#compilation of things from over a month ago once again

[boxheadpaint]

voices

[gegengestalt]

131 useless or often forgotten facts in The Brothers Karamazov!

This 27 of April is the second anniversary of the day I finished this book for the first time. To do something special, I reread it over the last 20 days and as I did it, I compiled little things that are easy to forget in these 1000 pages filled with food for thought. Let's go!

1. Mitya fought in a duel, though it's most likely that nobody died in it.

2. Ivan's journalist pseudonym is "Eyewitness".

3. Alyosha, in his own words, came back to Skotoprigonyevsk to visit his mother's grave.

4. Fyodor Pavlovich owns several taverns in the district.

5. Grigory was the one who gave Sofia Ivanovna a proper gravestone.

6. Alyosha is one deduction away from becoming a communist.

7. The Brothers Karamazov begins in late August.

8. Kalganov is supposedly Alyosha's friend. This is never mentioned ever again.

9. Kalganov gave one coin to some beggars and told them to divide it among themselves.

10. There is a rumour that the previous elder beat people with sticks. This is false.

11. Alyosha is the only person in the monastery who knows that Rakitin is an atheist, and keeps his secret.

12. Four years ago, Pyotr Miusov divulged a fake story about a saint making out with his own decapitated head. Fyodor never forgot.

13. Madame Khokhlakov is only 33 years old. She has been a widow for 5 years, meaning Lise lost her father at age 9.

14. Zosima's serenity in front of the woman who confesses to a murder may foreshadow his later recollection of having a murder confessed to before.

15. Zosima likes to make jokes.

16. Lise and Alyosha last saw each other two years before.

17. Reminder that Grushenka met Mitya because Fyodor wanted her help to throw Mitya into a debtors' prison.

18. Kuzma Samsonov is the mayor of Skotoprigonyevsk.

19. Ivan rambled to Dmitri and Katerina about how he thinks Rakitin will be a failed journalist turned landlord.

20. Fyodor Pavlovich's house is filled with rats.

21. The Miusov family had their own private theatre.

22. Lizaveta Smerdyashchaya was a bit over 142cm/4'7 tall.

23. In 1842 there was a runaway convict called Karp commiting crimes in Skotoprigonyevsk.

24. Marya Kondratievna's mother is missing a leg.

25. Mitya ghosted a girl in real life.

26. Katerina's mother died when she was young.

27. Mitya had a fever for two weeks once because of a spider bite.

28.Mitya thought Grushenka was "nothing striking" the first time he saw her.

29. Mitya was squatting in his neighbour's rented room.

30. Fyodor Pavlovich has a portrait of the former provincial governor in his house.

31. Fyodor Pavlovich goes to sleep at 3- 4AM, like Dostoyevsky himself.

32. Sofia Ivanovna was being courted by a rich man called Beliavsky while she was married.

33. Who was the woman coming from the alley that Mitya mistook for Grushenka? I still wonder.

34. A cheap glass jar was destroyed during Mitya's frenzied break- in.

35. Katerina sends two detailed reports a week to her surrogate mother figure who lives in Moscow.

36. Katerina has an aquarium.

37. Alyosha sleeps using his monk habit as a blanket.

38. Father Ferapont survives eating nothing more than 1,6kg of bread a week.

39. Ivan had told his father about his feelings for Katerina, for some reason.

40. When Alyosha kissed his father, he had the impression that Alyosha was thinking that it was their last conversation.

41. Madame Khokhlakova owns three houses as property.

42. Madame Khokhlakova and Katerina Ivanovna are supposedly great friends.

43. Ivan reads Schiller when nobody is looking.

44. One of Snegiryov's daughters, Varvara, is invested in feminism.

45. Captain Snegiryov's childhood friend is a lawyer.

46. Mitya spilled cognac over the table of the summerhouse.

47. Smerdyakov sings in falsetto.

48. Marya Kondratievna is the only one who ever calls Smerdyakov 'Pavel Fyodorovich'.

49. Ivan uses Smerdyakov as a messenger.

50. Dmitri and Katerina had been engaged for around six months.

51. Ivan's right shoulder looks lower than the left one when he walks.

52. Smerdyakov often moves the tip of his right foot from side to side when he stands (adorable).

53. Dmitri's favourite death threats are "pounding in a mortar" and "breaking legs".

54. Grigory suffers from paralysis three times a year.

55. The real name of 'Lyagavy' is Gorstkin.

56. Zosima's real name is "Zinovy".

57. There was actually another old German doctor before Herzenstube and he was named Eisenschmidt.

58. Zosima has known Brother Anfim for forty years.

59. The Bible is thrown once.

60. Madame Khokhlakova asked Rakitin to go to the funeral as her eye.

61. Alyosha was hiding behind the grave of starets Iov, who lived 105 years.

62. Zosima was harshly criticized for telling a monk hallucinating to take his meds if praying doesn't work.

63. Both Grushenka and Rakitin are children of deacons.

64. Samsonov is the only person that Grushenka seems to be completely and clearly sincere with.

65. Likewise, Samsonov only trusts her when it comes to counting money.

66. Samsonov has the entire first floor of his house for himself.

67. Mitya tells many of his secrets to his landlords, who are fond of him.

68. Alongside eggs and bread, Mitya grabbed and ate a piece of sausage that he "found".

69. Mitya and Perkhotin first met at the Metropolis tavern.

70. Mitya's dueling pistols are his "most prized possessions".

71. Madame Khokhlakova apparently borrows money from Miusov.

72. The brass pestle was 17 centimetres long.

73. Mitya spent exactly 300 rubles in food and alcohol in Mokroye, and it would have been 400 if Perkhotin didn't help.

74. Mitya gave a glass of champagne to a kid.

75. The owner of Plotnikov's shop is called Varvara Alexeievna.

76. Two thousand villagers live in Mokroye.

77. Trifon Borissovich makes his younger daughters clean up the messes of every guest of the inn.

78. Pan Wroblewski is 190cm / 6'2 tall.

79. Madame Khokhlakova gets a migraine whenever she has to talk to Mitya.

80. The ispravnik's elder granddaughter is called Olga, and the night of the murder was her birthday.

81. The prosecutor's wife seems very interested in sending for Mitya often, for reasons he doesn't know.

82. Mitya does not know that the epidermis is the outer layer of the skin.

83. Nikolay Parfenovich is the only person in the world who trusts Ippolit Kirillovich.

84. Mitya often dreams that a person that he fears is chasing him and searching for him.

85. Nikolay Parfenovich wears a smoky topaz ring on his middle finger.

86. Pan Wroblewski is a dentist without a license.

87. Kalganov had visited Grushenka once before, but she seemed to dislike him for some reason.

88. Kolya's father died when he was a little baby.

89. There was a plot going on in the background about the doctor's maid having a child out of wedlock.

90. Rakitin often talks with Kolya. Seems like the only person who takes his ideas seriously is a literal child.

91. Smerdyakov and Ilyusha met and talked to each other.

92. Alyosha rarely gets colds.

93. Katerina befriended Snegiryov's sick wife.

94. Kolya was taken to a judge for teaching a guy how to efficiently crack the neck of a goose.

95. Kolya is against women's rights.

96. Mitya and Grushenka spent five weeks secluded and away from each other after the arrest.

97. Grushenka went to see Grigory to try to convince him that the door wasn't open.

98. Rakitin made up in an article that Madame Khokhlakova offered Mitya 3k rubles to run away with her.

99. Madame Khokhlakova doesn't remember Rakitin's patronymic, and calls him "Ivanovich" instead of "Osipovich".

100. Madame Khokhlakova didn't know of the judicial system reform until two days before the trial.

101. Lise sent chocolates to Mitya in jail, even though there's no reference to them ever interacting before.

102. Alyosha has had the same dream about the devils that Lise has.

103. Alyosha is friends with the jail inspector, who often discusses the gospels with him.

104. Mitya spent two entire nights awake since he discovered ethics.

105. Ivan cleans his own room.

106. Smerdyakov shared a hospital room with an agonizing dropsy patient.

107. Mitya's letter had the bill on the other side.

108. Smerdyakov uses garters with his stockings.

109. There is an apple tree in Fyodor's garden.

110. One of Ivan's "most stupid" thoughts is being the fat wife of a merchant.

111. Ivan had a friend named Korovkin when he was 17, the one he told the story of the quadrillion kilometres to.

112. Ivan has another poem named Geological Cataclysm.

113. Alyosha was the first person the distraught Marya Kondratievna ran to.

114. Ivan is mistaken for "the eldest son" twice in the trial.

115. Grigory did not remember he was in 1866.

116. Rakitin knows "every detail" of the biography of Fyodor Pavlovich and all the Karamazovs.

117. Grushenka's surname, Svetlova, means "light".

118. Mitya once dropped 100 rubles while he was drunk.

119. Ivan saw not just the Devil, but people who had died while he walked in the street.

120. Ippolit Kirillovich died nine months after the trial, the first and last day he received applauses.

121. Marfa is dismissed as a suspect simply because they can't imagine her killing.

122. There is a partition wall in Mitya's lodgings.

123. Mitya mostly stopped staring at the floor during the prosecutor's speech whenever Grushenka was mentioned.

124. Fetyukovich bends forward in an unnerving manner when he speaks.

125. An 18 year old street vendor committed axe murder earlier that year.

126. The verdict was given past 1AM, making the trial last almost 16 hours.

127. Katerina kept the sick Ivan in her house knowing it could possibly be harmful to her reputation.

128. Rakitin tried to sneak in to see Mitya in the hospital twice.

129. Lise sent the flowers that adorn Ilyusha's coffin, and Katerina paid for the grave.

130. Snegiryov cries seeing his late son's little boots the same way one of the women at the monastery in the beginning of the book did.

131. At the end, Alyosha mentions "leaving the city for a long time" soon. Where to? We don't know.

If you read this far down, I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing all of these down.

[ox-imagines]

Nights Like This

Tohma x f reader - coworkers to lovers

wc: 5k

This work contains smut!! I'll put the cutoff before the smut for anyone who wants to read up to that point! !!MINORS DNI!!

This was requested by @mastering-procrastinating as an expansion of my Romance Tropes headcannons. I hope you enjoy!

(ps. the little breaks in it signal that it's a different night they're working)

“I suppose the cup in the microwave is yours?” You heard a voice over your shoulder.

Tohma Ishibashi. You were promoted several months ago and had worked with him since, though never directly. You’d had no reason to deal with him, thus you hadn’t.

“Yeah, it’s mine; sorry,” you stood and brushed past him to get your cup. “I just thought I’d get some coffee, you know, since we might be here a while.” You’d reheated the coffee still in the pot from the workday to get some caffeine in your system in preparation for what you’d expected would be a long night. From what you knew, Tohma tended to be a hard worker, and you weren’t sure what it would be like to work on a project with him.

“Good thinking. You could’ve just made a new pot, though.” Tohma’s disposition was… hard to decipher. He was courteous, and seemed friendly enough though you’d never gotten the impression he cared on a personal level. You could respect a ‘business is business’ mindset, though, so you didn’t question it or push further. He set his dinner in the microwave and leaned back against the counter as he waited for it to heat up. Focused, steely blue eyes, settled behind a monocle of all things, surveyed you as he reached for his laptop, balancing it on one large hand while he opened it and tapped on his keyboard with his other. “We already have the creative team’s content and market research prepared. We need to make infographics from it, get the presentation in order, and rehearse. I intend to be completely done with this come Friday morning.”

“Sir, yes sir,” you murmured, slightly mocking his commanding, driven tone while simultaneously mourning the loss of your next three evenings. He did little more than raise an eyebrow at you and didn’t even look up from his screen, though you could’ve sworn his lips had quirked up slightly. Setting his laptop back on the table, he retrieved his warmed food and sat down next to you.

He opened the project file and slid out several pages, handing you half of them. “Here. Start the infographics for that data.”

You did as he said, though you couldn’t help but feel a little begrudging. After all, you were in equal positions, even if you were newer to yours than he was; what right did he have to tell you what to do?  Then again you would’ve done exactly that had he not told you what to do, so what was the use in being irritated with him? Maybe if you were just calm and cooperative, you’d find him more agreeable.

The two of you fell into a silent rhythm as you worked. You were glad you’d figured out Excel pretty quickly when you started your new position; you thought if you’d had to ask him for help making the data displays you’d have rather just passed away. You glanced over at him. His brow was furrowed subtly, his striking eyes focused intently on his laptop as they reflected its glow. The strong lines of his nose and jaw pulled together a shockingly handsome face now that you were really looking at him up close.

“Do you need something?”

“Oh, sorry.” He’d caught you looking at him. You hurriedly returned to your work, your cheeks heating marginally. From the corner of your eye, you caught him smirking.

°°••....••°°

“Did you bring dinner tonight? I’m ordering mine, if you’d like something,” Tohma’s icy eyes peered at you over his phone, glimmering in the fluorescents of the little break room. The previous night, the two of you had decided to be done once all the infographics were complete. Tonight, you were going to share your files and cross-check each others’ work before compiling and organizing it into a single slideshow, giving you two nights to rehearse your presentation.

“Oh! Um, sure, I brought a snack and drink but I haven’t really eaten much today,” you weren’t sure why you’d decided to give him more information than he needed; maybe the thoughtfulness of his including you had caught you off-guard. Without another word, he handed you his phone to look at the menu of the restaurant he was ordering from and make a selection. “Do you have PayPal, or Venmo, or Cashapp, or..?” You trailed.

“No need, it’s my treat,” he nodded, crossing his arms and leaning back against the counter as he watched you.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Are you finished?”

“Sorry,” you quickly finished picking something and handed his phone back. “And thank you. For dinner, I mean. You really don’t have to.”

His hand lightly brushed yours as he took his phone back. “I don’t mind. You’re a good worker, and clearly, management doesn’t reward for that regularly, so I thought it might be nice for us to have a little something to keep us going.”

“I appreciate it,” you thanked him again, once more a bit taken aback by his friendliness tonight. However, he fell quiet, slipping his phone into his pocket and opening his laptop.

“Have you already sent me your work from last night?”

“I did,” you absentmindedly tapped on the table with one hand while the other dug your computer out of your bag. “I emailed it to you before we left last night.”

“Perfect.”

More silence, aside from the light tapping of keys as he typed. The quiet wasn’t awkward, thankfully, instead feeling more like he was fine to work calmly at your side rather than needing to fill the space with small talk. You clicked over to your email tab, finding the files he’d sent. You were happy to find that they were of about the same quality as yours and therefore yours should be to his liking. Before you knew it, he had his folder out again and was finally sitting down, divvying up the papers like he had the night before and handing you the opposite stack this time.

“Once we’ve checked that each others’ data is all accurate, we can compile it into the empty presentation I just shared with you.” No sooner than he’d gotten settled in his seat, he was up again, checking his phone. “The food arrived; I’ll be right back.” You noticed the smoothness with which he moved as he pocketed his phone and exited, and the graceful lines of his figure in his well-tailored suit.

Why are you thinking about that? You shook your head and leaned back in your chair, hooking your feet on the bar under the table so you could prop the chair back on just the two hind legs. Sure, Tohma Ishibashi was objectively an attractive man, but there was no reason for you to be thinking about it just because he was nice enough to buy your dinner. You didn’t even know him on a personal level in any way; for all you knew, he could be part of a gang, or in a relationship, or just be a terrible person outside of work.

Your eyes blew wide as you felt the chair’s back legs slip. You’d gotten distracted and leaned too far back. With a sickening smack, your head hit the counter behind you as you fell backward, courtesy of your feet still hooked under the table preventing you from falling straight down with the chair. “Damn it,” you groaned softly, pressing a hand to the back of your head. Sure enough, you felt the telltale dampness of blood. Keeping your hand there, you scrambled to your feet and stood the chair up. If Tohma came back to you on the floor and hurt, he’d think you were an idiot, or at the very least childish. You checked to make sure there wasn’t blood on the counter before wetting a paper towel at the sink, wringing out the excess and holding it to the back of your head. Maybe if you sat in front of the wall he wouldn’t notice anything wrong or different with your head. You slid your computer and phone over to a different chair and did just that.

“I’m back,” Tohma announced, his ashen hair falling just over his eye as he shouldered the door open. He set the bag of food and his drink on the table and eyed you curiously, noting that you’d moved seats. “Did you not order a drink?”

“No, I have one I brought tonight,” you smiled politely at him and mentally crossed your fingers that he wouldn’t ask any questions about you moving.

“Okay; just making sure the delivery wasn’t missing something,” he smiled back.

Once you both had your food out, you grabbed the energy drink you’d brought, earning you an interested and possibly amused glance from your coworker. “Honestly?” You said as you returned to your seat. “I don’t think caffeine really does much for me. I like this brand of energy drink, though, and I still try it for times like tonight when I’m working late,” you shrugged.

“Interesting. I’m a tea person myself, so that’s usually how I consume my caffeine. I’m not sure it affects me much either, though; I usually don’t bother to check whether or not a blend is decaf.”

You found yourself smiling softly. You could picture him sipping a cup of tea in his monocle, maybe sitting outside at a fancy cafe in a long, expensive coat. Oddly enough, though, you’d noticed he had two piercings in his ear, and that his monocle was chained to one of them. It was a curious accent to his otherwise tidy demeanor, and undoubtedly made you all the more interested in learning more about him.

“Shall we?” He gestured to both the food and the data sheets in front of you.

°°••....••°°

“I said I’d deal with it this weekend,” Tohma gruffly spoke into his phone. “Unlike some people, I am busy. I will talk to you later.” He hung up with a soft huff. If he was a bird, his feathers would most certainly be ruffled. As it were, his brows were pulled together slightly and his lips were pursed in a soft, irritated frown. He set his phone down on the table before fixing you with a customer service-esque smile. “I apologize. Just a friend of mine who thinks I can drop everything to help him at any moment.”

“Oh, no problem. Is there something you need to take care of?”

“No, not at all. He can wait a couple of days like I originally told him to.” As if he was finally present, he noticed the box in the middle of the table.

“I hope you like pizza, I got enough for both of us,” you gave him a reassuring smile as he sat next to you. That was the first time you’d seen him not uphold his careful composure, and even now his composition seemed somewhat strained, his steely eyes a bit more unfocused than usual and something tired about his expression that didn’t seem to belong there.

“Thank you. I’m not especially hungry at the moment but I’m sure I will be before too long. Are you ready to start rehearsing?” He scooted his chair in and leaned on his elbows against the table. Tonight he was sitting a bit closer to you than the previous two nights, close enough that you could make out several notes of his scent. Something herbal and a bit minty, a slight musky scent of some sort of aftershave or cologne, and the faintest hint of smoke. You couldn’t deny that he smelled quite nice, or that his scent suited him well.

You snapped yourself out of the thoughts, once again ridiculing yourself for having them in the first place. “Full transparency, I get a bit nervous when presenting stuff; once we get started I should do fine, and can at the very least bullshit my way through convincingly, but it might be better if you start the presentation.”

“Very well. Do you think if I kick us off with the introduction you’ll be able to follow in smoothly with the first set of statistics?”

“I do.”

“Perfect. Once you do that, we can work together to get through the rest. Tonight we’ll figure out where it feels most natural to alternate and whatnot.” He rubbed his neck as he stared at his computer. “Think of me as a safety net. If you’re doing well, I won’t step on your feet or cut you off, et cetera, but if you start struggling I won’t hesitate to jump in and take over. I have a lot of practice reading situations and making sure they turn out in my party’s favor.”

“Good to know. Thanks, Tohma.” You’d been a bit worried about how he might react to learning that the person he was doing a marketing pitch with was someone who wasn’t exactly the best at presentations, but he’d once again remained calm and good-natured, even despite seeming a bit worn out and on edge tonight.

The two of you fell into a comfortable repertoire, your rehearsal going smoother than expected. He really was a natural at directing the conversation.

“Can we be done now?” You sighed softly after yet another run-through of the slides.

“We can be done once you know your script well enough not to skip important information. If you like we can take a break for a few minutes, but we certainly aren’t done tonight. I’d like to get through it at least three more times, or until you know what you’re talking about.” Noticing your disgruntled attitude, he chuckled softly and leaned back. “The more we practice tonight, the less time we have to spend here after work tomorrow.”

Something in your chest twinged at his words as you realized he was right. Tomorrow would be your last night staying late together working on the project. You hadn’t realized you were actually enjoying his company enough that you’d miss doing overtime with him every night instead of going home. “Fine, let’s just get this over with then,” you sighed.

°°••....••°°

Tohma wasn’t there yet. This was the first time he wasn’t already in the break room waiting for you when you got there. You turned on your laptop and sat, trying to force yourself to think about something else. He wouldn’t ditch, right? Your eyes flicked to the clock. 6:36. Maybe he was just in the bathroom. Pulling up the presentation, you forced a deep breath into your lungs. He’d been happy with where you’d ended your rehearsals last night, maybe he’d decided another night of practice wasn’t necessary and had neglected to tell you he wasn’t coming.

As the time on the clock changed to 6:39, the door swung open. Tohma’s long legs easily brought him across the room to the counter, where he promptly set his bag. His shoulders were held upright as usual, but tonight there was a certain tenseness in them. He was frowning slightly; lines of tension were etched across his pristine face as well. “Is it a bit warm in here?”

You were a little startled by the rapidness of his appearance, and the question in place of a greeting, and all you could do was stare as he unbuttoned and removed his jacket. Without the extra layer, you could tell there was a clear definition to his muscles, more so than you’d expected. He wasn’t some steroid-ridden gym rat by a long shot, but he was certainly also no soft-bodied office worker. “A-are you alright?” You stammered as you looked him over. It was unusual of him to seem so uncollected.

