#(I am finally over the worst of it though so it should only be uphill from here 🤞)

[missmouse43]

Welp. Here we are at the end of another year. Covid stole my Christmas. I’ve been stuck inside the house for over a week suffering. So needless to say I am very much looking forward to closing the book on this year and starting fresh in 2024.

Stay safe and healthy my friends. Enjoy the night with your loved ones 💖🧡

Happy New Year!

[zara-renata]

Sleepy time with Xavier | ao3 | my other lads fic

Summary: You suffer from chronic fatigue and worry that Xavier is only placating you when he says it's fine on the occasions you're too exhausted to follow through on plans together. On one such bad day, he reassures you in a way that you can no longer doubt.

Notes:

And now for something entirely different from the Sylus series (regular readers, please don't stab me in the face). I am bursting with ideas for the Sylus fic and will continue posting regular updates as before (work permitting), but I was directly inspired by @starfallforest's fic about how, due to his evol, Xavier lights up like a supernova when he orgasms, and bends space-time so that you can feel what he feels and the lines of identity blur between him and his lover. I had insomnia the other night and kept thinking about the hurt/comfort possibilities of being able to literally feel your lover's feelings, and I want to use that idea in the Sylus fic because there are hints that he can enter dreams and manipulate consciousness, so this is my thank you to a sweet person who inspired the idea. Xavier x fem!reader, Xavier x mc, second person POV This story contains: mc with chronic fatigue, hurt/comfort, bottom!xavier, pegging, oral sex (f receiving), tried to keep the sex more sensual than explicit but it's there. My first attempt at "smut", hope it's demure, hope it's classy. I normally write gender neutral reader, but i find it really hard to leave out body parts when drafting sexual content so i went with fem reader here. If anyone wants this story as either gender neutral or male reader (both of which would slightly affect the descriptions of the sexy bits), let me know because it would be simple to adjust. But if no one is interested in Xavier or other LI content from me, then I figured one version should be sufficient.

You come awake slowly, still tangled in a strange dream in which you were on a planet that is strangely familiar even though you somehow knew it’s not your own. You were sheltering in ancient buildings clinging to a high, sloping cliffside spilling down into a gray, turbulent ocean. Everyone around you was afraid, and somehow you had the knowledge, the way one sometimes has in dreams, that this was the end of this world. You were one of the last survivors of all the calamities that had afflicted this crumbling planet until now, at the final end of all things. All who were left were now huddled along with you, watching the sea. The meteor was coming. Nothing could be done to stop it. If you didn’t see it in the sky, you would know it was time by the sudden retreat and then rise of the ocean waves.

You wake, just as the tide receded—you were waiting in frozen fear, trapped in the terrible knowledge that when the water returned, you and everyone you knew would be swept down and into it, the final gasp of life on a doomed planet.

As you come awake, your heart is racing. You feel your chest with your hand, running your fingertips over the pounding there while reaching for your phone on your nightstand. You squint at the screen—it’s nine in the morning on a Saturday. Normally you’d be stretching languidly, enjoying the fact that you are able to sleep in on the weekends instead of hurrying into work. But the dream’s deep dread—its exhausting terror—lingers, and your body feels so heavy. It’s nine in the morning, and you already know that today will be a Bad Day.

You don’t remember a time when you didn’t have chronic fatigue. Maybe when you were younger, you wouldn’t fear the days on which just the most basic of tasks required for daily life are simply too much for your depleted body. Where taking a shower, or doing the dishes, feels as daunting as running a marathon with no training, or pushing an SUV uphill with the emergency brake still on.

But now your fatigue is almost a constant companion. It seeps into your body, siphoning your strength on the worst possible days. You sometimes think that the energy stolen from you by this condition would be enough to power Linkon City for a year.

It’s Saturday, and you resign yourself to just curling up in bed and drifting until hunger, or the need to go to the bathroom, offer enough pressing incentive to drag your deadweight out from under your warm soft duvet.

***

Xavier lets himself into your apartment with the key you made specifically for him, since you use a fingerprint scanner to get in yourself. He slips out of his shoes and hangs up his jacket on the wall rack in the foyer. Something about the stillness of your place has him holding his tongue, when usually he’d call out softly to you to let you know he’s here. As he makes his way further into your home, he notes how the curtains are still drawn in the living room, and that the kitchen is tidy in a way that lets him know that you probably haven’t used it yet today.

It must be one of your bad days. He was looking forward to going to hotpot with you tonight, the date he knew you were also looking forward to this Saturday night, but he’s already reaching for his phone to call and cancel the reservation. His earbuds are in, so as he quietly lets the restaurant know you won’t be coming, he gets to work assembling snacks on a wooden cutting board and getting the kettle going for a caffeine free tea. He lifts the kettle from its base right before it begins to beep as it finishes warming up, and pours you a mug in the chipped World’s Greatest Hunter cup that Caleb gifted you when you graduated from the Hunter Academy. He then carefully carries everything back to your bedroom, where you’re curled up amidst the soft duvet and mountain of pillows and plushies so that only your hair is peeking up above the covers. He pauses, soaking in the sight, overcome with how adorable you are. His slow heartbeat hitches, for just a breath, at the gratitude of being able to see you like this, so close, instead of dreaming about you from a great distance.

He sets the board on one of your nightstands, lifts the steeping teabag from the mug and places it in the little bowl decorated with shooting stars. A gift from him since you love drinking calming tea so much. He then reaches back, pulling his cozy white hoody and undershirt from his torso and dumps them on the floor. His jeans are next, and then he’s lifting the duvet, slipping in behind you with a sigh. 

***

You come awake again—terribly relieved that this time your sleep was peaceful, dreamless—only to find your beautiful boyfriend’s warm body curled around yours. Maybe his solid presence at your back is why you didn’t have another unsettling dream.

You blink, coming to your senses all at once. You grab your phone from your nightstand and see that it’s well past the time you had agreed to head to the restaurant. 

You feel awful. You hate that your body betrays you like this, and so often ruins plans not only for you, but for your skilled warrior of a boyfriend too. Your sweet, curious explorer. So often you aren’t up to following through on plans the two of you make together on your precious days off from the stresses and risks of being a hunter. He has never complained, but you feel terrible, every time, for not having the energy to do even the most mundane of activities and ruining his rare chances for fun or relaxation as a result.

“Are you awake already?” his sleepy, soft voice drifts from behind you. He tightens his arms around you.

You snort. “Already? I wish.” Your stomach twists in hunger. “I should have gotten up hours ago. Why didn’t you wake me?” you ask forlornly.

“I didn’t want to interrupt your rest. And I can always use a nap.” You can hear the smile in his voice, right before you hear him yawn languidly.

You’re grateful that he never complains. You’re grateful that he never seems to be bothered by you having to flake out on plans, and never seems disappointed at last-minute cancellations. But you also can’t quite believe that his peaceful facade is the whole truth. There is always that undercurrent of worry lurking in your mind, wondering when he’ll finally have enough of being forced to deal with your condition. He rarely offers reassurance on his own—it’s only when you ask him, “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”, that he always replies with a calm, “Of course.” You never quite believe him, despite your best efforts to trust him.

“Still. I’m so sorry that we missed plans, again, because of me,” you murmur, curling a little tighter into yourself.

He pushes himself up on his elbow. “C’mere.” He gently urges you to roll over and face him. He smiles down at you, his ocean eyes soft as they drift across your face. “I made you some tea, but I guess it’s probably cold by now. And also some snacks. Wanna watch the latest episode of Super Hunters?”

You just stare at his pretty face, struck again by how utterly lovely every part of him is. Not just the sweep of his nose, his generous mouth, the blond of his soft hair. But the inside of him too. Gentle. Kind.

“Are you sure you’re not upset?” you finally ask, heart aching with how much you love this man, hating the fact that you’re so needy for reassurance from him.

He leans forward, taking your hand in his, and runs his nose along your forehead, down one of your cheeks, before he brushes a feather-light kiss to the side of your mouth.

“I’m sure. I can think of so many things we can do, right here in this bed. Things that are just as fun as eating good hotpot,” he answers, eyes drifting from your eyes to your mouth, to the skin above your sleep tank top, and back again.

“Like watching Super Hunters?” you tease, lifting an eyebrow. Because you know him. And you know that one of the things he loves as much as eating good food, is loving you with his body.

“Like watching Super Hunters, or…” he reaches out and runs one finger along the curve of your breast. “If you’re not too tired, I’m happy to do all the work. But if you’re not up for it, I’m also happy to order in for us, and spend the rest of the night watching shows with you.”

This, too, you have trouble believing. He has never pressured you into intimacy, but you worry when he says it doesn’t bother him when your fatigue, your faulty body, affects this part of your relationship with him, as it does everything else. You don’t know how to reconcile the cognitive dissonance in your head—you know that Xavier is not the kind of man to feel entitled to sex, or to get angry for needing to cancel plans because his partner has a medical condition out of her control. And yet, you also feel guilty for not being able to offer him more consistency in both of these aspects of your shared life together.

You lie there, soaking in his beauty. Your eyes drift from his lovely face down his strong throat, the breadth of his shoulders, his defined pectorals. The darker blond trail of hair starting at his navel and drifting down into his pretty little blue boxer briefs. You’re exhausted, but you want him. You always want him, whether it’s just holding his hand, or much, much more. You’re not going to let your frustrating body get in the way of the pleasure he’s offering you, on top of everything else tonight.

“How about we have those snacks, and then we can… do something other than watch Super Hunters.” Your breath is caught as a surprised, pleased smile lights up his face.

“That can be arranged,” he says softly.

Later, after you’ve had your fill of the fruit and nuts, the crackers spread with tasty toppings, and drained the mug of cold but still soothing tea, he gently urges you onto your back under the soft duvet. You’re cocooned, both warm in the little nest of your bed, as he licks into your mouth, kissing you slowly, seeming to savor the tea lingering on your tongue. You respond, tongue meeting his, enjoying the languid pace of his kisses. Time slows, becomes meaningless, as he leisurely drinks his fill of your mouth.

After a lifetime, or perhaps only a few minutes, he slips from your mouth, and begins pressing gentle kisses down your throat, drifting down, down, pausing at the softness of your breasts, running his hands up and under your sleep tank top until you lift your arms and let him pull it from your body. He lets it fall somewhere over the side of the bed. His tongue is warm and wet as he nuzzles your breasts and gently sucks lower, running his nose along the skin of your belly and resting his cheek there, just for a little while. You sigh softly, luxuriating in the feel of his weight on you, his warm breath against your skin.

After a while, he moves again, down, down, tongue sweeping down your hip, lips pressing slow kisses to the inside of your thigh. You feel his big hands gently grasp your hips, and his agile fingers are pulling down the sides of your underwear. He lifts your ass for you so you don’t have to expend the effort, and then the underwear is tossed just as your tank top was.

He nudges your legs wide and settles his big body between them. Your heart's rhythm speeds, the rest of you responds to his attention. Your fatigue fades into the background as all of your focus narrows to his tongue between your legs, the wet insistence of his lips on the most sensitive parts of you. He makes small appreciative noises in his throat, the same that he makes when enjoying a particularly good meal, and you’re reassured that this at least, he loves doing for you.

The pleasure in your tired body builds, and builds, but he’s in no hurry. His fingers join his tongue, advancing and retreating. Sometimes he pauses, resting his cheek on your thigh as he did on your belly, simply breathing you in, tongue running along his own lips, as if he’s savoring the taste of you. Time passes, and all at once the movement of his tongue, the pressure of his mouth becomes too much, and you come on a quiet gasp, softly—the peak of your pleasure stretches, feels like it lasts beyond what is possible. Finally, you’re catching your breath, sated, drifting back into your body from the timeless orgasm he just gifted you.

Wordlessly, he reaches beyond the duvet to pull your strap from your nightstand. He lifts one of your feet and slips it through one part of the harness, and then repeats the motion with your other foot. He slowly drags it up your legs, goosebumps trailing his fingertips in the chill of the air exposed by the duvet falling down a little as he fixes the strap in place between your thighs and gently tugs on each bit of the harness to ensure that it’s resting securely and comfortably against your skin. 

When he is done, you are filled with a pleasant fullness, and a new heaviness rests between your legs. While he was pleasuring you, he had used one of his hands to soften the way for you, leisurely working your wetness into himself. He rolls onto his side, the little spoon, and scoots back against you. He reaches for the lube in the nightstand, and you laugh softly when the scent of cookies and cream fills the air. 

“What?” he asks, and you can hear the lift of his lips, the smile in his response. “I love cookies and I love sex, why not enjoy both at once?” 

How can you argue with such logic? You’ll never be able to eat cookies again without recalling his warmth, his big body pliant against yours, and you realize that you’re just fine with that.

He reaches behind, between your bodies, and coats the cock of the strap with the lube. He then helps you work it into himself, little by little, until you’re fully seated and pressed warmly against his broad back. He sighs and you feel him reach for his own dick, stroking leisurely. With each slow, rolling undulation of his body rocking back into yours as he seeks his pleasure, your own builds, desire again temporarily eclipsing the exhaustion. You begin to rock your hips, little by little, and he whimpers softly with each thrust. You trail kisses down the back of his strong neck, gasping a little at how good it feels to press into him, for the motion to press the seat of the strap deeper into you, his skin silk under your lips, his whimpering an incentive to go a littler faster, to push a little deeper, just to hear more of it. His muscles ripple and shivers sweep along his skin under your touch. 

Gradually you speed your thrusts, and you feel his hand working faster on his cock by the movement of his muscular arm. He has been here with you before, so he is not afraid or hesitant like the first time. You angle your hips a little, and are satisfied when you hit his prostate, evident from the loud keening that comes out of your normally soft spoken boyfriend. You’re on the edge of coming again, only waiting for the telltale clenching, the moaned “I’m coming” from Xavier. 

When he finally falls over the edge, you go with him, and he lights up like a supernova, back arched, his thick backside grinding into your hips. He’s blinding, magnificent, the light under his skin almost too much for you to look at directly. He is starlight. He is the sun, soaking you through, warming your skin, your exhausted muscles, the blood pumping through your veins, down, down to the marrow of your bones, the tender center of your tired soul.

You squeeze your eyes shut against the blazing form of your lover, and you’re suddenly adrift—space and time are an origami flower folded from the parts of you and him, him and you, drifting like petals on a breath, stardust in the a vast ocean of night. 

You are him, your skin translucent, blazing bright as a star, your body filled with so much pleasure—filled with so much affection, gratitude—and sorrow. Sorrow for the fact that you don’t have the poetic words to convince your lover that the days she’s most exhausted are some of the days he loves the most, just lying with her reading quietly, sheltered in this safe harbor from the cruelties of time and distance. You understand that for her, her exhaustion is a burden, a source of guilt and helpless anger. That she thinks of her own body as flawed, when all you can see is its perfection in every curve, every breath, the regal line of her nose. You would never wish for her to suffer because of the exhaustion racking her body, but you sometimes think that she was made just for you, her fatigue mirroring your own—lying in bed fulfills you as much as exploring a new city, tasting a new favorite meal. You’re so content to be lost right here with her in this familiar but never boring geography of bedsheets, the topography of her body a map you want to read with your hands like braille, to learn, to lose yourself in every day. You hate that you don’t seem to have the words to reassure her that you love all of her, because of, and not despite, all the parts that make the whole of her. 

Time stretches, space contracts. You fall back into yourself. The blinding beacon in your arms slowly fades, Xavier’s warm bulk suddenly solid against you again. He sighs, sated. You can feel his rapid breathing expanding his strong lungs, his broad back against your chest. 

You drift together quietly in the peaceful aftermath of the love you just shared. The relief coursing through you is like slipping into warm water, soothing you in a way that brings tears to your eyes. You trust that the experience you just had wasn’t a lie—you were feeling Xavier’s true feelings as you reached the height of pleasure, together. You don’t believe that he’s capable of lying, of placating, as his soul melted into yours, twin stars bound together.

This is enough for you. An unexpected gift, a reassurance you never dared hope for. But Xavier isn’t done. He begins to speak, without you having to ask.

“Please don’t feel bad, on the days you’re tired. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be,” he says softly into the peaceful quiet, only the sounds of your breaths, his breaths filling the room. You don’t have the words to answer him right now, your pleasure-soaked body feeling heavier and heavier as you sink further back into awareness, the fatigue exacting its price for the energy you just expended loving the precious man in your arms. You just hold him a little tighter, nuzzling into his soft blond hair. He seems to receive the message as he slips his hand in yours and squeezes tightly.

After another endless moment, you hear him say almost inaudibly, “I love you.”

“I love you too, star boy,” you manage to whisper into his hair. You drift again, and the memory of your dream floats into your thoughts. You think that you could endure anything, even the end of the world, with this man in your arms.

