#i have a lot of old OW drawings on my old computer but i think this is the only one im gonna do

[the-deadlock-south]

it took me six years to finally ‘finish’ this

original 'sketch’ under the cut (oct. 2, 2016)

[tekbro]

2023 is about to end

man, for some reason time flies really fast.

This year is not really a productive year for me, though there are some artwork that I'm happy to finish for even if they are just sketches or arts that took long to make. Though, to be honest its been an interesting year as an artist that I have discovered new stuff to make art of, specifically kitty artworks XD, though im not sure if its a bad thing as I have not done any proper pony artwork lately since most follower here are on MLP community, so I hope you dont mind... just being cat stuff, y'know?

I do have more art queues, whether they are still on sketch or idea stages, one thing to look forward to is possible more kitty OCs, especially to that one been sitting on idea stage way before Kris catsona design, and I have lots of owed artworks so I might going to start on that really soon so for those who think I owe them artwork, I have not forgotten about you yet! (or let me know if you think I might have forgotten XD)

This coming year, there might be stuffs that will affect my time to draw, possibly moving to a new place without my computer in a long term, so if I do still be drawing time to time, I'll be drawing on papers. That is only IF that happens, though the chance is not low.

Other than that, its been nice hanging with you all this year, from new to old faces on tumblr, here comes for 2024! Happy new year!

[anonymouspuzzler]

hey, it's a couple comics with the new blorbos!! I've been trying to make little one-off comics to practice drawing 'em, plus test out writing and characterization and such. it's been a lot of fun and I have more I want to do soon..!!!

bonus, a little one that, unfortunately for us all, really does sum up the dynamics:

(detailed image descriptions slash transcripts under the readmore!)

COMIC 1: BUCK MAKES COFFEE Panel 1 shows Buck (a middle-aged, barrel-chested white man with a bushy reddish mustache and two tufts of hair on an otherwise-bald square head), wearing his sleepwear (an off-white t-shirt that exposes his stomach, and forest green pajama pants), standing in a kitchen with orange wallpaper, staring at a 60's-style coffee-maker on top of a teal counter. He has an expression like he's just woken up and is reaching back to scratch his ass. Buck (thinking): ...hm. Wonder if Dynamo likes coffee...?

Panel 2 cuts in closer on Buck, who is looking thoughtful and reaching up with his other hand to scratch his mustache. Buck (thinking): Guess I could ask once he's awake...? But I dunno if he should even have any while he's still busted up-- Davey (off-screen): Oh!! Hey, good! You are still here!

Panel 3 cuts to Davey (a middle-aged, lanky Black man with long curly brown hair, a thin mustache, a diagonal scar from the top-left to bottom-right of his face, and right arm amputated at the shoulder) walking in a doorway. He is wearing blue boxer shorts and still has the amputated stump of his arm and some of his chest wrapped in bandages. There are also band-aids on his torso, elbow and ring finger. He is pointing up at the scar on his face, smiling and winking, with shoujo-style sparkles all around him. Davey: You were gone when I woke up, so I thought maybe you went out or something. Anyway, I'm feeling way better!! Got up and walked around without any vertigo, even! And look how well the stitches you did are healing!!

Panel 4 cuts back to Buck, who has turned slightly to look at Davey. His eyes are wide and he is blushing furiously, looking flustered. Buck (thinking, each sentence in a scattered thought bubble across the panel): OH NO HE'S HOT. okay calm down play it cool. say something clever already. BE NORMAL. quit staring at him oh my GOD. you have your whole rivals thing to maintain say something snarky. or just offer him coffee I don't know you gotta say SOMETHING

Panel 5 shows Davey from behind, looking at Buck with a mildly confused smile. Buck, still visibly blushing and flustered, leans back against the counter with one arm, the other on his hip, trying and failing to look casual. Davey: ...uh. Can I help with anything-- Buck (speech bubble overlapping Davey's and breaking out of frame slightly) DO YOU COFFEE

Panel 6 (the last panel) cuts to the other side as Buck, looking mortified, hunches over the counter facing away from Davey. Behind him, Davey stands with his arm stiff at his side, visibly holding back laughter and beginning to blush furiously. Buck (thinking, represented by faded words behind him, cut off in sections by Buck, the coffee maker and/or the edge of the frame): OH GOD O[cut off] NO WHAT TH[cut off]L IS WRON[cut off]TH YOU HE'[cut off]NG TO THINK YOU'RE A TOTAL ASOCIAL FREAK LIKE GOD DAMN BUCK [cut off] IS YO[cut off]FU[cut off] TALKIN[cut off] PEOPL[cut off]OW DO[cut off] SCREW [cut off]P THIS [cut off]ADLY Davey (thinking): HAHA OH NO An arrow pointing at Davey: instantly in love

COMIC 2: THE COMPUTER IS BROKEN Panel 1 shows a concerned Davey (hair in a ponytail and wearing a red leather helmet with built-in orange-lensed round goggles over his eyes, a light-blue pair of overalls, a brown leather glove on his left hand, and a prosthetic right arm made of various kitchen appliances and car parts) holding an old beige laptop that is emitting dark clouds of smoke. Behind him, looking on in concern, is Buck (wearing goggles on top of his head, a forest-green turtleneck sweater, brown gloves, and khaki pants), and Minerva AKA Minnie, a prepubescent white girl with freckles and red hair in giant twin braids. Minnie is wearing a white school uniform shirt with golden-yellow stripes on the sleeves, a light yellow sweater tied around her shoulders, and beige fingerless gloves, with her nails painted black. All three of them are totally silent, with a speech bubble with three ellipses coming from Davey.

Panel 2 cuts closer to Buck, on the left, glaring incredulously down at Minnie, who is shouting back indignantly and throwing her hands in the air. In the background, Davey is cradling the still-smoking laptop as if trying to reassure it. Buck: What did you DO? Minnie: NOTHING!! It's not my fault your ancient laptop barely works! Davey (in a tiny speech bubble as if under his breath): She doesn't mean it, baby.

Panel 3 shows Buck leaning over with one hand on his hip, the other shoving away a furious-looking Minnie by the top of her head. He is looking with mild concern over at Davey, who is clutching the laptop protectively to his chest, grimacing. Buck: Anyway... What's the diagnosis? Need me to steal a newer model? Davey: And deal with a planned-obsolescence brick of pure bloatware? Absolutely not. Trust me, I'll replace any parts that got fried and she'll be better than new.

Panel 4 shows Davey sitting down at a table, placing the laptop down. Minnie launches herself into a seat on the left side, stretching her arms out across the table, with a mischievously delighted grin. Minnie: Wait-- so you can swap out any parts? Could you add, like - a missile launcher code? Or hacking software? Or an infinite gil generator?

Panel 5 shows Davey turning to look directly at Minnie, who looks back with a neutral expression. Panel 6 then shows Davey leaning down towards her with a wide, knowing grin, while Minnie, grimacing, looks away guiltily. Davey: Minnie, did you brick the laptop playing the critically acclaimed MMORPG Final Fantasy XIV, [the rest of the meme text is in a word balloon that fades into the background behind him and Minnie] Minnie: you can't prove anything

Panel 7 cuts to Buck scratching his head, looking off to the side in confusion. Minnie is in the far foreground to the right, rolling her eyes. Buck: Final Fantasy...? Like... the thing on Playstation? Minnie: UGH YOU'RE SO OLD Buck: Is Barrett still in it? He was always my favorite.

Panel 8 shows Davey, to the left, and Minnie, in front, both sitting at the table, with Buck seen from behind in the foreground, facing Davey. Minnie has her arms folded on the table and is resting her chin on her forehead, looking up at Davey, looking slightly fed up. Davey is sitting with his legs crossed, prosthetic arm folded over his knee, left elbow resting on one knee so he can pose flirtatiously with his hand on his chest and a smug, playful grin, with sparkles and hearts coming off of him. Davey: Your favorite was the Black guy with a big metal arm, fighting against a corrupt system, with a heart of gold under it all...? Buck (visibly blushing): Shut up and fix the laptop, Davey

[Bonus, inline comic description: Minnie, left, and Buck, right, sitting in a car. Buck is in the drivers seat wearing a beige jacket over his turtleneck and round, orange-lensed goggles over his eyes, staring straight ahead, expression hidden by the goggles and his mustache. He has his right hand on the steering wheel while his left arm leans against the window. Minnie is sitting in the passenger seat with both hands resting on a rat cage in her lap, in which Oreo, a black and white rat, can be seen peeking out. She is looking over at Buck with eyes narrowed and one eyebrow raised. Minnie: why does Davey call you babygirl Buck: how about we stop talking for a little while.]

[snapewife-divorce-lawyer]

Whats your favorite Non-MLP Media?

Would it crossover well with MLP?

SPACE BATTLESHIP FUCKING YAMATO

of course the horribly americanized version i watched was called “Star Blazers”. but as an adult i have watched a sub.

now i am not nearly that old. i had a very sheltered, homeschooled childhood. so most of the tv i watched was tv from my dad’s childhood that he burned onto dvds. which meant a lot of loonytoons and fucking gijoe. and the old astroboy. not the old old astroboy, just the old one. my favorite thing we were allowed to watch was star blazers.

it’s an old as balls scifi anime. the earth gets nuked by aliens until there’s only a few million humans living underground. some different alien sends down spaceship blueprints and says if you come pick it up, i have a cool machine that will turn your planet back to normal. so humans build a spaceship out of a sunken wwii ship and travel to the other side of the galaxy fighting aliens the whole way.

it’s full of a bunch of cool spaceship fights and military porn that kinda? counts as? dieselpunk? the whole story resonates with me so awesomely. and the characters are stuck in my brain. even tho it’s a bit misogynistic. i wanted to BE the female lead. long before i knew what that meant. and they went hard with the music.

sadly, fandom spaces for this show are full of military diehards, and the sort of people who collect figurines of the characters half naked. either that or they’re just super old. so i’ve pretty much given up on having any kind of fandom experience

i do not recommend this show lol. i’ve revisited it several times and it simply is not as good as i remembered. don’t get me wrong i still love it, but i love it the way i love an aging pet who sleeps most of the day

you know what is as good as i remember it being is THE REBOOT

2199 is everything i remember the original being as a child. its so cool and fun and the characters are amazing and they fixed a lot of the misogyny. and its beautiful and the music is amazing and i love it so much and honestly yeah i do recommend this. if you like apocalypse scifi

my little pony might honestly be the first time my siblings and i were allowed to just watch tv. and of course i got a smart phone around that time too so that was the end of the TV famine. before that it really was just stuff that dad had burned on DVDs. There was like a year or two that we sort of watched Nickelodeon? But there were several shows we weren’t allowed to watch and we stopped getting cable after that year or two was over. also, there were several Disney TV shows that we could watch on the family computer like Zack and Cody and Kim Possible but I don’t think we were actually allowed to watch those? And they didn’t have all of the show online. 

Space Battleship yamato is followed closely by Nichijou, and the Homestarrunner cartoons. to which i owe the majority of my sense of humor. i recommend nichijou to anyone. it’s only one season long and its non stop quality. it’s an absurdist comedy from japan. i recommend homestarrunner, but its much harder to get started on that. there’s just so much of it and im not even fully convinced ive managed to see all of it. various factors such as the death of flash have made it hard to access. kinda like homestuck

as for how well they would crossover with my little pony, I will MAKE them crossover with my little pony. I honestly want to do more crossovers. I’ve already done Star Wars and Star Trek, but I’d like to do some more of my favorites. And even more stuff that I like. Like let’s get some girly shows on there too. I really want to do strawberry shortcake. I also think it would be fun to do kim possible or Winx club. my sibling actually designed a bunch of ponified Percy Jackson characters, and I’ve been wanting to draw those. god if i weren’t about to head to work

[alparlaboratories]

My OCs Masterlist

I got tired of having to look through my mess of a computer to find drawings and other stuff about old OCs and characters I might wanna use in the future, and I’m bored right now so I figured I’d make a list with all of my important OCs, or at least the ones that mean the most to me.

These are not ALL of my OCs, just the main ones for their respective stories/campaigns. But there’s still a lot, lol. Also I’m not counting Niss for this list, even if she’s an OC in my heart. You can learn more about her in my pinned post anyway.

(Note: Art is either made by me, my partner @pastlight or has been commissioned by various artists)

1)

Metchi

You know how parents say they don’t have a favorite child? Well I do and it’s Metchi. ‘What if someone decided they wanted to do good purely out of spite and had pretty much everything stacked against them?’ I asked myself. ‘What if she was also a grungy trans girl who has no fucking clue what she’s doing and is constantly bickering with the deity inside her head?’ was the next question. And from that, Metchi was born. The willpower to burn a hole through Mt. Coronet yet the resources and energy of someone who considers cigarettes the most effective breakfast.

2)

Nico

He’s my PC from our current (in hiatus) Pokemon tabletop campaign. A Lumiosian street artist and Sky Trainer who enjoys throwing himself off of high places and being completely fucking incomprehensible to all who meet him. The only neurons in his brains are dedicated to serving looks, calling the wind to his command and delivering the most unhinged takes on the nature of human happiness he can think of.

3)

Tulip

‘I would like to make a tragic character whose obsession with the truth will inevitably lead her to ruin’ I thought. ‘Oh, fuck’ Tulip replied. Out of all my stories, hers is currently my favorite from a writing perspective, and I owe a lot of that to Tulip herself, always willing to push and push until something pushes back, because it’s what she thinks she owes to the people who were just as unfortunate as her. And I love her for it.

4)

Hope and Hunter

These two come in a package deal. ‘Small town life-long friendship’ is something I’ve been meaning to try my hand at writing for a while, and though their story is at the very beginning, I like them quite a lot already. A lot of my personal history with friendships and growing up into your twenties is imbued into them, though they are cooler and dumber and more than willing to take those things to their natural extremes.

5)

Ska

Protagonist of my yet in-progress, unnamed visual novel I’m working on. She’s a sheltered Fae changeling with a death sentence hanging over her head, and a desperate desire to do as much stupid shit as possible before something ends up killing her. She has a bat and absolutely sucks at using it, and she’s hopelessly in love with both of her best friends. I love her deeply, and I hope I can share her with everyone soon.

6)

Shadi

Absolute trash human being, possibly the worst woman in Sinnoh, lover of drama and shadow magic and also Dark Souls. What if an older sister was allowed to be as evil as her little heart desired? Well, that’s Shadi. Obviously there’s more to her, but I like making fun of her. I think she’s a funny character on her own right, except when she’s doing horrible shit to my other OCs, which is often. In any case, she’s one of my favorites to write for a reason.

7)

Eatos

Eatos is... weird. They don’t have a set story, they kinda bounce around a few of my works being mysterious and off-putting and tricking people with smoke/illusion magic. They exist in the same universe as Ska, and in that world at least they’re a human with the power of a Fae artifact. I’ll get more of a chance to develop them someday.

8) (Really old drawing, I didn’t even have a tablet back then lol)

Shadi... 2!

Yeah I have a few characters named Shadi, I just really like the name. Anyway this particular Shadi may be my first actual OC, back when I was... fuck, I dunno, fourteen? I don’t know how relatable this is, but she’s the OC that made me think ‘I’m gonna write her story and become a famous fantasy author and write a bunch of books and-’ and you know the drill. That didn’t quite end up happening, but I don’t regret it much. I did write a book, but my creative goals right now are very different from back then, and I’m happy with that. One step at a time. Still, I care a lot about Shadi for basically getting me into writing fiction, and someday I hope I can write a story that’ll serve as thanks for her.

9

Cole

PC for another Pokemon tabletop campaign that unfortunately never progressed much. Which is a shame, because I like this guy, even if he’s so hard to relate to sometimes that I have trouble writing him. He’s nn ex League/army man who now lives peacefully in Pacifidlog alongside his Electrode called Maradona. He loves dogs to a comical degree (the only part about him I understand) and spends most of his time drinking beer, wishing he could drive fast vehicles and helping out Darya, his neighbor and aspiring contest star.

10)

Machi

Uh... yeah, we’re getting into the really old ones. I don’t remember much about Machi other than she was a hired killer and lived with a guy who did all her murder planning for her because the pay was good and he hated his job that much. It was from her story that Eatos came forth, so it’s a shame that they ended up being so much more interesting to me than Machi. I still like her, though.

11)

Tala

Listen, we all gotta have an edgy OC with a sword, and Tala was mine. Another PC for an even older Pokemon tabletop, maybe even THE oldest. I went around from loving him when I created him, to despising him a few years after and now kinda liking him again, just because he’s so ridiculous in his drama queen ways. He almost rivals Niss in that regard. But yeah, cool sword, tragic backstory, crabby personality, the works. What do you want from me? I loved that shit when I was a dumb kid.

Anyway... there are more of them, but these are the main ones I remember. Of course there’s also Reiko and Percy and characters like that, but they’re different kinds of OCs, and I already posted about them before.

No point to this post other than to have them on here for future reference.

[sckyie]

word count: 1.6k

genre + warnings: fluff; timeskip!kuroo, streamer!kenma, baby kuroo (like his kid not him), the word poggers is used

pronouns used: she/her

a/n: for reading purposes, oji (叔父上) is uncle and oba (叔母様) is aunt, doraemon is that bluecat thing with no ears ,, next imagine is gender neutral pronouns

"You should let Y/n play a round," Kenma reads off the chat. "I would but she has to go to the store."

"Either way I can't when I get back, I have to babysit," You say standing up from your chair beside Kenma. "I'll see you later bub." You peck his cheek before putting your rolling chair off to the side and leaving the room. 

You had decided to go out to get some groceries before Kuroo came by with his daughter, Tomiko, for you to babysit. His wife had gone on a business trip and he had an important meeting to attend. You agreed since you and Kenma mainly work from home. 

About ten minutes later, you pull into the parking lot of your local grocery store and get a phone call from Kuroo. "Hello?" You ask.

"Hey, I know I said four but apparently the meeting is being pushed up two hours. Can I drop off Miko right now?" Kuroo rushed.

"Oh, I'm not home, Kenma is. Just drop her off, he's streaming but it should be fine. I just got to the store," You say. "If you need it, the spare key is in the lamp above the door."

"Thank you so much Y/n, I owe you again!" He says before ending the call. Kuroo turns to his babbling daughter and swoops her up. "Come on babe, you're going to Oji's."

Kuroo gets all of her stuff ready before heading out. He texts Kenma that he's coming over but to his luck, no response. Kenma was too absorbed in his match of Valorant to reply to his best friend. Once at the front door, he knocks but again, no response. Kuroo reaches up to get the key and unlock the door himself. 

Tomiko began to babble louder as she recognized the living room. Kuroo kicks off his shoes and walks over to the streaming room. "Come in!" Kenma called after his best friend knocks. He turns to see him and Tomiko and tilts his head. "I thought you weren't coming until later?"

"I texted you and I think Y/n texted you too," Kuroo points out. Kenma quickly checks his phone and looks back up at chat. "She said it was fine to leave Miko with you."

"Hah?" Kenma turns back to him. "I'm playing solo queue and I just started stream."

"Miko can sit on your lap and watch. She does that with me at least," Kuroo strides over, placing his daughter on Kenma's lap. "I will see you later, and Kenma don't forget my baby is in your lap."

Kuroo quickly exits before turning to camera. Tomiko reaches at his desk but Kenma moves his keyboard, controller and mouse forward to avoid any accidents. "Uhm...Tomiko meet chat," Kenma awkwardly holds up his niece to the camera and a spam of heart eyes flood the chat. 

He was never one for taking care of kids or at least fond of it. When Tomiko was born, he obviously knew he had to watch her at one point but every time he did, you were there to help him. The entire topic of kids always been pushed back ever since you two got married. You were the one with baby fever while he didn't necessarily want to have a kid just yet.

Kenma sets her back down on his lap and notices her reaching for something on his desk. "Oh, did you want that?" He asks, pointing at the small cat plush on his desk. Tomiko's only response, because she's barely one, was to smack the table. Kenma reaches over, handing the toy to her. "Y/n got that for me, but you can play with it as long as you don't- drool on it." He finishes his sentence as Tomiko nibbled at its ear.

"Tomiko is so cute!"

"Awww! You and Y/n should have a kid!"

"Tomiko eating the cat is pog lol."

Many more comments flood in as Kenma admires the baby on his lap. He snaps out of his staring and looks back at the Valorant lobby. He switches to just his camera overlay and changes the title of the stream from "solo queue is poggers" to "idk yet i have a baby with me."

"I can't really play Val with you on me Miko," He turns to chat to see any suggestions. "Draw things with her on a paint studio? Maybe...Let her watch you play Minecraft...I like the drawing suggestion." Kenma replies to the comments. He carries Tomiko to the other side of room to get his drawing pad. He realizes his issue with moving the drawing pad and places Tomiko on his couch. 

Tomiko doesn't move an inch as she watches her uncle move his big drawing pad. "Baba," She calls out. "Wan Baba." Kenma immediately knew that meant she wanted you. 

"Sorry Miko, Oba isn't here right now," He says placing down the drawing pad. After hearing his words, Tomiko began to whine at him. "Oh no, no, no, don't cry." Within an instant, Tomiko began to cry, slapping her hands on the couch. Kenma goes to carry her but she smacks his shoulder in protests.

"Baba! Wan Baba!" She cries. Kenma seats himself, only to see sympathetic comments.

"Miko look, look," He attempts to show her the plush she was previously chewing. She swats the toy away, still wailing to see you. "Uhm...I don't know what to do, Y/n usually takes care of her."

Tomiko continues to cry, smack, and scream for you to come get her, leaving Kenma lost in how you always kept her from crying. He looks around for something to help and spots his headphones. A thought comes to mind and he quickly types in his search bar on his computer. Soon after, the opening to Doraemon starts to play.

Her crying ceases as she looks on the screen to see her favorite blue cat. "Is that better?" He asks. "How about...we draw him?"

Tomiko watches as Kenma lowers the music down and opens his drawing software. She began to calm down yet her breath was still stuttering. Kenma sketches out Doraemon and Tomiko began to smile slightly. "Do you want to color it?" He points to the drawing pad. He switches it to touch screen mode as she reaches to touch it. "What color do you want?"

"Boo," She says. Kenma switches the color to blue before Tomiko starts scribbling on Kenma's drawing. Tomiko's sniffles slightly as he wipes off her tears with his sleeves. 

"She's better now, yeah I'm glad she is," Kenma responds to his chat. "Miko, what else do you like to do...Nevermind you can't talk and I'm dumb."

"Jellwy?" She asks. 

"Jelly?" Kenma tilts his head at her. "What do you mean by jelly?"

"Jelly cups maybe?"

"Jell-o?"

"What if she's saying a video game with jelly?"

"Jellwy," Tomiko looks away from the screen to look at Kenma. "Jellwy fly!"

"Jelly fly?" Kenma stares at her intensely. "What jelly flies? Do you mean like slime rancher?" Kenma exits out the drawing software, changing the title of the stream beforehand, and opens the opens Slime Rancher. 

Tomiko's eyes light up and a smile grows on her face. She giggles cheerfully as Kenma began to play one of his old saves. More comments roll in as Tomiko's adorable noises captures the viewer's hearts. Kenma smiles as she is finally happy in his lap and not crying out for someone else. 

About twenty minutes into the game, you arrive home to find the two still streaming. "Hi bub," You peek in. Tomiko sat up at the sound of your voice. She shifts around in Kenma's lap to look over his shoulder. "And hi Miko! Were you playing with Oji?" 

"Baba!" She cheered. You walked over, expecting her to reach out to you but she seats herself back onto Kenma. "Pay jellwies." She points to the screen.

"Oh Jiji's playing jellies?" You leaned down and kissed Kenma, also prompting Tomiko to push your face away from his. "Ok missy, how about, we let Jiji stream and we can go make dinner?"

"No! Wan jellwies!" She argued. 

"She's fine here, I don't mind her. Chat loves her anyways," Kenma says. "Miko, do you want to show Oba your drawing?"

Tomiko smacks the table as an agreement and he switches monitors to show you the messily colored Doraemon. "Wow Miko, good job," You praised. "I especially like that Oji added ears to him."

"Oh, he doesn't have ears?" He asks. You nodded and placed your hand on his shoulder. "Anyways, let me know when dinner is done so I can end stream. Miko and I have important slime farming to do." You roll your eyes, pecking Tomiko and Kenma. 

Right when you finish cooking dinner, Kuroo arrives to get Tomiko. Kenma explains his day to his best friend after ending his stream, leaving him to smother his daughter with kisses. "Do you want to hang out with Oji again?" He asks. Miko nods and holds out her hand for Kenma to high five. "Thank you again. I'll treat you to dinner when the Mrs's comes back."

You say your goodbyes and turn to Kenma who was setting the table. You go to the stove, plating everything when you felt a pair of arms around your waist. "I want a baby," Kenma muffled into your shoulder.

"You want a what?" You chuckled.

"Miko needs a cousin," He says. Kenma pulls away from your back and stood beside you. "Can we get a baby now?"

"Bubs, we can't just buy a baby," You laughed. "Tomiko gave you baby fever, huh?"

"Maybe," He says. "Also we can babysit Miko anytime Kuroo asks."

taglist: @amillionfandoms-onlyoneme @just-a-siiimp @d0llpie @elianetsantana

[radioactivepeasant]

Fic Prompts: Free Day Thursday

(Some bnha stuff I wrote a few years back)

Toshinori was beginning to suspect that his former teacher had some kind of plot afoot.

Barely a week had passed since the fateful encounter in the mall, and already the retired hero was exchanging almost daily phone calls with Inko. At first, his offer to let the Midoriyas move into his abandoned apartment building seemed purely practical. It was off the grid, more or less, and Gran Torino's hero pension was more than enough to keep electricity and internet supplied for the whole of the building. It looked like it had been condemned, but that just meant he had the run of it.

And at first, Toshinori had encouraged Inko to look into it as a possibility. Surprisingly, she got along well with the occasionally curmudgeonly hero, so he wasn't so worried about them being neighbors. 

But then Sorahiko had started not so subtly dropping hints about "now you'll have an excuse to visit more often", and Toshinori began to worry that perhaps the old man hadn't given up on his matchmaking scheme after all.

He'd almost considered bringing it up to Inko (to warn her, of course!) when he came over to help them pack. But surprisingly, two of his students had turned up looking for Izuku and had ended up staying to help. While appreciated, it did mean certain conversations had to wait.

[[MORE]]

"Whew!" Denki leaned back on his haunches and wiped his forehead. "Is that the last box?"

Tenya squinted at him from over a stack of chairs. "Kaminari, we've only packed away the dining room."

Izuku grinned at his classmate's dismay. He took down a framed photo of his first birthday from the wall and wrapped it in newspaper. 

"You know, you guys didn't, um, didn't have to come help us pack."

Tenya scoffed, as if personally offended by the notion. "But Midoriya! Many hands make the work light, as my brother says!"

"That's true," Izuku mused. "That is why he runs an agency with so many team members."

"Precisely!" Tenya said with a sharp nod. "Besides, as students representing UA High School, it is our duty to help those in need!"

Denki stretched out his aching back and tossed Izuku a roll of packing tape.

"Besides, moving is a hassle. It would totally suck if you had to spend your whole break before the training camp doing this."

Toshinori listened idly from the living room, where he was in the midst of taking down the television. It was a painstaking process, and one that would've been a little easier with One for All. But considering the whole point of the move was to draw attention away from the Midoriyas, that would have defeated the purpose. He had been a little afraid that his other students' spontaneous volunteering would bring up hard to answer questions, but so far neither had done more than greeted him politely. Iida-shounen had just seemed to accept his presence as completely normal. 

The boys had been more surprised by Gran Torino's presence, frankly. And the old man had been gleefully making life difficult for the boys until Inko fussed at him for making her job harder.