“I’ll be fine, let’s just get through this,” he sat next to you, not bothering to get out his own computer since you already had the presentation up on yours.

Your rehearsal felt a bit more stunted than the night before, despite you being more comfortable with the information now. Eventually, you just stopped to look at Tohma. “Are you sure you’re okay? Because something definitely seems wrong.”

“I’m-” he sighed, leaning back and rubbing a hand over his neck. “My friend I mentioned yesterday is just getting on my nerves a bit more than usual. I know he’s got his issues, and I have a lot of patience, but he seems intent on wearing it out.” He turned to meet your gaze with a soft huff. “I’m sorry, none of this is your problem.”

“No, it’s fine.” You couldn’t manage to look away from him, subconsciously noting the myriad colors in his eyes; a sweet, somewhat-lavender cornflower tone, the light blue of a shadow on fresh snow, tiny flecks of a deeper, almost indigo color. You realized he wasn’t looking away either, nor was he saying anything. The tension around his eyes seemed to ease slightly, and there was the minutest shift in his expression. When his eyes finally broke away from yours, it was only for the briefest second; they flicked down to your lips before returning to your gaze. For a moment, you’d thought you were imagining it, but the blood rushing in your ears and your heart threatening to pound out of your chest made it hard to hear yourself think.

You moved toward him slightly, and he took it as an invitation. His hand pressed against the nape of your neck, pulling you to him, and his lips lowered to yours. They were impossibly soft, and fitted against yours like it was what they were meant for. Your eyes fluttered shut as you savored the sensation, letting out a soft whimper as he slid his tongue along your lower lip before gently biting it.

He pulled back, subtle disappointment curling in your chest, but then he grabbed the arm of your chair to turn it toward him. “Here,” his voice was quiet but tinged with an unusual roughness, an urgency you’d never heard in his tone. His arm wrapped around your waist and the warmth of his hand against the small of your back seeped through your shirt as he guided you over onto his lap. Without a second thought, you obliged. His thighs were firmer than you’d expected under you as you settled onto him, but you didn’t have much time to ponder before his lips were on you again. He kissed you deeply, insistently, like he was starving. His tongue pressed into your mouth and carefully played with yours while his hand slid up into your hair. Bringing your hands around from the firm planes of his back, you loosened his tie without breaking the kiss.

This is insane, you thought to yourself vaguely through the haze that was clouding your brain, but you weren’t about to complain. Once his tie was undone you wasted no time in unbuttoning his shirt, too. As you ran your hand over the warm expanse of newly revealed skin, your hips bucked against his, drawing a groan from him that sounded like honey. There was no doubt in your mind that he was already very hard under you. He leaned back to look at you, his thumb rubbing gentle circles against your waist. His sky-blue eyes were wide, glowing with a soft vulnerability you weren’t expecting to see there. You reached up and carefully slid his monocle from his face; the way it was connected to his earring hindered you for a moment, but it was worth it once you could admire his stunning face completely unobstructed.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” he whispered, yet showed no sign of stopping. He stood, lifting you and gingerly holding you to his chest, and set you on the table, nuzzling his face into your neck with a gentle nip. One hand on your waist to hold you steady and the other slowly tracing over your body, his tongue flicked out over the little bite marks he was leaving on you. He deftly unbuttoned your shirt; his hands felt cool against your heated skin. 

Deep, aching desire coiled anew in your gut as Tohma’s steely eyes roamed your newly bared skin. “Do you want this?” he asked against your cheek. His breath tickled your skin and you sighed blithely. 

“I want you,” you confirmed, and he kissed you with a fresh passion. His hips eagerly rolled against yours, creating a friction that only deepened the aching in your gut. With a pause, he pulled away, slipping his wallet from his back pocket and unbuckling his belt. The clank of the buckle sent a shiver of anticipation through you.

“You know,” he chuckled quietly as he drew something from the wallet. “One of my friends insisted I carry this; I told him I wouldn’t need it, but I suppose I’ve proved him wrong.” His fingers toyed with the condom for a moment as he looked it over, the wrapper crinkling, and then he set it on the table next to you. “I guess we should be thankful I gave in to his advice, hm?”

His fingertips brushed along your sides as he leaned back down to you. His lips found their way back to the sensitive skin of your neck and trailed languid, messy kisses down to your chest whilst his hands unhurriedly slid your waistband down your hips. The brush of the fabric, the short heated breaths against your skin, the soft pressure of him standing between your legs, it all had your head reeling desperately. 

The vulnerability you’d been so sure you’d seen before was gone, his eyes shrouded with thick, hazy lust and an almost wicked half-smile playing across his lips as he divested you of what was left of your clothes. You felt like a mouse trapped by a tomcat, but you would happily let him devour you whole. One of his hands came to rest on your shoulder as he moved back to finally rid himself of his own pants, lightly pressing you down, the tabletop cool against your back. His fingers were long and elegant and easily pushed the garment down out of the way to better reveal the outline of his raging arousal. But, before also moving his underwear, before you even knew what was happening, you felt those slender fingers press against the intense heat between your legs. You gasped at the sudden contact, your head tipping back and your thighs tensing as he rubbed his fingers along your entrance. He was prepping you, you realized.

“T-Tohma,” you groaned as one of his fingers pushed into you, encouraging and spreading the wetness pooling there. At the sound of his name falling from your lips, his eyes blazed with an all-consuming desire, no trace of his earlier tiredness or tension present in his defined form. He pulled his hand back, the air filling the space coolly, and slid down his underwear. You couldn’t bring yourself to lift your head to look, not with the dizzied feeling pulsing in your skull with every shaky breath you drew. You’d feel him soon enough anyway. The soft, ephemeral crinkle of the condom’s wrapper let you know this was truly happening, any moment now.

“Oh, darling, you’re divine,” Tohma’s voice dripped with a corrupting, anticipatory tone, his hungry eyes raking over your form as you lay there ready to take him. His hands came to rest on your hips, gripping them firmly and holding them down against the table, and as he moved toward you you let your legs slide open a bit more and wrapped your ankles around the backs of his legs. You wanted him close, impossibly, unmentionably close. One of his hands left your hip to guide him between your legs and the head of his cock rubbed against your core as he leaned down to kiss your throat. You arched up into the feeling, whimpering and writhing, but he pulled back slightly. “Now, my little minx,” he whispered with an amusement that was adjacent to cruelty, “hold still. Be a good, patient girl for me.”

The commanding edge to his otherwise soft voice made you groan again but you listened, stilling under him as he closed the distance between you again. His hand squeezed your hip almost painfully as he eased his cock into you excruciatingly slowly. Bliss bloomed through your core as he entered you, the discomfort of his girth stretching you even dulling into ecstasy at the way he unhurriedly filled you. “Please,” you gasped, begging him to move.

He grinned, though now his disciplined expression was strained, his control threatening to slip at the wonderful sensation of being surrounded by your warmth. “Good little minx,” he nipped at your throat and slowly slid almost fully out of you, shuddering at the friction. Without further warning, he thrust himself in to the hilt with a near punishing force. Your hand resting on his wrist turned into a clawed grip, wanton cries spilling from your lips as he set a harsh pace. Each thrust was deliberate and sent a new wave of ecstasy through you.

As if that weren’t enough, Tohma had begun making noises that were sinfully sweet; desperate, saccharine whimpers and moans as he drove into you relentlessly. He’d placed his hand on the table next to you for support when he’d started, and now his arm was trembling, his nails digging little crescent marks into your hip where his other hand still rested. A light sheen of sweat formed over his sculpted, porcelain chest as it rose and fell more erratically, his head resting in the crook of your neck as his quivering grew worse. Dragging along your hot skin, his shaking hand uncurled from your hip and moved down to your thigh, his thumb carefully burrowing between your legs. Stars burst in your vision as he found your clit, a ragged groan escaping your throat and your eyes fluttering shut as he rubbed the sensitive spot. He continued, eliciting cries of his name from your lips as his hips started to stutter, his resolve crumbling completely as his movements grew more unstable.

Your walls trembled and constricted around him and you shook uncontrollably, grabbing at his neck and back to try and ground yourself as your climax tore through you. He cried out in pleasure as he found his release too. His forehead came to rest on yours as he weakly and unsteadily thrust into you a few more times for good measure, thoroughly riding out your orgasms. He finally stilled, panting hard, and moved off you to lay next to you. Though he didn’t pull you over against him, trying to cool off, he was still close enough that you could feel his breath on your cheek and neck, and he rested an arm around your waist.

You took a moment to admire him like this as the haze in your brain cleared. His gently closed eyes, his swollen lips parted as he caught his breath, his flushed cheeks, his soft, ashen hair messy and sticking to his dampened forehead: you could’ve never imagined him looking this unkempt, but he was like a work of art. Slowly, cautiously, you moved a hand up to his warm cheek. His eyes flew open startledly, but then his expression softened again.

“I,” he paused as if looking for his next words. “Thank you.” Tentative affection stirred in his icy eyes as he looked at you, but then he blinked and cleared his throat and it was gone. “We should clean up,” he carefully got up from the table, striding over to the sink and dampening a paper towel before removing his condom, wiping himself off and wrapping the condom in the towel to hide the evidence before throwing it away. You pushed yourself up into a sitting position, watching him as he stepped back over to the sink. He then approached you with another wetted paper towel, meeting your eyes as he leaned down to you as if asking if it was okay for him to clean you. You nodded and he carefully spread your legs again. One of his hands rested on the outside of your thigh while the other meticulously cleansed you.

Once he was finished, he stood again and zipped his pants, retrieving his shirt from his chair. You kept your eyes on him, studying the way his muscles rippled as he slid the garment back on. “Well, are you going to get dressed, or are you just going to stay like that the rest of the night?” Tohma teased, chuckling, and you felt your cheeks heat.

“Right, sorry.” A bit self-aware now, especially after how you’d been blatantly staring at him, you turned away and pulled your clothes on.

Tohma put back on his monocle, and with it his cool composure. Any softness he’d shown you had melted away as if it were never there to begin with. “Will you be able to focus if we continue work tonight? Or should we just run through it again before we present Monday?”

You blinked at him a moment, then cleared your throat. It was a fair question; you didn’t think you could just go back to what you were doing and pretend nothing had just transpired between the two of you. “Oh, um, I think I’ve got it down now, so if you wanna be done for tonight I’m fine with it.”

He nodded and picked up his bag. “Well, I suppose I’ll see you in the morning then. Good night.” Something in your chest twinged as he turned to leave, but he faced you again, lowering his voice. “If you’re lucky, maybe this could become a more… common occurrence,” he smirked softly. Your voice caught in your throat at the implication, your mouth opening wordlessly. The low chuckle he let out at your state only flustered you further.

“I, uh, good night, Tohma. See you in the morning.”

[chaotic-toby]

Reasons why I kin Ashley Graves!

... well, I wouldn't say kin, but here is a compilation of relatable moments with explanations!

1.

I felt this in my bones when I first watched a playthrough of the game. There is this girl at school who I despise with a burning passion. It seems like everyone likes her, and in my eyes, she stole my friend. My friend barely even notices me anymore; given, I did start distancing myself, but that is because I noticed that every time she was around, my friend would pay attention to the girl that I hate instead of me. Now, I'm not saying that my friends cannot have other friends, but I basically became the friend that you hang out with when your main friend wasn't around. That is exactly what happened.

Everyone likes the girl more than me...

Now I know in this scene, Ashley was being manipulative, but I like to believe that she was voicing her genuine thoughts, or at least something similar to how she actually feels about Nina. And I have definitely thought something similar to this about the girl I mentioned earlier.

2.

Again, I know she is being manipulative, but as I said before, I think she is being slightly genuine, and I've had similar thoughts. I know people do like me-- my family and the few friends and acquaintances I have-- but it feels like they are putting up with me out of pity or because they feel like they have to.

I cannot fathom people genuinely liking me for the person I am, especially since I am an awful friend who can't even be bothered to check up on their friends.

3.

Whenever something bad happens, I think I compartmentalize. I push it away and try to focus on other stuff, acting like the bad thing doesn't bother me or doesn't affect me. Which is probably why my family isn't as worried about me as they should be.

4.

Me to myself every day. What is wrong with me? I mean, there has to be something that pushes people away, that makes it so that everyone I know prefers to hang out with other people over hanging out with me. I am no one's favourite person, and I never will be.

Why can't I just be normal?

5.

Ahaha, my sister once gave me a ring that costed her 50 cents, and I wear it everywhere I go. I love the ring so much. Also, a week ago, my mom bought me a stuffed dog because it reminded her of me and because I was upset the day prior. She didn't have to buy me anything, but she did. So now, I cherish that stuff dog just as much as I do when it comes to my favourite stuffed animal.

I named the stuff dog William.

6.

This is just the same as the earlier examples. She is mostly being manipulative or something, but this is relatable so I'm adding it

(There was another image I wanted to add to this reason but then I wouldn't have been able to add the image for reason seven)

7.

Now this image-- this moment at least in Ashley's mind-- is super duper relatable to me. I cannot remember the last time I felt like I was a part of my family. My family has barely done anything to make me feel ostracized, but for some reason, I just do. I remember numerous times where my family were talking about this and that, and I would just sit there, not chiming in at all, just watching them have so much fun without me.

I remember one time, I was in my room folding laundry, and I could hear my family laughing in the living room. They were having so much. I couldn't see them since I was in my room, but in my mind, I imagined a happy family (though my family has been far from happy).

Another moment that happened months ago was when my sister and her husband visited to eat with me and my mother. My sister and mother were talking about the houses my sister was looking at (she and her husband were planning on moving from the house they were living in at the time). At first, I tried to chime in, but they kept... I wouldn't say ignore me, but I couldn't really keep up with the conversation, so I just sat back and scrolled through Pinterest for God-knows-how-long.

My family looked happy. To me, it was like I was watching them on a t.v. That I wasn't actually there.

So yeah, in Ashley's mind, no matter how hard she tries to sit the Pink bunny at the dinner table, it won't sit up. She doesn't fit in with the family of bunnies, which is relatable and how I feel half the time I'm around my own family.

[brucenorris007]

(Dis)Closure

Summary: A great part of Shadow's identity stems from the past and people who have already long since departed. Knowing and accepting the fact are two separate things, and he's already lost no small amount of sleep over it. In the midst of a mission and entirely on accident, he comes across someone who might be able to understand.

6242 words

“Decommission?”

Shadow’s throat closed up; even if he could bring himself to speak, he wouldn’t trust himself.

“Fifty years and change it’s been up there,” Rouge said, ever willing to cover for him. “Why now?”

“It’s being discussed.” The Commander said. He shared a look with Shadow; the understanding they’d reached years ago may have been lukewarm at best, but they had the ARK in common, even if their memories didn’t overlap.

Though he, at least, could rely on his memories of the place.

“It’s been discussed several times, but there’s been more of a push for action the past few months. Hardly a guarantee that anything will go through, of course.”

Rouge huffed; Shadow blinked. A rare dry remark about the glacial pace of decisions in government from the Commander; he must’ve had severely conflicting feelings on the subject.

“In any case,” he said, pressing on. “Renewed discussion means there’s precedent for a reassessment of the state of the ARK.”

“And that’s why you called me in.” Shadow said, trying to seem more present than he felt.

“Agents Shadow and Rouge will accompany unit E-123 and a small G.U.N. team to collect data and compile a comprehensive report on the ARK, it’s functions and general status. Prioritize thoroughness and accuracy over efficiency; we don’t want to find the report lacking in any way.”

Shadow blinked; something about that last point felt off. He glanced sidelong at Rouge; she stared at the Commander through narrowed eyes, tapping a finger on the table.

“Dismissed.”

The Commander, naturally, gave nothing else away.

—————

“It’s all bogus.”

Rouge waited until they were back at the house–away from prying ears–making their respective preparations before she weighed in on the mission.

Or ‘pile of excrement wrapped in shiny foil’ as she colorfully called it at one point.

“There’s no way G.U.N. doesn’t have a comprehensive file already,” she said. “They don’t need a separate squad dedicated to finding out which switches and levers still work.”

“IT IS ILLOGICAL,” Omega agreed. “DEACTIVATION IS INEFFICIENT AND WASTEFUL.”

“They’ll never go through with it,” Rouge said. “Setting aside the less savory aspects of its history, the ARK is still cutting edge even after fifty years. Decommissioning means lost money and releasing control of it; that’s not the government’s style. I smell a PR stunt.”

Shadow experienced the conversation as something happening around him rather than anything that involved him; owing far more to his headspace than either Rouge or Omega’s intentions.

He’d been having trouble sleeping again; despite being designed by one of history’s most brilliant minds, fatigue still accumulated and affected him.

“A DEFECT SHARED BY ALL MEATBAGS.”

Omega had once said.

Shadow wasn’t sure whether his friend had been teasing him or making an awkward attempt at consolation.

Possibly both.

“Hey.”

Shadow blinked and looked up at Rouge. She raised an upturned fist, threw a middle finger at him.

Shadow responded in kind, almost mechanically.

Rouge narrowed her eyes by a millimeter and hummed.

He looked around his gun closet again; having already spent fifteen minutes staring at his arsenal, he ultimately walked back out empty-handed.

—————

Space colony ARK.

Space station, research facility, military installation, and superweapon all in one.

Rouge wore her professional face well in front of the other soldiers, but she seemed less than enthused to have returned. Though that might have had more to do with annoyance regarding aspects of the mission rather than the ARK itself.

“The three of us could cover this facility in half a day; instead, they’ve bogged us down with a squad and all but told us not to rush. We’re just stalling so a bunch of suits and politicians down there can argue for another few weeks. If G.U.N. needs us to waste time somewhere, it should’ve been Venice.”

On the other hand, Omega had significantly more interest in the assignment; if only as an excuse to peruse and explore something that once took out a chunk of the moon.

“DIBS ON THE CONTROL ROOM.”

For his part, Shadow had spent a decent stretch of the last few years actively trying to avoid thinking too much about the ARK; a decidedly counterproductive strategy. Resistance to a strain of thought only led to a greater frequency of the same. Recently, he’d learned to accept thoughts of the space station passing through his mind without fighting them or affording them undue attention.

So, in theory, he would have been fine with the assignment.

Would have been, if it didn’t also require the company of a small G.U.N. unit; a ratio of two soldiers to one tech or engineer. His general relationship with the organization was at best professional; in more realistic terms, tenuous. He and Omega were employed largely by proxy to Rouge. Not for lack of qualifications, but the government was never going to wholly trust a bioweapon that once nearly broke the planet or a walking armory built by the world’s foremost terrorist.

And on their end, Omega loathed the idea of answering to any master save himself.

The source of Shadow’s misgivings didn’t warrant mention.

“All right, folks, let’s go over this one more time.”

The one silver lining, if one could be found, was that agent Roque had been included among those assigned to the mission. Team Dark would be hard-pressed to say they actively liked any of the other soldiers or agents employed by G.U.N., but a handful were certainly preferable to the rest. The deciding factors usually boiled down to: how they spoke to Rouge–and where their eyes went when doing so; whether they referred to Omega by name or series number; and what they said about Shadow, either to his face or behind his back.

Those who fell short were the most frequent victims of Omega’s pranks.

Roque earned a passing grade on all counts.

“We’re going to work our way through the colony quadrant by quadrant; we’re going to at least double-check every room and chamber,” he said, pinching his mouth for a split-second like he’d eaten something sour. Apparently, Roque and Rouge were of a similar mind on the mission being a waste of time. “But that’s no excuse to slack off on your reports.”

Roque folded his arms.

“This isn’t a tour, but it is a long-term assignment. Once the ship docks, you unload and find quarters first; do your routines, your business, I don’t care. But unless your name is Shadow, Rouge or Omega, do not wander off, do not split from your teams, and do not get lost.”

“Why are they the exceptions?”

“Because we’ll be in Shadow’s backyard, because Rouge is Rouge, and because Omega isn’t going to listen to anything anyone except those two tell him anyway.”

“AFFIRMATIVE.”

The clicking tongues and resentful looks aimed at Omega just reaffirmed that no one could pick up on when he was joking or being serious. Roque, for his part, smirked.

All right, maybe Team Dark liked him a little bit.

—————

Monotony descended quickly and mercilessly after boarding the ARK.

The tedium–and more specifically, the lack of any action or problem to occupy his mind–was wearing Shadow down further. The long halls and passages were bleeding together, even for him.

Team Dark was trudging back to their quarters at the end of another shift; Rouge was plumbing Omega’s CPU for synonyms for functional or operable to put in her reports of the spaces they’d checked so far. Omega’s utterly rote responses said that he felt about as invested in the process as she did.

Shadow kept pace between them, gaze trailing along the floor; trying, fruitlessly, to empty his mind.

His ear twitched.

Footfalls rang off the metallic walls.

Heavy tread. Boots.

From somewhere behind him. Approaching fast.

His hands sweat.

Raised voices.

His vision tunneled.

Military uniform.

Loaded guns.

He needed to go.

“. . . hell are you. . .?!”

“. . . CREATURE.”

Bang.

He needed to be–

“Shadow!”

not here.

Kvhroon.

—————

Kvhroon.

Shadow fumbled his landing; still gripping the chaos emerald, he reached for the nearest support his free hand could find to steady himself. Breathed. Fought to breathe slower.

Sunlight, grass, tree bark against his palm, the smell of naturally flowing and clean–not sterile, but clean–water.

