#but sometimes I too wanna draw pink haired anime boi | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thewarriorspecial · 1 year

Text

Greenhill High (CH3 - First Class)

*Archive Edition* Previously only linked to AO3, full work now available under the cut.

Read on AO3

Rating: Teen | Guy Gardner/Kyle Rayner, Hal Jordan, John Stewart, Dinah Lance, Oliver Queen, Wally West, Katma Tui

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence

A little something special for @hobicat!

Kyle steps up to the challenge of teaching his very first class. He gets caught ogling Guy from afar and he gets pulled deeper into the plots afoot at his new job.

Kyle takes a deep breath to steady himself and heads into his new classroom. Two steps in he realizes.

He doesn’t have his bag.

He doesn’t even have pencils.

He’s not ready.

He feels like he’s in one of those Naked In Math Class dreams as he crosses the front of the room. Twenty-five teenagers, armed to the teeth with finely honed trolling skills eye him up like a pack of piranhas.

“Hey everyone!” He says awkwardly, standing in the front of the classroom like a lump.

No one moves. No one blinks.

“So,” Kyle says, clearing his suddenly dry throat, “I’m Mr. Rayner. I’ll, uh, write that on the board,” he stammers, looking for chalk and finding a black marker. “Right. Whiteboard. Okay.”

“No, wait!” One of the students cries out as Kyle gets the first few letters out.

Kyle looks down at the Sharpie in his hand, “Ah, fuck! I mean shit! Oh boy.” He frantically rubs at the growing black smear with the heel of his hand. Several students burst out laughing.

The pink-haired girl appears next to him with spray-cleaner and paper towels. “Here,” she says gently, “Just don’t use that spot. It has to be re-waxed.”

“Ohmigodthankyou,” Kyle whispers.

The young girl returns to her seat.

Kyle slowly turns to face the class. The students that were laughing have covered their mouths. Some have looked away. They all appear to be attempting to compose themselves. Kyle appreciates their restraint.

“Man,” Kyle says, leaning on the desk, “I was gonna come in here and just jump in and like wow you guys. Like, I was gonna start with art philosophy and criticism and how not feeling it is also a valid experience.” He hangs his head and laughs at himself. “Hopefully I got my damage out of the way for the day. Alright!” Kyle walks to the front of the desk and leans back on it, shaking his shoulders out and taking a more relaxed pose. “Let’s do the normal thing and just, like, tell me your name and why you picked Art for your elective. I’m Kyle,” he says, pointing at himself, “I went to art school because I love to paint and I picked this class because I like paying my bills on time. Let’s start here with my hero,” he points to the pink-haired girl, “and we’ll work our way around, yeah?”

“So, everybody knows I’m Sarah!” The pink-haired girl says excitedly to the whole class. Everyone responds warmly with smiles and a playful drone of ‘Hi Sarah’. “So, I draw all the time. I love pencil the most and I love trees and birds but like, I love anime too, though! Oh and I do photography sometimes! I’m just all about it, yeah.”

“That’s awesome, Sarah. I’m really excited to have you. Go ahead,” Kyle says and points to the blonde girl next to her.

“I’m Heather,” the petite, pale girl with freckles says, tucking one side of her perfectly smooth long bob behind her ear without looking up. “Um, Sarah really likes my flowers. Um, I paint but like it’s just the cheap dollar store stuff like, I’m not—“

“You are!” Sarah insists.

“I am not!”

“You so are!”

“Ok, like I’m a painter, I guess. So yeah I wanna be like, better,” Heather finishes, still looking down but smiling.

“That’s great, Heather. You know I love painting, too. We’re gonna have fun. Alright, next?”

The girl next to Heather is in complete contrast. Heather is wearing pastel clothes in fitted, classic cuts with chunky, white-rimmed sunglasses resting on top of her platinum blonde hair. She sits perfectly straight, hands in her lap and ankles crossed.

The next girl sits slid halfway down her chair with one elbow slung across the back. All of the tears in her black clothes are held together with rows of safety pins. Dozens of patches adorn her jeans and hoodie. Her dark hair is in elaborate patterns of braids with some of them dyed a deep red. When she smiles, her canines are pronounced and sharp. “Everybody just calls me Ray cuz they can’t spell my name. Normally, I’m in music or with my band doing drums however,” she slides out from the table, showing off the calf-high cast full of drawings and signatures, “I broke my foot doing a really cool jump on my skateboard soooo, I’m taking a little break.”

“That’s awesome! You’re in a band?” Kyle asks.

“Yup. Thrash. Speed metal. That kinda thing.”

“She’s literally the best,” says Sarah.

“Soy la mera mera,” Ray laughs, pointing both of her thumbs at herself.

“Muy bueno! We’ll make sure to incorporate music into our lessons. Okay, next?” Kyle continues around the room getting answers that mostly fit the typical art lover molds. A few more students are trying something new.

The round-robin introductions arrive at a tall, lanky boy with strawberry blonde hair sequestered in the back corner with an empty chair between himself and the next student on either side of the table. Kyle can’t see the boy’s face because he’s holding a large ice pack over his eye.

“I’m Dave. This is the only elective that still had seats, so,” he says quietly with a shrug.

“That’s cool, man. You don’t have to be good at art to appreciate and you don’t even have to like art to do well in my class,” Kyle says and that makes Dave perk up. “All I ask is that you use what I teach you to tell me why you think something sucks and that’s good enough for me.”

“I could tell you that your favorite painting sucks and you’d still pass me?” David asks.

“You can tell me my paintings suck. As long as you show me you understand the concepts I’m teaching you can tell me: Hey, Mr. Rayner, you’re paintings are very colorful and realistic but they don’t say anything. I don’t feel anything when I look at them. And then use what I taught you to explain why and, yeah, you can tell me my paintings suck and get an A.”

“Oh. Cool.”

Kyle smiles to himself. He couldn’t have asked for a more interesting group of students. His head is already buzzing with new directions he wants to take the next days’ lessons.

He finishes letting the students introduce themselves, and with the little bit of time he has leftover he lets them vote on which medium they want to start learning with. Paint wins out by a huge margin. He decides they’ll start monochrome, looking at line and value. He already has several famous paintings in mind to discuss at the end.

——

Kyle finds himself unoccupied during his break period. Without any papers to grade and his lesson plan mapped out, he finds himself lamenting this whole adjunct/part-time thing. He really, really regrets forgetting his bag because now he has nothing to draw with.

Kyle leans back in his desk chair and resumes trying to balance a pencil on his forehead. How did he keep himself busy back in high school? He can’t even remember a time when he didn’t draw every minute he was awake.

He remembers going to the movies and haunting local diners late into the evening. He has fond memories of himself and his friends packing into the arcade. He remembers cutthroat Dance Dance Revolution competitions. Anytime he wasn’t drawing he had a pack of friends to pass the time with. They shared earbuds and mixtapes. They laid on the ground and watched clouds go overhead.

It’s a gorgeous day outside and the windows of Kyle’s room give a beautiful view of the sky and part of the nearby houses. The stadium sale seat that surround the football field cut a sharp, metallic line just below the homes on the tallest hills.

The sharp screech of a whistle draws Kyle’s attention. Either gym class or one of the teams is out there. Kyle walks to the window wondering what the school’s colors even are.

A quick glance down and Kyle sees shiny helmets shimmering above maroon and silver football uniforms. He feels his cheeks flush as he can’t help but scan the field hopefully for that trademark flash of red hair.

Kyle spots the only person not in a football uniform and he hears the distinct timbre of Coach Gardner’s voice. He’s too far away to make out what he shouting even at the extreme volume.

Guy’s demonstrating some kind of running drill involving cones and turns and just entirely too many steps in Kyle’s opinion. Guy takes off sprinting in perfect form, big chest bouncing and back flexing under his tight, polo with every step.

Kyle’s hands grip the windowsill and his throat goes painfully dry.

When Guy stops and turns, the long, long line of his legs bunches and flexes. The fact that he’s got super-tight Underarmor covering every inch of skin from neck to ankle does nothing to hide his statuesque figure. When he finishes his demonstration, he lifts the hem of his shirt to wipe the sweat from his face.

Now Kyle really, really regrets forgetting his sketchbook.

“Do I really want to throw this job away to get tangled up with another teacher?” Kyle thinks. In his mind, he imagines cartoon devil and angel versions of himself perching on his shoulders and arguing about it.

“Look at him. He has abs. He has the things!” Devil Kyle sighs, gesturing at his hips.

“We have a job.” Kyle thinks.

“Look at him! Fuck this job,” says Devil Kyle. And he has a point.

Kyle turns to look at Angel Kyle who is adjusting himself uncomfortably under his robes.

“It’s been two years. We’re not Kardashians; we don’t have to be sloppy about it.”

“Really?!” Kyle thinks.

“I’m just saying, we’re all adults here. Coworkers have sex all the time. We weren’t planning on doing it at school,” says Angel Kyle, quite reasonably. After a pause he asks, just to clarify, “Were we?’ He almost sounds hopeful.

Kyle shakes his head to pull himself out of his daydream. There’s more unintelligible shouting and then he hears Guy laugh. It is a gorgeous, honest sound and Kyle feels himself sigh. He wants to press in close and fell that laugh rumble through his own body. He wants to reach his hands under that tight, sweaty shirt. He wants—

“I see you like the redheads.”

Kyle nearly jumps out of his skin. He sees Jordan standing not two feet away and wonders how long he’s been there.

Jordan raises the steaming mug he’s holding to his lips as he raises an eyebrow. He glances down at a small, tan bird with a red head sitting on the outside windowsill and then back up at Kyle. He smirks.

“Uh?” Kyle grunts. He looks at the little bird. It looks up and cheeps at him.

“House finch. Very pretty song.”

“Oh. You’re a birdwatcher.”

“I watch everything,” the English teacher says, bouncing the tea bag in his mug. “Which reminds me, there’s this little café some of the staff likes to visit. They have a projector and we watch bad movies. Very MST3000. Guy will be there.”

Jordan lifts the teabag out of the hot water, letting it drip for a moment. The he places it in his mouth, sucking the tea out of it. He winds the string around his finger. He licks the bead of warm liquid off of his top lip very slowly. He keeps his eyes locked on Kyle the whole time, looking immeasurably pleased with himself. “You should come.”

“Uh. Okay. Cool.” Kyle manages to squeeze the words out. He knows his eyes helplessly followed the path of Jordan’s tongue from one corner of his mouth to the other. He knows Jordan watched, unblinking.

Jordan tosses head, flinging his bangs out of hi face, “See you there.” He turns to stride elegantly out of the room. He makes it two steps before he slams his knee off of a table leg and hisses.

Before Kyle can ask if he’s okay he hears Jordan mutter, “Fucking kill myself,” as he stomps out of the room, licking spilled tea off of his wrist.

The little bird in the window sings its high, lilting song. It sounds like a schoolgirl’s giggle.

“What. The fuuuck?” Kyle whispers to himself.

——

Guy walks towards a 20 year old, dented Dodge Neon. Most people identify it because the driver’s side door is red and the rest of the vehicle is blue, but Guy wasn’t gifted with color vision. The thing’s got so much damage it looks like a trash can that’s been tossed in a rainstorm a hundred times.

“Ay, Oscar da Grouch,” Guy hollers, rapping his knuckles on Hal’s car window.

Hal is laid back in the front seat with his jacket over his face. The collection of fast food bags, paperback books, and spare clothing doesn’t help the comparison. “Go. Away.”

“Fine. Get your own snacks.”

“Wait,” Hal shouts, sitting up and pulling the jacket off of his head. He spies Fruit Roll Ups and Flaming Hot Cheetos in Guy’s hands. He can’t let Mr. Piggy abscond with the best snacks the gas station across the street can offer.

Hal pulls the door handle to its limit and kicks it several times to get it to creak open. After he gets out, he forces it shut with a groan and crunch. “Hey!” He shouts again.

Guy tosses a Fruit Roll Up over his shoulder, smacking Hal directly between the eyes.

“Uncivilized wretch.”

“Weird way’a sayin’ thank you,” Guy says over his shoulder. He slows down a little so Hal can catch up. They head towards their bench that sits near the school entrance.

Hal sits crosslegged on the bench, gathering the offered packages of snacks in his lap like a basket.

“You done bein’ mad at me now?”

“I accept your generous peace offering,” Hal says, looking at Guy sideways and through the curtain of his bangs. “I thought you enjoyed our jesting.”

“Well, Lancelot, the jesting used to come with a lot more kissing. Now it just feels like jousting.” Guy pushes his sunglasses onto his head and looks over at Hal.

“Oh,” Hal says softly. He turns to fully look at Guy for a long moment, immediately seeing the confused scrunch of his eyebrows and the sad, sideways pull on his lips. Hal’s heart still skips a little at Guy’s half-pout. It’s still cute. He asks, “Do you want me to stop?”

“Nah, I just…” Guy trails off, shoving a few Cheetos in his mouth as he thinks it over. “I just don’t know how to tell when you’re playin’ and when I’m really pissin’ you off anymore. I don’t wanna lose you,” he says, meeting Hal’s eyes again.

Hal looks away.

Guy puts his hand on Hal’s shoulder, “We’re cool, right?”

Hal takes a deep breath, swallows hard before he turns back. “We’re cool,” he says, mostly honest. He wants to be. He wants things to be like they were when they rode their bikes to the park and played D&D on the weekends. Before his car broke down and he noticed all the freckles on the back of Guy’s hands as he changed the serpentine belt. Before that goddamn French project that paired them up alone in the back of the library.

“You’re a tough nut to crack sometimes, Hal.”

“Je peux être en peu difficile,” Hal offers with a shrug and a lopsided grin.

“Tu pouvez être un peu belliqueux,” Guy’s thick American accent lopes heavily on the consonants, thumping and clumsy compared to Hal’s near perfect, nasal vowels. He pronounces the last word less like belliqueux and more like belle à cou but Hal holds back the vampire joke.

“Tout est jutse dans l’amour et la guerre,” Hal plays on the word Guy meant to pronounce instead. He offers a rare, warm smile as well.

“Alright, we have our little signal now. I can live with that.” Guy can’t help but smile back.

“Will you come to Radu’s this weekend?”

Guy pauses to think about his practice schedule, “Probably won’t be till like, six?”

“That’s perfect.”

“Alright man. Here,” Guy offers the rest of the Cheetos to Hal, remembering they’re his favorite. “See you Saturday.”

“Later.”

Hal’s glad they had this talk. He’s looking forward to his setting his plan in motion. He wants to see his best friend happy.

Even if his heart still aches a little.

A/N:

I'm new at Spanish and I haven't actually used French since college. Don't judge me! :'<

Also, sorry for the slow-burn I've accidentally created. So many ideas! So many!

#*myfic #guykyle #highschool au

0 notes

kujakumai · 3 years

Text

Happy Place

(AO3 Link)

"Aren't you Seto Kaiba?" asked the boy, no more than eight, with a gap between his front teeth and a KaibaLand t-shirt. "Why're you in line? Won't they just let you on the ride?"

"Cutting is against the rules." he said, as if that explained everything.

(Very short quick bit of fluff, 700 words. I have one weakness and it’s Seto Kaiba being nice to children.)

He was standing in line for the ride, on a bright, busy Saturday. He was wearing normal clothes, not an elaborate trench coat, maybe attempting for once to be lowkey. Sometimes you just wanted to visit your own theme park without drawing a crowd. Still, he'd been on TV too many times, leaving himself recognizable to the sharp-eyed observer. Mokuba standing next to him, signature bushy hair and all, removed any doubt.

"Are you Seto Kaiba?" asked the boy in line behind him, probably around eight years old, with a noticeable gap between his front teeth and a KaibaLand t-shirt.

