#I will draw this someday mark my words anon

[ultrabananapudding]

Suddenly thought about Clarice being like a cool aunt for Zain. Secretely bringing him things Salim doesn't want his son to have (but nothing too extreme of course!) and all this cool aunt stuff

Aaaa yes !!! Cool Auntie Clarice is my favorite genre, and I think she would hit it off very well with Zain - both with their personalities meshing well and in case of sharing the same hobbies.

In my own headcanon, I think both of them are into collecting antiques & vintage stuff.

Also, Clarice gifting Zain a Nintendo 3DS pretty much solidified her status as the "Cool Auntie".

[ciaossu-imagines]

Admin prompt 12

“Describe yourself how you would describe a character you’re introducing”

I am extremely curious 👀👀

Also I hope no one is bullying you in the asks box! Haven't asked for a bit because I was worried you got overwhelmed.

Att. Saiyuki boys person

Thank you so much for checking on me! You’re so incredibly sweet, my Saiyuki boys anon! (Also, like, bless you and the one other Saiyuki follower I have for helping keep this fandom alive!) I actually only had one more rude message after those first couple I complained about, so I lucked out there. I think, because I addressed them publicly in a separate post, without naming them or publishing their words, they didn’t quite get the attention I’m sure they were after and moved on, which I’m very happy for and I had so many supportive readers, so thank you all once again. And thank you for this really interesting, surprising request, though Goddamn, I admit it’s probably the hardest thing I’ve ever written because when asked to describe myself, I tend to just give basic stats – height, eye and hair colour, visible markings…basically, whatever you’d note down when conducting an autopsy, haha! I have rewritten this countless times and am just saying fuck it, and I’m just going to bore everyone by narrating the last ten to fifteen minutes of my life as if I was writing a scene in a book.

A sudden gust of wind whipped by, blowing her hair all over the place. Oh well, it was messy anyway, hastily whipped up into a bun held in place by a pen when an elastic couldn’t be found quickly enough for her liking. Taking one last draw off her cigarette, eyes taking in the gorgeous blue of the sky as her thoughts wandered, she half-turned and tossed the cigarette into the butt can, dousing it with the bottle of water she kept outside for just that reason. She sighed and allowed herself to bask just a bit longer in the warmth and atmosphere of the day outside as she pulled out her phone and scrolled through the to-do list she’d made for the day yet again. Ticking off the latest completed task, she shook her head and, half-smiling that crooked smile of hers, stood and stretched before heading back inside.

Her feet padded audibly across the floors of her apartment and though she tried to avoid the creaky spot in the floor, she hit it once again, not quite used to her new place enough to have guessed the correct spot. Damn…she hoped she didn’t have neighbours trying to sleep underneath her. Though she was surprisingly light on her feet and quick for both her size and height, she always worried she was making just a bit too much noise when it came to disturbing her neighbours.

Making her way quickly into her  kitchen, with the click of a button she set the coffee going into her favourite mug (chipping now, but she hated to throw it out – who knew when she’d find another Inigo Montoya mug, after all?). Her thoughts seemed to be going a million miles a minute, so many ideas and plots and stories whooshing around without rhyme or reason, and she groaned, lifting a hand to rub at her tired eyes, pushing her glasses up into her mess of dark hair. She should probably clean those while she waited, honestly, and she reached up to pull the thick-rimmed tortoiseshell frames from their perch before giving them an almost thoughtless, habitual wipe with the bottom edge of the baggy, stained, ripped but incredibly comfortable Nirvana hoodie that was always her go-to on writing days.

The coffee shut off and she prepared to add in the usual, swinging herself up on the little pink stool in the kitchen to reach the cupboard where she kept the creamer and sugar. It seemed that no matter where she lived, kitchens just really weren’t built for short people. Even standing on tiptoes, she was just barely able to reach the second shelf of the upper cupboards…God, someday, she swore she’d have enough money to buy a place and have the kitchen custom built for people five feet and under. See how all those tall people struggled then!

Her feet knew just where to go though, after she tossed the spoon in the sink, and with coffee in hand, she headed back to her desk and the computer. A click of the mouse brought the word document back up onto the screen and her brown eyes scanned the sentences already typed onto the page. Small, broad hands, stubby fingered, with nails kept almost brutally short but brightly polished (chipping – she’d have to redo that before work tomorrow) settled onto the keyboard. Please let me find all the words this time, all the sentences to get my thoughts properly to all of them, she prayed before the air was filled with the sound of keystrokes, fast and forceful.

[vinnival]

hi there, I was wondering if I could get a madcom x reader thing? I want the main 3, tricky, and mag agent torture with a short, slightly chubby/thicc s/o, who draws and makes comics, and has s/h scars and stretch marks. And can they be wholesome/flirty themed? Thank you :)

yeas anon......... youre r very true......vvalid.....

so basically: hold gentle

HANK

i think the favorite thing this man likes to do with people shorter than him is just stand right up to them and look down directly into their eyes

this tall piece of shit likes the intimidation factor a lot

Definitely just lurks around you and watches you draw- starts by sitting across the room and watching you as you h7nch over your latest work

It's just his thing, let him do it

Sometimes he'll say random things that catch your attention, mostly random words rasped out that are vaguely related to your drawings

After enough time he just starts sitting by you and leaning harshly on your side, his weight nearly toppling you (from a seated position, as well)

I don't think you'd mind though

Maybe he'll end up laying his head in your lap someday because pillowe.... pilloow...

It's basically agreed by the entire fandom that when this man wants something (be it items, knowledge, or anything like that) he will be very persistent and will do anything to get it

So good luck trying to keep him from just laying on you because you're perfectly cuddle-able

Likes to trace over your s/h scars sometimes, he thinks they're wonderful symbols of how strong you are and how far you've come

Just straight up fuckin . covers ur mouth when you start pointing out how bad your stretch marks look, because let's be honest, stretch marks are wonderful n cute and it's okay to have them (coming from someone who has stretch marks!)

SANFORD

Baby boy just adores you wtf !!! wtf .

He treats you so fuckin wonderfully istg he just wants you 2 he happy w urself and will fully support you with almost anything (almost)

Kisses u a lot everywhere!!! Loves seeing you blush/get flustered because he knows you're happy when you do

Will probably lay in your lap while you draw and just stare at you, just enamored

My beloved !!!

World cold and hard, s/o soft and warm -both of u

I hc only Hank and Dei can purr, but if Sanford could, he definitely would purr SO much around u it's insane

DEIMOS

Would definitely show you off to other people

And brag about how he got so lucky

"my s/o is the coolest and most gorgeous s/o alive sorry guys I'm just right"

Likes dancing with you !!! And definitely loves just holding you whenever he can

He likes how soft you feel rhrgrrgrvr

Will also make little quality of life robots for u... a pencil sharpener gadget that can also function as an eraser, ink pen, AND paintbrush? Made, done, yes

Loves it when you laugh at his jokes it makes him feel SOOSOSO good

Your laugh in general just makes him AUGH (/pos

"You make my sketchbooks smell with your nasty cigarettes" "EY toots I'm trying my best"

Pokes you sometimes

Just likes to poke you

If you're ever cold he'd warm you up no problem !!!! Cuddle time

Likes that you're shorter than hiMSMDJFNFM

TRICKY

*slaps head of tricky* this mf can fit so much RELATE in it

I hc them to be chubby too !! He IS dead so they kinda bloated plus hofnarr being originally pretty chubby (imo) also adds to it

So it's just you two being happy and supporting each other all the time . .... .. omf... .. . . . . ... . ..

Endless compliments (some weirder than others but thats just the clowns way of showing love)

You also return compliments and every time you do he shakes a little more intensely with happiness

Would kill for you

HAS killed for u

No one disrespects clowns s/o

They love hugs so much so so so so much. PHYSICAL AFFECTION YESYES

when you draw it's all over the drawings, spilling out compliment after compliment

which in turn makes you flush bc it's brutally honest everyone knows this so their compliments are extremely genuine

Take this clown to any amusement park, entertainment attraction, anything like that, and they're head over heels x10

JUST SPOIL HIM they'll spoil u back x1000

MAG TORTURE

BIG MAN

hold u SO GENTLE

he loves u so much omf. your shape, your warmth, your personality, sends the giant WILD

purring like a tractor headass (lovingly)

He loves it when you gently pet his head n stuff, it feels nice

cannot keep his eyes off of you he just loves looking at you and can't express his love with words so

He just stares until you notice and look, and he does a little heart with his fingers :)

If anyone were to make fun of u OOPS pancake now

dadeng tor doesn't know anything about the flattened grunt in the right wing, must've been another MAG

Loves it when you bump your head against his, as we all know it's a kiss :)

PROTECTION MODE ALWAYS ON

GUESS who accidentally posted this I'll finish it babe dw dw dw

okay I did it I hope u liked it HSHDSN

[byulsgrease]

duly noted

you've never been one to obsess about your soulmate, assuming you'll figure it out when the time is right. but seriously, what kind of nonsense has yours been writing about recently?

(eventual moonbyul / wheein x gender neutral reader, soulmate!au, trainee/idol!au, ~1.2k words)

a/n: wheein bias wrecker anon! I might've had too much fun with your req and so this is gonna be my first soulmate au 🤠 while byul and wheein don't actually appear in this part (does that make this a prologue? idk), I promise they'll make their appearance soon enough :)

cw: struggles of being a trainee (weight + food talk)

The claps from your dance instructor ring out in the mirrored studio, calling everyone to attention before they send you off for the day. Everyone stands around listening to whatever niceties they're talking about, asking the rhetorical questions of whether all of you want this, how everyone needs to work harder, etc. How many years has it been now, almost three? Evaluations went pretty well recently and you've certainly demonstrated signs of growth since you started, but debut? Who knows. Does anyone, really?

But right now it's late and you're hungry, hoping that your growling stomach isn't loud enough to pierce through the lecture. You're respectfully tuned out anyway, since it's all old news. Nothing you haven't heard before. They clap again once their spiel ends and everyone disperses. Your eyes catch Hyejin's on your way out of the studio, sharing a funny face and an eyeroll before disappearing into the herd of trainees shuffling to the lockers.

Your locker opens with a routine spin of the dial, taking care to slow down and line up the numbers properly so you're not stuck having to do it over again. The inside's pretty cute for a metallic rectangle— it's really the only space of your own besides your notebook. Pictures of your family, old school friends, and fellow trainee friends line the sides beneath a tiny string of battery-powered fairy lights. It's not much, but always a humbling reminder of why you're here.

Unzipping your bag, you take out a pair of slides and drop them on the floor while stepping out of your sneakers. There's not much else in your bag, just a change of clothes and your notebook, of course. Everyone has one. Anything inside could be drawn, written, scribbled, painted. It’s your personal creative space and no one else's, but with two conditions:

You can't write your name in it, not even your initials. Of course everyone tried to as kids against their parents commands, but letters simply sink into the page, disappearing as if they'd never been written at all.

You can only mark up one side. Pages on the right side are for you, and the left side pages fill themselves. Fill themselves with what? you asked your parents. They gave you a non-answer, saying you'd figure it out someday. Great. Only other thing they bothered to tell you was that your right-hand pages were someone's left-hand ones. So someone can see what I put here? Their confirmation sounded rather casual, which you found weird. Someone out there was watching what you put in? But you got used to it, especially since every person owns one. It's a novelty for children anyway. Mark up a page however you want, knowing that someone out in the would will see, and sit back to watch whatever randomness shows up on the left side.

Your left side pages were actually empty for quite a while, save for the occasional "UGGHHH" followed by a typical childish annoyance scrawled messily across the entirety of the page in marker. Not that notebook use was mandatory, but parents usually encouraged it because it kept their kids occupied. There wasn't much you could do about empty pages, nor did you care most of the time, but it did leave you a little jealous of other kids at school who'd sometimes open theirs and be greeted with cute watercolor paintings, mini murals, or skillfully written poetry.

For you, the notebook's served many uses. As a kid it was random doodles and poorly-drawn fantasy scenarios— escapism, perhaps. In middle school it was angsty poems and random journal entries about the random happenings of your life. For the first half of high school it became your to-do list, keeping track of school assignments. And on the rarest occasion, song lyrics. Visual art was never your medium of choice, music came more easily. But drawing staff lines for music notation in the notebook usually ended up being too tedious, so your original stuff was mostly relegated to voice memos on your phone. And now? Who knows. Trainee life may as well be a blur. Sing, dance, talk, eat if you can afford to, sleep, repeat. It's hard to find the energy to write anything most days. Whenever you feel like checking, the left side has random jottings, nearly illegible most of the time.

It wasn't until you got older that you realized that whoever read your entries on the was the same person generating content on the left. And supposedly the person you're supposed to be with for the rest of time? What kind of system is that? I'm just supposed to trust blindly? having asked your parents in exasperation after figuring it out. Again with more non-answers— it had worked for them, didn't it? There's also the obvious question of why people don't just write directly to each other, but whatever. You're still young, no need to obsess over "the one" unlike some of your classmates. If it's meant to be, it'll happen, you figure. And it obviously is, you've got a notebook with (semi-)filled left side pages. What more could you ask for?

The cacophony of clanging lockers opening and closing starts to die down as people leave. Hyejin's head pops out from behind the locker door, laughing in your face when you flinch.

"Ready to go?"

"Yeah, one sec. Man, I'm starving,” you remark while slipping the bag straps on your back and closing the locker door. You don't even want to know how strapped for cash you are, probably in for another night of boiled eggs and canned kimchi.

“Wanna go out for food?” she immediately asks, eyes alight at the prospect of getting to eat something besides convenience store food.

