardened cock firm against your pussy lips.

A wet sloppy kiss, smashed its way onto your lips. He was getting eager now. Maybe now it was more of a competition, now that you started to show some dominance.

A few grinds from your hips and muffled moans, made him take off his boxers. Both of you were completely vulnerable to the other, just the way you liked it. A soft gasp escaped your mouth as you felt the firm and warm flesh of his swollen cockhead. Somehow he was savoring that look on your face. frustraatingly slow he dragged his cockhead along your slick slit, tapping your clit a few times for good measure.

“Sorry Cupcake, I always knock when I enter.” it was done in one slow thrust, so that you could feel every thick inch Lloyd had to offer. Lloyd braced himself by putting his hands on either side of your head, on the armrest. He groaned low once he bottomed out, placing his forehead on top of yours, he closed his eyes.

“Daddy! Oh you feel so good when your inside me like that!” every word was laced with oxytocin. He began to drag out of you, only leaving the tip in, before thrusting hard, reaching new depths.

He groaned this time. The chokehold that you had on his dick was purely invigorating. Lloyd caught this kind of taste from you, and now he couldn’t stop. He needed more. He needed to regain his territory. His queen and partner in crime.

Every harsh thrust of his hips had you seeing stars. Something within you had snapped. like a voracious appetite, you wanted every piece of him he could offer. You wanted to feel yourself melt from him releasing inside of you. God you loved that feeling of being full.

Lloyd moaned louder this time, you could tell he was close. You wrapped your arms around his back, raking your long nails down his porcelain skin. Your eyebrows stitched together from his cockhead banging against your cervix unapologetically.

“Fuck! You’re gripping me so good. Fuckin’ love you. God Damn! got me drunk from your pussy. ohhh. love that sweet d-irty sound you're making." Lloyd expressed himself quite clearly. his pace changed, and any second now you were going to lose it. the wet sloshing sounds turned you on too.

You could hear the couch creak beneath you, his thrusts becoming more animalistic. But you loved it.

“Daddy!!-” you gasped urgently, but Lloyd knew exactly what was happening.

“Cum Baby! Fucking cum on my cock!” he grunted out. the coil that had been building up in your stomach finally released, with a loud moan, your sweet juices covered his lower abdomen and upper thighs.

“That’s my girl! That’s how my Cupcake fuckin’, uggh, takes it. Shit! Take it Baby. Take every drop!” you had never seen Lloyd so passionate before. The warmth from his seed spurting into your deepest parts, was making you maon all over again.

He didn’t bother pulling out. instead stayed inside you. Pulling your cock drunk body against his and letting you lay on top of him. You rested your head in the valley of his toned breasts. Euphoria sweeps through your mind as you giggled.

“You said you love me.”

“ Always, Cupcake. Always.” He gave you a wink as you looked up at him. making you giggle again, and nuzzling your cheek into his warm skin. You’ll sleep very well tonight. And you couldn't wait what was in store for the two of you tomorrow.

end part 1

+++++ Please comment if you liked it.

Taglist:

@imaginedreamwrite, @sebsgirl71479, @buckysteveloki-me, @bwunnysworld,

#lloyd hansen x you #lloyd hansen smut #lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen x cupcake #lloyd hansen x innocent!reader #the gray man #chris evans role

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ronaan · 8 months

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i started watching the movies (for the first time) after finishing reading the hobbit and lotr, and here is my take on the thirteen dwarves' design after seeing an unexpected journey:

thorin. why does he look like a model? it's not exactly uncanny valley (like a certain other drawf i will be mentioning later), but he still looks instantly out of place among most dwarves. i wish they at least did something wild to his beard. but he does look cool and my gay ass isn't immune to a hot guy, even if he probably shouldn't be hot, so i'll give you that. 6/10

balin. WHY IS HE SO FUCKING OLD? this feels like a hate crime. he is literally canonically younger than thorin, and he looks like he is one foot in the grave. like, i understand that they are both a little under 200 years old at this point, but pick a fucking struggle?? either make thorin look like an old wrinkly man as well, or make balin look younger. also, the design itself is boring as fuck. 2/10

bofur. this one is my favourite. he looks very cozy but also a little scary. he could be heading out the back with an axe to chop some wood for a nice little fireplace. he could also be an axe murderer. he's actually the sweetest dwarf you'll ever meet. he reminds me of my grandpa. 11/10

kíli. WHY THE FUCK IS HE YASSIFIED? he literally looks like what i imagined aragorn to look like while reading lotr. he barely has a beard, his hair is just... long. this is some fucking guy. not a dwarf. i do not care that he has a romance plot - you don't need to yassify a dwarf for him to be in a relationship with an elf, just ask gimli. 0/10

fíli. this is a solid design of a younger dwarf. he has more braids in his hair than i can count. he has a weird long ass mustache and it's also braided. i can see him growing into a more unhinged look that most dwarves clearly have as he becomes older. but i do feel like he was cleaned up a little for a lesser contrast between him and his brother. 7/10

ori. he looks very cute. his design instantly makes him stand out and i feel like i already know his personality just by looking at him (which is great for a trilogy with such a huge cast). he's a silly little dwarf. perhaps a little naive. must be protected. 10/10

nori. somehow, i feel like this was the last design they worked on. what is going on on that head. is he the inventor of middle earth hairspray? if he is, he's doing the worst possible thing he could with it. this isn't quirky or interesting - it just looks bad. the beard is kind of cool, but there is still something off with it. 4/10

dwalin. this guy is here to maim and kill. i feel like his haircut choice isn't even due to male pattern baldness. he just wanted as much hair as possible AND head tattoos. he found his look. he has a scar on his face. 10/10

glóin. i haven't seen lotr yet but i know what gimli looks like in the movies and the goal with gloin's design was clearly to make him look as much like gimli's dad as possible. this guy is already walking in his son's shadow, but i don't mind. overall, a solid dwarf look. i love the metal thingies in the beard. 8/10

dori. when i look at him, i have that "look at this distinguished gentleman" sound in my head. he's got a very intricate braiding situation going on in his hair, and i kinda love it. he has clip on piercings on both his ears and he has clearly constructed his whole look so he could show them off. 9/10

óin. we are evidently starting to run out of personalities, because this guy is also here primarily to maim and kill. to be fair, that's what a lot of dwarves are, so i'll allow it. i like the two giant beard braids - i'm pretty sure he has more facial hair than i have hair on my head, which is exactly the kind of impression a dwarf's beard should be giving. 7/10

bombur. he reminds me of obelix from the french cartoons. he has an entirely insane beard-works-as-a-moustache-extension situation going on as well as a huge circular braid which i can't even tell where that's coming from. it's a nice unique design. 8/10

bifur. he's got an orc axe stuck in his head. i forgot that was a detail in the book and i also did not understand what it was until i googled it. i thought it could just be an accessory choice. but i might just be stupid. i can, however, tell that he had an emo phase and he still meticulously dyes strands of his beard jet black, so he could have a trendy dark-and-silver look. 7/10

#i will never be over kili looking like that #this just isn't right #the hobbit #hobbit #middle earth #j.r.r. tolkien #archer speaks

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greenish-idiot · 3 years

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My 2nd Fanfiction, this time it's Bubbline, I'm not good at writing romance and I rushed this one a bit, but here you go. This one is called "Simple Dates, Complex People".

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She was never the one to do this, it was always Bonnie, but no, she had this, she could do it. Picking up the phone she gave a deep breath and dialed a number into it. Her nerves grew stronger as the ringing from the phone continued, but it then stopped and a voice reached out. “Hi this is the Candy Kingdom Fine Wine Dinery, are you calling for a reservation or perhaps some questions?” They asked in a fairly French-sounding voice, almost a mock of one. “Uh hello?’ It asked, dropping the voice. Marceline was frozen there, not sure what to say. “Well, um, alright, call again soon.” It said, picking the mock French voice up again.

“Wait!” She yelled out suddenly, stopping whoever was on the other side from hanging up. “Well yes?” The Vampire Queen cleared her throat, trying to gain some confidence. “I, um, Marceline the Vampire Queen am here, er, I mean calling to request a reservation.” The voice was quiet for a few minutes, making the royal nervous, but soon enough it spoke up once again. “Yes, I do think we have enough room for the Vampire Queen, would the Princess be joining you?” Marceline looked over to the pink princess who was sitting down, covering her mouth in an attempt to not laugh. Marceline grimaced. “Yes, she will be.”

Finally, she was free of having to do that again. She glared at Bubblegum who was still giggling to herself, seeing the look the Vampire gave her the Princess stood up and walked to Marceline's side, kissing her on the cheek. Marceline felt her face redden, but she quickly smiled. “See, you did good, now, let us get ready!” She exclaimed excitedly, running to her closet.

Sometime later it was somewhat late in the evening, but the duo didn’t mind as they walked through the bright and cheerful kingdom, the Candy People waving at their ruler. They were still hesitant when it came to the Princess’s partner, but they were slowly getting more used to her, especially the younger candies.

When they reached the Dinery they were greeted by a Marshmellow wearing a face mustache, giving it a silly, but oddly distinguished, look. They were led to a table in the middle of the restaurant, one away from any windows that may let in sun. Letting her umbrella lean on the table, the Vampire Queen pulled out a seat for the Candy Princess. The pair stifled a giggle as they both sat down. The Vampire breathed in the cold and soothing air. “So, this place, was it built recently?” Marceline asked, curious because before she had never seen this lace.

“Pfff, no, this place is as old as garlic balls, we just haven’t gone here yet…” She trailed off, playing with her fork a bit. The Vampire Queen cleared her throat, moving some of her long ebony hair out of her face.

“Well, let’s do this more often. I mean, wouldn’t hurt to get out more. Speaking of getting out more, you notice how Finn is always sneaking out through the window?” Bubblegum was now laughing a bit loudly at the mention of the boy’s antics. “Ha! Yeah, he acts as if we’re his parents or something. Not gonna stop us from teasing him though!” She could feel eyes at the back of her head, so she quieted down.

The pale one of the two glared at the people staring at them, when they noticed her red glare they looked away, a little afraid of the Vampires might. “So.” She said, focusing her attention back on her fellow royal. “When’s the waiter or waitress gonna get here?!” She asked frustrated. “Right here, madam.” A Candycane person said, suddenly appearing at her side.

“Oh, um, well, what about you like Marceline? I’m paying so get whatever you want.” The Vampire Queen smiled at this before ordering Red WIne, the only alcohol she could find in the Candy Kingdom.

A few hours later the Candy Princess and Vampire Queen were laughing at each other, doing whatever silly thing they could think of. When leaving the Dinery the two looked into each other eyes. “This was great Bonnie.” She stepped closer to the pink princess. “It really was, like you said, we should do this more often.” Suddenly, the Vampire Queen took Princess Bubblegums cheeks into her hands as she kissed her deeply. Sometime later they pulled away from each other, the Princess still needing air.

“Shall we continue this in the castle Princess?” Marceline asked. “Yes, I think we shall,” Bonnie answered, cheeks turning a deeper shade of red.

#bonnibel bubblegum #marceline abadeer #princess bubblegum #marceline #bubbline #romance #fanfic

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mwolf0epsilon · 4 years

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Spin the bottle with Sammy and Norman story?

Summary: In the immortal words of Bowling for Soup, high school never ends.

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[[MORE]]

"Ok so, just to make sure, we're all adult men and women." Sammy shifted uncomfortable as he sat among a circle of coworkers on the floor of the breakroom.

"Yep." Grant looked just as uncomfortable, picking at his bowtie and adjusting his glasses as he glanced around.

"Then why, pray tell, are we playing spin the bottle like a bunch of college kids?" Sammy asked, glancing down at the empty licor bottle in the middle of the circle of people.

"Cuzz it's fun!" Shawn grinned. "Ya ever heard'o it? Fun?"

"Don't you sass me... And when has spin the bottle ever been fun? If memory serves right, it was more of a tool for blackmail and humiliation when I was finishing my studies." The exasperated music director pointed out.

"That's half the fun." Norman smirked. "Yous use it t'be smart. Get some good information on your peers. Have a good laugh outta someone's expense. End up playin' just as much o'the fool as 'em."

"Figured the guy twice our age with a thing for snooping would like spin the bottle." Mel snorted. "Can't say I see the appeal."

"Enough blabbering, let's get to it! We have one hour to ourselves and I wanna have fun!" Susie called above the chatter as she reached over and spun the bottle. It went for three full loops and half an arch, landing on Wally. "Ok, we're starting with Wally. Truth or dare?"

The Brooklynite looked surprised before humming in thought. He gave her a cheeky confident smile before crossing his arms.

"My ma didn't raise no chicken. Dare me!" He proclaimed proudly. "Dare me good."

"Bold! I like it." Susie smirked. "Well Wally, I'll have you know my mom didn't raise no gentle little lady that doesn't like irony. I dare you to behave like an actual chicken."

".... What, like an impression?"

"Yep. Walk, flappy wings, clucking. Heck if we have any eggs in the fridge you better go sit on them." Susie waved at him to get to it.

"Well I did ask for a dare... Erm, I mean...Bawk Bawk Bawk, ba-gawk!" At her command the young janitor began to shuffle around like a chicken. Arms tucked in and head bobbing as he moved around. That got a quick chuckle out of everyone.

"Nice..." Mel snorted "Pity we're out of eggs."

"That's good enough, your turn Wally." Susie pointed to the bottle, which the Brooklynite eagerly spun. It stopped on Shawn.

"Truth or dare?"

"I ain't enough o' a muppet t'take dares from you. Truth me." The Irishman glared.

"Hm... Is it true Joey was makin' fun o' you when he made Charley?"

"Yep. He's a god awful depiction o' a leprechaun that's greedy an' mean spirited an' I hate him." Shawn deadpanned before smirking. "But joke's on that damn racist, everyone thinks the fuckin' Butcher Gang boss is a chimp."

"Which he isn't!" Mel sounded offended.

"Anyway, takin' it for a spin." Shawn took his turn and watched the bottle intently. He looked a little dismayed when it landed on Jack. "Aw dangit... I wanted t'mess with Johnny..."

"Fucker." The organist glared. Jack looked a little nervous.

"Right Mr. Fain, truth or dare?"

"Erm... Truth?"

"Is it true ya speak three different languages?" It looked like Shawn was taking it easy on the nervous lyricist.

"Oh thank god... Yeah. English is my first, but I know Mandarin and Spanish too. Not uh, not fluently though... The Mandarin that is." He reached over for the bottle and spun it. It landed on Mel.

"Dare me."

"I haven't even--"

"Well I already picked. Dare me."

"I err, dare you to be nice to Norman?"

".... Nah. Not in my nature to like creepy snoops. First punishment of the night!" The voice actor got up. Everyone knew the two did not get along, so it was silly to think he'd accept such a dare, still Jack tried.

"Oh... Well uh, your punishment is to stand inside one of the toilets in your socks then."

"... That's nasty. You drive a hard bargain Mr. Fain..." Mel clucked his tongue in displeasure.

"Its not hard to be nice..."

"It is when it comes to Polkadot there. Goodbye my beloved striped socks, I'll have to burn thou once I'm done!" And off the man went to do the walk of shame to the bathroom.

"I don't get him..." Jack sighed "He's usually nice to everyone..."

"We just don't like each other. Ain't too hard Jack." Norman chuckled. "Someone take his turn."

Johnny took it, smirking evilly when it landed on Sammy. The blond growled slughtly. Everyone knew the two butted heads constantly, just as Mel and Norman did.

"Well well well... Look who's at my mercy." Johnny chuckled.

"Do it you bastard. Dare me."

"I dare you.... I dare you..." Johnny thought before grinning cheekily. "I dare you to french Polk for a full minute."

Sammy stared while Norman blinked in surprise. Both men exchanged looks before looking back at Johnny. Did he really just...

"Chicken out, and I'm having you kiss Joey on the lips instead. I hear his mustache tickles." Johnny's grin widened.

"Fuck no! Norman over Joey, always! The man's a sleazy creepy son of a bitch!" Sammy practically vaulted over the circle to stop in front of Norman. "And you, Brokeheart, are a bastard for pitching this at other people. Writing you out of the next bits."

