#and everything anti ever does is fight back against jack

[deepfriedseagullfeet]

me spending all day in bed thinking of all the ways my version of Jack could be even more fucked up and horrific than anti 

[seaswalllow]

i. nine months is a long time to pray, doctor.

warning for: references to graphic injury, death, distress, captivity, and torture.

--

when you are a snapping twenty-two, you earn your doctorate. when you are twenty four, you have made a name for yourself, as infamous as the company that has snatched up your potential.

when you are twenty eight, a monster wearing your friend's face carves his way into your heart, and he does. not. leave.

here is how it goes:

for the entire span of a single, terrible day, he digs blunt fingers in deep enough to bruise, and pulls hard enough to crack ribs. for ten hours and thirty seven excruciating minutes, he laughs and laughs as you frantically sew up each gash that he lovingly carves into jack, restart a stuttering heart, pump air into wheezing lungs.

you still lose.

--

open your eyes, doctor. do you know where you are?

--

open them. i'm talking to you.

--

you pry your eyes open. sticky, heavy. you don't know where you are. the lights are the same, fluorescent light bleaching the color out of cold-white-clean tiles. antiseptic fills your nose, and under it-

you choke, scrabble back against the wall you've been pressed up against. blood, so much blood. enough to drown in, but you can't see a drop of it. it smells like every surgery room you've ever stepped out of, and as you look for a door-

the walls stretch on, and on. a table with steel tools you recognize so well. a table with lights the same fluorescent white. a table and four walls, and a window. cameras, black glass glittering in the timeless light.

you turn, and keep turning. the tile is freezing beneath your fingers; you grasp onto the biting cold with both hands, white-knuckled. this is real.

your eye itches. you rub at it absentmindedly; freeze as your eye comes away sticky. the white spots floating about wink at you.

the white spots float, and swell, and swell, until you can't see any further.

--

you open your eyes. when had you closed them?

the heart monitor screams in your ears. the heart monitor is screaming, and jack is trying to scream with it, with lungs that refuse to fill.

terror washes through you, stark enough to root you to the spot. the back of your neck prickles.

--

go on, doctor.

you would let your friend die by your hand?

--

fear and anger are very, very close cousins. siblings, almost; the tail and the head of the same snake. we hate what we fear, and we fear what we hate.

you are so afraid you may throw up what little coffee remains, churning, in your gut.

you are so afraid, and you are abruptly, blazingly furious; jack is yours, your friend, not his, never his.

not now, not ever.

(this will not last long. you will have stopped counting the amount of times you open your eyes before the anger turns tail and flees.)

--

you fight.

--

you are not a warrior. not a hero, not a magician capable of miracles. but you fight in the only way you know how; hands pumping his chest, flooding his blood with precious, precious oxygen, stitching up and burning shut each weeping wound that anti leaves behind.

--

the heart monitor goes flat. jack stops moving.

--

you open your eyes.

--

the heart monitor screams.

--

your hands grow tackier, and tackier, red from being scrubbed raw.

--

sometimes, jack's ribs crush just right in the wrong way, squeezing his heart into stillness; a knife more effective than anti's.

he laughs while he tells you this, blood spilling out of his mouth and painting the floor a brilliant red. how easily love kills, doctor, how easily your cleverness fails.

he laughs as you wheeze for breath, grasping at your own chest, willing your own heart out of the vice that holds it--

--

sometimes, you do everything right. jack doesn't wake up. you close your eyes, just for a minute, a silent prayer of relief--

--

it always ends the same.

--

it takes you six days before it sinks in that you were never meant to win this game. you count each horrid, horrid time you open your eyes as a day-- but in the back of your head, in that small, ancient remnant of your brain that remembers the days where science couldn't so easily explain the sun going dark and the monsters that hid, a voice remembers that not everything is as it seems and you don't know which way is up, let alone what constitutes as a day.

this was never a second chance.

--

you think you'll crack by the ninth day. you've always been good under pressure, you think. the emergency room is hardly a place for panic. but there is pressure, and there is agony.

to your surprise- and to his- you continue.

--

desperation's a good look on you, henrik.

--

but haven't you had enough?

--

this statement is so incongruous you nearly laugh. jack is wheezing under your stuttering hands; you're growing tired, so tired. cpr is a grueling task for one man and nobody is here to hear tou scream for help. nobody is here to hear you howl as he slips from between your fingers for the seventeenth time. you are so tired.

had enough. what a nice way to put the bone-deep ache in your muscles, in your chest.

--

do you know what penance is, henrik?

--

penance. is this penance? you failed him, and now you will fail him again, and again.

--

no, no. this isn't penance.

--

do you want to know what penance is?

--

jack is looking at you, now, eyes filmy and bloodshot, his favorite black shirt dyed even darker. you want it to stop. you want out. you want to wake up.

--

be careful what you wish for, henrik. you never did learn the cost of your desires.

--

you open your eyes.

--

the tile under your fingers is chipped and cracked. in the dim lighting, you can make out dark stains; you swallow down what little bile you have left.

the lights flicker; a headache pounds against your temples. your fingers are smeared with blood and torn at the ends. your legs scream, your throat hurts, cracked and dry as it is. it feels like you've been screaming.

jack stands in front of you. anti stands in front of you.

--

are you ready to find out what penance is?

[i-make-fun-of-spn-characters]

I feel like you've given most spn related things some lil spice but I always love the spice on this : hot spicy take on the "Dean is the most horrible character and ruins everyone's life and Sam and Cas are poor little meow meows who only do bad things sometimes because tyran Dean farted in their direction" takes that are not really only said by anti-Dean peeps ? Obsessed with that incredible thesis and would love the added spice ❤

SPICY HOT HOT GHOST PEPPERS CAROLINA REAPERS HELP I'M BURNING

I really try to respect other people’s opinions, and I believe there are a wealth of ways to interpret a story, and I think that’s a deeply beautiful thing. This applies to interpretations I don't agree with and outright dislike as well. That said, some opinions are simply and objectively bad, dishonest, and/or demonstrably false, and I truly do not believe you can sit down and honestly watch through the show with an open mind about all the characters, truly pay attention to what they do, say, and believe, and come to the conclusion that this show is about an evil manipulative abusive man terrorizing his pure and sinless brother and friend. It is an interpretation built from cherry picking facts to suit an ugly, miserable theory, making Mount Everest out of a bunch of the tiny mole hills, making the worst possible presumptions of feelings and intentions, and holding characters to completely different standards in order to neatly divide them into "abused" and "abuser" in a way that, frankly, fetishizes the abused person. I despise this interpretation of the story with every fiber of my being, and I have absolutely no respect for the opinion of anyone who peddles it, regardless of who they cast as villain/victim (because people have also done this with the others—it’s just more “popular” to do it with Dean... I mean... does anyone else remember how people were shitting on Sam after his emotional reaction in 14.12? Calling him an evil abuser? Because I do).

The thing that always gets me about this take isn't just how dishonest, unfair, mean-spirited, and compassionless it is in its treatment of Dean’s feelings, circumstances, and intentions... but how deeply reductive and offensive it is toward Sam and Castiel, sucking away their identities to turn them into effigies to mourn for their sad, Stockholm syndrome-esque attachment to their "abuser". Further, it grips the heart of the show—the relationship between Sam and Dean, and then the relationship among TFW as a whole—in a tight, uncompromising fist and pulverizes it. It literally rips out the heart of the show (the RELATIONSHIPS) and replaces it with something unprepossessing of any merit: A miserable, 15 years long story about a malicious abuser getting away with terrorizing those closest to him for his entire life, while his poor abuse victims suffer through until they die for him/happy to be reunited with him because they “don’t know any better” and never ever learned better, I guess. What a stupid, sad sack of a story.

Castiel is a thousands of years old celestial being who has literally beaten Dean into the pavement under no form of mind control, and has shown over and over again that he will do whatever the hell he wants, regardless of whatever Dean thinks about being sidelined. If he thinks whatever he is doing is in Dean's best interest, he literally does not care how Dean feels about it. He will nod and smile and then fly off and swallow thousands of souls with Dean begging him not to, shove Dean out of the way to attack the big bad, leave Dean alone in Purgatory, refuse to come out of Purgatory so he can self-flagellate, fly off with the angel tablet, help Sam with the Book of the Damned, let Lucifer possess him without anyone's knowledge or agreement, come into Dean's room under the guise of apologizing for ghosting him so that he can steal The Colt out from under his pillow and murder someone, decide not to murder that person and still prevent Sam and Dean from helping by knocking them both unconscious, get himself killed, make a deal to trade his life for Jack's and never tell anyone, hide information and worries and ignore phone calls, ghost Sam and Dean, and bicker and fight with Dean as if they are a married couple. Love sickness and feelings of worthlessness (which Cas has a wealth of reasons to feel—many of which aren’t even related to Dean but to his heavenly family) are reinterpreted as the result of some sort of constant, terrorizing emotional abuse. Power and authority that Dean does not actually have is forced into his hands by these fans. Maybe listen when Cas says, “Hey—not everything is your fault.” Maybe listen when he says “I loved the whole world because of you”, calls Dean a role model, says he enjoys their conversations, offers to die with him and dies for him multiple times. Maybe treat these feelings as genuine and valid and HIS and not as the delusions of some poor manipulated baby. 

Sam is framed this way even more often than Cas, and it's a damn shame, because what I typically see is this: Sam’s development into a mediator and peacemaker is twisted and reinterpreted as coming from a place of weakness and/or fear. Rationality, maturity, wisdom, and compassion are not the traits of a scared, powerless child. They are the traits of a mature adult, who has been beaten down by life, and fought and raged against his circumstances, and somehow come out of it with more kindness and understanding and strength instead of less. He has made his own decisions whenever it was possible, within the set of circumstances doled out to him. From telling his dad to go fuck himself and going to college, to getting back into hunting to avenge Jess (NOT because of Dean—Dean took him home without complaint at the end of the woman in white case), to continuing to hunt after their father died because he wanted to feel close to him (Dean was actually weirded out and sort of disgusted by this), raging and fighting to save Dean from his deal against Dean’s wishes, continuing to hunt and working with Ruby (directly against Dean’s dying wish), drinking demon blood, jumping in the cage, leaving hunting to go be with Amelia, coming back to hunting to save Kevin, fighting with Dean over what he had with Amelia and threatening to leave if Dean didn't shut his mouth, leaving Amelia to go back to hunting (Dean ultimately suggests he go back to her—Sam chooses to stay), trying to kill Benny, demanding to be the one to do The Trials and saying he is going to SURVIVE them—that being the ENTIRE POINT, losing that resolve in a fit of depression but choosing to drop the knife, demanding space from Dean (and being given it), fighting to save Demon Dean who didn’t want to be found or saved, using the Book of the Damned against Dean’s wishes, telling Charlie that this is what he wants—that he used to want normal but now all he wants is to hunt with Dean and that he doesn’t know what he’ll do if he can’t have that, unleashing the Darkness in his desperation to keep Dean with him and even saying, “I would do it again” in the aftermath, saving the town being destroyed by Amara, getting into The Cage with Lucifer, leading a team against the British Men of Letters, nurturing Jack, punching Dean in the face when he was going to sacrifice himself, leading more hunters, wielding a gun against Chuck... and that’s just some highlights. Sam Fucking Winchester does not need your bullshit about him being some sad, scared, helpless baby lorded over by mean old Dean who has never let him do anything he wants. 

Yes, in the text itself, there is jealousy and resentment at times, and there is legitimate and righteous anger on Sam’s part on a few occasions. There is blame cast on Dean by Sam for some of these choices/circumstances. Some of those moments where Dean is blamed are legitimate, and some of them... frankly, are not. Within the framework of the fucked up dynamics of the way they were raised, Sam and some fans bristle when they feel Dean is casting himself as the parent he is not, but Sam also has been guilty in the past of trying to reframe himself as Dean’s child when things got tough. Neither of them is responsible for the origin of that dynamic, but they BOTH have responsibility to change it, and they both, ultimately, succeed in doing so. For Sam, his part comes in recognizing and learning to fully own his own choices. Recognizing that he is not a child, and he is certainly not Dean’s child, and it isn’t just “Mummy—loosen the grip”, but Sam has to too—not claim independence only to blame Dean for his choices when his own decisions have an ultimate outcome he is unhappy with. That is a legitimate arc that Sam goes through imo, but he comes out the other side of it, and he and Dean relate to each other much better as peers from then on—and I’d like to note that throughout the entire series, when they don’t relate as perfect peers and teammates, it isn’t always Dean “bossing Sam around”, but Sam also trying to sideline Dean and yes—boss him around. And when they lied and hurt each other and yes, even manipulated each other, Dean most certainly wasn't always the one doing the lying and hurting and manipulating. Always, always, ALWAYS, they both had an understandable point of view, and it was complex, and you could understand why they made the choices they did, even if you thought of those choices as being wrong ones. 

I also would like to point out (because this is basically what I see all of the time) that Dean being hurt by someone or simply voicing his feelings or opinion is in no way abusive or manipulative. Dean is certainly charismatic and loved and his returning love and respect is often deeply desired, but he is not an actual siren, who bends people to his will simply by speaking or being. People are, in fact, able to tell him “no”, and frequently FREQUENTLY do. Further more, no one is owed his affection, his unwavering loyalty, or his trust. He has a right to his boundaries, regardless of if it makes some poor sad sap feel deprived of the “wellspring of coveted love” while he works through things. He can be hurt and angry, and he can wear his heart on his sleeve at times, and he can be flawed, and broken. [Insert Castiel's speech from 15.18 here]. So can Sam. So can Cas. None of them are manipulating each other by virtue of getting angry, feeling hurt, being traumatized, needing space, or having differing opinions or feelings. Sam didn’t punch Dean in the face in 14.12 because he's a cruel, manipulative abuser trying to force Dean under his thumb. He didn’t work behind Dean’s back with Ruby, insist on doing The Trials, beg Dean to use Doc Benton’s alchemy, use the Book of the Damned to cure Dean, pump him full of blood to cure him of being a demon despite the fact that it might kill him, or scream at him and fight him for wanting to get in the Ma’lak box because he “doesn’t respect his autonomy” and “wants to control him” and “doesn’t respect his right to his own body”. He did it because he loves him desperately, and Dean could stand to fucking hate himself less, and he fiercely wanted Dean to live even when Dean didn’t want to or couldn’t picture what that could be like. He didn’t force Dean to do anything simply by opening his mouth to voice disagreement and swaying Dean when he did so. Now reverse that. 

Cas didn't beat Dean into the ground in season 5 because he wanted to terrorize him into never going against Castiel ever again. He didn’t go behind his back dozens of times, sideline him, go MIA, all because he wanted to manipulate and control Dean and punish him. He didn’t throw sassy remarks at him to shatter his self-esteem. Now reverse that. 

*Breathes*

Anyway, fuck "X is abusive” interpretations. 

[marmaligne]

Hello! Can I have some hc with a protective mama Reader with Naib, Helena and Bane. They are my precious baby. I haven't play this game since season 13 and I miss them so much ahhhhhhh 😭😭. Thank you, have a nice day ❤❤🌷 (sr, my English is not good)

✨ Your English is wonderful dear ✨

[Naib Subedar, Helena Adams, Gamekeeper] S/O Is Overprotective

✨ As a reminder, my works will always include gn!reader unless specified by the requester! ✨

———————————————————————

[Naib Subedar]:

* You had been at the manor for quite awhile now, and were a rather nice person, getting along with most other survivors, and even some of the hunters to boot.

* It was quite surprising actually. You’d walked in the first day with a tough-guy attitude and gruff personality, and you didn’t seem like a very approachable person.

* Then, some survivors such as Victor and Emily started worming their way into your heart. Liam [Lucky Guy] and Norton were some of the first people to offer you a seat at the dinner table, and from then on you were one of them.

* You had scars, though most could tell they were more physical than emotional, from some sidejobs you used to complete for a gang on White Sand Street—robbing people and competing in fights with rivals.

* You quickly learned that most people fought back. Rival gangs always intruded on your own territory, and you were always left on guard, defending the last remnants of your livelihood and your sanity.

* Maybe that’s why you’re so protective over your things. Never letting anyone enter your room, never letting anyone see the pain you hide. Opening up to people enough to make allies, but never enough to show secrets.

* Now Naib…. Naib helped you out a lot. It seemed he understood you, far more than others. For some reason, he was always there for you, watching your back when needed, acting like a shield at times—sometimes literally.

* You never really understood at first, how he seemed to know you so well. From what you knew, he came from halfway cross the world, from Nepal, in India—a child, a soldier, a weapon.

* You guessed his life was rather similar, and assumed he’d come to the manor for quite the same reasons but, it was hard to see through the scowl on his face.

* At some point, you began to recognize the signs, the irritation, the avoidance. You recognized the silence, and the stiffness that came from Naib when he ate and smiled and nodded at their questions. You saw the signs of a brother, somebody just as lost and broken as you were.

* Children in the bodies of adults, forced to live life too fast and too furiously. Damaged and done in, waiting for someone to save them, but too scared to cry for help.

* Unwilling to hurt others again, unwilling to change.

* You grew wary—observant—of him eventually. You joined in more matches with him as teammate, and sat next to him often at dinner. When you noticed he didn’t eat as much, you grunted in concern. When he fell asleep in odd places, you’d bring him a blanket.

* It got to the point where he found out about your help, and tried to dissuade you from wasting your time.

* You never really listened. In fact, your worries only increased. Others might not have recognized, but you saw the signs of fatigue and death written in the lines of his face. You’d seen it every day back on White Sand.

* He gave up on making you give up, tired of attempted persuasions. Eventually began returning the favours—Naib is the type to have a ‘you watch my back, I’ll watch yours’ mentality.

* Everything you’d do for him is returned in kind. It annoyed the rest of the manor to no end because the giving and receiving eventually reached limits unheard of.

* You’d throw yourself on a rocket chair to save him, and next game you’d have your own personal bodyguard tracking your every move.

* He’d never admit it, but he appreciates all you do for him, and hopes you appreciate his efforts in making your life a little better too.

* Though your protective tendencies know no bounds, he hopes you’re a little more cautious with throwing your life on the line for him like that. This is a death game after all, be more careful…. please?

* At some point, the whole manor hopes you two could just get together and kiss it out in some storage closet. If you’re dating, what’s the need to be so consistent in you’re protective tendencies? Then you’ll always be together, which means nothing can ever happen to either of you!

* To be fair, that’s what most of them thought until an incident after the confession, where Naib wouldn’t let you out of the medical ward for a week due to a few hairline fractures.

* Please Naib! Emily begs you to let her use the examination table! You’ve hogged it for 5 days and she needs it to identify the infection spreading on Aesop’s leg! Vera broke her nose! William sprinted into the gymnasium wall and shattered his kneecaps! Please leave!

* You once set fire to a couch because Naib stubbed his toe on it.

* Please stop it you two, Freddy can’t budget for anymore furniture, and we’re fresh out of chairs.

———————————————————————

[Helena Adams]:

* Oops! Oh no her glasses! Aww shucks, Norton knocked them right off her face and onto the hardwood floor. She can’t find them because she can’t see, whatever shall she do?

* [S/o]! Please, she needs your help!

* You come in running with a pair of pliers, five bottles of anti-grease spray, and a box of extra lenses and a screwdriver.

* Oh how wonderful! You fixed her glasses—again—and saved her from the task of shuffling herself on all fours looking for them! Her hero!

* Helena…. praises you to say the least. You’re her best friend, her confidante, her…. big and strong, sometimes dumb partner!

* She adores everything you do for her, and tries equally as hard to do things for you that make your life necessarily easier, though it’s harder with her condition.

* She met you around the same time as everybody else, during your first days in the manor. Really, she didn’t actually know you were there until she bumped into a voice she didn’t recognize and became surprised.

* You quickly learned about her blindness, and made it your goal to form a friendship with her based on your willingness to help her around and get closer to her—she was very kind after all.

* Your protectiveness stemmed from the inherent feeling of a need to help guide and provide for Helena, much like a spouse would… jk, unless 👀….

* At some points, you were berated by her for your incessant protections, most of which made her feel highly dependent, which she didn’t like.

* She liked the feeling of being independent of others and being recognized as an autonomous, capable being. Especially considering what she came there for, it was a blow to her pride to be led around and pushed aside all the time.

* When she revealed these feelings to you, you had surprisingly promised her to cease in most areas of monitoring—however you still consistently check up on her—and settled into the realm of a relationship with her.

* Helena meets somebody who respects her opinions + acknowledges her intellect + isn’t a dingy asshole? Sign her up and slap on a ring, she’s marrying this person (eventually).

* She knows that your tendencies stem from a place of need and want, and tolerates most of them. Deep down, she likes being taken care of by someone who knows she can take care of herself. She really does love you.

* When you’re actually in a relationship with each other, you make sure to watch each others backs, more so you than Helena (because she can’t ‘watch’ per say), but you get the point.

* There was once an incident in a duo’s match where Helena became stranded on the Lakeside Fishing map. The terrain is rough, with piles of fish everywhere, randomly placed boxes and walls, and the barrels are bad enough when they don’t form a blockade.

* Her navigational skills, as good as they are with all her previous experience and staff, couldn’t for the life of her figure out how to move her way around a mess of box paths, pallets, and fishing stands.

* Most other survivors were occupied or dead—it had been a hard match against Jack the Ripper and Guard 26—and she was barred from reaching any form of help.

* So she screamed your name as loud as she possibly could across the map, and ended up attracting the attention of BonBon instead. During those moments where she could hear his clanks and heavy metalloid footsteps stalking towards her, the tick of a time bomb in hand, she heard a screech in the distance.

* A fierce battlecry—you came raging from around a windmill, propelled by William’s football and packing heat with a flare gun. BonBon, now stunned twice, stood there in astonishment, before chasing after you, who had grabbed Helena in your arms, running off at full speed.

* Your stamina bar, indicated by a small tab on your character, was running low, and you wouldn’t be able to run at full speed for another minute or two, having used your ability to buy time. Stopping near a closet, you lean down to place Helena on her feet, telling her to hide.

* Her blood trail was invisible from not actually having run anywhere, and she did as you said, making you promise to come get her when it was safe.

* You gave her a smirk and a small nod, assuring her that you would, before leaning in for a peck on the forehead as you shoved her into the locker.

* If only you could see her flushed in embarrassment.

* Leaving her to fangirl in the locker, you form a decoy in your arms—result of your max rescuer ability—and ran off once more, taking off around a corner just as Guard 26 reached your previous location, chasing after you and ‘Helena’ in hopes of landing two more kills.

———————————————————————

[Bane the Gamekeeper]:

* How does it feel to love a deerman? Good? Okay!

* Bane as you know is a little…. rough around the edges so-to-speak, and he has a lot of edges.

* Once you get around all the hooks, chains, and bear traps, and beneath that creepy-looking deer head of his, he really is such a sweet guy!

* At least you think so. In reality, he still acts like a complete dick to everybody else, and only shows his soft side around you, but that’s because he knows he can trust you with his lands, animals, and secrets! All those others out there only wish to hurt what he—you—have, and he’ll make them pay for it.

* Honestly, in order for him to have fallen for you so hard to have let his guard down around you, you probably would have had to be at your most vulnerable point in life, or a hunter yourself. Like a scared prey animal, uncertain of its future, waiting for something to happen, and somebody to help, or a huge predator, ready to strike out at any moment.

* Once you worm your way into his cold dead heart, there’s no way out for you. He’ll keep you close, as he doesn’t want you to be poached away like his precious animal friends from the past. He knows how cruel humanity can be sometimes.

* When you come to find out about his less-than-kind history, it’s all you can do to pity him. Your sympathy knows no bounds, and you become clingier, though he quite honestly likes it.

* You don’t want what happened to him to occur again, and with all these other traitors and murderers in the manor, you’re afraid of what the others could do.

* You keep to his side a lot more, take walks with him in the garden, and enjoy tranquil picnics from time-to-time on Lakeside. Anything to keep him close to you and away from all the pain.

* Bane can obviously see what your doing, and noticing that your protectiveness doesn’t yet border on the insane, he allows you to continue in your devotions.

* It’s honestly sweet sometimes how you both adore each other so much, even if you know that one day one or both of you will have to leave. Whether it be through death, disappearance, or another means such as escape is a question of time, and one that neither of you know the answer to.

* If you’re also a hunter, than both of you know that while you two are happier now than either of you were in life, that your individual deaths and worths will eventually determine your fates—whether that be a happy afterlife, or an eternity of endless wandering.

* It’s well known that you’ll both disappear the day the game ends, your souls being put to rest as they should’ve been however long ago. Until then however, you’ll continue to hold on to and vehemently protect the relationship the two of you have, and you’ll fight until your soul vanishes from the earth for what you have to remain that way.

* Now, if you’re a survivor, this is where the relationship can be a bit difficult.

* Avidly defending the actions of your boyfriend during and after a match to the rest of your survivor buddies isn’t a very good look for you, or your reputation. It’s been many times where you’ve almost been chased out of the dining room because somebody was pissed at you for costing them the match, or being the only one spared instead of convincing Bane for a win or tie.

* As they say, if you can’t beat em’, join em’. Some survivors, such as William, Kreacher, and Freddy, have more than once suggested that if you loved a hunter so much, you should become one to be with him. Dating the undead almost crosses the line of what is humane. Aesop thinks you’re kind of cool.

* The hunters over on Bane’s side hate you more. Are convinced that you’re the sole reason that Bane goes friendly sometimes (even in matches without you in them), and that your relationship takes away from his brutal and violent persona and nature.

* Violetta and Michiko are the most tolerant of you, mainly because you gifted them silk and a hand fan for Christmas once when they wished for them in their letters.

* All-in-all, basically everyone blames you, but you keep going forward because who cares about all the nasty bi*ches in the world, am I right?

* Once, to prove the integrity and devotion of your relationship, you set Freddy’s room on fire and locked Kreacher in a closet. You looked Bane directly in the eyes and kneeling before him stated, “I have committed arson for you m’lord.”

* You couldn’t see it because of his deerish head and all, but Bane really went “Heart eyes motherf*cker.” on you in that moment.

* You love animals and set things on fire to prove your loyalty to him? Ticket for one please, he’s riding the simp train all the way to the station.

* Just, please don’t accidentally burn down the manor, he wants to spend as much time with you as possible before he disappears.

* Also don’t joke around with your life, it’s too precious, even when you tackle your own teammate or risk getting hit by Ganji’s cricket ball to save him from being stunned.

* He doesn’t want you dying before he does—has already he supposes—or disappearing without a trace.

* You promise you’ll stick with him until the day you finally leave this wretched place.

———————————————————————

✨ Hope you enjoyed ✨

[goodfish-bowl]

@floralflowerpower here’s the fic you asked for, took me a bit but I think it turned out pretty well! 

based on this post and this headcanon

Summary: Danny had to admit, he’d never thought something like this would happen. Usually, the roles were reversed, and he’d be the one bursting in through warehouse doors, guns blazing, ready to kick some ghost butt. Never thought he’d be the one dangling precariously close to a large vat of somewhat familiar bubbling ectoplasm, while the stereotypical villain paced near the lever that would drop him to his doom. That made him the damsel in distress, a concerning idea. 

 Words: 3530 

Danny had to admit, he’d never thought something like this would happen. Usually, the roles were reversed, and he’d be the one bursting in through warehouse doors, guns blazing, ready to kick some ghost butt. Never thought he’d be the one dangling precariously close to a large vat of somewhat familiar bubbling ectoplasm, while the stereotypical villain paced near the lever that would drop him to his doom. That made him the damsel in distress, a concerning idea.

Normally, this wouldn’t be concerning, but he couldn’t phase through the chain that was wrapped around him enough times he resembled a cocoon rather than a hostage. It must’ve come from the Ghost Zone, with the light glow emitting from the mental links and the lack of burning pain associated with anti-ghost coatings and ectoranium. At least he bought local. He liked the energy coming off of the surprisingly large container of ectoplasm, radiating a glow and mist that bathed everything he saw in green, even less than the idea of being chained upside-down over said vat. He didn’t want to find out why.

Who was this loser anyway? The ghost lawyer? He’d never seen, heard, nor smelled this ghost in his entire half-life. His navy suit contrasted awfully with his green skin, violet eyes, and mint-green hair, and those red shoes definitely didn’t match any of it. What a lame villain, couldn’t even dress himself properly.

“Hey! Looser!” Danny called out, and the lawyer ghost perked up.

“Splendid! You’re awake! It would’ve been anticlimactic if you stayed unconscious,” the ghost remarked.

“Should’ve stayed unconscious, it would’ve kept me from having to witness your crime against fashion. Who are you and how’d I get here? Last I checked you didn’t ask me if I wanted to hang out?” Danny quipped.

“I am Wright, a ghost of due process and order, and your darling Valerie Gray has thwarted me for the last time! I boyfriend-napped you to draw her here! Your doom will serve as her punishment,” Wright exclaimed, like a looser.

Danny just stared at the ghost for a minute as his head attempted to wrap around what was going on, and hanging upside down, wrapped in chains, didn’t help.

“’Boyfriend-napped? Seriously? That’s not even a word, and Val and I stopped dating, like, a year ago!” Danny pointed out.

“Irrelevant,” Wright huffed, ”You still hold her affections, and your death will cause her the same grief she caused me.”

Danny scoffed, “What’d she do to you anyways? She shoots at all the ghosts, you’re not special.”

“I wasn’t aware that you knew about her… nightly activities,” Wright stated, and Danny gave him a look.

“Ok, let me get this straight, who am I to you?” Danny asked, confused. Most ghosts were aware that Valerie was the Red Huntress, and Wright had yet to make a remark about having “captured Phantom”.

“Daniel Fenton, the son of the infamous ghosthunters Madeline and Jack Fenton of Amity Park, and the former sweetheart of Valerie Gray, the Red Huntress,” Wright announced.

“Right, ok. What do you know about Phantom?”

“I hold great admiration for the protector of Amity Park! He goes through the process of capturing ghosts with efficiency and never acts without just cause! He’s a powerful ghost worthy of the titles bestowed upon him! He valiantly defends both his haunt and the people who live there, both human and ghost! Truly a pillar of order and process!” Wright gushed and Danny fought the urge to roll his eyes, ”What does this have to do with you, however?”

Danny frowned, fighting off the reflex to claim Amity wasn’t his haunt, but his home. The praise was appreciated, but he really didn’t understand why this ghost held him so high. He was more surprised by the fact that this ghost didn’t know that Phantom and Fenton were the same damn person and that he had just kidnapped someone he held in such high regard.

“What do you mean by ‘order and process’?” Danny asked, just to get a proper definition as to what this poorly dressed lawyer was on.

“He properly maintains a level of organization and protection in Amity Park, protecting the order and in every single fight plays out how it’s supposed to be. A trespasser with malicious intentions shows up, Phantom arrives shortly, they banter and fight, Phantom emerges victorious, and the trespasser is removed from the premises, thus process. Does that make sense to your feeble human mind?” Wright chastised, explaining himself carefully.

Danny rolled his eyes. “Well, aren’t you a ghost ‘trespassing’ in Amity Park? Doesn’t that mean Phantom will he show up to save m, tossing you back into the Zone?” Danny bluffed.

“But we’re not in Amity Park, I may have boyfriend-napped–“

“Please never say that word again.”

“-you from there, but that’s not where we currently are. Red Huntress operates out of Elmertown, and I would never infringe upon Phantom’s haunt!”

Huh, Danny supposed that made sense to a point, he never really dealt with ghosts in Elmertown, since they were usually just low-level specters that usually didn’t mean any harm. If Val was operating out of here, then it made sense that there would be so few ghosts, and also that the ghosts that were afraid or ‘admired’ him like Wright would stick to Elmertown rather than Amity.  

“And Val doesn’t follow your version of ‘order and process’?”

“NO! She shows up, never lets me get through my proper monologue or cause the necessary level of chaos, and then threatens my afterlife, completely uncivilized! What an improper lady! Always shooting first, never asking questions!” Wright exasperated.

“Sorry, but that’s Val’s order and process. Guns blazing and ready to kick some ghost butt.”

Valerie burst in through the doors, with perfect theatric timing, her ecto-rifle poised and aimed at Wright.

“Danny!” she exclaimed, immediately focusing on him before shifting her rage towards the ghost in the room.

Oh boy, did she look pissed. Danny wasn’t sure if he’d ever pushed her to the point Wright currently had. Her suit blazed with scarlet energy, read to fire at the drop of a hat, bright enough Danny could see it over the green haze of the pool of ectoplasm beneath him.  

“Finally! It took you long enough. I left a note and everything,” Wright complained, unmoved by her anger.

“Let Danny go, or I blast a hole straight through you this time, Wright,” Valerie snarled.

Wright sneered, ”You shoot me, and I drop the boy-toy into a vat of concentrated ectoplasm. There’s not even enough distance for you to swoop in and save him before he’s at least partially submerged.”

Valerie looked over to Danny, and he almost smiled in greeting, but he managed to stop himself as a particular detail resurfaced. Fenton didn’t know Valerie was the Red Huntress, that was knowledge only Phantom was privy to. Damn it. Valerie’s eyes were wide in fear under her visor, and her grip tightened on her rifle considerably. Danny couldn’t make a joke or anything, and he was forced to fill his expression with unfamiliarity and panic, like a proper actor. He met her eyes anyways, cool and calm, before gritting his teeth. He trusted Valerie, she would save him, but he also knew her well enough to know she hated playing along. Valerie hadn’t realized that the Red Huntress wasn’t supposed to know Danny Fenton either, so perhaps it evened out in its own way.  

“Dragging a bystander into a personal fight is just like a ghost,” she spat the word, “What is it you want?”

Wright began with a flourish of his arms, “For everything to play out in the proper order of course! For an order to be restored to your haphazard violence! We are going to go through all of the proper motions of this encounter and the winner will always be the hero! We just have to figure out who’s who.”

“I’m not letting you monologue while Da-… while an innocent is hanging over… whatever that is!” Valerie protested.

“I never expected such an aggressive and weak-minded being such as you to understand the importance of doing things the right way! That’s why I needed a hostage.” Wright huffed. “Also, It’s concentrated ectoplasm. like the name implies its densely packed ectoplasm, a powerful source of energy for both ghosts and most of your human anti-ghost technology, but burns through humans faster than hydrochloric acid,” Wright explained, and Danny couldn’t help but pale in response.

Oh… that was bad, and no wonder he recognized it, he’d seen it in small amounts around the lab. Danny also didn’t want to see how he, a half-ghost currently human, would react to it. Valerie also apparently didn’t want to find out, more than she wanted to blast a hole through Wright apparently. Her shoulders began trembling and she grit her teeth, glancing rapidly between where Danny was dangling and where Wright waited patiently for her to make her decision. Danny took a deep breath and called out to her, snapping her out of her internal conflict.

