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blue-rose-soul · 3 years

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Roleswap with Jack as the Viking dragon-tamer. Starring Astrid and Toothless as themselves

“Toothless! Time to take a little trip. You and I are going on vacation... Forever.”

Jack’s voice rings across the clearing. The basket of fish weighs heavily on his back, their stink no doubt soaking into his clothes, but the black-scaled dragon doesn’t come running like usual when he catches the scent of food.

That should have tipped Jack off right away.

His eyes scan the cove, the deep shadows at the base of the tree, the slight crevice between the rocks. Toothless doesn’t like to wait out in the open, he’s noticed over these past few weeks. The nightfury tends to stay out of sight until he’s sure it is Jack and not some intruder walking through the woods, so the fact that his best friend is nowhere to be seen isn’t terribly concerning on its own.

But as the moments slip by and the big scaly kitten doesn’t make himself shown... Jack feels a chill climb up his back.

“Toothless?” he calls, setting the basket down with a relieved sigh. “C’mon out scaly-butt, I’ve got your favorite; Icelandic cod! I didn’t even hide any eels in the basket this time, I swear!”

“Who are you talking to?”

Jack does not yelp. But he does jump, whirling on the spot to find a certain golden-haired shieldmaiden glowering at him. Menacingly. Silently praying to the gods that Toothless will stay out of sight a bit longer, he dons an easygoing smile.

“A-Astrid! Funny running into you here!”

Her icy glare sharpens. Jack tries not to focus on the axe in her hand.

“So this is where you’ve been sneaking off to.” She stalks towards him, and Jack is only just able to resist the urge to take a step back. “I knew you were up to something. Who is Toothless? Are they the person who’s been training you?”

“Wha- Training? You’re joking, right?”

She seizes a fistful of the front of his tunic, yanking him down to her eye level with such a look that she could have frozen a rampaging monstrous nightmare in its tracks.

“Don’t play dumb,” she spits. “How else would you have gone from being the village hiccup to placing first in dragon training overnight?”

The word ‘hiccup’ stings. It does every time one of the villagers hurl the insult his way, and like every time he shrugs it off with a smirk.

“Oh, you know, nothing special; I eat all my veggies, get eight hours every night, and toss Odin the odd prayer now and again. You might wanna try it sometime.”

Her fist tightens on his collar.

“Haddock, if you don’t start taking this seriously,” she threatens, “I will hurt you.”

“You can try,” Jack says. “But I don’t think Toothless is going to like that.”

That’s when she feels hot air on the back of her neck. As focused as she was on Jack, she hadn’t noticed the giant shadow unfurl itself from the roots of the great tree that grows into the base of the cliff, nor did she notice when it came to loom over her, pupils narrowed into dangerously thin slits.

Slowly, she loosens her grip on Jack’s tunic and turns, careful not to make any sudden movements. Toothless glowers down at her. And when her eyes land on the furious dragon, he peels his lipless mouth back in a ferocious snarl.

“Jack, get back!”

Before he can process what is happening Jack suddenly finds himself being shoved backwards, and Astrid standing protectively in front of him with her axe poised to strike. Toothless yowls, not liking the perceived aggression towards his human, and leaps at Astrid. With a snarl Astrid throws herself at the dragon. And Jack, reckless fool he is, gets between them.

“Wait! Wait!”

It’s mostly the surprise that lets him rip the axe from Astrid’s hand and fling it to the ground. Toothless backs off as soon as Jack is between him and his target, but his eyes remain locked on the perceived threat and he continues to snarl and bare his fangs, even when Jack places his hands on Toothless’s head and strokes him consolingly.

“Hey hey hey, it’s okay,” he whispers soothingly to the dragon. “You just scared her is all.”

He can feel Astrid’s bewildered eyes on him, but he focuses on calming Toothless before he turns to her. She’s staring at him with a mix of shock, terror, and disgust. He can’t say he expected any different.

“Astrid, meet my ‘trainer,’ Toothless.” He turns to the dragon, stroking his snout. “Toothless, meet Astrid.”

Toothless snarls, showing off a mouthful of very sharp teeth.

Astrid turns on her heel and runs.

Jack and Toothless exchange a look. Then Jack smirks.

“Toothless, fetch.”

Astrid has only just made it out of the crevice that leads into the cove when a shadow descends from the sky and pounces on her. She hits the ground hard but is only stunned, not torn limb from limb by the claws of the nightfury. Before she can recover, toothless jaws clamp on her leg and she is being dragged over rough dirt and rock and underbrush back where she came from. The dragon dumps her on the floor of the cove. Astrid reaches for the dagger on her belt but suddenly a weight drops down on her and she’s pinned.

“Jack!” she screeches as she thrashes beneath the weight of the nightfury. “Get this thing off of me right now!”

Jack smirks down at her from where he’s seated atop a moss-covered boulder. Maybe she’s imagining, but she can swear the dragon’s wearing an identical smirk.

“Not until you promise you won’t tell anyone about Toothless,” he says.

“I’m not promising you anything!”

“Alright then. Toothless...”

Astrid goes still beneath the dragon. He wouldn’t order the dragon to... Would he? His smirk widens, a devious glint in his eyes.

“Give ‘er a kiss.”

Astrid doesn’t have time to process those words before a hot, wet dragon tongue slavers all over her face and hair. She clamps her mouth shut and resumes thrashing in earnest but is helpless against the onslaught of thick drool and fishy breath. Jack’s laughter rings in her ears and she swears she is going to throttle him the moment she’s free!

“Aright aright, that’s enough scaly-butt. Let her breathe for a second.”

Toothless huffs and gives her one last broad-tongued lick before relenting. Astrid coughs and sputters and gasps for breath as she swipes saliva from her face.

“So,” Jack says, and though her eyes are squeezed shut she can hear the shit-eating grin in his voice. “You ready for more? Or do you promise to keep your mouth shut?”

“Yes! Yes, I promise!” She can’t take any more of that dragon breath. “Just get this thing off me!”

With a nod, Jack instructs Toothless to back off and the dragon lifts himself from his captive with a chortle. Jack slides smoothly from his perch and offers Astrid a hand. She takes it, reluctantly, and allows herself to be pulled up.

Then she punches him in the arm.

“Ow!”

“You are insufferable!”

With a huff, Astrid turns her back and stomps over to the pond. Jack rolls his eyes. Then his attention turns to Toothless. Toothless has gone rigid at the punch and only marginally relaxes when Astrid drops to her knees at the edge of the water. Jack places a hand on the nightfury’s head, stroking him gently and whispering assurances while Astrid attempts to clean herself up.

“You’re not going to get away with this, you know.”

He turns, fixing Astrid with a blank look. She’s not looking at him, she has water cupped in her hands, but he can see her glare reflected in the pool.

“You can’t keep him hidden forever. Your dad’s going to catch on eventually.”

It’s only now that Jack realize she didn’t hear everything after all.

“It’s a good thing Toothless and I are leaving then, isn’t it?”

That grabs her attention. She turns to him, water dripping from her bangs and tunic sporting a large damp spot.

“You’re leaving?” She stands, wiping her hands on the dry part of her top. “You’re choosing a dragon over your own people?”

Jack’s voice is uncharacteristically cold as he says, “You are not my people.”

Toothless warbles, pressing his head against Jack’s side. Even a man as large and formidable as Stoick the Vast can be knocked around by one of these creatures, and Jack is built like a twig, so Astrid marvels at the care and gentleness the dragon shows as it comforts the village hiccup.

“Still,” she says, hostility ebbing as a wisp of curiosity works its way to the surface. “You’re a human. Why would you want to be with a dragon?”

“How long do you have?” he asks. Then he turns to her and the sharp edge to his expression falters. She’s staring at him, brows furrowed, mouth pulled in a slight frown, and he realizes she genuinely doesn’t understand. Turning to his partner, a thought forms. “I could show you.”

Astrid watches as he climbs atop the nightfury’s back, and despite her own reservations she can’t help being a little in awe. A beast of legend, feared by even the most hardened of Viking warriors, and Jack’s sitting on its back as though it were no more extraordinary than any farm animal. He offers a hand to her, and she finds herself frozen.

“Come on, Astrid,” Jack says, and that teasing smirk is gone, his eyes are genuine and hopeful. “Haven’t you ever looked up and the sky and imagined what it would be like to fly?”

No, she hasn’t. She’s always been grounded, focusing on what’s right in front of her. It’s just one of the many things that put her at odds with Jack, who walks around with his head in the clouds.

"You’re serious?” she asks. His smile begins to falter, and before Astrid knows what she’s doing she’s taking his hand and climbing onto the dragon behind him. “Okay. So show me.”

“Alright, Toothless.” Sitting behind him, she can’t see the smirk reappear on his face, or see the devious glint in his dragon’s eyes. “Let’s have some fun.”

Astrid’s stomach sinks as those great black wings slowly unfurl.

And then another shriek is ripped from her throat as they shoot up into the air.

They pierce through the clouds, spin in the air, drop back down to the sea and swoop back up again. As the wild flight goes on Astrid becomes increasingly aware of another sound, just barely audible over her screams; laughter. Jack is enjoying this. If she weren’t clinging so tightly to him for dear life she would smack him.

“C’mon Astrid, look!” he cries. “Isn’t it amazing?”

"I’m going to kill you when I get down!”

“So what’s my incentive to let you down?”

She opens her eyes to glare at him, and that’s when she sees it. The world above the clouds. She’s seen countless sunsets on Berk, but not like this, not above an ocean of mist painted with hues of warm pinks and oranges and traces of purple. Already stars are beginning to dot the night sky as Sol draws her chariot beyond the horizon. It’s almost as though they’d flown into another realm, and without thought Astrid finds herself raising her hand to run her fingertips through the sun-painted mist above her head. To her great surprise, her fingers come away cold and wet, and despite herself a smile tugs at the corners of her mouth.

“You can feel it, can’t you?” Jack says, drawing her from her reverie. “Up here, with Toothless, I feel more right than I ever have in my life. When I’m up here, I finally feel like myself.”

The clouds part beneath them and Astrid can’t suppress a gasp as she sees Berk, her home, as she’s never seen it before. It’s so small, so beautiful. Astrid’s arms, still wrapped around Jack’s waist, give a gentle squeeze, and she lowers her chin to his shoulder.

“I feel it,” she says, breathless. “This is amazing... He’s amazing.”

Toothless croons.

-----

They remain in the air until the sun sinks into the ocean and Mani’s chariot rises high in the sky. Toothless brings them around the north side of the island, where dense forests and rocky cliffs limit human exploration, but serve no barrier for someone riding on a dragon.

Astrid feels drained in a way she never has before. Even dragon training has never taken this much out of her. From the moment her feet touch solid ground she is able to take only a few wobbly steps before she collapses against the base of a large boulder, heart racing like she’s just run a lap around the island. Jack takes a seat next to her while Toothless stretches out in the soft grass surrounding them.

“This still doesn’t feel real,” Astrid says after a long silence. Her eyes are on the shockingly docile dragon, watching as he rolls over onto his back to expose his smooth underbelly. “I keep expecting to wake up.”

There’s another beat of silence before she asks, “How did... this happen?”

“Would you believe by sheer stupid accident?” Jack asks. At the look on her face, he says, “I was exploring the woods. Y’know, avoiding Stoick. And Toothless here had stopped for a drink. I came up to the edge of the cove and just completely froze when I saw him there. I was so sure that if I moved or made any noise at all he’d notice me and I’d be dead but... I was also kind of mesmerized.”

As he speaks, Jack withdraws a bit of metal from his pouch and Astrid is reminded of one of his little tricks he showcased in dragon training as he sends Toothless scrambling after a fleck of reflected moonlight.

“I didn’t notice I was getting closer and closer to the ledge until I slipped. Nearly broke my neck. By the time I pulled myself from the dirt Toothless was standing over me, just... staring. I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. I thought that was it, but he just kind of sniffed me, and then he turned and flew away.”

Toothless catches up with the flek and Jack tilts the coin down so the light vanishes, to the poor dragon’s ire.

“Why didn’t he attack you?” Astrid asks.

“I wondered that too,” Jack answers. “And the next day I went back, only that time I brought a dagger with me. I hid in the crevice and waited, and eventually Toothless came back. Only this time, when I walked towards him, he started hissing and growling, and he didn’t stop until I took the dagger I had and threw it in the pond.”

Thinking back, how did he expect to defend himself with a dagger in the first place?

“That’s when I realized, he wouldn’t attack me as long as he knew I wouldn’t attack him. And then I realized other dragons were like that too. Feed a terrible terror and it’ll curl up in your lap and let you pet it. Scratch a nadder’s chin and it goes limp. Gronkles, monstrous nightmares, all of them. Everything we think we know about them is wrong.”

Toothless bounces as Jack makes the light flek reappear and pounces for it, chirping in delight. Astrid watches, processing this new information.

“...We have to tell your dad.”

“No.”

Jack’s answer is immediate and firm, and takes Astrid by surprise.

“Jack, we have to tell people about this. If we show them that dragons can be trained-”

“Astrid, Stoick’s never listened to me a day in my life,” Jack says, sinking back against the boulder. “What makes you think he’d listen to me about this?”

“You could show him,” she says. “Like you showed me.”

“Oh yeah, that’ll go over well. ‘Hey Stoick, would you mind coming with me for a sec? Where? Ah, I just want to take you for a lovely evening flight on the unholy offspring of lightning and death itself. No, I didn’t fall off the roof again, why do you ask?’“

Astrid punches him in the arm.

“If he finds out about Toothless,” Jack continues, nursing his growing sore spot, “he’ll kill him.”

Toothless pads over to the pair of them, crooning sadly as Jack reaches up to scratch his chin. The dragon purrs in delight, head fins trembling and eyes slipping shut as he relaxes into the boy’s touch.

“If you don’t,” Astrid says, “a lot more humans and dragons will die fighting each other.”

The slight smile that has been forming on Jack’s face falls.

“...Do you still want to leave Berk?” she asks.

“Yes,” he answers, and then he bites his lip. “It’s the only way I can keep Toothless safe. And we belong together. I can’t... I can’t stay here after knowing what it’s like to be... To...”

“To be free?” Astrid supplies, and Jack turns to her with wide eyes.

“...Yeah.”

Silence passes between them. In a matter of hours Astrid feels like she’s aged years. She can’t imagine how it must be for Jack, who’s been harboring his dragon for weeks now.

“I won’t tell anyone,” she says at last. With a groan, she rises to her feet, stretching her arms overhead. Her spine gives a satisfying pop. “As long as you’re on the island, that is. As soon as you leave Berk I’m going straight to your dad and telling him everything.”

“You in the market for another tongue bath?”

She glares down at him.

“I’m doing what’s right,” she says. “I think you should be the one to tell him, but if you won’t, I will. And I’ll do whatever it takes to make him understand that there’s a better way to end this war with the dragons.”

“Toothless, I think she wants another tongue bath.”

“Jack, for five seconds, be serious!”

“I’m being realistic.” Jack rises to his feet with graceful, feline movements. “Ideally, yes, it would be better if we could magically make Stoick and every other Viking agree to training the dragons instead of killing them. But therein lies the crux of the issue; they’re Vikings. Why would they use patience or diplomacy on a problem when they can just hurl an axe at it?”

Astrid crosses her arms and fixes him with a stern look.

“We’re not all that bad.”

“Remind me, how did you react when you saw Toothless?”

“I climbed on his back,” Astrid answers, “after I realized he wasn’t going to hurt anyone. That’s what we need to make everybody see.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Jack-”

A force against her back cuts her off. Suddenly she is being shoved forward into Jack. He hits the ground hard with Astrid atop him, pinning him. His eyes are wide and by the silvery light of the moon, Astrid can see how his cheeks ripen. He’s really not like other Viking men, she thinks as her own cheeks grow warm. There’s a sort of delicacy to him considered ill-suited to their men, but Astrid finds she appreciates it. He’s gentle. And that gentleness is the very reason he was able to accomplish what no Viking before him has.

Toothless makes a gonking noise that almost sounds like laughter.

“See?” Astrid says, trying to sound calmer than she feels. “Even your dragon doesn’t want you to leave.”

Jack cranes his head to fix a glare on the nightfury.

“Traitor.”

Toothless lowers his head and swipes his tongue across Jack’s forehead.

“Stay,” Astrid says. “Help me end the war. You know dragons; I know people. Between the two of us we can convince everyone.”

Jack says nothing.

“Promise you’ll stay or I’m not letting you up.”

“Why Astrid-” His voice gains a teasing edge. “-I had no idea you felt that way about me.”

“Don’t make me hurt you.”

Jack sighs, but finally, he relents.

“Fine! I’ll stay, just... Just let me be the one to break the news to Stoick. He’ll just get madder if he learns about Toothless from you and not me.”

Satisfied, Astrid pulls herself up, and then offers Jack a hand as well. He’s so light it hardly takes any effort. And as soon as he’s on his feet she throws another weak punch at his shoulder.

“Do you want me to stay or not!?”

“That was for the tongue bath,” Astrid say, fixing him with a glare that lasts barely a moment before it melts away. And then she seizes him by the collar once more, pulling him near as she plants a swift peck on his cheek. “And that’s for... the rest of it.”

She runs off before he can respond, say something sarcastic or obnoxious or... Astrid can feel her ears growing warm.

Unfortunately, she remembers that she has an entire island she needs to cross to get back home and is forced to turn back. She finds Jack right where she left him, frozen to the spot with a blush that runs from the tips of his ears down to his neck. Toothless warbles, smiling toothlessly.

Both teens’ faces are bright red the entire flight back.

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smol-and-grumpy · 4 years

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Light My Fire - Epilogue

Pairing: CEO!Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: She always thought her boss was an ill-tempered man, but when he presents her with a proposition she can’t quite deny, she gets to know him better. It’s not bad, right? Because all she has to do is being fake married to him for six months, sounds do-able, right? Right.

Warnings: It’s so fluffy it’ll maybe rot your teeth, NSFW

WC: 1801

A/N: So, this is definitely the end of the road. I’m so happy that you’re here with me and read this story to the end. I hope it was a good one for you! Please share your thoughts with me, I’d love to hear your feedback.

Beta’d by @deanwanddamons <3

SERIES MATSTERLIST

BECOME A PATRON ~ BUY ME A COFFEE

She had moved back on the same day, and into his bed that same night. She still kept her room but Dean was okay with that. She mostly sleeps there when he comes home late. Dean would then go in and take her back into his bed. He has perfected his techniques and now she doesn’t even stir when he scoops her up and carries her back into his bed. Their bed.

It’s true that she kept the room as hers but she had moved all her clothes into his room by the time they annulled their marriage.

It was never an option for her to stop working for him. But she stayed as his PA and they hired someone else to help with Ruby’s load of work. Their relationship had never been questioned by his staff. Dean thinks that he can count himself lucky for having great and loyal employees. He got his temper under control, too. He only fired one person in the last three months which is a huge improvement.

The marriage with Amara was a piece of cake. After Amara got wind of the existence of the tape, she was quick to agree for the annulment and Dean could even get money out of her. Serves her right, really. He used the money to give his employees a big bonus.

They have gotten over the initial pregnancy scare too. Turned out that she was indeed just stressed. He was a little disappointed, couldn’t lie about it, but she was happy so there’s that. He’d like to have kids one day, and especially with her. Dean knows that she wants kids too, but not right now. He hopes that she wants kids with him, though.

Dean really didn’t give up on asking her to be his real wife. He would drop it in the weirdest times. It’s a game he plays and he actually enjoys it. He has gotten her another ring. Doesn’t want to ask her with the same ring they already sealed their fake marriage with, it just didn’t seem right.

The first time he popped the question was after they were fake husband and wife and only girlfriend and boyfriend. She was sitting in the tub when he came back from work because he still worked longer than she did. Dean peeled himself out of his clothes to join her, “Do you wanna marry me?” He’d asked before he sits in the tub and grabs her by her arm to place her onto his lap.

“No,” She giggled and he buried his face into the crook of her neck, sucked at her skin until she moaned a yes but it’s not the answer, he knew.

The fourth time he asked her to be his wife, Y/N was lying on the couch when he walked in after a long working day. She was reading a book and she was wearing one of his shirts and only panties and that did things to him. Especially when half her ass cheeks poked out of it. He looked and smirked before he walked over to the drawer with food delivery leaflets. He held the leaflets in his hand and looked over to her before he asked, “Do you want to marry me or shall we order in food?”

Laughing, she said no, and that she wanted pizza with pineapples.

The ninth time Dean asked her was at work. He came out of a meeting and walked past her desk, dropping off his notes for her to put down on paper. She was so lost in her work that she didn’t even notice him standing next to her, so he lowered himself with one hand braced on her chair and whispered into her ear, “Do you want to marry me?”

She rolled her eyes but she kissed his cheek. It was enough fuel to get into the next meeting.

The twelfth time he asked her was when she was laying between his thighs and he had spread them for her to be able to reach his rim. He was there, held up his legs by the back of his knees and looked down. He would have loved to take a picture if his hand were free.

His balls are heavy on her nose, his dick, hard and leaking, was resting over half her face. It was a sight to behold, and in that moment his heart felt so full so he whispered, “Do you want to marry me?”

She ignored him and continued licking at his rim and sucked in his balls that made him choke on his own words.

The seventeenth time that he popped the question was while they were in a meeting together. They listened to Garth's new idea on office improvements and she was typing away on her laptop when he sent her an email, “Please be my wife?”

Y/N frowned, her lips pulled into a thin straight line before she clicked on her mouse and soon his phone vibrated. Dean took it out and thumbs over her email of Michael Scott from The Office screaming No meme.

The twenty-third time Dean had asked her, they were having dinner with Jack and he had told the waiter to put the ring in her glass. What Dean hadn’t accounted for, was that the waiter would be so dumb and mix up their glasses. So when Jack drank his champagne he had the ring in his mouth, and damn near choked on it. Y/N had stomach cramps from laughing too hard.

But hey, Jack said yes and they’re planning a spring wedding.

Jack is a great guy. Dean’s glad that he took Jack on a fishing trip back in Jamaica. Jack was so hostile towards him and Dean just knew that he had to pour his heart out to Jack to get him to understand that he was never just in it for the fake marriage. It meant so much more to him. Thinking back, it needed a lot of courage from Dean to do so. Jack didn’t speak for an agonizing long time and it was while they were on the boat and Dean had almost gotten sea sick than he started to speak the truth.

Jack smirked when he saw that the blood had drained from Dean’s face.

“Do you like fishing?” Jack had asked him.

“Yeah but from the shore.” Dean answered, trying not do fucking puke.

Jack laughed at him but apparently, the trip had helped cement their friendship.

The twenty-ninth time he asked was when he ate her out and she moaned yes yes above him. He paused and mumbled against her wet cunt, “You wanna marry me?”

She came right on the spot but not without moaning out something that sounded awfully like fuck no.

The thirty-third time Dean asked, was when they spent a weekend away at a secluded cabin in Colorado.