"Worth it!"

"Right..." Sammy swallowed drily as he noticed Norman watching him quietly. "You ok with this?"

"I don't want yous to go off kissin' Drew either. No person deserves that sorta punishment."

"I'd probably catch something... You're a lifesaver."

"Stop with the foreplay an' kiss already!" Shawn called out.

The blond hesitated again before sucking in a breath and going for it. It wasn't like he'd never frenched anyone before... Just not a man. Especially not one twice his age that was married with kids. Still... As soon as lips connected there was... Something there.

Like an electrifying spark that only intensified when both of them parted their lips to complete the full dare.

Eyes fluttering shut, the music director and projectionist deepened the kiss, taking in the other's taste and gentle exploratory tongue movements.

Sammy noted the light taste of chapstick, cream and coffee. Norman had been lightly snacking on a box of filled donuts Susie had brought for the music department that morning, and the taste had lingered.

Norman meanwhile couldn't help smile as he tasted chocolate and peanut butter, knowing fully well that Sammy had been sneaking sweets in between recording sessions to keep himself going. It was nice. A much better taste to associate with him than the whiskey he favoured.

"Time's up." Johnny snapped his fingers. "Hey Romeo, your minute is up!"

"They are really goin' at it!" Wally marveled.

"I think it's cute." Susie smiled.

"I don't!" Mel looked appalled from all the way in the doorway "Just came back from contaminating my socks and I find the two most obnoxious jerks straddling each other and sucking face! I'm gonna have nightmares!"

"Let the love fill you with rainbows an' unicorns Melvin!" Shawn called, barely keeping himself from laughing.

"No! I am darkness incarnate! A lone wolf that needs not bare witness to the power of homosexuality!"

"Don't be dramatic you big baby!" Johnny laughed.

"You torment me so!"

"Guys they're still going at it, should we leave them to it?" Grant asked.

"Yeah let's just play without them."

And so the game carried on, until Joey came in to break up the fun. At least three people left the studio different from when they'd come in that morning.

Sammy and Norman having a lot to think about what they felt between one another, and Mel now without a pair of nice socks.

#eps writes:#bendy and the ink machine #batim #sammy lawrence #norman polk

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disneyphantomlover · 4 years

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Thoughts on BATIM’s Crack-Up Comics, Part 2

“Now, to tackle the Dime-Store Comics!

Good Golly, Charley is such an overzealous bad guy! It’s rather hilarious.

Also, the “door” for the ship has a cannon. I think that’s a decent “No Solicitors” warning.

OMG the damn soup....

Is it just me, or does Alice look like someone completely different? I know it can be chalked up to style and all, but seriously. Boris and Bendy look just like their comic strip selves, just a little more animated. But Alice? She’s got a different face, her eyes are much larger, her body is SIGNIFICANTLY slimmer, she’s lost her cleavage and her stockings, her heels are flats, and her hair is thinner. Not to mention she has a slightly different personality. Is... Is this meant to be taken as Susie was replaced by Allison between 1935 and 1936?

This... This is so absurd. The Bendy Scouts of America thing just makes me laugh though.

Okay! Okay, okay, okay... Boris saying “Good Golly Gosh” is too good for me.

Well. There he go!

Again! Alice’s horns getting huge and her halo shrinking, along with that serpent tongue?! Please tell me this gag continues whenever she gets pissed off!

...These guys look like Instant Martians from Looney Toons. I’m not the only one thinking this, right?

NOT THE BEES!

YES, THE GAG CONTINUES.

Boris, your alliteration is impeccable. Somehow I wasn’t expecting that out of you.

Bendy. My dude. Little Devil Darling. HOW the HELL do you continue to dig your own grave here? Alice is so done with your shit.

I’m just imagining Boris saying all this in the most deadpan voice ever, and complete with the image of the moon? I died laughing.

I know it’s a plot device, but having the main character apologize for his actions, leading to finding a way out of the predicament he’s in? I love that shit.

Also, that’s a lotta cheese.

HOW ARE THERE WANTED POSTERS OF THEM?!

Sheesh Alice, leaving Boris to the vultures?

....These last two pages are absolute madness. Now there’s lasers? Boris can understand the vultures? They can catch a shooting star home? They landed on Charley?! What IS this?? Did they suddenly run out of paper and had to chop up the writing or something?

...What is this postman? WHAT IS THIS?? It’s a fucking clone with wings and a mustache, that’s what!

Huh. So that’s interesting. Yes, they got Pluto’s name and title right, but looking at the pitchfork and the later picture of him? He looks more like a Christian form of Satan rather than the staff-wielding, helm-wearing Pluto. I’m guessing it’s because they wanted to throw in a little flair and not directly reference Satan.

And can we appreciate that the letter had a little heart on it? And worry that it was signed “Hate, Papa Pluto”?

Somehow, I feel kinda sad at this. Bendy got all this power thanks to someone he knows, and he tries to better himself and others around him. And you just know it’s gonna get fucked up.

Boris, your personality is getting a bit food-based.

Alice blushing is the cutest image ever.

I. FUCKING. CALLED IT.

....Again. Feel kinda sad that Bendy is getting screwed over by something his dad gave him.

Okay, can Alice just... float? For no reason whatsoever? I’m okay with this, I just need to know.

AND she can charm a tree into doing what she wants?

Of course it takes an angel to shatter a devilish pitchfork.

BENDY. At least retain your lessons for 5 GD MINUTES.

Wait, again? What have you two idiots done to get a bounty on you a first time?!

Constable Alice is amazing and I love her. Even when she’s being a lil shit.

YES, the gag’s back!

I thought “parka squirrel” was a joke. Nope. Actual name for an Artic ground squirrel. Especially in Alaska.

The dialogue in this one is great. As is the slapstick. It has an almost Wile E. Coyote feel to it.

Also, Bendy is the one having all the ideas that just fall flat. Sounds a lot like some asshole named Joey Drew we all know.

That is a legit river of gold. I don’t know if it’s making fun of the Klondike Gold Rush, or the “liquid gold” known as oil in Alaska, but I love it.

Much as I love the hijinks of the two going down the mountain, what the HELL kinda skeleton IS THAT?!

I don’t even care this comic is ripping off old superhero comics. It’s too damn funny and it’s the right amount of absurd.

I just noticed all the irradiated bacon soup in the china cabinet. If that’s a reference to Fiesta Ware, I’m going to scream.

“Fiesta commenced commercial sales of colored dinnerware in 1936. Most colored ceramics made prior to World War II, including Fiesta Ware, contained uranium oxide.” SON OF A BITCH!

Yep. Had to pay homage to Superman. But it’s Boris, so I’ll let it go. I like the implication that Boris is a strong boi.

....I’m sure many have said this but... That CameraMan is too damn similar to the Projectionist.

UMMMMMMMMMM. HI BRUTE. You are um... Something.

Not sure what I think of Miss Twisted. Adore her design! But... Man, what’s with this random shoe-ing in of the antagonists of the game?

...Okay, as menacing as they try to be, I love that the Camera Man and Brute think the worst thing to do is knock apples out of trees and steal candy from babies.

BORIS! Ever hear of SPACING THEM OUT?!

This whole fight is silly, but it works! It’s just stupidly cute and simple. Wish it was that easy to beat the Projectionist in the games. Or take Brute Boris down.

....They 100% referenced Spiderman there. Like, it’s clear as day. What the hey?

I kinda like the idea of Alice being a pilot. Yah know, since she was in the skies so often anyways.

I almost want to make fun of the nun OF COURSE showing up asking Alice for help. But... I mean... Who better to ask help from other than an angel who knows how to fly well?

“Niuport 17″... Why is that familiar?

“The Nieuport 17 C.1 ... was a French sesquiplane fighter designed and manufactured by the Nieuport company during World War I.” .....Huh. We’re learning things today! It even looks like Alice’s plane!

Kinda amazed the Morse code is correct.

This is so zany and silly. Also, I don’t think pills work that quick.

YES. USE THE POWER OF THE CHILDREN.

I feel like I should call bullshit on that. But at the same time I like the idea of all the nuns in that abbey running an undergrounds mechanic shop for the Allies.

Hang on. Either this is a minor mistake or someone messed up the timing again. But War Bonds in comics didn’t start until December 1941. And this is supposed to be between 1936 and 1940. I mean, they were originally called Defense Bonds, but specifically “War Bonds” were after Pearl Harbor.

#sol's thoughts #bendy and the ink machine #batim #crack up comics collection #crack up comics #I'm still liking all of these #now to share thoughts on the promotional comics

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bad-at-names-and-faces · 4 years

Text

A Visitor

Chapter 11

[Nøkken by Theodor Kittelsen]

"Inga," Frederick called out from the corridor, catching up to his sister just before she walked outside, "I didn't see you when I was studying today."

"Oh…" she shrugged as she opened the door, "I got a lot done yesterday and Monday, so the tutors told me to take today off."

He followed her out the door."So did you?" he asked, blinking at the sudden sunlight, “take a day off?”

"You didn't see me," she remarked, looking over her shoulder, "Does that answer your question?"

"Right, I guess so," he nodded, walking ahead a bit before turning around. "Speaking of Monday… Did you hear anything else about that meeting they were having?"

"I never heard anything about that," Inga admitted, "but I imagine if anything… important… was decided, they'll tell us. I was actually helping Mama with correspondence today, and I tried to bring it up, but she didn't think there was anything worth telling me..."

"You do that a lot, don't you? Writing letters for her?"

"I'm sure she'd let you help if you asked. It's not usually that difficult. You always write if someone is born or dies or gets married, and be sure to write in the correct language…"

"That's mostly French or German, I'd imagine. Maybe some English?"

"Count Esterhazy still writes exclusively in Latin."

"You can keep that one," Frederick laughed.

Frederick and Inga sat down on a bench at the edge of the garden. They could hear Anton and Peder somewhere nearby.

"Should they be doing that?" Inga asked, listening to their laughing and shouting.

"I can't see them, and I have no idea what it is, but they probably shouldn't be," Frederick admitted.They heard Nanny scolding them, and Sofia repeating whatever Nanny said, for good measure. The twins soon came around the corner, looking dejected.

"Where's that friend of yours?" Peder asked.

"You mean Lars?" Frederick replied, "I haven't seen him today."

"Too bad," Anton said as he kicked at the dirt. "I like him, even if he does have silly hair."

"What's silly about his hair?" Inga asked. "It's not that different from yours, you know."

"Oh, I didn't mean the color, just the mustache. I don't have one of those, at least."

"And you won't for a long time," his sister told him.

"Won't what?" Lars inquired, approaching them from the direction of the courtyard.

"Oh, nothing important, just something silly they were talking about," Inga said quickly.

Frederick laughed loudly. Inga shot a glare at him, raising her eyebrows.

"Um, well, obviously I missed some inside joke, but that's fine," Lars shrugged.

"Oh, no, we were actually just talking about you," Peder informed him.

"Really?" Lars blanched. "Nothing bad, I hope?"

"No, nothing bad," assured Peder, "except Anton doesn't like your mu… oof!" Anton had elbowed his brother sharply.

"I think neither of you gets to talk for the next hour," scolded Frederick, trying not to laugh more.

"I have a brother, you know," laughed Lars, "so I think I can handle whatever it was."

"That doesn't mean they should be talking about people we barely know," Inga interrupted, looking at her brothers. Frederick, at least, was trying to behave. The twins were both standing on the other bench, discussing the merits of climbing over the wall.

Having nowhere to sit, Lars leaned against the nearby tree. Nanny had started an English singing game in another corner of the garden with Sofia and Marie.

"Is your nanny English?" Lars asked.

"No," answered Inga, "she just likes that song. I don't know why. It's a pretty melody, but the lyrics are actually rather morbid when you know what they mean… at least, that's what Vicky told me when they were visiting here."

"Oh, you mean the one from England?" Lars half asked.

"Yes, it was a while ago, but I kept in touch with her for a few years. Less so since she got married."

"I didn't mind that visit," Frederick added, "but I wish that their father hadn't been so obvious about his matchmaking interests. My German might not be as good as it should be, but I could tell what he was talking about, though I guess at least Louise is about my age."

"Mr. Meyer… the ambassador, I mean…” Lars clarified. “He was posted in Belgium for several years, where he got to know the king. If you think the father of your English friends was blatant, his uncle is far worse. I think Mr. Meyer has been hoping to perform the same sorts of services for you and… well..." he trailed off, knowing that was a sensitive subject.

"It's sad about their father, though," interrupted Inga. "I wrote to Vicky when I heard about it. She sent something back, but I'm not really sure if she wrote it herself. Not that I can blame her."

"Oh, yes," gasped Lars, "that was quite shocking. I mean, my father is dead, but I never knew him, so it doesn't bother me in the same way. I imagine it would be far worse--"

"Can we not talk about this?" Frederick asked, trying to sound bored instead of distressed after having done some quick mental calculations about their own father's age.

Lars stood by the bench awkwardly, and Inga sat for a while looking at Sofia and Marie dancing around in the distance, with little Karl pretending to keep up. Peder and Anton started climbing the nearest tree a dozen feet away. Frederick walked over to the tree and tested which branches he could reach while standing on the ground.

"Can I ask you something, Lars?" Inga inquired earnestly.

"I suppose?"

"Did your mother ever consider marrying again?"

"Um… I never thought about that. She was always so focused on the two of us, and the only other person she ever talked about was our father. Even if she had thought about it, we weren't from around there, you know."

"Well, that shouldn't make a difference," Inga sighed, "and people move to Corona from elsewhere all the time, I heard you say that yourself."

"I guess she just kind of kept to herself. Even when we had people visiting, she just wasn't very social."

"Sorry," Inga apologized, "I didn't mean to pry or anything."

"Don't worry about it," he assured her, "to change the subject, I actually came over here just now because I got a letter from my brother this morning, and they'll be arriving this week, and I thought you'd all like to meet him."

"Just your brother?" Inga asked pointedly.

"Well, all of them, including Elizabeth. I got the idea from my brother's letter that they hadn't told her about the change of itinerary, otherwise she'd have written to me first, I'm sure."

"Where were they originally going?" Frederick asked, sitting in the middle of the roots of the tree across from them. Neither Inga nor Lars had noticed him listening to their conversation.

"Various places. The Southern Isles is the big one they're skipping. That's a little worrisome, since things had been quite amicable for a while…" Lars stopped himself, "and that's probably something you should forget I said."

Inga laughed. "I don't think you'll need to worry.”

Frederick frowned at her.

"Who's Elizabeth?" Peder asked, hopping down from his tree branch.

"His fiancee," Inga answered quickly.

Lars looked over at her, but she was suddenly engrossed in looking over at the younger children at the far end of the garden.

"Yes," Lars replied, "I haven't seen her in over a month now."

"Did you get any letters from your mother?" Inga asked.

"Not since I last wrote a few days ago, but of course there's been no time for that to reach her yet, even if there were a steamship available."

"Why can't she get the letter sooner?" Peder demanded.

"Hush, Peder," Inga scolded him.

"But why not?" he whined.

"Perhaps getting a regular steamship from here would be useful," Lars replied.

"That's not what I… oof, Inga! Stop that!" Peder protested as his sister kicked him in the shin.

"Why don't we go on a ride?" Anton suggested. The others readily agreed. Inga went over to tell Nanny where they were going, and caught up to the others as they slowly walked to the stables. Frederick proudly mentioned that he had brought money with him, so they could have lunch in town on their way back. They tacked their horses, and set off from the castle.

As they left town, heading up the hill, Inga looked out over the fjord and thought she saw something at the horizon on the water.

"Stop!" she shouted, pulling up even with Frederick. "Fred, look!"

"Oh, I was starting to wonder when she would get here!" Frederick laughed, "let's go back!"

Anton and Peder quickly followed him down the hill, and Inga started to follow, then rode back to Lars when she realized that he hadn't moved.

"What is it?" Lars asked as she approached.

"What is it?" Inga repeated sternly, "We've all turned around and you're just staying there. You don't have to come with us, but I don't want to be rude and leave you here…"

"No, I mean…" Lars began, but Inga was riding away back down the hill quickly to try to catch up with her brothers.