"I wish. Actually, you wish," you smirk with longing in your eyes. The "no" doesn't even have to be said, weigh-ins are way too soon to risk it. She hangs her head, jokingly dejected as you swing an arm around her shoulder to walk out of the company building together.

~~~~

After scrounging up whatever food you call dinner, taking a shower, and flopping into bed, you open up your notebook and grab the random pen laying on your dresser, unsure of what you'll write about tonight. There's chicken scratch on the left page already, ballpoint pen. It's actually legible today, though: In my room every day I see your smile.

What the hell does that mean? Whose smile, yours? You haven't even met yet.

Call me everyday every night, hug me everywhere every time

Utter nonsense. Maybe meeting soulmates is just a huge game of catch-up once everything's finally revealed, surely yours will be. There’s just so many questions. Moving to the right side, you jot down a list of cheat meal ideas along with some assorted notes and pointers from practice that you want to work on tomorrow, drawing little characters next to each list item for fun. After accidentally drawing a random squiggle from jolting yourself awake and feeling the heaviness in your eyelids, you cap your pen and shut your notebook, placing it back in your bag. With the lights out, the last thought you have before sleep consumes you is why haven't you ever tried writing directly to each other after all this time?

[next]

[doitwritenow]

IronStrange Starter Kit - Master Fic Rec List for all Y’all Because You’ve been Asking and I’ve been Avoiding

Hi! All you anons and askers, I made a list!!! Hopefully some of these are what you’ve been after. :D

(Please reblog this, lol, I spent too much time on it...) 

General rules: These are complete unless indicated otherwise, and end happily unless indicated otherwise. There’s a variety of ratings, as I have no qualms against smut, but I don’t usually read it outside of a larger plot. So I don’t think there’ll be many explicit stories on here. Word counts vary; I indicate general length but don’t go into specifics. What else, uh... Bold stuff is the headers and general subjects. I link the titles. Block quotes are author summaries. Enjoy!!

- 

Okay so first off, there are a couple of Fandom Staples who just have leagues worth of good short stories, and if you haven’t read them, then definitely treat yourself to the array:

A Thousand Futures of Me and You - VisionaryGalaxy (Vishanti, what a legend, ily so much). This is a series of unconnected one-shots, each their own and covering a variety of tropes and moments and themes and AUs. They’re so fun (and/or painful and/or thought-provoking and/or tense and/or sexy)! In-character and amazing, consistantly. 

Prompt Collection -  amethyst-noir (Arbonne). (Also a legendary human). This is exactly what it sounds like: a series of prompt fills in all sorts of tones. You’ll almost certainly find something here that feels like it was just made for you!

Alright, onto the individual stories and series!

Long fics/series:

The of overqualified hands and pi figures series - lantia4ever. (This was my first Ironstrange story, and it is no less magical now.)

A series of one-shots, all set in the same alternate verse in which Tony and Stephen first meet following the events of the first Avengers and then continue to meet after that throughout the canon up until Infinity War and eventually beyond it. Becoming friends - and more along the way.

Time After Time - fancylances. (I love love LOVE this one. Highly recommended.) 

Tony Stark is unstuck in time. Stephen Strange might just be the only person in the universe qualified enough to help.

Citizen Erased - Imagined. (This author. Just... such a wonderful, talented, stunning person who makes wonderful, talented, stunning works. This story is masterful.)

What do you do when no one in the world ever manages to remember you?

Anyone who sees Tony Stark promptly forgets he ever existed after mere seconds. When everyone he has ever cared about has lost their memories of him, he goes to Stephen Strange, possibly the only one who can help him lift the curse. But a terrifying danger is coming, and saving the world isn’t an easy job to do when no one can remember who you are.

if only the gods had mercy on us and it’s sequel a soul too deep - orphan_account. (Vishanti, this series...  It’s so beautiful and emotional and heart-breaking and heart-warming. And it has so few views for so many words! One of my absolute favorites, VERY highly recommended.) 

Tony Stark loved Stephen Strange. He loved him more than anyone could ever imagine. But then a terrorist group attacked the convoy. Then there was a car accident. In the middle of it all, there is tired, battered love. (And, maybe, a little bit of genius)

From the Top - lucifersfavoritechild. (Everyone reads this fic. Written by the blogger Monarch Of The Ironstrange Ship, it’s an MCU rewrite around the relationship. Very fun.) 

“Stephen, if you’re . . . there somewhere . . . when I drift off, I’ll be with you again. I can’t wait.”

|| Personally, I think the MCU would be much better as a love story between Stephen Strange and Tony Stark. Don't you?

Starting from Iron Man, and going all the way to Endgame, with all the appropriate stops in between. Let's take it from the top.

UNFINISHED: Skin Deep - Mystical_Magician. (Super cool premise, and super interesting to read! The dynamic here is very fun.)

A battle that should have finally killed Stephen instead launches him into a parallel universe. Exhausted from centuries as Sorcerer Supreme, he chooses instead to explore this new world in any animal form except human. Having hoped for peace at last, he can't stand to be looked up to, to be responsible for others, to have the world on his shoulders.

If he'd hoped to avoid excitement, however, he really should have stayed away when he noticed an enormous explosion and a falling metal suit of armor as he passed through Afghanistan.

UNFINISHED: The End of Infinity - FriendlyNeighborhoodFangirls. (Self rec. Very long, very slow-burn. Canon-compliant Endgame fix-it. I’m trying so hard, lol.)

In 2023, the battle for the universe has been won. At a cost no one can forget, the fight is over—for all but one. Stephen Strange has an idea. An impossible idea spanning dimensions and timelines, life and death, and the lines of good and evil. But he's played impossible odds before—perhaps he never stopped.

All that Loki wanted was to fight, one last time, for the fate of his universe. So when he finds himself fighting for another, crashing into the past, he has a few intended words for the wizard that forced him there. But not before he finds a boy. Or, more accurately, before the boy finds him.

Peter Parker had been waiting for the next mission. He just doesn't expect it to come from the future, armed with a ridiculous story demanding a ridiculous quest. And he doesn't expect not to be able to tell Mr. Stark.

Tony Stark is trying to rebuild from the Civil War, knowing that someday, something will come that he needs to be ready for. And he doesn't know it yet, but two universes are trying to rebuild around him, and that something is already here.

Seven Stones. Five dead. Two universes. And one impossible quest to tie it all back together.

UNFINISHED: Sunrise in Exile - Ragdoll (Keshka). (Another fandom favorite! And for good reason. This is really really good!) 

Tony does the math and realizes their best chance to save the universe is by... not confronting Thanos on his own turf.

So he steals a wizard and a spider and a space ship. And he runs.

(Three humans and an A.I in space, the alien friendships they make along the way, and discovering how science and magic might coexist in a universe where they can be one and the same.)

Shorter plotty ones: 

Out of Suffering - Mystical_Magician. (So this author??? THIS AUTHOR??? Very very good, much yes, very good.) 

Stephen Strange does not like people, but 14,000,605 lifetimes of fighting and dying alongside this small group have worn down his walls. He likes them, gods help him. He might even consider them friends. It’s really for the best that they all go their separate ways once Thanos has been defeated. In their eyes, he’s barely even an acquaintance.

Now if only Tony and Peter would stop surprising him.

moros - spookykingdomstarlight. (Almost got a spot in the angst section. Very good). 

There were fourteen million universes Stephen had birthed into existence and let die and, in far more than he cared to count, the visitor standing before him had become something… dear.

Shaking is Caring - mariadperiad20. (This is just STUNNING. Highly loved.)

5 times Stephen's hands would shake, +1 time they didn't.

It's Kinda Chalky - DestielsDestiny. (This one’s pretty short, but definitely worth it.) 

You can live an entire lifetime by looking into someone’s eyes. His sister used to say that all the time. Stephen never gave it much thought back then. These days, he can think of little else.

Something Magic - Imagined. (Beautiful!)

There is only ever one rule that matters:

do not fall in love with the enemy.

An Idiotic Theory - FriendlyNeighborhoodFangirls. (Self rec! I tried to be funny.)

His wizard has been cursed, again, and Tony's already used up his luck for the day.

(Stephen says it's not a curse. He says Tony's whole daily-allotted karma-based luck theory has minimal merit, citing the fact that Tony had come up with it while he was drunk.)

Tony really should have saved his miracle.

Love Through Time - babywarg (morphaileffect). (I love this one. It sticks with you.) 

Tony discovers an old drawing of, and finally remembers, his invisible friend Stephen from when he was a child.

Alternates - doobler. (Super cool!)

After being punked by a lowbrow magician, Stephen finds himself falling through doors to otherwordly dimensions. How will he ever get home?

132 - 28ghosts. (Soulmate AU! Very fun, incorporates Stephen’s time-loop with Dormammu.)

Ninety-nine point eight percent of humans have a soulmate mark that tells them the age their soulmate will be when they meet them. Tony Stark has a mark. It's just that his is...different than most people's.

(Or: six people who aren't Tony Stark's soulmate, and one who is.)

and when the world falls (I will fall with it) - HeavenChild. (Another multichap soulmate AU. Absolutely lovely.)

Tony will give anything to those he loves.

People will take everything he gives before leaving him in shambles.

Rhodhey, Pepper and Vision have had enough.

Or the five times Tony had his heart broken and the one time he didn't.

i saw the end of the world - JumpToConclusions. (Why has no one read this fic??? It’s so good!!! Stephen knows the future since he saw it on Titan, and things grow more complex from there.)

Tony and Strange are trying to make this work, this being remaking The Avengers. ...And maybe they'll stumble into something else along the way.

Tiresome heart, forever living and dying - Mystical_Magician. (R e a d  t h i s  p l e a s e. The mythology is so cool and the symbolism is so beautiful and the prose is so satisfying. One of my absolute faves.) 

As a fledgling crane, Stephen was too curious for his own good, and it was this curiosity that led to Eugene Strange finding and stealing away his feather robe. Trapped in human form, cruelly forged into the perfect son, not even his father's death freed him when his robe was so well hidden. He only managed to break his father's mold after breaking completely in the aftermath of his accident, and slowly gluing those broken pieces back together at Kamar-Taj, but not even magic could find what had been hidden. Enter Tony, after the defeat of Thanos.

Fluffy ones:

From The Outside - Live. (Hilarious.) 

Being a sentient life-form surrounded by humanity can be hard. Especially when said humans just can't admit their feelings for each other.

Sleeping Iron Man - Golden_Asp. (Another fun one. Perfect balance of ridiculousness with a touch of angst to make it interesting.) 

Stephen Strange stared at the Avengers on his doorstep, Tony Stark flung over Steve Rogers' shoulder like a sack of potatoes. "He touched something, didn't he?" "Yuup." or The one where Tony touches Sleeping Beauty's spindle, is put into an enchanted sleep, and everyone, even Rocket Raccoon, take their turn kissing him. But Tony only has one prince charming.

Doctor Ob(li)vious - lantia4ever. (One of my very favorites. So cute.) 

Stephen starts getting some weird looks from the Avengers, spanning across disturbed, confused and even scared all the way to curious. He dismisses it at first until weird turns into knowing.

And knowing turns into realizing...even if the scheming teenagers had to all but paint it on the walls for him to do so. Oh wait...

Applied Combinatorics in Two-Player Games - 28ghosts. (Short and fun and full of snark.)

After a battle, Tony Stark and Stephen Strange argue about games.

-

“Chess is not a solved problem.”

“Has been since ‘97, Kasparov versus Deep Blue. Kasparov, 1; Deep Blue, 2; three draws.”

“Chess is a game, not a problem.”

The Courtship of Peter Parker's Father (Figures) - flyingonfeatherlesswings. (Peter plays matchmaker! Adorable.)

Peter couldn't stand to sit by while Tony and Stephen danced around each other any longer. Something had to be done.

Speaking Eyes - Vrishchika. (Not Steve Friendly. Tony is amazing in this. And Stephen is so fantastically dramatic.)

Tony has always had expressive eyes.

The Signs of Sleep Deprivation - FriendlyNeighborhoodFangirls. (Another self-rec. <3)

"Tony said to put the potato in the dishwasher, so that's what I did."

Sometimes, Avengers just show up to say hi. Sometimes, they all show up at once, and Tony makes an party out of it. Sometimes, he invites the snarky, oblivious, somewhat insecure wizard because, and Peter quotes: "everyone else is coming".

Sometimes, something needs to be done.

Show Me Your Scars (And I'll Show You Mine) - Imagined. (Adorable. Lovely. Imagined does it again.)

The worst part is that Stephen keeps tucking his hands away, just as Tony wants to hold them. He keeps hiding them, surreptitiously, no matter what they’re doing. It’s only when Tony kisses Stephen, or hugs him, that he feels the hands settle on his back, uncertain, ready to pull back within seconds.

It only makes him want to cuddle up to Stephen even more, but he backs away, not sure if it’d be welcome.

Promise? Promise. - sharonscarters. (AU, kidfic, absolutely adorable.) 

A four year old Tony Stark runs away from home and finds his Guardian Angel.

What The Doctor Ordered - wakandan_wardog. (Post CW. Kind of not Rogues friendly? So fun, makes me smile. I re-read this one a lot.)

The Rogue Avengers are called back to New York because the heavy hitters are going to be needed against Thanos. Of course, there are some truths that Steve Rogers will need to accept sooner rather than later. Tony Stark has moved on and Stephen Strange will not suffer fools lightly.

Hurt/Comforty ones:

Among The Chaos of The Stars (You're My Safe Harbour) - ShootMeDead. (Oh my vishanti. OH MY VISHANTI. So so so so SO good.) 

Stephen has always been able to hear the stars. Tony is the only one who can silence them.

each night like a white noise frequency - Phierie. (I ADORE THIS FIC. OKAY. I LOVE IT. READ IT.)

Stephen is no stranger to making hard choices. He doesn’t regret his actions on Titan, but months later they weigh on his mind heavier than ever; the cracks begin to show.

Just An Accident - CucumbersInGold. (I really like fics with Stephen’s hands and the difficulties thereabout. Idk, just one of my favorite things. This is beautiful). 

Stephen's hands act up.

Learning, Unlearning - Caaaaaaas. (More character study than anything else. Really good.)

Whatever Stephen wanted with life, life just didn’t seem to know what to do with him.

In which Stephen learns and unlearns some very important lessons.

your eyes have their silence - doctortwelfth. (Oh look it’s another scars fic. I told you I liked them.) 

Tony is gentle with Stephen’s hands even when Stephen forgets to be.

Burning Lines Into The Snow - petroltogo. (Not very Steve friendly. Short and sweet.)

Post CW: It's not just the team that's so broken they are barely able to comprehend how many parts they're missing now, how many have been ripped and twisted and torn. It's Tony as well, right down to the core, the damage so far-reaching even he doesn't know how to fix it.

And then there's Strange, who has his own way of covering the cracks.

Old Bones - CJtheWeeb. (Owch. Dumb geniuses trying to be invulnerable.)

Sometimes Stephen Strange has great days, where he was nearly pain free and his hands still enough to where he could pick up a cup of water and barely spill a drop.

Today was not one of those days.

something taken, something new - meowrails. (So in-character. The premise was a little off to me, but I’m so glad I decided to read this one. I really really like this fic.)

The ChronicConnection implement and app allows a person that lives with chronic or illness-induced pain to transfer their burden temporarily to a willing loved one.

Tony and Stephen sign up as beta testers.

Angsty ones (happy ending unless otherwise mentioned):

day one - days4daisy. (THIS IS SO GOOD OKAY IF YOU READ NOTHING ELSE ON THIS LIST READ THIS).

Three days in Stark Tower. Stephen must be in bad shape if he just agreed to this.

His Merlin - babywarg (morphaileffect). (This author keeps showing up on this list because they are A LEGEND. A LEGEND I TELL YOU.) 

As a child, Tony imagined himself a Knight of the Round Table. Little did he know he would grow up to be a king. And that he would have a wizard by his side to lead him to either glory or destruction.

there is no heart for me like yours - turtle_abyss. (Soulmate AU! Wonderful. <3)

Being able to feel your soulmate - a phantom touch, a bone-deep awareness - is a divine torture. To know, but not see. To seek, but not find. To feel someone holding your hand and not be able to hold theirs.

Grace - StrangeMischief. (*cries in beautiful fic* Happy ending!)

“Pain’s an old friend.” 

Us...Me - StrangeMischief. (This will hurt you. So melancholy. Pepper and Tony live their life, and Tony remembers. Not a happy ending.) 

“I don’t believe in happily ever after.” 

One-Thousand Cranes - FriendlyNeighborhoodFangirls. (Self rec, sorry. Hopeful ending.) 

After it all, a man with shaking hands makes a wish.

courtesy - deathofglitter. (Dealing with the fourteen-million futures. So good.) 

Stark looked at him like he looked at the amulet that rested on his chest like a steady promise - dutiful, a bit burdened, and trying to hold a profound lack of personal emotion whatsoever, still personal enough to protect as anyone would a precious object.

La Douleur Exquise - BananasofThorns, StrangeMischief. (More pain. Pepper and Tony, and Stephen watching and trying not to wish. Very good, no happy ending.)

The before was easy. There were fewer boxes in their minds and no chains around their hearts. There was no hurt. No tears. No dreams.

But those days were long gone.

Stigmata - babywarg (morphaileffect). (AU! Soulmates again. Very interesting, beautifully done.)

Since Stephen was little, mysterious wounds have appeared and disappeared on his body, leaving mysterious scars. His mother says it's because he's one of a Pair, and he's absorbing pain meant for someone else.

*wipes brow* PHEW! That gotta a little more in-depth than I first intended... Have fun, my MysticIron friends. Happy quarantine. 

[worldwidemochiguy]

Paris (Soft! Yandere Yoongi)

➵ Yoongi cheers you up after you discover you’ve flunked out of college. Little do you know, it’s due to Yoongi’s interference that you had to leave in the first place…

➵ Warnings: Yandere behaviour, manipulation, deceit, unhealthy mindset, idealisation of unhealthy relationships, implied sex but no actual sex

➵ Word Count: 1.3K

➵ Masterlist for all my other fics <3

➵ a/n: thanks to anon who requested a yoongi fic where the reader is down abt something that she doesn’t know yoongi did, hope you enjoy!! and also happy 27th birthday to one of the 7 lights of my life 🤧 my yoongles boongles, my lil meow meow, my honey boy, i love you dearly even if it isn’t shown in my fic distribution 💀💜 

Once Yoongi hears a third sigh leave your lips, he knows something is wrong.

You had excused the first one as a mere exhale. It carelessly slipped out as your lips parted, you explained, not meeting his gaze. Yoongi had his suspicions, but he kept them to himself until they were aroused a second time. Your shoulders slightly slumped as you told him it was merely a repressed yawn. 

But a third time… a third time means something.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” Yoongi asks, a slight note of worry permeating his voice. You — again — you sigh, and a fourth time has got to mean something, Yoongi frets-

“I just-” you interrupt yourself with yet another sigh and Yoongi can’t help but gather you into his arms gently. Your next words, though they are uttered into the soft fabric of his sweater, are still clearly audible to Yoongi. 

“I flunked out of college.” 