Everything the ARK was not.

“Haaaa. . .”

Eventually, the next breath came out easier; less harried and clearer. The sudden shift between locations, away from the scene of… from the scene helped him grasp an equilibrium.

He squeezed his eyes shut. Took another deep breath. Exhaled.

Opened his eyes.

Daylight filtered gently through a canopy of trees and massive mushrooms in a forest jarringly absent the scent of anything like modern civilization. Save a nearby creek, the area was silent; but as he stood there taking in the scenery and letting the adrenalin ebb, birds perched in the branches overhead, chirping curiously.

His appearance must have startled them.

“Shadow?”

His quills jumped and he spun on his heel, fists clenched.

Knuckles’ shoulders hitched and his raised his own fists.

An awkward standoff lasted until Shadow’s next exhale; he dropped his hands. He wondered, in the back of his mind, how the echidna had managed to get as close as he did without being noticed. At least his appearance told Shadow where he’d teleported to, and it made sense that he’d subconsciously choose this place.

Angel Island was as near the antithesis of the ARK as one could get.

“What’s going on?” Knuckles asked, relaxing his stance more readily than Shadow had.

Shadow didn’t know why–whether due to the episode or the fact that he’d only slept around five of the past forty-eight hours–but what came out of his mouth was

“I needed somewhere to rest.”

Knuckles blinked. Shadow broke eye contact. It was more truth than he’d usually afford, but not too much for him to bear.

Knuckles squinted at him for a second. Scratched his head. Then made a sharp 120 degree right turn and walked off, disappearing between the trees and mushroom stalks.

Shadow sighed. Taking the echidna’s behavior for a dismissal, he was about to call on his emerald’s energy to return to the ARK when Knuckles poked his head back into view with a cocked eyebrow.

“You coming?”

He blinked. Opened his mouth. Closed it.

Nodded, for lack of anything better coming to mind. Knuckles walked off again and Shadow followed.

“You’re not going to ask?” Shadow said after a beat of silence save their footstepsin the grass.

Knuckles shrugged.

“If you came here with trouble,” he said, throwing a glance over his shoulder. “Or for a fight, you would have opened with that.”

Shadow didn’t have anything to say to that assessment. It was true, after all.

Conversation fell into a lull until they reached a small clearing; one of the forest creeks fed into a pond with a smattering of lily-pads. Chao sleepily crawled and ambled around the water’s edge, a few curled up together atop the lily-pads.

“A lot of them come here when they’re worn out.” Knuckles said; his normally projecting voice pitched low and quiet.

Shadow tilted his head back. More mushrooms growing out of the hills provided shade and protection from inclement weather; enough ambient light peeking through to see the space without disturbing anyone’s rest. Leaves on branches yet higher softly shshshing in the breeze provided a soothing white noise.

Perhaps Maria would have–

“It’s peaceful.” He said finally, cutting short that thought before it could take form.

Knuckles dropped himself into the grass and cushioned his head on his hands. Shadow noticed one chao rolling down an incline toward the pond. Moving fast and silent, he caught the hapless creature before it reached the water.

Cradling it in his palm, he sat down at the base of a tree; the chao nuzzled into his fur.

Shadow leaned against the tree’s trunk. His eyelids grew heavy and…

.

.

.

.

.

Shadow woke with a start. Blinking bleariness from his eyes and shaking the dregs of slumber out of his quills, he looked around.

It took him a moment longer than he’d admit to remember he was on Angel Island.

‘How long did I. . .?’

He stood up, mindful that he didn’t disturb any of the chao; the one who’d been on his chest had wandered off at some point.

He grabbed his chaos emerald, glanced at Knuckles; found the echidna watching him through one eye.

“Uh.” Shadow said eloquently.

“. . .”

“. . .”

Kvhroon.

—————

“HE HAS RETURNED.”

On making it back to the ARK, Shadow put in a bit of effort pretending he knew where his friends were in front of the other soldiers despite having no idea. The benefit of knowing the space so well; no one questioned where he was meant to be.

He found Omega and Rouge in the room the three of them had claimed as their quarters.

“You okay?” Rouge asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “I just needed space.”

“Two and a half hours of?”

“Yes.” Shadow said immediately; the better to hide his surprise that it’d been that long.

Neither of them questioned him on it, at least.

“Where’d you go?”

“I,” he said, hesitating. He broke eye contact. “Does it matter?”

“Not really,” Rouge admitted with a shrug. “But you don’t usually teleport when you need space.”

“IS THE CAUSE OF YOUR INSOMNIA RELEVANT?”

Shadow winced. He thought he’d disguised his sleeplessness fairly well. Then again, they’d been living together for more than four years. Omega suddenly leaned in, unblinking eyes staring.

Shadow’s quills bristled at the assessment.

“What?”

“RESPONSE TIME AND OCULAR REACTION SPEED NEARER TO BASELINE: YOU HAVE RESTED.”

Omega sounded satisfied by that conclusion. Shadow blinked and folded his arms, reaching for something to divert attention off him.

“What was the commotion about before?”

—————

The commotion, as it turned out, had been the result of a few soldiers encountering a stray displaying erratic behavior.

(“You know those blobby liquid things roaming around in and out of the colony?”

“Artificial Chaos.”

“Apparently one lashed out; they’re supposed to guard this place and should recognize G.U.N. as something like an ally. They said it escaped just in the middle of a chase.”)

In any case, the idea of a malicious stray proved infinitely more interesting to the unit than ticking off a list of rooms in the colony. Roque hadn’t been especially moved by the enthusiasm.

(“Look, this place has been around a long time; a lot’s happened up here. Keep your eyes open, but we’re not organizing a manhunt for a single stray.”)

Thus, while the parameters for the mission hadn’t changed, the soldiers and techs were marginally more alert with the potential of encountering the anomalous experiment; the latter out of a sense of self-preservation, the former due to a desire to shoot something.

For Shadow, business carried on as usual. Assess the state of various chambers, make note of what was in working order and what wasn’t, keep his mind on a leash to prevent wandering.

“This place creeps me out.”

And occasionally endure commentary when Team Dark and one of the tech/soldier teams happened to be moving in the same direction.

“I hope they shut all this down for keeps; I woke up in a cold sweat and I got chills every hour on the hour since then.”

“Sounds like a sickness to me.” Rouge muttered quietly as they trailed a few paces behind the other team.

“What do you expect from a place run by a Robotnik?”

Unlike Rouge, the G.U.N. soldiers were whispering a little too loud for anyone to believe they didn’t want to be heard. Shadow could have backtracked or stopped until the other team split off down a different path, but that somehow felt too much like giving up.

“Crazy like Eggman doesn’t occur naturally; hell, it’s probably hereditary.”

The whirring in Omega’s chassis briefly shifted into a faint, agitated hum. Rouge put a hand in Shadow’s quills and gave a single, gentle tug. Shadow clenched his fist, trying to ground himself.

“Might’ve been for the best that”

Motion at the end of the passage caught his eye; the liquid movement and turquoise coloration prompted him to race past the soldiers.

“Wha–?”

“I see it.”

Giving nothing else in the way of context, he rounded the corner; briefly jumping to kick off the adjacent wall and maintain as much momentum as he could. The stray slithered and swam, moving fast considering its composition.

Still not as fast as Shadow.

Inside of a minute, he had it cornered, volatile and jagged chaos energy ready to fly from his hand. The cyborg flared its liquid body into a larger, more substantive shape, yet didn’t attack. Part of the apparatus on its head was damaged, partially immersed within the viscous fluid of its body. Somehow, it managed to maintain a shape despite that.

Shadow stared the creature down for a full beat. Two.

He heard footsteps approaching.

The spear of energy in his palm dissipated.

The stray flew into a ventilation shaft just as he turned his back to meet the others.

“Did you get it?”

“No,” he said, walking past them. “I was mistaken.”

Hours later, unknown to all but him, one of the station’s airlocks disengaged; an odd combination of ancient deity and cybernetic technology disappeared into the depths of space.

—————

Shadow found himself returning to Angel Island more than once. Not so long as to be missed–at least not by anyone save Omega and Rouge–but even brief periods away made his assignment on the ARK more tolerable.

Something about the tranquility and absence of industry made his head feel less claustrophobic. His thoughts had more room to breathe off the ARK than on, even if he never really aired those thoughts aloud.

He didn’t always fall asleep; when he did, Knuckles would be there when he awoke, ever the conscientious guardian of the island. Sometimes he just sat in silence; Knuckles wouldn't disturb him either way. He���d invariably arrive and plant himself within a mutual line of sight but removed enough so as not to be an obtrusive presence.

Occasionally they talked a little. They’d reached a point where Knuckles knew where Shadow was meant to be and a bit about the goings-on.

“Now a lot of them are saying it’s haunted,” Shadow said. “I suspect they’re just entertaining themselves, but it’s still a leap from seeing one oddity to suspecting vengeful spirits.”

Knuckles hummed.

“Yeah,” he said. “All the ghosts I’ve seen were planet bound. They probably don’t like how empty space is.”

A beat.

Shadow turned his head to stare at the echidna.

“. . . all the what?”

Regardless of the reason, the dichotomy between Angel Island and the ARK helped Shadow maintain some inward balance.

—————

He ran into the stray again.

“Why are you here?” Shadow asked quietly.

The creature, having been chanced upon rather than chased, didn’t react defensively as it had before. Its shape shifted and collapsed; bipedal, quadrupedal, limbed, or aerodynamic, as though testing to find a form it preferred.

“You’ve escaped this place at least once,” Shadow said, almost thinking aloud more than speaking to the cyborg; it failed to give him much attention once it realized he wasn’t hostile. “Possibly more than that.”

One strain of thought that’d contributed to Shadow’s insomnia was that of assimilation and transference. His memories of the ARK were at once so viscerally integral to him that they caused him physical pain at times; and yet, knowing that a few had been manipulated or altered, he couldn’t help simultaneously regarding them as something foreign. He’d read somewhere about the phenomenal capacity for adaptability the body possessed. There, it’d been in the context of transplants–limbs, organs and the like–but did the same apply to memories?

What, then, did he actually know? What should he trust?

“You’re anomalous,” he said. “Free from the constraints of definitions of what you should be. You could exist anywhere, yet return to this place.”

The creature momentarily turned to stare at him.

“Is that your choice?”

It shifted again and vanished.

“Or can’t you help it?”

—————

Not every part of Angel Island consisted of forest or even greenery. The floating landmass housed several different biomes that somehow coexisted harmoniously without encroaching on or negatively influencing each other.

“This is the sanctuary.” Knuckles said with some reverence in his tone.

Some locations defied explanation; Shadow had teleported to the island with, as usual the past week and change, little precision as to where he landed. He’d been immediately dumbstruck by the expansive ruins stretching out and reaching yet higher before him, all obscured from view below by a blanket of clouds.

“How do you always know where I am?” Shadow asked after they’d been walking for a minute.

The longest duration between his arrival and the echidna finding him that he could recall had been twenty minutes. For as fantastic and removed as the sanctuary appeared to be, today it’d been less then fifteen.

Knuckles, having sat down to recline against a winding pillar, breathed a short chuckle.

“I’m not telling you that.”

Shadow blinked. Knuckles smirked.

“It’s a foolish warrior who gives away his advantages.”

Shadow huffed. Silently conceded the point. Found a perch near one of the sanctuary’s many ledges and dangled his legs over the side.

“What do you do?” Knuckles asked after a while.

“Hm?” Shadow hummed, glancing back at the echidna over his shoulder.

“All that time you’re not sleeping,” he clarified. Knuckles turned his head to look at him. “What do you do?”

Shadow half-turned away. Looked off into the distance.

“Ask questions, mostly.”

A beat.

“Yeah.”

Another short silence. Then

“Get any answers?”

Shadow sighed.

“Rarely.”

“. . . yeah.”

—————

Kvhroon.

“I return with gifts.”

“You’re my favorite,” Rouge said, immediately grabbing the bag of to-go boxes from Dancing Ganesha. She ripped open one container and almost moaned biting into a samosa. “Shit, that’s good.”

Shadow slipped a portable Bluetooth speaker to Omega from the house. His friend eagerly stashed the device within some central chamber, singing at his quietest volume

“CARNAGE.”

A half-smile crept across Shadow’s face. Neither had begrudged him the intermittent need for space and time away from the ARK, but he’d felt a little guilty leaving them behind to tedium so often. Hence his offerings.

“Is that tandoori?”

Roque, having glimpsed the proceedings in their quarters in passing, paused to make a face.

“For breakfast?”

Rouge, having already taken another mouthful with zero shame, wagged a finger at him.

“Hon, we’re in space,” she said. “Up here, our ‘daily’ solar cycle is just over an hour. There’s no breakfast, lunch or dinner; just a meal.”

“TIME IS A CONSTRUCT.”

Roque blinked. Twice. Opened his mouth. Closed it again.

Walked up to Shadow and held out a ten.

“Do you know the Great Wall restaurant by chance?” He asked.

Shadow raised an eyebrow at the proffered note.

“For twenty, I do.”

Roque challenged Shadow’s eyebrow with his own.

“Service charge.” Shadow said.

Roque shook his head and handed over another ten.

“I’m not getting change back, am I?”

Shadow smirked in lieu of an answer.

Kvhroon.

—————

“Ready when you are, Omega.”

Shadow murmured into his comm on the channel Team Dark had chosen for themselves separate the rest of the unit.

Being the loudest and most extroverted of the trio, the monotony of their assignment had worn on Omega more than Rouge or even Shadow. The highlight for him had been seeing the ARK’s central chamber and, more specifically, the controls and schematics for the eclipse cannon.

(“IMPRESSIVE FOR AN ANCIENT AND INFERIOR MACHINE. I APPLAUD THE ATTENTION TO POTENTIAL FOR MAYHEM AND EXPLOSIONS.”

“It certainly caused enough damage last time.”

“I thought you’d appreciate it.”

“. . . CAN WE–?”

“No.”

“A SYSTEM TEST WILL NOT HARM ANYONE.”

“. . .”

“AMENDMENT: WILL NOT HARM ANYONE IMPORTANT.”

“Still no.”

“I don’t think it works on wishes, Omega. You need at least one or more chaos emeralds before it’ll wake up.”

“. . .”

“Stop looking at me like that, my answer’s the same.”

“I wouldn’t be opposed to a little. . . reorganization. Maybe cutting off a certain dangling state?”

“. . .”

“REPEAT: NO. ONE. IMPORTANT.”

“Tempting. But I don’t think it’s capable of that sort of surgical precision.”

“PHOOEY.”)

Honestly, it’d been the highlight of the assignment for Shadow, too. After which, though, Omega had clearly been more than ready to go home. Unfortunately, they were only halfway through the comprehensive report on the ARK.

Equipped with a Bluetooth speaker, though, Omega’s penchant for pranks came out and his mood drastically improved. Particularly with the ambience that murmurs of hauntings provided, just waiting to be exploited.

“ENGAGE.”

The next five minutes saw no fewer than a dozen G.U.N. staff getting the pants scared off them. Compressed shrieks and wails reverberating through vents, sudden creaks and blaring static from monitors being passed by, and random lyrics of Holy Diver interspersed in more than one team’s quarters.

Kvhroon.

All incidents taking place over too large an area for the victims to draw any logical conclusions. It wouldn’t be helped by the inexplicable fact that some later encountered Omega trudging around wearing a garlic necklace.

Shadow kept his expression stoic as another screaming tech sprinted past him, even with Omega chanting CHAOS through his comm. He teleported one last time; having been seen acting innocuously enough by a few, he’d secured an alibi.

Maria might have. . .

The scene he stumbled across killed whatever mirth he’d felt for his part in the prank.

A slowly dissolving mess on the floor, a chrome component shattered to pieces. Whether through accident, bullet or otherwise. . .

The stray was dead.

Shadow’s pulse thundered between his ears.

The sound of his blood rushing through his veins drowned out anything Rouge, Omega, or anyone else might have been saying to him.

Kvhroon.

—————

Whatever the source of Angel Island’s calming effect on him, it didn’t soothe him now. He paced up and down in the grass, hands in his quills, clenching and unclenching into fists. Every stimulus–the blinding sun, the chafing breeze, even the sound of his own breathing–just agitated him further, until, inevitably

“What’s going on?”

Knuckles appeared.

Shadow rounded on him.

“Why?” He demanded.

Knuckles’ brow pinched.

“Wh–?”

“Why do the dead insist on trying to control us?”

He frowned.

Shadow spun around, pacing again.

“What right do they have to influence reality once they’ve departed? To affect our lives?”

“Shadow”

Shadow turned on the echidna; his voice rose to a shout.

“And who are you to let them?! What does that make you?”

Knuckles’ expression shuttered.

Shadow stepped in.

“You owe them nothing, yet you let their ghosts tie you down, define you! They haunt you and you let them, despite having all the power in the world you allow some strain of guilt or shame or obligation lay out and decide who you are! Why do you keep catering and conforming your life to those who are fucking gone?!”

Knuckles shoved Shadow so hard he flew backward several feet and landed on his back.

“Get. Lost.” He growled.

Shadow, gasping for having the wind knocked out him, glared at the echidna. The guardian glared back; teeth bared in a snarl.

Kvhroon.

—————

‘Dammit.’

He’d lost his mind. And taken out his frustration on someone who’d helped him, despite having nothing to do with any of his self-made issues. He didn’t want his temper to turn volatile on anyone else, so he sequestered himself in the corner of the colony farthest from any of the rest of the unit or his team and muted his comm.

Shadow wandered the colony for the better part of two days, heedless of direction or what his instincts said about how each new chamber might affect his emotional state. He could handle whatever the consequences might turn out to be; after all, no one would see him react.

And so of course, he ended up near the ward.

As emotionally charged as his memories of the ARK were, they were also incomplete; many tantalizingly vague and blurry. Five-foot high glass casings called to mind phantoms of echoes of experimentation and tests. Long and wide spaces with old scorch marks littering the walls had him fingering his inhibitors.

And the one room with a bookshelf, a bed with five pillows and a chess set left him momentarily paralyzed in the doorway; the space somehow seemed frozen in time, near to preserved. His chest faintly ached beneath his fur.

This was her room. The knowledge slotted into place as a fact, albeit one among many he didn’t wholly trust.

Shadow ran a finger along the spines of the books on the shelf on his way to the table and picked up the chess set; a wooden finish board that folded in half and held the pieces inside. He sat on the bed, propped his head on the arrangement of pillows.

 He resolved himself.

—————

Kvhroon.

Shadow, still holding the chess set, teleported into what Knuckles referred to as the garden and waited. As ever, the guardian made an appearance within minutes of his arrival.

“I”

Knuckles raised a hand, palm open, before Shadow could get a word in. He stared at him for a minute, then waved him forward.

“Follow me.” He said tersely.

The echidna raced off across the marble ruins. Shadow fell into step in his wake, trailing Knuckles over obstacles, chasms and occasionally lava until they came to what looked like a nondescript wall. Knuckles punched a specific spot in the marble and a rumbling preceded a section of the stonework sliding downward to reveal a doorway.

Knuckles gestured on with a tilt of his head before entering. Shadow followed again.

At the end of a brief trek underground, they came out inside a magnificent hall; carved by hand yet by no means inferior to anything a machine could do. Knuckles stopped in front of one of many murals; despite the hour of the day and the absence of discernible windows or views to the outside, some almost ethereal light source let Shadow see perfectly.

A tribe of echidnas.

“I’m not just guarding the Master Emerald,” Knuckles said. He passed a hand over the mural, making only the slightest contact with the wall. “I’m preserving something. Something a lot harder to define than a gem too powerful to be carelessly wielded.”

Knuckles let his hand linger on the mural, turning to regard the rest of the chamber.

“I’ve only poked around a fraction of this part of the island; read only a few of what texts are still legible. Not all of it is pleasant.”

Shadow’s grip on the chess set tightened.

“But this isn’t about obligation for me, it’s about my history,” he said. “It’s about protecting something that would otherwise be lost forever.”

Knuckles looked at Shadow.

“Dying isn’t final,” he said. “Being forgotten is. Whatever else happens in my life, I can’t just kill them off.”

Shadow swallowed. Knuckles turned back to the mural. Shadow looked down at his shoes, letting the echidna’s solemn tone fill the space and settle in his mind.

He exhaled.

“I brought something,” he said finally, holding up the chess set. “It’s a game; though I haven’t played chess in years.”

“I’ve heard of it,” Knuckles said. “Haven’t played it.”

“Learning could take a while.”

Knuckles shrugged.

“Patience is one of the first skills you need to survive up here,” he said. “Sonic’s the only one who makes me forget that.” He paused, considering. “Well, him and the bat.”

Shadow conceded the point. With some silent understanding, they sat before the mural and unfolded the board.

Neither of them was especially skilled; once Knuckles had committed to memory how each piece moved, the difference in their playing became apparent. Shadow could more quickly pick out all viable moves available to him on any given turn whereas Knuckles could consistently see a move or two ahead; although the echidna tended to be stubborn once he’d decided on a plan he liked.

Eventually, they were comfortable enough with the game and Shadow broke the silence.

“You asked me before,” he said. “What I do when I’m not sleeping.”

“You said you ask questions.”

“Yes. But they’re usually angled toward the same topic: who I am.”

“. . .”

“I was created,” Shadow said. “To fulfill multiple purposes. Some contradictory. Ultimately, it seems I was made for someone.”

“Who?” Knuckles asked evenly.