Inga caught up with her brothers just as they were entering the castle gates. A stable boy had run out just before she arrived, so they left their horses with him and ran through the castle and down through the side door to the fjord.

The twins were first out to the shore. Inga had caught up with Frederick and he let her go outside first. The sun was almost blinding on the water.

“Aunt Elsa!” the boys shouted, running out into the water as Elsa dismounted the Water Nokk and it dissolved into the fjord with a bow. Inga stood back and smiled. Her aunt always took time with her, so there was no need to push in on her brothers. There was a lot of noise about how long it had been, and how much they had grown, and debate with Frederick as to whether he was taller than his father yet, and the boy insisting he was still only as tall as his sister.

After the noisy greetings died down a little, the group walked up the steps and back to the courtyard. Inga let them all through the door, and walked along behind them. She noticed Lars up ahead giving his horse to the stable boy, looking around seeming somewhat confused. Elsa noticed him, too, and stopped.

“Who’s this?” she asked.

“Oh,” Inga ran up to her aunt’s side, “this is Lars, he’s from Corona. He’s the private secretary to the new ambassador.”

“We’re keeping him entertained until his work starts,” Frederick added.

“Corona…” Elsa mumbled under her breath, still staring at him.

Lars blinked, realizing who he was looking at, and bowed silently, too stunned to remember the protocol he had learned.

“Oh,” Elsa smiled nervously. “Please, you don’t need to do that. What's your name again?”

He stood up quickly enough to feel a bit dizzy, and repeated his well-rehearsed line, “Lars Nilsen, private secretary to the ambassador from Corona.”

“Nilsen…” Elsa said slowly, “and you’re from Corona?”

“Yes, but my parents were originally from Arendelle,” he replied.

“They left before he was born,” Frederick added, desiring to be helpful, “and his father died before he was born, and he’s been asking around seeing if anyone around here remembers them.”

“Fred, I don’t think she needs to know all that,” Inga cut in. Her brother glared at her for using the nickname.

“Your mother was Margit Nilsen?” Elsa asked, ignoring her niece’s interruption.

“Yes,” Lars’ jaw dropped in surprise, “I wouldn’t have expected… she only ever says good things about you, but I had no idea you would remember her.”

“I…” Elsa paused when she caught Inga staring at her. “I hope she’s doing well.” Elsa quickly turned her attention to the nanny bringing over the younger children from the garden.

"What was that?" Inga whispered to Frederick, who simply shrugged and followed his aunt.

#kristanna #chapter 11 #aunt elsa

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wizardoutofoz · 5 years

Text

So, we were a little robbed, and no one is talking about it.

Crowley loves dressing up as that GUY, the one who is on the cutting edge of all the fashion trends that are hip, yeah, but also instantly make everyone go “omg what a douchebag” in their heads. We see a lovely spattering of these styles, including, and most importantly, the most 70’s ‘stache ever, and the most hilariously hideous little Elizabethan beard.

They had so much fun with Crowley being a parody of each time period. But present day Crowley? WHERE IS HIS RIDICULOUS HIPSTER LOOK?

Why do we not have meticulously maintained lumberjack chic bearded Crowley, with the obnoxious little styled mustache? Or the rugged stubble that is surprisingly neat and almost but not quite forms a goatee? Where are his tattoo sleeves that he can get rid of whenever he wants?

WHY DOES THE KING OF DOUCHEBAG FASHION NOT HAVE A MANBUN? A manbun causes mild irritation wherever it goes, that’s like the unholy-grail for Crowley, he doesn’t even need to do anything.

Like this except pulling it off not nearly as well, cause Crowley thinks he’s cool but isn’t!

I feel like our reaction to Crowley’s fashion in every scene he’s in should be exactly like Aziraphale’s disgusted exclaimation when he sees what Crowley is wearing in the French Revolution.

Just... hideously fashionable.

This guy except the vest is snake scales and the shirt is black, and again, not quite working.

Where is the conversation where he tells Aziraphale that he’s actually hung on to his style long enough for it to be in again, if he just made a few adjustments? And Aziraphale being a little horrified but also maintaining he has ALWAYS been stylish. And Aziraphale complimenting Crowley’s bow tie and Crowley immediately making it burst into flame.

I DEMAND silly modern poser Crowley! More terrible wigs! NEVER ENOUGH!

#good omens #Crowley #hipster #crowley’s bad fashion #aziraphale

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ayellowbirds · 5 years

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42 Webcomics Keshet Reads

I was recently reminded that I currently read a lot of webcomics, or have done so in the past. Here’s an incomplete list, linking to the first page where i can (which will usually mean the worst art). Organized thus: Title, Author. Genre. Format (long-format stories, short-format & single-page stories, or mixed). Description.

The Adventures of Dr. McNinja, by Christopher Hastings. Comedy, Parody, Action. A man from a long line of Irish ninjas has devoted his own life to saving lives as a doctor, disappointing his family. His staff includes a sentient but non-speaking gorilla receptionist, and eventually a boy sidekick who grew a fabulous mustache out of sheer determination. Recurring threats include fast food mascots, ghosts, wizards, ghost wizards, and a disease that turns people into giant lumberjacks. Completed.

BACK, by Anthony Clark and KC Green. Comedy, Adventure, Absurdity, Weird West. Long-Format. A cowgirl comes back from the dead with no memory of who she was or how she died, and is told by a trio of “Cool Witches” that she has to bring about the end of the world—though what exactly that means remains a mystery. Consistently excellent visual storytelling from masters of sequential art; at least one WLW pairing among the characters.

Bite Me!, by Dylan Meconis. Comedy, Horror, Historic Fiction. Long-Format. A young woman becomes a vampire amidst the chaos of the French Revolution. Featuring immortal angst, a Jewish werewolf, and sacré bleu, the chickens. Completed (website can be slow to load).

Broodhollow, by Kris Straub. Horror, Weird Fiction. Long-Format. By the creator of the original creepypasta that inspired Channel Zero. A young man abounding with neuroses and compulsions comes to a strange little town in order to settle a late relative’s estate. Themes of unreliable memories and differences of perception.

Chainsawsuit, by Kris Straub. Comedy. Short-Format. Three-panel gag comic.

ChaosLife, by A. Stiffler & K. Copeland. Slice of Life, Autobiographical. Mixed-Format. The life of a queer couple and their pets: humor, lgbt issues, mental illness (K. experiences paranoid schizophrenia), cats, and occasional puppets.

Crunchy Bunches, by Scott Warren. Comedy. Mixed-Format. Cereal mascot parody focused on snaggle-toothed feline mascot Munchy and his friends.

Dead Winter, by Allison Shabet. Action, Horror, Comedy. Long-Format. Zombie apocalypse story with occasional partially-animated scenes, and a relatively low focus on the actual zombies. Infrequent updates, but has a Patreon with weekly content.

DRIVE, by Dave Kellet. Sci-Fi, Comedy. Long-Format. Humanity has taken to the stars, led by a second Spanish Empire that controls the secrets of FTL travel. When the crew of the Machito recover their science advisor and accidentally pick up a mysterious amnesiac alien at the same time, they become embroiled in intrigue that affects the whole of human space and beyond, caught between secret police, mind-controlling invaders, and a species dedicated to invention who have a grudge against humans.

El Goonish Shive, by Dan Shive. Adventure, Sci-Fi/Fantasy, Superheroics, Slice of Life, Mad Science. Long Format. Difficult to pin down, once described as “the most squeaky-clean fetish comic online”—lots of characters undergoing fantastic transformations of their bodies. Starts out weak but gradually grew into one of the most progressive webcomics out there as the creator started to really think about the meaning of someone wanting to transform from a nerdy boy into a busty girl. I’ve said more about it, here. Significant LGBT content, including canon gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender, genderfluid, and asexual characters.

Family Man, by Dylan Meconis. Historic Fiction, Horror, Romance, Libraries. Long-Format. A learned man of Jewish ancestry takes a position as a lecturer at a small Christian university in the middle of nowhere in the Germanies of the 18th century, and falls in love with the daughter of the head of the university—who has some secrets relating to her mother’s family On hiatus as of July 2017.

Freefall, by Mark Stanley. Comedy, Sci-Fi, Furry. Long-Format. A larcenous alien and his naive robot pal living on a human colony world acquire the services of an uplifted humanoid wolf as their ship’s engineer under less-than-legal circumstances. As time goes on, the crew becomes caught up in the struggles and politics of the artificial intelligences of the colony. Binge-reading page here, colored strips here.

Girl Genius, by Phil & Kaja Foglio. Gaslamp Fantasy (Not-Steampunk), Action, Comedy, Mad Science, Alternate History. Long-format. A young woman discovers that she is the latest in a line of mad scientists including the vanished heroes of Europa as well as some of its most terrible villains.

Goblins, by Ellipsis Hana Stephens. Fantasy, RPGs, Action, Body Horror. Long-format. A tribe of goblins go from being mere MOBs to taking levels as adventurers themselves, facing ambiguity about alignment, morality, and the place of "monsters” in a world that seems to favor humanoids. Can get very gory at times. Light LGBT content including a prominent gay male character; transgender creator.

Goodbye to Halos, by Valerie Halla. Fantasy, Adventure. Long Format. Forced through a gateway to another world for her own safety, Fenic finds herself in the “run-down queer district” of a city of animal people—and spends a few years coming into own identity as a trans lesbian, forging a new life. But the reasons she was forced into this world are catching up to her, and she’ll need to turn her protective streak towards defending herself. Heavy LGBT themes; often not safe for work. The only work i can think of where a trans girl’s underwear bulge is treated as a completely nonsexual and innocent thing.

Grrl Power, by Dave Barrack. Superheroes, Sci-Fi. Long Format. Probably Not Safe For Work. Comics nerd Sydney Scoville winds up becoming a superhero herself after circumstances force her to reveal her powers and join up with an agency providing training and oversight. While consistently funny and clever with the use of powers, it can be very centered on the male gaze; the art starts out being pretty . I actually first started reading it because I recognized one of the characters from years prior when the artist was posting softcore smut to furry websites.

Guilded Age, by T. Campbell & Phil Kahn, art by John & Jason Waltrip and Erica Henderson. Fantasy, RPGs, Action, MMOs. Long-Format. A group of adventurers face off against threats to their world—such as the CEO of the company that programmed their world in the first place. Strong themes of intrigue, the nature of violence, and the concept of good and evil in fantasy settings. Completed, now running extras & side stories, including annotated repeats of the original pages.

Gunnerkrigg Court, by Tom Siddell. Fantasy, Sci-Fi. Long-Format. A young girl attends a strange boarding school specializing in matters of the supernatural and obscure, making friends with classmates, a ghost, robots, psychopomps, living shadows, fairies, and eldritch horrors in the form of silly woodland creatures while exploring the mysteries of the school and her own ancestry. Shows remarkable art progression; the style of the first storyline is unrecognizable from the present. Especially rewarding if you’re into alchemy. LGBT content, including prominent WLW characters. Warnings: unreality is a recurring theme, and there is a bit of “suicidal” fairies desperate to be reincarnated as humans. Boxbot is rubbish.

Johnny Wander, by Yuko Ota & Ananth Hirsh. Autobiographical, Fantasy, Humor, Mixed-Format. A mix of slice-of-life autobiographical pages, and short stories, including the longer format “Barbarous” and “Lucky Penny”.

Kevin & Kell, by Bill Holbrook. Comedy, Slice-of-Life, Furry. Mixed-Format. Extremely long-running strip (daily updates since September of 1995). In a world of anthropomorphic animals where predatory species can legally & without repercussions hunt & consume other species, a businesswoman wolf (Kell) and her uncommonly large rabbit husband (Kevin) make their blended family work in spite of social stigma against predator/prey relationships. Far more light-hearted than it sounds, though it often touches on social issues and drama. Light LGBT content from some minor recurring characters.

Kill Six Billion Demons, by Abbadon. Fantasy, Metaphysical, Martial Arts. Long Format. A college student’s attempt at heterosexuality is interrupted by the arrival of a legendary king of all reality. Thrust into a battle over the greatest power of all worlds, Allison faces devils, angels, and the city at the center of the 777,777 universes. It’s a lot to take in. Occasionally not safe for work. Frequent LGBT content, including WLW.

Love Me Nice, by Amanda Lafrenais. Comedy, Hollywood. Long Format. Set in a world shared by cartoon characters and ‘real’ people (think Roger Rabbit), where TV star Mac T. Monkey Jr. struggles between his irresponsible instincts and his attempts to build a life as an adult and a relationship with fellow protagonist (and manager) Claire. Some LGBT content; infrequent updates. Occasionally Not Safe For Work.

Manly Guys Doing Manly Things, by Coelasquid. Comedy, Videogames, Parody. Mixed-Format. The staff of a temp agency for “ludicrously macho guys” tries to help the protagonists of video games, TV, and movies deal with their testosterone-addled brains in a constructive fashion. Occasional LGBT content—mostly MLM, naturally. Keep an eye out for the fluffy little velociraptors, and Mr. Fish the Gyarados. On indefinite hiatus since June of 2018.

Narbonic, by Shaenon K. Garrity. Comedy, Sci-Fi, Mad Science, Gerbils. Mixed-Format. Comp Sci. grad Dave needs a job. Helen B. Narbon, cute blonde mad scientist with a gerbil fixation, is hiring. Story arcs feature action-packed forensic linguistics, a worldwide conspiracy of guys with the same name, rodents uplifted to sentience, time travel. Some awkwardness around gender transformations, light LGBT content. Completed, with author annotations.

Nedroid Picture Diary, by Anthony Clark. Comedy, Absurdity. Short Format. Short comics that very quickly come to focus on the antics of the anomalous ursine orb Beartato and his friend/roommate Reginald, a bird who is just terrible.

Not Drunk Enough, by Tess Stone. Supernatural, Action, Horror. Long Format. A survival horror styled webcomic by a creator with a history of exceptionally dynamic page composition and lettering. Expect lots of magnificently weird body horror.

O Human Star, by Blue Delliquanti. Roboticist Al Sterling died. Al Sterling woke up an android body mimicking his own. As he reconnects with his former partner-in-several-senses, he explores a world that remembers him as one of its greatest innovators. Major themes of identity, the definition of humanity, and gender and sexuality. LGBT themes including MLM and transgender characters. Warning for some discussion of self-harm.

Outsider, by Jim Francis. Sci-Fi. Long Format. Beautifully-illustrated science fiction story that is painfully slow to update. If you watched a lot of 80s and 90s sci-fi anime, you’ll get the vibe that this has—including its arguable weak point of being centered on a man who finds himself among an alien race dominated by warrior women.

Patrik the Vampire, by Bree Paulsen. Supernatural, Slice-of-Life. Long Format. The unlife and history of an exceptionally awkward vampire and the mortals around him—book club, knitting, coffee shops, violent murder. Some LGBT content.

Poppy O’Possum, by I. Everett. Fantasy, Furries. Long Format. A single mother in a world of animal people where only opossums lack magic, Poppy just wants to settle down in quiet and safety with her daughter Lily. The world has other ideas—but fortunately, Poppy is mind-blowingly strong. On hiatus. Some LGBT content.

Questionable Content, by Jeph Jacques. Slice-of-Life, Comedy, Sci-Fi. Mixed-Format. Starts out focusing on indie rock fan Marten and his robotic “anthroPC” Pintsize. As the art evolves, so does the subject matter, focusing more and more on the rest of the cast and topics like the nature of personhood and identity for artificial intelligence. Eventually comes to feature significant LGBT content, including bisexual and transgender characters in the main cast.

Rae the Doe, by Olive Brinker. Comedy, Slice-of-Life. (Mostly) Short Format. If Garfield was a transgender doe and wore clothes and also there weren’t any jokes about Mondays or lasagna and the comic was constantly assumed to be autobiographical in spite of its creator frequently asserting otherwise and the comic was still genuinely funny. But otherwise just like Garfield, really.