As Toshinori eased the television off the table and onto blocks of styrofoam, Inko came bustling through the living room with a spray can of air freshener. 

"Sweaty boys!" she lamented by way of explanation. "I thought I was used to it, but now there's three!"

Toshinori laughed. "They're working pretty hard!" he admitted. "I'll open the windows once they finish in the kitchen."

"Oh, thank you, Yagi-san, it's ripe in here," Inko sighed. "I think there's just the computers, clothes, and Izuku's room left, now. But of course, he insists we leave that to him."

Izuku, on cue, popped out of the hallway where they'd stacked the boxes and chairs. "Don't touch my room!"

He cringed.

"I mean, I mean...I can handle it."

Inko nodded sagely. "He's worried we'll mess up his collectibles."

"Mom!" Izuku yelped, looking a little pale.

As Inko and Toshinori fought and maneuvered until they'd managed to get the television back into its box, Toshinori looked up at Izuku and smirked.

"You know I've seen what your room looks like, right? It's not gonna shock me. I put your unconscious butt to bed when you were sick, remember?"

"Nooo!" Izuku groaned and covered his face. "Toshi-san, that's embarrassing!"

There was a faint thud from down the hall, and a small, plaintive, ow. Izuku forgot his embarrassment for the moment and darted away to make sure nothing was broken. Inko and Toshinori both chuckled at teenaged antics. Toshinori slid the boxed television to the wall, and Inko sprayed the air with the freshener once or twice. Then they stood back to take stock of their handiwork. 

"Toshi-san," Inko said thoughtfully. "That's new for him, isn't it?"

Frankly, she was surprised that Izuku was comfortable using a nickname for All Might like that. It really said a lot about how close they'd grown, and how much Toshinori had been able to coax her son out of his shell.

Toshinori glanced over at her with a shy smile. "Yeah. I like it. Feels more natural for...whatever we all are."

'A family,' came to Inko's mind, but it didn't seem appropriate to say that out loud just yet. Instead she asked, "Well, would you prefer if I called you that as well? Or should I stick to Yagi-san?"

The tall man's eyes lit up noticeably. "I'd be delighted if you felt comfortable calling me Toshi, or Toshinori," he said warmly.

"And nevermind about the suffixes," Torino interjected unexpectedly as he passed by the open doorway, "You'll make him blush otherwise."

He chuckled at their almost guilty jump and dusted his hands off.

"You want us to start moving all this to the truck?"

"Sir, we've been over this, you have to warn people before sneaking up on them like that!" Toshinori complained. 

Torino's smirk grew wider. "I was standing right there in the doorway. You just let yourself get distracted by a pretty face!" he scoffed. 

He shifted his weight -- and his attitude -- and turned to Inko. "The Quack Pack has already got the truck about half loaded with the heavier furniture. You want the boxes in there or nah?"

[ninzied]

a kiss pressed to the top of the head.

Karen gets the call in the middle of their lunch hour.

She’s playfully tossing a fry in Foggy’s face, laughing at something he’s just said as she picks up her phone and looks down at her screen.

“It’s a Metro-General number,” she says, bemused. She looks up at Foggy and Matt. Both of them shrug. Anyone the hospital’s likely to be calling her about is already sitting right here in front of her.

“Hello?” she says into the phone. Confusion registers on her face first. And then she goes very, very quiet.

Foggy’s not able to make out what’s being said on the other line, but judging from Karen’s expression—Matt’s expression, too—it can’t be anything good.

“He what?” Karen puts a hand up to her mouth, and Foggy notices that her fingers are trembling a little. “Is he okay? Is—yes. Thank you. Yes, I’m going to head there now.” She hangs up, looking like she’s already a hundred miles away—or at least the three it will take to get to the hospital.

Matt puts a hand on Karen’s shoulder. “Foggy will drive you there,” he says.

“I will?” says Foggy. “I mean, yeah, of course I will, but what’s going on?”

Karen grabs her things, and Foggy rushes to follow suit, saying a hurried, “Thanks for lunch, I guess” to Matt, who waves them off and helps himself to one of Karen’s fries.

She’s silent in the passenger seat, gazing distractedly out the window as Foggy drives. He looks at her with growing worry, but every time he starts to speak, he’s less and less sure what to say. He’s never seen her so pale. He’s never seen her so determined to hold herself together.

There’s only one person he can think of that could get this kind of reaction from her.

The local station is on at low volume, and Foggy strains to hear anything newsworthy. But there’s nothing about shoot-outs, or robberies, or any other sort of public disturbance that could give him the information he’s looking for.

At one point, Karen reaches over and squeezes his hand. He squeezes back, and doesn’t let go until they’ve pulled into the emergency department entrance.

He ends up valet parking his car, wondering briefly to himself if he can charge it to the company card that they’d opened up last year. Considering what—or who—is waiting for them inside.

It wouldn’t be the first time, which is all he has to say about that.

A woman in scrubs looks up from her computer as they approach the front desk. “Can I help you?”

“Yes.” Karen clears her throat. “I’m here to see Pete Castiglione.”

“What’s your relation?” says the woman, searching his name on her computer screen.

Karen draws in a breath. “He, um—listed me as his emergency contact.”

The woman hands her a visitor’s badge, and then looks expectantly over at Foggy.

“I’m—his lawyer,” Foggy blurts out. He doesn’t know what’s landed Frank in here this time, but it doesn’t hurt to cover his bases. The woman raises an eyebrow, but thankfully doesn’t press him for any more details than that.

She gives them a room number and then points them through a set of double doors. They give an audible click before swinging wide open. The walk is short but tense, Karen visibly steeling herself once they’re just outside the room. It’s a sliding glass door, but the inside has been curtained shut.

“Do you want me to wait out here?” Foggy asks.

“No, it’s okay.” She gives him a wan smile. “Thank you. For coming.”

“Sure, of course,” says Foggy, attempting a small but comforting smile back.

Karen slides the door open and steps inside, drawing the curtain back behind her. Foggy follows her in, unable to keep from thinking about all the other times they’d walked into the Punisher’s hospital room together.

There are a few notable differences, this time around.

The first is that Frank Castle is not in handcuffs, nor is he strapped down to the bed. The only things attached to him are a few colored wires, snaking out from under his gown and winding up to plug into a monitor that’s beeping steadily above him.

The second is that there are no bruises on his face, when he turns toward the door and sees them there. He looks like he hasn’t gotten much sleep, but other than that, his face is clear—cleanly shaved, even. In fact, Foggy can discern no obvious injuries on him at all.

The only thing that hasn’t changed is Karen.

She walks straight up to his bed, past where the red tape would have been. Foggy sees her hand start to reach out for Frank’s, but then she’s pulling up a chair instead, taking a seat next to him.

“Hey.” Frank’s voice sounds a little rough around the edges, but that could also have something to do with the fact that he can’t seem to take his eyes off of Karen. “I didn’t—wasn’t sure I’d see you here.”

“Of course I’m here.” Karen has been making a similar assessment of his state, because the next thing she says is, “Where are you hurt? They wouldn’t give me anything specific over the phone.”

“’M fine,” he says, gesturing down at his leg. “Waiting on some x-ray reads. Didn’t even see the guy till it was too late. Wouldn’t’ve come in for this, but EMTs showed up fast, and I didn’t want to—you know. Make a scene by refusing.”

Foggy blinks, not sure if he’s just heard him right. Frank Castle. The Punisher. Didn’t want…to make a scene?

Karen is evidently thinking along the same lines as him. Her voice is carefully light as she asks, “Turning over a new leaf, Frank?”

“Something like that,” he says.

Frank’s watching her as she bites her lip and glances down at her hands for a moment.

“It’s, uh. It’s good to see you,” Frank says quietly.

Foggy can’t help but notice it’s the only thing Frank has to look away from her for. LIke he wouldn’t have been able to find the words if she’d been looking back.

“You clearly had my number,” Karen chides him, but gently. “You didn’t need to get hit by a car for an excuse to finally use it.”

The corner of Frank’s mouth turns up. “Figured you were more likely to pick up this way.”

She gives him a fondly exasperated look. “Seriously?”

“Nah.” Frank smiles sideways at her. “But this was as good a place as any to make the call. You know, for old times’ sake.”

She shakes her head at him, but her voice has gone soft when she speaks again. “And here I was about to say that we have to stop meeting like this.”

“Well, there were…” Frank swallows, looking back down at his hands. “There were some things I wanted to get right, this time.”

He looks like he wants to say more, but then his gaze shifts over to Foggy, still lingering awkwardly by the door.

“Are you, um.” Foggy holds out his hands, palms up. He finishes lamely, “In any trouble? Legally speaking?”

“Not that I know of,” says Frank. “Unless there’s something illegal about crossing the street when the light tells me to.” He squints up at Foggy, who laughs, and then immediately wonders if that was how he was supposed to react.

“Foggy was with me when they called,” Karen tells Frank. “He offered to give me a ride.”

Frank regards him a moment longer, then nods at him in a grave kind of way, which Foggy takes to mean thank you.

“It was nothing,” he says. It was Matt, actually, but Foggy doesn’t mention that part out loud. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

He goes on standing there, watching the way Frank and Karen keep not-quite making eye contact in the small glances they steal at each other. “Right,” says Foggy. “Coffee, anyone?”

As it turns out, coffee is not really a thing that the emergency department has on hand. After several uncomfortable inquiries, he winds up with a cup the size of his palm that’s filled with lukewarm water, which he sips on in the waiting room.

Matt calls when he’s halfway through a crossword puzzle, much to Foggy’s surprise.

“How is he?” asks Matt, before adding, unnecessarily, “Castle.”

“Alive and kicking,” Foggy reports. “Well—to be determined on the kicking part, he might have a broken leg. So not a lot of kicking in the foreseeable future.”

“That’s good,” comes Matt’s voice after a moment. “I mean, that he’s—you know what I mean.”

“I do,” says Foggy. “And I’ll send him your best.”

“I’m sure that would go over well.” Matt lets out an audible breath. “Send them to Karen, too, okay?”

“Of course,” says Foggy. He pauses, wondering how long Matt has known. After seeing them together today, Foggy realizes just how obvious it must have always been, and marvels that he hadn’t picked up on it sooner. “I’ll keep you posted. See you tomorrow?”

“You owe me lunch,” says Matt, and hangs up.

Foggy’s on his third crossword when the double doors open, and Karen walks out—then stops, turning around before taking another cautious step forward.

Frank comes limping out behind her, dressed in his street clothes. There’s no cast that Foggy can see, but Frank has a pair of crutches in one hand, face set in grim lines as he sinks his weight back onto his injured leg.

Karen frowns and says something to him, gesturing at the unused crutches. He starts to argue with her, but she holds out a hand, a command in every line of her body. Frank finally relinquishes one of the crutches to her, and she helps to steady him as he positions one underneath each arm.

He pulls a face, but she only smiles at him as she touches her hand to his chest.

“Better?” Foggy catches her asking.

Frank says something that makes her laugh, and the sound of it seems to catch them both by surprise. Karen lets her hands drop, folding them carefully together, and she glances down for a moment, looking almost uncertain.

Frank is gazing at her with such quiet intensity that Foggy almost slides down in his seat and raises his newspaper up to eye-level. He feels like he’s intruding. But he also feels like he can’t look away.

Frank leans in, until his cheek is resting just over Karen’s temple, on the side that Foggy can’t see. But then his mouth brushes against the top of her head as he’s ducking back, and better does not even begin to describe how they’re both looking right now.

Foggy grabs his valet ticket, and goes to have the car brought back around for them.

[babybatscreationsv2]

Spider-Verse: Predators ch24

Marvel | Starker

Peter Parker is barely keeping it together. Dealing with Gwen Stacy's death, Harry Osborn going MIA, and MJ refusing to take his calls, has the guy feeling seriously run down. Now to top it off, his uncle Ben is facing serious prison time. Fortunately or unfortunately, New York's own Kingpin of Crime, Tony Stark, has offered him a deal to save his uncle. On a positive note, this Kingpin guy is kind of hot. Is it wrong to sleep with a murderous criminal?

Rating: Explicit

Read it on Ao3

The lab was in shambles. Lights hung from the ceiling, bits of metal and glass littered the floor. It was impossible to safely navigate the place without his suit. Even Tony wore his fancy new nanobot tech as he investigated the damage. On a normal day, Peter would be babbling and investigating the swarm of intelligent minibots that covered the man's body, but now he sat, watching the crack in the glass start to grow.

“How long... do you think?” Peter asked.

Tony swiped a hand through his hair. “A few hours as best. Once the glass breaks-”

“I know. We can't keep him in stasis without the chamber. You really don't have another one?”

“I'm sorry, Pete. That alien freak broke everything. There were three others, but they're all broken.There's one we might be able to repair, but I don't think it will be in time.” Broken glass crunched over his feet as he left the tech he was fiddling with to come stand behind Peter. His large metal hands covered his shoulders. “What's your plan when it does break?”

“I don't know,” Peter sighed. “I don't know, Tony...”

Tony kissed the top of his head. “I'm here with you, baby.”

Yes, Peter felt warmer, safer to hear it. He even let his eyes close for a moment and pretend none of this had happened. The problem was that Tony couldn't protect him from this. When the stasis chamber that was containing the half formed Lizard broke, Harry's transformation would begin again. He would be left mindless and destructive. And there was no cure. Tony had been trying for months to find one and never did. They could sedate him, keep him tranquilized, but would it work? There were no guarantees.

“Let's fix it. The other chamber.”

“Okay,” Tony agreed. Peter was admittedly surprised. He expected the man to remind him how much work it would take and how much time and how little time they had. He had expected Tony to insist on putting a bullet in Harry's face the minute they realized that the glass was breaking. Peter had changed something in him after all. He cared a little bit more. Or maybe he just cared about Peter.

They got to work. Half of their time was spent by Tony explaining to him what every little part was for. Peter knew machines well enough, but he wasn't the genius who built his own stasis chamber and there was a lot to learn. More time was spent teaching Peter what to do before they could do anything, than Peter would have liked. After a few hours, he understood well enough what everything was and they settled into a rhythm in their repairs. Most of Peter's work was done at the 3D-printer while Tony fiddled with the machine, but it was a system that worked well enough.

Peter was repairing a broken wire when Tony put down the tools in his hands. His head tilted up toward the ceiling and he sighed.

“What is it?”

“We should just let him out,” he said, looking away at the wall.

“What?” Peter stared. He couldn't be serious. Let the Lizard out?

Tony looked at him. “Murdock wants his blood. You heard him, right? He wanted his alien pal to get the blood from the cooler, but they didn't get it. There's not a single bag or vial missing. If we turn your lizard friend loose then Matt will go after him.”

“We can't do that! He could kill someone.”

“And Matt could kill you! Or your aunt for that matter. I don't know if you've noticed this, but Matthew is a literal fucking ninja. If he wants to slip into Aunty May's house while you're not around, I can't promise you that my people will notice.”

Peter shook his head. He crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at the wall. “Then I'll go home. Until we get him. I should have been home.”

Tony turned his head away and Peter knew that he'd hurt him. It was the obvious thing to do, but Tony could be surprisingly fragile. He needed Peter close. If he stopped coming to the tower it could damage their relationship. He couldn't leave May to die either way. He'd do a lot of things for Tony, but not that. Maybe he'd been naive to think that she was safe all this time.

His spider sense flared up at the back of his neck. There was someone else in the lab. Peter turned, watching, listening. He raised his arm, ready to fire and Tony followed suit. Then a woman entered the room.

Peter recognized her blonde hair and glasses. Betrayal cut at him. He had sort of thought they were allies. Elsa held her hands up in innocence.

“I know you're mad. I get it, but I think we can help you.” Her eyes wandered to Harry, half covered in scales, in his cracked containment chamber.

“Is my security team sleeping? How did you get in here?” Tony said.

“We're good at getting into places we're not supposed to be.”

“Oh yeah? Who's we?” Tony asked. Before Peter could explain, there was Venom rising in a goopy, snake-like form from Elsa's shoulder. “Alright, explain yourself.”

“Murdock betrayed us, too. He helped us once, because he hoped that we would owe him. Except that it didn't go like he planned.”

“You're not making a great case for yourself,” Peter said.

“Yeah, maybe get to the part where we care,” Tony added.

Elsa sighed. “Men,” she huffed. “My other isn't stable. Never was. I created it, but things happened, we bonded too soon. I shouldn't have taken it out of containment until it was ready. Long story short, I needed something to stabilize it. After months of research, my work suggested that something like Spiderman wasn't so different from my symbiote. In theory anyway. I don't know how he found out, but Murdock came. He said that he could get me a sample of Spiderman's blood. If I were willing to kill Spiderman for him.”

Peter heard the whir of Tony's repulsor charging. “Please wait,” Elsa sighed. “You'll only piss them off and we didn't come here to kill you.”

Tony let the charge die, but he kept his arm raised.

“Anyway,” she began again. “He got me the blood and it helped, for a while. Spiderman's blood stabilized Venom and gave them new abilities as well. We were stronger than ever. And then the bond started to break. We got sick.I realized that something in your blood was breaking down our cells. You might have spider-like abilities, but you're not actually a man bonded to a spider. You're still made of human parts. We aren't.We're an amalgamation of two different creatures. Like the Lizard. We need to know what keeps the Lizard's form stable once it bonds to a human body.”

Tony whistled. “That was a lot. You think that up on the cab ride over?”

“It's true!” Elsa shouted. Venom growled.

“Eat him,”it hissed.

“Hush, love,” she said. “Please, Mr. Stark.”

“What is it you want?” Peter asked. He finally lowered his arm and took a step forward hoping to resolve the tension before another fight broke out. All it would take was another hard hit and the glass protecting Harry would shatter. They'd have a whole host of other problems.

Elsa wrapped her arms around herself. Venom nuzzled into her hair. “If we allow Venom to bond with this lizard boy, I'm almost certain that Venom will be able to separate the lizard parts from the human parts and bond with them. We've been practicing. It's possible that it won't work, but if Venom can bond with the Lizard and draw it out from the boy and carry it over in to me it will save the boy from the Lizard and possibly give us a way to stabilize our bond.”

“If that's even possible, it makes sense... Sorta.” Peter shrugged.

Tony sighed. “It's your boyfriend.Your call.”

Peter shot a glare over his shoulder. Then he crossed the dirty floor and he looked at Harry sleeping in his goop. Maybe they could fix the other chamber, maybe they could sedate him if the glass broke too soon, maybe they could eventually engineer a cure, but how long would Harry stay this way? He could wake up an old man. His heart ached. He'd done so much to hurt him already. Maybe he could save him. At least from this. From the first big mistake Spiderman ever made. And maybe he could finally be free of the Lizard himself.

“We'll try it. What are the odds this hurts Harry if it doesn't work?”

Elsa shrugged. “I'm sorry, but no one has ever done anything like this before. He could reject Venom immediately. Venom could make a mistake and separate the wrong cells.The Lizard could do any number of unpredictable things. There's no way of knowing.”

She put a hand on his shoulder. “For what it's worth, I know that my other will do everything possible. We have a stake in this, too.”

If she were telling the truth, she would die if this didn't work. Not just Harry. This could easily go from a cure to a disaster. If they didn't anything try at all, Elsa would still die. Despite having destroyed Tony's lab, she seemed like a decent person who just wanted to live with the slime monster she loved.

“Please,Spiderman,” Venom rumbled.

Peter nodded. “Okay. Let's give it a shot.”

Elsa helped Peter clean off a cot for Harry while Tony went to his computer. It started draining the goop from the chamber. Then they could remove the IV and all the sensors and pull him out. They might not have long before the sedation wore off once the IV was out.

“Do you think we should keep him sedated when we pull him out?” Pete wondered. “He could take someone's head off.”

“It could put Venom out, too,” Elsa frowned. “We'll just have to be careful.”

“I have something that might help, but it won't work forever,” Tony said. He went to the storage along the wall. Half of the cupboards were smashed, but one that was intact unlocked at Tony's touched. “I didn't make them big enough to fit a lizard man, but they'll hold him until he'd fully transformed.” He held up a pair of dense metal handcuffs.

“If all goes to plan, he never will,”Elsa said.

Peter sighed. “Nothing in my life goes to plan.” Still, he pulled open the door and caught Harry as he slipped out. Tony grabbed his legs and together they moved hin onto a cot. Harry groaned in his sleep.

“Clock's ticking,” Tony cautioned.

Elsa stepped up to the bedside. Venom stretched, becoming a long, writhing, stream of goo that moved from Elsa into Harry. The goop seemed to absorb through his skin, disappearing without a trace. Elsa gave a huff of breath. Nothing seemed to change with Harry, but Elsa was visibly anxious. Her shoulders twitched and her eyes were locked on to the spot in Harry's chest when Venom had disappeared to.

“How long do you think?” Peter asked.

She didn't move, didn't look away. “We practiced on rats mostly. It took a few hours. Could be days given the size and complexity of a human/lizard hybrid. And they'll be taking the most possible care.”

Tony eyed the room around them. Peter remembered just how badly it was all falling apart. It was a miracle the building overhead didn't sink down into it. “Elsa, do you have somewhere we can keep them until it's done?”

“I can monitor things from my apartment.” She reached out, her hand going to Harry's arm only to draw back. “I'll call you if anything happens.”

“Good or bad,” Peter agreed.

Cradling Harry's scaly form in webbing, Peter dragged him up the broken elevator shaft. Tony carried Elsa. She seemed distraught and Peter felt for her. He and Tony were codependent enough. He couldn't imagine what it would be like to be separated from a partner who you otherwise shared a body with. It was obvious just how romantically attached they were and how odd was that in the first place? To be in love with the sentient goo you made in a lab.

Elsa lived in one of the cheapest apartments on this side of the city, or any side for that matter. Peter remembered how bad this particular building was from his time looking at apartments with MJ. The place smelled as bad as he remembered. The clutter of old food containers in Elsa's apartment certainly fit in with the aesthetic of the place and there was a faint smell of something dead coming from the overflowing trash can.

Peter tucked Harry into Elsa's bed. He grumbled as he Peter set him down. “Call me if he changes at all. If he moves, if he says something, anything.”

“You got it.” Elsa stood, leaning against the door frame. Her face was twisted with worry. He wanted to assure her that this would work, that everything was going to be fine, but he just didn't know. This was all her research, all her experiment, and yes if it went sideways then it would all be on her. Still, it was her life that was at stake, hers and Harry's. She caught his eye and they shared a look that said it all. She nodded, then he brushed gently passed her.

Tony was toeing at a stack of science magazines that could have been dated years back.

“Ready to head out?”

Peter nodded. He looked over his shoulder and sighed. “I guess so.”

“Sure you don't want to hold your boyfriend's hand until he wakes up?”

Peter shot him a glare. “What's your problem?”

Tony shrugged. “Nothing.”

“Whatever. Let's not do this here.” Peter flipped out of the window and dropped down toward the street. He swung up on a web over the next building then down again. He swung his way up a few blocks, letting the rush of air calm his mind. He had enough on his mind with Harry's life being in danger. He didn't need Tony's jealousy weighing on him. Why had he even bothered to help him if he was going to be a dick about it? Swinging past a window covered in signs for the upcoming mayoral election, it occurred to him that it might not have been about him at all.

Tony was in his office when Peter swung back in through the window. He'd taken off his suit and was fiddling with the sleeve of his under armor. He kept his back turned as Peter came in, but they were going to have it out whether he wanted to or not.

Peter tapped his foot on the floor, debating where to start. “Were you ever actually looking for a cure?”

Tony turned. His expression was insulted. “Was I- of course of I was. Would I have given it to the boy if I found it, though? That's the question you should be asking.”

Peter's jaw clenched and he shook his head. “Why the hell did I ever trust you with this?”

“Because you had no one else,” Tony pointed out. “And because you can trust me.”

“Can I? You were going to use him as leverage against Norman. Why? So you could campaign against him?”

Tony snorted. “I don't need to be mayor, Peter. That's just silly.”

No, Tony was Kingpin and unfortunately that made him more powerful than the mayor. “You were going to get him elected.”

Tony nodded and gestured for him to continue. “And then? What happens next in my genius plan?” He turned away to pour himself a drink.

“And then you control the legal side of the city as much as the underground. Because you have his son. Because if you had a cure you could hold it over him. You wanted to let Harry out so that Norman would owe you everything when you cured him.”

“Well not exactly.” Tony sipped his drink. He leaned back against the table. “I didn't lie to you, Peter. I will never lie to you.” Peter didn't fall for his melting chocolate eyes. “There is no cure. Not yet. By the time we have one, the Lizard will be no more, one way or the other. I was going to let the boy out, let him do some big scary property damage, eat someone's cat, whatever, and then let Osborn know that I know that the Lizard is his son.”

“And he wouldn't want the city to know that. He'd do anything.”

Tony smiled. “Bingo. Now you're thinking like the Kingpin.”

Peter shook his head. “Fuck you,Tony.”

The man rolled his eyes. “I was never going to let anything happen to your boyfriend.”

“He's not my boyfriend! You are!”Peter tugged off his mask and paced the floor with it in his hands.“I wish you would just act like it instead of confusing me with all your jealously immediately after pretending that you're capable of putting all of that aside and helping me when I need you to and I don't get you, Tony-” He looked up, realizing then that Tony had set his drink down to stalk towards him somewhere during his babbling.

There was a dark possessive quality to his eyes. Peter let him crowd him in until he was backed into the wall. “Tell me again,” he rumbled. “Who am I?”

There was so much heat rolling between them it was smothering. Despite that he was barely two inches shorter than Tony, he was leaning over him enough to make him feel small, arms caging him in.

“My boyfriend,” Peter answered.

Tony nodded, a grin threatening to curl his lips. “And what are you?”

“Yours?” Peter said, hoping to appease whatever dark desire was growing in his eyes.

Tony's hand twitched against the wall and he could feel it against his throat without it ever touching him. “My everything.”

“Yours,” he said again, in a daze.There was a tension building between them. When Tony pressed their bodies together, Peter sighed with relief as the tension resolved.This was everything he needed. He let his hands wrap around the back of Tony's neck. He soaked up the press of Tony's hands on his waist. The man buried his face in his neck. There was no kissing or teasing, just warmth and comfort as they resolved their jealousy and hurt without another word. They stayed that way until the press of the wall into his back became uncomfortable and Peter gently pushed Tony back a step.

Tony sighed. “I've been selfish, asking you to come back here all this time while Murdock is out there. He'll recover from his injuries soon. You should be with your aunt.”

Peter pressed his forehead against Tony's. “It's going to kill me to be without you.”

"We can survive anything."

"I'll only be a call away."

Tony grinned. "Don't I know it."

[chilling-seavey]

oh ok what about a blurb for sc where Daniel and Marigold go on their first date?

↳  A/N Such an iconic moment and such a simple yet special night🥺

↳ Word Count: 3793

↳ Seasons Change Taglist: @stuffofseaveyy @randomlimelightxxx @jonahlovescoffee @hiya-its-amber @hopinglimelight @onlyangelavery @sbrewer21 @bessonsbxtch @viamiasoncrack @the-girl-who-cried-wolf @21burritoseavey @queenseavey23​ @xkelsev - Please click the link in my bio to be added to the taglist!

May 16, 2008

Daniel was sure that if he bit his lip any harder, he would draw blood. The high school hallways were bustling with students who all spoke and shouted over each other as they gathered their things after final bell before the weekend. The slamming of lockers and bumping of bodies didn’t even seem to phase Daniel as he stared right down the hallway to where Marigold was standing.

She had her hair in braids that day and she smiled so widely when Daniel gave her a weak compliment in first period. Even just thinking about it now had his stomach in knots. He had never been smooth and never been flirty and even that simple statement in passing made him nervous.