“Maria,” Shadow whispered. “Everything ties back to her. My creator agreed to make me a weapon so that he’d have the funds and technology necessary to create me for his granddaughter. I was made to be her protector, her brother, her cure–I was even programmed to have a soul that resembled hers.”

Knuckles didn’t respond. He moved his knight.

“Or so I’ve been led to believe.” Shadow muttered, advancing a bishop.

“It’s not true?”

“I don’t know,” Shadow grunted, frustrated. “At least some of my memories have been altered at least once before. Who’s to say whether the memories I have now, as I recall them, are any more real than those that were suggested to me?”

Knuckles moved his knight again.

“There are moments when I resent the whole of what I know about the ARK,” Shadow confessed. “But Maria is so much a part of me that I can’t separate an identity of my own apart from her influence. I’d cease to be Shadow then.”

Shadow balled his fists.

“But I don’t even know anything about who Maria was.” He hissed through clenched teeth.

Knuckles didn’t say anything for a full minute.

“. . . It’s your turn.”

“Hn.”

Shadow advanced a pawn.

“You don’t know because you don’t trust yourself?”

“I don’t trust what’s there,” Shadow muttered. “Or the handful of people that remain who knew her. I’ve got nothing to go on.”

“I seem to recall you plummeting through the atmosphere because of a promise,” Knuckles said; not a hint of derision or sarcasm in his tone, just earnest curiosity. “Did I get that wrong?”

Shadow froze.

His hand, holding his queen, hovered over the chess board, one move shy of checkmate.

“Her dying words were a plea for me to protect the planet,” Shadow said, glancing up at Knuckles. “That’s the only thing I’m certain of.”

Shadow knew he sounded a little too certain of Maria’s last words; bordering on desperate for a thread of truth in his memories to cling to, especially after how he’d already said he knew nothing about her.

He suspected, after the last couple weeks, that Knuckles understood that near-desperation. Perhaps that was why he didn’t call attention to it.

“A dying wish sounds like a whole lot more than nothing,” Knuckles said. “You can tell plenty about someone from that.”

“Can you?” Shadow asked.

“Besides,” Knuckles said, ignoring the question. “Do you really need to know someone for them to be important?”

Shadow opened his mouth; paused, remembered who he was talking to, where he was. He dipped his head, turning the echidna’s question over in his mind.

“. . . I should get back,” he said in lieu of an answer. He stood up, waved his hand when Knuckles moved to pack up the chess set. “You hang onto it. You’re in the practice of keeping things, right?”

Knuckles brow jumped, and he gave him an assessing look. He smirked.

“It’s what I was born to do,” he said. “I’ll have figured out how to beat you next time.”

Shadow huffed, turning away from the mural. Paused.

“Knuckles,” he said, pairing the words with a backward glance over his shoulder. “Do you really think a wish is enough to know someone?”

A reply was slow in coming. The echidna’s eyes briefly turned elsewhere.

“No one wastes their last words on nonsense,” he said. “Children least of all.”

“. . . !”

Shadow’s mind, lost and adrift at sea for weeks, finally, finally settled. He sighed.

“Thank you.”

He weighed his emerald in his hand. Called on its power.

“Chaos energy.”

He turned around again.

“Huh?”

“I can tell whenever you’re on the island,” Knuckles said. “Because you bleed chaos energy. That’s how I know where you are.”

Shadow blinked.

“I thought only fools give away their advantages.”

Not that giving Shadow that information made it any less of an advantage. Knuckles smirked and shrugged.

“I can handle it,” he said. “Besides. Some of my favorite people in the world are fools.”

—————

G.U.N. called a premature end to their mission a couple days afterward. A few people groaned that the call back to terra firma only came once they’d finished upwards of eighty percent of their report, but most were just relieved.

Shadow personally all but collapsed on their couch as soon as he made it into the house. He shifted just enough to situate his quills and then lay motionless.

“I need check on the club,” Rouge said, only swapping out a change of clothes before standing at the door again. “Don’t wait up.”

Shadow managed some unintelligible noise that might’ve been distantly related to a grunt.

“Hey.”

Begrudgingly, he cracked his eyes open. He got Rouge’s middle finger for the effort.

He responded in kind and lazily stuck out his tongue. Rouge laughed and slammed the door shut behind her.

That was the last thing Shadow knew before falling into the deepest sleep he’d had in nearly a month.

@generic-sonic-fan

[my-brothers-corrupted]

My Brothers, Corrupted

Book Five: Section Eleven

Chase reconnects with his daughter. Jackie deals with some feelings, but doesn't handle their aftermath well, and ends up getting hurt. Masterlist

Tws for self-hatred, past abuse, violence, blood, and fighting. Tws may not be completely exhaustive - keep in mind the heaviness of the fic and look out for yourself.

Thank you to @lehhoh7822 for taking the time to compile this book!

.

She sits on the grass on the other side of the pond, avoiding his gaze.

“You sure?”

“She’s ready,” Stacy encourages, putting her hand on Chase’s arm. “Just… give her space if she gets upset.”

Chase nods resolutely, straightening up. He steps away from Stacy and moves towards his daughter.

“Can I sit down with you?” he asks, standing beside her.

She doesn’t answer. Her eyes flicker over to him. He sinks down into the grass, folding his knees up as he sits beside her.

“Izzy,” he says softly. “I’m really sorry I went away.”

Izzy sniffles. She has Stacy’s dark hair and eyes, but her face is more like Chase’s - and so are her sticking-out ears. He smiles down at her despite the seriousness of the situation. She has a little yellow soccer jersey on and light-up shoes. He wishes he knew how to express to her that two months ago he would have died just for the chance to see this little girl even once - and now, how excruciatingly wonderful it is that he can see her and her brother without any price but his heart.

“Why don’t you remember me, Daddy?” asks Izzy, hiccuping with sobs. “You’re my Papa.”

“Anti really hurt my head,” says Chase quietly, because she is old enough not to be lied to. “And I got very confused and upset, and I couldn’t remember who I was or where you were. I was really unhappy because I was missing you, but I still couldn’t remember. I had to try really hard for a really long time to remember anything at all. But Izzy, even when I was really sad, when I would have dreams of you and Hunter… they made me happy again. Because I knew you were somewhere in the world, and I knew Anti didn’t have you. And he never will, Zig-Zag. He’s never going to get any of us again.”

“Did Anti hurt you, Dad?” asks Izzy.

Chase frowns, scooting so that they are facing each other, sitting together on the grass. “Anti did hurt me and your uncles,” he says. “And sometimes, I’m still really sad from the things that he did to me. I’m really sad that I lost more than a year when I could have been here being your Papa. But now that he’s gone, I get a chance to be happier and not get hurt anymore.”

Izzy plays with one of Hunter’s toy trucks in the grass, wiping at her snotty face as she considers this.

“And if you’d give me one,” says Chase. “I would really like to have a chance to be a good Papa to you again too. Because even though I still get sad sometimes, I will do anything to make sure that you are happy - and that you never have to lose your Dad like that again. Izzy. I love you so much. Look at me, Zig-Zag.”

Her eyes look up at him. He touches her little hand and is nearly shocked out of his focus - her skin buzzes, just a little, just like Anti’s used to. And he wonders if this was one of the reasons he let his monster hold him so many times: because even then, even at his worst, he was looking for his child.

“You and Hunter are the most important people in the world to me,” he whispers. “And I am never letting anyone take me from you again.”

“You’re going to be happy again, Dad? You’re not going to go?”

“I’m not going to go,” says Chase. “And now that I’ve find you, I have the greatest reason in the world to be happy again.”

Izzy cries silent tears, looking up at him with her mouth pinched and trembling. He touches her face.

“I love you too, Daddy,” she says, and she reaches out for a hug.

Chase pulls his child to his heart. That is where she will stay for the rest of his life.

Something crashes into him from behind and he lets out a bark of a laugh as Hunter clambers onto his back, squeezing his neck so hard he can barely breathe. He clutches them both to his body and drops down into the grass, making them squeal with laughter as he pins and kisses them, clutching at their heads and blowing raspberries into their stomachs. And in the laughter of his children and the warm apple smell of their shampoo and the heat of the sun on their soft hair, he can see and hear and feel the whole of his future - and for the first time in his life, he is not scared of anything that is to come.

His name is Chase. His future is bright and beautiful, and he is looking forward to every goddamn second of it.

Anonymous asked:

Should Chase stay with the magicians too for a bit so he doesn't have to separate from Hunter? Just a suggestion! Poor kid seems really scared of being away from him again.

“Well, what do we think about that?” asks Marvin, taking a sip from his drink. Stacy offered to get them lunch. Then Jackie got defensive about JJ not being around too many people, and then JJ got a little sulky, so Henrik defended him and Marvin pointed out that Jackie just doesn’t like Stacy, and then everybody squabbled a little, and now they’re at a restaurant with a quiet patio so everybody’s relatively happy.

“I don’t want to overwhelm the kids,” worries Stacy.

“They’re latched onto him like a limpet,” Henrik points out, grinning. Chase does have both the kids on his lap, sharing his fries with them and letting them smear ketchup on his face and then laugh at him.

“Yeah, but Chase wouldn’t be living with us long-term,” Stacy points out. “I don’t want to raise their expectations. Mum and Dad are still separated. What if they get separation anxiety when he leaves to go home? Or when we have to go back to Sweden?”

“I’ll make more mirrors,” promises Marvin. “We can visit anytime. It’ll be no problem.”

“Thank you,” says Stacy fondly. Then she gives Marvin a smack on the arm. “Now eat your food, you’ve barely touched anything but your water.”

“Okay, okay! Sheesh.”

Jackie glowers at his sister-in-law from across the table, somehow managing to make drinking orange soda look menacing.

“Chase can be a little attached to Henrik anyway,” Marvin mumbles under his breath. “Schneep, how are you two doing with the co-dependence?”

“We are not co-dependent!”

“You sleep cuddled up together and wear each other’s clothes.”

Henrik grumbles. “I would be okay for one night. Maybe, um, sleep with JJ instead… room is dark.”

“We’re all a little co-dependent,” admits Marv. “It’s not a shame, it’s how we got through all of this. But is Chase able to spend a night away from you?”

“I’d be willing to try it,” says Chase, grinning a little nervously. “For these two.” He lands kisses in their hair. “But it’s up to you, Stace. I’m still a little, um. Unstable sometimes.”

“Maybe we could try a weekend instead,” says Stacy. “Just to make sure they understand Dad’s not moving in and not entirely ready to have sleepovers at his place.”

“Kids, you understand if Dad isn’t moving in, right?” asks Chase, putting a hand on Izzy’s hair.

“Will you come see me again tomorrow, though?” squeaks Hunter, gripping Dad’s arm tight.

“Yes, baby, every day I can. And Mum has a phone so she can call us anytime if something happens, okay?”

Hunter slurps on a ginger ale, thinking. “Okay, Daddy. Will you call me to read me to sleep?”

“Sure, pumpkin.”

“Okay. And Izzy?”

“I know, Dad,” says Izzy seriously. “Sometimes we can’t see you when you’re having a tough time.”

He chuckles and kisses her hair again. “I’m okay. Just gotta take things slow. For me, too, cause I get overwhelmed.”

Anonymous asked:

I'm so happy for you Chase! Things are really coming together, I hope you enjoy every single moment with your kids. You're all making so much progress! Us cameras told you things would slowly get better if you kept fighting for your freedom and happiness. I'm so proud, for all the hopeless times you didn't give up through, and for beating the monster who ruled you. Gosh, you guys are free! It still feels impossible to believe!

“It is kind of wild, isn’t it?” chuckles Chase, just looking around. They’re just sitting at a nice restaurant - out in the open, able to buy food from a real place, with no fear of someone trying to hurt them or punish them. There’s no pain waiting at home. He can see his family again - here, alive, on his lap and smiling. Marvin looks more like himself, Henrik is talking, JJ’s breakdowns feel rarer and rarer each day, and Jackie’s not lunging across the table to choke-hold Chase’s ex-wife for touching his twin. That’s progress. It’s… stuff he never even dreamed of when he was with Anti.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Henrik has a hand on his arm. “Chase. Do you need a break?”

He realizes he might be crying a little. He wipes quickly at his face, laughing. “No. I’m okay. I’m… good. I’m really good.”

Izzy looks up at him seriously. He smiles down at her and she raises her hand to put her fingers in the hair of his nape, soothing him. He bends to knock their heads together and she holds on to him.

Anonymous asked:

Jj, how are you doing? You're in public, you get to see and be with your family, and you're not ever going to be a prisoner again. You must be absolutely chuffed if not a bit anxious.

“Splendid, good chap, I’m mighty chuffed - ”

“No! No, don’t get him started on that!”

“Jolly good time, innit?”

“You can’t spell out the word ‘innit,’ you little bastard - ”

“Brilliant, really, I’m positively scuppered to be - ”

Jackie puts an arm around his neck and pins JJ to the table, making him whistle in protest and laugh. Jackie rolls his eyes and lets him go after a minute, grinning despite himself to see JJ laughing.

“You’re feeling okay?”

“I’m pretty good today,” says JJ. “Lately, not too bad. I’m lucky to be the sort of person who can function with schizophrenia quite well when medicated. I still have some problems with the negative symptoms - the depression sometimes, the lack of interest in other people. And with my trauma I am still scared of people touching me, and I know that when I get triggered I go right back to playing pet or sometimes being violent… but I feel safe most of the time lately.”

“Do you think you could live like this for a while, then?” asks Jackie hopefully. “We’ll rebuild the house in the woods and you can settle down and be alright.”

JJ chuckles, glancing down. “Well… yes, I think I’d be alright. But the only thing is… I am a little aimless.”

“Aimless?”

“Jackie, I do miss England. I like living here just fine, but I am sort of homesick. I just stay in the apartment all day unless one of you takes me on a walk or something. I’m not a part of anything outside of this family. It’s hard for me to communicate with other people. Between the reaction to strangers, the mutism, and the schizophrenia… I don’t know if I should hope for anything more than coping for the rest of my life. I’m just sort of - sort of used up, I guess.”

Jackie blinks, startled by the admission. “JJ, that’s not true. What do you want to do? You can have whatever you want!”

JJ chuckles. “I don’t know. I’m not sure what I want or if it would even be worth hoping for. Sort of sounds nice having a job I like. Having some friends.”

Jackie’s stomach tightens. He wants to be away from him all day? Alone without brothers there if he gets freaked out or sick? Who’s going to translate for him? Who’s going to take care of him if he starts hallucinating or becomes delusional? What if he gets violent, what then?

“Um, well, think on it a little more, yeah?” he offers. “Maybe in the meantime your job can be helping me fix up the house.”

JJ smiles. “That sounds good.”

“Good.” Jackie pats his shoulder. “That’s good.”

Anonymous asked:

Don't baby JJ, please Jackie. He's a functioning adult who can talk for himself and take care of himself. If he wants a job I think it would be good for him, putting himself out there and healing. Just don't let your protective nature suffocate him.

Jackie drums his fingers against the table, trying not to go through a thousand things that could go wrong if JJ was alone. Fuck, he knows he can’t just keep them all in the apartment, he knows that - but there’s so many bad things that can happen.

He told him directly to his face the other day that he has trouble respecting him as an adult. That was mean. What was he even thinking? He has to be more supportive. He knows. If he doesn’t always feel it, he’ll fake it until it’s true. That’s what his siblings are trying to tell him, he thinks - that he can’t make them happy and they can’t make him happy.

But that sucks when all he wants is to make them happy!

“Maybe work with some animals,” JJ continues, eating his fish and chips. “I love little animals and Anti never let me have any.”

Jackie tries not to overturn the table with how hard his knee is bouncing against it. “That would be really good, Jameson,” he manages. “You’d be good at it.”

JJ smiles at him. “You think?”

No. Stay home and you can have any pets you want. He’ll buy him a whole ostrich farm if he wants.

“Yeah, I do.”

“Actually,” pipes up Chase on the other side of the table. “Now that Henrik’s doing better, I’ve been thinking a lot about getting a job too.”

Holy shit, they’re all trying to kill him.

Anonymous asked:

You do make them happy Jackie, but their happiness shouldn't come only from you. You need to let them branch out and do things on their own. You already know you can't keep them in the house 24/7, that's a start. Work on your paranoia and try to be less anxious. Please chat with a therapist about it, yeah? You're paranoid and anxious because of rules Anti drove into you about keeping them safe, but try and know that they can keep themselves safe too.

“Knowing facts doesn’t really make things better,” rumbles Jackie, rocking in his chair. “Still feels bad!”

JJ has his hand on his arm by now, trying to ground him. “Hey, hey. Jackie. Need a break?”

“No, I don’t need a break.”

“Jackie, loud voice.”

“Sorry.”

JJ squeezes his arms around his shoulders until Jackie is a little more calm.

“Therapist would be a good idea, Jackie,” says JJ, brushing a bit of hair from his eyes. “You could go see someone who isn’t just a talk therapist. Marvin’s going to therapy, right, Marvin?”

Marvin flushes a little, but he nods. “Right… yeah. I’ll go again next week.”

“I can’t really think about that right now,” says Jackie, too loud again. “Ask me later.”

“Okay.”

Anonymous asked:

Jackie, what's wrong? Too much change all at once?

“Yeah, oh, imagine that,” he growls under his breath. “Maybe we don’t have to talk about JJ and Chase getting jobs and wanting to see England and Marvin not coming home and staying with strangers and how I need to change and going back to therapy and Chase having a family outside of us and some girl I don’t even know touching my twin and paying for lunch cause I can’t and - ”

“Jackie. Jackie.” JJ pulls his attention to him. “You’re okay.”

The anger and fear and frustration boil under his skin. He wants to shake JJ and yell that he’s not okay and that JJ can’t go. But he doesn’t. Especially not in front of the kids. He bites on his tongue and rocks until the chair is rocking off its front legs with him. JJ holds him steady and doesn’t let the chair fall, patient.

“We can go home,” he signs.

“Not going home,” says Jackie.

“Okay. Just, if you need to - ”

“I don’t need to!”

“Okay.” JJ reaches out to pull Jackie’s hood up over his head. The sun lessens. It’s a little better. JJ is patting his hand heavily, almost striking him, a soothing drum against his wrist. “We’ll be done eating and can go home in a few, yes?”

“Yes,” mumbles Jackie. “Okay.”

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

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

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

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

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

He sits on his bed in the dark.

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

“Go away,” says Jackie, voice trembling. “You’re dead.”

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

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

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

“Shut the fuck up. I’m still their big brother.”

“They don’t even need you, Red.”

“I’m Jackie.”

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

“Shut the fuck up.”

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

“You are dead. Go away.”

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

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

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

“I’m going to wake up. I’m going to wake up!”

“Oh, no, darling. This isn’t a nightmare. You’re mine now, Bloodred.”

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

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

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

Anti buries his teeth in Red’s throat.

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

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

“Pathetic!” he shrieks. “I’m not pathetic! And I - hero! Heroism, I’ll show you, fucking - ah!”

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

Jackie sinks to his knees, heaving.

“Look at me,” he chokes into the darkness. “I can’t… I can’t… I want…”

He wants to break in half.

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

But he doesn’t.

He doesn’t.

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

“Pathetic,” he growls. “Yeah, we’ll see. We’ll see.”

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

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

Anonymous asked:

Jackie please tell me you're just going for a run, not going to get in more fights....

“If you don’t want to come,” he says, pulling his hood up, “then don’t.”

Anonymous asked:

No, we want to come. You need someone to tell your brothers if you get hurt. This is a bad idea though JBM. You could get arrested or worse. Just be cautious.

“Well, wouldn’t that just be a treat for everyone,” he mutters, feeling sorry for himself. Something skitters in the street behind him and he whirls around, alert, but nothing’s there.

“Whatever. I’m not even out for a fight. Just - someone might need help.”

He always seems to find someone who needs the violent sort of help when he’s angry.

Anonymous asked:

Marvin, Jackie is about go go get into fights again. Can you call or text him something, or maybe go to him? I know it's late but I'm scared for him. He needs someone to be rational with him.

Marvin’s in bed in the guest room of one of his magician friend’s houses. He stirs sleepily, grappling at the camera on the bedside drawer like his phone is going off, and reads the message distantly, not entirely sure if he’s dreaming or not. He flops back into bed, exhausted. Is it better to go to Jackie and comfort and help him, or is there a point at which he has to start letting Jackie deal with this on his own? He doesn’t even know where Jackie is right now. He’s drifting back to sleep as he considers his options.

Anonymous asked:

Jackie you know Anti was lying all those times. He lied and broke you down because he was scared of you. You beat him into dust once, and you can do it to his memory again. You are strong and capable and your family will always need you, even in the smallest ways they need you to be a protector and provider and big brother. Them having more freedom doesn't undermine that fact. You need to let this anger out, that burning feeling inside. It's OK to break in two. It's OK to go to your brothers for help. It doesn't make you weak or pathetic or anything that monster called you.

Jackie trudges down the street, hands stuffed in his hoodie pocket and eyes on the pavement. In his head, he knows he beat Anti and that his brother was scared of him for good reasons - but why doesn’t that make the memory of Anti go away? He’s dreamed of him for months now. The nightmares did not change at all when he died. In his head, he’s still so real, and Jackie is still so powerless.

He wants his siblings to need him. So they’ll stay. But aren’t they all learning to protect and provide for themselves? What then? What if they want to move out? What happens when they realize how broken he is and how useless?

A girl scurries past him, catching his eye. She’s clutching her purse close to her and walking rapidly, eyes downcast. Her keys are held tightly between her fingers.