Selkie, by Dave Warren. Sci-Fi, Slice-of-Life, Comedy, Drama. Long-Format. Former adoptee Todd becomes a father himself to a strange young girl who turns out to be a refugee from a secret underwater civilization. While the public gradually becomes aware that humans are not alone, family forms and is redefined as secrets from both Todd and Selkie’s past are revealed and dealt with, and kids confront issues of inclusion and exclusion. Also, for some reason two of the kids from Evangelion are Todd’s neighbors.

Skin Deep, by Kory Bing. Fantasy, Coming-of-Age, Monster Girls (and Boys). Michelle discovers the secret world of mythical monster people after a small medallion unlocks her own heritage as a sphinx—supposedly long-extinct, according to the other monsters. Michelle must explore who she is and her family history while also trying to avoid completely upending nonhuman society and maintaining secrets within a culture already used to the use of magical illusions and transformations. Light LGBT content.

Skin Horse, by Shaenon Garrity. Comedy, Sci-Fi, Mad Science, Zombies, Canadians. Mixed-Format. Set in the same universe as Narbonic (see above), “Skin Horse” follows an organization of the same name dedicated to providing social services to beings only recognized by the secret shadow government—staffed by a patchwork zombie bioweapon, a talking sled dog, a cross-dressing pansexual psychologist, and a receptionist in the form of an immobile Victorian robotic weapon of mass destruction, all overseen by a sentient swarm of bees. Frequent LGBT content.

Something*Positive, by RK Milholland. Comedy, Slice-of-Live, Parody. Mixed-Format. Very long-running comic that gradually grows from a dark and misanthropic sense of humor into a dark and misanthropic sense of humor with a warm and gooey center. Earlier comics can be pretty weak and handle many subjects very poorly (the first strip, linked above, features an abortion “joke”); gradually improves.in terms of LGBT representation to the point that it’s one of the better webcomics in that regard. I might recommend skipping ahead in the archives to the current decade (the “1937″ and “1938″ are strips flashing back to the previous generations).

Spacetrawler, by Christopher Baldwin. Sci-Fi, Comedy. Long-Format. The naive but brilliant alien race known as the Eebs are enslaved by interplanetary society at large, depending on their servile nature to maintain the high standard of technology and transportation across the void of space. A group of utterly incompetent aliens come to Earth to seek help in freeing the Eebs... and generally fuck everything up for the best with their terrible choices of sample humans. Currently in the midst of a sequel series focusing on new intrigue and antics, including a talking, murderous kangaroo.

Spinnerette, by Krakow Studios. Superheroes, Comedy, Sci-Fi. Mixed-Format. A grad student develops spider-themed superpowers—including extra arms—and attempts to navigate both concealing her transformation, and becoming a superhero in a world where super-powered vigilantes and criminals are a fact of life. Not Work-Safe due to suggestive artwork including improbably form-fitting costumes over improbably large bosoms. Recurring LGBT content.

Val & Isaac, by @tredlocity. Sci-Fi, Fantasy, Comedy. Mixed-Format. A space mercenary, her wizard buddy, and the cyborg fish girl who keeps all their technology functional, occasionally featuring their shapeshifting assassin friend Space Dread. Major LGBT content, including WLW and MLM, and a prominent transgender character.

Vattu, by Evan Dahm. Fantasy, Worldbuilding. Long-Format. Born to the Fluters of the grasslands, Vattu finds her traditional subsistence lifestyle torn away as a multi-species empire asserts a claim over her people’s lands. A fantasy epic with several major arcs; see also the creator’s earlier completed works Rice Boy and Order of Tales.

XKCD, by Randall Munroe. Science, Parody, Comedy. Short Format. Stick figures and scientific silliness. Make a point of checking the alt-text of each comic by moving your cursor over the strip. Early pages are much more along the lines of experimental sketches; link above directs to a random comic in the archives. Some comics are more along the lines of interactive games!

Yet Another Fantasy Gamer Comic (YAFGC), by Rich Morris. Fantasy, Comedy, Parody. Mixed-Format. Not Work-Safe. The inhabitants of a world heavily based in Dungeons & Dragons go about their lives as monsters, humanoids, and soul-searching mixes of the two. Begins with a romance between a beholder and a goblin, gradually builds up to battles between nations and the gods themselves, while also finding time to explore family, loss and love, and whether kobolds count as sapient. Moderate LGBT content including recurring gay & bisexual characters (it’s a very large cast); new readers guide here.

#long post #webcomics

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adonisnin · 4 years

Text

a fleeting memoir.

I don’t know how to write a great book. All I know how to do is feel.

At my university, his eyes narrow as he skims through my writing. “You should cut down on the adjectives. And be more precise.” During the semester, I learn how to write quietly, obediently holding my hands between the walls of the keyboard. The writing was programmatic: a steady string of code to create tight, virus-free argumentation. I feel like I was choking during my lectures and would run afterward toward the campus gardens, gasping for air.

It’s always raining in the classics. Whether it’s the European drizzle of existentialist contemplation and ennui, the dreary Scandinavian sleet, or just the histrionic downpour of a popular romance, something about water falling from the sky touches the soul. I moved from California to England a few years ago. Upon meeting me, everyone would always joke about the weather. Even at its most aggravating, there’s still something slightly mad and magical about getting wet from the rain: from the child’s ecstasy to splashing in puddles to the bursts of unexpected showers. Film is awash with portraits of a dark-haired woman, her face and arms lifted, her eyes closed, rain streaming down her hands and cheeks: a worship of the skies and sea, bathed in baptismal rivers, rising toward truth like an ancient Niniane.

So let’s imagine it’s raining in this story: the tale of a brunette woman in her early twenties, sliding out of her damp coat as she settles into a library desk. The world outside is darkly wet but she is wrapped around the warm glow of a favorite book, smiling softly as she turns each page.

As she moves through time, she loses herself for a bit, as young minds tend to do; drifting away into a third-person binocular gaze of her own life. One day, as though reminded of a long-lost childhood friend, she glanced into the mirror and feels a dull ache of recognition.

Through a series of unfortunate events, she had become an academic. (She smirks to herself as she writes that.) Clever enough to critique the system, with a delicate list of degrees lifting her above the rest of society. The academy was a castle (a fortress), and she strolled its hallways, draped in elegance. The world lay like a lavish fur at her feet: it wasn’t until years later that she noticed the delicate golden chains wrapped around her wrists.

People will think that this is an intellectual book because its text winks at readers with graduate degrees and aspirations of Platonic cerebrality. Unfortunately, the protagonist is an ordinary human: a body of neurochemical imbalances and menstruation and psychologically complex sexual urges. I am writing a story about a woman.

Rilke writes about solitude: about the world created within the self, the infinite loneliness and the sweet-sounding lamentations of its suffering. “There I shall live all winter and rejoice in the great quiet.” Like most people living in the recurring buzz of a city, she was lonely. She often found her peace within the walls of her apartment: a silent altar to herself, as if she were living wrapped up in the pages of her diary. She hung her friends’ art up on the walls, framed photographs of her family, and filled her bed with soft, silky fabrics. She would light incense and candles, and fill the air with soft beats of music: purifying the space, making this ground holy.

She was a graduate student, which meant everybody outside of academia thought she was brilliant and everyone inside of academia thought she was rather interesting and worthwhile. She grew up spoonfed the myth of the metals, told the tales again and again of her own precocious cleverness, of her mystical intelligence. She read far above her grade level and overextended her vocabulary. When she was young, she called herself a bookworm, and when she was older, she called herself a sapiosexual. At twelve years old, she dressed up as Athena and silently worshipped the goddess of wisdom (—she would ignore the war and weaving part).

She was also enraptured by Boudicca. She grew up on McCaughrean’s Brittania and D'Aulaires' Book Of Greek Myths. She was fascinated by the portrait of powerful women, radiant in their own strength. She loved mermaids, selkies, sirens: those dark and dangerous women of the seas. Boudicca rode in the streets of her city, naked except for her long hair, which wrapped itself around her body: history painted an eroticized form of the woman, straddling a horse, pale skin and trembling lips; tresses enticingly, teasingly feigning at modesty. Boudicca’s performance to make some statement, some protest against patriarchy or injustice, but it was clear to her, even as a girl, that this story was not a political one. The sculpture of Justice may be a blinded woman in robes, but there is nothing more appalling than a hysterical female voice screeching for equality.

I don’t remember when I first discovered feminism: I only remember hating women as a child. I found a notebook once, filled with a child’s scrawl, where I exclaimed that I was so glad to be clever—not silly and pretty like most girls. As I grew into adolescence, I occasionally cast longing glances at the other girls: with their golden curls and million-dollar smiles, exquisite little dolls of coiffed femininity and rich daddies. I went to a whiskey bar recently that embodied a kind of polished masculinity: mustached waiters in tweed vests over cuffed white shirts and sculpted forearms, busts of hunted deer and other achievements of man, wooden bookshelves filled with elegantly muted book collections. It was another kind of holy place: where one kneels before the marble mantelpiece in obeisance to the power-hungry colonizer.

My sexuality began to emerge in the office of a professor: his mahogany desk looming around me, legs spread nonchalantly in an easy authority. My heartbeat quickened, knees crossed primly in a skirt, as I blushed and asked questions about the course. Lower your voyeuristic eyes: these encounters never went beyond a comment or an accidental touch. My years as an undergraduate were spent daydreaming over my notes, talking about the world over coffee, and thinking about sex in the library. I liked that momentary hesitation of surprise as I casually mentioned something sexual from my studies: a metaphysical puzzle about pornography, the liberatory rise of polyamory to dethrone an antiquity of monogamy, the darkly wrung layers of power within sadomasochism. Perhaps it was there that I found feminism: from a language of embodying oppression flowered forth the idea that surrender could be empowering. The thought was a pearly light: the gift of femininity, of submission and release—and the deep, silent power within.

I found my sexual power like the rest of my generation: by exerting a measure of control over the other. It was a prize to hold enticingly before them; deliciously unattainable. To have something that someone else wants: that is the only measure of worth in a capitalist landscape. The mouth of the cave was enticing: that insidious allure of Pandora’s box. Suddenly, it was no longer enough to be intelligent: one must be desirable as well. Like a trophy held above the heads of others: they needed to see the prize and want it for it to be special. She saw herself as a tightrope dancer: balancing the power of the mind with the desires of the flesh. It was an elaborate performance, a practiced soliloquy for a darkened theatre: one hopes dearly for an audience.

I spent a year as a professor. I recall a single frozen scene: it is raining outside of the coffee shop and I am listening to achingly melancholy French music (Les mémoires blessées, Crier tout bas). I prepared my mind and body for each lecture as though I were entering a gladiatorial ring: I neatly typed and stapled my handouts, and slid into a modest knee-length dress that subtly held close to my waist and dipped along my collarbones. My clothes felt like a costume for a 1960s-style secretary or stewardess: cleanly washed with a mildly sweet perfume, hair twisted into a tidy chignon, legs folded at a desk with my books stacked in alphabetical order. I answered emails in a timely manner, graded with a kind but firm hand, and smiled with the vacantly polite gaze of customer service. I checked my evaluations diligently and tried to be likable and friendly, welcoming my students into the warm hearth of philosophy and letting them wander through my home. They would step in for a moment, tracing their fingers along the spines of the books, glancing over at me as if I were an aspect of the furniture as much as the shelves. I felt like a salesman, smiling indulgently and explaining to the unimpressed consumer why they should consider getting into academia. I model prettily, showing them the life that they could have: the picture of success in this tier of society. I still see other professors twisting into this routine: the assumed air of authority, the dignified crown of the philosopher-king. Like prophets of an ancient religion, they share their advice with all and teach the one true path toward enlightenment: the rigor and the rituals of knowledge. Like any good advertisement, they draw others in with a manufactured sense of humanity: the self-deprecating humor, the melodramatic tearing of cloth and hair at self-imposed deadlines, the pale, bony thinness of perfectionism, wasting away before an audience of other performers.

In academia, we hide our faces under a paper-mache mask of stiffly inked degree papers and watery excuses of endless busyness. A Kafkaesque artist of twisted, exhibitionistic self-torment, a Pharisee loudly lamenting a self-inflicted agony: the scholar fights to surpass another in self-flagellation, a mortification of the unbearably corporal flesh. “Only pain is intellectual.” We tout depression as an honorable badge of intellectual superiority—the masses are dead-eyed and drunk on a cocktail of prescription drugs and pre-packaged ideology. But those gifted, cerebral children can see through the painted backdrop and television lights: they witness reality as it is.

At its best, intellectualism is unhappy—at its worst, it is cruel. The 17th-century dramatist Jean Francine wrote that life is a comedy to those who think and a tragedy to those who feel. Some scholars do care, and care deeply: for them, a pedagogical journey is like excavating a lost city, brushing dirt away from crumbling walls, filled with warnings written in an ancient, dying tongue. Unearthing the skeletons of a forgotten history, a memory that humanity longs to forget.

“It would be much better if, on the earth as little as on the moon, the sun were able to call forth the phenomena of life; and if, here as there, the surface were still in a crystalline state... In early youth, as we contemplate our coming life, we are like children in a theatre before the curtain is raised, sitting there in high spirits and eagerly waiting for the play to begin. It is a blessing that we do not know what is really going to happen. Could we foresee it, there are times when children might seem like innocent prisoners, condemned, not to death, but to life, and as yet all unconscious of what their sentence means.” (A. Schopenhauer, Lehre vom Leiden der Welt)

With the inevitable tumble into nihilism and absurdity, the rarity of the compassionate philosopher sinks deeply into the quicksands of despair. But what of the hermit, the ascetic, who casts aside the ropes of human connection? From the side of the hilltop, he looks down upon the ravaged city and laughs; like a dying man in a desert, watching his horse die before the mirage of a lush oasis. Perhaps I felt this way when I was younger: laughing at my freedom before the pilloried women, imprisoned in the bodysuits of gender. Perhaps I saw myself as androgynous: a sexless fae child with inexplicable knowledge of wordly things and a playful schadenfreude.

As a child, I saw the pillars of women and their wisdom as arching tombstones in the chilling mist of my future, the inevitable decline into the pains of labor, that aching creation of an object to be snatched away from my grasp: the anonymity of motherhood. I longed to be a maker of worlds: to hold my hands in the raging welding fire and twist metal into mechanism. When asked why I chose to study philosophy over literature and history, I tell people that I never wanted to be relegated to Whitehead’s ‘series of footnotes’ on a great thinker. The idea of dedicating my life, fawning at the frozen feet of bygone wisdom, entangling myself in the discourse of another and attempting to organize their thoughts, struck me as debasing.

I imagine these scholars as custodians, moving slowly along the great halls of the history of the mind: dusting off the tired exhibits, examining a relic of ancient wisdom, and guiding others to a particularly showy gallery of pop intellectualism. I longed to be one of the innovative elite: developing my own ideas and launching them out into the world like sleek silver rockets.

Still, unbidden thoughts lift to a rising echo, like bloated corpses floating to the surface of a lake:

i. This too shall pass.

ii. The truth will always emerge.

iii. Failure in life is inevitable.

Why have we created lives that lack a solidity of meaning? The Aristotelian virtue of striving has been perverted into a constant desire for something out of reach. We exist in the hellish stance of Tantalus: the king of Sipylus who consumed his young in an unquenching burn for power. He was condemned to the agony of desire: emaciated, shaking fingers brushing against the soft, bruised flesh of a fruit he would never taste. I never understood why the Garden of Eden was a utopian paradise—Eve and Pandora have been damned by the priests of time for embodying that trait that is valorized in men: curiosity. The great men—the scientists, the philosophers, and the poets—have loudly proclaimed the glory of the inquisitive gaze, of those first pioneers who pressed into the darkness of the great unknown. Yet it is a sin for woman: feminine curiosity is prying, gossiping, the idle chatter of busybodies. The curious woman is one who should have known better, who ought to have kept her mouth shut: her questions are barren and vain. The moral of these ancient stories is simple: obey the commands of men and remain shrouded in ignorance. When offered knowledge or understanding, the good woman will look away and choose the path of purity. (“The innocent eye is blind, as the virgin mind is empty.”)

