down, down, DOWN. perpetually plunging down the rabbit hole of HIS STORIES. but just how deep does the rabbit hole go? when will we finally hit the bottom? the hole is home, now. perhaps it's always been.
someone once called them HARE. they are, and will always be, the viewer.
anonymous asked: truth: hare, how do you feel about murdock?
[ truth or dare time! ]
[ I THINK HE'S SOMEONE WHO'S DOING THE BEST TO INVENT HIMSELF, ] they answer, with a kind of ease that surprises even themself. [ HE WAS UNFINISHED. A LOT OF THE PIECES LEFT BEHIND WERE. AND HE HASN'T GIVEN UP, DESPITE THIS. IT WOULD'VE BEEN REALLY EASY TO DO THAT. BUT HE KEEPS ON GOING. ]
hare pauses, then sighs silently. [ THEY ALL DESERVE FAR BETTER THAN THEY GOT. BUT ESPECIALLY MURDOCK. ]
when they sign the man's name, it's with the name sign they gave him: it's the sign for 'cross', but their hand forms an 'm' instead of the standard 'c'.
anonymous asked: Truth, Hare. What do you want?
[ truth or dare time! ]
there is a melancholy within their eyes that belies their youthful appearance. a kind of age, a depth of knowing that would take countless years, innumerable, for someone to achieve. so many things unsaid, most of them because hare does not know how. because if they did say them, all those words would bring is ruin. and they are the savior, not the destroyer. (right?)
when they finally answer, it's with a whisper. hare speaks aloud so rarely that you almost aren't ready for it. yet, so-softly, you're able to make out their reply: "i just want it to stop hurting. i just want to be okay. i can't keep doing this. i'm supposed to be free. so why don't i feel it?"
“ Now, here’s the thing. ” Jonas taps the flat of a knife against the edge of a chair. “ I don’t really care what you think of them. Or me. You can think all the ugly little thoughts in your head that you want. But the minute I catch wind that someone’s got a nasty word for the Captain? Well, that becomes my problem. Which becomes your problem. ”
He pushes himself up and moves a little closer to you, circling. The sleek and sharp-toothed jaguar that strikes faster than the lion, but to your benefit more than his own, or the lion’s.
“ The Captain hasn’t had it easy. And maybe you think that doesn’t justify what they did. ” They didn’t talk about it much. And Jonas didn’t ask. He knew enough. What mattered was that they’d made it out. “ Frankly, I don’t give a shit. You’re lucky it wasn’t worse. ”
The edge of the knife finds your throat before you can speak. It presses, just lightly, as he hushes you quietly. “ Shhhh, no, no. You’re done speaking. You already said plenty. ‘What a monster’, you said. ‘That murderer deserves what they get’, I think I remember hearing. Well. What they got? Was me. And some peace, and quiet. And it’s going to stay that way. They’re going to keep their peace, and their quiet. ” And me. “ And if that means killing every stupid, stubborn idiot that comes looking for trouble? I’ll gladly keep my hands dirty. ”
The knife digs in, just a bit harder. You can feel the blood trickling down your throat. “ See, all I ever wanted before was to be real. To be somebody that was somebody. And I got there. Doesn’t mean I have to be a good somebody. I’ve discovered I’m still pretty selfish. Pretty self-motivated. The Captain doesn’t mind that. ” He smirks, and the blade slides home. A little painful choking, blood on his blade, on his hands. And it’s all over.
“ The Captain’s the only one I’d give something of mine up for. And they don’t ask me to. Next time you want to cause trouble for them, I’ll make it worse for you. ”
anonymous asked: Hello, Captain. Could I bother you for a truth? What is your favorite pastime, now that you're out of the loop?
[ truth or dare time! ]
THE CAPTAIN IS, INDEED, BOTHERED. they, quite literally, have no interest in entertaining questions like this. they feel pried at, overly seen. they don't appreciate having an audience. but here you are, and there is your question, and they suppose they need to answer it.
"i really like food." mostly things with strong tastes, things that are exciting and flavorful. they love sour candies, they're not at all intimidated by spice. "watch a lot of movies, too. mostly the bad ones." they can get behind a good book, sometimes. but it depends on what it's about. they loathe a romance. "mostly, i just keep to myself. it's nice to be able to sit around and do nothing, for once. i'm taking it slow. i'm tired of fast-paced. i'm tired of always having to do something, always needing to be somewhere." their eyes travel over you, from the top of your head to the soles of your shoes. " ... always having to answer to someone."
their eyes narrow. you suspect it might be best to back off, now.
truth + "tell the world the truth about twister, jackass."