“Don’t worry about me, Red Huntress! I’ll just hang out right here! I’m not going anywhere!”

Valerie sent Danny a look, exasperated and melancholic, most likely due to the pun, before setting her gaze on Wright, who had a large grin on his face displaying way too many teeth.

“Fine,” she spat, “let’s get this over with.”

“Wonderful!” Wright clapped his hands, “As you can see, Red Huntress, I have captured Danny Fenton! And unless you defeat me in the next three minutes, he will get dropped to his doom!”

“Wait, there’s a timer?” Danny asked, and Wright ignored his interruption, hitting a button next to the lever, probably starting the timer.

“Now meet your maker, Red Huntress!”

Wright vaulted over the bars of the platform he was standing on, directly at Valerie. She met him halfway with a crimson blast, energy meeting the sole of his atrocious red shoes in a form of deflection, launching him into the air where he remained suspended. He launched several violet ectoblasts while Valerie charged up her gun again, taking to the air as her hoverboard formed beneath her feet. They began a combination of hand-to-hand strikes and blasts midair, often speeding out of Danny’s view as he craned his neck to witness the fight. There was too much blood in his head for him to focus properly, but there was something off about the way Wright fought.

One, two, three, five ecto blasts, then he switched to close combat, striking 7 times with his fists and ending in a kick to gain some distance before firing ectoblasts again. It was in order…

“Red! He’s fighting in a pattern! Five blasts, seven punches, one kick!” Danny called out.

They careened back in front of him, and Val nodded in confirmation. Wright ended with a kick and floated back into the air.

“I’ve seen you figured me out! But it will not allow you to defeat me!”

Wright fired off his blasts, and Valerie easily countered them, now knowing what to expect. Wright came in close again, attempting to rush her. His fist connected to her forearms 6 times, each blocked easily and efficiently by Valerie’s suit, doing practically no damage. She had positioned herself right near the chain that held Danny above ‘his doom’. Wright had one more hit left, but rather than take it he backed off, just as the timer beeped.

“It seems it’s time for us to end this charade, Red Huntress.” Wright declared and broke the pattern early and fired a clean and precise ectoblast behind Valerie.

The chain went slack, and Danny plummeted. Valerie grasped it in desperation shouting something he couldn’t hear, but it was too late, the upper half of his body dunked below the surface.

It was like getting dunked into freezing water, at least before he became immune to the cold. It sent shivers and rose goosebumps along every single point of contact, he saw nothing but green. It felt like the submerged half of his body had fallen asleep, pins and needles piercing his skin, but never actually hurting him. Danny thrashed despite this, desperate to get out the concoction meant to kill him, not realizing he wasn’t in pain as panic swept away any other rational thought.

(page break)

“Danny!” Valerie shouted, grasping desperately for the chain.

It skid in her grip, a yard too late and Danny slipped halfway below the surface. His whole body thrashed sending ripples across the surface but making no sound. She screamed, her voice filling the empty void of Danny’s soundlessness. It was already too late, some part of her mind spoke, but she refused to acknowledge it. As fast she physically could, she tied the chain to the closest bar and launched herself on her hoverboard. She snapped the chain Danny was hanging from with ease and a grief-filled ectoblast, and took Danny down to the ground, careful not to touch the green sludge the covered the upper half of his torso.

Valerie’s hoverboard collapsed back into her suit, and then they met eyes, something that her mind could barely register. Even more than that, she wasn’t looking at the face that had plummeted into the vat. Phantom’s eyes stared back wide, bright green and covered in ectoplasm, stared back on her, while the bottom half remained clothed in jeans and battered red converse. Her mind short-circuited, and she was pretty sure her suit as well from the beating it had just taken.  

Danny… Phantom… whoever the hell she was staring at seemed to finally realize that he was out, let out a cough, rolling over onto his stomach to purge the concentrated ectoplasm from his lung, and heaved a deep breath of air he couldn’t possibly need once they were clear. He rolled back over and sat up, shifting in the chains, trying to get out of them.

Valerie saw red, and snatched the chains, pulling Phantom’s face close to hers, a snarl on her face. Phantom’s eyes widened and he yelped at the sudden tug.

“Is this what you do?! You teamed up with Wright of all ghosts to get to me?!” Valerie cried.

Phantom’s eyes widened, confused. “I have no idea what you’re talking about! I was kidnapped!” He yelped.

“Don’t lie to me Phantom!”

Phantom froze, looking like a dear caught in headlights. He frantically tried to glance himself over, writhing in place, still unable to move his arms since he was still chained up. Valerie had no intention of unchaining him now. He caught sight of his jumpsuit and shook some of his soaked hair into his face, catching its color.

“Oh.”

“What do you mean ‘Oh’?!”

“Just learned what happens when I get drenched in concentrated ectoplasm.” His tone was even and quiet and only served to infuriate her further.

“Answer me, Phantom!”

“I didn’t lie!” He shouted right back, “He really did kidnap me!”

“Then where is Danny?! He’s still missing. Does Wright still have him?” She demanded.

Phantom shifted around in the chains again, and Valerie unceremoniously dropped him to the floor. He grunted by was focused on the chains now. Phantom’s eyes flared ice blue, overtaking their normal toxic green, and the chains froze solid. With enough strain, the metal links shattered and clattered uselessly to the floor. He stretched his arms and glanced them over.

There was a line, clear and definable, where the ectoplasm hadn’t touched him. Under the green substance, was Phantom, jumpsuit and all, but Valerie was fixated on the borderline, as was Phantom, where the jumpsuit transitioned into Danny’s iconic red and white shirt. There were no gloves on his hands, and the jumpsuit ceased existing halfway down his arms, and the skin underneath the goo was the same color as Phantom’s face, but the dry areas were the same pale as Danny’s skin.

“I’m right here, Valerie,” Phantom said, looking straight through her.

Valerie scoffed, “I see you here, Phantom, but where’s Danny Fenton?”

“I’m Danny Fenton.”

Of all the things Phantom could’ve said, that wasn’t the answer she wanted. For the second time that night, her mind reeled to a halt.

"You can’t be Danny, you’re a ghost,” Valerie justified.

“And people can die? I just happen to be caught in the middle.” Phantom said, making no sense.

“You died? Danny’s dead?” Her voice came out quietly, almost a whimper.

“I’m more like half-dead.” He had the nerve to laugh. “A bit of both ghost and human mixed together, I can be either-or.”

“What was the name of the flour baby we raised together?” She pressed, looking for a piece of information Danny would know, but Phantom shouldn’t.

“We… we didn’t name it, did we? I’m pretty sure that wasn’t one of the requirements Mr. Lancer gave us.” Phantom responded with a weak chuckle.

Valerie looked at him, really looked at him. Phantom and Fenton didn’t really look that different, in fact, they were surprisingly similar to the point it was eerie. He had always looked freakily familiar, and now she knew why. They had the same facial structure, hairstyle, and even the awful senses of humor lined up. The only difference was that Phantom was a ghost, and Danny was human.

“How can you be half-dead?” Valerie asked.

“Turns out the portal is really dark on the inside, that is until you turn it on from the inside.”

It took Valerie a minute, but then she understood. She fully understood. Her helmet and visor retracted, revealing her watering eyes. Danny was Phantom, and Phantom was Danny.  He wasn’t being overshadowed, overshadowing didn’t look like this, not half-covered in ectoplasm like he was. Danny didn’t make eye contact, choosing instead to collect a bit of it onto his finger, watching intently as his skin sizzled, glowing white and the edges and spreading like a chemical reaction until it reached the edge of the ectoplasm. The skin became discolored, and a bit of white-silver glove appeared, manifesting all on its own underneath the goop. Then he had the nerve to lick it off.

Valerie scrunched up her face in disgust while Phantom seemed to contemplate the taste, still focusing on his finger. The darker skin tone and glove seemed to dissolve away on their own back into pale skin once the ectoplasm was gone.  Danny really was Phantom.

Valerie threw herself onto the ground and punched him as hard as she could in her given state, her suit protecting her from the concentrated ectoplasm on his body that could possibly burn her if Wright was to be trusted.

“Ouch!” Danny complained, rubbing his arm where she’d hit, the ectoplasm spreading to his hand forming the glove again.

“I dated you!” Valerie protested, “I dated you, and then broke up with you!”

Danny’s gaze shifted around, confused and sheepish. “Y-yeah?”

“I broke up with you to focus on hunting you!”

“Yeah?”

“And you knew this entire damn time!”

“Uhhhhhh… yeah.” He admitted, looking down awkwardly and attempting to wipe his hand off on his jeans, but only succeeded in spreading the ectoplasm around. The patch of denim transformed into black rubber.

“You ruined my life!”

“I’ve told you a thousand times! It was an accident!” Danny protested, wiping his hand on the ground again in an attempt to get more off but finally looking back up at her.

Valerie stared at him for a moment, before devolving into a fit of giggles, getting to her feet from where she had seated herself on the floor. Danny looked up at her, even more confused than before.

“You really need to wash that stuff off, or are you going to lick yourself clean?” Valerie teased.

Danny huffed indignantly, climbed to his own feet, and a white ring blossomed around his waist. Valerie watched in awe as what parts were still Fenton transformed into equally an equally familiar jumpsuit and set of silver boots. The ectoplasm that still coated him slowly vanished, absorbed into his ghostly form. The ghostly halo around him grew in intensity, glowing brighter than before. His feet lifted from the floor and he began to float, eyes also growing in intensity. Danny gave a large smile, literally beaming bright enough to light up a good portion of the warehouse all on his own.

“Thanks, Val,” Danny said.

“For what exactly?” she asked.

“Well, you didn’t shoot me when I told you I was Danny Fenton, you saved me from witnessing Wright's awful sense of fashion any longer, and finally for Elmertown,” Danny counted off on his fingers.

"Elmertown?”

Danny put his hands on his hips matter-of-factly, ”Even if I don’t agree with your methods, you’ve been protecting Elmertown from ghosts. So, thank you,” Danny confessed.

He landed on the ground in front of her, boots barely making as sound and bright enough she was nearly blinded by it. He gave her a large, goofy smile, one that she was much more used to seeing on Fenton’s face than Phantom’s, but it only reinforced the idea that they were the same person.

Valerie smiled right back.

[miss-kittys-magical-library]

The Threesomers

(Jack x Rin x Roland)

Word Count- 4600

Warnings- language, oral sex (m/f receiving), masturbation (m/f), penetrative sex (anal and vaginal), slight alcohol use, use of special abilities (empathic, telepathic, symphokinesis)

A/N- Jack and Rin had everything they could want, especially in each other. A surprise visit from Roland shows them that's not exactly the case. Original Robert GIFs by @vousnavezrienvu new one by @neuroticpuppy love of my life

Rin was giggling as she linked arms with Jack and Roland as they headed back to the cottage. There was a feeling in the air that she couldn't quite put her finger on.

One that emanated from both men equally. That caused her to continuously lock her lips with Jack’s. To dip her tongue far in his mouth while he emitted noises of shock. Roland was left to tap out a nervous rhythm on his pint glass.

Then, as she remembered he was there, Rin would face forward with a secret smile. Jack, distracted by pleasurable discomfort, wouldn't notice as she had reached into Roland’s lap. Her small hand surreptitiously squeezed his cock until it hardened. Her boyfriend was sitting right there, oblivious.

Now she drowned out their banter as they fumbled along the cobblestones. Jack's hand pinched Rin’s ass and she squealed. The atmosphere felt topsy-turvy just to spite Roland’s sullen demeanor. He remained cryptic over his break up with Keevy, citing creative differences.

“That's because she makes music, mate. You just fuck about like you’re wanking a radio antenna. I want to Gaelic folk songs mashed in with glam rock. Not some bloke dressed like a funeral director making a racket that sounds like murdering a baby.”

Jack took the piss most of the night. Including now. The tequila emboldened him. Made him relentless in his pursuit. Roland was, to put it mildly, vexed. It wafted from him. Rin felt the steady growing timpani drums that lined his blood as it boiled.

“Says the homeless schizophrenic who pretends to speak with the dead and terrorizes families at their loved ones' gravesites.”

The air grew thick just then. Jack clenched his jaw and squeezed a handful of Rin. She grimaced. His only response was to yank her away from the other man and to give Roland a wide berth. He started to speed up while yanking his girlfriend along.

Rin was overwhelmed with embarrassment coming from both men. That flirtation in the pub. Her sexual urges were inclinations that she siphoned right from Jack into Roland and vice versa. Under the weird jealousy (from the medium more than the musician), was desire. A confused one, but there all the same, from her partner and best mate.

Jack spun around to face Roland.

“You made decisions for a woman you barely knew and THEN insisted that you loved her after MAYBE about a week together in THREE years. Like what the fuck, mate? You put a woman in a situation where she says no and is ungrateful or says yes and she's stuck with you.”

“JACK!!” Rin cried in shock.

“Aint ye the one who took advantage of a woman in a clear manic state post suicide attempt!?”

Jack stepped to Roland. His fists balled his sides. Rin didn't think either of them could fight. Even knew how. She stifled a laugh at the image of gangly limbs and thin bodies rolling on the ground. Then she flushed as that fight turned into something more in her mind.

The Irishman started yelling. A feat Rin never knew him capable of. His anger was often quiet and simmering. But whatever was going on was being filtered through their common ground. The empathic woman they both loved.

Roland persisted, “THEN YE SHAGGED HER AND CONVENIENTLY PRETENDED YE COULDN'T REMEMBER HER!! WHO COULD FORGET WREN?! I'VE FECKIN TRIED!!”

“ROLAND!”

“You're an insufferable cunt,” Jack seethed.

To Rin’s surprise Roland unfurled. His shoulders sagged. He pushed the heels of his palms into his temples.

“The music inside my head that ye play is so sad. It has this weird,” he waved his arms around, “fake happy harmony. That makes ye a selfish bastard. You've got a home and a family and love. That's it mate love. How can ye take advantage of it? That's all I want is someone to lo-”

Roland’s words were cut off by Jack all but smashing his mouth into the musician’s. He had the Irishman by the lapel of his leather coat while the kiss deepened.

Roland’s hands searched for anything to do so they settled on Jack's hips. One found its way to the back of the medium’s head. Then their mouths parted leaving the men to stare at each other on the poorly lit path.

Rin let out a strangled sound of both desire and envy. She longed to be between the two men. All hands and mouths and tongues and bodies sharing each other. So a thought came to mind.

“Boys,” she took each man by the hand. She plugged herself back into their lascivious feelings. “Let's play a game.”

---

“What do ye mean you've never danced with anyone?” Roland looked at Jack, incredulous.

Jack sat on the couch with Rin at his feet. She was, for a lack of anything else to do, painting the fingernails on his right hand. She had all but given up on the threesome she had proposed when they came home.

There had been more kissing, but Jack let his nerves take over. He wasn't quite as eager with Roland as he had Rin back when he was new to her. Both the musician and the empath knew it was because Jack was just awakening to it. The feelings he might have for another man, other men in general. This was literally his first experience.

Roland could tell as easily as Rin that Jack enjoyed it. Not only physically by the stiffening in his jeans, but the music around him became lighter. Roland had taken that to match the music coming from the radio they had found inspecting the living room. Their kisses followed suit: soft and sweet.

Now as they sat opposite ends of the couch, Rin literally had him in her hands. She sent tendrils of calm from herself into Jack. Reassurance that it was alright. The knowledge that Roland had done this before with other men. That her partner could be sexually attracted to more than just her gender.

“Nothing ever comes up when I'm called for dancing with Birdie,” Jack's moniker for Rin. “We aren't exactly crawling with wedding invites, Rolo.”

Roland stood up and held his hand out to Jack, “Right on then; I'm an expert.”

Jack’s shoulders had relaxed but his fuzzy eyebrows were now lost in his bangs. “Whot? Dance with you? Don't you reckon we’ll look like two scarecrows?” There was a smile in his question though, and he took the proffered hand.

Roland pulled Jack off the couch and into his arms. “Of course it won't exactly be like dancing with Wren, but we’ll make due. Yeah?”

The music changed to Regina Spektor while the men figured out positioning. There was nervous giggling, a sound that was like a shot to Rin’s veins. Better than any street drug or anti-psychotic she had been prescribed by shrinks who believed she was broken. That Jack was broken. Roland could easily hide his gift, to funnel it into a career or teaching.

“It's musical empathy and kinesis,” he answered before Jack had a moment to ask. They had settled with their hands on each other's waists. The music bending into something with a steadier beat.

“How does it work?” Jack allowed Roland to sway them both back and forth. Their hips found a rhythm with ease.

“I hear music in everyt’ing. Every living t’ing has a melody. I can use music like Wren can manipulate emotions. I also give it to other people.” Roland’s voice trailed off as he pressed his forehead to Jack's, “Can we kiss again?”

Rin was overwhelmed as she watched the two of them. Her heart raced whole she saw their tongues dart back and forth. She felt a pulse take up between her legs. It was like she couldn't control herself as she began to create a friction against the cotton of her panties while the two men switched to more of a grind than a sway.

Roland grabbed Jack's ass so that he was forced to feel the erection he had created beneath the Irishman’s pants. A moan escaped Jack before he did likewise to the other man. Their kisses grew more aggressive with tongues that delved as far as they could.

Rin fingered herself now. She matched the zeal of their mouths. She let out a loud gasp mixed with a squeak that startled the men. Men who forgot she was there who now watched as she masturbated with her head back. Lost in herself now more than them.

“Care t’ join us, love?” Roland asked. His voice was thick.

Rin opened her eyes and flushed while she got to her feet. Joining them, the woman opted for standing behind Jack. She remained silent as she reached around to lift his shirt up. Jack raised his arms so she could remove it completely.

Then she ran her hands down Jack's raised arms and over his sides to his lower half. She undid the button on his jeans and unzipped him. Rin tugged them and his boxers to the ground so that he was naked.

Jack's breathing grew heavier and more ragged. He had no way of hiding his erection now as it twitched and came alive in Rin’s small hand.

Roland’s gaze lowered so he could watch as she let her grip lazily pass up and down the shaft of Jack's cock. He bit his lip and shifted on his feet as Jack reached around to hold on to his girlfriend. His head hung back like hers had been while she touched herself.

She stopped and took his hand in her own. Together, they repeated what Rin had done to Jack but with Roland’s clothes this time. Except she let her boyfriend do most of the undressing. Let him take off Roland’s shirt. Rin undid Roland’s pants, but Jack removed them and his underwear.

Only Rin remained clothed as she pushed herself in the space that had opened. She took each of them by the cock and started her strokes once more. Her fingers tightened around their erections equally. Rin twisted down the length to their balls where she squeezed and moved back to the heads. Her thumbs both pass circles around their foreskin and the slits underneath.

Jack and Roland shuddered and groaned. Above Rin, who continued to knead them nimbly, they began to kiss again. Moans of pleasure passed between them as their hips bucked under her hands. The friction she created became unbearable in the most delicious way.

The young woman felt her cunt grow slick over the sounds the men were making. The power she felt with a cock in each hand. The way she poured a bit of herself into Jack and Roland. Then each one into the other. Like mixing drinks or candy from the pick n mix. They were Whiskey and rum and tequila. Perhaps wine gums and Maltesers and fairy floss.

It had been so long since Rin had felt Jack overtaken by insatiable hunger. It wasn't that he didn't crave her sexually, he had found a way to keep it at bay. This was new. A part of himself that had been deprived through no one's fault.

Rin was growing bored of no honest inclusion. She let go of the men and turned her back to Roland. Her warm lips found Jack's chest and stomach. Soft pink tongue carved a path in the indentation from his navel up to his sternum. Rin let it flick at one of his nipples before she bit it. Her grip on Jack's shoulders to push him to his knees.

Jack gazed up at Rin while she stepped out of her panties. His large hand around her thigh got lost under her dress. His fingers explored deep inside her walls. Pumped in and out a few times while making a hook. Jack's middle finger probed Rin’s clit in fluid circles. It went unspoken how pleased he was with her wetness.

Roland meanwhile was slowly unzipping Rin’s dress. The sensation of his light touch on her bare skin up the course he had just followed down. He kissed her shoulders and her neck while she reached out for Jack's head to hold.

The Englishman pumped away at her as the Irishman massaged her breasts. His calloused fingers took in handfuls; tugged at Rin’s nipples until they hardened like his cock in her back. She leaned into Roland now that his thumbs began to trace wildly over her nipples. His motions matched the way Jack attacked that bud of nerves just inside the hood of her cunt.

Almost as quickly as they began, they stopped. Roland looked down at his friend and her partner on his knees. “Jack. Why not have a lie down? You take care of Little Bird,” Roland turned her face towards him so he could kiss her briefly, “let her sit on your face?”

The musician clipped Rin lightly on the chin. She smirked. Both she and Roland glared at Jack in such a way either indicating a desire to kill or fuck. Roland reached to palm Rin’s cunt with his hand, eyes never left Jack's who was biting his lip at the two of them.

“Roland will suck your cock,” Rin promised. A girlish grin came to her face as she bit the tip of her manicured nail. “It'll be fun.”

Jack obeyed without hesitation. He laid down on the shag carpeting. His cock at full attention; he was eager. He was filled more with the anticipation you get at the top of a roller coaster. He trusted Rin, loved her unconditionally. He couldn't believe it, but Jack trusted Roland too.

“You alright, love?” the empath asked.

Jack nodded enthusiastically, “Buzzin’.” They both laughed.

Rin was kneeling beside her boyfriend. She let her lips mingle with his. Their tongues danced ever so slightly before she crawled over Jack's face. Her fingers gripped his head again and pulled it upwards.

Instinct took over and Jack's tongue ran along Rin’s slit. He lapped at her a dozen times: long strokes and then small ones over her clit. She started to rock her hips into his face. Her grasp tighter as Jack's tongue worked deftly. He created a vacuum on the outside then dove his tongue further inside than ever before. A back and forth began that switched from sucking on Rin’s cunt and her clit.

Roland took to straddling Jack's shins so he could lower himself forward. His mouth found the medium’s stomach. He let his tongue trail along Jack's skin that quivered each time Roland exhaled. The man under him breathed in and held it when the musician finally licked the head of his cock.

Jack’s reflexes took over. He held on to Rin’s hips helping. His own body lifted off the floor. Roland allowed for the entirety of the cock to hit the back of his throat. He sucked hard as he raised his head back to release the shaft. Switching to take long licks along the length. Then he made swift little swirls around the tip.

There was a dance the two men found themselves in. Rin had a fleeting thought that she wasn't doing enough. That she could take turns between her touch and Roland’s mouth. Which was absurd to think as she felt herself begin to orgasm. She did well to not tighten her thighs around Jack as a reaction to the pleasing convulsion that started to course through her.

Just as Rin was about to cum completely, Jack's mouth stopped. He pushed her back from his face so that she was situated on his chest. He sat up and interrupted Roland as well. He knew, knew if the Irishman kept going he would explode too soon in his mouth.

“What's wrong?” Roland was confused. “Was it too much? You alright, love?” He used the same affection with both his friend and her partner.

“Our little bird is feeling a bit left out.”

“Crikey, left out? Any further north in her twat ye could've seen Scotland.” Roland winked.

“Steady on, Music Man. I mean left out from being with you.”

Jack sat up so that Rin was again positioned between the two men. Roland took to showering her shoulders with kisses. His facial hair tickled her skin until goose pimples raised up along her arms.

The medium followed suit with Rin’s breasts. His lips treated each nipple like her clit. Teeth teased them erect as his tongue went ‘round them at a dizzying speed.

“Fuck!” Rin cried out. Her one arm embraced Jack as she hooked her other backwards around Roland. Her small fingers caught in his curls.

“Would you be alright shaggin me a little. Just to the edge like I did you? Then you want to give Roland a go?”

Jack searched Rin’s eyes. She nodded with enthusiasm. “But are you sure? About Rol and me? You’re not gonna go all weird after?”

She held Jack's cock and taunted him with her slit. Her pelvis rolled painfully slow until he was fully inside of her. Rin started to grind back on Jack.

“You can fuck me too, Jax,” Roland had Rin by the waist to guide her motions.

He pulled her back so that he knew Jack was buried into her up to the hilt. Then forward and back. Now the rhythm, the dance, was the two of them. But Jack joined in by lacing his fingers with Roland's so the two of them could manipulate Rin’s body with total control.

The empath cried out as the men built a friction between her cunt and Jack's cock. His body shook, but his eyes never left hers or Roland’s.

Roland, who kissed her while Jack watched. Their fingers still linked with one hand as Roland’s other found its way around Jack's neck so that he could be pulled into a kiss as well. The three alternating tongues between them. Jack's body bucked wildly; Rin knew he was at that proverbial edge.

“Fuck me,” she exhaled in Roland’s mouth. Her neck craned at weird angles like her body to accommodate each man’s mouth.

“Go on then,” Jack instructed, “fuck her.”

Rin was bewitched by the smell of sex and the taste of herself on Jack's lips and the tribal bass of whatever Roland projected into the air around them. She was drunk on the heightened emotions as she arranged herself on all fours in front of her friend.

Roland knelt behind Rin with his cock in hand. The his free hand firm on the curve of her body. He teased her cunt with the tip as if it was his finger. Felt her grow even more wet under his touch as he lost himself inch by inch. He twisted his fingers cautiously in Rin’s hair before plowing into her. All the while Jack underneath sat back on his elbows to observe.

Rin let Roland bang her. He always loved control. Not in the dominant way. In the Type A personality way. She let him do that now, control her. Ram against her ass with his pelvis. Release all that frustration he had giving himself up for Keevey. The compromise he made to do what she wanted which triggered his self preservation. He was fucking that pain away.

She was an instrument for him to play. Aggressively so as he slammed into her with the same fury he played that stupid theremin. His grip an inch thick in the fat that cushioned her. His cock slid in and out of her with ease the way his fingers flew up and down the antenna. Fluid. Without hesitation.

Jack was in awe. His own cock remained stiff while he studied the way Roland rutted like a wild animal. Rin’s breasts as they swayed back and forth. Her teeth biting her bottom lip so hard it might bleed as she panted and cried out. The way she struggled to remain upright.

Jack was fascinated by it all. He absently reached down and yanked on his erection while watching the concentration on that Irish face. The twisted rapture on that feminine Welsh one. Their bodies made an audible slapping sound over the music. The Englishman’s wanking joined that chorus.

It wasn't very long. The theremin player was so boisterous Rin knew it would happen soon. That she would make herself cum knowing what Jack and Roland longed to do. Her cunt ached at the thought. Between Roland’s sudden explosion inside of her as he growled with satisfaction and the picture she created of the two of them in her mind.

Rin removed herself from the situation and climbed, drunk on overstimulation, to her feet.

“Why don't you lot snog a little? I’m just gonna pop off and get us a wonderful potion my beautiful broken man will need. I've got some tucked away for special occasions!” Rin giggled and stumbled towards the stairs.

“What?” Jack laughed.

“She means lube,” Roland informed him.

He cupped Jack's face and kissed him. Their tongues lingered together long enough for one to nip at the other’s. An eagerness started inside of the medium. One to learn and please as he remembered that first time with Rin.

Jack laid Roland back on the carpet and crawled on top of him. Their mouths never break as their tongues continue their strange tango. Uncertain what to do as he now let his tongue glide down over the Irishman’s neck, Jack reached for this cock.

Roland had been flaccid, still recovering from getting off with Rin. Now he shuddered and came to life in Jack's hand as his collarbone became showered with kisses. He exhaled a heavy moan when that hand rubbed quickly over his shaft. There was nothing for Jack to learn with Roland. A cock was a cock.

Rin came back in time to see the men on the floor. Jack settled between Roland’s legs that were bent at the knee. His hand expertly jerks off the musician whose hands were splayed across Jack's back.

That hot mouth and soft lips Rin knew well were moving down towards Roland’s stomach. She sat down beside them just as Jack swiped his tongue now over the head of the cock in his hands.

He was testing the waters. Rin was sending him images, feelings from each time she gave him head. From her view so he could mimic her. Jack lapped at Roland’s erection like he had Rin’s cunt, which swelled yet again as she bent to kiss her friend. Her tongue and Jack's worked in unison.

Roland started to spasm, his hips had a mind of their own as they reacted to Jack taking more of his cock in.

“Jack,” Rin said, full of love and lust, “love he's gonna cum. Are you ready for that?”

Jack looked up at her and shook his head. He raised up on his arms so he could kiss Rin. Then he looked down at Roland, “You’ll both have to show me how to do this.”

Rin opened the little tube she held and requested Jack give her his fingers. She added some of the jelly to them and gestured at Roland. “You’ll have to get him ready like you do me. Think of it like fingering a twat only..”

“Tighter,” Roland finished for her. He bent his legs in a sort of frog position. Rin was impressed by his flexibility.

“That's debatable,” she teased. “Go on love, one finger and then the other.” Rin laid down and propped up on her elbow.

Jack reached to find the hole. Roland gasped but happily not out of shock as Jack slid his finger inside. In and out a few times, hypnotized by how quickly he treated it like Rin’s body. It wasn't much different he thought to himself as he added the second finger.

He pumped his fingers at a constant tempo. Further each time with Roland encouraging him. Jack went quicker, deeper as he locked eyes with Rin. There was a fire in her he hadn't seen that spurned him on.

“A bit more,” Roland groaned.

Jack obeyed and watched as the Irishman shivered and contorted like Rin when he managed her GSpot. Was this it? Men had one too? No wonder they liked getting fucked here. Why would women?

“Now lube your cock, and do the same.” Rin found a way to kiss Jack. Then Roland. Her own fingers followed along with her boyfriend’s as she played with her clit.

Jack sat up on his knees and took a generous handful from the bottle. Rin smirked beside Roland who could only bite his lip and stare at Jack's cock as he stroked it harder. He pushed down on Roland’s knee so that he was spread further apart. The young woman flicked at herself faster, her fingers getting lost inside of herself.

“Steady on, sweetheart.” Roland could only moan and anchor himself on the medium’s thin hips.

Jack started to deliberately thrust his shaft inch by inch inside of Roland. Rin was right, it was tighter. But that didn't stop Roland from encouraging Jack to go further. He was alright. More than alright he cried out.

“To the hilt, Jack,” he whinged.

So he complied. His hands under Roland’s ass to lift it upwards as he dove in. Jack's pelvis met Roland’s body and he rolled his hips so that he was nearly out of the other man. Then slowly inside of him one more.

The medium was gentle. Soft and careful like he had been with Rin, or so he thought. Well, at first. Until Roland took to begging him to fuck harder. Faster. So Jack pumped at him until their bodies made that symphonic sound of bone and skin and cock and ass.

Rin fucked herself harder. Her fingers worked her clit at the same wavelength as Jack fucked Roland. She knew it was happening for all of them. Her back arched off the carpet and her cunt contracted around her fingers.

“FUCK!” she squealed.

That white hot volcanic explosion tore through her and Jack and Roland. The three of them connected in an endless cyclical orgasm. Rin sent out those tendrils, the filaments of experience so that the men she loved knew what it was like to cum as a woman.

The same, as whatever song crescendoed in their heads, for Rin. That salty liquid that spilled from her men, her Irishman and Englishman, felt like it was pouring from her walls too.

“Blimey, Aderyn!” Roland laughed as Jack collapsed on top of him. He scooped both of them up in his arms and held them to his chest. A kiss on each of their foreheads before nuzzling his own into Jack's.

Rin and Jack shared breathless little kisses. They locked fingers, and he lifted her small hand to brush his lips across the back of it. The light reflected something shiny and gold.

“Birdie, where’d ya get that ring?”

Rin held her hand up and flexed her manicured fingers. “Isn't it DIVINE?! I found it on the floor in our things. I think someone left it here, but we can ask Mrs Barrow. It's such a lovely little diamond at the center of this gold flower.”

“It's not too small?” Jack propped up on his elbow.

“No! Look at the two hearts beside the beautiful daisy. Whoever it was loved this ring and his partner very much.”

Roland had the biggest grin on his face, “Go on then Jax. Do it proper. One knee and all.”

“Jack?”

“I had a question to ask."

[theliterarywolf]

Can someone at Disney explain to me why, out of ALL the villains that you could recontextualize into sympathetic anti-heros, you picked the puppy murderer who wanted to skin adorable innocent animals into coats? Like say what you want about Maleficent and how it's ruined Disney and Hollywood as a whole, at least she didn't perform animal cruelty!

Silly Taka, no one at modern Disney can think more than two moves ahead. They needed a girl-boss anti-villain! Could they have created a new one and had their first new merchandise mascot in almost a decade? -- when I say 'Merchandise Mascot', I'm referencing characters that are plastered onto so much merchandise that a good percentage of the population hasn't even seen the original films they come from, i.e.: Jack Skellington, Tinkerbell, Stitch -- Yes, but that's haaaaard~

Anon said: To be fair they could pull a maleficent and have this be an alternate timeline where she doesn't become a villain and skin puppies for a coat and they just chose cruella for the aesthetics. Or maybe they'll have the cruella personality somehow split off and whatever her actual name will have to fight her to keep the dogs safe god that dropped my iq typing that

People keep telling me that that's close to what they did... Which leads further into my frustrations of 'Disney, do something original for fuck's sake *looks at Raya* Not like that'

Anon said: Not only do the dalamations actually kill Cruella's mom, they did it in the stupidest way possible. Do they bite or maul her to death? No, one of them jumps on her and pushes her off a cliff and into the ocean.

Well, I mean, everyone knows that an average of 3 British middle-aged women are killed by level 20 Dalmatians using Tackle every year. It's common knowledge, anon, gosh.

Anon said: Just to play De Vil's advocate, her Stepmoms death isn't actually used to justify her puppy hatred, in fact it's not even really connected to why she wants a dalmatian coat, she's shown to like them towards the end of the movie, though with the implication she still wants to skin their babies for fashion. Imo the movie was pretty fun and she's still very much a villain protag where that scene is really only meant to further her grudge with the Baroness. The scene is still stupid though.

Okay, even if I tried to look at this through a similar perspective of someone like Wolf from Kipo and the Age of Wonderbeasts where a character is actively wearing the pelt of something that tried to kill her as a symbol of 'Fuck around and find out', it still feels like they handled it in a clumsy way here. Especially with 'Oh, I feel no grudge towards your kind... But I am still going to commit a crime against your species in the future, so keep an eye out~'

More and my responses beneath the break

Anon said: Actually if I had to say a few things about Cruella it's that it actually never delves into why she's so obsessed with furs. Fashion yes, but not furs specifically. General consensus I've heard though is that the movie could've been a really good standalone unconnected to any prior ips.