[thenightisland]

tirade about my own health and doctors/healthcare workers not listening to their fucking patients under the cut like a /really/ long tirade

so i don’t talk a lot about being physically sick on here but i’ve had various physical health issues for most of my time on this planet and my god it has been an uphill battle every step of the way to get them recognized. like i’m sure that back in The Day they didn’t take my concerns or suggestions seriously bc i was a teenage girl so what do i know (never mind that i grew up in the medical field and would literally cite research studies and symptomology). and the second they realized that i had depression and anxiety, every physical issue i had was just attributed to that. it took five years to convince them that my headaches were due to a chronic migraine condition not my depression, despite my mother having the same condition. it took ten years to convince them that a lot of my symptoms were hypothyroidism...not depression. and the worst battle has been the fact that my entire gi system has been garbage from day one like i have been constantly sick my entire life and i remember going to the doctor and being like i think i need to be tested for This based on the problems i’m having. they would then test me for something else (ie they tested me for gluten intolerance even though gluten based foods were some of the only things i /could/ tolerate eating, instead of testing me for what i asked to be tested for), and when that test would inevitably come back negative, they would act like it was case closed, like bc i tested negative for one condition that that somehow negated the fact that all of my illness and symptoms were still there. like???? just bc you do not diagnose the problem on the first try doesn’t make the problem go away i am still sick just like i was last week test me for something else do /something/. and the something they ultimately did over and over was blame it all on me having anxiety. so all these very real physical symptoms were reduced to being psychosomatic manifestations of my mental illnesses. which is. really shitty medicine. no physical symptoms are taken seriously once a doctor decides it’s “all in your head” even if there is very real evidence that that is not the case.

so in december i just went to a specialist myself without a referral like fight me i have money you’re going to see me whether i have a referral or not i’m sick of this. and i /still/ had to do too much persuasion to convince them to run some real diagnostics on me despite the fact that all the women on my mom’s side of the family have histories of bleeding ulcers and autoimmune gi disorders. their first thing too was to test me for another fucking gluten intolerance like i am not gluten intolerant get the records from my other doctor and move on that’s not the issue i’ve been dealing with this shit my whole life. and i guess i successfully annoyed them enough bc i finally got the diagnostic tests that i’ve been wanting since i was a teenager (that they wouldn’t give me back then bc “well typically those tests are done on older adults” despite having symptoms that could easily justify them). so i cannot tell you the sheer fucking delight waking up from my propofol haze to hear them telling me that they found gastritis and ulcerations and three different things to test/biopsy (nothing cancer-y don’t worry) like YEAH I BET YOU DID GEE IT’S ALMOST LIKE ALL THESE PHYSICAL SYMPTOMS I’VE HAD FOR TWENTY YEARS ARE BEING CAUSED BY A PHYSICAL ILLNESS AND NOT ME HAVING ANXIETY 

which like i grew up in the medical community my parents are both healthcare workers and my whole adult life i’ve been a nurse it should never have taken all this time and fighting to get things properly addressed. it shouldn’t take any of this for layman patients to get stuff addressed either, but the fact that a healthcare worker who has a degree in literally knowing how different illnesses present cannot convince her doctors to do relevant tests based on symptomology, that just seems like an extra level of insane this is not a googles headache and decides they have brain cancer bc of webmd thing this is a patient with /academic and clinical training/ in this shit. like the migraines and the thyroid were infuriating battles to win but truly nothing compares to the gi bullshit. i have had to go through customs in a wheelchair bc i was too sick to walk. i spent christmas on the floor in the fetal position when all i ate was a piece of plain toast. literally every time i eat there’s a 50/50 chance i will get extremely sick so i have to gamble like do i eat at work and risk being ill or do i wait and not eat all day until i get home where it doesn’t matter if i end up sick? my quality of life has been garbage for so long and i can’t help but wonder if that would have been the case if i 1. hadn’t been dismissed for being a teenage girl and 2. hadn’t had all my physical symptoms dismissed as being due to “anxiety” and it /infuriates/ me like i want to take these literal photos of my ulcerated insides and shove them in the face of all the doctors who would not take me seriously like /do you believe me now assholes/

[danger-xylophones]

In the Quiet Part 2 (Fives x reader)

{masterlist}

Warnings: Angst (because it’s Fives so of course), anxiety, my take on Post-War Fives, my methods for calming down from a panic attack, makeup, family talk, nudity (for like half a second), swearing

Notes: You don’t have to read part 1 to get this but I would appreciate it.

<- Previous

...................................................................

“Do we have to go?” It’s the fourth time he’s asked that damn question today. With an explosive sigh, you lower the eyeliner stylus you had raised to your eyelid till your hand taps against the counter. Sending a disgruntled grimace at your reflection, you answer the antsy man waiting impatiently outside the refresher. 

“Yes, Fives, we do.” You answer in a measured tone, you don’t mean to be snippy but the former ARC trooper has been testing your patience all day by seeking out ways to avoid attending the late night talk show appearance you’d scheduled months ago. In all fairness, he didn’t have to go - you’d been the one to promise an appearance still believing Fives to have passed on. It was something your lawyer, attorney, and pr manager had suggested you do in order to further normalize the integration of clones into society as citizens and decorated war vets. Who better to have do that than the lover of ARC Trooper Fives - the doctor that (with help) exposed the sinister plot unwittingly programmed into the clones in the wake of her lover’s presumed death? To be honest, you felt dirty doing this. It felt like you were treating the avoidance of a tragedy as a publicity stunt - and you weren’t the only one to think this if the raging articles and forums dedicated to slowing your progress down were any indication. Still, if this was the best way to showcase how human the men of the Grand Army of the Republic are then you would do what you had to. Besides, Chancellor Amidala couldn’t do it all by herself despite the backing of the Jedi and a handful of beloved senators. She needed the public on her side too. “I know you don’t like it but it’s the best thing we can do for you and your brothers right now.” 

The integration of the clones was slow going - an uphill struggle from the very start. But, around a year after Fives’s supposed demise on a day you thought would haunt you forever, Captain Rex strolled in with the one thing in the whole galaxy you’d ever longed for: Fives. Alive and looking relatively like himself again and standing in the entryway of your shared home with Kix and a medical droid from Kamino named AZ3. He’d faked his death, as he explained to you later that night, in order to ensure Palpatine lost suspicion of you and Rex, giving you and the captain enough time to discover the truth about the inhibitor chips for yourself. To hide he’d had to keep his hair short and a modified patch meant to mimic skin had been placed over his iconic ‘5′ tattoo to keep his identity obscured. But the worst thing of all (in your opinion) - he had to shave his goatee. From there, with the help of Kix, he’d been reintegrated into the GAR in the 104th as a shiny named Hydan. For months, he hid among the ranks of the 104th the only person aware of who he was being Kix until the day came where Sidious was discovered, the chips were deactivated, and Chancellor Amidala had been instated by a nearly unanimous vote. Only when it was deemed safe enough, did Kix contact Rex and explain what happened who then reunited you and Fives. 

Now, you were an hour and a half away from making your first public appearance as a couple. Fives’s hair wasn’t quite to the length you were familiar with nor was his goatee (it was about as faint as it was the first time you met him after the first battle for Kamino) but now his retouched tattoo shown proudly on the side of his head and the name Hydan had been cast aside. 

“I get that,” Fives huffed as he rounded the doorway and met your gaze in the mirror - a grumpy frown furrowing his brow and pulling his face down, “but I don’t understand why we have to go. I thought Rex did fine in his interview.” He huffed again and leaned heavily against the doorframe with crossed arms. Despite how annoying he was trying to be you couldn’t help but grin at him and rake your eyes over his reflection. Fives was dressed in a pristine, pressed white dress uniform with medals affixed to his breast that glinted in the bright light of the ‘fresher. The insignia for the 501st was pressed into the corner of his high collar on one side, on the other the sign for an ARC trooper. Decorating the shoulders of his uniform were golden pads meant to mimic the pauldrons worn by most ARC troopers. Finally, two golden stripes on either wrist to symbolically pay homage to every fallen soldier.

You snorted his statement, returning your attention to the mirror to finish up your neglected eye. “Babe, he was as stiff as a board and simultaneously more fidgety than a newly deployed shiny.” 

“He still got his point across didn’t he? All this,” he caught your attention by loosely gesturing to the uniform, “is pointless. I mean - don’t get me wrong, doll, you look beautiful but I’d prefer to have you all dressed up for a date not some dumb talk show in front of the whole galaxy.” You didn’t immediately acknowledge the compliment he tossed at you - your focus was too drawn to the sentiment he had just expressed. 

“Fives,” you sighed and turned away from the mirror to face the man, “what’s this really about?” Fives shifted on his feet suddenly uncomfortable under your concerned but scrutinizing gaze. There was a long pause where neither of you said anything and Fives couldn’t even meet your eyes. You were the first to make a move, stepping forward carefully till the man was witihin arms reach. “Fives,” you said again, reaching a hand out to rest on his forearm, “baby,” you ducked your head to meet his gaze, “talk to me.” 

He could never resist when you called him ‘baby’. It was one weakness Fives wasn’t even aware he had, the slightest chink in his armor that you always managed to find. And he knew that you knew what it did to him. With a nearly frustrated sigh both at the situation and at his inability to control what he was feeling, he tried to let you see what was going on in his head. “It’s just...” he began before trailing off. Why couldn’t he let you in? You were trying to be there for him and he was just...clamming up. Why? You were always so open with him. You didn’t shut him out - you never had. You’d always bared your soul to him whenever he asked, you’d always trusted him with the most fragile aspects of who you were. So, why couldn’t he tell you? What was wrong with him? It wasn’t even a big deal, he knew that, he knew he was just being stubborn and annoying and you were probably fed up with his attitude - gods, what if you were fed up with him too? What if you were just asking him what he was feeling out of habit? What if you didn’t lo-? 

“Fives!” You called out in alarm. “Fives, baby, take a deep breath.” You quickly lowered your voice after snapping him out of his downward spiral. The former ARC trooper looked up at you, soft chestnut brown eyes blown wide in panic. His breathing had picked up speed, resembling shallow pants instead. Your heart broke. But you had to focus to be able to help him. Carefully, you took a deep, slightly exaggerated breath and released it while gesturing for him to copy you. He did though his breathing was still shallow and shaky. “Good, Fives. One more time.” You took another breath, a little deeper than the last one and Fives tried to mimic you. 

“Shit-Shit- I-I’m sorry, cyare!” He suddenly broke, tears starting to form at the bottom of his eyes. “I-I should have it together, I-I sh-shouldn’t be acting like this!” 

“Fives, baby, it’s okay...” you were floundering, you could feel it. “Can...can I touch you?” 

Fives looked at you like a startled loth-cat kitten but opened his arms all the same. “Please...” he breathed out and that was all it took for you to step forward and wrap your arms around him. His arms locked around you like a vice and you could now feel the violent tremors that ran through him. 

“Baby, what you are feeling is scary and overwhelming...” you began quietly, “but I need you to know that it is okay to feel like this. There is nothing wrong with you,” you let one hand smooth up and down his back, “I still love you, and if you need to let it all out, I am here to help.” His grip tightened around you, so tight that it almost hurt, but you made no complaint and instead lifted yourself up enough to press a kiss to his neck. “What do you need right now, cyare?” 

“I-I-I don’t know...” 

“It’s okay to not know.” You whispered back. A silence fell between you, only broken by the occasional hiccupping breath that would slip from your boyfriend. With each one, you’d just continue to rub his back and calmly press feather-light pecks to wherever you could. You were vaguely aware of time passing, the approach of the catalyst for this latest attack ever-present and looming above you like the shadow of some great monolith, but you paid it no mind. Fives was more important. When a substantial amount of time had passed between hiccups, you gently pulled back just enough to grasp Fives’s forearms but to also rest your forehead against his chest, knowing that he didn’t like to be looked at while he was crying. “Fives...” you whispered to him and waited for an acknowledging hum. “Do you want to try your breathing exercise again?” The tightening of his grip and the feeling of his head dropping onto yours was your only answer. “Okay. In five, hold five, out five. Ready?” You gave him a few seconds before starting to count, slow and steady. You kept a sharp ear out for his breathing, monitoring it for signs of improvement or decline as he breathed in, held his breath, and then released it. You quietly joined him on the third cycle, relying on your internal metronome to keep the relaxed pace. 

The two of you stayed like that for another five or six cycles before Fives finally lifted his head, his breathing practically back to normal. “’m sorry, cyare.” He muttered under his breath with a poorly concealed sniffle. 

“Hush, none of that now, Fives.” You shushed him with a soft smile, reaching up to cup his cheek. He immediately leaned into the touch. “It happens, sweetheart, there’s no need to feel ashamed.” You continued to sooth as your thumb gently ran across his cheekbone. 

Fives’s eyes softened at you as the residual panic began to fade. “It’s just,...” he started again but took a deep breath this time before pushing on, “when I came back, I-I wanted it to be the end of all this; of the war and the chips and the GAR. I just want to settle down with you, move somewhere people can’t find and just not have to worry about anything...” Fives’s gaze fell to the floor as his hand carefully glided up the arm that was holding his face till he could gently pull it away to weave his fingers through yours, “maybe even start a family...” Your mouth fell open slightly at that - the two of you had discussed what you wanted your lives to look like after the war, it was how you ended up calling him your fiance prior to his ‘death’ but most talk halted at marriage. Fives’s eyes flicked up to your face again to dart over your features, taking in the shocked expression now residing there. But he seemed to misinterpret it. “I-I know it’s stupid...”

“No, it’s not. Nothing you just said was stupid.” You reassured immediately. “I want that, Fives. I want that life with you.” A soft, fluttery feeling seemed to engulf your chest, growing and dimming like a soft mood light with every breath. It was nice and warm and lovely and you prayed that Fives felt it too. Going by the shy grin stretching over his lips - he most certainly did. 

The fragile moment was shattered by a loud chirp emanating from the ‘fresher as your alarm started to go off. You had one hour before you had to leave. With an overdramatic eye roll that pulled a quiet chuckle from the still fragile man you separated from him and walked into the refresher to turn off the alarm. Just as you were turning on your heel to face Fives again you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror - full face of makeup minus one incomplete eye, hair still half-heartedly shoved away from your face, and you still in your lounge wear. It was enough to make you laugh. “I’m a bit of a mess, aren’t I?” You hummed. 

“Yeah,” Fives hummed back as he appeared in the mirror behind you. You didn’t have time to be offended though as Fives was already draping an arm around your shoulders. “But you’re a beautiful one.” 

With a scoff, you slapped his chest with the back of your hand while Fives tittered at your reaction. A moment later he pressed an affectionate kiss to your temple. You smiled to yourself as you finally got to finish your makeup. “Could you go get my dress? It’s still in the bag in the closet.” You sent Fives a look in the mirror as your reached for all the products you’d need to style your hair. He made a hum-like sound in the back of his throat and glided out of the refresher, significantly lighter on his feet compared to how he’d been all day. But there was still a heaviness in him, an invisible weight on his shoulders as he slipped from view. You frowned. Maybe he should stay here in the apartment - out of sight. Where he felt safe.

“Cyare?” He quietly called and your shook your head before meeting his concerned gaze in the mirror. Fives was leaning around the doorway with a garment bag slung over his shoulder. One eyebrow was raised at you. “You alright?”

“I’m fine, Fives, just...thinking.” He tilted his head at you but you waved him off in favor of gently taking the garment bag from him and moving to put the dress on. Fives let out a low whistle after you pulled your top off and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at him though the smile never left your face as you moved to the sweats you’d had on. “Are you just going to stand there or are you going to help me get that thing on?” You asked, gesturing to the dress with your head as you kicked off the lounge wear and moved for the hoop. Fives muttered something you didn’t catch before helping you into the blue and white, sweetheart neckline mermaid dress. 

He pulled back and held you by the shoulders to look over your entire image. “Gorgeous. Absolutely gorgeous.” He smiled at you, wide enough for those crinkles you loved to appear at the corners of his eyes. “Think I better go so nobody tries anything.” 

Your face fell so suddenly it startled you. “Fives, I take it back. If you don’t want to go, you do not have to.” Your hands came up to smooth over his chest as your gaze fell to the floor. “I realize it’s a lot and not everyone is for us so if you’re more comfortable staying-” 

He said your name causing your attention to snap to him immediately. His eyes were soft as he focused on you, lips drawn into a thin line, while his hands squeezed your shoulders. “Cyare...no. I want to do this. For my brothers, for you. And if sitting on an obnoxiously long couch in an uncomfortable outfit talking to some wackjob who won’t shut up for two seconds or stop prying is the way to go, then it’s the way to go.” Despite the situation a little giggle slipped from you at Fives’s still evident disdain for talkshow hosts shown through. He smiled at you again before pulling you into a warm embrace with a long sigh. “I’m sorry for all this.” 

“Fives-” You began in a warning tone.

“No, let me finish.” He squeezed you closer. “I’m sorry for all of this - for tricking you, for lying, for forcing you into the limelight, and for being so damn stubborn. You deserve better.” He sighed again and pulled back just enough to press his forehead to yours, keeping his eyes closed as he did so. “I want to be better. I know I’ve been a pain in the ass since I came back and you’re a saint for dealing with me and all this shit I dragged you into and made you deal with. It should’ve been my shit to deal with and...I bolted - faked my death and made you ‘n Rex deal with everything that came after.” He opened his eyes and finally met your gaze, and in the golden depths were smoldering embers of a lifetime of pain - injuries yet to heal. “I’m so sorry, ner kar’ta.” He whispered. 

“Fives,” you began by sliding one of your hands along his arm till you could grasp at his wrist and pull his hand off of your waist to intertwine your fingers with his, “you didn’t drag me into anything. I knew that I was signing up to face the unknown the first time I kissed you.” Carefully you brought your intertwined hands to your face to kiss along his knuckles. “Secondly, think about what would have happened if you hadn’t disappeared. Fives,” You met his eyes, your own burning with severity, “I would have lost you for real.” His grip tightened on your hand but he kept quiet. Not wanting to dwell, you moved right along. “Thirdly, you gave Rex and I a chance to stop Sidious, to stop the massacre of thousands of Jedi. We were able to stop a tyrant because of you. Your sacrifice saved the galaxy, Fives. That isn’t ‘shit’. You’re a hero, cyare. Finally,” your free hand snaked its way up to cup his cheek, “I could never ask you to be better because you’re already so damn good to me. You’re incredible, Fives.” Your thumb stroked his cheek as you took a moment to just appreciate the man in front of you. “Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum.” And with that, you pushed yourself up to seal your lips against his. Fives melted against you, hand releasing yours in favor of wrapping his arm around your waist again while his other cupped the back of your neck to keep you in place. The hand you had against his cheek moved back to tug at his hair. The other that was once held by Fives crept around his shoulders so you could use it to pull him closer. You stayed locked together for a moment more, barely separating to catch your breaths before you were pressing soft, whispering kisses to each others lips. Each one, though light in nature, felt heavy in meaning which made your heart speed and head feel airy. 

You only separated for real when your alarm went off next to you - thirty minutes before you had to be at the studio. Without slipping from Fives’s arms, you reached over to turn the alarm off. The air was charged now, buzzing with a foreign energy you weren’t used to. “C’mon,” Fives eventually whispered, “let’s go greet the galaxy.”

Taglist: 

@apocalypticwafflekitten / @pinkiemme / @cherryxcyarika / @justalittlecloud / @and-claudia 

[not-from-the-absence-of-violence]

You'd break your heart to make it bigger, so why not crack your skull when the mind swells

“Something's not right about what I'm doing but I'm still doing it-- living in the worst parts, ruining myself. My inner life is a sheet of black glass.” ~Richard Siken

Moments in Leenik Geelo's life after losing his brother.

a/n: love that my first campaign star wars fic is just pure leenik geelo angst, i dedicate this one to @leenik-matagot thank u and also ur welcome <3 >:) 

content warnings for: canon typical character death and violence, suicidal thoughts, refrences to self harm, ptsd, trauma and just general grief and depression.

It’s the emptiness he doesn’t expect. When they were running out of the planet the numb shock passing into the unrelenting reality of the loss he had just suffered.

There is that night where neither him or Chartreuse say anything and it felt like his chest was going to collapse into itself. It wasn’t real, not quite yet but the grief that threatens to consume him whole had already set in. it was like a gaping open wound in his chest. Like shards of glass. Like he was dying, following Tony into an early grave.

Those days blur together but he remembers eventually when the pain wouldn’t stop, he remembers cristal clear the quiet desperate prayer he sent out to the stars he and his brother had once travelled together.

Make it stop. He begged. I will do anything to stop feeling like this someone, anyone, please make it stop, make it stop, make it-

Be careful what you wish for, they say, because eventually it did, and it left the broken being that had once been Nicky Geelo.