"Yes." he answered, barely glancing down. Nothing in his face moved.

"Why're you in line, then? Won't they just let you on?"

"Cutting is against the rules." he said, as if that explained everything.

A young girl in front of him, with orange ribbons in her hair, let go of her moms hand to come see. "What's your favorite color?" she asked, eagerly.

"Purple."

"That's not true," said the first boy, an expert, his arms crossed. "It's blue, you're lying--"

"What's your favorite animal?" she asked.

"Tigers."

"That's not true either you big fat liar I know it's--"

"Oh! Oh!" said a third child, a boy in a baseball cap no more than five, crowding over. "I can make a really good tiger sound, d'you wanna hear?"

"Sure."

There was a minor commotion, people further down the line trying to see what was going on, parents chastising their kids and keeping them from running off. Security raised a few eyebrows, looked like they would intervene, and Mokuba silently waived them off with a smile and a gesture.

"RAAAAAAARGH!!!!!" The kid yelled, claws up.

"Impressive." Kaiba nodded curtly in approval.

A slightly older girl with pigtails and a tutu, holding some kind of sparkly plastic wand, shoved someone out of the way to get his attention. "You know Mr. Pegasus, right? Can you make him put a pink dragon card in the game?" She stomped her foot. "Because I really like dragons but my favorite color is pink and there's NO pink dragon in the game and it's not fair I want a pink one."

"Couldn't agree more. I will put my best people on it."

She put a hand on her hip. "My name is Chiyo, can you tell him it was from me? If you could name the dragon after me too, that would be really--"

The first girl, or maybe yet another one, jumped in, nearly hopping up and down. "I got this fuzzy new hairclip and it has dark magician girl on it can I put it on your hair?"

"I'll have to decline."

"How old are you?" asked a boy.

"Ten thousand." he deadpanned.

"You LIAR! He's probably only like twenty-five or something--"

"Mr. Kaiba d'you want to meet my brother?"

"If he's okay with it."

"Oh he's only two he doesn't understand anything, all he does it put stuff in his mouth, like yesterday when he chewed up my favorite doll's whole face and I was soooooo mad. Baby brothers are super annoying."

"Yeah, they can be." He got an elbow in the side from Mokuba, for that one.

They had reached the front of the line but no one around him was interested in the ride anymore. The attendant, a little confused, let the next handful of families go around them and get on.

He'd come to the amusement park that day specifically trying to avoid a crowd. Not all crowds were equal, though. Some crowds were decidedly better than others. Some you really didn't mind at all.

Seto Kaiba did not get to ride that particular coaster that day. He spent the next hour surrounded, hearing one kid rattle off interesting facts about beluga whales for some reason, another one asking intently why he puts belts on his shoes, a few questions about how to get better at duel monsters, at least one politely refused request to braid his hair, a rambling story about one child's possibly-fictional dog that didn't really go anywhere, and several questions about why he was so tall, all of which he listened to patiently, while wearing the tiniest smile.

#ygo #hashtag content #LOOK I wrote a fic and I even made a real formatted post and put it in the tags and everything #instead of hiding #truly i have grown

465 notes · View notes

bvccy · 3 years

Note

Hi!!! Hope you're doing great

Can I please have a mix between number 2 from the soft and 8 from the dark one

Thanks, lost of love ❤❤❤

Thank you so much, nonnie! I am so sorry this took so long, I meant to post yesterday but it wasn’t done. Also, the 8th dark prompt was requested just before you sent in this one, so that is filled separately here.

I tried to do the mix you asked for, and I took the liberty of writing this with Bucky (specifically 40s!BB), and I hope that it’s ok. It’s a bit of a more specific story, actually, that I’d wanted to write for a while. I also did a kind of first for me, because it involves Steve x reader as a backdrop 😂 Anyway.

Lots of love to you too, my dear! 💗💗💗

— PAIRING: soft!dark!Bucky x Reader • preserum!Steve x Reader — PROMPT: Asteria - gazing at one’s object of affection, from afar + Prassius - an impossible desire, and unclean love — LINKS: Masterlist • love stones prompt list — WORDCOUNT: 2.5k

It had taken long enough, and sometimes it seemed like it would never happen, but he finally found Steve a girlfriend — or rather, his girlfriend found him one. Dottie had exhausted several of her close friends and most acquaintances, but she knew how tired Bucky was of seeing his friend mope around, feeling like a third wheel, getting into trouble to pass the time. And honestly she liked Steve too, just not like that — but, wonder-worker that she was, Dottie found a girl that did.

She agreed to come on a double-date one night, and she and Stevie hit it right off. It was the first time Bucky met her too, and he didn't think much of the girl. Small, shy, not quite sickly-looking but not far from it, shoes a bit scuffed, clothes a bit too big for her and smelling of plain soap — in a word: perfect. She was perfect for his sickly, skinny friend who nobody else wanted, and by the looks of things, nobody had wanted her either because she seemed to have no idea what to do around a dance hall. As they were returning home that night, he even heard her confess to Steve that she had never been to one before.

They went out on two more dates, all four of them, within as many weeks. Bucky loved to dance, and Dottie too, but Steve and his girl weren't so fond of tripping over their feet and being laughed at. So they sat together at the table like a pair of broken toys, sharing an ice cream sundae, swinging shoulder-to-shoulder with the music when they liked the tune. Bucky waved at them when their eyes met, and they waved back and cheered at his dancefloor performance, but that happened less and less as they got caught up in each other. Steve would start to sketch things on the napkins while they chatted: the band, the sea of dancers, the fancy chandeliers, and eventually her.

"She said nobody's ever drawn her picture before," his friend said dreamily as they walked back, after they wished a good night to the girls. "Can you believe that?"

"Sure can…"

"She almost didn't let me do it. But she's so pretty, Buck."

"Mhm, nice girl."

"I mean yeah, she's no Dottie, but… I don't know, there's just somethin' I like so much about her… I guess her eyes, the way they look when she's smiling, or how her hair looks when the sun shines on it…"

"Get a load a' you," he grinned, wrapping his arm around Steve's shoulder in a playful grip that moved his friend's whole body. "One dame's sweet on you, and all of a sudden you're Romeo."

"At least I'm not a punk like you," Steve teased, slipping from his grasp.

"You know what I like best about her?"

"What?" he asked, with a hint of jealousy.

But Bucky smirked without a care. "How she keeps you out of trouble."

It had, indeed, been a while since Steve got in an alley brawl, and by their fifth date his last few bruises healed. He'd almost gotten into one by a cotton candy stand at Coney Island, but his girl was there to pull him back.

"Stevie, leave him alone…"

"You heard what he said?!"

"Who cares," she sighed, clinging to his arm and throwing the other man a hateful look. "Come on, didn't you want to win me that stuffed teddy bear?"

"Better listen to your girl, pal."

"Oh go find a sty to wallow in," she hissed.

"I ought'a smack some manners into you, you two-bit broad!"

"I'd worry about my own manners if I were you, buddy." Bucky slipped between them, coming from behind, standing now close enough to punch the guy if things got heated. But, seeing himself outnumbered, the other man cursed them and left. Just then, Dottie finally caught up.

"What's going on?" she asked, a little out of breath.

Bucky turned around, and was met by the heart-melting sight of Steve and his girl holding each other, her hands on his cheeks as she quietly chastised him, but loving enough that it made him smile and giggle. She closed it with a kiss to his cheek that made the boy blush, and a kittenish rub of their noses together.

"Nothing, everything's fine."

It was around the time they went to see a movie together that Bucky's joy for Steve turned into something else. They sat in the back while some musical played, and through the flashing lights and the corner of his eye, he could see his friend with his sweetheart holding hands on top of her lap throughout the whole performance. Meanwhile Dottie kept rubbing up against him, sometimes leaning her head on his shoulder, daring in the darker scenes to kiss his neck, but when she tried to get more of his attention —

"Buckyyy, what's wrong?"

— he shook her off. Hearing his name spoken by her voice suddenly felt disappointing.

He caught himself staring more and more, and not just when they went out together. Sometimes, the girl came by and spent some time with Steve, looking at his newer sketches, trying her hand too — oh and how disgusting they looked, Steve taking advantage of the situation to sit behind, and wrap his arms around her, and whisper in her ear. The pair greeted him cheerfully when he stepped through the living room and caught them, and he grinned back at them as he took a glass of milk, but all his appetite was gone.

And when they walked together through the park, and he saw them holding hands again… When Steve dug for some change to get her an ice cream, and they giggled stupidly as they made a mess of sharing it… When she fell asleep by his side one night at the dance hall, and Stevie woke her up with a tickle down her cheek, and she shivered and murmured like a bird and hid her face in his unworthy shoulder…

"Why don't you ever wanna dance, doll?" he asked as they were fetching drinks.

"Not much good at it, I guess," she shrugged. "The fast ones make me dizzy and I always trip."

"I can teach you. It'll work out great! Stevie teaches you to draw, I teach you how to dance… What do you say?"

The girl seemed to think, but shook her head. "Hmmm… No, not right now. Thanks," she smiled politely. "Besides, what would Stevie do meanwhile?"

She told him no just for the sake of keeping his scrawny little friend company, and Bucky had never felt more insulted — not that she wouldn't dance with him, although that hurt enough, but that he couldn't remember the last dame that gave something up just to stick with him, or got into fights for him, or kissed his wounds away, or held his hand in hers with no ulterior motive, and he'd found a girl that did that, and he wasted her on Steve.

So what if she was a little on the smaller side? So what if her dresses didn't fit right? So what if she came down with the cold at every change of season? He put up with it for Steve and he wasn't half as charming. The girl, instead, looked very delicate, more feminine in her own way, like when she braced her fingers on a table as she talked and mindlessly swung back and forth, animated in whatever she was saying, and her digits bent in such a childish way he feared they'd break, and it only made him want to kiss them. Or when she took her shoes off when she came to their apartment and he could catch a hint of shapely ankle, just perfect for his grip, or a peachy pink instep small enough to fit his palm. And when she fell asleep on their couch that one time and Bucky saw her all curled up, and noticed the arch of her hips and the cinch of her waist and pictured how good it would feel to hold them, and angle them upward, and…

Slowly, he started to appreciate some of what his friend had said that night, because she did have lovely eyes, and hair that looked so soft and warm, and her scent, unburdened by perfume, was sweet and girlish, and her lips looked kissable, and her wrists and knees and ankles too…

"Going out again, tonight?" he asked as the blond boy fixed himself in the mirror.

"Yeah, she wants to try this new place we —"

"Alright, alright…" sighed Bucky, already sick of hearing more. "So, that's all you're gonna do?"

"Well… yeah."

And then he voiced an evil thought. "Don't you ever want to… you know?"

"Y-you think we should?" Steve asked, turning away from his pallid reflection.

Bucky sat sprawled across the couch, and shrugged. "If she really likes you, she'd be up for it, don't you think?"

"I don't know about that, Buck."

"No? Ok," he nodded. "After all, what do I know?"

The aftermath of this particular advice was a draught of dates for poor ol' Steve, because just like Bucky had expected, the girl shrinked at the suggestion and couldn't stand to see him. For a while.

"Can you believe it, Buck?!"

"Yeah…"

"She'll see me again!"

"That's great, Stevie."

"What's wrong? You're lookin' real dour today."

Bucky knew he shouldn't. "I just…" He knew that it was wrong. "Look, it's great that she's forgiven you, but you gotta be realistic about this, pal." He had been happy for Steve at one point, long ago.

"What do you mean?"

But that was before he saw just how much love a girl could give, and realised he'd never felt it.

"Just don't delude yourself this is anything more than what it looks like, ok? She's only forgiven you because she knows nobody else will have her."

"That's mean, Buck."

"Yeah, well… I'm just looking out for you. You're my best friend, you know that. I don't want you getting hurt." It stuck in his throat to say it, but the bitterness stuck more.

And after Steve went to bed that night, Bucky took out the box of candy and the pricey perfume he had bought for her, threw them in the trash, and firmly promised to himself to never wait too long again.

But as he learned a bit later on, when they went back to double-dates, he might not have had a chance at all, because there was an unwitting element of truth to this cruel tirade.

"I can't exactly blame you, honey," Dottie consoled her as they stood in line for the ladies room, not knowing Bucky was just behind the thin divider leading to the men's. "If he does something like that again, I know this other fella —"

"Oh no, Dot, please… We're fine now. He explained things and… he's really sweet, I think he just had a moment of —"

"But just let me introduce you to Jim, see if you don't like him better."

"I… I don't know."

"He's a real charmer," Dottie grinned, "and he has these big, broad hands, jaw like an anvil. He just broke it off with Marcie cause she was a flirt."

He didn't hear anything next, but the girl must've shook her head cause Dottie asked, "You're sure?" and "Really? Well, if you change your mind…"

"Thanks, Dot," she lightly laughed.

"I don't know why you're so stubborn though, it's not like he's that far out your league. You just need to fix your hair a little bit and get a better brand of powder."

"It's not that easy."

"It's all it took me to get Bucky on my arm. That, and a better set of heels," she laughed.

"Yeah but you've always been pretty, Dot. Like, really pretty, and you know it. I guess some girls are for the James Barnes of this world, and some are the for the Steves."

She giggled as she said it, with not a hint of anger or resentment, and that's what stung the worst.

Bucky arranged to go see a late night movie with Dottie after that, while Steve and his girl went back to the apartment to listen to a boxing match on the radio and have some cherry sodas. Dottie went ahead to buy the tickets while Bucky walked them home, and after wishing him good night, she went upstairs to set things up. Steve was meant to go to the store and buy the drinks, but he stayed to chat with his friend a while.

"I can get some eggs and milk as well while I'm at it," he offered, swinging on his heels with his hands in his pockets.

"Sure."

"Or do we have enough for breakfast tomorrow?"

"Go ahead and buy them, pal," Bucky smiled, pretending to be less tired than he felt.

"Ok. And what about — darn!"

"What is it?"

"I just realized, I forgot to give her the keys," he said, taking a hand out of his pocket and holding them out. "I gotta get to the store, can you go up and give them to her?"

"Er, why don't —"

"You know I always trip on the stairs when I'm in hurry, Buck, they haven't changed the lightbulb yet. Don't make me do it."

"Fine, I'll go."

"I owe you big."

"You always do," he grinned, and took the keys from him.

Steve made off for the corner store, while Bucky started the long slow climb upstairs. It was completely dark inside at that hour, and the few candles some neighbours left to light the way had all gone out.

"Stevie, is that you?" he heard her call, standing right outside their door.

He kept one hand against the wall and walked his way toward her, stopping as he heard her whisper, "I think I lost the keys."

Blindly, she moved her hand forward, coming right across his chest. He felt her jolt at the unexpected contact, then burst into a giggle. Bucky could already feel the fanning of her breath right at the level of his chin. With an unseen smile, he took her hand, and placed the keys within it.

"Oh," she laughed. "You had them."

As her hand closed around them his own moved up her shoulder, fingers threading around her hair, and as he touched her jaw he felt her tilting slightly upward, shivering under the feeling.

"Is everything alright?" she asked.

He felt the warming tickle of her breath as he leaned close until, through the pitch black, he touched his lips to hers. Bucky did it lightly, just a little, just enough to taste and sip a kind of love he'd never really had. She stood surprised but took his kiss, and he felt her smiling into it, even beginning to kiss back just as he was parting from her.

"Your lips are softer than before," she giggled, in a sweet but altogether crushing way that made Bucky's heart beat stronger. "Stevie?"

Her hand moved through the air to touch him but felt nothing anymore, and down the stairs the heavy steps echoed, moving downward and away.