THAT'S ALL I WANT! FOR DISNEY TO JUST MAKE NEW IPs! I wouldn't care so much if we were following a murderous girl-boss anti-villain as long as we're not trying to woobify a pre-existing character who is already evil for evil's sake!

Anon said: Hey, since we're all collectively ragging on Cruella, thought I'd share something I stumbled on during a 2am YouTube crawl. Some dude on YouTube made a fake trailer for a theoretical Live Action Origin Movie about the dude that shot Bambi's mom

... As bad as this is for me to say, I wouldn't actually be opposed to watching a film following a guy who has essentially lost everything (job, family, house, etc.) and is living as a hermit in the forest. One day he happens upon a clearing full of animals and he needs to stock his rations for the upcoming winter and he manages to snag a doe.

Of course, as he's retrieving his kill, he sees the poor, now-orphan fawn looking at him in fear and horror before it bounds away into the woods. The rest of the movie is about the hunter trying to survive, thinking about his (mankind's) place in nature and just how much he should be taking and hurting to justify his own existence. The climax of the movie could be the fire but now written as a forest-clearing event that takes out the hunter's shelter and meager possessions. As he's trying to see what little can be saved, he hears a crack. Immediately grabbing for his gun, he takes aim and sees a buck. However... As both man and animal stare each other down, the hunter recognizes the buck as the same scared fawn from all those years ago.

And, thus... He lets him go. Bambi turns away and guides his family away from the burnt remains of the woods, and the hunter finally decides to go back to the city to try and rebuild a life without encroaching on the natural world.

Or something like that.

Anon said: You know who's actually a well written, sympathetic, female Disney villain, Demona from Gargoyles. An animated series from the 80s did a better job at giving a reason for being a villain than "wah, my mom got killed by Dalmatians but I'll still adopt them and use faux fur." I might even say Eclipsa from Star vs was a better "villain" than 2021 Cruella. I put " " because Eclipsa didn't really feel like a villain, more of a morally grey character IMO.

Sad to say, I doubt Disney will ever give us something in the same vein as Gargoyles anytime soon.

God... *holds back a scream* Season 4 of Star vs. would have been so much better if we just focused on Eclipsa and the other Queens of Mewni! Why couldn't Seasn 4 of Star vs. focused on Eclipsa and the other Queens of Mewni!!

Anon said: I feel like you probably could do a decent Cruella movie. A young woman starts her career in fashion at the bottom with earnest intentions to make an honest living. Heck she could be against fur in the beginning, but finds that she has to compromise more and more on her ethics until her rise to the top were she has lost all of her morality and no longer recognizes the person in the mirror. At that point, she's too far gone, and in the pursuit of even higher fashion heights, is willing to make a coat from puppies.

Anon, are you in my head? Because that's close to how I rewrote the premise of a movie like this when the trailer first dropped.

[my-brothers-corrupted]

They do finish eating soon, but everyone is talking so much they end up staying a while longer. The kids are chatting at Dad about everything they've been up to and turning to their uncles sometimes too, shyly reconnecting, even trying out timid, broken sign language their mother has been trying to teach them for Uncle JJ. Chase has his babies on his lap and his partner at his side, and don't they look like a happy nuclear family? Everyone chats. Stacy chats. Stacy talks to all his brothers like nothing is wrong, and Jackie gets a vindictive sort of joy when JJ is shy of her, or maybe still a little unforgiving of the past. He hunkers down beside Jackie instead of engaging with her. Jackie puts a possessive arm around his baby brother. He feels like his only anchor right now - but even he is talking about leaving.

Which should be a good thing! Jackie knows that. When did he lose the ability to picture him being safe on his own? JJ's kicked his ass in the past, but somehow Jackie still sees everyone hurting him. Maybe he spent so long separated from him, hearing him crying and scratching at the door of his room, that he just got used to thinking his baby brother was alone and in pain. Or maybe he really is just letting his anxiety eat him alive. Maybe he's just seen all of them get beat one too many times.

They go home and Jackie closes himself into his room, listening as his youngest brothers play games and let Chase talk for hours about his kids and everything he envisions for them. Jackie feels a wave of guilt that he's being such a sour grape - but more than that is the humiliation of knowing that out of everyone, he is the only one who does not seem to be moving forward.

When his brothers go to sleep that night all distraction fades from the house. The darkness of his room closes in on him. He sees the little black sound booth where he works and the dying swan girl in her ballet shoes on the stage, separated from her lover forever. He sees the cold concrete basement of the house in Norway, and Marvin sprinting down the beach away from him, leaving Jackie behind, bleeding out on the floor, as his siblings all vanished around him. He watches Max crumple in the graveyard - and he turns his back on him, and goes back to his monster.

Jackie feels something simmering beneath his flesh. He wipes hot tears from his eyes. There is something inside his body that could snap in half like a tongue depressor if he let it. There is something there that could collapse like a burned bedroom in the attic of a house abandoned in the woods. He's everywhere and nowhere. Alone and surrounded by everyone who hates him. By everyone he's killed.

He sits on his bed in the dark.

"How predictable," comes a drawling voice behind him, and Jackie freezes stiff, fists clenching together. "I always knew you would find your way here. Jack's little hero, breaking down like a child... you're pathetic, Red."

"Go away," says Jackie, voice trembling. "You're dead."

"Don't you nightmare about me every night?" asks Anti smugly, circling the bed. There is nothing in the darkness but his eyes, green as venom, and a faint outline. "Don't I still haunt you, even dead? Poor widdle Roser. If only you hadn't been so afraid, maybe you could have killed off my memory instead of letting your little brother do it for you."

"I forced Dark to give Blue his magic back," snarls Jackie. "I burned you down with light when you were out of control in the forest. I am still a warrior."

"You're a little boy," laughs Anti. "Just my little killer. And now, without anybody to direct you, you're nothing at all."

"Shut the fuck up. I'm still their big brother."

"They don't even need you, Red."

"I'm Jackie."

"Some hero. You know that the moment you let yourself feel anything other than anger, you're going to have a tantrum like a toddler."

"Shut the fuck up."

"I used to have to beat you to unconsciousness when you exploded like that. Kicking and screaming and sobbing like a baby for someone to come save you."

"You are dead. Go away."

"I ought to do it again." There's a glimmer in the darkness and Jackie shrinks back on himself as he recognizes old torture devices he had almost forgotten, from when Anti was first breaking him in. "See you writhing and chewing your fingers for comfort again."

"You leave me alone," says Jackie, rocking himself and closing his eyes. "I'm going to wake up now. I'm going to wake up."

"Come on, Jackie. Why don't you admit you're just an out-of-control baby with temper problems and too much strength for him to hold back? No wonder everyone is giving up on you."

"I'm going to wake up. I'm going to wake up!"

"Oh, no, darling. This isn't a nightmare. You're mine now, Bloodred."

Anti is on top of him and the sharp sting of a whip comes down directly on Jackie's face, making him scream aloud, blood flooding down his face. He's chained to a bed, tied up in barbed wire, wailing as it cuts into him. In the corner, Dapper is tied up by the throat, slumped against the wall, unable to do anything but watch with dead eyes. Jackie howls for him even though he knows he can't help. Anti crushes Jackie's nose with the heel of his boot and whips him again.

Anti's yelling about something he doesn't remember, some failure of his mixed with Red being loud, Red being annoying, Red being intolerable. His little brother is sick in the corner. Why can't he save him? Why can't he get up? He's stuck under Anti's feet as the blows come down. If he just holds still, maybe he can avoid something worse than getting whipped. Why won't anybody come help him? What did he do? Anti turns to Dapper and Red screams for his attention, kicking at him to re-ignite his fury, to turn him away from his brother. And as the leather comes down on him again, Jackie recognizes something he no longer has - the comfort of being needed, desperately, by the whole rest of his family. The single relief for his heart in those times: the chance to protect them. The lone joy of being able to be a hero to them.

"I'll beat you to death and make him bring you back again!" screams Anti, throwing aside the whip to straddle Jackie and draw his fist back, striking him again and again. "I'll make you beg for mercy like the useless little bitch you are! You're pathetic, Jackie! You're pathetic! No wonder no one - fucking - wants you!"

Anti buries his teeth in Red's throat.

Jackie wakes up screaming and tearing at his bedsheets, sobbing and ripping holes into the cloth. He cries like wild, tugging his hoodie close to his body and chewing on the strings of his hood.

If Blue were here, he could hold on to him, and he would rub his back and whisper reassurances to him. Squish him to his body and stroke his hair. But Blue isn't here. Blue got sick of him. The fighting and the nightmares and the - the - the stuckness of Jackie, the obsessions and stubborn immobility, the terrified refusal to acknowledge everything that's wrong. Jackie weeps into his pillow, shaking with an emotion too big to identify. All he knows is he wants to hit something. Hit everything. He screams and strikes his pillow once, twice. He strikes himself, hitting his head with his open palm as hard as he can. He tears out of bed, stalking around his room, grinding his teeth and trying to make the tears stop. How many nights in a row has Anti tortured him? Screamed at him? Told him how useless he is? Why won't it ever stop?

"Pathetic!" he shrieks. "I'm not pathetic! And I - hero! Heroism, I'll show you, fucking - ah!"

He screams, striking the wall with his fist. Fury and hatred like it's the only thing left in him boils against his bones.

Jackie sinks to his knees, heaving.

"Look at me," he chokes into the darkness. "I can't... I can't... I want..."

He wants to break in half.

He wants to go crying to his brothers and ask for help.

But he doesn't.

He doesn't.

After long minutes, Jackie drags himself to his feet, shaking.

"Pathetic," he growls. "Yeah, we'll see. We'll see."

He pulls his sneakers on and opens the door to the apartment. The hot night air rushes over him in a swirl of wind. He draws his hood down low, over his eyes.

There's something burning under his skin. Only one way to get it out.

[monday-headache]

Hey Simon! Thank you for the amazing ask <3 Right back at you:

I love that you're writing/arting about characters that have never met in canon (Gaige and Sasha, Fiona and Scarlett). What drew you to writing these characters together? And are there any more that you'd love to explore one day? :D

Hey Sarah, glad it made you smile. I want to have more interaction with the fandom so I’ll try to make this a regular, so please be free to send me questions whenever. I’d love to read your thoughts ;)

And Omg, that’s a fantastic question as well but, be aware, this is gonna be an essay as well.

Mhh where to start, where to start.

So first things first, My headcanon of why I think Gaige and Sasha would be best friends started a pretty long while ago, way before I even got gently pushed towards the Idea of really starting to write about it in the first place. Because you must know, even though Strays is my first longshot, it is also my very first fanfc I’ve ever written in like ever. So no matter how shitty, great or whatever it will turn out to be or how well others will be, Strays has and will always have a special place in my heart. And I’m not gonna rush things either, even when the fandom will die out, my Ideas for it will flow ;)

But yeah how it started. To put it simply Gaige was my first character In Borderlands ever that I played myself. I knew about the Lore of 1 and I’ve played 1 with a friend by the time it came out, but I played 1 myself AFTER I finished 2 So that may be a big reason, why I have such an open spot for Gaige. But also because she is fun, quirky extreme, punky, loves robots and tech... to put it simple a lot of traits I really love about a character. Her backstory with the science fair was so fresh and funny, and it may be one of my favorite spoken dialogue interactions heard over echo cassette’s

Then after Bl2 my love for Borderlands continued, played 1, played TPS and then... There was Tales, and by god do I loved Tales, and I hella still do. You probably know the feeling yourself. And with the love for the game, came a huge love for it’s cast. Like seriously I think besides Tector there isn’t really a character where I was going like, “ugh this one is trash” on the contrary. And besides my obvious love for the main 2 characters, there was a big love for the Deutagonist’s of this masterpiece. Namely Sasha and Loaderbot.

Loaderbot may have officially taken the spot for me as most favorite Robot in video game history ever (and Gortys for the most precious character ever). Like his whole segment of kidnapping them, forcing them to tell the truth, only to show how much he had grieved, how betrayed he felt and that he did all of tha  for his loved ones. Man say what you will about him, but damn he was written perfectly. I was blown away.

Secondly is of course, as you might have guessed it Sasha. I could go lengths for her too, how much I love and admire her character, how real she felt as a sister, a pandoran and last but not least as a human. Sasha felt to me like the most well rounded out character of the 6 (pls don’t hate me for it guys) From the punk rebellious attitude, to learning that she had an anti Hyperion pirate radio, that she used to broadcast bad things that happens in her neighbourhood, to her adapting her morals and learn that even in the most corrupt organisations there are still normal people struggling with their own life, and then progressing from it. And lastly after everything was at loss, the money the plan, she was willing to sacrifice her whole life for a dear friend/s, even on her dying breath putting both Rhys and her Sister at ease and in her last moments. Amazing.

Oooh boy and that was just the prelude to it all XD

After that I noticed a lot of similarities, between characters. Sasha and Loaderbot for instance are both pragmatic, put the lives of their loved ones over their own, love tech, are socially open people while holding back on information and emotion. Not to mention the scenes in 2 and 3 and also 4 and 5 where it is slightly hinted how well Sasha and Loaderbot work together, without sharing much words. So naturally the Idea was born that Sash and LB became quite close.

And the same goes for Sasha and Gaige. I was actually surprised that nobody (not entirely true, I saw one fanart of it) seemed to made that connection before as it was so obvious to me. So basically Sasha is a softer version of Gaige, in many terms. They both have a big heart for tech and especially guns. They both hosted a small radio broadcast that blew up in their region over night. Both are anarchist’s who spread the word for awareness, how fucked up the company war actually is. Both are not really good at their aim. Both call robots as their closes’t friends. Both share a deep hatred for Handsome Jack and his doings. Both fought a giant ass Vault Monster and nearly died in the process of doing so. Both got screwed up big time and now have a huge bounty on their head... So you see the list goes on, and honestly the more I write them, the more similarities I notice, both hc wise and canon wise. So there more I thought about it, and noticed similarites the more I fell in love with the Idea of them becoming close. And from there the Idea was born, that they probably met on a job ( the most likely scenario in the Borderlands universe). It had to be before BL3 of course, and to be after Tales naturally so that only put one timeline in the focus, Commander Lillith.

To be honest, I didn’t expect everything turning out so big. Like seriously I orifinally planed like 8k words or so. Now I’m dangling on the Idea of having 13 chapters and a big ass finally, a neat wrap up of everything and even a possible epilogue XD Yeah, that wasn’t what I expected either but damn do I love doing it.

Like seriously my headcanons only just gotten bigger and bigger. From a whole nebula system in the galaxy, to regions I created in my own mind for it, to even complex backstorys. Like why Sasha wears a headband, why she loves guns so much, what happened to her and Fi’s parents, why she was raised by her aunt, what does Felix have to do with it, Why Gaige has this kicks of both sudden depression and manical behavior. Why she’s so close to her dad, but her mom wasn’t even mentioned once (but teased), why she wanted to become a wedding planer, and why she is so obsessed with robots and margarita mix. I think one day, this thing will turn into a tabletop game or something XD

So estimated 20k words on my answer later and now we are going for my own created ship Scarleona. Don’t worry, as much as I like to gosh about that too, it wont take as long I prommy.

Scarleona was created in a sudden urge while thinking about what happpend to Fiona while Strays happened. And similar to Gaige and Sasha, Scarleona was born from a dynamic. Especially of those from two Ladybosses with Silvertongue and speech 100XD Fiona and Scarlett may have become my favorite Fiona ship (no offense everybody) because of how well they play off each other. Fiona is a con artist, her whole life she was used to swindle, to play it cool and by ear, go with the flow, and expect the unexpected. So here core idea is that she is manupulating people by LYING to them.

Scarlett on the other hand is similar while also the complete opposite to it. She is backstabby, plays with her charm and most importantly she is dead honest while tricking people. In fact even so honest that people don’t even realised that they got tricked even though she told it several times before. And this dynamic is so fascinating to me. You see, Fiona has almost an answer an action for everything prepared, but the idea that her winning honesty, is mind puzzling to Fiona is so perfect. @michellespenscratchz wrote me a drabble several months ago and I think that line describes it just perfect

“So, let me see if I got this straight,” Fiona tilted her head inquisitively at Captain Scarlett. “You needed these Vault Hunters’ help to find this treasure for you. So you…just asked them?”

“That’s right.” Scarlett nodded, inspecting her hook nonchalantly.

“Even though they knew you wanted it for yourself?” Fiona asked.

“Indeed,” Scarlett replied.

“And they…” Fiona blinked, “…knew you planned on fighting them for it once they had it.”

“Of course they did,” Scarlett shrugged. “I told them as much.”

“You told them?”

“Yes.”

“And they helped you anyway?”

“Precisely.” Scarlett turned her hat against the blistering wind. “I fear I don’t quite grasp what about this is so difficult to grasp, Fiona dear.”

“Huh.” Fiona cast her gaze out across the expanse of Pandoran horizon. “I guess I just gotta–I dunno–rethink my whole life right now.”

So yeah, that was basically it. I kinda diagressed and didn’t want to hurt your eyes more looking at the long ass text, but please if you have some more questions to it, pls hit me. I love to gosh about it <3

And thank you so much <3 This was hella fun

[soundsof71]

So, considering you are a passionate fan of music released in 1971, I feel justifiably obligated to ask you what you think of Buffy Sainte-Marie's 'She Used to Wanna Be a Ballerina' album. 😂 (Also, it would make me beyond happy if you could post more about Buffy, my friend! Thank you! ❣)

Buffy Sainte-Marie + Crazy Horse - what’s not to love? LOL I confess that it was the Crazy Horse connection that caught my attention first. I had a general idea who Buffy was, had seen her on TV a few times, but I was a big Crazy Horse fan. News that they were her backing band for this album was easily enough for me to scoop it up.

They weren’t doing anything much with Neil Young in 1971 (other than this album, on which Neil also appeared!), but they had released a tasty solo album in February 71, produced by Jack Nitzsche (who also produced this, and would later marry Buffy), and featuring Ry Cooder (also featured here, although did not marry Buffy). 

(btw, the first place that Buffy, Ry, and Jack worked together was on the Nic Roeg film Performance, starring Mick Jagger. People obviously remember Mick in that, but musically, Buffy was the best part!) 

She Used To Wanna... also features Jesse Ed Davis, a Native American guitarist and singer who was a frequent “usual suspect” at these sort of “sure, invite everyone!” jam albums of the era, and played a prominent role at 1971′s biggest concert (at least in the US), The Concert for Bangladesh on August 1.

(I know you know  RUMBLE: The Indians Who Rocked The World, the documentary about indigenous music’s influence on rock and roll, which has chapters on both Buffy and Jesse Ed. I just watched it again recently, and love it! A reminder of Buffy’s pivotal role in classic rock history. Not mentioned in the film: she relentlessly championed the work of her fellow Canadians Joni Mitchell and Leonard Cohen, helping them get their first record deals.)

I haven’t listened to She Used To Wanna Be A Ballerina for a while, so I definitely need to do that, along with posting more pictures of Buffy.  (I can’t believe I’ve only posted two!) 

But I’ll tell you what still stands out to me about that record years later. “Smack Water Jack” is an underrated track from Carole King’s Tapestry that got a ton of airplay at the time. Quincy Jones did an instrumental cover as the title track for his terrific 1971 album, too, but it has somehow faded to obscurity since then. Buffy takes a playful trifle, and turns it into a powerful fable of men of color who explode into violence in response to the violence visited upon them, and self-satisfaction of whites in authority who answer their demands for better living conditions by killing them on the spot. 

No need for a trial when you can murder them in the streets, right? “You can't talk to a man when he don't wanna understand / And he don't wanna understand” hits different when Buffy sings it, and in 2020 for that matter. 

It’s also just a terrific performance whose combination of soul and rock and roll and driving piano in a sort of Old West-sounding context would have made this sound right at home on a record like Elton John’s Tumbleweed Connection  or something by The Band. I’m limited to five video embeds per post so I can’t embed it here, so I'm linking instead: anyone who hasn’t heard this definitely needs to.

Her cover of Neil’s CSNY track “Helpless” has things I like even better than Neil’s original, including Merry Clayton standing in for CSN. Buffy’s version is more muscular (thanks again to Crazy Horse), and taps even more deeply into the isolation of the song that the star power of CSNY somewhat obscured. 

Buffy’s version also made a brief but memorable appearance in the 2018 film Hotel Artemis, starring Jodie Foster. A weird little movie that I loved maybe more than it deserved LOL but I recommend nonetheless:

I know that this album gets attention because of the unusual number of covers, including one by Leonard Cohen, and a cover of a cover that Leonard had made famous on top of that, called "Song of the French Partisan” (hers is the far superior version imo, a song of French resistance to Nazi occupation from the perspective of a woman hiding a resister), but there are a couple of standout originals too. 

I love the title of this record, and the title track is a delightful little stomper that playfully cautions against equating the intentions of grown women with the childhood fantasies they’ve grown out of. More Merry Clayton goodness here on backing vocals too. 

“Soldier Blue” is a powerful song first written for the 1970 film of the same name, billed at the time as “The most savage film in history” -- and maybe it was. It used the 1864 Sand Creek Massacre as a metaphor for Vietnam, and it's still shockingly brutal. It was the third-highest grossing movie in the UK in 1971, though, and the single became a top-10 hit for Buffy there. 

It didn’t do as well here, either the song or the movie. Perhaps not shockingly in retrospect, Soldier Blue was pulled from American theaters after a few days, the Vietnam metaphor not at all lost on the Nixon administration. 

As horrifying as it was, this is about when I was reading Bury My Heart At Wounded Knee (first published in 1970), and Soldier Blue resonated with me in a whole lot of ways. Here’s the song in the opening credits of the movie.

I was also really struck by “Moratorium”, which is the story of “Universal Soldier” (from her 1963 debut, but a bigger hit for Donovan in 1965), coming from the opposite direction. In the earlier song, she blamed war on the soldiers who think that fighting is honorable, but here, she has empathizes with the young men, boys really in many cases, who’ve been lied to by their countries, their parents, and even their friends. They’re not vainglorious. They’ve been duped by people they trusted. 

(I don't think she takes enough into account how many men sign up to fight because they want to embrace and celebrate their worst, most violent impulses, which was of course an undercurrent of “Universal Soldier”, but I appreciate her empathy here. More than one thing is true at a time.)

Buffy goes even farther, though, calling on soldiers to support and validate demands for peace as explicitly supporting them, summed up in the unforgettable cry, "Fuck the war and bring our brothers home!" 

1971 was the peak of antiwar demonstrations in the US, with the biggest crowds ever seen in this country until the 2017 Women’s March. The May 1971 demonstrations pretty much shut down Washington, culminating with Vietnam Veterans Against The War throwing back their medals on the steps of the US Capitol, incredibly powerful stuff to see on TV in my formative years, and Buffy was right there in it. Anti-war songs were a cottage industry for sure, but nobody was writing with the nuance and empathy that Buffy was.

Here’s a 1972 performance of “Moratorium”, Buffy and a piano, and more emotionally bare than that:

There’s obviously lots more to say about Buffy, far outside the realm of protest music that was actually just a small part of her musical palette -- her pioneering experiments with electronic music, her educational philanthropy starting in her 20s, Sesame Street, you name it. Her commercial peak was still in front of her, and while I can’t say that this is my favorite of her records, it does have some of my favorite songs of hers, and 1971 and She Used to Wanna Be A Ballerina is definitely where I went from knowing who Buffy Sainte-Marie was to being a fan. 

I'll also note as I do now and again that while this blog started as an offshoot of a book on 1971 that I’d started but abandoned, I mostly listen to music released now. That’s always been my policy, including in 1971. When 1972 rolled up, I was mostly listening to music from 1972, music from ‘80 in ‘80, ‘91 in ‘91, 2018 in 2018, etc., to name just a few other favorites. (Plus The Beatles, okay? LOL I still listen to The Beatles every day. No apologies.) Honestly? It took me until 2011, in my fifties, when a whole bunch of 40th anniversary editions of 1971 albums got released all at once that made me think, “Wait a minute, this was maybe THE pivotal year in classic rock history!” 

So yeah, the historian in me dug into 1971, but even though I happened to be alive and enthralled by music in that year, what I’m doing here has nothing to do with nostalgia, or any idea that that was the *best* year in music, even if for the narrow slice of music that is classic rock, yeah, it absolutely is. For soul/R&B too, and for the explosion of women artists outside the even narrower confines of pop as well. This is not subject to debate. No year like it, before or since. It's just that classic rock is a such a narrow slice, and I like my slices wide. LOL Which is also why my blog has less and less 1971 content as I go along. 

While my general policy is that my favorite year for music is THIS year, this particular year hasn’t left me as much energy as usual for listening to music. Some of it is These Trying Times™, some of it is my bipolarity and schizophrenia getting the better of me in waves, as is the way with these, uhm, things. (Keep taking those meds, kids!) I listen to music and post about the people making it as a creative act, not a passive or reflexive one, and I just haven’t felt as creative as usual.

(This is also has everything to do with why so many Asks have been piling up unanswered. I apologize if you’re one of the many kind and indulgent souls who’s gotten in touch, but I swear I’m gonna get to ‘em all!)

To get an idea of what I’m ACTUALLY passionate about right now, my “to be edited later” running list of 2020 favorites randomly added to a playlist as I encounter them, to be properly curated later, is at Spotify, cleverly entitled “2020″ -- 94% women, which is about right. LOL 

But since I do in fact listen to old stuff (by which I mean 2019 LOL), I made a list of mostly 2020 bangers from women rockers with some tasty treats from 2019 that I haven’t been able to let go of just yet, inspired by a post I saw at tumblr saying that punk music by women is just plain better (also beyond debate), called “Women Bangers: A Tumblr New Classics Jam”. I’ll be posting an essay with a YouTube playlist soon, because god forbid that I only talk briefly about anything LOL and most of these women need to be heard AND seen.

Like Buffy Sainte-Marie, whom you'll both see and hear more often on my blog soon. Thanks for the reminder! Always a pleasure to hear from you and be challenged by you. :-)

Peace, Tim 

[caffiine]

A BRIEF PAUSE

From my regularly scheduled content. I’ve got some shit to say, y’all (forewarning for spicy language and spoilers)

I thought about making this post on my fandom subblog but this show and this relationship have been TOO important to me for the past 8 years to not give it its proper place in my life. strap in bc im not sure how long this mf is about to be.

When i started this DUMB show at age 19 tortured soul “empath” dark academia me thought sam winchester was going to be my favourite character. and don’t @ me, i love sam now in his own right (and we deserve some SAILEEN PEOPLE). but after literally less than 5 episodes i KNEW dean’s character and his arc were going to be amazing and beautiful and he immediately became my favourite brother. The nuances of his character i.e. his shell vs his true self were so evident to me even in the first couple seasons. in my humble opinion, he had the most growth of the two brothers.

They all deserve to be happy, but for whatever FUCKING reason dean has the HARDEST TIME OF ANYONE being happy in this show. I know it’s his character. I know it was written that way. But FFS.  I kept wondering when they were going to wrap up his emotional arc and stop torturing the poor dude.

then in season 4 they introduced castiel and 1) I thought the new concept of angels as assholes was super cool and 2) I hardcore SIMPED over misha collins (still do). I watched benignly as cas and dean began to form this relationship that seemed pretty special. I started watching the show when it was in its eighth season and I binged the shit out of it for two weeks until I was caught up. By the time I was caught up I was CERTAIN there were some feelings between them and I LOVED it. I am bisexual and I was ECSTATIC for a potential queer relationship between two masculine-portrayed dudes. I went on tumblr to express my newfound theory, only to find out that this was a real THING. “Destiel” was already an idea that had absolutely and intensely BLOSSOMED in the fandom  for several seasons already. So many others saw what I saw and saw the potential of emotionally tortured/constipated “daddy’s blunt instrument” dean and the unfeeling daddy’s boy cas “crack in his chassis” Winchester being allowed to be happy together. I felt validated and hopeful. For a while.

Then it was season after season of hopefulness for them to be finally happy with each other while still fighting the ills of their world with sam and the other new members of their family that were added along the way, only to constantly have that hope seemingly teased away at the end every single time. By season 11 and the introduction of amara (not bashing, eventually loved her character and her development too) I gave up. I lost hope. I stopped watching the show. I didn’t want to keep watching my two favourite characters continuously abused by the story they were thrown into.

I know not everyone likes destiel, not everyone thought it was real. That’s chill, idc. Stories are so often meant to be (and sometimes inadvertently) left up to interpretation by the person experiencing and consuming them. It’s what’s so amazing about books and shows and movies that are able to make us feel so intensely about them and their characters. And I felt SO strongly about dean and cas. It was honestly really upsetting to me, the way the show was going with their relationship.

A while later season 13 had been going on and I started seeing some things pop up on my dash. Hopeful things. I did a bit of research and accidentally saw THE SCENE from season 12 and I couldn’t help myself. I restarted it. I watched the whole thing from the beginning again AND introduced it to my boyfriend I think partially as a way to ensure I wasn’t imagining shit (it took him awhile and a lot of me internally screaming during many scenes but by season 9 he was like “uh are they in gay love”). Fast forward to me finally catching up as season 14 was starting. I was still hopeful, somehow. And it happened AGAIN. Season 14 and the beginnings of 15 made me so sad. I HATED what they did with their relationship. I HATED the way it ended. I HATED the way dean treated cas and everyone around him. It felt like the show was taking his whole character arc back to day 1. I didn’t understand. I kept watching for a couple episodes after the big argument and cas left but the luster was gone and eventually I just stopped.

I love this show. It has meant so much to me as a story. So many of the characters are/were very dear to me. I know it’s a running joke with this show about character deaths and homophobia but the strength of the bond I felt was between cas and dean gave me a lot of hope. But it wasn’t enough. I felt betrayed one too many times. And for those of you who kept watching, for whatever reason, I don’t hold it against you. It’s still a beautiful and interesting story without cas and dean’s relationship. But I just personally couldn’t do it anymore.

I hadn’t planned on watching the rest of season 15 when it came back after pandemic hiatus, at least not for awhile. So imagine my FUCKING surprise when I was doom scrolling through twitter during election week on Thursday and I see supernatural trending right along with election shit.

What.

I couldn’t stop myself, I looked and literally SCREAMED and made my boyfriend spill his wine all over our couch. I didn’t know exactly what happened as I hadn’t seen the episode but APPARENTLY all my emotions and feelings had been at least partially vindicated. So I BOUGHT season 15 so I could finish watching where I had left off. I watched 8 episodes in less than 24hrs (don’t judge me there’s a quarantine) and I LIKED them. And it might’ve been bc I knew what was about to happen in 15 x18 but I really felt like the show was getting STRONGER as it neared its finish.

I was so excited for 15x19. I read so many posts from fellow fans, destiel and antis alike. There really weren’t a lot of bad emotions running around. Everyone seemed hopeful and excited like me.

I probably don’t need to go over 15x19 emotions but im going to anyway. I was disappointed. I was confused. I was angry. we are in season 15. The last season ever for this show that has had a HUGE following of fans who have loved it, sometimes unconditionally, sometimes even though it wasn’t the best (and sometimes less than good). A season and show that had just announced YES. CAS LOVES DEAN. ITS REAL. And I shouldn’t have to go over the nuances of why we would expect more after this, with two episodes to go before the show is done forever.

But I will bc im mad af.

Like I said in the beginning. Dean’s character arc has been incredible. His emotional growth – as subtle as it might’ve seemed – has been amazing. And dean has always been an emotional, loving person. he just felt like he wasn’t because the world made him feel that way. And that’s sad, y’all. Dean deserves to realize he DESERVES happiness. And in 15x18, we were finally heading basically directly there. With destiel, yes, but even if you’re anti, what cas said to dean about who he is and why he loves him obviously struck a fucking chord with dean. It obviously changed the way he viewed himself (RE: “that’s not who I am, that’s not who we are”).

But for WHATEVER reason that’s ALL we got in 15x19. One fucking SENTENCE about dean realizing maybe he’s not just built to kill people. And then jack leaves without a single mention of Eileen or cas or Charlie or literally anyone they ever cared about and dean rode off into the sunset alone with his brother while we watched a fucking FIVE MINUTE MONTAGE that made me want to hurl my own body into the sun they were driving toward. And cas is STILL DEAD.

BUT THERE’S STILL ONE EPISODE LEFT AND FUCK ME IF I HAVENT BEEN PAINTING ON MY CLOWN MAKEUP ALL WEEK. SO WHAT DO I WANT????

ONE: DEAN DESERVES HAPPINESS. REAL HAPPINESS. What the FUCK supernatural??? Wasn’t this the whole point of his arc??? And don’t get me wrong I REALLY want that happiness to come from Cas and a real spoken relationship of some sort between them bc it also ties in with my second point but tbh just PLEASE let dean be happy. Dean is a loving person and does everything for love as we JUST FOUND OUT. Dean would NOT be happy with everyone he’s ever loved gone for the rest of his life. I just don’t believe that’s fucking true. h elp him pls.

TWO: CAS DESERVES HAPPINESS. I know we got this whole speech about “happiness isn’t in the having it’s simply in being”  but like. Really. Castiel was supposed to be a throwaway character no one was supposed to care about. But we all cared SO MUCH that he lasted 11 SEASONS longer than intended and became a main character and an integral part of the story. Cas has arguably sacrificed more than anyone on this show. His last act was to sacrifice his life to save the man he loved. He knew where he was going. He knew he was finally going to be able to tell dean he loved him and then immediately be taken by the empty where we know now thanks to season 15 that everyone in there just gets to dream forever about their regrets and sadness. HOW IS THAT FAIR. HOW IS THAT A GOOD ENDING FOR CAS. HOW DO YOU EXPECT ANYONE – CHARACTERS AND FANS ALIKE –TO BE HAPPY ABOUT THAT. Its messed up, supernatural. Y’all KNOW it is and I hope to HIGH HEAVENS this is going to be corrected in 15x20.

THREE: give sam Eileen back. 

Well that’s all I’ve got in me, folks. I’m absolutely and intensely dreading Thursday. Im scared and nervous and obviously still angry that this is absolutely going to be the opposite of what they promised – another “game of thrones” ending. Some of y’all are giving me hope with your posts about maybe they’re trying to keep the ending a surprise and maybe cas is coming back and how can they not and why else would they have done the second to last episode like that and I hope yall are right.

Either way, im glad I am not alone with my feelings. Thanks yall for the experience of this fandom and show. Let’s stick together on Thursday, no matter our differences.

 PS stop calling jensen ackles a homophobe or ill hex you. 