That’s another thing that Dean loves about her. When things get too stressful, she always made sure that he took a break and she planned trips that should take his mind off work. She feared that he’ll overwork himself, which is not entirely wrong.

So when they were roasting marshmallows over a fire, he wrapped his arm around her, and asked her if she wanted to be his wife.

She didn’t answer, instead she said, “You’re not going to give up, do you?”

He smiled down and kissed her forehead, “Nope.”

The thirty-eight time Dean popped the question was during a game night of pictionary with Sam and Ruby and her brother. Yeah that’s right, Sam never let Ruby go again. Dean swears, if they marry before him...

Dean drew a ring onto the board with a question mark and instead of answering right, she just said “Lord of the Rings?”

Even Jack grew a little annoyed at her and screamed that she should fucking say yes already.

The forty-fifth time he asked, they were at a concert and she stood before him, his hands around her waist as she leaned her head against his chest. He placed a kiss on the crown of her head, “Do you want to marry me?”

The one girl next to them gasped loudly and she pushed her boyfriend out of the way, thinking that Dean needed room to go on his knees. They had to laugh and explain that his girlfriend is not saying yes, so there’s no worry. The woman was embarrassed and Dean took Y/N’s hand to move further back.

The fifty-second time Dean asked, was when he came home from a work trip. It didn’t go very well so he was kind of down. He found her in the guest bedroom, sleeping on her side and Dean scooped her up, carried her into their bed and left to take a shower.

When he came back, she was partially awake. And it’s like she knew because she opened her arms for him to crawl in. He placed his head on her chest, letting her stroke his head.

“Please be my wife?” He’d asked, but there’s no answer. Her heart beat slow, she was already asleep.

The fifty-third time he asked, was the next day right after the fifty-second time. Dean spooned her from behind, rained kisses onto her shoulder and neck, she stirred awake, “I really wish you’d say yes.”

It was not really a question. Just a statement.

“Okay,” She said and Dean’s heart picked up speed.

“Okay?” He asked again, just to be sure.

“Yes,” She turned around in his grip and cradled his face between the palms of her hand, “I’m saying yes,”

Dean kissed her while smiled like a fucking idiot, held her tighter, “Fucking finally,” he mumbles against her lips.

They married in a small ceremony with just the closest of people and no press, because he still took her out to social events and they all thought she was his wife anyway. It’s easier that way. It feels more real.

Sam and Jack were both his best men while Ruby resumed her position as a bridesmaid.

Dean didn’t make a prenup; it's his way to piss off his parents. It’s the right decision, he thinks. Y/N never once asked him for money. She hates being dependent on him and sometimes there were petty fights when she wouldn’t allow him to buy her something. However, she let him pay for Jack’s tuition and that is progress.

Like Dean said before, he would give her the world and so much more but she’s happy as it is and that’s the most important thing actually, because he’s happy too when she’s happy. He’s less grumpy, less hot headed and, that’s not a lie nor an exaggeration, he’s the happiest he’s ever been.

#light my fire #dean winchester #dean winchdster x reader #ceo!dean winchester #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fan fic #dean winchester fan fiction #nathalie writes

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shotgun--rider · 3 years

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Stay With Me

A @destielsecretsanta2020 gift for @princess-aleera

Summary: For the first time in his life, Dean has the opportunity for a real Christmas with his family. And it would be perfect, if Cas hadn’t decided to bail on him again. OR: Dean and Cas finally use their words.

Warnings: Dean’s cripplingly low self-esteem, Cas undervaluing himself...you know, the usual.

A/N: Did I anxiously rewrite half of this on Christmas Eve? Yes. Do I have any confidence whatsoever left in the quality of this fic? No! Nevertheless, merry Christmas to my lovely giftee and I hope you enjoy this dumb fluffy little thing!

By now, Dean should have really known better than to have any kind of expectations for Christmas. He hasn’t had anything less than a shitty holiday since Mary was alive, and then he’d been too young to remember it. The weeks leading up to the 25th in his childhood were marked out by shoplifting cheap gifts for Sam (usually practical stuff, like flannels and socks) and trying to convince John that they didn’t need to work a job on Christmas day. He’d managed to walk out with a paper-wrapped ham once, but cooking it in a motel room didn’t exactly turn out and Sammy got mac and cheese for Christmas dinner. Again.

Even when they got older, it still wasn’t much of a big deal. They’d toss badly-wrapped gifts at each other in the Impala, still the same kind of practical things as always. Once, Sam bought them dumb Santa hats from the Gas-n-Sip and they drove down the interstate wearing them for a couple dozen miles before Dean got fed up and chucked it into the backseat.

So, yeah, Christmas sucked ass. And usually Dean didn’t give it much thought, because it wasn’t like he had a lot of fond memories to miss. But this year...sue him, this year he’d thought it might be different. Jack had cheerfully requested a Christmas tree with such enthusiasm that they had caved and set one up in the library, and after Sam had spearheaded the decorating with Eileen, Dean had to admit it looked surprisingly festive. And once there was a tree, it seemed only right to put some effort into the gifts, so he painstakingly picked something out for each member of his little family. (It was paid for with a fake credit card, but it was the thought that counted.) And with several more YouTube tutorials than he would ever admit to a living soul, they were neatly wrapped under the tree, too.

It was shaping up to be something like a real Christmas, and he was starting to look forward to making new stupid traditions and watching the look on Sam’s face when he opened his gifts.

But Dean Winchester doesn’t get nice things. So even though there’s an ache in his gut he’s trying to ignore as he bends to fish Cas’s gift back out from under the tree, he’s not really surprised. Hurt, maybe. Pissed, definitely. But surprised? No, it only makes sense that the angel bailed on them on Christmas Eve, popping off to who the hell knows where and ignoring his phone the way he too often does.

This is what always happens, Dean reasons, shoulders a little hunched as he starts back toward his room. He’s an angel, of course he has better places to be than spending Christmas with a pair of boring human hunters. What does Dean have to offer him anyway? The gift in his hands is shitty, he’s demanded way more from the guy than he can ever repay, and he already knows he’s not good enough for Cas. So he’ll just quietly put the gift back and play the whole thing off if anybody asks.

He’s almost made it to his bedroom when he passes Eileen, the woman giving him a friendly smile that fades into a curious look when her gaze falls on the slightly unevenly wrapped box in his hands. She signs something that he doesn’t quite get, and Dean kicks himself again for being such a fuckup that he can’t even learn ASL right.

Eileen doesn’t seem to mind, asking her question again verbally and signing along to help him. “Does Cas get his present privately?” She punctuates with a little eyebrow wiggle, always trying to tease him about the angel.

Dean huffs, shaking his head. He manages the sign for no before speaking the rest. “Nah, Cas, uh, Cas isn’t coming to Christmas.” He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly.

Eileen’s face scrunches. “What do you mean, he’s not coming? He was so excited--what did you do?”

“Nothing!” Dean says defensively, a private panic starting in his head at the thought that maybe he did, maybe he hurt Cas and he didn’t realize it. Or maybe Cas knew and left to save him the embarrassment. “He just said he had somewhere to be,”

“Did you talk to him about it?”

“He won’t answer his phone,” Dean says a little petulantly. He’s tried calling him about a dozen times at this point, and Cas has to have turned the damn thing off, because he doesn’t even get to the stupid endearing voicemail recording.

His brother’s girlfriend just gives him a look and folds her hands into a sign he knows immediately. Pray. “He’ll listen,”

Not for the first time, Dean wonders if Eileen is massively misinterpreting his relationship with Cas. Or at least, how much of a shit Cas gives about him. “Look, Eileen, I don’t think--”

Dean. She makes his name sign sharp and gently scolding. “Just talk to him,”

“Yeah, maybe,” he mumbles. He doesn’t bother to voice the but what if he still doesn’t answer.

He leaves Eileen with an attempt at looking nonchalant and makes it the rest of the way to his bedroom, flopping down on the memory foam mattress and staring at the ceiling. He’s positioned to one side as always, avoiding sprawling in the middle even though he would be well within his rights. Sam would probably spout some psychology bullshit about subconsciously saving the other half for someone. Yeah, right.

So maybe he’s a little more bitter about this than he thought. Squeezing his eyes shut, he huffs out a breath, half prepared to just pray to Cas so he can shout at him childishly. “Hey, uh, Cas? Listen, buddy--”

There’s an almost immediate flutter of wings and by the time Dean’s scrambling to sit halfway up, Cas is standing by the foot of the bed uncertainly, more rumpled than usual and his expression pained. “Hello, Dean,”

“Cas, what the hell?” Dean bursts out before he’s even fully decided to say the words.

“Dean,” Cas fixes his blue eyes on Dean’s face. “I think I may have made a mistake,”

“Really? What gave you that idea?” Dean shoots back sarcastically. “I mean, what the fuck, Cas? I get that you have obligations and better places to be, but goddammit, you have to stop leaving m--leaving without an explanation!” Vaguely, Dean realizes that he’s not totally in control of this conversation anymore, but he’s been sitting on this for a long time. “It’s Christmas, man,” he goes on weakly. “I know this is kinda your first one but you’re supposed to be with your family,”

“I know,” Cas rushes to agree, his face still flickering with distress. “But I could feel your longing after I left, and your prayer--” the angel slumps slightly in his too-big trench coat. “Dean, I don’t understand.”

“First of all, I was not longing. And b, what don’t you get? It’s not rocket science, Cas,”

“I left so that you could be with your family,” Cas explains, as if he’s not uttering the most insane thing Dean’s ever heard in his life. “But now you’re upset--I’m sorry, Dean,”

“Cas, what the fuck?” Dean says again, momentarily lost for words as he blinks at his best friend. “How do you not---you are family,”

Cas’s blue eyes blink a few times hopefully, before he seems to resign himself. “I try to be of use to you and Sam--”

“That has nothing to do with--” Dean stops. Oh, Cas. “Do...do you think we keep you around because you’re an angel?”

Cas tilts his head. “Well...yes,”

“Cas,” Dean says weakly. God, he wants to punch himself in the face for letting him think this way. “Look, Sam’s plenty useful, doing the research by myself would seriously suck ass. But he’s my brother either way. Family’s not--it’s not about being fucking useful.”

“Am I your brother, Dean?”

“Yes!” Dean bursts out, too loudly, kicking himself as his mouth continues without permission. “Yeah, I mean--yeah,” he trails off, not remotely willing to try explaining why that might not be the correct label after all. “You’re family, Cas.”

It’s probably just wishful thinking, but Cas looks almost disappointed. “Oh. I see. Thank you, Dean. I will--” a short pause, “I will stay for Christmas,”

“Great,” is all that comes out of Dean’s mouth in reply. “Yeah, that’s great.”

He wants to tell him that wasn’t actually what I wanted to say and I kinda think I might be in love with you and I want you to stay with me but the shadow of John Winchester and the fear of rejection keeps the words tightly coiled inside. Besides, they don’t do this. They don’t say things out loud, they never have. And--most of the time--that works.

So Dean swallows and smiles tightly and shoves away his newly-realized I love yous, turning around instead to find where he’d tossed Cas’s gift on the floor beside the bed. “You, uh, wanna put this back out--”

“Dean,”

Something in Cas’s voice has him straightening up immediately, and when he turns around the angel is looking at him with an expression he’s never seen before and--are those tears?

“Dean, I can hear you,”

Dean’s stomach sinks like a fear-filled lead balloon, but he asks anyway. “You can hear me what?”

“Sometimes,” Cas says quietly, “if you think something with enough intention, it can be heard like a prayer,”

Dean clears his throat roughly, bracing himself for Cas to explain gently how he has no interest in a man like Dean. “So, uh,” he trails off. Cas is still just looking at him with brimming eyes, which narrow suddenly.

“You are a good and righteous and wonderful man, Dean Winchester,” he says firmly, standing there so close and yet just out of Dean’s reach.

Dean gives a sheepish look. “Heard that bit too, huh?”

“Dean,” Cas says again, gently, waiting. Waiting so that Dean can go first.

And suddenly, with the knowledge that Cas already knows what he’s been trying to say, it’s infinitely less terrifying. “I--I love you, Cas,” he says hoarsely, surprising himself with how, after all this time, the words aren’t really that hard. “And you’re my best friend, and you’re family, and I don’t give a shit if you’ve got angel powers or whatever, and--” I need you please stay with me still gets stuck in his throat, the most dangerous out of all of those words, but Cas must hear it anyway, or be able to tell what he’s getting at, because he’s suddenly wrapped up in the angel’s embrace, the slightly shorter man warm and solid and thoroughly clinging to him.

He’d make a crack about chick flick moments, but he really doesn’t have a leg to stand on because he’s clinging to Cas just as tightly, gripping fistfuls of his trench coat and trying to reassure himself that this is real. This is real.

“I rebelled for you,” Cas is saying quietly into his shoulder. “I loved you from the minute I saw your soul for the first time.” And then he moves to meet Dean’s eyes, his own still looking a little watery, and finishes, “And I need you too,”

And Dean’s never kissed a man before, but after a confession like that is as good a time as any to bury the last of his father’s old words about fairies and manliness.

It’s clumsy at first, and not really fireworks and magic like chick flick romances like to claim, but it sends warm relief through his entire body. Dean shivers just slightly, pulling Cas closer as their mouths slowly explore, cautiously at first and then bolder, heat lacing the kiss. But more than anything, it feels like something he has been missing for so long that he stopped noticing has finally fitted back into place, and it’s overwhelming. But, Dean thinks as he helps toss Cas’s coat on the floor, so, so worth it.

***

The first real Winchester family Christmas is nothing short of chaotic, from the first moment that Dean and Cas finally emerge from their definitely-not-cuddling nest of blankets. Sam takes one look at them in the hallway and grins immediately, shaking his head with a loud “finally!” that has Dean scowling and demanding to know how long Sam has been paying attention to them. (The answer is far longer than Dean wants to think about)

They unwrap gifts on the floor of the library, indulging Jack’s inquisitive questions and periodically balling up wrapping to throw at each other. Sam’s hair is slowly collecting bows off the wrapping as Dean gets bored, though he eventually gives up when he has to choose between reaching Sam’s head and continuing to inch closer into Cas’s side.

For a moment, he wonders about the last Christmas when Mary was alive, and what she would say if she could see her sons and their hodgepodge celebration now. He doesn’t really mind, though, that he can’t remember it. This is all the holiday family memories he didn’t know he needed.

#destiel secret santa #destiel #destiel fic #deancas #spn fic

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good-things-do-happen-dean · 4 years

Note

I am actually terrible at prompts but for you I will try: Dean and Cas teach at the same school but no one knows they’re married because Cas was just hired a few months ago, and they don’t want people to think that’s the only reason he got the job; cue Benny incessantly flirting with Cas and trying to ask him out until Dean is forced to step in. The ending is up to you (;

[casually writes this one hundred years later] i love this prompt so much em, thank you for sending it 💖also, it’s me, so i think you can probably guess where the ending goes hahaha enjoy!!!

sweet like honey, sweet like molasses

“Mornin’, sunshine,” somebody drawls across the teachers’ lounge.

Dean doesn’t look up from the copier, until he hears Cas say “Good morning, Benny,” back to the somebody, and he nearly puts a crick in his neck from looking up so quickly because what the hell, that’s Dean’s line.

The somebody in question, Benny, apparently, is leaning back against the counter with the coffee maker, sipping from a steaming mug that says “Mornings suck” in red over a cartoon vampire. He’s a big guy, or, maybe he’s not actually. He’s shorter than Cas, but broad-shouldered and barrel-chested, with a neatly trimmed beard and bright blue eyes.

Dean turns his ring around his finger with his thumb, looking back at the growing stack of copies without really seeing them. They chat about Benny’s AP class maybe coming by the library next week to review research strategies for their upcoming project. Benny says something that makes Cas laugh, rich and low. And Dean finds he suddenly needs a fresh cup.

“Hey there,” he says, squeezing between Cas and Benny to get to the coffee pot. “Morning, Cas.” He doesn’t miss Cas rolling his eyes at him ever so briefly. “Don’t think we’ve had the pleasure,” he says to Benny, reaching out a hand. “I’m Dean Winchester, ninth and tenth grade English.”

Benny grins, and it spreads across his face all slow like honey, or molasses maybe, with that accent. Okay, Dean decides. Fine, he’s hot. Whatever.

“Benjamin Lafitte,” he says, shaking Dean’s hand. “But you can call me Benny. I’m the new Miss Kline while she’s on maternity leave.”

“I see you’ve met Mr. Novak, here,” Dean says, clapping Cas on the shoulder.

“Practically the first thing I did when I was hired.” Benny winks at Cas across Dean, who gives Cas’s shoulder a little squeeze. Only because he’s friendly, and definitely not because he’s possessive or jealous of this guy. Also definitely not to show off the simple silver band on his ring finger that wouldn’t mean anything to Benny anyway.

That’s the plan, after all, to keep their marriage private at school. They live out of the district, so it’s unlikely they’ll run into any students in line at the grocery store or the movie theater. Same for coworkers.

As far as almost everyone knows, the Winchester-Novaks are just Mr. Winchester and Mr. Novak, work friends who hit it off pretty much immediately after Mr. Novak was hired. They get to work at the same time, but they drive separately.They have lunch together, but they eat in the teacher’s lounge instead of in Cas’s tiny office at the back of the library. Dean normally stops by the library at the end of his planning during fourth period, but that’s because he teaches English and the library is, well, where the books are. It’s not because he’s a sap who misses his husband an hour and a half after they’ve just eaten lunch together. Or, okay, it is that, but nobody else knows it.

“Would you look at the time,” Dean says at the sound of the first bell. He rinses out his mug, setting it upside down in the drying rack, before heading to the door. “Gotta beat the thundering hordes to the stairs.”

“Actually,” Benny says, “I’ve got planning first period. Mind if I swing by to pick your brain about that project, Cas?”

Dean turns to stare daggers into Benny’s broad back with one hand on the doorknob. It isn’t that he doesn’t trust Cas, of course he does, but there’s something about this Benny character that rubs him the wrong way.

“Dean?” Cas calls after him, just like he would at home from the garden or the kitchen to where Dean is working in the garage. Dean very nearly says, yeah, babe? but he catches himself just in time. “Your copies.”

Right.

***

Things continue on like that. Benny starts showing up at the same time as them, somehow casually overtaking them so he can hold the door open. He joins them in the teacher’s lounge before school for a cup of coffee and a chat. He sits with them at lunch. He pops his head into the library at the end of the day (when Dean is there during his planning) with a cheery “see ya tomorrow!” and a wink.

Benny asks them about places to go in town. Which coffee shop has the best cold brew, which one has the best atmosphere for getting work done, which one attracts the least students. Where’s the nearest place to fish, or would it be better to drive farther up the highway. What’s the deal with the weird owner of that bookstore on Main.

In the evenings, when Cas and Dean are stretched out on the couch, Cas with his legs draped over Dean’s lap while he reads, Dean using said legs as a slightly lopsided table to grade on., they talk about it, a little.

“He’s harmless,” Cas says. “And besides,” he folds himself up to sitting and presses a kiss to Dean’s temple. “I love you.”

Dean’s ninth graders may or may not get their essays back a day late after one such evening when the stack of papers he’s working on are unceremoniously dropped on the floor, and Dean hauls Cas up and fully into his lap for a while before they fall asleep curled together on the couch.

Soon enough, Dean even starts to maybe like the guy. A little. Not that they’re friends, or anything, but he doesn’t mind Benny so much, doesn’t mind the three of them being the three of them so much. Sure, he doesn’t love Benny staring at Cas over his mug like he hung the moon, or the gifts he starts bringing (“Made it outta that Metatron guy’s bookstore alive. Have you read this? I think you’d like it,” one day, a hearty loaf of homemade bread the next week), but it’s fine. They get along despite the shameless flirting.

Until all of a sudden, it’s been four and a half months and Miss Kline is due back next week. They’re sitting in the teacher’s lounge before school on a Friday at their usual table. Charlie, the computer skills teacher, Dean’s work wife, and the only person on staff besides Principal Singer who knows the truth, just popped in to show them pictures of the baby, little Jack, with his tuft of blond hair sticking straight up and his chubby cheeks.

“Well,” Benny says, leaning back in his chair. “End of the road.”

“We’ll miss you,” Cas says sincerely, reaching across the table to pat his arm.

“Don’t suppose,” Benny starts, looking right at Cas. “You’d wanna get a drink?”

“Okay,” Dean says because he’s finally had enough of this guy. “Look, dude, he’s taken.”

Benny looks at him and cocks his head like he doesn’t understand.

“A ring, I mean, come on, Cas is wearing a ring. A wedding ring.” Dean knows he’s almost definitely getting too loud because Cas’s other hand squeezes his thigh.

“Dean,” Cas says.

“And another thing -” Dean starts, but then he’s the one who doesn’t understand because Benny’s tipping his head back and laughing, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand.

“Cher,” Benny says, and Dean bristles at the pet name. A pet name, for his husband. The nerve of this guy. “You think I don’t know you two are together?”

Wait.

“You think,” Benny says, and leans forward in his chair, making direct eye contact with Dean. “I was only flirting with Mr. Novak here?”

“Uh,” Dean says, eloquently.

Benny raises an eyebrow, that same molasses grin spreading across his face. And then Cas is laughing, and Benny joins in, and, eventually, after he finishes thinking through the last four and a half months in a different light, so does Dean.

***

The other history teacher, Mildred, retires at the end of the school year. There’s a retirement party in the teacher’s lounge that’s also a welcome back Mr. Lafitte party.

When they come back in August, as far as almost everyone knows, the three of them are just Mr. Winchester, Mr. Novak, and Mr. Lafitte, work friends who really hit it off last spring when Ms. Kline was out. They used to drive separately, but now they carpool. They sometimes eat lunch in the teachers’ lounge with Charlie, but mostly they eat together crowded around the tiny desk in the tiny office at the back of the library. It works out that Benny and Dean have the same planning period, so they normally end up in the library at the end of the day, co-planning an interdisciplinary English and history unit with all sorts of supplementary materials that Cas helps them find.

And in the evenings, when they’re stretch out on the couch, Cas reading with his legs in Dean’s lap, his head against Benny’s shoulder, Dean and Benny grading on the matching lap desks Cas bought them at the beginning of the school year, they’ll catch each other’s eye over Cas’s head and grin, slow and sweet.

#contemplativepancakes #deancasbenny fanfic #destiny fanfic #and now back to our regularly scheduled fluff #i had so much fun writing this :)#also it is an apology for the one from earlier lmao #jealous!dean because he isn't paying enough attention #mine.fic #deancasbenny

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bqstqnbruin · 4 years

Text

Meet the Hughes’

Ok, this was requested over two weeks ago and I have another request that is the same premies with a different boy so it might take me a while to do this.

But hey, as y’all probably know, I’m on track to be a high school chem teacher and even though Pride Month just ended it would be really cool for you to look into charties like GLSEN, which addresses issues surrounding LGBTQ+ students in the K-12 education system.