Jackie’s eyes narrow at the sight of a man in a big grey coat pacing a few meters behind her. He draws back into an alleyway and waits for the man to pass him.

Anonymous asked:

Your brothers being able to take care of themselves doesn't make you useless or weak, Jackie. Your life cannot revolve solely around taking care of them. That's why Marvin was asking if you had done anything for yourself at all. You're co-dependent, Jackie. You rely on them to make you feel needed. You need to learn how to live with just yourself again, need to learn to be just 'Jackie', not always 'Jackie the big brother'. I believe you can do it, you are strong enough, brave enough.

Live with just himself? That sounds awful. He doesn’t even like himself.

Which is probably fucked up, he realizes a moment later. But what is he supposed to do? He looks down at his hands and remembers leaving bruises on his younger brothers and digging garbage out of the trash to find something to eat. He sees his face and remembers how Max looked at him before he left him splayed out on the ground, abandoned. His failures seem to follow him everywhere he goes.

Co-dependent… he’s the one who will provide for them. That’s not dependency. Right?

A rock skitters on the pavement behind him.

Speaking of following him.

He whirls around, and this time, he is able to catch a flash of a dark figure darting into the alleyway before everything falls silent again.

Jackie stares into the darkness.

He creeps forward, hands raised, and waits for someone to jump out at him.

Instead, he comes fully around the corner of the alleyway, and there, a little pink in the cheeks -

“Dammit, Jameson!”

“Hi, Jackie,” signs his little brother cheerfully. “You seemed mad.”

“Did you follow me from the apartment?”

“I felt like something bad was going to happen,” complains JJ, and he does make puppy-dog-eyes, but Jackie’s pretty sure he’s just being a cute little shit on purpose, not actually getting into a bad headspace. “You were shouting a lot.”

Jackie swears and backs away from him, kicking a trash bin outside the building beside them.

“Jackie, come home. It’s late.”

“I’m fine, JJ. I’m a goddamn adult, okay? Everybody needs to stop acting like I can’t handle myself.”

“Well, I wouldn’t know anything about that.”

Jackie shoots him a glare. “Just - fine, look, there’s some creep following this girl. I’m going to trail them and make sure she gets home okay. Are you coming or what?”

“Not leaving you out late at night,” signs JJ, pushing past him. “Let’s go.”

Anonymous asked:

JJ you could check out local deaf support groups or clubs where people would know sign! That's a good way go make friends without needing a translator! I know you're mute, not deaf, but in my experience as a speech impaired person deaf groups are more than welcoming. I think having more people you trust would be really good for you.

“Deaf support groups… I think I had forgotten those existed.” JJ paces behind Jackie, tapping his chin. “That could be really perfect, actually. Well, I guess I would still be pretty nervous. I haven’t really talked to anyone but my brothers in years now. But that could be a way to get back on the horse. To actually start communicating with other people. I don’t know. Won’t they think I’m so weird? I’ve lived like a hermit. But maybe it would be worth trying. Yeah, I can see that. Maybe I can try and find one in town. Thank you, that’s a good idea.”

“She’s going to her apartment building,” mumbles Jackie, watching the girl dart up the stairs. “He looks like he’s going to try and follow her into the building.”

The stalker is gaining speed as the girl tries to get into her building, no doubt hoping to follow her all the way to her apartment and find out where she lives, while she’s trying to get inside and disappear before he can.

“Hey!” barks Jackie, striding towards the man, who stops short, turning to look at Jackie. The girl casts one desperate look back at Jackie and takes this as her chance to get away, hurrying inside the building and all but sprinting out of view. The man’s face sours, looking back at Jackie, but most creeps like this aren’t going to do anything while they know somebody’s watching.

“Yeah, I’m talking to you,” shouts Jackie, crossing his arms over his chest. “Thought you’d follow her home? Leave her the hell alone, you gobshite.”

The stranger’s eyes are dark, and in the light perched above the apartment building, Jackie sees for just a second the glitter of a knife held between his hand and his pants pocket in warning. Jackie squares his shoulders, mouth curled. JJ stands beside him on the pavement, picking at his nails.

The man scoffs and paces towards them, looking off down the street. Jackie narrows his eyes but lets him walk towards them. He doesn’t look like he’s planning to attack, all hunched up, his hands stuffed in his pockets. Jackie caught him in the act and there’s nothing more to be done. Wrapping an arm around JJ’s shoulders, Jackie watches the man go by.

The stranger slams his shoulder into JJ as he passes, turning to give them one last glare before walking away.

Or that’s probably his plan.

But the moment he shoves into JJ, Jackie feels his younger brother go stiff beneath his arm. He does not gasp or whistle indignantly - he just goes very, very still, tense as a horse pulled to a sudden stop.

Coming from someone who has been forced to both witness JJ being beat and to physically fight Jameson himself, it’s not a good sign.

That man just touched him.

No one is allowed to touch JJ but his brothers.

No one.

“Jameson,” Jackie has one second to say, and then his little brother turns and grabs that man by the curls of his greasy hair, and slams the heel of his palm into his face.

Anonymous asked:

Jameson don't! You don't have a supernatural being to hide you anymore, if you kill somebody or assault somebody you'll get arrested! I know they touched you and you feel no one is supposed to, but just hit them once or twice and let them go, I don't want you to end up in prison. Jackie try to hold him back if you can, this could go really badly.

“Jamie! Jamie!” Jackie snatches him around the waist, all but yanking him into the air, but JJ thrashes against his chest, snarling. The stranger is hollering at them, that knife held in his hand, but Jackie can barely concentrate with Jameson spitting and writhing in his grip. He pulls him away from the man, wrapping a hand around Jameson’s throat to try and still him, without much success. “Jameson, no one will punish you! You’re okay! They’re right, I can’t hide you if the cops come. Jamie, you are in control, stop!”

Dapper spits at the stranger and gnashes his teeth, steadying himself against Jackie’s chest only long enough to kick out at the man with both feet. Jackie can practically feel the adrenaline and fear in his younger brother’s blood. All too well he remembers Anti’s jealous furies whenever Dapper was out of his sight. Sometimes he punished the others for getting too close to him, like when Jackie stole his Haldol from Anti in California, so Jackie hates to imagine the sort of anger it inspired in Anti when strangers got too close to his favorite pet.

“He’s not here,” Jackie cries, pulling JJ’s head to his heart. “Jamie, I know that freaks you out, but you have to remember you’re in control! You’re not his animal. You’re in control!”

Dapper tears out of his grip and lashes out at the stranger, fearless before the knife. Jackie shoves himself between them, and when that man comes at them with the blade, Jackie protects Jameson, shoving the stranger away and locking him into a fight. With one free hand, he shoves Dapper back, hard, and his little brother crashes to the ground, gasping.

Jackie takes a punch from the man, grunting as he hits his ribs, but he steadies and wraps the stranger into a headlock, flipping him onto the ground. The man’s older than Jackie and quite a bit bigger, and he roars with pain and anger as he hits the pavement. He grapples at Jackie’s legs, tearing him down to the pavement beside him, and then he’s on top of Jackie, pulling back that knife. Jackie pulls his knees to his chest and kicks the man hard in the stomach, giving him a chance to roll away, though another blow lands on his chest as he goes.

Jameson has bowed over himself in the middle of the pavement, kneeling with his head tucked into his chest and his hands gripping at his hair. Jackie thinks he is crying. He should never have let him come with him. What was he thinking? Bringing JJ with him to get in fights with creepy stalkers? He wanted to feel powerful again, to feel control as he pummeled some freak who deserved it into the ground, and maybe - just a little bit - he wanted to get hurt. But not to get his little brother hurt. He was supposed to help him with his fear of being touched - why hasn’t he been helping him?

There’s no time for more of Jackie’s self-loathing right now. That man is standing across from him, panting wildly, holding the knife up. There’s blood coming from his shattered nose, dripping down his curled-up lips. Jackie hates and fears him.

“Just get the fuck out of here!” he screams, snatching up a rock and coming at the man with it, throwing it half-heartedly towards him and making him flinch back. “You deserved that for following that poor girl, and then you just couldn’t go without shoving a guy half your size! Leave us alone, fucking creep!”

And thank God the man takes it as his chance to sprint away.

A wave of emotions washes over Jackie so fast it leaves him slightly dizzy. “Yeah, jackass!” he shouts. “Maybe you’ll think twice before shoving somebody who caught you in the act next time, freak!”

He leans over and puts his hands on his knees, panting harshly. Everything has gone quiet again. JJ isn’t making any noise, just hugging himself and pressing his forehead to the concrete of the pavement like he couldn’t get up if it would save his life.

“JJ…”

Jackie stumbles over to him, grabbing his shoulders and hunching over his body, landing a hand in his hair and holding on to him. “You are a wild little mongoose of a man, you know that? Shit, James, we’re okay… we’re okay…”

Anonymous asked:

Do we need to get the others for you?! Are either of you injured? You're okay, you guys will be alright.

“Are you okay? Come here.”

Jackie helps him sit up, trying not to be alarmed by how hard he’s shaking. “JJ, when was the last time someone else touched you?”

“Someone bumped me at the airport,” he offers weakly. “And Dark grabbed me.”

“Before that?”

“I don’t know. Anti got rid of them.”

Jackie pats the back of his head and pulls back, looking him over. He’s all freaked out, but - fuck, blood on his back. Jackie pulls his shirt up quickly, but there’s no wound underneath.

“Where’d that come from?”

“What?”

“There’s blood on you. Where are you hurt?”

“I’m okay, Jackie… I’m sorry, I know I’m a freak…”

“You’re not a freak, Jay, fuck. Anti just taught you some messed-up shit. Not your fault you’re a little violent when you’re scared. We just gotta work on it. You’re okay.” He squeezes his shoulder, searching through his hair for soft spots. “Are you sure you’re not hurt?”

“Jackie - ”

“I’m sorry I let you come with me.”

“You shouldn’t have come out at all, but - ”

“I know, I just get so insecure and I know it’s pathetic, I just - ”

“Jackie!” JJ claps in front of his face. “You’re the one bleeding!”

Jackie looks down at his shirt, where blood is pooling against his right breast.

“This is the hoodie Max gave me,” he whines. “Will the blood come out?”

JJ is tearing it off him and pulling up his shirt. Jackie takes the hoodie before it falls to the ground and hugs it to his uninjured side, mourning the stain on it.

JJ’s hands run over a knife wound in Jackie’s chest. “How do you feel?” he signs shakily.

“Okay. I thought he just hit me.”

“He got the knife in.”

“I am a little dizzy.”

Jameson knows well enough that the adrenaline will fade away all too soon, and then things will be worse than “a little dizzy.” He licks his dry mouth and gets to his feet, still dazed himself, and reaches out to help Jackie to his feet.

“Is it bad?” asks Jackie curiously.

“Let’s get home for now, okay? Just focus on that.”

“Okay.”

Anonymous asked:

Get home as quickly as you can guys. Henrik, Chase, are you awake? Jackie got seriously injured and is trying to make it home. JJ is with him, they got in a fight. Have medical supplies near by if you get this.

Noodle is awake in the middle of the night, zipping around the apartment at the speed of light and jumping on everything he can reach, and when he notices the camera beeping from the corner of the twins’ room, he decides to jump on that too.

“Pot Noodle! Fuck,” groans Chase, turning over. His cat springs away again. Chase rolls over to grab the camera. “Shit - Schneep, get up.”

“Mh? No. I’m sleeping. Good night for ten years.”

“Jackie and JJ got in a fight.”

Henrik swears rapidly in German, getting up from the blankets. “Where’s my bag?”

“In the bathroom, I’ll get it.”

The sleepiness disappears like it was cut out of them and they get to work in tandem, without speaking again. Chase sets water to boil on the stove. Henrik lays their cheapest blanket over Jackie and Marvin’s bed, setting his medical supplies up beside it before heading to the kitchen to ready a big glass of water. Chase shuts Noodle in his room and then pulls his shoes on, heading out onto the balcony of the apartment to watch for his brothers.

Henrik steps out to join him a moment later, wrapping his tattered doctor’s coat close around them.

“I’m going to kill them,” he says.

“I’ll help,” replies Chase.

Anonymous asked:

Are the others awake?! Jackie is hurt, I don't know how badly, but some guy got a knife jab in him and he's bleeding a lot.

“Don’t worry, Jay,” says Jackie gently, rubbing his little brother’s back. “I bet Chase and Schneep will get up and help. I’ll be fine.”

Jameson is clinging to his side and to his hand, like he’s ready to catch him if he falls, but Jackie feels fine. He’s had worse. Actually, it’s kind of nice - JJ all snuggled up beside him, fussing over him. He’d never admit it out loud, but he doesn’t mind being the center of attention. Schneep and Chase will probably fuss over him too. Well, he’ll get chewed out, for sure. But maybe they’ll all stay in his room with him and bring him snacks and stuff like that. It could be a nice break. He’ll call in sick to work and because he’s hurt, everybody will keep him company and entertain him and stuff. This could be a best-case scenario. He ruffles JJ’s hair fondly, but Jameson just looks up at him with his big blue eyes, and Jackie can’t read the expression in them. Jameson squeezes his palm warmly. They’re just about a block from the apartment.

It’s around this time that the pain starts to register. He goes grey so fast he actually feels some of the blood draining from his face, his heartbeat picking up tangibly somewhere inside his skull. He swallows thickly, his head swimming, and his next step sort of misses its mark, making him stagger slightly against his brother.

JJ’s arm is ready around his waist, keeping him from falling. Jackie is too dazed to make any comments - he can barely register what’s going on. Everything is glazed over in a sort of numb confusion.

But his side still hurts.

Tears rise in his eyes as he’s forced to take another step, and when his grip on the wound loosens, JJ’s hand is there, forcing him to keep pressure on it. He groans, trying to pull back a little, but Jameson tugs him resolutely forward, clicking his tongue at him, the only comfort he’s able to give him.

“Ow, ow, ow,” complains Jackie, swaying against his brother. “I - I gotta have a quick break, James.”

But JJ doesn’t let him stop. He presses down hard on the wound and keeps him going. Jackie feels sick. It hurts more every second. He wants to stop. He feels bad. “Ow, JJ, ow.”

“Motherfuck,” rumbles Henrik from the balcony. “He’s staggering. Chase - ”

Chase is already taking off at a sprint, hurrying down the apartment building’s stairs towards his brothers.

Anonymous asked:

You'll be okay Jackie, just make it a little further. We got Dok and Chase ready for you, you'll be okay.

Jackie blinks at you like a bird snatched out of the sky, his mouth open. He takes another step and half crumbles, letting out a startled wail as he falters against JJ.

“Jackie, Jackie.” Chase just seems to be chanting his name as he runs up to them, grabbing him from the other side, and JJ and Chase pull his arms over their shoulders and keep him moving forward even as his eyes water with the pain. “Jackie - shit, JJ, how did he even - this much - ?”

JJ shoots him a warning look and Chase shuts his mouth.

“It’s okay, man, Schneep’s ready.”

“I want Blue,” sobs Jackie. “Where is he?”

“Come on, let’s just get you up the stairs, okay? We can carry you if we have to.”

“No, I can walk!” cries Jackie, flushing just at the thought of them having to pull him up the stairs. “I just want to go to bed, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I just had a bad dream, I just - ”

“Jackie, it’s okay. It’s okay. We’re right here. It’s going to be okay.”

But there’s wet, sticky blood down his chest and he does not like it. He doesn’t like this. He wants this to stop.

Anonymous asked:

How bad is the injury, Henrik? Don't be too hard on him, they've been through a lot tonight. I really hope Jackie will be okay.

Henrik is waiting in the open door to their apartment, face drawn. He beckons them inside and into Jackie’s room, and everyone helps him on to the bed.

At this point Jackie’s crying more out of frustration than anything else, and being unable to stop crying only makes things worse. He’s bleeding, it’s sticky, it hurts, he’s caused all his brothers trouble, he’s pathetic, he’s useless -

“Jackie, my Jackie,” Henrik calls. “Don’t curl in on yourself, my dear, come here.”

Jackie wants to curl up and die. Henrik is trying to pull him out of his roly-poly ball, but he doesn’t want to go. He wants this to stop. Chase and Henrik are both so loud and the room is too bright and too hot and he hates the blood everywhere and he’s crying and it hurts.

“Schneep, don’t we have - you know - ”

“Nothing to put him fully asleep, just some localized anesthesia.”

“Should we go to the hospital?”

“Not if we don’t have to. He keeps getting in stupid street fights. I don’t know what he was up to.”

There’s a pause, and then Henrik answers JJ: “Oh, just a small fight, huh? You think this makes it better? You are in trouble later. Hey! Don’t you sign at me in that tone of voice! Okay, fine, fine! Is good that you were there, whatever. Chase, get me a syringe.”

Henrik bends over Jackie, pulling his hands carefully back. His mouth sets as he manages to look at the wound, reaching down to put pressure on it again when he finishes.

“Yes, is good you were there,” he repeats quietly. “And a good thing this is the right and not the left. Mostly it’s in his shoulder, I think. Need a better look. Jackie, is alright. Sh, don’t look at me like that… I’ll forgive you if you get better, okay? Here I am.”

scunneredzombie asked:

Let your brothers help Jackie, there's no reason to be ashamed. You will be okay, just need a bit of help up the stairs and then you can lay down and let Schneep take care of you. It'll be done soon, just hold on.

“Yes, of course,” murmurs Henrik, rubbing Jackie’s good shoulder in slow, rhythmic motions. “How many times I have patched you up? It will be okay.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” cries Jackie. “Please make it stop.”

“Jackie, I have something for the pain - ”

“No, no needles, Dok!” screams Jackie, pulling away from him. “No, I don’t - ”

“Jackie, Jackie.” Henrik holds his face and tries to keep his voice low and steady. “I know you can be brave for me. I know it’s too much but you must calm down or I won’t be able to help. Now you must come here and let me give you just one shot. Yes? Here, let me see.”

He cuts Jackie’s shirt down the middle, revealing the wound. He reaches to take the hoodie from Jackie too, since he’s clutching it to his chest, but Jackie rears back with it, clinging to the fabric.

“Okay! But you can hold it out of the way for me, okay? Just in one hand. Hold it in your left hand and let your arm down. There you go. Thank you, my brother, my dear. Okay.”

Chase hands Henrik the syringe with the anesthetic after Henrik pulls on latex gloves and Henrik turns back to Jackie with it, placing a hand on his chest to steady him. Chase moves forward to clean the wound with a sterilized cloth. Now, with the shirt gone and Jackie doing his best to stay uncurled, Henrik can see the wound fully.

Henrik can… see the wound fully.

A line of black-red blood against white skin. It trails down Jackie’s naked chest as he squirms, helpless to do anything about what’s happening. Stuck. The thick scent of copper is filling up the room, and Henrik’s fingers feel numb around the body of the syringe. What’s going on? He’s done this all before. He’s a doctor. He just needs to put the needle in his chest, just -

The sharp blade of the needle drawing blood from his chest, and -

It’s sharp, cutting into him, and nobody comes when he screams, and the blood runs down him in rivulets. The flies come to eat at it. He can’t move. He can’t -

“Henrik!” Chase catches his twin as Dok staggers, crumpling towards the floor, the needle slipping out of his hand.

Anonymous asked:

Oh Henrik, it'll be okay. It's triggering you a bit because of memories of pain. Try to fight through it, they need the good doctor right now. I believe in you, just stitch him up and you can go rest and de-stress.

“Schneep?” cries Chase, pulling him to his chest as JJ moves to comfort Jackie. Fuck, what a goddamn night. He just wants to wake up and realize it was just a bad dream. “Henrik, man, look at me.”

But Schneep won’t. His eyes fixate on the carpet in front of him, his eyebrows pulled together in a vague sort of alarm. Chase pats his cheek rapidly, trying to pull him back. “Schneep, don’t get lost in that head of yours. It’s okay. Just - JJ, come here and look after him a second. I gotta at least give Jackie the anesthesia.”

Jameson comes to his aid obediently, sitting down beside Henrik and hugging him from the side. Henrik takes a fistful of JJ’s shirt into his hand without looking at him, breathing heavily through his nose.

Chase gives Jackie the anesthesia. “There, Jacks, now at least the pain will settle down in a minute, okay? Hang in there.”

“Do I need stitches? I want to go to bed, Chase, I don’t feel good!”

“Yeah, a few stitches, but you won’t feel them much, okay? Here, have some water, come on.”

Chase looks back at Henrik as he helps Jackie drink, but his twin is just sitting there, staring at the floor. “Henrik, I know it’s rough. But they’re right: I kind of need you right now. Come on, Dok. Nobody’s going to hurt you. I swear, okay? Not ever again.”

JJ sets his chin down on Henrik’s shoulder and looks up at Chase unhappily.

“Are you okay?” asks Chase.

JJ nods.

“Well, great,” Chase breathes, turning back to Jackie. “Two out of five, that’s great.”

Anonymous asked:

JJ, you know how to stitch up wounds right? Can you or Chase take over for him right now and get the bleeding to stop at least? This is really a crisis scenario oh boy.

“My medication makes my hands shaky,” says JJ, flexing his fingers.

“It’s fine, I’ve stitched all of you up before,” says Chase, exhausted. “Just - will you get him out of here? Just lay him down, okay?”

“Are you sure?”

“He’s not going to be able to do this,” says Chase, turning his eyes back to Jackie. “He doesn’t deserve to have to go through it all again. See if you can get him back to bed.”

Chase doesn’t look back as JJ leads Henrik up and out of the room. He doesn’t want to see that blank distance in his twin’s eyes ever again.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Jackie is chanting, beginning to cry in earnest again.