Yoongi stiffens for a moment, before forcing himself to relax again. When he had first approached your college professors, he had just wanted to check on the people who were meant to be teaching you, just to ensure they were all people he didn’t mind you being around. 

But, once he saw how handsome your surprisingly young literature professor was, and how fondly he spoke of you — Oh, Y/n’s the best student in my class… always willing to help other students… so kind… oh, you’re her boyfriend? she never mentioned you… — and before he knew it, he was telling the Dean to expel you or Yoongi would murder his entire family. 

Yoongi was glad you had been spending more of your time with him this week, and he was very glad he had saved you from that pervert of a teacher, but he hadn’t realised you would be this upset about it. Yoongi thought you would receive the news with a shrug and a smile, happy you would have more free time to spend with your beloved boyfriend. 

Yoongi certainly doesn’t regret his decision in any way, but a part of him feels bad that you are now quietly pretending not to cry into his chest while he rubs your back. 

“I just-” You make an aborted sob, “I tried so hard to study well and make you proud, but I’m just too dumb. I don’t deserve you, Yoongi. You should get a smarter girlfriend.” 

“Hey, hey, hey!” Yoongi wrenches your hands away from your tear-streaked cheeks, tilting your chin up so your wet eyes meet his. 

“Don’t ever talk like that about yourself.” Yoongi says sternly, before softening when your lower lip trembles. “Sweetheart… you aren’t dumb…” Yoongi deliberates for a moment over whether he should tell the truth or not. You really aren’t dumb, you had been doing exceedingly well in all your classes, it was only due to him that you had ‘failed’. 

But when you curl up and rest your head on his chest, Yoongi knows he can never reveal that he has broken your trust like that, and risk loosing you entirely. It is much better to have you like this, still innocent and temporarily upset. Yoongi will just have to cheer you up.

“I love you so much. You think bad grades will change that?” He questions, chuckling a little when he feels you give a weak nod. He strokes a hand down your hair, never forgetting to admire how soft it is, how soft you are, how lucky he is that you’re his. 

“Sweetheart, my baby, my perfect girl…” Yoongi coos at you, delighted when the nicknames prompt you to bat his chest weakly, flustered. “Nothing could overcome my love for you. Nothing. I’m never letting you go, sweetheart. We’re in this for life. You think you’ll need a degree when we’re on our honeymoon in the Bahamas?”

“The Bahamas?” You lift up your head to give him a querying look, and Yoongi feels his heart burst at how adorable and rumpled you look, your cheeks still rosy and slightly swollen. 

“It doesn’t have to be the Bahamas. We can go anywhere you want, sweetheart.”

“…Can we go to Paris?” You ask, a smile beginning to show in your voice even if your lips are still stuck in that cute pout.

Yoongi feels relief building in him. He has found a way to cheer you up, to distract you and stop you from asking questions about why you flunked college in the first place. 

“Paris? That’s a very romantic place, sweetheart. Are you trying to hint at something?” He raises his eyebrows at you in a mock-enquiry and your beautiful smile finally appears again, though you immediately hide it in his shirt.

“Maaaaaybe~” You giggle, and his heart skips a beat at the sound. “You were the one who brought up honeymoons in the first place.” 

“I’ve never hidden the fact that I want to marry you. I’d propose tomorrow if I got the right opportunity.” 

“Yoongi!” You scold him, pulling back properly to whack him on the chest. “You can’t just say that!”

“Why not?” Yoongi replies, stubbornly tugging you back into his embrace. “We both know it’s true. You’re mine, and I want it recognised by law.” You make an incomprehensible sound into his chest and he laughs again. “What?”

“You can’t just… say these things, oh my god. Don’t you have any shame?”

“Why would I be ashamed of my feelings for you?” His plain-spoken question makes you blush even more, pressing yourself into his chest so hard you feel like you could become one with it, just sink into his heart and stay there forever. 

“I just meant… you’re not meant to say you’re going to propose before you actually do it. It- it ruins the surprise.” 

“Well, I think that if you love someone enough to marry them, you should let them know you love them that much. I want you to know that I love you so deeply that marriage is an inevitable step we’re going to take. It shouldn’t be a surprise.”

“…”

“Oh no, are you sad again?” Yoongi asks, worried when you pull back with your eyes shining. 

“Oh, Yoongi…” You say, your voice thick, before wrapping your arms around his shoulders and going onto tiptoes to kiss him. 

He meets you halfway, immediately taking control of the kiss as he runs his tongue along the underside of your top lip, requesting entrance. You grant it to him and his arms come around your waist to steady you as your knees go weak, his tongue caressing yours so lovingly, so unquestionably caring that you can do nothing else but experience it.

“I love you.” You tell him breathlessly when the kiss is broken for a second, “I love you so much. I want to be your wife, someday. Soon. I want to be yours.”

“Sweetheart,” Yoongi growls, drawing you back into the kiss with a moan.

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” You keep murmuring as he begins to trail kisses down your neck, sucking marks into your smooth skin. “I love- oh, Yoongi,” You moan as he runs his tongue over a particularly harsh bite. He groans as you pant above him, beginning to shake apart underneath his hands, his lips, his teeth.

“Fuck, sweetheart, keep saying my name like that. You don’t need anyone else other than me, right?” 

“No- oh, Yoongi - no one but you. I love you, I only need you.” 

And in this moment, it is true. You let go of all aspirations, all the dreams you used to hold so dear,  and you become solely orientated on Yoongi, on how he makes you feel, on how encompassing his love seems to be. 

As his hand finds yours and grips it tight — maybe just a little too tight — you forget why you were even sad about college. Your thoughts drift away as Yoongi leads you to the bedroom. I wonder if he’ll propose in Paris, you muse distantly. 

[subbyboymax]

I want to ask you all of them 🙈🙈

So why won’t you ask all of them? Huh anon?

Jk I love you whoever you are. As requested:

1. Zodiac sign 

Taurus. I don’t really pay much attention to zodiac stuff but I’ve heard from friends that I fit the stereotypes somewhat.

2. Sexual orientation 

This is hard because I’m kinda questioning atm, but I would say I like women and identify as NB using male pronouns which I personally feel is accurate to me, but I still am unsure myself what that actually means. I am still figuring myself out.

3. Relationship status 

Single and honestly looking. I’ve had one girlfriend in high school and I’ve had romantic interests since but I have such low self confidence that I end up being too nervous to really pursue a relationship.

4. Someone you miss 

My friend Rebekah. I miss her a lot. She’s like a sister to me.

5. Person who’s arms you’d like to be in 

Hmmmmmmmmm... anyone really...

6. What you find attractive in Men/Women? 

Typically I find personality attractive and looks don’t really matter, but usually someone’s smile and eyes draw my attention the most.

7. How tall are you? 

5’7 or ~170cm but I wish I was more smol.

8. What you love about yourself? 

Already answered

9. What you’re doing tomorrow? 

I’m probably going to exercise and play games with my gaming clan.

10. What are your future plans? 

My goal is to become an electrician, but I also want to go to various Asian countries and try to improve my Asian cooking by studying the food culture all over east asia.

11. Your last night out in detail?

Oh god I don’t even remember the last time I was out at night... I guess it was last year when I had my heart broken and I went to a really nice bar and spent $200 on alcohol and was GONE. Never again. Ended up being hung over for the first time in my life.

12. Your favorite book? 

Hmm... favorite book(s) would have to be the Ranger’s Apprentice series of books. Good story, good characters.

13. All of pets you’ve ever had?

I’ve had so many pets I could make a whole post about them and may do that later.

14. Something that changed your life? 

Unfortunately too many things have happened to change my life more than I would like. I still can’t really answer this question fully.

15. Do you remember your last dream?

I was basically playing a game that turned out to be an isekai and I basically had a SMG and had to fight off a dragon. Shit was weird but very vivid. It’s weird because I don’t particularly like guns or dangerous stuff in general. 

16. What your last text message says? 

“Keep me posted! We should meet up and have a toast to it!” was sent to my friend Renè, who has been my best friend since birth pretty much. Our parents were close while they were pregnant with us and we are practically brothers. He’s getting a house near where I live and we will live in the same state for the first time since we were 8 years old. Obviously we will social distance but we still had to celebrate and see each other to mark the occasion.

17. Do you respect your government and the way your country is run? 

Absolutely not. Please vote biden if you live in the US. Even if you hate the idea of voting for biden, he’s better than trump. If hillary had won, she would have been putting her third justice on the supreme court. Biden is the only chance for our freedom and for the freedom of many people. I am terrified of 4 more years of trump.

18. Where you would like to live? 

South Florida, where I was born.

19. Your  favorite flavor of ice cream?

Depends on my mood, but typically strawberry.

20. Last thing you ate?

Pizza that was left over from last night. 

21. Which swear word do you use the most? 

Fuck. Like I use it so much it’s stupid.

22. Your plans for summer?

Heh... plans...

23. Any upcoming concerts?

Bruh if only. Like I work as an usher and as a stagehand, so if any concerts were happening at all I would JUMP for joy. And I am CHONK so jumping is not exactly the most comfortable thing to do. 

24. Something that you’re proud of?

That I am finally committing to getting therapy for my long list of traumas. 

25. Do you still talk to your first crush?

I wish I could, but she’s not part of my life anymore, sadly. She was a good friend. 

26. What language do you want to learn? 

Japanese, because I really have a strong interest in their history and culture and want to go sightseeing there someday.

27. Where have you lived before?

Ft. Lauderdale, Florida and St. Louis, Missouri.  

28. Eye color?

I think it’s green or something but it changes depending on the light because it’s sometimes more silvery idk.

29. Favorite style of clothing?

Traditional Japanese formal wear. It’s always been an interest of mine. 

30. How long does it take you to get ready in the morning?

All of one minute to throw on an outfit and get socks on. I wish I had an eye for fashion but hopefully if I ever have a partner, they will help me with my style choices a bit lol. 

31. Where did you go today?

Nowhere, because pandemic lmao. 

32. Where are you right now?

In my room wishing I could have cuddles. 

33. How many countries have you visited?

None because money is not exactly a thing we have an abundance of.

34. Something old?

What does this mean? I guess I have my great grandfather’s old stamp collection. 

35. Something new?

Hell if I know, I’ve had nothing new in months.

36. Something inherited?

My laptop.

37. Is death more scary than life? 

Hell no. Death is easy. Life is scary and overwhelming but it’s worth living the life you have. You only lose out on life by dying before your time. You gain nothing in death, despite it being less scary and uncertain than living is. Keep living to experience everything you can and have no regrets once you do pass on.

38. Experience you’ll never forget?

The time my high school crush complimented my hair in physics class. I get very few compliments and I never feel that attractive so I hardly focus on my appearance but I had brushed my hair that day and the fact she commented on it made me smile very wide.

39. What’s your favorite part about today so far?

Honestly today has sucked and I have been dealing with depression but I am trying to stay positive. Hopefully the answer to this question changes later today! 

40. Who is your hero?

My Great-Grandmother. She was part of my life until I was 17 and she taught me that kindness and compassion is the most important trait for a human to have. She was the most amazing woman I have ever met in my life. 

41. Are you happy with where you live?

I love this house, but it’s definitely not perfect and I would love to have my own place someday. 

42. Do you like your handwriting? 

Ew no it looks like alien language. It’s so bad. I can barely read my own writing.

43. What do you wear to bed?

Typically just underwear, or in the winter I will wear a T-shirt and fleecy pants.

44. Tea or coffee?

Tea

45. Chocolate or Vanilla? 

Chocolate hands down. It’s such a varied flavor imo. 

46. Are you excited for anything?

Being okay someday. 

47. How late did you stay up last night and why? 

Midnight because sleep is hard.

48. What’s your ringtone?

I’m boring and keep my phone on vibrate so no ringtone.

49. Did you have a dream last night?

Yes, I said it earlier. 

50. What keeps you going each day?

Honestly no fucking idea lmao.

51. Picture of yourself?

You’ll have to DM me for that one, friendo. Anons get no face pics!

Also for the other people who sent in asks, I saw them, but I figured I could just use this ask to consolidate and not spam posts. Thank all of you for sending in asks, you are the best <3

[my-brothers-corrupted]

My Brothers, Corrupted

Chapter 1 : Section 4 : Pharmacy Break-In

Trick, Dok, and Dapper were let out of the house with money and a modicum of freedom for once. Now well-supplied – except for one vital need – they returned home only to find that, during their day of happiness, Jackie and Marvin have been “reset” by Anti. Their memories gone and their attachment strengthened, the oldest twins struggle to come to terms with themselves, their brothers, and their master, but they’ll have to do it quick – another day, another crisis on the horizon, and Dok is in danger.

Trigger warnings: hypnotism, major abuse, torture, trauma reactions, breaking and entering, and mentions of psychosis.

Find this chapter’s masterlist here.

 Part Four of Chapter One: Pharmacy Break-In

musical-in-theory asked: Mar- *sigh* Blue? Can you hear us?

Blue peers over Red’s shoulder, blinking. His face has begun to go more yellow than white and he holds himself like he’s in pain, sheltered behind Red’s body. “I can hear you,” he says. “Who’s talking?”

“I think they just talk,” mumbles Red.

They give you twin looks of distrust.

Anonymous asked: Trick, Dok, Dapper? You boys might want to hurry on home...

“We should have,” mumbles Doktor, backing slightly towards the door. “We should have, we should have.”

“Dok,” whispers Trick, gripping at his shoulder. “Let’s stay calm, man, let’s stay calm. No close-offs tonight.”

Doktor wrings his hands together, cursing the tears in his eyes. “Red?” he calls, shakily. “Do you know who I am?”

He already knows the answer.

Red stares at him skeptically. “Anti said Doktor,” he answers.

“But don’t you know - ” Doktor chokes on a sob, refusing to let Trick draw him towards the nest. “Don’t you know who I am?”

Red opens his mouth and then closes it again.

“Sorry,” he manages finally.

Doktor screams, slamming his fist against the door. Trick begs him to be quiet, grabbing his shoulder and pulling him close. “It’s going to be okay, it’s going to be okay, don’t bother Anti, please don’t bother Anti, we’re okay, we’re okay…”

Anonymous asked: Is blue gonna be okay? Poor boy doesn't look like he's feeling too good

Blue’s swaying slightly in place, pressed against Red’s shoulder. “You know,” he mumbles, swallowing back nausea. “I think I want to sit down.”

Red turns to hold him.

“Your bed is over there,” mumbles Trick, avoiding their eyes. “You should probably… take it easy.”

He half expects Red to snap at him for suggesting anything at all to him, but Red seems to have lost his interest in him along with his memory. Trick doesn’t know why this puts a hard lump in his throat. It’s better if Red ignores him. It’s better if Red doesn’t remember him. Isn’t it?

That’s my brother, says some part of his mind, with grief. That was my brother.

And Trick, turning away, tells that part of his brain to shut the fuck up.

Anonymous asked: Hoodie? How're you feeling?

Red leads Blue around the island to their sleeping bags - there are two of them now, not that Red sees the difference - and they crash to the ground side by side, sitting with their hands close together on the floor, trying to process.

“I feel pretty sick,” he mumbles, staring down at his hands. “My head really, really hurts. And my wrists…”

You see that they are rubbed raw. He must have been chained up. “I don’t remember… anything,” he whispers. “Just Anti… and Blue. And - and - and nothing, just… fragments… dreams… I don’t know how this could have happened… I think we need to go to the hospital…”

He touches his head, groaning.

Anonymous asked: Red, your heads unwrapped. Did your injury reopen? Where does the dye end and the blood begin?

“Oh, fuck, his head’s open?” Trick stares over at the island. “Dok, you gotta go check on him.”

Doktor is biting back bitter tears, hidden against Trick’s shoulder, clinging to his jacket. “I don’t want to see him like this,” he sobs. “I don’t want him to have forgotten me.”

“Fuck, buddy, he just - he just - he won’t be so different, okay? Anti must have just - Anti must have had his reasons.”

“What if he didn’t, though?” sobs Deutsch. “What if he didn’t, what if he just did that to him? What if he just does that to us, someday? What if we all forget each other? What if we already have forgotten, forgotten important things, forgotten who we were?”

“Dok,” snarls Trick. He grabs his shoulders tightly, fear lacing his trembling voice. “Don’t you say shit like that. Don’t you dare say shit like that. You’re going to get yourself killed.”

Doktor whimpers, tears cascading down his cheeks. “I don’t - I don’t want to be - I don’t want to be mindless - I don’t want to forget - ”

“Enough,” Trick demands, shaking him. He knows he’s being harsh and it doesn’t fucking matter. What matters is getting him to stop fucking talking. Because if he doesn’t, they’re going to get beat to shit. And Trick isn’t watching him go through that again. Not a chance in hell. He’s seen Doktor dying too many times in his life. He’s seen Doktor weak and suffering too many times. And he’s learned his lesson - you shut the fuck up, you shut your twin up, and you don’t get hurt.

No matter what else you have to sacrifice.

“Enough, no more. Stop crying. Now, Dok. Go, go over there and look at Red and Blue.”

“Trickshot - ”

“Don’t argue with me. What’s the rule? When one of us is upset, the other one…”

“Does what he’s told,” chokes Dok, trying to swallow back tears.

“Right. Right.” Trick wipes at his nose and sniffs, trying to stay calm himself. “Good man. Go on, then. Go patch them up before Anti gets mad. Now, Dok.”

Anonymous asked:

Blue... Are you bleeding? Two other anons had similar questions added.

They’re injured.

They’re bleeding.

Doktor sees it as soon as he rounds the corner, finding the two of them sitting on either side of the island, but no longer looking at each other like they did the day before - looking now with a strange sort of intensity, a confused tension hovering in the air between them. He sees, vividly, an early memory of him and Trick - sitting across from each other in a jail cell, trying not to stare at each other, wondering, Who the hell are you and why do I feel like I love you so much?

Anti never resets without leaving something behind. And sometimes, when your brain is blank and you’re exhausted, he leaves behind things that weren’t there before.

Doktor doesn’t remember much of the person he used to be.

But he knows that that person is different from who he is now.

He’s fairly sure that person was… kinder than who he is now.

Pain burns in his chest. He swallows it back like a pill. Take twice a day without food. Without water. Just take it. You don’t have any other choice. Swallow the pill or choke on it.

“You look like you need a doctor,” he manages, trying not to look as miserable as he feels.

Red turns to look at him, paranoia written all over his angry face. Always so angry. The memory of pain can be washed away, but it still leaves its scar behind, and Red has always met blood with fury. The reset is like pulling pushpins out of a bulletin boards. The markers are all gone now, but the marks remain.

“Are you one?” Red asks, a little sharply.

Doktor sighs. He’s about to reach the end of his rope. “Asshole, did you miss the part where Anti told you my goddamn name?”

“Fine, fuck!” snaps Red, unloosening a little. “Pretty sarcastic for someone who’s supposed to do what I say.”