[caranfindel]

Initial reaction 15.14: Last Holiday

Well, friends, here we go. Are you ready?

(I'm not. But here we go anyway.)

THEN: Cuthbert Sinclair. (Really? That's a deep cut.) Abbadon. Larry Ganem. (And S8 Sam, who is fucking gorgeous.) Oh, and God and Jack and all that stuff, in case you forgot.

NOW: Sam's in the library, doing research, and is distracted by some ominous noises. Ominous in a machinery-breaking-down kind of way, not in a monstery kind of way. Enter Dean, wearing an apron. "What's with the apron," asks Sam, "because it's only protecting your jeans, not the Red Shirt of Bad Decisions." At least that's how it sounded in my head. I mean, who only gets dirty from the waist down when they're cooking? (Well, that lends itself to all kinds of double entendres, doesn't it?) Or maybe Sam doesn't say that because he hopes the RSoBD will be destroyed in a tragic burger accident.

Seriously, Dean, that shirt is precious and you need to protect it, no matter what Sam thinks.

Dean complains that the pilot light keeps going out, and the hot water is unsatisfactory (and we know how he feels about his showers), and Sam reminds him that if the bunker was ever state-of-the-art, it was in the 50s. They exposition for us that Jack is hiding in his room. "Can you blame him?" Sam says. "His soul is back. Everything is hitting him. Everything he's done..." And Sam continues, but I'm sorry, I'm stuck here, thinking about re-souled Sam with everything hitting him. {sob} However, neither of the Winchesters seem to be thinking about this, so. Carry on.

The guys remind us that if Jack kills God, he'll have to kill Amara as well. Which I assume means Amara isn't going to get killed? Just saying. As much as I talk about foreshadowing (too much, please stop!) this show teases us with anti-foreshadowing with equal fervor. And Cas is apparently looking for Amara? What does he hope to accomplish? "Excuse me, but we're killing your brother, so you have to die too. Condolences. But if we follow canon - not that there's any reason to assume we will - you have to die at about the same time. So I need you to come with me while we figure out where he is and how to kill him."

There's another ominous noise, and Dean says "Oh, come on. Now the air?" I hope he means the air conditioning, and not the air purifying/exchange/whatever that Ketch shut off when he locked them in the bunker back in... whatever the BMoL season was. Hey, remember when the guys were locked in the bunker and they were running out of air and they wore single layers and goggles and got all sweaty and depressed? Because I've kind of never gotten over it. But I digress.

Sam is surprised that Dean expects them to fix it. "We've fought the devil," Dean says. "I've killed Hitler. I think we can handle a few old pipes." Surely this isn't the first time they've had to do some repairs around the place.

Deep within the bowels of the bunker, Sam reads some ancient instructions and complains that they can't just call a plumber. Dean refers to the bunker as the most "secretive, secure supernatural hideout in the world," which makes me laugh, because remember when Larry Ganem told Sam it was secure against all manner of evil? What a joke. Is there anything or anyone evil who hasn't been able to get into the bunker? My house is more secure against evil than the bunker, and all I have for protection is a circle of termite bait and a couple of ancient dogs.

They locate the "bunker grid control center thing thingy" (oh Sam, I adore you), complete with reset and standby buttons. Standby is glowing. Dean hypothesizes that it will work just like his computer, which needs to be shut down when it gets too many popups (I suspect you need some virus protection, dear boy), and slams down the reset button before Sam can stop him. Everything goes dark, but then starts up again, so Dean considers it a success. He calls himself "Meat Man" again and heads upstairs to finish cooking his burgers.

Time jump. Dean goes into his room, carrying a burger and a beer, and is astonished to find a middle-aged woman there. She's wearing a plaid wool skirt I owned in the 80s and is folding his underwear. "Oh, hello dear!" she says cheerfully. Dean yells for Sam.

Gosh, Dean, it's like this place isn't secretive or secure at all.

The horrified Shaggy and Scooby boxers are ~chef's kiss.~ Well done, someone.

Title card!

Library. The woman tuts at dust and wonders how they've lived in "this filth," which reminds me of an awesome Tumblr post which theorizes that faeries actually keep the bunker clean, and only first-born son Dean can see them. "Lady, who the hell are you," Dean demands, and is chastized for his language. He calls for Sam again, and gives him the story of how he walked into his room and found her "folding my underthings."

She explains that her actual name is indecipherable in "your tongue," but "Mr. Ganem called me _Mrs. Butters."_She's a wood nymph. And she's not in the woods, nymphing (thank you Dean) because she has more important things to do - she lives in the bunker and takes care of the Men of Letters. I.e., "my boys. My family."

Dean invites her to leave, but this is her home, and she's been here since "before the war." And she thinks it's 1958. "Well, I hate to tell you," Dean says, "but it's 2020." YES, DEAN, WE ALL FEEL THAT WAY ABOUT 2020. Mrs. Butters is horrified to learn all her boys are dead. And for some reason Dean tells her they were murdered by a demon instead of saying old age, or they went to a farm upstate, or whatever. She spots a photo of the last group of MoL, which we've never noticed before, and realizes that this is why they never came back from that last ceremony. When they didn't return, she decided to put the bunker - and herself - in standby mode.

But she also realizes that if these boys are like those boys, it's been a while since they had a home-cooked meal or celebrated a holiday. Or washed their clothes, as she makes a face. That's uncalled for, lady. We all know that Sam Winchester smells like rosemary and mint no matter how long it's been since he did laundry. Sam explains that they're not really "holiday people," which rings true coming from the guy who didn't want to celebrate Christmas and hates Halloween. (And only had one real Thanksgiving in his life and his brother still holds that against him but NO I'M NOT BITTER.)

Dean is more interested in what "standby mode" is. Mrs. Butters says the MoL used her magic to give the bunker "extra oomph," and snaps her fingers. Voila, extra oomph! There's some humming noises, the telescope alcove lights up (!), and an alarm sounds. Because the map table is actually a monster radar, and it indicates a nest of vampires 50 miles away. And gives the address. WELL.

{Sidebar: Why didn't the BMoL know the AMoL had this capability? Why was their focus on "you're not as good as us" instead of "you used to be as good as us; what happened?" Discuss.}

Do I care? No. Because look at these precious perplexed faces.

Dean's ready to go (and it earns him another stern warning about his language), but Sam wonders if they can trust her. "Look at her," Dean says. And I agree. She's a dumpy middle aged woman in a brown plaid wool skirt. She's basically me. And who could be more trustworthy, more concerned with the Winchesters' health and safety, than me?

Um. Anyway.

Not to change the subject or anything, but the pretty is strong tonight, y'all.

Dean suggests they give her the benefit of the doubt, and if it turns out she's not what she says she is, "then we deal with it." The music turns ominous. "What about Jack?" Sam asks.

Oh, Jack is actually in this episode? I thought maybe they were explaining his absence earlier, like they always do with Cas. (Because I always cover the guest star credits on first watch. Spoilers.) But it turns out Jack is actually with us tonight. Sitting on his bed, looking depressed. Dean knocks on his door and tells him they're going out, and there's a "probably harmless" guest making snickerdoodles. This sparks Jack's interest. It would work on me, too. I love snickerdoodles.

Impala. Sam's not sure it's a good idea to keep Mrs. Butters around, even if she is legit. He's concerned about Jack, but Dean brushes him off.

He'll be fine. I mean, I've been through worse and look at me. I'm the picture of health.

Ignoring your trauma doesn't make you healthy.

Sure it does.

Oh, Sam. Just listen to yourself. No, I mean, please. Listen to yourself.

Sam feels like Jack is hiding something, and I wish there were someone around who had also done awful things while un-souled, and remembered what it felt like to deal with that afterward. Someone sympathetic and empathetic. With soft puppy dog eyes and beautiful hair. Oh well. I guess Jack will just have to go unburden himself onto whoever he comes across.

Bunker. Mrs. Butters brings Jack a sandwich. He doesn't open the door, but she leaves it for him.

Vampire nest. A couple of vampires are watching Dark Shadows (so meta!) and drinking blood stolen from a blood bank. So, are these, like, maybe not bad vampires? Maybe they don't kill people? We'll never know, because Sam and Dean walk in and cut off their heads. And come home to... Christmas. Lights are strung all over, jazzy Christmas music is playing, there's a huge decorated tree and gifts, and Mrs. Butters has a tray of homemade cookies. "We are so keeping her," Dean says. Sam looks unsure.

Kitchen. Mrs. Butters tells Sam that since he and Dean have been so busy killing monsters, they haven't had a chance to celebrate anything. But I can barely pay attention to a single word that comes out of the woman's mouth because LOOK AT SAM IN THIS T-SHIRT. LOOK AT IT.

Single-layer Sam is something to celebrate.

She insists that Sam "enjoy the world you're fighting for" (which is never gonna happen, lady) and excitedly talks about all the holidays she wants to make up for. Then Jack enters, and her mood changes instantly. Even Jack's adorable little dorky wave doesn't melt her. "What are you?" she asks coldly.

Enter Dean, wearing a real-life version of the purple "sleeping robe" and nightcap he wore in "Scoobynatural." OH MY GAWD. I really hope this was a surprise for the rest of the cast.

And I also hope he's not really going commando underneath... or do I?

Mrs. Butters is distracted enough to decide that if the boys vouch for Jack, he must be okay. She hands Jack a smoothie but tells Dean he must have tomato juice due to his cholesterol. And she pronounces it the Patrick Stewart way, not the Mark Hammil way.

Before Dean can drink his to-mah-toh juice, the monster radar alarm goes off, and the guys rush off to prepare for a hunt. For future reference, when you leave the kitchen, Sam's room is to the right and Dean's is to the left. We next see the guys fully dressed, receiving sack lunches from Mrs. Butters. Dean's sandwich has the crusts cut off. {Sidebar: Sam never had someone to cut the crusts off his sandwich. Hold me. And also, how many reminders am I going to have of "Dark Side of the Moon" tonight?} She tells Sam the monster is a lamia, the blessed knives are in the trunk, and she just waxed the car so Dean needs to take it easy.

As the guys rush off, she turns to Jack and his smoothie mustache. "Well. What shall we do with you?"

NOTHING GOOD, I'M SURE.

As Jack helps wash dishes, he fills her in. Lucifer was his father, Mary was his family and his friend but he killed her. Mrs. Butters is very supportive, telling him "life gives us second chances and it's our obligation to hold onto them." And she presents him with another smoothie.

Montage! Thanksgiving dinner. More hunts. More sack lunches. Halloween (and even Sam seems to enjoy it). Fourth of July. (Yet another "Dark Side of the Moon" shoutout). A hunt requiring the grenade launcher and Thor's hammer from that episode whose title I can't remember! Sam's birthday! By the way, none of these holiday celebrations include Cas.

Mmmm. So worthy.

Time jump. Jack catches Mrs. Butters looking at something in a file cabinet and being very sneaky about it. He requests another smoothie to get her out of the room, and then finds what she was looking at. It's her MoL file, including a reel of film. The film shows Cuthbert Sinclar talking about File 5150 (aw, RIP Eddie Van Halen). The subject was actually recovered from the Thule (aw, "Everybody Hates Hitler") and we learn that wood nymphs "react violently when home or family are threatened." Sinclair says he "conducted a series of experiments designed to show this strange and magical being of our mission" and convinced her to join the MoL family. Huh. Wonder how he did that. Then Mrs. Butters demonstrates her devotion by literally ripping the head off a Thule. "Son of a bitch," says Jack, because he's been spending a lot of time with Dean.

Jack runs into the war room looking for Sam (and yes, I'm petty enough to love that he looks to Sam first), who is off getting ready for a "big date." Huh. Okay. Mrs. Butters offers him soup, but then Sam walks in, giving off some pretty strong Hot Professor Sam vibes (hello again, "Everybody Hates Hitler") with a sweater vest and tie, and I am thrilled with this development.

Thrilled, I tell you.

Mrs. Butters tells him he looks wonderful but offers to trim his hair (back off, lady, I will cut you) and Dean enters in time to make a weak Abercrombie and Bitch joke. Sam tells him Eileen's in town, and he's taking her out to dinner and "some privacy, something."

"Heavy on the something," Dean says, and we're going to talk about that later, I promise. But for now, Mrs. Butters tells Sam to take one of the old cars from the garage. Finally. Can we just make this permanent? Can Sam have his own fucking car, please? She produces a bouquet of roses from nowhere and sends him on his adorably anxious way. Then she tells Dean she found a broken TV in one of the rooms and fixed it. "The Dean Cave?" Dean is off like a shot. I wonder if that's the TV he smashed with a hammer, and if so, how did she fix it? (Also, hello again, "Scoobynatural.")

Jack is still unsettled. He follows her into the dungeon and tells her he saw the film. {Sidebar: The film showed her killing one of their enemies because she's protective of the MoL. Is it really that awful? Discuss.} "And how did that make you feel?" she asks. "You relished his pain, didn't you, Jack?" Oh, turns out that was a setup - she wanted Jack to see the video, so she could confirm that he was a bloodthirsty little monster. And do the Winchesters know how powerful he has become?

They should be scared of you!

I would never hurt them.

You have before, haven't you? Have you ever thought that Sam and Dean keep you in here, closed in, secure, because they're scared you'll do to someone else what you did to their mother?

Well, I mean. Now he has. She flings Jack into the wall. He tries to use the glowy eyes on her, but he finds himself powerless. She snaps the magic handcuffs on him. "You didn't think those smoothies were for your health, did you? Oh, I've learned a few things while I was doing the dusting around here. A little yarrow root, some ground jawbone for texture, and voila! You are as weak as a puppy."

Wait. That's all it took? To power down a nephilim, who is canonically more powerful than his archangel parent? So when the Winchesters were trying to take down Lucifer and AU Michael, all they needed was some yarrow root and ground jawbone? And the answers were all right here in the bunker?

(Sigh. Don't think about it. That way lies madness.)

(Also, canon! Ha ha ha ha.)

She tells Jack she's making the bunker safe again and getting rid of all the monsters. Like you, sweetness. Aw. Sad Jack.

Kitchen. Dean comes in looking for a snack and is immediately presented with some kind of grilled sandwich. She tells him to eat it, because he'll need his strength when they go kill Jack. Aw, that's the sound of a heart breaking.

Dean is disappointed that their good thing has gone "full Nurse Ratchet," and glances longingly at the sandwich he has to leave behind. He takes Mrs. B's knife and suggests they let Jack go and pretend this never happened. The only logical conclusion is that Dean is under Jack's spell, so he gets tossed into the dungeon too. Oh, cool. Does that mean Sam gets to be the hero and save them?

Spoiler alert: Ha ha ha ha no.

Hello, Demon Dean. That's the only other time we've seen this expression, isn't it? {Or is it simply the only one branded onto my brain? Discuss.)

Map table room. Sam comes in and is met by Mrs. B. "Bit past your curfew, Samuel," she says curtly. He's no longer wearing his tie. Hmm. So, let's talk about the Eileen situation. Isn't it weird that (1) Dean didn't know she was in town, and (b) she's not spending the night at the bunker? Wouldn't you think she'd be a house guest? I mean, she's not "in town" for the heck of it. The only thing that would bring her to Lebanon would be Sam. So why isn't she here seeing Sam? Is she just driving through on her way somewhere else? She can't even spend one night in the bunker? And the tie? If Sam removed his tie, doesn't that strongly suggest Dean was right about the "something" going on? Did they do it in the back of the old car? At a hotel? I have questions, friends.

Anyway. Sam asks where Jack and Dean are, since it's late and they should be sitting around the map table waiting for him to come home and not, like, in bed or anything. "Well, I have some good news, and some bad news."

HERE IS SOME GOOD NEWS INDEED.

Honestly, I like this look better without the tie.

Time jump.

So, Jack has taken over Dean's mind. And they're both downstairs, right now, ready to be killed by us.

You were always the smart one, yes.

Sam, who is the smart one, says he's going to go to his room and get his gun, and he'll meet her in the dungeon. "And we can... get to the killing." I LOVE HIM. {Sidebar: I have watched his fake relieved sigh several times and it makes me smile every time.} Once he’s safe in his room, Sam calls Dean and starts to tell him about Mrs. Butters.

Went psycho, we know.

Why didn't you call me?

Well, I mean I, you know, I figured you were "practicing your sign language."

And that's more important than coming to save you?

...

Dean?

It's been a while for you, man, you know?

Aw. Always the supportive big brother. {Sidebar: As long as Sam is doing something Dean thinks Sam should be doing. But I digress.}

{Sidebar: I love Dean, y'all know I do. Warts and all. He'd be boring if he were perfect.}

Dean suggests Sam shoot her, although they don't know if a gun will kill her because neither of them got around to researching it because they were distracted by Christmas and Thanksgiving and breakfast on Boxing Day. That's how you get killed, guys. {Sidebar: How much do I love that Sam calls it Boxing Day? For my Brit friends, that's not really a thing in the U.S., although it's gradually starting to become one. And I love it.}

Dean then suggests that putting the bunker in standby mode might put Mrs. B in suspended animation again. Meanwhile, Jack and Dean are stuck in the dungeon. Jack suggests using his power to remove the cuffs, but Dean points out that the power surge would catch Chuck's attention. But what power surge? Jack already tried to use his power against Mrs. B and it turned out he didn't have any.

Jack suspects there are other reasons Dean doesn't want him to use his power, and suddenly decides it's time for a deep conversation.

Do you still think I'm a monster? Okay, I'm just gonna say this, okay? Just get it out there. Jack, I'm trying, okay? I really am. But what you did, that's not easy to forget. Now, I was angry with you. For a while. And maybe I still am a little bit, okay? But I'm not gonna let some evil Mary Poppins take you out. You understand?

Okay. Good talk.

Sam shows up in the library looking for Mrs. B, and trying to hide his gun, as if he hadn't told her he was going to his room specifically to retrieve said gun. But Mrs. B realizes he's trying to kill her, and freezes him. She's not mad, she's just disappointed. She tosses him into a chair and keeps him there with the power of her mind, not with rope or anything, in case you were wondering. {Oh, hello, "Funeralia" and "The Trap."} She tells him that when the MoL first found her, she didn't realize how important they were. But Mr. Cuthbert explained it to her. And since Sam is her favorite, she's not going to give up on him. Yet. She's going help Sam the same way Mr. Cuthbert helped her understand. Well, that doesn't sound ominous at all.

He's my favorite too! And I also think he needs to be hurt! See, she's basically me!

Dungeon. Dean is going to try to chop Jack's handcuffs off.

You're sure this is gonna work?

Let's say yes.

Aw. That was a perfect opportunity to bring back "maybe 90% sure." And it doesn't work - Jack is sent flying into a glassed-in cabinet that I've never seen in the dungeon before. Dean says "dang it" before remembering that he can use his big boy words, which is adorable. And then he gets an idea.

Upstairs. Mrs. B tries to convince Sam that Jack is a monster because he's Lucifer's son. Sam, of course, takes the opposite side of this debate. "Now, Mr. Cuthbert taught me that pain can be a wonderful teacher. Let's see if it can't correct your ways."

I SWEAR, Y'ALL, SHE IS ME.

Sam could sneer at her and say "I've been tortured by the devil himself; what can you do to me?" but we don't have that version of Sam any more. Mrs. B, without tools, yanks off one of his fingernails. {Oh, hello "A Very Supernatural Christmas!"}

Meanwhile, downstairs, Dean has a different theory on pain. It's just "weakness leaving the body," he tells Jack. We get a little "on three" bit, where he actually does the thing on one. And the thing is that he tries to cut Jack's handcuffs again, but this time Jack is strategically placed in front of the dungeon door. So when he's thrown back by the blast, he ends up breaking the door down.

Upstairs. Sam's been relieved of even more fingernails.

Downstairs. Dean takes a hammer (!) and smashes the reset button. Why doesn't he just push it with his hand? I mean, sure, we get the hammer, and the red lights and warning klaxon, and all of that turns me into Pavlov's dog {Hello, "Soul Survivor"}. But still. Seems unnecessary.

Upstairs. Mrs. B seems to be gone, and Dean bends over like he's untying Sam's wrist. But Sam's wrists aren't tied to anything, so. I got nothin'.

Downstairs. The runes that seem to hold Mrs. B in stasis light up, but do not stay lit. Well, that can't be good. And then the bunker grid control center thing thingy starts shaking and springs a leak. Ooops. Here she comes, complete with glowy green eyes.

Upstairs. Dean finishes untying Sam from the chair he wasn't tied to, and remarks on how gross his tortured hand is. Mrs. B shows up, yells that they've all been very bad, and flings them across the room. She's sure Sam will thank her someday for killing Jack, because it's so important to kill monsters and keep the MoL safe. It's why she couldn't go back to her forest. Sam explains to her that Mr. Cuthbert tortured her and used her, and Dean tells her Jack is going to save the world. Oh, okay then. The regular lights turn back on and Mrs. B tearfully says she misses the MoL so much.

Aftermath. Mrs. B heals Sam's hand and apologizes and all is immediately forgotten and once again, Sam gets to forgive his torturer and turn the other cheek. Yay! Sam, what was it you said earlier?

Gif stolen from @michaeldean

The guys send Mrs. B back to the woods, but first they have this conversation:

Sadly, without my magic, the bunker will revert to standby mode, so. Ah well, things were getting too easy anyway, you know? Who needs a monster radar? Or whatever that telescope thing is? It's an interdimensional geoscope. It's a what? I looked in it earlier; I didn't see anything. Oh. Well that's not good.

Holy crap, you guys. Interdimensional. It let the MoL look at the alternate worlds. And now you can't see anything because all of the alternate worlds have been destroyed. Gotta admit, this is an excellent little twist.

Jack presents Mrs. B with the photo of the MoL. "Oh look," she says. "The man who tortured me and kept me from my home, right here, front and center." Well, no, she doesn't. But I do.

Mrs. Butters gives them some last instruction. "Dean, eat your vegetables. And Sam, cut your hair. And Jack, go save the world." Well, I'm in favor of one or two of those things.

Try to tell me I'm wrong. Just try.

After-aftermath. Jack tells Sam that he doesn't know if he can kill God, since he was sidelined by a wood nymph "because I was stupid." He asks if Sam thinks he can do it.

"Jack, you're the only who can." No pressure.

Dean shows up with a truly awful-looking birthday cake for Jack. "I made it myself. Obviously." But Jack is thrilled because it's from Dean, and it means Dean loves him and has forgiven him, until the plot requires otherwise. He makes a wish and blows out his single candle. Fade to black.

So! There were parts of this that were simply marvelous. There were parts that were kind of dumb. There were parts that would have made me very angry if I weren't so tired and jaded. But the good parts were darn good, and the pretty was dialed up to 11, and we all know I'm a sucker for a pretty episode. And there was NO B PLOT. AT ALL. Thank you baby Jesus.

And let’s just refuse to consider the possibility that these were, in fact, their last holidays. Thanks.

Now I get to see what you thought about it. And, as always, please help me stay unspoiled for future episodes, including episode titles and casting info. {smooches}

[guymaito]

For the ask thing :3:

Top 5 animals? Top 5 fav/comfort movies? Top 5 fav cartoons/shows?

I’m honestly glad to know theres other people including you who actually like Pakku and his character :3 Yes he was a completely asshole at the start but he did change, it’s just that it was so subtle that not everyone saw it

Also random song associations with characters:

Fighter by Jack Stauber reminds me very well of Piandao, Pakku, and Jeong Jeong as their younger selves during the war.

Why do I associate Grace by Lewis Capaldi with Bumi? (the music video tho would give more context to why it might make sense)

Oh Klahoma by Jack Stauber reminds me of Piandao and his overall anxieties for his partners.

Consider some of these songs as sorta song recs? Idk but still :3

1. Giraffes!! the reason why their tongues look like That is cause of extra melanin and to prevent sunburn!!

2. Seals!! there are 33 different kinds of pinnipeds and there over 50 extinct pinnipeds

3. Dogs!! they can only see in shades of blue and yellow, so bright red roses look yellowish brown and lively green grass look dehydrated and dead

4. Crows!! a group of them are called a murder

5. Cows!! they’re actually colorblind, they can’t see red specifically, so male cows, bulls aren’t getting mad at the color, they’re getting angry at the movement

1. The Losers movie from 2010, it’s a action mystery movie about Clay and his team that are a part of an elite US Special Forces Unit and are approached by a mysterious woman to exact revenge on their handler, Max, who betrayed them and just,,,the characters, CHRIS EVANS, jake jensen and all of his kinda weird glory, THE ELEVATOR SCENE, also cougar!!

2. Captain America and The Winter Soldier movie, it’s a action movie, which makes me realize that a lot of my faves are prolly gonna be action something, but anyways, it’s about Steve Rogers, who now lives in the nation's capital as he tries to adjust to modern times. An attack on a S.H.I.E.L.D. colleague throws Rogers into a web of intrigue that places the whole world at risk. Joining forces with the Black Widow, Natasha Romanov, and a new ally, Sam Wilson, Steve struggles to expose an ever-widening conspiracy, but he and his team soon come up against an unexpected enemy. oh my god,,,just,,,the fight scenes, the running scene at the beginning of the movie, steve meeting sam that way, just everything!! this was also my introduction to marvel so in my mind no other marvel movie can live up to this (other than spiderman away from home)

3. Spiderman Far from Home, again, it’s a action movie, i’m not gonna explain this cause the post is getting long, but!! mj and peter!! just,,,all of their scenes!! also jake gyllenhaal!! the fight scenes!! the soundtrack!! everything about it is amazing!!

4. Thunderforce, again, i’m not gonna explain, it’s an action adventure and comedy movie (ofc it is look at the other 3 🙄 /s), the relationship between lydia and emily!! the relationship between lydia and emily’s daughter!! the humor!! the fight scenes!! the soundtrack!!,,,,just everything about is good despite the bad ratings

that’s more like a top 4 than a top 5 but that’s like,,,,all the movies i genuinely like and will rewatch if given the chance and for that where’s a honorable mention: Hamilton (the movie version on disney+ that came out i think nearly a year ago), the soundtrack is amazing, the characters are better, got some funny moments and is mostly historically accurate, like yeah angelica did forget her name cause at the time of her meeting alex ham, she was married to a man named john church (or something church idk) so her last name was church but she introduced herself to alexander as angelica schuyler, not angelica church, so in satisfied she was telling the truth about forgetting her own name, but in the same song she said that her father had no sons even though the real angelica had 3 brothers.

1. Avatar the last Airbender, ofc or else i would have a blog (mostly) centered around it and it’s sequel /s but fr though?? it’s such a good show!! zuko’s redemption arc, iroh’s redemption arc (even though his more subtle than zuko’s) , aang!! love him and his character so much, especially when he gets to be a sassy little shit, sokka and his shit humor and brains, katara, toph, hakoda and HIS shit humor, the fight scene with hakoda (he fights kinda like a waterbender, using his opponent’s momentum against them), bato and his lovely, lovely voice, piandao, aang going ‘how about he get on YOUR back and you can fly us to the south pole’ or something like that to sokka after he complained about appa not flying higher, the boiling rock episodes, hakoda apparently being a good dad but a shitty prison riot starter (love that for him), just!! atla is such a good ass show, im not changing my mind. also!! i like the way they introduced ozai, not showing his face but still presenting him as not only a shit dad, but a shit person as well, like up until book three, we only saw him like, the neck down and in like, a flashback or two (i don’t really remember how many flashbacks ozai was in actually cause it’s nearly been a full year since i last watched it) and that’s it, so it made seeing his face for the first time all the more better cause you was already like ‘what the hell does this shitbag look like’ and then you see him and now ur like ‘oh!! THATS what he looks like!!’

2. The Legend of Korra, again, ofc or else i wouldn’t have a blog (mostly) centered around it and it’s prequel, just,,,,korra’s arc from being hot headed to calm is fantastic but also sad considering the way she went from that to this, korra’s book 1 character!! for whatever reason i really like b1 korra, just,,her design, her hair style (even though she had it for nearly the entire series) just!!! book 1 korra <3, also the entirety of book 1!! just amon posing as a anti bender nonbender despite being a waterbender himself, the scene where tenzin and his kids nearly lost their bending, which would’ve meant that, if tenzin did lose his bending but his kids didn’t, that would’ve meant the strongest airbender would’ve been his 11 year old daughter, the gruesome way to end the season finale episode by doing a murder suicide which was dark as fuck for what?? a kids show??, also the villains in this show!! their good as hell!! the backstory of the red lotus and how and why they were created?? amon and his anti bending?? kuvira and her plan to basically rule the earth kingdom (idk i haven’t finished book 4), unalaq and his spiritual stuff and wanting to become a dark avatar and fusing with vaatu?? also!! the other disturbing scene of korra basically getting tortured near the end of book 3, i mean?? it deadass left her hella traumatized and unable to walk, again hella dark for a fucking kids show

3. The Walking Dead, even though i haven’t finished it or watched in like, 4-5 months, i just,,,the way the presented negan!! practically foreshadowing him the entirety of season 6!! him appearing at the very end of the season 6 finale and pretty much having an entire episode dedicated to him in the very beginning of season 7 (which is why some fans argue he was introduced in s7 not s6 cause of the fact that he didn’t show up until the very end of the s6 finale but had an entire episode with him in it in s7, while others say vice versa cause the very the first time we see him was in s6 not s7), the fact that the walking dead logo was getting progressively more and more decayed as the series go on?? the fact that the WALKERS (the zombies) are getting more and more decayed as the series go on?? dale’s death scene?? shane’s death scene?? negan’s relationship with rick’s daughter?? the fact that this show also has what?? 11, 12 seasons?? which reminds me that i’m still on season 9 of twd

4. Sabrina the Teenage Witch, just,,,salem and his sarcasm?? sabrina’s aunts?? sabrina herself?? just!! everyone is just so fucking funny in this show it’s unreal, specially salem!! a lot of my favorite scenes have salem in them, the ‘are you on a women’s chat room again?’ (or something like that) and salem saying ‘i like the attention’ in response, that one harvey and salem scene that i don’t know how to describe without turning this into a giant paragraph like the ones before this one

5. blue’s clues, it was my favorite childhood show and i love the reboot of it so much!! especially p for pride moment in that song i don’t remember the name of, blue themself!! steve leaving which was sad but getting an equally amazing host in the process?? amazing!! the scene where salt and pepper introduced their baby, paprika?? just,,,it’s such good show and i loved it when i was younger and i still love it now!!

[mail-me-a-snail]

Put on a Show

my first jse fic, in where anti teaches dear jackieboy man a lesson :3

Be a hero.

That’s what Jack had said to him, before…before the incident, before all of this. Before that son of a bitch Anti got to him.