Jonas sighs. Loudly, long and exaggerated. “ Okay, okay, fine. ” He folds his arms. “ Captain doesn’t cheat at twister. They’re just very small and flexible. And willing and able to dislocate their wrist to make sure they win. ”
@pleasuretomeetme asked: Jonas grins. There’s a thin lock of freshly-bleached hair dangling over his forehead. “ I dare you to let me do a pink stripe in your hair. ”
[ truth or dare time! ]
MABEL'S FRECKLED NOSE CRINKLES, a reluctant sort of smile curling at the corners of their lips. it's so hard for them to resist indulging you, even when you're being a total idiot. they're sat upon the bathroom counter, watching you fuss with your hair, both of you unbothered by the heavy chemical smell. changing your appearances is something the two of you have enjoyed doing, creating your own unique styles that defy who you used to be, who they tried to make you be. they support your experimenting with your hair color — their own hair felt different enough with a chop and its natural blonding, so they haven't really felt moved to do more.
after a few moments of contemplation, the captain finds themself rather lacking in reasons to refuse you. it seems fun enough, after all, and they aren't exactly the type to back down from a challenge. they sift through their thick hair, pulling it forward, untucking it from their ears so that the strands hang in a way that's more available to you. "just don't fuck it up," is their answer, wry and knowing, already aware that you'll be careful but unable to keep their fingers off of your pulse. "if i end up looking ugly, i'll shave all of your hair off in your sleep."
Jonas flicks an apple seed that had fallen out onto the countertop toward Captain. “ You say that like I let you do anything, ” he points out, but there’s something else on your face that gives him pause. He takes a final bite off of the core in his hands and chucks it toward their compost barrel.
“ It better be a big dog, ” he tacks on, after a moment. “ That can do tricks. ”
anonymous asked: captain, truth. did all of them really deserve it?
[ truth or dare time! ]
warning: i normally wouldn't put these at the top for an ask but i feel like i have to for this one. please be advised that this ask discusses a pet being unalived. there is also a lot of aggressive + negative language directed at animals, specifically dogs, in general.
THE CAPTAIN WATCHES AS YET ANOTHER HAPLESS, HOPELESS HUMAN COUPLE MARCHES PAST THE CAFE WINDOW. the tiny wooden stirrer they've dropped into their cup of tea threatens to snap between their fingers as the two pause before exiting their sight. what delays them, to the captain's visible distaste, is how eagerly their large, boorish dog is sniffing at the potted plants that decorate the cafe's stoop. they're laughing, clearly amused by their beast's stupidity.
they try to ignore the way their stomach twists when the thing lifts its gaze and those black, thoughtless eyes meet theirs. the creature barks. it fucking barks, and the stirrer splits in two, the lower half disappearing beneath the surface of their earl grey. they feel the way their lips form a snarl, and the only thing that keeps them from losing this little staring contest of theirs is the fact that the owner of the dog tugs on its leash. the captain sees as the owner says something, though they cannot hear it through the window, and the mangy little shit is redirected.
even as the trio finally leave the captain's sight, the look on that dog's face seems burned into the backs of their eyelids. they pinch the bridge of their nose. a migraine is starting to develop. they knew they shouldn't've come here. not right now, not when they've been feeling like this. it was just a dumb fucking animal, why were they letting it bother them? they had far more important things to worry about than some pathetic, brainless little mutt.
GUILT IS AN UGLY LOOK ON YOU, CAPTAIN!
they have to get out of here. they don't look too hard at the bill they leave on the table, uncaring if it's too hefty for their meager tab. their cup is trashed with shaking hands, the captain unrepentant as they elbow a stranger out of the way so they can get to the door.
every time they so much as blink, THEY SEE HER. it stabs like a knife between the ribs, whether they want it to or not. a few steps more, and they're out in the middle of a field, away from civilization. lost amongst fields of tall grasses and weeds, they collapse into the brush, clutching at the dirt with gloved hands and asking the space between them and the earth why, why, why?! they can find even an ounce of affection for a STUPID FUCKING DOG!
as the tears begin to sting at the corners of their eyes, they can't help but remember hers. they recall all other members of the crews' helpless, hapless looks so fondly. but hers? they would lie if you asked, but they'd made it quick. painless and swift in a way that none of the others had been. they would never tell you how it'd been a mercy, because sparing her would have meant slow and agonizing starvation, and keeping her would have meant dredging up a kind of affection they could not find themself capable of for any being on that ship, even her.
did they all deserve it, you ask?
no, she didn't.