I recently bought my mother a print transcribed with the cheerfully defiant line, “Well-behaved women rarely make history.” The sentiment is true, in the bland, platitudinal way of many inspirational quotes, but what is the fate of the women that do make history? Too often, their mangled corpses are left hanging on the city walls: a grim reminder to all of the merciless suppression of insurgent forces.

Curious women are not considered clever: they are considered dangerous. Eve damned humanity to physical pain and scarcity; Pandora released a whirlwind of sickness and death; even Joan of Arc was burned with so many others at the stake. The women who refused to be ‘well-behaved’ are condemned to inhabit our nightmares as graffitied caricatures of the Furies: shrieking women wreaking havoc and suffering across the orderly landscape of civilization.

Again and again, we watch these women bowing their heads to accept their punishment: Boudicca, Artemisia, and Cleopatra each died by their own hand. Western history relishes the tragic figure of Lucretia: a woman who was raped before committing suicide to preserve the honor of her father. Marble sculpture immortalizes the brutal rapes of Prosperina, of Europa, and the Sabine women. Even the Old Testament tells the story of a Levite throwing his concubine to a mob maddened with bloodlust in an effort to protect himself. She is brutally raped and murdered and, like Lucretia, she is marked as culpable for her rape: the Levite later dismembers her corpse by slicing her body into twelve pieces.

If only I had known before that the trinkets of intelligence and sexuality are finery on men, yet mark women out as scapegoats. A woman told me yesterday of a line that resonated deeply with her: “Give no-one cause to fear you.” To me, it sounded like a warning. Intelligent women are intimidating—I am told this time and time again. Men are afraid of women who out-earn them, both in pay and degrees. They are terrified of being laughed at by women—and this fear quickly boils into a destructive rage. The woman who smiles at the wrong time is beaten, raped, and murdered; the confident, curious woman is seen to invite her own destruction.

Academia is like wandering into a gilded museum and gagging upon the stark realization that the naked bodies of your mother and sister are hanging from the walls. Silently slipping into the room, you can feel the hands of men reaching for you next.

The kindest death that I face is to be ignored and silenced. My words have already been torn away from me or kicked into the shadows, and I have already been punished for my ideas. Men only respect other men. The esteemed title of ‘philosopher’ is unattainable unless I contort myself into masculinity. Either I must destroy the woman or they will do so.

Catherine Malabou writes on the contradiction of a ‘woman philosopher’: “Philosophy is woman’s tomb. It grants her no place, no space whatsoever, and gives her nothing to conquer... The possibility of philosophy is thus largely premised on the impossibility of woman.”

Female philosophers are exiled to the land of poetry, where their writing is derided further. I like to say that my favorite philosophers are Virginia Woolf and Sylvia Plath: a comment that raises the eyebrows of male academics. These writers are mostly known for their highly publicized breakdowns and suicides: while madness is romanticized in male artists, it is scorned in women.

The two cruellest labels against women are hysteria and gossip. The powerful wisdom of the emotions, the deep interpersonal insight of psychology have become degraded feminine ways of thinking. The kingdom of the heart, the knowledge of the self and of others, is ravaged by the pillaging armies of the mind. The ideal individual becomes a solitary agent, swathed in a protective layer of rights: he relies on nobody and protects only himself. A father is permitted to walk away at any time, while a mother never gives enough for her children. The nuanced intricacy of the web of care and dependency is wiped away in the blank face of laws and duties: men see themselves as tabula rasa, pretending to be immune to the deep memory of the womb from which they emerged. Plato wrote that the traumatic event of being born caused men to lose touch of their innate knowledge, while Socrates called himself a ‘midwife’—both espousing an ideology that men must be pulled away from the treacherous touch of woman in order to flourish into excellence. It is a mantra repeated again and again within the Western tradition: the mother is the passive soil of the earth, little more than a breathing incubator, while the father actively sows his seed and causes new life to spring forth.

The medieval philosopher Boethius is known for proposing a theory of time, stretched out across eternity, where God stands as Being in a place apart from spatiotemporality, gazing down upon existence. He writes often of a single woman: Lady Philosophy. Even within the Romantic languages, where declension casts a shadow of gender across the syntax, the word ‘philosophy’ is feminine. So too can we return to Iustitia, the female figure of justice. In the masculine world of law and philosophy, why are the disciplines imagined as encapsulated by the female body? And why is this female body possessed only by the men who study her?

The male gaze is not merely a visual technique of producing images of women that cater to an audience of heterosexual men. In feminist theory, the ‘male gaze’ is often imagined to be a lavascious position: the businessman watching the stripper sliding around the pole, the voyeuristic neighbor peeking through a young girl’s window as she dresses, the horny teenager scrolling through a disjointed compliation of fragmented genitalia and artificial moaning.

But the ‘male gaze’ is the dominating gaze: there is power in the ways that we see. It is written as far back as the Genesis Rabbah: in the land of the blind, the one-eyed man is king. To see is to rule over all, and the cruelest power is forcing another’s eyes open to gaze upon the unspeakable. MacKinnon writes that women live in sexual objectification the way fish live in water: not only does it surround us constantly, but it constitutes the only environment we have ever known. We see ourselves and other women through the blurred filter of this hierarchy—gender is not a dichotomy of body parts but rather a manufactured reality: nothing remains untouched by it. When men see philosophy and law as woman, they see themselves as her conqueror: explorers stepping foot on yielding, fertile ground, eager to ravage her body in imposing their structures of violence and cruelty. Within the institution of sovereign state, her life is nasty, brutish, and short.

Do you remember the woman from the beginning of this story? Night has fallen and the library has grown cold around her. The austere portraits of men clad in greatness loom over her, reminding her that she will never join their ranks. The female body of classical art is nude, her limbs arranged invitingly. She smiles softly and asks no questions: she allows the viewer to take what he likes from her with a self-effacing brush of coy reserve. The woman has spent many hours studying the art of the Greco-Roman world, and she has never recognized herself in any of the half-lidded eyes of these soft, eroticized women.

She once stood at a museum in front of a sculpture of Venus. The marble woman was crouching to the ground, as if kneeling before her viewer. Her arm curls across her upper body, obscuring the breast from direct view—her thighs are pressed together, and her hair falls in elegant waves across her face. Art historians have called her posture ‘playfully erotic’: a titillating peek-a-boo of sexuality behind a veil of feigned modesty.

She imagined the marble woman standing up: pushing back her shoulders and jutting her chin upwards. She imagined looking at the marble woman directly in the eye. The sculpture is naked, but she is unashamed of her nakedness: like the endless depictions of the Athenian youth, her body is seen as a perfection of nature—strong and elegant architecture to house a dignified mind.

This standing sculpture does not resemble the warrior women of the Amazon: fierce mythical women who sliced off their breasts in order to kill more effectively, rejecting their femininity to transform into virago. Our culture fantasizes about the Amazonian woman as female Ares: Diana, ferocious princess of the Amazons, is often depicted in armor and headgear. Even Athena is rarely depicted without her helmet and spear.

But standing before us is not a warrior: she is simply a woman, and her body is simply a body. We can trace the muscles along her thighs, the soft rise and fall of her belly, the bones along her neck and shoulders. Her expression is unreadable: she gazes back to meet your eye, watching your movements. Standing before her, you seem to forget which one of you is the art and which is the audience. Perhaps you hold your breath, wondering if she will reach out to touch you.

But the woman simply turns and walks away from you. Her marble feet make no sound as they climb down the pedestal and across the hallway. She was not created for you to look at her: she was created to exist, to experience the world through herself.

One day, I find myself resting in a secret garden: there are stone walls surrounding me and in this hidden place, I have discovered the meaning of life. A grey cat is sleeping next to me and blue butterflies swim through the air, but there is no-one else here. I breathe deeply and on the exhale, my knowledge of time disappears: I float within the essence of reality and it is beautiful in its vast eternity. Like gazing upon the sea or the sky, I look at the world that I have created. With a smile that nobody will see, I press my lips against the small cat beside me and stand to leave. I retrace my steps by memory: across the hot desert sands and snowy mountaintops and finally to a familiar dirt path. I walk until I arrive at my childhood home. Tears spill over as I hold my mother, my sister: even my dog is there, her tail wagging in recognition. In Ithaca, I have found everything I was searching for. The rest of the marble melts away, and my story is just beginning.

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purplesurveys · 5 years

Text

474

Tumblr makes the spacing kinda weird by the end, idk why but I hope it gets better for everyone else who wants to take this haha.

ONE - HI THERE! It’s an intro!

What do most people call you? Robyn. In what month is your birthday? April. What country were you born in? The beautiful but politically miserable Philippines. Do you have siblings? How many, if you do? I do; I have two. I’m the eldest, but they aren’t that far off from me. Who do you live with? I’m still studying so I’m living with family for now – mom and dad, a sister and a brother, and a dog. I really want to move out in the next couple of years though.

Are you in a relationship? Yes. Do you go to school? As I said, yes. I’m in university but I’m supposed to graduate next year. What mood are you in right now? Well, I wrapped up my internship last week and my entire weekend was booked with stuff I did, so now I’m just super glad to be home and bum around after all that hectic-ness. I just had 8 hours of sleep and am feeling pretty well-rested right now. What does your shirt look like? I’m wearing a big-ass gray Knicks sweater that’s like 3 sizes bigger for me. What’s your zodiac sign? Taurus.

TWO - Your Appearance

If you could have plastic surgery on any one body part, what would it be?Boobs. They’re so abnormally small that I’m tired of having to waste what would have been completely bomb outfits just because of my chest.

Are you satisfied with your hair? It could have less baby hair, honestly. But I’m fine with it for the most part.

Do you have a hitchhikers or a straight thumb? It’s a straight thumb. My left pinky is quite crooked though.

What colour are your eyes? Dark brown.

Do you have any tan lines? No, I haven’t gone to the beach in a while.

How old do people usually think you are? I just asked this question to Gabie last week and she said that I look 15.

What about your appearance do you get complimented on the most? Face and my overall figure.

Are you comfortable with your weight? Sure, but it’s always worrisome when I get to the lower 90s.

Do you have any piercings or tattoos? Where? Yeah, just the basic earlobes piercings that my parents got for me when I was a couple of months old.

How tall are you? I am 5′1″ and a half. I’m shorter than 5′2″, that’s for sure.

THREE - True or False

I love winter. Neither true or false as I have never experienced snow. I think I’d love it though.

I have eaten meat in the past five days. True. Filipinos eat meat a lot.

I have painted a room in a house. False. My mom is so controlling over adult things like that so she hired people to do it to all our rooms.

I can whistle. True. I learned pretty early.

My keyboard is black. True-ish? The buttons are black, but the spaces between them are silver.

I have never bought something off an infomercial. True. My mom would be so furious because it would be her money anyway.

I own a snuggie / would like to own a snuggie. False.

I bite my pens / pencils. False. I do bite my straws though.

I wear glasses / contacts. True.

My nails are painted right now. False.

FOUR - Childhood Memories!

What was your all time favourite movie as a kid? THE GAME PLAN, without a shadow of a doubt. Watched that shit everyday through third and fourth grade. My runner-up would be High School Musical.

Do you still have your first pair of shoes somewhere? Doubt it. My mom isn’t big on memories like me.

Did you have anything you always dragged around the house, like a blanket?Nope. I did use my parents’ blanket as a cape some days, and other days it would be a gown train and I’d pretend I was the Queen, but I wouldn’t drag it because it would get dirty.

What toy did you play with the most? I was always into grownup stuff so I always got kitchen appliances, dollhouses, etc. I once had toys that mimicked a pizza restaurant and it had a pizza roller and it was super fun for me haha. Once I got a pretend cash register though it was game over for all these bitches.

Did you ever bring your favourite toys in the bathtub? We didn’t have a bathtub, but yeah we would bring in our toys when we would shower.

Did you used to take baths with siblings/cousins? ^ Ooh, barely missed it. Yes, we did.

Are you still friends with your best friends from long ago? A handful are still my best friends. I keep in touch with most of my batchmates from my high school because we’re all close and we’re family and there was generally very little drama – and if there was, it was easy to let go.

Do your parents ever tell you stories about how cute/silly you were? They have several stories, but I was mostly a quiet kid who didn’t like getting in trouble.

Did you go to the park often? What was a typical outfit for the 5-year-old you?Blouses with a girly pattern, denim jeans, and Nike rubber shoes. The top always has to be tucked in.

FIVE - FAVOURITES

Actor/Actress: Kate Winslet

Singer/Band/Both: Beyonce / Paramore

Chocolate: Reese’s

Toothpaste: ??? Whatever we have at home I guess?

Picture of yourself: Nah man, not doing that here.

Pair of sunglasses: I don’t have a favorite.

Vegetable: Broccoli!

Sandwich: Monte Cristo

Aspect of nature: Waterfalls

Word to say: “Literally”

SIX - Love Life ;)

Who was the first person to ever ask you out? No one’s ever asked me out before. Although I think that dude from one of my classes in sophomore year intended to…but I dunno. We were paired up together for this class and he wanted to spend time with me in a coffee shop after our work was done; I didn’t feel comfortable just being by myself so I told him in advance that I was gonna be bringing Gabie…never heard from him ever again :/

What does your ideal date consist of? Dinner somewhere nice (Italian or Japanese) should be enough for me.

What’s one thing your partner must be able to accept about you? I get sad and I’ll need loooooooong stretches of time alone some days.

Does your ideal person have any special talents? She can paint and draw. She doesn’t really share these with other people but she does with me.

Do your parents like the person you’re with? (Or the last person) My parents liked Mike and were convinced something was happening between us lmao. They don’t know about my relationship with Gabie yet.

Do you like pet names? Yes when it’s just the two of us. Publicly, I control myself, cos I know it annoys me when other people are too showy/vocal. Like I don’t call Gab pet names when we’re out with friends; and when we’re out at the mall or whatever, I’m not very physical other than holding her hand.

What is your age range? Same age. I can’t imagine dating someone younger or older, but then again this is because I haven’t had any other experience.

What is one attribute that your ideal partner must have? Sincerity.

When was the last time someone seriously said “I love you.” to you? This morning.

Have you ever been in more than one relationship at a time? No.

SEVEN - The wonderful world of the Internet!

What is your most used website? Probably Twitter. It’s the first thing I check everyday.

Do you play any online games? Other than playing on Y8 when I was younger, no.

Which chat program do you use most often? Messenger.

Facebook vs Myspace- which is better? I haven’t used Myspace in a hot minute, so I’ll go with Facebook.

Is there someone you met online that you’d like to meet in person? Yes, I’m still waiting to meet Aliyah. Girl is in BGC every single day but I can’t seem to grab lunch or dinner with her!

Have you ever sold something on Ebay or Craigslist? No.

Have you ever gone on Chatroulette? Or Omegle video? Yeah, when I was like 12 and curious about the Internet haha.

Are there any videos of yourself on Youtube? I don’t think so.

Mac or PC? Mac.

Have you ever Googled your name? I’ve Googled my username before, but not my name.

EIGHT - This or That?

Twilight or Harry Potter?

French fries or potato wedges?

Liquid ortape white out?

Digital or film camera?

Nail clippersor nail scissors?

Rock, paper, or scissors?

Beard or mustache?

Knee high or ankle socks?

Hockey or basketball?

Mr Clean or sponge and ‘the other leading cleaning product’?

NINE - Be cool, stay in school!

What subject are/were you best at? It’s always history, or social studies in general.

How old will you be when you graduate high school / how old were you? I was 18 when I graduated.

Isn’t there that point in the year when you stop caring so much? Yep, it’s usually when you’re a senior.

Do/did you have any really cool teachers? In UP? Absolutely. There’s a lot of shitty profs, but the cool ones are way too hardcore.

Who is/was your most strict teacher? Sir Ruel in my old school. Old man was and is such a fucking loser. Once had a comment about my breasts and I never forgot about it. Also kicked me and a bunch of other kids out of his class in fifth grade because we didn’t have crayons. He actually got booted by the school for a year because a parent complained about him, but he came back after.