“Tell me to shut the fuck up,” says Doktor coolly. “And I will.”

Red lapses into silence.

Doktor begins by examining him, running his hands carefully through his hair while Red squirms uncomfortably. “Why was it dyed today?” he asks.

Dok tries to be sensitive of just how agonizingly lost he must feel. “I don’t know,” he says softly.

“It just doesn’t make sense. I hit my head and decide to dye my hair?”

He doesn’t like it when Anti lies, so he doesn’t say anything at all.

He wraps Red’s head back up carefully, washing clean the little stripe of dye above his fracture, which must be stinging awfully. He hopes he isn’t punished for washing it out.

Blue scoots steadily closer to them the whole time he is working.

“Anywhere else you have pain?” asks Dok softly, drawing away from Red.

“My head hurts,” he admits. The admission itself may as well be a cry of agony from Red.

“I’ll give you both something for that,” says Dok.

He’s just going to knock them the fuck out with some sleeping stuff. They don’t deserve to live through a night of exhausted confusion.

“How you are feeling, Blue?” he asks, turning to the other twin.

Not well.

Blue has gone very, very pale, the area around his eyes mostly yellow. He breathes a little too fast, reacts a little too slowly. His cuts are open. His cuts are weeping, weeping, weeping.

“Can I please have something for the pain?” he whispers, sinking down against the cupboards.

Red reaches out to grab him as he collapses, startled by the ferocity of protectiveness that rises inside him like magma. He barely remembers who this person is, but he must have fucking adored him. Oh, the poor cuts covering his aching body, the poor blood and bruises…

He gives up on trying to look tough and buries his face against Blue’s chest, sobbing.

Doktor cleans them up in silence. Restitches cuts from being tortured. Splints the aching bones from being thrown down the stairs. Washes everything clean.

They don’t even remember how they were injured.

But Doktor does.

Doktor remembers.

Doktor is angry.

He watches them swallow their pills.

He decides to take one himself, too, and returns to his nest, to his little corner of his safety, to his little brother, the only thing that ever seems to stay the same.

“Are you okay?” asks Trick, without words.

And Doktor, turning away, does not answer.

spicydanhowell asked: dok he's not gonna do it again. all five of you are here now, no more changes, he just wanted red to have a clean slate with his twin so theyd be close like you and trick. i promise he'll remember you, please go take care of him

“Thanks,” mumbles Doktor, flat-voiced, staring straight ahead out the window. Trick’s hand rubs the low of his back, a warm, reassuring weight on his spine. “I hope you’re right.”

Anonymous asked: blue... are you okay? is red ok?

Blue and Red lie beside each other in the darkness.

“Are you?” murmurs Red. “Okay?”

“Are we?” asks Blue, his voice faint.

Red stares at him like he can’t take his eyes away.

He doesn’t know what’s happening to him. He doesn’t know what’s going on. He doesn’t remember who he is or who this person is - all he knows is that he loves him, and he loves Anti, and they’re together.

So that… that will have to be enough right now. He’s too tired for anything else.

“I’m okay if you’re okay,” he whispers.

Blue stares back at him. His eyes are oceans.

“Then I’m okay,” he says.

And tonight, when he reaches out, just gentle, and grips Red’s hand -

Red squeezes his hand back, and smiles very softly at him.

At his twin. At his brother. At his friend. At his Blue.

“Get some sleep,” he whispers.

Blue is already there.

Anonymous asked: Anti, I don’t think erasing Red’s memory was such a smart plan. Why take that kind of risk?

“What risk?” yawns Anti, pulling Dapper’s coat off him and pushing him towards the bed. “Here’s the wonderful thing about my brand of hypnotism, darling - it sticks. I’m very careful with my power. Very careful with my resets. Wash this away, leave this behind, take that out, put this in… The surface is gone, but the substance remains. He’s still my Red.”

He pauses beside the bed, staring out the window for a second.

“And I’ll have to be careful,” he murmurs, anger making his mouth curl. “That there is nothing left of your Marvin.”

Anonymous asked: You’re actually wrong. No matter how many ‘resets’ you do, their love for one another still seems to hold strong.

“Only when I want it to,” answers Anti. He is shaking slightly and he hides his trembling hands from you. “Or haven’t you noticed that there is no love at all left between anyone but my twins? Trickshot and Red hate Dapper, Dapper wants no one but me, Red slaps Doktor and Trick around more than I do, Blue will learn to do the same soon enough - no, all’s well. All’s well. I’m in control. I’m the one in control now. I’m the one who makes the characters. They’re mine, they’re mine.”

He hisses and turns away from you, his face glitching.

Anonymous asked: That’s it Anti I think I have enough spite in me to astral project through the screen and at least get one good hit on you. I’m not strong but MAN AM I MAD

Anti laughs, shaking slightly as he crawls into bed beside Dapper. “That’s how I know it was a good day’s work!

“Not strong but mad,” he giggles. “You’re like this kid here, huh?”

He pinches Dapper’s cheek hard. Dapper flinches but doesn’t respond, staring dully up at the ceiling. Anti kisses his cheek. Anti kisses his throat. Anti bites his ear. Dapper whimpers and covers his face with his hands. Anti bursts into laughter, drawing him to his chest. “Give me a kiss!” he laughs. “Give me a kiss, come on.”

Dapper turns on his side and kisses his brother’s cheek without emotion on his face. It stings his mouth.

“Good boy,” purrs Anti, wrapping his arms around him. His face is sallow with exhaustion, he leans his head down heavily on Dapper’s shoulder. Safe on Dapper’s shoulder. Nothing can hurt me, nothing can hurt me, nothing can hurt me.

“You are okay?” asks Dapper, with a slight flicker of concern. “Anti?”

But Anti is already unconscious.

Most of Dapper’s discomfort washes away. He whimpers and snuggles closer to his brother, hugging him in return, rubbing his back, even if it does hurt to touch him. He presses the reassuring weight of his clock against Anti’s chest, readjusting his brother on the pillows, and curls against his body, letting out a deep sigh.

It was a good day. But it’s time to put it behind him and go back to the way he always lives. There’s no point in anything but duty, after all. There’s no point in the past or the future. All he knows is that he is on the night watch now, and nothing - nothing, nothing - will harm his brother as he sleeps.

cest-mellow asked: hey dapper? are you feeling alright up there?

Dapper stares at you, wrapped up in Anti’s arms. He looks exhausted, but he’s a patient kid.

“Doing okay,” he signs slowly, refusing to disturb his brother. “Should stop expecting anything. Should have known he only let me go so he could reset M… Blue.”

Anonymous asked: Dapper, do you know exactly what Anti may have done to Red and Blue? What they went through, I mean?

“Happens often,” says Dapper, his eyes darkening wearily. “Reset. Some things go, some things stay. First day is worst.”

He stares down at Anti for a moment, ensuring that he is asleep, and then up at you.

“Don’t tell Anti,” whispers his hands. “But sometimes, in the days that follow the reset… some things can be recovered, before they are lost forever.”

cest-mellow asked: do you know how we would recover them? just.. hypothetically?

Dapper stares at the floor.

“No,” he says. “Someone tried, once… but it wasn’t enough to save me.”

Anonymous asked: that’s good news!! but how can we get those memories back without anti knowing?

“I think it’s more about the substance of a man,” says Dapper vaguely. He’s untangling himself from Anti a little, setting his brother gently back against the pillows, stroking his fingers through his short green hair. “I wouldn’t know. I can never even find myself, these days. As far as ‘day’ has any meaning. As far as anything has any meaning.”

Anonymous asked: Regardless of memory or time or blood or how it all comes together or crashes down around you... It all has meaning, Jameson. YOU have meaning. I promise you that.

Carver starts and looks up at you, mouth slightly open. He tries to find a response, but his hands are empty and his chest is full.

Until anger comes crashing down on him.

“You’re wrong,” he signs bitterly, drawing his knees to his chest. “I give meaning to other people, but me? No. No. Just… a clock, wound up and changed to fit the time someone else asks for.

“Crashes down around me, crashes down around me… the world crashed down on me a long time ago, or maybe it was only yesterday, and I am the last working piece of the rubble.”

He scratches dully at his wounded head, rocking himself gently, gently.

“And barely working, at that.”

Anonymous asked: Maybe this is convoluted and unfair to ask of you considering that you're the one that CAN answer but... between resetting someone's mind and resetting a time frame, which strikes you as worse?

Dapper pales in the evening light, his hands stammering slightly as he tries to find the right words to answer you. “Well - well - no harm to a time reset,” he cries, distraught. “Is there? I didn’t do anything bad, did I? No harm, no harm - I can know what comes but - I wouldn’t take your autonomy. It’s just - a day! Just an hour! Just…”

He sits back against the headboard, chewing on the nail of his thumb, distressed.

“Then again, there are nice parts to resetting your head… to make the pain fade away into the background…”

He breathes out deep.

“To free the person you were from the sin of the man you’ve become… To be Carver, not… J… to forget what used to make you happy, so you can stop hoping for it, and live misery more peacefully…”

Dapper stares out the window. The northern lights are breathing through the sky, and he quiets, watching them, forgetting what he was talking about.

“And then Anti loves you better,” he adds softly, his hand on his brother’s head. “So… what else matters?”

florenceisfalling asked: is anti still asleep? dapper, do you think you could help... salvage?

Dapper grins a little strangely and points at the rope still lying on the floor, a snake sleeping but not dead. He is unlikely to venture downstairs without permission. He winces slightly and closes his eyes, rubbing at his throat.

cest-mellow asked: is it real love though, jamie? why would someone hurt you if they love you, even if you did something bad, or if you simply didn’t do a thing. why would somebody who loves you hurt you the way anti does? i’m not trying to make you upset. maybe this is something someone else needs to hear, downstairs. but i think you need to hear it too.

“What would you have me do?” asks Dapper distantly. “Even if I left Anti, could I flee my own violence? There’s nothing left for me without him.”

A sudden energy rises in him, powerful enough that you hear him choke, once, twice, as he rides it through, and then he sits up, and his eyes are not silver but blue, blue, blue.

“Do you see that who I was is destroyed and who I am is Anti’s, and if I am not Anti’s then I am no one’s and nothing, and would swiftly kill myself in his absence, as he has always told me I should do if he were to die? Do you understand that I cannot without justification bear the weight of the things I have done? Is it real love? Broken things can love truly! But not well, not well, badly, even - yet a second broken thing expects nothing better than a shattered handful of affection to keep him alive every other night. Where would you have me go? What would you have me do? I can’t pull myself out of these chains. I can’t remember except on the nights when I can and I can’t bring the people I’ve forgotten to remember along with me. Do you understand that only my family could save me, and my family is fucking dead and gone?”

He slumps down beside Anti, covering his face with his hands.

“No, you don’t understand… neither do I… I don’t understand anything anymore… please, tonight is not a confused night, though I wish it were not, as these are the most painful nights to survive, because I am more aware than ever of just how much goddamn pain I’m in - and just how truly I can never, ever be free of it. Just how truly I can never, ever, be Jameson Jackson again.”

There is a long pause. He breathes harshly in the darkness, hiding beside his brother’s body.

Until, finally:

“Anti is someone I could run from,” he admits, very softly.

“But Carver?”

He breathes. The sky breathes. Time breathes in and through and with him. And none of it, none of it, none of it - none of it means anything to him anymore.

“Carver I will never be free of.”

He wishes Anti had reset his memory again. Perhaps the fifth time would work better than the first four.

“Carver I will never, ever, ever be free of.”

Anonymous asked: You have meaning. You're more than a clock. You CREATE, J. You make ART. Those are your thoughts and feelings brought to life. And even if your artwork never makes it it of that room, it's still there and it's yours. You don't need to make them and yet you do. That's a choice and you make it for yourself and that means everything.

Dapper bites down hard at his lip, teary-eyed, a protest rising and dying on his hands, and then something different registers with him, and he blinks, and sits up straight, his eyes widening -

“I,” he stammers, his face losing all color.

He clutches at his heart, trying to breathe, tears sliding down his cheeks.

“I forgot to grab my art things… I forgot to grab my chalk and paper.”

cest-mellow asked: can i ask you.. was carver someone in you before anti made you dapper? or did he only become someone after all this?

Dapper gives a soft, breathy moan, clutching at his heart. “Don’t remember… just remember… knife, blood, crying, asleep. Stolen, killed. Red.”

Anonymous asked: I imagine you don't mean red the color. Y'know. All things considered.

Dapper stares at the floor. “The color was the only thing it meant, back then… we never - ”

A hand jolts up to grab him by the throat.

Carver slams his skull back against the headboard, giving a desperate gasping scream. His hands fly up to scrabble at the fingers around his neck, but Anti is holding him tight, glaring up at him, bored and irritated, from the mattress of their bed.

“Anti,” Carver begs, writhing. “Sorry, sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up - didn’t mean to be loud, move too much - didn’t - please, please, please - ”

Picking at the nails of his free hand, Anti gives no answer but a low, impatient sigh, waiting til Carver’s spasms are reduced to desperate gasping, and then to a slight tremble, and then, at last, an unconscious body in his hand, sinking down into the mattress, its owner’s mouth slightly blue…

Anti drops Carver onto the bed, shoving him onto his back. With all the air of an artist re-arranging a sketch figure, he pushes Carver into a position that’s comfortable for him and lies back down on the boy’s warm chest, wrapping his arms around his waist and falling back into a deep, cozy, and undisturbed sleep.

nikkilbook asked: Red’s wrists are raw? But... didn’t he have a dog bite wound there? And... what do Blue’s wrists look like?

Red stares sleepily up at you, morning light casting gold over his red and brown hair. He reaches up stiffly to stare at his wrist, licking his dry mouth.

“Dog bite, is that what that is?” he mumbles, looking at the bandages. He turns to Blue and picks up his hands as he sleeps, examining the splint on his brother’s wrist. “His is broken… and both of us have these… chain burns…”

He shakes his head, confused. “I don’t remember how we got them…”

Anonymous asked: Why do you feel the need to constantly remind yourself that they’re all ‘yours?’ Dont you understand that the hatred they feel is only making them more miserable? Your so called ‘characters’ are feeling nothing but pain, and misery. Characters are meant to grow and learn and be satisfied in the end. Any good ‘creator/writer’ should know that, but I guess you really aren’t one after all

Anti filters dully through messages, dozing against Dapper’s arm, but at this he jerks up, venomous, glaring at the camera.

“Shut the hell up,” he snarls, dragging Dapper closer to him. “You think I care about any of them? You think I care about anyone? I don’t need anyone. I don’t need anything! Shut the hell up! Maybe they could find some satisfaction if they would goddamn do what they’re told! Useless little things, useless, useless, useless…”

He snarls and shakes, sinking suddenly back down towards the bed, a low gasp falling from his mouth. His skin is translucent and his hand grips Dapper’s shirt tightly.

Dapper whines in his sleep and turns over, cuddling up closer to Anti’s chest. Anti softens, humming, playing with his hair. “Mostly, anyway…”

cest-mellow asked: anti, do you actually love your brothers? part of me feels like you do but the other part... i don’t know.

Anti looks up, eyes narrowed.

Eventually he turns back to Dapper.

“What does it matter?” he says finally, without emotion.

“No one knows what I am,” he adds a moment later. “No one… no one knows what I am. Do natureless things have a telos? Can an endless thing have a need for love? Is there love without a telos?”

He sighs and puts his head back down on his pillow, looking sick and human.

“I need to stop downloading philosophy right before bed.”

Anonymous asked: Functionality, uselessness, so many different standards... that is one frankly unhealthy fixation of yours, and it makes me wonder if you’re projecting just a little of your own fear onto them. Because being useless is being weak, right? And you can’t have that from yourself. Anybody else but you.

Anti jumps out of bed, heading for the camera, but before he gets there you see him stagger back, falling against the mattress again. “Everyone is weak compared to me!” he shrieks.

Dapper groans, panting through a nightmare on the bed, his hands covering his ears.

“Everyone is weak and stupid and fleshy and pointless! Shut the fuck up! A fixation, what am I supposed to do, don’t you know I was born full of hatred, it’s his fault, it’s his fault! And he was weak and he was useless and he’s gone now, he’s gone!”

He drags himself back to his feet and throws the camera across the room, hard. Your screen cracks down the middle, giving you a shaky, glitching image as it tumbles to the ground to lay on its back.

“Projecting… I’ll show them motherfucking fear… I don’t have to be afraid of anything.”

skyewardlight asked: Ooooo looks like we hit a soft spot huh? :3c

“Shut your goddamn mouth.”

immabethehero asked: Anti, how are you not questioning the talking cameras?

“They’re not fucking talking, they’re just goddamn messages. And they do whatever I want them to, they’re my cameras. Everything with electricity for lifeblood is me, is mine. Talking cameras…”

Anonymous asked: fuck... anti... i respect you. pleeease don't hurt the boys because one of us said something cruel to you. we know you're very powerful. we don't doubt you. i'm sorry.

Anti’s rage simmers a little lower and he shrugs, shaking his head slowly. “Doesn’t matter,” he mumbles, a little thickly, rubbing at his face. “Nothing you can do to me. As if it matters… doesn’t matter…”

He sighs, stretching out his arms and tired, aching neck, looking calmer.

Anonymous asked: You know what would give everyone in this house some life blood? A space heater, Anti. Everyone's cold.

“Space heater,” he repeats. “No, we won’t be in this part of the world long enough to need that. Besides, have they really done anything to earn a space heater?”

spicydanhowell asked: yknow what i think though... and let me phrase this delicately because carver was so well behaved all day but... he and dok and even trick... they all still love each other, or at least care for each other

“Wrong, wrong, wrong,” hisses Anti. “Can’t be, can’t be, can’t be. Only on my orders. Stupid little brats. What reason would they have to still care about each other? I reset them and pitted them against each other like dogs in a ring. No, no, don’t be silly, pet.”

He staggers back to his bed, waving a hand, trying to get the camera to turn off.

“That’s enough out of you,” he growls, sinking back onto his blankets, his arms trembling as they lower his weight down again. “I brought you here for one reason and this is not it. I’m the one in control… I’m the one in control…”

The camera blinks off.

cest-mellow asked: hey red, you feeling any better? do you remember anything? even little things like smells, sounds, the way something felt or looked like. anything at all?

Red sits back, smiling slightly at the question as something warm flickers through his mind, a memory so distant it can barely be seen.

“I don’t know,” he sighs.

He looks around. Golden light drifts over his body. He soaks in it, staring out at the forest.

“I think there was… a house,” he says softly. “And it was… warm.”

He looks down at his hands, considering.

“But this isn’t that house.”

nikkilbook asked: How’s my boy doing? He’s gotta be overwhelmed. On like. Every metric.

Red stares at you, his mouth beginning to tremble.