There was nothing, he hadn’t thought it possible before to feel nothing but it was there. He was but an empty black hole. What was he now, without his grief and pain.

Nothing matters then, when the world stops being something you experience, he stared blankly at the wall. A million thoughts hung around his head.

It was your fault. It should have been you. You have always been this useless. What are you now? What have you ever been?-

They droned on, it was like listening to static, they were there, they were his thoughts and he believed them, but there was no emotion tied to it. He wants it back, the overwhelming despair, the anger burning in his veins, the quiet background sorrow that settles into your bones.

The first time Leenik Geelo gets captured on purpose he doesn’t plan on coming out of it.

He had picked up doing jobs again because he had to, life didn’t stop even if it felt like it should, the loss of Venton was nothing on the greater galaxy, even if to Leenik it felt like the stars weren’t allowed to shine without him.

It isn’t quite like he consciously plans on getting shot, it’s just that he goes in with a half-baked plan, no plan B, no weapons and not really sure when the last time he ate was.

And sure maybe when they are marching him to the brig, blasters trained on him part of him wonders why it would be bad if they just fired.

It’s not quite wanting to die, as much as it is not seeing the point in living. As much as that the moment they truly are about to shoot him his fear finally kicks in and he feels awake for the first time in months.

How he gets out of that one he doesn’t know, it's like all the luck in the galaxy follows him when he doesn’t want it.

He stands there and picks at his suction cups absentmindedly until one starts to bleed, he stares at the blood dripping from his finger like it contains the answers to everything.

-

He isn’t prepared for the wrath that comes next, the vast nothing in his chest comes and goes but the only other thing he is made of these days seems anger.

It is directed at everything and nothing, his brother's killer, Traxx, the ceiling fan that is too loud, himself.He who couldn't help, he had insisted to take on a job they shouldn't have, he should have been the one to fall in Ventons place.

The first time he stuns himself he can almost convince himself it's an accident. He is in fact, shooting at the fan, but who is to say whether he knew that the laser would bounce of it and hit him in the chest.

There is a flash of blinding agony and then a final blissful nothing. He wakes up very soon after, with a pounding headache, dizzy and miserable.

He knows very well he should not do that again, he stares at his blaster and feels some sickening kind of fear of himself. He tries to avoid using a blaster for a while but it doesn't last long.

It's always an accident though, and usually when it happens people laugh at the guy who just got himself stunned.

That's good he thinks making people laugh.

-

Leenik Geelo doesn't know the name of the first truly innocent person that he kills.

Usually there is some sort of justification for it, in his mind at least.

At some point he is at a shoot out and he very well knows he could aim away from the civilians that have nothing to do with it.

He doesn't.

There he is met with sickening guilt, and an even worse sense of perverted glee.

He sees the disappointed face of his brother every time he closes his eyes.

The moment he is alone that afternoon he breaks down crying, falling to the floor of some ship.

What have you become Nicky?

He doesn't know. He doesn't know.  

-

It's Venton who should have lived, and so he starts dressing the part. it's easy to pass off the wig and the eye patch as simple eccentricities, people find it odd, people laugh.

Good. He thinks, it's almost better to not be taken seriously, no one seeing under the surface.

So easy some days to almost believe it's Tony who is staring back at him in the mirror. That he’s here with him at least. He doesn't know how to be himself anymore.

One day he simply forgets the eyepatch, he catches a glimpse in the mirror and panics. True awful panic, the one that causes you to stop breathing, your chest to hurt, your mind to start racing.

"I need to go get it," he chokes out.

"Jeez man, we have a job to do."

He is already running back already, his hands in fists shaking as he tries not to break into sobs in the middle of the busy street.

-

It is odd in many ways how much Venton had been to him. His brother, his work partner, his only connection to his home he had left behind.

Leenik isn’t good at planning, he isn’t very strong or agile or-

Together they were invincible and alone he’s just...him.

He isn’t sure whether he misses Rodea or his brother sometimes, tangled up together in a web of nostalgia.

There is so little that is left from the person he used to be now.

-

What exactly makes memories flood him like rivers is truly awful arbitrary, he hates it.

And like anything he hates inside himself, he fights it like a caged animal. He is holding onto the shards of himself so tightly, cutting his fingers with it, he is walking on his own broken glass.

It’s a perfectly unremarkable day on the Mynock, he struggles to open a container.

"You should work out more, Leenik."

He stares at a fixed point on the wall, he feels it, the helplessness, his brothers hand in his, he feels the way he can't pull them up because he isn't strong enough, good enough, such a failure-

"Leenik? You okay there buddy?"

Leenik snaps out of it, clearly looking at his surroundings.

"I am just self conscious about my strength alright," he says as he bats away Bacta's hand " Don't bring it up again."

Bacta looks vaguely worried but drops it, used to his odd outburst by now. Leenik goes to look outside at the stars that were supposed to be theirs.

-

Sleep and Leenik are at war. Every night is a battle.

The weeks, months even after he couldn't sleep. He couldn't without waking up to nightmares of every kind and every night he saw his brother die because of him in seemingly increasingly gruesome ways.

Not sleeping made being awake worse, made the colours sharper and the noise louder, made his already weak grasp on reality weaker. He heard Venton everywhere, knowing it wasn't him, his own head driving him mad.

The only sleep he knew was collapsing from exhaustion.

Eventually time passed and no matter how much Leenik picked at it the wound healed somewhat and sometimes he slept.

Nightmares were still common enough for him to be anxious every time bed time approached. So he read, indulged in the calming familiar anxiety repetitive formulaic fiction brought.

Sometimes he had good dreams about Venton, of beautiful summers in Rodea, about the best bounties they had brought in, soft quiet scenes of love they deserved to have.

He woke up feeling the emptiness worse those days, not being able to even look at himself in the mirror.

-

There is something so comfortable in not being him. Leenik picks up a million hobbies and drops them just as soon but dressing up he might just keep.

He’s good at it, it’s fun, most importantly for the rest of the crew, it's useful.

And if it also means that he gets to look into the mirror without having to bear his own face looking back at him, even better.

-

He falls into the same patterns over and over and over again. He can’t stop, like a derailed train, and it’s always him left to pick up the pieces of his mess.

Like pushing boulders uphill it soon starts to feel tedious, pointless, if you have to do it again every time.

He doesn’t know who he is without anymore, doesn’t know how to be whole, he doesn’t want to know.

It feels like he is a spectator in his own life as he sees himself grimly fall back into ruining his life in both small and big ways.

It’s too hard to mend it, he doesn’t know how to sow.

-

He had never thought of having children really, every day he didn't quite believe he was going to survive the week, much less enough to form a family.

The vornskr gets attached to him so quickly, it needs him, like Leenik once needed his brother.

So he names him Tony, the name feels like rubbing salt in the wound, something that is almost like comfort for him now.

I'll protect you he thinks,  even if I couldn't protect him.

-

He stares at the place where his arm used to be.

He can see it so vividly in front of him, Tony's arm a bloody mess dangling making it unable for him to pull himself up. He sees his own hand, the one he doesn't have anymore, not strong enough to pull him up either.

He stares at his arm and sits on the floor crying. The noise of the battle fading away to the background

Maybe I deserve this one.

-

Leenik Geelo has a family now, crammed into a small spaceship, full of unspoken issues and painful tension.

He holds on to it lightly, or pretends to.

The only way Leenik knows how to hold on is so tight it's suffocating, so loud it hurts, so pleading it is pathetic. He overcompensates in the other direction constantly, to the point where neither he nor the people he now loves know whether he cares about them or not.

He looks onto Tamlin who lost his mother, so small, so fragile. Now his responsibility too. Maybe he doesn't know quite yet what's to come for him, all the small ways loss cracks you. He is afraid of Tamlin in the same way he is afraid of his own true reflection. And as afraid as anyone is of his own children.

"What's the name of the kid again?" he asks and he can almost convince himself he doesn't know.

So many masks to Leenik Geelo, his name has lost meaning.

-

Everyone has a breaking point and eventually Leenik reaches his. As he falls to the floor crying, there are people there this time. To listen, to hug him, to comfort him. To share in his pain and not flinch as they see the worst parts of him. To hold his hand and pull him up as he starts the arduous climb from rock bottom.

He isn’t alone amongst the vast expanse of space anymore.

-

Time passes and loss never truly gets easier, but eventually one has to heal. Eventually he grows up and knows his brother wouldn't want this for him. More importantly he doesn't want this, not anymore.

Rebuilding yourself is a never ending process that often leads to hallways you had forgotten about, it's painful and thankless and while in it it never feels worth it. But it is, oh it is, when he is able to talk about Tony again and it doesn't feel like his throat is full of glass. When people can call him Nicky and it brings only the slightest twinge of melancholy, like pressure on a sore bruise. When he can go to Rodea again, a planet he had once thought he would never be able to bear to return.

Sometimes he still gets cut on his own shards, but this time he lets someone help mend it.

He can lay amongst the trees and for the first time lay his brother to rest in his mind.

"Goodbye Tony," he says, looking onto the millions of planets and galaxies above him, in wonder of how small he is compared to it all.

"I miss you." he says because it's true, he will never stop missing who had once felt like an infinite constant in his life.

"I hope you are well amongst the stars."

[blueybunny]

I’m back from the dead (sort of)

TL;DR: my confession (see previous post) didn’t go as planned. E didn’t react to it, we didn’t talk about it, I got confused. For the past I-dont-know how many months I’ve been trying to figure out what was going on, with some success. E seems to have taken it okay-ish in the end, and a lot of personal issues factored into the whole situation so that’s why she has taken some distance, but we are still in speaking terms and she’s doing well! Even though I got somewhat lucky, please please please don’t confess yourself!

This is gonna be a lengthy update, so bear with me.

Hey. It’s been a long while since I’ve updated on the situation between me and E. I think it has been some 9-10 months since I continued the story, and i left it off without any conclusion. I feel like you can already tell that me confessing to E didn’t go as planned - far from that.

To preface this, the only reason I decided to confess to her was that it got too difficult to hold my feelings steady. I was leaking out all my emotions, and I had no idea how to gain solace apart from just letting them out, properly. It was a purely selfish reason, and I elaborated to E that I was doing it for myself, and I knew it could make things worse for her. She insisted on me telling her. And yes, I could’ve backed out, and I hated every second of it because I didn’t want to hurt her.

So, after that talk in her car (i still remember it so vividly, god i wish i was there), I waited the weekend to finally tell her. This was when everything shifted and took a turn for the worse. E had told me we could talk on Monday, and when Monday finally came, she texted me to let me know that she also had something to tell me face to face. I didn’t have the slightest idea what it could be.

This is how it went down. E said she had 15 minutes before she needed to head home. She sat me down, and told me to essentially stop coming to her with all my problems because she had no idea what to do with them anymore. She felt completely helpless and wanted me to get some “real” help. And at the time, that completely broke me. For weeks – no, for months. She telling me she wouldn’t be there for me anymore? I wasn’t sure i could take it. I just sobbed for the whole 15 minutes, and she asked why i was crying??? At this point i still hadn’t told her about my feelings, so she just assumed i would be fine with losing her. I didn’t have the courage to confess, and i even went as far as saying i was mad at her. Then the situation ended, as rapidly as it had begun.

Oh god i loathed myself so indescribably much after that, i still do. I had no idea what i was doing to her, when she had so many issues of her own she had to take care of to begin with. I should’ve known better. Why did it take so long to realise how much i was hurting her? She’s an extremely sympathetic person so making her feel helpless is the worst thing i could’ve ever done. I couldn’t forgive myself, and still can’t. I feel like i broke everything. I was so selfish, so naive, so dumb. The worst part was that she told me she had spent the entire weekend worrying about me, and that just broke me.

So what did i decide to do? Well, the first thing i had to do was apologise. And the second, well, was to confess. Why, at this point? It was to grant her at least some peace of mind, no matter how strange it might sound. I thought at the time that the best thing would be to just tell, so that she could stop worrying about me - once and for all. Also, I had a feeling she knew about my feelings, since I hadn’t been particularly good at hiding them, and so I thought that telling her about them would make things easier for both of us.

Tuesday rolls around, and i gather the courage to tell her everything in five minutes (that’s how long our break lasted, and i had to run to my next class). Bad idea, i know. I still remember what i said: “i like you a lot more than i should”. And i think it got through to her. She looked at me, saying how it came out of the blue. Then she told me i should go, and it was the coldest “goodbye” i have ever received.

Yep, not the best it could’ve gone. Also not the worst, because in the end she took it relatively well, she wasn’t visibly upset or disgusted, she didn’t tell me to stop speaking to her. But do i regret it? Absolutely. No matter how much i tried to convince myself it was the best of both worlds, i still did it in the heat of the moment.

What happened afterwards? Oh god how much i want to say it’s been a nice uphill climb from there, but nope. Everything’s been static, nothing has really changed between me and her, and it’s still that loud, awkward silence clouding our “relationship”, or at least what remains of it.

I asked her in a text if she felt distraught or shocked by what i had told her, to which she said no. But she also said she doesn’t want to talk about it any more than that - which i totally understand. I felt like i needed to clarify things so i asked if she had time to chat. It took a month to finally talk face to face again, and in that time she basically banned me from texting her. I didn’t bring up the confession at first, and we spoke as if nothing had happened (and it felt amazing). But then i asked her if i we were still friends. Bad wording, i know: she hesitated a bit first but didn’t deny anything. It was truly hanging by a thread.

We spoke a few times after that before quarantine happened in late March. They were normal conversations, mostly related to school. However, since E had told me that she wouldn’t be staying behind after school to talk to me like she used to, she now had to find time for me in her already full schedule. She was always in a rush, and every time we spoke, I cried afterwards – not out of happiness, but out of discomfort. I wasn’t sure what was happening. She suddenly became very cold and distant towards me, and it felt like she was pretending that nothing had ever happened between us, not even last fall when we grew quite close (at least in teacher-student terms). It was as if I had never even known her in the first place, and it hurt. A lot.

During the time when we were quarantined and school was still in session, I texted her a few times just to ask how she was doing. I had to be very careful in doing so, and I made sure to leave at least a month between texts because I didn’t want to annoy her. Even then I noticed changes in the way she talked to me (or texted me, rather). All that made me incredibly scared and confused, because I wasn’t sure what she was thinking, or if she felt uncomfortable or disgusted. Back when I confessed to her, she told me that nothing would change, yet now virtually everything has. I understand why, at least mostly, but I really thought at some point that our relationship would stay the same.

Nothing really happened over summer. I thought about her a lot, and I thought about how I could fix this and perhaps salvage at least something from our “friendship”. Even though she had told me we were still friends, I couldn’t bring myself to believe it. She felt like a stranger who was saying stuff out of pity.

Then, September rolls around, and we go back to school. The pandemic is still very much present in my country, but we didn’t have to continue our lessons online. On the first day of school, i saw E, and I talked to her a bit. I hadn’t done that in about 5 months, so it felt weird, but I was glad to see her regardless. I told her about an exciting thing that happened, but she didn’t really seem that interested. And again, I was left with tears in my eyes. I didn’t want to believe it – was this how things were going to be for the rest of my time in high school (mind you, I am a senior)? I had a complete mental breakdown the following weekend. I just couldn’t handle it. Where did E go?

On the second week of school, we had a school trip which meant E and a couple of other teachers spent a few nights with a bunch of students. At first, I was unsure whether I should attend because I feared that I would get jealous, but i ended up going. The trip was fun – if you don’t count the fact that yes, I got jealous, and that E essentially ignored me and didn’t talk to me during the whole trip, something that she’s never done before. I spent the nights panicking about the situation, trying to figure out if I had done something to upset her or to otherwise make her feel uncomfortable (because I definitely had, but that - my confession, that is - had happened over 6 months ago). Something was off, I could feel it.

And then, when I return to school the next day after the trip, certain that E hates me, everything goes back to normal. I went to ask her if she had time to talk, and she was all smiles and told me that I could come by later that week. We also joked about the fact that she still hadn’t given up her habit of drinking coffee – something that was an inside joke of ours a while back. That was the first conversation in ages that didn’t leave me with tears in my eyes. That week, we spoke on three separate occasions. The first conversation was relatively normal. The second was about me going to a professional to seek help for my mental health issues (finally). We talked briefly about why E had set strict boundaries – she wasn’t doing well either, and she almost cried when she told me about it. I said something, and I felt bad for bringing it up, so I apologised to E the following day. Then she told me that she would keep listening, that i could still talk about my problems. I thought that she wouldn’t allow that anymore, so that came as a surprise. Of course I don’t want to keep complaining to her about virtually everything, but I’m glad she didn’t set a boundary there too. That was a pleasant end to the week.

We’ve had a few chats since then. She’s still very busy and won’t be staying after school to talk to me, meaning that I have to find time in her already packed work days. But I’ll take what I get, because it’s still something that E is willing to give up her time to just chat, even though it’s mostly nothing of importance. She also gets very apologetic every time she has to tell me that her schedule is full, which is both sweet and a bit sad. During one of our chats, we spoke about gap years, and to my surprise, she had one right after high school. She told about her reckless young adult years, when she would live at home and spend her savings on weekly visits to a local karaoke bar. She apparently excelled at school, yet she was very different from me in many other ways. At one point she sighed and wondered why she was even telling me this, and I had to hold back my laughter. That made me quite happy.

But alas, the situation still didn’t fix itself. There were a number of reasons as to why I still felt uneasy about everything, and almost scared whenever talking to her. There were times when I could’ve swore last spring never happened, but something was off. At one point I really thought the best thing to do was to just stop talking to her altogether, to force my overflowing feelings back under my skin, but I soon realised it was not going to work. My idea initially was to tell her that I was going to take a time-out and wait until she would have more time to talk about things thoroughly, but soon after it occurred to me that it would be the ultimate guilt trip for her. Don’t get me wrong, there have been many things she’s done that have hurt me one way or another, but I don’t hold her responsible. I know she means well and that yes, she probably felt shitty after what happened last spring, but she would never intentionally hurt me. She has, even after all this time, the right to be mad at me – I sort of broke her trust.

Since radio silence was not going to work, right before we went on fall break, I tried to find E at school to talk things out. Of course I didn’t find her, so in an email thanking her for a thing I also mentioned that I had something I would like to talk about. She responded, saying that we would return to the topic after the break. Well, come next week, and I was sure she forgot about it. Tbh she was probably expecting me to remind her (not the other way around), but I told myself it was not a thing that needed rushing anyway. On Thursday, however, I passed her in the hallway and took the opportunity to talk to her. “I haven’t sent you another email yet –”, I said, before she interrupted me mid-sentence with “next Wednesday. I’ll have a free period from x to y.” She was in a hurry, for which she apologised - but she was in a good, almost delighted mood. She remembered, after all!