#James Buchanan Barnes #Bucky Barnes #Steve Rogers #Bucky Barnes imagine #Bucky Barnes fanfiction #Bucky Barnes x reader #dark!bucky barnes #Steve Rogers imagine #Steve Rogers x reader #40s Bucky Barnes #preserum Steve Rogers #bv;answers #bv;fanfiction #bv;oneshots

317 notes · View notes

sgwrscrsh · 3 years

Text

ix. double mother's day

the scene in the kitchen is utterly adorable.

the tall man standing at the counter covered in ingredients and utensils was no foreign sight, but the two stools on either side of him were, just like his two little mini-me’s standing on top of them.

“ya see this part between yer finger ‘n yer thumb? after you scoop a little bit of the filling into the rice, roll it into a ball like this and then squeeze very gently into this part of yer hand to shape it.” the man explains to his sons as they try to imitate his practiced movements with clumsy hands.

the two boys pout at their messy products when their eyes fall on their dad’s perfect onigiri, one more vocal about their disappointment than the other.

“papa! s’not pretty like yours!” takumi cries while his brother nodded in agreement, big round eyes shining with unshed tears.

“wan’ mine pretty like mama,” warbles ryo, bottom lip wobbling as he holds in the sobs threatening to rack his tiny body.

osamu is quick to wipe his hands off on the kitchen towel slung over his shoulder and settle his warm palms on their backs. “hey, hey, shhh, s’okay.” squatting down to their level, he presses a chaste kiss to each of their cheeks, still plump with baby fat. “there’s plenty more for ya to practice, but i think these’re pretty ‘cause you made them. i bet your mama’s gonna love ‘em more than mine anyhow.”

sighing internally, the father is relieved to see two pairs of eyes blinking up at him, shining with hope and excitement instead of tears and disappointment.

“promise, papa?” the younger twin pipes up, echoed soon after by a softer, watery “promise?”

large frame still crouched down beside them, osamu presents his two little fingers for his two little chefs, “pinky promise.”

after attempting to wrap their much smaller fingers around their father’s, the younger miyas settle for taking their respective fingers into a firm handshake while osamu tries his damnedest to not laugh at how cute his sons are with their brows furrowed solemnly.

“okay, okay, let’s finish the onigiri and then work on mama’s cakes, yea?”

“yea! gon’ make pretty onigiwi for mama!”

“wanna mix, please, papa?”

“sure, ryo. you can mix the cake batter.”

“me too! me too! wanna mix!”

a gentle smile tugs at the corner of osamu’s lips, knowing that he’d have to finish the rice balls on his own once he got his boys set up and situated.

“good thing i have two whisks then,” he says to himself, bustling about, opening and shutting cabinets, and gathering the ingredients to make two mini sponge cakes.

as ryo and takumi watch their father measure and scoop out of various containers and cartons, they bounce on the balls of their feet, eager to receive the cups he hands to them and dump them into the identical bowls on the counter in front of them.

by the time the cakes were cooled, decorated and left in the fridge, a few more onigiri were sitting in the container next to the two, smaller, messier ones, and two little miyas were snoozing away on their snoring papa’s broad chest as they wait for you to come home.

“okay, kiddos,” atsumu chimes as he plops a storage container full of art supplies on the living room floor. “what’re ya gonna make for mommy?”

“wanna give mommy flower!” his princess cheers. “fitting,” he thinks with a smile. “should be easy enough.”

“no flower! dinosaur for mommy! rawr!” accompanied by the pitter-patter of tiny feet on the hardwood, the input signals ryuki’s disinterest in the stuffed animals he was playing with, eager to make a gift for his mother.

however, this makes hana pout and stomp her feet, albeit adorably. “dinosaur not pretty! flower pretty like mommy!”

quick to deescalate the situation, atsumu pulls out a few sheets of paper and two sets of crayons. “princess, ya can make mommy the prettiest flower she’s ever seen, but if yer brother wants to make a dinosaur, that’s okay, too! mommy likes flowers and dinosaurs, mkay?” getting a couple of head nods and quiet “okay, daddy”s, he gives them a bright smile and the supplies he drew from the storage container. “now how about you both draw what you wanna make so i can help you once you’re done, yea?”

excited that they both get to make what they want, the two tots get to work, diligently turning colorful scribbles into the likenesses of… a rose? and a t-rex? atsumu is impressed by his kids’ artistic abilities as he grabs a pair of scissors, sheets of felt, cardboard, and bottles of glue from the box beside him. “definitely didn’t get those genes from me.”

“daddy, daddy! m’done!” hana exclaims triumphantly, holding up her drawing proudly. “see flower?”

“i do see, princess. it’s very pretty,” the father nods solemnly. “ya want the same color for the petals?” her head bobs vigorously, making atsumu chuckle as he singles out a sheet of white felt. “‘kay, m’gonna cut ‘em out for ya to glue ‘em on. can ya squeeze the glue on the cardboard for me first?”

as hana sets out to do just that, ryuki pops up with his creation in hand, “done now, daddy!”

“good job, my handsome boy! such a cool dinosaur,” atsumu gently ruffles his son’s hair, large hand dwarfing his small head. “do what your sister’s doing and i’ll cut out your pieces, too.”

a couple moments pass in silence as the three miyas accomplish their individual tasks. once the glue is drizzled over the cardboard, atsumu lets his kids pick out a sheet of felt in whatever color their little hearts desired. with pink felt laid upon hana’s board and blue on ryuki’s, the father then instructs them to put dabs of glue where each piece of felt would go.

“here ya go, this one goes right here like this,” he says, guiding their hands to orient the felt scraps in their respective places. “and then ya put a little glue here an’ then this piece goes there.” soon enough, despite the scraps of felt littering the floor and sticky hands getting glue everywhere, twin gazes gleam proudly as they take in their finished products.

“let’s go wash our hands,” atsumu tells them, unfolding himself from where he sat between his children and stretching his arms high above his head. “and then it’s snack time. how’s that sound?”

“yay! snacks!” the smaller miyas hoot, little legs carrying them to the bathroom as fast as they could. tsumu cleans up the mess left behind and hides their crafts on the top shelf of the hallway closet to dry before sauntering into the kitchen with a firm resolve to recreate the onigiri his brother taught him without burning the rice or forgetting to season anything this time.

viii. || mlist || x.

☁️a/n☁️ more blurbs that aren’t rly blurbs. sometimes i wonder if you guys get tired of the burnt rice bit. also i lied, i don’t have the chapters queued up like i wanted to. ig i’m doing em week by week but hnnnnngh exams. anyhow, i love thinking abt these six foot men doing domestic things with tiny lil babies. makes brain go brrrr

taglist: @lovemeafterhrs @sachirou-senpai-taglist @honey-makki @kenmaki @inarizakied @aruhappy @goodpop9 @tris-does-stuff @its-the-aerieljeane @callmekda @navymacaroons @tinystarks @luckypartyranchmug @chibichab @bjbex @heauxzenji @anejuuuuoy @semig0th (again, check ur settings pls bb)

taglist is open! fill out this form to be added!

61 notes · View notes

poutyhannie · 4 years

Photo

word count: +4k

warnings: fluff, angst, smut, college!fem reader, college!felix, romantic fantasy

** **

You gaze down at the materializing letters stretching across your palm till your elbow. It was a mixture of Korean and English. The Korean characters were few and far in between but were delicate and even while the English letters were long, messy, and leaned to the right.

I’ll need to turn in Prof Behl’s assignment when I go to class and then explain why I can’t go to the museum research trip.

Did I use all my meal swipes? Chris said he wanted to workout at 3…

These notes would often appear on your right arm, sometimes remaining like a tattoo for weeks or fading before you could even read it fully. These were the thoughts of a person whose soul matched your own. He was a college student who is majoring in English with focus on things like creative writing and poetry and you’ve gathered that ‘Chris’ was his roommate.

For as flowery his major was, the boy’s thoughts were surprisingly plain and boring. However, you were thankful for it. Your friend often had dark circles under her eyes. Her connection with her soul partner was being awake at the same time and you were sure her soul’s partner lived on the other side of the world with the opposite time zone. To be honest, you gleaned almost nothing from the notes. The boy probably didn’t know that his thoughts were being recorded on your arm, which you always kept covered with a sleeve. Neither did you know what connection he had with you. Did he feel the emotions you did? Were his dreams your memories? You’ve laid to waste these meaningless thoughts to focus on your life more, not his. There was little reason to go searching him out; if you truly were tied together by souls, fate could do the heavy lifting for you two.

Leaning back at your desk, you shake out your cramping hands. The graphic design project requires that you draw out the story board by hand rather than digitally and you never wished more to curse for it. The reason was, according to your Professor, head of the project you and your classmates are fighting to be a part of use physical copies in the preliminary section. Because you had started in traditional art, relatively it was easy to get back in the swing of things. Didn’t mean that your hand didn’t hurt like a bitch, though. You had everything riding you getting to participate in this project, you’d planned everything out with your counselor and had little attractive options if you didn’t get it, so you return to your drawing.

Your roommate swings open the door, causing you to jump and tug your sleeve on quickly. She throws her bag on her bed with no regards to the loud thump it emits. Her blonde hair rests on your paper when she leans over to look at your drawing. As always, she gushes at your talents and as always, you remind her that her microbiology major is much more impressive.

The night is a lot hotter than comfortable, especially with the tight sleeve you always relegate yourself to, even while sleeping. Ever since you caught your dad reading the thoughts on your arm when you slept, you sometimes go so far as to sleep on your stomach, with your right arm tucked under you. It was uncomfortable reading his thoughts, much less having someone else read them. Yeah, they weren’t always too juicy or detailed, but it still felt wrong to share something like this with anyone else.

“Even family?” You remember your dad asking to your rage.

“Even family.” You hissed.

With a groan, you rise out of bed, your roommate looking up from her five inch thick textbook, illuminated by a soft, yellow dest lamp. Her watery eyes gaze up at you from behind her round glasses. “I’m going out. Can’t sleep.” You tell her.

The night breeze whispers through your hair as you sit on an empty bench in an empty courtyard near your dorms. It’s in time like these that you feel peace. When not a soul is around you and you can finally just sit with yourself. Slowly, you unwind the sleeve and are met with chaotic swirl of words. This happens when he dreams.

Worth, friends, others, internships, classes, empty, running, nothing, darkness.

Your heart pangs. He’s having nightmares again. Instinctively, you begin to wrap your arm up again, not wishing to invade him at his weakest point.

Though you don a mask of indifference towards the scrawl on your arm and effectively the boy around others, you can’t help but hurt for him. He seems swamped with so much to do and feels helpless. When you look down, the chilling sentence on your arm burns in your mind and heart.

I don’t think there’s anyone for me. All I see is black. Am I alone?

Two weeks later, they stay. No matter how many times you unwrap and rewrap your arm, those three sentences never leave. Others come and go, but from that night until now, they stay. And the guilt of not pursuing this boy is eating you alive.

You always assumed he had a connection that allowed him to know of your existence. When you realize that he doesn’t, your passivity almost seems like a sin. How lonely it must be to be alone in a world where everyone has someone. Since then, you’ve been paying close attention to the scrawl on your arm, careful to gather as much info on him as you can decipher. Right now though, in class, you can’t.

Your Professor is announcing the chosen students of the project and you can’t really think about him now.

“And the last student is Y/n.”

You heave out a sign of relief, making a note to thank you Professor. You’re sure she had a few good words to put in for you. “The students I just called will be working with other student in screenwriting. You guys need to pick five scripts you want to animate and the screenwriting students will choose their preferred artist.”

Walking into the classroom with another female peer by your side, you absentmindedly fidget with your sleeve. She walks boldly up to a male student, who’s dark blonde falls onto his freckled cheeks, sticking her hand out. “I’m Madeline,” you hear her say. His eyes snap up towards yours but he immediately looks back to Madeline as they exchange pleasantries.

Madeline is paired up with the freckled boy and you with a quiet, thoughtful boy named Seungmin. He tells you that he is friends with Felix, the freckled boy, so you combine tables and group up. Because this is a project done in your own time, you all choose to work together to bounce ideas off with each other though with how bubbly Madeline is, you wonder how much you guys will get done.

When the topic of soul partners comes up, you and Felix shift uncomfortably. Seungmin gets visions through the eyes of his partner and has seen her face, he tells you guys casually.

How wonderful it must be to know who your soul is tied to, you think bitterly, a twinge of jealousy coursing through you.

Madeline’s green eyes shine as she starts, “I don’t know who they are, but I see colors that has to be tied to them.” She’s a romantic, giddy with excitement at the prospect. It’s so easy to live with just seeing colors; it’s pretty and inconsequential, much a contrast to the invasive cryptics on your arm.

When all your eyes turn to Felix, he purses his lips softly, only able to look down at the table. “I actually don’t know what my connection is. Maybe its unconsciousness because I can never fall asleep at nights,” he jokes, attempting to push the attention off of that topic.

A glossy nail taps Madeline’s pink lips as her dark lashes flutter, “I don’t think so. Insomnia isn’t usually paired with unconsciousness connection.”

Feigning disinterest, Felix shrugs, focusing back to the sketches, “Maybe it has something to do with my color blindness, I’m not sure. Doesn’t really matter,” he mutters, his voice deep and throaty. Madeline gasps, lightly slapping Felix’s arm. He raises an eyebrow at her.

“Of course that has to be it!” She exclaims, “It’ll be a subcategory color connection, just like me! Maybe you’ll see colors when you see your partner or when some other unveiling instance occurs.”

She goes into depth about connections, her shoulders bouncing in excitement. Thankfully, this distracts them from asking you about your connection. As her movements and words quicken, the stale bitterness in your mouth consumes you. It’s immature, your distaste for anything about these connections. Just because you have a subjectively unfortunate connection definitely doesn’t mean you should shit on Madeline’s obvious interest in the subject. In fact, Felix and Seungmin seem to enjoy talking with her about it as she has extended knowledge about connections.

However, while Seungmin’s tone that he asks his with questions are amused, his interest piqued, Felix is leaned forward in his chair, his eyes barely concealing desperation. Your heart pangs for him; he’s probably so lost.

Seungmin and Madeline walk in front of you and Felix on the sidewalk, returning to the dorms. They’re in deep conversation about Seungmin’s connection and with Madeline’s knowledge and Seungmin’s intellect, they quickly and thankfully exclude you and Felix.

“I don’t wanna talk about connections,” you declare to him. A small smile spreads across Felix’s face and he nods knowingly. “What made you want to get into animation?” He asks, a pleasant and refreshing topic.

“I haven’t always been the best at art,” you admit with a shrug. “No way!” Felix exclaims, his eyebrows raised, “Your work is so cool, though.”

You laugh at the compliment, “Yeah, well it took me a while to get here and I didn’t want to throw away that work, so here I am. What about you? Why did you want to get into script writing?”

Felix’s eyes soften and he stares off past the line of buildings, into the horizon. “I feel like I can see different things with words. Does that make sense?” He pauses, gathering his thoughts, “They open up worlds and ideas that I can’t experience and it makes me feel closer to normal. It makes me feel alive.”

“Like, you can imagine how colors feel or look through words?”

He nods, looking back at you with a playful look, “That’s another reason why I like your work so much. The values are clear and I don’t feel like I’m missing out on anything by not seeing color.”

The genuine, heartfelt comment makes your heart warm and a smile spread across your face, “Yeah, I focus a lot on just greyscale because composition is the most important aspect to my art. Stuff like color theory, while important, it basically inconsequential if you can’t even tell what’s going on in the picture.”

Felix’s voice quiets as he shoots a look up at Madeline’s back, “Yeah, I didn’t want to choose Madeline’s for that reason, but she really thought that the color use in my script would work in perfect tandem with her style and I really couldn’t tell whether she’s right or not,” he shrugs, his lips pulling into a line.