“Oh, fuck,” he gasps, and breaks into sobs, gripping the soft fabric of his hoodie in his hands. “Oh, fuck. I can’t do this. I can’t handle - ”

His twin stirs beside him, rubbing at his eyes. A brief moment of utmost confusion covers his face, but after a moment, it changes to only “mostly confused” and he reaches out to touch Red’s sleeve, avoiding skin, mumbling his name.

“What’s going on?” he asks, soft.

“Don’t remember anything,” chokes Red, rocking himself gently back and forth. “Don’t feel good, hurt, hurt.”

His brother sits up, murmuring reassurances. He’s there to put a warm, steady pressure on his arm. No matter what happens, at least he gets to be there beside his friend, and make sure he’s okay, or, if not okay, still with him, at least.

Still with him, no matter who he is.

Anonymous asked: anti how exactly did it go reseting marvin? i guess red probably took it okay, but, like, what did you actually do to them to make them forget? how did you manage to get marvin to cooperate?

It’s evening and Anti’s only now bothering to rise from bed. His face is still starkly white, though he occasionally glitches back to green, rubbing wearily, angrily, at his face. Dapper’s not currently in the room, but shuffling nearby assures Anti that his pet has not gone too far. In fact, you can hear a sort of clapping coming from the hall.

“It went well enough,” murmurs Anti, satisfaction ghosting over his face. “Yes, you have to be rough to get them to cooperate. I came to grab him while he was sleeping, but then even Red got so upset - went into one of his little fucking freak-outs and wouldn’t come down into the basement with me. So I had to tie him up too. And then it’s just - power like an ocean, and the sound of them crying as they feel themselves drift away.

Like sand from the beach.”

He pauses, rubbing his thumb against his fingers.

“I love when they’re so dopey and confused,” he hums. “Love, love, love them looking up at me like that, waiting for me to tell me who they are… just like Jack must have felt, don’t you think? Just empty slates, waiting to be formed. I love that… but I almost hope there’s a little of the cat left… I want to see him…”

Anti pauses and takes a deep breath, closing his eyes.

“I want to see him humiliated by what I’ve turned him into.”

Anonymous asked: (Answer whenever)Why can’t you see that weakness doesn’t make you useless and uselessness doesn’t make you weak. You’re blinded by your constant crave for control, and anger that you don’t see that you yourself are being puppeted around by your own emotions. You can’t make a family forget their love for one another no matter how hard you try, and it pains you. Denial will not get you anywhere. It may be his fault that you’re like this but that doesn’t mean you should enable it for the worse.

Anti is up on his feet, searching through the drawers of the bedside table. Your words draw a low, dangerous hiss out of him, and he turns to you with mismatched eyes, lips drawn back.

“You’re a fool if you think I’m not in control of everything here,” he growls, turning back to the drawer. “I know everything they do, everything they think, everything - goddammit!”

He holds up a little orange prescription bottle. Four tiny white pills rattle around the bottom.

“Okay, you know what,” he says, as horns curl out of the back of his head and the scraping of dog’s claws echo through the air around you, accompanied by the soft snarling of something that you have never heard before. “Maybe there is one thing I can’t control.”

He sets the pill bottle in his hoodie pockets, his face cold as he turns to the light.

“Chase Brody’s unbelievable stupidity.”

He looks back towards his door.

“Red!” he calls. “Go tell Doktor and Trick to wait for me in the basement!”

Anonymous asked: The question is, why exactly did Anti allow us to observe and communicate in the first place? We may taunt him and try to get through to the egos but we're not really a threat while he maintains control.

“You want to know why I allow you to use my cameras? To watch, to see, to speak?”

Anti picks the camera up and holds it in his hands as he stalks out into the hall and back towards his room. Downstairs, you can hear frantic argument. Dapper scoots back against the wall of the hallway as you pass him, clutching something to his chest.

“It’s because I think it’s funny.”

He opens his closet door and pulls out a small wooden box, opening it to reveal a set of gorgeous silver knives, tipped with a different color each. Gently, he pulls out the orange-tipped one, gripping it warmly in his hands, holding it up to the twilight.

“I think it’s funny that you’re still here even after he is gone. I think it’s funny that you sit here and watch as I fucking torture them. I think it’s funny that you lost and you’re still here trying to win, I think it’s funny that my boys find any comfort at all in the things you say, and I think it’s the most ridiculously hilarious thing I’ve ever fucking heard that you still think you can save them.”

The cool blade of the knife glimmers and the light dances at his behest.

“You can watch all you want. Because I hated Jack, yes.” He turns to you.

His teeth are gritted. His eyes are black. The strength of the anger radiating off of him is powerful enough that you can feel it like a physical force, taste it in your mouth, sense it on the ends of your fingers, like when you hear the rattling of a snake but cannot see it yet.

Not yet.

“But some days,” he whispers, teeth bared. “I hated you more.”

There are birds crying in the trees. There are birds fleeing from the trees. The sky is rapid darkening.

“This is my victory. Drown in it.”

And he turns to head downstairs.

skyewardlight asked: Looks like someone's overcompensating about his control. You constantly mentioning that you're in control doesn't convince us Anti. You sound like a child constantly stating they're an adult and throwing a tantrum when someone else says that they aren't. Heh.

“I’m about to show you control,” he says.

The sound of his boots coming down the stairs silences the whole house. Red and Blue cower as he passes, hiding behind their island, not yet sure what’s going to happen, though memories both dull and sharp are rising harshly in their heads, memories of blood and agony.

“Overcompensating… he belongs to me. He’d be nothing without me. And he’s still foolish enough to fail to look after my little one, well.”

He flips the knife around and around in his hand.

“He won’t forget my puppy’s medicine again.”

Anonymous asked: Will hurting him make you feel better? Will hurting him make him love you more? It won’t. He is human, he forgets. You should not punish him for being the way they he is. Brothers are supposed to love one another. Not make the other feel miserable, and helpless. Why can’t you understand that it’s okay not to be in control?

Anti pauses on the stairs towards the basement, panting harshly.

“He shouldn’t forget,” he snarls, scraping his knife against the wall. “He shouldn’t, he shouldn’t, he should know better, I taught him better! He’s not human, he’s less than that, he’s just - ”

Anti screams and gnashes his teeth, throwing his head. “He’s just a piece of him! And I’ll fucking show him what happens when he doesn’t do what he’s supposed to! He belongs to me, to me, to me! No one else, no one else, no one else!”

Anonymous asked: anti, please, you didn't even tell him to get it. carver didn't even mention it. trick didn't do anything wrong

“Red said it, that Dapper was near to out. He should listen better to his big brother. He never does. Always the littler dog snapping back when he should just roll over. Doktor and I are the only ones he listens to, and sometimes not even then. Besides, he should know what the little one needs. What, he expects Dapper to remember? No. Trick has to change.”

Anonymous asked: Aaaaghhh there was a pharmacy! It was right in front of them and we didn't realize, nooooo! I thought they got everything at the store why!! I feel so deceived!

It was a very small detail!! Red only mentioned it off-handedly and the pharmacy was thrown in among a lot of other details. I think you guys still did a good job checking. Anti’s standards, as you can see, are near impossible to meet.

cest-mellow asked: anti, anti, take a second. everything is okay, red or you can just go out and grab the medicine, right? trick forgot, but he didn’t mean to! he got everything else you asked him to get, didnt he? and i can guarantee he feels absolutely awful about forgetting once he realizes, not because of you but because of dapper! you’re such a good brother, you know that? don’t you think you should be a little more gentle to them so they can be better to you as well?

At the top of the stairs, Anti hears Trick and Dok stop in their panicked discussion with each other, still panting through the darkness. He grits his teeth, growling softly, and a sob echoes off the walls.

Anti rolls his eyes, thinking.

“They would be relieved if I didn’t punish them,” he admits. “But he should… know better, he should… I can take it a little easy on Doktor, maybe. But he should learn, don’t you understand I have standards? No, no, no, there’s no excuses for his bad behavior. What would you have me do if not torment his Doktor? That’s always the best way to teach him.”

Anonymous asked: This is not right. You shouldn’t be doing this to your little brother. He loves you, and would do anything for you. You already make him do so much, and now you’re going to hurt him for accidentally forgetting. What kind of brother tortures the other? They may love you but they do not believe that you love them, and I’m starting to think that, they are right.

Anti bristles with a nasty sneer, stalking down the stairs again. “Oh, you don’t think they love me?”

The boys jolt as he appears before them, backing closer to each other. Doktor tries to keep Trick behind him, Trick does the same with Doktor, and they end up pressed side to side, almost gripping each other’s hands.

“Trick,” he says, snatching him by the throat. Trick screams, lifted into the air - Doktor, at his side and to his credit, does not flinch away. “Do you love me?”

“Yes, yes!” screams Trick, gagging, clutching at his brother’s hands. “Yes, so much, please!”

Anti drops him on the ground.

“Please,” wails Trick. “What did we do?”

“Where’s Dapper’s refill?”

“R-refill?”

“For his medicine, Trick! The shit that keeps him from tearing his fucking face off because he sees dogs eating him alive!”

Trick can’t breathe. His mouth hangs open as he stammers too much to speak.

“We’ll go back and get it,” whispers Doktor, stepping slightly over his brother’s body. “We promise. No harm done, master.”

“‘We,’ no, no, your stupid twin is on his own. If he wanted your help, he should have remembered.”

“D-didn’t - mean to - Anti,” gasps Trick. “D-didn’t - ”

“No, you shut up! Here’s what we’re going to do. You’re lucky your little audience is less bloodthirsty than usual. For once, no one seems to want to see your brother tortured.”

Trick sobs dryly, reaching out to grab Doktor’s pant leg. Anti reaches down to grab him by the hair and yank him to his knees.

“Dapper has two days worth of refills left.” He holds up the little orange bottle and rattles the pills. “So you have two hours, Trickshot. Come back with his medicine. If you make it in time, I won’t touch your twin. If not, we’ll be having fun without you.”

Anti drops Trick again and turns to you, shoving the camera back onto the table by the door. “And if you want to see him safe so badly, then why don’t you save him? Take your camera, Trick.”

For a second, a smile plays across Anti’s mouth like the wriggling of an entrail.

“Your little friends are going to help you on your way.”

Anonymous asked: Money! He needs money!

Trick glances up at Anti for a second, panting.

“I gave you your money,” says Anti coolly, pulling Doktor away from his twin, who gives him one last desperate glance and manages to sign “H-A-L-D - ” before he is yanked to Anti’s chest. Trick hesitates again, trying to think, and a second later the back of Anti’s hand collides with his face, striking him hard enough to make his head spin. Choking, Trick dashes up the stairs, trying to hold back tears, always, always, always trying to hold back tears.

“Trick? What’s going on?” asks Blue, his voice haggard. In a blind panic, Trick considers just dashing away from him. It takes more than half an hour just to run to town, let alone to get the medicine and return, and he already feels so weak and shaky with terror that he can barely stand.

Anonymous asked: Im trying to see the good in your Anti, but sometimes its hard to admit that you’re not a straight up dickwad. He admitted he loved you out of fear and nothing more. They only love you so they can survive another day. Why can’t you get that through your thick fucking skull? You need help and actual love, and so do they. I know you want that. You’re just afraid that they’ll leave you alone, or that you’ve broken them past the point of no return

Anti screams, a horrible sound, enraged and exhausted, low on power and lower still on patience. “Shut the fuck up! Shut up! Shut up, shut up!”

He turns his head towards you with a horrible burst of light from his eyes and the camera shorts out entirely with a painful screech, leaving you with no eyes in the basement and a last memory of the sight of Doktor’s face, blank and yet terrified as he sinks, helpless, to the ground.

Anonymous asked: H-A-L-D. Does that mean anything to you, Trick? Can you make anything out?

“I - I don’t know, no, I don’t know anything! I don’t know where the pharmacy is, I don’t know what his prescription is or what fake name he goes by, how much it costs, I don’t have any money, but it doesn’t matter because it’s night and I think the pharmacy is closed and I - ”

He has to heave in a desperate breath, gripping frantically at his hair, tearing, tearing, tearing -

“Trick,” cries Blue, getting painfully to his feet and coming to his brother’s aid. He tries to grab Trick’s hand, but he draws away, frantic, eyes wide.

“Tell me what’s going on,” Blue demands.

“No, no, no, no, Anti said alone - ”

Blue grabs his hands again, successfully this time. Trick stops, gasping, and turns to meet his brother’s eyes, bluer than denim dye. “Trick,” says Blue, softly.

And there is a moment where the name that Trick was told to forget rises to his brain like a sedative, warm and reassuring and tired, and the man looking at him is not just Anti’s, but his own, is someone he remembers, very distantly, very softly, very warmly…

“Marvin,” whimpers Trick. “I don’t know what to do.”

Blue blinks, drawing slightly away.

“I forgot to get Dapper’s medicine and now Anti is angry and he’ll hurt Doktor if I don’t bring it back in two hours but I don’t have anything I need and I don’t know - I don’t know - I don’t - ”

“Amata,” whispers Marvin, touching his cheek. “Breathe. Breathe. What do you need?”

“You can’t come with me. You’re hurt, you’d slow me down. And I can’t ask you for much,” whimpers Trick. “Anti could get mad if he realizes you helped me.”

Marvin’s eyes flash. Red is watching from behind the island, shaking.

“Is there anything I can do?” asks Marvin.

Trick stammers, shaking his head uncertainly, turning to you with eyes wide. “I don’t know, is there?”

Anonymous asked: Dapper, has Anti ever accidentally killed anyone downstairs and had you go back to fix it? I was going to ask him this directly but I realized if this has happened, he wouldn't know...

Dapper is sitting in his room, happily drawing with his chalks, which have apparently been returned to him. “Look what someone left on the stairs!” he crows cheerfully, holding up his sketchbook and chalks. “Trick or Doktor, I guess. They must have sneaked up the stairs and everything, just for me, just for me!” His cheeks are flushed with delight. For a second, he just sits drawing, processing your message slowly, slowly, until his chalk has come to a standstill in his hands.

He pauses, staring at his paper, his mouth falling sorrowful again.

“I’ve undone a lot of bad things,” he says. “They blur together. You don’t know how many times I watched Doktor rise up out of that body bag… In the end, I couldn’t even prevent the bullet from striking him, but he did not die. And some days, Trick or Red have not returned home, and I have redone the day again and again. But Anti, killing someone downstairs? Not one of my brothers, maybe enemies.”

He curves the beak of a crow, thinking, his mouth taut.

“Once,” he says, slowly. “Anti told me that he had broken someone, and so I had to undo it… he was very gentle with Trick for some days after… he let him sleep and sleep and sleep…”

Dapper sighs and readjusts, pulling his sketchbook close. “But I’m just glad those things didn’t end up happening!”

Anonymous asked: This is all dappers fault.

The smile dies on Dapper’s lips. “What’s my fault?” he asks shakily, dropping his chalk to the ground. “What did I…”

Paranoid, he rubs at his throat, glancing around, frantic. This wouldn’t be the first time he’s fucked something up and then forgotten about it, only to be punished minutes later. Tears pool in his silvery eyes.

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Hey Trick, Dok!! Please be brave for each other. Remember today and how happy you felt!

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” chokes Trick, biting on his lip til it breathes. “I have to be - I have to be brave for Doktor. I have to be brave. I have to be brave.”

He tries to take deep breaths, working hard to calm down. He can do this. He can do this.

Anonymous asked: dapper, im sure you won't be able to but - do you think you could fix today? is that even possible?

“Fix today? I could go back before it. But only if Anti told me to. Otherwise I wouldn’t know the password and then he would be angry when he saw my silver eyes. Why, something’s wrong?”

Anonymous asked: Dapper, you've done nothing wrong. You're medication was forgotten and Anti is pissed but that's just him being... himself, I guess. It's nothing that can't be fixed though okay? What are you drawing?

“Oh.”

Dapper stares down at his paper. After a moment, he sets it unhappily down to the side and gets to his feet, rising to stare out the window. His face is quiet and tired. There are blue bruises all around his throat.

“I hope it can be fixed. He gets so angry…”

He rubs his face, stressed.

“I was just drawing Poe,” he sighs. “But I don’t think she’s coming back anyway. Will Anti hurt the other boys, for forgetting? I should have… I should have remembered.”

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Dappper, it might be in Trick's best interest for you to redo the day. He and Doktor are in serious trouble!

Dapper chews on his nail. “I’d like to help, but it’s not a quick decision, you understand. First of all, there’s no point to a redo unless there’s something I can do to change it. Otherwise we’re just looping. I’m the only one who will remember the change, but Anti will see that I am tired and silver and then he will ask me for the password or a good explanation, and I won’t have it. Then I’ll be in a great deal of trouble, and things still may not be fixed. I need to be able to interfere. Usually, that means I tell Anti something went wrong and he changes his approach or comes to the aid of the brother in trouble.”

Anonymous asked: I don't know what Marvin can help you with, but Red has picked up Dapper's medication before! He should know the medication and the other details. (PS, pharmacy is near the store you had been shopping at for the other supplies)

Marvin whirls on his twin. “Red, tell him what you know.”

Red stares between the two of them, making calculations in his head. Doktor will be hurt if Trick doesn’t come back fast enough. That’s guaranteed. Red himself may be hurt if he helps Trick, but the likelihood is lower, and it could save Doktor. If that were all there was to it, he would take the burden of responsibility without hesitation. Anti said he was the leader, so it’s his job to protect the others. However, things have changed from – oh, he doesn’t even remember, he just knows things have changed. He has a twin now. Like Doktor punished for Trick’s mistake, Blue could be the one punished for Red’s decision.

“You understand,” says Red. “That if I tell him, you could be hurt.”

“Yes,” snaps Marvin, without hesitation. “Stop being a little bitch and tell him.”

Red laughs aloud. If he could remember, he would know it has been a very long time since he laughed like that. He’s starting to see why Anti picked this one for him.

“Fuck,” he laughs, a little hysterically. “Trick, come here.”

Trick, anxious but relieved, hurries to his side and kneels down beside the cupboards with him.

“I was rummaging through the cupboards this morning,” says Red. “Trying to figure out who I was.”

Trick winces at the sadness of it.

“I found all these IDs. They’re for different countries, different names, different ages, different everything. There’s about twenty-five of them and the pictures could work for any one of us. I don’t remember which one I used to pick up Dapper’s medicine.”

“Fuck,” gasps Trick, taking the box of IDs from him. “Fuck, okay, we can do this. There’s Irish, Norweigan, American, French, German, and Dutch IDs.”