Where do/did you sit at lunch? In high school, the cafeteria was too crowded so my friend group would hang out in our classroom, since most of us were classmates. Right now, lunch just depends on my schedule and where I happen to be by noon.

What do/did you do at recess? Catch up on homework I skipped the night before.

There’s always that one kid who no one really knows, right? LOL, yes.

Is/was your cafeterias food actually any good? It used to be good. Then they kind of hired this company to start making the meals starting junior year and the food was never as good again.

Do/did you have a stereotypical school, with all those cliques and such? You can say that. We had popular party kids, smart but still cool kids, soccer players, the basketball players who all turned out gay, kids who kinda just hovered in the middle, and those who were kinda brushed to the side were the theatre and anime kids.

TEN - Randomly Platypus.

Do you like your toothbrush really wet when you’re brushing your teeth? Not really wet. I just make sure I’ve put it under the running water before applying the toothpaste.

What song are you currently obsessed with? Not into anything at the moment.

What was the stupidest dare you’ve ever done? I hate dares, so I don’t do them haha.

Do you enjoy playing with tape? No?

What’s one word/phrase you say too much? LITERALLY. Which is a problem because most of the time, the things I associate the word with aren’t literal.

When was the last time you went trick-or-treating? 2017.

What did you last use a knife for? Haha, my orgmates were cooking up lunch and I volunteered to chop up the onions. Fun fact: First time to use a knife, ever.

When you open a pack of gum, why is everyone your best friend? Because gum is always a good idea.

What has been on your mind way too much? Completing my requirements for internship so I can submit them as early as possible.

Did you actually enjoy my survey? Sure. Categories are always fun.

#survey #surveys

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timeoutforthee · 6 years

Text

Scary Movie Night-Spooky Month

Part 1, Part 2

@sanderssidesspook

Summary: Roman and D.C. finish up their Halloween, and then play matchmaker. Analogical.

TWs: sympathetic Deceit, mentions of fake blood and gore

*So, in my area, if Halloween falls on a weekday, they’ll have trick or treating the weekend before, which is why they’re trick or treating, but Virgil says they still have a week to celebrate*

“We should keep it,” Virgil says, glancing down at his pumpkin, which is now starting to sag with the weight of the candy inside.

‘Are you suggesting literally stealing candy from babies?”

“You should say that in front of Roman, he would have very strong opinions about being called a baby,” Virgil winces, “And they’re usually very loud.”

Just then a squeal of laughter comes from behind them, and Roman and D.C. rush by them, caught up in some game that mixes together tag and make believe.

“You know, that doesn’t surprise me,” Logan says.

Roman skids to a stop and turns around, running back to what is supposed to be his plastic pumpkin.

“Whatja get me?” he says, sticking his face in, “Ooooh, a king size!”

“Nope,” Virgil says, moving it closer to him, “I get first dibs.”

“Wha-why?”

“Because I had to do all the work.”

“You fiend!” Roman says, pointing his broom at Virgil, “I challenge you to a duel.”

“Nah.”

“Virgil,” he says, dropping the broom and his boisterous act, “You gotta play along.”

“No thanks.”

Roman stomps his foot, but D.C. distracts him by pointing at a tree up ahead.

“Look! A dragon stuck in a tree!”

“We must save it!” They take off again.

Logan and Virgil look at each other, and they can’t help but smile.

“I’m really glad they ran into each other,” Logan says as they start walking up a different driveway, “D was really upset about the drawing. His condition can be a little…hard for his peers to understand.”

“Yeah, well,” Virgil glances back at his brother, “I’ve been there. So Roman is used to it.”

Logan nods. Logan is specifically not talking about how he knows, just like the whole class knows, because Virgil got a panic attack in the middle of class when the teacher humiliated him in front of the class.

Instead, he knocks on the door, and they get two fun sized candy bars. They start walking back down to the end of the driveway, where Roman had jumped on top of a large rock, declaring he has “slain the mighty beast!”

“As adorable as this is,” Logan says, “I did not think this would be how I celebrated Halloween.”

“This is just trick or treating night,” Virgil points out, “There’s still a whole week-”

“You mean the next three days?”

“A whole week to really celebrate.”

“Really?” Logan says, “And what do you plan on doing during that week?”

Virgil shrugs, “My friend Thomas is having a little Halloween party for the Theatre kids. We’re going to watch Sweeney Todd, which is the important thing.”

“Sweeney Todd?”

Virgil freezes in his tracks.

“You’ve never heard of Sweeney Todd?”

“No? What is it?”

“Well…,” Virgil trails off. How does he explain Sweeney Todd? Then he gets an idea. A terrible idea, really, but his mouth is moving without his permission, “Did you just want to come and watch it with us?”

Logan eyes light up, just slightly. At the prospect of going to a social event, of course. Not necessarily because Virgil invited him. That part was unimportant. Yes, completely unrelated to Virgil.

“Yes! I mean, as long as I’m not intruding,” Logan hurries to correct himself as their little brothers run up them.

“Nah, Thomas loves making new friends,” Virgil says, “Uh, you got a phone?”

And D.C. looks up at Logan with smuggest little grin Logan has ever seen, and he’s trying telepathically say “What? It’s not a big deal. Virgil and I are friends now and friends need a way to communicate.” But that is ruined because his head immediately has to repeat “Oh my god, we are friends now and he wants to communicate.”

“Yes,” Logan pulls it out of his cargo shorts and hands it over. Virgil punches in his number (nope, his hands are not shaking, no sir) and hands it back over.

It’s getting late, so they go there separate ways, Roman and D.C. throwing conspiratal glances at each other behind their brothers’ backs.

“I’ve made a decision,” Roman says around a mouthful of chocolate.

“Is that decision to chew with your mouth closed?” Virgil says as he searches for something sour.

Roman swallows, and then says seriously, “No. It’s about you.”

“You’ve made a decision about me?” Virgil finds some gummy worms, and is starting to bite their heads off, which is the best way to eat gummy worms.

“Yes,” Roman says, nonchalantly, “I’ve decided you need to kiss Logan.”

Virgil accidentally inhales a gummy worm in his state of shock. He coughs, trying to dislodge it.

“Are you done?” Roman asks as he finally quiets down.

“What? Is that why you and D.C. kept taking off? To leave me and Logan alone?”

“We were becoming friends, Virgil, weren’t you paying attention? But yes. You and Logan together were an added bonus.”

“Why?”

“Because you guys would be cute. D.C. thinks so, too.”

Virgil’s face goes pale, “Roman. Did you tell him I had a crush on Logan?”

“...you admitted you have a crush on Logan.”

“That is not the important thing here, Roman.”

“Welllllll….yes,” The word is barely out of his mouth before he’s jumping to his feet and running out of the living room. He runs up to his room with Virgil on his heels.

“Why would you do that?! I can’t believe-”

Roman gets to his room and shuts his door, leaning against it. Virgil pounds the other side.

“Roman, I swear-”

Hm. Should he tell his older brother that Logan has a crush on him too? No, not right now. He wants to see his face.

The pounding stops, then, “I really am going to eat your candy now.”

Logan is not going to text him. And that was fine. Virgil has no idea what Roman said to D.C., and even less of an idea of what he would say to Logan. It’s fine. Monday was going to be hella awkward, but it was fine, it was really, really-

His phone buzzed from inside his pocket.

Somehow Roman heard it from his spot on the floor where he was coloring. He perked up, “Is it Logan?”

“It’s not going to be-,” Virgil pauses, “It’s Logan.”

Salutations, Virgil.

Logan is frozen in place. He has absolutely no idea how to start this message.

Tell Roman D.C. didn’t mean it, that was a falsehood on his part, and childish.

I don’t have a crush on you, But what if Roman didn’t actually tell him? Then he was the one making it awkward.

Sometimes I catch you daydreaming in class and I always want to know what you’re thinking and a couple times you caught me but you just smirked at me and I suddenly felt like we were the only two in the room and it was this weird feeling but also really nice? Also I like your smile and your eyes and I may have brought this up at home and my brother may have misinterpreted it as a crush isn’t that silly?

Well. That wasn’t a possibility.

Before he can think of anything, he gets a text himself.

Hey, Logan. You still up for the movie?

“You good over there, Logan?” Thomas asks from the other side of the couch.

Logan is sitting up too straight, and his jaw is clenched. Sweeney Todd isn’t scary, per se, but it is definitely gorey. Gore and musicals.

“Peachy,” Thomas just smiles again, and goes back to the movie.

Virgil looks up from his spot on the floor. When he notices the way Logan is holding himself, he stands up.

“Move over,” he commands his friends. They grumble, but they all shift, and he squeezes between them and Logan. Their legs are pressed together, which makes them both blush, but both of them elect to ignore it.

“The thing about scary movies,” Virgil whispers to him, “is that they’re still a production. A very elaborate production with very specific difficulties in regards to the genre, and this one is no exception. Like, hear that? Johnny Depp’s voice was not made for this character.”

Logan finds himself listening a bit closer, and even though he knows nothing about theatre, he can tell things are a little off.

Virgil keeps pointing things out to him. Between the ways the musical changed into the movie, the way they had to make the blood appear faker so they didn’t get a higher rating. And once he points that out, Logan starts wondering how he didn’t notice how awful it looked earlier.

It’s close to the end when Virgil grips his hand. Caught off guard, Logan looks over to see Virgil’s eyes bright with anticipation.

“This is it. The most ridiculous moment of the movie. Wait for it.”

Logan turns back to the screen. After a graphic murder, Sweeney emerges from the shadows, blood covering his face….

Especially in one corner, where it is perfectly curled into a french mustache.

Logan can’t help it. He laughs, and soon Virgil is joining in, hiding his face in Logan’s shoulder. His friends are complaining about them ruining the “atmosphere,” but they’re forgotten once another movie is put in.

The movie is Hocus Pocus, not even close to scary, but Virgil reaches over and grips Logan’s hand again, anyway. After a moment, Logan folds their fingers together.

Okay. Virgil may have to buy Roman a bag of candy as an apology.

#sanders sides fic #sanders sides spook month #sanders sides fanfic #okay real talk guys #i appreciate you all so much #i had a bad day and then I came home and had like 100 notes???#You have no idea how much that made my day #my writing #also if anyone is wondering #like it or not should be up soon too #okay i'm done goodbye

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lovemesomesurveys · 5 years

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ONE - HI THERE ! It’s an intro !

What do most people call you? Stephanie/Steph. In what month is your birthday? July. What country were you born in? US. Do you have siblings? How many, if you do? I have 2 brothers. Who do you live with? My parents, younger brother, and our doggo.

Are you in a relationship? No. Do you go to school? No. What mood are you in right now? At this current moment I’m hungry and in serious need of coffee. What does your shirt look like? It’s a long-sleeved Star Wars shirt that looks like a comic book cover. The main part of the shirt is white and the sleeves are gray. What’s your zodiac sign? Leo. TWO - Your Appearance If you could have plastic surgery on any one body part, what would it be? I wouldn’t. Are you satisfied with your hair? Ugh, no. It really needs to be dyed again and trimmed. Do you have a hitchhikers or a straight thumb? More on the hitchhikers side. What colour are your eyes? Brown. Do you have any tan lines? No. How old do people usually think you are? Early 20s.

What about your appearance do you get complimented on the most? My hair after it’s been recently dyed and the color looks good and my roots aren’t showing. Are you comfortable with your weight? No. I’m too thin right now. Do you have any piercings or tattoos? Where? I only have my earlobes pierced. How tall are you? 5′4ish. THREE - True or False. I love winter. I have eaten meat in the past five days. I have painted a room in a house. I can whistle. My keyboard is black. I have never bought something off an infomercial. I own a snuggie / would like to own a snuggie. I bite my pens / pencils. I wear glasses / contacts. My nails are painted right now. FOUR - Childhood Memories ! What was your all time favourite movie as a kid? Hmm. I’m not sure about movie. I had a lot of favorite tv shows, though. Do you still have your first pair of shoes somewhere? Yes, my mom kept them.

Did you have anything you always dragged around the house, like a blanket? No. What toy did you play with the most? Barbies. Did you ever bring your favourite toys in the bathtub? Yeah, sometimes. Did you used to take baths with siblings/cousins? When we were babies. Are you still friends with your best friends from long ago? No. Do your parents ever tell you stories about how cute/silly you were? Yeah. Did you go to the park often? No. What was a typical outfit for the 5-year-old you? Something cute, I don’t know. FIVE - FAVOURITES ! (Yes, I spell it with a ‘u’) Actor/Actress. Alexander Skarsgard. Singer/Band/Both. Linkin Park will always be one of them. Chocolate. White. Toothpaste. Sensodyne fresh mint. <<<< Picture of yourself. Look at my avatar. Pair of sunglasses. I don’t wear them. Vegetable. Broccoli and spinach. Sandwich. Turkey with provolone cheese, mayo, and pesto on sourdough or wheat bread. Aspect of nature. Ocean. Word to say. I don’t know. SIX - Love Life ;) Who was the first person to ever ask you out? My first boyfriend, Derek. What does your ideal date consist of? Going out to eat or for coffee. What’s one thing your partner must be able to accept about you? My health problems. Does your ideal person have any special talents? Such as…? It would be cool if they could play piano or guitar. And/or sing. Do your parents like the person you’re with? (Or the last person) I wasn’t with him, but they really liked Ty and they thought we would end up together. Do you like pet names? Not really. What is one attribute that your ideal partner must have? Patience. When was the last time someone seriously said “I love you.” to you? A few days ago. Have you ever been in more than one relationship at a time? No. SEVEN - The wonderful world of the Internet ! What is your most used website? Tumblr. Do you play any online games? Nope. Which chat program do you use most often? None. Facebook vs Myspace- which is better? I only use Facebook out of the 2. Myspace died years ago. Is there someone you met online that you’d like to meet in person? I’d be too nervous and awkward. Have you ever sold something on Ebay or Craigslist? No. Have you ever gone on Chatroulette? Or Omegle video? Yeah. Are there any videos of yourself on Youtube? Yes, but they’ll never see the light of day again. Mac or PC? Mac. Have you ever Googled your name? Yeah. EIGHT - This or That? Twilight or Harry Potter? French fries or potato wedges? Liquid or tape white out? Digital or film camera? Nail clippers or nail scissors? Rock, paper, or scissors? Beard or mustache? Knee high or ankle socks? Hockey or basketball? Mr Clean or sponge and 'the other leading cleaning product’? NINE - Be cool, stay in school! What subject are/were you best at? English. How old will you be when you graduate high school / how old were you? I was 18. Isn’t there that point in the year when you stop caring so much? Like in school? There’s that point where you start to experience “senioritis.” Do/did you have any really cool teachers? Yeah, I had a few. Who is/was your most strict teacher? A couple math professors in college. Where do/did you sit at lunch? Different places. What do/did you do at recess? I just hung out with friends and ate my snack. There’s always that one kid who no one really knows, right? Uhhh. Is/was your cafeterias food actually any good? Some things were. In elementary I actually liked the pizzas and burritos. I very rarely ate school lunch in high school, but what I had was okay. Oh, but they did sell pizza at these little pizza stands on campus that were good. Do/did you have a stereotypical school, with all those cliques and such? I mean I guess, but it’s not like how you see it in the movies. TEN - Randomly Platypus. Do you like your toothbrush really wet when you’re brushing your teeth? Yeah. What song are you currently obsessed with? I don’t have one right now. What was the stupidest dare you’ve ever done? I always said truth, so. Do you enjoy playing with tape? No. What’s one word/phrase you say too much? I don’t know. Wait, actually “I don’t know” is a pretty good answer. <<<< Haha same. When was the last time you went trick-or-treating? Back in high school sometime. What did you last use a knife for? I used a knife and fork when I was eating boneless wings the other day. When you open a pack of gum, why is everyone your best friend? I always felt like I had to be secretive about it, ha. What has been on your mind way too much?/ Health stuff. Did you actually enjoy my survey? Sure.

#personal #text #survey #surveys

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bonbonswirl-blog · 5 years

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Recipe. Part 1

ALL CHARACTERS BELONG TO @brueklynn I OWN NOTHING, this is so short it doesnt even deserve to be splited but tumblr being stupid I had to im srry ;^; guys this is a COMPLETLY DUMB fanfic please dont take it in any serious way XD take it as a joke plz, the logic here is gone Enjoy but you cant thx lol.