Chase strokes his hair quietly, readying a needle and thread. “It’s okay, man. Listen, I need you to try and be as still as you can for ten minutes, okay? Can you do that for me?”

“Yes, Chase, I’m sorry.”

“There’s my guy. Okay, it’s going to hurt a little, Jackie. Ready? Don’t look.”

Jackie squeezes his eyes shut, tears flowing over his face as Chase works in silence, trying to stitch well and keep Jackie steady at the same time. Jackie flinches and groans and tries to rock a couple times, but as they go he gets quieter and quieter - and whiter, too. Chase blanches at the sight of how much blood is soaking into their blanket.

The wound was deep, but not wide, and it has pierced mostly muscle, which is a relief. Chase soothes his hands over the stitches, checking that they are held together fast. He looks up to see Jackie half-conscious on his pillows, blinking slowly up at the ceiling, his face hot from crying. Chase shushes him softly and turns him onto his side just enough to wrap gauze around the wound.

“No itching at those, okay?” murmurs Chase.

“I’m cold,” whimpers Jackie.

“You lost a lot of blood. Lie still for a while. I’ll make it better.”

Chase sets up a blood bag and swipes the inside of his elbow with iodine. He chugs half of Jackie’s water and squeezes his hand around the sheets of the bed, letting his veins rise in his arm and setting the empty blood bag between his teeth before sliding the needle into the vein of his arm.

He breathes slowly through his nose, taking deep breaths. When he’s ready, he squeezes into the bedsheets again, pumping the blood out of his arm and into the bag.

“Drink some more water,” he tells Jackie, holding the glass up to him with his free hand. “Come on, don’t look at me like that.”

Jackie is just staring up at him with big, guilty eyes, white in the face. Chase lies down beside him and sighs, closing his eyes and squeezing his fist in the blankets, feeling the blood rush out of him.

“I love you,” says Jackie in a wavering voice.

“I love you too,” answers Chase. “I wish you would stop forgetting about that.”

Jackie’s eyes water and drip. They lie together on the pillows of the bed, and when Chase has filled the blood bag and offers up a clean needle, Jackie allows him to press it into his arm.

“I’ll clean up,” murmurs Chase.

“No,” protests Jackie, clinging to his shirt. “No, stay… I want… please.”

“Hey. We’re okay. We’re okay.”

“I’m so tired of feeling this way. I’m so… I’m… I’m sorry.”

Chase wraps his arms around him and holds on to him, closing his eyes. When Jackie starts to cry again, he lets him.

Anonymous asked:

Good job Chase, thank you for taking over for your brother. You did well, we're proud of you! Do you think he'll be okay for now? The wound seemed pretty deep, hopefully it won't take too awfully long to heal.

“Aw,” says Chase, signing to keep quiet. “Thank you, I appreciate that. It’s not so bad, I been watching Dok for years. Yeah…”

He glances down at Jackie asleep beside him, brushing his hands over his shoulder. “I hope he’ll be okay. It’s not a deadly wound, you know? It could have been.”

He sighs. “Always seems to get hurt. I think he gave everybody a pretty good scare. Shit, I’m going to have to call Blue in the morning and tell him. But yeah, Jackie should be okay. It’ll be really sore for a while. Going to keep him in bed. He’s not exactly a deferential patient, though. And if you see him picking at his stitches, tell him off!”

He pets at Jackie’s arm, staring down at him. “Quiet when he sleeps, isn’t he? I don’t think he’s dumb or anything. I just think he’s so emotional lately that sometimes he makes dumb choices. He needs to give himself a break. He could just stay with us, you know? He could enjoy being free a little. Doesn’t have to stress about money and making sure we’re okay all the time. He could make sure he’s okay.”

Chase slides out of bed to get some more water and a snack, repositioning the camera on the end of the bed.

“But yeah. I think he’ll be okay. That’s my Jackie. Tough motherfucker.”

Anonymous asked:

JJ, how are you doing after that? Are you injured at all, or still feeling triggered?

“I feel bad for acting crazy,” admits JJ, sitting beside Henrik as he plays with Noodle. “Jackie wouldn’t have been hurt if I could control myself. I wish I could just convince my brain that I’m not in trouble once and for all.”

“Hi, um - Stacy?”

“Chase, hi, good morning. What’s wrong?”

“Am I that obvious?”

He can hear her smiling in her voice. “Well, we’ve known each other a long time.”

He chuckles weakly, running his hands through his hair. “Yeah. Yeah. Hey, listen, I need to talk to Marv if that’s okay.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Um. Jackie got in a fight last night.”

“Oh, no. I wish it surprised me. Is he okay?”

“Not really.”

“Okay, let me grab Marvin.”

She shouts for him a few times - Chase is pretty sure she has to wake him up because Marvin sleeps like a lazy cat when he gets the chance - but a moment later, he’s on the phone.

“Chase? What’s going on?”

“Um, Blue,” says Chase, his voice rising a little with his nerves. “Well, see, you know how, um - it’s Jackie.”

“What? What’s wrong? Is he upset?”

“Ummmm… Marvin, he got stabbed.”

Chase pulls the phone away from his ear as Marvin starts yelling on the other side.

“He’s okay! Just come over here, please! He wants you.”

Marvin promises to be there soon and the call ends. Chase sighs and moves to the kitchen, getting breakfast ready. It’s going to be a long day.

Anonymous asked:

Feeling better today Jackie? Remember no picking!

Jackie’s laid out on his bed without an ounce of fight left in him, his eyes big and watery. JJ’s sitting with him, rubbing his shoulder.

“The camera…”

“They just want to know how you’re feeling,” signs JJ.

Jackie stares mournfully up at him. He’s white as candle wax. “Okay.”

“Be honest with me,” JJ tells him. “Come on.”

Jackie’s going to cry again. “I feel really bad.”

JJ runs a hand through his hair, clucking his tongue in sympathy. “Chase will go get some better pain medication later and you can have anything you want, okay?”

Jackie hides against JJ’s side, wiping at his face.

“Okay. We’re okay,” signs JJ. “It’s okay. Jackie, I’m sorry I got you hurt.”

“It wasn’t you,” mumbles Jackie. “I was just angry… you were looking out for me. I probably would have just gone and gotten into an even more dangerous fight if you weren’t there.”

Marvin bursts into the room without knocking, dropping a couple plastic bags out in the hallway and racing towards his twin. He slips onto the other side of the bed and grabs Jackie’s hand, feeling for his pulse with the other. “Oh, Jackie, my Rose, are you okay? Oh, my Roser. What were you thinking? Jackie, poor Red.”

He leans down to start kissing Jackie’s face, once, twice, and despite everything Jackie can’t help but giggle a little, pushing him away.

“JJ, how is he?”

“He’s going to be okay,” says JJ with a little smile, brushing a lock of white hair behind Marvin’s ears. “Just needs some TLC.”

“I shouldn’t have gone, Jackie, I’m sorry,” croaks Marvin, squeezing his hand. “I’m terrible, I didn’t even think how much I would upset you saying that shit. I love you, nothing else matters, I shouldn’t have - ”

“Marvin,” whimpers Jackie, reaching up to touch his face. “Don’t, okay? Just… just stay.”

Jameson slips out of the room to give them a few minutes.

Anonymous asked:

You'll be okay Jackie. Your brothers are here for you and like JJ mentioned you'll have better pain killers soon. Just hold on and keep being strong! You may be a little dumb for getting in to this situation but you'll be okay with some love and brotherly care taking.

Jackie shoots you a scandalized look. Marvin bursts into shaky laughter, slumping down on the bed beside him. “You are just a little dumb,” he murmurs, bumping their heads together. “Sometimes.”

Jackie sighs. “Yeah. I am.”

“Jackie, what were you even thinking? Seriously? Talk to me, sugar, because I am just - I’m at a loss, I…”

Jackie’s face creases and falls. He leans back against the pillows, closing his eyes.

“Jackie. I mean it. You have to talk to us. You just… you just have to, love. I can’t watch this eat you alive anymore.”

Jackie opens his eyes again to look up at him. Marvin squeezes his palm once more.

“I’m really unhappy,” whispers Jackie, squeezing his eyes shut against tears. “And now everything hurts and - and I’m so stupid and angry and - and I just want - I just want - but I can’t…”

“My Roser,” sighs Marvin, kissing his hand. “Tell me everything.”

“But it’s ugly!” Jackie croaks. “Everything going on in my head. And I’ll break down. I don’t know if I can come back from that. I don’t know if I can - ”

“Jackie.” Marvin touches his shoulder, cocking his head at him. “Jackie, you’re allowed to be a burden, okay? We all want you to have a chance to get better.”

“I’m - I’m afraid. I don’t want you to leave me when you see how much of a mess I am.”

Marvin closes his eyes and breathes in. “Jackie… I’m just sorry that I haven’t made enough time for you to understand how much you mean to me. I’m sorry I was wallowing. I wish I had been telling you this for weeks, my darling, but listen now, okay?”

Jackie nods, eyebrows furrowing with concentration.

Marvin kisses the back of his hand. “There is nothing in the world that you could do that would make me stop loving you.”

“You promise?” whispers Jackie. “You won’t leave me alone?”

“Never,” Marvin whispers back. “Never, ever, ever. And have I ever lied to you, my heart, my other half?”

“No,” says Jackie. “Never.”

And Jackie lets himself break in half.

Anonymous asked:

Henrik, are you okay? It seems like seeing the wound was a really bad trigger for you. Are you taking care of yourself, getting some rest and doing relaxing things? It's important to de-stress after major triggers like that.

“Henrik?”

Chase sits with his brother, offering him eggs and a bagel on a plate, all nicely placed, with thick golden butter on the bread and a sprinkling of pepper and seasonings on perfectly yellowed eggs. “Are you better this morning, Deutsch?”

Jameson warned him that Henrik has not been responsive since last night. He woke up from nightmares shaking but won’t talk.

“Back in your head, Schneep?” asks Chase miserably, brushing hair from his brother’s eyes. “How do I get you back out of there, huh?”

The noise of Jackie’s crying rises from the other room and Henrik swivels towards it, his eyes big and his body tense like he’s waiting to run. He keeps Noodle firmly in his lap, stroking his fur quickly. This much is different than last time: Henrik is nervous now, not completely dead to everything around him like he was last time. Chase hopes it means he’s closer to the surface than before.

“Let’s get you some food and have some quiet time,” offers Chase, scooting closer to him and offering him some eggs on a fork, shoving an interested Noodle away. “Come on, man. We’re okay.”

Jamie comes to the doorway to check on them, eating a piece of chocolate. He does not like to be unincluded even from bad things, Chase has noticed. He always wants to be around somebody. Chase doesn’t mind.

“Where’d you get that?” asks Chase, nodding at the chocolate.

“Marvin brought bags with him,” says JJ, putting another piece in his mouth between words. “I think Stacy sent some presents.”

“Ooh, get them for us, sugar, Dok should have some chocolate. Maybe I’ll put coffee on too. He loves coffee.”

JJ wanders back into the hall obediently and returns with the plastic bags.

Anonymous asked:

Thank you for letting yourself break Jackie. You're doing a good thing, I promise. Now your brothers are here to help you with the process and aftermath. You're never alone Rose.

Marvin holds on to Jackie against the headboard of the bed, letting Jackie cry against him, and then shout, and then cry again. It seems to Marvin that all the emotions of the past two months - or longer, still - are bleeding out of Jackie in heavy, painful rivulets of overwhelming feels. But maybe once he finally opens the wounds, they can start treating them, and then they can finally heal. If Jackie thought this would be alarming to Marvin, the truth is that his twin has sensed all of this hidden under the surface of Jackie’s skin for months now, and there is nothing but relief even when Jackie screams or sobs hard enough that Marvin knows this much feeling will put Jackie out of commission for days to come. He strokes his back and holds him. His hand rests on Jackie’s shoulder, his silver rose ring glistening on his finger, while Jackie’s dog tags hang over his hoodie, silver in the morning light.

“It’s Max,” cries Jackie, in between everything else, in between his anger towards himself and his hurt towards Anti and his despair towards everything else in the world. “It’s Max, Marvin, all I want is Max.”

“Why can’t you have him?” whispers Marvin.

“Because I’m too broken!” screams Jackie. “Because I’m too scared of him rejecting me! Because I’d rather have the memory of those two weeks when he loved me than ruin it all by having to see him walk away from me the way I walked away from him.”

“Baby,” murmurs Marvin, hugging him. “Why don’t you take a couple days and let yourself be vulnerable like this, and when you see that your brothers and I don’t run away, you’ll know that Max would still love you too.”

“How do you know?”

“I know you, dummy,” chuckles Marvin. “He wouldn’t have stayed with you like this if he didn’t really love you. Hell, you would have never let him near you in the first place.”

“What if I can’t make him happy, though?”

“Then you could at least give the poor man some peace,” Marvin sighs, rubbing his shoulder. “Cause he deserves that much for making you remember what it was to hope for something again.”

scunneredzombie asked:

If Jackie gets really hurt then I'd love to see Blue learning how to care for them all again in healthy ways through caring for Jackie after the injury! Jackie and Marvin having an open, genuine conversation about how to love each other again would be wonderful progress for them.

“Are you going to go stay with the magicians again?” asks Jackie, looking up at his sibling.

“No, I’ll stay here and look after you.”

Jackie can’t help but be a little pleased with this. Here is the being-fussed-over part of getting hurt that he wanted.

“Guess it was worth getting stabbed then,” he says proudly.

“Don’t say that,” chides Marvin, sighing. “You shouldn’t have to get stabbed to finally open up to me.”

Jackie shrugs, fiddling with his blankets. “I don’t want you to go cause I’m too much to handle.”

“I won’t, Jackie. Okay? Just give me a couple chances to prove it.”

“Okay. But to be fair it’s not like you were really opening up to me either.”

Marvin looks away, deflating.

“I wanted you to save me somehow,” he admits roughly. “I was scared to have to start working on myself. Like I said, it wasn’t fair of me. We will be better siblings to each other now.”

“What’s going to change?”

“You’ll come to me,” says Marvin wistfully. “Won’t you? When you need me?”

“If you’ll just be open with me about the fact that you want me there I will,” says Jackie. “You were so agitated whenever I was around.”

“It was my fault, not yours,” murmurs Marvin.

“If you look grumpy and act grumpy and push me away, I’m going to assume you don’t want me around, Marvin. I know sometimes Chase and Schneep can read each other’s minds and they always know when to back off or when to push it and stick around, but I don’t get that. If you tell me to go, I’ll go. But if you just ask me for some time, or to do something together, or tell me that you want to talk - shit, Marvin, don’t you know I’d give you anything in the world that you asked me for?”

Marvin bites down on his lip, nodding. “I do… too much, I think.”

Jackie chuckles. “Yeah, maybe. But I trust you not to ask too much of me.”

“Well, if I do, you have to tell me.”

“That’s fair.”

“It’s just communication, Jackie. Right?”

“Yeah. But I’m not always good at that.”

“You’re fine at that,” replies Marvin. “You’re direct and you’re honest when you just let yourself talk. Just don’t shut yourself up around me.”

“Okay. Just let me know when you want me there.”

“I do need you to understand, though, Jackie, that I can’t always be here either. I have to have my own life outside of this family. I’m going to spend time with the magicians and with my friends. Sometimes I’ll do things you don’t want me to do. Just tell me what’s upsetting you and I’ll explain why it’s important to me and… we’ll go from there.”

“I can do that,” says Jackie. “Just sometimes you know I need a little more time than other people with change. And that’s something I know I need to work on on my own. With a therapist, probably. And I will, Marv. I want you to be happy. I want to be able to let all of you go be your own people… without getting so scared that you’ll never come back to me.”

“Well, from now on, let’s make sure to spend some time with each other every day, or at least explain it to the other when we can’t.”

“And make some fun plans?”

“Once you’re out of bed, you injured loser. What do you want to do?”

“Oh, anything with you,” says Jackie.

Marvin laughs, shaking his head at him. His brother. His twin.

“Yeah,” he says. “That sounds good to me too.”

.

Admin Note:

Okay… I’m honestly so sad to say this but we are getting close to the end!

Obviously there’s still a few scenes left, and I’ll spend some more time on Jameson and wrap up some of Jackie’s loose ends and so on.

But I just want you to know that in the next few weeks if you want some more time talking with someone or have characters spend more time together or even if you want to give anybody presents or that sort of thing, feel free to send an ask and I will make stuff happen as much as I can!! You can bring up past scenes if there are any story loose ends you would like to know more about.

The next couple weeks are to wrap up the story, obviously. But since you guys have been characters too… it’s also time for you to start saying goodbye to these characters. Just wanted to give you a heads up :’)

and not to be soft but I LOVE YOU okay bye

[northadawn]

NorthaDawn's Feb 2024 Update

Hello everyone, NorthaDawn here, and it's February here, I hope that your 2024 has been going great so far! Mine has been decent so far, and I wanted to write this important journal to give you some in-depth news into the latest happenings that I've been doing that I feel all of you deserve to know about!

1) PERSONAL HAPPENINGS

I'll get the elephant in the room out of the way first; on the health side of things, I've been doing much better and physically, this is the healthiest I've been in ages. Mentally? Let's just say that I've had to cut off someone really toxic from the community; they've caused a lot of trouble for me and my dear friends for months. I don't want to dive further into what happened to keep my friends safe, but I do want to say this: be there for your friends and stand up for them when they need you around.

Apart from that, I have been changing up things here and there and handling stuff in my university and in my family, but I do have some things cooking up for you guys that I'll share with you here later! But first, I want to go over my announcement from a handful of days back to clarify a few things.

2) THAT SPECIAL ANNOUNCEMENT

You've probably already read my post where I announced my decision to continue making Titanic content in the future instead of retiring, but I think I should also explain why I contemplated retiring (again). To be honest with you, ever since my heart attack ages ago, things have gone poorly for me here; a partnership that wasn't meant to be, my ever-increasing workload in university, losing momentum and motivation for Titanic art in general, and feeling like a stranger here again has been a few reasons as to why I decided to quit once 2023 turns into 2024. However, a new partnership with smolnoodlekitty that soon turned into "Team Heartslash" (which includes people such as Matlock26th, caitlin._.art, Lacoeurdelamer, NWArtOfficial), getting more lovely people to voice act my characters, and the support from the newest batch of talented artists in the community made me rethink my decision to step away from doing Titanic art. That's why I decided to stay on! Unironically, I wouldn't still be here today without your support, so thank you all for continuing to support me even though I barely upload at all these days. I'm trying to work on that, I promise.

Speaking of characters...

3) MY FIRST OC: MASAKO HONDA

I finally made an actual original character that isn't a gijinka of some sort! I got the confidence to finally make a character that isn't limited to being a gijinka, and I'm happy with what I have. You've probably already seen her if you checked out my Twitter, but here she is: Masako Honda!

Masako Honda is a hyperactive, ADHD-ridden Japanese-Filipino girl who moved to the Philippines at the age of 10. Despite being a self-proclaimed nerd who is very geeky and hyperactive to the point where she can't stay still for 5 minutes, she is a very attractive girl who is way out of most guys' league. However, she doesn't have a boyfriend since birth. She took up the Game Development course in her university because of her self-taught ability in Unity and in C#. Just don't call her a Java developer.

That's a brief introduction of her, she'll soon have her place in my gallery, and I hope you'll be excited for that day to come as much as I am! The early reception I got from both my Discord server and my classmates has been insane and I couldn't be more thankful for the response I got for her!

4) SOCIAL MEDIAS (DISCORD SERVER + DA GROUP)

I've been going around and trying to update my social media pages and stuff, and I understand that there's a lot of links to keep up with, so I compiled them all in one page so you can quickly go to my profiles in certain sites! You can check them out right now through my Linktree here: https://linktr.ee/NorthaDawn

Speaking of updates, I've also been doing a little rebrand, which is why I've transitioned away from my old theme to the one I've had right now, I hope you like the new look!

I've also decided to take on a new tagline that I feel would represent not only me, but also all of you guys as a whole well. It's a simple line, yet it's a very motivational one, at least for me, and I hope it'll be motivational for you too. The tagline? "THERE IS STILL A VOYAGE TO EMBARK ON."

As a final reminder, I do have a Discord server up that also serves as a server for smolnoodlekitty and caitlin._.art! You can join through this link here: https://discord.gg/gsxGMPMPNb

5) VOICE ACTRESS ANNOUNCEMENT

Of course, I'd save the best for last. I'll keep it short and sweet...

RMS Olympic (Olyvia McLoughlin) - caitlin._.art

You probably know her as my Titanic's voice for a bit now, but she'll now be primarily voicing the Old Reliable now! She also did the absolutely gorgeous art for this announcement! As for who'll take her spot as Titanic?

RMS Titanic (Emily McLoughlin) - Lacoeurdelamer

She's the nice girl who'll play the Queen of the Ocean! If you've been around my Discord server, you know her as Maxine, and the amount of similarities she has to my Titanic is quite insane, which is why she's the perfect fit!

Masako Honda - moonglower.art + smolnoodlekitty

A 2-for-1! Weren't expecting that, were you? Either way, they're sharing duties to be the voice of the hyperactive college girl!

I hope you'll be looking forward to hearing them bring my characters to life!

FINAL REMARKS

Thanks for your continued support, and I hope that this has been a nice update so you're up to speed with what's going on in my end of things. Please do leave a comment, I'd like to know what you think! Also, go support every artist mentioned in this journal, they deserve it too! Have a wonderful day!