It boils his blood and makes him gnash his teeth at night. As much as he hates Anti… …he can’t deliver the final blow. He has Anti pinned by the front of his shirt against the brick wall of the alleyway. Anti’s hair is ruffled and sticking up in all sorts of places. With some sort of sick sadness, the hero sees Jack in him, most of all in his blue-grey eyes, instead of monstrous black pools and tears. Even the slit on his neck isn’t bleeding black—it’s red. As if he’s human. As if he’s Jack. It’s not the only thing that’s bleeding red. Anti’s nose is bleeding, thick trails of blood dripping from his nostrils into his lips and soaking into his beard. Anti’s fangs are splashed with his own blood. Still, he smiles. Bruises black and blue dot his face and has swollen one of his eyes a dark purple. Jackie feels just as beat up as Anti looks—the knife slashes scoring his arms and back like tallies sting like hell. His fist is pulled back to wipe the smug grin off of Anti’s face but he just can’t do it. “C'mon, hero,” Anti sneers, coughing. Jackie’s fist curls tighter around Anti’s shirt. It’s black; no one will see the blood. “Take the shot.” Anti raises a mockingly frail hand and points at his chin. “Right here.” Jackie sucks in a breath through his clamped teeth. His own fist shakes. Why can’t he do it? Anti is right there. This isn’t different from all the other times. And that, right there, is why he can’t do it. Because it is the same process, the same cat and mouse game that they always play. The same bridges that are built then burned with a crowd to cheer for the winning side. But there isn’t a crowd now. In this dank, dirty, rat-infested alleyway, it is just him and Anti. So, take the shot, He yells at himself. But he can’t. “Why?” He manages to growl, more to himself than Anti. Anti tips his head and frowns. A bead of blood drops onto his cheek from a gash in his forehead. “Why what?” He says. “Why is it always the same damn game with you?” Jackie narrows his brows. “Day in, day out—you come out of hiding, act like some kind of big bad, and we fight while the crowd eggs us on. I never leave these fights with debilitating wounds. I rarely get hurt. Why? It’s like—it’s like this is all it is to you, this war between us. Like you never tried to hurt my brothers—” Jackie unconsciously lifts Anti a little higher off the ground. The demon looks pleased. “—like you never tried to fucking kill Henrik, or Chase, or Jack—” His voice elevates into a shout. “—so, why do you think this is a game?!” It’s only when the still silence that follows settles in that he realizes he had been shouting. Anti’s collar is still bundled up in his fist. He’s nearly ripping the fabric out. “The game only stops,” Anti isn’t smiling as he says, “when one of us is dead. I’m not interested in killing you, Jackie. You’re a comic book superhero—a try-hard with big dreams. You needed a villain. A villain who could be the big bad, who could never cause any real harm…at least, not to the city. So, I reeled it in. Just for you.” “…what?” “You’d never be able to handle what I can really do,” Anti sneers, “You’re a super hero without super powers—of course, the crowd doesn’t know that. The kids…they love you. They think you can do so many wonderful things…things that I do for you.” “I don’t…” “Come on, Jackie. You think I can bleed?” Anti wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and it’s like the blood was never there. His bruises have faded away. His black eye is healed, the skin around it pink. “I’m not human—never have been. Never will be. They—” He throws his hand towards the street. “—know as much. They see me as the villain. The Saturday morning cartoon bad guy. And you’re the titular character.” “Shut up.” “It’s a show to them.” “Shut up.” He can hear the blood rushing through his ears. Every wound fades. “It’s all a ploy—” “Shut up.” “—because without me, they wouldn’t fucking believe in you the way Jack does—” “I SAID, SHUT UP.” His fist vaults forward. His breathing is ragged. He expects blood under his knuckles—but finds Anti gripping his fist like it’s nothing. Jackie’s hand shakes with the effort. He’s pushing with all his might but Anti isn’t budging. He isn’t the frail, beaten victim of justice he was just a few seconds ago. Jackie sees this in the way Anti suddenly straightens, the way the crusted blood under his fingernails disappears. Anti pulls back his fist and strikes Jackie. The hit connects and lands square on Jackie’s jaw, making him see stars. He shakes his head and loses his grip on Anti. The other sidesteps out of his range and grabs the front of his jacket, forcibly spinning him around. He head-butts him, a wild grin on his face. Jackie’s head snaps back from the force of it and he stumbles backwards, trying to stop the warm blood gushing from his forehead. He coughs. “That’s no way to play, hero,” Anti taunts him from behind. “What if all your fans were watching? You can’t let them see you lose.” He growls and whips around. The moment he does, Anti grabs his throat, rough nails digging in and leaving angry half-moon marks in the soft skin, and pushes him against the opposite wall of bricks. The back of Jackie’s head nearly smashes into them—he throws his head forward just in time to avoid the worst of the impact, but it still sends a shock down his spine. He can’t think much, can’t see much, either. Anti’s hold tightens and he gasps for air. His hand instinctively grabs Anti’s wrist, pulling and scratching, nearly begging. He’s about to break out of his hold when— The hero doesn’t even have enough breath to cry out when a sharp, hot pain erupts in his stomach. He jolts, hands jerking and teeth clamping down. Anti jostles the knife, just to toy with him. He can hear the other end grinding against the bricks. The demon leans close, so close Jackie can feel his beard tickle the shell of his ear. “This is why we put on a show, Jackieboy,” Anti whispers. Jackie flinches, wheezing. “You couldn’t kill me if you tried, not like this. So, at the end of the day, you win and I crawl back to whatever cesspit I came from, wherever they think I came from. The crowd wouldn’t like it if they saw you like this. Bleeding, broken…” Anti leans back. His grip on Jackie’s throat is iron tight. He smiles, and for a moment—it might be his concussion but—the scleras of his eyes turn pitch black, then flash again to white. Anti brushes the hair out of Jackie’s face, a motion so tender for a moment, for a stupid, vulnerable moment, that he wheezes, “J…Jack.” “That’s right,” Anti laughs. His voice dips into a perfect impersonation of Jack. “I’m Jack. I believe in you. You’re a hero to everybody, but most importantly, to me…bla, bla, bla.” The knife slides out of Jackie’s gut, a sickly slick accompanying it and a resulting gush of blood down his leg. Jackie squeezes his eyes shut. “Don’t be like that,” Anti’s voice comes from somewhere in the darkness. “Give us a smile, Jackie. You’re our hero.” He refuses. The silence is deafening. He feels Anti’s thumb rubbing against his Adam’s apple, before his hand caresses Jackie’s cheek, the limb cold against it. He could breathe again. He took the time to take a few slow breaths. Jackie opens his eyes. He glares daggers and spits blood onto the Anti’s cheek. His smile never wavers, even as the blood drips down his chin and onto his shirt. “You’re forgetting your place in our game. You’re the hero, the one who wins…and I’m the bad guy, the bleeding baddie. This won’t do at all. How about this: a little something from me to you—a time out, if you will.” “Fuck. You.” Is all he can manage. His vision is starting blacken around the edges. The knife’s tip presses into his neck. Anti forces his head up with his other hand, his fingers digging into the side of Jackie’s temple and his thumb pushing against his lips. Jackie gnashes his teeth and has half a mind to bite Anti’s hand like a dog— The knife slides across his neck in one smooth motion, like cutting through paper. He had only ever seen the after effects of a slit neck—the blood, the loss of voice. Never had he realized that blood would bubble in his mouth, dribbling down thick as spit, nor that the pain would be like a tight wire cord was being wrapped around his neck and pulled taut. He slides to the grimy floor, grasping his neck, wheezing and coughing. Everything is tinged red. He sees Anti’s black Converse at the edge of his vision, one shoe tapping as if impatiently waiting for him to die. “Crawl back to your precious doctor,” Anti leans down and suddenly grabs his hair, pulling his head up to look at him. Jackie squints, the sunlight hurting his eyes. “And think about what you’ve done.” Anti lets him go. His head drops and so does he, breath slowing, bleeding out. The scarlet from his neck grows into a puddle beneath him. Anti starts to walk away, leaving bloody footprints behind him. Jackie’s shaking hand reaches out to him, but drops limply. The blood splashes. “When you come back…” Anti’s voice starts to fade away, as did everything, into darkness. “…let’s put on a show.”

[crystalninjaphoenix]

Torn Apart

A Stitched Story

JSE Fanfic

This is a bit of a shorter story, and it’s late, but hey, I’m glad I was able to get it done. Season three of this AU, everybody! It starts here. The boys are meeting up with Schneep again, who has some things to explain. And it seems that Anti’s been defeated, but how true is that? After all, it can’t be that easy to get rid of a glitch. (Also, be warned, there’s a tiny, one-paragraph reference to suicidal thoughts, but hopefully it’s not too noticeable.) Hope you guys enjoy reading, even though it got delayed ^-^

Tagging @septic-dr-schneep for inspiring this AU with this post.

Read where it started: Stitched Together | Season One | Season Two

Taglist (finally): @bupine​ @violet--majesty​

The evening was clear, the twilight sky tinged purple. Chase, sitting on the front steps of the house, watched the cars drive down the street. The concrete steps were still a bit warm from the late summer sun. It might’ve been peaceful, if...

The front door swung open, and Jack poked his head out. “Hey, uh...you good, Chase?” he asked. “You’ve been out here for a while.”

“I’m good,” Chase said idly. “How’re Lily and Moira?”

“They’re good. Lily went to sleep.” Jack paused. “We got to think of something to say other than ‘good’ to describe how people are. Anyway, Schneep wanted to talk to all of us.”

“Hmm...yeah.” It was about time. The guy disappears for a month, then comes back all...different. Chase supposed he wanted to give out explanations. He sighed, and stood up. “Alright, let’s go, then.”

Chase followed Jack into the dining room. JJ and Schneep were already there, with JJ sitting at the table and Schneep hovering nearby. Jack took a seat at the table as well, but Chase hesitated. He glanced at JJ, who immediately glanced away. In all the commotion of the day, they hadn’t really had time to make up for the fight they’d had. Regret pooled in Chase’s stomach. He...he really hadn’t meant it, when he snapped that JJ never had any friends. He hadn’t meant it to be that hurtful. God, why did he have to do things like this? He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. What if he made it worse? And JJ didn’t look too good right now; he’d been sleeping most of the afternoon, ever since he apparently drained his magic. If Chase said the wrong thing now, it would be kicking him while he’s down.

“Chase, are you going to sit, or what?” Schneep snapped.

“Ak!” Chase jumped in surprise. “Alright, alright.” He took the chair across from JJ. “What about you? Are you going to sit, or just stand there?”

Schneep hummed. “No, I do not think so.”

Chase rolled his eyes. “Of course.”

You don’t have to, of course, JJ said. But I feel we should get down to business quickly. What is it you wanted to talk to us about?

There was a moment of awkward silence. Then Jack jumped in, “Hey, uh, JJ wants to know what you wanted to talk to us about.” JJ winced, apparently having forgotten that Schneep couldn’t see the signs to understand him.

“Oh. Yes, yes, well...” Schneep shrugged. “I am sure you all have questions. I thought I would give you some time to process what happened—”

Chase suddenly laughed. “Oh, you mean how you suddenly showed up and fucking killed Anti, who we’ve barely been able to hold our own against in the past?”

“Well...yes,” Schneep said.

“Yeah, I mean…” Jack jumped in, “first of all, how’d you do that, second of all, how’d you know to do that?!”

Schneep laughed, folding his arms and bouncing in place. “Well...if I am to be honest, I...am not sure.”

The other three stared back at him, then glanced at each other. “Uh...how do you not be sure about something like that?” Chase asked. “Like...I mean, I’m pretty sure you would remember figuring out how to kill a glitch monster.”

Schneep rolled his eyes. “Well, for some people, memories are not so certain, Chase. Especially after having their head fucked with by nightmares.”

Chase winced. “...sorry,” he mumbled, looking down at the surface of the table.

Jack reached over and placed his hand near Chase’s. After a moment, Chase grabbed it and squeezed his fingers tight.

“Is okay, Chase,” Schneep said, voice a bit softer. “I suppose it is part my fault for not talking about it.”

“Hey, you’re not obligated to talk about it, Hen,” Jack pointed out.

“Anyway, back to what I was saying,” Schneep said, hurriedly changing the subject. “I am sure that something happened to me, that somehow my magic—mein Gott, it still feels strange to say that—it went all over the place.”

JJ tapped on the table, then started signing. Jack, please translate to Schneep what I am saying.

“Okay,” Jack said, nodding.

Your magic is teleportation, correct? From what I understand, that is a difficult power to master.

After Jack translated, Schneep nodded, pursing his lips. “I believe it is something like that. Though it might be something more.” He finally sat down, taking the last chair at the table. “What happened...after Anti revealed himself, and we fought, something happened, and I disappeared, though I did not mean to. You all saw that, yes?” The other three made sounds of agreement. “After that, I...somehow, I...I went to...to many different places very quickly.” He seemed to be struggling to describe the events. “And it went quicker and quicker, and then I saw things.”

“You saw things?” Jack repeated, sounding a bit surprised. “But you...can’t.”

“It was not with my eyes, it was as if in my mind,” Schneep explained. “But they were still seen by me, which is why I doubt that these things were true, though they might have been. What is more unbelievable was the voice afterwards. I am starting to highly doubt that was real, but he did help me figure out how to...ah, what is the word?” He snapped his fingers a couple times. “Something like...get a...something with hands, but not exactly, it is in the word...”

Handle? JJ suggested, tapping out the word in morse code.

“Exactly!” Schneep grinned. “Get a handle on what I could do. So either that voice was real and helped, or it was my brain trying to tell me how it worked. Either way, it is the same.”

Chase raised an eyebrow. “Who could’ve done something like that? I mean...I guess they’d have to know how to teleport, how likely is that? JJ said that was hard to do.”

“It is besides the point,” Schneep dismissed. “The point is that this started me to figuring out how this magic works.”

“Okay...” Chase said slowly. “But why’d you take a month to meet up with us? Where were you?”

“It...did not seem like a month,” Schneep said. “I could’ve guessed it was a week.”

I suppose your powers could’ve...gotten out of control for three weeks, JJ said. Jack quickly translated the signs again.

“Well again, there is a possibility that none or only some of this happened,” Schneep said. “And I could have been having a breakdown and wandering the city the whole time.”

“I think we would’ve heard of that, if that was the case,” Chase muttered. “Cause I mean...we were looking out for you. We had the news on and stuff.”

“Okay, but I feel like we’re getting off track here,” Jack interrupted. “How’d you figure out how to defeat Anti?”

“Well, after everything calmed down, regardless of if it existed or not, I spent the rest of the time practicing,” Schneep said. “I was staying in my apartment—”

Chase suddenly slammed his hands on the table. “How did we think to check everywhere but there?!”

Schneep chuckled. “Is understandable. We have not been back to any of our homes in a while.”

Still, Chase shook his head, looking disappointed in himself. “Anyway, you were practicing?”

“Yes. The whole time, getting better at things like this.” The air seemed to split, and suddenly Schneep was standing in the corner. Then, only a second later, he was back in the chair. “I knew we had to find a way to get rid of Anti forever. I thought that we had done well, taking out that string that was part of him. That defeated him for a while. So I thought if we could destroy it, that would defeat him forever.”

“So...basically, you guessed that it would work,” Chase summarized.

Schneep huffed. “It was a theory. I also thought that those stitches on his neck and wrists had something to do with it, and that getting rid of those would help. Honestly, I did not think it would take that short a time.”

“Turns out that practice makes perfect,” Jack muttered. “Or...practice makes you able to fight a glitch demon.”

“Well, practice and these.” Schneep suddenly placed something on the table that he definitely had not had before. A pair of scissors. Oh the whole, they looked rather ordinary, or average size and made of a shining silver metal. The only exception was that the blades looked unusually sharp.

The other three leaned forward to look at them. “...huh,” Chase said after a while. “I mean, they don’t look that strange.”

“They are not,” Schneep said. “Except for the fact that when I thought of getting something that could cut through Anti’s strange soul string, I pulled these out of nowhere.”

That’s impossible, JJ signed.

“Why’s it impossible, Jay?” Jack asked.

You can’t conjure items out of thin air, JJ explained. They have to be either summoned from somewhere, or transformed from something else. In all my studies, that is one of the consistent rules I have found.

“Well, then, where could these have been summoned from?” Chase asked. “Schneep?”

“I do not know,” Schneep answered, brows furrowing. “I did not think too much about it. I just needed them, and they appeared.”

“Well, if your magic is teleportation based, I’m guessing you must have teleported them from somewhere,” Jack reasoned. “Though that does leave questions like, I dunno, fucking...who had them in the first place? Would that person miss them? And how did that person make them so that they could cut through weird ass soul string?”

Before the discussion could continue any further, there was a cough. At some point, Stacy had appeared in the dining room entrance. “Hey, so, two questions,” she said. “One, are all of you going to stay here for the night? And two, can you tell me now what’s going on?”

The group was silent for a bit. “Um...well, I guess we’re going to be staying here,” Chase said slowly. “I mean, the three of us are. Schneep, I dunno about you...”

Schneep nodded. “I will be, too, but do not worry about space, I can just stay on the sofa.”

“And, for the second, um...” Chase looked at the other three, vaguely distressed. What was he supposed to do? It seemed like they defeated Anti, but what if they hadn’t? He couldn’t get Stacy and the kids anymore involved! Hell, the kids had already been taken! Jack shrugged, and gave him a thumbs up, but JJ wouldn’t meet his eyes. That caused a twinge somewhere in Chase’s chest. But he turned back to Stacy without acknowledging it. “Um...I guess I could...I mean, just the basics of what happened...but, um, can we do it tomorrow?”

Stacy leveled him with a stare, then sighed. “Yeah, alright. The girls have had enough excitement as it is.” She started to leave. “I work from 7 to 3, though, so we better have that conversation in the afternoon,” she said before disappearing down the hall.

Chase let out a breath, looking down at the dining room table. His hands were shaking. He curled them into fists. Suddenly, he stood up. “I’m, um...going to bed.” Without any further explanation, he turned and also left. Jack called after him, but he didn’t look back.

He made his way into the guest bedroom, and flopped down heavily on the bed. His chest rose and fell heavily as he blinked back tears. No, he wouldn’t cry again. He’d just been crying that morning, after they got back with the kids. After they’d defeated Anti, and...

He took a deep, shuddering breath. Well...he couldn’t lie to himself. He’d been expecting to find Jackie and Marvin again, just like they had when they defeated Anti the first time. But it seemed that...killing Anti had also killed...

No, he wouldn’t cry. He’d cried enough back when they’d first found the two of them dead. And besides, none of the others were reacting so strongly. It was just him that had gotten his hopes up for getting them back.

Chase rolled over onto his side. Now facing the other side, his eyes landed on the nightstand. Its drawer was closed, but he knew what was inside it. He froze for a moment, unable to look away. Then he suddenly buried his face in the pillow. No, he couldn’t. He couldn’t.

Slowly, twilight faded into night, and Chase stayed where he was, not moving once, not even when Jack and JJ came in to check on him. A few long hours later, he finally drifted off to sleep.

— — — — — — — 

Most people probably wouldn’t open their door if someone knocked on it in the middle of the night. They might be asleep, and if they weren’t expecting anyone, why risk it? Luckily, he knew that the person in this particular town house would be awake. Or...he did know that, right? Or was he thinking of someone else?  He thought he knew this person, but things were...things felt disconnected, not quite there. Nonetheless, he’d been wandering most of the day, and he could remember it being dangerous to be out in the city at night. He needed to get somewhere safe, and this address came to mind.

When there was no answer, he knocked on the door again, pounding on the wood. Putting just a little more force into the motion suddenly made him dizzy, and he leaned heavily against the doorframe as his head swirled.

Some time later, there was the sound of footsteps behind the door, and he realized that at some point a light had turned on inside, and could be seen through the window. When had that happened? A few moments later, and he heard the sound of the door unlocking. It opened outward. He stepped back to avoid the swinging door, and saw that there was now a black-haired man standing in the doorway, wearing a loose t-shirt and pajama pants. The man’s eyes were impossibly wide. “Wh...” He seemed at a loss for words. “How...? What...? Is this...some kind of joke?”

He opened his mouth to answer, but instead, suddenly lost all feeling in his legs and fell forward.

“Whoa!” The other man caught him just in time. “Shit, I...hang on.” He managed to lift him into his arms, awkwardly closing the door and bringing him into the house. Speaking of the house, the layout seemed...familiar. He’d been here before, hadn’t he? Because he wasn’t surprised at all when the man carried him into a nearby living room and set him down on a black couch. “Shit...” The dark-haired man backed up. “You, uh...need anything? Water? Medical attention? Also, please tell me if you’re actually here and actually are who I think you are.”

“Hmm...” He blinked slowly at the room. Yes, he’s been here before. He recognized the homemade paintings on the wall and the armchair that stood out due to its bright pattern of colorful spots. He tried to sit up, but his head was still spinning, so he decided to lay back down.

“Uh...can you talk?” The dark-haired man was hovering nearby, and he was sure that he knew him. “I have a text-to-speech app on my phone, if that’d help.”

“I...know you...” He finally managed to say. “I do.”

“Um...yeah, if you are who I think you are, I knew you, too,” the man said, shifting his weight where he stood. “Well…‘knew’ is the operative word here, ‘cause...aren’t you...you’re supposed to be...” He seemed hesitant to say it.

Suddenly, something clicked into place. He sat up straight, only to lean heavily against the back of the sofa. “Malcolm,” he said. “That’s your name, I know it. It sounds like...my name? No, not my name. The other name?” He blinked slowly. “It’s definitely not my name.”

“No,” the man—Malcolm said slowly. “Your name—if you’re actually who I’m seeing right now, your name is Jackie.”

Another click as a piece fitted neatly into the bigger picture. “Yeah...yeah, that’s me.” Jackie nodded, slowly at first, then faster. “Yeah, I’m exactly who you’re seeing right now.”

“Oh. Okay. Yeah.” Malcolm nodded as well. “On one hand, that’s good, ‘cause it means I’m not seeing things. On the other hand...okay, no more beating around it, how the fuck are you alive?!”

“Ummmm...” Jackie shook his head. “I don’t...know. Did I die?”

“I mean, as far as everyone knew, yeah!” Malcolm stepped back, running his hands through his hair. “God, I went to your funeral. We fucking cremated you—”

“Oh, I did want that, didn’t I?” Jackie said idly, vaguely remembering a conversation that he had with someone about things like that.

“—I mean, was that not you?” Malcolm continued. “Was this some plot? I fucking—oh yeah, and then they investigated the scene and found that vigilante suit, what the fuck about that? Did anyone else know about that, or did you just not tell me?”

“Oh. Oh, you do the, um...” Jackie snapped his fingers a couple of times, scrambling to find the right piece of memory. “You do the police things. You’re a cop.”

“Oh no, I am a detective, you know that,” Malcolm emphasized. “There’s a difference.”

“Anyway, I don’t...think anyone else knew about that...?” Jackie said slowly. “No, the other one did. The other, the other...we lived together, he had to know, but I’m pretty sure he told the, uh...the doctor one, the nightmare one.”

Malcolm stared at him. He slowly walked over to the spotted armchair, sitting down heavily and leaning forward. “...Jackie,” he said. “So it is you. But you’re...you seem confused. Is everything alright?”

Jackie considered this. “I think so,” he said.

“Really? ‘Cause you seem to be having, um.” Malcolm pursed his lips. “Some memory problems. And the last time I saw you, you were dead, with no obvious cause of death but very clearly dead, and it looked like you kind of...well, killed your roommate. Whose name you also seem to have forgotten. You do know this isn’t normal, right?”

“Yeah.” Jackie laid down again, staring up at the ceiling. “I...something happened. How...how long ago was this thing you’re talking about?”

“Um, about two and a half years, now,” Malcolm said. “The department could never figure it out, though.” Jackie gave him a look, and he continued. “Y’know, it looked like some occult shit, there was a circle on the ground with candles, and both of you were dead, and you were holding a knife.”

“I remember that,” Jackie said, pressing a hand to his head. “It was...I-I still can’t remember the name, the other one, he—he tricked me, I lost my temper, I—something happened. I wanted to stop it...I think. I was the one with the knife? Then I must’ve been the one who wanted to stop it, I know it was one of us. Which means I’m the one that—well, I mean, I remember not meaning to, the other one, he moved at the wrong moment. I-I...I need to...fuck.”

Malcolm suddenly stifled a laugh. “You need to fuck?”

“What? No!” Jackie looked over at him. “I’m not the one who feels—no, wait, I am. I think. What’s the one with the, um...the pink, yellow, and blue? That one’s me, the other one’s the purple and black and white one, I don’t remember what they mean, though...”

“Um...okay, sorry I brought that up.” Malcolm glanced over at the room’s entrance. “God, Benjamin might come down to ask what’s going on.”

“That’s your...roommate,” Jackie said slowly. “Right?”

“Right.” Malcolm paused. “So...it’s clear that you don’t have any idea what happened. Or if you do, you’re not in a state to puzzle it out. So do you need anything? Do you have a place to stay for the night?”

“Oh. I thought I would stay here.” Jackie nodded. “Yeah, I...I remember it seemed like a good place to stay.”

“Really?” Malcolm asked. “I mean, I’m flattered, but...I mean, we’re not that...Can’t you stay with your Jack friend? Or the other ones, what is it, Henry and Chase—”

“Chase.” Jackie suddenly lurched, clutching his wrist. The force of the movement caused him to fall off the couch onto the floor. Malcolm cried out, and rushed over, but Jackie didn’t acknowledge him. “Chase, Chase, the hat one, Chase. We need him. He should be with us. Chase, Chase, puppet. Our pup̕pe͞t̶.”

Malcolm was taken aback for a moment, but he quickly moved on. “Okay, I’m sure we can call him or something in the morning. I don’t know his number, but you probably do, if you can remember it. Are you okay with me touching you, right now?” He waited for a response, but Jackie just kept mumbling, so he slowly reached out. When Jackie didn’t react, he helped him into a sitting position. “Okay. Jackie, how do you feel? Can you tell me?” No response. “Alright. That’s alright, if you can’t talk. Can you give me anything? Nodding? Can you blink twice if you can hear me? No? Alright, that’s fine, Jackie. I’m going to help you onto the couch, okay? There we go. I’m going to be right here, okay?”

Jackie still didn’t react at all, continuing to talk to himself, like he expected someone else to answer. Someone else who, up until recently, had always been there. But was now gone. Or was he the one who was gone? Had they separated, or had he split in half? Either way, he felt the absence keenly. Part of him was missing. Or he was the missing part. Or both. The pieces wouldn’t settle.

— — — — — — —

On the other side of the city, while Jackie and Malcolm were having their exchange, something very similar was going on with two others. It was happening inside a small shop that looked like a defunct clothing store, but once inside, turned out to be much more than that. The interior was cluttered with tables and shelves, piled high with books and knickknacks. Behind the shop’s counter, there were two open doors, one of which was ajar and revealing a small bathroom. And looking through the open door, you could see a man and a woman. The man was leaning over the sink, coughing, while the woman rubbed circles on his back.

“There, there...” The woman said awkwardly. She was dressed in a holographic vest and a skater skirt, her hair dyed blue and purple, and she also looked very confused and unsure. “Just...yeah.”

The man coughed again, and a spatter of red flew from his mouth, joining the pool gathering in the bottom of the ceramic sink. “Nnn...” he said.

“Jesus christ,” the woman muttered. “What happened to you? Besides, um, dying.”

“I died?” The man asked vaguely. He coughed again, staining his lips and teeth crimson.

“I mean, yeah. We buried you. Under that tree like you said.”

“Good...” The man mumbled. “That’s...” He didn’t continue, slumping against the sink.

“Whoa, hang on, there,” the woman said, catching him before his head smacked against the faucet.

“Don’ touch me...” The man waved her away, taking a few steps before falling against the counter.

“Jesus.” The woman crouched by him. “Look, what happened?”

“I...don’t...” He shook his head.

The woman paused. “Do you know who I am?”

It took him a moment to answer. “...Eve, right? No. No, that’s...that’s only part of it. It’s like...spelled weird.”

“Starts with a Y,” she prompted.

After another moment, he suddenly straightened. “Yvonne. That’s...that’s you.”

“Yeah.” Yvonne smiled. “Do you know who you are?”

There was no answer this time. Unless you counted the tears that suddenly sprung to his eyes.

“Okay, it’s fine, you don’t need to answer right now.” Yvonne paused. “I’m guessing you don’t know what happened to you, then, so I guess it’s no use asking.”

“You said I died,” he said. “I...I remember that. The other one, he...he wanted to kill me. He did. It...it hurt.” He reached up to his neck. There was a slight red cut across this throat, no blood leaking out.

“It must’ve,” Yvonne said sympathetically. “I...well, if that happened for sure, I...” She hesitated, then blurted out the rest. “I can only conclude necromancy, but you’re too solid to be a spirit, and after two years, you’re too...there would’ve been some sign of decay, if you were brought back the other way.”

“Haha, my good looks.” He smiled a bit, the effect ruined by the blood on his teeth.

“Yeah, um, right.” Yvonne glanced towards the bathroom door. “Look, are you good now? I mean, there’s probably a whole trail from you throwing up blood all the way in here that I need to take care of. And as for you, uh...probably not a good idea to be in the bathroom if you’re gonna pass out or something.”

“Hmm...” He stood up, then started to list to the side. Yvonne caught him before he fell.

“Something’s wrong with you,” she muttered. “I mean, beyond the obvious. You feel...different.” She blinked, her eyes turning sky blue. Wisps of blue light, tinged with yellow at the ends, floated away from her fingers. “Révél e mai tamystiká oue animai,” she muttered. 

“That’s a spell,” the man mumbled. “Anim, anim...root of something. Animal? Soul. Soul spell.”

“Yeah, that’s my specialty,” Yvonne said absentmindedly. “Yours, too. God, you must’ve been real...messed...up...” She trailed off. “Marvin...your soul is...” She could only gape. There were no words for what she was sensing.

“Mar—oh, that’s me! Me!” Marvin laughed, trying to step forward but quickly losing his balance, making Yvonne catch him. He didn’t notice; he was still laughing. “Me, me, me, just one, no actually, I think two, we think two, like there are two halves, but where’s the other one? Oh, oh. Where’s the difference? We need the other one, where is he, where is me?” A few more scattered laughs fell from his mouth.

“Shit, Marv.” Yvonne shook her head. “You need—” Suddenly, she stiffened, and her head whipped back towards the bathroom door. “Someone came in.” She shifted her position to see who it was, and her eyes widened. “Shit! Marvin, stay here, stay quiet.” She slowly set him down on the bathroom floor, still giggling to himself. Then quickly, she left the room, shutting the door behind her.

Marvin leaned his head against the closed door. “Me, me, we, me, we,” he whispered to himself, a few odd tears slipping from his eyes. Was there a difference between those words? He thought there might’ve been, once. But now they’ve blurred together. They meant the same thing, didn’t they? He wasn’t sure he liked that. Where did he stop? Where did the other begin? Or were they interchangeable? He definitely didn’t like how he didn’t know the answer to any of these questions.

There were voices coming from the other side of the door. He recognized Yvonne: “Ah, Mae, it’s a bit late for a raid, isn’t it? I tell you, this business has come clean.”

“We’d be fools to believe you at face value, Bell,” said another voice, one of an older woman. “But this isn’t us coming in to check on the legality of your wares.”

“Oh?” Yvonne sounded amused and confused.

“The Magi has done some poking around,” said the voice of Mae. “Set off by something I witnessed myself. Someone teleported directly into our library, disregarding all our shielding. This started an investigation, and after some searching, we have detected an oddly high amount of soul magic in this city.”

“Oh. Well, that’s...weird,” Yvonne said. “This someone must’ve been pretty powerful, to teleport directly there.”

“That’s besides the point,” Mae dismissed. “The soul magic is why we’re here. You are the only soul-based magician currently in the city.”

“Really?” Yvonne said, feigning intrigue. “I could’ve sworn there was another. I think he was some kind of stage magician?”

“Marvin Moore has been dead for over two years, leaving only you behind,” Mae said firmly. “And you have a record of disregarding ABIM laws.”

“I did, but I’ve turned over a new leaf,” Yvonne said. Her voice suddenly became serious. “I...learned about the results of my actions the hard way.”

“Nevertheless, this is a preliminary inspection,” Mae said. “We’re searching your shop, your storage, and your living area.”

“By all means, feel free.” Footsteps. “But if you’ll excuse me, I was just about to use the bathroom, so please.”

“Very well.” More footsteps, heading away.

Yvonne opened the door, slipping inside the bathroom again, keeping it closed enough to block Marvin from view of the other magicians now searching her shop. “Alright, that’s that,” she said under her breath. “Marvin, what the fuck have you been doing?”

“What have we been doing?” Marvin repeated idly. “Hmm...I can’t quite...it’s all jumbled.” He sighed, and closed his eyes.

“Marvin? Marvin are you—don’t you dare pass out on me! Not while there are ABIM agents in my shop! I need you to—Marvin!”

He felt her trying to shake him, but didn’t respond, already drifting. There was something missing. He felt it keenly. Or maybe he was the something that was missing. He couldn’t tell. The pieces wouldn’t settle.

— — — — — — —

There was a place in the city where all the electric lines met. It was walled off with a high fence, barbed wire at the top, to make sure that no one would sneak in and get hurt. But the fence couldn’t stop the thing slithering across the ground, green and glowing like a radioactive snake. The thing was small enough to squeeze right through the links in the fence, though on the other side, it fell apart. It wasn’t one long, solid unit like it had initially appeared, rather a bunch of small green strings, their ends cut, all moving in unison.

The strings crawled across the gravel of the walled-off space. Here, the power lines gathered and buzzed, held high off the ground. Boxes were attached to poles, with yellow warning signs and instructions plastered on them. The strings gathered around one of these poles, snaking up and spiraling around it, heading towards the attached box.

Here, the various pieces broke apart, wiggling into the seam of the box and managing to pry it open. Once inside, they reacted with the fuses. Green electric sparks flew from the box, and soon it lit up, white-hot electricity flying outward, frying the circuits inside.

The strings fell to the ground, unharmed. And they headed to another one, repeating the same process. And once that was done, they headed to another. And another.

And once everything inside the walled area was broken and smoking, the strings headed out to another, similar part of the power grid.

Hours later, morning dawned over a city without any power at all.

[my-brothers-corrupted]

Chapter Four - Part 5

Anti is angry Dapper won't come back to his room and warns of consequences. Red decides to get Dapper's medicine back on his own terms, with a little help from his brothers.

Tws for medication refusal, manipulation, slapping, choking, and abuse between brothers.

Part 5 - Haloperidol

Trick watches at the window, so Anti is silent when he comes downstairs.

He watches his boy. Trick’s head stays turned towards the window. One hand on his gun. One hand on Dok’s shoulder as his twin sleeps. Anti’s good guard dog. Always watching.

The others are asleep in the bed, Dapper pressed between the twins, warm with their arms wrapped around him. He is supposed to be sleeping. That’s why Trick is watching, after all - so Dapper can rest, and trust somebody else to guard for Dark for him.

But he isn’t asleep. Anti knows. Anti can tell.

He is a form without outline, his eye glowing red, a hateful and angry form that sends shuddering across the whole of Dapper’s chest. His silver eyes slide open, his mouth pressed tightly shut. He stares up at Anti. Anti stares back. Blue murmurs in his sleep and presses his chest against Dapper’s side, sighing.

Dapper doesn’t let go of him.

“Tomorrow,” signs Anti, silent, silent, even his usual buzzing gone dead. “You will come upstairs.”

“I won’t,” signs Dapper.

“Your medicine is upstairs. You’ll come get it.”

Something cold wraps itself around Dapper’s chest. His Haldol. He has to have it. He has to.

“If I don’t?” he dares to sign.

“You wanted free choice,” answer Anti’s bitter hands. “Choose.”

He glitches away like a TV flickering off. Trick shifts in place and turns his head, glancing around at his siblings. He sees nothing wrong. Dapper shakes against Blue’s body. Dok nightmares of blood and spiders. Red murmurs Max’s name in his sleep.

In Trick’s eyes, all is well.

Anonymous asked: Anti? Genuine question; why do you want him with you? Why not let him be down here with the others?

Anti slams his hands down on the bedside table, staring out the great window of the master bedroom, his eyes dark, alone.

“He,” he begins, and then stops again, shaking his head.

“He belongs to me,” he says finally. Bitterly, he turns his face away. “You think I’m not aware that this is following apart around me? There have to be consequences when he disobeys me. He belongs to me. He should be up here. I - I want him up here! I don’t like sleeping without him! I don’t like that I could wake up and something could go badly and Dapper wouldn’t be here to - to - to undo it! To protect…”

His voice glitches. He touches his face and turns away, growling.

Anonymous asked: You're Anti, for fuck's sake. Aren't you always going on about how powerful you are? What do you think is gonna happen?

“Things have happened before,” he snarls, biting at his teeth like a horse with a bit. “Things I won’t let happen again. If he had been closer to me the night they came to steal him back from me, a lot would be different.”

He grits his hands together, shaking his head. “Jackie and Marvin gave me this fucking fear,” he says, stepping back from the window as a bird descends onto the sill, regarding him with cold black eyes. “It’s never gone away since, no matter how much control I seem to get. It’s never enough. I always need more. Now I’m losing what I had. I have to have it back. And I want him asleep beside me. I need him asleep beside me.”

Anonymous asked: Ah, I see. You got spooked by Jackie and Marvin, and now you need to keep Jameson under your thumb at all times in case something happens again. Well done, Anti, truly impressive. Can you not let them stay together? It's not like any of them can hurt you, and from what you've said about Dark I doubt they would either.

“You all know they’re taking steps away from me. That’s why you want this. I won’t pretend it’s not a big deal. It is a big deal. He’s always slept with me, since he was days old. Anyway, I gave him his choice. He can have his medicine or he can stay with his siblings.”

He snags a laptop from the bed and tears a page from one of Dapper’s sketchbooks in half, scrawling over a drawing of a mouse in a trap.

Red - for you. I’ve reset you since the last time you helped me hack a server to pieces, but you’ll recognize the programming quick enough. Keep an eye out for foreign viruses and set up a firewall. Gigi will try to get into the camera system. The code for you to access it is 3110.

He leaves the computer and the note at the bottom of the stairs. With every step he seems to pace, his eyes sliding, flickering from screen to screen, watching what belongs to him.