I hope you like this! Here is the original request! ________________________

“Ok, but what if they don’t like me?” you say, running around the apartment looking for your bag. You know you put it somewhere in the living room so that you could grab it and just leave when Quinn came to pick you up.

“They like Jack and you’re better than him.” He leans back further into the couch cushions, figuring the two of you would be here for a while. He had to admit, watching you run around in that dress of yours was not something he was about to complain about.

“But they have to like him, that’s your brother.” You start to bend down to see if one of your roommates slipped it under the coffee table; they had a habit of taking anything in the room and shoving it down there with the rest of the candles, miscellaneous remotes that you had no idea how to use but wouldn’t get rid of, and other random shit.

“Babe, relax.”

You shoot up and look at him. “Has there ever been a woman in your life who has responded well when you told them to ‘relax?’ And can you please get up and help me find my bag, I don’t want to be late! That’s an awful first impression!”

He gets up, pulling you off the floor and grabbing you into a hug. Out of stubbornness and sheer anxiety you leave your arms by your side. “Point taken.” He pushes his upper body away from you so he can see the pout you have on your face. “But, trust me. I wouldn’t even think of letting you meet them if I didn’t think they would love you more than they love any of the three of us.” You finally pull him back in for a hug. You’ve never been in a serious enough relationship where you had introduced him to your parents or he had introduced you to his. Knowing that they could literally tell him they don’t like you was stressing you out more than anything.

“I just want them to like me.”

“They will love you. But I think you put your bag in the kitchen.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that!” you screech, pulling away from him to go find it.

“Because you look so damn good that I just wanted an excuse to look at you.”

You look up at him, debating if you should be mad or flattered. “You’re lucky I like you or I would have to kill you,” you deadpan, knowing he would burst out laughing like he does. He lets you go to find that your bag was sitting on the kitchen table, not where you remember leaving it, but who cares as long as you found it? “Ok, should we go?” you ask, taking his hand as he leads you out the door.

The entire ride to the restaurant where you were meeting Quinn’s family, he did everything he could to try to calm you down. First, he put on your favorite radio station. When that didn’t work, he let you take control of the aux, which he almost never lets you do because he doesn’t like the nostalgic 2010s teenage girl pop that occupies your playlist. When that didn’t work, he had you find a song you both love, Dream On by Aerosmith, for you to blast and sing poorly and loud until you get to the restaurant. You couldn’t help but laugh as Quinn tried and failed to hit Steven Tyler’s high notes at the end of the song, the veins in his neck popping out as he tried to hit the note but ended up sounding like a screeching cat.

“Feeling better?” he asks, smiling as he pulls into the first parking spot he can find.

“Still nervous, but at least I’m not jittery.”

“I promise, you’ll be fine. Just be yourself,” he reassures you, taking your hand and leading you in. His parents and youngest brother were already at their table, all in town to see Quinn play, Jack playing and traveling throughout the weekend unable to make it. “Hi,” he says, kissing his mom on the cheek, hugging his dad and Luke, “This is Y/N, my girlfriend.”

You smile as his parents get up to greet you, “Hi, it’s so nice to meet you!” you say, trying not to let the nervousness get the best of you as his mom wraps you into a hug. You weren’t ready for it, but it was weirdly calming for you as she gushed about how happy she was that she could finally meet you while his dad stood behind her to just shake your hand.

Everyone sits down, you, Quinn, and Luke on one side with Jim, and Ellen facing you. Your leg starts shaking out of nervousness, Quinn’s hand finding your thigh under the table to try to get it to stop. His parents start talking to Quinn about his season so far, all the nerves melting away as his hand stays where it is. They finally turn the conversation to you as the food arrives, asking you about what you do, your family, all the basic stuff you would ask someone to get to know them.

“Do you have any siblings?” his father asks you between bites of food.

“I have an older brother, but I also grew up surrounded by a lot of cousins on my dad’s side.”

“Sometimes I wish I had a girl,” Ellen says, her eyes fixed on her pasta.

“Wow, thanks, mom,” Luke says, you and Quinn bursting out laughing.

“What she really means is that she wishes you were a girl. You were her last chance,” Quinn says, playfully shoving his brother in the arm.

“You’re only saying that because you’re such a mama’s boy.”

“I’d rather be a mama’s boy than have her wish I was a girl.”

“What’s wrong with being a girl?” you ask. Quinn turns back to you, looking between you and his mom. His eyes are wide open, his face turning bright red. He keeps opening and closing his mouth like a fish trying to figure out what to say while his dad and brother can’t stop laughing at the hole he just dug himself into.

“Go ahead, Q. I wanna hear this too,” Ellen eggs him on.

“Uh, well. I believe there are pros and cons to, uh, either gender,” Quinn stammers. He keeps babbling for a few minutes, trying to find a good enough reason for you not to be mad at him.

“I would just stop while you’re behind. It doesn’t look like you’re going to get ahead,” you say, patting his leg.

His dad can’t stop laughing, “She’s a good one, Quinn.” Quinn looks at you and smiles, taking your hand on the table and kissing you on the cheek as his mother gushes over the two of you, causing both of you to blush.

“Please tell me you have some sort of embarrassing story about him,” Luke begs, practically bouncing in his seat.

“I don’t think he could be any more embarrassed than Jack posting the picture from Easter where Quinn is wearing his Crocs,” his dad says.

“Oh, my god. Those Crocs. When he invites me over I won’t go into his place unless those Crocs are away. I have such bad memories with crocs that I can’t stand them now. But -”

“Wait what happened to you?” Luke interrupts you.

“No, we’re embarrassing Quinn right now, not me.”

Luke’s eyes go wide, his mouth open, “Do you know the story?” he asks Quinn.

“No, this is supposed to embarrass Quinn, not me,” you say again, holding back laughing.

“Dad, how much trouble would I be in if I told this story?” Quinn asks.

“If you lived together, you would be sleeping on the couch tonight,” he shrugs.

“Then this is the only time I’ll be saying that I’m happy we don’t live together,” Quinn says, turning towards his brother, “When she was little, she was running through a parking lot one night and tripped and tore her knee open.”

“Ok no, it’s worse than that. I was with my mom for some meeting she had to go to, and I tripped over a curb that was painted black and unlit. I had to have surgery for my knee!”

“Yes, but. You tripped because you were wearing Crocs.”

“Which is why I hate them. If I had on a better shoe, that never would have happened. But,” you say, Quinn knowing exactly where you’re going, “I still get to embarrass you.”

“Please, no,” he begs, his hand back on your thigh.

“The pasta incident?”

“I already know that I raised you better than whatever it is she’s about to say,” Ellen says, her eyes closed as she shakes her head in premature disappointment.

“So he was over my place for dinner one night when he didn’t have a game. My roommates and I had some friends over so we were all making some food, I was making a pasta dish. I’m in my room, finishing getting ready and I asked him if he could start the water boiling so the food would be ready when everyone got there.

“I’m just finishing up getting dressed and I hear him calling my name, so I go and check on him right?” you tell them, Quinns face getting red with embarrassment, “He goes, ‘should I smell gas when I turn the stove on?’ And I just look at him and I go, ‘It’s a gas stove. If you smell a little gas when you turn it on, that’s fine.’” Luke has already lost it, Quinn still has his hand on your thigh, knowing that he had this coming, while his parents just look at him and try not to laugh.

“But, it gets better. I tell him once the water starts to boil to put the Angel Hair pasta into the pot and then cover it and I can take care of the rest. I finish getting ready and I’m assuming that if he hasn’t called me then that means that everything is going fine, which I should not have. I finally get back into the kitchen and he’s standing there with a try piece of pasta that is on fire,” you finish as his parents finally give in and start laughing. Even though he hates that story, he can’t help but smile at you, you reciprocating. “And what did you say to me when I asked why you did that?”

“I wanted to see if it would catch on fire,” he admits in a small voice, his family erupting in laughter.

“It was something thin and frail in an open flame, babe. What else did you think would happen?” you say, placing your hand on top of his. He leans over and kisses your cheek again. He already knows his parents love you. Anyone who can make them laugh is someone they love, even if it does involve embarrassing their son.

You look at Quinn’s parents who are beaming at the two of you. “She’s probably the only girlfriend of yours that I’ve liked, Q,” Luke says into his food, his parents nodding along in agreement.

“I’ve liked the other ones, but I like her the best,” Quinn says, taking your hand in his and kissing it . You can’t help but blush as all the worry that you had about meeting his family has melted away.

The rest of the dinner went great. It felt like they liked you; any time you tried to make them laugh, they did, they didn’t seem to mind Quinn showing affection towards you, they shared stories about Quinn and Luke growing up that you loved. You just hope they actually liked you. What if they were faking everything? Judging by what you know about Quinn, you didn’t think they actually would, but there’s also a chance they’re really good actors.

At the end of the dinner, you’re back to being a little nervous, but at least you had fun, right? Once you’re in the car, Quinn starts gushing, “Oh, my god, they loved you!”

“You sound a little shocked considering you’re the one you who was saying they would from the start.”

“Well, yeah, but I think they like you more than they like me?” he says as his phone starts buzzing with a text from Luke, “Wanna read that for me?”

‘She’s great, Q. We all love her.’ You can’t help but blush as you read it out loud to him, the smile on his face as big as it can be.

“I told you! They love you. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes imagine #vancouver canucks #vancouver canucks imagines #nhl #nhl imagines #hockey #hockey imagines

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my-brothers-corrupted · 3 years

Text

Chapter Four - Part 7

Dapper wakes up beside Red disoriented and upset and decides to take him somewhere he barely remembers to help him come to terms with their situation.

Tws for hospitalization, bruising, manipulation, and imprisonment.

Part 7 - Aftermath

aether-mae asked: Ok ok hear me out Dok- what if you were to make a deal with Dark, for him to off a certain someone for you. That way he won’t hunt you anymore and you take the opportunity while he’s undertaking the deal to run away

Dok sits stroking Noodle, staring at the ceiling, lying across his bed. He has nothing else to do. Nothing to do but wait and think and wonder. His mouth parts. He looks young and casual in his boxers and t-shirt, his usual semblance of professionalism and normality having faded away with his stress and the torn white coat lying beside his bed.

“Oh, yes, that would work,” he mutters, a gleam coming back to his eyes. “If that Dark thing can kill Anti and we could turn them against him… I mean, Anti’s pretty fucking terrible, so it couldn’t be too hard to switch the side that Dark’s on, yeah? Unless they’re equally terrible… damn. But I think I’d ally with just about anyone at this point if they told me they could kill him. But who would even know how to do that?”

He sighs, shaking his head against his pillows, mussing his hair. He hasn’t eaten. He wants his siblings, all of them. All of the real ones. Safe and sound.

“Doesn’t someone have to know? Was there ever anyone? Did you ever know, back when you knew us, from before? Does Dapper remember anything? I have to find a way to make him stop hurting us…”

Anonymous asked: um. so hey dok! things are... stable for now. trick's alright, he's with anti, who did possess blue. red has a cut on his throat but trick said it wasn't lethal. dapper got hit pretty bad. they're both in the upstairs bathroom, um, sleeping/unconscious? they were just now coherent, though. anti is... not as angry as he could be, which is good at least! we're working on keeping everyone safe. i'm sure it's not been easy. how are you?

The door to the downstairs guest bedroom creaks open. Dok shoots up, staring at the entryway - and there, unharmed, is his twin.

“Trick,” breathes Dok, reaching out for him, and Trick has rarely looked as relieved to go crashing into his arms, halfway tackling him onto the bed.

“Is that all true?” asks Dok, muffled by the closeness. “Red’s not going to die? You’re okay? Dapper, what’s wrong with him? Where’s Blue?”

“Anti was still wearing Blue last I checked,” says Trick quietly. “I think I heard Red talking to Dap, but I’m not sure. He was pretty busted up, Dok. Are you alright?”

“No one touched me, Trick, I’m alright. It’s been days since someone’s laid a hand on me.”

“I was so scared Dark would send people into the house while we were all distracted, but I knew the cameras would tell me if someone tried to take you.”

“Thank you for going up there,” says Dok, wrapping him in his arms. “You’re my hero.”

Trick’s face flushes with pride, scooping Dok close to his body, though fear lingers in the whites of his eyes. He runs his fingers over the ravens on Dok’s chest without even having to look down at them, his other hand in Dok’s hair. Noodle jumps on top of his stomach and makes him yelp - and then laugh, accepting kisses on his nose from his kitten.

Anonymous asked: Yeah, you're both okay. Everyone's okay. You're all alive and okay.

“What are the chances?” murmurs Dok, and it makes Trick laugh. He wants to build him nests out of t-shirts and blankets and buy him fish and chips. He wants to give him coffee at Christmas and deliver babies with him. He wants to make him smile.

“Let’s go get some breakfast,” says Trick. “I bet you haven’t eaten.”

“Okay.”

Anonymous asked: Dok, still got your necklaces?

“And wouldn’t take them off for anything,” he says, pulling them out from beneath his shirt - three little black raven talismans, arranged one two three from his collarbone to the curve of his chest. Trick doesn’t react, heading upstairs without looking back.

“The animal one, the light weapon, and the one that protects my head and my heart,” says Dok gently, plucking at his ravens one by one. “From my friends.”

Anonymous asked: JJ, I know you're beat to hell right now but we're running out of time. Anti's done playing around. Red and Dok are basically out of his control and he sees that, if he starts cutting losses, he's going to kill them. He's gonna hold onto Blue for usefulness, and trick out of favoritism, but JJ, somehow you've fallen in the middle. This damn twin system is throwing everyone's judgment but I think you have a better glimpse of the whole picture. We don't want to cut losses but we need a plan.

“Noooooo,” protests Dapper unhappily, shaking his head. “Nooo, don’t make me decide things, am tiredddd.”

He draws out his signs in long motions and flops down against the side of the tub, silver chain around his throat. At least he’s been able to get out of the bathtub and move around a little with only his neck chained - Red is not so lucky.

“Don’t shake your head so much, buddy,” he coughs, sallow and pale with the coming of the morning, his neck as white as the t-shirt strip wrapped around it. “You might still be concussed.”

“I want off my collar,” protests Dapper, struggling to get up to his feet, only to crash back down to the floor. “I should have been a good boy, I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” whispers Red. “He’s been like this all night. Anti hurts him and it snaps him back into his sugar-sweet, obedient little brother mode. It’s not healthy. Dap, you didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Reddy, lemme go.”

“Just try to lie still.”

“I wanna go home, I wanna go away, I wanna go somewhere nice.”

Red shudders, both of them struggling to take care of each other while they deal with their own shit. Dapper is spacey and injured, wheezing when he breathes, and Red has been over-stimulated and uncomfortable for about nine hours straight. He ran himself a bath for the blood and Haldol and everything on the floor of the filthy tub, but he hates it when his clothes are wet almost as much as he hated sitting in his own blood. He wants to cry again but he’s too tired. He’s just got to stay strong and get through it, like he always does. Tomorrow, this will be over. Tomorrow, this will be over. Tomorrow, this will be over.

“Wanna go home,” repeats Dapper weakly.

Anonymous asked: i know, buddy. i'm sorry, dap, jamie, love, you didn't do anything wrong, you don't deserve this. but i don't think you'll be stuck like this for much longer, okay, bud? i don't think you'll be stuck right there for more than a few more hours, and i think in a week or so things will have been figured out. hold on, okay? you're doing great, and i know it's hard, but just hold on, buddy. we're doing our best to help you guys.

“I do not want to hold on.”

He is grumpy and tired, childish in his fear of Anti, because it’s always been the best way to protect himself.

“I want my bear and my friends and pasta and Jack. I don’t want to hold on. I don’t feel good. Red, come home with me. Can’t we?”

“We’re kind of stuck right now, bud.”

“Not stuck, never stuck. I wanna go. If I can think of something. Take you with me so you’re not so unhappy.”

“I don’t know what you mean, Dippin’ Dots. Want to look for Tylenol or something in the drawers?”

“Anti took everything out of the bathroom in case I try to overdose,” signs Dapper. “I can’t even die to escape him.”

“Hey, we don’t talk like that,” warns Red with a thrill of fear down his back. “Don’t have to die to escape anyone. We’re going to be okay.”

Dapper plays with his clock distantly, running it between his hands.

Red sighs and turns back to you. “Is my twin okay?” he asks. “Please? Can you see him? Is he awake?”

Anonymous asked: Anti if you're going to be wearing Blue, march him to a hospital. You're only making him worse.

Anti is running his hands over the flesh of Blue’s arms, standing in front of the mirror in his bedroom.

“You know,” he says, his voice a fine low rumble. “I’m almost getting used to having skin.”

He strokes his throat, his fingers drifting down his esophagus.

“With the sickness I get otherwise, it’s a lot more comfortable. And with Blue breaking down and always turned against me… I’m starting to wonder.”

He cups his face in his right hand, his left resting on his caved stomach. He listens to Blue’s heartbeat in his skull. Thump, thump, thump. Quiet and tired, but reassuring in its steadiness.

When he was small, he used to sit in the back of Jack’s head, only half-formed, and listen to the beating of his heart. The only rhythm he knew.

“I could maybe just wear him all the time,” he says. “And only leave when I needed to glitch. He scratches a little. Doesn’t fit quite so well as Dapper. But still, I could just… rest.”

He touches Blue’s image in the mirror.

“Change this body til it feels like my own.”

There’s a sly light in his eyes as he turns to you. You know that look by now. He’s trying to get a rise out of you, to wind you up, to piss you off - but he could be serious, too.

Blue shudders faintly, Anti’s eyes gleaming in his head.

Anonymous asked: You really think that'll impress Dark? Okay then.

Anti rumbles out a laugh. “Dark’s always impressed by me. Even when I thought they were a total creep they looked at me like I’m the prettiest little killer in the world, right down to the essence of me. Sometimes people tell you to go kill yourself with enough emphasis that you can tell they got it bad.”

It’s difficult to tell if he’s joking or not.

“But I’m glad you agree Blue’s unimpressive right now too.”

Blue’s body drops like a sack of flour as Anti steps out of him almost literally, backing away from his body and regarding him coolly, popping bubblegum in his mouth as he looks down at him.

“Got something on your face,” he says, nudging Blue with his foot as his eye begins to bleed.

“F - fucker!” gasps Blue, clawing at the hardwood and drawing in huge lungfuls of air. “What did you do to Red?”

“I’ll give your precious twin back to you when he’s learned his lesson. Get out of my sight, you little witch.”

pine-storm-season asked: Hey, Dok and Trick? Anti just unpossessed Blue, he's in Anti's bedroom and might appreciate help leaving the room and stuff.

Trick puts his cereal down right away, turning to head upstairs. Dok makes to follow and Trick shakes his head at him, warning him off. “You’re still not allowed up here.”

Dok can’t say he really minds staying away from his torture room. He waits for his siblings at the bottom of the stairs.

“Hey,” says Anti, pleased when Trick comes up to him.

“Hey, Green. Can I have him?”

Anti rolls his eyes. “If you want him, you can have him, but you don’t have to look after him if you don’t want to.”

“It’s okay, I just want to get him out of your hair,” says Trick nicely. Anti relaxes against his bed, watching Trick pull Blue to his feet. He isn’t looking well.

“Red, Red,” begs Blue.

“Maybe we can have Red and Dapper back too?”

“Don’t worry about them. A little later.”

Anonymous asked: (Dok, while you're alone, Anti hypnotized the ever-living FUCK out of Trick and told him that he has three days to get the necklaces off you or else he'll kill you. I'm really sorry to drop this on you so bluntly but it's really important you know. If you don't want Trick to know you know, you can probably play off your reaction to this news as reacting to Blue looking like shit, Trick's bringing him back now)

Dok’s mouth parts so softly you see his chapped top lip cling to the bottom for a second, revealing his slightly crooked front teeth. He doesn’t answer you - barely looks at you - for a good thirty second. A deep breath passes in and out of him without conscious thought and his eyebrows fall into a dismayed sort of terror.

“Oh, he - he said he’d kill me? Anti did?”

And how stupid it is - how utterly and painfully stupid - that after all the realization he went through, after all the growth, after all of his own hopes to kill his little brother - the thought of Anti killing him still burns like a betrayal.

He never loved him at all.

He spent so long being so good for him - gave his whole life up for Anti, loved him no matter what he did to himself and his siblings - and Anti would cut him open and leave him dead on the grass of the lawn just to punish Trick.

Dok has to go. He gets up and he leaves you there, racing away and back down the stairs.

Anonymous asked: well on one hand dok is totally entitled to that reaction on the other hand FUCK

“What reaction?” asks Trick, and then his twin isn’t at the bottom of the stairs.

“You told him!” he accuses instantly, whirling on you. “You - he shouldn’t have to know that! He shouldn’t have to think about it! Why would you - ugh! I was going to keep him safe, like I always do! He’s got enough going on right now, he - Blue?”

He catches Blue as he begins to slide off Trick’s shoulder, sinking towards the ground. Trick heaves him up in his arms, huffing with the weight of him, and, determined, he carries him to his and Red’s bedroom, setting him down on the bed.

“N-no, I’m okay,” stammers Blue, wiping at his forehead. “I’m okay, Dok.”

“It’s Trick, Blue.”

Blue pants, looking up at him. His foggy eyes are squinted nearly into slits, blinking fast.

“Can you see me?”

Blue closes his eyes and turns away, burying his face in his hands.

Anonymous asked: Can we set the cameras to transmit audio? If not, Trick, can you pass it on to Blue if he can't read these? It's gonna be alright, Blue. Right now, you're downstairs in Red and Trick's room. Trick is in the room with you, and Dok is I think also downstairs? But not in the room. Anti, Red, and Dapper are all upstairs. What's one thing we or someone else can do for you right now to help?

“I want Red!” snaps Blue, turning suddenly on Trick and shoving him away. “Get out! You’re just Anti’s little pet! Leave me alone! What can you or somebody do? Fucking nothing, that’s what! I’m just disgusting and sick, leave me the fuck alone!”

“Hey, Blue, calm down,” Trick snaps right back, real fear in his voice. “You’re panting way too hard, okay? Just try to breathe.”

“Then get out! Get out of my room! I don’t want you here! I don’t want anybody but Red and even he can’t save me so go away!”

Trick’s never really been snarled at by Blue, but he won’t let it get to him while everyone else in the house is in worse trouble than him. He decides his sibling isn’t joking about wanting to be left alone. Trick knows the feeling. He gives you a meaningful look, tilting you towards Blue. Keep an eye on him.

Trick leaves Blue alone. Blue tries to get up to draw the curtains closed for himself, but even this one little thing he can’t do for himself - he crashes to the floor, his legs giving out, and grits his teeth as the blurry image of his pale hands holds his shaking body off the floor.

Not even his hands. Not even his skin. Not even his body. Oh, fuck. His head swims. The world is falling away from him. He sits up, trembling, and falls back against the bed, gripping at his head. Gripping at the head. Not even his skull. Not even his fucking body.