They had talked almost every day since they officially met in first period English. There was nothing Daniel looked forward to more than her sweet ‘Good morning, Daniel’ every day as she walked into the classroom and took her seat behind him. Talking with his friends at lunch led him to accept that he had a wholehearted crush on her and if he didn’t ask her out he would be royally doomed.

Thing is, Daniel made that realization only two weeks after they met and planned to ask her out on Valentine’s day but totally chickened out. Three months later, he was driving himself insane for putting it off so long. His friends said if he didn’t ask her out that week then they would do it for him and wouldn’t that be embarrassing.

It was Friday. After the last bell. He couldn’t put it off any longer.

With one more nervous pet to his hair and a straightening of his back, he made his way over. Marigold glanced up at him as he approached.

“Hey.” she grinned, “You never come visit me. What do I owe the pleasure?”

Daniel licked his lips nervously as he watched her tuck her binders into her rose patterned backpack.

When he didn’t answer, she looked back at him with a chuckle, “Hello?”

Daniel rose his eyes to hers and took a deep breath, “Do you wanna go out with me this weekend?”

A sweet smile played at the corner of Marigold’s mouth as she slung her zipped up bag over her shoulder and closed her locker, “I’m at my grandparents’ this weekend but I’m free tonight.”

Daniel’s eyes went wide, his breath stuttering in his chest for a moment, “Tonight? Tonight…y-yeah, okay, yeah, I can do tonight.”

“Okay.” Marigold nodded in agreement. “I gotta go…mom’s waiting…but message me on AIM with a time and place.”

“Yeah.” Daniel breathed out, watching her rush off past him with a hurried ‘bye!’ and into the hallway crowded with teenagers. He couldn’t hold back the little air punch in celebration for that and he hurried off into the crowd in the opposite direction before anyone could see his bit of a happy dance.

The moment Daniel got home, he was rushing towards the basement, “I need the computer! I need the computer!”

He nearly threw himself into the computer room, only to find his older brother already there.

“I’m mid-game.” Christian said without looking up. “You can have it after dinner.”

“No. No, no, I need it now. Please.” Daniel stood over him impatiently.

“For what?”

“None of your business.”

“I need to know to decide if it’s worth stopping my game.”

“It is! I need to get on AIM, like, now.”

Christian paused his playing and looked up at his brother, “Is it a girl?”

With the distraction that obviously worked, Daniel threw himself on his brother’s lap and unplugged the game controller and closed the window himself. Christian shouted at him in protest and Daniel did his best to hold his older brother back as he opened up AIM and found Marigold’s contact – labeled as ‘online’ - and drafted a super rushed message.

C u at 6 for dinner?

“Mom! Daniel is hogging the computer!” Christian shouted towards the stairs. “And rubbing his nasty butt on me!”

Daniel ignored him, muttering under his breath as he saw the typing icon pop up, “Come on, come on.”

Yes. Where?

I’ll pick u up

A smiley thumbs up emoticon came through as is reply just as Christian shoved him off his lap and onto the carpeted floor. Daniel only picked himself up with ease and tossed the controller at his older brother’s head.

“Go play your stupid game while I have a date with a real girl.”

He rushed for the stairs before Christian could smack him for the diss.

By 5:30, Daniel had showered and dressed in pants and a button-up and fixed his hair three times in the mirror in his room. He grabbed his jacket and keys and hurried for the door. He made it right out to the driveway before realizing he was forgetting something.

Marigold thought farther ahead than Daniel did – that wasn’t odd – and her address was waiting for him in their AIM messages when he returned to the computer. He scribbled it down on a scrap piece of paper and nearly tripped up the stairs on his way back upstairs to type it into the old GPS in his hand-me-down truck. Daniel wasn’t necessarily a clumsy guy but the nervousness that was pumping through him certainly made that his momentary unfortunate reality. He even forgot to take the car out of park before trying to back out of the driveway. A marigold flower that he had picked from his mother’s garden rested in the cupholder.

The robotic voice of the GPS led him through the suburban streets of West Hartford to a red brick Tudor house with lush gardens and a perfectly trimmed lawn. Daniel lingered in the driveway for a moment, staring up at the front door that was framed by two small lights, waiting for him. He took a deep breath, stepped out of his old truck, and walked cautiously up the few stone steps to the hedge trimmed front porch. He barely knocked on the wood door before it was pulled open, revealing Marigold on the other side.

His heart did a little skip.

“Hi.” she said sweetly.

Daniel tried to word his response as he stared at her with her long blonde hair left in their natural waves and her face dusted in light makeup. He finally got out a soft, “Hi. You…look so good.”

Marigold tucked her hair behind her ear, “Thank you. You look good too.”

Daniel shifted and held out the marigold flower to her, “I…would have brought more but this was kinda last minute.”

“Well aren’t you as sweet as sugar?” Marigold giggled as she took it from him and twirled it between her fingers, “But my favourite flowers are hydrangeas.”

“Shit.” Daniel muttered.

“Just remember for next time.” she said as she closed the front door behind her.

Daniel nodded lightly, “Next time.”

They headed to his truck and he opened the door for her and held out a hand to help her up the slightly large step into the passenger seat. Marigold thanked him with a smile and took his hand although the way she easily hopped in meant she really didn’t need any sort of help.

“Where are we going?” Marigold asked once Daniel turned the key in the rumbling ignition.

“It’s a surprise.” Daniel said, switching the truck into reverse and tucked his hand behind her chair to back out of the driveway.

Marigold smiled over at him, “I like surprises.”

“Don’t get your hopes up.” Daniel added quickly.

“Don’t second guess yourself.” she retorted, although her tone was gentle.

Their eyes met briefly from across the front seat of the truck and Daniel looked back quickly to the road, stuttering to a stop at a crosswalk. Marigold reached out a hand to the dashboard.

“Sorry.” Daniel said, “Not quite used to driving this thing yet.”

“That’s okay.” Marigold said easily. “I can’t drive at all so you’re already impressing me.”

Daniel smiled to himself as he continued driving more towards the centre of town. Marigold hummed softly and tucked the flower behind her ear, pulling down the sun visor to look in the small mirror to make sure it was sitting nicely.

“It’s a gorgeous shade of yellow. Did you grow it yourself?” she asked, tapping the petals gently before shutting the visor again.

“No.” Daniel chuckled. “My mom did. I don’t…know a lot about gardening.”

“What a shame.” Marigold tisked. “I love it.”

Her eyes went wide as they turned into a parking lot and she gasped as she threw out her hand to touch his arm. Daniel was sure shivers tore down his spine at her simple touch and he glanced over at her in surprise.

“Are we going to Wendy’s?” she asked.

“Is that okay?” Daniel retorted quickly.

“Yes!” Marigold grinned, clapping her hands together a little in excitement. “Wendy’s is my favourite!”

Daniel let the truck drift to a stop in the drive-thru lineup and he looked over at her, “Really? It’s mine too.”

“Wow. We sit next to each other for three entire months and yet we are still learning about each other.”

“I mean we talk more about Shakespeare than fast food and flowers in class but…yeah.” Daniel chuckled.

Marigold smiled at him, the sweetest giggle falling from her lips, and the dim lights from the restaurant sign and almost setting sun outside the windows cast a pretty yellow glow across her face. Daniel was sure he had never seen anything or anyone as beautiful.

She told him her order and he paid at the window and passed her the takeout bag to hold as he pulled out of the drive-thru. Marigold peeked open the bag and snuck a fry for herself before taking a second and holding it out in front of Daniel’s nose. He smiled shyly and leaned in to let her feed it to him as he drove. She folded up the top of the takeout bag and let her gaze drift out the window as they headed towards the outskirts of town.

“Where are you taking me?” she asked.

“You’ll see.” Daniel answered casually.

Marigold glanced over at him as he was focused on the road and she let a small smile come to her lips. He had this seriousness about him when he drove, or maybe that was just his first date jitters taking over, as his bottom lip stayed wedged between his teeth and his hands stayed wrapped around the steering wheel. He took them out of the suburbs and into the outskirts of town where the buildings moulded into farmland and the street lamps turned into rickety telephone wires. Daniel - who only had his license for a few months - drove extra cautiously as pavement turned into dirt roads. The sun was still just over the horizon but was dropping quickly and the hues of sunset were fluttering through the truck and across their faces.

Daniel finally pulled into an alcove at the side of the road, down a slightly narrow dirt path that somewhat resembled someone’s driveway. Marigold simply held their takeout bag on her lap and trusted his process. He did a slightly rusty three-point-turn to reverse at the end of the path and then parked.

“Where are we?” Marigold asked with a slightly nervous giggle.

“Come.” Daniel opened the door and hopped out onto the dirt below. Marigold followed him around the truck with the takeout bag and he opened the back to reveal the bed of the truck made up with blankets and pillows.

Marigold bit back her smile and turned over her shoulder to the vast expanse of farmland beyond and a perfect view of the sunset and the outskirts of the city in the distance.

“Is it stupid? You can tell me.” Daniel said quickly.

“No.” she answered right away. “I really love this.”

“Good because my other option was bowling and I really suck at bowling.” Daniel sighed.

Marigold laughed sweetly and climbed up into the back of the truck. He followed quickly and they got the pillows arranged to rest back on with the blankets under them to prevent the hard plastic of the truck bed from becoming too uncomfortable. They split their food and ate on their laps while watching the sunset. Daniel was almost too nervous to eat - he felt like he might be sick any moment - but he ate anyway and focused on the soft humming coming from the pretty blonde girl beside him.

“How’d you find this spot?” Marigold finally asked.

“By chance, honestly.” Daniel shrugged. “I was practicing my driving before I got my full license and I was up around here and pulled over to answer a call from my mom and...I dunno...it looked kinda nice.”

Marigold nodded in agreement through a bite of her burger before answering, “It is kinda nice.”

“You’re the first person I’ve taken here.”

“Oh really?” Marigold smiled over at him, “I’m glad. Maybe this can be our spot.”

Daniel bit his lip to prevent himself from smiling as wide as he possibly could back at her and he nodded, “Okay.”

They finished their meals in near silence and by the time the sun finally dipped below the horizon and sent the land into near darkness, they rested back against the pillows comfortably. Daniel pulled up one of the blankets over their laps to keep warm as night fell and the temperature started to drop. Marigold was entranced by the views, her gaze unwavering as she stared up at the stars starting to appear across the inky sky.

“You can never see the stars from town.” she whispered.

Daniel looked from her up to the sky himself and smiled lightly at the blinking stars staring back at them.

“They’re so pretty.” Marigold said.

He looked back over at her, certainly finding her much prettier than the stars. He couldn’t believe she was really truly there with him - after months of psyching himself out and putting it off. She was the prettiest girl in the whole school, Daniel was sure of it, not to mention the sweetest and thinking about the fact that she so easily agreed to go out with him made his heart jump in his chest.

As if reading his thoughts, she asked, “Why’d you want to ask me out?”

Daniel was startled by her question and when he didn’t answer right away she looked back at him expectantly.

“I...You...were the prettiest girl I’d ever seen when you walked into the classroom at the start of term and...so nice to me and so...sweet and...I’ve had a serious crush on you for weeks now but I was too scared to ever do anything about it.”

Marigold lolled her head back against the rear window of the truck and listened so intently to him that you’d think he was preaching the gospel.

“So why now?” she challenged.

“Truth?” Daniel asked.

She nodded.

“My friends said if I didn’t ask you out by the end of the week, they’d do it for me and I don’t think I could ever recover from that embarrassment if they did.”

“Ah, so you waited for the eleventh hour?” Marigold giggled.

“Yeah.” Daniel laughed lightly, looking back down to his lap where he was picking nervously at the loose threads on the blanket draped over them.

Marigold spoke quietly to him, her eyes focused on his face even when he wasn’t looking back at her, “Well you know I’m not shy by any means but...I kinda always got a little nervous around you.”

Daniel finally looked back at her, “What? Really?”

She bit her smiling lip and nodded, “I kinda had a serious crush on you too. I’d get all nervous before first period because I knew I’d be seeing you.”

“Shut up. You did not.” Daniel blushed, looking away from her shyly.

“I did. I did, I swear.” Marigold giggled. “You were just so cute and quiet and made me feel like a little kid all shy.”

“You shoulda told me.” Daniel mumbled, his cheeks flushed pink.

Marigold nudged him, “You shoulda told me.”

They looked back out to the stars, smiling to themselves quietly at the confessions of the other. By the light of the stars, Marigold slid her hand out and brushed over his wrist ever so gently. His eyebrows furrowed a moment in confusion and turned his left hand out palm up as if expecting her to pass him something but all she did was slide her fingers into his and held his hand. Daniel kept his eyes on the sky but gladly kept a snug grip on her hand, ignoring the sickening sweet butterflies that flew around in his stomach.

“My mom says I can get too friendly sometimes so if I cross a line just tell me.” Marigold said.

“You’re fine.” Daniel assured her with a whisper.

She shuffled closer and leaned her head on his shoulder and he swore the feeling of her so close had the most blissful warmth radiating throughout his whole body. He gently rubbed his thumb over hers and she gave his hand a squeeze. Is this what heaven felt like? Daniel never wanted to leave. Just to sit forever just them and the stars.

They sat just like that for a while, sharing whispered conversations about home and their families and their favourite movies. Even when their palms got a little clammy as the minutes moulded into hours, they didn’t move from their spot.

Their spot.

Curfew approached faster than they would have liked to admit and Daniel turned to look at her in their close proximity. Their noses touched as she was still leaned up into his side but she just brushed hers over his and they shared little shy giggles. He could have kissed her right then and there. The stars sparkled in her light blue eyes and he could feel the warmth of her body against his and she was staring at him like she wanted him to.

Daniel shifted slowly and dusted a kiss over her cheek instead before slipping his hand out of hers, “We should head back.”

His shyness made her smile and she let her gaze linger on him a moment longer as he gathered their empty takeout bag and shifted the blanket off of their laps. Daniel never often noticed the way she stared at him when he wasn’t paying attention, always with that same soft smile and adoring light eyes, ever since that very night of their very first date.

Daniel mentally beat himself up the entire drive back into town for not kissing her. The opportunity was right there and he chickened out. As they pulled into Marigold’s driveway, he told himself he was going to kiss her and end the date as it should end. He parked and took a deep breath before looking over at her.

“Thank you for tonight.” Marigold smiled. “I had fun.”

“You’re welcome.” Daniel replied quickly.

“Dinner was great...the stars...everything...it was incredible.”

Daniel only nodded, trying to find that perfect beat of silence so he could go for it but Marigold wasn’t really one to ever stop talking.

“I haven’t really been on dates before...but this one was certainly my favourite. Even the flower. Especially the flower.” she touched the yellow marigold that was still tucked behind her ear before grabbing her small purse and opened the door.

“I’ll walk you up.” Daniel said hurriedly and jumped out of the truck with her.

He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his pants as they headed up the front steps and she smiled widely at him.

“What a gentleman.” she complimented, a hint of teasing in her tone just to make him blush.

She reached for the door handle but turned back to him almost expectantly. Daniel almost went for it but she spoke again.

“So...are we dating then?”

Her question took Daniel by surprise but she smiled sweetly at him as she waited for his answer.

He licked his lips nervously but nodded, “Yeah. I’d...I’d like that.”

“Daniel, will you be my boyfriend?”

“I’m supposed to ask you!”

“You asked me on the date so it’s only fair I can ask you to date me.”

“That’s...that’s not...Marigold, will you be my girlfriend?”

“Only if you agree to be my boyfriend.”

“You’re so stubborn, oh my gosh.” Daniel laughed nervously.

“Is that a yes?”

“Yeah, obviously.”

“Yeah, obviously.” Marigold giggled, using his words as her reply too, their momentary banter falling into silence.

This was the moment.

Daniel stepped closer to her and leaned down slightly, sliding his hand to the side of her neck and gently tilted her head up towards him. They were only a mere inch apart before the front door was tugged open and Marigold, who still had her hand on the handle, went stumbling backwards with a gasp.

“Mari!”

Marigold turned to her younger sister with a huff, “What, Iris? What is it?”

The blonde girl in the doorway - who looked a heck of a lot like Marigold apart from her slightly darker blonde hair and much greener eyes - continued loudly, “Do you know where my purple skirt is? I need it for this weekend!”

“You couldn’t have waited two more minutes for me to come inside?” Marigold scolded lightly.

Daniel shifted shyly on his feet and kept his hands in his pockets as she reprimanded her little sister.

“Hey,” the younger teenager looked past her to Daniel, “Aren’t you Anna Seavey’s brother?”

Daniel nodded stiffly, “Yeah.”

“Jesus! She’s like the coolest freshman in the entire school. Mari, are you dating Anna’s brother?!”

“Iris! You’re being rude. And don’t say Jesus.”

“Okay, but have you seen my skirt? Can you help me find it?”

Daniel chuckled at Marigold’s obviously unimpressed expression but she sighed in defeat, always too nice for her own good.

“Fine. I’m coming.” Marigold looked back to Daniel, “Sorry.”

He waved his hand between them casually, “Nah, it’s fine.”

“I’ll see you on Monday.” she smiled. “Thanks again for tonight.”

Daniel nodded and watched her be pulled inside by her fourteen-year-old sister. He lingered on her front porch for a moment before exhaling deeply and running his hands through his hair. Merely a few hours before he was pathetically pining over this girl from his english class and suddenly, by nightfall, he was her boyfriend.

Daniel drove home in his hand-me-down pickup truck that lingered with the scent of her floral drugstore perfume. No junior would ever say this, but he couldn’t wait until Monday.

[etherrealoblivion]

Chapter Ten: Drink!

Table of Contents

Fic summary: Owning a bookstore in downtown D.C. came with its fair share of downsides. You never thought that being the target of a serial killer would be one of them. Luckily, a nice FBI agent by the name of Spencer Reid is assigned to watch over you. What's the worst that could happen?

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Words: 1,439

RATING: PG-13+

MASTERLIST

~

“Ooh!” you sat forward, leaning against his shoulder. “Tell me all about it!”

“About it?” Realization flashed over his face. “Oh no. No, no, no!”

“Please, please, please!” You pulled his legs up into your lap, trying to hold on as he kicked you off. “You can’t leave me hanging like that!”

“Drink!”

“What?”

“You assume I can’t leave you hanging when, in fact, I can. Drink.”

Smart-ass. 

Taking another sip, you shoved him backward. Now, you were both lying down, heads propped on each arm of the couch, facing one another. You giggled and shoved your feet in Spencer’s face.

“Pfft. Hey! Alright, my turn,” his hands were grasping your ankles now to keep you from kicking. It felt nice.

“Go.”

“When you were in the fourth grade, a boy named Sammy Pierce pulled your hair and you punched him, knocking out three of his teeth.”

Struck speechless, your mouth fell open. You’d never told anyone about that.

“How the hell—“

“—It’s in your file.”

Snatching up the pillow from the basket, you whacked him over the head.

“Ow!”

“That’s cheating!”

“It’s simply using all available resources. Drink up.”

“Ah, ah. Not quite. I did knock Sammy Pierce’s teeth out in the fourth grade, but Sammy is short for Samantha.”

Spencer’s face fell.

“I can’t believe I didn’t notice the lack of gendered pronouns in the file!”

Lifting his cup to his mouth, you said, “Just goes to show you shouldn’t assume gender.”

“You’re right that’s on me. Your turn.”

“So, you’re not a virgin.” He glanced away again, tinting pink. “How old were you?”

“That’s not an assumption.”

“You were under twenty when you lost it.”

He shook his head and you drank.

“Over twenty?”

He drank.

“Twenty-one?”

His lack of movement was your cue to drink.

“Twenty-two?”

He drank.

“Twenty-two?! Why so old?”

“I don’t know!” his tone defensive, he rambled, “It just never happened before then. Not a lot of girls liked what I have.”

“Drink!”

“What, why?”

“Oh I’m so sure that no girl would want to be with the cute, smart, tall, nerdy Doctor who kisses like—“

Trailing off, you felt Spencer tense across from you, hands releasing your ankles. The two of you hadn’t discussed the kiss at all since it happened. You figured it’d be best to ignore it and assumed he thought the same.

As smooth as possible, he cleared his throat and said, “Actually, uh, I’ve never really had someone interested in me before. Not romantically, at least.”

“But you’ve had sex, someone liked you!” 

Spencer simply looked you in the eyes, joyless expression on his face, and said, “Drink.”

A small gasp escaped your lips when you realized what that implied. So you complied, letting yourself indulge a bit.

“She didn’t like you?”

He took a sip.

“Most women tend to go for someone that they find handsome, strong, and charming. Being none of those things, I’m at a disadvantage, but, luckily, I’m apparently the perfect guy to make your boyfriend jealous. Fortunately, it worked,” he added with a derisive laugh. “At least, he was jealous enough to take it out on me.”

His eyes shone with the tears he was holding back. Before you could stop yourself, you shifted on the couch so you could hug him, laying in his arms.

Surprisingly, he didn’t tense this time like he had every other. He relaxed into the embrace instantly, wrapping his arms around you and burying his nose in your hair.

Just comfort him. You’re just comforting him. Don’t do anything else.

But, like an idiot, you lifted your head and looked at him. Your eyes met and the air was charged with the sudden tension. Faces mere inches apart, you couldn’t help glancing down at his lips.

“We should really get to sleep,” he whispered, breath soft against your cheek.

“Drink.”

He laughed softly at your joke, closing his eyes. His lashes were so long. You wondered if he could feel them against his cheek. His lips looked so soft . . . and so close . . . The mix of booze and hormones from being so close got to you, and you leaned in, pleased to see that he was too.

BOOM!

The two of you snapped apart and Spencer stood, swaying only slightly as he withdrew his gun, leaving the safety on.

“Go in your room, lock the door, don’t come out until I tell you.”

“Spencer—“

“Now!”

But you lowered his hand holding the gun, speaking calmly.

“Spencer, it’s thunder.” He froze like a deer in the headlights, staring at you. “Look.”

Pulling him to the window, you opened it, watching him watch the rain, a blank look on his face. He’s so . . . the word ‘handsome’ didn’t cut it. He was beautiful.

A lightning strike lit up the city, followed instantly by a loud thunderclap. Spencer twitched next to you.

You chuckled lightly and he looked at you, blushing.

“Are you scared of thunder?”

“On average, twenty-seven people die from lightning strikes in the U.S. every year. And that’s not counting fires caused by lightning. The odds of being struck in your lifetime are one in three-thousand, now that doesn’t sound like a lot but it is. In fact—“

“But, most lightning deaths and injuries occur in the summer. In Florida. I doubt you’re gonna get struck in the dead of winter . . . in D.C. . . . Inside.”

He laughed politely, sitting on the windowsill.

“I guess.”

You took his hand, pulling him back to the couch. And he let you.

“You wanna keep playing?” you asked him once you’d gotten comfortable (keeping a respectable distance).

“Drink.”

You laughed, taking a sip.

“Fine. We don’t have to. What do you wanna do?”

He made a noncommittal noise, shrugging then said, “You?” Upon seeing your reaction, he blushed and clarified. “I meant, I don’t know. What about you? Not . . . I mean not that . . . Um. What would you like to do?”

You smiled. The way he rambled when he was nervous was charming. It was horrible to think someone had taken advantage of him. A part of you found yourself hating the girl who’d used him to deal with her own problems.

Isn’t that what you’re doing?

Shut up!

Focusing back on his question, you said, “You made up the pillow toss game, I made up the drinking game. It’s your turn again.”

“To pick a game?”

“Or make one up!”

“I don’t know. . . . We could play poker?”

“Great! Wait, I don’t have cards.”

He pulled his duffel bag towards him and fished out a worn deck of cards.

“Lucky for you, I came prepared. What should we use for chips?”

“I have chocolates?”

“That works.”

So you stumbled onto the floor, sitting across from him as he shuffled, and divided the chocolates between you.

“You know how to play?”

Rather than answer, you took a sip of your drink, confirming his assumption.

Smiling at you, he dealt the cards.

“Alrighty. The game is five-card draw, nothing’s wild, ante is two kisses. Chocolates,” he corrected, blushing. “Chocolate kisses. You know, no one knows how kisses got their name, not even the company. The legend says it’s named for the sound the machines make during manufacturing.”

The rambling would never get old. It was the most adorable quirk ever.

“Ante in,” both of you put in the appropriate amount of chocolates, “and the person to the left of the dealer goes first.”

So you played a few rounds, Spencer winning most of them, folding when he knew he couldn’t win. It started to get tedious.

“Okay, this is not working. Your computer brain cannot be beat! Turn it off!”

“I think that would involve a lot more alcohol or a huge distraction. And I’m not comfortable ingesting any more bourbon. I need some wits about me.”

To keep you safe, was what he didn’t say. 

“A distraction, then.” A tiny lightbulb lit up your brain. “Okay, deal the cards, I have an idea.”

“What—“

“Just deal!”

So he did, you played a round and lost. But when you handed over your cards, you stripped off one of your socks and tossed it at Spencer. He caught it deftly, confused.

“This is your distraction? Throwing socks at me?”

“Nope. New rules: if you lose, you give up an item of clothing.”

Spencer went pale, staring at the purple sock in his hand.

“Y/N . . . are you suggesting . . . strip poker?”

“No. I’m playing strip poker. With you.” You shot him a mischievous smile and watched his expression as he did the math on the amount of clothes you were each wearing. 

“Deal the cards, Vegas.”

~

Taglist: @aperrywilliams @mjloveskids666 @dolanfivsosxox @criesinreid @fanficsrmylife @racerparker @sammypotato67 @lukeskisses @reidcrimes @you-had-me-at-hello-dear @l0ve-0f-my-life @thatsonezesty13​ @yourmisosoup @queenofthebees003 @pinkdiamond1016 @eu-solidao

[chaosmax]

Dragon’s Hoard

Summary:  For a break, Diva approaches Seto for a casual duel, no fancy holograms this time. Unfortunately for him, Seto's bearded dragon wants all of Seto's attention for himself. Clearly, this should be considered unlawful interference. Still, neither of them is willing to just hand over a win.

Tags: Oneshot, Kaiba has a lizard and it doesn’t like Diva, mainly because Diva takes Seto’s attention, Dueling and bickering, Fluff, Cubeshipping

Word count: 964

Read on AO3 here, but the rest is also under the Read More.

There was an audible snap of a book closing to Kaiba’s left as he read over some reports on his laptop.

“Well? Did you like it?” he questioned.

But instead of responding, Diva simply took a moment to remain silent in the spot of sunlight he was lounging in on the couch in the office.

Kaiba returned his attention to the documents.

“It was an interesting tale. But I felt the explanations behind all the technology and science was a bit unnecessary.”

“Take that back, that’s one of the best things about it.”

With a roll of his eyes, Diva sets the book on the table and gets up to walk over to Seto’s desk. But before he could ask what the CEO was doing, his eyes caught something more dangerous.

Seto’s lizard, perched on its owner’s shoulder. Like a little watchdog.

Diva wasn’t going near that thing. Not after last time.

“I was going to ask you if you wanted to take a break and have a quick duel.”

A slow smirk spread across Seto’s face as he refocuses his attention on the ex-Plana.

“Something stopping you?” he asked with a raised brow.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the bearded dragon puffing up his throat.

Golden eyes fixed him with a stare before dragging a chair over to sit across the desk.

“No,” he said reaching into his coat and taking out his cards.

With a snort, Kaiba pushed his computer to the side and tapped a button on his Duel Disk that was laying on the edge of the desk. The lights flared to life and the digital deck appeared on the table a moment later, already shuffled.

“How random can the shuffling of a binary machine be, Seto Kaiba?”

Five blue holographic cards are taken off the top and Seto glances at them. Not a bad start.