“Oh, totally,” you say quickly, not wishing to have Felix question his choice, “It makes total sense and in some instances color can tell more of a story than composition and values can. It was wise to team with her.” Maybe your intentions of reassuring Felix was too obvious because his eyes crinkle deeply when he gives you a big, knowing smile.

A week into your work and the very basic shapes for the animation is finished. Working with Seungmin is wonderful as he has a clear direction and even pictures he’s taken to show you what he envisions. Concentration pinches Felix’s eyebrows together and he and Madeline converse as you watch them from the other end of the table.

An hour or two pass and you stand up to stretch, announcing that you’re gonna take a bathroom break to which they agree is a wonderful idea. Coming out of the bathroom, you wrap up your sleeve, peeking to see what the ink says this time. The three words that you’re familiar with; that have been etched into your sink for weeks don’t make your heart stop, but the ones under it.

Am I alone? She needs to add more clear composition so I can actually tell what’s going on.

Your eyes snap up to the blond haired boy. That’s exactly what Felix told you a day ago. Its him?

To your confusion, he now stares, awestruck at Madeline. There’s a sinking in your stomach but you can’t tell why. Gasping, his eyes widen as he takes her hands. “Madeline…I think,” he stumbles over his words, clearly flabbergasted. “I-I’m seeing color now, I think.”

She squeals, squeezing his hands tightly, “When? Just now? What happened?” His dark eyes look dazes and he steps back. His eyes wander from the ground her hers and he whispers, “When I saw you.” Turning your back on them, you leave quickly, not wishing to intrude on Felix’s revelation.

You resume your seat next to Seungmin, heaving a sigh. “What’s wrong?” His lips form a slight pout and his head tilts to the side. You shake your head, waving a hand, “Felix and Madeline are soul partners. He just found out.” From your peripheral, you see Seungmin smile widely. You laugh to yourself, an embarrassed blush rising on your cheeks at your previous hasty conclusion. You really are desperate for the person who matches your soul.

“That’s great,” he taps your arm with his hand, hidden by his sweater’s sleeve, “Why do you look so bummed, though?”

You purse your lips, “It just sucks to be a late bloomer. I don’t know who my partner is,” you tell him as the bitterness fills your mouth again. Seungmin nods firmly, his fingers tapping your arm again, “At least you know that you have one, though. Felix didn’t even know whether he was alone or not.”

“Yeah,” you shrug, trying to ignore the gnawing guilt of your selfishness, “it just sucks.”

“Of course but just give it time,” Seungmin advises, patting your shoulder softly.

You and Seungmin gaze blankly at Felix and Madeline as they both gush over each other. You can’t help but feel a pang of jealousy in your chest when Felix gingerly strokes her cheek.

Clapping, Seungmin returns to the story board, pointing at a slide, “I like the idea with this one, but if you’ll look here,” he pulls out a picture he took of a deep, dark green forest that just seems to dissolve into black, “I want the composition to be more dangerous. Like, the characters are being drawn into darkness and they won’t have any way to escape.” Nodding quickly, you add rough shading and lines to your preexisting work to cater to Seungmin’s request.

“Perfect,” he beams his toothy smile at you.

By the time the project is all but done, Felix and Madeline are attached at the hip or the hand or the face. You try not to watch them, jealousy foaming in your throat. Felix’s eyelashes flutter against his freckles and his lips are glossy as Madeline gently strokes his cheek, smiling softly. Such a romantic—it would make sense that her seeing colors would be paired with his past complete colorblindness. He gushes over her work and her use of color, his voice giddy with excitement at finally seeing color, finally being normal.

While your initial bitterness at their fortune has washed away into passivity, you can’t bring yourself to look at your arm like you used to. In a way, you’re foolishly upset at you partner for not giving you anymore clues that would lead you to him. It’s foolish because he doesn’t know you can read what’s on his mind.

You pick up your artist’s hand brace from your dorm bed and begin unwrapping your arm to put it on, barely sparing the black scrawl a glance.

Its not all black anymore. I can see it. I can see her.

Dread clenches your gut as your eyes travel down to the next single word.

Madeline.

There’s a buzzing white in your head as you fumble to get your shoes on, tripping out into the hallway, breaking into a sprint towards Madeline’s dorm, on the other side of the campus. Whirling confusing overcomes your mimd and you feel like you’re suffocating, the only goal is to find an answer. You don’t know when hints of this conclusion plagued your mind. Maybe it was that day, months ago at the bathroom. Maybe it was a deeper jealousy at seeing Felix kissing Madeline. It didn’t matter anymore, you frantically knocked at her door, out of breath and gasping.

Her green eyes are wide and her pink lips are swollen, she’s almost as out of breath as you are. She makes no move to hide Felix, who’s pulling on a shirt behind her shoulder. Nervousness pangs in your throat but you shove past her and shed your arm to Felix.

“Wh-what’s this, Y/n?” He asks, eyes bouncing off your arm to your face, uncomfortable with looking at something you’ve explained to him is so precious and private to you.

“Read it,” you beg, eyes flicking from his face to Madeline’s. She furrows her shapely eyebrows, gingerly taking your cold arm into her soft hands. At Madeline’s brazenness, Felix finds it in himself to look down at your arm.

Her grip is firm but you could rip away from it at any moment.

Madeline’s eyes are wild and horror fills them as she looks up at Felix. You try desperately to explain, “I-I don’t know what this means either, but that day that you first saw color, Felix, there were your exact words to me about your project on my arm.”

He laughs to deflect how uncomfortable he feels, it comes out too harsh and grates against your neck, raising heat into your face. “Y/n I know you really wanna find your partner, but this is crazy. Don’t try to suggest stuff like this. Madeline and I are partners, everything has been perfect since that day for us.”

He looks over to Madeline for reassurance, but she doesn’t meet his eyes. A soft, vulnerable look plagues her eyes as she looks up at you. Felix stutters, confused why she wouldn’t immediately agree with him. “Lix,” she inhales deeply, “for my connection, you know how I see colors? Those are actually s-supposed to go away when I meet my partner.” You realize the vulnerable look in her eyes was actually guilt.

“What?” His voice is a breath, like he’s been struck in the chest and is left gasping for air. “I was hoping that I wouldn’t have to meet them because I don’t want to loose my color—it’d be like dying for me and I’m really happy with you. Aren’t you happy with me too?” Felix’s lips hang open and his face is frowning in confusion, “So you’ve been using me when you knew I wasn’t yours?” Madeline’s eyes fill with guilty tears and she nods. As much as you can understand why she did what she did, anger and bitterness towards her, towards loosing so much time with Felix consumes you.

“Then you never deserved him,” you hiss, possessively retracting your arm into your body, hiding the words against your bosom.

You and Felix sit wordless on a bench in a park in a part of town you were unfamiliar with.

“So it was you this entire time?”

“I’m so sorry, Felix,” your voice cracks and you bite your lip to prevent it from trembling, “I really didn’t know for sure and I doubted what I knew because you just seemed so happy with her.”

He scoffs loudly, running a hand through his silver hair, “Yeah and look what that amounted to.”

Quietly, you respond, “It amounted to us realizing. That means something.”

Felix exhales slowly, turning to face you, his eyes tired and sad, “Yeah, at least we realized now—” he stops abruptly, pausing to collect himself, “God, I was so stupid, just because I started seeing color one random day because she was in front of me?” He scoffs again, slouching into the bench.

“It made sense though, you were both eager to get your partners and—”

“But to leave you alone?” His voice is raw and soft, “I left you alone when you were right there.” Slowly, as if he were a hologram or mirage you couldn’t quite reach, you extend your hand to rest your hand on his warm cheek, almost shocked that he’s there. Unintentionally, he leans into your hand, closing his eyes gently. “We can begin now. Rather a late start than never. We have the rest of our lives to get it right.”

Felix buries his face into the crook of your shoulder, pressing firm, confident kisses and hot, stinging hickies into your neck. You run your hands up the bare expanse of his back and up to his hair. Flush spreads across your cheeks as he lifts himself up to gaze down at your bare chest but you don’t cover yourself up. You have nothing to hide. “Have you ever done this before?” You whisper to him. He shakes his head softly, leaning down to trail kisses from the base of your neck through the valley between your breasts. Lower, his kisses get wetter as he gets closer to your aching hotness. As if you’re made of paper, Felix gingerly spreads your legs. The cold air hitting your core causes you to flinch, but Felix’s warm palm presses slowly against you, calming the sensation into pleasure.

“May I?”

You whine out a ‘yes’, groaning when his sinks a finger into your core. It sucks his finger in and Felix barely contains a moan at the sensation, imagining how you’d feel around him. Slowly, he begins to pump his single finger into you before adding another and scissoring deep. Curling his fingers, he brushes your sweet spot, causing you to gasp and arch your back.

Smiling to himself, he continues to work at that spot until you’re gasping and moaning incessantly. He pulls out and you whine immediately but he positions himself above you, gazing down at you with adoration even while his impossibly hard dick pokes against you. “Hurry, Lixie, please do it,” you whine and he hushes you with a kiss, slowly sliding in and caressing his tongue against yours when you gasp. Your face is scrunched up at the unfamiliar stretch but Felix can’t help but smile down at you, endeared. His eyes are dark at the sensation of him dragging against your walls. When you begin to relax around him, you start whining again and he giggles, slowly beginning to thrust up into you. There’s nothing desperate or wanton about his movements against you. He’s being gentle, letting you feel him as his drags along your walls though it takes all his self control to not increase the pace. It’s deep and rhythmic, his hips against yours. He fills you up and groans as you seem to suck him up, your juices mixing with his precum.

“Baby, you’re so warm and so—mhg—tight,” he gasps against you, “Can I go faster?”

“Yeah,” you’re breathless and rake your fingers across his back when he starts to do just that. He positions his hip in a way that has himself dragging across your sweet spot and you screaming with every thrust. He reaches down to rub your clit, stars and lights sparking across your vision as a burning coil begins wind in your gut. The groans and moans he lets out when you unintentionally clench around him paired with the way his movements quicken as he becomes desperate push you closer. “Y/n, I’m g-gonna cum,” he whispers, his eyelashes fluttering against your skin. “Me too, Lixie,” you gasp, running your hands over his body.

“I love you.” Your high crashes over you, white pleasure electrifying you through your body as you feel Felix shoot into you. The burning pleasure overcomes your senses as he collapses next to you, his hair sticking to his forehead as he pants into your neck, smiling deeply in pure bliss. Euphoric, you tug him closer, pressing a kiss to the freckle on the tip of his nose, onto both his cheeks, and finally onto his warm, glossy lips.

“I love you too, Lixie.” He is yours and you are his. That’s how it was predestined and you both have fulfilled destiny.

217 notes · View notes

im-not-a-disney-adult-i-swear · 2 years

Note

hi may i have a matchup plz

Hi my name is rex, i’m queer and use they/them pronouns and i’m 15. And i would prefer someone not over the age of 19 plz.

have like a caramel colored skin-tone (i feel like saying im black may be easier but 🤷🏽‍♀️) and im 5’3. Rn i have a purple-pink short mullet and i have pretty curly hair, im pretty chubby but i have an hourglass shape (but i have super noticeable hip dips) , i got pretty big fucking tittes (not even in a bragging way, im a fuckin k cup bro😭) and thicc thighs(thicc thighs save lives, sorry i’ll stop). I dress pretty alternative but i cant just choose one subculture tho, i wear a lot of heavy eye makeup. There are times where i dress some what “sexual” but its not sexual cause im 15 and other times i wear a lot of layers.

Honestly I don’t really have a type. Tbh most of my relationships have ended pretty badly cause they ether only wanted something sexual from me or I was “too clingy” when i just wanted basic ass affection. But the most I want is someone who is physically affectionate (like kisses, cuddles, and hugs for days) also im ok with pda to an extent like i will hug and like cuddle you but im not gonna make out with your infront of others thats weird af.

Im a libra sun, scropio moon, and gemini rising. This means that im a pretty social person and always wanna hang out with friends and just have fun, but moon in scropio makes my emotions rlly haywire and kinda boosts any sorta negative emotion, which is hard when you have chronic anxiety and major depressive disorder. Which also means i take medication for it, which i forget a lot. And because of these things i have anxiety tics, where it ranges to making noices and twitching a bit to full on hitting myself and saying random shit. But I really like making people laugh, it makes me feel helpful, but im also good at being to mother figure for people. I also like playfully bantering with people, like i love you but will full on roast you and get into fake fist-fights. I am a bit of a violent person at times but I have a punching bag and boxing gloves which help a lot. But I only get that angry when someone uses an insecurity of mine against me or is talking bad about someone i love, cause it you do that im beating your ass. I do have a bit of body insecurities mainly about my hip-dips and stomach. But because im curvy i get hit on by adults a lot and its creepy as fuck.

My hobbies include art (painting, drawing), sleeping (because i stay up mad late😭✌🏽), reading comics, Marvel and D.C superheroes, and super villains, cartoons, and anime/manga.

My favorite music genre’s are rock, alternative, emo, rap, and a little bit if indie music.

Personality: funny, sarcastic, creative, kind, inappropriate and the right times. Like im not gonna pull out a dick joke in front of your family

I don’t really have a type and im queer so i dont have a gender preference, but anyone who’s love language is physical affection cause im a clingy bitch

I have a couple ideal dates. So the first one is like an indoor picnic and a movie, an arcade date, and a stargazing date where you get take out or fast food and drive up a hill to see the stars and you like cuddle n shit

You didn’t mention a fandom but I just know you would be the perfect match for Peter Parker. But Plot Twist! It’s Andrew Garfield’s Spider-Man

Has never had a SO who wasn’t a female- but as soon as he met you he just knew he wanted to be with you

Literal sunshine boi and will do anything to make you happy

Loves your body how it is and absolutely hates when anyone comments on how you look- will legit throw hands with anyone being gross or making rude comments

Cant keep his hands off you- he respects your boundaries but sometimes he just really needs your attention

Took him awhile to get the courage to ask you out- was terrified and thought he wasn’t “cool” enough for you

Feels guilty at first when you tick around him because he was afraid he did something wrong- after you explain he’s very understanding and does his best to remind you to take your meds- but he forgets almost as often as you do

Loves to surprise you with dates

Takes pictures of you all the time

He would tease you about your music taste and try to get you to listen to his music (hozier, glass animals, queen, twenty one pilots, etc)- secretly loves your rock playlist but would never admit it

Loves cuddling but won’t let you get up once he’s comfy- he’s clingy and needy okay?

Thanks sm for the request and also hi bestie I’m a Libra too 👀 bahahaha

#matchup ask #you deserve the world but here’s Peter Parker #andrew garfield #peter parker #spider man

5 notes · View notes

blockgamepirate · 4 years

Text

Click for way too many feelings about Technoblade’s Minecraft skin:

(warning: contains salt)

So I went out for a walk and thought about why Techno as a pig makes me so happy and why I get so frustrated when people draw him as a pink haired anime boy. (I don’t wanna get salty but... I am salty lmao I’m sorry. Draw him however you want, I just probably won’t reblog unless it’s so good that it transcends my pettiness. I mean it’s a cool character design and I like the pink hair, I’ve got nothing against it out of context. It’s just that it doesn’t feel right to me.)

There’s just so much shittiness in this world about looks and weight and shit, and all these arbitrary standards for what’s “good looking“ or “cool“ or “elegant“. And let’s be real, pigs are generally seen as the exact opposite of those things. “Pig” is an insult, because people think pigs are greedy, stupid, ugly, gross, fat, clumsy and only exist to be eaten. If you have a pig character in fiction, they’re usually supposed to be mocked; it’s practically a shorthand for “feel free to look down on this character.“

And god, I relate to that. I feel like that’s how people see me, because I’m fat and unattractive and awkward. And I know I don’t “look” intelligent, or what people think intelligent people are apparently supposed look like. i feel like I always have to prove people’s first impressions wrong and it’s exhausting.