Anonymous asked: That's hardly a fucking choice, is it, Anti? Have you even considered not forcing them? This drives them away faster, and after all this time I don't see why you haven't just done the calculations yet and realized that if you're kind to them, they'll want to fight against you much less than how you're handling it now.

Anti snarls with frustration, tugging at his hair. “That’s so stupid, fuck! That doesn’t keep people around! Doesn’t matter what you try to be! Not for me, anyway. I tried to be fucking kind to Dapper when he was first mine! He was all I wanted! He was all I’d wanted for a long time! But no matter what I did - ah!”

Anti screams and slams his foot into the bedside drawer, kicking straight through the wood like it’s cardboard.

“He still wanted to fucking leave! He still - ”

Anti lurches forward. He closes his eyes, looking suddenly pale and in pain, doubling over himself. He heaves once but doesn’t get sick.

“Need Blue back too,” he mumbles, nauseated. “Magic’s kicking up in me again. Still worth it, before you criticize me for that too. Still worth having him under my heel. Knowing he’ll never burn me down to ash and essence ever again.”

He shakes his head out, trying to regain his calm.

“Doesn’t matter what I’ve tried,” he growls, turning his head away. “I was made to be a monster and I’ve never been able to make anyone want to stay without tying them down. It doesn’t fucking bother me. Having control through blood is better anyway, so much better anyway, and I love when they cower and simper for my attention. Like Trick, haha. Even Dok used to whine for my attention like that. The rush of it! There’s nothing like that. I’ll break him down to wanting me like that again. I am still wild powerful. Wild powerful. And when Dark helps me make them stay, everything will be fine again.”

Anonymous asked: You're the one making it into a fight. The harder you push them, the more they'll push back. Give them some time together and they'll be glad for it, Anti. I honestly do not know why you think pushing them until they break will work again. Maybe when you could do it one on one, but now? They'll give you hell for it if you try with any one of them. Give them a bit of kindness instead and they'll be grateful, more complacent.

“I’m waiting for Dark’s help,” says Anti quietly. “But Dapper should be up here. That’s that. I won’t budge on it. He’s mine. He’s the only thing Jack ever meant to make that was mine.”

Anonymous asked: And how exactly will Dark help? Last I heard, they can't go in the fucking house.

“Some of you just aren’t listening,” answers Anti, irritated. “Leave me alone. I already told you and Dark that if they fail to take one of my puppets from me before the week is out, they owe me a favor. We’re just playing games. You all act like Dark’s an enemy. I thought you would like to see them!”

He seems to calm a little, turning back to the window as he sits down on the side of his bed, staring out. The darkness is a blanket over the forest, deep and warm and familiar.

“I’m glad to see them,” he murmurs. “We’re playing games again. They always played the best games. And then, at the end of them… mh.”

Something in his eyes softens like butter.

He seems to realize it a moment later, because he turns away.

“Leave me be,” he says. A flicker of his hand and the lights turn off. “I let them be for the night. Let me be.”

Anonymous asked: One last question; will they be harmed, if Dark takes them?

“What’s Dark going to do? They’ve done as I asked since we started to know each other better. They understand I keep puppets. They wouldn’t hurt them beyond repair. All Dark does is… twist things a little.”

Anti smiles. Cold and bitter in the darkness.

“Manipulation isn’t just a talent with them. It’s a magic. And when Dark is done with them, well - they’ll all know there’s much worse things to fear than me.”

It would make a dramatic end to the night if he could just ignore you and fall asleep. But despite his words, despite his determination, despite his anger, Anti is still alone.

You can see him lying awake in bed for long hours, staring at the wall and digging his fingers into the empty space on the mattress beside him.

bupine asked: what exactly is dark to you, anti? if i'm allowed to ask that?

Anti watches the sun come up and the shadows go. He scowls at the message, going slightly pink.

“Dark’s not anything to me. I just want their help with this, that’s all. Dark’s not anything to me. Most of the time.”

He plays with Dapper’s medicine bottle, rolling it between his hands.

“They were such a fucking joke at first. Fucking hated them. Sick creep growling at me all low. But they had a fascination with me, and I was… alone. So we started fighting. And then I kept coming back to fight with them again and again. Then we weren’t fighting. Just playing. We could beat each other down to essence and still be playing. I trusted them to tear me apart and leave me bleeding. There was something good about it. And then, sometimes, they would touch their hand to my body as they passed me. Touch their hand to my skin. Not afraid of my body.”

A glitch shivers through him. He puts his chin down on his knees.

“I like power,” he says. “I don’t like humans. I like things that can match me. I’m attracted to things that can match me… and things that are desperate to have me, cause otherwise, what’s the fun? So I’m not often attracted to anyone. But they… proved themselves.”

He shivers again, a smile curling on his mouth, though it lacks its usual smugness. He opens up his hand to let the light dance through it, setting Dapper’s Haldol back in the drawer.

“I like Dark. Dark thinks I’m fascinating. They always want me and I - I like that. Every year or so, I make time for them, and they purr and gloat over me. I let them think they own me for a couple days. It’s fun. They’re beautiful. Sometimes, they make me feel good. And less alone. We fight and snap at each other for fun. That’s all.”

He turns and shoots you a glare. “So don’t call them my lover, you little sixteenth-century dweebs. I rarely even call them a friend. Besides, Dark was important to me because they - they don’t live alone. And they don’t feel anything but hatred for their creator. And I think I wanted something more like what they had. Have. It looked so much easier. Though I am definitely not jealous of that stupid backstory. That’s one thing I don’t mind being neglected on. I’ll stick with just having popped into existence, thanks very much.”

He sighs, tucking his chin into his hand. Then he catches himself, scowling, shaking his head.

“You don’t need to know, though. You’re not Dap. I just don’t have anyone to talk to. Go away. Dark’s not anything to me.”

aether-mae asked: Have you met any of Darks masters other creations? You said he wasn’t alone, does he control those creations or live peacefully with them?

“Yeah, I’ve met a bunch of them, but most of them are mostly human, so I’m not really interested. Especially since Mark creates jokes just for his own entertainment. Jack’s power would run out of control because he would fixate too hard on one of us for months on end and create without control over the final product - Mark’s is out of control because he gets a thought into his head and five minutes later, boom, new baby.

“Dark controls them, but the others think they live peacefully. As if Dark couldn’t make them do anything they wanted them to do, ha.”

He works rapidly on his computer, his shoulders pulled tensely towards his body and his mouth smiling tightly. “Bet they try something today,” he growls, grinning and stressed at the same time. “Them or my Carver getting into trouble. Trying to take what’s not theirs. I wish he’d just come get his fucking medicine. Stubborn little brat. He gets that from me, goddamn.”

.

“He’s decided he’ll go without it,” says Henrik, pale in the doorway, his arms folded over his chest. “His medicine.”

“He’s determined this time,” mumbles Red, plucking at the keys of his computer. “Let me know when Anti gets pissed enough to come drag him upstairs and I’ll see what I can do.”

Henrik steps forward and shuts the laptop on Red’s legs, forcing him to look up at him, surprised.

“Red,” he implores, eyebrows creasing with worry. “He needs his medicine. Just because he’s not being tortured directly doesn’t mean this isn’t going to hurt him, badly. You want to see him psychotic again?”

“What do you want me to do?” protests Red.

“I don’t know! Something!”

Henrik paces around the door. Red shakes his head, trying to think. “Maybe I can convince Anti. Is that even worth trying?”

“I don’t know. This is just… this is all bad, Red. I’ve never seen him act like this. Have you?”

Red sighs. “Anti’s losing patience, Dok. He’s only going to get angrier. And his anger is the same as his violence. We just need to try and keep our heads down and ride this out.”

“No,” answers Dok firmly. “No. Not anymore. We have to do something.”

Red sighs again, even deeper, glancing out at the window. He can’t go to the store or the hospital while the monster’s in the woods.

“Going to go take Blue swimming,” mumbles Dok, his eyes shadowed and angry. “Just… I’ll think. Please, Red. You promised me back in Peru you’d always help me make sure he has his medicine. It’s torture for him without it. You know that.”

Anonymous asked: red, this is a genuine question, what do you think will happen if you go along with what anti says?

Red bites at his nails, thinking, his eyes flickering across the floor.

“My job has always been to minimize the damage,” he says quietly. “But even when I haven’t been able to do that, the worst things I’ve ever seen Anti do are steal Blue’s magic, chain Dok up by the throat, separate twins from each other, sometimes cut or beat us up. But I don’t remember before Norway.”

He steps out into the hall, looking around. He can hear Trick’s side of what must be a conversation with Dapper in the kitchen and Dok trying to get Blue out of bed - without much success. The thought makes his stomach twist.

“I’m scared to see Dapper psychotic again,” he says. “The last time he was…”

Red closes his eyes, putting a hand on his heart, as if that can keep it quiet against the memory of his little brother hanging off over the side of that cliff. He’s been having nightmares. He’s been having nightmares most all the time. He’s tired and he misses Max.

“Well, you were there,” he sighs. “And now I’m starting to get really scared for Blue. I’m scared that if I go along with Anti, even if I do everything I can to minimize… I might still… I might still…”

He steps towards the bedroom. Blue is barely even responding to Dok’s attempts to wake him. He lies stiff in his bed, pale and worn, hugging a pillow to his chest. Dok shakes him gently. Blue does not move.

“I might still lose a sibling. And I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.”

He turns around again. You see his eyes, dark and alight at the same time.

“If I asked you to,” he says. “Do you think you could find a way to cause a distraction?”

Anonymous asked: maybe. a distraction for what? who would we be distracting? we'd have to know before agreeing.

“Who would you be distracting? Who do you think? I’m on camera here, I need you to make a couple assumptions. Actually… now that I think about it…”

Red wanders back to the living room, flipping the laptop Anti gave him open again. He rereads Anti’s note.

Gigi will try to get into the camera system. The code for you to access it is 3110.

Camera system, huh? Red glances up at you, eyes wary. A few minutes of typing later, he looks up again.

“Tell me if this does anything,” he mumbles, hitting enter.

Half your screens black out. Upstairs, Anti sits up, blinking.

“Red!” he shouts. “What the fuck are you doing!”

“Sorry!” calls back Red quickly. “Just trying to figure this out!”

Anonymous asked: half the screen went black. i doubt that's what you were trying to have happen?

You hear Red’s fingers clacking against the keyboard. Your screens blink back to life. There’s almost fifty of them across the whole of the house - enough that, to see all of them, you have to take the time to flick between different parts of the house.

“Turn the cameras off? Me? Becoming invisible in my own home? Of course that wasn’t what I was trying to have happen… why would I?”

He grins nervously at you, his eyes scanning for cameras.

nikkilbook asked: You beautiful clever boy

Red blinks in surprise, straightening up a little. After a moment, he blushes and shrugs, a smile blooming across crimson cheeks. “Aw, no, ha, no. Thank you, uh. Ha.”

Anonymous asked: now it's back. what are you gonna do next?

“I don’t know,” sighs Red. “Maybe this is dumb. Just causing more trouble.”

“Red!” calls Dok from the other room.

“What, my man?”

“Can you come help me with Blue? He threw up.”

Red gets onto his feet, hurrying towards his twin.

Can’t lose him. Can’t lose him. Can’t lose any of them.

No matter what it takes.

pine-storm-season asked: Blue, you okay?

“I do not feel good at all,” complains Blue thickly, draped half over the bed, held up by Dok’s hands. “I do not… ‘m going to throw up again.”

He lurches forward and is sick, relieved when Red appears and pushes a piece of tupperware beneath his chin, helping Dok hold him. Neither of them react to the vomit, and he’s grateful. This is so fucking humiliating already. Tears drip down his face as he vomits and coughs, hugging his churning, aching stomach.

“It’s okay, Zul, it’s okay,” whispers Red, brushing at his hair and his back. Dok monitors his heartrate carefully, his fingers warm against Blue’s neck. “It’s not your fault, buddy, it’s okay. Here I am.”

“I feel bad all the time,” cries Blue, rocking over the bed. “Why is it getting worse? Why won’t it stop?”

“I think he should see a working doctor,” whispers Dok. “He’s right, he’s getting worse.”

“You know we can’t do that,” Red whispers back, holding Blue’s sweaty head against his chest. “It’s okay, Blue, it’s alright.”

pine-storm-season asked: Has it been getting worse for a while, Blue?

“I was better for a while,” he moans. “But then he started wearing me every night and I - I think I’m losing my mind, I…”

He’s not getting sick anymore, but he’s only crying harder, breaking down despite himself. Everything stinks of sick. He’s disgusting and ugly and weak and useless. He hides against Red’s stomach and cries, listening to his brothers’ reassurances and promises to get him all cleaned up. He can feel Red’s fear and frustration in his own chest and he grips weakly at his twin’s hand, sorry for causing him so much grief.

nikkilbook asked: Okay, this might be an absolutely rubbish idea that could backfire in over a thousand ways, but... I think I might know where you could find a doctor off the grid who has access to everything he’d need.

“I have an off-the-grid doctor with everything we need,” grumbles Red.

“Red.” Dok rolls his eyes. “I’m a heart specialist with next to no resources. I want to take him to a hospital.”

“Man, I love you, but that’s a joke. Trick told me you once got shot and Anti didn’t take you to a hospital.”

Dok flushes, touching the scar in his stomach. “I was fine,” he answers crabbily. “Trick kept me alive. And we knew what the problem was and how to fix it. It wasn’t some weird progressive magic shit I have no idea how to handle.”

“Loving the optimism,” croaks Blue, wiping his mouth on a tissue.

“Red, what if he gets worse?” hisses Dok, trying to lower his voice. “What if his heart gives out or he stops breathing right or he really does start to lose his mind, what then?”

The fear in Red’s eyes is enough to make Dok almost regret saying it. Worse, his older brother has no answer. Red just shakes his head and strokes Blue’s short hair, staring down at him.

“Won’t let that happen,” he mumbles after a long moment.

“There’s nothing we can do to stop it if we’re just complacent,” answers Dok weakly, falling back. “Red, we can’t survive like this. We’re helpless.”

Helpless. Helpless. Red hatesthat. He clings to Blue’s fingers, shaking his head. He’ll find something to do. He’s not helpless. He’ll prove it.

Anonymous asked: Red I have an idea. You're going to hate it, and I don't know if it's a stupid or wrong thing to do, and it may just be trading one demons word for another... but it may get Anti out of the house long enough for someone to run upstairs for the medication.

Red looks up, reading the message carefully.

“I’ll go get stuff to clean this up,” he tells his siblings, stepping out of the room.

“I’m listening,” he tells you. “I was also thinking… well.”

He steps out of the house for a moment and pretends to take in the sights of the forest. Admittedly, it’s beautiful out here - the trees are tall and green and swaying and he can see a shining river cutting through the earth not far away, just past their property and winding deep into the woods. But there’s something else he’s showing you, too - the stones of the outside of the house, the rain gutter, and the great window of the master bedroom, above him.

But not too far above him.

He slips discreetly back into the house. You can hear Dapper whistling in the kitchen, trying to keep his spirits up as he helps Trick make muffins.

pine-storm-season asked: We'll see what we can do, okay, Blue? We'll do our best to make stuff better for you. You're gonna be okay, even though I know it really sucks right now.

“Thanks,” he tells you thickly, blowing his nose and accepting a glass of water from Dok. “Sorry I’m so lame lately.”

“We will look after you,” Dok insists. “We’ll do what it takes, okay?”

Blue looks up at his little brother gratefully, touching Dok’s beard. “My poor tired brother. Probably hurting just as much as I am, aren’t you, darling?”

“Only for moments at a time,” answers Dok, shaking his head. “I don’t spend every hour ill like you do.”

“Either way,” says Blue. “We gotta have each other’s backs.”

“And I do,” says Dok. “I have your back. I love you, Blue.”

“I love you too, Deutsch. It’s not your fault you can’t help right now.”

Dok looks away guiltily, shaking his head.

nikkilbook asked: If you decide to go for it, wait for this Gigi person to try and access the cameras. When they do, ask if you can talk to Dr. Edward Iplier.

“Hold on, hold on,” protests Red. “That’s a step past sneaking around the house. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we got a couple trust issues in this family. Far as I’m concerned, Gigi’s with Dark, and they’re not on our side. I gotta be cautious. I’m trying to get my siblings out of the frying pan without stepping right into the fire.”

Anonymous asked: Okay, I'll rip off the band-aid: run off into the woods with your laptop and screw with the cameras as much as possible before shutting them all off. That should send anti off to find you so he doesn't lose his bet. If you can, double back to the window, or have one of the others get the meds if you don't make it back. I know dark is a huge huge risk, but we're running out of options and time. Remember that this is entirely your choice though, Red.

Red’s eyes widen in alarm. He steps back from the door, staring.

“Just… run into the woods. Where that thing is.”

Their rotting face and cold smile. The great pillar of darkness like a plague sent by angels. The fear they made him feel.

He can’t do that. He can’t. Can he?

“R… right now I just… just need to get Dapper his medicine,” he says, backing away from the door once again. Red has no desire to encounter Dark ever again. His desire to keep his brothers away from Dark is still stronger than his desire to keep them away from Anti.

Anonymous asked: Jackie we don’t know how much longer you can play this safe, Marvin’s on borrowed time right now- anything is better than nothing. But ultimately it’s your decision and whatever you think is best we’ll help you as much as we can.

“I’ll think about it, I’ll think about it,” mumbles Red, picking at his lip. “I, uh. Did set up a pretty fucking clever security system this morning, if I do say so myself. Anti has his own security and then I add a more human flair to it… keep ‘em guessing. But I could maybe shut that down if I needed to. Er - sorry. Let’s not talk about this on camera. Just… if you could distract… a certain someone. The others would help you, I bet. I don’t know. I need to get…”

He glances up at the big master bedroom window again before he moves off to get the cleaning supplies he promised Blue.

Anonymous asked: you don't have to do it, red. and you definitely don't have to do it now. we'll see how stuff goes, okay? it makes sense to not run the risk of coming face to face with them again. i agree, they're kinda terrifying.

“It’s not… a bad idea. It would distract Anti. I won’t forget.”

nikkilbook asked: I honestly don’t know who the fire is in this scenario, bud. I’ve seen a thousand different versions of Dark, and I don’t know which one this is. I know Dap’s scared of him, but I don’t know anything beyond that. I do feel confident saying, though, that there are good people who live under Dark’s protection. A little wacky at times, but good.

“Yeah,” sighs Red. “Well… my family’s a little wacky too. A little fucked up sometimes. But still good.”

Anonymous asked: Yeah but stepping into that fire might make a lot of noise that could help you get them away from Big Brother, alright? I’m not entirely aware how the relations are between those on the other side of the camera but this might be your only chance at getting your voice heard. You might even be able to reach Jack.

“J - he doesn’t even remember who we are,” says Red. “I don’t know if he would help us if we could contact him. Dapper says they were friends. But Anti? Well, he’s told me some pretty messed up stories. And he has good points. Why do we deal with so much shit if someone created us? If he was nice, he would have been nicer to us. Anti says the scar in Chase’s head is from the first day of his life. That’s messed up. But we probably shouldn’t get into it now. We seriously need to shut up. Gah, I’m such a blabbermouth. I know I’m on camera and I still go off. Geez. Let me help get Blue cleaned up and then… if you can help me get where we need to go… yeah.”

He passes Dapper and Trick, smiling at the sight of them arguing over how long the muffins should be in the oven for. Everyone’s okay, for now. But in a couple days?

He really will be helpless. The thought makes his stomach burn.

Anonymous asked: Hey Trick, where's Noodle right now out of curiosity?

“Aw, he stays in the pool room most of the time, I got a little sandbox and everything set up for him. Don’t want him running upstairs while I’m not looking. I’ve seen Anti kick stray cats. He gets scared.”

Trick goes to the door that leads downstairs, where you have a single camera with a view on the pool table and a little TV set up with a couch. Noodle is asleep on the cushions. Trick imitates a meow and his cat perks up instantly, trotting to the stairs to mewl back at him. Noodle runs up to him and Trick pulls him into his arms, hugging his kitten tight and burying his face in his fur as Noodle purrs.

pine-storm-season asked: Yeah, you're both doing really well right now. It's a fucked-up situation, and it sucks, but I think you both are handling it really well. Hopefully stuff gets better very soon.

“Yeah, we’re doing our best, aren’t we?” murmurs Red as he comes back into the room, spreading some of Noodle’s litter on the throw up to dry it out so he can clean it up later. He strips the sheets off the bed and gives Blue a washcloth to clean his face and nose.

“Why don’t I move you to the couch so you can lie down somewhere without a mess instead of just hanging out on the mattress?”

“No, please,” begs Blue, snuggled against his pillow again. “I can’t get up, Red. I’m so tired. Just let me sleep here.”

Red sighs and pushes at his twin’s hair. “Okay, buddy. I’ll crack a window. It’s going to be okay.”

Anonymous asked: Do you think using Blue as a distraction would be enough to get Anti out of his room? I think he might expect you to be by his side though, Red, so maybe Dapper or Trick could climb up?

“Use Blue? Hm. I’d have to tell him what’s going on and see if he’s okay with it, but I could. I think he’d do whatever Dapper needs. What would he do to distract him?”

bupine asked: red, do you think if we bothered anti with the information we know about his past, that could work as a distraction? i want your permission before we do so, because it could backfire and have disastrous consequences. but it also could work to make him yell at us while you did something, i'm not sure. what do you think?

“Yes, that would be okay, as long as you can get him out of his room,” says Red. “I don’t care if he gets mad - he will be mad, really mad, when he finds the you-know-what missing. I’ll tell him I took it then, so he doesn’t punish Dapper.”

Anonymous asked: I think Blue being in the state that he is, just being this sick and getting worse should at least be enough to get Anti's attention. I don't think anti will agree to taking him to a hospital per se, but if he comes down long enough to at least entertain the argument from you and Dok it may be enough time to send trick or dap upstairs and back. And hell, at least putting the idea that blue is immensely I'll in his head has to be good for something, right?

“Yeah, maybe I should go ask him to look Blue over, ask if we can go to the hospital,” murmurs Red, chewing on the nail of his thumb. “Okay… okay.”

He steps cautiously towards the stairs and climbs up one at a time on quiet feet, neglecting his usual enthusiastic stomping around the house. He pauses at the top of the stairs, peering into Anti’s room. His brother is on the couch playing with his laptops, wearing a green-haired form in a band t-shirt.

bupine asked: hey there, anti. how are you? still sick from all the magic stealing?

“Shut up,” growls Anti, who has, in fact, been almost as sick as Blue this morning. He needs a body of his own and never gets one. He kicks his blankets off of himself irritably, shifting into a sulking dog on the bed as he watches old videos of Dapper.

“Hey, Anti,” comes a soft voice.

Anti looks up, irritated to be disturbed by anyone other than his little brother.

“I want to take Blue to the hospital,” says Red, trying to stand his ground sturdily. “Dok says he’s not doing well.”

The dog rolls its eyes, shaking its head. “Don’t be stupid, Red.”

“He’s really looking bad, Anti,” says Ro, squirming in place. “I’m scared.”

“Oh, you’re scared? Stupid fucking…” Anti gets up, turning back into a human and slamming his laptop shut, pacing out to stand at the banister above the stairs, glaring.

Anonymous asked: anti, blue really is getting worse. if it's not possible to take him to a hospital, could you at least see if there's another way to get him medicine or something that he would need? he's really not okay.

“Well, what does Dok say?”

“I don’t know, he’s downstairs with him!”

Anti rolls his eyes hard and grabs Red by the shirt, dragging him downstairs. Anti appears in the doorway of the bedroom and Dok jolts away from Blue, the hair on his arms standing up. He wraps his arms around his belly and backs away for a moment, only to come hurrying back to stand in front of Blue, trembling.

“What’s going on?” asks Trick, passing by with a soda in hand.

“Go get Blue some Sprite for his nausea,” says Anti, crossing his arms over his chest. “He’s just got a bad stomach.”

“Sprite won’t help,” spits Dok - or tries to spit, his voice coming out frail.

“Shut the fuck up, Dok. No, actually, tell me what the hell’s got you little idiots so concerned.”

Red backs carefully away, heading towards his laptop and flipping it open in the living room.

pine-storm-season asked: Dok, could you say what's going wrong with Blue? And if you have ideas how to fix it, could you say those too?

“This weakness and constant sickness is absolutely relentless on him. He can’t take all this - ”

“It’s like a chronic illness, Dok. I’m not saying it’s fun, but he has to learn to handle it.”

“If it’s a chronic illness, there’s no reason he should be suffering through it without a proper examination and medicine, and the fact that it’s chronic does not mean it couldn’t be… couldn’t be… deadly.”

Blue shivers on the bed. He just wants to hide from all this. He doesn’t want Anti to touch him. He wraps his blankets over his head and tries to go back to sleep.

“You don’t even know what’s wrong, do you?” sneers Anti, taking a step towards Dok. “Some doctor.”

“I read books while I was with the magicians - ”

“Oh, come on!”

“He won’t get better, Anti! He won’t! He needs help. He struggles in the world. You’re the one who did this to him. He needs his lungs and his digestion and his heart all looked at, I’m scared what might happen!”

“You’re always scared.”

Anonymous asked: (remember, red; when you look for what you need, do you need what holds it? or just the thing itself? if you can leave its container where it is, someone else might see it and assume all is well)

“We’ll have to look at it when we get up there. I think it’s one of those clear bottles, the orange ones.”

He messes with the keyboard and for a second, your screens go black again. He’s turned off three of them - the two in the master bedroom and the one that watches the back side of the house.

“Hold on, I might be able to…”

Your vision returns across the screens, but the three he turned off now have a small symbol in the corner - an eye with a slash through it.

“You should be able to see it,” he mumbles. “But I don’t think he will. Maybe.”

He’s never had time to test it. He does know that if Anti notices the screens are off, he’ll be able to turn them back on immediately, no matter if he has his laptops with him or not. Red can spend time in the camera system, but Anti lives there.

“I’ll hurry,” he whispers, and races out the back door, flipping up his blue hood over his eyes. The river in the woods whispers at him and you see a flash of movement in the trees.

Anonymous asked: Anti if something goes wrong medically due to a chronic condition, I highly doubt Dap will be able to go back far enough to prevent it from being deadly if that's what it ends up becoming. Ignoring symptoms won't improve them.

This makes Anti pause, shuffling on his feet. He’s not used to their injuries being something Dapper can’t fix. Hell, Dapper tells him he’s killed them before just for the hell of it, and he believes it of himself. It makes him laugh.

But permanently losing one of them… well, he wouldn’t want it to happen accidentally. He steps over to the bed, smirking as Dok cowers away from him like an under-sized dog, though he refuses to step away from Blue’s body. Anti sits down on the side of the bed and draws the covers back. Blue doesn’t bother to open his eyes. Anti rakes fingers through his hair, gripping his chin and turning his head back and forth.

“Feel his heart,” mutters Dok.

Anti pushes at Blue’s throat and finds his pulse, weak and erratic. He frowns.

“He was fine in Singapore,” he says. “Just a little weak.”

“He is getting worse,” growls Dok.

“He shouldn’t be,” answers Anti, raising an eyebrow. “Sure you’re not mercy-killing him or something, Dok?”

“Don’t even joke,” hisses his older brother.

“No, I wouldn’t put it past you,” sneers Anti. “Little sadist. You know, they say most serial killers are medical staff.”

Trick comes back with Blue’s Sprite and Anti turns his head to him, cutting himself off before saying anything else.

Anonymous asked: Anti, possessing Blue only helps you feel better because it's his magic you stole. If he dies, sure, you can possess anyone else, but you won't have Blue! The magic's just gonna get worse and worse! Even for purely selfish reasons, you need to invest in Blue's continued survival, and that means q more holistic medical approach than Dok can provide.

“Well, look, as I’ve told you, I don’t have any way to give the magic back, so don’t stop harping on me about that again,” says Anti. “I, uh - I don’t regret it, but I will admit it was poorly-researched.”

“Ohhh,” says Dok, in a tone like he’s about to say more, but Anti shoots him a look and he falls silent, glaring at the floor.

“But here’s what you’re all forgetting - if this is because of the magic withdrawal, there’s nothing a doctor can do.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” protests Dok. “You said he improved at the hospital in Singapore! If nothing else they could give us more time to figure out how to fix this. And why discard it when we haven’t even tried?”

Anti turns away, thinking.

On the other side of the house, Red leaps up and positions himself between the gutter and the stone of the house. He finds his foothold, adjusts his grip, and begins to climb up towards the master bedroom, his feet finding places in crevices and cracks when they have to, moving like he’s climbing mountains.

pine-storm-season asked: He's scared for a reason, Anti. There's a not-that-low chance that it could kill Blue, he's just getting worse. Anti, he needs help or he might die. and even if you in particular don't care that much about it, the others do. a lot. Blue needs help and you're in charge of getting him some.

Anti sits for a moment, looking at Blue, petting his hair.

“He is so ugly these days, isn’t he?” he murmurs, tilting his head at him. “I tore that dignified pretty boy with all that lovely hair down to scraps and pieces.”

Blue does not move. You’re not sure if he’s awake or not. Dok glances over at Trick, who’s busying himself with adjusting the blinds to let Blue sleep. His brother sees him looking and smiles at him.

“But he is still… hmm.” Anti draws his hand away from Blue’s hair, looking down at him.

Here is someone who has destroyed and hurt him in the past. Seeing him brought low, seeing him cower at his feet, killing Marvin - that was one of the greatest satisfaction’s of Anti’s life. And he’s enjoyed torturing him since. But he belongs to him and he isn’t allowed to slip away or escape, not even by dying. He’s a piece of the puzzle.

“Well, we’re stuck in the forest for a while yet, though I’m sure I could sneak one of you past Dark if I really had to,” says Anti, checking a watch that he makes appear on his wrist. “Four more days of the game, or until he catches one of you. I don’t much mind either way.”

“Anti, please - ”

“He can hold on four more days,” growls Anti, warning Dok into silence. “Don’t fuss so much. He’s just tired. Let him rest. And then - oh, yes, perfect! Ippy can look at him. He’s as nuts as you are, my darling, but at least he has a real clinic set-up, last I checked. He can get a real check-up then.”

Dok opens his mouth to protest, uncertain, but four days is a better promise than nothing.

Upstairs, Red opens the window to the master bedroom and slips inside the room, searching for Dapper’s Haldol.

“Where is it, where is it…”

pine-storm-season asked: So four days or less, and then Blue gets help? Now, I apologize if I'm mistaken, but I don't exactly trust you to keep to that, Anti.

“I don’t exactly give a fuck about any of your opinions,” answers Anti cheerfully.

“Anti,” laughs Trick, appearing behind him and draping himself over his shoulders. “Be nice to the cameras.”

“You two really are twins.” Anti leans back to kiss his cheek, pulling his head close to his own. “What are you up to? Huh?”

“Haha, just cooking most of the time. And playing pool.”

“Mh, yeah. You like playing around, huh? My Trickshot.”

Trickshot laughs as he’s pampered, pressed close to Anti’s body.

pine-storm-season asked: Trick, do you want Anti to stay here a bit? He's usually upstairs, isn't he?

“Hey, yeah, come shoot pool with me!”

“I’m not going to shoot fucking pool, haha. I don’t play pool, Trick.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know, that’s dumb.”

“Are you embarrassed you can’t play?”

Anti turns around and flips him over his side, laying him out on the ground. Trick shrieks and then bites down on his lip, laughing.

“We’re going to wake Blue up!”

“Get your ass out of here,” scolds Anti, getting up and pulling Trick after him, shoving him towards the door.

“You are always upstairs, though, you never hang out with me.”

“You can come upstairs,” says Anti fondly. “I’ll let you play games on the computer or something.”

“Okay!”

Anonymous asked: Cam you at least look into stealing some medical equipment or Something in the meantime, Anti? Thank you giving the chance for an actual checkup in four days, because I think that'll help a lot, but is there nothing you can do before then? Like, even a heart monitor so it's easier to keep track of how Blue's doing, or an oxygen machine, or any of the setup he might get in a hospital? I don't know if you have to stay here to try to keep Dark from winning the game or something

“I’ve been through the shit in the medicine cabinet,” says Anti, turning to look back at Dok. “I’ll unlock for you as long as you don’t get into the fucking sleeping pills like you used to. There’s at least some basic stuff in there for the nausea and headaches, and I think a blood sugar kit and that sort of thing.”

“Okay,” says Dok quietly.

“He’ll be fine, Dok.”

Dok looks up. For a second, it almost sounded like Anti was trying to comfort him.

Anonymous asked: agsjdjdksf trick you're a delight. do you just play pool by yourself? i thought it was usually a multiplayer game. ill be honest i love the idea of seeing anti with a pool cue tryna put some balls into holes. seems a very analog form of entertainment for him hahaha

“Haha, you should play with me, you would like it!”

“No.”

“I’ve been playing with Dap and sometimes Red and Dok. Not going to lie, Dap’s pretty good - but there’s a reason they call me Trickshot, baby.” He winks at you and then laughs.

bupine asked: why are you watching old videos of dapper, anti? don't you have more important things to be doing, like making sure your brothers don't die? like blue, the one you hurt? he's really fucking sick, anti. he's going to die if you don't do anything.

Anti turns on you, his face dark. “None of your business,” he spits, pulling Trick closer to him. “Nosy little bastards. I wouldn’t have a camera in my room if Dap didn’t stay in there, I’ll have you know. Need to start turning the damn things off. Prying eyes.”

Upstairs, Red pauses, looking at the images on Anti’s screen. There’s a young man in a black and white suit pressed against the back of what might be a big dog kennel, trying to keep away from the fingers that are petting at him. He has teal hair and blood on his fingers. Red’s heart aches for a second. His baby brother. It’s like he’s never had a day of relief in his life.

Anonymous asked: Dok, I know we're probably not gonna do much better than 4 days and he just called you a serial killer but Red needs a little time, can you do something to keep Anti down a few moments longer? For dap and Reds sake?

Dok blinks, alarmed. “What’s…?”

He peers out the hallway after his brothers, worried now. Blue mumbles something as Dok gets up and moves after them, trying to think, and almost immediately bumps into Dap.

“Dok? What’s wrong? Look worried.”

“It’s - I don’t know, the cameras said to distract him or something? I don’t know if something’s going on.”

“Oh. Distract Anti? Easy.”

Dapper pulls a knife out of his pocket and slams Dok into the wall with a bang, pressing the blade to his throat. Dok yells in alarm, terrified, and Anti and Trick turn around on the stairs.

“Dapper!” screams Trick, gripping at his chest.

“Carver, stop,” snarls Anti, stalking towards him.