“That machine is doing math that would take you and me hours. It is sufficiently random.”

Diva finishes shuffling his cards the old fashion way and sets them on the desk. Kaiba taps it without cutting it.

“Card type on the bottom of your deck?”

“Trap, Cubic Ascension.”

“Monster,” Kaiba grumbles.

Trap beats monster. Diva got to decide who goes first.

“Oh? Do tell?” Diva asks as he just sets a few cards for his first turn.

“Blue Eyes.”

“Really now? Maybe your machine is more fair than I thought.”

Kaiba draws and summons Assault Wyvern. “Won’t matter, it’ll be in my hand or on the field soon enough.”

The turns slowly pass, all while the lizard on Seto’s shoulder just stares at Diva like he has a vendetta. As if Diva was an intruding thief in the dragon’s hoard of gold.

But eventually, as time passes the turns slow to a crawl. The Cubic counters have done their work and locked Kaiba out of a lot of his options, nullifying his monster's effects and paralyzing them from attacking. As Diva examines his opponent’s field, it’s hard to see anything workable. But he didn’t know what Seto had in his hand. Or what Kaiba could search his deck for and retrieve something that could throw everything off—

There’s a sudden rough weight on his hand that was resting on the desk while he waited and observed. And looking over, it was just what Diva dreaded.

The little bearded dragon perched proudly on his hand, looking a bit too intently at his golden bracelet. At least, Diva hoped it was his bracelet and not one of his fingers.

“Your dragon lives up to his name, a greedy little thing. Seto, I swear—”

“What? I don’t see the problem. Let Fáfnir relax,” Kaiba says as he activates Bingo Machine, Go!!! and takes a leisurable moment to search through all of his digital cards even though he could have easily had his duel disk spit out the cards that fit the criteria of the spell’s effect.

“Sure, he certainly looks so relaxed while staring at my hand like it’s a tasty bug,” Diva says with a nod at the reptile.

“He has to learn to warm up to you eventually. And trying to feed him didn’t go over so well, but look—I think this is progress.”

“It’s progress until he decides he’s gotten bored. Middle one,” Diva says out of the three cards Seto picked. The CEO adds it to his hand and returns the other two to his deck.

“Now get him off me.” Diva doesn’t dare to move his hand, but despite that Fáfnir climbs around and clamps his jaws down on Diva’s thumb.

“Ow—Seto!”

Laughing at the other’s misery like a true villain, Seto puts his cards aside to ease the little dragon into releasing the vice grip on Diva. No real damage was done of course, but he figured that was enough havoc to cause for the day and carried the lizard back to his terrarium. Despite the ex-Plana’s suffering, this was quite a good bit of progress. For a bit the reptile did seem almost content.

“Don’t laugh, you did that on purpose because you’re losing, aren’t you?”

“Me, losing? I think you’re misreading the field, Diva.”

“If you’re determined to use underhanded tactics at least own up to it.”

Kaiba walks back around the desk and picks up two of his cards, revealing his turnabout strategy. A Blue-Eyes Alternative White Dragon and a regular Blue Eyes to special summon it with.

“You so sure I was losing? You’ve used all your Vijams already. Unless you have something to retrieve them from the graveyard all I have to do is use Alternative’s effect to clear that absurdly powered up Duza off your field.”

Diva smirks.

“Fine then. Let’s see if you can make a comeback.”

_____

Thanks for reading!

Notes: I just wanted some fluff. Fáfnir is the name of a dragon from the Icelandic Saga of the Volsungs. Also, bearded dragons are normally very friendly if you socialize and care for them properly. Fáfnir is just an attention hog.

One of the ways people can determine who goes first in a duel is to use the card on the bottom of the deck. Trap beats monster, monster beats spell, and spell beats trap. Whoever wins can either decide if they want to go first or perhaps whoever wins goes first. There are multiple variations. After your opponent shuffles their deck at the start you can cut it to ensure it's even more random and fair. Though in a non-competitive scenario, if you trust that the person isn't stacking their deck somehow and did a good job shuffling you can also just tap the cards and move onto the duel.

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

After the Bombs Fall [Animorphs ficlet]

[Note: I seem to have lost the ask where someone requested my post-war headcanon for Alloran, but anyway here it is.]

--

Less than a month after the end of the war, Alloran applies for transfer off of Earth and back to the homeworld.  When the first request gets cancelled due to a minor typo in a sub-section of a supplemental form, he curses himself and immediately applies again.

The second application lingers in the metaphorical z-space between agents for longer, nearly two Earth months, before it gets cancelled as well.  The systems are overtaxed due to the sudden influx of Earth tourism, the form letter tells him this time, and they’re very sorry for their inability to accommodate his request.

The third time he applies, the form remains “under review” on the submission portal for half a year, even though the review process normally takes less than a day.  So he applies a fourth time, a terrible suspicion taking hold by now.  The Electorate automatically cancels both applications, and has the gall to send him a snippy comm message asking that he refrain from filing redundant claims from now on.

The fifth application gets reviewed and cancelled; the sixth one doesn’t even get that courtesy.  It just stays there, “submitted” but not yet “under review,” unwanted and ignored.

Just like its author.

Alloran considers, then.  For nearly a day he paces, watching the andalite computer and the primitive human device alike, and weighs the merits of stealing Visser Three’s Blade ship out of the impound lot.  It wouldn’t be hard; the security system is coded to biometrics.  No one but he or Tom Berenson could fly that ship now, and Tom Berenson is dead.

After another day, Alloran instead morphs human and walks to the nearest CVS.

He has to swallow an entire jumbo bag of marshmallows and three jars of tomato sauce for comfort before he can swallow his pride as well.  But the comfort food does its trick, and at the end he pulls out the human cell phone still registered under one of Esplin 9466′s aliases and enters the fifth speed-dial option.

“Hey, you.”  Eva answers immediately.  “How’s it going?”

They don’t know each other, not really.  And yet in every one of their three conversations, Eva has greeted him like an old friend.  Her voice brings a reaction to Alloran’s human morph: tightness in his throat, the heat of tears behind his eyes.

“I apologize for troubling you,” Alloran says stiffly.  “Please, if you are busy, disregard this request.”

Eva snorts a laugh.  At least, Alloran thinks that that’s what the sound is.  “I’m not busy, and I owe you a favor anyway.  Shoot.”

Alloran glances around the room, but there are no weapons, so he decides to disregard that last.  “I am truly sorry if it slipped my mind,” he says, “but what favor do you owe?”

“My kid is not in jail on some foreign planet right now, and I hear that’s all your fault.  What’s the favor?”

“The War Council would not have imprisoned the Animorphs.  That is, perhaps Aximili and Prince Jake may have been imprisoned, but doubtless the full Electorate court would have proven merciful—”

“Alloran.  What’s the favor.”

He’s stalling, and she knows it.  “It’s a bit of a complicated political matter, and I’m afraid I am not well equipped to explain it to a human, but enforcement of our travel policies is more subject to individual agents’ personal judgment than we ideally would have it be, and...”

“Hijo de puta.  They’re not letting you go home, are they?”

Alloran fills his human lungs with more air than they technically need for speech.  “It’s a complicated matter.”  Nevertheless, his voice comes out small.

“You still camping at the Sharing Community Center?”

“Yes.”  His voice is even smaller now.

“I’ll be there in half an hour, querido.”  She hangs up.

While he waits, he goes outside to run, to graze, to stare up at the stars.

He didn’t lie; it is complicated.  The Andalite Electorate is struggling to recover from a decades-long war, one that threatened the existence of their very soul as a people.  Seerow’s mistakes — and Alloran’s own decision to publicize the failings of his prince — have ensured that the whole debacle was a massive embarrassment even before the defeat on the hork-bajir homeworld.

And then...

He’s heard the word, whispered and hissed and screamed and shouted.

Abomination.

Abomination.

His face is the public face of the Yeerk Empire.  His voice is its voice.  The morph he was just using — a bald, middle-aged human male — was constructed from the DNA of a dozen human-controllers.  Everything he owns, from the black limousine parked at the curb to the press pass of a woman called Aria, was taken from the hands of murdered slaves.

Of course his people don’t want him back.  Of course not.  The quantum virus was one thing, but then he had the gall go to and get himself captured by the yeerks.  And he’d added insult to injury when he’d challenged a captain on Aximili’s behalf.

He can see it.  That’s what stings.  He can stare up at the glittering point of his home star even as he runs across a field of dull foreign grass, and at this rate it’ll never be anything but a fixed point of light in an unfamiliar sky ever again.

Eva shows up then, before he can feel too sorry for himself.

She brings a human substance known as pinot noir.

**********

“And then...”  Eva points a wavering finger at him.  Her words have gotten blurrier over time.  “And then, we just sneak it in, and bam!”  She slaps the tabletop.

Alloran leans in across to her.  “Bam,” he agrees.

“You needed a ride home?”

At the new voice, Alloran stands up sharply.  Too sharply.  He gets his two flimsy little legs tangled in the chair and almost pitches over.

Marco catches him.  “You all right?” he asks.

“I,” Alloran intones, “am intoxicated.  Tox.  I.  Cate.  Ed.  Wonderful word.  Intock.  Sick.  Kate.  Dd-d-d-d-d.”

“Yeeeaah, I was getting those vibes from the—”  Marco leans around him in an impressive display of human balance.  “Bottle of wine apiece you two’ve apparently emptied.”

Eva draws herself up.  “I did not call and request a ride home, I called and requested a ride to the Netherlands!”

“You’re right, you did.”  Marco rolls his eyes.  “Which is why I made the decision to show up and bring you home instead.”

“No, no, the Netherlands.”  Eva steps up next to Alloran.  They both regard Marco carefully.  “Not to worry, we’ve thought it through.  You call your friend with the private plane, Bradley or Bradford or whomever his name is.  We fly out to the Hague tonight.”

“Where is this going,” Marco mutters.

“Holland,” Alloran informs him.  “It is-sssss in...”

“Yeah, I’ve been.”

“Anyway.”  Eva gestures sharply, bringing attention back to her.  “We shall have a perfectly ordinary canister of table salt with us, and we shall request to visit with Visser Three—”

“Oh Jesus.  Mom.”

“The guards will not suspect a thing, for it is just an ordinary condiment.  All we must then do is create a diversion, and...”  Eva flings out both hands as if miming an explosion.

“Splat,” Alloran says.  “Pllll-lat.  Hissssss.”

“And this will accomplish what, exactly?” Marco asks.

“Making Alloran feel better,” Eva whispers to him.  However, she seems to be whispering a great deal louder than she realizes.  Humans are ill-equipped for private communication, with their sad reliance on verbal speech.  “None of the andalites want him back.”

“Yeah.  Cool.”  Marco laughs.  “Ten out of ten therapists recommend war crimes for a friend in need!  And as a guy who’s been to at least ten therapists, I’d know.”

Alloran is not certain, but he believes that Marco might be employing the human verbal quirk known as “sarcasm.”

“No one will suspect a thing.”  Eva pats him on the shoulder.

Marco sighs.  “Security will just think it’s cocaine.”

“Cocaine?” Alloran asks.  “Coke-cane?  Co-c-c-c-c-c-c-aine?”

“Something you’re never going to try.”  Marco levels a hard stare at him.  “Given how well you handle your red wine.”

“Cooo-caaayyy-nnnee.  Co-cane.”

“How did you get wrapped up in this dumbass heist, anyway?”  Marco looks from one of them to the other.

“Alloran needed me,” Eva says.

“I have no friends,” Alloran announces.  “And Arbron does not own a cell phone.  Ell.  Elffffff-own.”

Marco closes his main eyes for several seconds, massaging the bridge of his nose.  An impressive feat of daring, for a creature with no stalk eyes who relies upon bipedalism.  “Should’ve known you’d be a morose drunk,” he says.

“So, you’ll take us to the airfield, then?” Eva asks.

Lifting his head up, Marco opens his eyes.  “In the words of my wise and estimable mother: if you want it that bad, you can have it when you’re sober.”

Eva opens her mouth halfway, squinting in what Alloran would guess is the effort of remembering when she would have said that.  After a second, her expression clears.  “I was right to say it, that floozy would have broken your heart in the morning, and this situation is entirely different!”

“That floozy’s name was Jake Gyllenhaal,” Marco mutters, “and I totally would’ve gone for it when I was sober, but I never got his number.”

Eva says something in Spanish, presumably about the loose morals of Jake Gyllenhaal.  Marco’s expression would suggest that he only pretends not to understand her.

“Anyway.  The point stands.  I’m driving you home.”  Marco jerks his chin at Eva.  “And you,” he says, looking at Alloran, “are gonna morph and sober up before we go anywhere.  I’m not having you nothlited on my conscience.”

“But,” Alloran says, “the salt—”

“We’ll revisit the salt in the morning,” Marco says firmly.  “Demorph.  Please.”

Alloran considers pointing out that he is a war-prince, he does not take orders from alien children, he has his pride... And then considers whether any of those statements is actually true.

He demorphs.

Instantly, he feels both better and worse.  On the upside he’s more clear-headed now, but on the downside he’s more clear-headed.

“I’ll call you.”  Marco gives him a long look while shepherding Eva out the door.

**********

Marco does not call, but he does send several written missives to Alloran’s cell phone.  The Animorphs still have an illegal andalite communication device, it would appear, and Marco has put in requests to channels both official and not about the possibility of transport from Earth to the homeworld.

     —Ax is on it, Marco’s latest text reads.  —He’s calling an old friend.  Might take some smuggling, but we’ve got an idea.

     —Thank you, Alloran types carefully on the tiny keyboard.  —Your assistance is greatly appreciated, and undeserved.

He’s debating whether to hit send when there’s a knock on the door.

Alloran’s in an abandoned building the Sharing used to use for housing human-controllers.  There is very little chance that this is an incidental knock, or someone who wandered by accidentally.

The thought occurs to him that it’d be smarter to morph human and blend in before he answers.  But the fear of facing the unknown in a half-blind, tailless morph wins out.  He opens the door as is.

It proves to be the right decision.  The andalite on the other side didn’t bother to morph either.

Estrid stares at him in silence for several seconds.  Her expression is unreadable, all eyes ahead and carefully blank.  Alloran doesn’t know what she’s looking for, but he lets her look.

«Estrid,» he says at last, when it’s clear she isn’t going to speak first.  He gestures with his tail blade, the downward sweep of greeting for an honored warrior.

«Father,» she says.

Her own sharp tail-turn puts the flat of her blade toward him.  A greeting between equals.  An insult.  Both not formal enough for an aristh to acknowledge a war-prince, and too formal for greeting a family member.

But then, Alloran went for Estrid, didn’t he.  Not Aristh Estrid-Corill-Darrath, not Estri-kala or my child.

They haven’t seen each other in over two years.  They haven’t spoken in almost twenty.

Arguably, given how young she was when he was taken, they’ve never really spoken at all.  Certainly Alloran knows little of the person his daughter has become as a young adult.  As a groundbreaking aristh.  As a brilliant researcher.

As a war criminal.

Humans have a saying, about apples that don’t fall far.

«How is Jahar?» Alloran says.  It’s what he really wants to know, and he doesn’t know how to approach any of the other minefields that lie between them.  «And Ajaht, how is he?»

Judging by Estrid’s expression, she takes this to be a standard small-talk opening instead of the deeply earnest inquiry it is.  «Mother is well enough.  I suppose you’ll have to apologize to her in person.»  She doesn’t mention her brother.

Alloran feels his tail blade drop nearly to the floor without his permission.  «Yes.  Of course.  Estrid...»

«I’m on a diplomatic mission to Earth,» she says briskly.  «Prince Aximili and I have concluded discussions with several local leaders about access to morphing technology and tourism restrictions going forward.  Therefore, I will be able to exit the planet and return home after being subject to nothing more rigorous than human security scans.»  The dismissive little flick of her tail at this last is, all things considered, somewhat warranted.  Humans have yet to devise a single effective way to detect morphers.

«Return home,» Alloran repeats.

Might take some smuggling, Marco said.  It’s sinking in: Estrid is here to bring him home.

Home.  To the wife he disgraced.  The brother he got killed.  The children who won’t even acknowledge him, a feverish pair of overachievers desperate to leave his legacy behind.  Ajaht’s tail-fighting is so legendary that, even using human channels, Alloran has been able to find scraps of news.  Estrid’s skill is not praised so publicly... but the yeerks got ahold of Arbat’s files, after their disastrous mission to Earth.  Alloran knows more about her, he thinks, than he ever wanted to.

«We’re leaving now,» Estrid says.  «My window for authorized exit ends in two-point-eight-six Earth hours, so we need to move.»

She must have been here for days if not weeks, to negotiate the way she’s describing.  And yet she came to find him at the last possible second.  Likely to minimize the time they’re forced to spend together.

Alloran doesn’t have the time or the energy to care.  «What would you prefer me to morph?»

«Something small and Earth-based.»  She barely finishes speaking before she starts to morph herself.

Alloran pauses in surprise, because Estrid morphs with shocking skill, melding from andalite to human in a mere forty-seven seconds, all without ever once losing her footing.  She even wears a normative amount of clothing when she’s finished, a sundress and sneakers and a coat overtop.

She sighs, looking him over.  «We don’t have all day, here.»

«You were wasted in Arbat’s lab,» Alloran says.

«You don’t have to tell me that,» Estrid snaps.  «Tell me, dear father, what else was a girl and a second-born and the child of a disgraced bloodline meant to do?»

Alloran has no answer.  Silently he morphs.

His options are limited — Visser Three overwhelmingly preferred large to small morphs, and Alloran hasn’t bothered acquiring much else — so he opts for snake, Lachesis muta according to a human-controller from the area.  It’s still larger than most Earth reptiles, but by coiling in close he becomes small enough to drop into the oversized pocket of Estrid’s jacket.

Estrid doesn’t speak to him, and he doesn’t ask her to, the entire way back to her fighter.  She’s under no obligation, and he won’t force the issue.

********

«We’re landing soon,» Estrid tells him, three Earth weeks and eighty-two light years later.  She’s maintained that icy formality throughout the entire journey so far, responding to Alloran’s questions — about her research, about her brother, about her morphing — with flat non-answers.

Alloran steps to the viewport to look out over the rolling grasslands of home like a child on his first in-atmosphere flight.  Is it home, really?  It’s been thirty-nine years since he left home to quell the small skirmish on the hork-bajir homeworld, forty-seven since his first offworld assignment serving under Prince Seerow.  He has seen a dozen planets, been a hundred species, since that time.  This body belonged to Visser Three for nearly as long as it did to Alloran himself, decades of nonexistence until he all but forgot his own name.

«What will you do next?» Alloran asks Estrid, still desperate for conversation.

She flicks a dismissive hand at the air.  «I have my work.»

«Even without Arbat?»

«I didn’t say it was easy.»

«And the quantum virus?»

She turns all four eyes on him.  A small part of him wants to scold her for bad form, but a far larger part of him recognizes he’d be overstepping.  «The quantum virus never happened,» she says sharply.  «And if it did, I was never informed of its existence.  This journey was my first visit to Earth, Arbat died in a lab accident, we were never involved in weapons development, and if you even think about saying differently the War Council will back my story, because all of the documentation —»

«Estrid.»  He cuts her off as gently as he can.  «I would never...»

He sees it, in the stiffening of her stalk eyes.  Hears it in the catch of her breath.  She doesn’t want a father.  Or if she does, she doesn’t want him.

«I would never dishonor the memory of my brother by raising questions about his death,» Alloran says instead.

Estrid relaxes, and turns back to the controls.

He is weary of war, weary of being alone.  The person he’d been when he first met Esplin 9466 would have been shouting by now, demanding to know what right Estrid has to consider herself any better than him.  He only deployed a quantum virus, had no hand in its evil creation.  Either she is a hypocrite... or she is just like the War Council officials who consider it a far worse crime to be enslaved by yeerks than to have murdered ten million hork-bajir.

It’s been a long war, and Alloran has missed her every moment of it.  Let her be angry; she’s here.

There is one more delicate question Alloran needs to ask, however, before they disembark on their family’s land.  «Jahar,» he says.  «I assume... She has found someone else.  To help raise you, and...»  Dark Sun, but this is hard.  «She deserves to be loved, of course.»

Eva’s mate remarried, after all.  Together they’d cried about that, somewhere between the third and fourth glasses of wine.

«Who would date her?» Estrid asks.  «Who would be seen speaking to her?  No.  There’s no one.  There hasn’t been.  There was me, and Ajaht, and that’s it.»

Alloran feels sadness and relief and disappointment and shame at his relief, all at once in a rush too complex to understand.  «I see,» he says at last.

«So go to her.»  Estrid yanks hard to unseal the fighter’s outer door; they’ve landed without his noticing.  «Go to her and—»  Another hard yank.  «Kriffing thing!»

Alloran puts his hand next to hers, pleasantly surprised when she doesn’t pull away.  As one they move, and the door comes open at last.

She came to meet them.  Alloran doesn’t know why he wasn’t expecting that, and yet...

Jahar is older, lined around the eyes and stooped in her shoulders and dull-edged around her hooves.  She’s radiant.  Transcendent.

Alloran is frozen.  Aware of all the knocks he’s taken, all the shine he’s lost.  Aware that they’ve been apart for longer than they ever were together.

He blames that last for the way his knees lock.  For the voice that freezes inside his mind, unable to form words.  For the crack in his breath and the painful squeeze of his hearts as she becomes the one to step forward.  As she raises a hand to his cheek, in the first gentle touch he’s felt in over twenty years.

--

[Note: I know that Aloth’s line in #38 about Estrid being Arbat’s niece — which would make her Alloran’s daughter — is probably not meant to be literal in context.  But the straightforward interpretation is boring, so I went with the fun one.]

[moth-song-archives]

The Insatiable Flow of Time (1/8)

I remembered that I can make posts here too huh! Anyways, I wrote a post-MAG200 fic <3

I’ll reblog it again with the link to ao3 if you’d prefer reading it there :D

Rating: Teens and Up Archive Warnings: Choose Not To Use Categories: F/F Relationships: Georgie/Melanie, Georgie & Jon, Jonmartin (mentioned) Characters: Georgie Barker, Melanie King, Jonathan Sims, the Admiral, Basira Hussain (mentioned), Rosie Zampano (mentioned), Martin Blackwood (mentioned)

Additional tags: Diary/Journal × post mag200 × Post-Canon × Canon Compliant × Rated for swearing and me doing my best to write a fitting epilogue for my most fave story of all time × Bittersweet × Hurt/Comfort × Grief/Mourning × Gentle-Sad-Soft × Fluff × Non-Sexual Intimacy × Tenderness × Generally Hopeful Ending × Ambiguous/Open Ending × Catharsis × You know how TMA is a tragedy? ... yeah × Hope Punk × dealing with the fallout of surviving a literal apocalypse × Moving on and letting go × Trans Georgie Barker × Nonbinary Melanie King × Melanie uses any pronouns but needs to (re)discover this first × and is then mainly referred to with they/them pronouns for diary-simplicity × Melanie is ace in my heart ♡ × Jon is also enby but it only gets referred to in passing × Georgie has a Type™ × Character Study × i love them all so much × Nonbinary aspec author × it's very hope punk and somft BUT ALSO VERY SAD × in like a cathartic way × because i like causing pain :') × pre-written and updates every 2-3 days

I think I might use it to… rediscover myself. That’s what I liked about journaling in the first place, I think. Getting to think about things outside of my own head, putting it out there so I could move on? Maybe it’s time to return to old coping mechanisms and try again. Even if I haven’t really changed. Even if I should’ve changed. Right?

As the world tries to piece itself back together, Georgie grapples with her past, her present, and her future by keeping a diary. She also keeps having this strange, recurring dream that involves Jon. Post MAG200.

Finished at ~12k, will upload over the next couple of days <3

Day 3 - Evening

Melanie is sleeping. Basira is also sleeping, on the sofa in the living-room. She doesn’t really know what to do with herself, these days, so for now she’s staying with us.

I am not sleeping. I’m so far beyond tired that I can’t sleep anymore. It’s been... how long? More than a day, certainly. I’m at the kitchen table and the night outside is darker than any I’ve ever seen. There are no street lights and a million more stars than I could’ve ever imagined. I wish Melanie could see them too :(

Back before everything in my life went wrong, I used to be really good at this. I think I got my first diary when I was... seven, maybe eight? I used to be obsessed with it. I guess I stopped writing in college, after the incident, because it felt... wrong? Like I was lying to myself, trying to fabricate emotions that just weren’t there, keeping up with things that no longer seemed important or note-worthy. Mainly, I couldn’t make myself care about anyone or anything anymore.

I think I want to find that person again, now that it’s over. Try and… move on? And Melanie encouraged me :) I guess that’s the main reason. I found this notebook in one of the domains when we were rescuing people. I don’t know what I originally wanted to do with it, but I did end up forgetting about it until I went through my bag again today. It smells like fire and is a bit singed in places, but I kind of like that? I think I might use it to… rediscover myself. ...that sounds very pretentious, but this is just for me, so...

And I like that it’s just cheap paper scribbled on with a shitty biro. Maybe I’ll just burn it when all the thoughts are on the paper instead of in my head. When I can sleep again. And the prize for the most dramatic way of closure goes to Georgie Barker! But yeah. That’s what I liked about journaling in the first place, I think. Getting to think about things outside of my own head, putting it out there so I could move on? Maybe it’s time to return to old coping mechanisms and try again. Even if I haven’t really changed. Even if I should’ve changed. Right?

But I don’t feel any different. Shouldn’t I feel different, now that they’re gone? The entities, I mean, though Jon and Martin seem to be gone, too.

I keep remembering Martin’s expression when he told us to go early, how upset he was.

Honestly, I can’t say I’m surprised. As long as I’ve known Jon, he’s always done what he thought best. It used to drive me up the walls, but I also admired it, I think? I never would’ve told him that, but… Well. He’s gone now.

It’s over, all of it.

And I still can’t sleep.

And Melanie is still blind, and I still feel empty, and my fear still hasn’t come back. Everyone who died is still dead, and the trauma is still there. There were angry mobs in the streets, and people got killed.

I can’t quite believe that Jon and Martin went with them. I can’t believe they left us behind to explain the entire mess.

 We’re back in our old flat. It’s so weird to be back home. Everything looks the same, as though no time passed at all. Nobody knows what date it is. How long were we caught in there?

Outside, it feels like spring. There are birds everywhere, singing their hearts out. Sounds like more birds than there used to be, too. The trees are leafless and dead-looking, but Basira pointed out that they’re getting there... and it feels like spring.

I haven’t slept properly in 3 days because the questions keep me awake. It’s not that I’m worrying, really, just… thinking? I think I could sleep better if the worry had come back, but it hasn’t.

As far as we can tell, all modern devices are broken, too. Computers and phones and such, digital cameras, generators... we don’t even know what the rest of the world looks like. I hadn’t realised how much gets controlled by computers these days, we don’t even have central heating or water access in our flat. Rumours and news are spreading person-to-person, like in the Olden Days. We only have emergency systems that were installed in case of nation-wide blackout. I guess I’m glad we don’t actually have a blackout, we just need to get the computers back to work. (If I understood it correctly.)

Melanie thinks it’ll all come back to life in a few more days. I certainly hope so. I also hope I’ll stop feeling like this. Or rather, not feeling like anything. It’s so strange. Like in the first days after the incident, when I just felt numb?

They’re gone! I want to feel like a person again! What if I never get myself back?

 They’re actually gone.

 What will we do with our lives now? Basira isn’t the only one who feels uprooted. I think the whole world feels like that right now.

I hope my computer comes back soon. I miss music, and making things. My photos, all those memories.

I don’t want to lose all of that. I want to start fresh, but not without records of the past.

…I’ve had a lot of time to think about that, specifically. Records, and futures.

