lieutenantantichrist | [10] Video/Action for Goldenrod - "Because You're Crackheads, Children."

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[10] Video/Action for Goldenrod - "Because You're Crackheads, Children."

[ACTION]

[Something streaks across the skies above Goldenrod. It jags back and forth, gaining and dropping altitude in sudden swoops. It nearly smacks into the top of a building but lurches to the side just in time.]

[Anybody with very good eyesight might be able to make out that it's a Crobat, with Blake clinging desperately to its back.]

[Anybody with very good hearing might be able to make out]

fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKfuckfuckfuck...

[He's hanging on for his life as four wings flap around him and his stomach does a great impression of a bunch of furious weasels in a burlap bag. In a rare second of flying straight, as they pass over a street, Blake spots some blond hair.]

[It can't be...no, those damn stupid glasses are unmistakable.]

[Blake's eyes light up with determination.]

[If there's one thing that can cut through terror for life and limb, it's the prospect of petty revenge.]

Down![He shoves at the bat's shoulder, making it lurch. Ray Liotta is still getting the hang of flying with the extra weight and noise.] Down, goddammit!

[The bat swoops almost to the ground, giving Blake a chance to see the storefronts woosh by and really understand how fucking fast they are going, but he has something he need to do.]

[He yells] Hey asshole!

[Then he goes to punch him in the head.]

[VIDEO]

[The feed comes up on Blake sitting in Goldenrod's bar. He's a little out of breath. There's a few scratches on his face to go with the leaves on his shirt and the twigs in his hair.]

[He orders a shot of whiskey for him and one for the Crobat that's balanced on two stools next to him.]

[Blake drinks his in a gulp, and lets his hand fall heavily to the bar.]

[He looks to the Gear. His eyes are showing a little too much white and a touch of a leftover manic gleam. His lips twitch up.]

So I just flew on a bat.

What's the dumbest thing you've ever done?

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...You know, at that point I think people would have freaked out a lot less if I had been huffing glue.

I don't even wanna think about what a wet 6-foot-tall firedog smells like.

But if that's the worst thing you've ever done, you're doing pretty good.

If it was something that could make you a drooling vegetable, the hell were you doing using it, anyway?

[Blake would never do anything so poorly thought out or reckless.]

That statement isn't as true as you think.

[He gives him a bored look, because Blake's disbelief is starting to get tired.]

There's no such thing as magic. [He pauses] Does Ferarri count as having a pony? Because I never really bought a mustang, I don't think.

[...Well, it's a big world out there. Full of prissy magic horse girls and God knows what else.]

Don't suppose you'd have a better idea? [Color him curious. How would you cross a river full of horses?]

[Blake would be surprised by what great friends spastic leprechauns make. Don't knock it 'til you try it, old man.]

Yeah, well, he's a pretty tough guy. Wrestling a dinosaur'd probably be easy for him under normal circumstances.

[Hell, if he still had his windy powers, he probably could've just blown that thing out of the air and knocked it out without even having to touch it. Or something like that, anyway; Yusuke's never seen Jin in action outside of their fight, so he's not actually sure how he'd deal with a giant monster. He just knows it'd be awesome.

... also, Yusuke isn't even gonna touch that "what's the difference?" question. He will, however, answer the second one, albeit in a rather impatient tone of voice. Hope you like being spoken to as if you were a total moron, Blake.]

I dunno, maybe by asking people where they're from instead of just guessing and making an ass out of yourself? It's not that hard.

[Hell has frozen over. Yusuke Urameshi is chewing somebody else out for being insensitive. Don't worry, he feels just as weird about it as you do.]

[Well, it's now or never that he tells Blake about the two of them being related. He figures it's not really that big a deal. More people should probably know instead of it being some weird secret, anyway.

But first...]

If I claim to be an alien, do I get to probe you? [He lets out a laugh, before going a bit more serious.] But nah, he and I are... related. He's, in a really fucking technical and roundabout way, my son. [He's... not going to get into the fact that for the longest time, he referred to Dave as his brother for a variety of reasons, and that it's only because of playing sburb that Dave ever found out, though it's clear there's more to it if Blake wants to pry.]

We'll have to agree to disagree on the name, though. I still think it's pretty grandpa-ish.

[Still, it's pretty nice that Blake is being so unjudgmental. It makes him feel a lot better, all things considered. A second or two later, he decides to down his shot before calling for another two. When it's placed in front of him, he slides one towards Blake.]

Feel like something a little stronger?

[Blake looks at him for a second. Then he grunts a laugh in spite of himself] Hell no. Nothing from space is going near my ass.

[He's drunk enough that joking about this just seems a little risky, not fucking insane.] Besides, didn't you say something about a ten foot pole?

[He finishes off his beer as he tries to process that family relationship.]

I woulda figured you'd be too young to have a kid. But when you say technical...shit, you don't mean his mom's dead or he's adopted, do you.

Could be worse, though. Hell, there was some girl a while back saying something about...fuck, I don't know, meteorite test tube babies? She coulda been screwing with me, I don't even know how to tell anymore. Nobody here can just come from a broken condom like normal.