THE CAPTAIN SCREAMS AT THE TOP OF THEIR LUNGS, to the point where they ache from the strain.
they do not regret what they did. they will never apologize. they will never wish that they could go back and alter the past. but to pretend that there was not even a single cost would be a lie, and you have forced the truth.
@rosetintedgunman asked: Wilford sits down near Captain. "Hey. Got a truth fer ya. An' really, it's 'cause I'm nosy more than anythin' else. Ya were caught in stories an' loops fer so long… Do ya any sorta bucket list of things ya wanna do now that ya can?"
[ truth or dare time! ]
THE CAPTAIN'S SCOWL MAKES IT VERY CLEAR HOW THEY FEEL ABOUT YOUR PRESENCE. you nudge up close to them, and they immediately shift away, posture tightly-wound. shoulders drawn inward, muscles coiled as if to prepare to deliver a blow. their memories of you have not been lost, but much of their sentiment — not just for you, so try not to be offended — has been completely blown to smithereens. ( haha, good one. )
however, your question seems to somehow provoke their interest. perhaps it's the pandering nature of it, the way it plays right into their most pressing desires. maybe it's you grasping at the last remaining string that might tie you together and tugging on it, even if it might snap from the pressure. their lips purse, brow furrowed with both withheld aggression and thought.
"alright, pinky pie. i'll bite." is that a warning, or a concession? they delight in the double entendre. "been trying a lot of food. that's up there. going to places i think look interesting, on my own terms. lots of games to play. lots of tech to try out."
a brief pause, as their eyes return to yours again. "mostly, i've just been keeping to myself. i never really got to be alone, before. there was always somebody watching. even when they wanted me to think there wasn't." they cock their head, looking you up and down. "even you. everybody treated me like i was the headliner at the fucking freakshow. best part is when they tried to pretend it was out of love."
they stand up, their heavy boots kicking up a bit of dirt as they do so. even at their small stature, they manage to appear firm as they tell you, "you're no different. you can lie to yourself all you want, if it makes you feel better. but i'm done dancing for all of you. i don't want your applause. i just want you to leave me alone."
before you have a chance to react, THE CAPTAIN IS GONE. if you take a moment to consider their departure, you realize they didn't so much walk away as they disappeared. might've had something to do with that flash of blue light, but who's to say?
@rosetintedgunman asked: Wilford popped in with a grin. "Hey Hare. Got a dare fer ya. I got a basket here. Fill it with as many things as ya can hold in one go."
[ truth or dare time! ]
hare frowns at the offered basket, seemingly not catching the hidden meaning. the actor neglected all sorts of lessons, you see, not just the one causing the latest outrage. they lower it, peering down at the decently-sized vessel and struggling, briefly, to think of what in the world they might attempt to fill it with.
eventually, the viewer seems to make a decision. you watch as they lower themself onto the ground, sitting down in the grass — and using those small, talkative hands to scoop fistfuls of dirt into the basket until it is full.
they nudge it towards you once the task is complete.
It’s difficult to discern who Peterson is talking to through the door, but his answer rings out loud and clear.
“ They’ve made it clear they’ve got the ship’s best intentions in mind, at all times. Maybe they’re not the most friendly, I guess that’s not really their job? But they’ve never been mean to me. ” Captain Hare wasn’t one for fawning or spoiling. But they’d been grateful when he’d taught them how to dance, and they never were cruel when he pressed them about eating. Other people certainly couldn’t say that.
“ Look, you don’t have to like them. But they deserve some respect. ” His voice carries far less levity than usual. He doesn’t sound thrilled about this conversation at all. Guess we know who isn’t joining the mutiny.
“ If you’re done asking me stupid questions, I do actually need to get back to work. ”
Send ‘ Truth ’ + a question, and my muse must answer it honestly, telling the complete truth.
Send ‘ Dare ’ + a dare, and my muse must do it right now, following through to the letter.
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