Come Wednesday. I had been preparing for this moment for so long I had pretty much scripted the dialogue out in my head. But, as usual, things didn’t go according to plan. I hesitated, I completely chickened out. We did talk, but at first it was about everything else except the actual topic. Only in the last 15 minutes of our conversation did I open my mouth. I asked her if we could go out for a short walk before my next class, and so we did. The air was crisp, and neither of us had coats on. I told her there were still some things that bothered me about what happened last spring, a bit vaguely. She did take the hint, saying in an almost teasing tone: “ooh, so about the time when you said you liked me more than you should?” That took me aback a bit. I was surprised by her directness – I was expecting euphemisms, awkwardness, the like, because to me, it felt as if I was tearing open a half-healed wound. This just proved to me that it wasn’t a big deal to her (which was a relief!) and that she had always taken it somewhat well. Anyway, I revealed my reasoning behind the confession, and she told me that at some point in the spring she did feel a bit shocked by what I told her that day and that her personal boundary had been crossed. Fair point, E. I did violate her boundaries, I lost control, I was sure that the whole thing didn’t just fly past her head. But, that’s the opposite of what she initially told me: remember, she said she didn’t feel distraught. It wasn’t a lie at the time, but I wish E would’ve confronted me about it instead of having me second-guess each and every one of my actions. I am bitter, yes, but I’m sure E had good reasons to act like she did. It’s not simple to talk about these sort of things. I’m glad I got my reaction after so many months of waiting. Before our time ran out, I asked her about boundaries and I got the same answer she always gives me: “you can always, always come talk to me.”

We’ve been in and out of school this fall, reflecting how erm... well our country is dealing with the pandemic. We have had face to face classes almost periodically, but currently we’re in lockdown and thus back to online school for the rest of the year, at least. Quite ironically, I was supposed to talk to her at the start of last week, but it just so happened to be on the day schools were closed again. Just my luck, though I’m starting to get used to it. Things are okay between us – not the best, but not nearly as bad as a few months back. I’m currently fighting a pretty bad episode of seasonal depression, which in turn has made me an emotional mess, exaggerating my feelings for her once more. I’ve tried to keep myself together whenever we’ve talked since I kind of promised to her to keep these things to myself since E starts feeling really helpless if I burden her with my unwellness again. I want to talk about happy things, but right now I find it difficult to even point out something I would deem “happy”. Whenever I complain, however, she does the same, so I guess we do have some kind of mutual understanding in regards to that. I’m not exactly sure what to do now, what to tell her and what to leave out of the picture. I do want to be honest thought, because we all know how exhausting putting on a happy face is. The only thing is that I don’t want her to worry.

One thing is for sure: I want to fall in love like this again. I have only now begun to realise how much E actually gave of herself – I still can’t believe we’ve been driving around town together, or that she remembered my birthday, or that she has given hours of her time to just listen. And she still continues to do the latter, whenever she does have time in between lessons. I wish love was easy, all butterflies and rainbows and glitter. But it’s not: it’s bold, it’s giving, trying, failing all over again, in a loop. But to say that love, even in its ugliest forms, isn’t worth all the heartbreak and hurt and pain, is wrong. I would do this again and again, shatter my heart into a million pieces and glue them back together just to experience all the happiness that it has brought me.   

To quote a manga I absolutely adore, “Those treasured moments we shared are still with me now. And the bond we made will continue to support me, tomorrow and so on. I’m sticking to my dumb and ridiculous unrequited love.”

One day I’ll hug her again. One day. I have something to look forward to in this life.

[dolandazeee]

A Fighter and a Suvivor.

My journey with cancer.

Donate to Love From Sean here.

It all started in November of 2018. I had gotten into a car accident, nothing too serious, but it had brought along a lot of headaches and migraines. I had gone to the doctor’s several times to get checked up and every time they just said that it was because of the car accident that I was feeling the way I was. So after just getting the same answers over and over again I decided to just leave it alone and hope that they would go away.

Come January of 2019 the headaches were still very much there and I also noticed that I couldn’t really hear out of my left ear. My family also started to notice that the sides of my neck were starting to bulge out. Now at this time I didn’t have health insurance because I lost it once I turned 21. But one day I just couldn’t take the pain anymore and decided I needed to go to the ER. I went and the first thing the nurse said was, “Oh honey, why didn’t you come in sooner?”. She immediately noticed the sides of my neck and recommended that I see a specialist about it as soon as possible. And this is when the journey really starts.

After seeing specialist after specialist, I finally got diagnosed. On April 10, 2019, I was diagnosed with Stage 4 Nasopharyngeal Cancer. It is a cancer that forms in the passage right behind your nose and it is also super rare. The cancer had spread down both sides of my neck to right above my collarbone. When I initially got the news I didn’t know how to react. Should I cry? Should I scream? I didn’t do either. I just sat there. I called all my family members and just sat there. I couldn’t feel anything. I didn’t want to feel anything. The only thing I did was ask “Why?” and “Why now?”.

After so many scans and tests, I started treatment in June. My treatment plan was to do intensive chemotherapy and then do chemoradiation therapy. The picture above is me on the first day of chemo. I went through 7 rounds of intensive chemo where I received an infusion of 2 chemo drugs at once. I also did 4 more rounds with radiation therapy. Now let me tell you something, chemotherapy is the worst thing to ever go through. The pain and symptoms you experience really makes you question “Is this all really worth it to just TRY to get better?”. Chemotherapy kicked my ass to hell and back. I was nauseous and throwing up almost every day. I felt like I got hit by a semi truck after coming home with therapy. It felt like I was killing my body from the inside out. Which I mean technically I was. I was putting this poison in my body in hopes that it was strong enough to kill the the poison that is cancer. I luckily had a great support system to help me through everything I went through. Chemo not only made me very sick but also changed everything about me. I was losing my hair, losing my appetite, losing my taste, it felt like I was losing the ability to do anything. Because of chemo I had to get a feeding tube placed which I still have to this day but am getting out hopefully by the end of this month or the next. While doing treatment I was hospitalized so many times because the treatment plan I was on was very INTENSE for someone like me. Just to give you an idea, I was 21 and only 120 pounds. After chemo I dropped all the way down to 104. I could go into more details but this section is long enough so if you guys have any questions I’m more than happy to answer them.

I completed treatment on October 3, 2019. I am extremely grateful that I was able to push through treatment and come out victorious, but if I’m being honest it’s only been an uphill battle from there. After treatment, my body is still trying to heal. I really don’t have an immune system anymore because the chemotherapy destroyed it so I am so much more susceptible to getting sick than the average person. I’m still trying to get back to normal. It’s been so hard because it feels like I just keep going up and down. I’ve been hospitalized 3 times since I completed treatment. I was declared “cancer free” or in remission in December. Although because of the cancer I had, I’m still at a high risk of developing the same or a different form of cancer in the next 5 years.

Now let me talk about my mental health. Something I feel isn’t talked about enough when it comes to dealing with cancer. My mental health has been horrible. I just felt like it all went downhill as soon as I got diagonsed. My mental health was bad before but after everything I felt like it just got worse. My thoughts were always so dark and heavy all the time. I also don’t really have any friends where I live now so I really had no one to talk to other than my friends through my phone. I just felt so isolated. Well I still do. Nothing with my mental health has improved I feel like. I’m still having my dark days and I still feel so alone. But, I’m working on seeing someone about it all. It’s a big step for me but I’m trying my best.

So please after reading this just try to remember to always get check ups because you never know what’s going on. If you feel like there’s something wrong with you, listen to that feeling and fight for answers. Cancer snuck up on me and I would have never known about it if I wasn’t persistently going to the doctors and fighting to find out what was wrong. Also just check up on your friends!!! That is so important. Even just a “Hi! Hope you’re doing good!” is such a big thing! You never know what someone is going through and the little messages you send could change a person’s entire day! Cancer effects every part of a person’s life.

The most important thing that I think everyone should know about cancer is that although I have my dark days where I feel like this terrible disease has ruined everything for me I just have to remind myself that I am NOT this disease. I am ME. Cancer does not define who I am. Cancer does not make me, me. My journey from cancer is far from over. I hope that my story will spark other people to share theirs and will spread more awareness because it’s what the world needs. Even though I won my battle with cancer I will continue to fight for those who are still battling or who have unfortunately lost. Also please consider donating to Love From Sean. No donation is too small. Even if you can’t donate, SPREAD THE WORD. You are changing the world more than you may know. Thanks for listening and my asks are open for any and all questions! Love you all.

[bigoofbrandon]

She'd returned to an empty home

Only the dogs would welcome her back

She was used to feeling alone

It no longer felt like an attack

She starts to cook or study a bit

She likes being productive

Always scared when she had to sit

Always fearing he'd become destructive

She finishes whatever she was doing

He's still not back, so she calls a friend

They start to talk and it all comes spewing

She admits she thinks it's come to an end

The sound of keys and the doorknob turning

She hangs up and braces for the worst

The same old feeling of her gut churning

At times she wonders if she's indeed cursed

He walks in slow and says hello

She responds with hi and starts to calm

Her worries start to sink below

Her sweat still sliding off her palm

"How was work? It sure was hot!

Did you make sure to drink some water?"

-It was fine, I sweat a lot

But I thank God it wasn't hotter-

He acts as if the night before

She wasn't crying from their fight

He sits and places his backpack on the floor

-I want to try to make things right-

-Please take that ring off of your finger

The promise one I bought on sale-

The way he spoke with so much vigor

Made her heart sink and skin turn pale

She took off the ring and handed it over

He opened a pouch and dropped it in

He looked in her eyes and moved in closer

She wondered if she should atone for her sins

-I know I'm sick but I want to get better

That's no excuse for how I treat you

I know to you I am a debtor

But I want to ask you something new-

-In the event I stay the same

I don't improve or even get worse

I want you to state and make a claim

That you will stay and not disperse-

-You no longer feel the pressure of the ring

I want you to think and answer with truth

I don't know what the future will bring

But I will work hard and you'll see the proof-

-And while you think I want you to know

That I love you and always will

And though I reap what I have sowed

I'll never stop climbing this battle uphill-

She didn't quite know just what to say

They've been together for a few years

Yet from his face she could not survey

If he would laugh or break into tears

She pictured life without him there

No fights or worrying all the time

She could finally let down her hair

She would finally see the sun shine

But in her heart she loved him so

The way he laughed and the love he'd give

She's seen him suffer and struggle front row

He'd have to fight for as long as he lived

She pondered more on what to answer

He sat there patiently without a word

The silence hurt as if filled with cancer

Made better by the groaning floorboards

At last she looked at him to address

He tensed up and started to brace

"The answer to your question is yes"

Some tears had made their way to her face

"I know you love me and I love you too

I want to grow old and die together

But our fights have made our happiness few

I'm tired of going through stormy weather"

"I see you trying to fix yourself

You see your doctor and take your pills

But I'm also struggling with things myself

And not just about paying bills"

"When I see you I feel so happy

I feel at peace and fill up with joy

But at times you get so snappy

You act like you're a young boy"

"I want our future to be filled with light

Where I know what you feel and try to help

I don't care about the occasional fight

I just don't want to feel like a useless whelp"

-I understand just how you feel

You've got my word to give you that

I will hold up my end of the deal

And that is 100% fact-

He then stood up and reached out his hand

She took it into hers and stood next to him

-I want to prove that this I can

And what comes next I hope you not condemn-

He reached back into the same pouch

"Oh no, I don't want it back"

He was a bit shocked and sat back on the couch

"If you give it back I'll give you a smack"

"I'll wait until the real one comes

Not just a promise but a commitment

Until that day I won't succumb

I'm sure we can come to an agreement"

She stared and saw a grin start to form

And again he started to reach

Her thoughts in her mind began to swarm

He wasn't even trying to be discreet

He pulled not the ring but a small box

And from the couch fell to one knee

Her racing thoughts came to a stop

As he opened the box so she could see

-I bought this earlier today

When I realized exactly what I wanted

I wasn't sure what you would say

I didn't want to take your thoughts for granted-

-I had this planned right from the start

And I prayed you'd say what you just said

I love you with all my heart

And I ask if you and I can be wed-

The shock forced her to cover her mouth

Her heart beat faster than she could tell

The hint of tears now without a doubt

"I would like to marry you as well"

[opes-magnas]

The Funeral

How would it be, if you could see your funeral unfold?

I can’t believe they let the casket be open! Gosh!

I can’t look at myself that way, of course no one wants to look at themselves devoid of life and rotting away but it was much more harder for me to be another entity (which I didn’t believe to exist) and just stand there letting my body lay there when I desperately want to wiggle into it, like a cosy blanket that covers your toes when it’s cold but sadly that’s what death means, its finality only hits you only after it scoops up your soul, from the tiny little nest in your body and sets it free, to float in the air, to become one with the soil, to flow like water, to burn like fire or attain peace if that’s what you were destined to for, be one with the most singular core of the universe, which I am yet to know because I’m still here.

With death also comes revelation of secrets which were hidden in plain sight that everyone looked for but never actually desired it or wanted it only for the sake of knowing it. It’s like that tiny voice inside your head which speaks to you and you know everyone also experiences the same thing but no one really speaks about it or wants to prove it.

Wow! death did make me philosophical which I never was, but now I’m not Scarlett Hamilton I’m just a lost soul detached from its anchor, I don’t even know why I’m here, but the weird part is I can still feel strong emotions towards all the people I loved or even hated, I can see my daughter crying a river out, those salty tears roll down like beads stringing along a long pearl necklace I once wore.

Yup, now it’s just getting started, maybe I have willed myself so hardly too able to witness the grandeur of the world just once last time before I go wherever I’m supposed to. So my metaphorical body’s shaking at the thought of being a spectator to my own funeral.

The service started and I was standing on top an empty chair in the last row, I saw my husband standing near the casket with my four other brothers. He’s still as handsome as the first time I laid my eyes on him, I still can’t believe that I landed him, he is like way out of my league.

Those deep blueish green eyes, which appear like the sea bed whenever sunlight hits on it at very specific angles and brings out this certain depth, a mystery, which I would try to unravel every time I gazed into them and one day while eating French toast in a small Parisian cafe I made a rather curious analogy to this one puzzle that I just couldn’t get right, a continuous clockwork ticking and every second it’s different and that can never be brought back and a mystical creature might pop out any moment and he laughed his wide goofy grin which made his dimples appear distinctly. His platinum blonde hair slightly below his ears almost caressing them lightly, I can still remember the way I used to run my fingers through it like it just happened this morning, oh! It did. I’m happy that was the last thing I did before you know, I died. The rippling of muscles can still be seen underneath that black suit he’s wearing, which I picked out for him to wear to the his big Oscar after party. Everything just feels so real yet so far away, I’m right here, but I’m a world away from him. I guess I felt this way when we had a big fight about well I don’t remember what and honestly it was stupid but we stopped talking and when I was sitting right next to him, I felt miles and miles away from him. It was the worst.

I’m longing to have another moment with him, just to tell him that I’ve loved him until my very last breath, literally, that no one else could ever have made more of an impact on my life other than him, and I just have so many things to do.

Funny, now I want to do so many things when I’ve wished to die like a thousand times or probably even tried to. But now since I’m really dead all I want to do is live another moment.

Shaking off the deathly feeling, yeah now I’m definitely in the second stage of grieving, “the acceptance”.

The service started with the father saying some kind words about how I always was such a big donator to the church funds, honestly I did it because I didn’t know what to do with the money I had, it might come of snobbish but that was the truth. Now I’m being applauded for an act I did, not in the intention everyone believes it was done.

Now, I wish was more spiritual than I was, to actually believe there is something out of reach which I thought wasn’t possible cos the motto I always believed in was, ‘There are no boundaries to the knowledge you can unearth. Science can become quite lonely, even when you’re the most alone, if you could just believe you have one other person with you, God, it would be so splendiferous just to never be alone.

Focus, you insipient fool, focus! these are your last moments on this beautiful world, you’ll probably be eternally damned to the meadows of asphodel to have time to ponder upon the tiny nuances of life, right now take in as much as you can, you probably won’t remember Darcy, Ophelia, Zoheth or for that matter Zeke when you leave.

Then, my best friend walked up to the podium, I could the rivers of mascara gushing down, unrestrained, like the mighty rivers, sparing no one who stood in the way, right now the only things that stood in the way were tiny mountains of acne, pimples which were barely visible, but as she always said I was omnipercepient, but that was arrogant on my behalf to actually believe it deep down.

Euphemia, ‘the well-spoken off’, ‘the one who martyred for what she believed in’, is actually what her name means, and I was always awed like how her parents could have even the slightest clue that she would one day live up to the glory that her name had already bestowed on her.

Somebody, in some late night show once asked me to describe Euphemia as a scent. I sat baffled for a minute, because I thought of her as this limitless person who couldn’t be bound by timidity of just words but I did try my best.

I distinctly remember the first time all of my green roses (that’s something I call my gang as, I identified each of them with these characters from Oscar Wilde’s books the first time I met them, and I do hope someone gets this reference for once)

We went hiking to the grand canyon, we climbed uphill all day long soaked with perspiration, but when we reached the peak, I had to remind myself to breathe as I felt so awed by nature, like those slightly purple pink rock mountains rising majestically as in a challenge to the sky, splitting the clouds into an shards of glass when they’re broken, but reflecting the dazzling light in all its glory all across, in every colour I could ever imagine about, huge trees appeared like chess pawns moved here and there by the will of these cordilleras, I just relished every moment I saw this marvellous creation.

Then at night we lit this bonfire, which emanated a strange crackling and pungent smell at first but it soon felt so familiar. Warm and fuzzy that I felt I’ve been discerning this forever. That is how I think Euphemia would be if I could ever convert her essence into a scent.

She pursued her full lips, biting the inside of her cheek, knotting her overly expressive eyebrows into this broken bridge, contracting her face into a lemon being squeezed out of its limit, I could feel the turmoil she was in just by glancing at her. She gripped the mic with her freshly manicured nails and began to speak in a tone I’ve heard her use only a few times.

“Scar, I wish you were here with me…. umm I don’t know what you would want me to say though we talked about every single thing on earth, being the twisted sisters 2.0, but we weren’t dark to begin with.

As you always said, with every end there is a new beginning, as today marks the end of your mortal life here, I so want to reminisce the beginning we had which some might say is odd but we were never normal to begin with.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

I was walking towards me to be dorm, on broken cobblestones, just thinking of how small electrons can be and walked up the creaky wooden stairs and reached ROOM 27 , and I knocked the door and heard a ‘come in’ and dragged my two very huge suitcases in to see her standing there.