“It’s not Dok! It’s not Dok! It’s not Dok!” screams Dapper’s free hand, his eyes gone wild, and Dok bites down on his lip to hold back an incredulous laugh.

Anonymous asked: Red, we're doing our best to start. If it's not upstairs, it may be on Anti's person in which case we may need a whole new plan but look a little longer, okay? Whether or not we get to the bottom of this, it's not for nothing.

Red scurries around the room, tearing open drawers and searching through the bedsheets, but he doesn’t see it for long minutes. He checks the bathroom - “whew, flower smell! a lot of flower smell!” - and then returns to the main room, leaning down to search beneath the -

“Yes!” he cheers, snagging the pill bottle from under the bed.

pine-storm-season asked: Red, be quick. I think Anti's coming back now. Only take a bit and put it back, too.

“Thank you, a-thank you very much,” says Red in a slightly Irish Elvis impression, quickly pouring some of the pills into his hand, enough to last Dap the week. It doesn’t leave much in the bottom of the bottle, unfortunately, but it’s the best he can do right now. “Okay, let’s get out of here.”

He shoves the medicine into his pocket and leaps out the window, beginning to slide down the side of the house.

Anonymous asked: Dok: What do you have? Dap: A KNIFE! Anti: NO!

“Oh, VERY FUNNY,” shouts Anti, putting his hands on his little brother’s shoulders and yanking him away from Dok.

“It is a little funny actually,” says Trick weakly.

“Trick!”

“Sorry.”

Anonymous asked: whoa, dap, hey, it's okay!! it's alright. i know stuff's scary right now but it's okay. you don't have to hurt anyone, right? you're not in danger right now

“What’s wrong with you?” snaps Anti, striking the knife out of Dapper’s hands and pushing his wriggling brother into the wall. “Hey, you cut that out! Stop it, now! I know you’re not having an episode yet! You’ve been off your meds for about twenty minutes!”

“Medication can only do so much,” pants Dok, relieved to see Trick hurrying to his side. His twin wraps him into a tight hug and they stand side-by-side, holding onto each other. “He sometimes has symptoms even when he’s medicated. Especially if he’s been under duress.”

“This is why you should be upstairs with me,” hisses Anti. “You’re out of control.”

“It’s Dark, it’s Dark, making themselves look like my brother!” screams Dapper. “Dark, they’re in my house!”

“Dapper, stop!”

Right behind them, Red drops to the pavement of the patio and slides quickly into the door, pushing his hood off again and trying to stop panting.

Anonymous asked: Uhh Dok you know more about Dap's psychosis and delusions than we do but would it help if you just kinda,,, left the room for a second? So Dap can calm down and not think Dark's in the house? Maybe you can go find Red, last we saw he was having kind of a rough time in the other room, he was worried about Blue. And then when you come back maybe Dap'll have an easier time, especially if Red's with you and trusting you?

“I’m not leaving him alone with Anti if I don’t have to,” says Dok.

“Hey,” says Trick quietly.

“No, don’t try to talk me out of - ”

“Dok, I’ll stay here with him. Go check on Red, okay?”

With Anti there, Dok can’t explain to his twin that Dapper’s pretending. And with the way Trick’s been, Dok can’t explain to him that even if he’s here, Anti could hurt Dapper. He doesn’t think Trick would even recognize that if it happened. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know who Trick is these days.

“Hey,” says Trick, and his voice is the same as when he found the dark bruises on Dok’s wrist. “Hey, trust me.”

Dok is trying. Dok is trying.

“Okay,” he murmurs. “Okay.”

He lets go of Trick and slinks away, finding Red in the living room. The two of them stay close at hand, listening for trouble, Red’s hand resting gratefully between Dok’s shoulder blades.

Dapper takes Dok leaving the room as his cue to draw the performance to a close. He lets his breathing slow and the snarl fade from his teeth, though his body still shakes and his eyes stare dead ahead, angry and cold.

“You’re losing it,” growls Anti. “Get a hold on yourself. This is pathetic.”

“You’re the one who brought me back to that monster,” snarls Dapper. “And you were the one who made them scare me so badly I had the first psychotic episode of my life. Dark was the stress that broke my diathesis and you brought me back to them like it means nothing to you. You brought me back to them when I might not be schizophrenic if I never met them. You - ”

Anti slaps Dapper so hard his head crashes against the wall of the house. Trick screams in alarm, rushing forward without even knowing what to do, putting a hand on both Dapper and Anti.

Dapper lets out a dry croak, tears welling in his eyes. All his training, imprinted into him from years of conditioning, seems to rush back to him in an instant. He cowers against the wall, shaking for real now, tears running down his face.

“You’re a fucking brat,” hisses Anti.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” cries Dapper.

“Anti!” shrieks Trick. “Stop it, leave him alone!”

pine-storm-season asked: Anti, he can't control it. Leave him be, okay? He's trying. He's just human.

Anti can feel Trick’s heart pounding in the space where his hand lies on his arm, holding him back from Dapper.

“Whatever,” spits Anti, stepping back. “Whatever.”

Dapper hides his face. Trick pants, staring at Anti, his free hand moving to linger over his heart, the fingers curling uncertainly.

Anti moves back towards the stairs, scowling. His palm stings from slapping Dapper. In the hallway, he sees Red staring back at him. His oldest’s eyes are cold and glittering. Anti bites his teeth, growling.

“Whatever,” he repeats in a mumble, turning away.

bupine asked: anti, this isn't dapper's fault. he's scared and seeing things, ok? he's not in his right mind and if what he just said is true, which i obviously believe it is, you did bring him back to the most triggering person you possibly could have brought him to. can you blame him? it would be like if you were brought back to your old master, put at his mercy. wouldn't that be scary, anti? can you understand now why dapper is afraid?

Anti pads up the stairs, gripping the banister. As soon as he’s on the second floor, he hears Red and Dok and Dap and Trick all rushing towards each other and murmuring together. Holding each other’s hands and kneeling down to be close.

“Jack was the one who made him schizophrenic,” says Anti. “Jack was. It wasn’t my fault. It wasn’t Dark’s fault. I love… I love… it wasn’t our fault. It was Jack. It was Jack!”

He strikes his door as he passes it and angry cherry blossom branches snarl across the wood, tearing holes in the door that guards his room.

He sinks down beside his bed, pulling a computer onto his lap. He fast-forwards through the video without having to touch it, his eyes flickering as it settles on a few days forward. Dapper, five days old, crawls carefully out of the little cage and takes an orange slice from Anti’s hand. Anti touches his hair. Dapper smiles nervously and puts the orange in his mouth.

Anti slumps down against the bed, holding his head in his hands.

“It’s Jack’s fault,” he mumbles.

Anonymous asked: (hey red, don't forget to undo what you did in the first place that made this whole thing feasible)

“Right, right, thank you.”

Red races to his computer, letting Dok and Trick look after Dapper, and quickly turns all the screens back on. The crossed-out eye disappears. Anti can see everything again.

And then Red disappears too, slinking away, out of the view of the cameras, and when he comes back, he has only one pill in his hand, and the rest are gone somewhere you cannot see.

Anonymous asked: Hey, Dap, Anti's gone now. He went back upstairs. Take as much time as you need because that was scary and awful as fuck, but he's away for a bit. He's not going to hit you again. It's okay.

“He always gets his hands on me again.” Dapper wraps his arms around himself and rocks against the wall, crying hard, though he can barely even tell why. His pain tolerance is high and the slap didn’t hurt, but it scared him. “He always hits me again.”

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” Dok is whispering, prodding gently at his face. “This will bruise, but that’s all, that’s all.”

Trick stands numbly besides them, his hand resting on Dapper’s shoulder. He doesn’t feel very well.

bupine asked: this isn't all jack's fault, anti. you and all of us know that. you are aware that jack could have actually loved you, right? just because you were a mistake as a creation doesn't mean you weren't wanted. i believe you're just scared to admit that all of this could have been prevented. that you could have been happy.

“Don’t!” screams Anti. “Say that to me! No, no! No, that’s not true!”

It’s like a storm’s been unleashed across his computers, and for once, Blue’s power does not rise in him at all. Just his own. Just Anti. Every screen is flickering and glitching and every one of the computers in his room shows a different image - Jack laughing at the fake blood on his neck, Jack hugging a younger man with the same soft, downy brown hair as he has to his chest, Jack in a cat mask, Jack and Chase.

The truth is that, because of what Dapper did, many of the images no longer exist and never did in this timeline, but Anti doesn’t know that. He is digital in his nature, down to his core, and his memories transfer into images whether they exist on the internet or not. Maybe that’s why, after a moment, every smiling image seems to turn cold and angry, every version of Jack’s mouth turns down, every glimpse of his blue eyes glares.

“He was a coward! He didn’t want me! He threw me away!”

Anti throws his laptop across the room, shattering it in half, and he tears at his hair, screaming. The antlers are growing out of his skull again, breaking through the bone, and he howls as he tries to snap them off, though today he seems unable to manage it. His eyes are black and blood pours from his throat so fast you hear him begin to hyperventilate, his whole neck splitting open. His head might fall right off his shoulders.

“He made them all just to hurt me, just to protect himself! When he was all I knew! When he was everything I had! Traitor, traitor! He sent them after me and then he watched! He watched as they beat me into essence! He watched and I was screaming for him!”

The lights in the house burst and across your cameras you hear everyone but Blue gasp in surprise as the power goes out. Anti himself yelps, jolting against the bed, and goes quiet as a faint plume of smoke drifts from one of his laptops, curling towards the window.

Anti sits at the foot of his bed, holding himself, staring dead ahead.

“He didn’t… do anything,” he says after a long moment. “Just… just held Dapper. Cause I guess… he was someone worth saving, but not me.”

Anti picks at his lip, his eyes fixed on the wall.

A pause, and then the bitterness comes back to him, like it always does.

“Well, he’s mine now,” he whispers, turning away from you, his eyes dark. “He’s mine now and Jack will never get him back again. He’s mine.”

He tries to sound intimidating, but he is a twenty-three year old with barely any beard and short brown hair, his eyes huge on a pale face, his accent embarrassed and uncertain, alone in a cabin in the woods.

Anonymous asked: Dap, are you calming down? You're okay, buddy.

“Here, come on, we’ll go hide,” whispers Red, returning to his brothers. “Let’s go downstairs with the cat and we’ll hide out, okay? We’ll be real quiet while brother is mad, it’s okay. Dok, take them downstairs, yeah?”

“Yes,” agrees Dok anxiously, shaking from the power outage, pulling his little brothers to their feet. “Yes, come on.”

Neither Dapper nor Trick protests, looking numb and shell-shocked. Red lets them go, glancing around the house. He doesn’t know how long they might have to hide for. If Anti finds out about what he did, things will only get worse. He grabs his laptop and some nuts and bread and fruit and sets them on the stairs that lead to the basement before going back for the most important cargo of all - Blue.

“Here, buddy, I got you,” he murmurs, scooping Blue, blankets and all, into his arms. His twin does not stir. Red quiets the fear in himself and carries Blue gently downstairs, where a small guest bedroom will hold him instead.

“Are we okay?” he murmurs, coming back to his younger brothers, huddled together on the couch in front of the TV.

Dok nods uncertainly, gripping the both of them. Red kneels in front of Dapper and presents him with the pill. “Ta-da!” he says gently, patting his knee.

Dapper lights up immediately, the anxiety washing off him. He clicks his tongue joyfully and throws himself at Red, wrapping a hug around him and making Red laugh, holding his back in return.

“I got you, little man,” he says, patting his ribs. “I always got you.”

Dapper puts the pill in his mouth and swallows, feeling better already. “That was worth it if it gets me my medicine.”

But Trick, on the other side of the couch, doesn’t seem to agree. He’s sitting still and stiff, crying quietly, hugging Noodle to his face.

tristarlolly asked: I can't help but be reminded of the first ask I ever sent through the cameras, Anti. I complemented you on your "dollhouse" and asked about Jack because I knew you were the only one who could answer anything about him. You told me you were happy with what you have and you didn't need him. I don't think that was true then, and I don't think it's true now. You don't know what happiness is and your pursuit of it has only led you in violent circles.

“Oh, fuck,” says Anti, very tired. “I hate circles.”

Anonymous asked: Hey. Anti. Don't get me wrong, I don't particularly care about how distressed you are, but you need to calm down. It's scaring the others, and sometimes I really fucking pity you, so here; Anti, you've won, you've gotten your revenge. You're in control, and you know this, yeah? Calm down.

“They should be scared. I want to go beat the shit out of that little brat. But it’s never fun anymore. I don’t know when it stopped being fun. Even with Dok, it barely makes me laugh now. Why make me like this and then not even make it fun anymore? I hate him… I hate everything. I want… I… I want Dark. I want Dark to tell me I’m perfect.”

He gets to his feet, almost staggering. “Maybe they’re in the forest. Yeah, I - I’m in control. And you’re… you’re wrong, it is enough. It is enough. I don’t need Jack. I don’t want him. As soon as I’m in control again, it will be enough. I’ll be happy. Fuck, the fact that some of you have been here since the beginning… fuck.”

Anonymous asked: Trick?... How you holding up? If you want to talk, we're here. Your brothers are here. If you need a little time that's fine too.

“I’m having a panic attack,” cries Trick, grasping for Dok. “I’m having a panic attack.”

Dok gets up and surrounds his brother in an instant, alarmed. Trick hasn’t had a panic attack in weeks.

“I’m here. I’m right here, okay?”

“Does he need - is he - ?”

“Just give us some space, alright?”

“Okay, right.” Red backs off, retreating to Blue’s little bedroom, though he listens carefully by the door. Dapper sits uncertainly on the other side of the couch, touching Trick’s wrist.

Anonymous asked: Anti.... if strangers from the internet can't validate your actions and you feel like you can't do the same either.... By all means, feel free to look elsewhere, rinse and repeat, as you've always done, but self-reflection and change aren't outside the realm of possibilities for you to be happy.

Anti just shakes his head, his mouth parted slightly like he can’t find the right words, pacing out towards the woods. These are things he is sometimes - sometimes - aware of. But the fact that he could change is always, always over-shadowed by his fear: that Dapper would leave if he didn’t force him to stay. That all of them would leave if he didn’t force them to stay. That they would go back to Jack and he would be alone for the rest of his life, knowing that they’re happy and he never will be. Besides, there were times when living like this did make them happy, and he never did grasp the idea that cruelty is a fleeting satisfaction. He keeps trying to pursue it and it never sticks around, but he won’t change. He won’t let himself see that. He’s afraid.

“I won’t,” he says.

You hear it as he moves away from the house.

“I won’t. I won’t.”

He slips into a dog’s form and pads away, the grass soft beneath his paws.

He promised Red, didn’t he? This is the last time we try this. And if it doesn’t work… then there’s nothing left for him to stick around for.

And he won’t let the others go running back to Jack, either.

“I won’t.”

bupine asked: anti, i am truly so fucking sorry for what happened to you. that you felt so unloved you'd do all of this. and i so wish there was a way you could have seen how he would have cared for you if you'd given him the opportunity. i wish it wasn't too late for that. because jack didn't hate any of his creations, anti. you just didn't let him love you.

For a moment, it makes him pause.

At the edge of the woods, the body of the huge black dog, tall and proud and beautiful, beautiful, because not everything about Anti is bad. Not everything about anyone is bad, and you are right. About most everything. You are right.

That dog stands at the edge of the woods.

The shadows are cool and deep and dangerous, but he always seems to burn in the sun anyway.

He slips away, and is gone from your view.

Anonymous asked: trick, you okay, buddy? it's gonna be okay, love, just breathe. you have your brothers with you, everyone's okay.

“I can’t think!” Trick cries, gripping at his head. “I can’t - I - there’s walls inside my skull, Deutsch, help me!”

“Hey, you’re alright, you’re alright.” Dok holds his shoulders, shooting a worried look at Dapper, but his little brother has gone quiet and distant, touching the stinging handprint on his cheek and staring right ahead, his posture small.

“No, I’m not alright, everything’s wrong!” screams Trick. “This isn’t right, I can’t think, I can’t see?”

“You can’t see?”

“I think I’m possessed, I’m possessed!”

Dok takes his head in his hands and forces his gaze up, examining Trick’s eyes, but there’s no sign of Anti or anything else. “Trick, I think you just got a shock. My brother, it’s alright now. Everyone’s here and no one’s hurt.”

“No, no, no, that’s not true, that’s lies, that’s lies in between my skull, I think I’m possessed!”

“Just let it out, alright, and then we’ll work on calming down, calming down…”

And Dok is there, as he always is - no, that isn’t right, because wasn’t he gone away from him for a time? But where? And how long? It seems like those days passed in strange blips of time, his memory of it coming and going, his recollection blinking in and out, Blue asking him what’s wrong with him again and again while his brain skips over the thought of his twin and his heart keeps hurting. He digs his nails into his cheeks, weeping; he can feel the imprint of Anti’s hand against his face as he goes crashing to the floor, Blue standing over him and shouting for Anti to leave them alone, and none of it is true, and none of it is right, but all of it is true, and all of it is against the rules.

“No, no!” he hears himself shrieking over the sound of soothing voices. “No, I don’t know, I don’t remember, what’s wrong with me?”

“Trick,” someone begs, and it isn’t even his name. He doesn’t even remember his name. He doesn’t even remember his babies. Soft skin and bumpy infant heads, huge dark eyes and a slobbering mouth using his finger as a pacifier. Cigarette smoke and acrylic nails. The thud of Dapper’s head against the wall.

And it’s gone again.

“Why can’t I think?”

“Trick, you have to stop shouting!”

“My darling, what’s wrong? I’m here, it’s alright.”

“Ohhh, please make him stop, I can’t stand anymore screaming today.”

“Red, go upstairs if you’re over-stimulated, everything’s okay. Trick, we’re okay, we’re just taking a break, we’re okay…”

“In my skull…”

“Trick.”

Firm hands dig into his muscles and push and knead and comfort. Ah, this he remembers. Dok’s hands on him on nights when he’d been sitting so stiff for so long. So desperate to please Anti. Plastered to the window with the great sniper in his hands, watching, watching while Dok massaged at his aching muscles and tried to keep him company, to keep him comfortable. To stay with him. I’m with you.

“Trick. Chase.”

“H… Dok. I can’t…”

“Just be alright. We’re just alright. It’s okay. Here’s your cat. Calm down.”

“He’s not even my real baby.”

Noodle mewls.

Red paces upstairs, rubbing at his face. He needs a break. Trick’s been freaking out for almost two hours.

Anonymous asked: your brothers are here, trick, they'll keep you safe, they'll help you. you're gonna be okay. i know, it's terrifying and confusing and hard. but your brothers are right here, henrik is right here, you're going to be okay. breathe in, and breathe out, buddy. it's gonna be okay, i promise.

“It’s not alright,” cries Trick, gripping at his brother’s shoulders. “It’s… it’s not…”

“I know,” says Henrik quietly. “I know. It will be.”

“He slapped him… he slapped me…”

“He’s not kind.”

“No, no, that’s not right either, it’s not right. I must have - I must have made him do it, I - ”

“No, Trick,” croaks Henrik, curled around him. “Don’t go away again. You don’t have to start thinking like that again. Please?”

“Maybe if Dapper would just fucking behave - ”

“Trick!”

“He tried to hurt you!”

“No, that’s not what happened! Stop it!”

“There h-has to be a reason! There has to be! I have to make this make sense! Dok, I can’t breathe!”

Dapper stares up at them both from beside the couch. Blue is up on his feet between the four of them. He reaches down to touch Dapper’s head.

Anonymous asked: anti made that decision on his own, trick. it's no one else's fault that he did that. the reason is that he wanted to. it's not your fault, bud. it's no one's fault but anti's.

“Well, then it’s like he says, like he was made like that. His creator made him like that. He has a bad temper and he can’t control it. That’s all that’s all that’s all that’s all. He’ll be nice again tomorrow, I know. I know I know I know.”

Trick isn’t aware that he’s babbling or that his siblings have gone quiet around him. Dok is wide-eyed and silent. He never knows what to do anymore. He can never fix anybody who needs him.

“You’re all such fucking brats,” snarls Trick suddenly, and his voice sounds so much like Anti’s for a moment that Dok can’t help the wave of revulsion that shudders its way up his body. Blue must notice. He tugs Dok away from Trick. Dok wishes he weren’t grateful.

“Asshole, acting like you’re here to comfort us,” growls Trick, eyes squeezed shut, hands digging into Noodle’s fur. His cat mewls in discomfort, squirming on his lap, but Trick doesn’t let go. Noodle is his and he’ll stay where he wants him. “You think I forgot, Blue, when you mashed that pole into my skull just so you could watch Anti fucking burn without me? Fucking traitor. You don’t care about anyone but yourself.”

“Trick,” Dok begins, but Blue just shakes his head, gripping his shoulders.

“No point trying to reason with him while he’s like this,” he says. “Trust me, we tried in Singapore, the cameras and I. They’re not even his own thoughts.”

“I want my baby,” cries Trick, his voice shattering into a wave of stammering, his heart pounding hard in my chest. “I’m trying to be good, I am! Will he give me my baby back then?”

“Let’s just give him a little time,” murmurs Blue, but Dok doesn’t move, staring at his brother.

He’d rather Trick were as sick as Blue. He’d rather Trick were locked upstairs on his own. He’d rather Trick was with that monster in the woods. Anything but watching him turn into someone else. Anything but this. He touches his necklaces. For the day he’s ready to kill Anti. Anything but this.

Anonymous asked: hey, trick, buddy. it's going to be okay. i don't think he wants to do that now, no matter how much you do what he wants you to, trick. but you're going to be okay, love. can you tell us what's wrong? you're a little all over the place at the moment, so i don't know what would help you best.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” cries Trick. “There’s something in my head and nothing makes sense.”

“Dissociating?” asks Dok gently, creeping forward again to try and touch him. Blue frowns, but he knows better than to get between twins. He glances down at Dapper and tuts at the sight of the handmark on his face, reaching down to touch his beard fondly.

“No, no, I - well, maybe, maybe dissociating, maybe, maybe, cause nothing is right, nothing’s right, I’m f-freaking out, Dok, I’m freaking out. I just want… I just want… I don’t know, I don’t know what I want.”

He presses himself against the side of the couch, groaning and clutching at his cat.

“You want brownies?” offers Dok weakly.

Trick lets out a bewildered, frantic laugh, sharp enough to make Dok jump. “I… maybe brownies?”

“Bet Red would get you one of the ones you made from upstairs,” says Dok. “We just need to ground ourselves, yes? Something to touch and something to see and taste and hear and smell. I’m here, Trick. I’m here.”

cest-mellow asked: will antis magic wear off on him? what’s gonna happen to him?

“There are two problems,” mumbles Blue. “One - Anti still has access to him. Even if Trick is getting free of him moment to moment, nothing can wear off while Anti keeps getting his hands on him again and again. And two - this isn’t just magic, a spell that will fade given time. Anti is actively getting inside his head and changing the way he thinks. Something has to happen to snap Trick out of it, and then he needs space from Anti to stayed snapped out of it. But I… I don’t know.”

“It’s a good thing he’s having a breakdown,” cries Dok, desperate for good news. “Right? It means he’s fighting!”

“Anti’s power combined with the need to please him that Trick has always had - Dok, I don’t know how he’s supposed to get free on his own.”

“Well, I’m here,” vows Dok, turning his attention back to his twin. “Here I am to help, my brother.”

“You know, Anti’s right about you,” snaps Trick. “You need other people to be in pain around you or you can’t even feel good about yourself.”

Dok’s face falls.

Anonymous asked: are you having trouble remembering, bud? is that the problem?

“It’s like… I can’t think straight… like I’ll have a thought and then it’s right, but then a second later it’s wrong, and then it’s right, and then - and no, I c-can’t remember, but I keep getting these flashes, and I can’t hold on to them, and I’m just…”

He buries his face in the couch, shaking his head. “My depression has never felt like this before, my panic attacks have never felt like this before - am I psychotic, Dok? Does schizophrenia run in families?”

“It’s not that, I promise.”

Anonymous asked: try not to figure out if the memories are right or wrong, okay, trick? just try to see what they are, if you can, and don't try to figure out whether the memories are right or not. and if you can't hold onto a memory, let it go, okay? it'll come back. trust dok, okay? i think he knows which memories are right. i promise he just wants to help you.

“You’ll remember for me, won’t you?” he babbles, and you aren’t sure if he’s talking to you or Dok. “He has big big eyes and he’s perfect and warm. And I was braiding hair, I can braid hair, her dark hair. And I was in Singapore and Blue hit me. But Anti hit me too, haha. And I forgot, the next morning, and he kissed the side of my face. And there are fires and knives and girls with dark eyes.”

“Breathe,” Dok reminds him. “Breathe. You know how to get through a panic attack.”

“I can feel you touching me, like you always do when I’m s-scared, and I can hear the air conditioning, and I can smell your coat with green apple detergent, green apple detergent because we finally have a l-l-laundry room. I can feel you touching me like you always do when I’m scared.”

“That’s better,” says Dok. “That’s good.”

Blue hears the door to the backyard swing shut above him. He blinks, looking up to the ceiling.

Anonymous asked: Can someone Please take Nooddle away from Trick, before even his own cat starts to be afraid of him?

“They’re right, Trick, please,” says Blue calmly, reaching forward. “Please give me the cat, alright?”

“He’s my cat!” shrieks Trick. Noodle chirps as he tugs at his fur, barely even aware of the way his kitten is squirming beneath him. “He’s my cat, he’s mine, he’s supposed to be with me - ”

“He doesn’t want to be held!” Dapper signs suddenly, springing off the floor, and he reaches forward and snags Noodle from Trick’s lap before his brother can even make a leap for him. Dapper darts away towards the guest bedroom, Noodle pressed into his shoulder. Trick screams after them, striking the side of the couch with his hand, but he’s too shaken to get up and go after them, and he doesn’t want Dok to be apart from him.

immabethehero asked: Trick be nice! Dok wants to help you! Even if you don’t agree, that doesn’t mean you should be rude!

“Oh, the cameras always know what’s right, don’t they?” snarls Trick, sitting up again, another violent mood-swing back into anger. “You sit a million miles away and you all tell us what to do. Like you know anything about what we’ve been through. Like you know anything about my family! You’ve never liked Anti, I know, I’m not stupid, even if everybody thinks I am. I notice things. I know you were with Dok with the magicians and you told him to stay. I know you say all sorts of things to get him wrapped around your fingers. I know he wouldn’t get in trouble if he would just take these fucking things off!”

Trick wraps his hand around Dok’s throat, necklaces and all, yanking him forward. Blue yells and steps forward, grabbing his hands, but Trick is stronger than he is. His blue eyes bore into his twin’s. Dok stares back at him, eyes wide, choking for air, but his hand only rests on Trick’s, waiting, patient, here. Here I am. Here I am. It’s okay.

Trick blinks. His anger falters away. He lets go of Dok’s throat, shocked.

“Oh, no, Henrik,” he whispers, voice broken. “I didn’t mean…”

Anonymous asked: don't do that, okay, trick? dok's just trying to help. you're doing great otherwise, bud. breathe in, and breathe out, okay? i know, this must be really hard right now. but you're going to be okay. try to stay calm, bud. you're going to be okay.

Trick is just shaking his head. Blue is still standing above him, touching his hands, and Trick reaches for his big brother for a minute, a faint whimper on his mouth, and Blue doesn’t even know how to respond.

“I’m going to take a break,” says Dok, quiet and hoarse.

“Dok,” says Trick.

He means to tell him “I’m sorry,” but his stammer is so bad he can’t get the words out.

Dok gets up. Straightens out his coat. Pads up the stairs. Disappears.

Trick’s hand rests over his heart.

Anonymous asked: I don't mean this to sound mean but I really feel like someone else other than blue should be with trick rn. If he swings back into anger I don't know if blue will be alright to deal with this alone ":(

Blue stares down at Trick. He knows what you’re saying is true. But Dapper’s in the other room if he needs him, you’ll call for help if something happens, and, moreover - Trick looks like he’s broken clean in half.

“You know what,” says Blue.

You have not heard bitterness on his tongue for anyone but Anti in a long time. Trick looks up at him, stunned to hear vitriol in the voice of the sibling who’s meant to be his caretaker. The siblings who’s never called him anything but “my darling,” “my heart,” “my brother.”

“I think he’s done,” says Blue darkly.

Trick turns his face away from him.

Anonymous asked: Blue please don't leave him alone. Don't leave him with only anti to turn to for answers

Blue rocks on his heels, seething through his teeth, trying to find the right course of action.

He wants to leave Trick alone. He’s mad. He knows it’s Anti’s fault, too, but he can’t take that. Trick can’t start doing this. Blue won’t accept it. Won’t pretend nothing just happened. He can’t. He wants to cry. To scream? To hit something? He wants to go back to bed. He wants to leave Trick alone and he hopes that his little brother feels bad. Venomously, he hopes that his little brother feels bad.

But he doesn’t leave him alone.

Blue sits down on the other side of the couch, his hand in his palm, a sigh falling out of his mouth. He’d never forgive himself if Trick hurt himself or scampered back off to Anti.

“Just breathe, Trick,” he says, exhausted. “Can you tell Red it’s quiet again now? Maybe he’s ready to come back downstairs and then I can go off and calm down for a minute.”

Anonymous asked: On one hand, I understand that the bitterness and isolation is justified. But also, guys... if you all leave trick alone how do you expect him to not keep going back to Anti? If you're not careful this is probably going to fuel more ways for him to slither even deeper into his head

“We do what we can,” says Blue. “We’re all doing what we can. I’m ill and I’m angry and I’m still here, aren’t I? We do what we can and if it isn’t enough, we don’t take blame for that. We just don’t. Trick’s actions and decisions are nobody’s fault… well, a little Anti’s, in this unique case, but still. Dok doesn’t have to stay with him after he hurt him. Hell, if he wanted to go and not forgive Trick at all… well, he’d be allowed to do that, and what Trick does afterwards would not be his fault. Dok has to take care of himself too. I think Dok will forgive him, but both of my brothers are hurting right now, both of them are vulnerable - all of us are vulnerable - and we’re all just doing what we can. And if that’s not enough… well.”

He turns his head bitterly away. “It never is, is it?”

pine-storm-season asked: Red, it's quiet now, could you come sit with Trick?

“Hm?” says Red.

From the camera in the backyard you can see him.

Gone very stiff.

Standing on the porch.

Eyes wide.

“Can I… oh, yeah, just, uh… a second, one second…”

He’s staring out the window, towards the forest. Dok pads into the living room and blinks to see him standing there.

“Uh, Red?”

“Hm?”

“What are you looking at?”

Red doesn’t answer.

Dok steps up behind him, letting the backdoor swing open and then closed again, adjusting his glasses and squinting.

“Is there someone in the woods?”

“You see him too?” breathes Red, his cheeks rising with a passionate blush, his eyes shining.

Dok takes another step forward. The pool laps quietly between them.

“Is that… that man you were with? In the marketplace?”

Red is aglow. Red is holding his own heart. Red takes a step forward.

“He found me again,” he says, his voice trembling, but not with despair. “He found me again. I could… Anti is away, we could just… he forgave me. He came back.”

Dok tilts his head, confused, but it looks to be true - there, hiding a little behind the trees, eyes wide and earnest, smiling at Red -

Max.

Jackie takes off at a run down the porch steps.

Anonymous asked: Oh god, this probably isn't Max...

“Shit,” hisses Dok, with one glance at you. “Shit!”

Red isn’t even listening to you, leaping down and racing across the grass. Dok snarls like a wild thing and leaps after him, desperation making his blood pump, reaching out to grab Red, only a few feet past the pool, the trees closer than he’s ever seen them. “Red!” he screams. “It’s not Max!”

“I know him now!” cries Red. “I forgot him once. I won’t do it again.”

“He’s a trick, Red! Don’t you think it’s a little too good to be true that the one person you’ve been longing for for weeks is just suddenly here in the middle of nowhere, grinning at you from our enemy’s hiding place?”

“He was too good to be true!” cries Red, struggling against Dok’s grip. “Dok, please, I’m begging you! He feels real, Dok. My heart!”

It stings at Dok, but he doesn’t let go.

pine-storm-season asked: Red. It's not Max. That's Dark. You remember Dark, right? How would Max get through these woods? He couldn't, Red. That's Dark. Red, come back to the house now.

“They’re right.” Dok grips at his arm, yanking him back towards the house, drawing a low cry out of his brother. “It’s Dark.”

“Dark made me afraid!” Red protests. “Just being near to them, it was like my heart was shaking.”

“Red, that’s what they’re doing now too. Don’t you get that? They manipulate emotions. That’s why you were so scared of them, and that’s why you’re convinced it’s Max now. Red. Red. They’re making you feel that way. It’s not real.”

The energy drains out of Jackie in a moment. He stares at Dok, mouth trembling. “I just… I just…”

“I know, my brother,” says Dok.

Anonymous asked: On another hand... If that is Max you need to shout to him to get out of here, I definitely don't think he's safe in these woods.

“Max, go!” cries Red, something in his chest snapping open and oozing out hurt. “A chuisle mo croi! Before he hurts you!”

He wants him to go. He wants him to turn around and go, and prove that it is him, it’s Max, he’s going and he’ll come back!

But the little figure of Max in the forest does not turn away from him. Red shakes his head, turning to stare at Dok, begging him to make things different. Dok just shakes his head at him, eyes apologizing.

Anonymous asked: red, tell max to come into the house for a minute. okay? harmless request, buddy. just have him come into the house for a few seconds.

“Yes, tell him to come over here,” says Dok, holding Red tight.

“He wouldn’t want Anti to know he was here…”

Dok covers the camera with his hand, blocking your view. “Tell him to come over now,” he suggests.

Red is silent for a long moment. There’s a shift of light as Dok’s body relaxes, letting go of Red’s arm.

He could call out for the fake Max to come over here, but he already knows the truth. Dok moves his hand away. Red is still staring out at the woods, eyes wide.

“Hey,” laughs Max’s clear rich voice, accent and all. “Hey, come over here. I miss you. Hey, come here.”

“My little brother was right about you!” Red reaches down to snag a rock and chucks it towards the woods. “You’re a creep!”

“Well, that’s not very nice,” says Max, laughing too long and too deep. “That’s not very nice, really. Don’t you think it would be fun? Wouldn’t you like to? I think you’d like to.”

“I think you’d love to,” repeats an echo of his voice, and then it wells up in Red so powerfully that it makes him double over, falling to his knees in the grass - affection, warmth, joy, love! Max, his Max!

“Leave him alone!” cries Dok, stepping in front of his brother. “Stop it!”

