Johannes T. Evans

“Come here, brother,” he says softly, almost croons the fucking words. “Come show me that you love me – let’s give the kid a show.”

“Jesus Christ,” Robby mutters, slowly walking forward. He’s completely naked now, and his dick goes from being most of the way soft and hanging down between his thighs to starting to stand up, and Dennis is able to see the twitch of his hand, nervously shifting in front of himself like he’s gonna try and hide it, like he’s embarrassed about it. His face is kind of conflicted, his lips apart, his eyes casting around the room like he’s looking for help from somebody, looking for an escape, and then his eyes flick back to between Jack’s legs.

“C’mere,” Jack says again.

“Jack,” Robby says hoarsely, even as he slowly comes forward, drifting across the carpet, “you don’t, you don’t have to, um—”

“Oh, I don’t have to do anything,” Jack agrees, smirking, and he catches the back of Robby’s thigh with his foot and hooks him closer, and Robby is so surprised by the touch, it looks like, that he actually stumbles and kind of falls onto the bed between Jack’s legs, and Dennis feels the mattress shift with both their weights.

Robby is normally so fucking confident – or not confident, maybe confident is the wrong word, but he’s normally got so much direction, so much fucking forward motion, when they’re fucking.

Right now, he’s kind of aimless and frozen and slow, staring down at Jack like he’s never seen him before, like he can’t believe what’s in front of him, can’t believe that he’s hard for him.

Dennis wonders if that’s it.

“Jack—”

“Don’t be a bitch, Robinavitch,” Jack says flatly, and he arches his eyebrows and it’s kind of challenging – it makes Robby respond in kind, makes him also go stiff and stare down at Jack, and their eyes are both hard and cold and staring into each other’s faces, like when they were shoving each other, earlier, like when they were ready to fight. “The fuck is that thing for if you can’t use it?”

Uber is a fucking shell game of a company designed to leech investor capital and output bootleg cabs.

Nvidia posted a profit in 2023 of $4.37 billion. This is like someone stealing less than a penny from me.

And they lock this kid in a prison hospital for LIFE?

I get it constantly in person, which is why this phenomenon sticks in my craw. Some examples:

Pre-T me in round glasses not able to even go to the grocery store without someone shouting, "Hey, Harry Potter!"

It's 2026 and I am trying to buy some chocolate. The cashier tells me I look like a Ted Lasso character, which I had zero frame of reference for. The interaction turned into her being disappointed I didn't know who this man was and saying "it's a compliment". I later google him and am extremely confused and self-conscious because we look nothing alike, outside of the beard.

It's 2012 and I'm in a Wendy's in downtown Orlando and I get stopped with a "Dr. Who!". She wants to take my photo and doesn't speak English well enough for me to explain I am just Some Guy. I am not in cosplay or even in vintage clothing, just wearing a 3/4 coat over jeans and a dress shirt and somewhat spiky hair. I get man-handled into a photo.

It's 2025 and I actually cosplay as someone I *do* resemble and get mistaken for Indiana Jones (Jr AND Sr) and Inspector Gadget because 80s nostalgia nerdbros can't fathom cosplay outside their own interests. They fling quotes at me and get angry when I politely tell them I am not that character. A man follows me around the convention floor, including up the escalator, arguing for several minutes about who I am supposed to be. I tell him to fuck off, bracing a moment in case he decides to take a swing at me.

I never mind people thinking I am coming from a play or movie when I am in vintage clothes. If the other person is excited, I can just about tolerate "steampunk" and "victorian" comments when I am in 1940s clothing, but will still think they come off as a confident idiot.

What I cannot stand is the expectation of some kind of... performance when someone tells me I look like someone else. It is seldom a neutral comment - they are looking to me to regurgitate a quote or tell them they have good taste or whatever. Half the time, I have no idea who the person I look like even is, and when I say, "who?" the other person gets annoyed at me. It's so frustrating.

i feel like the problem with this question is best illustrated by a conversation i had with a friend a while back, where i said something like, "i feel very safe with you because you don't do subtle hints and you are always very straight-up with me about what you are thinking and feeling."

“He says to land,” Tharkay translated, with improbable brevity; at Laurence’s frowning look he added, “and he calls us a great many impolite names; do you wish them all translated?”