She scuffled over in her very high heels thumping methodically against the floor and when I was just about to measure its oscillation period with my pulse rate, she hugged me.

I’m not hugger nor am I a “people person”, so I responded with an awkward side hug and my face buried in her brown curls cascading down to her shoulders.

You must be Scarlet, the genius whiz kid! Hi, I’m Euphemia Clarke, I’m an undergrad in English lit, women studies and philosophy. So?

Umm… I’m scarlet Hamilton, I’m a grad in theoretical and quantum physics and English lit.

But, your of my age, how could you be a grad student? Yeah, I forgot momentarily that I’m in the presence of the next greatest scientist here, ooh we’ll be buddies in English lit. But why English lit? It seems like an odd choice for a science person to be interested in... And your also doing a double degree... what can’t you do! I must bagged the lottery in roommates cos you’re just a dream to be with and ooh nice dress huh... Zara 2018...chic, edgy and makes a statement... thank God! You have a nice taste, I couldn’t possibly live with a horrible makeover gone wrong nincompoop, I would just die a thousand deaths before that.

Uhhh...

Yeah?

Um... I should get settled in, then I might have to go and take a tour of the library, it’s pretty huge and also do some other admin stuff, so I guess I’ll see then.

Shut up, I’m going to help, it literally took an army for my room to be done, I came like 2 days early just to do some painting work, what colour do you like? We could...

My head kept spinning and jumping on ropes just to catch up with her, all I could hear was an echo of words and she did a graceful swirl and smiled at me, “we’re going to be just fine.”

I had the chance to then observe her like I did everyone, a “perfect body” some magazines would say, slender, about 5’2, a brunette with deep green eyes , her eyebrows deserved an award for all the jumps, somersaults, backbends they did and her smile made me feel like I was tasting honey on a warm summer afternoon at centennial park.

I certainly can’t be friends with her, she’s one of the high and mighty sorority girls who went on a shopping spree to Dior, Chanel and Marc Jacobs and spent like $500,000 dollars buying a pair of fur coats and heels and wanted to become a socialite fluttering at parties being ‘the pretty one’ and marry some rich guy and came to colleges like Yale only cos ‘daddy’ paid whoever was looking at her essays to look the other way.

God! Am I judgmental?

(Some months of awkward conversations later)

We were walking to English lit together and she was strutting like a Ralph Lauren model on a runway in ridiculously high heels and just took my hand in hers and gave it a squeeze without even looking at me and held the door open.

Today we were discussing about ‘Pride and Prejudice’ and because I’ve almost read the book a hundred times I was very excited to what kind of discussion we were going to have, I have looked at the book from my perspective which is can vary from a hopeless romantic to a strong feminist depending on what kind of mood I’m in, I want to see the book how a person who doesn’t believe in love, feminism, freedom sees it, obviously I will take it offensively but my curiosity multiplies by the second.

She and I spilt as we walked into the class, she went towards the back.

I found my seat in the middle of the amphitheater like classroom, which I think was chosen for English literature class specifically just to add that glamour, majesty and that extra pinch of drama that old English prose gives off. Clever.

Ms. Dalloway started reading the book, which opens with an immortal statement, “It is truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of good fortune must in want of a good wife.” Why don’t we kick the class of by a discussion on this iconic statement? Anyone up for the challenge?

Aah. Scarlet, not you again, I sincerely hope the next time you will allow the other nitwits here to use the fragments of their brains left. But, go on, you certainly are the person to speak about this book.

I think what that sentence means in plain English is that any man who is rich and handsome wants a trophy wife just to look at him as if he’s the greatest and adore him like a silly schoolgirl and basically smother and mother him and nurse his big giant ego.

I think this sentence is truly aptly describes how the society was and is, women are always reduced to matter of objects traded between men and valued only for looking pretty and being a social butterfly and the main goal in their life is to be a human incubators or rather baby machines. On a more serious and highly unfair note of beauty standards, however ugly the man is, he wanted a small waisted, thin, fair maiden from a “good family”. I mean women almost killed themselves trying to please men, wearing those corsets as tight their lungs could probably burst, lead powder as kohl and what not, just so men could feel valued, I don’t know even they even knew what self-respect meant. Jane Austen is a genius, she almost gave a jist of her novel in the very first sentence.

I don’t think she is the right person to speak about this book, Ms. Dalloway, she has only the view of a feminist, when one talks about a book, and it must be from an unbiased view.

All heads turned towards who spoke, even I was surprised that Euphemia could even think about anything other than her Manolo Blanik pink lacy heels she bought yesterday.

I think this story is totally unrelatable, yes I am a woman but it didn’t make it any easier for me to relate to it, I mean like everyone sees Miss Bennet as a prime example of Feminism, strength and how women can make their own way and stand by the things they believe in. But, she is as shallow, narrow as the other women and a big bully. She makes fun of Mr.Bingley because he is isn���t tall, handsome when she herself believes that women must not be judged for their external beauty. Men and women having equal opportunities, isn’t that what feminism means, and isn’t she being a huge hypocrite when she is going against the very ideals she believes in? She also mocks Caroline, who calls her family out on their shit. So, that makes her exactly the same as the others.

That was when I knew she would be my best friend.

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“Yeah and that’s how I knew she would be my best friend, because she stood by what she believed in, actually it is funny my name means the saint who married for what she believed in and her name means wealth and both of us embodied what each other meant and then had an epiphany that we could be what we were meant to be since we were born by looking at each other.”

I will be eternally grateful to Scarlet for making me more than a pretty girl, a woman who was a force of nature, who couldn’t be stopped by these insipid little men. I love you my dear, I always have. The only regret I have is I didn’t say it as often as I wished to. I love you, you have left an everlasting scar on my heart.”

Oh, Mia, I know, I know…

I saw her walk down the aisle and I remembered the day I walked her down the aisle to her husband and she looked at me and told, “You have left an everlasting scar on my heart.”

She looked at Zeke and nodded and went and sat next to Jake who kissed her cheek ever so tenderly and squeezed her shoulders just like I used to and she broke.

Many others spoke, like my mum, whose sentences weren’t distinguishable because of her crying and how God should have taken her instead, and it is so terrible to live after your child had died and looking at my face which was full and pink now shrivelled and almost passed out just to be caught by Papa, who couldn’t look her in the eye.

Mama always loved me dearly, I was the only girl out of 4 boys who were tough, burly and never asked for a kiss and a hug before running off to school, chatted with her late in the night explaining how she saw the world from her tiny green emeralds for her eyes and asked her flaming red hair to be combed into braids and always was willing to hear family gossip.

Well, papa wasn’t as warm and gooey as mum but he loved me , I knew it when he was hard on me to study better even when I got straight A’s and had skipped grades but didn’t give my brothers a twat when they scored less than adequate. He believed in me, which is more than I ever could ask for.

Maybe my cold and hard side was because of him, I was very analytical and logical and never let my emotions interfere with my decisions except when I said yes to my husband.

I never said this thought out loud, not even thought about it to myself, I was never a warm and gooey person who went around telling people how much I loved them, so it comes as quite a shock to me that I could even think of it. Maybe death brings finality to little things that were left out.

Saying the word still gives me chills, which reminds me again that we are never ready for things unless forced upon us. Whoever thinks they are ‘ready’ for life, they mostly never are, I never was.

My children came up, Darcy held Ophelia and Zoh like a fierce lioness protecting her cubs, I knew I raised her right, she took the mic and started speaking so confidently, she turned her steel grey eyes and looked right at me, a sharp light baring through my soul, almost as if she could see me and nodded her head right at me.

“Sorry, mum I haven’t shed a tear for you, even though the cessation of this hasn’t quite hit me yet, but I could see the differences already, nobody told if this black dress was appropriate or if my looked okay and Ophy and Zoh relied on me completely. I am sorry, but I know you never expected me to cry, but I think I know well enough to tell you expected me to be great. I still remember you whispering in my ear, before I entered Harvard, “Be Great or Nothing”, and those words were repeated by me in the break of dawn every day. You were what I wanted to be, independent, brave, most of all I was grateful to God to be blessed with the lottery in genetics. So, ma, that’s what I’m going to be, great.”

I saw the way her eyes sparkled with fear, fierceness almost as if her heart had broken into a million pieces yet she was holding it together not for the sake of putting on a show, but for herself. All I could do was smile, a huge grin actually, all the time I wanted them to be ordinary people, but she proved me wrong, greatness runs inn our blood.

Zoh and Ophelia, my little babies, I wasn’t worried about them either, they did cry though but chanted this one sentence together, “ Vincit qui se vincit .” and the three of them bowed before my casket, touched my feet, an intense bolt and I could hear them whisper together, non-duco ,duco.

An intense bolt of lightning shot through me, I looked at my arms they became almost transparent now. I could feel myself fading away, being sucked into but, I was ready to go before hearing his voice one last time.

My children, I was proud of myself to have raised them, but I looked at the sky above me and thanked the Gods for giving such Brave and strong humans into me. Thank you, thank you.

I was so lost in the maternal glory and satisfaction, I didn’t notice Zeke passing out on the podium before he even uttered a word.

He slowly swayed down, his eyelids shutting down on his beliquent violet eyes gleaming with distress and grief, his hands went upwards in a dramatic manner and his knees buckled down and landed with a thud on the floor, out of habit his eyes frantically searched the room for me before giving out a guttural scream in my name.

Suddenly, everything moved so slowly, people sauntered about as glaze leisurely dripped of a cake, none could hear me screaming, scratching and pushing past everyone to hold him.

The next thing I remember is sitting in a rushing ambulance moving like those cars in video games, twishing and twashing around other vehicles but never actually touching them. I could feel his heartbeat getting fainter and fainter and his hand grappling to my side. I put all the strength I had left in me to push his intense desire to be with me.

The doctors were speaking in a feverish pitch and everyone was so focused on saving him, my reality jilted and I was back in the Lake District National Park, the glacial ribbon like water was still the same, where the sky kissed the tip of peak Windermere who was stretching into the sky, looking for lost love, the purple pink flowers scattered around, the manifestation of temptation, no one resisted in plucking them out ,, the reflection trees into the almost ice like water gleamed like crystals, miles and miles of grass stretching infinitely and in it were a thousand insects, chirping and hooting and going by their lives not knowing the amount of tragedy that has befallen the world and a plaid picnic spread over with all my favourites which included my person.

I remember this day, the day of my betrothal to my beloved.

Ezekiel, the same serene look on his face, his mouth puckered into a smile that tugged at his dimples, his platinum hair swaying the wind and his hands beckoning me towards, as much as I wanted to go, I stood rooted where I was. Even if I moved an inch, I somehow became aware of the repercussions, the loss of his life, the more intense his desire to stay with me, the less will he has to live.

Dr.Burke once said, “With all medical realities being equal, why does one person live and another die? I believe there is a mind, body and spirit connection.”, if Zeke doesn’t want to live, no matter how much the odds that favour him, his body will defy everything to be with, me.

Our love, was the kind of love that came around once in a lifetime, the pure love which doesn’t expect anything in return but just loves not because of the looks but because of the thoughts, the feelings and mostly the heart. I loved Zeke with every inch of my body, every cell in my being and it tears my heart to leave him alone, but I won’t be selfish today. He still has a lot left to do, his time hasn’t come yet, and death hasn’t knocked upon his door so I’m not going to slip the key to it.

He smiled, “Scarlett, my sun, my moon and stars, come, please. You know why, I can’t live another minute knowing you’re not there to lay my head upon your lap and talk about how our day went, or to see your chest collapse and fall with every breath, the comfort it gives me, just in  knowing your alive . No, no, no!!”

I know, but you must always remember that I will be live as long as there is a place for me in your heart, I will live in those times your remember me and smile, I will live in those moments where you and the kids look up to the sky and say my name, I will live as long you draw breath, do you wish to kill my legacy? Do you? Go back Ezekiel, go back, I will wait for you.

His face contorted into a fit of rage, sorrow, despair and he walked near me and starting thrashing wildly, kicking his arms and legs in all inhumanly directions, screaming, yelling and when I looked into his eyes and gave him one last look, he stretched his arm out to lightly touch my fingertips and whispered,” Goodbye, my love, I will live for you.” as he knelt before me the same way he did that day.

I felt myself being swirled into a whirlpool of light, stretching me into long into infinite bounds, suddenly filled with power and just the feeling of being complete and then darkness enveloped everywhere.

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— Whoosh, a gust of wind blew over his face, almost caressing him. —

His eyelids fluttered open just a little, just enough to a peek at what is around him.

“Where am I? “

Daddy, you fainted at mum’s... umm... funeral and had a heart attack on the way, but now you’re okay, I sent Ophelia and Zoheth home, they persisted to stay but they had to go to school, that’s what mum would have wanted. You were muttering something in your sleep about seeing mum... Did you actually see her?

Yes, I did, she convinced me to stay. Go home, and take rest, you need to get back to college, remember what we promised mom? We are going to keep our word. Go.

She came and hugged him and gave a toothy grin and said,” Yes.” and closed the door behind her.

Thoughts flooded Zeke’s mind, he could remember clearly what happened at the lakes, and he knew what he was going to do. He clutched at his wedding ring and gazed outside his window knowingly. Even dead, Scarlet had made him a better man.

Scarlett I hope your happy.

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“What I want in my life is willing to be dazzled, to be cast aside by the weight of facts and maybe even float a little above this difficult world.” ~ M.O.

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Love,

Lady Lazarus

(picture and prompt from: pinterest)

[tslasvegas]

Episode 2: “I am typically regarded as a joke” - Livingston

Anyways... rip Colin, no idea who that was.. obviously Okay well I think we are out of the first impressions stage of this game and I think I've done an okay job of not making a strong impression one way or another, except to DeNara who I've been talking to most consistently since the start of this game. Except for today lmfao I was NOT active on purpose but I'll try to get to that in this confessional. I saw that the tribe went on a call so I decided to join and chit-chat with the girlies of this tribe and I've gotta say.. I'm lowkey disappointed to learn that despite being a returning player, everybody else on the tribe is friends with each other. Aside from Mo it sounds like they all know each other one way or another and I'm kinda left out of that connection. Even though they might not all be friends, it is a bit uncomfortable to be in a call with people where you know NOTHING they're talking about and you're not catching any of the jokes or references to other games. Also, I noticed that the personalities kinda blended together and these aren't people that I'd get along with in other orgs I play, so.. oops. One highlight of the call was that Nik was talking about Rachael and they were saying that Rachael got rid of them, I believe. Basically just talking about how they view Rachael differently because of that I guess? I was kind of in and out during that. But then DeNara posted IN THE TRIBE CHAT when it was just us three plus Kailyn on the call that Nik was spilling tea... and it was just. so. cringe. Idk if Nik or Kailyn noticed and the fact that everyone else was acting so nonchalant makes me think I missed something but either way I was on mute howling bc of second-hand embarrassment. As far as my current position, I do feel a bit comfortable with where I'm at because although I AM uncomfortable being left out of the friend group, normally I thrive early game when I get underestimated. I'm trying to just not make waves and stick to whatever plans come my way and hopefully people don't view me as a threat. Every time I'd leave and rejoin the call everybody was talking about totally normal IRL stuff so it doesn't seem like people are playing the game yet, but last round I did make a bit of an alliance with DeNara for the time being. Despite feeling like an outsider, I'm going to just continue to look at the positives of every situation because as a pessimistic person by nature, I'm inclined to feel doomed in any scenario. But this is my redemption season. I'm not here to get tenth place, I'm here to win and this season will prove itself to be an uphill battle and I'm just getting started. Tumblr Survivor has always felt like the story of Sisyphus and the Boulder to me. Look into the deeper meaning of the story and I promise a lot of the details do kind of relate to me and my character throughout my run in this community, but the general idea is that I've been tasked with a chore of having to push this heavy boulder up a neverending mountain in Hell. As a returning player, I've faced a lot of hardship when I could've just gotten the outcome I want the first time, and each return to Tumblr Survivor, I've pretty much done worse and worse since then. I'm ready to finally push that fucking boulder out of the underworld and bring myself back to the playing field I deserve to be on. For now, I'm just going to keep pushing.

So glad we won that first immunity. Why am I not surprise to see a unanimous vote for the first tribal. Even a self vote.... hopefully we win again today 

I’m already over this tribe. Keegan and Liv are the only fun ones to talk to, Joey I think tries but also doesn’t. Also low key hoping people don’t know too much about Svalbard cause if people know about Rachael and I being close that could be a problem. I’m not letting my work schedule get in the way of my activity, but it’s a bad sign to me when I’m of the most active people on the tribe. I should be the baseline, not the gold standard

I think our Tribe is a bit laid back. Not much interaction, not really that engaging. I hope Jake and Kevin did a good job at the challenge, I don't want to go to Tribal again. The typhoon here passed, I hope Tribal passes too!

Woo we got out the main inactive person. Although really my entire tribe is quiet and lowkey inactive, but Jake and I talk a lot in PMs which is good. Also Stephen is doing his best with timezones so I know he wants to play bc he's always on when he is able to be on. The next biggest inactive person on the tribe is Kevin, but he instantly volunteered to do the challenge so yay I guess. If we lose though, he is still an option to go in my mind. I'm not trying to make too much of a plan because we could win this challenge and then I'm going to try to open the vault because if we come in first I will have 10 chips. But I still need to figure out if it costs 10 chips to open the vault or if you're just not allowed to look at it until you have 10 chips.

You want a confessional, well here it is. Nothing has happened. To be honest, I’ve barely even spoken to anyone today. Or yesterday for that matter. It’s also been quiet in tribe chat.

I finally got my tribe on a call. Most of them joined in, at least for a little bit so that was nice. The only person that wasn't on call was Ben, which kind of paints him as the outsider of the tribe right now. 

...five seconds later

I want to get to know Mo better and maybe set up some sort of alliance with them, but they are so spotty with when they are on, it is difficult to keep a conversation going. I am not chill enough for this game yet lol.

ok. so like that's annoying. that challenge was supposed to be fun but jake is making a big stink. and like yeah i'm mad too but like it's over and it's just a game it's not like actual money lol. also, i don't really care if we go to tribal. makes you stronger. whatever. i'm sure he's a nice person but like i think he's just mad he lost. whatevs. 

Nik and Rachael did our challenge and won. Thank goodness it wasn't me! What my tribe will soon come to realize is I am basically useless at challenges. Rip me.

...five seconds later

Yay! Mo finally asked if I wanted to work together! Took them long enough ;-) jkjk I am excited to finally start playing this game

So after a heated and undeserved loss - sorry Dan I know we talked about it but I'm sticking to my guns - I start packing my bags. All of a sudden Stephen wants to target John, John wants to target Timmy; and nobody is throwing my name out there... Like... Hello? I just got into a public fight with production, shouldn't I be target number one? And now, Xavier and I are the swing votes... How the hell did the worst Tumblr Survivor Player and a 45 Year old man end up stuck in the middle? What the hell even is this season?