“What’s this?” purrs Max’s voice, growing deeper and deeper, the accent smoothing out, Americanizing. “What’s this? He doesn’t want to play? Why don’t you feel it, little doctor? Is that what you are? A doctor in his tattered coat? Maybe you’d rather sulk a little.”

Red’s joy turns to grief. He gasps against a wave of sorrow, deeper than oceans, about to tear him open. Dok grabs at him, alarmed, but he doesn’t feel the despair.

“Or anger?”

Red hollers, tearing out handfuls of grass with his hands, shaking his head, gritting his teeth so hard he might break them. Dok pants, nervous in the face of his fury, but he doesn’t move.

“No, how strange,” says Dark, tilting his head back, the daylight around them turning darker and darker. “How strange, that he doesn’t seem to want to share anything at all. What’s protecting you, little doctor?”

“Leave us alone,” snaps Dok. “We’re going back to our house.”

“Are you?” asks Dark.

“Are you?” laughs their echo.

Anonymous asked: blue, it's okay to be angry, and it's okay for dok to need space to calm down, but i think you need to be gentler with trick right now. you said it yourself that he's not fully in control of himself, and can't you see that he's sorry? i know you're tired of this, but he's terrified, and he needs some kindness. he deserves to be forgiven because it's not his fault that he's doing or saying hurtful things right now. he's sick, and anti did this to him.

“Come on!” protests Blue. “I am sitting here with him. What else do you want me to do, dude? Cuddle up with him and tell him it’s okay that he just assaulted the person who loves him most in the world? Tell him lies about how this is all going to be okay? I don’t have any comfort to give right now! I have limits. Aren’t I allowed have limits? Or am I supposed to be their caretaker to the point that I have to crucify myself on their altars even when they’re not in danger? Am I supposed to forgive him before he’s even taken a moment to look at what he did and stop it from happening again? Do I have to pretend it didn’t happen? I’m - I’m mad!

“Maybe you’re right, but I have to feel how I feel about this and Trick’s surviving for now. Can you give me ten minutes at least to be mad before you expect to come in here and kiss it better? I’ll comfort him when my head is clear and I don’t feel like my body is trying to destroy itself, alright? Please… I’m angry. I don’t have any hope to give him right now… I could use some comforting too, you know… but then again that’s all I need lately.”

He buries his face in his hands. “I wish I could make just one of them happy.”

Anonymous asked: Dapper, Dark is outside trying to get Red and Dok to go to him. He's disguised, and screwing with Red's emotions on a bad way. Do you know anything that might help them?

Dapper sits upright so fast that Noodle flies off his lap. The kitten, disgruntled by his long day, mewls as he lands on his feet and licks Dapper’s ankle in protest.

“Outside? With Red and Dok?”

Leaping out of bed, Dapper charges up the stairs without pausing to explain a word to Blue and Trick. He swipes his golden Christmas knife off the ground where Anti slapped it from his hand and races towards the doorway.

“Anti!” cry his hands, slashing across his throat. “Anti, come home now! I need you.”

bupine asked: dark? may we speak to you? we want to know how much you remember of anti. he told us much about you, much of his memories, but we'd like to hear what your side of it is. if that's alright by you.

“If it’s answers you want, I can provide. Just tell these little humans to come closer,” Dark entices, sliding forward, shape-shifting slowly as they go. They are masculine, feminine, feline, shadowed, shifting, but always terrifyingly beautiful, with eyes like dead stars. “I’ll talk to you, little doctor. Come on, don’t be so scared. You don’t look very well, you know. Has someone been hurting you? Skinny thing, pale thing, bruised beneath its shirt. I have food and medicine and shelter. Would you like to have a drink with me? Rich red wine til you’re drunk on it. I’ll give you whatever you need and make you stop wanting for anything at all.”

“You stay away from me!” shouts Dok, dragging Red back towards the house. “We don’t want anything to do with you here!”

“What’s around your throat, little creature? I’d like to see it up close.”

Anonymous asked: red, love, trust dok, go with dok, okay? dok is safe, let's keep you safe too, red. go with dok back into the house and you'll be safer.

“Red, come on,” begs Dok.

His brother is clutching his head, shaking, silent, curled taut against the ground.

“I know it’s a lot, I just need you to stay with me a moment longer! We have to get back to the house!”

“I think we’re close enough to the house,” manages Red in a whisper. “If they were going to attack us…”

“They would have done it by now,” finishes Dok, a little relieved. “Wouldn’t they have?”

Dark lunges forward in a cloud of shadow. Dok yelps as darkness blacks out your camera entirely. Dapper is whistling frantically from the porch.

Anonymous asked: Red and Dok, get in the house, now!

Dok staggers back in the direction he thinks the house is, dragging Red completely, who can’t do much else but holler and shake his head a little too hard to be safe. He slams into someone’s chest and recoils, but hands are already grabbing him and pulling him back. Terror burns across his chest until his fingers are pressed to - hair? Oh! Dapper’s mustache.

“Dapper,” he croaks, gripping his shirt.

“We have to get out of here!” answers a clear British voice. “It’s this way.”

“Oh, nice try, idiot,” snarls Dok, driving his elbow into Dark’s ribs. The fake Dapper falls back, snarling, and transforms. Red shrieks in alarm as gold panther’s eyes burn into them from the shadows - and then Dark is tearing forward, and the teeth of the panther latch into Red’s hoodie and yank.

“Red!” screams Dok in a blackness so deep he can do nothing but stumble forward as he feels his oldest brother tugged away from him. Red screams so hard his throat stings, completely paralyzed by everything happening all at once.

A body slams into both Dark and Red. For a moment, Dapper’s golden knife glints in the light of his own silver irises.

“Get the hell away from my brother!”

Dark lunges at Dapper and bites.

pine-storm-season asked: I know, Blue. I'm sorry. You're trying your hardest, and thank you for that. And it's okay to get fed up with them, and to need a break. You're human. No one should expect you to care for them every minute of every day. This sucks, I know. You're doing incredibly well in an awful situation, but you shouldn't have to be doing this at all. It'll get better, Blue, I promise. I know that's hard to hold on to, and I'm sorry for everything that's happened to you. But it won't be this bad forever.

“No, you don’t have to…” He lets out a deep sigh, shaking his head. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to coddle me or anything like that, I’m just being a fucking mess as per usual. Oh. I mean… thank you, though. Thank you, really, I…”

He runs his hands through his short hair, his fingers loving at the places it’s begun to grow out again. He has an intense desire, almost suddenly, almost painfully, for his old hair back. But… then again, he can’t remember what that was like. He woke up one day in a bathtub, his hair dyed blue, Anti’s fingers against his scalp. There were strangers downstairs and a twin at his side and he was told to look after them. That’s all there ever was. The truth is, he remembers less than anyone of the person he used to be before this all started. He has no glimpses of past lovers, no connections to old friends still searching for him, no random memories to which he can travel for a few minutes of peace, and what time has he had to remember and explore the person he was and will be without Anti hanging over his throat? He’s their caretaker. That’s all.

“And not even a good one,” he mutters, letting his white hair go. “Not even a good one.”

A sharp scream makes him jolt up straight. For a second, there is a flash in his eyes like he might know magic once more - but it’s just the vitriol that lights up in him when he hears his twin cry out.

“Red!”

Anonymous asked: Blue there's something of a ruckus going on out back. With the emotional and physical state you and Trick are in, I don't know the best way to help out or if it's worth putting you two at risk as well. We don't really have a guage on the situation. I thought dap might explain but he just took off

“Fuck! I love that little shit, but he’s gotten way too used to having to clean up everybody’s messes all on his own. Trick, wait!”

Trick is on his feet, staggering towards the stairs. Blue grabs his arm, pulling him to his chest. “You need to sit down!”

“If that thing takes him away I’ll never get a chance to make this right!”

“We’ll go, but carefully!”

“No, I’ll go. You can barely get up the stairs on your own. Stay here, Blue!”

“Hey!”

Trick yanks away from his siblings and races up the stairs, panting and pale, leaving Blue limping after him.

“Where’s my fucking cane?” he hisses, staring in despair at the mountain of the stairs. “You gotta be joking.”

pine-storm-season asked: Trick, Trick, do you have your gun? Your brothers are in danger outside

Trick does have his gun. He always knows where it is. Always, always. Dok’s silver handgun fits venomously against his palm. He pushes outside - nothing but darkness.

The world has gone cold and silent. He stands in the doorway, pupils blown by the shadow, heart thumping in his chest. You can see his back illuminated. His front disappears into darkness.

He can’t see a goddamn thing.

Until Anti’s fire goes up in a blaze of white light, and a huge black dog races towards the jungle cat dragging a struggling figure back towards the trees, a howl of joy and adrenaline and anger all at once tearing from its fiery throat.

bupine asked: dark, you you earlier that we should bring the boys to you. how can we trust you when you're hurting them? i believe there's no way you can be worse than anti, although maybe i shouldn't speak too soon, but you need to stop this, please. don't hurt them.

“Don’t tell them anything!” Dapper says - or you think so. It is difficult to tell with half his arm mangled in the mouth of the panther. “They’re always learning and they’ll use it against every - ”

He cuts himself off as the teeth dig deeper into his wrist, tearing sinew. He throws his head back, eyes rolling from the pain, but not for a second does he stop struggling.

And then Anti is there.

“I’ll show you worse,” laughs his voice from every side, the dog crashing into Dark and biting its yellowed teeth. “You clever old gobshite, going for my strongest. I’ll tear your pretty white throat open for that, hahaha. Come on, get a better form out and let’s fight like the mangled excuses for living beings that we are.”

Anti shifts back into Jack’s form, his eyes blazing with color, his throat sopping blood, a huge white smile on his fanged teeth. From the porch, the bang of a gun, and Dark’s shadowed form falls back, dissipating into a heavy, buzzing smoke.

“Dance with me!” shrieks Anti, and he leaps forward, burning with fire and thorn. Whether or not Dark remembers, here is one truth - Anti has learned new tricks since last he saw them.

bupine asked: dapper, get back. are you alright? stay away from dark, get with your brothers to safety. let anti handle it.

“Dap!” Dok wraps his arms around him. Dapper gives a heaving gulp of air in lieu of a scream, struggling. It isn’t Dok’s job to save him. It’s Dapper’s to save them. He can reverse this if he just - if he just -

The pain stabs through him, disorienting any plans for time travel. Dok pulls him back towards the house as Trick grabs at Red, both of them moving towards the porch and hunkering down together, holding each other.

“I don’t want Anti to die,” confesses Dapper. “Especially not to leave us with the Darkness!”

“Stop trying to use your wrist!” cries Dok. “I need to clean this up! Anyway, it looks like he’s burning them down to ash.”

“He’s going to set the forest on fire,” fears Trick.

“They’re learning things about us! If they had really wanted to take one of us, they could have, I’m sure of it! They wouldn’t have come alone - they’re hiding their allies while they learn about all of us!”

“Stop goddamn signing, Dapper, I’m not joking! You’re losing blood! Can we just get inside the house?”

pine-storm-season asked: He's not going to die here, Dapper. Dark won't kill him.

“I don’t trust Dark with anything, anything, anything - ”

Dok pins his arm down against the kitchen table, trying to see the wound through the rapid blood flow. Trick sets an unresponsive Red down on the couch, pulling his brother’s hood up over his eyes before turning back to Dok.

Dok looks at him, putting all else aside for the moment. “I need - ”

“To stem the bloodflow before you can stitch it. I’ll get you a towel and try to find something for the pain.”

Outside, the foliage thickens as plants burst up from the ground, trapping a shadowy figure beneath bluebell and redwood, though it won’t last long.

pine-storm-season asked: Anti's said that Dark won't kill him. They know each other. He's not going to die here and leave you to them, okay? It's okay. You're in the house, you're safe.

“Safe from Dark,” moans Dapper, squirming. “But he has pets of his own.”

“I’ve got you. Just try to stay calm,” says Dok. “I’ll sedate you if I have to, wild man, don’t doubt me.”

“I don’t like them.”

“Dapper, we are all so, so aware of that fact. Acutely aware. Now hush. Doesn’t this hurt?”

It does. But it’s just pain, and Dapper’s had worse. He looks around at the others, checking their bodies for wounds even as his head swims.

bupine asked: dapper, you should all get inside. anti will be fine - he's survived everything up til now, and unfortunately, i doubt this old acquaintance of his will be the one to kill him. i'll be greatly surprised if so. but you guys need to be safe, because while anti can fight him, you can't. get dapper fixed up, doc, can you? everyone else, stay inside and wait for anti to come back.

Dok slams the door shut behind them and locks it - for all your reassurances, he can’t help but wish Dark would just kill Anti, or maybe that they’d both kill each other, like digging your teeth deep into something poisonous. But Dapper seems a little convinced, his eyes roaming the messages, and he goes stiff against the kitchen table, his eyes sliding shut as Dok takes a towel from Trick and applies agonizing pressure to his wrist.

“He can’t lose his hand,” says Trick quietly. “He kind of needs that.”

“You think I am not aware of this? Get me water.”

They always tell patients it’s to make sure they stay hydrated, but it’s mostly psychological - this will help! You’re doing something to stay alive! Good work! Focus on that! Trick knows the drill.

pine-storm-season asked: Everyone's safe for the moment, right? All five of you in the house?

Blue slams open the door to the basement, panting hard, and shoots a glare around at his brothers, though the venom dies in his eyes within seconds and his worry makes him gentle again. He swoops forward on shaking legs to kneel at his twin’s side, staring up at Red’s scrunched-up face.

“Did he scare you again, love?”

Red doesn’t answer, gripping his hood over his eyes. Blue gets up to dim the lights and find blankets.

“We’re okay, we’re okay,” he chants in a loving rhythm. “Here we are, we’re alright. Fuck’s sake.”

He looks out the window, but either the fight has gone quiet or Dark and Anti are too deep in the woods for him to see anything. The birds have begun chirping again, unsure as they peep back out into the open.

bupine asked: trick, are you ok? talk to us if you need to, i understand this is a lot to handle.

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” he says quickly.

He is good in a crisis, truly. It’s part of the reason he and Dok have always gotten along - trauma and all.

“Just need to help Dap and Red and make sure Anti gets back okay. And he will. That thing doesn’t stand a chance against him. I’ve seen Anti wipe out police squads and gangs in one night. Especially when he’s protecting us.”

For a second, his hand swipes past Dok’s stomach, meeting that familiar old bullet wound in his belly. It’s almost subconscious. Like Dok’s skin is his own. Trick pauses for a moment, staring at the bruises in his brother’s neck. Bruises. He gripped him hard enough to leave bruises. And Dok was just quiet with him. Dok let him grab him.

“Just need to help Dap and Red and make sure Anti gets back okay, yeah,” mumbles Trick, bringing water to Dapper’s mouth. “Here I am, little man. Take a drink. You’ll feel better.”

pine-storm-season asked: Red, you okay? Okay-ish, anyway?

Red is well past the point of answering, stiff and silent on the couch, hiding from everything. Blue does not try to touch him. Red does not hum or rock or fidget. He just wants the buzzing in his head to stop. It’s so much at once that it’s painful. Nobody should be able to feel as much as intensely as he just did. He wants to be under his bed and alone and in the dark - but not dark too deep. Not dark too deep.

“I think he’ll just need a couple minutes,” says Blue. “He usually steadies out pretty fast unless he’s hurt or sick or something. He’ll just be a little brain-dead. I mean – just tired, mentally, you know?”

Red reaches out without opening his eyes to put his hand on Blue’s shoulder. Blue lets him massage at the fabric of his shirt in silence, unmoving beneath his brother’s palm.

Anonymous asked: Dok, what I'm about to say doesn't excuse Trick from what he did to you, this isn't meant to be eye-for-an-eye bullshit or an apology on his behalf (only he can give you that) but you know you've done the same to him months and months ago, because whoever you were seeing wasn't your brother in your eyes. You two have changed drastically but have always stuck by each other and communicated to resolve things. Maybe words aren't as helpful as they once were, but silence and violence won't help

“Okay, you know what, what the hell?” Dok bursts out, turning away from Dapper’s bloodied arm for a second to stare at you in bewilderment. “Silence and violence? I have not for a single second been violent with him today. I walked away from a brother who had just physically attacked me so that I could calm the fuck down and not start sobbing all over him, and you think I did something wrong? Should I have stayed there and kissed it all better? What the fuck?”

“Dok, you have to concentrate,” Trick pants, wiping blood from Dapper’s wrist. “Please?”

“I have attacked him before and I’ve attacked myself too,” cries Dok. “You’re the only one here who’s still holding old grudges, camera. Trick and I moved past that. And goddamn, I’ll move past this too, but I did what was best for all of us by not yelling at him or excusing his behavior or telling him it’s okay, because it isn’t okay! It isn’t okay! None of this is okay, it’s not - ”

“Dok!” cries Blue.

“Can I have five goddamn minutes to step away from him after he fucking throttled me for not being obedient to Anti before you expect me to be telling him he’s perfect? Fuck! I don’t care if he’s changed. He made a goddamn choice and I’m allowed to believe that was wrong! He fucking hurt me! Just like Anti does, just like we’ve always comforted each other through! I used to believe Trick was the only thing in the world that would never mean to hurt me. That’s so fucking unfair to act like I’m the one in the wrong here!”

Trick gives a dry sob, bent over Dapper’s arm, but he doesn’t protest. He doesn’t want you to defend him either. He shouldn’t have done what he did and it’s alright for Doktor to step away from him when he’s being violent with him. Dok responded as appropriately as he could have - and they were genuinely only separate for about ten minutes before Dark attacked, so he doesn’t really know what you mean.

Anonymous asked: Dok I sincerely didn't mean that as an accusation. You aren't wrong for feeling your feelings. All I meant is you guys should talk things out but I'm timing my words poorly and not giving you guys time to process since so much has been happening. My mind is on worst-case-scenario mode and I'm sorry if I'm trying to solve things before I even know what the damage is. I'm sorry for over-stepping

“Some of you are young,” says Dok, his voice shaking. “I don’t want you to think that someone hurting you isn’t a big deal. In most circumstances… I wouldn’t tell you to let that person back into your life. And it’s never your responsibility to make sure other people are making up with each other - I don’t want you to carry the burden of other people’s relationships. Be careful with what you tell people to do just because you want things to go back to normal. Normal isn’t always healthy.”

“I’m worried shit is torn in here, Dok,” says Trick lowly, trying to be careful with Dapper’s arm even as he pushes at the wound. “That was like a whole big cat in his arm.”

“On the contrary, I would expect wounds from a big cat to be far worse,” answers Dok tersely, re-focusing. “Wild it may sound, but Dark was gentle with him.”

Anonymous asked: Whether Dark was being gentle or not, you can fix Dapper up, right? Or does he need to be added to the waiting list for the hospital in four days?

Dok laughs weakly. “Waiting list for the hospital… ah. No, no, it’s alright, I believe. I may not be able to do much, but I can still stitch, disinfect, and bandage as well as any real doctor.”

Trick looks up, blinking. “You are a real doctor.”

Dok is bent low over Dapper’s arm, holding it carefully in place.

“We’ll just have to keep it very clean,” he says after a moment.

pine-storm-season asked: Trick, is everything going okay? Dok knows what he's doing, I'm sure, but is Dapper okay?

“How are you holding up, buddy?” asks Trick, gripping Dapper’s shoulder. He can see the adrenaline fading off his little brother, his eyes getting glassy. Blood soaks into Trick’s socks.

Dapper holds onto his sleeve, blinking slowly.

“Dok, let’s lie him down.”

“On the carpet, then.”

They take him carefully towards Blue and Red. Dapper doesn’t protest when they put him down on the ground, his eyes rolling dazedly back.

“It’s quite a lot of blood.”

“He’ll be alright.”

Trick squeezes Dapper’s good hand. “Just hang in there, tough guy. You can sleep if you need to, it’s okay. Dok’s got you.”

bupine asked: anti, you ok out there?

“They’ll send PEOPLE to the house next, you mark my fucking WORDS.”

Everyone jolts - exception Dapper - as Anti glitches back into the house shouting as loud as he can. And as loud as he can is pretty damn loud.

“What are you going on about?” snaps Dok, hovering over Dapper’s body as Anti leaps through the kitchen towards them, his whole body shivering with computer-error colors.

“Dark!” he yells, clapping his hands together, his hair shifting rapidly between different shades of green and brown. “That was just the pre-game show! Aren’t they clever? Aren’t they FIERCE?”

Blue rolls his eyes, standing up to cover Red’s ears with his hands.

“They’ll send people here?” asks Trick. “I thought you said they wouldn’t come near the house, Anti.”

“No, they won’t, but they have soldiers of their own, and now they have an idea of what’s going on in this house, because SOMEONE had to go looking for his little boyfriend, didn’t he?”

Blue hugs Red to his chest, scared Anti will come over and punish him for it.

“Well, it doesn’t matter now,” babbles Anti, bouncing on his feet and whirling around, flipping his knife in his hand. “Had to happen, had to happen. If it wasn’t Red, it would have been one of the rest of you.”

“Anti, you’re bleeding,” says Trick.

“What’s blood to me?” hollers Anti, throwing his knife straight up, where it impales in the ceiling and stays. He laughs, rocking back on his heels. “What’s blood at all? Nothing ever kills me, nothing ever makes me die. All part of the game, my darling, and finally there’s someone worth playing with. Ah! I’m not watching the cameras! Be quiet and don’t go in the forest again, you little morons, unless you want to get stolen away, away, away!”

He vanishes in a flash of blinding color, glitching back to his room.

Dok, Trick, Red, and Blue look around at each other, eyes wide.

Anonymous asked: Wait, Anti, do you know if people they send will be able to come into the house? I want to know how alert they need to be to stay safe.

“Why not?” asks Anti. “Only spirits and humans like Jameson are bound by spirit rules. Though, I must tell you, it is never clever to enter a place where a spirit lives without permission. You ever seen that movie Spirited Away? Shit is fucked, man. But anyway, I’m not quite a spirit, am I? Not quite anything. Thank you, creator, for having absolutely no clear ideas in mind when you created me. Now I’m bound to so little, so little. Species have rules they have to follow - fairies fear iron, changelings choke on rowan, spirits respect each other’s spaces, magicians grow weary, demons run from priests, tricksters fool themselves, gods are forgotten, mortal things age and choke and rot away. Me, I’m a glitch in the system. The N/A, does not apply, none of the above option. Fuck you, Jack.”

Glitches buzz down his body. He shifts between Jack’s form and Trick’s, surrounded by a circle of laptops.

“Now lemme alone! I got work to do.”

Anonymous asked: Blue, everything has been so one-thing-after-the-other these days and you've been so sick through it all... I feel like we haven't been able to talk with you in a while. And don't you dare brush yourself of as not as important as the others because I want you to know that despite everything going on, you still are.

“Oh,” says Blue, smiling weakly at you as he sits back down beside Red on the couch. “That’s nice, thanks. It’s not your fault I’ve been tired so much.”

“Speaking of which,” says Trick, looking up at his sibling as Blue leans against Red, the two of them resting together.

“Yeah, it might just be nap time,” sighs Dok, swiping away the last of the blood from Dapper’s arm.

“Is he alright?” asks Blue.

“I think he’ll be fine. Just got to change his bandages a couple times a day and make sure the wound stays clean. He’s always been a fast healer.”

.

They go quiet after that. Red and Dapper sleep. Trick goes back to the kitchen and cooks - again. The fridge is full of tupperware. The counters are lined with bread and desserts. He still feels scared that they’ll be hungry again soon.

It’s quiet.

No, wait -

How good are your ears?

Turn up the volume. Listen close. On the other side of Dapper’s bed, where Dok is sitting, turned away from you, watching over his patients.

“Guess our first plan isn’t going to work,” whispers Blue.

“None of this is working,” whispers back Dok. “We just need to run, Blue.”

“How can we run from a thing like him?” Exhaustion in his voice. An ache in his voice. “He’ll always find us again.

“Well, how the hell do we killa thing like that?”

No answer from Blue. No answer from anyone.

“Get some rest, Blue. I’m sorry I can’t do more.”

“Me too,” answers Blue quietly. “Me too, Dok. But it’s nobody’s fault. We’ll get through this.”

“Will we?”

No answer. No answer.

“We’ll talk more tomorrow. You need a rest too.”

“Alright. Okay.”

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

On the bed, Dapper is not entirely unconscious.

.

There’s a knock on the door of the bedroom in the basement.

Dok looks up, letting Noodle slip off his lap to go greet the newcomer. “Yeah?” he calls.

Trick opens the door, an uncertain smile on his face. His cat yowls and winds around his legs, licking at his calf and purring like a little motorboat.

“Oh. Hi,” says Dok.

“Hi,” answers Trick. His eyes are slightly red. He steps into the room with a plate full of food. “I, um. I made bratwurst.”

Dok blinks. “Bratwurst?”

“Yeah. And brought you… a beer? And some chocolate cake with strawberry. Which was as close as I could get to, um. Black Forest Gateau.”

A lingering anxiety can’t stop the slow smile that builds across Dok’s face. “Cause I’m German?” he teases.

“Cause you’re German,” Trick teases back quietly, looking down at the floor. “But you don’t have to - ”

“I do,” says Dok, already anticipating what he’ll say. “I’d like to.”

“Do you want me to leave it here or can I eat with you?”

“You can eat with me, my brother.”

Trick sits down on the bed beside him and hands him a fork, setting the beer down on the table. Noodle leaps up behind them both and begins shoving his head into both of their backs, pawing for a bit of bratwurst.

“Should we talk about what happened?” whispers Trick.

“I don’t know,” whispers back Dok. “It wasn’t real, was it?”

Trick bows his head over the bratwurst and cake like it’s a funeral reception meal, picking at his sausage.

Anonymous asked: Apologies, Dok, but do you mind explaining what you mean by that? I don't understand.

“Mmh.” Dok rubs at his face. Maybe he should let the cameras turn away for a few, but ever since Norway he’s felt nervous without you nearby, like something will happen and he won’t find out in time to help. “It just doesn’t feel like it could have really happened. It was too - it was too horrible to have really happened.”

“Es tut mir leid, Deutsch, I’m sorry.”

Trick means it. Dok seems to melt, resting his head against his brother’s shoulder, letting the two of them sit quiet for a moment, close. Noodle seems pleased, sitting between their thighs and purring, the only noise in the quiet.

“Don’t do that to me again, Trick,” pleads Dok. “You are killing me.”

Trick hides against his hair, hugging him to his shoulder.

Anonymous asked: Do you both want a distraction, maybe? We could probably think of something to talk to you about.

Trick and Dok grin, their heads press close together. Sharing a plate and a cat, their bodies side-by-side, they do look like twins. If Dok didn’t have glasses and Trick didn’t have that lawn on his head, you might not be able to tell them apart - though I expect there are intimacies of the both of them you have come to recognize. Burn scars on the back of a pale hand. An uprightness to Dok’s spine. Ice or skylines in respective blue eyes.

“Sure, distract us,” chuckles Dok, putting a piece of cake in his mouth, and it’s rich and soft and sweet.

Anonymous asked: Hmmm... I could tell you a funny thing one of my chickens did when she was a baby? We had a little cardboard tunnel for her and the other chickens, and she was walking along the top of it very elegantly, and she stretched out a wing, and she turned to look at some parsley we had hung nearby, and she kept walking... and then she walked right off the edge of the tunnel like a goddamn cartoon character. (She was completely fine though, just very indignant that she'd fallen.)

“Hahaha. Chickens are dumb, is funny.”

“That sounds like Mr. Pot Noodle,” says Trick, kissing his cat’s head once, twice. “But when he falls off things he just cries like a baby for Papa to come scoop him up, don’t you? Don’t you, baby?”

Dok rolls his eyes at his brother’s coddling, amused.

“Trick!” echoes a voice through the floorboards. “Trickshot?”

Dok’s growing relief vanishes instantly. He shrinks against the headboard of the bed, eyes wide, and even Trick looks worried, setting Noodle down.

“Anti, I’m down here,” he calls back evenly. “I’m okay, what’s wrong?”

Footsteps thump down the stairs. Dok shakes his head rapidly, reaching out to grab Trick’s fingers.

“What’s wrong?”

Dok just shakes his head, mouth gone thin and pale, eyes closed.

Anonymous asked: Anti, is it Dapper? That's the only reason I can think of for you needing Dok.

“I said Trickshot! Pay attention, damn!”

Anti pushes open the door to the guest room. His form, for once, is mostly stable, an older version of his creator with his hair tied back and glasses on.

“Fine, you’re forgiven. What, can a creature not want to see his little brother? Trick, come on, let’s go watch that movie like we were talking about. I mentioned Spirited Away and now I wanna see that big black monster go apeshit and eat a bunch of frogs.”

Trick laughs nervously, glancing back at Dok, who stares up at Anti with wide eyes.

“What?” Anti mocks him, smiling wide. “You wanna come upstairs too, Arzt? You wanna go to your room and hang out with me?”

Dok shakes his head quickly, hugging Noodle against his chest.

Anonymous asked: Dok, you okay, bud? Do you want to go be with Red and Blue, if Trick goes with Anti to watch that?

“Don’t go,” croaks Dok. “Come on, stay with me.”

Doesn’t Trick know he feels farther away from him everyday?

“Dok, I - we’re just going to watch a movie, man. I… I just - we’re just going to watch a movie.”

Doesn’t Dok know he doesn’t have a choice?

Dok lets go of his fingers and turns away. Trick turns back to Anti, who smiles sweetly and takes him by the hand, jumping back as Noodle darts forward to try and follow Trick. Dok sees Trick looking back at him for a moment more before Anti slams the door on Noodle and takes his brother away.

Dok stares down at his sausage and cake. He isn’t all that hungry anymore.

Anonymous asked: I think Trick will come back when they've finished the movie, okay? Do you want to go be with Red and Blue, or stay here and talk to us, or just be alone for a bit?

Dok sighs and picks up his plate, wandering upstairs. Red and Blue, at least, are having some fun time together, playing Mario Kart on the couch and laughing their asses off.

He finds his littlest brother in the bedroom that’s meant to be Red and Trick’s, still napping. Gently, Dok sets his plate down and wakes Dapper.

“Need to clean up your bandages,” he murmurs. “Fresher we keep them, the better.”

Dapper smiles wearily up at him and lets him work.

“How’s the pain?”

“Not as bad as yours, I’ll warrant,” he answers.

“How dramatic you are,” chuckles Dok, brushing a curl of brown hair from his eyes, but Dapper doesn’t smile.

“This is what he does,” he signs slowly, his fingers and hand and wrist all aching.

“What is? Who?”

“Anti. He shows you a false version of himself, first - someone loving and affectionate, if complicated and bad tempered. And you can fall for him. You can love him, really. And then, once you’re in deep already, he starts to show you the awful parts of himself. Slow. One at a time. He normalizes everything, bit by bit. Uses hypnosis when he has to. But more than anything else, it’s just that love of him. Every day you convince yourself, more and more strongly - ‘he’s not really as bad as he acts sometimes. Just a bad temper. Remember how kind he was to me the other day?’ And you get sucked down deeper and deeper. Until you can let him use your hands to murder innocent people, and it won’t even make you hate him.”

Dok can’t meet his eyes. Can barely watch his hands. Slow tears drip down his face.

He thinks maybe Dapper is crying too. He isn’t sure he’s ever seen Dapper cry.

“Is that what happened to you?” asks Dok.

“It’s happening to Trick.”

“I know that,” he whispers. “So tell me how you escaped it.”

“Oh, love,” says Dapper, with a tenderness like a hearth in winter. “Oh, love. I am still stuck, most of the time. But I am trying to hope again. And that, I suppose, is where freedom begins.”

Dok wraps his injured wrist in clean, white bandages, soft linen surrounding the torn arm of his youngest brother. He wants to cry. He wants to surrender.

But he won’t.

He can’t do everything he wants to right now. Can’t save everyone. Can’t heal everyone. Can’t take everyone to safety and show them how much he loves them and how little they need someone like Anti.

But he can wrap Jameson’s wrist up, so he does.

In the clean bandages, his hope, for the moment, sustains itself.

Anonymous asked: Yeah. This is probably one of the hardest things that you all will have to do, getting free of him. But it'll happen, yeah? I believe in you guys. You're doing incredibly well handling all this, and I believe in you.

“Sausage?” asks Dapper.

A smile twitches on Dok’s mouth. “Yeah. Help me eat it?”

He hands Dapper Trick’s fork and his little brother digs in earnestly, splitting the pair of bratwursts with Dok. There are more in the kitchen if Trick comes back, so Dok doesn’t count it as a betrayal. Besides, nobody loves meat better than Dap. He feels he’s owed it after the day he’s had.

In reparation for yelling at Dapper the other day for getting drunk, Dok gets him a beer and they drink together on the bed, tired and worn, but holding together. Dok eats the last of the chocolate cake on his own, focusing on the warmth of the cat on his lap and the close-by younger brother.

“But you don’t know how to get free?” asks Dapper, returning without preamble to the previous conversation.

Dok blinks, looking up at him.

“You want to kill him?”

“Fuck,” hisses Dok, pushing you slightly away. “Dap, be careful, okay? I - I just want to get away from him. And stay away from him forever. And I think maybe the only way to do that is… is… yeah. Yeah.”

The clock on the wall ticks. JJ stares at him, his deep blue eyes rimmed in long, black eyelashes.

“If you did know how to kill him,” he signs slowly. “You would.”

Dok doesn’t know how to answer. He sticks the last bite of cake in his mouth.

“But you don’t know how. You don’t know how.”

“You were listening earlier,” Dok accuses. “When Blue and I were talking.”

Dapper barely seems to register the words.

“You don’t know,” he taps distantly, eyes faraway as he thinks. “You don’t know how.”

“Do you?”

Dapper shakes his head. “No… no.”

Dok deflates again, turning his head away. “Then there’s no point in talking about it, my friend. Let’s not give the master a reason to hit us again tonight.”

Dapper watches him take the plate to the kitchen, leaving him alone in the room. He stares at the floor, lost in thought.

No, he doesn’t know how. He’s seen his brother survive most everything - fire, bullets, knives, being turned into an animal, prolonged starvation, self-harm, electricity, iron and running water, magicians, Jackie and Marvin. No. He doesn’t know.

Could he find out?

“Can I sleep in here with you tonight?” asks a small voice at his door.

Dok has come back. Trick has not. Dapper’s heart hurts with pity for him.

“Yes, of course.”

Dok crawls into bed beside him. Their bodies lock together. Dok sleeps.

Dapper thinks long and hard, but eventually the warm purring of a kitten and the nearness of a safe brother’s body lulls him into deep and unanswering sleep.