[He snorts] Try living with "Carter." You get a lot of "That's not even a name."

[Blake catches the shot glass.]

Hell. Why not.

[He raises it toward Dirk] To weird shit falling out of the sky.

[The first bit of what Blake says has him chuckling, maybe because of the sudden rush of much stronger alcohol going through his system- or maybe it's just all these coincidences leading to Blake already knowing a disturbing amount about all this shit. Meteorite test tube babies really isn't that far off at all.]

So I take it you must've talked to Rose Lalonde, too. My daughter.

[He shakes his head, a smile playing at his lips.]

They're not condom break babies, that's for damn sure. They're a little more scientific. Bit ain't like it changes anything. They're still my crotch dropping, even if they came from a lab.

[He actually sounds really serious about that. There might've been a time when he was hesitant to claim them as his own, but being here, living a semi normal life with them, it makes it a love easier to claim them as his children. He's fucking proud of who they've become. He doesn't hesitate to claim them anymore.]

Life might be easier if they'd come from a broken condom, but hey. Family's family, right?

[He gives Blake a nod, before downing his second drink as well.]

I'll give you that, I guess. Carter ain't exactly the most common of names. Blake, though. That's a bit more believable. [A small pause, as he thinks about it.] Which d'you prefer, then? Carter or Blake?

[Blake tosses back the shot like a pro.]

Shit, how many kids you got running around here?

[He raises his hands] Don't worry, I was nice.

[Look at this face. Look how innocent and nice this face is. He was, though; he's not gonna go around being a dick to teenage girls. It'd actually been a pretty good conversation, besides the weird asteroid part.]

Crotch dropping. Nice way to put it.

[He spins the shotglass on the table.]

Their mom must be something complicated, too, if you're going around making out with guys.

Hell. By now, might as well be Carter. [Considering that you kissed him, something he still can't quite work his way around to believing.]

Edited 2013-10-14 09:47 (UTC)

You serious? That skinny little twerp? He couldn't weigh much more'n a hundred pounds.

[Blake has no idea how he hadn't died fighting that thing. What kinda idiot takes these things on barehanded?]

[He throws his hands up.] All right, fine. Where are you from?

Build a fuckin' boat. Better yet, go the hell home. Whatever's on the other side, it can't be worth it.

It was supposed to help you develop better reflexes. Better reflexes sounded like a very good idea at the time.

[The psychic powers did, too.]

[He lets out a laugh.]

Just the two, but they're complex enough to count for like twenty.

[There is nothing innocent about that face. Nothing at all.

And at the comment on their mom, he falls silent. He knows Blake didn't mean it in a particularly bad way, but Roxanne was gone, too. Between Valeria and Roxanne having disappeared, he felt really fucking alone. He was the only adult from their universe remaining. How the hell was he supposed to do this shit without her?]

She was... special. [There's a fond inflection in his voice, if a little sad. He doesn't say anything in regards to the kissing guys bit, but it does make him wish he could be with someone again, a pang of longing shooting right through his heart.]

Carter it is, then.

[And maybe it's the much stronger alcohol coursing through him that makes him ask the next question. It certainly has a lot to do with the pang that went through him moments before, at least. Probably a large bit of both.]

Did you really not like it at all?

[The kiss is what he's referring to.]

Sounds like it. How the hell do you even figure out meteorite paternity?

[His eyes drop down to his glass. The look on Dirk's face says a lot, and those couple words say more. Dead or a long way away, then. If they were broken up it would have been bitch was crazy.]

[The thought pops into Blake's head that he can't remember when the last time was he dated somebody.]

[For good reason, too. That crap's a waste of time.]

[Dirk's question clips him on the side of the head as it wings past. He looks at him in surprise. With a drunk's intuition, he immediately knows what he's talking about.]

[You get a second of rare honesty.] What's that got to do with anything?

[That question- the first one- is a pretty good one. It's not... actually one he knows how to answer. All he knows is it's confusing and ectobiology is fucked the hell up. Really, the more he thinks about it, the more confusing it becomes. So he just decides not to even answer it.

Because for all he knows maybe he's Dave's mom and not his dad?? Wow this got weird. Also he's kind of drunk so he's not thinking logically on that front.

The next one though... That one's a much easier thing to answer, just like it's also the hardest one to answer.]

It... just does. I mean, I'm just curious. Is that so bad?

[He doesn't look like he's fucking around, especially with the damn glasses off. But who really knows with this guy?]

[He leans forward over the table and lowers his head confidentially.]

Lemme see if I got this straight.

You're talking about something goddamn wrong, here. The kinda thing that if the wrong guy saw it and got the wrong idea, and god knows there's a guy around here who'd love the chance, I could kiss my life and my career goodbye.

You're asking me if I liked it.

[Bro has to resist the urge to roll his eyes when Blake first speaks and says it wrong, but. The more he says, the more patient Bro is willing to be about this. It's obvious Blake has some really intense hang ups about this shit.

So after a moment, he leans in too, and he lowers his voice.]

Then for two minutes, let's just fucking pretend that none of that's a thing. Pretend we're alone right now. We practically are anyway. But say it's just you and me. Alone.