WE LOST AGAIN. So now which alliance to choose?! 

I can't believe this round. I should be the target, why - why am I not the target? I lost the challenge. I yelled at production. I am the easiest vote, but nobody is voting me! What is happening?? Timmy and Stephen made an alliance chat with Xavier and I to vote John. John and Kevin are working together to vote Timmy. Xavier says - "Jake tell me what to do!" Timmy and John are both telling me everything the other one is saying to each other, and it's amazing. I have no idea how Xavier and I are voting tonight. On one hand, you have Stephen and Timmy who seem like a really strong duo. But Stephen trusts me a lot, and if I vote out his closest ally than I'll go down that list - which could be trouble in case of the inevitable swap. John is MY closest ally, but if we vote him out the team is much more united. Do I play for ME or do I play for WE? I'm 95% sure the vote is going to be 4-2, and people are going to be blindsided.

“Theres three tribes! Means we’re less likely to have back to back tribals” -_- sure jan. So we lost again, blergh, looked like an annoying challenge. The tribe is still pretty muted, who knows whether they’re voting for me or not. I made a 4-man alliance with Timmy Jake and Xavier, which i do want, but we’ll have to see if everyone is legit. The two bad possibilities are if everyone is actually voting me for various reasons (timezone, round one oopsie, etc.) or if the real vote is jake for arguing with dan. idk, time will tell. From my POV the vote is John, pretty randomly just based on the fact of who competed in the challenge.

Hiiiiiii So I am very excited to be back in the game again. I very much enjoy my original tribe especially Andrew. We already have a Pennsylvania alliance with Stephanie and I think that that is good groundwork to have moving forward should we ever lose a challenge we already have three that are tight in at seven so if we hear anything about any of them targeting us we can do something about it. I like Livingston a lot and Joey but I can’t tell if Joey is 14 years old or not and that kind of bothers me. I am v excited to get with Kevin and see where me him and Andrew can go 

Winning is great, but we need to lose the next one or it’s gonna be a weird spot if the first swap is at 18, although it is very possible that it’s at 16. I don’t want to go into a swap with all the agency being with Luxor, or us having the most players because in both cases we get painted as the targets. Bad news all around

I have yet to confess but here goes! I feel very good on my tribe. We seem to be doing fairly well at comps so far and I would love to continue to miss Tribal as much as humanly possible. I have talked to everyone on my tribe in some capacity but I am not trying to be the one to initiate like alliances and shit before we even have to attend tribal. I just wanna be chill and lay low while also being a good member of the tribe whom people like. Keegan and I have a mutual agreement to make sure each other gets far. I got first boot in my last game and he has never made single digits here in Tumblr Survivor so let's change that. One fear with working with Keegan is that he knows how I play. I played his game, Forest of Horrors, and got rocked out at the Final 7. Keegan has since told me that I was runner up for Player of the Season. I am typically regarded as a joke in this community but Keegan is someone who knows how I play and respects how I play. This game is an entirely different scenario so I am going to likely try to keep my connection up with him.

So the vote seems like it's going to be John Coffey. I'm quite sad about it for a few reasons. He is really nice and I know we work well together in games and he is a very loyal player. Also, Jake had an entire temper tantrum last night after results and that was just extremely annoying. But, Jake is more active and talks to me more while John is a rare sighting. Tbh I would rather it be Kevin but I think they're getting a pass since they participated in the challenge...always next tribal because knowing this tribe it's a strong possibility. I swear if the next challenge is a music video though I will punch a wall since that will be my death sentence since I do not participate in those. I never feel comfortable so I just don't. If we go to tribal as a tribe of 5, that might not be that good, so just really hoping that that is not the next challenge.

ok here's the tea guys. i am pretty solid in my tribe right now. after this vote tonight there 5 of us, and 4 of us are in an alliance, which is good. HOWEVER, i'm solid with the 3 people separately. that's put me in a good spot for a tribe swap/merge. obviously we're like years away from a merge. but we could tribe swap soon. we shall see! 

[my-brothers-corrupted]

My Brothers, Corrupted

Chapter 2 : Section 2 : Bite Back

Dap, Red, and Blue are headed home after pulling off a robbery with complications. Dapper’s decision to rewind will likely lead to conflict at home. But home, as we’ll see, has enough conflict already, and some of our boys have had just about enough of Anti’s torment and humiliations.

Trigger warnings for major abuse, ableism, choking and beating, and discussion of an off-screen suicide attempt.

Find Chapter One here.

Find Chapter Two here.

 Part Two of Chapter Two: Bite Back

cest-mellow asked: what if you say like, an animal started pawing the bag so you turned it back to get the gross off? anti isn’t fond of animals, maybe that ??

“Hm,” Dapper blinks at you, considering. “Maybe something like that. He sure doesn’t - ”

“Hey,” Blue cuts him off, flashing you a warning glare. “Honey, just tell him the truth, you’re only ever going to get in more trouble when he finds out you lied. You know he can see these signals if he wants to, right? What happened, anyway, Dap?”

Dapper pauses, staring up at his big brother.

Blue’s been good to him. Blue’s always as good as he can be to his brothers. That makes him unique to Dapper - he’s the only person he knows who’s never abused him.

“I’ll explain when we get there,” says Dapper, and even he isn’t sure, in that moment, if he is lying or telling the truth. “It was stupid. Don’t worry about it.”

“Mmh,” says Blue, dissatisfied. He doesn’t press him, though.

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Blue, are you okay with how Anti treats you guys? I mean, he did hurt your little brother...

Blue sighs and leans back lazily against Red’s shoulder.

“Anti has temper problems. I don’t pretend otherwise. But I trust that he’s doing his best and I know that when worst comes to worse, he will protect us with his life. Most of the time, he’s good to us. And the times he loses his temper a little… well, it’s our fault anyway.”

Guilt washes across Blue’s face and he closes his eyes, feeling the bus rattling around him.

“But that’s my job to help him with. That’s my duty, above all else. When Anti is not himself, I am the one who’s best at easing him again. I do what I can to keep us all safe. But I trust Anti. I trust Anti. To the ends of the earth.”

His hand tightens on Dapper’s shoulder, massaging gently at his muscles.

Submission (still doesn’t tell me who from for some reason?):

a cute little fam to brighten your day

 “What is that?” gasps Red, pushing over Blue’s head despite an irritated “owww, Roser!” “A cow? I fucking love it, holy shit.”

“They’re just sending him pictures of animals now,” complains Blue.

“Don’t whine,” giggles Red.

“Anti won’t like it.”

“Fine, fine, sheesh. I can turn that off. But look, Dapper likes it.”

Dapper snorts and rolls his eyes, smiling, nevertheless, at the cute little cows.

“Okay, Red can come with me when I run away to be a dairy farmer, but Blue’s too grumpy.”

“Hell yes!”

“Hey! Little jerk!”

Anonymous asked: Hey, Blueberry Poptart! You know if you guys ever get into a jam again, you might want to be able to speak some Spanish, and I know a little! In fact, there's this awesome Spanish poem that I know. You like *poetry* don't you? Anyway it's by San Juan de la Cruz and it's called "Llama de amor viva" or "Flame of Living Love" in English. I could teach it to you if you want.

“My Spanish is quite good, actually!” chirps Blue, looking up at you. “Anti says I studied languages with my first master. A lot of magic doesn’t translate across languages, so it’s best to learn as much as you can in the original tongue. But hey! I’d love to hear some poetry if you want to send a chunk of it. You never know when you might find a spell curled up in the letters.”

“He’s a nerd for that shit,” comments Red, patting his head.

“And maybe you can teach this dope here some of the language, anyway.”

“Hey!”

Dapper’s listening too, careful. He can’t speak it, but he’d love to get an ear for it.

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Is it that bad for lil' Dap to be happy, guys? They're harmless pics of animals.

“I told you,” answers Blue, a little warning in his voice. “My job is to keep my little brothers safe. If I think Anti won’t like his work cameras being filled up with pictures of baby cows, it’s better to just get rid of it. Anyway, it’s rare we get this fancy bigger camera, the type that can show pictures here on the side, so it doesn’t matter much.”

“Oh!” Red peers eagerly over his shoulder. “We should take some pictures.”

“What did I just say about clogging up the camera?”

“Aww.” Red slouches down in his seat, kicking his legs up on the one in front of him, but he knows Blue is right.

nikkilbook asked: A bunch of grumpuses, the lot of you.

“Grumpuses,” repeats Red, popping the ‘p.’ “Grump, grump, grump.” He bounces his leg and stares out the window, humming to himself and rocking his head back and forth, like music is playing in his head. “Well, let’s get home and see if our mood improves, huh?”

The bus pulls up about a mile from their home, and Red knows as soon as he stands up that Dap can’t make the walk.

He can’t blame him. Somedays, it is a hard walk even without a stab wound.

Up, up, up the mountain, as dust shifts beneath your feet and rocks slide beneath your shoes. Wild dogs snap and bark, not always from afar, and Red has begun training his brothers to carry a rock with them at all times, and not be afraid to use it. The smell is one of sewage or cooking meat, down here amid the houses, and flies buzz persistently at every face that comes their way. Chickens parade around the streets, and from dark, cool doorways with no doors or coverings, children often watch the strange white men make their way up the mountain, friendly enough, but abnormal. There are others less kind-faced - Red exchanges tight, wary smiles with the men outside the bar drinking in cold silence every single day.

There is one person alone who is securing their place in this slum.

And that is Doktor.

He’s had three patients since he came here. With Blue as his translator and Anti’s approval, he treated each of them in quick, skilled, and absolutely free succession, stitching up a cut hand, wrapping up a bad concussion, and prescribing some medicine for the old man up the hill, living in a box smaller than their living room back in Norway.

Anti’s pleased with him. The local people are beginning to tolerate them. And in this lively, bright, rapid-paced, close-knit, and deeply impoverished little community on the dry side of the mountain, Anti knows that his family is safe.

This is not a place where secrets fly. This is a place where people have learned to protect each other. He will find a way to make sure his boys blend in if Red and Blue have to rob every medical van in the city to do it.

Higher on the mountain, there is a little building, with rooms and doors and old machinery. It was going to be a real medical center once, with government funding and everything, but the project shut down after the governor who made the initial promises was elected. Only dogs and mice lived there when Anti found it. Now his family has replaced them, and no one has yet found them or come to drive them out. He does his best to ensure that they never do.

“Come on, then,” says Red, staring up the mountain. He crouches down low.

“Red,” protests Dap, exhausted. “I don’t want to ride your back.”

“You can’t walk.”

He sighs. True.

“People will stare.”

“We’ll go the side route.”

“The side route is more difficult for you. No stairs built there. Just dirt and uphill climbing.”

“Come on, then,” repeats Red, undaunted. “Come on.”

Dapper wonders, sometimes, if Anti sets up his life to make it more humiliating.

He gets onto Red’s back.

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Hey Dok, are you making out alright?

In that building high up on the mountain, a camera finally fizzles into life again, and you turn towards the screen fast enough to catch a sight of the good doctor himself, his back to you.

He’s sobbing so hard he can barely breathe. And cooking rice over a rusted oven burner.

Startled by the beeping of the camera, he whirls on you.

A moment later, he is bashful.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize Anti was using you again.” His voice is raw. He wipes hastily as his face, splotchy with redness. “I’m fine.”

And he pushes you slightly away, so you can no longer see his face.

pixie-in-trebleland asked: How are you liking being so close with your brothers, Dok? Blue and Red seem to be loving taking care of you guys.

“O-oh.”

You can hear Dok trying to get his breathing back under control, but this, at least, is a gentle question, a distracting question.

“Good, yeah, pretty good.”

His voice is quieter than usual.

“Um, Blue and Red are very happy lately, which is nice. We’d been kind of… down, for a while, so I guess Anti was right about needing all of us together for us to be a real family. Red doesn’t snap at anyone anymore. He’s a lot less stressed. And he and Blue have started taking most of the night watches, so we… I, I mean… I get a lot more sleep.”

He sniffles. The rice sizzles slightly as he stirs it around.

“Feels pretty safe here. Odd, seeing as it is a much more dangerous neighborhood. I think I like having a little commotion around us again, not being so isolated… I see children, families, hear other people talking, see the way other people live. I am only frazzled thinking maybe we will get parasites or diseases from the bugs or something… don’t let anyone touch the dogs, alright? Covered in worms and skin infections, filthy things.

“And Dapper and I get on okay.”

His voice breaks, but only for a second.

“We have a nice time together. I like getting to know him again. It was almost like I’d forgotten who he was entirely until Anti gave him back to us.”

pixie-in-trebleland asked: What about Trick, Dok?

There’s a clank as the spoon is set back down on the counter. A moment later, heavy, desperate breathing, and a very small whimper.

Doktor needs a long time to reply.

“Ah, yeah, Trick… Anti s-says he’s good, so… he’s good. He’s good. He’s fine. He’s happy. Yeah. With master, I’m glad for him, really. If he’s actually good. And he is! Anti says he is. So he is. He’s fine. He’s good.”

musical-in-theory asked: Hey Anti, do you ever think about how temporary you are? Your hate, your pain. It’s all temporary. You’ll be gone one day with nothing left behind but some people who only knew you as “that glitch villain”. Even with Dapper at your side, you can’t escape that. Momento Mori, you absolute pecan.

“Ever think about how temporary you are?” he repeats, in a high-pitched mock. “Says the fucking human…”

Anti is alone in a room set up almost exactly the same as his office in Norway, with dozens of computers circling him where he sits, cross-legged, on the floor. He has a few less electronics now - he always cleans out during a move - and there’s a baby monitor sitting at his knee, playing the sound of soft, heavy breathing.

“Momento Mori, ha… there’s a phrase I haven’t heard in a long few years… Jack loved those videos, watched like half of them. Some of his best friends just fucking around. So goddamn stupid. I did like the episode where they pretended to kidnap him and just had him tied up and gagged in the background for a whole episode, haha. Someday I’ll go hunt those two down and kill them, just to make them pay for all the happiness they gave my stupid, fickle, temporary creator.”

He looks like he could monologue for a while longer, but the small sound of crying cuts him off, and not from the baby monitor. Eyes flashing with fury, he glitches to his feet and stalks toward the door.

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Hey...Henrik, it's okay.

There’s a long moment of sniffling. He turns you slightly back towards him.

“Thank you,” he manages weakly, earnestly, and then he is sobbing again, clutching at his chest with his head thrown back, crying like his heart is broken -

A door slams open across the hall.

“Doktor, shut the fuck up.”

His voice is loud as a gunshot and twice as pissed. Doktor startles hard, reaching up to grab his own throat, to cut off his next sob. His pupils are blown wide and fixed on the wall.

“You want me to fucking kill you?” shouts Anti, standing in the doorway of his office.

Doktor shakes his head rapidly, frozen stiff, tears coursing down his panicked face.

“If I have to hear Trickshot whining ‘ooh, ohh, I can hear my poor Allemagne crying, oh no, oh no, I’m too pathetic to live on my own,’ I’m going to tie you both up in rope and hang you from the fucking ceiling fan. Do you understand, you little brat?”

Doktor nods desperately, trying not to choke.

After a long moment, Anti slinks down the hall towards him. Doktor remains frozen stiff, staring at the wall. His master regards him for just a moment before turning to his cooking.

You can see, now, the fluffy white rice just finished on the oven stove, and, beside it, a little plate with something that looks almost like a frittata on it, but thinner and more fried. Anti picks up the plate and sniffs at it, blinking.

“Where’d you get eggs? Which one of you stole these?”

Doktor clears his throat as fast as he can, stiffened up straight. “No one. One of the vecinas brought them by. To pay me back for stitching the cut up.”

For a moment, Anti regards the eggs warily, tearing off a piece to nibble on it. Egg, canned ham, onions. Good to eat, with protein and a nice enough flavor.

“This is good,” he says finally, and Doktor slumps just a little, relieved. “Good boy. Making your own keep, huh? Or two bucks worth of eggs, anyway. Once you have more supplies you can do more. Load up some rice, then, you don’t want your little brother to starve.”

Doktor turns to spoon up some rice and put it on the plate. Anti waits, scanning him carefully, taking in his reddened eyes and shaking hands.

“Dok, get it together.”

“Es tut mir leid,” whispers Doktor.

“Yeah,” says Anti. “It is.”

And he turns to take the food back to Trick’s room.

the-weirdest-fan asked: So are you gonna hunt down and murder anyone Jack liked whatsoever? Is that on your bucket list?

“If I get the time. Who knows? Could be fun. And I do need to stop by Cali at some point. Wish I could mock some of his closer friends the same way I mock you… oh, well.”

Anonymous asked: What about YOU, Dok? Pardon me for saying so but you don't seem good. Or fine.

“Es tut mir leid. Es tut mir leid. I’m so sorry. No one should have to worry about me.”

His voice is a strained whisper. He clutches the spoon desperately in his hands.

“Lately my distress is so much bigger than I am… I am drowning at sea…”

the-weirdest-fan asked: "'I’m going to tie you both up in rope and hang you from the fucking ceiling fan.'" That gave me the funniest image in my head oh my god. You are an excellent comedian, Anti.

Anti pauses, frowning. “Yeah… hilarious. Some of you are more playful than others, huh?”

reverseblackholeofwords asked: But you've been doing good work, Dok, helping those people. That must be nice, right?

“Oh, oh.”

He softens, rubbing at his tear-stained face. For a moment something gentle is in his eyes, not the same as anything you’ve ever seen before. His hands calm.

“It is, it is… I was scared at first, you know, because sometimes when I… well… some of the things I have done to injured bodies is not so pleasant. I haven’t exactly kept the healer’s oath, if you understand me. My surgeries have not always been to decrease pain, as it were. And sometimes even when I try to heal, all my hands remember is the hurt I have caused…”

He pauses, sighing, breathing in deep.

“But lately has been good. Only three people I have cared for, but I was glad to do it, so glad to do it. They needed me, you know? And I was there, and Anti allowed it, even though we try to live so quietly. It’s good of him.

“I just wish… well, never mind. Never mind, I’m grateful.”

Anonymous asked: What do you mean "functional"? What's wrong with him?

Anti steps into the room at the back of the hall, and closes the door, quietly, behind him.

For a moment you just see him watch, staring down at his brother. Something like warmth moves through his eyes. Something like fear.

“Hey, lil stammer,” he whispers, stepping over towards the pair of mattresses stacked on top of each other in the middle of the room. “Get up, Trick, eat something, so.”

He sinks down onto the bed beside his body.

Trick lies still on his stomach, a pillow pulled over his head, breathing sleepily. He probably shouldn’t have his mouth so covered, but Anti doesn’t know that.