That’s what I feel like when people draw Fundy as a fox and Antfrost as a cat and sometimes even Schlatt as a goat or a sheep, but then Techno can’t be a pig? I just can’t help but think that it’s because people think pigs are gross, or not cool enough for someone like Techno. Why else would it be just him? I could be wrong, of course, I don’t know what people’s motivations are. Maybe it’s just because nobody knows how to draw pigs. But this is how it feels like to me.

And the thing is, pigs are badass. They’re intelligent, they have an amazing sense of smell obviously, and they can also absolutely murder you. You don’t wanna fuck with pigs, they’re terrifying when they decide to fight. Pigs kill more people yearly than sharks (I mean it’s mostly because we don’t mass farm sharks... but still.)

... Which of course is why they’re such a perfect avatar for Techno. He has the perfect energy to match this animal.

More importantly, I just love how this goofy looking pig boy can strike fear in the hearts of all these Minecraft players, how he’s actually made that skin so fucking cool, how he made the PIG RANK the coolest rank on Hypixel. That’s awesome. And he’s able to be cool despite being kind of the class clown of MCYT, despite being awkward and bad at social interactions, despite being the funny minecraft pig man. That’s why he’s so cool, because he redefined “cool”. And it’s inspiring to know that you can be cool without fitting the external signifiers of coolness. You just need to do cool shit and own it.

It’s great.

Also have you SEEN some of the “realistic” pig Techno designs? THOSE ARE SO BADASS. They make him look like an ancient forest god, I love it.

... but yeah draw him however you like, I’m not the fanart police.

#technoblade #dream smp #sorry about the salt

86 notes · View notes

fluffomatic · 4 years

Note

Hewwo, could you tell us more about Dr. Cackle, please? They look like a very interesting character!

Yooo this took forever to write out lmao. But thank u! I'm glad ur interested in them! Can't wait to draw more of them! (And eventually design their assistant whoops 😅)

Here we go! Also I looked up a template for this cause I needed a guide, if you're interested here it is!

First name: Alban

Surname: Cackle

Age: 23

Gender: Agender

Sexuality: Asexual Aromantic

Current residence: On the Tickle Island

Relationship status: Single (they care more for their research than forming a strong relationship with someone)

Physical Appearence

Height: 6'3"

Weight: 173 lbs

Eye colour: Brown

Hair colour: Blonde (they dyed it tho they're a brunette)

Personality

Likes: Tickling, science, being inside, alone time, traveling, adventure, seen as intelligent, their pet Buzzli, plants, bugs and animals

Dislikes: being seen as an idiot, arguments, large crowds, being over powered, people touching their hair, people calling them "sir", messes

Education: College Graduate

Fears: Large Crowds, Germs, Needles

Personal goals: To continue to expand the tickle island

General attitude: Reclusive and overly confident in themself. Sees themself as too powerful to overtake. If they feel like they're losing, in an argument, battle, etc, they will get angry and release one of their creations on the other.

Health

Illnesses : Diabetes Type 2

Sleeping habits: Poor, they tend to overwork themself. Sees their research as more important

Energy level: Low until they've had their coffee. Than it's average

Eating habits: Poor, again focuses too much on work and forgets to eat. Their assistant will sometimes bring them snacks if they haven't eaten in awhile

Memory: Excellent, will remember notes they took weeks ago

Any unhealthy habits: other than their poor sleeping and eating habits and the constant over working, they tend to strive for perfection and anything less than that is out of the question. They will do anything to make sure their experiments turn out perfectly, even if they have to sacrifice their body or anothers to do that.

History

Childhood: They had a fairly normal childhood, two great parents that loved them more than life. They were amazing in school and loved doing the work, sometimes they'd ask the teacher for more work cause they got bored quickly. They were tickled often as a child, their parents noticed they liked it, considering they told them, so they practically tickled Alban everyday. When they got a little older they started to tickle their parents back. They had the most relentless tickle fights.

Teen years: This is when they started questioning their gender. They felt uncomfortable being raised as a boy and they knew it wasn't who they were. They talked to their parents about how they were feeling and they started doing research right away. That's when they came out as Agender. Albans school life wasn't the best due to some bullying, being the schools "smart kid" they had a target on their back, however they took the bullying head on. Their confidence in themself overshadowed any negativity thrown their way. They're love for tickling only grew as they aged. They made a small group of friends and they dubbed Alban the "Tickle Monster". They constantly started tickle fights and they usually won. Luckily their friends were really sweet when they opened up and told them about their love for tickling. However the news somehow got around the school and that added to the bullying. They were embarrassed but kept their composure. They kept their tickling to a minimum afterwards.

Adult years: When Alban went to college for science they learned so much, too much some might say. In the end of their time at school they had figured out how to modify plants, on a small scale. Nothing crazy, but it planted a seed in their brain. After they graduated they started researching more at a small lab in their hometown. They learned more about modifying plants and even was able to modify their first bug, just a grub, they managed to modify the grubs body to be able to grow soft fur. This only heightend their interest. Their work got out and many science corporations contacted them for a higher paying job. One in particular peeked their interest. In the email they received from this place who were part of the government they offered them their own private island with a lab to do whatever they please with it, in return they must share their findings with them. They took the offer right away. When they got there they weren't sure what they were gonna do at first, but then they ran into Motherbloom. The huge flower asked why Alban was there and they told her, than asked what she was. Instead of telling them she decided to show them. That's when she pinned them down and wreaked them with tickles. After 10 minutes she let them up and Alban wanted in right away. They did some experiments on her and her flowers and discovered she held a potent "tickle pollen" they then used this pollen to start modifying the creatures on the island, not already changed by insects spreading it to themselves and other plants. At this point Alban developed kind of a "God complex". They felt they could do anything. As years went by they created the tickle forest. They don't know what the government is using their research for but they know that they want more of it, considering they're still paying them.

Relationships

Parents: Mother, Harriet Cackle/Father, Roger Cackle

Siblings: 1 brother, Billy Cackle

Friends: their assistant but barely

Others

Occupation: full time scientist at their own lab

Current home: the labs on tickle island

Favourite types of food: Spicy or Fried

Favourite types of drink: Just water, sometimes flavored

Guilty pleasures: Tickling, duh

Pet peeves: Small distracting noises like loud chewing or tapping

Pets: Buzzli the tickle bee

Talents: superior intelligence, cunning and can outsmart people easily

Favourite colours: pink

Favourite type of music: soft indie

If you have anything else specifically you wanna know go ahead and ask! :D

#dr. cackle #alban cackle #about oc #they've been a ler all their life #kinda a mad scientist low key #thanks for the ask!#answered ask #tickle ask

50 notes · View notes

starsaver94 · 3 years

Note

hello! i love your works!! <3 may i please get a matchup with the boys from these three games: sdr2, dr v3: kh, and mystic messenger ? to be more specific- a matchup with one boy from each of these games. :o

so for starters, i'm a 5'0" trans man! i have brown hair that's asymmetrical, but i wanna dye the longer part of it pink! my zodiac sign is gemini-cancer cusp, and my personality type is infp. my hobbies include drawing, reading, writing, gaming, and makeup. my fave color is pink and i love the aesthetics sanrio/hello kitty, webcore, weirdcore, glitchcore, kidcore, lovecore, etc. i wear a lot of pink and i loveee wearing sweaters, skirts, thigh highs, etc. i am a feminine trans guy indeed. uwu an interest i have that kinda contrasts with my whole aesthetic is true crime. i love mysteries and hearing of things that have been solved too. it's at a point where i can create theories with what i think's happened in a cold case. i also love exploring the paranormal and supernatural!

my personality is pretty fitting for the gemini sign, i think? when you first meet me, i'm rather shy, quiet, reserved. i have social anxiety so meeting new people can be a struggle. however when someone becomes closer to me, i become more talkative and i unveil my chaotic sense of humor. i laugh at the silliest things. xD i'm also an introvert so i tend to stray away from big social gatherings and spend time alone or with a few people at a time, even just one on one too! so i value time spent with my s/o and friends dearly! i struggle with depression tho so even if someone is close to me, i won't /always/ be my more bubbly self. i also have low self esteem and confidence issues. i'm neurodivergent, have slow processing, i struggle with social cues, and i often don't realize if something i'm doing is wrong or not. i'm diagnosed with adhd but i may be autistic as well. i'm very, very empathetic tho too! i help others out a lot with their problems and give lots of love and support. i sometimes end up forgetting to care for myself tho, but i've been working on that. i care for and love animals a lot, and i want to do work with them. i have pets of my own and i treat them like my own children!

in a partner, i'm looking for a guy who can be kind, patient, be openly emotionally vulnerable with me or be willing to learn to be, communicate with me, and engage in at least a bit of my humor. someone who can laugh with me. i can be a cuddlebug with my s/o, kissy too, and i will totally text them wholesome memes just to make their day. my s/o is also one of the ppl i love to laugh with the most. i'll send them random memes and even start inside jokes with them!

okay, i think that's all i wanted to say! sorry if that was too long or anything ^^;; have a good day and take care!~

Author: I'm glad you like my works! ^_^ Hope you have a good day as well.

For Goodbye Despair: I pair you with…

Gundham Tanaka!

I’ll be honest, it took a while for you to break through Gudham’s shell.

But when you did, you gained a excellent and interesting boyfriend.

Gundham may be a bit hesitant at first when it comes to affection, but once you start a cuddle session with him, hug him, or kiss him on the cheek or lips then he’ll want more and more.

His first few times trying to comfort you may come off as awkward (since he’s not used to it), but he definitely tries his best to lift your spirits. His four dark devas will often help him out.

Since both you and Gundham have a fascination with the paranormal, the two of you would often watch documentaries or horror films that are about said subject.

Be prepared to share your pets with this man. Since you’re both animal lovers, you’ll both (playfully) fight over your animal’s attention.

For V3: Killing Harmony: I pair you with...

Shuichi Saihara!

Due to his talent as the Ultimate Detective, Shuichi can tell when you’re not feeling your best.

He enjoys cuddling sessions with you, even though it makes him incredibly flustered and blushy.

You’re one of the few people he lets wear his signature hat.

Shuichi likes playing puzzle games with you, but his two of his all time favorite game series are Ace Attorney and Professor Layton.

You guys would often have mini competitions when watching mystery/detective shows. The two of you would often guess who the culprit was in the episode or you would try and guess a twist that could happen in the show, and whoever was incorrect would have to get the winner a snack or drink.

For Mystic Messenger: I pair you with...

Yoosung Kim!

This sweetheart!

Yoosung is a major cuddlebug!

He often has a smile on his face when you send him a meme before he goes to class.

Yoosung loves it when you play LOLOL (League of Loneliness of Life) with him. If you’re still a beginner, he’ll eagerly teach you how to play.

He’s a bit of a scaredy cat, so he really can’t handle stuff related to the paranormal.

He’s grateful that you’ll help him take care of his cat.

Kiss or hug him out of nowhere? Watch him become a stuttering, blushing mess!

#gundham tanaka #tanaka gundham #shuichi saihara #saihara shuichi #yoosung kim #kim yoosung #danganronpa 2 #sdr2 goodbye despair #goodbye despair #v3 killing harmony #danganronpa v3 #mystic messenger #danganronpa matchups #mystic messenger matchup

5 notes · View notes

my-brothers-corrupted · 3 years

Text

Chapter Four - Part 4

The boys try to relax after meeting Dark, but Dapper is ticked off at Anti and there is still tension between Trickshot and Dok.

Tws for alcohol, images of dead bodies, and mentions of torture.

Part 4 - Dark's Memory

“Oh, but Dok, I’m tiredddddd.”

He draws it out like a kid who doesn’t want to do his chores, slipping down into the water until it reaches up to his chin, pouting against the waves of the pool. Dok grins at him and reaches out to snag his hand, leading him around in circles against the wall.

“Come on, my friend. Can’t be sitting around all day even if you’re tired.”

“Help me float?” asks Blue, getting up again and turning his back to Dok.

“Okay, if you want.”

He puts his hand against Blue’s back. Blue lies down against the water and lets Dok steady him, til he’s just resting on the surface of the water, drifting.

“No sleeping though,” says Dok, and Blue laughs. They both wear their shirts in the water. Dok itches at his chest. Through the kitchen window, you can see Trick cooking, and Red sits a few feet away from them, watching the forest and tap-tap-tapping his foot. Dok told him he should do something other than stand guard all day, but he hasn’t thought of anything yet.

pine-storm-season asked: Hello! How are you all doing?

Red looks up and smiles at you. “Aw, been better, but you know. It’s okay.”

He glances over at Dok and Blue. “Getting really worried about Blue after how he was acting last night, but sun comes up and he wakes up and seems okay again. A little nausea this morning. I asked him if he was pregnant. He said that would be more fun than this.”

Red grins and kicks his feet. “He’s grumpy about it, but I just hope he keeps trying to stay up. I don’t blame him for being unhappy. I think, um. He really needs more help than he’s getting. But I don’t know how to get him it. Which is frustrating. I’m not really in charge right now, but I’m still big brother. I’m supposed to be looking after them. And I can’t.”

He shrugs. “But I’ll keep trying. I’ll keep the monster away if I can.”

He still has that kitchen knife, sitting on the grass beside him. He itches at the bandaid on his broken nose.

“How are you?”

Anonymous asked: Whatcha cooking, trick? Breakfast?

“Lunch, technically!”

He stirs enthusiastically at a pan full of ground beef, tomatoes, carrots, onions, and peas. “Making kima. Trying to use the perishables first. So we don’t have to get hungry just cause all the food goes bad. The fridge is really full! Hey, do you know what prosciutto is? There’s a ton in there, but I don’t wanna give Dok ham.”

Anonymous asked: (Chill scenes are totally cool! And I love reading anything you write so it's awesome) But hey! Pool time sounds like it could be fun and/or relaxing. And it could be good for Blue's (or any of yalls) health. -Pink

“Just don’t tell Dap we’re outside,” sighs Blue, standing up and running his hands through his hair. After a few weeks since he shaved it down to white, it’s beginning to grow out again, just a little, and he savors the growing strands. “He won’t stop talking about that thing in our yard. He says he won’t come into the house’s territory, but he wanted us to spend all day hiding. But we figured it already knows we’re here.”

He shrugs and looks back at Dok just in time to get splashed in the face by a sweep of Dok’s arm through the water. He gasps and slaps the water in front of him, sending it spraying up into Dok’s face. He laughs and retreats, cutting water with his hands as he backs away.

“Ass,” gripes Blue, smiling as he follows after him.

Anonymous asked: where is dap, if you don't mind me asking? is he upstairs?

“No, he’s hiding from Anti,” says Dok. “But you didn’t hear that from me.”

“Anti’s so pissed at him he only looked for him once,” adds Blue. “He found him in the top cupboard of the pantry behind the juice-boxes and tried to drag him back upstairs, but Dapper wouldn’t stop throwing a fit, and Anti got so irritated he left before - to quote Anti - he pulled him apart tooth by tooth. You might be able to find him on the cameras if you try since Anti’s stopped coming for him. I hope that he’ll come when Trick has lunch. He eats like a shrew. A dieting shrew.”

“I need to have him out here exercising too,” sighs Dok. “He never get out of his little room most of the time.”

Anonymous asked: It's basically fancy italian ham, so says Google. Maybe Noodle and the rest of you would like it but yeah not the best choice for dok

“Noodle! Come here, baby!”

Trick kisses for his cat til he comes and gets him a slice of prosciutto. Noodle is delighted.