[He leanes very slightly closer, looking at Blake pointedly.]

Did. you. like it.

[The bar's dimly lit, especially over here. There's some people here and there, nobody paying them any attention, the murmur of conversation. It's the time of night when your world gets small. The bartender's over behind the bar, wiping it with a rag like they do in every dimension there is. You could almost think it was the real world, if it weren't for the little blue turtle-thing sleeping on the corner of the pool table, but at the same time it feels real far away.]

[Blake doesn't break Dirk's gaze.]

[He says it pointed and deliberate, like it's a nasty piece of evidence he's pushing in his face. Like it's fighting words.]

Yeah. I did.

[Waiting for Blake to actually respond is weirdly nerve wracking. He keeps trying to tell himself that it doesn't matter. Because why does it? Why would Blake liking the kiss mean anything to him? It shouldn't. It doesn't.

But it does, because for some reason he can't explain to himself, he wants Blake to like it. It almost feels like he needs Blake to like it. He just needs some-fucking-body right now. If it's Blake of all people, he doesn't care. A warm embrace, a kiss, just feeling connected to a person right now would be so fucking wonderful after being so used to it with Valeria. He won't say no to more, but being with someone in any capacity right now would be really good for him.

When Blake finally responds, it's as if he can actually breathe again. It's a long moment before he finally responds, his voice even quieter than it was before because of what he's about to say.]

I have a room at the inn... We... could be alone.

[Orange. It's a weird color for eyes to be, but they look the same as anybody else's in the important parts.]

[The offer knocks his feet right out from under him. His eyes go wide and incredulity is all over his face, fueled by the unexpectedly powerful kick of temptation.] You serious?

[How long's Blake been here alone? He's too old and jaded to get lonely, but after a while you start thinking weird. Start thinking a whole lot of things might not be so bad.]

[Dirk's a pain in the ass with more than a couple screws loose - you'd have to be to make those fucking puppets - but he ain't ugly, especially when you're looking through the disorienting rush of somebody wanting you.]

[Reality seeps in like cold water through a sneaker. Blake sits back with a squeak of vinyl from the booth. His voice comes out just a little worn-out and resigned.]

No. You're not.

[He goes on, verging on conciliatory]

Hell, maybe right this second you are. But I know you. Sooner or later it's all a big joke.

[He lifts his hand in an eh, whaddya gonna do? gesture.]

Say somebody who was gay took you up on that. I give it ten minutes before you're telling the whole city. You'd make a sparkly banner and send it to everybody in the phone book.

[That look on Blake's face is enough to tell him one thing. He does want it. Bro hadn't been wrong after all when he thought Blake was just a deprived bisexual. That look alone tells Bro that he would take him up on it if he wasn't afraid. If he wasn't so fucking closeted.

But he can't blame Blake for that. He can't blame him for what he continues to say, even if he wishes he could just tell him to shut up and come with him back to his inn so he can prove him wrong. He knows it's not that simple. He can't blame Blake for being so damn cautious when that's exactly the impression he's given him before.

He's wrong though. That's not something he would do. Not when Blake is obviously afraid- even if he doesn't want to admit he's afraid. Sexuality isn't an easy thing. It's not something you just experiment with on a whim. Bro knows that. It took him a long time to get to where he is, to get as comfortable as he is. It'll take Blake time and effort to get comfortable. Bro wouldn't sabatoge that.]

Carter.

[His voice is firm. Serious. The look in his eyes says he's being patient, understanding.]

I wouldn't do that. This ain't a joke to me, drunk or sober. I know this is a big deal to you. I'm not... takin' it lightly. I know what I'm askin'. You have to know I ain't trying to screw with you. Trust me. Please. If we do anything... Anything at all, I ain't gonna tell a goddamn soul.

Sure, you'd say so, but like we already said, you're fulla shit.

[With all the wizards and aliens around, your usual, everyday giant lies like "I'm a superrich genius inventor" are kind of comforting.]

I know tha-- Right. Course you had fancy cars.

Some kinda space meth doesn't sound worth melting your brain for.

[Blake's not afraid. Real men don't get scared, just like real men don't consider for a second going up to some guy's hotel room instead of going home alone.]

[If you could just go around doing whatever you wanted, no consequences, sure, a whole lot of things would be different. There's a lot of times when Blake just does what he wants, or what'll get the job done, and figures he'll deal with the fallout later, but there's places you don't go. There's plenty of good reasons to beat a man. Kissing one is a lot harder to explain.]

[The way Dirk says his name catches his attention. He watches him as he talks, and listens close.]

[He sounds different from usual. Real different. More than that, he sounds sincere.]

[Then again, that's how every liar sounds, if they're any good at it. Carter's known more than a few people who are very good at sounding trustworthy.]

[The most suspicious part is that he wants to believe it. His eyes are wary, though there's something in his expression that resembles a tattered, weatherbeaten kind of hope.]

[The smart thing to do is to tell him to fuck off, and that's what he opens his mouth to do.]

You want me to trust you? Put your money where your mouth is. Tell me one of your secrets, something that'd fuck you over bad if it got around.

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[10] Video/Action for Goldenrod - "Because You're Crackheads, Children."

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