What the Ghost is done, right? There’s no fun in creepy ghost stories if you’ve been through an actual, living nightmare.

I think I want to start new with that, too. When everything works again, that is.

New world, new future, new podcast. I like that. I think. Make a record of what happened through eyewitness accounts? Or is that too similar to the Statements… then again, it’ll be more like interviews. And I think we shouldn’t forget.

We owe them that much.

I’ll have to talk it over with Melanie tomorrow. Maybe.

We’ll see.

God, I think maybe… maybe I can actually try and sleep tonight. Writing does seem to help.

 Note to self: thank Laverne for suggesting it. (Also for being there for Melanie. And listening to us. And stopping with that culty nonsense. She’s the only one we found so far, but she actually listened to us. Strange to think that in this world, I have to be grateful for someone not worshipping me for some dumb reason?!)

   Day 4 - Morning

So. Three things.

1) I did manage to fall asleep after all! I’ve always been a bit of an insomniac, especially after the incident, so actually getting some proper rest felt really good.

2) I somehow woke up right as the sun went up! I think I’ve never seen a dawn this beautiful? I watched it from the bedroom window and I’ll definitely describe it to her in detail when she wakes up! The Admiral was sleeping on our pillow, right next to her head, snuggled up against the back of her neck and shoulder... it was so cute. I can’t believe my phone and camera still don’t work! Melanie has that old polaroid camera somewhere but we haven’t found it yet, and I wish my art skills were any better. I did draw a sketch of the two of them though. I’ll cherish it forever, no matter how shitty it is :’)

After everything that happened, the Admiral is still a bit weird around us. He started out really aggressive, calmed down a bit, and now… now he’s weirdly skittish? Meows a lot. Keeps walking around the flat. The only thing that even remotely returns him to how he used to be is tuna. It’s weird.

But seeing him like that, with Melanie? I love him so much.

I think he’ll be okay.

But before I forget, and why I actually got out the diary at this ungodly hour instead of trying to go back to sleep now that the sun is up…

3) I had a really nice dream. And... I don’t even know. I think I want to try and hold onto the feeling? I don’t think I’ve felt that… deeply… in a long while. Maybe the last time was before all this, when we decided to move in together. Before all of this happened.

For a moment, I felt like I was whole again :’)

It didn’t even have Melanie in it, which is very rude tbh. I think Jon was there? The Admiral, too. We were just chilling on the sofa, watching netflix I think... It felt so... mundane??? Casual, somehow??? Like it was normal to feel like that and I just... I want THAT. I want to feel like that again, instead of this weird… blank nothingness? I want that all the time, not just when I’m riding a high or feeling so terrible that it pierces through.

I don’t know if that makes sense but this is just for me anyway so I suppose it doesn’t have to.

 I think I should feel bad about Jon being gone, but I still don’t even feel relief at it being over. Just this vague numbness.

I hate it so much, except I don’t, actually, I just know that I should?

Melanie keeps saying that I need a therapist but if we’re being honest here, I guess I need one the least? The whole goddamn world needs therapy right now. Including the therapists. And I’ve been dealing with this for a long time now.

I guess I keep hoping it’ll just go away somehow.

 Anyways. Enough introspection, I’m going back to bed. I hope I don’t wake them! :)

  Day 4 - Evening

 It’s night now, the sun went down hours ago. We have a bunch of candles, but I’m trying to use them sparingly, so I just have one lit. I put a glass of water next to the candle so now the light gets magnified a bit more. It’s a weird atmosphere, but I kinda like it? Feels… cozy! :)

I’m still not over how everything looks the same, but nothing works like it did before, and there’s this… burden? This collective trauma everyone went through. It feels so surreal. So many things are still broken… it’s like we woke from a collective nightmare, but pieces of it still remain, floating around.

And we just sent it away with the tapes. I really hope those other worlds are doing better than us, but what else could we have done? I… try not to think about it. I know I should, but I still can’t really bring myself to care, or even feel overly guilty for that? …

 Melanie fell asleep with her head in my lap half an hour ago. I was reading to her. She says she loves the sound of my voice, so I’ve started doing that in the evenings. (I still love that we had separate crushes from a distance on each other for ages because of youtube and WTG. We’ve been talking about that a lot, too.)

She still has nightmares, but apparently she’s also been having good dreams, and she looks so peaceful right now. The last few days have been a lot, but in comparison to before, and even before then…

It’s over. We made it out. We get to have a future together. I still can’t quite believe it. :)

 I guess I’m writing again (despite already having done so in the morning) because it somehow helped yesterday and I’m hoping to replicate that. And I have a lot to think about. It’s been a long day.

Basira is still out there, helping out where she can. I think she feels guilty. Melanie says she doesn’t because there was no other choice, but I know her, and I know that she’s lying.

There’s always another choice. We just say that to make it easier to bear.

I hope she knows she can come talk to me when she feels ready to tackle it.

I hope I ever feel able to tackle it myself. No. I will talk to her when I’m ready.

We did talk a bit about things, of course. Melanie doesn’t really remember her dreams, most of the time, but apparently she’s been alternating between horrifying nightmares and a really nice, recurring one that sometimes happens after the nightmares. She doesn’t really remember much of it, but she mentioned it after I told her about the Jon dream. Not what it was about, just… in general.

From the way she talked about it, I think her dad might have been in it? I’m actually not sure, but the way she smiled…

She has that little smile on her lips again, even now, dreaming. The soft one she gets when she talks about good things. About him.

About me.

(I still can’t believe she chose me. How impossibly lucky? How did I ever deserve her? But then, it’s not about that, is it? She is mine, and I am hers, and… life will be good. I know it will be.)

 She’s been smiling a lot more, these past few days.

[leam1983]

On Grief

This is a long one. You're under no obligation to push further if you don't want to. It's a personal post, so I'll more than understand if this isn't to your tastes. The normally-scheduled pedantry, commentary and memes will resume shortly.

One of my relatives was diagnosed with ALS. What started as an odd case of palsy in her left set of vocal cords that could've been far more benign was just confirmed by her referred physician. It's Lou Gherig's, and with her age and current condition, her prognosis is of three to five years, tops. Sure, Stephen Hawking blew his own prognosis out of the water, but a combination of notoriety and luck enabled him to eke out as much existence as medical tech could've possibly allowed.

We knew things were suspect when my aunt, a marathoner with a monthly sub to Runner's World, stopped running. Her food intake dropped like a stone, and she soon took to increasingly simple painting and drawing styles. At first we thought it was just her wanting to explore simpler rendering techniques, but then...

Then we noticed the twitching. How awkwardly her pens and brushes were set in her hands. She was in great shape and didn't mind living in the ass-end of Sutton, basically in the open country and with a path leading up to her front door that was all in rough cobblestones. She broke a hip against them, last year.

Her speech started to slur, lately. Her last bike trip also landed her in the ER. She doesn't bike anymore. She doesn't run, and being a gourmand by nature, feels obligated to restrain herself, for fear of gaining weight. She's aggressively vegan. Not towards others, but towards herself. No meat, no eggs, nothing. Most of us ovo-lactos and omnivores in the family know her constant snacking meant her seventy-plus body is desperate for energy.

From the look of things, it feels like the diagnosis broke through her bullshit reasoning for being vegan. She wasn't vegan for the sake of limiting her carbon footprint or making more responsible choices at the grocery store, but because she, as a lifelong anorexic, thought she was ugly and needed to lose weight. That's been a constant with her. Age catches up and skin sags? She mistakes it for a love handle, cuts out virtually all sources of protein and carbs safe for tofu, seitan and bean-based preps. Of course, like a lot of anorexics, she'd have bulemic episodes. I used to sleep over at her last bachelor pad, as a teen, and I remember her pantry was loaded up for bear with Danish cookie tins, Nutella jars and whipped cream. I remember she invited me over specifically when she intended to cheat. Then it was back to yoga, pot-smoking, meditation and shopping runs - and she probably kept her purging for when I was gone.

So yeah. I'm betting Belgian Asshole (see one of my previous posts) convinced her to break her vows and went looking for a "slice of authentic Tikka Masala", to quote his email. The entire family is made up of ethnic food diehards, so we spam-flooded his inbox with recommendations. Looks like she'll be eating meat again, soon. Her own email mentioned concerns of strength and stamina, so I get it.

Otherwise? We're gobsmacked. Imagine spending an entire weekday both at work and off work, aggressively goofing off because you're trying as hard as you can not to think of your favourite aunt's mention of assisted suicide as an option.

Three to five years. Maybe one, or two good Christmases. After that, her condition should probably have started to deteriorate quickly.

I'm not close with a ton of my own family. I love them all, but it's more a sense of polite respect than anything involving solid bonds. The only two folks I know I'll be devastated for when they'll die are her, and my youngest cousin on the other side of the family.

I'm mostly okay now. No doubts, no crisis of unbelief, no anger, no rage... But then I'll see her in a more diminished state, one of those days. How am I going to take to it?

Part of me keeps a tally of the deaths in the family. First, it was my uncle on my mother's side. Ruptured abdominal artery, with a leak small enough to pool into the gut's cavity for months. Decay settled in, guy got anesthetized for an intervention...

They didn't even bother sewing him back up.

Second one was my other paternal aunt's new husband. First one was great, but left the country in the seventies to go live in Stockholm with his medical assistant. Second one was a geologist and physicist at the same campus she taught as. French guy, the son of innkeepers four generations down. It showed, too. Our Christmas tables haven't been the same since he left us his recipie books, all his corny jokes on provincial eating habits, and his obstinate focus on turning every 25th of December into a Roman orgy probably befitting of the old Saturnalia traditions. I mean, when's the last time you've had an eight-course meal, outside of Thanksgiving?

Tumors in his mesenteric artery lined the blood vessel's inner walls, deposited virtually everywhere in his body. He was diagnosed in June and dead by August. He'd always been the lanky type, bone-thin even if he hoovered food like he'd never have enough. He looked even thinner in his hospital bed.

Then, my maternal grandpa bit it. Decades of casual alcoholism, cirrhosis more or less jumping on him around his seventy-sixth year. He looked a bit like John Keston, the actor who played Gehn in CyanWorlds' Riven. Same hairline, same hawkish nose, same eyes - just more Cajun and less New England-esque. I don't know if it was youth or stupidity or - anything, really, but I dropped by to see him, just two days before he died. I didn't realize he was tallying my life, asking me if I had everything in order, if things were planned.

Now, I understand.

Next one on the chopping block is Aunt Doris, still on Mom's side. She of the serial mooching, she of the concept of not needing much to get by if you were the cute one of the family. She was pretty enough in her prime, sure - if by pretty you meant "cigarette-butt blonde with a discount Farah Fawcett blow-up and an unfinished High School degree". First husband was an abusive ass who gave her an uncommonly sensitive son, second one figured she'd stick to the minimum-wage circuit while he tore out rotator cuffs or busted his C7 while on his outboard like clockwork. By the end, she roped my grandmother into living with her, spent her days sloppy-drunk and died on her ratty couch while falling asleep and choking on her own vomit.

Before them all, the youngest of my uncles died at age two. Cancer. Never knew which one, was told it didn't matter. You didn't survive much of anything cancerous, back in the late fifties.

Ping-pong this back to three years ago, and my oldest paternal uncle dies. Paul, who smoked like a chimney for most of his life and successfully stopped after discovering Champix. He got to live five great years as the high-IQ oddball he'd always been, smoke-free. Paul was the weird bird in the family, the type to remember a really engrossing story at two in the morning and making a note to call you up first thing in the morning to share it. He always had a project of some sort to work on, like a simulated investors' tank for young entrepreneurs looking to learn the ropes, or a Byzantine arrangement of coaxials allowing four of his lakeside neighbours to pirate his cable sub. He'd invite us over for dinner, gather all the ingredients we'd need for whatever it was he wanted to treat us to - and then he'd let us cook it - just sitting by the sidelines, chatting away.

He was also a bit of a narcoleptic, and looked a bit like William Howard Taft if you'd worked him out of these old sack suits and into modern shirts and suspenders. He fell asleep practically everywhere, with his more wakeful environments being his workshop and his property's dock. He took me out fishing, once, and knew what the entire family expected.

"Oars're here, Gremlin, fish're that way. Wake me up when you've got a bite."

At this point, it wasn't even a point of concern; it was just an Uncle Paul Thing, the exact thing you'd have expected out of this kind, eccentric blob of a man whose idea of fishing involved pushing his hat over his eyes and basically all but ensuring that his roaring snores would scare prey away. He'd been a supposedly high-IQ type, terminally bored with almost everything, only really getting agitated and interested back when I asked him for help for my Junior High Computer class's Javascript calculator. Once the syntax hit something familiar and he realized that JS has some similarities with FORTRAN, he was on a roll, acting like someone had snuck a Red Bull in his coffee.

Well, fibrosis caught up with him. His last hours were spent directing us on how to cook what would've been his last meal. I think he really just wanted to know we were alright, that we still could exchange laughs around the kitchen counter. He clocked out the way he always did, except he had an oxygen tube running under his nose. His head bobbed down, he snored loudly for a few minutes, then turned increasingly quiet...

And that was it.

And now there's Isabelle. The marathoner, my partner-in-crime when it comes to professing to have a healthy diet while occasionally cheating in glorious, weekend-defining means, my gateway to cannabis and also the first person who took my cringy self-insert fanfic fodder and went No, that's worth it! Push it, develop that universe of yours!

I wouldn't be almost two-thirds of the way through my first decent manuscript, if not for her, and I wouldn't be shopping for publishers with the same energy you'd reserve for weekend-grade Facebook putzing-about. I owe her part of my self-acceptance, and part of my discovery of what defines my routine to this day. Isabelle was my first meditation coach.

And in three to five years, she might be gone.

I just thought grief might be... noisier, is all. Louder. Right now, it's just germane to confusion, and it's sitting there. There's a pinch of fear in it, too. My parents are in their mid-sixties. How long do I have left with them?!

And the family and I just covered that up with jokes and, well, cooking. I've been told I'd make a half-decent therapist but - navigating your own emotions is hard work...

I don't know. I guess I needed to put this down somewhere.

[my-brothers-corrupted]

Chapter Four - Part 5

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

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

Part 5 - Haloperidol

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

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

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

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

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

Dapper doesn’t let go of him.

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

“I won’t,” signs Dapper.

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

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

“If I don’t?” he dares to sign.

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

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

In Trick’s eyes, all is well.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Something in his eyes softens like butter.

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

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

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

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

Anti smiles. Cold and bitter in the darkness.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

.

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t know! Something!”

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

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

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

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

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

“Going to go take Blue swimming,” mumbles Dok, his eyes shadowed and angry. “Just… I’ll think. Please, Red. You promised me back in Peru you’d always help me make sure he has his medicine. It’s torture for him without it. You know that.”

Anonymous asked: red, this is a genuine question, what do you think will happen if you go along with what anti says?

Red bites at his nails, thinking, his eyes flickering across the floor.

“My job has always been to minimize the damage,” he says quietly. “But even when I haven’t been able to do that, the worst things I’ve ever seen Anti do are steal Blue’s magic, chain Dok up by the throat, separate twins from each other, sometimes cut or beat us up. But I don’t remember before Norway.”

He steps out into the hall, looking around. He can hear Trick’s side of what must be a conversation with Dapper in the kitchen and Dok trying to get Blue out of bed - without much success. The thought makes his stomach twist.

“I’m scared to see Dapper psychotic again,” he says. “The last time he was…”

Red closes his eyes, putting a hand on his heart, as if that can keep it quiet against the memory of his little brother hanging off over the side of that cliff. He’s been having nightmares. He’s been having nightmares most all the time. He’s tired and he misses Max.

“Well, you were there,” he sighs. “And now I’m starting to get really scared for Blue. I’m scared that if I go along with Anti, even if I do everything I can to minimize… I might still… I might still…”

He steps towards the bedroom. Blue is barely even responding to Dok’s attempts to wake him. He lies stiff in his bed, pale and worn, hugging a pillow to his chest. Dok shakes him gently. Blue does not move.

“I might still lose a sibling. And I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.”

He turns around again. You see his eyes, dark and alight at the same time.

“If I asked you to,” he says. “Do you think you could find a way to cause a distraction?”

Anonymous asked: maybe. a distraction for what? who would we be distracting? we'd have to know before agreeing.

“Who would you be distracting? Who do you think? I’m on camera here, I need you to make a couple assumptions. Actually… now that I think about it…”

Red wanders back to the living room, flipping the laptop Anti gave him open again. He rereads Anti’s note.

Gigi will try to get into the camera system. The code for you to access it is 3110.

Camera system, huh? Red glances up at you, eyes wary. A few minutes of typing later, he looks up again.

“Tell me if this does anything,” he mumbles, hitting enter.

Half your screens black out. Upstairs, Anti sits up, blinking.

“Red!” he shouts. “What the fuck are you doing!”

“Sorry!” calls back Red quickly. “Just trying to figure this out!”

Anonymous asked: half the screen went black. i doubt that's what you were trying to have happen?

You hear Red’s fingers clacking against the keyboard. Your screens blink back to life. There’s almost fifty of them across the whole of the house - enough that, to see all of them, you have to take the time to flick between different parts of the house.

“Turn the cameras off? Me? Becoming invisible in my own home? Of course that wasn’t what I was trying to have happen… why would I?”

He grins nervously at you, his eyes scanning for cameras.

nikkilbook asked: You beautiful clever boy

Red blinks in surprise, straightening up a little. After a moment, he blushes and shrugs, a smile blooming across crimson cheeks. “Aw, no, ha, no. Thank you, uh. Ha.”

Anonymous asked: now it's back. what are you gonna do next?

“I don’t know,” sighs Red. “Maybe this is dumb. Just causing more trouble.”

“Red!” calls Dok from the other room.

“What, my man?”

“Can you come help me with Blue? He threw up.”

Red gets onto his feet, hurrying towards his twin.

Can’t lose him. Can’t lose him. Can’t lose any of them.

No matter what it takes.

pine-storm-season asked: Blue, you okay?

“I do not feel good at all,” complains Blue thickly, draped half over the bed, held up by Dok’s hands. “I do not… ‘m going to throw up again.”

He lurches forward and is sick, relieved when Red appears and pushes a piece of tupperware beneath his chin, helping Dok hold him. Neither of them react to the vomit, and he’s grateful. This is so fucking humiliating already. Tears drip down his face as he vomits and coughs, hugging his churning, aching stomach.

“It’s okay, Zul, it’s okay,” whispers Red, brushing at his hair and his back. Dok monitors his heartrate carefully, his fingers warm against Blue’s neck. “It’s not your fault, buddy, it’s okay. Here I am.”

“I feel bad all the time,” cries Blue, rocking over the bed. “Why is it getting worse? Why won’t it stop?”

“I think he should see a working doctor,” whispers Dok. “He’s right, he’s getting worse.”

“You know we can’t do that,” Red whispers back, holding Blue’s sweaty head against his chest. “It’s okay, Blue, it’s alright.”

pine-storm-season asked: Has it been getting worse for a while, Blue?

“I was better for a while,” he moans. “But then he started wearing me every night and I - I think I’m losing my mind, I…”

He’s not getting sick anymore, but he’s only crying harder, breaking down despite himself. Everything stinks of sick. He’s disgusting and ugly and weak and useless. He hides against Red’s stomach and cries, listening to his brothers’ reassurances and promises to get him all cleaned up. He can feel Red’s fear and frustration in his own chest and he grips weakly at his twin’s hand, sorry for causing him so much grief.

nikkilbook asked: Okay, this might be an absolutely rubbish idea that could backfire in over a thousand ways, but... I think I might know where you could find a doctor off the grid who has access to everything he’d need.

“I have an off-the-grid doctor with everything we need,” grumbles Red.

“Red.” Dok rolls his eyes. “I’m a heart specialist with next to no resources. I want to take him to a hospital.”

“Man, I love you, but that’s a joke. Trick told me you once got shot and Anti didn’t take you to a hospital.”

Dok flushes, touching the scar in his stomach. “I was fine,” he answers crabbily. “Trick kept me alive. And we knew what the problem was and how to fix it. It wasn’t some weird progressive magic shit I have no idea how to handle.”

“Loving the optimism,” croaks Blue, wiping his mouth on a tissue.

“Red, what if he gets worse?” hisses Dok, trying to lower his voice. “What if his heart gives out or he stops breathing right or he really does start to lose his mind, what then?”

The fear in Red’s eyes is enough to make Dok almost regret saying it. Worse, his older brother has no answer. Red just shakes his head and strokes Blue’s short hair, staring down at him.

“Won’t let that happen,” he mumbles after a long moment.

“There’s nothing we can do to stop it if we’re just complacent,” answers Dok weakly, falling back. “Red, we can’t survive like this. We’re helpless.”

Helpless. Helpless. Red hatesthat. He clings to Blue’s fingers, shaking his head. He’ll find something to do. He’s not helpless. He’ll prove it.

Anonymous asked: Red I have an idea. You're going to hate it, and I don't know if it's a stupid or wrong thing to do, and it may just be trading one demons word for another... but it may get Anti out of the house long enough for someone to run upstairs for the medication.

Red looks up, reading the message carefully.

“I’ll go get stuff to clean this up,” he tells his siblings, stepping out of the room.

“I’m listening,” he tells you. “I was also thinking… well.”

He steps out of the house for a moment and pretends to take in the sights of the forest. Admittedly, it’s beautiful out here - the trees are tall and green and swaying and he can see a shining river cutting through the earth not far away, just past their property and winding deep into the woods. But there’s something else he’s showing you, too - the stones of the outside of the house, the rain gutter, and the great window of the master bedroom, above him.

But not too far above him.

He slips discreetly back into the house. You can hear Dapper whistling in the kitchen, trying to keep his spirits up as he helps Trick make muffins.

pine-storm-season asked: We'll see what we can do, okay, Blue? We'll do our best to make stuff better for you. You're gonna be okay, even though I know it really sucks right now.

“Thanks,” he tells you thickly, blowing his nose and accepting a glass of water from Dok. “Sorry I’m so lame lately.”

“We will look after you,” Dok insists. “We’ll do what it takes, okay?”

Blue looks up at his little brother gratefully, touching Dok’s beard. “My poor tired brother. Probably hurting just as much as I am, aren’t you, darling?”

“Only for moments at a time,” answers Dok, shaking his head. “I don’t spend every hour ill like you do.”

“Either way,” says Blue. “We gotta have each other’s backs.”

“And I do,” says Dok. “I have your back. I love you, Blue.”

“I love you too, Deutsch. It’s not your fault you can’t help right now.”

Dok looks away guiltily, shaking his head.

nikkilbook asked: If you decide to go for it, wait for this Gigi person to try and access the cameras. When they do, ask if you can talk to Dr. Edward Iplier.

“Hold on, hold on,” protests Red. “That’s a step past sneaking around the house. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we got a couple trust issues in this family. Far as I’m concerned, Gigi’s with Dark, and they’re not on our side. I gotta be cautious. I’m trying to get my siblings out of the frying pan without stepping right into the fire.”

Anonymous asked: Okay, I'll rip off the band-aid: run off into the woods with your laptop and screw with the cameras as much as possible before shutting them all off. That should send anti off to find you so he doesn't lose his bet. If you can, double back to the window, or have one of the others get the meds if you don't make it back. I know dark is a huge huge risk, but we're running out of options and time. Remember that this is entirely your choice though, Red.

Red’s eyes widen in alarm. He steps back from the door, staring.

“Just… run into the woods. Where that thing is.”

Their rotting face and cold smile. The great pillar of darkness like a plague sent by angels. The fear they made him feel.

He can’t do that. He can’t. Can he?

“R… right now I just… just need to get Dapper his medicine,” he says, backing away from the door once again. Red has no desire to encounter Dark ever again. His desire to keep his brothers away from Dark is still stronger than his desire to keep them away from Anti.

Anonymous asked: Jackie we don’t know how much longer you can play this safe, Marvin’s on borrowed time right now- anything is better than nothing. But ultimately it’s your decision and whatever you think is best we’ll help you as much as we can.

“I’ll think about it, I’ll think about it,” mumbles Red, picking at his lip. “I, uh. Did set up a pretty fucking clever security system this morning, if I do say so myself. Anti has his own security and then I add a more human flair to it… keep ‘em guessing. But I could maybe shut that down if I needed to. Er - sorry. Let’s not talk about this on camera. Just… if you could distract… a certain someone. The others would help you, I bet. I don’t know. I need to get…”

He glances up at the big master bedroom window again before he moves off to get the cleaning supplies he promised Blue.

Anonymous asked: you don't have to do it, red. and you definitely don't have to do it now. we'll see how stuff goes, okay? it makes sense to not run the risk of coming face to face with them again. i agree, they're kinda terrifying.

“It’s not… a bad idea. It would distract Anti. I won’t forget.”

nikkilbook asked: I honestly don’t know who the fire is in this scenario, bud. I’ve seen a thousand different versions of Dark, and I don’t know which one this is. I know Dap’s scared of him, but I don’t know anything beyond that. I do feel confident saying, though, that there are good people who live under Dark’s protection. A little wacky at times, but good.

“Yeah,” sighs Red. “Well… my family’s a little wacky too. A little fucked up sometimes. But still good.”

Anonymous asked: Yeah but stepping into that fire might make a lot of noise that could help you get them away from Big Brother, alright? I’m not entirely aware how the relations are between those on the other side of the camera but this might be your only chance at getting your voice heard. You might even be able to reach Jack.

“J - he doesn’t even remember who we are,” says Red. “I don’t know if he would help us if we could contact him. Dapper says they were friends. But Anti? Well, he’s told me some pretty messed up stories. And he has good points. Why do we deal with so much shit if someone created us? If he was nice, he would have been nicer to us. Anti says the scar in Chase’s head is from the first day of his life. That’s messed up. But we probably shouldn’t get into it now. We seriously need to shut up. Gah, I’m such a blabbermouth. I know I’m on camera and I still go off. Geez. Let me help get Blue cleaned up and then… if you can help me get where we need to go… yeah.”

He passes Dapper and Trick, smiling at the sight of them arguing over how long the muffins should be in the oven for. Everyone’s okay, for now. But in a couple days?

He really will be helpless. The thought makes his stomach burn.

Anonymous asked: Hey Trick, where's Noodle right now out of curiosity?

“Aw, he stays in the pool room most of the time, I got a little sandbox and everything set up for him. Don’t want him running upstairs while I’m not looking. I’ve seen Anti kick stray cats. He gets scared.”

Trick goes to the door that leads downstairs, where you have a single camera with a view on the pool table and a little TV set up with a couch. Noodle is asleep on the cushions. Trick imitates a meow and his cat perks up instantly, trotting to the stairs to mewl back at him. Noodle runs up to him and Trick pulls him into his arms, hugging his kitten tight and burying his face in his fur as Noodle purrs.

pine-storm-season asked: Yeah, you're both doing really well right now. It's a fucked-up situation, and it sucks, but I think you both are handling it really well. Hopefully stuff gets better very soon.

“Yeah, we’re doing our best, aren’t we?” murmurs Red as he comes back into the room, spreading some of Noodle’s litter on the throw up to dry it out so he can clean it up later. He strips the sheets off the bed and gives Blue a washcloth to clean his face and nose.

“Why don’t I move you to the couch so you can lie down somewhere without a mess instead of just hanging out on the mattress?”

“No, please,” begs Blue, snuggled against his pillow again. “I can’t get up, Red. I’m so tired. Just let me sleep here.”

Red sighs and pushes at his twin’s hair. “Okay, buddy. I’ll crack a window. It’s going to be okay.”

Anonymous asked: Do you think using Blue as a distraction would be enough to get Anti out of his room? I think he might expect you to be by his side though, Red, so maybe Dapper or Trick could climb up?