“Yeah, we’re pretty white,” says Red.

Trick startles. “Did you just make a joke? I’ve never heard you make a joke.”

“Um - ”

“Never mind. Which should I take?”

Anonymous asked: You use krone as currency, you're in Norway!

“Are we?” asks Red. “I could have fucking sworn we were Irish.”

“We are,” says Marvin, and then pauses, confusion clouding over his eyes. “Are we?”

“It doesn’t matter,” snaps Trick, sorting out the IDs. “There’s five Norweigan IDs. Which should I take? None of these look like Dapper!”

“What sort of differences would Anti use to distinguish Dapper’s ID from everyone else’s?” asks Red. “Or should you just take all five?”

The boys stare between each other, trying to think.

pixie-in-trebleland asked: I mean, Dapper is his favourite. Is there any extra care taken on any of the ID's? There has to be something!

“Some of them look newer than others… the birth dates are different…”

cest-mellow asked: red, blue? can you tell me any information about dap’s medicine? what name he uses, what kind, how much it costs? everything you say? this is important, anti is involved. trick is also into town to grab some stuff so if you have some change to spare for him..? thank you boys!

“I’m trying to remember,” sighs Red, sitting back on his heels. “I wish I could just go for him, I might remember something if I could see it. Medicine, medicine, medicine… I feel like the name of the prescription is on the tip of my tongue. Maybe it started with an H?”

“How about money?” asks Marv, coming up beside his brothers to help sort through the IDs. “You got anything stored?”

Red sighs. “Doesn’t matter. Store’s closed by now, I guarantee it. We’re getting close to nine at night and this is a small town, they don’t do twenty-four hours. You’re going to have to break in. You need the name Dapper uses or the name of the prescription, and preferably both.”

Trick jolts. “No, no - stealing shit is your job, I’ve only done that once and we were desperate!”

“Oh, you’re not desperate now?”

Trick whimpers, clutching at his hair. Marvin grabs his wrist and gives it a reassuring squeeze. “Red, don’t you have anything that could help him?”

Red turns back to the cupboards, searching again. “There’s nothing tech-related down here. I’m assuming Anti keeps everything in his room. We could go up there and - ”

“No!” cries Trick. “No, no! Anti might let you off just for giving me advice, but if you go upstairs he will beat you into a fucking pulp, guaranteed. Dapper’s the only one upstairs and I’m not sure I want him involved.”

He pauses, biting his nails.

“I’ll… bring Doktor’s gun. And a hood and a mask, and try to break in on my own. The things upstairs would be nice, but it’s not like I can talk to Dap anyway.”

“What are you talking about, breaking in someplace?” protests Marvin, alarmed. “Is that something we do often?”

“I’m pretty sure I do,” frowns Red. “But maybe I’m wrong.”

“Fucking goddamn,” hisses Trick, exasperated. “I think I prefer no-memory Red, but he sure is useless.”

“Hey!” snaps Red, punching his shoulder. For once, Trick isn’t afraid that there are more blows coming, and he can’t help but laugh, wiping at tears in his eyes and shaking like a leaf caught beneath a door.

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Is there one that looks the closest to Dapper?? You're running out of time...

“No.” Trick’s voice is teary, he knows you’re right. “No, maybe I should just take them all and go.”

Anonymous asked: Does anyone know how many different countries you've been through before this place?

“Oh, I do.” Dapper’s picking anxiously at a splinter on the sill of his window. “Anti tells me and Red, says someone should know. Not that he’ll remember now, poor bloke. The three of us were in good old England for a while, then Ireland, Sweden, the Netherlands. Stopped once in Italy, then back to the Netherlands. I liked the Netherlands the most, we lived right by this great river, and Trick and Doktor were in the next room over, and I would listen to them talking and pretend I was talking to them too. And there were cats that would come up to the window and meow for fish. I loved it there. But we’re here now. I have a very nice view and I like the lights at night.” He sets his head in his hands, his mouth sad. “But I don’t expect we’ll stay long. We never do.”

Anonymous asked: Hey Dapper, do you mind showing us your bottle of medicine? That way we can tell Trick what kind to get for you

“Sorry, I don’t see it in my drawer. I think Anti took it with him downstairs.” Dapper rubs his hands together, looking stressed. “I can’t help with anything. I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m so useless.”

Anonymous asked: Well, if you're breaking in, you probably won't need the right ID, right? You just need to find meds that match one of the names on the IDs. Bring all of them! And remember that it starts with H, Doktor was saying something like Hald?

“That’s a good point.” Trick looks relieved. “Okay. Let me grab the mask and the gun. Anything else I should bring?”

Anonymous asked: Which one has the youngest birthdate?

“Oh!”

Trick sorts excitedly through the IDs. “This one, um - born October 31, 1993 - Kayden James? Does that sound right?”

Anonymous asked: Haldol? It's an anti psychotic!

“Haldol.” Red snaps his fingers, delighted. “That’s it, I’m sure that’s right.”

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Anti, I hope you realize that there is more at risk if Trick goes and gets the medication. What if he gets the wrong prescription? Or what if he's caught doing something he shouldn't?

The camera upstairs fizzles and glitches, casting Dapper momentarily in red light.

“Fixes all their mistakes,” plays across the screen in glitching green words.

For a second, Dapper gives the camera a disparaging look, as if he knows what’s being said.

“He’s getting overconfident,” he signs darkly, looking suddenly angry. Then he draws his arms around his chest and sits down on his bed, rocking himself gently, glancing over at the wall that separates his room and Anti’s office.

Anonymous asked: Do you have something you could use as a crow bar maybe?

“All the good stuff is upstairs or downstairs,” whimpers Trick, nevertheless sorting through the cupboards. “I wish I had some of the tech Anti usually gives Red. It’s - oh, fuck, what the hell is this?”

The boys pause to stare at it. It’s a short and very sturdy… stick?

“There’s a button on it,” says Marvin.

Trick presses it. They all jump hard as the stick expands into a full-length staff, Trick tumbling back onto his ass.

“Goddamn!” he snaps. “This is yours, Red.”

“Oh.”

“It’s a fighting staff.”

“You might be able to smash some shit with that. I’m more worried about locks.”

“Well, what’s that if not a lock picking kit?” Marvin points down at a little wrapped up pouch, inside which Trick finds a row of picks.

“Thank God,” he breathes, shoving them in his pocket.

“You know how to use those?”

“Yeah, actually. Fuck, well…” He glances longingly up the stairs at Anti’s room. “I guess that’s it.”

Anonymous asked: Let's see, mask so no one can see your face, gun to threaten people or break windows or something, ID to know which meds to get... unless you have a way to get you there and back faster, you might just want to go now, if no one can think of something else you might need. Time is of the essence.

“Right, right.”

Trick breathes out slowly, trying to steady himself. Fuck, he wishes he could do this with Doktor.

But he can’t. It’s up to him. He has to save his brother. Nothing else matters.

He turns back to the twins and jumps as Marvin presses the mask to his face and tugs the strap down over the back of his head. “Steal more than the Haldol, so the cops don’t trace it back to us. Narcotics or something. They won’t realize you’re anything more than a junkie. Take your brother’s big coat too,” he advises. “Keep the hood up and zip it all the way up, to hide your mouth.”

“Why are you helping me at all?” mumbles Trick, savoring the feeling of Marvin’s hands carding through his hair, just once. “We’re strangers. You don’t know me and I don’t know you.”

Marvin pauses. Trick stares up into his eyes. Soft hands, wrapped in warm gauze, descend to cup his face.

“I don’t remember much,” says Marvin, very quietly, so only Trick can hear, and the sheer tenderness of it is enough to bring tears to his eyes. For so long, Dok has been the only one who has cared about him. “But I do remember, little brother, that I love you very much.”

Trick snuffles, trying to hide his teary face as he swallows back the sudden pang of a very warm memory - someone holding him in a hotel room, promising him that everything will be okay, that he’ll be looked after, magic swimming quietly around their heads. He doesn’t want Red to mock him - but to his surprise, his oldest brother comes over too, and sets a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry I can’t go in your stead,” says Red, and he sounds it. “Come back to us in one piece.”

Commanding but not cold. Not cold.

“That’s an order.”

“Yes, sir,” manages Trick.

He packs up his things as fast as ever he’s prepared for anything, snatching Dok’s coat from their nest and tugging the hood over his head, zipping it up from his mouth. Panting hard already, he takes off at a sprint down the steep path from the mountain to the village.

One hour and thirty minutes remain.

They watch him go, tortured twins wrapped in bandages.

“Can I ask you something?” asks Marvin.

“Yeah, course.”

“Why’s your hair red?”

“Fuck if I know. Yours is blue, after all.”

“Mine is what?”

Anonymous asked: Guys, you could just break down in front of the owners and say Dapper's very sick and you have no money....

By the time Trick makes it to the pharmacy, night has fallen dark about him and he is panting hard after the long run down the mountainside toward the sea. He slows as he reaches the village, tugging his hood lower over his eyes, darting behind buildings on his way to the store. There are people out and about, unfortunately, just across the street at the bar and restaurant where he and his brothers got fish just yesterday.

He almost chokes on the memory. He’d give anything to go back to that moment right now, watching Doktor eating fried food until his stomach was full and his mouth was smiling. He wonders if he’s afraid right now. He wonders if he’s in pain. He doesn’t know if Anti will keep his two-hour promise.

“Break down in front of the owners,” repeats Trick, panting as he makes his way to the back of the pharmacy. “I don’t know who the owners are - the shop is closed for the night and there’s no one home. I don’t speak Norwegian and don’t know if they speak English. I don’t know that they would give it to me, and if they did, I’d already have drawn too much attention to myself. But by all means, if you find a solution to all those problems, let’s fucking go for it.”

He rubs anxiously at his face, tears pricking in his eyes. “I don’t mean to snap,” he croaks. “I’m just stressed and - goddamn, no!”

He recoils from the door at the back of the pharmacy as though it’s stung him.

“I was hoping it would just be locked!” he cries, staring in dismay.

The door is locked with a digital number key pad, listing 1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8,9, and * all in a mockery of him. Trick grips at his hair. “This is a tiny town, why does it have any tech security at all!”

If he shoots it or tries to break it, he expects an alarm to go off. He needs to know the pass-code or risk breaking in while the cops respond.

Trick groans, turning his face away from the security cameras that watch from the door above, hoping he’s staying covered enough to hide. “Don’t suppose you would know the code? Please? Oh, shit. Oh, fuck, please.”

juju-on-that-yeet asked: Look at the pad and see which numbers are the most worn down/faded. That'll give you a place to start, at least.

“M-maybe the 7?”

Anonymous asked: Do you know the address of the pharmacy, where it is on the street? Maybe the code is something like that, easy for employees to remember.

“No, I’m not sure… I’m scared to go around front and look. Or maybe if I could find their phone number online… but I don’t have any way to look that up.”

spicydanhowell asked: TRICK THE CODE IS 3677* (This was a number hidden in the tags of other posts)

Trick stares at you, panting hard. For a second, a million doubts run through his head - they could lie to me, they could make it up so I go to jail, they could be trying to get me away from Anti, they could be Anti trying to trick me and punish me, they could just be messing with me, I don’t even know who they are, how they’re talking to me, why they’re here, what they’d know -

But Dok is waiting for him. Dok is waiting for him and he doesn’t have any other choice and maybe there are some things that are worth putting a little faith in anyway, so he turns and presses his palm to the sensor, plugging in 3677*.

The handle turns in his hand and he gasps aloud, nearly collapsing from the relief. But time is of the essence, as you told him, and he needs to keep going, to be brave for his twin’s sake.

“Thank you,” he signs, tears in his eyes, and he shoves into the store, where bright lights flicker on in response to his movement.

“Okay, okay,” he chokes. “Now I just need Haldol, under the name Kayden James, and to steal something controlled so they don’t track it back to us and it just looks like I’m an addict looking for a fix. What did Blue say? Narcotics or something?”

spicydanhowell asked: a bunch of different stuff, trick, it hardly matters what, just get in and out. Two anons had similar advice added.

“Okay, you got it.”

Trick busts open the master-locked cupboards in the back, using Red’s fighting staff to smash through the wood - to his credit, he’s right that a small town pharmacy lacks good security for the most part, and no alarms go off inside, though he’s certainly been spotted by the security cameras staring down at him from all sides. He finds the prepared prescriptions arranged by last name and grabs at the J’s, finding the orange bottle marked “Haloperidol - James, Kayden” almost immediately, chock-full of the tiny white pills that help his little brother function. Nearly crying, he kisses the bottle and shoves it into his pocket, glancing back at the cold white clock on the back of the pharmacy.

He’s got fifty minutes to get home. He’ll have to run, but he can make it.

Just grab something. Just grab something.

But he doesn’t want people to not get their medicine. He’ll go for the unprepared stuff, the full boxes of medicine.

He turns to the shelves full of boxes and starts rummaging, looking for anything you listed, but nothing here is controlled, nothing addictive or used to make addictive shit, not that he can see, anyway. He glances toward an ancient safe with rusty hinges set on the table in the back and grins.

The hinges break after five furious strikes. There’s a crash as the door tumbles to the ground and he winces, his heart rate picking up. Someone on the street might have heard that. He needs to go.

He grabs two boxes of Percocet and three orange pain killer bottles. He turns back to the prepared prescriptions and scatters them across the floor. They won’t notice one missing in the middle of that, or they’ll assume it was just lost somehow.

“Alright,” he breathes. “Time to fucking go.”

He takes off, pressing back through the door again, staggering into the alley -

Where a small child is standing, staring curiously at the open door.

Trick freezes still, gasping, his hand clutched around Doktor’s gun.

It’s the boy from the shop, the one sitting on the counter while his grandmother checked them out. Trick realizes, distantly, that he was there when he bought this green coat.

The boy is staring at the gun at Trick’s side, fear making his eyes widen.

Trick tries to speak but can only stammer, his brain giving him no words at all. He doesn’t know what to do, and he is afraid.

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Run, Trick. Just Run! The longer you stay, the worse things will get. You have everything you need! Four other asks, from florence-is-falling and three anons, gave Trick conflicting advice and were added.

Trick starts and then stops again, staggering slightly. Too many options - he’s not used to having any options at all, Anti or Red is supposed to be with him on missions, telling him what to do, making sure everything goes smoothly - this shouldn’t have happened, this shouldn’t be happening at all, he wants to go home, he wants Doktor to hold onto him and rock him through this nightmare, until he falls asleep, and wakes up in the morning knowing it is far away -

Oh, fuck, he has to focus, he has to be brave, has to get this medicine home for Doktor, has to, has to!

“H-hi,” he manages finally, remembering your order to change his voice and quickly adopting the accent he always imagines Dapper’s signs in, clear and English. “Hi, there, love, it’s okay.”

The boy stares up at him, his little hands shaking, wrapped around a stuffed dolphin toy. He’s not well bundled up, only wearing a little coat, unzipped, for warmth. He’s perhaps seven years old. A kid this age shouldn’t be out on his own after light’s fallen, should he? And before Trick can think, the words are out of his mouth:

“Why are you out so late? Where’s Mum and Dad?”

A blush rushes up his little cold cheeks. He looks down at his dolphin, picking at its fin, mouth trembling.

“Oh,” says Trick, a little teasing now. “Snuck out, now, did we?”

“No,” squeaks the boy.

At least he speaks English.

“You’re sure?” asks Trick, slowly tucking the gun away in the hopes that the boy didn’t see it at all.

“Why were you inside the store so late?”

“Um,” stammers Trick, swallowing, trying to assert himself. “Um, well - because - because I thought someone had broken in. See how the door’s left open?”

The kid nods slowly, his face twisted up in thought.

“I was worried there was a bad guy inside,” adds Trick, nodding sharply. Okay, he can go with this. It’s a small kid. They’ve both caught each other. It’s okay. It has to be okay. This has to work. “So I went to try and stop him.”

“Ohhh,” says the boy, relaxing. “That’s why you have a gun.”

“Yeah, exactly!”

“The police don’t have guns, though…”

Goddamn Europe and their safety laws. “Well,” he bullshits, his eyes flickering around desperately as he hears people walking down the streets. “I’m not a cop. I’m a - a superhero.”

The boy’s eyes widen. Excited. Wasn’t he drawing storm troopers yesterday?

“Like a Jedi,” adds Trick, nodding. “I have to use the gun because my lightsaber’s not working right now. Want to see?”

“Yeah!”

He grabs Red’s staff and pulls it out, extending it in one press of the button. He’s beginning to sweat - do you think the clock is ticking as fast as his heart beats?

“Wow,” breathes the child. “How are you going to fix it?”

“I’m sorry, buddy, I can’t talk right now. I’m in a rush. My - my brother’s in trouble. So I have to go. Okay? You need to go home to your parents, right? Shouldn’t have been sneaking out, should you? So tell you what - I won’t tell anybody that you snuck out, and then you don’t tell anybody you saw me here. Okay? Cause you know superheroes get in trouble with the police sometimes.”

He doesn’t look entirely convinced.

“Please, bud,” gasps Trick. “Please, um - what’s your name, love?”

“Hunter.”

Trick stops breathing entirely.

Hunter, Hunter, Hunter.

Why does he know that name - a little boy - mousy dark hair, big brown eyes, freckles and a smile on his mouth, crinkle paper and stuffed toys in baby hands, his baby, his baby, his baby -

He should have just run, or knocked him out, or threatened him, like you told him to. But he couldn’t, he couldn’t, he couldn’t. He’s just a little boy. He’s just like his little boy.

He turns away from Hunter and takes off at a sprint, tearing along behind houses and buildings, back into the forest, sprinting, the stitch in his side gone, the pain in his chest gone, nothing remaining at all but the desperation to get home to his brother, and the memory that haunts him, the memory of a little boy all alone.

He moves faster than he’s ever moved up the pathway, branches striking across his brother’s coat. Behind him, he could swear he hears the snapping of dog’s teeth at his heel, the harsh breath of hounds hunting him down, teeth, teeth, teeth always waiting to devour, and he runs, runs, runs, even though he is beginning to lose hope that safety awaits him at the end of the road.

cest-mellow asked: dok? are you doing alright downstairs?

The camera is barely working, but someone must have restarted it. It flickers to life in shaking hands, and you see Doktor’s face.

Anti’s given him new glasses, unshattered, a bizarre show of affection preceding a torture session if Trick doesn’t hurry. He’s alone as far as you can tell, wiping slowly at his eyes as he cries steadily, breathing painfully thin.

“Can you please - ”

He pauses, swallows, restarts, water cascading down his cheeks.

“Can you please tell me if Trick is okay?”

He rubs at his cheeks. Everything he does is strangely slow - you’re pretty sure he’s too clammed up to move any faster. His voice sounds like it’s been put through a straining record player and his chest trembles with the effort of continuing to draw air.