“This isn’t me, this isn’t me, this isn’t me,” he whispers, his voice faltering back into despair. “Where did my body go, holy shit. This isn’t happening. This isn’t Blue.”

Trick finds Dok downstairs, hiding under the bed.

“Dok?”

He’s never seen him under there before.

“Dok, I’m here.”

He crawls down beneath his twin, reaching for him. Touching Dok does not make him look over or speak. He’s just still.

Trick’s heart sinks.

“One of your zone-outs, my brother?” he asks quietly.

Dok stares at nothing, breathing a little too slow, a little too deep. In. Out. In. Out.

“I’m here,” Trick repeats quietly, even though it never seems to be enough. “I’m here.”

Dok lies still. Lets him hold onto him.

He’s scared. No matter what he told himself, it all seemed to come down to this - in three days, he’ll most likely be dead. Yeah, he’s scared. His brain decided to give him a break. He’s far off in his head. Trick doesn’t think he feels anything at all when he’s like this. It’s a defense mechanism.

For a moment, Trick reaches up and touches Dok’s necklaces. The talismans burn his fingers dark red, but he doesn’t draw them away until he has to. He doesn’t think he can get them off with just his hands, but if he got a knife…

He sighs and leans against Dok’s shoulder, closing his eyes. Not right now. He can’t even think about it right now.

“I’m here,” he whispers. “I’m with you.”

They lie beneath the bed, in silence.

“Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!”

“Dap,” begs Red, panting through his discomfort, trying to keep his calm. “You gotta stop rambling, little brother. You are okay. Okay? I’ll get you out of here.”

“No, I want to go home! Now, now, now!”

“Dap, we’re stuck! Come on, please take it easy!”

“No, we’re going now,” says Dapper, determined. He brushes at sweaty curls on his forehead and shivers, scrambling around the bathroom, his silver chain jingling. “We’re going away. Maybe we don’t have to come back. Where, I don’t know. I have to remember something. We can go home. I want to.”

His hand finds his little clock in the corner of the room. Red’s eyes widen.

“Now - hey, hold on a second, Dapper. I don’t think that’s a good idea right now.”

“Where do you want to go?” asks Dapper, barely seeming to hear him, staggering back towards him in the tub. “Who should we go see? I just have to remember… I just have to… we’ll go somewhere it doesn’t hurt so much. I’ll be good then. I promise. He won’t catch us. He can’t smell it, not in here. Where do you want to go, J-happy?”

pine-storm-season asked: I don't think that's a good idea, Dapper. He's already irritable and angry, and the chances of making it worse seem too high. I'm sorry, buddy, I think you have to stay here.

“I don’t want to, I want to go away, my whole body really really hurts.”

He crashes down besides Red and his big brother does his best to catch him as he falls, but this only makes Dapper gasp in pain as hands make contact with his bruised side. For a second, it seems to startle him out of his frantic determination. He collapses against the side of the tub, his head falling against Red’s. Red holds his shoulders and tries to make him breathe in time with him, rubbing his arm.

“It’s okay, Dap. It is. I promise. It will be.”

Dapper shakes his head, low, low, his eyes haunted.

“He really beat me. Like he used to back when I was never good.”

Red just holds onto him, shaking his head. He doesn’t know what to say anymore. He just knows - they have to go. They have to. He has to get his family away from Anti. He hopes Anti will forgive him someday, but he can’t worry about him now. Not when he’s treating them like this.

“I loved that big house in the forest,” signs Dapper quietly. “I only got to live there about a year.”

“Some day I’ll find a place where we can live and you can feel safe again. I promise.” He presses their foreheads gently together, minding the dark bruises across his little brother’s tired face.

“I want to go see Jack,” signs JJ gently, pressed against Red’s head. “I really want to talk to him. I think I need to talk to him. I miss him. He doesn’t remember me in reality. But I still remember him in my own timeline. I want to go see him.”

Maybe Red should protest more. But the truth is he’s filthy and hurt and in a lot of discomfort, something that translates directly into distress and pain for him.

And that one time when Dapper sent him back - when he saw them all again - when they were so healthy and clean and safe and Blue laid beside him and told him he was a good man -

Yes, Red wants that.

So he whispers:

“Are you sure you can make it? Even though you’re hurt?”

“Jackie,” signs Dapper, like it could be the sign for love or brother or family. “I’m sure.”

“And Anti won’t catch us?”

“Not if we’re quick. He didn’t catch me before.”

Dapper has eyes like suns faraway, big and bright. Red has had trouble saying no to him ever since he began to see the little recluse trapped in the attic as his baby brother again.

“Okay,” says Ro. “Let’s go home.”

He touches Dapper’s hand.

Anonymous asked: He, Dok, I doubt you'll be up to reading cameras right now, but however you're feeling is okay. You've done incredible work getting as free as you can from him, but not even magic can undo the effects of months of conditioning, abuse and hypnosis overnight. He's a master manipulator, you've done so well getting this far. Please don't beat yourself up for how you're reacting. Also Trick, this is a crazy stressful time for you guys, and you're doing your best, and we thank you sincerely for that.

“You know what?” says Trick, a little weakly. “We’ve gone through worse times together and come out okay, right, Dok?”

He’s managed to get Dok out from under the bed. They’re curled up on the couch in the basement, playing Lord of the Rings on the big TV. They don’t have internet, but they do have a DVD player.

“Look, Aragorn,” Trick prompts his brother, patting Dok’s arm. “You love this movie, right? When was the last time we saw it?”

Personally, Trick doesn’t really get the appeal, but he likes the monsters and the fighting scenes and things. Dok’s really into it, though, most of the time. But right now he’s just burrito-ed in all the blankets Trick gave him, staring down at the floor with a truly miserable expression on his face.

Trick hovers unhappily, patting his arm.

“It’s okay, buddy,” he says. “They’re right, don’t gotta blame yourself. It’s okay. You’re doing great.”

He curls up against him and keeps him company. Dok’s eyes don’t start to re-focus until they’re on their way to Mordor.

Anonymous asked: Yeah, you both are doing so well handling all this. Dok, however you're feeling is okay. We're going to do our absolute best to protect you guys, yeah? It's okay.

Dok lets out a small, tired sigh at Trick’s side.

“Hey,” whispers Trick. “Are you with me?”

Dok looks wearily over at him, meeting his eyes at last, but he doesn’t say anything.

Trick scoots forward and presses their heads together, lying against him. Dok glances over at you before lying back again. Faintly, his hand moves to rest across Trick’s.

They do not speak about the talismans. They do not speak about the death threat.

“Gimli is my favorite,” says Trick, after the dwarf says something funny, and Dok is grateful that he’s pretending to care.

“Can we watch all three?”

“We can watch all three.”

Dok will be asleep by the end of the first, but Trick doesn’t mind that either. He slides the second DVD in and goes back to his place at his side.

Anonymous asked: Hey Dap, Red, I'm all for you guys doing that, but are you completely sure you're going to be safe? If anything goes wrong, things could go even more south for you guys, and it's already really bad at the moment. Again, not trying to dissuade you, but please please make sure it's going to be safe. Or, as safe as anything in this family can be.

Ro comes to spitting and coughing.

He finds himself on his hands and feet - mid push-up, he thinks? He lets himself go down and then rises again, and, with a burst of pride, he feels taut muscles raise and lower him as though his weight were nothing to them. Another push-up. Another.

Jackie was strong, he realizes, and he blames the flash of jealousy on his old counter-part for being this fucking ridiculously fit, and then notices how strange it is to think of the person he used to be as someone else entirely.

He gets to his feet, glancing around.

Was this his room?

A lava lamp bubbles in the corner. His eyes get fixed on it, watching the colors rise and fall and float. His windows are open and cool air and birdsong float into the room. The walls are a nice light blue, the bed is a Queen with thick black blankets, and everything else - oh, fuck - it’s neat! It’s clean! Everything he owns is packed politely into drawers, a row of nice running shoes tucked in a perfect line in his closet, Spider-man decorations and pictures of his family arranged in clean lines on his dressers and drawers.

This is like Heaven.

For a long time, he sits in the middle of his floor, just breathing. Just watching. Just trying to remember.

A slow breath fades from his chest. He closes his eyes and he opens them again.

He remembers you and looks down, smiling.

“Safe, huh?” he mumbles, feeling the cool breeze through his hair. “What’s the fun in that?”

Anonymous asked: Oh alright, you made it safely!! Your room does look pretty cool, and damn wish I could do push ups like that. Way to flex, hero man. If you're able, would be be able to look for Dapper? You both weren't exactly doing super well when you left, and the magic might've taken a toll on him. (Hope this trip goes well for you!!)

“I’m not even flexing, this is just how I be,” purrs Ro, letting himself revel in the pride of it for a second, standing up and looking down at himself. He feels immortal like this. He looks into the mirror and his face is flushed with health - though he finds one deep scratch across his collarbone that surprises him, bandaged by neat hands, but stinging across his skin.

“Weird… wonder what that’s from? Oh, geez, yeah. Where is Dap?”

cest-mellow asked: it’s good to see you so healthy, red. but where is jameson? is there anyone else in the house with you?

“I better find him,” mumbles Ro, looking around like he expects JJ to crawl out from under the bed. “I don’t know if anyone else is here. I’m assuming this is the same house I was at last time he brought me back, the house in the woods he always talks about.”

He glances out the window. The trees are swaying in the wind.

“I don’t know how to get home without him, so he has to be around here somewhere. Right?”

“Hey, Jackie, are you coming?”

A voice with a familiar accent startles Ro out of his thoughts. He turns towards the door. “Uh… yeah, Dok, sorry, give me a second!”

“I know you’re just visiting, but I have a shift to be on time for, you know.”

“Right, sorry,” says Ro, a little startled. Did Dok just give him sass? Dok? “Oh, fuck, that’s not his real name. Uh… H, something German.”

cest-mellow asked: henrik! his name is henrik. where is he trying to take you? maybe jamie is there too? you should ask tho O_o

“Henrik! Right.”

“What?”

“No, I was just - uh - ”

Henrik pushes open the door to his room, leveling a look at him.

“Oh,” says Ro. “Hey.”

He’s got this clean white coat on and a dorky, cute blue turtleneck. His hair is very short at the sides, soft and dark on the top. He raises his eyebrows at Ro in a way that is both bemused and challenging. It’s not a look Ro is used to.

The Dok he knows is quiet and submissive, scampering back to his nest every time Red used to raise his voice at him, slathered in scarring and always trying and failing to keep his hands clean. But Henrik has this light in his eyes like nothing in the world has ever made him afraid, and his back is held so straight that for a moment Red thinks that he’s taller than him. Maybe he is taller than him, and Ro just never noticed before.

“Come on, dummkopf,” laughs Henrik, nudging his head towards Ro’s shoes. Ro doesn’t think Dok has ever insulted him out loud and to his face, even as a joke. “Let’s get going. Don’t you want to visit Jameson?”

Anonymous asked: Oh wow, guess this is happening, cool! What do you want to do while you're here, Red? (Is there anyway you could get information on Anti or any weaknesses? Or not, goodness knows you guys deserve to just have a nice time without worrying about him)

“One second, Henrik, I’ll be right there.”

“Oh, Henrik,” he says, and it takes Red a couple seconds to realize he’s being teased. “Today I’m Henrik, huh? Well, of course, Jackson, take all the time you need.”

There must be something else he’s supposed to call him, but Ro doesn’t remember what. Henrik grins at him like he’s waiting for him to say something back, but Red’s at a loss. Henrik blinks and steps back.

“Sorry,” says Ro. “Really, I’ll be right there.”

“Um, okay,” says Henrik. “I’ll just be on the porch.”

Henrik leaves and Red smacks himself in the head. “Two seconds in and already I’m acting weirder than usual. Okay, what do I want to do while I’m here? Geez, I gotta leave most of this up to Dap. Sounds like he had somebody he wanted to talk to. But, uh.”

He pauses, cocking his head.

“Well, if we have time, I would like to see Blue and Trick and… well. Blue and Trick. And just - yeah. Well. Probably don’t have time for anybody else, but I really liked last time seeing how healthy everybody looked. Kind of jarring. But right now especially, I really want to see that Blue’s okay.”

Anonymous asked: Ro, Dok's name is Henrik (von Schneeplestein)! If you run into Trick, he's Chase, you know Blue's name, and Dapper's with you, and oh if there's another guy you haven't seen before, he's Jack or Seán, I think JJ might be looking for him. Also, from what I can remember, yeah expect some sass from Henrik haha! These guys are probably going to pretty different to who they are now, but regardless of all that, you're still their brother. Best of luck!

“Holy shit,” gasps Red. “Holy shit!”

Schneeplestein, holy shit!

And it’s funny, first things first, just because that seems like such a ridiculous name on the surface, but Red isn’t even laughing, not for a second, because shit, that was his name, wasn’t it?

“Schneep,” he breathes, and it doesn’t matter how silly of a name it is, it’s a memory alive again on his tongue. “Holy shit… we were friends.”

He doesn’t remember the things they used to do or the way they used to get along, but with that name he knows that they did used to get along, that they did used to love each other in a way he’s long since forgotten, that Schneep was his brother long before Dok and Trick were bound at the hip, that that’s not just his tired, struggling little brother with the haunted eyes - that was Schneep, his Schneep, the doctor who always kicked his ass when he came home hurt, the man who would patch them up while grumbling in German the whole time, the arms he would come back to when he was in pain. That was his brother.

Ro has to sit down for a moment.

“Shit,” he whispers, biting on his nails. He lets his eyes slide shut for a second. “Schneep…”

Because it’s one thing to know that they used to know each other better and that their bodies used to be healthier. But to know that they used to be different people who loved each other, deeply, in different ways than they do now -

Fuck, it’s a lot to have stolen from them. It’s not fair.

It’s not fair that Schneep is dead.

He wants to see the others right now.

hollenka99 asked: Just a reminder for if you bump into them, Trick is Chase and Blue is Marvin. I'm guessing you used to call Henrik by a nickname. Try 'Hen' and see how he responds. After all, you're still shortening people's names now like Dapper being Dap etc. Can't hurt to try. Worse that will probably happen is that Henrik may tease you again.

“Okay, right,” mumbles Ro, getting to his feet. “Yeah, I’ll just… Chase. Right.”

And then he can’t bring himself to say the name Marvin out loud.

He tugs on sneakers - nice sneakers, red and white - and finds thin black gloves near the door, slipping them on despite a warm fall outside his window. He loves having gloves. Jackie is wearing a long, heavy red hoodie and long black and white sweatpants. He feels covered and comfy and - for the first time in a long time - handsome.

But somehow even that realization is painful, and he turns away from the mirror, swiping at a place on his forehead where a scar will one day exist.

He pushes out of his room, glancing down a short hallway towards a homey little living room with a couple worn-down couches. The house is quiet. He wanders through the kitchen and the laundry room, where faint voices waft in through an opened window. Pushing through the back door, he sees a pair of siblings working on a pretty little garden together, helping each other tear up weeds and chattering about nothing.

He’s never seen Blue and Trick spending time together alone.

“Hey,” he calls weakly.

Their heads turn up together, both smiling at him. Chase sticks his tongue out at him. Marvin winks. Ro hears a laugh bubble out of him, shaking his head in amazement.

pine-storm-season asked: Here you are, yeah! This is good, I think, to see them again like they are. You doing alright, Red?

“I feel weird,” he says, with a fluttering laugh. “But after being stuck in that fucking bathtub, I can’t be upset with anything. Hey, guys.”

“Hey, J-man.”

“The king, the legend!”

“Your shift at the hospital?”

“We’ll be there after lunch to give you a break.”

“He likes those Twix bars in the little shop out front if he gets upset.”

“I love a little shop.”

“Look how my mint is coming in!” Chase and Marvin both lean back to give him a view of bunches of herbs growing up from the ground. Ro shakes his head, laughing.

“Why don’t you just grow it with magic?” asks Ro.

“I’m still so tired from the fight,” says Marvin, grinning up at him and pushing long, dark hair from shining eyes. “But even if I wasn’t, it’s good for me to work the earth a little sometimes.”

Marvin buries his fingers in the soft damp earth, breathing in the deep richness of the smell like a worshipper breathes Easter incense. He closes blue eyes. The wind brushes across his soft hair. He smiles back at Ro and Chase follows their gazes.

“You have freckles,” says Ro faintly.

“When I get enough sun,” answers Chase warmly, touching his cheeks.

Anonymous asked: I think Schneep is a common nickname for him, maybe try that? This is probably going to be painful, seeing how much you guys have lost, and remembering things too, but hey, you can still reach something like this again. Healing is possible, and while you're not likely to be the same, you can still all make progress and learn to love each other like that again. While you're here, do your best to make the most of it!! Love you Jackie <3

“Hey.”

A hand descends on Ro’s shoulder and he turns to ice eyes behind thick glasses.

“Are you okay?” asks Schneep, frowning. “How’s the cut?”

Ro touches his chest uncertainly, feeling the faint burn of a clean wound. “Um. Okay.”

“Ready to go to the hospital?”

“Yeah, okay. Is Jack coming?”

Henrik blinks. “He’s still there from last night.”

“Oh, okay. Yeah, let’s go.”

Anonymous asked: So... are you guys going to visit Jack at the hospital? Is he okay?

Ro doesn’t know how to start asking about it without alerting Henrik to the fact that something’s wrong. He trails after his little brother towards the door of the house, next to which hangs a great silver mirror.

Schneep takes his wrist without preamble, making Ro startle, but all his brother does is say “amo, vale,” and then -

Hold on a second.

Ro is too startled to protest when Henrik pulls him through the mirror after him.

Gone is the forest. Red closes his eyes in shock against a strange sensation, feeling the world give an odd lurch around him, and - well, it’s not unlike the time travel, but his body has moved instead of changed. Brick walls rise on both sides, birds chittering around the rooftops. It might have been a dirty alleyway, once, but so many flowers and weeds and grasses have grown up through the broken earth and brick and pavement that it makes a tiny pocket in the back of the alley, hidden from the world. Henrik pushes through a curtain of vines and Ro sees people and cars rushing down the streets around them, feels the burn of city electricity, hears the laughter and the noise and the life of lived-in places. He takes one last look back at an abandoned mirror sitting in a dirty rectangle of painted blue wood and moves after Henrik, counting his breaths to keep them steady.

“What did you say?” he asks shakily, hurrying after Henrik to catch his wrist. “Those words, like a spell?”

Henrik quirks his eyebrows at him. “Marvin’s password? That was all.”

“Henrik, how’s everyone doing?”

“I didn’t get any calls overnight, so I’m hoping that means good. No more breakdowns for JJ, I hope, and if Jack got caught staying past visiting hours and thrown out on his ass, well, he can take care of himself.”

nikkilbook asked: .... Jackie, ask how Jameson is doing.

“How is Jameson? How was his last breakdown?”

That light like sunflame in Henrik’s eyes gives its first flicker of the day, and he turns to give Ro a frog-frown look, his mouth tight.

“Look, I promise I won’t let them put him back in the psych ward. I’ll convince them to let us take him home first, once they know he’s going to be okay without the hospital. It’s not his fault. It’s just Anti in his head… soon, things will clear up, and he won’t be saying things like that anymore.”

“Things like what?”

Henrik rubs his arms together, shaking his head. “You know what! Like that there’s messages hidden in his prescriptions and all the doctors are secretly trying to kill him.”

Red’s head clears a little. “Oh. He’s psychotic?”

“No, I told you!” protests Henrik, his upset rising. “It’s just Anti, it has to be! He’ll clear up again!”

“You should put him on Haldol,” says Ro wisely. “If we’ve learned one thing from all this.”

Henrik gives him a despairing look, stopping in the middle of the path. “Bayard, he’s been through too much already. I don’t… I don’t want him to be any sicker than this. Don’t want him to have to deal with delusions. We just got him, can’t he have a break? I want him to not get hurt anymore.”

Red’s chest twists. Dok never did stop trying to look after him, either.

He looks smaller than Ro again, standing in the middle of the street, playing with a loose button on his sleeve.

“We’ll do everything we can, okay?” he says, stepping forward. He slides an arm around Schneep’s shoulders and finds that it feels easy, natural, normal. Henrik pushes gently back against him. “Even if he has got something going on in his brain, he’s still perfect. Can still be happy. You’ll see. I’ll make sure he gets the chance. I promise.”

And Henrik smiles again, small and correct, yes, correct, right, normal, natural, true. Schneep. Like nothing has ever hurt him. Pride in the cold ice of his eyes, in his clean skin, in his head lifted up.

Was Anti the one who taught them all to cower?

Anonymous asked: Oooh they don't know yet about Jamie's psychosis... Red, can you find a way to discreetly ask how long JJ has been with your brothers? Because it either has been not that much or they've all gotten lucky for a big stretch of time

“He’s been in here… what, how many days is it now?” asks Ro, dodging out of the way of harried nurses and - oh, Schneep just slammed his shoulder into the arm of that doctor with the clipboard.

“Watch where you’re fucking going, Kerchek!” he hollers, narrowing a glare at her.

“Hey, everybody look out, it’s Mr. Genius!” snarks back Kerchek, rolling her eyes.

“Still jealous about that botched piggyback, aren’t you?”

“I’ll show you a botched piggyback, Schneeplestein, you check your back.”

“Just stay away from my brother or else.”

“Holy shit,” laughs Ro. “Stop fighting with the other doctors! What the hell?”

“She deserve it,” huffs Henrik, tearing away. “Hey! You two stop snickering and get back to work!”

A pair of howling medical students all but crumple over their assignments, head bent low together.

“Yes, Doc,” they laugh.

Henrik just rolls his eyes and keeps walking.

“You cause a lot of trouble, Schneeps?”

“Please, everyone knows I run this hellhole. Clarissa, how is my patient?”

“Hi, Jackie. Hi, Schneep,” says a dark-haired nurse, glancing them both over fondly. “He’s doing okay. Just slept most of the night. You’ll have to go check if he’s been giving the morning staff as much trouble as you do.”

“Unlikely,” answers Henrik dryly, pulling Ro away again. The hospital is crowded and he dislikes the smell and feel of it, but everyone is smiling at them as they pass - or glaring at Henrik, who snipes right back. He’s a vicious little man and ever since he started working here, any passive-aggressiveness or false niceties died with a bang rather than a whimper. The hospital’s been better for it - and a lot more entertaining.

“It’s been what, a week and a half?” answers Schneep belatedly. “He was so shaken up to begin with. But a nice young man, isn’t he, once you get past the murder attempts?”

“I’m still trying to wrap my head around the thought of you being a competent professional,” answers Ro cheekily, and a moment later a clipboard slams into his stomach. He groans out a laugh, snatching Henrik by the turtleneck and dragging him under his arm, making him yelp in protest and squirm to get away. They half-chase each other down the hallway towards Jamie’s room, Henrik fending him off with his clipboard, and Ro can’t stop laughing.