“Use Blue? Hm. I’d have to tell him what’s going on and see if he’s okay with it, but I could. I think he’d do whatever Dapper needs. What would he do to distract him?”

bupine asked: red, do you think if we bothered anti with the information we know about his past, that could work as a distraction? i want your permission before we do so, because it could backfire and have disastrous consequences. but it also could work to make him yell at us while you did something, i'm not sure. what do you think?

“Yes, that would be okay, as long as you can get him out of his room,” says Red. “I don’t care if he gets mad - he will be mad, really mad, when he finds the you-know-what missing. I’ll tell him I took it then, so he doesn’t punish Dapper.”

Anonymous asked: I think Blue being in the state that he is, just being this sick and getting worse should at least be enough to get Anti's attention. I don't think anti will agree to taking him to a hospital per se, but if he comes down long enough to at least entertain the argument from you and Dok it may be enough time to send trick or dap upstairs and back. And hell, at least putting the idea that blue is immensely I'll in his head has to be good for something, right?

“Yeah, maybe I should go ask him to look Blue over, ask if we can go to the hospital,” murmurs Red, chewing on the nail of his thumb. “Okay… okay.”

He steps cautiously towards the stairs and climbs up one at a time on quiet feet, neglecting his usual enthusiastic stomping around the house. He pauses at the top of the stairs, peering into Anti’s room. His brother is on the couch playing with his laptops, wearing a green-haired form in a band t-shirt.

bupine asked: hey there, anti. how are you? still sick from all the magic stealing?

“Shut up,” growls Anti, who has, in fact, been almost as sick as Blue this morning. He needs a body of his own and never gets one. He kicks his blankets off of himself irritably, shifting into a sulking dog on the bed as he watches old videos of Dapper.

“Hey, Anti,” comes a soft voice.

Anti looks up, irritated to be disturbed by anyone other than his little brother.

“I want to take Blue to the hospital,” says Red, trying to stand his ground sturdily. “Dok says he’s not doing well.”

The dog rolls its eyes, shaking its head. “Don’t be stupid, Red.”

“He’s really looking bad, Anti,” says Ro, squirming in place. “I’m scared.”

“Oh, you’re scared? Stupid fucking…” Anti gets up, turning back into a human and slamming his laptop shut, pacing out to stand at the banister above the stairs, glaring.

Anonymous asked: anti, blue really is getting worse. if it's not possible to take him to a hospital, could you at least see if there's another way to get him medicine or something that he would need? he's really not okay.

“Well, what does Dok say?”

“I don’t know, he’s downstairs with him!”

Anti rolls his eyes hard and grabs Red by the shirt, dragging him downstairs. Anti appears in the doorway of the bedroom and Dok jolts away from Blue, the hair on his arms standing up. He wraps his arms around his belly and backs away for a moment, only to come hurrying back to stand in front of Blue, trembling.

“What’s going on?” asks Trick, passing by with a soda in hand.

“Go get Blue some Sprite for his nausea,” says Anti, crossing his arms over his chest. “He’s just got a bad stomach.”

“Sprite won’t help,” spits Dok - or tries to spit, his voice coming out frail.

“Shut the fuck up, Dok. No, actually, tell me what the hell’s got you little idiots so concerned.”

Red backs carefully away, heading towards his laptop and flipping it open in the living room.

pine-storm-season asked: Dok, could you say what's going wrong with Blue? And if you have ideas how to fix it, could you say those too?

“This weakness and constant sickness is absolutely relentless on him. He can’t take all this - ”

“It’s like a chronic illness, Dok. I’m not saying it’s fun, but he has to learn to handle it.”

“If it’s a chronic illness, there’s no reason he should be suffering through it without a proper examination and medicine, and the fact that it’s chronic does not mean it couldn’t be… couldn’t be… deadly.”

Blue shivers on the bed. He just wants to hide from all this. He doesn’t want Anti to touch him. He wraps his blankets over his head and tries to go back to sleep.

“You don’t even know what’s wrong, do you?” sneers Anti, taking a step towards Dok. “Some doctor.”

“I read books while I was with the magicians - ”

“Oh, come on!”

“He won’t get better, Anti! He won’t! He needs help. He struggles in the world. You’re the one who did this to him. He needs his lungs and his digestion and his heart all looked at, I’m scared what might happen!”

“You’re always scared.”

Anonymous asked: (remember, red; when you look for what you need, do you need what holds it? or just the thing itself? if you can leave its container where it is, someone else might see it and assume all is well)

“We’ll have to look at it when we get up there. I think it’s one of those clear bottles, the orange ones.”

He messes with the keyboard and for a second, your screens go black again. He’s turned off three of them - the two in the master bedroom and the one that watches the back side of the house.

“Hold on, I might be able to…”

Your vision returns across the screens, but the three he turned off now have a small symbol in the corner - an eye with a slash through it.

“You should be able to see it,” he mumbles. “But I don’t think he will. Maybe.”

He’s never had time to test it. He does know that if Anti notices the screens are off, he’ll be able to turn them back on immediately, no matter if he has his laptops with him or not. Red can spend time in the camera system, but Anti lives there.

“I’ll hurry,” he whispers, and races out the back door, flipping up his blue hood over his eyes. The river in the woods whispers at him and you see a flash of movement in the trees.

Anonymous asked: Anti if something goes wrong medically due to a chronic condition, I highly doubt Dap will be able to go back far enough to prevent it from being deadly if that's what it ends up becoming. Ignoring symptoms won't improve them.

This makes Anti pause, shuffling on his feet. He’s not used to their injuries being something Dapper can’t fix. Hell, Dapper tells him he’s killed them before just for the hell of it, and he believes it of himself. It makes him laugh.

But permanently losing one of them… well, he wouldn’t want it to happen accidentally. He steps over to the bed, smirking as Dok cowers away from him like an under-sized dog, though he refuses to step away from Blue’s body. Anti sits down on the side of the bed and draws the covers back. Blue doesn’t bother to open his eyes. Anti rakes fingers through his hair, gripping his chin and turning his head back and forth.

“Feel his heart,” mutters Dok.

Anti pushes at Blue’s throat and finds his pulse, weak and erratic. He frowns.

“He was fine in Singapore,” he says. “Just a little weak.”

“He is getting worse,” growls Dok.

“He shouldn’t be,” answers Anti, raising an eyebrow. “Sure you’re not mercy-killing him or something, Dok?”

“Don’t even joke,” hisses his older brother.

“No, I wouldn’t put it past you,” sneers Anti. “Little sadist. You know, they say most serial killers are medical staff.”

Trick comes back with Blue’s Sprite and Anti turns his head to him, cutting himself off before saying anything else.

Anonymous asked: Anti, possessing Blue only helps you feel better because it's his magic you stole. If he dies, sure, you can possess anyone else, but you won't have Blue! The magic's just gonna get worse and worse! Even for purely selfish reasons, you need to invest in Blue's continued survival, and that means q more holistic medical approach than Dok can provide.

“Well, look, as I’ve told you, I don’t have any way to give the magic back, so don’t stop harping on me about that again,” says Anti. “I, uh - I don’t regret it, but I will admit it was poorly-researched.”

“Ohhh,” says Dok, in a tone like he’s about to say more, but Anti shoots him a look and he falls silent, glaring at the floor.

“But here’s what you’re all forgetting - if this is because of the magic withdrawal, there’s nothing a doctor can do.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” protests Dok. “You said he improved at the hospital in Singapore! If nothing else they could give us more time to figure out how to fix this. And why discard it when we haven’t even tried?”

Anti turns away, thinking.

On the other side of the house, Red leaps up and positions himself between the gutter and the stone of the house. He finds his foothold, adjusts his grip, and begins to climb up towards the master bedroom, his feet finding places in crevices and cracks when they have to, moving like he’s climbing mountains.

pine-storm-season asked: He's scared for a reason, Anti. There's a not-that-low chance that it could kill Blue, he's just getting worse. Anti, he needs help or he might die. and even if you in particular don't care that much about it, the others do. a lot. Blue needs help and you're in charge of getting him some.

Anti sits for a moment, looking at Blue, petting his hair.

“He is so ugly these days, isn’t he?” he murmurs, tilting his head at him. “I tore that dignified pretty boy with all that lovely hair down to scraps and pieces.”

Blue does not move. You’re not sure if he’s awake or not. Dok glances over at Trick, who’s busying himself with adjusting the blinds to let Blue sleep. His brother sees him looking and smiles at him.

“But he is still… hmm.” Anti draws his hand away from Blue’s hair, looking down at him.

Here is someone who has destroyed and hurt him in the past. Seeing him brought low, seeing him cower at his feet, killing Marvin - that was one of the greatest satisfaction’s of Anti’s life. And he’s enjoyed torturing him since. But he belongs to him and he isn’t allowed to slip away or escape, not even by dying. He’s a piece of the puzzle.

“Well, we’re stuck in the forest for a while yet, though I’m sure I could sneak one of you past Dark if I really had to,” says Anti, checking a watch that he makes appear on his wrist. “Four more days of the game, or until he catches one of you. I don’t much mind either way.”

“Anti, please - ”

“He can hold on four more days,” growls Anti, warning Dok into silence. “Don’t fuss so much. He’s just tired. Let him rest. And then - oh, yes, perfect! Ippy can look at him. He’s as nuts as you are, my darling, but at least he has a real clinic set-up, last I checked. He can get a real check-up then.”

Dok opens his mouth to protest, uncertain, but four days is a better promise than nothing.

Upstairs, Red opens the window to the master bedroom and slips inside the room, searching for Dapper’s Haldol.

“Where is it, where is it…”

pine-storm-season asked: So four days or less, and then Blue gets help? Now, I apologize if I'm mistaken, but I don't exactly trust you to keep to that, Anti.

“I don’t exactly give a fuck about any of your opinions,” answers Anti cheerfully.

“Anti,” laughs Trick, appearing behind him and draping himself over his shoulders. “Be nice to the cameras.”

“You two really are twins.” Anti leans back to kiss his cheek, pulling his head close to his own. “What are you up to? Huh?”

“Haha, just cooking most of the time. And playing pool.”

“Mh, yeah. You like playing around, huh? My Trickshot.”

Trickshot laughs as he’s pampered, pressed close to Anti’s body.

pine-storm-season asked: Trick, do you want Anti to stay here a bit? He's usually upstairs, isn't he?

“Hey, yeah, come shoot pool with me!”

“I’m not going to shoot fucking pool, haha. I don’t play pool, Trick.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know, that’s dumb.”

“Are you embarrassed you can’t play?”

Anti turns around and flips him over his side, laying him out on the ground. Trick shrieks and then bites down on his lip, laughing.

“We’re going to wake Blue up!”

“Get your ass out of here,” scolds Anti, getting up and pulling Trick after him, shoving him towards the door.

“You are always upstairs, though, you never hang out with me.”

“You can come upstairs,” says Anti fondly. “I’ll let you play games on the computer or something.”

“Okay!”

Anonymous asked: Cam you at least look into stealing some medical equipment or Something in the meantime, Anti? Thank you giving the chance for an actual checkup in four days, because I think that'll help a lot, but is there nothing you can do before then? Like, even a heart monitor so it's easier to keep track of how Blue's doing, or an oxygen machine, or any of the setup he might get in a hospital? I don't know if you have to stay here to try to keep Dark from winning the game or something

“I’ve been through the shit in the medicine cabinet,” says Anti, turning to look back at Dok. “I’ll unlock for you as long as you don’t get into the fucking sleeping pills like you used to. There’s at least some basic stuff in there for the nausea and headaches, and I think a blood sugar kit and that sort of thing.”

“Okay,” says Dok quietly.

“He’ll be fine, Dok.”

Dok looks up. For a second, it almost sounded like Anti was trying to comfort him.

Anonymous asked: agsjdjdksf trick you're a delight. do you just play pool by yourself? i thought it was usually a multiplayer game. ill be honest i love the idea of seeing anti with a pool cue tryna put some balls into holes. seems a very analog form of entertainment for him hahaha

“Haha, you should play with me, you would like it!”

“No.”

“I’ve been playing with Dap and sometimes Red and Dok. Not going to lie, Dap’s pretty good - but there’s a reason they call me Trickshot, baby.” He winks at you and then laughs.

bupine asked: why are you watching old videos of dapper, anti? don't you have more important things to be doing, like making sure your brothers don't die? like blue, the one you hurt? he's really fucking sick, anti. he's going to die if you don't do anything.

Anti turns on you, his face dark. “None of your business,” he spits, pulling Trick closer to him. “Nosy little bastards. I wouldn’t have a camera in my room if Dap didn’t stay in there, I’ll have you know. Need to start turning the damn things off. Prying eyes.”

Upstairs, Red pauses, looking at the images on Anti’s screen. There’s a young man in a black and white suit pressed against the back of what might be a big dog kennel, trying to keep away from the fingers that are petting at him. He has teal hair and blood on his fingers. Red’s heart aches for a second. His baby brother. It’s like he’s never had a day of relief in his life.

Anonymous asked: Dok, I know we're probably not gonna do much better than 4 days and he just called you a serial killer but Red needs a little time, can you do something to keep Anti down a few moments longer? For dap and Reds sake?

Dok blinks, alarmed. “What’s…?”

He peers out the hallway after his brothers, worried now. Blue mumbles something as Dok gets up and moves after them, trying to think, and almost immediately bumps into Dap.

“Dok? What’s wrong? Look worried.”

“It’s - I don’t know, the cameras said to distract him or something? I don’t know if something’s going on.”

“Oh. Distract Anti? Easy.”

Dapper pulls a knife out of his pocket and slams Dok into the wall with a bang, pressing the blade to his throat. Dok yells in alarm, terrified, and Anti and Trick turn around on the stairs.

“Dapper!” screams Trick, gripping at his chest.

“Carver, stop,” snarls Anti, stalking towards him.

“It’s not Dok! It’s not Dok! It’s not Dok!” screams Dapper’s free hand, his eyes gone wild, and Dok bites down on his lip to hold back an incredulous laugh.

Anonymous asked: Red, we're doing our best to start. If it's not upstairs, it may be on Anti's person in which case we may need a whole new plan but look a little longer, okay? Whether or not we get to the bottom of this, it's not for nothing.

Red scurries around the room, tearing open drawers and searching through the bedsheets, but he doesn’t see it for long minutes. He checks the bathroom - “whew, flower smell! a lot of flower smell!” - and then returns to the main room, leaning down to search beneath the -

“Yes!” he cheers, snagging the pill bottle from under the bed.

pine-storm-season asked: Red, be quick. I think Anti's coming back now. Only take a bit and put it back, too.

“Thank you, a-thank you very much,” says Red in a slightly Irish Elvis impression, quickly pouring some of the pills into his hand, enough to last Dap the week. It doesn’t leave much in the bottom of the bottle, unfortunately, but it’s the best he can do right now. “Okay, let’s get out of here.”

He shoves the medicine into his pocket and leaps out the window, beginning to slide down the side of the house.

Anonymous asked: Dok: What do you have? Dap: A KNIFE! Anti: NO!

“Oh, VERY FUNNY,” shouts Anti, putting his hands on his little brother’s shoulders and yanking him away from Dok.

“It is a little funny actually,” says Trick weakly.

“Trick!”

“Sorry.”

Anonymous asked: whoa, dap, hey, it's okay!! it's alright. i know stuff's scary right now but it's okay. you don't have to hurt anyone, right? you're not in danger right now

“What’s wrong with you?” snaps Anti, striking the knife out of Dapper’s hands and pushing his wriggling brother into the wall. “Hey, you cut that out! Stop it, now! I know you’re not having an episode yet! You’ve been off your meds for about twenty minutes!”

“Medication can only do so much,” pants Dok, relieved to see Trick hurrying to his side. His twin wraps him into a tight hug and they stand side-by-side, holding onto each other. “He sometimes has symptoms even when he’s medicated. Especially if he’s been under duress.”

“This is why you should be upstairs with me,” hisses Anti. “You’re out of control.”

“It’s Dark, it’s Dark, making themselves look like my brother!” screams Dapper. “Dark, they’re in my house!”

“Dapper, stop!”

Right behind them, Red drops to the pavement of the patio and slides quickly into the door, pushing his hood off again and trying to stop panting.

Anonymous asked: Uhh Dok you know more about Dap's psychosis and delusions than we do but would it help if you just kinda,,, left the room for a second? So Dap can calm down and not think Dark's in the house? Maybe you can go find Red, last we saw he was having kind of a rough time in the other room, he was worried about Blue. And then when you come back maybe Dap'll have an easier time, especially if Red's with you and trusting you?

“I’m not leaving him alone with Anti if I don’t have to,” says Dok.

“Hey,” says Trick quietly.

“No, don’t try to talk me out of - ”

“Dok, I’ll stay here with him. Go check on Red, okay?”

With Anti there, Dok can’t explain to his twin that Dapper’s pretending. And with the way Trick’s been, Dok can’t explain to him that even if he’s here, Anti could hurt Dapper. He doesn’t think Trick would even recognize that if it happened. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know who Trick is these days.

“Hey,” says Trick, and his voice is the same as when he found the dark bruises on Dok’s wrist. “Hey, trust me.”

Dok is trying. Dok is trying.

“Okay,” he murmurs. “Okay.”

He lets go of Trick and slinks away, finding Red in the living room. The two of them stay close at hand, listening for trouble, Red’s hand resting gratefully between Dok’s shoulder blades.

Dapper takes Dok leaving the room as his cue to draw the performance to a close. He lets his breathing slow and the snarl fade from his teeth, though his body still shakes and his eyes stare dead ahead, angry and cold.

“You’re losing it,” growls Anti. “Get a hold on yourself. This is pathetic.”

“You’re the one who brought me back to that monster,” snarls Dapper. “And you were the one who made them scare me so badly I had the first psychotic episode of my life. Dark was the stress that broke my diathesis and you brought me back to them like it means nothing to you. You brought me back to them when I might not be schizophrenic if I never met them. You - ”

Anti slaps Dapper so hard his head crashes against the wall of the house. Trick screams in alarm, rushing forward without even knowing what to do, putting a hand on both Dapper and Anti.

Dapper lets out a dry croak, tears welling in his eyes. All his training, imprinted into him from years of conditioning, seems to rush back to him in an instant. He cowers against the wall, shaking for real now, tears running down his face.

“You’re a fucking brat,” hisses Anti.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” cries Dapper.

“Anti!” shrieks Trick. “Stop it, leave him alone!”

pine-storm-season asked: Anti, he can't control it. Leave him be, okay? He's trying. He's just human.

Anti can feel Trick’s heart pounding in the space where his hand lies on his arm, holding him back from Dapper.

“Whatever,” spits Anti, stepping back. “Whatever.”

Dapper hides his face. Trick pants, staring at Anti, his free hand moving to linger over his heart, the fingers curling uncertainly.

Anti moves back towards the stairs, scowling. His palm stings from slapping Dapper. In the hallway, he sees Red staring back at him. His oldest’s eyes are cold and glittering. Anti bites his teeth, growling.

“Whatever,” he repeats in a mumble, turning away.

bupine asked: anti, this isn't dapper's fault. he's scared and seeing things, ok? he's not in his right mind and if what he just said is true, which i obviously believe it is, you did bring him back to the most triggering person you possibly could have brought him to. can you blame him? it would be like if you were brought back to your old master, put at his mercy. wouldn't that be scary, anti? can you understand now why dapper is afraid?

Anti pads up the stairs, gripping the banister. As soon as he’s on the second floor, he hears Red and Dok and Dap and Trick all rushing towards each other and murmuring together. Holding each other’s hands and kneeling down to be close.

“Jack was the one who made him schizophrenic,” says Anti. “Jack was. It wasn’t my fault. It wasn’t Dark’s fault. I love… I love… it wasn’t our fault. It was Jack. It was Jack!”

He strikes his door as he passes it and angry cherry blossom branches snarl across the wood, tearing holes in the door that guards his room.

He sinks down beside his bed, pulling a computer onto his lap. He fast-forwards through the video without having to touch it, his eyes flickering as it settles on a few days forward. Dapper, five days old, crawls carefully out of the little cage and takes an orange slice from Anti’s hand. Anti touches his hair. Dapper smiles nervously and puts the orange in his mouth.

Anti slumps down against the bed, holding his head in his hands.

“It’s Jack’s fault,” he mumbles.

Anonymous asked: (hey red, don't forget to undo what you did in the first place that made this whole thing feasible)

“Right, right, thank you.”

Red races to his computer, letting Dok and Trick look after Dapper, and quickly turns all the screens back on. The crossed-out eye disappears. Anti can see everything again.

And then Red disappears too, slinking away, out of the view of the cameras, and when he comes back, he has only one pill in his hand, and the rest are gone somewhere you cannot see.

Anonymous asked: Hey, Dap, Anti's gone now. He went back upstairs. Take as much time as you need because that was scary and awful as fuck, but he's away for a bit. He's not going to hit you again. It's okay.

“He always gets his hands on me again.” Dapper wraps his arms around himself and rocks against the wall, crying hard, though he can barely even tell why. His pain tolerance is high and the slap didn’t hurt, but it scared him. “He always hits me again.”

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” Dok is whispering, prodding gently at his face. “This will bruise, but that’s all, that’s all.”

Trick stands numbly besides them, his hand resting on Dapper’s shoulder. He doesn’t feel very well.

bupine asked: this isn't all jack's fault, anti. you and all of us know that. you are aware that jack could have actually loved you, right? just because you were a mistake as a creation doesn't mean you weren't wanted. i believe you're just scared to admit that all of this could have been prevented. that you could have been happy.

“Don’t!” screams Anti. “Say that to me! No, no! No, that’s not true!”

It’s like a storm’s been unleashed across his computers, and for once, Blue’s power does not rise in him at all. Just his own. Just Anti. Every screen is flickering and glitching and every one of the computers in his room shows a different image - Jack laughing at the fake blood on his neck, Jack hugging a younger man with the same soft, downy brown hair as he has to his chest, Jack in a cat mask, Jack and Chase.

The truth is that, because of what Dapper did, many of the images no longer exist and never did in this timeline, but Anti doesn’t know that. He is digital in his nature, down to his core, and his memories transfer into images whether they exist on the internet or not. Maybe that’s why, after a moment, every smiling image seems to turn cold and angry, every version of Jack’s mouth turns down, every glimpse of his blue eyes glares.

“He was a coward! He didn’t want me! He threw me away!”

Anti throws his laptop across the room, shattering it in half, and he tears at his hair, screaming. The antlers are growing out of his skull again, breaking through the bone, and he howls as he tries to snap them off, though today he seems unable to manage it. His eyes are black and blood pours from his throat so fast you hear him begin to hyperventilate, his whole neck splitting open. His head might fall right off his shoulders.

“He made them all just to hurt me, just to protect himself! When he was all I knew! When he was everything I had! Traitor, traitor! He sent them after me and then he watched! He watched as they beat me into essence! He watched and I was screaming for him!”

The lights in the house burst and across your cameras you hear everyone but Blue gasp in surprise as the power goes out. Anti himself yelps, jolting against the bed, and goes quiet as a faint plume of smoke drifts from one of his laptops, curling towards the window.

Anti sits at the foot of his bed, holding himself, staring dead ahead.

“He didn’t… do anything,” he says after a long moment. “Just… just held Dapper. Cause I guess… he was someone worth saving, but not me.”

Anti picks at his lip, his eyes fixed on the wall.

A pause, and then the bitterness comes back to him, like it always does.

“Well, he’s mine now,” he whispers, turning away from you, his eyes dark. “He’s mine now and Jack will never get him back again. He’s mine.”

He tries to sound intimidating, but he is a twenty-three year old with barely any beard and short brown hair, his eyes huge on a pale face, his accent embarrassed and uncertain, alone in a cabin in the woods.

Anonymous asked: Dap, are you calming down? You're okay, buddy.

“Here, come on, we’ll go hide,” whispers Red, returning to his brothers. “Let’s go downstairs with the cat and we’ll hide out, okay? We’ll be real quiet while brother is mad, it’s okay. Dok, take them downstairs, yeah?”

“Yes,” agrees Dok anxiously, shaking from the power outage, pulling his little brothers to their feet. “Yes, come on.”

Neither Dapper nor Trick protests, looking numb and shell-shocked. Red lets them go, glancing around the house. He doesn’t know how long they might have to hide for. If Anti finds out about what he did, things will only get worse. He grabs his laptop and some nuts and bread and fruit and sets them on the stairs that lead to the basement before going back for the most important cargo of all - Blue.

“Here, buddy, I got you,” he murmurs, scooping Blue, blankets and all, into his arms. His twin does not stir. Red quiets the fear in himself and carries Blue gently downstairs, where a small guest bedroom will hold him instead.

“Are we okay?” he murmurs, coming back to his younger brothers, huddled together on the couch in front of the TV.

Dok nods uncertainly, gripping the both of them. Red kneels in front of Dapper and presents him with the pill. “Ta-da!” he says gently, patting his knee.

Dapper lights up immediately, the anxiety washing off him. He clicks his tongue joyfully and throws himself at Red, wrapping a hug around him and making Red laugh, holding his back in return.

“I got you, little man,” he says, patting his ribs. “I always got you.”

Dapper puts the pill in his mouth and swallows, feeling better already. “That was worth it if it gets me my medicine.”

But Trick, on the other side of the couch, doesn’t seem to agree. He’s sitting still and stiff, crying quietly, hugging Noodle to his face.

tristarlolly asked: I can't help but be reminded of the first ask I ever sent through the cameras, Anti. I complemented you on your "dollhouse" and asked about Jack because I knew you were the only one who could answer anything about him. You told me you were happy with what you have and you didn't need him. I don't think that was true then, and I don't think it's true now. You don't know what happiness is and your pursuit of it has only led you in violent circles.

“Oh, fuck,” says Anti, very tired. “I hate circles.”

Anonymous asked: Hey. Anti. Don't get me wrong, I don't particularly care about how distressed you are, but you need to calm down. It's scaring the others, and sometimes I really fucking pity you, so here; Anti, you've won, you've gotten your revenge. You're in control, and you know this, yeah? Calm down.

“They should be scared. I want to go beat the shit out of that little brat. But it’s never fun anymore. I don’t know when it stopped being fun. Even with Dok, it barely makes me laugh now. Why make me like this and then not even make it fun anymore? I hate him… I hate everything. I want… I… I want Dark. I want Dark to tell me I’m perfect.”

He gets to his feet, almost staggering. “Maybe they’re in the forest. Yeah, I - I’m in control. And you’re… you’re wrong, it is enough. It is enough. I don’t need Jack. I don’t want him. As soon as I’m in control again, it will be enough. I’ll be happy. Fuck, the fact that some of you have been here since the beginning… fuck.”

Anonymous asked: Trick?... How you holding up? If you want to talk, we're here. Your brothers are here. If you need a little time that's fine too.

“I’m having a panic attack,” cries Trick, grasping for Dok. “I’m having a panic attack.”

Dok gets up and surrounds his brother in an instant, alarmed. Trick hasn’t had a panic attack in weeks.

“I’m here. I’m right here, okay?”

“Does he need - is he - ?”

“Just give us some space, alright?”

“Okay, right.” Red backs off, retreating to Blue’s little bedroom, though he listens carefully by the door. Dapper sits uncertainly on the other side of the couch, touching Trick’s wrist.

Anonymous asked: Anti.... if strangers from the internet can't validate your actions and you feel like you can't do the same either.... By all means, feel free to look elsewhere, rinse and repeat, as you've always done, but self-reflection and change aren't outside the realm of possibilities for you to be happy.