“Anti… hasn’t… hurt me,” he wheezes. “But I think - I think I’d like - I want to go upstairs now, p-please…”

Anonymous asked: So, Marvin, hey, good to see you!! What do you remember? How do you feel?

Marvin’s sitting on top of the island, staring blankly at his hands. You’ve caught him and Red in the middle of a conversation, and his twin looks up at him with worry in his eyes from the floor.

“Umm.” Marvin is looking himself over, tugging down a strand of blue hair to see its color, opening his coat and examining his shirt and pants and jewelry. He doesn’t recognize any of it.

“I’m not even sure this is my body,” he mumbles. His hands shake minutely. Pulling back his sleeves, even Jack’s old tattoo fails to comfort him. They all have one of those. Running his hands through his hair does not give him the correct sensation - he has forgotten the tug of his long hair, but still he can feel that it is missing - he knows that the weight on his fingers is not the one he is used to, that these are not the shoes he is used to watching as he walked, that nothing is - nothing is right, nothing is - all of this - wrong, wrong, wrong -

Oh. On his wrist, there is a small flower, inked into his skin.

“Blue,” murmurs Red. “Doing okay?”

“I don’t remember anything,” whispers Marvin. “Do you?”

“I think there are flashes coming back to me… but not much.”

Marvin swallows, staring down at the flower. “Do you feel like… the person who you see in the mirror… is the wrong person?”

Red stares up at him, wearily. “Only a little,” he answers. “But the sensation is familiar.”

Marvin’s head snaps up. He stares directly at you.

“Is this how Anti always treats them?” he asks. “Sending them into terrors, threatening them for small mistakes, cutting up our hair and changing us without permission? Keeping the other boy in the attic? How long have I been here? Have I always been like this? Please tell me what’s going on. Please.”

“Blue,” warns Red, staring frantically down at the basement. “Blue, careful what you say.”

“Because this person,” continues Marvin, ignoring him. “This person who Anti tells me I am - this is not the right person. I don’t think this is right. I don’t think Anti is right.”

“Blue,” hisses Red. “Blue, shut the fuck up. Do you want to get killed?”

But, though his memory is gone, his courage is not. And he needs to know. He has to know.

“This is not who I am.”

Anonymous asked: Trick is coming back, he's a little shaken but he's fine!

“Oh, he’s coming back, he’s coming back…”

Doktor hides his face against his knees, breathing harshly.

“Always comes back for me… H-hurry, Trick…”

just-a-youtubers-blog asked: Blue!! BLUE!!??! NO! YOUR NAME IS MARVIN! MARVIN!! WE CAN'T LOSE YOU, TOO! NO! WHY... why... I - we can't... lose you, too... not you... WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU!?!! IS THIS SOME SICK WAY OF RUBBING IT IN OUR FACE!!?! I SWEAR, I WOULD MAIM YOU IF I COULD, AND I'M PRETTY SURE MARVIN FEELS THE SAME WAY! NOT BLUE, MARVIN! YOU SICK, DEMENTED PHYCOPATH!! (dapper, we might need a time rewindal...) (you did say that you would relive this day right?)

Red winces every time you say the name, covering up his ears and hissing out a warning, but Marvin only smiles, nodding slow.

“Yeah, that sounded more right than Blue when Trickshot said it… but that’s not his name either, now is it?”

oasisofgalaxies asked: I wont say your name right now if it hurts you. Blue, you were someone great, magnificent. a magician, a sorcerer with great power. You cam here because of your heart, your heart always filled with love for your brothers. You came because your brothers were in danger. You came here because Anti stole your brothers from you and turned them into people they aren't. You came here and were captured. You fought so hard, but you fell into the role Anti laid out for you. A role of shackles and chains.

Marvin stares down at his hands, thinking. “You were calling out to me days ago,” he guesses. “But I couldn’t hear you.

“A sorcerer, huh?”

Blue light flickers through his eyes. Red is beginning to look afraid. Your camera screen glitches.

“My brothers in danger…”

Anonymous asked: Marvin, you're a good person. You're a magician without his mask, but remember that underneath whatever clothes anti makes you wear or whatever name he calls you, you are Marvin and you are good.

“Good,” mumbles Marvin, thoughtful. “Strange, I… I’m not sure about that one… there’s this great self-hatred inside of my chest… But I guess goodness is a choice… and I think I’d like to choose it, if I could sort all this out… I have to sort all this out.”

nikkilbook asked: You’re a wonderful man who loves his brothers very much. And by brothers, I mean Red, Trick, Doctor, and Dapper. All of them. Not just your twin. You want to keep them safe and together. You sacrificed a lot to try and keep them safe.

“Did I? Sacrifice for them, try to keep them safe? Looks like I did a pretty fucking awful job.”

Tears spark in his eyes. He closes his eyes and his fist, grimacing as cold washes of memories return to him in blurs barely meaningful - Chase and Henrik hiding behind him, Jackie’s empty bedroom that terrible morning, Jameson dragged away from him, all his power come to nothing -

“But you’re right about one thing - all of them are my brothers. Not just Red. This is my family.”

musical-in-theory asked: You are a magnificent man who loves his brothers, all 4 of them. You are a magic man who does tricks for the delight of others. A kind man. A beautiful person who doesn’t belong in this terrible place

“Tricks?”

This brings a small smile back to Marvin’s face. “Really, like a performer? That’s wonderful. Ha, tricks… and you’re right, I am quite beautiful.”

Laughing, he tries to throw his hair, teasing, only to find it cut short again. “Ah, right… I’m Blue now…”

Anonymous asked: Dap, are you around? Are you okay? Do you know where Anti is?

Dapper’s laid out on his floor, staring up at the ceiling.

“Anti’s everywhere,” he signs dully. “I can feel him summoning up his strength. He feels… angry. You should warn my brothers to be careful. Whatever they’re doing, he doesn’t seem to like.”

just-a-youtubers-blog asked: You asked us to remember your name when you forgot it. And that's what we'll do, Marvin. Marvin, the Magnificent. The man who had a deeper understanding of things we'll miss you, Marv. Can I at least say goodbye? Please? Before he is truly gone forever? Bye, Marv. We'll miss you... sorry... this... is all our fault. Sorry.

Marvin stares at the ground. Red has come to stand beside him, gripping his shoulders, trying to keep him quiet.

“Maybe you should say goodbye,” he calls gently. “Give up the old name, please. I’m afraid Anti can hear you. Just - just say goodbye. Anti would like that. Yeah? You don’t want to get hurt. I don’t want - I can’t bear to see you hurt, please, please be quiet,” begs Red, shaking his shoulders. “Say goodbye, Blue, come on.”

His twin closes his eyes, trying to think.

oasisofgalaxies asked: You heard me!! You’re ok! I’m so happy, but now you have to be careful. Anti knows what you’re your up to, or at least he can sense it. Be careful Marvin. I’m worried that if he gets even more mad he’ll do something worse.

“Right, right,” murmurs Marvin. “I need to be quiet - these are his cameras - if he hears me, he could hurt Red to punish me.”

Anonymous asked: I'm with Red on this, Marvin, be very careful what you say and ask. There are eyes and ears everywhere. But no, Blue is not who you are. Anti is lying to you. You might recognize some names - cover your ears if it helps, Red - Jackie, Henrik, Chase, or Jameson? Jack?

Marvin looks up, his eyes full of light.

He wants to say the names out loud, so much it’s almost painful to hold them back, but another look at Red, distressed at his side, stops him short. Squeezing his twin’s hand, he quiets, thoughtful.

“We should change the subject,” he murmurs.

He looks up at Red. “Enough about me,” he says. “Tell me something about you.”

Red pauses, his eyes flickering around anxiously.

“There’s nothing to tell,” he says. “I’m just… Red.”

Anonymous asked: Blue, just take everything as it comes okay? I'm saying this for your sake and your family's. We want to about a family field trip to the basement. Your name is Blue and what's important is what's here now. We can't worry about what's past.

Marvin swallows, clinging to Red’s sweatshirt. “Right, right… okay, yeah. I’m - I’m Blue now.”

He closes his eyes as though in pain, but only for a moment, because Red’s relief is enough to reassure him.

“There you go,” cries Red, pulling him into a crushing hug, which makes Blue laugh. “Fuck, now stop saying stupid things!”

Blue tries to shove him away, laughing hard. “Hey, fine, fine! Asshole, get off me!”

“I will not, you’re too stupid to be left alone - ”

Blue hugs him back, chuckling.

With his arms wrapped around his neck, Red thinks he remembers something, vaguely - a younger man in a cat mask, clutched tight to his chest, warm days at home, just the two of them, and then their joy, later, as their little house filled up…

He closes his eyes, pushing away its comfort. The past does not matter and to rejoice in it is dangerous. What matters is here and now. And what he has, here and now, is a family all its own. He can’t let the past matter. He can’t let himself remember. Blue’s hands are warm on his neck.

Your screen glitches.

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Hey guys? Not to cut the sweetness sesh short or anything, but I'd be on your guard. Dapper is worried for you guys. Can you sense anything down there?

Blue and Red glance around, concerned, still holding each other’s arms.

But nothing seems to move.

Everything is quiet.

Still, they both get the sense that something has changed.

Footsteps in the hallway above them.

They exchange glances, confused.

Anonymous asked: Yeah, everything's okay here! Just Blue and Red, hanging out, being goofs. Nothing to see! Maybe you guys can go to the window and watch for Trick for a bit, since he's on an errand and not on watch?

“Sure,” says Blue, swallowing. “Um, yeah. Inconspicuous, right?”

He ends up too tired to get up the three little stairs to the nest, his stitches aching painfully, but Red manages to get up and sit beside the window, watching for his brother.

Anonymous asked: Can you guys be ready for Trick when he comes home? I don't want the door being locked or something stupid like that tripping him up...

“Okay,” agrees Blue, limping to the door and pulling it open. He sits down on the porch and waits, hopeful.

“I don’t expect he’s got much time left.”

Anonymous asked: Trick: *steals child* this is mine now

“I wish I could tell you,” pants Trick, drawing near to home. “That I wasn’t fucking tempted.”

Anonymous asked: Hey Marv, Blue if it keeps you safe, you should keep an eye on Trick when he gets back. He met a boy called Hunter. Not /Hunter/ Hunter obviously (I assume he's safe with his mum and sister) but it almost stirred a memory in Trick. If anything happens and he begins to properly remember, I'm sure he'd appreciate his brother trying to be there for him as best he can. I mean, I'm saying all this and I'm not even sure you remember who Hunter is.

“Oh, no… I don’t remember who Hunter is, but I think I get the gist. I’ll keep an eye on him… that’s all I can do, right? I’ll ask him how he is, keep an eye on him.”

Anonymous asked: Trick are you running? How close are you? Similar asks from florenceisfalling and cest-mellow were added.

“I’m coming, I’m coming! Do I still have time?”

He’s panting hard, but there, in the distance, he sees Blue, sitting on the stairs. His brother rises as he approaches, calling for him.

“Yeah, I got it!” he cries, rocketing up the porch and practically leaping into the house, brushing past Blue. “I got it, I got it! Where’s master?”

“I don’t know, we haven’t seen him - ”

Trick yanks open the door to the basement and sprints down the stairs, sliding slightly on old blood. He finds Doktor curled up against the wall, his knees drawn to his chest, shaking hard, but he doesn’t see Anti. He pauses to give his twin a quick kiss, promising him, “I got it, I got it, he won’t hurt you now!” before dashing back up the stairs.

“Where is he, where is he?” he cries, staring frantically around. “Anti, Anti, I got the - ”

Blue grabs his shoulders tightly, silencing him by his intensity. His vivid ocean eyes are fixed on the staircase.

Trick turns his eyes to look too.

Steps come down the stairs. Red, Blue, and Trick watch uncertainly as the silhouette appears.

“Dapper?” asks Trick softly.

Dapper’s body is at the bottom step.

Anti shakes his head no, slowly.

“Oh,” stammers Trick, backing up slightly against Blue’s chest. “Okay, um…”

Anti wears Dapper looser than he did Red. There is no stiffness, no scars, no pain. Dapper’s body fits him well. He tugs up the sleeves of a crisp white dress shirt, complete with a bowtie, and reaches out an empty hand.

Panting roughly, Trick holds out the Haloperidol. The pills tremble in his fingers and steady in Dapper’s.

Anti regards them coolly, his head tilted. Curls of light brown hair tumble into ink and pitch eyes.

He turns to go, waving a disinterested hand at the basement. Trick, nearly wheezing, sorts his priorities out and decides not to question, darting back down the stairs to get his twin.

“Anti?” asks Red, summoning his courage.

Anti pauses, turning to look at him.

“Not questioning, sir,” says Red softly. “But is there a reason I should know about that made you decide to, um… wear… Dap?”

Fear and rage burn in Blue’s throat like vodka as he stares at the monster wearing his baby brother. A recollection awakens in his chest - Jameson, less haggard but no younger, curled up against his chest, teaching him sign language with careful, patient movements of his hands, laughing sweetly every time Marvin messed up. He swallows hard, squeezing tight his trembling hands, feeling magic curl like dragon-fire against his palms.

Anti turns and looks directly at him.

Looks directly at Marvin.

And then he turns around, in silence, and heads back up the stairs.

pixie-in-trebleland asked: I hope one day you realize, Anti, that this isn't how you show love. There is a HUGE difference between love and control.

Anti is shadowed in darkness. He moves up the stairs, looking up at you.

“Maybe,” he signs. “But the difference no longer matters.”

 End Section Four of Chapter One.

Find this chapter’s masterlist here.

[mexicanmlp]

Did you know ao3 has a actual pedophile as one of the site owners and they have a entire section dedicated to map (pedo) stories?

   Long post.  Long answer.

Hi, I had no idea how to answer your message...  (along that the next day received a really weird one that forced me to block anon messages and report that question).  And I have no idea if you’ll ever read the answer.

I appreciate your concern to letting know about the issue.

It sat in my inbox and as a draft on my computer -and still I don’t think I’ll be able to answer it as I’d want-.

I was aware of the stories hosted on ao3 (along with a lot of other hard/heavy subjects and kinks before I learned to use the tags and mostly WHAT to avoid), but there are places I don’t go for my mental health, and mostly stay on my fluffy support system of the fandoms I’m in.  About the owner I know absolutely nothing, and if true, really hope there’s something done to them when real people are involved and used.

I’ve said earlier (at least in my tags) that fiction and real life are different, with the hope that people can differentiate both.  I’m aware that people use fiction as an escape (or try-out) things, coping mechanism (a dear RL friend used it to deal with her rape by her father as a toddler) when she was a teen and before going to therapy, and another with eating-issues, or want to “feel/live” things they’ll never do (or at least not easy to do so) in RL (and here including from “simple” AUs -ie. what if I do something different, if I learn to do something like dance, cook, do an extreme sport- to really heavy topics -violence, sexual themes, etc.-).  I’ve used if for a coping mechanism for SH to try-to avoid doing it.

Also, fiction does not normalize controversial subjects.  At least for me I want to believe people is mature enough to differentiate between real life and a work of fiction, from the most sweetly fluffy fluff that so tooth-rotting to the most hardcore and controversial subjects.  And if not, I really wonder what they are doing reading/watching/consumming (is that the correct word?) that works.  How many books out there are about serial killers?  How many shows?  And most times I’ve seen parents watching them with their kids at their side!

I’ve seen enought authors get attacked by people not able to differentiate (and it was an AU where the characters were forced into more “accurate” parts of their canon jobs!  Not the funny and sometimes fluffy parts depicted on the show  -more than 10 years ago-.  And no, I will not tell the fandom and even less the work & author, just than I’m pretty pissed off and sad that the author was forced to delete their jobs after putting the note about how they were attacked along with the comments with the attacks).  And not even 2 years ago the same thing happened on another fandom because it was an AU with extreme violence on a mostly fluff stories.

Yes.  There are controversial subjects being explored in a lot of works.

Yes. I HATE PEDOS AND NORMALIZING VIOLENCE AND OTHER SUBJECTS.

YES.  I UNDERSTAND A FICTION WORK IS FICTION AND SHOULD NOT BE NORMALIZED UNDER ANYTHING.  Same as I would not consider a work of fiction as real life.  And still, a work of fiction CAN depict real life, but is NOT real life, and vice versa.  I’ve read fictionized works of real life events and have to analize some at Uni to try to understand how real life was used and how the fictionized work affected our understanding of the thing (book that get me the most: “Asesinato” by Vicente Leñero).  

Yes.  There are people who cannot differentiate and mix them both.  A good book that cames to mind where this happens (in a way) is “Brother Grimm” by Craig Russell -and a book I really want to read again-.

No.  I would not attack an author for going into subjects I’m against or are triggers for me (unless they are directly affecting me -in the sense that no tags nor warning were used, and even so I would NOT attack authors, so easy to just hit the back button or close the tab.  At most I ask for a certain tag to be used, and hope people who are triggered by something I post feel safe enough to ask me to correct it, at least to put an adecuate tag for it).

Last.  Yeah.  Ao3 has a lot of delicate content.  Is that a reason for me to stop enjoying the rest of ao3?  No.  To stop supporting it?  Also no.  It’s on me what I consume and how I enjoy the works.

I am no one to force my ideas/moral system on the whole world.  I can only affect the ones near me, mostly on how I react towards the outside stimulus.  Even if I’m against something it’s because of MY UPGROWTH, the CULTURE I GROWTH UP IN.  What can I do?  Try to understand others & then try to show other views too, so if there are things -obvious quotation marks- “I’m against due to my upbringing”, what can be done to get to a point we can work to get on the most agreeable terms (and I’m not saying I’ll ever say pedophilia is acceptable.  Just that at some point and some places it was their culture, and what can be done NOW to try to stop it from happening.  Which is different than a conscious rapist seeking children.

It’s on me what I consume, how I deal with the works.  And to hope someday people would differentiate between RL and works of fiction.  And to people realizing that RL has effects on REAL BEINGS and they should be held accountable for their acts.

Writing/drawing about fictional characters (as much as it can be about sick things) is not affecting a real being and nothing can be done about it.  And over-using it gets to the point of “Peter and the wolf” when it no longer holds true the thing beight discussed/shown.

And ends small rant.

Does it shows I’m an Anthropologist?

[shouto-centric]

Hello, hello! I found you through another BHNA blog and I’m really glad I did because the stuff you write is awesome. Could I please have headcanons for Midoriya and Shinsou dating a reformed villain (someone who is regretful of their actions and is trying to make up for it?) Thank you very much, and keep doing a good job!

Certainly you can! Thank you so much for your kind words, hope you enjoy my lovely anon 💜

Midoriya Izuku

Midoriya always knew there was goodness dwelling inside you despite being unaware of your origins, and he made you believe that you could reform yourself to become a better person and leave your villainous past behind for good. You had once asked him why he wanted to become a hero, and he responded he wanted to become like All Might and save people with a smile. Though you followed up with, “But aren’t there some people beyond saving?” Midoriya had a suspicion of your underlying question and answers, “I don’t believe that. No matter what choices they made, no one is too broken to be redeemed.”