Fuck, when Blue reads him poetry with love in the lines of it, this is what he means.

Anonymous asked: Dang, I almost forgot how much confidence Schneep used to have. It's nice in a way to remember that he wasn't as quiet as he is, or well... will be. Bask in this moment, red. Enjoy that long passed time where brotherhood still held any kind of meaning other than simple hierarchy.

Ro looks at his brother as he pushes open the door to a nice little hospital room with lots of light. He doesn’t think he wants to know what sort of things you have to do to a person like Schneep to turn him into the little brother in a tattered coat shaking beneath the bed.

And this is better, he thinks, fleeting and true. Not that he was a different person. He could love him for whoever he is if he only got the chance. But that’s what was better - the chance to be his friend, and not just his brother. Maybe Jackie got swallowed up, too, the same way that Schneep did. Eaten up by that one role, letting it define him.

I’m more than his protector, though. I’m more than his big brother. He’s more than someone I need to look after all the time.

“Hey.” Henrik’s voice, gone gentle, interrupts his thoughts. “How are you feeling, my dear?”

Letting his legs dangle over one side of the blue hospital bed, Jameson tears his eyes away from the sun through the window and meets their eyes.

He looks exactly the same.

Anonymous asked: How's Jamie doing? Is he alright?

JJ reaches out for Ro.

He moves over to him and wraps his arms carefully around him, pressing JJ’s head to his shoulder. “Did you come to not knowing where I was?”

JJ nods, gripping at his sweatshirt. He doesn’t know what would have happened if he and Ro weren’t together when the timer on his clock ran out. He doesn’t travel like this a lot, or not that he remembers.

“Fuck, you really don’t age, do you? Like, truly. You just don’t.”

“Not until it’s my time,” answer JJ’s hands, a needle taped to the back of the right one. “And I haven’t had much of a chance at being twenty-five yet, you see.”

“I never thought this would be possible, but you might be skinnier now than you are… well, now.” Red draws back to look at him, pushing stiff, overgrown hair from his eyes and touches the back of his head, examining him. “I thought you said there used to be a time when Anti was nicer to you.”

“That time hasn’t come yet,” answers JJ wearily. “When he gets me back the second time…”

He notices Henrik standing by the door, staring between the two of them with his eyebrows up, worried and excited and confused all at the same time.

“You seem better,” he breathes, bouncing on his feet just a little. “Are you, um… feeling safer today? You are hugging today? We are not the enemies?”

JJ smiles, reaching out his arms. Henrik sweeps forward, beaming, and hugs him to his chest, pouring reassurances into his ear.

It’s about halfway through that JJ realizes this might have been the first time in his life he ever hugged Henrik. In the original timeline, he doesn’t think that happened until weeks later, when he stopped baring his teeth at anybody who tried to come close. He holds tighter and closes his eyes.

“You’re shaking,” murmurs Henrik. “You need more for the pain?”

JJ sucks in a breath, feeling at his body bit-by-bit. He does hurt, terribly, somewhere beneath the dull relief of whatever drugs he’s on. He’s beat and fragile, one of his ankles wrapped in a cast and an awful haze of weakness making him feel more like a ghost than a man.

And he’s never been medicated for his psychosis in his life. He knew it from the moment he came back to this moment in time. He miscalculated. He can barely think straight, and he’s afraid, and he doesn’t want to leave this room or face anyone.

“Where’s Jack?” asks Henrik, pushing lovingly at his hair. “Didn’t he stay with you?”

“Went to get me a hot chocolate,” signs JJ. “I really wanted one.”

“Oh, good.”

“Can I stay with Jackie a little while, H-healing? I want to talk to him.”

“Alright,” says Henrik, despite a little disappointment in his face. “Well, I need to get started at work for the day. But I’ll go over what the nurses said and if you need anything at all, I’ll come right back. Okay?”

JJ nods. Henrik cups his bruised face, soothing his thumb over a cut by his ear, and then, with one more look at the pair of them, he sweeps away again.

“You’re going to have to talk to Jack for me,” signs JJ immediately.

“What? No way! I don’t even know who that is. Leave me out of it, Jay. Hey, come on… don’t look at me like that.”

Anonymous asked: Jamie, how about you explain Jack real quick, and then we can also help Jackie talk to him if we need to?

“No, I refuse to explain,” says JJ politely.

“Dapper!”

“What! You might remember as you see him… I’d prefer for you to remember what he meant to you than me have to explain…”

Ro sighs, crossing his arms over his chest.

“This is the person Anti hates so much,” he says. “The old master.”

JJ picks quietly at the hospital bedsheets, watching mice crawl up the sides as he hallucinates. “I guess. Well, yes, he is the person Anti hates.”

“The magician who created us.”

“Something like that.”

“How can somebody have that much power?”

“It happens once in a millenium, my brother. And he has a bit of an energy boost.” JJ glances over at you, raising an eyebrow. “But I don’t remember all the details. Nobody understands the full thing. Usually, we let Jack stay out of it. It’s not really his fault, and he has a completely different life that’s not anybody’s business. We fight our battles without him. But… now I need to know.”

“What do you need to know?”

JJ stares up at him. “I… Dok and Blue have been… I just… I need to know more about… Anti.”

“What, Dap?”

“I can’t say it.” JJ ducks his head, squeezing his eyes shut. “Not while I can hear him whispering to me from the television…”

Ro glances at the TV on the wall. It’s off.

Anonymous asked: It's safe, bud. You can say.

“You should know by now,” says JJ begrudgingly, turning away from Ro. “You want to protect us, do it. I want my hot chocolate and to go back to bed.”

“Oh my goodness.”

“Blue has been sneaking around with Dok ever since Peru, Ro. Hasn’t he told you anything he’s been thinking?”

“No!” protests Ro, offended. “Well, I mean - he’s not sneaking around without me! We sneak around together! Geez!”

“Ro, we all know you haven’t picked a side yet. Blue doesn’t - ”

“Picked a side?” Ro scoffs, pacing at the foot of his bed. “What sort of side is there to pick? You’re talking about Anti. I want to get you away from him, I do, but that’s our brother, Dap, that’s our - ”

“You think I don’t know that!” JJ’s hands tear the air apart. “What, you think I’m naive to his love and his hatred, Ro? Look around you! Do you see Anti back home with you? Does he come to visit me in the hospital, bring me hot chocolate, garden with Marvin, play around like a kid with Schneep in the hallway? Ro, Anti can be your brother if you want him to be, but it’s a choice that we make. Or you, at least… I think I’m bound up in his blood forever.”

“You’re talking about hurtingAnti.” Ro holds onto his wrist, trying to make him look at him again. “You’re talking about hurting him, not just running.”

“He just chained us to a bathtub!”

Ro backs away, gnawing on the nail of his thumb. He shrugs, eyes flickering around.

Anonymous asked: I know he's your brother, Red. But can I ask you a question? If you just met him, and he started pushing people around like he does now, is he the kind of person you would want to be friends with?

“Mh, no, he scares me, but it’s not about friends, it’s about brothers.” He shifts on his feet, hugging his arms over his chest. “And Anti’s protected me before too, even if he’s hurt me to match. He gets lost in his temper… I want us to be away from him, and not to go back until he can stop hurting us. If he can. But I don’t want to hurt him…”

He knows the warmth of Anti’s body in a hug. He knows the warmth of his own blood on Anti’s hands. He shivers.

nikkilbook asked: Jackie, what does “brother” mean?

“Well,” says Ro. “Your blood, yeah? You gotta look out for your brothers. And they’re supposed to look after you. And if they don’t, well, I think you gotta go, at least to keep the others safe. But you don’t turn around on your family. He doesn’t… mean to hurt anybody. Just angry. Right? And hey!”

He whirls on JJ again, wagging a finger. “That’s Jack’s fault! Anti always says the old master made us like this.”

“Anti blames him for everything,” answers JJ bitterly, wiping at his face. “Just because Jack fucked up a couple times when he was younger. It’s not Jack’s fault Anti’s always mean and you know that. Or if it is Jack’s fault - honestly, I don’t remember - then Anti can never change, and it would be better to kill him than to let him keep living so ferociously miserable.”

Real emotion breaks Dapper’s face. He turns away, pulling his hair over his eyes.

He hates Anti. Often. Not always. And no matter what he tries to tell himself, he can’t deny that it hurts to see Anti in pain. Lately, he doesn’t even hold him at night. His condition rears thoughts in his head - traitor little brother. Selfish brat. Turning on him. Something touches his ankle and he gasps, jerking it back to his chest, but nothing’s there. Ro reaches out to soothe him, hand held out in front of him like a shield.

nikkilbook asked: I’m not sure Jack “made” you anything. He created you, but that doesn’t mean he micromanaged your every flaw and personality trait. You are you, you’ve always been you, you’ve never not been you. All he did was give you a way to exist physically in this world.

Maybe Anti’s angry a lot. Maybe that’s outside of his control. But hating is a choice. Turning affection into a weapon meant to hurt and to maim is a choice. And crucifying yourself on the hate of someone who would call himself brother has only ever been the role of one man, and you are not Him.

“Jackie,” signs JJ gently. “Jack doesn’t even remember us anymore because of what I did… so we know for a fact he doesn’t control any of us any longer, if he ever did. You are you. And I… I’m me, for better or for worse. And Anti is himself. The person he’s chosen to be. Ro… how long have we loved him, and he still does things like this?”

Ro tears a strip off his nail, eyes haunted. “You remember better than I do.”

“Well, it’s been a long time,” he sighs. “And all of us have done our best. But it’s not our fault, Ro. It’s not… it’s not my fault. I have loved him, I have… it’s not your fault if that’s not enough to change him… it’s not my fault.”

Ro tilts his head, pressing his lips together, but JJ doesn’t turn back to his gaze. He’s curled in on himself, petting his hands through his hair, face very tired, and very guilty.

Anonymous asked: It doesn't equal out like that, Red. You don't owe a n y loyalty to someone who hurts you, even if they also protect you. And what you said about his temper, and if he stops hurting you? Red, he's had the chance to stop, many times. If he hurt you once when he was angry, and then did his best to work on it and not hurt you again, that would be okayish. But he doesnt, Red. He has no excuse for cutting your throat just last night, or for any of the other things he's done. Nothing justifies that.

“Okay, fine,” snaps Ro, pulling at his hair. “I know that Anti sucks ass and I have for a long time, okay? But I’d be scared, Dap! I’d be scared! It’s always safer to stay away from him or just wait his temper out! That’s always been true… and I… he is my brother, even if he’s the fucking worst and I hate his guts half the time!”

Dapper sighs. “Alright, Red, just - ”

“If we try to hurt him he’ll kill us!” shrieks Red. “He’ll do things to us like he did to Blue at the river while I was running away! I got scared and he put Blue in the hospital and he still hasn’t recovered, Dap! I don’t think he ever will! Anti did that to him just because he hated him and wanted something he had. He can get inside our heads, he can control us. I wanted to attack him in Peru, but I had to protect Max.”

“Ro, I know.”

“And then he made me feel like I loved him again! Even when I know the truth, I still feel that way sometimes. I’m not strong enough, Dap, don’t you get that? I can’t keep him out of my head, can’t convince myself to do anything, can’t protect you from him! He does things like chain us to a bathroom and I can’t stop that, JJ, I can’t, I’m sorry. I’m not… I’m not enough! I’m not what anyone needs me to be! He’s going to keep hurting us… but he’ll hurt us less if I can just get you away for a while or keep shielding you the best way I know!”

“No, that’s not true!” cries JJ, slashing at the air. “Stop, Ro, J-Joy, listen to me. Watch. Watch. Ro, don’t you know why I’m in the hospital?”

Ro blinks, glancing around. “You’re hurt. Anti hurt you. He’s always hurt you. Your whole life.”

“But Anti’s not here.”

Ro brightens a little. “I found a way to get you away from him? You’re hidden?”

“No, Ro, better,” says Dapper, clutching at his aching ribs as he leans forward. “You and Blue beat him. Beat him into the earth and took this past version of me away from him. And that was the night you made Anti terrified of the weakness that would force him to scamper away from a fight like an animal.

We are not the ones hiding right now, Ro - he is.”

Anonymous asked: Red, Ro, Jackie, you're strong. And I'm sorry you've been forced to be for so long. But you can get through all of this. You can win. We've been with you for a long time, haven't we? We know you. And we believe you can do this. We're with you, bud, we'll help you. It won't always be the way it is, because you all can fight, and you can win. He wouldn't beat you all down into dust if he didn't think you could be powerful enough to fight back and win.

Ro sits down at the edge of JJ’s bed.

His little brother’s fingers tug gently on his sleeve, waiting for him.

“I love you,” he says, though the words are ashy in his mouth.

JJ nods, stroking at his wrist. He presses an “I love you” into the mattress as he scoots closer.

“I love all of you. I want to keep you safe. I’ve never been able to do that. And I… still don’t think I could hurt Anti.”

“I know I couldn’t,” JJ agrees. “But I need to find out. For Blue and Dok. Cause, Jackie, I think maybe… when it comes down to keeping all of us safe, or staying Anti’s brother - I think maybe, on that day, we’re going to have to hurt Anti.”

“Kill him?” asks Ro weakly.

“I don’t know. I don’t think I could watch that. But if he comes at us again and tries to hurt us like he did today, wouldn’t you rather that we had a way to stop him?”

Ro bites down on his lip.

“If he tried to hurt Blue like he hurt us today, wouldn’t you rather that you had a way to protect him?”

Oh, yes.

Instead of running away.

He would like to stand tall again.

nikkilbook asked: There is no “enough,” Jackie. There’s only you, and that’s all your brothers—your friends—have ever needed. Not the you that Anti has twisted you into thinking you’ve become, but the you that’s real. The you that says “I love you” by telling the truth. That’s who you are. And sometimes, the truth does mean fear. Because Anti is frightening. You deserve the right to be afraid. But fear does not mean cowardice, and it does not mean shame. You are not shameful for being afraid of him. Remember yourself, Astrifer. You’re the boy who loves by telling the truth.

Red - Ro - Jackie - hell, but he can never make one of them fit quite right. He thinks there used to be a truth to him, somewhere, before all the lines went blurry and his hands spilled so much blood in the name of someone who’s always hated him anyway.

JJ touches his palm.

The contact of skin makes Jackie shudder, but he’ll allow it, just for a moment. Beneath JJ’s touch, with a smell like the earth after rain, Jackie’s clean white hands rise with Red’s scars, revealing his present again.

“Anti always mocked you for being a terrible liar,” signs Dapper. “Because when you knew what was true, Jackie - that was when he was afraid of you.”

“What’s true, JJ?” he asks numbly.

JJ puts his head against his shoulder.

“Big brother, you’ve always known.”

Anonymous asked: Yeah, it's gonna be hard, I know. But we believe in you all, and we'll be right here with you to help.

“Okay,” says Jackie softly, an arm around Dapper’s waist, and he knows what it is to be holding him - natural, right, truthful.

“If you want me to, I’ll go talk to Jack.”

Dapper closes his eyes.

He thinks a part of him wanted Jackie to refuse. To refuse to allow Dapper to betray their false brother. But he said yes, and Dapper has.

“Okay.”

He hides in Jackie’s shoulder and tries to ignore everything else in the world but the feeling of his warmth beside him.

Anonymous asked: Where is Jack?

“Getting me hot choccy.”

“Holy shit. Don’t shorten it to hot choccy.”

“What? You don’t want hot choccy too?”

“That’s - hahaha. The worst possible spelling.”

“It’s the best way!”

“Don’t you have a sign for chocolate?”

“Maybe I like saying hot choccy! What!”

“Jay, haha, I - ”

The door pushes open.

Jackie’s on his feet in a second, adrenaline pumping, fists clenched, body taut.

He knows that face. He knows that energy in the air. It makes all his nerves light up like firecrackers.

Anti stares back at him, holding a little cafe cup in both hands.

No…

No, he was wrong. Not Anti.

He just looks like him.

Down to the second and third tattoo.

Down to the way his fingers move.

Down to the way his eyes gleam in the light.

“Hey, man,” comes his tired voice, coughing a little. He steps past Jackie and hands JJ his hot chocolate, setting a coffee down on the table beside him. “You just got here?”

“Yeah,” says Ro quietly. “Yeah, I did.”

“Mmh.”

Jack adjusts the white cap on his head and lays his head down at JJ’s side without another word, letting half-circled eyes slide shut.

Ro doesn’t move.

The air feels like a storm is coming, faraway lightning playing with the ends of his fingers. The air feels like the birds have flown away and the frogs are hiding.

Anonymous asked: Red, you alright?

“Um, yeah,” murmurs Ro, scratching at the back of his head. “Yeah, fine.”

But he’s nervous watching this person lying beside his little brother like nothing is wrong. Like they’ve known each other their whole lives. And Jack isn’t talking either, which means - worse still - Ro might have to start the conversation.

In all honesty, he just wants to take JJ and go back to the house, to have a few minutes of peace before they’re returned to that goddamn bathtub. He glances at his little brother, whose face has gone dead, his affect flat and his body tired. JJ lifts up his little pocketwatch, where only a sliver of gold, counting mercilessly down, continues to disappear.

Anonymous asked: What are you supposed to talk to Jack about, again?

“Anti,” mumbles Ro.

“Hm?” asks Jack, like a cat uncurling.

“Nothing,” replies Ro, backing off a little.

Anti. His master. How to hurt Anti. Anti, who hates Jack more than anything. Ro shouldn’t be doing this. But he told JJ he would. So they would have a way to protect themselves and each other if Anti becomes violent with them again before they can find a way to escape. Ro can’t watch his brothers get hurt anymore. He doesn’t want to be a bystander in their pain. He doesn’t want to be a coward.

He glances down at his outfit, clutching his hands into fists. A thick hood at his back, strong running sneakers, gloves on his fingers.

He wants to be a hero again.

Anonymous asked: Ro, there is a way to help Blue recover. When we were with Dok and the magicians, a magic book told a story of a girl who had her magic stolen and had the same ailments as Blue does now. The girl recovered and got her magic back when the thief was killed and had blood stolen from him and given back to the girl. There's a way to fix it, but something tells me you won't like this very much.

“Whoa, whoa, hold up, no way!” cries Ro in sudden alarm, making Jack sit up on the bed, blinking. “Nobody said killed, okay, what? What the fuck? Is that what JJ meant when he said Dok and Blue were trying to figure out how to hurt Anti? They’re going to - oh, fuck no! I’m not a part of that, okay?”

Terror and panic and guilt burst like a water balloon in his chest and overwhelm Ro with a sudden ferocity, making his eyes water.

“I’m gone, I’m out. This is fucked up. I know he’s cruel but I would never want to killhim. What’s wrong with Dok and Blue?”

“JB,” calls Jack. “What - what is going on?”

Ro locks eyes with him and gets no comfort from the face so much like his own. He turns and races out the door, needing to cry.

“JB!”

Anonymous asked: hey, red, it's okay. deep breaths, love. i know you don't want to kill him, and that's okay. no one says you have to. it might have to happen eventually, but right now we're just figuring out ways to protect them, okay? no one says you have to kill him, it's okay. we're just protecting your other brothers, that's all we plan to do.

“Might have to?” wheezes Ro, sweeping past a crowd of medical staff to race towards the stairwell. “Might have to happen… holy fuck… I didn’t… I’m not… but then, he’s the one who made me a killer, isn’t he?”

He shoves through the door into the stairwell, racing away, logical thought flown from his head. “But then, I do have to protect them, don’t I? I do, I do. I - ”

“Is this because I couldn’t do it?” cries Jack’s voice behind him, the door clicking open again. “Jackie, I tried, I - he was screaming for me! What was I supposed to do? He’s gone, isn’t he? Isn’t that what matters? I’m sorry.”

Ro stops dead, panting. Jack’s footsteps race down the stairs towards him.

Anonymous asked: red, do you think it's safe to tell jack what's happening? you don't have to, it just might help.

Ro lets out a shaky breath, turning to face Jack.

“Can we talk about this? Are you okay?” asks Jack, pushing a strand of long hair from his eyes and tucking it beneath his cap again.

His mouth is curled with guilt, his voice small and sad.

Ro stares at him, trying to make his heart stop pounding. He doesn’t know why he feels afraid of him - though it’s not uncommon for him to feel confused about what it is that he’s feeling or where it’s coming from. Jack, for his part, makes him feel like lightning is about to come down over his head.

“JB, you’re kind of scaring me,” he admits uncertainly, stepping forward to put a hand on Ro’s shoulder. “Are you - ?”

Ro jerks away from his touch, staring at him.

Jack’s eyebrows raise, a flash of something more sinister than confusion entering blue eyes.

No, wait…

One blue, one green.

Jack takes a step back, green eye swirling. “Is it you?” he asks, voice hardening. “Or is it… no, I would know if it were you. JB, what’s going on?”

Ro swallows. You have a good point - he’s going to have to tell Jack something, unless he’s about to become a much better actor than he’s been the whole rest of his life very suddenly.

“It is… it is Jackie,” he says.

“What’s going on?” asks Jack, the light fading from his right eye, leaving it blue again. “Is it just the hospital? Do you want me to walk you home? Where are your headphones?”

Anonymous asked: Do you think you could ask him what Anti's weaknesses are? That might be a place to start, Red.

“What were you taking about?” asks Ro quietly, taking another step away from him. “Just now, when you said you couldn’t do it. When you apologized.”

Jack’s shoulders slump. He waits for a moment to see if Ro will follow up or move again, but when he doesn’t, he lets out a deep, tired sigh and sinks back against the railing of the stairs.

There’s no walls on the outside of the stairwell. White light streams in as the colors of cars and people and the soft dappled green flickers of a few well-loved trees move around them in a silent dance.

“Look, I… I know you would rather I killed him,” says Jack, pushing round glasses up on his nose. “I’m sorry. If you’re mad, I just… didn’t have the guts for it, JB.”

Ro nods, eyes flickering. “How… how did he get weak enough that you could have killed him? What were you going to do?”

Uncertainty in blue eyes.

Jack stands up again.

“Jackie,” he says. “What year is it?”

Anonymous asked: uhhhh my guess is 2017? i don't know if i'm right though?

Ro bites down on his lip. “It’s 2017, Jack.”

Jack blinks at him.

Then he laughs, burying his face in his hands.

“Oh, my buddy,” he says. “Not even close.”

“Come on,” protests Ro, embarrassment making his cheeks flush.

Jack reaches up to shove his shoulder, making Ro start.

“Just tell me next time he sends you back! What’s up, man, you seem spooked as fuckkkk.”

He draws the word out and grins, his posture loose and relaxed again, bumping shoulders with Ro as he comes to stand next to him.

nikkilbook asked: He created you all, Jackie. He knows what JJ can do.

“Guess that’s true,” grumbles Ro, a little off-put.

“Thought you could get away with it,” teases Jack. “I shoulda smelled it even without you acting all weird. Why’d you hide that from me, Mr. Boyman?”