Anti just shakes his head, his mouth parted slightly like he can’t find the right words, pacing out towards the woods. These are things he is sometimes - sometimes - aware of. But the fact that he could change is always, always over-shadowed by his fear: that Dapper would leave if he didn’t force him to stay. That all of them would leave if he didn’t force them to stay. That they would go back to Jack and he would be alone for the rest of his life, knowing that they’re happy and he never will be. Besides, there were times when living like this did make them happy, and he never did grasp the idea that cruelty is a fleeting satisfaction. He keeps trying to pursue it and it never sticks around, but he won’t change. He won’t let himself see that. He’s afraid.

“I won’t,” he says.

You hear it as he moves away from the house.

“I won’t. I won’t.”

He slips into a dog’s form and pads away, the grass soft beneath his paws.

He promised Red, didn’t he? This is the last time we try this. And if it doesn’t work… then there’s nothing left for him to stick around for.

And he won’t let the others go running back to Jack, either.

“I won’t.”

bupine asked: anti, i am truly so fucking sorry for what happened to you. that you felt so unloved you'd do all of this. and i so wish there was a way you could have seen how he would have cared for you if you'd given him the opportunity. i wish it wasn't too late for that. because jack didn't hate any of his creations, anti. you just didn't let him love you.

For a moment, it makes him pause.

At the edge of the woods, the body of the huge black dog, tall and proud and beautiful, beautiful, because not everything about Anti is bad. Not everything about anyone is bad, and you are right. About most everything. You are right.

That dog stands at the edge of the woods.

The shadows are cool and deep and dangerous, but he always seems to burn in the sun anyway.

He slips away, and is gone from your view.

Anonymous asked: trick, you okay, buddy? it's gonna be okay, love, just breathe. you have your brothers with you, everyone's okay.

“I can’t think!” Trick cries, gripping at his head. “I can’t - I - there’s walls inside my skull, Deutsch, help me!”

“Hey, you’re alright, you’re alright.” Dok holds his shoulders, shooting a worried look at Dapper, but his little brother has gone quiet and distant, touching the stinging handprint on his cheek and staring right ahead, his posture small.

“No, I’m not alright, everything’s wrong!” screams Trick. “This isn’t right, I can’t think, I can’t see?”

“You can’t see?”

“I think I’m possessed, I’m possessed!”

Dok takes his head in his hands and forces his gaze up, examining Trick’s eyes, but there’s no sign of Anti or anything else. “Trick, I think you just got a shock. My brother, it’s alright now. Everyone’s here and no one’s hurt.”

“No, no, no, that’s not true, that’s lies, that’s lies in between my skull, I think I’m possessed!”

“Just let it out, alright, and then we’ll work on calming down, calming down…”

And Dok is there, as he always is - no, that isn’t right, because wasn’t he gone away from him for a time? But where? And how long? It seems like those days passed in strange blips of time, his memory of it coming and going, his recollection blinking in and out, Blue asking him what’s wrong with him again and again while his brain skips over the thought of his twin and his heart keeps hurting. He digs his nails into his cheeks, weeping; he can feel the imprint of Anti’s hand against his face as he goes crashing to the floor, Blue standing over him and shouting for Anti to leave them alone, and none of it is true, and none of it is right, but all of it is true, and all of it is against the rules.

“No, no!” he hears himself shrieking over the sound of soothing voices. “No, I don’t know, I don’t remember, what’s wrong with me?”

“Trick,” someone begs, and it isn’t even his name. He doesn’t even remember his name. He doesn’t even remember his babies. Soft skin and bumpy infant heads, huge dark eyes and a slobbering mouth using his finger as a pacifier. Cigarette smoke and acrylic nails. The thud of Dapper’s head against the wall.

And it’s gone again.

“Why can’t I think?”

“Trick, you have to stop shouting!”

“My darling, what’s wrong? I’m here, it’s alright.”

“Ohhh, please make him stop, I can’t stand anymore screaming today.”

“Red, go upstairs if you’re over-stimulated, everything’s okay. Trick, we’re okay, we’re just taking a break, we’re okay…”

“In my skull…”

“Trick.”

Firm hands dig into his muscles and push and knead and comfort. Ah, this he remembers. Dok’s hands on him on nights when he’d been sitting so stiff for so long. So desperate to please Anti. Plastered to the window with the great sniper in his hands, watching, watching while Dok massaged at his aching muscles and tried to keep him company, to keep him comfortable. To stay with him. I’m with you.

“Trick. Chase.”

“H… Dok. I can’t…”

“Just be alright. We’re just alright. It’s okay. Here’s your cat. Calm down.”

“He’s not even my real baby.”

Noodle mewls.

Red paces upstairs, rubbing at his face. He needs a break. Trick’s been freaking out for almost two hours.

Anonymous asked: your brothers are here, trick, they'll keep you safe, they'll help you. you're gonna be okay. i know, it's terrifying and confusing and hard. but your brothers are right here, henrik is right here, you're going to be okay. breathe in, and breathe out, buddy. it's gonna be okay, i promise.

“It’s not alright,” cries Trick, gripping at his brother’s shoulders. “It’s… it’s not…”

“I know,” says Henrik quietly. “I know. It will be.”

“He slapped him… he slapped me…”

“He’s not kind.”

“No, no, that’s not right either, it’s not right. I must have - I must have made him do it, I - ”

“No, Trick,” croaks Henrik, curled around him. “Don’t go away again. You don’t have to start thinking like that again. Please?”

“Maybe if Dapper would just fucking behave - ”

“Trick!”

“He tried to hurt you!”

“No, that’s not what happened! Stop it!”

“There h-has to be a reason! There has to be! I have to make this make sense! Dok, I can’t breathe!”

Dapper stares up at them both from beside the couch. Blue is up on his feet between the four of them. He reaches down to touch Dapper’s head.

Anonymous asked: anti made that decision on his own, trick. it's no one else's fault that he did that. the reason is that he wanted to. it's not your fault, bud. it's no one's fault but anti's.

“Well, then it’s like he says, like he was made like that. His creator made him like that. He has a bad temper and he can’t control it. That’s all that’s all that’s all that’s all. He’ll be nice again tomorrow, I know. I know I know I know.”

Trick isn’t aware that he’s babbling or that his siblings have gone quiet around him. Dok is wide-eyed and silent. He never knows what to do anymore. He can never fix anybody who needs him.

“You’re all such fucking brats,” snarls Trick suddenly, and his voice sounds so much like Anti’s for a moment that Dok can’t help the wave of revulsion that shudders its way up his body. Blue must notice. He tugs Dok away from Trick. Dok wishes he weren’t grateful.

“Asshole, acting like you’re here to comfort us,” growls Trick, eyes squeezed shut, hands digging into Noodle’s fur. His cat mewls in discomfort, squirming on his lap, but Trick doesn’t let go. Noodle is his and he’ll stay where he wants him. “You think I forgot, Blue, when you mashed that pole into my skull just so you could watch Anti fucking burn without me? Fucking traitor. You don’t care about anyone but yourself.”

“Trick,” Dok begins, but Blue just shakes his head, gripping his shoulders.

“No point trying to reason with him while he’s like this,” he says. “Trust me, we tried in Singapore, the cameras and I. They’re not even his own thoughts.”

“I want my baby,” cries Trick, his voice shattering into a wave of stammering, his heart pounding hard in my chest. “I’m trying to be good, I am! Will he give me my baby back then?”

“Let’s just give him a little time,” murmurs Blue, but Dok doesn’t move, staring at his brother.

He’d rather Trick were as sick as Blue. He’d rather Trick were locked upstairs on his own. He’d rather Trick was with that monster in the woods. Anything but watching him turn into someone else. Anything but this. He touches his necklaces. For the day he’s ready to kill Anti. Anything but this.

Anonymous asked: hey, trick, buddy. it's going to be okay. i don't think he wants to do that now, no matter how much you do what he wants you to, trick. but you're going to be okay, love. can you tell us what's wrong? you're a little all over the place at the moment, so i don't know what would help you best.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” cries Trick. “There’s something in my head and nothing makes sense.”

“Dissociating?” asks Dok gently, creeping forward again to try and touch him. Blue frowns, but he knows better than to get between twins. He glances down at Dapper and tuts at the sight of the handmark on his face, reaching down to touch his beard fondly.

“No, no, I - well, maybe, maybe dissociating, maybe, maybe, cause nothing is right, nothing’s right, I’m f-freaking out, Dok, I’m freaking out. I just want… I just want… I don’t know, I don’t know what I want.”

He presses himself against the side of the couch, groaning and clutching at his cat.

“You want brownies?” offers Dok weakly.

Trick lets out a bewildered, frantic laugh, sharp enough to make Dok jump. “I… maybe brownies?”

“Bet Red would get you one of the ones you made from upstairs,” says Dok. “We just need to ground ourselves, yes? Something to touch and something to see and taste and hear and smell. I’m here, Trick. I’m here.”

cest-mellow asked: will antis magic wear off on him? what’s gonna happen to him?

“There are two problems,” mumbles Blue. “One - Anti still has access to him. Even if Trick is getting free of him moment to moment, nothing can wear off while Anti keeps getting his hands on him again and again. And two - this isn’t just magic, a spell that will fade given time. Anti is actively getting inside his head and changing the way he thinks. Something has to happen to snap Trick out of it, and then he needs space from Anti to stayed snapped out of it. But I… I don’t know.”

“It’s a good thing he’s having a breakdown,” cries Dok, desperate for good news. “Right? It means he’s fighting!”

“Anti’s power combined with the need to please him that Trick has always had - Dok, I don’t know how he’s supposed to get free on his own.”

“Well, I’m here,” vows Dok, turning his attention back to his twin. “Here I am to help, my brother.”

“You know, Anti’s right about you,” snaps Trick. “You need other people to be in pain around you or you can’t even feel good about yourself.”

Dok’s face falls.

Anonymous asked: are you having trouble remembering, bud? is that the problem?

“It’s like… I can’t think straight… like I’ll have a thought and then it’s right, but then a second later it’s wrong, and then it’s right, and then - and no, I c-can’t remember, but I keep getting these flashes, and I can’t hold on to them, and I’m just…”

He buries his face in the couch, shaking his head. “My depression has never felt like this before, my panic attacks have never felt like this before - am I psychotic, Dok? Does schizophrenia run in families?”

“It’s not that, I promise.”

Anonymous asked: try not to figure out if the memories are right or wrong, okay, trick? just try to see what they are, if you can, and don't try to figure out whether the memories are right or not. and if you can't hold onto a memory, let it go, okay? it'll come back. trust dok, okay? i think he knows which memories are right. i promise he just wants to help you.

“You’ll remember for me, won’t you?” he babbles, and you aren’t sure if he’s talking to you or Dok. “He has big big eyes and he’s perfect and warm. And I was braiding hair, I can braid hair, her dark hair. And I was in Singapore and Blue hit me. But Anti hit me too, haha. And I forgot, the next morning, and he kissed the side of my face. And there are fires and knives and girls with dark eyes.”

“Breathe,” Dok reminds him. “Breathe. You know how to get through a panic attack.”

“I can feel you touching me, like you always do when I’m s-scared, and I can hear the air conditioning, and I can smell your coat with green apple detergent, green apple detergent because we finally have a l-l-laundry room. I can feel you touching me like you always do when I’m scared.”

“That’s better,” says Dok. “That’s good.”

Blue hears the door to the backyard swing shut above him. He blinks, looking up to the ceiling.

Anonymous asked: Can someone Please take Nooddle away from Trick, before even his own cat starts to be afraid of him?

“They’re right, Trick, please,” says Blue calmly, reaching forward. “Please give me the cat, alright?”

“He’s my cat!” shrieks Trick. Noodle chirps as he tugs at his fur, barely even aware of the way his kitten is squirming beneath him. “He’s my cat, he’s mine, he’s supposed to be with me - ”

“He doesn’t want to be held!” Dapper signs suddenly, springing off the floor, and he reaches forward and snags Noodle from Trick’s lap before his brother can even make a leap for him. Dapper darts away towards the guest bedroom, Noodle pressed into his shoulder. Trick screams after them, striking the side of the couch with his hand, but he’s too shaken to get up and go after them, and he doesn’t want Dok to be apart from him.

immabethehero asked: Trick be nice! Dok wants to help you! Even if you don’t agree, that doesn’t mean you should be rude!

“Oh, the cameras always know what’s right, don’t they?” snarls Trick, sitting up again, another violent mood-swing back into anger. “You sit a million miles away and you all tell us what to do. Like you know anything about what we’ve been through. Like you know anything about my family! You’ve never liked Anti, I know, I’m not stupid, even if everybody thinks I am. I notice things. I know you were with Dok with the magicians and you told him to stay. I know you say all sorts of things to get him wrapped around your fingers. I know he wouldn’t get in trouble if he would just take these fucking things off!”

Trick wraps his hand around Dok’s throat, necklaces and all, yanking him forward. Blue yells and steps forward, grabbing his hands, but Trick is stronger than he is. His blue eyes bore into his twin’s. Dok stares back at him, eyes wide, choking for air, but his hand only rests on Trick’s, waiting, patient, here. Here I am. Here I am. It’s okay.

Trick blinks. His anger falters away. He lets go of Dok’s throat, shocked.

“Oh, no, Henrik,” he whispers, voice broken. “I didn’t mean…”

Anonymous asked: don't do that, okay, trick? dok's just trying to help. you're doing great otherwise, bud. breathe in, and breathe out, okay? i know, this must be really hard right now. but you're going to be okay. try to stay calm, bud. you're going to be okay.

Trick is just shaking his head. Blue is still standing above him, touching his hands, and Trick reaches for his big brother for a minute, a faint whimper on his mouth, and Blue doesn’t even know how to respond.

“I’m going to take a break,” says Dok, quiet and hoarse.

“Dok,” says Trick.

He means to tell him “I’m sorry,” but his stammer is so bad he can’t get the words out.

Dok gets up. Straightens out his coat. Pads up the stairs. Disappears.

Trick’s hand rests over his heart.

Anonymous asked: I don't mean this to sound mean but I really feel like someone else other than blue should be with trick rn. If he swings back into anger I don't know if blue will be alright to deal with this alone ":(

Blue stares down at Trick. He knows what you’re saying is true. But Dapper’s in the other room if he needs him, you’ll call for help if something happens, and, moreover - Trick looks like he’s broken clean in half.

“You know what,” says Blue.

You have not heard bitterness on his tongue for anyone but Anti in a long time. Trick looks up at him, stunned to hear vitriol in the voice of the sibling who’s meant to be his caretaker. The siblings who’s never called him anything but “my darling,” “my heart,” “my brother.”

“I think he’s done,” says Blue darkly.

Trick turns his face away from him.

Anonymous asked: Blue please don't leave him alone. Don't leave him with only anti to turn to for answers

Blue rocks on his heels, seething through his teeth, trying to find the right course of action.

He wants to leave Trick alone. He’s mad. He knows it’s Anti’s fault, too, but he can’t take that. Trick can’t start doing this. Blue won’t accept it. Won’t pretend nothing just happened. He can’t. He wants to cry. To scream? To hit something? He wants to go back to bed. He wants to leave Trick alone and he hopes that his little brother feels bad. Venomously, he hopes that his little brother feels bad.

But he doesn’t leave him alone.

Blue sits down on the other side of the couch, his hand in his palm, a sigh falling out of his mouth. He’d never forgive himself if Trick hurt himself or scampered back off to Anti.

“Just breathe, Trick,” he says, exhausted. “Can you tell Red it’s quiet again now? Maybe he’s ready to come back downstairs and then I can go off and calm down for a minute.”

Anonymous asked: On one hand, I understand that the bitterness and isolation is justified. But also, guys... if you all leave trick alone how do you expect him to not keep going back to Anti? If you're not careful this is probably going to fuel more ways for him to slither even deeper into his head

“We do what we can,” says Blue. “We’re all doing what we can. I’m ill and I’m angry and I’m still here, aren’t I? We do what we can and if it isn’t enough, we don’t take blame for that. We just don’t. Trick’s actions and decisions are nobody’s fault… well, a little Anti’s, in this unique case, but still. Dok doesn’t have to stay with him after he hurt him. Hell, if he wanted to go and not forgive Trick at all… well, he’d be allowed to do that, and what Trick does afterwards would not be his fault. Dok has to take care of himself too. I think Dok will forgive him, but both of my brothers are hurting right now, both of them are vulnerable - all of us are vulnerable - and we’re all just doing what we can. And if that’s not enough… well.”

He turns his head bitterly away. “It never is, is it?”

pine-storm-season asked: Red, it's quiet now, could you come sit with Trick?

“Hm?” says Red.

From the camera in the backyard you can see him.

Gone very stiff.

Standing on the porch.

Eyes wide.

“Can I… oh, yeah, just, uh… a second, one second…”

He’s staring out the window, towards the forest. Dok pads into the living room and blinks to see him standing there.

“Uh, Red?”

“Hm?”

“What are you looking at?”

Red doesn’t answer.

Dok steps up behind him, letting the backdoor swing open and then closed again, adjusting his glasses and squinting.

“Is there someone in the woods?”

“You see him too?” breathes Red, his cheeks rising with a passionate blush, his eyes shining.

Dok takes another step forward. The pool laps quietly between them.

“Is that… that man you were with? In the marketplace?”

Red is aglow. Red is holding his own heart. Red takes a step forward.

“He found me again,” he says, his voice trembling, but not with despair. “He found me again. I could… Anti is away, we could just… he forgave me. He came back.”

Dok tilts his head, confused, but it looks to be true - there, hiding a little behind the trees, eyes wide and earnest, smiling at Red -

Max.

Jackie takes off at a run down the porch steps.

Anonymous asked: Oh god, this probably isn't Max...

“Shit,” hisses Dok, with one glance at you. “Shit!”

Red isn’t even listening to you, leaping down and racing across the grass. Dok snarls like a wild thing and leaps after him, desperation making his blood pump, reaching out to grab Red, only a few feet past the pool, the trees closer than he’s ever seen them. “Red!” he screams. “It’s not Max!”

“I know him now!” cries Red. “I forgot him once. I won’t do it again.”

“He’s a trick, Red! Don’t you think it’s a little too good to be true that the one person you’ve been longing for for weeks is just suddenly here in the middle of nowhere, grinning at you from our enemy’s hiding place?”

“He was too good to be true!” cries Red, struggling against Dok’s grip. “Dok, please, I’m begging you! He feels real, Dok. My heart!”

It stings at Dok, but he doesn’t let go.

pine-storm-season asked: Red. It's not Max. That's Dark. You remember Dark, right? How would Max get through these woods? He couldn't, Red. That's Dark. Red, come back to the house now.

“They’re right.” Dok grips at his arm, yanking him back towards the house, drawing a low cry out of his brother. “It’s Dark.”

“Dark made me afraid!” Red protests. “Just being near to them, it was like my heart was shaking.”

“Red, that’s what they’re doing now too. Don’t you get that? They manipulate emotions. That’s why you were so scared of them, and that’s why you’re convinced it’s Max now. Red. Red. They’re making you feel that way. It’s not real.”

The energy drains out of Jackie in a moment. He stares at Dok, mouth trembling. “I just… I just…”

“I know, my brother,” says Dok.

Anonymous asked: On another hand... If that is Max you need to shout to him to get out of here, I definitely don't think he's safe in these woods.

“Max, go!” cries Red, something in his chest snapping open and oozing out hurt. “A chuisle mo croi! Before he hurts you!”

He wants him to go. He wants him to turn around and go, and prove that it is him, it’s Max, he’s going and he’ll come back!

But the little figure of Max in the forest does not turn away from him. Red shakes his head, turning to stare at Dok, begging him to make things different. Dok just shakes his head at him, eyes apologizing.

Anonymous asked: red, tell max to come into the house for a minute. okay? harmless request, buddy. just have him come into the house for a few seconds.

“Yes, tell him to come over here,” says Dok, holding Red tight.

“He wouldn’t want Anti to know he was here…”

Dok covers the camera with his hand, blocking your view. “Tell him to come over now,” he suggests.

Red is silent for a long moment. There’s a shift of light as Dok’s body relaxes, letting go of Red’s arm.

He could call out for the fake Max to come over here, but he already knows the truth. Dok moves his hand away. Red is still staring out at the woods, eyes wide.

“Hey,” laughs Max’s clear rich voice, accent and all. “Hey, come over here. I miss you. Hey, come here.”

“My little brother was right about you!” Red reaches down to snag a rock and chucks it towards the woods. “You’re a creep!”

“Well, that’s not very nice,” says Max, laughing too long and too deep. “That’s not very nice, really. Don’t you think it would be fun? Wouldn’t you like to? I think you’d like to.”

“I think you’d love to,” repeats an echo of his voice, and then it wells up in Red so powerfully that it makes him double over, falling to his knees in the grass - affection, warmth, joy, love! Max, his Max!

“Leave him alone!” cries Dok, stepping in front of his brother. “Stop it!”

“What’s this?” purrs Max’s voice, growing deeper and deeper, the accent smoothing out, Americanizing. “What’s this? He doesn’t want to play? Why don’t you feel it, little doctor? Is that what you are? A doctor in his tattered coat? Maybe you’d rather sulk a little.”

Red’s joy turns to grief. He gasps against a wave of sorrow, deeper than oceans, about to tear him open. Dok grabs at him, alarmed, but he doesn’t feel the despair.

“Or anger?”

Red hollers, tearing out handfuls of grass with his hands, shaking his head, gritting his teeth so hard he might break them. Dok pants, nervous in the face of his fury, but he doesn’t move.

“No, how strange,” says Dark, tilting his head back, the daylight around them turning darker and darker. “How strange, that he doesn’t seem to want to share anything at all. What’s protecting you, little doctor?”

“Leave us alone,” snaps Dok. “We’re going back to our house.”

“Are you?” asks Dark.

“Are you?” laughs their echo.

Anonymous asked: blue, it's okay to be angry, and it's okay for dok to need space to calm down, but i think you need to be gentler with trick right now. you said it yourself that he's not fully in control of himself, and can't you see that he's sorry? i know you're tired of this, but he's terrified, and he needs some kindness. he deserves to be forgiven because it's not his fault that he's doing or saying hurtful things right now. he's sick, and anti did this to him.

“Come on!” protests Blue. “I am sitting here with him. What else do you want me to do, dude? Cuddle up with him and tell him it’s okay that he just assaulted the person who loves him most in the world? Tell him lies about how this is all going to be okay? I don’t have any comfort to give right now! I have limits. Aren’t I allowed have limits? Or am I supposed to be their caretaker to the point that I have to crucify myself on their altars even when they’re not in danger? Am I supposed to forgive him before he’s even taken a moment to look at what he did and stop it from happening again? Do I have to pretend it didn’t happen? I’m - I’m mad!

“Maybe you’re right, but I have to feel how I feel about this and Trick’s surviving for now. Can you give me ten minutes at least to be mad before you expect to come in here and kiss it better? I’ll comfort him when my head is clear and I don’t feel like my body is trying to destroy itself, alright? Please… I’m angry. I don’t have any hope to give him right now… I could use some comforting too, you know… but then again that’s all I need lately.”

He buries his face in his hands. “I wish I could make just one of them happy.”

Anonymous asked: Dapper, Dark is outside trying to get Red and Dok to go to him. He's disguised, and screwing with Red's emotions on a bad way. Do you know anything that might help them?

Dapper sits upright so fast that Noodle flies off his lap. The kitten, disgruntled by his long day, mewls as he lands on his feet and licks Dapper’s ankle in protest.

“Outside? With Red and Dok?”

Leaping out of bed, Dapper charges up the stairs without pausing to explain a word to Blue and Trick. He swipes his golden Christmas knife off the ground where Anti slapped it from his hand and races towards the doorway.

“Anti!” cry his hands, slashing across his throat. “Anti, come home now! I need you.”

bupine asked: dark? may we speak to you? we want to know how much you remember of anti. he told us much about you, much of his memories, but we'd like to hear what your side of it is. if that's alright by you.

“If it’s answers you want, I can provide. Just tell these little humans to come closer,” Dark entices, sliding forward, shape-shifting slowly as they go. They are masculine, feminine, feline, shadowed, shifting, but always terrifyingly beautiful, with eyes like dead stars. “I’ll talk to you, little doctor. Come on, don’t be so scared. You don’t look very well, you know. Has someone been hurting you? Skinny thing, pale thing, bruised beneath its shirt. I have food and medicine and shelter. Would you like to have a drink with me? Rich red wine til you’re drunk on it. I’ll give you whatever you need and make you stop wanting for anything at all.”

“You stay away from me!” shouts Dok, dragging Red back towards the house. “We don’t want anything to do with you here!”

“What’s around your throat, little creature? I’d like to see it up close.”

Anonymous asked: red, love, trust dok, go with dok, okay? dok is safe, let's keep you safe too, red. go with dok back into the house and you'll be safer.

“Red, come on,” begs Dok.

His brother is clutching his head, shaking, silent, curled taut against the ground.

“I know it’s a lot, I just need you to stay with me a moment longer! We have to get back to the house!”

“I think we’re close enough to the house,” manages Red in a whisper. “If they were going to attack us…”

“They would have done it by now,” finishes Dok, a little relieved. “Wouldn’t they have?”

Dark lunges forward in a cloud of shadow. Dok yelps as darkness blacks out your camera entirely. Dapper is whistling frantically from the porch.

Anonymous asked: Red and Dok, get in the house, now!

Dok staggers back in the direction he thinks the house is, dragging Red completely, who can’t do much else but holler and shake his head a little too hard to be safe. He slams into someone’s chest and recoils, but hands are already grabbing him and pulling him back. Terror burns across his chest until his fingers are pressed to - hair? Oh! Dapper’s mustache.

“Dapper,” he croaks, gripping his shirt.

“We have to get out of here!” answers a clear British voice. “It’s this way.”

“Oh, nice try, idiot,” snarls Dok, driving his elbow into Dark’s ribs. The fake Dapper falls back, snarling, and transforms. Red shrieks in alarm as gold panther’s eyes burn into them from the shadows - and then Dark is tearing forward, and the teeth of the panther latch into Red’s hoodie and yank.

“Red!” screams Dok in a blackness so deep he can do nothing but stumble forward as he feels his oldest brother tugged away from him. Red screams so hard his throat stings, completely paralyzed by everything happening all at once.

A body slams into both Dark and Red. For a moment, Dapper’s golden knife glints in the light of his own silver irises.

“Get the hell away from my brother!”

Dark lunges at Dapper and bites.

pine-storm-season asked: I know, Blue. I'm sorry. You're trying your hardest, and thank you for that. And it's okay to get fed up with them, and to need a break. You're human. No one should expect you to care for them every minute of every day. This sucks, I know. You're doing incredibly well in an awful situation, but you shouldn't have to be doing this at all. It'll get better, Blue, I promise. I know that's hard to hold on to, and I'm sorry for everything that's happened to you. But it won't be this bad forever.

“No, you don’t have to…” He lets out a deep sigh, shaking his head. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to coddle me or anything like that, I’m just being a fucking mess as per usual. Oh. I mean… thank you, though. Thank you, really, I…”

He runs his hands through his short hair, his fingers loving at the places it’s begun to grow out again. He has an intense desire, almost suddenly, almost painfully, for his old hair back. But… then again, he can’t remember what that was like. He woke up one day in a bathtub, his hair dyed blue, Anti’s fingers against his scalp. There were strangers downstairs and a twin at his side and he was told to look after them. That’s all there ever was. The truth is, he remembers less than anyone of the person he used to be before this all started. He has no glimpses of past lovers, no connections to old friends still searching for him, no random memories to which he can travel for a few minutes of peace, and what time has he had to remember and explore the person he was and will be without Anti hanging over his throat? He’s their caretaker. That’s all.

“And not even a good one,” he mutters, letting his white hair go. “Not even a good one.”