It was an ordinary morning today. Expect that johann and monroe where hiding behind a bush, standing before the amazing 'belief pioneer' studios that produced the famous cartoon "jokey and pals". They always wondered about how some animated humanized insects allured that much viewers. But lately, they heard that there is a secret recipe made of magic used in making those facsinating show episodes, that concept made them so curious to have a glance at that whatever is that special recipe. However, their plan to do so was to kidnap someone from the studio employees and interrigate him to disclose the obscure method. All they did was stay out of sight and monitor the studio door, waiting for someone to come out, They waited a lot and nobody came, it was starting to be boring. Until eventually, monroe saw the studio open, which made him shake johann who woke up in confusion looking right and left. "JOHANN JOHANN LOOK!!" " WOAHWOAHWOAH .....What..?" "Were You Sleeping!?!" "What? NO! I was just resting my eyes! Anyway what did you want me to see?" "Look!!" Monroe pointed happiky to a worker who stepped out from that place, walking while humming a tone. He had a wide black hair and mustach, wearing a small hat, he looked like a friendly french man, he was holding a paper and a pencil in his hands. " Thats Our chance! You hush him while I tie him up with the ropes~" "pff- Whatever." Johann rolled his eyes. Jacque was reading the lyrics paper again, imagining how entrancing the melody will be when its played by the chorus, his hum had a happiness, there is something carefree about the notes as they fall into the fresh air around. He leans on his hands, checking for a last time if all the words are written right. But he was so into the lyrics he didnt notice that someone was sneaking after him from behind. Before he could take another step, johann attacked him and made sure his mouth is kept shut, stifled sounds only came out, eyes fly wide and brain cant get to function. With the increasing pressure and streckin silent panic, monroe apeared in front of him and attached the ropes around him, the next thing jacque knew was that he was being blindfolded and carried away to an unknown place.

When he was able to see again, everything was so strange, he was in a dark room, nothing eviding. For all he knew he could be deep underground, in some random room in an isolated prison or even in the highest level of a skyscraper. He jerked upright, panicked, but his body refused to move. He looked down and saw the same ropes still wrapped around him, chaining him to the wall In a sitting position. His mouth wasnt taped or bound anymore. He craned his neck for a window, there was none, that would explain the darkness here. Suddenly a flash of light blew on his pale face, he jumped a little with the only slack he had, he was blinded for some moments before being able to see again, in the almost blackness his eyes strained for some sign of what was to come. He knew who did this, he didnt want to see their faces, so would leave it to the Police to identify the two kidnapers. But he had to open his eyes and see them. They stared at him for a moment and smirked. Though their tastes were a little different, monroe had got what he wanted. The dim light made jacque his skin sparkle and glow. He felt an odd coldness on his tongue, and brought his breathing back under control. "Welcome to our lair fella~" "W-W-What?!" "No need to panic again, we are just here to ask you a simple question~" Jascue gulped while starting to sweat, this is not going to be a good conversation..." You are one of the workers in that pretty 'belief pioneer' studio arent you?~" "uh..haha.." "so do you love that silly cartoon show that the studio produce? Because all the children love 'jokey and pals' dont they?" "Uhh..yeh!..yeh yeh..." "so you see...have you ever wondered about how did this show get that much success?" "....umm...hard work?...." "Wrong, Recently we both did some researches regarding your little victory in making those children pining for those comedian figures. Finally, we found out about your secret, you use some magical recipe in every single thing used in making any episode. " Jascue was shut. Magical recipe? Really? That was their researches? He is sure they heard it by some strangers passing at the streets. "...Uh...What? What do you m-" "DONT act like you dont know what I mean." He paused, giving jacque a knowing look. Whom exhaled through his nose trying to bring back his tranquility. Monroe stared at him silently, as if debating whether to electrocute him, or dig a sharp into his skin or even worse. jacque nodded to himself, already knowing he will get a punishment if not speaking something. He is fine. He will be fine. But what is he going to say? Will he just lie for them? He have a recioe from his mind now, will he have enough time to imvite it right now in front of two kidnappers? "WHAT IS THE RECIPE?!!?!" Monroe repeated sternly. Jacque felt coldness envelope him, but no darkness came. "I......I-I-I dont know!" "What do you mean you dont know?! Dont you work there?!" "I-I-I am just the lyricist!! All I do is writing kids songs!" "Well didnt I say that this special recipe is used is EVERY small thing used in making the episodes? In sure that you use it in every song you invite. So tell me how does it work?" "Sir I-I dont really know where did you get that idea from. But you have to believe me, there is No secret magical recipe used in making any episode..." "well then whats your secret in making good songs?" "Oh...thats...probably because Im very inspired and...I love my work? When you love your work you can do anything!" Monroe lost his patience which made him pull something from his bag, making jacque fear come true, he was threated with a knife pointed to him, he squirmed and whimpered, his guts froze solid, when will friends notice he is absent? When will the police come and save him?

#brueklynn #monroe gooder #johann drew #jacque francis

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cbraxs · 5 years

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Warped [Time Warp Trio Fanfiction] - Chapter 7

Joe faced his uncle Jack many times over the last five years and he always appeared the same, aging along with him and the others as time went on. Despite hearing stories about Mad Jack from his uncle Joe about when they were younger, Joe could never picture him as anything but a middle-aged man with an unruly mustache and an unpopped monocle. Seeing him in person, only a couple years older than Joe was now, was jarring, to say the least.

The Book laid about five feet away from the statue’s feet. Despite the crowd in the room, there was a clear path from it to Mad Jack, so there was no hope he might not have seen it.

Joe and Anna stared in silent horror as Mad Jack stalked over to The Book. He knelt, and picked up The Book with shaky hands. “I can’t believe…” His trademark demented grin spread across his face.

His boss strolled over and peered at The Book over Mad Jack’s shoulder. “Oh. It’s a… book.” He said ‘book’ the way Joe said a French word he didn’t understand. “Woefully archaic things.”

“This isn’t just any book, Bonefat.” Mad Jack stood, staring at The Book like it was a glass of water in the middle of the Sahara. “It’s The Book.”

His boss was clearly not impressed by the distinction. “Right, my mistake. Now, put down that silly thing and let’s get to work on finding—”

“What an utter ignoramus you are. This is the most powerful item in the entire space-time continuum!”

“Is it now?” Bonefat quirked a brow. “You’re certain?”

“Of course, I’m certain!”

The two men went back and forth, drowning out Joe and Anna’s whispered conversation.

“We need a plan,” Joe said.

Anna rolled her eyes. “Right, because your last plan went sooo well—”

“You can snark at me all you want later. We gotta distract them.” Joe rubbed his chin in thought. “If I can get The Bookaway from them, you think you could get it and call the time agents?”

Anna nodded. “Just tell me the plan.”

Joe looked back over the railing at Mad Jack and Bonefat, looked at the statue, and got an idea. He briefed Anna on his plan.

She glanced from him to the statue, a frown on her face. “Are you sure?”

“If it means getting The Book back. Ready?”

Anna nodded, and snuck down the stairs as Joe got into position above the statue of the Egyptian goddess. He inwardly apologized to it for what he was about to do.

Joe had never done what he was about to do before, but he assumed the process was similar enough to levitation. He remembered what Izzy said about channeling the tiggly-wiggly feeling into exerting her will over the world. He raised his hand towards the statue and tried to do the same.

A green aura slowly enclosed around the head of the statue. It flickered a few times but Joe made it stay in place. A bead of sweat dripped down his temple.

Below him, Mad Jack and Bonefat continued to talk, not even noticing Anna at the bottom of the steps.

Bonefat rubbed his chin and regarded The Book with newfound interest. “If it’s really as powerful as you say, Jackie boy, then it should be in the hands of someone who deserves it. Someone like, well, me obviously.”

Mad Jack laughed as he flipped through the pages of The Book. “Do you really think someone like you could ever— hey! Let go!”

Bonefat grabbed The Book and tried to take it out of Mad Jack’s hands. Mad Jack held on fast, his knuckles pale from the vice grip.

The green aura surrounded the entire statue. Joe moved his arms forwards and back, and the statue followed his movements, rocking side to side.

“Stop pulling on The Book!” Mad Jack shouted. “You don’t—”

With a final shove, the statue toppled forward, set to fall on top of them. As Joe had hoped, the two men noticed in time and leapt out of the way. The Book was thrown aside in their panic and slid to a stop at the bottom of the stairs.

The statue smashed onto the ground, wood splintering in several directions.

Anna took her chance. She snuck out and scooped up The Book while the two men where dazed. She was three steps up when Bonefat grabbed her by the shoulders and spun her around. Anna yelped.

“Little girl,” he chided, “it’s not polite to steal from me.”

Anna tried to pry herself from his grasp “It doesn’t belong to you!”

Joe ran down the stairs to help her.

A blast of green light launched Bonefat into the air. He crashed into the gift shop, taking down a rack of t-shirts with him on his way to the ground.

“Nor to you, little girl.” Mad Jack brandished the amulet from the statue’s neck like a weapon. Smoke curled off the gold symbol. “Give me my Book!”

They amulet glowed bright green, magical energy sparking around it like a Tesla coil.

“Anna!” Joe cried.

“Joe!”

She hurled The Book as hard as she could to him. He caught it easily with the use of magic.

Mad Jack’s head snapped towards Joe, Anna no longer in his sights now that he had The Book.

Joe barely noticed Mad Jack’s look of utter befuddlement as he fled up the stairs. He furiously flipped through The Book, finding pages for time acrobats and time antagonists, but no time agents.

He reached the third floor with a heavy step and nearly tripped on his own momentum. Joe paced through the room, weaving through the frozen crowd and practically tearing through The Book for any sign of time agents. He noticed Izzy up ahead of him when a ding from the elevator made Joe jump out of his skin.

Mad Jack sauntered out of the hallway, gripping Anna by the back of her sweater. He pushed her forward, earning a grunt from her. He smiled sardonically.

“Look who I got,” he said in a sing-song voice.

“Anna!” Joe race towards them.

Mad Jack raised the glowing amulet to Anna’s head. “Not another step, boy.”

Joe slid to a stop. He glared at Mad Jack to no effect.

“I don’t know who you brats are,” Mad Jack said. “Maybe you’re medaling relatives, maybe your annoying time warpers. I don’t exactly know or particularly care. But what I do know is that you have something that belongs to me. Now hand it over before I vaporize her into a million little particles!”

He shoved amulet in Anna’s temple. She whimpered.

Joe’s throat tightened, helplessness washing over him. He could kick himself for leaving her alone with him. “Don’t hurt her.”

“I won’t. As long as you do as you’re told.”

Joe mind spun frantically as he tried to come up with another idea. Nothing came. There was no way he could save Anna and keep The Book out of Mad Jack’s hands. It came down to saving his annoying kid sister or protecting the space-time continuum from a madman who wanted to control it.

“Here. Take it.” Joe tossed The Book to the side. It skidded on the tile until it hit Izzy’s foot and bounced a couple feet away.

Mad Jack smirked triumphantly. He shoved Anna to the floor and went over to The Book.

Joe ran to Anna and helped her up. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she said, “but...”

She didn’t need to finish her sentence for Joe to get what she meant. They were fine for the moment, but the second Mad Jack got his hands on The Book… well, they’d be a little less than fine.

Mad Jack trembled with excitement as he bent down to pick The Book up. “At long last I—”

Green lighting arced from Izzy’s head and Mad Jack flew backwards a couple feet, crying out in pain.

Joe and Anna stood there, equally stunned. Green electricity buzzed around Izzy’s head, or more specifically, her hourglass earrings.

Mad Jack paid no attention to her, however, his attention solely focused on The Book. He gaped in confusion. “Wha… what’s going on—AH!”

He reached for it again. Green bolts of pure magic zapped him. He tried again, another painful shock. Joe was watching the definition of insanity play out in front of him in real time and it was pretty… insane.

Mad Jack stood and shot daggers at the two of them. Smoke curled off his janitor’s uniform. “What did you do?”

Joe stepped in front of Anna. “We didn’t do anything!”

Mad Jack pointed the amulet at them. A blast of energy annihilated the wall behind them. Plaster and debris rained down.

“My patience has reached its end!” he spat.

He pointed at them again. They dove out of the way in opposite directions just as another shot of magic scorched the spot where they previously stood.

Anna ran to the fishbowl of marbles and knocked it over, spilling them all over the floor to create a sea separating them from Mad Jack.

Mad Jack’s laugh was punctuated by the fishbowl bouncing along the ground. “Really child? You think a juvenile prank can stop me from—”

He stepped towards them and slipped. He landed on his back with a thud.

Anna raced towards The Book. Mad Jack let loose a bolt of magic at her. She smacked into a wall and crumpled in a heap on the floor.

Joe’s heart sunk. “Anna!”

Fear and rage bubbled in his body. He levitated the fishbowl onto Mad Jacks head. With a flourish of his arms, it spun around like a spinning top. Joe smirked as Mad Jack yelped and fell on his butt.

Behind Mad Jack, Anna crawled towards The Book. Joe breathed a sigh of relief.

Mad Jack shouted. The fishbowl glowed bright green and shattered into a hundred shards flying in every direction. Joe shielded his face with his arms, flinching when glass stung at him.

Mad Jack’s monocle popped out of place and dangled against his face. He fixed a glare on Joe. “Do you think you’re clever, boy?”

“Oh, you know,” Joe said, “only on days that end in ‘y’”

Mad Jack got madder. Good. Joe had to keep Mad Jack away from Anna, buy her time to get The Book and get help.

Joe ducked under another blast aimed at his face and ran. He zigzagged through frozen people and towards less populated sections of the room. He didn’t want Mad Jack to hurt any innocent bystander when he was his target.

He threw more taunts Mad Jack’s way and dodged spell after spell meant to hit him. With each blast, Mad Jack lost accuracy and became more irate.

The amulet Mad Jack was using finally melted into a congealed lump. He threw it to the side. “Enough!”

Joe froze, but not voluntarily. Green energy pulsed around his body. A thousand tiny needles pricked at his skin. He tried to move an arm. A leg. Nothing. He was paralyzed. The only thing he could manage to move was his eyes.

Mad Jack walked into his line a vision. He raised his hand and Joe went weightless, hovering over the ground until he was suspended over the railing. His head spun. Best-case scenario, dropping from that height would break all his bones.

Mad Jack grinned at him, wide and manic like he was going to enjoy making a Joe pancake on the floor. “I cannot begin to tell you how much I hate having my time wasted, but since I’m about to acquire, well, all of it, I’ll let you go with a warning.” He laughed. “No, I think I’ll just jet you g—”

He stiffened and tensed up, his eyes bulging and tongue lolling out of his mouth. He collapsed, and the spell on Joe flickered and died. He caught a glimpse of a man standing behind Mad Jack before plummeting towards the first floor.

Joe screamed. The room whipped past him like a film on fast forward. Wind whooshed in his ears. A blur of black and gold rushed past him on the way to the ground. Joe shut his eyes and hoped that breaking his bones would be that bad.

Suddenly, his descent slowed. He opened one eye. A purple aura surrounded him as he gently floated to the floor.

He stood and patted himself down, brushing off bits of glass in the process. He was a little cut up, but otherwise he was fine, and not a Joecake on the floor.

“You okay there, Joe?”

An Asian woman with short cropped hair and a stern, no-nonsense expression stood in front of him. She wore black cargo pants, military boots, and a mustard-colored turtleneck. A duty belt hung around her hips, slim and functional, unlike the bulky ones he’d seen on cops.

But the most surprising thing about her, other than her sudden appearance, was the silver gauntlet on her right hand. In the middle of the palm, a purple circle of light buzzed with electricity.

“How did you know my name?” Joe asked her.

She bristled, eyes narrowing in irritation. The purple light flared and she shot at Joe. He screamed, and shielded himself with his arms, waiting for his molecules to turn to dust.