“You’re making fun of me.”

Jack’s joy falls out of his face. “Oh, um. Sorry. No, I was just playing. I’m sorry, I’ll stop. I didn’t… sorry. Um. What’s up?”

Anonymous asked: Can Jack hear (see?) us? What even are we rn?

I’ve said since the beginning that the camera system requires a suspension of disbelief at times when it’s not convenient. I describe the audience as a camera even when it doesn’t always quite make sense. For now, we’ll assume you’re a little camera clipped to Jackie’s hoodie or in his hoodie pocket, but he can still get your messages. Jack can’t see or hear you and doesn’t know you’re there.

Anonymous asked: He wasn't mocking you Ro. Anti may have used your name to belittle and hurt you, but Jack uses it to love you.

Ro flushes and ducks his head, rocking on his heels, uncomfortable. He isn’t the person Jack expects him to be, and he’s awkward on top of that, and he wants to go home.

“What’s wrong?” asks Jack, flustered.

“I just need to ask you some stuff,” mumbles Ro. “I don’t want to pretend we’re friends.”

Jack’s face falls. He doesn’t move for a second, his eyes flickering. He wraps his arms around himself in a hug, sets his mouth, and nods. “Okay… Fine. What’s up?”

Anonymous asked: It might take too long to explain everything, so maybe try saying you're worried about the others, and that it'd help to know Anti's weaknesses just in case you need to use them?

“I need to know about Anti’s weaknesses,” says Ro.

Jack looks up at him, blinking. “You just kicked his ass a week and a half ago in this year. How far in the future are you?”

“Don’t ask questions, please,” he answers quietly.

Jack rubs at his chest and adjusts his cap again. “I wish you’d tell me what’s wrong. I can help, right? Where am I in the future?”

“Not around, okay? I’m kind of… stuck. With him. I need to get out.”

“Well, it was you and Marv and JJ the other day,” says Jack. “I made sure there’s enough between the three of you to hurt him. Are Marv and JJ with you?”

“Kind of? But, come on, what did we even do to him? I don’t remember the fight well - hit my head.”

“Oh, okay.”

“You were apologizing,” says Ro. “What did you mean? When you said I’d rather he was dead?”

Jack shakes his head quickly, clasping his hands together. “JB, seriously, if that’s why you’re mad, I’m sorry, man. I’m really sorry. I can’t stop thinking about it… if I had just got my phone out and filmed it… but I let him live. He was there writhing beneath your hands, calling for me! What was I supposed to do? I know he took JJ but he’s still… he’s still…”

Jack shakes his head again, turning away. He pulls his cap lower over his eyes and hugs himself.

“You and Marv just beat him up as you would normally, I guess? Marv’s fire and you fighting him and JJ there to make sure it all went alright. And then you… you had him pinned down… you were both bleeding but Marvin had him trapped in his vines and he was too hurt to glitch away. He doesn’t have weaknesses, per say - I just made sure the five of you would be enough to defeat him if you could ever pin him down. And you did. I’m glad. I’m sorry I couldn’t finish him off.”

Anonymous asked: I don't know if telling Jack straight up that you're from a time where you're with Anti is a good idea, but perhaps getting to the point fast would be. How much time do you and JJ have left here?

“Oh, shit,” hisses Ro. “You’re right, I should have stayed with JJ. He has the clock.”

“Don’t worry about it,” says Jack quietly. “Here.”

He reaches into the pocket of his jacket and hands Jackie a clock just like JJ’s, with the little sliver of gold still counting down.

“How’d you get this? What the hell?”

“It’s not really a clock,” shrugs Jack. “Just a piece of his power. Our power. He and I can pull it out whenever we need it. But I can’t use it unless he’s nearby.”

“Why?”

Jack grins wryly. “Hey, I handed that power over when I made him. No use to me anyway. But when he’s close enough…”

“You can tap in.”

“Right.”

“Same with Blue?”

“What?”

“Er, Marvin?”

“Yeah, same with Marvin. And Anti, too.”

nikkilbook asked: All five? Are we talking power of friendship here, or do Schneep and Chase have specific contributions? And does it have to be you that films it, or is it just cameras in general? Would it have to be posted on the channel?

“Anybody could hurt Anti,” says Jack. “It’s just not often that people do because he can teleport and shapeshift. And he’s vicious. And smarter than most of his enemies, though of course he acts like a fucking idiot.”

“Yeah,” says Ro. “I’ve seen him hurt before, Jack, but he never dies. I don’t understand why.”

Jack lowers his eyes, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

Anonymous asked: Maybe ask him that if one of you couldn't do it, if he thinks it would still be possible to beat him again? Because Marvin doesn't have his magic right now, so he can't use it against Anti.

“Would we be able to beat him?” asks Ro. “If we couldn’t fight him like we can now?”

“You might be able to beat him,” mumbles Jack. “Anyone could beat him, even strangers to us, but only the five of you… well. Best chance is always getting the drop on him. Otherwise you gotta muster up enough strength and power to kick his ass, and that’s a lot harder.”

Anonymous asked: Okay, that went well. You could probably tell him that in your time you need to fight him, and so his weaknesses would be good to know?

“What do I need to know, Jack?” asks Ro, beginning to get frustrated. “Don’t cut corners or bullshit me. My family’s in trouble.”

Jack steps into his space, unafraid, eyebrows drawn back in worry. “Okay, deep breaths, okay? There’s nothing special to hurting Anti. You said you’ve seen people do it before.”

“Yeah,” says Ro. “In Singapore, there was a magician who fried him with electricity for about fifteen minutes and then set the house on fire, and he still didn’t die. I’ve seen a whole pack of magicians come after him. JJ says he’s seen Anti take all sorts of blows that should be mortal. He always comes out alive.”

Jack’s eyes widen, but he doesn’t question. He grips at Ro’s hoodie as he thinks.

“Listen, JB. I’m a creator, yeah. But creation doesn’t happen alone. There’s ways to focus power. Ways to make things happen. Like how Marvin can only grow plants if there’s already seeds or bits of them deep in the ground or nearby. There’s limits. There’s ways things have to be done.”

“Be direct,” Ro demands.

“You came to be not just because of my power, but because I shared you with other people,” says Jack earnestly, squeezing at the fabric of his jacket. “When I created most of you, you were pretty clearly human, so you can die like humans do, because that’s what people expect you to do. But Anti…”

“Isn’t human.”

“And that’s obvious about him from the start.”

“So he doesn’t die like a human.”

“No.”

“What does he die like?” Ro asks. “What is he then? A demon? A fairy? If you tell me then I’ll know how to kill him.”

“Right,” says Jack softly. “But that’s the thing. I… didn’t have a clear idea in mind when I created him. And I never told the audience jackshit about what he is.”

Ro stares at him, thinking.

“So…”

Jack clears his throat and closes his eyes. “Anti is confined only by the story that we tell. That means two things - you can’t kill him without telling the story, without building up to it, showing it, making it believable. And, two…”

Jack’s eyes open. His mouth is tight and trembling. He looks up at Jackie.

“It has to be one of the other characters in the story who kills him.”

Ro’s stomach drops.

“It has to be one of the five of you.”

Anonymous asked: why doesn't he die?

Ro clutches at Jack’s shoulders.

Tight.

He can’t help it. His brain is spinning. There’s nothing but a feeling he can’t name driving through his head, pounding against his skull, painful.

“You’re saying that Anti is immortal unless one of us kills him? One of his own brothers?”

Jack squirms a little beneath Ro’s tight grip, trying to back away, looking up at him in alarm. “Yeah. JB - ”

“And it has to be in front of a fucking audience? Like a public execution? No.”

“I made you real, but you’re characters at heart,” says Jack, panting a little as Ro squeezes tighter. “Since Anti’s not human, you have to tell the story.”

pine-storm-season asked: Would we count?

“How?” asks Ro weakly. “How can an audience be there?”

“Most of your story happened on my channel, over video.”

“On your channel?”

“Right,” says Jack, like it’s obvious.

“I… okay. So on video? Who has to see it?”

“Well, I don’t know exactly. The point would be… the point would be that the people who care about you, about these characters, about the people that you are - they would have to believe that something had changed.”

“They would have to believe that Anti had died.”

“Yes.”

“They’d have to see Anti die. See his corpse. See - ”

“Jackie, get off!” cries Jack, shoving at his arms as Ro’s grip begins to bruise, but Ro can barely breathe. He feels himself shove Jack back against the railing of the stairs. “Jackie, it’s okay, ow, you don’t have to squeeze me like that! It’s going to be okay, alright? Tell me where I can find you in the future! I’ll remember and I’ll come get you!”

Anonymous asked: Mmmh, is there really a point to avoiding telling Jack you don't remember him? I get that you didn't want to attract too much attention on yourself but at this point he's aware you're not from now and that there's something wrong. It's probably worth a shot, no?

“I don’t even know who you are!” cries Ro, trying to make himself let go of Jack, though he only seems to feel his fingers squeezing tighter. He can feel his heart racing, fast, fast, and he sees his vision going red. “If you think that Anti should die, why don’t you put his fucking costume on and film it yourself?”

“I was going to film it when you beat him!” shouts Jack. “You had him beat, had him hurt, and I had JJ back again, where he belongs! But he’s my creation too, Jackie! He was screaming for me to save him! How was I supposed to film that? Post that? He’s my boy too! I just wanted him to stop hurting JJ! He’s gone now, why can’t we just let him go!”

“He’ll come back!” screams Ro, shaking him, hard. “He’ll come back and spend the rest of his life hurting us!”

“Tell me where you are,” chokes Jack. “JB, I’ll come get you.”

“You left us the fuck alone!”

He lets go of Jack and staggers back, letting his creator crash back against the wall, panting.

“You’re not coming, Jack. You don’t even know me anymore. You never told the story in this timeline. It’s just the people who actually cared about us who remember.”

Jack stares up at him, shaking his head. “Jackie,” he croaks. “Jackie.”

And Red wonders if it’s the same way he said his name when Max came to his door, asking him where he was, and all Jack could do was stare at him and repeat their names like memories from dreams that were never real.

nikkilbook asked: He already tortures and abuses you in front of an audience. We’re the audience, Jackie. We’ve always been the audience. He rigged the cameras this way so he could make us watch, because he thought it was funny. Let us help you. Let us make a real difference.

“No, no, no,” chants Red. “No, no, no. This is awful. I don’t care if he’s terrible sometimes. He’s my little brother. I can’t… we can’t… not like that. Is that what Blue and Dok have been planning? I can’t, I…”

He needs to go home. Needs to see Anti. Needs to get back to JJ. He races towards his little brother, rushing up the stairs, his heart throbbing so hard it hurts in his chest.

“Let’s go,” pants Red, pushing back into JJ’s room. “Let’s go right now.”

JJ looks up from his hot chocolate, wiping at his tired eyes. “The timer’s almost up. Did you find out - ”

“Don’t talk about it, Dapper!” shouts Red, slamming his hand down on the table beside his bed.

nikkilbook asked: Remember yourself, Astrifer. Even if Ro-Red-Jackie don’t feel like they can fit, you can build a new identity, starting now. You can do this, Hero.

Ro covers his face with his hands, trying to breathe.

He needs to calm down. He can’t do this again. He can’t let his emotions control him so much. Make him so despairing, make him so angry. Make him so afraid. Surely Jackie never felt like this. That’s why he was a hero and Ro isn’t.

No, no.

Even saying that is letting the self-hatred win. He has to be stronger than it.

He slumps back into the hard plastic of the hospital chair at JJ’s side. Pulls the hood up over his head and hides in it, eyes closed, hugging his body the same way Jack did.

Okay. He’s okay. He just needs to calm down. He just got a little spooked. He’s okay. If Blue were here, he’d rock him and tell him he loves him and that it’s alright to be scared. If Max were here, he’d sit with him and talk to him until the terror passed and tell him he’s not going anywhere, even if he does get too angry and too loud and too aggressive sometimes.

And JJ sits with him, and doesn’t go anywhere either.

“Shit,” whispers Ro, beginning to uncurl from his ball when five minutes have passed. “I’m sorry for yelling at you… shit. I shouldn’t have grabbed him like that either. I don’t know why I… I’m sorry.”

JJ nods quietly, staring at him.

nikkilbook asked: Out of... curiosity, what would happen if we were able to help JJ get on meds and other supports from the very beginning? Would that do anything to prevent or weaken the psychotic episode that made Jack forget them?

“No, sorry,” says JJ softly, giving you a fleeting smile. “This is the timeline where Jack did create us and does know who we are. Nothing we do here will change the present. But thank you for thinking of me.”

Anonymous asked: You know the truth Ro. Anti is not, and never has been, your brother. You know the truth of brotherhood, and you've been there every time he's broken it.

It’s a truth that both of them are still struggling to grasp. It cuts Ro deep. He’s made Anti his whole life - his protection, his leadership, his service. But he’s known for a long time that his little brother does not love him. He’s told him things like that to his face, but Red still stays, because he wants to believe something different. The thought that all of this time and this life and this love that he’s given to Anti was for nothing is almost worse than if he had been trying to escape this whole time.

I gave myself over to this monster. I loved him. I never should have. We have to get away from him or I will never stop finding excuses for him.

For JJ’s part, what you’re saying is the truth of not just the last year, but of his whole existence. There was never anything but Anti. JJ tried for years to love him, and it was never enough. A part of him - fuck, more than a part of him - wishes desperately that he could still change his brother. Beneath his anger and his hurt, he just wishes that he had ever been enough to make Anti love him back. Maybe he did, time to time, but it never lasts.

Anonymous asked: Red, I know, bud. I know it's a really fucking hard thing to think about. I wouldn't want to kill any of my little siblings either. But killing Anti could save the life of Dok, or Trick, or Blue, or Jamie, it might be that for one of them to live Anti has to die. I'm sorry, Red, I know this is incredibly hard. And it doesn't have to happen now, okay? No one says you have to go back to your time and kill him immediately. But you might have to later, Red, love, and I'm sorry you do.

“Even if I don’t kill him,” whispers Red, whispers Ro, whispers Jackie. “We still have to go. Like I promised you. I’ll get you away from him. Okay?”

“Okay,” answers JJ despondently. “Okay.”

“I really shouldn’t have grabbed Jack. He asked me to stop and I didn’t even listen. If someone did that to me I’d lose it. I’ve got to go tell him I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have much time.”

nikkilbook asked: You are not to blame for choosing to love him. Either of you. He is wrong for choosing to hurt you with it.

“You know what? You’re fucking right. Especially because he’s a goddamn hypnotist. I just… I don’t understand why he would go to all this trouble of making us feel this way for him if he didn’t really want to love us back. We could be a real family… why not just kill us? I - ”

He catches sight of Jack, still sitting in the stairway, right where Red left him.

His face is covered by his hands. His glasses are abandoned on the ground beside him. He doesn’t move.

Red steps down towards him, mouth opening, but no words come out.

He stands above Jack for a long minute. His creator never moves.

Ro sits down beside him and touches his arm.

Jack lets his head fall against Jackie’s shoulder, face still hidden, crying quietly into his hands. And it’s only now that Ro sees just how tired he is - it’s in the curve of his shoulders, the bow of his legs, the subtle shaking of his fingers.

“Have you… been staying up with JJ at the hospital?” asks Ro softly.

“Don’t want to let Anti get him again,” whispers Jack. “Don’t want him to get any of you again. But now I know I can’t protect you. It’s my fault. I should have killed him when he was crying for me. It’s my fault.”

Anonymous asked: Jack? I don't know if you can see this, if so Red maybe tell him, but Jack, it's not your fault for being kind enough to spare him. I'm sorry that he took that and used it against the others, but Jack, you are not to blame for letting him go. You couldn't know what was going to happen. You're not to blame.

“Hey,” says Jackie, taking his hand in his own, drawing it away from his face. Jack looks up at him with Anti’s eyes. It makes Ro’s heart hurt.

“I’m sorry, buddy,” says Jack, eyes red, voice rasping. “I should never have let this happen.”

And Red wants to tell him a million things, everything you’ve told him to say and more. Things like “it’s not your fault” and “it’s not wrong that you loved him, that you didn’t want to kill him, I feel the same way” and “I know I wasn’t very nice, but I hope you know that I have wondered about you for the longest time and that, even though it hurt, I think meeting you just this once fixed something inside of me - ”

But it’s too late.

Time’s up.

“Jack,” says Red, and then he’s gone.

Anonymous asked: Did any time pass at all? Are we back to the bathtub?

You are back in the bathtub.

Ro struggles for a second, spasming against the ropes that bind him before he realizes his situation and surroundings and forces himself to quiet again, shaking with the pain of his aching muscles and the discomfort of being bound and wet.

That’s when he becomes aware of the screaming.

“Hey, wake up!” Anti shrieks, shaking Dapper’s shoulders. “My little brother, my little brother!”

Time has passed.

Dapper is unconscious, bleeding from his nose - he has been for several minutes.

“What’s wrong with you?” Anti tears the collar off his throat and cradles him against his chest. “He was fine! I was watching, he was fine! Dapper! Jamie!”

“Anti,” begins Red shakily.

“Shut up!” screams Anti. “This is your fucking fault for stealing his medicine! Get the fuck out of my sight! Carver, Monochroma!”

Red yelps as the rope around his body combusts into a short burst of flame, singeing his legs and his blue hoodie.

Anonymous asked: Red? Dap? You guys okay?

Red is shaken and hurting, but no worse than he has been the rest of the night. He still desperately, desperately wants to get out, get a shower, put on clean clothes, and just sleep, but now his little brother is weak.

Dapper has gone frigid pale, but then he’s always so white. This nosebleed is worse than most of his casual ones. It’s like a vessel has popped in his nose, sending streams of red dribbling down his mustache and beard and all the way down to his shirt. Ro thinks he sees him twitch for a moment, his eyes flickering, and he wonders if it’s safer for Dapper to be unconscious as long as his eyes are silver anyway. He recovered alright last time, didn’t he? But he’s still so black and blue from the night before, still wheezing and trapped in Anti’s arms…

“I said get out!” shouts Anti, throwing a shampoo bottle hard at Ro’s head. Ro startles and leaps out of the tub, retreating to the doorway of the bathroom.

Anonymous asked: red, can you go? i don't trust anti at all, but he sounds actually worried for dapper and so i think you should leave him be, i don't think dapper will get hurt worse.

“Okay, okay,” he pants, backing out of the room. “Just… keep an eye on him for me.”

Dripping water, he races away and down the stairs, casting one glance back at that room at the top of the hall. The door slams shut and locks.

Anonymous asked: anti, is he okay?

“Well, I don’t know, I don’t know what went wrong!” he cries, sweeping Dapper into his arms and rising like he weighs nothing. “It’s not catatonia, it’s not a concussion, he’s breathing alright… shit, Dap, what were you doing? Oh, fuck’s sake, this is cracked, and not in the good way.”

He’s gripping at Dapper’s side, feeling the shifting of his ribs.

“Goddamn, goddamn… I barely threw him around! He’ll have to rest. I’ll tape it. It will hurt for a long time, but he’s still breathing well enough. Nothing punctured. Come here, my doll, lie down…”

Anonymous asked: do you think this might be his body shutting down from getting hurt, or something?

“It’s because he time-traveled,” mumbles Red from the bottom of the stairs, looking up at locked door. “Going back a day or so - he can do that maybe a half-dozen times without it knocking him out. But going back so far… it’s like in Colombia, when he passed out afterwards. It takes a lot out of him.”

Ro sighs and rubs at his face, stepping into the hallway, looking around. Everything is so quiet. Where are the others?

“Think I’m going to get a shower,” he mumbles. “I’m gross and exhausted.”

Anonymous asked: Anti, do you know how to help him?

Anti grits his teeth in frustration and turns away from you, setting Dapper down in their bed. He sinks into the mattress and the pillows as Anti pulls the blankets over him and strokes his knuckle down the side of his face, his own expression twisting with fear and anger and exhaustion all at once.

“Why do you keep causing me so much trouble?” he growls, though his voice breaks halfway through. He grabs Dapper’s unmoving face between his fingers, trembling with the urge to squeeze until he leaves bruises. He forces himself to let go instead, sinking down onto his knees beside him. “You used to be so good for me. We never fought. I never had to discipline you. Why did this fall apart…”

He growls again and strikes his own face like he’s waking himself up, letting a shiver run up his spine and then, with a soft sigh that ruffles the bedsheets, letting his head sink onto the bed beside his brother, and closing his eyes.

Dapper’s eyes flicker, showing blue and silver. Anti is lying beside him, touching his hand. It hurts Dapper’s heart.

Anonymous asked: Red, you doing alright?

“Um, no, everything sucks and I’m probably going to lose it later and just… I just need a break. From all this. Hey, at least Blue’s not in bed. Worried about him sleeping so much. Don’t tell him I’m upset. I’m just getting a shower, okay? See you guys later. And… thanks for the help.”

He leaves you on his bed and heads into the bathroom, stripping off his clothes for the hamper as he goes.

Anonymous asked: Is Dap still out?

Anti’s eyes slide open as Dapper’s fingers curl around his own.

They look at each other. Dapper’s eyes, barely open, are tired and silent. He’s joyless lately. He’s numb.

“Where’d my little boy go?” mumbles Anti, pressing his forehead against their joined hands.

Dapper closes his eyes again. The wind is brushing against the screen over their window. The trees sway outside. A clock is ticking.

“Look,” says Anti. “I… I didn’t think about how Dark would scare you. Alright? I should have. I just wanted to see them again. I didn’t do it on purpose to make you upset. I didn’t realize you were still upset about them. I could have asked.”

Dapper blinks, opening his eyes to look at him.

“Dap. I’m sorry.”

Dapper’s mouth parts. He glances away, awake now. Anti doesn’t look up from their hands.

“When I said I wanted us to be friends again,” he mumbles, quiet and begrudging. “I meant it.”

Dapper touches his side, his bruised face darkening with unhappiness and hurt - and something deeper, too.

Anonymous asked: Are you more hurt than before, dap, or is it just still hurting?

“I’m more tired than before,” he admits, drawing his hand gently away from Anti’s. “That’s all.”

“Maybe you just needed a second out,” sighs Anti. “But I couldn’t wake you up. Just rest. You’re such a fucking… I just… just… just rest.”

Dapper nods, not sure what to say.

“I didn’t mean for you to get really hurt. I was just mad. Don’t do that again.”

Anonymous asked: Anti, you're calm now? Not gonna hurt anyone at the moment?

“Why don’t you fuck off,” sneers Anti, turning to you, but Dapper takes his hand and pulls his attention back.

“Yeah, we’re done,” mutters Anti, nuzzling back into his hand. “Quiet time, whatever. We’re going to stay up here and watch the trees so Dark doesn’t try to pull shit tonight. Tonight or tomorrow, I expect. We’re just resting.”

Anonymous asked: Don't fall for his same old excuse Jamie. "I was just angry" doesn't cut it this time. Don't forgive him this time, he could have killed you and Ro.