A sharp scream makes him jolt up straight. For a second, there is a flash in his eyes like he might know magic once more - but it’s just the vitriol that lights up in him when he hears his twin cry out.

“Red!”

Anonymous asked: Blue there's something of a ruckus going on out back. With the emotional and physical state you and Trick are in, I don't know the best way to help out or if it's worth putting you two at risk as well. We don't really have a guage on the situation. I thought dap might explain but he just took off

“Fuck! I love that little shit, but he’s gotten way too used to having to clean up everybody’s messes all on his own. Trick, wait!”

Trick is on his feet, staggering towards the stairs. Blue grabs his arm, pulling him to his chest. “You need to sit down!”

“If that thing takes him away I’ll never get a chance to make this right!”

“We’ll go, but carefully!”

“No, I’ll go. You can barely get up the stairs on your own. Stay here, Blue!”

“Hey!”

Trick yanks away from his siblings and races up the stairs, panting and pale, leaving Blue limping after him.

“Where’s my fucking cane?” he hisses, staring in despair at the mountain of the stairs. “You gotta be joking.”

pine-storm-season asked: Trick, Trick, do you have your gun? Your brothers are in danger outside

Trick does have his gun. He always knows where it is. Always, always. Dok’s silver handgun fits venomously against his palm. He pushes outside - nothing but darkness.

The world has gone cold and silent. He stands in the doorway, pupils blown by the shadow, heart thumping in his chest. You can see his back illuminated. His front disappears into darkness.

He can’t see a goddamn thing.

Until Anti’s fire goes up in a blaze of white light, and a huge black dog races towards the jungle cat dragging a struggling figure back towards the trees, a howl of joy and adrenaline and anger all at once tearing from its fiery throat.

bupine asked: dark, you you earlier that we should bring the boys to you. how can we trust you when you're hurting them? i believe there's no way you can be worse than anti, although maybe i shouldn't speak too soon, but you need to stop this, please. don't hurt them.

“Don’t tell them anything!” Dapper says - or you think so. It is difficult to tell with half his arm mangled in the mouth of the panther. “They’re always learning and they’ll use it against every - ”

He cuts himself off as the teeth dig deeper into his wrist, tearing sinew. He throws his head back, eyes rolling from the pain, but not for a second does he stop struggling.

And then Anti is there.

“I’ll show you worse,” laughs his voice from every side, the dog crashing into Dark and biting its yellowed teeth. “You clever old gobshite, going for my strongest. I’ll tear your pretty white throat open for that, hahaha. Come on, get a better form out and let’s fight like the mangled excuses for living beings that we are.”

Anti shifts back into Jack’s form, his eyes blazing with color, his throat sopping blood, a huge white smile on his fanged teeth. From the porch, the bang of a gun, and Dark’s shadowed form falls back, dissipating into a heavy, buzzing smoke.

“Dance with me!” shrieks Anti, and he leaps forward, burning with fire and thorn. Whether or not Dark remembers, here is one truth - Anti has learned new tricks since last he saw them.

bupine asked: dapper, get back. are you alright? stay away from dark, get with your brothers to safety. let anti handle it.

“Dap!” Dok wraps his arms around him. Dapper gives a heaving gulp of air in lieu of a scream, struggling. It isn’t Dok’s job to save him. It’s Dapper’s to save them. He can reverse this if he just - if he just -

The pain stabs through him, disorienting any plans for time travel. Dok pulls him back towards the house as Trick grabs at Red, both of them moving towards the porch and hunkering down together, holding each other.

“I don’t want Anti to die,” confesses Dapper. “Especially not to leave us with the Darkness!”

“Stop trying to use your wrist!” cries Dok. “I need to clean this up! Anyway, it looks like he’s burning them down to ash.”

“He’s going to set the forest on fire,” fears Trick.

“They’re learning things about us! If they had really wanted to take one of us, they could have, I’m sure of it! They wouldn’t have come alone - they’re hiding their allies while they learn about all of us!”

“Stop goddamn signing, Dapper, I’m not joking! You’re losing blood! Can we just get inside the house?”

pine-storm-season asked: He's not going to die here, Dapper. Dark won't kill him.

“I don’t trust Dark with anything, anything, anything - ”

Dok pins his arm down against the kitchen table, trying to see the wound through the rapid blood flow. Trick sets an unresponsive Red down on the couch, pulling his brother’s hood up over his eyes before turning back to Dok.

Dok looks at him, putting all else aside for the moment. “I need - ”

“To stem the bloodflow before you can stitch it. I’ll get you a towel and try to find something for the pain.”

Outside, the foliage thickens as plants burst up from the ground, trapping a shadowy figure beneath bluebell and redwood, though it won’t last long.

pine-storm-season asked: Anti's said that Dark won't kill him. They know each other. He's not going to die here and leave you to them, okay? It's okay. You're in the house, you're safe.

“Safe from Dark,” moans Dapper, squirming. “But he has pets of his own.”

“I’ve got you. Just try to stay calm,” says Dok. “I’ll sedate you if I have to, wild man, don’t doubt me.”

“I don’t like them.”

“Dapper, we are all so, so aware of that fact. Acutely aware. Now hush. Doesn’t this hurt?”

It does. But it’s just pain, and Dapper’s had worse. He looks around at the others, checking their bodies for wounds even as his head swims.

bupine asked: dapper, you should all get inside. anti will be fine - he's survived everything up til now, and unfortunately, i doubt this old acquaintance of his will be the one to kill him. i'll be greatly surprised if so. but you guys need to be safe, because while anti can fight him, you can't. get dapper fixed up, doc, can you? everyone else, stay inside and wait for anti to come back.

Dok slams the door shut behind them and locks it - for all your reassurances, he can’t help but wish Dark would just kill Anti, or maybe that they’d both kill each other, like digging your teeth deep into something poisonous. But Dapper seems a little convinced, his eyes roaming the messages, and he goes stiff against the kitchen table, his eyes sliding shut as Dok takes a towel from Trick and applies agonizing pressure to his wrist.

“He can’t lose his hand,” says Trick quietly. “He kind of needs that.”

“You think I am not aware of this? Get me water.”

They always tell patients it’s to make sure they stay hydrated, but it’s mostly psychological - this will help! You’re doing something to stay alive! Good work! Focus on that! Trick knows the drill.

pine-storm-season asked: Everyone's safe for the moment, right? All five of you in the house?

Blue slams open the door to the basement, panting hard, and shoots a glare around at his brothers, though the venom dies in his eyes within seconds and his worry makes him gentle again. He swoops forward on shaking legs to kneel at his twin’s side, staring up at Red’s scrunched-up face.

“Did he scare you again, love?”

Red doesn’t answer, gripping his hood over his eyes. Blue gets up to dim the lights and find blankets.

“We’re okay, we’re okay,” he chants in a loving rhythm. “Here we are, we’re alright. Fuck’s sake.”

He looks out the window, but either the fight has gone quiet or Dark and Anti are too deep in the woods for him to see anything. The birds have begun chirping again, unsure as they peep back out into the open.

bupine asked: trick, are you ok? talk to us if you need to, i understand this is a lot to handle.

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” he says quickly.

He is good in a crisis, truly. It’s part of the reason he and Dok have always gotten along - trauma and all.

“Just need to help Dap and Red and make sure Anti gets back okay. And he will. That thing doesn’t stand a chance against him. I’ve seen Anti wipe out police squads and gangs in one night. Especially when he’s protecting us.”

For a second, his hand swipes past Dok’s stomach, meeting that familiar old bullet wound in his belly. It’s almost subconscious. Like Dok’s skin is his own. Trick pauses for a moment, staring at the bruises in his brother’s neck. Bruises. He gripped him hard enough to leave bruises. And Dok was just quiet with him. Dok let him grab him.

“Just need to help Dap and Red and make sure Anti gets back okay, yeah,” mumbles Trick, bringing water to Dapper’s mouth. “Here I am, little man. Take a drink. You’ll feel better.”

pine-storm-season asked: Red, you okay? Okay-ish, anyway?

Red is well past the point of answering, stiff and silent on the couch, hiding from everything. Blue does not try to touch him. Red does not hum or rock or fidget. He just wants the buzzing in his head to stop. It’s so much at once that it’s painful. Nobody should be able to feel as much as intensely as he just did. He wants to be under his bed and alone and in the dark - but not dark too deep. Not dark too deep.

“I think he’ll just need a couple minutes,” says Blue. “He usually steadies out pretty fast unless he’s hurt or sick or something. He’ll just be a little brain-dead. I mean – just tired, mentally, you know?”

Red reaches out without opening his eyes to put his hand on Blue’s shoulder. Blue lets him massage at the fabric of his shirt in silence, unmoving beneath his brother’s palm.

Anonymous asked: Dok, what I'm about to say doesn't excuse Trick from what he did to you, this isn't meant to be eye-for-an-eye bullshit or an apology on his behalf (only he can give you that) but you know you've done the same to him months and months ago, because whoever you were seeing wasn't your brother in your eyes. You two have changed drastically but have always stuck by each other and communicated to resolve things. Maybe words aren't as helpful as they once were, but silence and violence won't help

“Okay, you know what, what the hell?” Dok bursts out, turning away from Dapper’s bloodied arm for a second to stare at you in bewilderment. “Silence and violence? I have not for a single second been violent with him today. I walked away from a brother who had just physically attacked me so that I could calm the fuck down and not start sobbing all over him, and you think I did something wrong? Should I have stayed there and kissed it all better? What the fuck?”

“Dok, you have to concentrate,” Trick pants, wiping blood from Dapper’s wrist. “Please?”

“I have attacked him before and I’ve attacked myself too,” cries Dok. “You’re the only one here who’s still holding old grudges, camera. Trick and I moved past that. And goddamn, I’ll move past this too, but I did what was best for all of us by not yelling at him or excusing his behavior or telling him it’s okay, because it isn’t okay! It isn’t okay! None of this is okay, it’s not - ”

“Dok!” cries Blue.

“Can I have five goddamn minutes to step away from him after he fucking throttled me for not being obedient to Anti before you expect me to be telling him he’s perfect? Fuck! I don’t care if he’s changed. He made a goddamn choice and I’m allowed to believe that was wrong! He fucking hurt me! Just like Anti does, just like we’ve always comforted each other through! I used to believe Trick was the only thing in the world that would never mean to hurt me. That’s so fucking unfair to act like I’m the one in the wrong here!”

Trick gives a dry sob, bent over Dapper’s arm, but he doesn’t protest. He doesn’t want you to defend him either. He shouldn’t have done what he did and it’s alright for Doktor to step away from him when he’s being violent with him. Dok responded as appropriately as he could have - and they were genuinely only separate for about ten minutes before Dark attacked, so he doesn’t really know what you mean.

Anonymous asked: Dok I sincerely didn't mean that as an accusation. You aren't wrong for feeling your feelings. All I meant is you guys should talk things out but I'm timing my words poorly and not giving you guys time to process since so much has been happening. My mind is on worst-case-scenario mode and I'm sorry if I'm trying to solve things before I even know what the damage is. I'm sorry for over-stepping

“Some of you are young,” says Dok, his voice shaking. “I don’t want you to think that someone hurting you isn’t a big deal. In most circumstances… I wouldn’t tell you to let that person back into your life. And it’s never your responsibility to make sure other people are making up with each other - I don’t want you to carry the burden of other people’s relationships. Be careful with what you tell people to do just because you want things to go back to normal. Normal isn’t always healthy.”

“I’m worried shit is torn in here, Dok,” says Trick lowly, trying to be careful with Dapper’s arm even as he pushes at the wound. “That was like a whole big cat in his arm.”

“On the contrary, I would expect wounds from a big cat to be far worse,” answers Dok tersely, re-focusing. “Wild it may sound, but Dark was gentle with him.”

Anonymous asked: Whether Dark was being gentle or not, you can fix Dapper up, right? Or does he need to be added to the waiting list for the hospital in four days?

Dok laughs weakly. “Waiting list for the hospital… ah. No, no, it’s alright, I believe. I may not be able to do much, but I can still stitch, disinfect, and bandage as well as any real doctor.”

Trick looks up, blinking. “You are a real doctor.”

Dok is bent low over Dapper’s arm, holding it carefully in place.

“We’ll just have to keep it very clean,” he says after a moment.

pine-storm-season asked: Trick, is everything going okay? Dok knows what he's doing, I'm sure, but is Dapper okay?

“How are you holding up, buddy?” asks Trick, gripping Dapper’s shoulder. He can see the adrenaline fading off his little brother, his eyes getting glassy. Blood soaks into Trick’s socks.

Dapper holds onto his sleeve, blinking slowly.

“Dok, let’s lie him down.”

“On the carpet, then.”

They take him carefully towards Blue and Red. Dapper doesn’t protest when they put him down on the ground, his eyes rolling dazedly back.

“It’s quite a lot of blood.”

“He’ll be alright.”

Trick squeezes Dapper’s good hand. “Just hang in there, tough guy. You can sleep if you need to, it’s okay. Dok’s got you.”

bupine asked: anti, you ok out there?

“They’ll send PEOPLE to the house next, you mark my fucking WORDS.”

Everyone jolts - exception Dapper - as Anti glitches back into the house shouting as loud as he can. And as loud as he can is pretty damn loud.

“What are you going on about?” snaps Dok, hovering over Dapper’s body as Anti leaps through the kitchen towards them, his whole body shivering with computer-error colors.

“Dark!” he yells, clapping his hands together, his hair shifting rapidly between different shades of green and brown. “That was just the pre-game show! Aren’t they clever? Aren’t they FIERCE?”

Blue rolls his eyes, standing up to cover Red’s ears with his hands.

“They’ll send people here?” asks Trick. “I thought you said they wouldn’t come near the house, Anti.”

“No, they won’t, but they have soldiers of their own, and now they have an idea of what’s going on in this house, because SOMEONE had to go looking for his little boyfriend, didn’t he?”

Blue hugs Red to his chest, scared Anti will come over and punish him for it.

“Well, it doesn’t matter now,” babbles Anti, bouncing on his feet and whirling around, flipping his knife in his hand. “Had to happen, had to happen. If it wasn’t Red, it would have been one of the rest of you.”

“Anti, you’re bleeding,” says Trick.

“What’s blood to me?” hollers Anti, throwing his knife straight up, where it impales in the ceiling and stays. He laughs, rocking back on his heels. “What’s blood at all? Nothing ever kills me, nothing ever makes me die. All part of the game, my darling, and finally there’s someone worth playing with. Ah! I’m not watching the cameras! Be quiet and don’t go in the forest again, you little morons, unless you want to get stolen away, away, away!”

He vanishes in a flash of blinding color, glitching back to his room.

Dok, Trick, Red, and Blue look around at each other, eyes wide.

Anonymous asked: Wait, Anti, do you know if people they send will be able to come into the house? I want to know how alert they need to be to stay safe.

“Why not?” asks Anti. “Only spirits and humans like Jameson are bound by spirit rules. Though, I must tell you, it is never clever to enter a place where a spirit lives without permission. You ever seen that movie Spirited Away? Shit is fucked, man. But anyway, I’m not quite a spirit, am I? Not quite anything. Thank you, creator, for having absolutely no clear ideas in mind when you created me. Now I’m bound to so little, so little. Species have rules they have to follow - fairies fear iron, changelings choke on rowan, spirits respect each other’s spaces, magicians grow weary, demons run from priests, tricksters fool themselves, gods are forgotten, mortal things age and choke and rot away. Me, I’m a glitch in the system. The N/A, does not apply, none of the above option. Fuck you, Jack.”

Glitches buzz down his body. He shifts between Jack’s form and Trick’s, surrounded by a circle of laptops.

“Now lemme alone! I got work to do.”

Anonymous asked: Blue, everything has been so one-thing-after-the-other these days and you've been so sick through it all... I feel like we haven't been able to talk with you in a while. And don't you dare brush yourself of as not as important as the others because I want you to know that despite everything going on, you still are.

“Oh,” says Blue, smiling weakly at you as he sits back down beside Red on the couch. “That’s nice, thanks. It’s not your fault I’ve been tired so much.”

“Speaking of which,” says Trick, looking up at his sibling as Blue leans against Red, the two of them resting together.

“Yeah, it might just be nap time,” sighs Dok, swiping away the last of the blood from Dapper’s arm.

“Is he alright?” asks Blue.

“I think he’ll be fine. Just got to change his bandages a couple times a day and make sure the wound stays clean. He’s always been a fast healer.”

.

They go quiet after that. Red and Dapper sleep. Trick goes back to the kitchen and cooks - again. The fridge is full of tupperware. The counters are lined with bread and desserts. He still feels scared that they’ll be hungry again soon.

It’s quiet.

No, wait -

How good are your ears?

Turn up the volume. Listen close. On the other side of Dapper’s bed, where Dok is sitting, turned away from you, watching over his patients.

“Guess our first plan isn’t going to work,” whispers Blue.

“None of this is working,” whispers back Dok. “We just need to run, Blue.”

“How can we run from a thing like him?” Exhaustion in his voice. An ache in his voice. “He’ll always find us again.

“Well, how the hell do we killa thing like that?”

No answer from Blue. No answer from anyone.

“Get some rest, Blue. I’m sorry I can’t do more.”

“Me too,” answers Blue quietly. “Me too, Dok. But it’s nobody’s fault. We’ll get through this.”

“Will we?”

No answer. No answer.

“We’ll talk more tomorrow. You need a rest too.”

“Alright. Okay.”

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

On the bed, Dapper is not entirely unconscious.

.

There’s a knock on the door of the bedroom in the basement.

Dok looks up, letting Noodle slip off his lap to go greet the newcomer. “Yeah?” he calls.

Trick opens the door, an uncertain smile on his face. His cat yowls and winds around his legs, licking at his calf and purring like a little motorboat.

“Oh. Hi,” says Dok.

“Hi,” answers Trick. His eyes are slightly red. He steps into the room with a plate full of food. “I, um. I made bratwurst.”

Dok blinks. “Bratwurst?”

“Yeah. And brought you… a beer? And some chocolate cake with strawberry. Which was as close as I could get to, um. Black Forest Gateau.”

A lingering anxiety can’t stop the slow smile that builds across Dok’s face. “Cause I’m German?” he teases.

“Cause you’re German,” Trick teases back quietly, looking down at the floor. “But you don’t have to - ”

“I do,” says Dok, already anticipating what he’ll say. “I’d like to.”

“Do you want me to leave it here or can I eat with you?”

“You can eat with me, my brother.”

Trick sits down on the bed beside him and hands him a fork, setting the beer down on the table. Noodle leaps up behind them both and begins shoving his head into both of their backs, pawing for a bit of bratwurst.

“Should we talk about what happened?” whispers Trick.

“I don’t know,” whispers back Dok. “It wasn’t real, was it?”

Trick bows his head over the bratwurst and cake like it’s a funeral reception meal, picking at his sausage.

Anonymous asked: Apologies, Dok, but do you mind explaining what you mean by that? I don't understand.

“Mmh.” Dok rubs at his face. Maybe he should let the cameras turn away for a few, but ever since Norway he’s felt nervous without you nearby, like something will happen and he won’t find out in time to help. “It just doesn’t feel like it could have really happened. It was too - it was too horrible to have really happened.”

“Es tut mir leid, Deutsch, I’m sorry.”

Trick means it. Dok seems to melt, resting his head against his brother’s shoulder, letting the two of them sit quiet for a moment, close. Noodle seems pleased, sitting between their thighs and purring, the only noise in the quiet.

“Don’t do that to me again, Trick,” pleads Dok. “You are killing me.”

Trick hides against his hair, hugging him to his shoulder.

Anonymous asked: Do you both want a distraction, maybe? We could probably think of something to talk to you about.

Trick and Dok grin, their heads press close together. Sharing a plate and a cat, their bodies side-by-side, they do look like twins. If Dok didn’t have glasses and Trick didn’t have that lawn on his head, you might not be able to tell them apart - though I expect there are intimacies of the both of them you have come to recognize. Burn scars on the back of a pale hand. An uprightness to Dok’s spine. Ice or skylines in respective blue eyes.

“Sure, distract us,” chuckles Dok, putting a piece of cake in his mouth, and it’s rich and soft and sweet.

Anonymous asked: Hmmm... I could tell you a funny thing one of my chickens did when she was a baby? We had a little cardboard tunnel for her and the other chickens, and she was walking along the top of it very elegantly, and she stretched out a wing, and she turned to look at some parsley we had hung nearby, and she kept walking... and then she walked right off the edge of the tunnel like a goddamn cartoon character. (She was completely fine though, just very indignant that she'd fallen.)

“Hahaha. Chickens are dumb, is funny.”

“That sounds like Mr. Pot Noodle,” says Trick, kissing his cat’s head once, twice. “But when he falls off things he just cries like a baby for Papa to come scoop him up, don’t you? Don’t you, baby?”

Dok rolls his eyes at his brother’s coddling, amused.

“Trick!” echoes a voice through the floorboards. “Trickshot?”

Dok’s growing relief vanishes instantly. He shrinks against the headboard of the bed, eyes wide, and even Trick looks worried, setting Noodle down.

“Anti, I’m down here,” he calls back evenly. “I’m okay, what’s wrong?”

Footsteps thump down the stairs. Dok shakes his head rapidly, reaching out to grab Trick’s fingers.

“What’s wrong?”

Dok just shakes his head, mouth gone thin and pale, eyes closed.

Anonymous asked: Anti, is it Dapper? That's the only reason I can think of for you needing Dok.

“I said Trickshot! Pay attention, damn!”

Anti pushes open the door to the guest room. His form, for once, is mostly stable, an older version of his creator with his hair tied back and glasses on.

“Fine, you’re forgiven. What, can a creature not want to see his little brother? Trick, come on, let’s go watch that movie like we were talking about. I mentioned Spirited Away and now I wanna see that big black monster go apeshit and eat a bunch of frogs.”

Trick laughs nervously, glancing back at Dok, who stares up at Anti with wide eyes.

“What?” Anti mocks him, smiling wide. “You wanna come upstairs too, Arzt? You wanna go to your room and hang out with me?”

Dok shakes his head quickly, hugging Noodle against his chest.

Anonymous asked: Dok, you okay, bud? Do you want to go be with Red and Blue, if Trick goes with Anti to watch that?

“Don’t go,” croaks Dok. “Come on, stay with me.”

Doesn’t Trick know he feels farther away from him everyday?

“Dok, I - we’re just going to watch a movie, man. I… I just - we’re just going to watch a movie.”

Doesn’t Dok know he doesn’t have a choice?

Dok lets go of his fingers and turns away. Trick turns back to Anti, who smiles sweetly and takes him by the hand, jumping back as Noodle darts forward to try and follow Trick. Dok sees Trick looking back at him for a moment more before Anti slams the door on Noodle and takes his brother away.

Dok stares down at his sausage and cake. He isn’t all that hungry anymore.

Anonymous asked: I think Trick will come back when they've finished the movie, okay? Do you want to go be with Red and Blue, or stay here and talk to us, or just be alone for a bit?

Dok sighs and picks up his plate, wandering upstairs. Red and Blue, at least, are having some fun time together, playing Mario Kart on the couch and laughing their asses off.

He finds his littlest brother in the bedroom that’s meant to be Red and Trick’s, still napping. Gently, Dok sets his plate down and wakes Dapper.

“Need to clean up your bandages,” he murmurs. “Fresher we keep them, the better.”

Dapper smiles wearily up at him and lets him work.

“How’s the pain?”

“Not as bad as yours, I’ll warrant,” he answers.

“How dramatic you are,” chuckles Dok, brushing a curl of brown hair from his eyes, but Dapper doesn’t smile.

“This is what he does,” he signs slowly, his fingers and hand and wrist all aching.

“What is? Who?”

“Anti. He shows you a false version of himself, first - someone loving and affectionate, if complicated and bad tempered. And you can fall for him. You can love him, really. And then, once you’re in deep already, he starts to show you the awful parts of himself. Slow. One at a time. He normalizes everything, bit by bit. Uses hypnosis when he has to. But more than anything else, it’s just that love of him. Every day you convince yourself, more and more strongly - ‘he’s not really as bad as he acts sometimes. Just a bad temper. Remember how kind he was to me the other day?’ And you get sucked down deeper and deeper. Until you can let him use your hands to murder innocent people, and it won’t even make you hate him.”

Dok can’t meet his eyes. Can barely watch his hands. Slow tears drip down his face.

He thinks maybe Dapper is crying too. He isn’t sure he’s ever seen Dapper cry.

“Is that what happened to you?” asks Dok.

“It’s happening to Trick.”

“I know that,” he whispers. “So tell me how you escaped it.”

“Oh, love,” says Dapper, with a tenderness like a hearth in winter. “Oh, love. I am still stuck, most of the time. But I am trying to hope again. And that, I suppose, is where freedom begins.”

Dok wraps his injured wrist in clean, white bandages, soft linen surrounding the torn arm of his youngest brother. He wants to cry. He wants to surrender.

But he won’t.

He can’t do everything he wants to right now. Can’t save everyone. Can’t heal everyone. Can’t take everyone to safety and show them how much he loves them and how little they need someone like Anti.

But he can wrap Jameson’s wrist up, so he does.

In the clean bandages, his hope, for the moment, sustains itself.

Anonymous asked: Yeah. This is probably one of the hardest things that you all will have to do, getting free of him. But it'll happen, yeah? I believe in you guys. You're doing incredibly well handling all this, and I believe in you.

“Sausage?” asks Dapper.

A smile twitches on Dok’s mouth. “Yeah. Help me eat it?”

He hands Dapper Trick’s fork and his little brother digs in earnestly, splitting the pair of bratwursts with Dok. There are more in the kitchen if Trick comes back, so Dok doesn’t count it as a betrayal. Besides, nobody loves meat better than Dap. He feels he’s owed it after the day he’s had.

In reparation for yelling at Dapper the other day for getting drunk, Dok gets him a beer and they drink together on the bed, tired and worn, but holding together. Dok eats the last of the chocolate cake on his own, focusing on the warmth of the cat on his lap and the close-by younger brother.

“But you don’t know how to get free?” asks Dapper, returning without preamble to the previous conversation.

Dok blinks, looking up at him.

“You want to kill him?”

“Fuck,” hisses Dok, pushing you slightly away. “Dap, be careful, okay? I - I just want to get away from him. And stay away from him forever. And I think maybe the only way to do that is… is… yeah. Yeah.”

The clock on the wall ticks. JJ stares at him, his deep blue eyes rimmed in long, black eyelashes.

“If you did know how to kill him,” he signs slowly. “You would.”

Dok doesn’t know how to answer. He sticks the last bite of cake in his mouth.

“But you don’t know how. You don’t know how.”

“You were listening earlier,” Dok accuses. “When Blue and I were talking.”

Dapper barely seems to register the words.

“You don’t know,” he taps distantly, eyes faraway as he thinks. “You don’t know how.”

“Do you?”

Dapper shakes his head. “No… no.”

Dok deflates again, turning his head away. “Then there’s no point in talking about it, my friend. Let’s not give the master a reason to hit us again tonight.”

Dapper watches him take the plate to the kitchen, leaving him alone in the room. He stares at the floor, lost in thought.

No, he doesn’t know how. He’s seen his brother survive most everything - fire, bullets, knives, being turned into an animal, prolonged starvation, self-harm, electricity, iron and running water, magicians, Jackie and Marvin. No. He doesn’t know.

Could he find out?

“Can I sleep in here with you tonight?” asks a small voice at his door.

Dok has come back. Trick has not. Dapper’s heart hurts with pity for him.

“Yes, of course.”

Dok crawls into bed beside him. Their bodies lock together. Dok sleeps.

Dapper thinks long and hard, but eventually the warm purring of a kitten and the nearness of a safe brother’s body lulls him into deep and unanswering sleep.