He pulls the pillow gently away. Trick stiffens slightly as he comes back to consciousness, aware of Anti beside him, so close, so damn close, always so fucking close.

“Eat,” says Anti, more strongly now. “Eat, now. You’ve slept all day, tired thing. Eat, your twin made it for you.”

This is enough to open Trickshot’s eyes - bloodshot, exhausted. He stares up at Anti, his mouth trembling, wary.

“Going to need me again?” whimpers Trick, tears welling in his eyes.

Anti lets out a short growl, turning his face away, swallowing irritation.

“Trick, I have told you a hundred times now. No more possession.”

Trick lets out a low groan and shivers, clutching at his hair, gritting his teeth.

“Oil under my sk-skin…”

“There’s nothing under your skin,” murmurs Anti, petting his hair. “I promise, I checked. Come, so, eat. Eat.”

He proffers a plastic fork full of rice and eggs. Trick just stares up at him, foggy and exhausted, like he hasn’t even noticed the food in front of his mouth. Anti sighs a very long sigh, rubbing at his face.

“Trick’s had a bit of a breakdown,” explains Anti slowly, precisely, in response to your question. “He handles a lot of things much worse than his brothers do, and he didn’t get the help he needed right afterwards… a certain twin wasn’t watching closely enough… and now we’re back to this. Almost as bad as he was the first time I took him over.”

Anti reaches over the mattress to pick up a little piece of fabric. It’s familiar to you, patterned in dolphins - of course, the crinkle paper Trick bought himself as a present from the little store. Anti holds it over Trick’s face and crinkles it slowly in his hands. Eventually, Trick seems to respond, blinking and sitting up a little so that he can take the paper from Anti and begin rolling it gently around in his hands, humming a small, broken melody to himself.

Anonymous asked: You know Anti there's one way you can fix Dok and Trick's miserable mood considering you don't have the patience of a saint. You could just... Oh I dunno... maybe just let them comfort each other.

“Doktor failed me. Trick needs better than him now. He’s not enough.”

For a second, Anti must breathe deeply, watching his little brother snuggle back down in his blankets, rubbing the crinkle paper comfortingly against his collar bone.

“Maybe no one is. I’ll handle this myself. Don’t tell me how to care for my little dog.”

cest-mellow asked: trick? can you hear us? are you alright?

Anti gets up to tidy the room a little, kicking around sweaty sleep clothes and rearranging Trick’s discarded blankets. Trick sighs as the sheets are pulled back over his bare chest, but doesn’t protest, watching as Anti moves around the room, picking up water bottles and laundry.

“They asked you a question.” Anti’s voice is low and warning. “Focus, Trick. I don’t see any reason why fucking depression means you can’t hold a goddamn conversation…”

Trick blinks, recognizing, slowly, displeasure in his master’s voice. Confused, he rubs at his face, processes the order, and turns back to you, trying to fix whatever he’s done.

“Am I alright?” he repeats. “Um… I’ve been better.”

“You’re sick,” Anti informs him shortly.

“I’m sick.”

“But nothing that won’t pass.”

“Nothing that won’t… yeah.”

“You’ve got medicine.”

“I do, uh-huh. I had it yesterday, you gave it to me.”

“That was this morning.”

“It makes my head sooo foggy.”

“Better that than suicidal,” grumbles Anti, dropping his clothes into the laundry hamper.

“Suicidal?” repeats Trick, a little squeakily. “Am I?”

“No. Stop thinking about it. I already pushed it out of your head so don’t go looking for it.”

“Okay, Anti,” promises Trick, staring warmly up at him. Anti gets a little closer and Trick reaches out to tug on his shoelace, smiling.

A small smile flickers across Anti’s face. He leans down to kiss the side of Trick’s head and tries again with his dinner.

“Eat.”

This time, Trick obeys, sitting up to eat the rice and eggs off the fork that Anti holds.

“There’s my good boy. That’s better. We’re not really so bad off, huh? We’re okay.”

Anti looks stressed.

reverseblackholeofwords asked: What do you wish? You can tell us.

“Ah, yes, well.“

Doktor clears his throat and turns back to the stove, cracking another egg over his frying pan. He’s got other hungry brothers too, and he expects them back soon enough.

“Well, it would just be more fun with Trick. I wish he could be my helper like he usually is. I would probably complain a little, ha, cause all he has to do is sit around, and hand me things, and cook a little, which he loves. But he would make me laugh and help talk to everyone and make everyone feel okay. He loves people, you know… used to be less paranoid about them. There was even a child in here the other day. He would have chased him all around, and bounced him in his arms, and spoken broken Spanish with just enough enthusiasm for it to not even matter… yeah. I wish Trick was with me.”

seagullsausage asked: are you really that concerned over trick, anti?

Anti’s voice is smaller than you’ve ever heard it.

“No… no, of course not… he’s fine… fuck, course I’m not concerned over him. This is my most useless little mouth to feed, don’t you know?”

He shoves the fork at Trick, dropping it and sitting back, anger and concern warring on his face.

“You’re one hell of a nuisance, you know that?” he tells Trick.

“Believe it or not,” mumbles Trick, closing his eyes. “But I don’t want this to be happening any more than you do, master.”

Almost shakily, Anti reaches down to touch his face. “Don’t fall asleep again. Sleep too much.”

“Do my best. Talk to me, then.”

Anti’s mouth opens and then closes again. He doesn’t know what to say.

nikkilbook asked: You’re allowed to want things, Dok. You’re allowed to wish things were better than they are.

“Yeah… yes. I suppose. But no point to complaining, so best not to think about it.”

Anonymous asked: Do you really believe everything is okay Anti? I mean you’ve done everything you’ve wanted. They’re all under the same roof and absolutely adore you as their brother...what’s there to be stressed about?

“I’m not stressed!” shouts Anti, startling Trick. “Shut up! Everything’s fine! Everything’s fine! Nobody’s tearing at the seams, nobody’s going to die, nobody’s hunting for us, I’m not losing my fucking grip on any of them! Soon as Dapper comes home, he’s my little bitch again, okay? What, you think I don’t know it’s one of his clear days? His head-on-straight days, when he thinks he’s a big tough puppy with his teeth growing in? I’ll have him begging for me to kiss him over and over and over again. And if I have to push back on Doktor afterwards, and then shut Trick up again, and then check on the twins, and do it all again the next week, I’ll do it, I can do it! What, he thought he could make enough of them that I couldn’t hold them all at once? He thought he could save them from me? Stupid fucking boy! He was wrong! He was wrong about everything and I’ll prove it! You - ”

Anti reaches down to grab Trick’s hair and Trick yelps, alarmed, hiding his face.

“ - just don’t do anything fucking stupid, and everything will be fine! Do you understand me?”

But Trick has lost the ability to answer. Choking on his misery, he sinks back onto his mattress and rocks himself back and forth, clinging to his crinkle paper.

“You’re fine,” pants Anti, pushing his hands away. “You’re fine. You can have whatever you want. What, stronger medicine? Food? You have sunlight, you’re warm, you’re full, you sleep plenty, you’re clean and healthy. What do you want, just tell me and I’ll get it for you! You’ve had a twin for months, and Dok loved you, loved you as much as I’ve ever seen a human love another human, and it still didn’t stop you… I d-don’t… I don’t understand why you won’t get better? Just tell me, puppy, just tell big brother why you won’t get better…”

Anonymous asked: Anti, to save whatever sanity that you have left it might be smart to just give him back to Dok. I understand that he failed you, but give him a chance to prove himself again. It would really boost their spirits and things would go a lot better. Then the stress would just fade away...

“No, no, no. Too touchy-feely, too strong a bond between the two of them, not good for him any more. Asking for Dok instead of me, ha… No, I’m the one in charge, I’m his big brother, I’m his master. And I can control this, just like I control everything else. I’ll fix it. Okay, Tricks? You’re happy right here with me. Right?”

Trick stares up at him, his face very pale. He’s mumbling something, his pupils shrinking slightly.

“What?”

“Isn’t real,” groans Trick, in a voice that shakes like a leaf stuck in a doorway, staring blankly up at the ceiling. “This isn’t even real. This isn’t even my body… h-having another n-nightmare, D-deutsch…”

At the end of his rope, Anti lowers his head into his hands and makes the wise decision to glitch away.

Trick’s door is locked. He lies on his mattress alone, staring, white-faced, at the ceiling.

whydoilovesomanyvillians asked: Anti do you really think you can just snap your fingers and his depression will evaporate into thin air, cause if so I hate to break it to you but that's not how it works

Anti’s gone back to sitting in his room, leaning over his computers, trying too hard to concentrate.

“Okay, okay, okay, okay,” he grumbles, digging at an old scar on his throat, as he watches your words come in. “Something has to change, I get it, I get it. I’m trying new things, shut up. I’ve got this, I can handle this. Something has to change. Something has to change.”

diamond-game asked: Is this anti? If this is anti is it possible for you to trick us?

You made Anti laugh enough to shake some of the anger off his face.

“Now, darling,” he purrs, pushing his hair back, looking, suddenly, much like Doktor, and then, a second later, a little like Red, and then Dapper, and around, and around, his face shifting minutely, his eyes changing, the way he carries himself adjusting like he’s changing the settings on a character customization screen. He smiles at you with black eyes, Blue’s face, and a mouth full of teeth.

“Would I ever do a thing like that?”

Anonymous asked: Hey, Anti? Most animals don’t have a concept of time. A long term concept, anyway. They don’t count the seconds until they die, unlike humans, and... whatever you are. You should envy animals, Anti. They don’t stress about time running out. Actually, you should envy a lot of things.

“Stress about time running out,” Anti repeats in a growl, typing rapidly on the computer on his lap. “I own time. I’ve tasted its blood. Forced it to kiss my face. Dragged it away from its family and made it my pet. I don’t have to count anything. I am more immortal than I’ve ever been.”

Anonymous asked: I'm amazed you're so flustered with Trick being dissociative. All of them are. Your poorly crafted reality stripped them of their identities, memories, and hell, even the thoughts they're allowed to have. They're just expressing it all differently, and no matter how much you think you can ground them in falsities, it won't matter because everything they know, past and present, is fractured. When you're not treating symptoms, you're actively tearing wounds open.

“Yes, all of them are, I know that, I designed them that way. A little trauma at first helps foster dependency. I plan this shit, you know. I plan everything. And fine, maybe my little mind tricks don’t always ground as well as they could - but that’s why I have other measures in place. That’s why I make an effort with occasional shows of affection, occasional treats and rewards. That’s why I let them see, sometimes, that the things that I tell them threaten them are real. That’s why they have twins! If there are days when faith is shaky, when I am called away from them and all they can see is what Jack forced them to see, for so long - bloodshed and hatred, as if that is the only color I’ve ever worn - they’re supposed to have their brother to sleep beside, concrete and warm to the touch. Worth living for. Worth staying for.

“And then I come home, and make it well again in its entirety, and none of their snaps or episodes or trauma or any of the other cry-baby shit they get up to is enough to take them from.”

Anti growls and tugs at his hair, gritting his teeth.

“And it’s meant to be enough. But apparently Doktor wasn’t enough for his twin to hold on to. Now Trick is like this and I have to fucking fix it. He never could save anyone.

“I needed to strip so much of their memories away. But sometimes, I wish there were things I could let him remember - all the people who died or sickened or slipped into long, long comas at his hands, people he loved more than most anyone. He never could save anyone when it mattered. He’s a shitty excuse for a healer, and even worse failure of a brother.”

Anonymous asked: Bud...you can’t force someone to get better. That’s not how that works at all. It’s a long, patient process that’s build on devotion and love not...fear and anger. You do not understand how to love, Anti, that is why Trick will not get better.

“Whatever. You don’t understand anything. You’ve never been inside his head. Never seen the way he thinks and the way his neurons fire. He just needs a little re-adjusting, some chemicals put back in place, a little comfort from his master. He always was desperate for my attention. I can show him fucking ‘devotion and love’ for a few weeks if that’s what it takes. I just get a little - ”

He glances up at you, clearly deciding how much to tell.

“ - a little frustrated with how long it’s taking. I need to find a way to speed this up, because I very much prefer to have Dapper close at hand instead of useless little Trickshot. Besides, his freak-out is putting the whole house on edge.”

nikkilbook asked: Has it crossed your mind that YOU are the problem here, O Eternal One?

Anti mumbles something about murdering the lot of you, scowling at his computer screen.

Anonymous asked: Because he constantly lives in fear of you throwing him away once you're done. Because the pain he's experiencing isn't something you could simply throw the basic needs and some little affection here and there. Lashing out at him for being unwell is just making it worse. Don't even think of lashing out at the others because then he'll think it's his fault. This isn't something you can resve with screaming or threats of punishment Anti. All you'll do with that is push him further over the edge.

Anti growls, chewing on his lip.

“You don’t understand anything about my pets. He’s enjoyed worse treatment from me - he enjoyed anything from me in the old days, as long as he was the center of my attention. Let me split his lips and then smiled at me with them. Just happy I was playing with him, even if I was playing too rough.”

Anti giggles, relaxing a little.

“He was like a little puppy for me when I first broke him in, even better than Dapper’s ever been. I kept the two of them like twins back then, because Trick was so attached to him, and I figured the entertainment was good for them. And then I could come home at the end of the day to the two of them completely ecstatic to see me, asking to be let off their leashes so they could come lie down with me, or just put their heads on my lap while I worked…

“I had to change it eventually, of course, as you can tell, but… hm, that’s interesting. Haven’t thought about it for a long time. Maybe it would be good for him to go back to that. I think I still have his old collar, maybe even the muzzle… maybe he’d like to see Dapper, I don’t know… I did a little hate conditioning between them for a while, but they seemed to be getting along a few weeks ago, so maybe it wore off. Hmmm…”

Anonymous asked: You know, Anti, you're really being uselessly obstinate. Why does it have to be you that brings Trick back around? You're the leader, and you've got more important things to do, after all. Why not just delegate? Maybe not to Dok if he didn't do such a hot job before, but maybe one of the others. Blue perhaps.

Anti shrugs slowly, tilting his head back and forth - ugh, is his neck broken? - and chewing on his lip. “Well, I can’t really… I mean… I have a lot of missions for Blue and Red recently and I don’t want Blue getting over-attached, he’s already a little too high-strung when it comes to protecting his little brothers. I’ve left him with Trick once or twice when I had to leave the house. Red definitely can’t, I need him to have a distance from the others so he can discipline better.

“And Dapper… fuck, but I don’t want the same problem to come up again! Whatever. I’ll think about it. Maybe a couple quick visits from someone wouldn’t hurt…

“But really I need to keep him close at hand. If he starts to get thoughts so dark they could kill him, I need to be able to get inside his head and train them out of him.”

the-weirdest-fan asked: I gotta say, though I don't approve of your methods, it's good that you're keeping most of them somewhat happy and giving them a purpose. Definitely an improvement from the last house. Good job.

Anti bursts into laughter, clapping his hands. “Thank you! I love having Blue so much, he’s perfect for keeping everyone a little happier! Things are so much better now I can focus on something other than tracking him down. I love having the full set.”

cest-mellow asked: maybe he just needs to see dok and his other brothers. trick is a people person right? let him be around people! you can still watch over him, be with him, listen to him. you can still do everything. if being alone with him this long hasn’t worked, try something new. put him with people. if it doesn’t work, you can just bring him back, and everything will stay just fine.

“No, no, no. He can’t go back to Dok. Maybe I’ll never give him back to Dok, I don’t know.

“But… yes, maybe something needs to change just a little. Humans need socialization. I’m very good at mimicry, but sometimes I think that there really is something to them that I don’t have - something about the weakness that… makes others feel safe? I guess? I don’t pretend to understand it. But, yeah… maybe he needs to see someone. I think I’ll give him Dap or Blue for a little while, soon. Or maybe I can even find something for him to do with other people. Doesn’t he like kids? And babies and things like that? I could get him a doll, maybe? He plays with the little paper like he’s a child again. We’ll have to see.”

immabethehero asked: Just let Trick see Dok and he'll feel better... stop denying it Anti

“Oh, what was that about this not being something that can be fixed in a day? I’ve already told you Doktor wasn’t enough to keep him safe from himself. He needs a stronger hand to guide him. I admit, things haven’t been perfect, but I just need to get this right so he has the chance to get over this shit.”

the-weirdest-fan asked: You know Anti, maybe giving Trick back to Dok for a second could be a good thing. I mean think about it, you wouldn't have to deal with either of their incessant whining, and Trick might be be fixed in the process. And, as a bonus, they'd owe even more of a debt to you, making them potentially more loyal. If Dok fails to fix him, then you have an excuse to take your anger out on someone, so while outcome 1 would be preferred, you get some out of it either way!

“Hm. Good as ‘fixing’ the little brat sounds, I don’t trust Dok to protect him right now. Might be sleeping too hard again, not even noticing the signs. Fuck, you don’t know how much stolen fucking pharmacy Percocet Trick swallowed before Dapper woke up and stopped him… Fuck! I hate fucking human feelings, I hate how fast my heart was racing, watching him writhe on the ground like that!”

Anti grips at his hair and then shouts aloud, striking his fist against the earth and making his computers glitch into the same screen of multi-colored glitches.

“Stupid fucking Doktor! Stupid fucking Trick, thinking he can escape me that easily! They don’t get to die until I fucking say so! Selfish little brats!”

Anonymous asked: Poor little glitch can't handle all five of his brothers at once, hm? Whose the puppy throwing a fit now?

Anti growls in a way that is no longer human, his teeth lengthening in his mouth.

“I can handle them. He was a fool if he thought five was enough to stop me. Stupid fucking boy.”

Anonymous asked: I’m gonna say this once, snapping turtle, give Chase back to Henrik so Henrik can give Chase what he fucking needs. YOU do not have what he needs right now. If it makes you feel better just spin it in a what that makes you look like you’ve been sent by your “divine counterparts” to entrust a failed doctor with a hurting patient so that he can prove himself once again. The only way he’s getting him back is because you said so, therefore you have the power in the house hold. (1/) - (/2) You broke him so you cannot fix him. It’s like putting a bandaid over a crack in steel.