“You’re getting so big,” says Trick, petting his back. He’s a very long cat and getting longer, leggy and thin, still golden as the day he was born.

Anonymous asked: Red maybe you should take up drawing or coloring, just something to do with your hands. I know you have a lot worrying you but maybe it will help you de-stress and focus? I find it helps me anyway. A hobby might be good for you right now

Red nods, considering it. Yeah. He stands up. Sits down again. Stands up. Sits down.

He puts his chin in his hand and sighs, kicking at the grass.

“I haven’t… I don’t really have hobbies, ha. Usually I’m the one with the money for the month, you know, so I have to be thinking about food and entertainment and shit in one handful of cash. And when I do get entertainment stuff, it’s for Dap cause he’s alone in his room, or sometimes for the twins if Dok’s having to cut people up or Trick’s depressed and they need something to take their minds off it. Cause that’s what it is, yeah? Entertainment, it’s a need. In those cases at least. And if it’s not a need I don’t get it. That’s the rule. That’s how you stop your brothers from starving.”

He stands up again, staring out at the forest. “But now I guess I can go draw if I want, and it won’t be wrong. Cause it would have been wrong, yeah? To buy paper and pencils for myself. Dapper would need them more or we would need shit to eat more. And now we’re in this nice place after Dap and I about starved in Colombia and I’m just supposed to act like this is our normal and to do whatever I want. I don’t know how to do whatever I want. And I don’t want… I don’t want Anti to pretend this is our normal. Cause it isn’t. I been hungry too many times to let him try to tell me that.”

He pauses, shrugging. “Sorry, I went off. I do want to go find something to do. I wish I had something to color, that sounds fun. I could go look for books or something with black and white pictures. And art shit. I don’t know if there’s any here.”

Anonymous asked: hey, dap? how are you doing?

For a second, there is no sign of him - or not of him moving, anyway. He seems to have shucked off everything he didn’t want to wear as he ran, his tight black dress shoes discarded in the hallway, his clean white dress shirt dangling off the coat hook. There are cuff-links waiting to be stepped on. He may or may not be wearing pants.

But in the office with the grand brown desk and the high, glass-covered shelf full of alcohol in progressively fancy bottles, a slight motion alerts you to an irritated, red-rimmed eye peering slowly out from the side of the desk to check on the beeping noise from the camera - and then, just as quickly, ducking out of sight again.

Anonymous asked: hello, dap! is something wrong?

Liquid sloshes. Dapper glances back at you again, his mouth miserably down-turned and his eyes angry. He hides away again for a few minutes. He’s sick of Anti looking at him all the time.

“I hate Dark,” he spits finally, adjusting a little so you can see him. He’s got a blanket on and all his stuffed animals arranged beneath it around his legs. His pencils are scattered beneath the desk, his sketchpad covered in meaningless circles of colors he can’t tell the difference between. He throws back a bottle of Jameson and drinks deep and hateful. “I hate Anti for bringing us here. I want him to go away!” He coughs as the whiskey burns.

Anonymous asked: Ah... why are your clothes on the floor Dap?

“I don’t want to wear all this stupid shit he puts me in,” he signs. “I don’t want to be cute and perfect, I’m not his perfect little pet thing, not his dog to dress up in a tutu, not cute all the time, sometimes I want to be a man, or I at least want him to know I’m a man, not treat me like a little boy. I only want to dress up when I want to dress up and I don’t want any more stupid little kid hoodies or dumb socks unless I pick the dumb socks. I, I, me!”

He shakes his head, distress creasing through his anger, and he drinks like he’s got something to prove, his face red with crying and alcohol.

“Stupid baby stuck in my fucking crib all day.”

He sobs and then strikes the side of the desk, gritting his teeth. “Stupid little boy never runs from his dad.”

Anonymous asked: anti's not here right now, though. do you want to go be with your brothers for the time being? anti isn't here to be able to do anything to any of you.

“He shouted at me all morning, he’s angry,” grouses Dapper, flicking his golden Christmas knife up and down in his hand. “He said he’ll tie me up upside down until the blood rushes back into my head and makes me stop acting stupid; I said if he tries to make me stay in that room again I’ll bite his ear off in his sleep; he slapped me til I cried.”

His ear is bruised purple on the right and there are nail marks around his wrists. He shivers and curls in on himself, bitter and tired, scratching at a hippo stuffie with textured fur.

“I don’t want to go where everybody’s staring at me, I don’t want to go where Dark can see me, I don’t want to…”

Anonymous asked: Huh boy. Would you mind some drinking buddies? We don't have booze but I can act like a conversational bartender that takes all your problems and sound then into advice. Can't guarantee it'll fix things but we're listening

“That was most of my rant unless you get me started again,” says Dapper wearily, slumping back against the desk so his head disappears and you just see his skinny chest and legs poking out. The thought of it is funny and you hear him giggle, flipping over on his side to hide his face in his blankets.

“I’m sad. Comfort me, Panchito.”

He draws his stuffed Peruvian bear to his mouth for a kiss. It’s hard to tell if that’s his dry sarcasm again or not. He might just be drunk.

“My heart hurts.”

Anonymous asked: How much did you drink so far? Not too much to be dangerous for you I hope

He huffs out a tired sigh and shows you the bottle. There’s more than half of it left.

“You’re going to babysit me too? Not eighteen yet? Just because I don’t age. I didn’t ask for that. I didn’t ask to watch everybody else get older around me while I still look so much younger. I didn’t ask for everybody to make me the baby. What’s wrong with being quiet and nice and cute sometimes? I still want my brother to respect me. I’m not little… I’m mute and I’m psychotic and I like being nice and wearing jumpers and sleeping with a bear. That doesn’t mean I’m not a grown-up. I am a grown-up and I’m clever and tough and I want things. I want to make choices. I’m not five. Not. And if I had got to make a choice, I wouldn’t have chosen to come back to be toyed with by somebody who hurt me.”

His face scrunches up like he might cry, but he doesn’t. He rubs at his ruddy cheeks.

“But I still never go away… so maybe I’m just all talk. Just his baby brother.”

He stares down at the gold of the alcohol.

Anonymous asked: okay, that's fair, dap. do you want us to ask one of them to come be with you here instead? it might make you feel better to have someone like blue with you instead of being alone.

“I don’t want to get scolded,” his hands confess. “I know I’m being stupid. No one else has to share my stupid with me. I know I’m being grouchy and negative and unhappy. I know. They don’t have to put up with me while I’m like this.”

He is very small beneath the largeness of the empty office.

“Even Anti doesn’t put up with me when I’m being a brat, and I’m supposed to be his. Everybody likes me better when I’m smiling and put together. He always just leaves and comes back when I’m too tired or when I’m done sulking. That’s what he thinks he can do this time, just wait for me to decide it’s not worth it. And I always do. I always let it go. Because I know he doesn’t care, so why fight about it? Things are worse when he’s mad at me. But he really hurt me yesterday. That’s worse than when he used to smack me around all the time, before I snapped and he realized how scared he used to make me.”

nikkilbook asked: Red, what if you go find Dap and ask him to draw with you? Let you keep each other company while you do something for you.

“Where he at, though?” asks Red, ducking into the house. “Dap?”

No answer from the wide halls. He trails through the house looking for him.

Anonymous asked: If you want to be mad, J, be mad! Be drunk! These are your decisions and your emotions so express them. We want you to be safe but if you trust your judgement to drink responsibly by yourself, go for it, my guy.

“Be mad, be drunk,” he repeats a little more enthusiastically. After a moment he lowers his bottle and sighs.

“I am not being responsible, though. You are right. I don’t want my brothers to think I’m trying to hurt myself again.”

He sets the bottle gently aside, at least for a few minutes.

Anonymous asked: i don't think they'll mind much, dap. anti cares more about control than love, but the others don't. everyone has unhappy days, especially people in bad situations. we don't have to ask, and they don't have to agree, but we'll ask if you think it would make you feel better, okay? we can ask them not to scold you or anything too.

“He is my heart,” says Dapper cryptically, holding his knees to his chest. “That’s the rope he makes me wear.”

He turns at the sound of someone calling for him. He puts his head against his knees, mouth pursed, but after a moment, he tells you, “They can come see me if they want. But they can go, too, if they want. I have never been there for any of them, truth be told. Not for a long time, anyway. And even then, wasn’t I always just the needy little victim…”

He’s spiraling, his eyes getting dark. He covers his face with his hands.

Anonymous asked: i think they'll be happy to see you, dap. red's looking for you, he wants to know how you're doing. do you want us tell him where you are?

“I think it would be okay. I don’t want him to be disappointed in me.”

He stares down at the floorboards.

“There was a while when Dok and Trick first broke when none of my brothers knew anything about me, just my name and that Anti loved me better than them. I couldn’t talk to them and I couldn’t see them, but I would hear them through the walls and pretend they loved me too. It was lonelier having them in the house than when it was just me and Anti. But even when I felt totally… just… unloved, even when he didn’t even know me, Red would sometimes buy presents for me and leave them outside my door. And it was like there was a little remnant of what we had that was still alive. Or like even if he didn’t even know me, he still would be my brother and look after me however he could.”

He blinks. “I’m rambling again. I am drunk. I don’t want him to have loved me better before he knew me than now, when he’s beginning to see who I am, that’s all.”

Anonymous asked: Dap, you are one of the bravest, strongest, most downright terrifyingly intelligent men i have ever seen. And heck, im a grown up. I still sleep with my stuffed animals! And I color just to color and i eat candy for breakfast from time to time. I watch cartoons and i cry and I do all sorts of things. But im still an adult, and yes, you are too. You are strong, and you'll get through this. -Pink

“Yes, I’m terrifying,” agrees Dapper, nodding his head, determined to believe it. “I’ve killed, like, a lot of people.”

He pauses, touches his mouth, scrunches up his face in thought.

“I guess that is the opposite side of the spectrum. In terms of being taken seriously, I want to be somewhere between Strawberry Shortcake and unattended luggage in an American airport, thank you.”

nikkilbook asked: Room with a desk and alcohol, Red.

Red turns towards the right side of the house, shooting you a confused look at half of Dapper’s clothes scattered around the hallway. He pushes on and into the office, stopping short in the doorway.

Dapper stares back at him with wide eyes and a trembling frown, wiping at his face and clutching his bear to his stomach. The Jameson shudders on the floor nearby, drained by a couple glasses. Red blinks.

He sighs through his nose and then moves to sit down beside Dapper, squishing himself into the space beneath the desk at his side. Dapper sniffles and looks anywhere but Red’s eyes, downcast and humiliated.

“Okay,” says Red, making himself comfy. “Give me that.”

Dapper startles and turns to him. He glances between Red and the bottle, blinking.

“Yeah, come on!”

Dapper lets a sigh drift out of him, disappointed. He is just the little kid of the family. He turns the bottle over to his brother.

“Yeah, that’s right,” says Red. “No fucking drinking alone.”

He tilts the bottle back and drinks. Dapper laughs, turning towards him, clasping his hands together over his heart.

“Red,” he signs, giggling.

“Fuck, that burns!” spits Red, shaking his head and his hands. “That’s nasty!”

“Can’t handle it?” teases Dapper, scooting closer to him, delighted.

“Hey, I haven’t had a drink in a long time, okay?”

“Chug, chug, chug, chug - ”

“Don’t even start!”

Red and Dap laugh, huddled over the alcohol and the stuffies, squished together beneath the desk. Dapper clasps his hand through the blanket, leaning forward to set his head down against his shoulder.

Anonymous asked: How's the liquor Red? Bad? Well probably not since this was a rich dude's stash but the difference between expensive and cheap probably doesn't matter for someone's whose goal is to get drunk

“That is correct, for one,” coughs Red. “And also I know jack-shit about alcohol, unfortunately.”

“It’s good!” says Dapper. “It’s really good.”

“Babe, it’s nasty.”

Dapper laughs. “You can’t tell.”

“I can’t tell. All alcohol is disgusting. I mean I just - I don’t get the appeal. If it’s not like the fruity ones that actually taste nice? It’s nasty. I have never find an alcohol I want more than just, like, a nice orange soda.”

“Do you guys want lunch?” hollers Trick from the other side of the house.

Anonymous asked: Get one of ur brothers to bring the food up like a delivery boy lol

“Heyyyy,” hollers Red down the hallway. “Bring me food!”

“No,” shouts back Dok.

“What does he want?”

“Someone to bring him food.”

“No!”

“Blue, you’re supposed to be my twin!”

“I’m sick! You should be bringing food to me, if anything! Aw, look, Trick’s got me a plate already. That’s why he’s my favorite.”

“Hey!”

“All of you shut the fuck up!” shouts Anti.

Just to piss him off, Dapper stands up and sticks his fingers in his mouth, whistling as loud as he can until Red leaps up and makes his stop, laughing and horrified at the same time. “You are one dumb, bold, black and white firecracker, little brother.”

“Guess that’s why we get along,” answers Dap.

Anonymous asked: damn, orange soda!! that is the best soda, you are an individual of refined taste, red. in terms of lunch, trick's making kima - Indian dish with veggies and beef, basically - it looks p good. are y'all gonna want any?

“I want kima. Come on, bud.”

“There’s the monster in the forest.”

“They’re not going to snatch you while I’m here, bud.”

“You don’t know that,” answers Dapper wearily, but he lets Red lead him towards the hall.

aether-mae asked: Y’all need to eat, and also drink some water or you’ll get hangovers. *paps both ur heads* stay safe kids

“Yes, we do,” agrees Red fondly, pulling him down the hall. “Come on, so. Hey! Whoa, man. How drunk are you?”

Dapper has crashed into his chest, blinking fast. “Dizzy,” he signs.

“You shouldn’t have had that much.”

“I didn’t!”

“Let’s just get you some food and water, okay? You’ll feel better.”

He leads him into the kitchen and then decides against sitting him down at the island, turning to leave him beside Blue on the couch. Dapper sways dizzily, rubbing at his head.

“Hey, my darling, what’s wrong?” asks Blue, reaching out for him. “Dok, come here.”

“He’s okay,” Red insists. “He just, uh. Got into the liquor!”

“Hey!” cries Dok, anger and alarm slicing through his face. “Hey, why! Why would you do that?”

“Dok, come on,” Red protests.

“No, don’t ‘come on’ me! Alcoholism runs in our family and he had a suicide attempt this month. Not to mention Haldol interacts with alcohol! You’ll be dizzy all day.”

Dapper shakes his head, staring up at Dok with big blue eyes. He didn’t know that.

“Don’t give the doctor puppy eyes! It’s stupid, Dap! You want to get to drinking everyday, huh? You want a fun hangover so someone has to look after you? You want to be drunk all the time and then I can’t get you to wake up and it’s four in the morning and I told you to stop, I told you not to have so much, I keep telling you - !”

“Dok!” Trick cuts him off.

Dok stops, closing his eyes.

Trick’s face is guilty and drawn in the kitchen. He turns heavily back to his cooking, dishing meat and veggies onto flatbread.

immabethehero asked: Ooh what are you having???

“We are having kima,” says Trick wearily. “It’s meat and vegatables with paprika and curry powder. You put it on flatbread.”

Everyone’s gone mostly quiet, Red shuffling his feet against the carpet. Blue lets his head fall against Dapper’s shoulder. “I’m taking a nap, good night.”

Dapper presses his head against Blue’s. Trick brushes his hand against Dok’s back as he passes his brother, still standing in the middle of the room, scowling down at the floor.

Anonymous asked: Liquor on an empty stomach leads to a nasty hangover. Go get yall some lunch! And drink some water too. Please and thank you!

“Yes, eat,” insists Dok with a sigh, taking a plate from Trick and giving it to Dapper. “So you’re not sick. Can’t be drinking without food. And water. I’ll get you a bottle if I can find one.”