When Midoriya discovered the concerning markings on your skin—blemished with small and large old wounds scattered along your back proof from the cruel and brutal life you once lived, he wanted to question it but hesitated. He could see it from your expression that it brought back unpleasant memories you didn’t want to relive through again, so he peppers delicate and soft kisses upon your perfectly imperfect skin and reminds you that you don’t have to carry the weight of the world alone. Whenever you are ready, Midoriya would be there for you like he continuously promised he’d be and have proven time and time again. 

Midoriya was the first to say “I love you” in the relationship and you were perplexed when he pronounced each syllable, doubtful that you couldn’t have heard him correctly. “You love me?” you uttered back to him, though it was more so for yourself as you attempt to reel in the situation and gain some clarity. From that moment onwards, everything changed for you and you confessed to him about your past because you didn’t want to mess up your relationship with him or have him hear it from somebody else. Not before long, he draws you into his warm embrace and admits that he knew all along and still chose to love you including the parts of yourself that you’re ashamed of. 

Shinsou Hitoshi

You and Shinsou are similar in ways where you both wanted to become something other than what the world had so readily decided for you because of the Quirk he possessed or how you were bounded by your villainous family. Before meeting Shinsou, you never thought you would be able to escape the darkness and make your own destiny until he overcame many obstacles to prove his worthiness of becoming a hero and that inspired hope in your heart. That someday you could live a meaningful life and determine your own terms instead of continuing living in the shadows of your family, and he was the keystone to unlocking your undiscovered dreams and aspirations.

Sometimes Shinsou would awaken to your tossing and turning, body trembling with fear, screeching cries as the nightmares have crawled back to haunt you and remind you of all the crimes you’ve committed. He’d immediately shake you from the dream and in hushing tones whispers that it’s just a dream and you’re okay, no one can hurt you now as long as he’s here to protect you. He’d rock you in soothing motions while drawing circles on your backside and kiss the tears away, promising to stay up late with you if you couldn’t go back to sleep. Shinsou would then seek ways to make your nightmares less frequent—leaving the lamplight on, purchasing a dreamcatcher, looking into teas to remedy bad dreams. 

The off chance where word spreads about your family bloodline and your past affiliation with villains while you’re attending U.A., Shinsou would not tolerate anyone badmouthing or fingerpointing at you even though it was his first time hearing about it. He believes deep down you have a good heart and can recognize that you’re trying to do better, be better unlike these self-proclaimed fools making a mockery of the title hero. Shinsou’s devotion to you remains unfaltering and defends your name in your stead as he retorts with, “Maybe you should try becoming humans first before trying to play heroes. Even then, I doubt anyone would want to hire a bunch of good-for-nothings at their agency.” 

[captainlilyuniverseworld]

The Real You

This is a very long overdue response to a request by an anon,  a Universe where Steve was an Alpha before the serum and Tony was born and Omega but has the world tricked into thinking he’s an Alpha. This spiraled into a multi-part fic. 

Part 1: 

Tony Stark was an open book and an enigma wrapped in one. That’s the best way Steve could describe the man. Just when he thought he had Tony figured out, he pulled a 360 and Steve was left frustrated.

Big man in a suit of armour. Take that off, what are you? Steve had said. Something had flashed in Tony’s eyes. He’d seen the walls go up the second the words left his mouth and a lazy grin spread on Tony’s face as he shrugged.

Genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist. That had been Tony’s response and the man puffed up. Stood head to head, toe to toe. Alpha to Alpha. It happened again. Repeatedly. And each time Tony’s walls shot up. And each time Steve caught just a glimpse of what was behind it.

Then the bastard had to go and be self-sacrificing and that messed with Steve’s head even further. Even now as Steve sat across from the other man in the meeting. Tony half paying attention. His focus shifted from the tablet in his hand and what Fury was actually talking about.

“Tony.” Steve stood up after the meeting had finished and Tony stopped in his tracks as Steve said his name.

“What’s up Cap?” Tony didn’t look up.

“I was hoping we could talk?” Steve answered. “Grab a cup of coffee?”

Tony’s fingers stopped and he suddenly looked up at Steve. He blinked as if he was just registered what Steve said. “I’m sorry. Coffee?”

Steve nodded. “People still go out for coffee right?”

“Yes...but why do you want to get coffee with me?” Tony asked.

Steve shrugged. “Do you not want to?”

“No...no. I’ve got time,” Tony answered. “Anywhere in particular?”

“I was thinking the park, there’s one of those coffee vendors,” Steve answered. “We could walk?”

“Lead the way,” Tony held out an arm and he followed Steve out of the room before they fell into step.

Tony put the tablet into the messenger bag hanging off his shoulder and his hands into his pockets. Steve glanced at him out of the corner of his eye and looked away when Tony turned to look at him.

“What?” Tony asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Nothing,” Steve answered.

Steve paid for their coffee and they sat on a bench in front of the pond. “Alright, why would did you wanna have coffee?”

“Talk?” Steve answered. “Look, I was, wrong about you...And I’d like to apologize.”

Tony shrugged and drank his coffee. “Don’t worry about it. We’re all wrong at one point or another in our life. Golden Boy Captain America doesn’t have to be right all the time.”

Steve chuckled. “I never claimed to be right all the time.”

“But you think it,” Tony pointed out. “Don’t try to deny it.”

“Okay...okay maybe I think it, sometimes,” Steve conceded. “But you think you’re right all the time as well.”

“That’s because I am,” Tony replied.

Steve snorted as he drank more of his coffee as Tony finished off his and tossed the cup into a nearby trash can.

“What are you working on?” Steve asked. “On that tablet thing of yours.”  

“New upgrades for Natasha’s Widow Bites,” Tony answered. “Got some upgrade ideas for your shield too, if you’re interested.”

“Really?” Steve asked. “Could I see?”

“Sure,” Tony answered. He pulled the tablet out of the bag and sifted through a few different folders. Each one marked with the names of each Avenger and pulled up the one marked Captain Asshat.

Steve gave a raised eyebrow and Tony just shrugged.

“I figured I’d make a couple different shields. Different materials, different qualities. I haven’t gotten to the actual building stage yet but, if you’ve got any ideas. Let me know.” Tony showed him each drawn design.

Steve leaned in close and caught a whiff of Tony’s scent. Tony had always smelled spicy with hints of oil from all the machinery he worked with but there was something else.  Something sweet.

He pulled away when Tony started to put the tablet away and tossed his own coffee cup in the trash. Tony stood up and Steve followed suit.

“I’ve got to get back, meeting with Pepper and she gets mad when I’m late,” Tony said. “Maybe next time I’ll pick the coffee spot? Wasn’t bad but I know a place that makes a great cappuccino.”

“I’ll take you up on that,” Steve nodded.

Tony took out his phone as he started walking away and Steve sat back down on the bench. That sweet scent was stuck in the back of his mind for the rest of the day.

“Steve. What are you doing here?” Pepper blocked Steve’s access to the elevator.

“I was hoping to talk to Tony,” Steve answered.

“He’s busy,” she told him. “But I will tell him you stopped by.”

“Is...Tony okay?” Steve frowned a little.

“He’s fine,” Pepper answered. “But he’s busy. He’ll be busy for the next few days. Like I said. I’ll tell him you were here.”

Steve opened his mouth to reply but the woman fixed him with a steady gaze and he nodded. “Alright...thank you.”

He turned and walked away.

“Pepper said you had wanted to see me?”

Steve looked up from his sketchpad as Tony walked over. There were bags under his eyes and he smelled freshly washed and minty from toothpaste.

“Coffee,” Steve answered. “Never tried one of those cappuccinos you mentioned. Figured I’d take you up on your offer. If it still stands.”

Tony nodded and Steve was graced with a smile. He liked it.

“It’s just down the street,” Tony motioned towards the door with his head. “Shall we?”

Steve collected his things and followed Tony out of the building’s lobby and outside. Tony kept his hands in his pockets.

“So...you’ve been busy the last couple of days huh?” Steve asked. He tried to sound nonchalant.

“Fury’s got me buried in projects. He wants the helicarriers fixed up, weapons for the agent's, security systems updated. He’s still pissed that I hacked into SHEILD’s files,” Tony answered.

Tony pulled open the door to a small cafe and Steve stepped inside. The smell of coffee grounds mixed together was strong.

“My treat,” Tony said as he stepped up the counter.

Tony flashed the girl behind the bar a smile. She was an omega. Smelled like citrus, and the coffee she worked with. She blushed under Tony’s gaze.

“Good afternoon Mr. Stark,” she greeted.

“Morning Clara, I will have my usual and one cappuccino for my friend here,” Tony told her as he handed her some cash.

She nodded and gave him back the change. Tony led Steve over to a table and they sat down.

“First name basis with the cashier, do you come here often?” Steve asked.

“They prefer the terms barista’s,” Tony answered. “And yes. It’s a friendly place, usually quiet.”

Steve nodded a little. The same girl brought their drinks over before she returned behind the counter.

“She’s cute,” Steve added.

Tony blinked and looked over at the young woman and then back at his drink.

“Sure,” Tony nodded.

“Not interested?” Steve asked. He gauged Tony’s reaction over the rim of his own coffee.

“Why? Are you?” Tony asked back.

“You called yourself a playboy, I just thought…” Steve trailed off.

“That I sleep with any omega that I show interest in?” Tony asked.

Steve blushed a little at the blatant remark and instead of answering tried his drink. It was strong. Kind of smoky.

“Being an Avenger doesn’t leave much time for dating, and going out you know,” Tony added as an afterthought. “Besides, Clara has a mate. A very nice young man. I don’t like being a homewrecker.”

“Right...sorry…” Steve apologized.

Coffee turned into a regular thing between them. Once, maybe three times a week. A new place every time. Every time Steve got one less brick out of that wall Tony had built for himself.

“You’re staring.”

“I’m not staring.”

“You’re staring. I can feel it.”

Steve chuckled. “I’m drawing you.”

“Why?” Tony turned his head to look at him.

Steve shrugged. “Good lighting in there. Big open windows. You’re not moving around so much...you look good.”

“You think I look good?” Tony teased.

“Yes,” Steve answered as he looked up.

Tony’s eyes widened a fraction and he looked at the ceiling as he picked his cup off the floor. Some seasonal drink from Starbucks. Steve’s was next to him, half drunk on the side table.

“Are you hitting on me captain?” Tony asked after some silence.

“Does it bother you?” Steve asked.

“Never pegged you for the type to go against biology,” Tony answered.

“I was in the military Tony,” Steve looked back down at his sketch. “Most Omega’s were nurses, and those were far and few in between. Had to take care of urges somehow.”

“You and Bucky ever….?” Tony glanced at him out of the corner of his eye.

“Bucky and I are...were family,” Steve answered. “Never...wanted to mess that up.”

There was a glint of understanding in Tony’s gaze.

“But... I think you’re...different.” He set the sketchbook aside and walked on his knees over to Tony.

The kiss tasted like chestnut and peppermint. Tony’s lips parted under his as his hand curled into his hair. Steve pulled away after a short moment and Tony licked his lips.

“I think next time I’ll try the peppermint,” Tony mused.

The bricks came out faster now. But someday’s more were put in where others came out. He didn’t like to think about those days. The haunted tortured look in Tony’s eyes. 

The day’s Tony wouldn’t couldn’t sit still for longer than a couple minutes as if he wanted to pull his own skin off. The nights when Steve would catch glimpses of the other Alpha roaming the halls of the tower. 

But Steve found himself enveloped in Tony’s space, and is given access to his home lab. Jarvis greets him every time, and Tony tosses a smile over his shoulder.

They still get coffee and they’ve found better ways of trying each other’s behind the closed door of Tony’s office, or the lab, or the studio Tony had installed for Steve to work on his art. 

Steve moves onto the floor reserved for him.

Natasha gives them both knowing looks but doesn’t say anything. Steve brings it up to Tony, Tony just shrugs and asks if he wants to try his coffee. Too much vanilla and Steve counters it with his own. Their latest coffee shop adventure’s house blend.

It leads to more kissing, and then Tony’s on his knees between his legs with his Steve’s cock down his throat. He doesn’t last long and he’s a bit embarrassed but Tony just smiled and licked his lips as he sat back on his heels.

“No worries, all that extra stamina's good for something right?” He teased.

Steve nodded and tucked himself back into his pants and reached for Tony.

He took one step back out of his reach. “Don't worry about me.”

Steve frowned a little. “But…”

Tony waved his hand dismissively. “Already came.”

Steve knew it was a lie. Tony knew it was a lie. Steve nodded.

The brick stopped halfway and Tony gave him a smile.

Three months had passed before Steve realized it Three months of, whatever the hell it was they were doing. Three months of kissing. Touching. Tony in Steve’s lap, slim thighs bracketing his. Fingers in his hair. Goatee scratching his cheeks, neck, face.

Three months of over the clothes heavy petting and cumming in his pants. Three months of Tony disappearing, for days, sometimes a week once a month with no contact only to show up one morning in the kitchen. 

It's driving Steve insane, but he can’t bring himself to ask where Tony goes.

They're having coffee. Some place in Brooklyn that used to hold his and Bucky’s favorite Italian cafe.

“You know...I don't care,” Steve said.

Tony looked tired again. He was gone for a week this time. His bags had bags and he was dressed in a pair of work jeans and a t-shirt. Steve has a hunch it's probably one of his. It hangs a little off Tony’s frame. It's cute.

“What?” Tony picked up his coffee.

“About…” he motioned to the reactor spot. “If that's why you...you know…” he never could blatantly say the word sex out loud.

Bucky never had that problem.

Tony blinked as if he was trying to catch up.

“That's not…” he shook his head finally and graced Steve a small, tired smile. “That's not the reason,” Tony finished. “Sex would…complicate things. “

Steve frowned. “What?”

“I like what we’ve got right now...don't you?” Tony asked.

“Well...yes but...don't you want...more?” Steve asked.

He can't deny he's had dreams of Tony. Tony under him. On top of him. Inside him. He's not picky.

“More? What could be more fun than watching Captain America cream his jeans?” Tony teased.

Steve blushed and glanced around. He didn't know why. They were alone in the cafe. And the woman behind the counter was a little elderly woman.

“Why? Are you bored?” Tony’s voice was still teasing but there was a glint in his eyes. A vulnerability that wasn't usually there.

“No, no of course not,” Steve quickly shook his head. “I just...I figured maybe you'd want more.”

“Sex?” Tony asked.

Steve nodded.

Tony leaned back in his seat. Played with his mug.

“Look it's nothing against you, just...what we’ve got. It's fine, right? It's fun?” Tony looked up hesitantly.

Steve nodded again and gave him a smile. The tension in Tony’s shoulders eased and he smiled back.

In hindsight, it wasn’t very...smart of him to do it. Tony had been running on three hours of sleep for four and a half days and he crashed only an hour ago. In Steve’s bed.

He had mumbled something about it being a better mattress than his own. Steve snorted. He knew for a fact sleeping on Tony’s mattress was like sleeping in a buttery soft cloud.

But Tony had collapsed face first into his bed before Steve could say so. And Steve didn't really want to move him.

Steve had grabbed his sketch pad and sat against the headboard and spent the next hour drawing. Until he was just staring.

Then he was running his fingers through Tony’s hair. It was soft despite the outward appearance of too many hair products.

He ran his fingers down Tony's spine. Tony shifted and Steve froze until Tony’s breathing had evened again.

Steve's hand trailed lower. Even as he very firmly instructed it to stop. And it stopped. Right on the other man’s ass.

It didn't help that Tony was wearing a pair of sweatpants that clung to it. Tony's leg shifted this time.

Steve moved without thinking. He braced his hands on either side of Tony's head. His knee in the little spot between Tony’s thighs. He moved carefully not wanting to jostle the man. Though he suspected nothing short of an Atomic bomb could wake Tony at this point.

He placed his face in the crook of Tony's neck and inhaled deeply. He suppressed the low groan at the scent. Whatever that underlying sweetness was that followed Tony around was much stronger as it mingled with the spice and oil.

Tony shifted underneath him and Steve stilled a little.

“Steve?” Tony’s voice was thick with sleep.

“...Yes?” Steve swallowed.

“What’re you doing?” Tony mumbled.

“Turning off the light?” Steve tried.

“Oh…” Tony nodded a little. “Okay…”

Steve relaxed once Tony’s breathing evened out and nosed at the crook between Tony shoulder and neck. He couldn’t stop himself even if he wanted to as he began to scent the man. He felt Tony stir beneath him, felt him tense up.

“Steve?” Tony was frozen under him. His breath hitched as Steve worked his hands under his shirt and pressed his palms on Tony’s bare chest in order to start pulling his shirt off.

“Steve…” Tony repeated firmer.

He started to bring his hands up and Steve reacted without thinking, pinning the other man’s arms on either side of his head and pressed them against the mattress.

“Stay.”

Tony’s body went slack under Steve’s, and he looked up at him, with...Fear. Steve reeled back so fast he fell off the bed onto the floor.

“Tony...Tony I…”

Tony was out of the bed and out the door faster than Steve had ever seen him move. The door slid shut with a click, but it sounded like a slam in Steve’s ears.

[itsclowreedsfault]

Can I request cage or haunted for todobaku for the inktober writer thing? ;w;

I don’t know if you expected pain when you sent these prompts, anon, but I’m so sorry I tried to fluff but the angst was stronger 😢

I hope you still like it nonetheless;;

(maybe I should warn for major character death? I mean, the character is dead already from the start, but just in case)

14 - Haunted

He doesn’t cry as he draws the symbol on the floor. The chalk feels rough against his skin, rubbed raw as he grips it tightly, pretending his hand isn’t shaking and his nails aren’t digging into the tiny stub.

He doesn’t cry as the drawing starts glowing a faint red, nor when he grabs the book he’s left open on a nearby table.

He doesn’t cry as he starts reading the spell scribbled there, but when he raises his eyes, he sees that Katsuki does.

Katsuki cries, tears leaving tracks down his face, palms flat against the barrier created by the spell that prevents him from doing anything but floating within the space marked by the drawing.

“Why?" 

Katsuki’s voice is broken when he speaks, and Shouto feels his own wavering, but he doesn’t stop reading.

"Are you tired of me, is that it? Some fucking stupid thing like my death and it’s enough for you to stop loving me?”

The chains that bind him to Earth rattle as Katsuki punches solid air, and it’s on them that Shouto fixes his eyes that start to sting with the threat of tears.

Still, he doesn’t cry.

“Those chains are heavy, Katsuki,” he says, momentarily stopping the spell to bite on his lip so hard he draws blood. “You need to let go.”

And for that, I need to let go of you first.

Katsuki is still crying as the last words of the exorcising spell leave Shouto’s mouth. He is still crying as he vanishes, leaving nothing but the echo of his screams and the imprint of his betrayed expression on Shouto’s mind.

Only then does Shouto break down, book falling to the floor as his hand covers his mouth, body curling on itself as he cries.

He cries, shaking with silent sobs, eyes squeezing shut against the lacerating pain that tears through his chest.

We’ll meet again, someday, and I hope you’ll forgive me then.