“Look, you shouldn’t have taken that medicine.”

“I just didn’t want to be - ”

“You have to listen to me, Dap! I wasn’t going to let anything actually happen to you.”

Dapper sighs, shaking his head. Anti squirms, frustrated, and gets to his feet. He touches Dapper’s beard and strokes his fingers through the short hairs. Carver looks up at him, his body aching.

“It’s been hard sleeping without you,” says Anti.

Dapper purses his mouth, but he nods. It’s been hard for him too.

Anonymous asked: He used love as a tool of manipulation. The main reason he bothered with love, with the brother and twin hierarchy, was to ensure you never left him and went back to Jack, was to ensure you never stood up for your true family, to solidify the deaths of your sense of self.

Manipulation. Tools. Weaponry. Love.

The slow death of self.

Red stands in the shower and thinks about it, head bowed, the water running down his skin.

But for Dapper - for JJ, for Carver, for Monochroma - there never was any self before Anti. There was never anyone to go back to.

“You have to be nicer to me if you want to be friends,” he protests weakly. “You can’t keep hurting me.”

“I… I’m sorry about the cracked rib too,” says Anti. “Okay? Fuck. I shouldn’t have fucked around with your medication in the first place. It was stupid. I’m sorry. But you can’t just disobey me either. You’re rebellious by nature because we’re cut from the same cloth, Dap. You and me - we’re the same. But at the same time, I’m big brother, and I’m the one who has to be in charge. Sometimes you make things so hard from me… I’ve been trying to make amends and it’s like you threw it back in my face. We’re supposed to be brothers. You know I don’t have anyone without you… not really.”

Dapper’s eyes water. He turns away, closing his eyes.

Anti sighs, a slight whimper in the noise. He puts a hand on Dapper’s side to be mindful of his ribs, and then he crawls into the bed beside him, and - carefully, carefully - wraps himself around his baby brother.

“Why you’re crying?” he whispers, stroking his hair. “It’s okay now. I’m sorry. I am. I’m right here.”

But Dapper doesn’t know why he’s crying. It’s not even because of the pain of every part of his body being coated in bruising. He doesn’t know.

“You have to stop hurting me, Anti, I don’t understand, I try to be good… I love you, I do, I…”

Anti listens to him. Pressed against his body. Rocking him gently against the bed.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

He holds him for a long time.

“You’re tired. Sleep. We’ll rest. I’ll watch. Go to sleep.”

Anti lays his body down against the bed, pushing the pillows beneath him and tucking him in. He strokes Dapper’s beard, staring at him.

“I love you,” he whispers, his eyes closing, like it’s not a truth he can admit while looking him in the face.

Dapper closes his eyes too, hot with tears. The pressure on the bed beside him could just as well be Jack, watching over him in the hospital, but it isn’t.

It never is.

He’s so tired.

“I love you too,” he signs, and JJ lets his head rest against his brother’s.

Anonymous asked: Trick, Blue, Dok, are you three still alright?

You can find Trick and Dok dozing on the couch downstairs. Trick’s been talking to him and trying to ground him for a few hours now, and he’s exhausted from the emotional toil - but he still figures he’s doing better than his twin, who is only just now coming back from his panic.

At least Dok looks cozy and content now. Trick’s wrapped him up in blankets and made him a cup of the coffee he gave him for Christmas. Dok is so enamored with the smell he hasn’t even bothered to drink any yet. He sits breathing in the smell and holding the warm mug in his hands, his knees drawn up to his chest and his eyes sleeping. Trick lies down on the couch beside him. They haven’t seen Blue in a while when Trick hears his footsteps coming down the stairs.

Anonymous asked: Blue? Dok? Where are you guys? Is everything okay?

“Trick,” says Blue softly, padding towards him.

“Hmmmm,” hums Trick, lounging beside his brother. He lets his eyes slide open and finds himself very suddenly wide awake.

“Blue? Why do you have…?”

He trails off, staring up at him.

Blue holds the big kitchen knife limply in his left hand.

“I was thinking about cutting myself,” he says.

His voice is very dull. His face is numb. He barely looks at Trick. Like he’s seeing right through him.

“But then I thought I should tell somebody.”

“Oh,” says Trick. “Good… good job. Telling. Yeah. Can I have that?”

Blue lets him take the knife from him. Trick is stammering too much to speak. Dok takes a long drink of his coffee and lets out a deep, contented sigh, his eyes glazed.

“Dok looks better,” says Blue, turning to head back up the stairs.

“Come here, bud, come here,” gasps Trick, finding his voice. “Hang out with us a while, yeah, love?”

“Okay, Tricky.”

“Okay.”

Anonymous asked: Blue, you ok?

Blue squints at the camera.

“They asked if you’re okay,” Trick manages.

Blue looks at him like he doesn’t understand the question. Trick reaches out and grips his hand tightly, drawing him down to sit with them.

“What’s, uh. Are you… What’s going on?” asks Trick shakily.

“Not much,” answers Blue. “How ‘bout you?”

“We’re… we’re… Blue, what’s going on?”

“Not much, Trick.”

Trick scrapes at his hair, gritting his teeth in his mouth. “Blue, why were you going to cut yourself? Please help me understand?”

Blue stares down at the silver gleam of the blade in his brother’s hand.

“I was just in the bathroom and I thought maybe it would help. But then I thought, I have to tell someone, because that’s not right.”

“I’m glad you told me.”

“Well, yeah, you’re my darling,” says Blue. At last, Trick hears a little emotion in his voice: fondness. But still no fear or distress. He’s just… numb.

“I just wanted to check,” says Blue.

“Check what?”

“That the blood… that the blood is mine,” answers Blue bizarrely, touching Trick’s cheek. “Oh, dear… I’m feeling a little faint. I’m really far away from you. I don’t know where I am.”

“Roll your pants up a little and let me check you didn’t hurt yourself.”

Blue obeys, unperturbed. His thighs and stomach and arms are all untouched. Trick grips at his shoulder, massaging his muscles, and Blue relaxes a little.

“You like to be touched when you’re like this, right?” asks Trick, because he doesn’t know what else to say.

Blue nods, eyes flickering. Trick pushes towards him and wraps him arms tightly, tightly around him, kissing his cheek and pressing their bodies close together. He can feel his own chest shaking. He doesn’t want to get triggered, but he won’t leave Blue alone.

Anonymous asked: Blue, if you're interested to know, Anti just kicked out Red of the bathroom he chained him in. It's, uh, it's good news yeah?

Blue sighs through his nose, humming a little.

“Better a bathroom than flesh to keep us. Still stuck, though. Still stuck. I’m in the walls of this house. Or nowhere at all.”

You hear Trick swear quietly against him, but he just holds him tighter, rubbing circles into his shoulder with his thumb.

“Hey,” somebody whispers, but Dok is really too tired to care who.

“Mpf,” he replies, letting his head lull over to the other side of the couch. This has the chain reaction of stirring Blue from his sleep, but he too only flops back onto the arm of the couch.

The hand that reaches down to brush Dok’s shoulder is warm. He hears a tired little laugh. “Come on, Schneep, wake up.”

“Mmffff…. I’m up, I’m up. Trick?”

“It’s Roser.”

“Where’s Trick?”

“I waited til he went upstairs to cook you guys some dinner. I need to talk to you.”

Dok tries to rouse himself at last, shoving his glasses back up his nose and turning to look at Red. “What’s going on?”

There are eyes crossed out on your cameras. Ro has turned Anti’s sight away. They don’t have long before he notices.

“Dok,” says Red, looking him in the eyes. “Have you really been planning to kill Anti?”

Adrenaline pours into Dok’s blood and he chokes, sitting up quickly on the couch, drawing his knees to his chest. He’s going to flip out. He’s going to scream. He’s going to cry again.

“Red, Red,” he gasps, hiding his face from him. “Don’t punish me.”

“Fuck, Dok, no, no, I won’t, I swear, I just… I just need to know. Schneep, don’t cry…”

“He said he’s going to kill me,” sobs Henrik. “In a couple days. He said he’s done with me, he’ll murder me. I’m scared, I don’t want to die.”

“Okay,” says Red quietly, and it’s shocking enough that he doesn’t freak out himself that it makes Henrik almost stop, looking up at him in surprise, sniffling. Red touches the back of his head. “Okay, come on, then. I want you to go get your shoes on.”

“What?”

“Blue’s not well,” answers Red, drawing away from him. Dok sees a backpack stuffed full on his back, his shoes already on his feet, Blue’s cane in his hand. “And you’re in trouble. Come on. We’re going to the hospital.”

#chapter four

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dcforts · 4 years

Text

[foosball]

They’ve got a foosball table now.

Dean spots it by the side of the road, one leg bent, a little rusty, the glass smashed in and a couple of men’s heads cut off. He goes back to load it on a truck and bring it home and Sam’s bewildered face when he unloads is enough to pay off for the extra journey, even if his “Ta-da” has no effect whatsoever not on him, nor on Jack who clearly has no idea what that thing is.

Dean doesn’t care, he’s too excited.

It’s not like he’s ever been a champion at it, but if someone asks him that’s Sam’s fault: he’s always been too young and not enough competitive and Dean just didn’t have anyone else to play with and never enough time at the arcade to practice.

But now, he’s got one all for himself. He cleans it up and fixes it up the best he can and his excitement grows and grows.

And then it plummets like a sinking ship when he finally gets his chance to play and Jack kicks his ass ten times in a row.

Sam is no help: one, the more Dean gets frustrated the more he laughs at him, and two, he’s now too big to fit on the same side as Dean so he can’t even team up with him. And no, winning with Jack against Sam doesn’t count.

“He’s just a kid,” Sam laughs when Dean voices his suspicious on Jack using his powers to beat him.

“That’s not the point!” he retorts and then retires to his room to grumpily listen to music for the rest of the night.

Hope comes back full force the next afternoon in the shape of two familiar shoulders covered by a trenchcoat. He finds them in the library, sitting at one of the tables. Cas has a laptop open in front of him and he is intent on consulting a news website, one index finger moving slowly on the touch pad.

Dean circles the table to stand in his field of vision and points one finger at him. “Foosball,” he says, serious.

Cas looks up at him and his expression stays neutral. “It’s a table top game.”

“I kn- ,” Dean rolls his eyes. “What do you know about it? How good are you at it?”

“I never played.”

A wicked grin stretches on Dean’s face. He puts both palms on the surface of the table and leans in.

“I propose an alliance. You, me, against the giant and the kid. What you say?”

Now Castiel seems confused and slightly alarmed, not exactly enthusiastic at the idea of being dragged in a situation that would likely make him uncomfortable. He gapes at him like a fish.

Dean keeps going. “I secretly train you to be the best foosball player on Earth and then we crush them”, he says it closing a fist in mid-air.

“I don’t know -”

“Hell, maybe you’re a natural, just like Jack. And I’m not above using a little bit of angelic powers to cheat. I’m pretty sure he’s not playing clean either.”

“Dean -,” he starts, but Dean takes hold of his trechcoat sleeve and tugs at it. “Come on, before they see us.”

Cas is definitely not a natural. Which doesn’t turn out to be such a bad thing after all because that means that Dean gets to win a match for the first time since he got the table.

And it’s a good thing also because, unlike Sam, Cas is competitive, and the fact that he seems unable to properly coordinate to move a few rods and excel at a stupid human game bothers him greatly, so he focuses like his life depends on it until he finally wins a match. After the shot that seals the match, he looks up at Dean, genuinely pleased, “I won,” he states, almost incredulous.

Dean feels giddy. He smiles back at him.

So now with a fourth guy, Dean can finally have his long sought balanced match.

Sam and Jack make fun of him for how badly he wants a rematch, but after they lose two matches in a row against Dean and Cas, a thick silence falls into the room, broken only by rare grunts and the sound of the ball rolling around on the table.

In only a day, Cas’s got incredibly good. He has the great ability to always anticipate Dean’s intentions, and moves his bars to accommodate his strategy. It’s like, in addition to learning the rules of the game, he learned how Dean plays and that makes him the best teammate Dean could ask for.

They only share a satisfied smile the first times they close a match. Dean is too busy shoving it in Sam and Jack’s face, really. But on the third match, they’re head to head and the adrenaline’s pumping and on the last ball, Cas’ goalie blocks Sam’s shot with a swift and clean movement and sends the ball flying back quick like a rocket on the other side of the field and into their goal with a clunk, and Dean is so surprised and amazed that he lets out a shout and raises his fists in the air.

Jack and Sam are groaning and calling for a time out and Cas is smiling at him, his hands still on the rods, content to just stand there and watch him bouncing on his feet like a child. Dean is so euphoric that he shouts, “That was awesome,” and cups Cas’ face in his hands and leans in to smack a loud kiss on his cheek, only Cas startles at the unexpected contact and Dean’s lips end up pressing dangerously close to his mouth.

So if they lose the next two matches it’s entirely his fault.

As soon as he realizes what’s happened, he drops Cas’ face like it’s a hot potato and they look at each other alarmed. That kind of unbalances the whole thing; Dean’s ears keep ringing and Cas keeps messing up too, unable to focus.

They lose the third match in a row and Dean doesn’t even make fun of Sam and Jack when high-five three times with both hands as if they’re five years olds because he’s busy being too aware of the tension on his side of their table.

With three matches each, they decide, whoever wins the next one, is gonna win it all. Dean calls a time out and pushes Cas to the side.

“We need to get it together.”

“Dean -”

“Cas, let’s just focus on the match. No distractions, okay?”

Cas nods reluctantly. “No distractions.”

And so they play, slightly better, but still struggling.

And then there’s one ball left.

Jack and Dean do a little bit of a silly ritual, taking turns blowing on it and then Jack presses it against his chest, closes his eyes and says, “If you make me win, this will be one of the best days of my life.”

“Yeah, alright, just play,” Dean mocks him, but when he looks towards Cas and Sam they both look like they fell for his little act.

So Dean is not exactly surprised when Jack gets a chance for a clear shot and Cas just – doesn’t catch it.

Dean sees clearly the way he pulls his rod ever so slightly to allow the ball to go in. He sees the way he looks immediately up to Jack not to miss his face light up. The way he smiles fully, with crinkles on the corner of his eyes and all, as Jack laughs and cheers with Sam, and then Jack is pointing at him and Dean has to take his eyes off of Cas and deal with the obnoxious truth that they lost. He lost. Again.

But Cas is pleased, and Jack has stars in his eyes and Sam is having fun - although at his expenses - so Dean doesn’t even think about complaining, or calling bullshit, or asking for a rematch.

After dinner he says he’s going to bed but quietly sneaks into Dean Cave once again to watch tv. Cas finds him anyway, even if the lights are off and the volume is set very low.

He comes in like he knew exactly that he was going to be in there. “You alright?” he asks.

Dean says, “Yeah.”

Cas doesn’t occupy the other empty chair, but comes to hover next to Dean’s until he moves his left arm and he can perch on the armrest. It’s an usual position but not an unusual closeness and Dean feels warmed by the familiarity of it.

“Sorry about earlier. I know you wanted to win.”

Dean shrugs. “It’s okay. It was fun, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” Under the light coming from the tv screen, Cas presses his lips together, looking troubled. Dean knows he’s about to confess, so with a small smile he anticipates him: “I know what you did. There was no way you couldn’t have caught that shot.”

Cas lowers his head, showing guilt.

“It’s fine.” he reassures him before he can say anything. “It was nice seeing him happy.”

Cas nods and his leg bumps against Dean’s knee and that prompts a quirk of lips. Dean feels the need add something about earlier.

“And – I guess I-, sometimes I get a little too excited over stupid stuff. Sorry for throwing off your game. T’was an accident.”

Cas is silent for a long moment and Dean can’t guess what he’s thinking from his expression cause he’s very intent on looking at a randomly selected spot on Cas’ dress pants.

Then Cas says, “No need to apologize,” and there is a warm hand on his shoulder and Dean finally looks up. Cas has a smile stretching his lips and Dean can’t believe that just hours before his mouth was so close to them it almost touched them. “Do you want to play now? I can let you win,” he teases.

“Hey!” he protests, but with no real heat in it, “I don’t need you to let me win.”

Cas raises his eyebrows and tilts his head as if he’s sorry for him, “You sure?”

“Oh, that’s how you wanna – okay, smartass, you’re on. But -” Cas is about to stand up and Dean stops him with a hand on his tight. Cas stares at the hand and then up at Dean. “- not now? Let’s play another day.”

“Okay,” says Cas and sounds a little breathless. Dean smiles bravely, hoping he doesn’t look too scared. He doesn’t remove his hand.

“Wanna stay here? Catch a movie?”

Cas nods and as Dean presses play on the remote he shifts on the armrest to get comfortable and moves his hand to entwine his fingers with Dean’s.

A long time passes before either of them says anything. They stay absolutely still, watching straight ahead the one minute fifty-six seconds of opening credits as if it’s the most interesting thing they’ve ever seen.

And only when Dean is sure he’ll be able to hear his voice above his own heartbeat again, and the world didn’t end and nothing terrible happened and Cas didn’t just suddenly change just because their hands touched, he casually calls: “Hey Cas?”

Cas seems to relax as well when he hears his voice. He looks back at him, “Yeah?”

“Jack cheats, right?”

Cas huffs a laugh, “No.”

Dean slides down in his chair and pouts, “Damn it.”

#deancas #deancas ficlet #destiel fanfiction #deancas fanfiction #1.8k #i hope the terminology is right #a bit crack-y?#it's soft and domestic and there's hand holding and sitting on armrests #i really like that image #but i know its not comfortable sorry cas #if we imagine a different armchair then it's a bit better #i guess set somewhere during s13 #even if it can't be #deancas ficlets #my writing

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nlsetsumuri · 4 years

Text

BNHA QUIRKS!!!

I'm organizing my notes for a character-insert story I'm writing and I felt like sharing them here!!! I think people would be interested in what I came up with.

FEEL FREE TO USE ANY OF THESE FOR YOUR OWN CHARACTERS!!

No credit needed. I made Flourish specifically with Shigaraki in mind because I know a lot of people would like to have a quirk complimentary to Decay so that Tomura can touch them safely.

and hey, self-shippers? I love you so much!! you're so awesome, pls send me some self-indulgent stuff sometime soon!!

also! Quirks that are present in my stories will be marked as IN-USE. this just means that what the quirk entails might change in the future.

FLOURISH - EMITTER (IN-USE)

touch-based quirk. complimentary to decay, rendering the user immune to decay. decay users are unaffected by flourish (cannot be healed). touching something with all five fingers heals/reverses any damage

i like the idea of decay and flourish canceling eachother out because they're complimentary quirks. shigaraki can touch you and??? you don't die?? and???? you touched shigaraki but he's not healing????? fun times

BOND - EMITTER(?) (IN-USE)

user has the ability to use a diminished version of someone's quirk if they share a strong bond with said person. Most commonly found in mutated individuals with animalistic features.

This isn't really a stand-alone quirk but more of an ability, but I still decided to include it because it has really specific requirements.

JACK OF ALL TRADES - EMITTER(?)

user can give themselves ANY quirk they desire (meaning that they can copy someone else's quirk, or create a new one entirely) this ability requires a lot of energy and while in-use, will tire the user out until the stop using the quirk or pass out. (think of it like charging your phone. eventually, the battery power will lower and you'll have to plug it in. Or you're one of those people who doesn't plug it in until it dies.) The more powerful the chosen quirk is, the longer the user will be out for. "OP" quirks like take more energy to replicate/use, and consequentially, will require a longer recovery period. Quirks like Overhaul or Decay will put the user into a comatose state. This quirk is literally just All For One Juniour Edition.

so basically like? all for one but fair. also the quirks aren't "saved" or anything, so if u want to use bakugou's explosion quirk, but ur already using tsuyu's froggy quirk to restrain something with your tongue, you'd have to stop using it and let go so you can use explosion instead.

NULLIFY - EMITTER

Touch-Based quirk. Touching someone with all five fingers will render them quirkless for 24 hours. Only works on one person at a time, and cannot be used on the same person twice in a row. Made with Shigaraki in mind.

i made this purely because i want to hold shigaraki's hand without turning into dust. also... imagine having to constantly remind yourself to keep ur pinky/middle finger off of whatever you touch. idk about you, but that's too much work for me. I'd rather just wear those gloves made for drawing tablets.

GRIM REAPER - EMITTER (IN-USE)

Touch-Based quirk. touching someone with all five fingers immediately kills them, allowing the user to harvest their soul (souls manifest as little cheeseball sized lights. they're all different colors, depending on who's soul it was.) souls can be eaten (they taste like gummi bears) whoever eats it has their body revitalized instantaneously, each and every individual cell replaced by a new and perfect copy. souls can only be captured in jars. they act like fireflies.

firefly rave... also this is literally decay but it only works on living things and also u get a snack. and a corpse. although idk i guess a corpse would count as a snack to someone. also if someone doesn't have a soul, they just die. lol

VAMPIRE - MUTANT TYPE

user is easily sunburnt, does not have a reflection, allergic to garlic (regardless of genetics) and cannot be killed unless the heart is damaged. User must drink a certain amount of blood regularly to avoid loss of inhibition (will attack nearest person to feed) and severe malnutrition, known as "bloodthirst."

honestly? this isn't really that beneficial... sunburns, no garlic bread, if you cant get enough blood you suffer and go apeshit... but I mean at least you've got circumstantial immortality.

HIGH ELF - MUTANT TYPE

user has pointed ears and is considerably taller than regular humans. naturally skilled archers, and have a strong connection to nature.

i couldn't help myself, i love DnD.

BETTA - MUTANT

fish subtype. user has fully-functional gills. The user's hair reflects the different kinds of tail types (plakat = short hair, crown tail = dreadlocs/separated strands, rose tail = long and flowy) and are naturally bright colors like red or blue. lethal close-combat skills and impressive speed. natural beauty is also a bonus

im surprised i'm not including this in my character insert story. it's my personal favorite so far. fishy!!!

WEREWOLF - TRANSFORMATION

exactly what it sounds like. full moons trigger the shift. user cannot control the shift. it's basically like periods except instead of bleeding out of your uterus, you turn into a wolf.

... yeah, i don't know what influenced this the most. the fact that i made vampires and felt obligated to also include werewolves, that i'm a furry, or that this gives me an excuse to push alpha beta omega dynamics onto bnha

GHOST RIDER - TRANSFORMATION

based on that one marvel comic series. when transformed, the user takes on the appearence of their skeletal structure engulfed in flames. the user is able to control flames and a vehicle/form of transport of their prefrence. when user establishes eye contact, the opponent will suffer the pain they have caused for others (if any.) cannot transform in direct sunlight.

i am incredibly ashamed to admit that it was only yesterday that i saw the 2007 ghost rider movie for the first time in my life. i fucking loved it. it was funny, freaky as hell, and so fucking awesome. i love ghost rider, i mean, cmon, like? that's literally what being a punk is about in a nutshell. skeletons. fire. leather jackets. metal spikes. chains. motorbikes. anti-heroes. also i really enjoyed the addition of genuine demon names. i got so excited when i recognized the name mephisopholes. the movie also gave me ACAB vibes so bonus points for that. and the little details like how johnny's fire turned blue whenever he focused on roxanne. god fuck it was a great movie i will be thinking about it for the next week or so. TL;DR THE 2007 GHOST RIDER MOVIE IS AWESOME I CANT BELIEVE I NEVER WATCHED IT. i always end up getting more attatched to the manga instead of the anime and this was no different.