He goes digging around for a water bottle in the kitchen while Trick passes out food. He slices up a huge white peach and gives everybody a sweet, thick slice as footsteps come down the stairs and Anti appears on the banister, staring moodily down at them. Red and black burns disappear into his shirt from his shoulders and neck, but he doesn’t flinch or whimper, just scowls.

Dapper is tense. Dok tries to ignore their brother as he brings him a water bottle clinking with ice, sitting cautiously down beside Blue and Dapper. Red hovers in front of them, folding his kima into a taco and taking a bite in a pretty good semblance of normality.

“It’s good, Trick.”

“Don’t have to sound surprised.”

“Thanks for cooking.”

“Course.”

immabethehero asked: You know what you should try? Red Lobster cheddar biscuits. They’re from America and they’re delicious!

Everyone glances at the camera. “Uh, yeah,” says Trick. “Those sound good. I’d have to have a way to look the recipe up. But I can make good biscuits. Better than KFC, seriously.”

“I think maybe Blue did actually fall asleep on me,” says Dapper uncertainly, trying not to move too much.

Red sits down beside his brother and props up the plate of kima on his twin’s thighs, just in case he spills, taking enthusiastic bites of his lunch. “You’ll let him stay with us again tonight, yeah, Anti? He’s so tired. You don’t want to wear a body like this right now anyway, right?”

Anti shrugs, his eyes flickering. He turns away, playing with his knife, glancing back up the stairs.

Anonymous asked: Laying it on a little thick there, Dok. I understand you're upset but you don't need to reprimand him in front of everyone, least of all Trick. Taking care of others mistakes that they knowingly make can be hard, but harsh words won't improve things.

Dok raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. Trick sighs, shaking out his head.

“Let Dok have his reaction and Dok will let Dapper have his,” he says. “He already backed off. I don’t need to be coddled like I can’t handle the consequences of the choices I’ve made. But thank you.”

cest-mellow asked: you guys should have a pool party ! take your mind of all the stress, dark shouldnt come to your house territory anyway right..?

“Yes, right,” says Red, watching out of the corner of his eye as Anti decides to head back upstairs, stomping with every step. He’s gotten used to watching for Anti’s warning signs with his other siblings, but he has no idea how his brother will react to Dapper resisting like this. He’s never seen the two of them fight in front of the others, and he’s never seen Dapper quite this mad at him. Any of his other siblings could have lost fingers for the things Dapper’s done in the past twenty-four hours. Red shivers and shakes the thought off. “Yeah, Anti says Dark won’t come into the boundaries of the house, whatever that means. And if they show up in the yard again, I’ll fucking take a knife to them, swear by it!”

“Don’t talk like that,” mumbles Blue, rubbing at his eyes. “They’re not something you should mess with, I don’t think.”

“Well, I think we should go outside and sit around the pool, anyway,” says Red, reaching out to start tugging on pants legs - oh, Dapper is wearing slacks after all. Red grins up at his siblings. “Come on, come on! Need some sun!”

“We were just in Peru!”

“And still so pasty white!”

They end up sitting around the pool, Trick and Dok side-by-side at the far end, kicking their legs in the water and making sure the other eats enough while Dapper sinks down into the water like a tiger on the hunt, warm in the water. Red sits Blue down in the pool chairs at the side and they take a moment to look at each other, mimicking each other’s expressions as a game until Red makes a face so stupid Blue snorts with laughter and breaks character, sitting back in his chair, smiling in the sun.

aether-mae asked: Y’all keep an eye on Dap while he’s in the pool in case he’s still dizzy

“Good idea,” agrees Dok.

Dapper puts a hand to his forehead and faints dramatically, slumping back into the water. Red actually does leap up to his feet before Dapper surfaces again, grinning.

“Not funny, Dapper!”

“Dapper, that’s not funny!”

“Carver! Don’t!”

He giggles under the weight of their disapproval and they seem to roll their eyes at him as a collective, smiles flickering on their mouths.

Anonymous asked: Ah the facade of normality, so sweet yet so frail

Red and Blue glance over at you, eyebrows shooting up. Blue doesn’t seem to appreciate the message; Red looks a little unnerved.

“Don’t be weird,” grumbles Blue, turning back to his family.

“That’s my job,” says Red, kneading his hands together. “To make things feel normal when they’re not. Or safe when they’re not. Or okay when they’re not. I - ”

Blue puts a hand on his knee. “It was a weird message,” he says, squeezing his knee. “We don’t have to talk about it.”

Red nods, turning his attention back to him.

“Hey, will you go get me more water?” asks Blue.

Red is happy to do so. He gets up, taking their cups with him.

It is then that your screen changes in a way it has never glitched, fizzled, or blacked out before.

Someone has taken an Illumination effect to your screens and turned the color all the way down, down, leaving everything monochrome and night-struck, casting them all into shadow. Blue sips at his water as Red returns and you see something smoky and liquid fill up the glass as he puts it against his mouth. In his chair, Red tilts slowly back, until his body is stiff and unmoving against the back of the chair. Dapper is not rising from the pool. Dok and Trick have fallen asleep against each other, and their faces, as you watch, grow more and more hollow. The skin tears on their grey cheeks and white bones glimmer in the dead light of the sun as the color of the pool darkens and darkens and darkens. Blood drips from Blue’s mouth as his eyes flicker and close.

“But you know the truth, don’t you?” comes a cold, drawling voice, deep enough to drown in. “It is just a face - sweet as honey. Frail as mortal bone.”

There is an echo to the voice, not layered like Anti’s, but repeating after it, sometimes changing the way they said it.

“Frail as mortal bone…” it whispers.

“I suppose he put you up to this. You always do whatever he tells you. Play any game he gives you. His loyal, naive little followers. But it doesn’t much matter,” shrugs Dark, flickering into view, blue and red, at the edge of the forest, standing on a cane. They do not appear to you the way they appeared to Anti. Gone is the rot, the decay, the death of them. They are upright and beautiful, with black eyes that glitter like the stomach of the night sky. Black hair curls neatly around their ears and eyes. They are dressed neater even than Dapper, a suit perfectly tailored along the fine curves of their strong body.

They look harmless, respectable, attractive. They are smiling at you.

“I like playing games, you see, with anyone other than him. He’s not here right now,” their voice drawls, low and whispered, as though to make you lean closer to your screen. “So I have a proposition for you, old friend.”

“I have a proposition for you, old friend,” spits the echo.

“It looks like you’ve been watching these poor pets a long time. Attached, are you? I can see glimpses, here and there… illness, torture, sickness in their minds… does it just kill you to watch them being hurt again and again, never getting away?”

“Never getting away? Trapped? Does it just kill you…”

“Bring one of them to me,” says Dark, smiling broadly at you. Their teeth are white like a snake’s. “Bring all of them to me, if you want. And I’ll be kind. I promise. They can rest a while. I have people who can give them anything they want.”

“Anything they want.”

“And no one will hurt them while they’re with me.”

“While they’re with us.”

“But if you don’t… I have more creative ways to bring them with me.”

They smile at you, dark eyes flashing. At the poolside, Red is on the ground, unmoving. Dok and Trick’s chests bleed as twins. Dapper seems to be glitching, thrashing with drowning one moment, still the next, thrashing, still, thrashing, still.

“Don’t disappoint me,” Dark whispers.

They wink. They disappear.

“Thank you, Gigi,” you hear faintly, and then it is all over.

Your screens are normal again. It is a sunny, beautiful day. The boys are unharmed, Dapper chasing a tiny frog around the side of the pool while Red and Blue split another peach and Dok and Trick splash water at each other, laughing. A bird calls, overhead. Everyone is fine.

pine-storm-season asked: Cameras went weird for a moment, was that just for us? It's probably not anything important, I'm just curious if you guys noticed anything about it too.

“Cameras went weird?”

Red turns to pick up a handheld, turning it in circles as he examines it.

“Looks fine,” says Blue.

“Yeah, I don’t know. We weren’t paying close attention, though.”

Anonymous asked: The boys might not have noticed that... "thing", but did Anti also see it?

Anti shoots you a look from his bed, where he’s sitting with about six computers surrounding him or perched on his lap. “I don’t know what the hell you assholes are talking about, but nothing happened in my systems. If something happened, it went through your end of the system, so sucks to be you if you have a virus other than me, but I’m fine.”

He doesn’t look fine. He looks pissed off and exhausted and unhappy. But that’s probably unrelated.

Anonymous asked: Uh Anti should you really just be going sucks to be us considering that the one who sort of appeared to us seems to be threatening your boys...

Anti stares at you for a moment. Then he bursts into laughter, incredulous. “Yeah, I reckon they fucking did! I was the one who invited them to play this game, you know that right? Fuck. Obviously they threatened them, I told them to try and goddamn kidnap them! Oh, goodness… sometimes I wonder about the lot of you.”

Anonymous asked: So what's your plan here then, Anti? Wouldn't you want to keep them safe from other stuff??

“I thought I explained. I never understand why humans don’t understand when I explain things. I don’t understand what they don’t understand.” He pounds on his keyboard as he types, frowning. “I told you this is someone I… trust. I mean, it’s Dark. They’re my… they wouldn’t hurt my pets. We’re just playing games, that’s all. Dark knows me. I know Dark.”

cest-mellow asked: why would you want dark to kidnap the boys, anti? what happens if they succeed?

“If they snag one of them, they can have Dap for a little while,” says Anti, grinning. “That was the deal we made in the forest. But if not, they’ll help me like I want them to. And that’s the thing, really - even if they do win, I bet they’ll still help me do what I want. Just might have to make up for it in… other ways.”

His smile only grows. He glances out the window like he’s waiting to see Dark again, swaying slightly on the bed.

Anonymous asked: Doesn't it worry you that they know about the cameras and can show us things that you can't see? You don't see that going sideways?

“Fucking Gigi! I’ll kill him! He got into my cameras?”

He leaps to his feet and stands at the window, peering out at the forest, beaming. “Fuck, I knew that little cheat would ask the others for help. Well, doesn’t matter. Gigi may be a force to be reckoned with, but I bet Red can out-hack him. I’ll get him a computer.”

Anti turns back to you, a fang poking out of his mouth. “Besides, I don’t care what they show you. There’s nothing you can do about any of this.”

bupine asked: what other ways, anti? hopefully not something like sacrificing another brother. trick wouldn't like that, would he?

Anti snorts. “Oh, fuck… no. You misunderstand. I meant… other things. But I assume some of you are minors, so I won’t go into detail.“

Anonymous asked: I volunteer Trick

Trick blinks, huddling down at Dok’s side. “Hey! What am I being volunteered for? Guys? Ha, Dok, they’re Hunger Games-ing me. You gotta be my Katniss.”

Dok doesn’t look back at him. His eyes are fixed on the doorway to Trick and Red’s room.

“Dok,” Trick insists, pushing at his shoulders. “Hey, the cameras are talking, you like that. Did you float away on me again?”

Dok shakes his head, turning back to his twin for a moment. “What? Oh, no. I’m here.”

“You’re jumpy all day,” whispers Trick, nuzzling his head down against his shoulder.

“It’s past eight,” says Dok. “Anti should have come to get Blue and Dapper and I. But he hasn’t.”

“He’s just having a hard couple days. Let him rest. It’s okay.”

Dok just stares at the door.

The night has come quietly. He is not the only one who’s tense. Red and Dapper are huddled on the windowsill signing and whispering, Blue laid sleepily across Red’s lap, though his keen blue eyes, at the sound of Trick and Dok speaking, turn and fix on you.

Anonymous asked: Blue, you doing okay?

Red and Dapper pause to look at their sibling and Blue sits up, waving their concern away. “Getting into bed,” he mumbles.

“Okay,” Red answers him, reaching out to pull his head in for a kiss.

Blue crawls into bed, carrying a handheld with him. His eyes shift around the room in warning.

“I thought Anti would come back and make us go upstairs with us, but he’s left us alone. That means he’s planning something. It’ll be worse than just dragging us up the stairs or knocking our heads against sinks until we stop fighting.”

He sighs, deep and hurting.

“I don’t know how to protect them from it. Any of them. Even if he doesn’t touch Trick, he gets his trauma secondhand from watching the rest of us get beat and then it’s all buried under this veneer of amnesia and fake love. Even if he doesn’t touch Dapper, he’ll shove him back into a headspace he hates and make him a slave again. Even if he doesn’t touch me, I have to feel him beneath the skin.”

He pulls a pillow to his chest for a hug, closing his eyes. He needs to calm down.

“I think I could almost convince Red to get them and go,” he whispers. “But there’s that thing in the forest…”

He shakes his head and sighs. His eyes flash open. He looks at you. “I promise Dok and I are working on things,” he whispers, so quiet you can barely hear him over the sound of Pot Noodle hopping up onto the bed and padding towards him to purr like a motorboat in his ears. “I promise…”

Anonymous asked: You're doing great, Blue. This is a really hard situation. You're doing incredibly well, okay? We're here to help, and you have your brothers with you too.

“Thank you,” he says. “That’s nice, really. I want to - I want you to have a better story to read. I think about that sometimes. I want you to see us happier. I want that.”

Dapper giggles in the windowsill and Blue looks up, some of the stress fading into warmth on his face. He and Red are huddled together over one of Dapper’s old sketchbooks, coloring together, the colored pencils you got him for Christmas scattered across the ledge. Blue hums a little, his foggy eyes seeming to clear, if only for a moment.

“Yeah, they’re here. They’re with me.”

Anonymous asked: dok, you good?

Dok is humming to himself, something you’re not sure you’ve ever heard him do. It is a discordant melody. His leg bounces in time with the beat. Trick doesn’t let himself look worried. He wraps his arms around Dok’s shoulders and pulls his body close. He expects Dok to go stiff and silent like he sometimes does. The best thing to do has always just been trying to bring him back down to earth.

“Yes, fine,” says Dok.

His face tightens with pain. Trick is hurting him from holding on too tight. But his twin doesn’t know he’s been beat, cut, and strung up by chain all within the last few nights, and he won’t let him know. He can’t. He can’t go upstairs again. He can’t stay upstairs again. There are spiders in the closet. There are spiders on his skin. He’s crying.

“I am right here,” says Trick, again and again, buried low against his shoulder, pushing you slightly away with his foot. “I am right here.”

“He’s going to come hurt me,” whimpers Dok, hiding against him. “Every night, I… I…”

“I think it’s ‘they,’ buddy,” Trick corrects him gently. “They won’t get you long as you’re in the house.”

Anonymous asked: Trick I know you mean well but I don't think anything you could say to Dok would make him feel better. Everything's a bit off but just... stay with him.

“That’s my job, to make him feel better,” whispers Trick, and something in his voice is wounded and aware. Something in his voice knows this is not wrong. “That’s my job…”

He leans back a little to look at him, but Dok just follows his body, chasing the side of his face with his own and pressing them back together like puzzle pieces stuck together in the box. Trick touches the back of his head.

“You are still a half a world away from me,” mourns Henrik, touching Trick’s wrist. “Wo ist mein zwilling?”

“Here,” protests Trick. “Hey, don’t say that, don’t, I… ich bin da. Always.”

Henrik thumbs at the pulse in his wrist.

Anonymous asked: trick, be gentle with him, okay? i don't think he wants to be squished right now. dok, you're gonna be okay. i know, it's scary and confusing and awful. but you're not in danger right now, bud. try to remember that, okay? you're not in danger right now.

Trick eases his grip around him, confused enough that he glances over to you for guidance. He strokes gently at his back. “It’s true. Not in danger.”

“Never feels that way anymore,” mumbles Dok. “Never.”