But it didn’t happen. Behind him, there was a grunt followed by a thud. Joe lowered his arms.

Bonefat laid on the ground, his body rigid, drool in the corner of his mouth. It was like what happened with Mad Jack right before he dropped him.

Joe stared at the woman. “Did you just Tase him?”

She chuckled at Joe and walked past him, patting him on the head on the way to Bonefat.

“Moià Bonefat,” she said, pulling out a pair of handcuffs from her duty belt. “You have the right to travel through time, space, and history without conducting unscrupulous activities that would lead to its demise and/or destruction. You will be given a fair trial and be properly judged. Eragopay.”

She cuffed him, reciting the speech like she’d done it a billion time before.

“E-excuse me, Madame,” Bonefat said. Joe could hear him grit his teeth. “I assure you that this is one big misunderstanding.”

“Is it now?” There was dry amusement in her raspy voice.

“Yes! You see, it’s all that Jack’s fault. I told him time and time again that stealing was wrong, but he just never listens. I was here to put an end to his wicked ways.”

“Oh, how noble of you.”

“Why, thank you, Madame. So, if you could kindly remove my cuffs and I’ll be on my way.”

She twisted a band on her gauntlet and the purple light turned yellow. “I think Em would want to hear your story.”

Bonefat’s eyes went wide in fear, like she just suggested he should swim in a leech-infested lake. “No, that’s quite alright.”

“I insist.”

She held up her hand and the yellow glow covered Bonefat. In a flash, he disappeared.

Joe stared at the spot where Bonefat was, then looked at the woman. “What happened to him? Did you send him somewhere?”

She stood. “I sent him… to be dealt with.”

“Dealt with?”

A smirk played on her lips. “There an echo in here?” She twisted a band on her gauntlet. The circle in her palm glowed pure green, the color of magic. “Now to deal with this.”

She pointed at the destroyed statue. It vibrated, then went into reverse, like a video on rewind. The splintered and detached pieces shot back into to the statue and it stood back up to before Joe ever toppled it. She did the same to the gift shop, reversing the damage Bonefat caused.

When she was done, she turned him. “Let’s go join your sister.”

~*~

Joe felt like he spent all day going up and down the floors.

The woman led him up the stairs, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that he met her before. He could probably chalk it up to time travel shenanigans, but it still bothered him.

He caught a glimpse of her silver and copper wedding band. Gears whirled silently around the middle like a perpetually moving kinetic ring.

“Thanks for saving me back there,” Joe said.

She nodded. “Don’t mention it.”

“So… do I know you?”

“That depends. What’s the date in your own time?”

“January twenty-ninth, two thousand eleven.”

She pursed her lips, and glanced up in thought. “Kinda? Not really.” She smacked her hand into the gauntlet like she just figured it out. “Sorta. You sorta know me.”

“Sorta? That’s not at all ambiguous.”

To his surprise, she laughed. “Sorry. Can’t give out too many future spoilers. It’s against union rules.”

“So no asking for your name, then?”

“I’m forty percent sure that’s fine. Call me Arkay.”

They reached the third floor. Joe was barely off the stairs when he was tackled in a hug.

“Joe!” Anna cried.

A weight he didn’t realize he was shouldering lifted, and he hugged her back. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.” She let him go. The Book was in her arms. “Will fixed me up.”

“Will?”

“Present!”

A familiar looking brown hair man waved at them. He stood next to a handcuffed Mad Jack who squirmed on the ground like a fish on dry land in a desperate attempt to break free.

“I’ll get The Book eventually!” Mad Jack shouted at them. “You all hear me? It’s mine! Mine!”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Will muttered. He held up his hand; it was a similar silver gauntlet to Arkay’s. The yellow light blanketed Mad Jack and he was gone in a blink.

Arkay patted Will on the shoulder. “Good job. Heal Joe’s wounds. I got the collateral damage.”

“On it, Missus Kay!”

Joe nearly forgot about the cuts on his arm. They weren’t bad, but he defiantly needed about a dozen Band-Aids.

Will held up his gauntleted hand. The palm glowed green. “This might tingle.”

And it did. In the green light, all of Joe’s little cuts scabbed over and vanished, his skin good as new.

As amazing as that was, Joe couldn’t help but be distracted by the man’s face. He knew he saw him somewhere before, but he couldn’t figure out where. Finally, it dawned on him.

Joe snapped his fingers. “You’re that guy!”

“What guy?” Will asked.

“From the falafel stand! I saw you a few weeks ago. You’re a time cop?”

Will shook his head and pressed a button on his gauntlet. It folded in on itself, becoming a silver cuff around his wrist. “No idea what you’re talking about.”

Was it Joe’s imagination, or was Will sweating?

“A-anyway…” Will said. “Thanks for the call. We’ve been tracking Bonefat for a while now. He’s been stealing valuable art for years to sell on the black market. He managed to elude us by always framing an underling.”

“That’s pretty cruel,” Anna said.

“Most time criminals are,” Will sighed. “Thankfully we got one more off the streets.”

Joe couldn’t help but snicker. “The time streets?”

“You said you got one more off the streets,” Anna said. “So you know Mad Jack doesn’t stay away for long?”

“We’re time agents,” Arkay said coming over to them. The room was just as it was before with everything fixed and put back in place. “We’re always dealing with crooks out of chronological order. It’s annoying, but can’t be helped.”

She turned her gauntlet into a cuff and smiled at them. “You two did a good job keeping them busy. Be proud.”

Arkay’s smile falters as her eyes spotted something behind them. She brushed past them and walked up to Izzy. She placed a hand on the top of her head and spun her around so she could see her face.

Will swore, a faint accent slipping through in the cuss.

Arkay’s eyebrows shot up before going back to an emotionless expression. She looked at Joe. “You said this was twenty eleven, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he said.

“And you’re sure?”

“How would I not be sure?”

Anna elbowed him.

Arkay stared at Izzy for a couple seconds longer before speaking to Will. “We need to tell Em and… them.”

“They’re on leave in Rome,” Will said. “Let’s not ruin their fun.”

“I know, but remember what Em said? Besides, they’ll want to know about this.”

Anna and Joe glanced at each other. Anna looked about as confused as Joe felt.

“You two wanna explain what you’re talking about?” Anna asked.

Will and Arkay flinched as if they forgotten Joe and Anna were in the room. Arkay cleared her throat.

“It’s classified,” she said. “Nothing you two need to worry about now.”

“I feel like we should,” Joe said.

Arkay grabbed Izzy by her outstretched hand and dragged her over to Anna and Joe. Izzy wobbled a few times before regaining her balanced and settled.

Joe remembered when Mad Jack went near her, how he got shocked by her earrings. He guessed he shouldn’t have been too surprised she would have magical earrings that acted like bug zappers when bad guys were around. She and her dad were magic after all.

But if that were the case, then why didn’t they go off when Mysterio was after them? Was he never close enough? Or maybe they weren’t charged? She spun them all the time, maybe that’s how she charged them, like a crank flashlight.

He shook the thoughts out of his head and refocused. He’ll have time to ask her later.

“Will Izzy be okay?” Joe asked. “The freeze spell will wear off, right?”

Arkay’s face softened. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a playing card. “She’ll be fine. The time-freezing spell Jack put on everyone in the building should wear off in a couple minutes. I suggest you two leave before then.”

She ripped the card in half. From the torn halves, green light pooled out and formed a swirling portal in front of them.

“See you guys around,” Arkay said. “Ready, Will?”

Will smirked. “Right behind you.”

They stepped through the portal and vanished in a flash along with the portal.

Anna sighed dreamily and hugged The Book to her chest. “How cool are they?”

“Pretty cool,” Joe agreed. “How’d you find out about them?”

“I read it in The Book once when I… took it without permission.”

They fell into an awkward silence, not looking at each other. Anna taking The Book got them into this mess in the first place, but it also saved them in the end.

Maybe if Joe loosened his grip on The Book, she wouldn’t have felt like she needed to prove a point. Maybe she wouldn’t have tried to sneak it away from him.

Anna flipped open The Book and turned to the transporter page. “We should head back before everyone unfreezes and we warp in front of them.”

“Wait.” Joe put his hand on The Book. “Before we do…”

She frowned but closed The Book, looking at him apprehensively.

Joe thought about what to say and how to say it before giving up and deciding to go for the direct approach. “You know… I don’t hate you, right?”

She focused on a spot on the floor. “I guess so, but you sure do act like it sometimes.”

Guilt stabbed Joe in the chest. “I know, and I’m really sorry.”

“I guess I do kinda make you mad.” Anna fidgeted with The Book. “I spy on you a lot, I take The Book without asking.”

“Yeah, but that’s not an excuse for making you feel bad.” He placed a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll try not to treat you like a nuisance whenever you want to hang out with my friends around, alright? And I’ll let you look at The Book once in a while if you ask first. Deal?”

She nodded. “Deal, and I’ll try to keep out your business.”

They hugged. It was a little awkward, but at least they were moving in the right direction.

They pulled apart and Anna handed him The Book.

Joe shook his head. “Do the honors.”

She smiled. Anna typed in the coordinates, and The Book warped them home.

~*~

They landed with a thump on Joe’s bed.

Sam and Fred yelped and jumped back, Fred tossing the controller out of his hand. It bonked Sam on the head.

Joe waved. “Hey, guys.”

Izzy rolled off the bed and smacked face first on the floor. They all winced. That was gonna hurt when she unfroze.

“We’re back,” he said.

Fred folded his arms, his face incredulous. “You guys went on an adventure without us?”

“It wasn’t exactly planned,” Anna said, standing Izzy back up. After making sure Izzy wouldn’t fall, she said, “I’ll be right back.”

She put The Book back in the box and left the room.

Sam looked at Izzy and frowned. “Uh, Joe? Is she okay?”

“Her time is frozen” Joe said. “It should wear off—”

“Wait a minute.” Fred interrupted. “She’s frozen? Seriously?”

He waved a hand in front of her face and laughed when he got no reaction. He started to move her arms and legs in place, like a kid posing an action figure.

“What are you doing?” Joe asked.

Fred said, “I think I saw it in a meme once,” like that answered his question.

When he was done, he presented his handiwork to them. Izzy stood in a ridiculous pose, her legs bent like she was in mid-sprint, her arms to the side like she was flapping her hands in a bizarre attempt to fly.

Joe couldn’t help it. He laughed out loud.

Sam just shook his head. “Fred, don’t mess with her.”

Fred wrapped an arm around Izzy’s shoulders. “C’mon, she doesn’t mind. Right, Izzy?” He moved her lips to match his word, doing his best impression of her: “No I don’t mind at all Fred! You’re so awesome and cool and funny. Ha ha ha ha ha.”

“That’s how you get your validation?” Joe quipped, his laugh dying out.

Fred rolled his eyes, about to retort back when Izzy shuddered. She inhaled so deeply, it came out more like a strangled cry, as if she hadn’t breathed oxygen in a thousand years. She wobbled and pitched forward. Joe caught her before she hit the ground.

“Joe?” Her eyes shot open and jumped up. “He’s here! We gotta—! Waaaaaait, this is your room. What’s going on? And why does my face hurt?”

He explained to them what happened on their warp right up to the point where Izzy shielded him and Anna from the time-freezing spell.

“Hold on,” Sam interjected. “You can do a shield spell?”

“Where was that when we were being chased by a nutjob with a gun?” Fred asked.

“The same reason I wasted energy making him and his henchmen laugh,” Izzy said. “I don’t think well under pressure.”

“Well, I’m glad you did today.” Joe patted her on the shoulder. “You saved us.”

Izzy blushed and looked away with a small smile. “I-it was nothing.”

Joe told them about him distracting Mad Jack, Anna calling the time agents, and them subduing Mad Jack and his time thief boss.

Every time he mentioned Mad Jack, Izzy cringed like she was about to be sick. He must have really spooked her.

Joe wasn’t expecting Fred and Sam’s to not be surprised by the mention of time agents. When he brought it up, Fred admitted they knew about time agents years back when Jodie warped them away on a mission to Istanbul. Joe knew about the trip, but that itty-bitty detail about time agent must have slipped their minds.

“You two knew about time agents and you never told me about it?”

“You were at the dentist,” Fred said.

“I wasn’t there for five years! Does everyone know but me?”

Izzy raised her hand. “I-I didn’t know.”

Fred hung upside down from Joe’s bed and pawed for the game controller. “What’s the big deal? With all the times we’ve messed with history and never got arrested, I figured why worry?”

Joe shot Sam a look. “What’s your excuse?”

“Uh…” He smiled nervously. “You were at the dentist?”

Joe groaned and facepalmed. Let it go, he thought. Let it go.

“So, the Monocle man,” Izzy said, spinning an earring. “I mean Mad Jack. He was arrested, right? So he’s gone for good?”

Joe scoffed. “Pfft, I wish. He was like twenty or something when we saw him at the museum. We’ve run into him plenty of time when he was older.”

Fred laughed. “Much older.”

“You guys know that man?” Izzy asked.

“Yeah.” Joe shifted on his feet. “He’s kind of my uncle.”

Izzy’s went from confused to stunned in a half a second, her jaw dropping. She leaned away from him, her arms coming in front of her, and when she looked at him… she was scared.

“He’s your uncle. How… what…”

Joe was about to ask her what was wrong when Anna burst through the door, grinning and holding a CD case.

“Hey, Izzy! I got the…”

She trailed off when she noticed Izzy’s expression. “You alright?”

“I’m… I…” Izzy looked around at everyone staring at her with concern. She clenched her fist and exhaled. “I should go.”

She grabbed her stuff and practically ran out of the room, not even bothering to say goodbye or grab the CD Anna got for her.

Anna watched her leave, confused and a little hurt. “Did you guys say something to her?”

“Why are you blaming us?” Fred asked.

“She was fine when I left the room.”

Sam folded his arms. “She was frozen when you left the room.”

“It’s Mad Jack,” Joe said. “She got that way when I brought him up.”

Anna put a hand on her hip. “Let me get this straight: So you told her our uncle is a psychotic, criminal, time-traveling wizard who threatened to kill us on several occasions and wants to conquer all of space and time? I’d leave too if you dumped all of that on me.”

“I didn’t even mention that stuff. She was spooked long before I said he was our uncle.”

Fred went back to video games. “She’ll be fine. It’s been a long day, she just needs time to absorb it all.”

Joe wasn’t so sure. The only other time she acted like this was the time when Mysterio whispered something to her that made her run out of the theater. Did that have anything to do with Mad Jack, too? Did Izzy somehow know about him?

He ditched this idea as soon as it entered his mind. He couldn’t imagine how she would. Before they met, Izzy didn’t even know about time travel. From what his uncle Joe told him, Mad Jack lived in an untraceable pocket dimension, so it’s unlikely that he and Izzy ever crossed paths before.

But then he remembered how her earrings shocked Mad Jack, and wondered why they never attacked any threat before him.

On top of that, there was also how those time agents reacted to seeing Izzy. For the life of him, he couldn’t figure out why. A couple ideas came to his mind, but she scrapped them all. Was Izzy hiding something from him?

Of course not, he thought. Izzy had to be the most innocent person he knew. This girl never swore, didn’t get most sarcasms and innuendos, and once told him that she bites the heads off her gummy bears and animal crackers before she ate the rest of them because she didn’t want them to suffer. He doubted she had anything to hide. Still, the thought nagged at him.

Later that night while he worked on homework, he shot her a text, asking if she was alright. She texted back, saying she was fine. He started to type his next message, asking about her earrings and what bothered her so much earlier that day, but stopped. Would asking her be prying? He wondered if Izzy felt similar confliction when she tried to mediate between him and Anna.

He deleted the text and settled on sending her a meme he thought was kinda lame, but knew she’d laugh at before asking if they were still on for tomorrow for their trip to the Craft Shack. She sent back an affirmation. along with a couple smiling and thumbs up emojis. Izzy liked her emojis.

Joe smiled and went back to his homework, glad he didn’t scare her off.

#time warp trio #timewarptrio #fanfiction #fanfic #fan character #OC #female oc #joe #anna #fred #sam #mad jack #izzy #time travel #time warp trio oc

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