-Northa

THERE IS STILL A VOYAGE TO EMBARK ON

[thistleation]

Beyond our Space and Starlight: Chapter 2

It was 2 months and 17 days since they’d lost Shannon. Beatrice was still in the process of correcting flaws, addressing weaknesses, inadequacies… primarily in herself of course, that was the place where inadequacies were always the most readily available. 

Her sword was the current focus of her obsession. The new one. She couldn’t stand the sight of the old one anymore. 

Fortunately she never had to look at it again if she didn’t want to. 

Unfortunately it would always be there, ready to be called, just a shadow’s breadth away away from her, no matter where she ran. 

She’d finished forging her new blade two weeks ago, and she’d managed to abstract it earlier today. The rooms she’d existed in the past two months — her personal chambers, the forge, the library, the study she preferred, and the training grounds — were still littered with the cast off, the chaff of her forging process. 

Books for the most part, like an explosion of them, or mushrooms that sprouted from a spore cloud. Books on swordcraft, fighting treatises, books on war, but also books on biology, evolution, compilations of interviews with first responders, … all scattered about.

The organic nature of the chaos stood in stark contrast to her usual disciplined personality and methodology, but something had grown here. For all its wrongness it felt right. 

Now Beatrice was standing in the courtyard, summoning and dismissing and once again summoning the new blade to her grasp. 

Her breathing was regular but heavy, her eyes lined with deep dark circles but her gaze sharp. 

She was a mess, hair disheveled, wrinkled dark shirt loosely thrown on over a white tank top, marred by old stains of literal blood and sweat, but the sword… the sword was pure. 

She kept testing it, feeling its weight in her hand, its responsiveness to her commands, kept inspecting every millimeter of its surface in search of a flaw, and as she was finding none, she felt herself slowly… well not quite calming, but at least she felt a certain level of tension begin to drain out of her. 

Purity. 

She felt some measure of salvation in it, hoped that’s what it was, needed it to be. 

Her old sword had proven inadequate in the face of catastrophe and she needed to be rid of it. 

It was the sight of the hilt that really twisted her gut. 

That beautiful and elegant basket hilt. 

An adornment. 

An indulgence. 

It had decorated a weapon made by a Beatrice who saw violence as just another art to be mastered, one fascinated by the evolution of swordsmanship throughout history, by the martial philosophies posing one another challenges and answering them in turn, a Beatrice who enjoyed being ever so clever. 

It belonged to a Beatrice who had not yet been thrown into a building full of monsters with blazing fires for faces, monsters with no mouths who nonetheless managed to scream . Sounds that tore right through you, heralding that they themselves, their bodies overflowing with crackling, fiery energies, were coming to tear through you as well. 

It belonged to a Beatrice who made her sword to fight other swords, with clever tricks and artful parries. 

One who hadn’t yet had to fight desperately for her life in a storm of roiling fire and flesh with a weapon crafted for ‘civilized dueling’ — if there even was such a thing. 

One who hadn’t yet had to watch her closest friend die in front of her. 

Because all she’d barely managed to do was fight for her own meager survival. 

Inadequate. Foolish. Naive. 

She’d foregone clever tricks and fanciful additions for this weapon, turned away from all modifications to benefit different variants of thrusts and parries, away from counter strategy upon counter strategy, stacked like a house of cards. Instead she’d chosen to pursue simplicity. 

Fundamentals. 

As with so many things that concerned the beyond, the key was intent. 

It was not that her other sword — enhanced and bathed in otherworldly energies as it was — couldn’t do damage. It was the state of mind she’d been in when she abstracted it. It was how she’d seen combat back then, what she’d envisioned for her sword to do and how it ought to do it. 

That was the reason for the books: a new version of her understanding. Not because a weapon that existed partially outside of reality would still function the same, but because the understanding of the how helped sharpen and refine intent. Helped purify it. 

The merging of intent was how one channeled the beyond. Beatrice had spent days linked with her rider, focusing on this sword, imbuing it with a purpose that bridged realities so different even their laws of physics seemed strangers to one another. It was grueling and exhausting work, but Beatrice had kept at it, welcomed it even. 

And now finally, the result of that obsessive effort rested contently on her fingertips, at ease but with an underlying eagerness to fulfill its purpose: to cut. 

No adornments. Not a single object, material, or even any marking on the blade that wasn’t functional. 

Just a simple sword, with a single, perfect edge. 

Made simply to cut, to separate, to divide. To cleave left from right. To separate what was protected from what was to be destroyed. To divide life from flesh. 

A weapon reduced to its essence. 

Abstracted. 

Holding the sword out in front of her, edge up, Beatrice finally let out a long, quivering breath. 

She imagined herself on that edge, wondering if she could match its purity, if she could be that blade with its simple curve, its perfect edge. 

It was impossible and it was her only salvation. 

… 

“Now will you finally rest?”

It was Lilith, standing in the doorway. She looked a little haggard, but she was in her proper vestments at least, not even coming close to what Beatrice herself looked like. 

Beatrice looked at her for a moment, then turned her gaze back out into the courtyard. 

“I need to train with it. It’s a different style of combat, I’ll need to get used to it again.” 

“You can do that after you've slept.”

She didn’t answer, just twirled the sword experimentally in her hand again. It felt good there. Her wrist liked the motion, and her mind liked having anything to focus on that wasn’t loss or fear or grief. 

“You need it, Beatrice. You can’t keep doing this to yourself. I get why but… Bright above, you’re no use to anyone half-dead and a shadow of yourself either.” 

Beatrice scoffed. 

No use indeed. 

That had been precisely the issue hadn’t it. 

She heard Lilith’s sigh. Failed to hear the undertone in it. 

“Beatrice, I’m serious.”

She stared directly ahead, her gaze focused on the point of her sword. 

“Is that an order, captain?” 

It wasn’t said with venom. Just cold. 

Cold could hurt plenty too, as she saw when she finally turned to look at Lilith — too late — and she just caught the tail end of her wounded expression, hardening into something more determined. 

“Yes. It is.” Lilith’s jaw was set and her eyes were hard now, and Beatrice knew she couldn’t reach her anymore just as she now knew — should’ve always known — how much Lilith was hurting too. 

But she’d drowned out her own feelings so much in her daze she’d stopped realizing she was even feeling them. And she’d drowned out her sisters’ feelings too without meaning to. 

Lilith was turning away now and Beatrice suddenly, desperately needed to tell her something. She felt a thousand things suddenly well up inside her, none of which she had the words for. 

She needed to say I don’t know what I’m doing or how I’m supposed to heal. I’m sorry. I don’t want you to hurt. I  don’t want me to hurt but think I’m hurting and I don’t know how to stop and I’m sorry. I’m sorry I don’t have the words or the feelings I can understand. I know I just hurt you and I just want to take it back and eat it and let it poison me so it won’t poison you. I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry — 

“Lilith!”

She stopped in the doorframe. 

“I’m not losing you!”

Beatrice had felt a thousand things she couldn’t articulate and just pushed them outwards, and those were the words that managed to punch themselves out of her throat. 

She hoped they carried something of all the things she meant. Hoped they carried enough. 

Lilith’s fingers on the doorframe tensed for a moment and relaxed. Her shoulders rose and fell in a soft sigh. 

“Get some rest, Beatrice...”

“... please.”

—

CONT. on Ao3

[dairy-farmer]

Once when Tim was a baby he blew a kiss to the papparazzi goodbye on his mother's arms as she carried them to the limo home.

It ended up trending for literal weeks, and his parents decided to make him model a few things. Cute things, usually. There was one where his shirt was messily unbuttoned, hair a fluffed up mess. There was one where he sat on a kitchen counter leg's spread the way a baby can never keep their legs closed, he's wearing a pair of brown overrals with no shirt underneath. One with a flower crown, one in a suit and tie, one on his daddy's lap. Things like that.

Anyway, tim comes across a gif of him as a chubby cheeked cute little baby blowing a kiss to cameras and...well, he's a teen ceo with a bit of spare time. He redoes every piece of the photoshoot he sees. At first he thinks people find it cute. He's trending again, he expected maybe a few days. But days turned to weeks. And weeks turned to months.

He opens his social media account to see he's STILL trending because of those photos. Him on Bruce's lap, dressed up all pretty. Him with messy hair and an unbuttoned shirt, no scars seen on his clean unhairy chest. The one that's trending the most is him blowing a kiss to the camera, an added wink to make it look cuter.

Before he could scroll to the countless of people still thirsting over him, Tam snatches his phone and tells him to focus on his paperwork. He tells himself he'd check them out later again but he forgets and he never sees basically the whole world thirsting for him

STOP THIS IS THE CUTEST THING IVE EVER READ!!!!!!!!!!😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭!!!!! i've always had a headcanon that tim was a cute baby, like a really really cute baby. the kind of baby that you see and can't help but think 'wow you should be on tv!' and his parents were the type to get him professionally photographed. like tim could be the gerber baby!

and baby timmy is so plump and charming with his little rosy nose and cheeks. he'd 100% have been put on catalogs for children's clothes, been on local commercials. maybe he would've even had a nonspeaking role on a tv show that ran for a single season. timmy wouldn't have been a BIG star but he'd have certainly been recognized enough. tim essentially went viral before the internet or modern forms of virality were around!!

of course by the time he's a teenager he's just one of a million gifs uploaded and popularly used. he shows up on video compilations of 'don't kids just do the darndest things?' alongside dozens of other children doing tooth-rottingly cute antics. and his wikipedia page which only knows him as one of bruce wayne's adopted children and the current ceo of WE makes no mention about it.

i imagine no one among the bats even knows its him because ??? he doesn't mention it???? it was years ago for him and he was just a baby. he barely even remembers it and it's not like it was relevant information to know. even though some of the lingering effects are present in his life. tim inherited a condo in new york from his parents that he stays in overnight occasionally when he's in the city. he knows it was purchased using money from his brief stint in show business. he also knows there's an investment portfolio for which he gets monthly letters in the mail for since the state had protections in the form of child entertainment laws. about 20% of every job tim did as a kid was set aside for him by his parents. it was the same in california the other 'show business town'. of the country they had jackie coogan's law and new jersey had mary dahl's.

so tim stumbles on this very old gif that's sort of grainy in the way internet footage that's been copied and reposted over and over again always is but he recognizes it because tim's parents used to make him 'kiss the crowd' every year at the office christmas party. he remembers how embarrassed he'd be to do it but he'd power through because his mom would get this joyful blush and an ecstatic smile on her face that wasn't from the champagne.

tim still has the original footage somewhere in a box along with other pieces of memorabilia because his mom had been his biggest fan. he'd always be so embarrassed about it. he'd actively avoided bringing friends over when his parents were home because he knew she'd show him his baby photos. some parents brought out the soccer trophies or the newspaper clipping from the spelling bee. tim's mom brought out pictures of him as a chubby baby laughing sweetly at a camera.

it's out of nowhere that he sees the clip he hasn't seen or thought of in almost a decade. he's just scrolling through social media and sees some interesting beef between two people erupt and clicks on it just to be nosy. it's at the very end that the gif shows up.

apparently, the gif of tim as a baby is used as a kind of sassy 'that's all folks!' finishing line a la porky pig. a bit of searching and tim finds thousands upon thousands of people who've used it. the gif is recognizable but not as famous as the one of michael jackson eating popcorn or of a generic white man blinking in surprise.

it's really just a pleasant surprise that serves as a quick laugh.

tim doesn't really have much thought behind it when he shares it with tam and a few other staff members at lunch the next day. small talk is a necessity in corporate life that not even tim can escape from and he was really just looking to entertain his circle of work friends.

they're confused for a bit and tim can see it in their faces that they're not sure why he's showing them some of the funnier uses of the gif.

"that's me when i was a baby!" he tells them.

tim's in a PR meeting by the end of the day. they're absolutely salivating at this opportunity because apparently, photos taken 10 years apart is the internet's newest and biggest fad. people recreating family photos, vacation images, and touching scenes.

it's cute, it's heartwarming, and it's family-friendly! WE has been working to rebrand itself under tim's command. bruce's playboy image has apparently held back the company's progress according to some economists so the board has tasked the company with improving into a more...wholesome image.

tim's baby photos are apparently the prime way to do that and honestly...tim really likes the idea. corporate stuff aside.

tim hasn't thought back to his childhood in a long time. much of it was overshadowed by that one bad day at the circus which was actually...approximately around the time tim stopped baby modeling.

it'd be hard to do with a child that kept bursting out into tears at the slightest memory of that night. plus his parents had started getting busier at that time too.

still. it's nice to have relics of a bygone era.

pr wants to curate it, pull in professional photographers, get an entire set up but tim shoots it down. he wants it to be a personal project. something he posts online himself and not under the flag of WE.

there's some reluctance but ultimatly tim has the upperhand. he's the one with the photos afterall.

it takes a few weeks. it takes time to gather up props and outfits as well as scout out the locations. plus tim is doing this during his free time which means it takes a little longer.

tim manages to wrangle bruce into one of them. showing him the ripped-out page from a bridal magazine where tim's dad had ended up being a model too. mostly because tim kept getting fussy on the original model's lap and asking for his dad. tim had been wearing a poofy little floer girl dress and holding a basket with scattered petals on both him and his dad's lap. his dad was mid-laugh and dressed in a sharp black tux that looked like one bruce had in his closet.

tim takes a lot of photos that week. one where he's in a thin tanktop and little shorts with flour and batter on his hands while seated on a kitchen island. an ad for a mixing bowl that claimed that purchasers could look forward to 'less mess!'.

there's tim at a botanical garden, laying on the daises like a little fairy. it's an image still printed on the back of the 'welcome!' pamphlet for the gotham garden society.

tim in fishing gear with overall and naked as the day he was born underneath. tim needs to use the straps to strategically cover his nipples because he's grown since he was a kid.

tim in some formal wear thought that ends up being less exciting than others.

bruce is a collecter of vintage cars so tim has the perfect prop to use to recreate the old 'wish you were here!' gotham postcard which featured a baby him dolled up all pretty and changing a tire.

they're cute. tim looks at the photos with fondness. plus once he'd told bruce he'd needed help bruce had gone through each photo, looking at it and letting a soft smile at each one.

"you were a cute baby." bruce tells him when tim shifted in his lap. the flower girl dress was white and poofy and the closest tim could find was a wedding dress he managed to rent for a hundred bucks.

all tim was missing was a veil on his head. bruce wrapped a tighter arm around tim's small waist, tugging him closer and letting tim sprinkle flower petals onto his chest and their lap.

it was a nice picture. alfred even asked for a printed copy and kept it framed alongside other family pictures on the mantlepiece.

they're nice photos. cute too.

tim even remakes the original kiss, even throwing in a wink at the end.

tim doesn't think much about them when he posts them followed by a short caption of 'the more things change the more they stay the same.'

it's sentimental, tim is sure it'll fit right in on the train of people also doing it.

he's right. he does.

he also trends on the front page of nearly every social media site for a week. then two. then three.

tim's not big on the internet. so he mostly checks out even though everytime he goes out there are seemingly more papparazzi out than normal.

tim makes a joke at dinner about the reaction being bigger than he expected over a simple gift and they all just stare at him.

tam keeps saying he's the new 'white boy of the month' and it'll blow over eventually.

but it doesn't.

tim checks in one day and sees that his notification counter has just stopped and there is a constant stream of messages getting sent to his inbox.

tim is about to open it, curious to see what others were saying-

when it gets plucked out of his hand.

it's tam reminding him to finish his work for the day and tim puts a pin on his curiosity. he'll explore it later.

but he doesn't.

he already fulfilled what he set out to do and so long as the reactions weren't bad he was fine.

so he never checks and so he doesn't see people losing their minds over tim's thin taktop and how you can just barely see the outline of his pink nipples.

how when he's seated in bruce's lap there's so much more heat and tension present. tim is so small and its emphasized by how much bigger and broader bruce is compared to him.

tim's garden pictures where he's wearing delicately laced daisies into a crown- it emphasizes the gentle slope of his jaw, the his cute button nose, and his full pink lips that make him look like something to be ravished in the flowers.

tim was an absolute treasure of a baby that blossomed into a gorgeous boy with the sweetest eyes and the most fuckable mouth in existence.

the way those pink lips were so wonderfully plush as they blew kisses out. people zoomed in on every part of tim. his pretty mouth, his perky tits, soft bottom, and the obscene spread of his legs-

people send him messages begging for more, others demanding he sends them photos of his tits and pretty cunt that they knew he was hiding.

but tim never sees them. even when he does eventually get back online.

mainly because his father and brothers would go through his phone and make sure every single message was destroyed while ensuring the more...brave messages were silenced.

while tim may not have seen the fall out of his little photoshoot.

they most certainly did.

[intothewickedwood]

End of Year Quezzies

Happy New Year! I think it would be fun to reflect on highlights from last year, especially in regards to fandom. This is a compilation of questions inspired by various ask games x x

Top 5 songs you listened to for the first time last year?

1.Out of the Dark (Monster High)

2.Playing His Game (Death Note: The Musical)

3.Stalemate (Death Note: The Musical)

4.Where Can I Run? (Adamandi)

5.Me, Myself and I (Adamandi)

Top 5 Songs released last year?

1.Reason We've Got Magic from (Monster High 2)

2.Not How Our Story Goes (Monster High 2)

3.You Don't Know (Monster High 2)

4.Dirty Girl (Nerdy Prudes Must Die)

5.Nerdy Prudes Must Die (Nerdy Prudes Must Die)

Album released last year?

Nerdy Prudes Must Die (Original StarKid Cast Recording) by Team Starkid

Musical artist / group of the year?

Starkid!

Favorite musical artist / group you started listening to this year?

Melliot's musicals!

Movie watched for the first time last year?

Stay (2017)

Movie released last year?

Monster High 2!

TV show of the year?

Legacies

TV Show released last year?

Wolf Pack

Most memorable episode of a show last year?

3x08 Long Time, No See from Legacies was one I rewatched a few times as I loved it so much

Top 5 musicals watched this year?

1.We Are The Tigers

2.VHS Christmas Carols

3.Nerdy Prudes Must Die

4. Adamandi

5. Death Note: The Musical

Game of the year?

Sims 4: Horse Ranch

Character of the year?

Lizzie Saltzman! (Legacies)

Top 5 new favorite characters last year?

1.Draculaura (Monster High)

2.Vincent Aurelius Lin (Adamandi)

3.Quincy Cynthius Martin (Adamandi)

4.Claire (Stay 2017)

5.Tabby Haworthe (Pretty Little Liars: Original Sin)

Ship of the year?

Cairo x Riley (We Are The Tigers) and Mizzie (Legacies). I can't choose! Also I was this year years old when I found out my long-time otp Mizzie were canon endgame! Still screaming over that!!

Top 5 new ships last year?

1.Dracudeen (Monster High)

2.Quincent (Adamandi)

3.Claire x William (Stay 2017)

4.Holy Ghost (Nerdy Prudes Must Die)

5.Finsie (Legacies)

Best month for you this year?

Probably December. I love the holiday season!

Something you want to do again next year?

Go to the cinema more! I think I went only once this year. Would love to go to the theatre too! It's been a while!

How was your birthday last year?

It went pretty well. I just chilled at home and watched my favourite musicals.

Favorite book you read last year?

Fraternity by Andy Mientus was amazing! A real page turner! One of the best, most engaging books I've read.

What was the most delicious meal you enjoyed last year?

I really wanna get into reading Ella Enchanted. I've heard good things!

What’s something you learned this year?

All the advantages of foot massages! And that keeping an 'Affirmation Board' on notion is an extreme help. I use gallery view and I put gifs and positive quotes from my favourite media and characters to look at when I'm having a bad day. I also put techniques for coping that include pressure points, breathing techniques and tips for dealing with my sensory issues, sometimes paired with a gif of a scene that reminds me of it. Wish I'd started on it years ago but it's better late!

Favorite place you visited this year?

Just the town nearest mine. It's my favourite town!

What was the most impactful life lesson you learned?

Copy & Pasted from my Affirmation Board: "There will never not be something wrong that upsets you. Perfection is a myth. Happiness is focussing on the good despite the sadness, guilt & shame that always bubble beneath. Concentrating on, replaying or having negative feelings about what hurts won’t solve the problem or make it go away. It’s ok to let it go & not punish yourself." - Quote By Me xD. I like to give myself the illusion of control over thoughts lol but looking at this has been the most helpful thing on my affirmation board for me.

[gildedbarbarian]

Okay, we’re going to try this again. Critical Role has done a million things for me over the course of the 4.5 years I’ve been aware of it. I’ve attached myself deeply and unflinchingly to characters and plotlines, made and lost friends, found company when I was at my lowest, and learned how to not let loss completely wreck me. I have seen myself reflected in fuckups and godkillers, chaos-mongers and law-bearers. I have found pieces of myself in this show, one after another, that I wasn’t ever really aware that I’d lost in the first place. 

But this time, specifically, we’re talking about Opal. 

The first time I watched EXU Prime, I was in one of the darkest places of my life. I was closed off from everyone, not least of all myself, with only a vague idea of how bad things actually were for me under my mask. I couldn’t look. I didn’t dare. I wasn’t ready. So I watched it at surface level: I laughed during the pageant, I cried during the last episode. I displayed the socially appropriate level of investment in every character, every moment, every line. Like so many others, I was mind boggled by the general display of craftsmanship at the table, and by Aabria. (This was my first time really seeing her in anything at all. I’ll always be grateful for the Summer of Aabria.) I loved the series, I raved about it, and then I set it down and moved on. 