P.S. lmk if you wanna know more about my character insert! i post a lot about him on my twitter account and i'm generally more active there anyways!!

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graaid · 3 years

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After nearly 36 years of cold hard denial, Arthur Morgan realizes he likes men. Don't get him wrong, he likes women too, but he's been crushing over Charles since his arrival, and he wants to tell him that he likes him more as just a fellow gang member. But that requires a lot of mental effort.

(Entire fic (don’t worry it’s a oneshot) under the cut, but if you’d like to leave a comment/kudos on AO3 I’d really appreciate it!!)

There wasn’t a cloud in the sky over Clemens Point when the members of the Van Der Linde gang woke up. Lenny and Kieran were, of course, the first ones up and active, ready to prove themselves to the rest of the gang.

The smoke hadn’t even begun rising from the main campfire when Arthur got out of bed. Out of everyone in the gang, he was somehow the most and least punctual; he may show up to a robbery late, but he’ll always wake up at 6:30 am every day, even if he had gone to bed at 3 am that night. Thankfully, this early rising habit gave him the time to get his chores and other tasks done so he could have a little relaxation time later.

“G’morning Arthur, have a good night?” Charles called from his tent as he stretched and started to weave a feather into his long black hair.

“Ughhhh, as good as it’ll ever be,” Arthur groaned, hiding just the tiniest of blushes. Arthur knew he shouldn’t be so gruff with the other members of the gang, but being the no-nonsense uncle of the family had more or less become his thing over the past few years, especially with all the younger folk joining. He had been trying to cut down on the cynicism lately, but sometimes the jokes just write themselves. He figured he should probably leave the joke making to Sean, or at least the assholishness to someone like Micah.

Even though he would usually go straight to chopping wood or transporting bags of grain to Pearson’s wagon, Arthur leaned back on his bed and looked out over the camp. Strauss was nose-first in some ledger book, probably wondering where he could find his next victim to send Arthur after. Javier was tuning his guitar, no doubt readying it for another late night sing-a-long session at the campfire that evening. John was avoiding Abigail like the plague, but Arthur didn’t really blame him; it had always bothered him whenever the two of them yelled at each other. Obviously all couples fight sometimes, but the bickering had gone on so long Arthur wished he could just snap his fingers and have them become a happy couple again, if they had ever been one in the first place.

Arthur’s eyes wandered over to the tiny dock with it’s equally tiny canoe. Hosea had thought it a good idea to purchase the canoe for the camp a week or so ago, and the sight of Sean trying to stand in it and falling over comically into the lake made the purchase definitely worthwhile. It had also allowed the gang to get access to better fishing spots, which made Pearson’s stew almost edible.

That’s what I’ll do , Arthur thought, I’ll go fishing. A fish fry tonight sounds pretty good.

Getting dressed took no time at all, and walking down to the dock, making sure to give Micah an obligatory death stare was even easier. Arthur noticed John sitting on the edge of the dock, staring off into the distance, probably thinking of running off again. Probably.

“Hey John, wanna come fishin’ with me?” Arthur asked, untying the boat’s rope from the dock.

“Arthur, you know I can’t swim, right? If that little dinghy tips even a little we’re both goin’ in.”

“Then don’t tip the boat, dumbass.”

“Oh c’mon, you and I both know that’s not gonna happen.”

“Well if it does,” Arthur continued, stepping into the boat, “Your big brother Arthur will be there to drag your ass to shore.”

John rolled his eyes, sighed dramatically and stepped in the boat, shakily sitting down on one of the planks. “Fine, but if we tip… I’m allowed to look at your journal.”

“If we tip there won’t be much of a journal to look through,” Arthur chuckled, patting his back pants pocket.

Arthur, sitting in the back, pushed off from the dock and started rowing out towards one of the small islands not too far from Clemen’s Point. He’d been affectionately calling it “Bird Island”, on account of all the ducks and ravens that populated it. It was a good spot to think on any other day, but not when bringing John along.

“So Arthur, you did remember to bring bait, right?” John asked, trying not to turn around in the boat too fast, since he really honestly did not know how to swim.

“Nah, bait’s for rich folk, we’re using lures,” Arthur remarked, “Plus, it’s easier to see the shiny, pretty lures than some dumb worm.”

“You sound like a crow, Arthur.”

“Oh shut up,” Arthur replied with a hidden smirk, splashing some water with his paddle in John’s direction.

“Hey no fair, I can’t get you back there!”

“Then jump in the water and get me yourself, coward.”

Arthur didn’t need to see John’s face to know his friend was giving him the dirtiest glare. Thankfully before any revenge could be plotted, they pulled up to Bird Island.

“Alright, here we are, pick a spot and get comfy, we’re gonna be here a while.”

John grumbled in agreement and pulled a downed log to the beach so he could sit on it.

The two of them cast their lines into the water and began the waiting game, slowly reeling their lures back to the beach in hopes of catching some perch or trout.

As Arthur had imagined, John had somehow scared away all the fish. He didn’t know how, but he assumed it was something about his aura, or whatever Hosea called it, that just made it impossible to catch anything.

By the time it was noon, the two of them had only caught about 3 fish in total. Arthur didn’t especially mind though, he enjoyed days when he wasn’t robbing banks and killing innocent folk. He enjoyed his personal self-care days more, but he knew he should take what he can get.

Even from far away on this tiny island, Arthur could see some of the other gang members back on Clemens Point. He could easily make out Sean’s bright red hair as he chased after who must’ve been Mary-Beth around Pearson’s wagon, no doubt on another mission to woo her. Scanning over the edge of camp, he also spotted Charles chopping wood. Normally this wouldn’t be anything out of the ordinary, but Arthur couldn’t take his eyes off of the fact that Charles happened to be chopping wood shirtless. Which he normally never does. Arthur suddenly wished he hadn’t asked John to come fishing. He couldn’t make out anything specific, but he had seen Charles shirtless once and the guy was built like a brick wall. He’d seen him knock a man out in one punch before, and the witnessing of it both scared him and made him feel just a little constricted by his pants.

Arthur must’ve been lost in thought longer than he imagined, because before he knew it, John was kicking sand at him, yelling that he had a fish on his line.

Arthur quickly diverted his attention back to his line, reeling it in and trying not to glance back over at Charles. Eventually he pulled in a 5 pound trout, so at least that came of something.

“Hey Arthur?”

“Hmm?”

“You’ve never been married, right?”

Arthur laughed, “God no, John. This life ain’t really one that allows for much marrying and settling down.”

“But you’ve had… relationships before, right?”

Arthur reeled back his line and sat down next to John on the log. “Is there something you want to talk to me about, Marston?”

John scooted over a bit to give Arthur more room on the log and reeled his line back in as well.

“I… I don’t know Arthur,” John started, “It’s just that, like, I know Abigail and I have been fighting pretty much since we met, it’s just… I thought we would’ve figured it out by now, even just for the sake of Jack, but it just seems to be getting worse every damn day!”

Arthur grimaced. Relationship trouble was never his strong point, but he’d at least try for the sake of his friend.

“Well, you have tried talkin’ it out, right?” Arthur asked.

“Yeah of course,” John continued, “It just never seems to be the right time to talk. We’re just always doing something else, and when we do have free time to talk it just… never feels right, or we just don’t agree.”

“Oh c’mon, you must agree on something.”

“Yeah, that I’m a miserable no-good deadbeat dad.” John chuckled, resting his head in one of his hands.

Arthur sighed and looked out over the water. He knew John didn’t really mean that, even if Abigail’s point had some validity. It’s hard having a relationship in a life like this, you never know if the person you love is going to return that night. It must weigh pretty heavily on Abigail every time John goes out, not knowing whether to tell their son now or later that his daddy might not ever come back.

“Y’know John, I think I have the opposite problem from you,” Arthur observed, “You’ve got someone who cares too much about you, while I’ve got someone who I’m not even sure cares about me.”

John picked his head up from his hands. “You do? You mean that Mary girl?”

Arthur chuckled and looked back at camp where he spotted Charles, unsurprisingly hard at work, “No, this one’s a little different.”

“Is it one of the girls in camp? You know I’d support you but you are a bit… old compared to them.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Close, but no.”

There was an uncomfortable silence. Arthur could tell John was really thinking hard.

“Jesus, Marston, I know I’m dumb but you’re really pushing the bar. It’s Charles, okay? Don’t think too much harder, you’ll break somethin’.”

There was another beat of silence.

“Charles, like the one working with us?” John hesitantly asked.

Arthur’s silence told John all he needed to know.

“Huh,” John began, “I uh… never thought you, y’know, swung that way.”

“Me either,” Arthur admitted, taking a drink from his water flask, “But it took me nearly 36 years to figure it out, so don’t go telling me it’s fake or nothing. I did like all those girls I dated, but I just never really clicked with them, I suppose.”

John chuckled. “Well I guess it makes sense you’re the way you are. You probably rubbed off on me, certainly explains the eyes I’ve been making at Javier lately.”

Arthur almost choked on his water. “Say that again cowboy, you’ve been WHAT at Javier?”

John picked up a stick and began drawing in the sand with it. “Eh, it’s nothing really, Arthur, nothing really at all, it's just that… sometimes when Abigail and I fight I just want to run away with someone new, y’know?”

“Oh no you don’t,” Arthur smirked, wrapping his arm around John’s shoulder, “I ain’t gonna let you run out on us again, you’d find me cold in the ground first!”

John beamed back one of his rare sunshine-y smiles. “Aww, I guess big old tough Arthur Morgan actually does have a heart inside afterall!”

“Don’t push your luck, kid,” Arthur replied, standing up to cast his line out again, “You ever gonna tell Javier how you feel?”

“You gonna ever tell Charles how you feel?”

“You’re a real pain in the ass, you know that?”

“Hey, maybe Charles can give you a little pain in the ass, if you know what I m-”

“Marston you shut your trap before I drown you myself!” Arthur half-jokingly reprimanded, kicking some sand at his adopted brother.

A bit of time passed. Arthur happened to catch 4 more perch, and John devoted the rest of their time on the island to picking some herbs and flowers, knowing that his skills as a fisherman were almost completely useless.

By the time the sun was going down, John returned with a bundle of burdock root and purple flowers.

“Hey uh, Arthur?”

“Hm?”

“Are you ever uh, gonna actually tell Charles or anyone else at camp how you feel?”

Arthur sighed and packed up his fishing pole. “Probably not. It took most of my effort just now to tell you because I knew I could trust you, so you’d imagine what it’d be like to tell someone like Micah, let alone Dutch and Hosea.”

“Aren’t Hosea and Dutch together?” John asked, packing his herbs and flowers into the boat.

“Haha, very funny Marston, they’re just good friends, they’ve been that way for a long time. I would’ve thought you would know that.”

“Well that’s certainly strange, I never knew “good friends” kissed each other on the mouth.”

Arthur stopped what he was doing. “Dutch and Hosea? They’re a… a thing? I thought Dutch and Molly… Hold on a second…”

John wholeheartedly laughed. “Jesus, Arthur, I thought I was slow to get things but I think you just broke the world record for ‘slowest time a man’s taken to figure out his adopted fathers are homosexuals’. All those smart reflexes went to your Deadeye skills instead, huh?”

“Alright now I’m going to drown you in your sleep instead.”

“I’d like to see you try,” John beamed, hopping into the boat, almost tipping it over, “Plus, if you kill me now, who’s gonna help you kick Micah’s ass when you come out to everyone?”

Arthur turned his head away so John couldn’t see his smile. “Let’s just get back to camp first and give these fish to Pearson. I’m almost terrified to see what he does with them.”

Arthur and John rowed back to Clemen’s Point with minimal water damage to their clothing, at least on accident. John, apparently moved by Arthur’s mini-therapy session, made a beeline to Abigail and gave her the bouquet of purple flowers he had picked. Arthur could see her blush all the way from the dock.

“Had fun on your fishing trip, Arthur? I’m surprised you convinced John to come out with you on the water.” Hosea, sitting under a tree, book in hand, called out to Arthur as he made his way to Pearson’s wagon.

“Yeahhhh it was alright; John and I got to talkin’ about some stuff, and we caught some pretty good fish, so expect them in the stew a few weeks from now.”

Hosea grimaced, scrunching his nose. “Can’t wait for Pearson to overcook them too. Oh well, at least we’ll have something to eat.”

Arthur cracked a smile and sat down next to his adopted father under the tree.

“Hey Hosea?”

“Hm?”

“Are you and Dutch, y’know…?” Arthur asked, making a lot of vaguely suggestive motions with his hands, none of which Hosea could gather meant anything literally, but he understood what Arthur was getting at.

“Heh, well I was sure it was going to come out at some point,” Hosea said, closing his book and resting it on his lap, “Yes, Arthur, the two men who have raised you since you were 13 are indeed romantically involved with each other.”

Arthur leaned back on the tree. “Huh, I guess it makes sense. I just… I just wanted to make sure Marston wasn’t lying ta’ me again, y’know?”

Hosea chuckled, brushing his gray hair back into its place. “Oh don’t you worry Arthur, John doesn’t need to lie; and I don’t mean any disrespect, but I’m surprised it took you this long to catch on.”

“Eh, well, I’ve got my mind on other things, I guess.”

“Oh? Do you need to talk about something?”

“Not really,” Arthur began, “I mean… it’s just that…”

Hosea placed a hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “It’s okay son, take your time. I’m not going anywhere.”

Arthur felt a tear well up in his eye. Between his two adopted fathers, Hosea had always been the one that Arthur knew he could come to with his non-outlaw related problems. Maybe it was his calm, almost flamboyant mannerisms, but it made Arthur, and he was sure plenty of the other members of the gang too, feel like you could trust him like a father.

“I… I’ve been thinkin’. About… things…”

“What kind of things?”

“Well, love things, I guess. ‘Cause I mean… I’m getting up in years, and I look at people like John with Abigail and Jack, and you and Dutch, and I just keep wonderin’ when I’m gonna meet someone, y’know?”

“Ah, those kinds of problems,” Hosea mused, scratching his chin, “I remember being your age and thinking the same things. Even when I was with Bessie I was thinking those same things. It’s hard to know when you’ve found ‘The One’, Arthur. I loved Bessie, I really did, and I thought she was my One for a long time, but there’s something about Dutch that I just clicked with all those years ago that I could never get enough of. So now I’m here, with the rest of ya’ trying to make sure you all don’t make the same mistakes I did.”

Arthur nodded his head and started drawing in the dirt with a twig.

“But that’s enough about my sordid old past,” Hosea continued, “Is there something that’s happened that made you think about all this?”

“Well yeah, I told you, I’m getting up there in age and-”

“No, I heard that Arthur, I mean is there someone you’ve met that’s made you feel this way?”

There was a brief moment of silence. “Yes.” Arthur muttered.

“Do I know them?”

“Mhm.”

“It isn’t John, is it? I know you two are pretty close, but I’m not sure how… close.”

“What? God no, Hosea, it’s not like that,” Arthur proclaimed, looking around to make sure no one was listening in, “It’s… Charles. Charles, like the one we work with, the one over there.”

Arthur pointed over to where Charles and some of the rest of the gang were hanging around the main campfire. It had become dusk by now, and the gentle orange light from the fire made Charles’s dark skin look like it was glowing.

“Hm I see,” noted Hosea, “Have you told him how you feel?”

Arthur snickered, “Y’know, John asked me the same question earlier. I didn’t even know you and Dutch were together, so no, I haven’t.”

“Well whenever you want to, I’ll be behind you.”

“Thanks… dad.”

“Oh come now Arthur, you don’t have to get all mushy on me, just be confident and speak from the heart and you’ll have no trouble at all.”

Arthur sighed. “Thanks. I’ll… I’ll try to remember that.”

The rest of the evening passed normally. Pearson served everyone stew for the Nth time in a row and Uncle roused everyone’s spirits with another vaguely sexual song as they sat around the firepit. Charles was too invested in his dinner to see Arthur shooting glances at him. Arthur knew he didn’t have to tell Charles how he felt, but the constant burying of his emotions was beginning to drive him insane.

Arthur began thinking about ways he could confess his feelings. He could always ask Charles to go hunting with him, but it’d probably be a bit awkward to profess your undying love next to the corpse of a recently deceased deer, so Arthur scrapped that one. He could always just invite him to his tent and tell him there, but then Strauss, who’s tent was right next to his, would definitely hear them.

By the time Arthur came to a conclusion, everyone had settled down and were now just enjoying each other’s company around the fire. Even old Uncle, who was usually the first to a song, was silently leaning back on the grass, already half-finished with his second bottle of whiskey. Nearly everyone was there, and the thought of coming out to that many people at once frightened him, but Arthur knew he just needed to get it over and done with, then everything would be better, right?

Arthur set his mostly empty bowl down on the grass, stood up, and cleared his voice.

“Uh, everyone, I have a, uh, announcement to make.”

“You’re pregnant?” Joked Sean from the other side of the fire, causing a few giggles to be heard.

“Haha very funny Sean,” Arthur continued, rubbing his hands together, “But this is important. It’s, uh, something that I’ve been thinkin’ on for some time now, and I felt like I needed to get it off my chest.”

“Arthur, my boy,” came Dutch’s voice from behind as he sat down on the log next to his adopted son, “You aren’t leaving, are you?”

“No! No, god no, it’s not anything like that. I just… I just… I don’t know how to say it.”

“Well then just say it as simply as you can then,” Lenny piped up from next to Sean, “That usually works best for me.”

There was a short pause.

Arthur took a deep breath. “I…well… I like… men.”

The pause after Arthur spoke might’ve only been a few seconds, but to Arthur it felt like years. His eyes kept bouncing around to the other gang members, trying to read their expressions before they spoke. His eyes eventually fell on Charles, who’s expression hadn’t changed since Arthur’s announcement, although it might’ve been his imagination, but he could swear there was the faintest twinkle in his eyes.

After what felt like an eternity, the silence was broken.

“Same.” Came Bill’s hoarse but quiet voice as he took another swig of his drink. There seemed to be a collective sigh from the group.

“Jesus Arthur, I thought you was going to tell us that you were dyin’ or somethang.” Said Sean.

Arthur chuckled timidly. “Nah, you’re gonna have to wait plenty more years before you see me go down.”

“Well that’s good, son,” Came Dutch’s warm voice again, “I’m glad you got that off your chest.”

Arthur chuckled again, this time with a bit more confidence. “I mean,” he continued, “I like women too, I just wanted to say this ‘cause I didn’t want y’all to make a big fuss if you ever see me bein’ sweet on another man, y’know?”

There were lighthearted chuckles around the fire. It was pretty obvious that this whole situation was really awkward for everyone involved, but Arthur could tell that they were all at least trying to be supportive, so he sat back down and took a few more deep breaths.

Some time passed and most of the people around the fire had left to go to bed. Arthur had been feeling a lot more relaxed, now that his big secret was out, but at the same time he knew that once Micah heard about it there’d be a whole new line of harassment coming Arthur’s way. Arthur hoped that maybe, just maybe, if Micah was being an asshole to him about this issue now, that Dutch may finally come to his senses and kick the bastard out of the gang. But getting Dutch to go back on his word was like trying to tell a bird not to fly, so Arthur didn’t get his hopes up too much.

Soon enough it was nearly 2 am, and everyone figured that they may as well go to bed. As Arthur was settling down, he heard Dutch’s voice half-whisper from his tent.

“So uh, Arthur, about what you announced at the fire tonight…”

“Yeah, Dutch?”

“You mentioned bein’ sweet on a man. You found someone?”

Arthur felt his cheeks heat up fast and consciously moved his head so Dutch couldn’t see.

“No. I was just, uh, sayin’... like in the future, y’know?”

Arthur heard Dutch chuckle to himself. “Y’know Arthur, considering all the time you spend with Hosea I would’ve thought you’d be better at lying. I won’t press it though; take your time, I certainly took mine.”

Arthur heard Dutch’s tent close and breathed a sigh of relief. Coming out to everyone about his attraction to men was already a lot, coming out about which specific man he liked was just a little too much for one evening.

That night Arthur dreamed that he was looking down on three houses facing each other in a wide, open field of grass and lavender. Off to the side of the houses was a field of plants and other herbs and a small wooden chicken coop. There was a big lake not too far away with a dock and a large fishing boat. It reminded him of the area near Big Valley. Sitting on the porch of one of the houses was Dutch and Hosea in twin rocking chairs, Dutch just basking in the sun and Hosea nose deep in some book. Even from Arthur’s far away point of view, he could see a glass of something cold in Dutch’s hand. It was nice to see his fathers relaxing as opposed to what they usually have to deal with.

Sitting on the porch of the second house was John and Abigail. Abigail seemed to be showing John how to sew, who must’ve been doing a spectacularly bad job beforehand. Jack was there too; he was chasing some big golden dog around the field, throwing a big stick for the pet to catch and bring back. All three of them were smiling and laughing at some unheard joke. Arthur felt happy for them, and he wished he could be like them. Maybe someday.

Arthur looked to the porch of the third house and saw no one there. He came closer, and to his surprise, there was a tiny carving of a deer standing at the top of the steps. Next to it was a same sized carving of a wolf. Arthur felt a strange pull to the carving of the deer and he reached down to pick it up. As he did so, he saw a hand out of the corner of his eye pick up the wolf carving. As he stood back up with the deer in his hands, he saw that it was Charles who had picked up the wooden wolf. The two men were standing mere inches apart, eyes locked on each other. Arthur so desperately wanted to kiss Charles, even if this one was just a figment of an overactive and horny imagination. But instead of a kiss, Charles took Arthur’s free hand, led him up the steps of the house to the porch, and sat him down on a large wooden chair next to his own. Neither Charles nor Arthur spoke a word to each other, but the feeling of Charles’s large, warm hand on Arthur’s own as they sat and looked out over the lake together as the cool air wafted past them made Arthur feel an emotion he hadn’t felt in a long time: contentedness. The feeling was so comforting he even forgot that this was all a dreamed-up fantasy. Arthur wished he could skip having to tell Charles that he liked him and just go straight ahead to this perfect moment. But Arthur knew that he’d just have to get it over with, like with his coming out. But thankfully now, with the thought of (just) about everyone behind him, he knew he could do it.

#red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption #rdr2 #rdr1 #charthur #vandermatthews #arthur morgan #arthur rdr2 #charles smith #lgbt #graaidart #but writing this time #writing #hosea matthews #Dutch Van Der Linde #fanfiction #fanfic #trans #transgender

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