Trick bites down hard on his lip. He’s known Dok could probably use counseling for a long time, but it scares him every time he feels like he can hear Dok reading out of a DSM when he’s talking about himself. He scratches his fingers across his brother’s scalp.

“Tell me one thing I could do to make today better,” Trick urges him, trying to smile. “Yeah? If you don’t want to tell me what’s wrong or what’s going on, you don’t have to. I’ll just be here. Tell me instead something that’ll make tonight better, okay? Cause we got just about everything we want in this big ol’ house. Right?”

A smile pulls at Dok’s tired lips.

“Yeah, there. Come on. What’s something that could make right now better?”

“I don’t know,” says Dok. “I don’t know, I… I’m sorry, I don’t have ideas.”

Anonymous asked: blue, and i suppose everyone, do you wanna know something funny? dark is anti's Complicated lover haha

Did I say that Blue was exhausted? Have you seen the dark bags beneath his eyes, the aching way he holds himself, the leaning of his body against the thin strength of the cane? Have you seen Blue’s fatigue in every line of his skin?

Suddenly, he is wide awake.

“No. Fucking. Way!” You hear him cry, and immediately he’s laughing so hard he shakes Noodle on his chest. “Holy shit, holy shit!”

“That’s horrible,” cries Red. “Hey, don’t even joke about that! That thing looked like a goddamn skeleton!”

“No way, no way!” howls Blue. “Nooooo, that’s too funny, holy shit! Are you kidding me? No, how does Anti even pretend to be anything’s ‘lover?’ Holy cow… oh, I don’t want to imagine the things I’m imagining, hahaha!”

Dapper rolls his eyes so hard they might get stuck back there and gags.

Anonymous asked: maybe a blanket, or a bit of food, dok? or should we see if there's something else you'd like?

“I could build you a fort,” says Trick, grinning. “With pillows and blankets.”

Dok smiles at him, entertained by his enthusiasm. He shakes his head.

“No? I could… wrap you up like a burrito. With Noodle on top.” He pulls his cat off the bed and presents him to Dok. “Do you want to be all wrapped up with your Uncle, Noodle Pot?”

Noodle meows, sniffing at Dok’s face. Dok closes his eyes, feeling his whiskers across his cheeks.

“I could feed you, yeah, all you want,” says Trick, touching his brother’s ribs, proud to feel a little weight on his body again. He hates the magicians for a lot of things, but at least they fed him well. “There’s brownie mix in the cupboard, you know. I been saving it.”

Dok tilts his head, biting on his lip. “That… might be good.”

“Yeah?”

Dok nods, smiling.

“Come with me,” says Trick, leading him to his feet. “You can curl up in the loveseat and I’ll make you brownies, okay?”

Dok loves him.

“Yes,” he says. “Okay.”

Anonymous asked: just gonna throw this out there but trick uh, anti hurts him. you could help him by keeping him away from anti, and not mentioning him. if you don't believe us, look at his bruises

“Red and Dap are getting along,” says Trick. “Look at them, oh-so-secret, bent over their little book together.”

He almost wants to make fun of them - usually, that makes Dok laugh - but he can’t. Not at that. It’s… nice. It’s good.

“Good for Dapper not to be alone,” murmurs Dok, sitting in the loveseat as promised, petting Noodle luxuriously. His brother’s cat squirms his way up his body and rests against his neck, purring warmly. “And he isn’t the only one getting on better with Red.”

Trick glances back at his twin almost guiltily, stirring brownie mix and eggs and milk together. “I… don’t want to be at odds with him, I decided. We fight, but we’re brothers too.”

He pauses, pouring the mix into a pan. “That’s… okay, right?”

“Why would it not be okay?” asks Dok, confused.

“I don’t know. I just want it to be okay that I - that I sometimes - that you’re not the only person I love.”

Dok stares at him from the chair.

“Like - I want you to know you’re still important, even if I have other people. It doesn’t mean I love you any less if I love somebody else.”

Trick’s cheek stings suddenly. He startles, reaching up to touch his face. He can almost feel the indent of fingers against his skin. He doesn’t know why. It disturbs him.

“Hey, dummkopf,” says Dok, and he turns to see his brother staring warmly back at him.

“Love’s not brownie mix,” Dok tells him, grinning. “It doesn’t thin out as you spread it.”

Trick grins back at him, huffing out a laugh and popping open the fridge. “So what you’re saying is it’s more of a viscous Jello of some kind?”

“That sounds horrible.”

“You started it.”

“I don’t know what it is, I just know it’s not caramel cluster brownie mix.”

Trick laughs.

Dok’s voice has gone soft and earnest by the time he speaks again.

“You do not belong to anyone, my brother,” he says. “Your heart doesn’t. It was meant to be free.”

“You could write poetry for Blue,” answers Trick, only barely teasing. “I love you.”

“I love you,” Dok repeats, with feeling.

“What bruises?”

“What?”

Trick’s voice has changed in an instant, flinty and trembling. Dok looks up from Noodle, confused. Trick is staring at the camera. Then his eyes flicker over to Dok, hard. “What bruises, Dok?”

Dok pulls their cat closer to his stomach, shaking his head. He turns his eyes away from his twin.

“Why do you keep getting bruises? Show me.”

“No,” says Dok. “Leave it alone, Trickshot.”

Anonymous asked: hey, trick? please leave it be for now. come back to that later, maybe, but i think it would be good for you two to just hang out with each other and be happy for a bit.

Trick’s eyes flash between you and Dok, advancing on his brother. For a moment, he considers it - you see it in the uncertainty that crosses through his face.

But Trick, though he often forgets his aggressor, is, in many ways, fighting just as hard as Blue and Dok are. And he knows something is wrong.

“This is scary,” he says, his voice cracking. “Don’t you get that?”

Dok laughs loud and broken. “Do I get that? Do I?”

“This is the first time in my life you’ve kept something from me,” Trick keeps on. “Someone’s hurting you - or you’re hurting yourself. And you won’t tell me about it.”

“I need you to trust me - ”

“No, I need you to trust me!”

“Well, I don’t!” screams Dok, loud enough to startle Noodle off his lap. Their cat streaks away, racing back towards their room. “I don’t! You think I’m fucking hypnotized when you’re the one whose head is messed up! You wouldn’t believe me if I did tell you! I can’t count on you! I can’t trust you! Fuck, it’s like you’re not even my brother half the time!”

Trick’s mouth hangs open. His eyes aren’t even hurt - just horrified.

Dok hears himself breathing heavy. Hears the echo of the words like an afterimage on his tongue.

“I - I - ”

Trick can’t speak around his stammer. His hand flutters and comes to rest over his heart.

And then he regains himself again.

And he straightens up.

And he looks at Dok again, kneeling gently down beside him.

Dok feels his own eyes burn. He doesn’t even know why.

Trick touches the open palm of his hand and they breathe together, side-by-side.

Long minutes pass. Trick lets his anger and his hurt go.

Just like that. It doesn’t matter. He’s what matters. His zwilling.

When he pulls back the long sleeve of Dok’s torn coat and finds dark fingerprints in his wrist, Dok does not stop him. Trick rests his forehead against the bruises and grieves them.

“Just… tell me?”

Dok is threading his fingers through his hair. He doesn’t reply.

Anonymous asked: trick, please. i'm not gonna tell you what to do or not to do, but just,,, be aware? pushing dok on this will hurt both of you. like, emotionally. you're picking the scab on an infected wound here. do what you will, but think about what it is you want to do here

Trick sighs very long and very deep. He gives a shaken laugh. Doesn’t know why.

“Does someone know?” he whispers. “Someone who loves you?”

Dok nods.

“Yes, I promise.”

“Is it going to stop soon?”

Dok blinks and tears run down his cheeks. “I really hope so, my brother.”

Trick kisses his bruised wrist, resting his head against Dok’s lap.

“I want to take you to Singapore,” he says suddenly, curling his fingers around Dok’s. “I really think you would have liked it there. I thought about you every time I was happy. I could show you all the places I liked.”

“That would be fun,” says Dok. “I want to push you in the Lion fountain.”

“Ohhh, Dok,” says Trick, because what the fuck else is he meant to say? “Ohhh, Dok.”

He would like to give him worlds and worlds, but all he has are brownies.

Anonymous asked: dok, are you going to say? you don't have to though, love, it's an honest question.

“I just - I just want to see you trying to think for yourself again,” whispers Dok. “Please? It scares me when you don’t act like yourself. I think maybe, secretly, he’s suicidal or wanting to hurt himself again.”

“No, Dok, I feel good,” protests Trick, clutching at him. “I promise, I promise! I would tell you, I promise.”

“But there are these moments where you’re not okay. I keep seeing them! Like suddenly you’re freaking out and you need to break in half.”

“It’s just - I don’t know why that happens, but it never lasts long, bro, it never does.”

“I’m scared you’d get angry at me if I told you the truth,” admits Dok in a croak. “I’m scared I would see just how much you’re really not yourself. That maybe I would think you aren’t going to be yourself again.”

“Hey, stop,” answers Trick. “Look, that… don’t, that fucking stings. Don’t say shit like that. Like I’m losing you. Hey, it’s not fair. I’m trying to be a good brother.”

“I’m sorry.”

Trick rubs at his reddened face, sniffling as he gets up to check the brownies.

Dok turns away. “I think you already know who did this anyway,” he adds, so soft you’re not sure Trick hears it. “But it’s too terrible for you to admit.”

Whether or not he did, Trick doesn’t turn around. He is getting the brownies out of the oven. He doesn’t turn around. He doesn’t.

Maybe he didn’t hear it. Maybe.

“I think you already know,” repeats Dok, even quieter. “I think you do.”

Anonymous asked: hey, dok? you and trick and your other brothers will be okay. i know it might be hard to believe that, but don't lose hope, okay? you're gonna be okay. things will get better. i promise.

“Every time I look at him I think, over and over again, ‘I have to get him out of here, I have to get him out of here, I have to get him out of here,’“ says Dok in a hush. “It’s the worst part of the torture. I have to get him out of here. He doesn’t even know.”

He digs his fingernails into his palms and closes his eyes, trying to find his strength again, his hope, like you said.

“I don’t want to be tortured anymore,” he says, his voice creasing. “Things have to get better. I’m scared all the time. But we’ll be okay. We’ll be okay. We’ll get out of here. You promised, yeah? You promise…”

Anonymous asked: Hows the coloring coming guys?-Pink

“Good,” says Red cheerfully, bonking his head against Dapper’s as a sign of affection. Unfortunately, Dapper is not familiar with this form of affection, and he reels back like a startled cat, nearly falling off the windowsill. Red doesn’t notice. “Dap said I could color his old drawings since he never uses color. And I was like, bro, I don’t want to ruin your drawings! They’re yours! But he says he can hardly tell the difference and he doesn’t mind.”

“I have dozens of sketch books,” says Dapper. “These old ones aren’t even that good.”

“Hey, don’t be a dumb-ass,” protests Red, genuinely affronted on his behalf. “They’re really good!”

He holds up a black and white hummingbird. Color is seeping into its feathers, starting at the breast. Red is not particularly neat in his coloring, but his colors have an organization of their own to them, like he’s giving motion to the body of the bird.

“They’re all good!”

Red begins flipping through pages. A bear with its teeth showing. A city in Japan through a small window. Anti. A raccoon, a pinata, a half-dozen clocks, a dark figure with swept-back hair.

Red blinks.

Red stops.

Red stares.

“Hey,” he says. “Hey, that’s the Darkness.”

He stares up at Dapper. Dapper stares down at the floor, mouth twisted.

Eyes scared.

“Dapper? What’s going on?”

Anonymous asked: dap, do you feel like saying? it's okay if you don't, this is an extremely stressful situation and i think red will understand.

“Red, Anti won’t listen,” signs Dapper rapidly. “He doesn’t understand. For once, it’s not his fault, but he doesn’t.”

“If he won’t listen to you, that is his fault,” answers Red humorlessly, and you hear a little of his twin’s bitterness in his mouth.

“Be that as it may. You and me and - well, Max - ”

“Max,” repeats Red, for no reason at all.

“We’re the only ones who know about what I did!”

Red sighs, trying to think. “Slow down, slow down. You’re talking about… when you snapped?”

Dapper’s eyes are wide, soaking in moonlight. He nods once. “Do you remember?”

pine-storm-season asked: Could you elaborate, please, Dap? I don't think we really know what happened. You don't have to, though.

“We talked about it. How our old master forgot.”

Red’s eyebrows raise. “Right… Max said he went to see that guy, J - ”

Dapper shoves his hands over Red’s mouth, eyes wide. He pauses for a second before drawing away, making sure Red gets the message.

“Right,” says Red, flushed. “Guess that isn’t a safe name to say.”

“Our old master forgot us,” says Dapper. “Our creator. Even though he made us. When Anti got his hands on him, I was psychotic and I was scared for him. I snapped - and created a whole separate timeline from the correct one.”

“Right,” says Red. “Like a timeline where we shouldn’t even exist. Where none of us happened, so Anti can never hurt him. That’s why the cameras said there should be videos of us on that Youtube channel, but there aren’t. Because this is a different timeline.”

“Yes.”

“Dap, we better pray Anti is asleep.”

“He’ll just think we’re losing it if he hears us talking like this. But that’s the timeline we’re in now, Red - one where it’s like we never even existed.”

Red pauses, picking at his lip. “So no one would know we exist.”

“Right.”

“Even people we used to know, people we know we had connections with… to them, it’s like we never existed.”

“Right!” cries Dapper. “That’s what you have to remember me saying, or the rest doesn’t make sense. I snapped the timeline. That’s why our old creator doesn’t remember us. That’s why no one remembers us. Like we talked about at the motel in Colombia. Okay? So listen: I broke the timeline trying to protect our creator and I spliced different pieces together. Now, it’s like no one created us at all, like we just came to be. So no one remembers us at all, even if we think they should. Understand?”

Red laughs. “But, Dap, that’s not true!”

Dapper blinks, drawing back from him. “How do you mean?”

“People do remember us,” Red insists. And then, softer: “Max remembers me.”

Dapper looks away, thinking. He rubs at his mustache. Red can almost see his little brother’s brain whirring away like the inside of a computer.

“But… the old master doesn’t remember us.”

“Well, that’s not really true either,” says Red, making Dapper’s head snap up. “Remember? The way he reacted to Max coming to his door wasn’t normal. He didn’t act like Max was crazy. Max said he kept saying our names. Over and over and over.”

“Like he was trying to remember,” says Dapper uncertainly.

“Yeah.”

“Like, even though the timelines snapped…”

“There’s still some people who remember us. Even though it’s like we didn’t exist.”

“Why would they do that?”

Red shrugs, looking down at his hands, fidgeting. “Dap, I - when I found Max, it wasn’t like he was… new. I mean, I forgot everything about him, yeah. But it was still like… like he was a piece of me.”

Dapper looks down at his hands.

“Maybe,” he says after a moment. “Maybe it’s possible, that even though I broke the timeline and made it like we just popped into existence instead of being created… maybe there were some people who were so much a part of us, and us so much a part of them, that I couldn’t just take us away from them.”

“And they remember,” agrees Red softly. “Like we’re trying to remember. Like… girls who smell like cigarettes. Like Trick said. She’s a part of him no matter what happens and what Anti takes or what timelines you shift. Some things - some things don’t get erased. Not even by powerful magic. Some people are too important to forget even if you did snap the timeline.”

Dapper pulls at his beard, silenced by the realization. Red turns his head, peering out the window, where the great darkness of the forest waits, looking back at him.

“So the question is… was Anti important enough to Dark for them to remember him?”

Dapper curls his hands together over his heart, closing his eyes.

“And what will they do to us if they don’t?”

#chapter four #writers of jack

6 notes · View notes