The second time I watched EXU Prime was a few months ago. Work had just started slowing down and I needed something to keep my brain occupied while I did mindless busywork at my desk. I figured why not: it had been a little over a year since I’d watched it, and I’d had fun the first time, it could only be more fun the second time, right? For the most part, I was correct. I was in stitches by the time The Crown Keepers got to breakfast in the first episode. I had so much more context for Dorian and Orym and Fearne. 

And then there was Opal. Now, in the interests of absolute transparency, Opal was a hard pill for me to swallow the first time I watched EXU Prime. She’s a masterclass in playing a character as exactly who they are without faltering, even when it’s uncomfortable. My first time around that block, I thought she was selfish and stubborn to a fault and relentlessly insecure behind the self-assured façade. I think I was right. I also think that’s why I couldn’t really look her in the eye at that time. I read once, and I promise this is relevant, that a lot of times the things that make us hate other people are the things we hate to see in ourselves. This is not always true, but it certainly was true of me with Opal. 

The real kicker is that with Opal came Ted. Ted, who I definitely considered the unheard voice of reason for her impulsive sister. Ted, who had given up so much for the safety of the one person in the world she could protect. Ted, whose sacrifice we still don’t know the extent of. Ted, who I could relate to and be unafraid of it, because she’s right and because she’d made the justifiable choices and because she was the one who got left, not the one who did the leaving. 

I was at work when it happened. I’ve gone back and scoured youtube to try to find a compilation of the Opal and Ted conversations from EXU Prime so that I could get the exact quote down word for word, but haven’t been able to find one. The gist, at least as I heard it, was this: Opal wanted distance, wanted power that was hers, wanted to be an individual without the baggage of her past weighing her down or the shadow of her sister just out of sight. She wanted to stand on her own two feet. Without help, without hinderance, without interference. She wanted to be just Opal. And Ted wanted to keep her safe. Would give anything, everything, in fact had already done so, to keep Opal safe. Because she couldn’t see herself without her, because her purpose was to protect her. Because she didn’t know how to do anything else. 

There’s this thing in therapy called inner child work, and it’s the hardest part of the healing process for me. Every step of it is painful, every Little Me I’ve had to look in the eye is a gut punch. But there’s one in particular that I’ve been ignoring willfully for years. She’s waited in my periphery, patient and resigned, for the day that I could give her even a fraction of my attention. That day was a few a months ago. 

I had to get up from my desk after the scene was over because I was beside myself. Literally having a breakdown at my desk, I rushed off to the bathroom to try to pull myself together. It wasn’t the first time, and it probably won’t be the last. Calming down took over 20 minutes of box breathing and other grounding methods, working my way back into some semblance of being present in myself.

And when I got there? All I heard was Her. Over and over again. Almost like she was screaming, like she’d been screaming for years. I’ve been holding this for too long. I can’t do it alone anymore. I need help. I need you. I did this to keep us safe, but it’s too heavy. Help me. Please. I’m afraid of what will happen if I let go. 

I was Opal. She was Ted. 

Both were me. 

I’m still figuring out what all of that means. All I know for sure is that I’m grateful: I don’t know how long it would have taken me to hear Her without Opal and Ted. It’s not easy. There are still days that I have a hard time looking her in the eye, but it’s a start that I needed to heal. 

[leafdebrief]

Hi friends 👋

This is mostly a message for people on/from Twitter, and for me to repost as a link over there. Tumblr does long-form better and I can't think of any other way to communicate this effectively without a lot of writing, so here's the deal.

I'm getting close to finished compiling the various things I need to send for my pre-2023 mail people (yes, I am still doing this because I collect first and send when everything is perfect) and tying up a lot of loose projects. There's still a lot of work to do but with the time I've been not tweeting, I've been painting, soldering, building, videoing and editing my busy little hands away in preparation for surprises to come. BUT—

I need to get even more serious now. Or at least as serious as someone like myself can muster.

Right now, for me that means laying out my Grand Plan for this year on this post and then getting right to it. I'm addressing the Twitter fam directly because for you, dear friends, that will kinda mean I won't be on Twitter that much anymore. Really this time.

Yeah yeah, I know. We all threw up our arms and threatened to leave umpteen times, and then we all settled to stick around to watch it all burn, and for a while I was satisfied with that pace. It was fun watching the fire.

But the fire has already been reduced to embers.

Now it just feels like standing in front of a smouldering pile of garbage and gleefully inhaling its toxic fumes.

For the last few months, Twitter has slowly but very steadily been silencing the people I want to talk to—in a number of different ways—or outright making them disappear from me. Or worse still, replacing them. With what?

Antivaxxer

Antivaxxer

Transphobe

Elon Musk

Climate change denier

Literal nazi

Elon Musk

Antivaxxer

Everything I see everywhere in this place and now in my life is telling me in no uncertain terms: "mobilize now".

Bad actors are already mobile. The pandemic created an opportunity for our collective horseshit to fester, and now it is very commonplace to see people who publicly—and often violently—act out their racist, phobic, misogynist agendas in the real world. Stuff that nobody would dream of saying out loud 10 years ago for fear of getting punched are now everywhere I look. Nazis used be a Not Cool thing.

But people are literally dying.

I've been trying my level best to stick around and keep up morale on behalf of those who are being actively targeted, but then the shooting at start of the Lunar New Year gave me a shake. Once again, the target is people who look like the person I love most in the world. Her whole family. All of the people in my life that I hold dear, in fact, are targets in one way or another.

The funny thing is, violent extremism isn't even the worst threat we're facing. The walls are closing in from every direction: unfettered spread of deadly viruses is past the point of fixing, and ecological collapse the likes of which our civilization has not ever seen will happen in the next 10 years.

Does that mean I'm giving up the fight to go take care of myself and mine?

Don't be absurd. I'm just angrier.

Lucky for me and nobody else, the coping mechanism I developed for my anger in my 20s is doing everything faster. Like, way faster. More aggressively too.

But I need to focus and organize my efforts a bit better so I can start doing things out in the Real World™. The good news is that I already started preparing for this months ago and have a headstart now.

Basically, I think what I need to do is integrate all my various battles into one ongoing project/series/lifestyle, so I can just always be working towards those various goals while still creating content that can use any platform available to spread reach and find new ways to fix things.

Here's the plan:

Tour de'Brief is happening for real. I will be touching more grass this year, in different cities, to visit the various dispensaries I've become close with and talk with locals about local issues (keeping myself and others as safe from disease as possible naturally). Why?

Well for starters, it's the disposable thing again! I will be personally trying to make storeowners commit to getting rid of theirs, in exchange for an LD-exclusive battery recycling bin (to be sent to me for collection) and a bunch of assorted creations for all their employees. Yeah, I made stuff. Lots of it.

Twitter presence will ramp down to a mostly communicative one: announce things posted on other platforms, coordinate things with people, answer questions, and probably Spaces. Maybe the odd shitpost here and there, but I'll be draining my drafts folder for the foreseeable future. Does that mean... no more content??

Actually, no, it means NEW content—I'm going back into the YouTubes! Going full production mode, even more content hopefully. Big ambitious videos with all our friends, collaborations with musicians.. and Twitter hanging around in my back pocket to connect with those collaborators. I am turning into a television set.

Tumblr will still work for long-form writing, but also with more focus on showcasing finished works (paintings, trays, electronics, etc). There's lots of stuff to show now since I've been saving it up.

The podcast! (Wait, what??) That's right, I'm booting it back up! The format will be more guest-based since I have all you great pals to talk to now.

That mailing list! Once I'm done with friendmail, I'm going to just start randomly sending you shit, as was my original plan. #FreeDrugs is forever!!!

What I need most right now is a way to cover more ground. The way I've decided to achieve that is by being a pest, so.. the usual really, but much more personal this time around. You catch more flies with honey than vinegar though, so I'll be needing lots of time to make bad creations that will hopefully entice a store of people to temporarily tolerate my presence.

If this sounds like a bad plan, it might very well be. But stick with me here—

My thought is that I can use the opportunity presented by fighting my climate battle to shoehorn in whatever other missions need attention depending on the geographical area. Different places have different problems; I need to learn about how each community tackles them, if at all, and gather context.. read the vibes... then break shit!

Figuratively that is.

Of course there will be plenty of literal breakages, and that's part of the fun!

I am preparing for the world to look very different, and very Not Good, in the coming 5-10 years—the extent to which is not clear to me yet. I would be narcissistic and delusional to think I am going to save the world by collecting batteries from pot shops and arguing with the locals, but I need to do everything.. anything.. that I can, all at once preferably, while trying to expand my reach organically by essentially docu-series-ing the next year as it happens.

It's gonna be wild itellyouwhat.

This Friday we'll have a good bash before I quiet down the Twitter presence indefinitely, but I want to still be reachable and connect with the people I met there. It's a hard line to draw. There will be lots of mail goes back and forth though, so I'll still be retweeting and replying whenever possible.

If Spaces disappears, I have an entire mailing list of friends—digitally now!—and the means to operate outside of Twitter in a variety of different ways. We will continue to connect digitally until I make it to your hometown, and until then I will continue to mail things to anyone on that list... you're helping to make my video content, see?

We always make the greatest team.

[cardcaptorsakura96]

Fairy Tales

Fandom: Supergirl

Relationships: Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor

Characters: Kara Danvers, Lena Luthor, Original Danvers/Luthor Children, Jess, Zatara, Zatanna, Billy Batson, Lillian Luthor, Alex Danvers, Kelly Olsen, Kanna (original character), Krypto,

Summary: Lena finally has the work and home life balance that she wants and is excited to get to spend the next two weeks that she has off with the girls while Kara is away. She believes that it will be smooth sailing, but things are not as they seem.

Word Count: 2,693

Chapter: 1/7

A couple of months ago Lena felt overwhelmed that she was constantly choosing her job over her children. She constantly missed events and nearly spiraled when she thought that she was failing her children. However, after making the decision to step back from work and focus on the girls, she felt a sense of balance and inner peace. When she hired her friend Sam Arias as her COO, she initially thought that it would be a six month transition of her handing over most of the reins of the company to her. However, Lena was impressed with Sam’s adaptability. It took Sam one month to become acquainted with everything. The last two weeks she transitioned from coming in six days a week to now only going into the office one day a week and working only a couple of days at home. She would now be able to be home once the girls get off from school. Her new arrangement finally gave her the time to focus on the girls and on projects that she was interested in instead of the Board. 

Currently, Lena was doing some of the most difficult work she has come across. Lena sat in her living room on the couch going over a file of a person of interest: Sam Waterson. She sipped on a glass of wine while staring intensely into the details that her detectives compiled. 

After going through the file for five more minutes, she scoffed, “There is nothing special about this kid.”

She shakes her head and reads the file again just to make sure she didn’t miss anything. 

She then proceeded to go over another file. It had list of 6 names and profiles of each person. Each of them had potential. 

“Which of you can replace Sam I wonder” thought Lena. 

She was so engrossed in the file that she didn’t realize that Kara had arrived home.

“Hey babe. I’m home. I come bearing gifts.”

“Hi darling. I have dinner already set up on the table” said Lena while still staring at the file. 

“I know I am late, but I thought I would get a little warmer welcome” said Kara pouting while holding a box of chocolates and roses. 

“I love you too dear” said Lena while flipping through the file still. 

Kara's eyes narrowed and quickly walked to Lena to see what had her so engrossed. Her eyes widened when she saw the contents of the folder. 

“Lena.”

“Yes dear” said Lena, still looking at the file. 

“Why do you have a file on a couple of Alexa and Liza’s classmates?”

“Alexa needs new friends” said Lena while looking at the file. 

“Alexa does have a friend.”

“There is something wrong there” Lena muttered while sipping her wine. 

Kara rolled her eyes and asked, “Is this because Alexa said that he was her boyfriend? You remember she explained to us that he is a boy that happens to be a friend. She didn’t mean anything more by that.”

“No.”

“Then what is it? You have never been this way about any other friend the girls have made.”

Lena sighed, rubbed her temple, and said, “I guess there is two parts. One, she just dropped her other friends around the time that Sam and her became friends. He is the only one she talks to in class outside of Liza.”

“That isn’t too unusual. Kids constantly change friends in school.”

“Well, the stronger part is that I just have a gut feeling. Every time I look at that kid something screams wrong to me. I don’t know how to explain it. And my instincts tell me to do what my family normally does. Investigate. I know it is too much, but…”

Lena put down the file, sighed, and put her face in her hands. Kara sat down wrapped her arms around Lena. 

Read the rest on AO3 https://archiveofourown.org/works/48715462/chapters/122887165

[celestiabyss]

[MY THOUGHTS ON TWITTER BEING DOWN + MY CURRENT PLANS FOR OTHER PLATFORMS 🐦]

Hi everyone! As many of you might have experienced, Twitter has not been loading tweets for many hours for a lot of users (me included) due to the so-called "rate-limited" mechanic that doesn't make any sense. At the time of this writing, I could no longer see tweets majority of the time from my main account, so the situation at hand makes me even more pessimistic on the future of Twitter.

A good chunk of you probably knows by now that I've been active in Twitter as celestiabyss for over two years now. It is the platform where I started sharing my theories and thoughts about Genshin lore, and it is where I got to see many fellow lore enthusiasts that inspire me to this day.

Twitter isn't perfect, but ever since a certain someone bought the platform, things started to get really messy. Unnecessary features got added in while necessary features were removed. Twitter Moments, for example, was the only feature that was close enough to being an organized archive. You might have seen me use this before to compile my lore tweets and theories. Around November last year, the Twitter Moments feature could no longer be updated with new tweets, and this was the reason why I barely wrote long lore threads ever since then.

A lot of problems continued to emerge and threaten the stability of the platform 'til this day. Despite the social chaos of Twitter, it couldn't be denied that Twitter has -- or used to have -- certain functionalities and accessibilities that helped a lot of people connect to online communities such as fandoms much easier whether as lurkers or active users. Twitter is in no way "better" than Tumblr, Reddit, Discord, and the like, but it does offer something that other platforms do not have. This is why it's such a shame that the platform has been dying a slow death ever since Spiral Abyss man had the audacity to buy it and ruin it.

I will not deny that branching out to as many other platforms and other social media as possible is one of the strategies that many content creators use to reach many people. While it is inevitable for me to adopt this strategy too, it still pains me to see my primary platform in shambles and potentially losing connection to the communities I've come to love. The incompetence of the Spiral Abyss man is killing many communities that rely on this platform.

1. Twitch (https://www.twitch.tv/celestiabyss)

There is such a high learning curve for me when learning extra platforms such as Tumblr and Discord, which is why these two have been collecting dust for so long. I do have Twitch and Youtube as my other more active platforms though, and as someone who just started streaming months ago, it will be a challenge for me to rely mostly on these two alone to reach you. I will see what I can do to better inform everyone of when I'm streaming. But for now, pls keep an eye out on my other platforms. All of them use the "celestiabyss" username:

- I will still be streaming there starting this week once I finish my uni stuff and recover from my sickness this week. Target return date will be on JULY 5 AT 10 PM GMT+8. Please check the Profile tab and Schedule tab of my page for sched announcements.

2. Youtube (youtube.com/@celestiabyss) - All Twitch VODs and future content will still be uploaded here. Twitch stream schedules and other announcements will also be announced through my Youtube channel's Community posts. I currently do not have plans to stream on Youtube, but if I ever feel like learning how to do so, I will let you know.

3. Tumblr (https://celestiabyss.tumblr.com) - This is the backup socmed account I made ever since Twitter started crumbling around November 2022. It's mostly on hiatus right now, so I'll still see what I can do to resume long-form lore posting here.

Anyways that would be it for now. I need to get back to finishing my papers and recovering. All this platform planning will come again later. I'll see you when I see you and stay tuned on my Twitch streams 🌠

4. Discord (celestiabyss) - I am very inactive in this fandom-focused Discord account since I use my personal one more. But yes, I'm in the following lore servers: (1) Khaenri'ah Lore Project and (2) Coffee and Culture. I'm also in GenshinSupportClub's server. I haven't checked them in a long time though and I have yet to learn how to fully navigate these servers. To all my Twitter mutuals who I have gotten to interact with through Genshin and HSR lore tweets: pls let me know if you have a server too (LET ME INNNN 😆).

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

When I first decided to stop listening to Gavin Osborn's songs a few at a time on YouTube and just took to Bandcamp to buy the discography and get into it properly, almost 18 months ago now, that happened to be the same day I broke up with my girlfriend. This is a coincidence, I'd been planning to do that before we broke up, and the breakup came on pretty suddenly, so it wasn't like I'd decided to buy a bunch of Gavin Osborn's a way to cope with that (there were comedy things that I threw myself too hard into in the following 2 days specifically as a coping mechanism, but those didn't include Gavin Osborn, they included re-listening to Kitson's After the Beginning Before the End twice in a row and then making that compilation video where it sounds like the Chocolate Milk Gang are having a political argument - though actually that video does include a couple of Gavin Osborn songs). I insist that this, and only this, is the reason why the song Sweet Bedford made me cry the first time I heard it. You did get me with that one, Gavin, but to be fair, on that day, you could have made me cry with a picture of a leaf in the right light.

Anyway, another consequence of me picking that day to go through Gavin Osborn's catalogue from start to finish is that I kind of glossed over the couple of particularly romantic albums in the middle. I mean, I still listened to them, I listened to every song on every album once, and then went back over my favourites. But the flaw in doing albums this way is you miss songs that could have become your favourites on repeat listens, because they never get another shot. Maybe you glossed over them because they're the type of song that's a slower burn, that benefits from hearing again, that has more going on than is immediately obvious. Or maybe you glossed over them because you'd just ended the first serious relationship you'd been in for ten years, or possibly ever depending on how you define "serious", and you don't need the extreme detail of how much Gavin Osborn loves his wife, you're very pleased that they're happy but also you're going to listen to those couple of romance-heavy albums with your ears only half open and careful not to look at any pictures of leaves.

That is my reasoning for why this gem largely escaped my notice, when I go through my favourite Gavin Osborn songs. I just heard it in an old recording and my first thought was that this can't be on his albums, or I'd have heard it before and would love it. Then I checked, saw what album it was on, thought more closely about the subject matter, and said, "Oh, right, that would be why I listened in a manner so detached that I didn't remember hearing it."

I love it when Gavin Osborn gets suddenly intense. It's his ridiculously, almost absurdly easygoing and affable persona, so when he suddenly swears, or as he seems to in this song, references the way we as humans are constantly choosing to hold back from our capacity for gruesome violence, the contrast hits you and it's great.

That has reminded me of why I've been trying to do more album listening lately, rather than picking out songs, especially for things I've discovered in the last 4 or 5 years (the songs I loved when I was younger - I've already heard every song on those albums a million times, I am convinced that if there are songs on there that I skip, that's fine, if I was going to fall in love with that song I'd have done it by now). You catch good bits that you might have glossed over otherwise.

I've been doing a lot of listening to comedy-adjacent musicians in the past couple of months, with Grace Petrie's new album that I'm obessed with and there's some other stuff that I'd been listening to on YouTube/Soundcloud for a while, and then this weekend decided to just go buy it on Bandcamp because 1) that makes album listening easier and you can hear the songs in their proper context, and 2) if an artist puts their work on Bandcamp and therefore gives you the option to pay them directly for their work, you should try to do that. I've been enjoying it a lot.

This wasn't a particularly coherent post so just to tie it all together, Bandcamp is good and full album listening (if not every time, at least the first few times rather than just once to give each song a chance) is good and I like it when Gavin Osborn employs needlessly violent imagery.

[julesmartin]

Reflection #3 - Reflect on your Personal Story

Something that I've struggled for a long time is figuring out what "my story" is. It's sort of crazy, because I first started thinking about this topic about four months ago, when I was asked in a different class about my life story. My professor asked us to talk about a difficult time in our lives, and share those details with the class when we were in Tanzania, Africa this past January. Prior to our initial conversation about it in November, I had never really reflected on my life to that extent. So, when we were assigned this project during the first week of class in February, I already had a pretty solid idea on what I was going to focus on. I was in shock by how this had worked out so perfectly for me.

Because of having to open up so much to my classmates in January, I already felt a sense of comfort with this assignment. I was excited to get started, as I became very passionate about sharing my story and hearing about others.

I think the hardest part for me was figuring out how exactly I was going to organize my video. I knew I wanted to make it seem like I was being interviewed in a sense, but I didn't know what pictures or b-roll I wanted initially. Once I rented out a camera from the gear room and planted myself into the editing suites for eight hours one day, it all sort of fell into place.

The process of creating this project was fun and unique, but it became a lot more meaningful after I presented it to the class. I was so nervous about it, but multiple people came up to me and told me how much they enjoyed it. Their response made me comfortable enough to share it with family and friends, who also loved it. Rewatching it over and over again has truly made me realize how much I've grown these past few years at Elon, and how far I've come since I was younger. It's making my Elon goodbye a little harder :(, but I'm so thankful to have been able to do this project.

Overall, my video turned out the way I wanted it to. I wish I had been a little more creative in my b-roll and slightly more innovative in my storytelling, but I think I got my point across the way I wanted to. Now that it's over, I definitely would've adjusted the lighting a little more, and maybe eliminated a few pictures in return for more b-roll or footage of me talking to the camera. I wish mine was slightly less of a slideshow, and more of a compilation of multiple videos.

In the end, I'm so proud of myself and my classmates for completing this project. It's not an easy thing to do, especially when it comes to presenting to the class. But everyone did such an amazing job!