“Newsflash, you fucking brats!” screeches Anti, leaping up to his knees, his eyes vanishing into a black void, his teeth splitting through his lips as they become horrible fangs, his face turning ugly and distorted and his body contorting strangely, like a thing with more bones than it knows what to do with. “Chase was broken before I fucking took him! Chase was broken the day Jack created him! Chase is a fucking egg on a wall, and all of Jack’s horses and all of Jack’s men have never been able to put him fully back together. This is Jack’s fault! He made him like this! Made him with a gun in his hand and no children to love! He made all of them shattered, all of them fucked up, all of them broken so that he could use them for fucking entertainment! He was cruel and he was careless and it’s his fucking fault! I don’t care what you think, I don’t have to explain myself to you, I’ve never had to explain anything to you. You’d never believe me, anyway. Your little idol! Your little god! Well, here’s the truth, you brats: Jack never loved a single one of them, no matter how much you want to believe he did. He’s the reason this is happening. And no matter what I do, no matter how much the temper Jack gave me overflows or the violence I was born with turns against them, these little puppets will always be better off with me than they were with that - that - that - ”

Suddenly Anti is shrinking back on himself, his face white.

He looks very young. He is 27 and his hair is grassy green. He is a slim young man with bright blue eyes and no smile on his mouth, wearing jeans and a red sweater and small black gauges.

He sighs, closing his eyes like he has a headache.

“No more questions. Go talk to the pets or I will turn you off. I have work to do.”

Anonymous asked: Y’know, I don’t think we’ve even asked. Trick what do you want? What will make you feel even just a little bit better? Sorry for all the yelling, buddy, we’ll *glares at Anti* try to be more quiet.

Trick’s turned slightly towards you on the mattress, rubbing slowly at his tear-stained face, his hands shaky.

“I’m sorry this is how you have to see me,” he croaks, curling in on himself. “I’d rather you didn’t… but then again, I don’t want to be alone again…

“I d-don’t… I don’t know how to feel better anymore. There used to be things that made me feel better, but they haven’t been doing anything for me lately. If I can’t see Dok-dok I just want to go back to bed.”

He covers his face from you as he begins to cry in earnest, pulling the pillow back over his head.

“Anti says I don’t want to see him but I do. I can hear him crying for me sometimes. And all Anti does is shout and then come hold me like nothing’s w-wrong.”

Anonymous asked: Trick have you been able to speak with anyone besides Anti since Norway?

“Mmhh, I don’t know. He’s scared for me, won’t let anybody else look after me. The lady on the airplane asked me what kind of soda I wanted. I think that was the last time I talked to anyone other than him.”

He sniffles and takes deep breaths, trying to calm down again.

“Fuck, look at me, so pathetic… ugh, why are these my hands? Why is this my body, what the hell? It’s kind of nice having so much time with Anti, though. Or it w-was really, really nice at first. Now he’s sort of starting to scare me, and I would really like to see the sky again, and I’m s-starting to see why Dap was so - why he - ”

Trick struggles to breathe, putting a hand over his heart.

“I don’t know how he stayed in one room for months on end! Without anybody even asking for him outside his room! Maybe I should try to be more like him, and play spoiled brat so Anti st-stops yelling. Ugh, I can’t s-s-speak today, ugh.”

Anonymous asked: We’ll do our best to convince him, Trick, just hang tight we’ll figure something out, alright? You’ve been very strong and we’re all so proud of you!

“Aww.”

Trick actually giggles a little, trying to clean his face up.

“Thanks, you’re so sweet, wow. But, hey, if it comes down to Anti yelling at you or yelling at me, he’s my big brother, I’m the one who should know how to handle him. You don’t deserve his anger like I do. Okay?”

Anonymous asked: Dok is there anything you want us to tell Trick for you? Something that might make him smile?

Switched up Dok and Trick on accident.

Trick’s face falls slightly.

“I don’t know. Is he angry at me? I think he got in a lot of trouble for what I did. I was so stupid, I… I just want him to know I didn’t do it because he f-failed me at all. I think I just - well - snapped.

“Didn’t even feel like it was me doing it, anyway.”

His voice is trailing away, his eyes fixed blankly at the wall.

“Just watching my hands reach for the bottle. And I couldn’t make myself scream to wake him up. Maybe he’s better off without a screw-up like me. Dapper will be a good twin for him, don’t you think? They get along so well. And then, well, there’d be two perfect matches, and Anti wouldn’t miss me, maybe just teach someone else to use the sniper. Yeah. They’d be okay without me.”

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Dok, do you ever get to see Trick anymore? He Keeps asking for you.

Back in the kitchen, Red and Blue have made it home, and Dok is helping Dapper towards the right room on the hallway, lying his little brother down on the one mattress in their shared room, where a camera on the windowsill flickers to life. Dap is a cold white color, his eyes closed before he hit the bed, but Doktor is watching over him now, carefully wiping a cool wet cloth over his sweaty forehead.

He looks calmer with Dap there. He’s wiped all the redness and tears away from his face, probably before the others made it home, and when he speaks, his voice is calm.

“No. I’m not allowed to see him now. Not even to speak with him through the door. He’s not usually awake to talk anyway. But nothing I can do about it now. You must have distracted Anti, huh? If you had not, he would already have been out here, shouting about these silver eyes.”

Dapper’s guilty eyes flicker open, shining cool in the warm afternoon light.

“It’s okay,” promises Doktor, and Dapper closes his eyes again, trusting. “He’ll be out to talk about it later, I expect, but we’ll figure it out. Get some rest, my friend.”

Anonymous asked: No, he misses you, Dok. He wants you more than anyone right now. You're his twin. You're important to him.

My bad, I answered this for Trick. Here’s what he would say.

“Oh. Yeah?”

Trick brightens slightly. “He misses me? I hope not too much. I hate to hear him crying so much. I don’t think he knows I can hear him. He always waits til the others are gone, so only Anti and I ever hear. Oh, oh, I would really like to see him again.”

Here’s Doktor’s:

Doktor’s eyes widen slightly, his face clearing of some of its stoicism. He checks to make sure that Dapper’s eyes are closed and then he lets himself scoot forward, a little hope in his eyes.

“R-really? Did he say that? I miss him too! Oh, shit, I’m so glad he’s not angry with me, Anti told me he didn’t want to see me anymore!”

Anonymous asked: Sweetheart, you haven’t done anything wrong. Sometimes big brothers are jerks and get unreasonably upset when they don’t understand how to act like a decent human being. You being you and having feelings does not make you any sort of liability. In fact, facing them makes you ten times stronger than you already are. It’s alright to be sad anyways, being sad is valid! We would gladly take the heat for you at any time.

Trick tilts his head slightly, mulling it over.

“Yeah… yeah, maybe. I think I would trust my feelings better if I knew they weren’t screwed up by my goddamn snap.”

He laughs a little, twisting his hands anxiously.

“I feel like - I feel - I feel like I can’t trust myself anymore. I’m glad Anti’s watching me so close. It feels a little suffocating, but that’s okay. I’m alive, right? And I should be glad to be.

“Thank you for saying that. I wish this would stop, but it won’t, so… I guess I just have to try and believe you. For as long as I can.”

spicydanhowell asked: Trick, are you getting your name confused with Dok's?

Oh, whoops, haha, my bad, not Trick’s. Let me fix that, we’re talking a lot to Dok about Trick and a lot to Trick about Dok. Thanks.

I’m going to leave this note in here too just in case there’s anything I confused and didn’t notice to fix.

spicydanhowell asked: trick probably just needs to ride it out, anti. is he even on medication? that seems like step one. just keep him safe and comfortable. this could take a long time. in the real world he'd be in a therapy program or in a hospital, and those sort of things last weeks or months. you can't rush this shit. just keep him as comfortable as possible

Doktor is pulling Dapper’s dress shirt open to get a look at his injury, his patient hands working carefully, steadily. Dapper is quiet as can be, half asleep even as Doktor bares his skin. The trust between the two of them is deep.

“Trick’s on… ugh, I think Anti changed it again. Maybe he’s still on the antidepressants, but maybe Anti stopped when they didn’t help as much as he wanted them to. I was so stupid. He asked me for tranqs and I didn’t realize he wanted them for Trick, didn’t even think twice. Now he’s knocking my twin out cold every time his distress is too much for Anti to handle. I think he gives him the sleeping medicine I used to take, too. He likes the idea of medicine, but when the results aren’t good enough, he doesn’t have the patience to keep making sure Trick takes them.”

Doktor takes a deep breath and lets it out again, clenching and unclenching his fist. “It’s fine. It’s okay.”

“I wish I could have given to him to a hospital instead of Anti,” he adds softly. “I know I shouldn’t. I know I need to trust him to take care of him. But it’s difficult.”

He turns Dapper slightly onto his side and unwinds his bandages. A clean, struggling-to-scab stab wound pierces his brother’s ribs like a drop of blood on scope sample disk.

“It’s difficult,” repeats Doktor lowly, staring at the wound. “It’s difficult.”

Anonymous asked: Trick, I think Dok wants to tell you he doesn't blame you for what happened, and he wants you to focus on getting better. It's hard for him to be away from you because he loves you, but I bet you could make him feel better by eating the food he made you. Think how it would make him smile if Anti gave him back an empty plate, knowing he got to help you in a small way by cooking for you!

Trick lifts his head up slightly.

“Did he make this?”

For a while, he stares down at the plate. Good white rice and eggs with meat and onions, everything nicely fried.

He hasn’t had a lot of luck eating lately. He’s either not hungry or shoving food into his face so fast Anti has to stop him from choking himself. Often at night he’s ill, waking up from nightmares and finding, at his side, a master instead of a friend.

“You’ll tell him I ate it all?”

He leans down to pick up the little plastic fork, and starts taking small bites of his eggs.

Anonymous asked: Without even asking we could tell you how much Dok loves you. There is no one on earth that could convince him to be upset with you or hate you. He’s just sad for the same reason you are, he misses you. And that should show you just how important you are. Did you know dapper mentioned you? Said how he was happy y’all were friends now and hoped you were okay? Red and blue too? They’re all asking for you. You are so important Chase, don’t let Anti convince you otherwise.

Trick’s adding extra salt to his eggs now, sniffling over his plate.

“Y-yeah? I’d like to see them all again. I miss - I miss - I miss everybody.”

He wipes at his eyes.

“They’d miss me if I left, I guess.”

Anonymous asked: I think you’re right in saying that, Dok. Is there anything that we can do to help right now?

“Just…”

Doktor sighs and rubs at his face, sitting down at Dapper’s side. A warm, sleepy hand comes to rest on his back, weak but soothing.

“Just tell me if he does anything dangerous, okay?”

“I think some dinner would help,” prescribes a voice from the doorway, as Blue’s torn-up pants appear in your viewpoint. Doktor turns to give him a weary smile and Blue comes to his side, placing a plate of the specially fried eggs and rice beside Dapper, and another in Doktor’s hands.

“Blue, I can’t eat - ”

“There’s no ham in that one,” promises Blue, smiling at him. He pauses to let Doktor put a bite in his mouth and then presses close to his little brother, setting his head on his shoulder and wrapping one arm around him, while his spare hand finds Dapper’s and clutches it tight, rubbing his thumb warmly across his fingers.

“It’s going to be okay,” he murmurs, rubbing Doktor’s side. If he could, he would pour comfort into the both of them in the form of warm, healthy magic, and fill them up with light and safety. But he has his orders, and this is all he can do, so he will do it gladly. “You’re okay, we’re okay. We’ll figure it out soon enough. Trust me.”

Doktor lets his head sink against Blue’s, just a little, taking another bite of his eggs. The low evening light casts them in shades of gold and red and purple, and you see Red come to stand in the doorway, his body blocking the entrance, his head turned towards the room at the end of the hall, guarding his family in the twilight quietude, watching the sun go down.

pixie-in-trebleland asked: How are you coping, Dok? You can't just bottle it up.

“Yeah.” Blue rubs warmly at his ribs. “Can’t keep any secrets from us. Another rough day?”

Exhausted, Doktor nods slowly against his shoulder.

“Well, you got through it,” murmurs Blue.

“Not quite yet.”

“Come on, what’s going to happen?”

“You’re going to be in trouble for the silver eyes,” answers Dok grimly.

Blue sighs. “Okay, well, what I meant was nothing’s going to happen to you.”

“I’d rather you two be safe than me,” answers Dok miserably.

“Hey! That’s our job, not yours. Don’t give me that self-sacrificial bullshit. You let big brothers handle it, do you understand?”

“Yes,” mumbles Dok, eyes downcast.

“Yes?”

“Yes, Blue,” he resigns himself, sinking down beside Dapper. Blue rubs his back.

Anonymous asked: Just one step at a time, Trick. We’ll be here for you the whole way.

“One step at a time,” he mumbles, putting another forkful in his mouth. “One bite at a time. Actually, this is pretty good, you know? Mh, I hope tonight is quiet. I feel a little better, just shaky.”

Anonymous asked: Alright, Dok, is there anyway that you can prove yourself to Anti? It seems the only way to get Trick out of that room is you convincing Anti that you’re a suitable protector. Is there any information that you can give us that we can use to convince him on your behalf or is there anything that you can do now to gain back Anti’s favor? Remember this is for Trick, alright? Just do your best and we’ll workout the rest. Hopefully.

“Oh, yes, we hope so! Right, Blue?”

Blue’s eyes are worried. He tries not to let his smile flicker. “Yeah, we have a gameplan, right?”

“I just have to be a good big brother to Dapper.”

“Yes, keep a good eye on him.”

“And be good. Do what you and Red and Anti tell me. Be quieter in the house. And - and - anything else you can think of. Make sure the people around here are happy with us, because I have to be useful, or we won’t be safe.”

The stress makes him shake a little, but he’s a force of nature when he’s determined, and fuck, but he wants his twin back. Blue brushes hair out of his face, biting his lip.

“Yeah, um. Just add taking care of yourself to that list too, okay?”

“Mmhh.” Dok’s eyes are already far away, daydreaming. “Oh - sure, yes, sir, whatever you say.”

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Anti, while the others are great, no one is going to get through to Trick like Dok will. Even try to mimic him to see how Trick responds.

“Hmm, mimicking Dok.”

Anti pauses, thinking. His eyes are a vivid snake’s green.

“Maybe… I could do that easy enough, it’s just being loud and pushy and stern, mostly. Level-headed most of the time, kind of angry, kind of bitter. Maybe that would help him feel more at home.”

He sighs and closes his computer. “I should go deal with the others. I’ll have to change my plans for the night if they don’t have a good reason for that reversal Dap had to pull. Fuck, his magic smells so strong. I’m fucking suffocating.”

Anonymous asked: What does his magic smell like?

“Well, that’s the strange thing,” murmurs Anti, sitting up. Sharpened ears perk slightly as he listens, his nostrils flaring and his pupils thin. “Dapper is… well, I don’t know. Dapper’s Dapper. Old shit, I guess, and blood, and a little… it’s a smell, okay, how do you want me to describe it? ‘What does his magic smell like,’ is this a fucking scratch and sniff? But something’s off with him tonight, I almost think. Something in the air kind of like the ocean or trees or some shit.

“Why would his magic be different? Unless of course it - ”

Anti pauses, stiffening.

Suddenly he is on his feet.

Anonymous asked: Unless what, Anti? What does it mean?

“Less it’s not his magic.” Anti’s eyes are too bright. There is a fang piercing through his bottom lip. “And I know I told that stupid cat to stop playing those kinds of dangerous little games.”

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Uh oh, Dap? Blue? Anti's on the move and you guys are in trouble.

Blue swears and gets to his feet, pushing Doktor down onto the mattress when he tries to rise and stalking towards Red, who falls immediately into stride beside him to stand in the hall, shutting Dok and Dapper’s door behind them. They exchange glances, just for a moment, and see in each other’s eyes everything they need to make their backs straighten and their mouths fall calm, turned towards each other in a resignation that has become, by virtue of the little brothers in the room behind them, a sacrifice. They know the plan without speaking, Blue sees it in Red’s eyes - we take his rage together, you try to reason with him, and I am the body between his and theirs.

Anonymous asked: Uhhhh guys heads up! Anti is headed for Dapper!

Anti’s door bursts open and his figure appears in the door, shadowed in computer errors and color glitches as he blurs his way forward in a spasm of coding. His body never seems to move, but then he is before them, halfway incorporeal in the hall, but he does not turn to the door for the younger boys, he does not turn - he grabs his Blue by the throat, and then, before Red can cry out, he is slamming him back against the wall, his eyes black with hatred.

“What the hell did you do?” he shrieks, slamming Blue’s head back, ignoring Red rushing forward beside him, trying to catch his eye so he can beg on his twin’s behalf, panicked. “I can smell something on you! I can smell power on you! You traitorous little bitch, I’ve let you roam like a wild dog and treated you like a show dog and this is how you repay me? What were you casting for? What did you do? I have to hide your fucking signal now! What did you do?”

“Nothing!” wails Blue, grabbing at his master’s hands. He does not claw, only clutches tight to his wrists, his eyes desperate and full of tears.

“He didn’t do anything, Anti, I’ve been with him the whole day!”

“I can smell something that is not Dapper, I can smell it on you! You did something! Even if it was on accident!”

“No, no, no, I can’t help it that’s it welling up inside me but I - ” Blue sucks in a desperate gasp, beginning to writhe under Anti’s hands. “I didn’t give way to it!”

“He didn’t do anything, Anti, I swear! Please, master, let him go!”

But unfortunately they’re not making a very good case for themselves.

The hands on Anti’s wrist glow faintly blue.

Anonymous asked: Blue what did you do?

Growling low, low in his throat, Anti drops Blue to the floor. He collapses and begins coughing hard, clutching at his throat. Red moves to fall down beside him, but Anti grabs him by the back of his shirt and shoves him away again, staring down at Blue with his teeth gritted hard enough that Red can hear his bones shifting.

“I swear, I swear, I swear,” whimpers Blue, curling in on himself to hide his hands against his stomach. All these weeks, he has never been afraid of Anti for his own sake, but now some horrible memory is rearing its head inside of him, and he looks down to see his glowing hands shaking. “I didn’t do anything, Anti, please, it burns at me but I don’t… I don’t mean to do anything, I let none of it touch the rest of the world, I hold it right here in my bones, it isn’t anywhere, it isn’t anything… I keep it, I keep it in my chest, I haven’t done anything, not one spell, like I promised you, master…”

Anti is panting harshly through his teeth. He closes his eyes and reaches up to dig his fingers into his hair, seething, snarling, shaking ever so slightly where he stands.

nikkilbook asked: We can vouch for him. The closest he came to magic was some glowy hands when Dapper passed out from the heat and the pain in his chest. But he didn’t let it out, just like he and Red said.

“You’re doing something,” hisses Anti, drawing away. “You’re - you must be. You’re causing problems. Don’t you understand I’ll have to hide you if you don’t bury it deeper? I can’t - ugh! Fucking hell, Blue!”

He reaches down to grab his chin, tilting his head up and lifting up an eyelid with his thumb, examining Blue’s eyes for any sign of casting.

“I told you to keep it buried, I told you, I told you to forget it even exists within you…”

“I’m trying, I’m trying, I swear…”

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Is there a possibility you could have let something slip, Blue?

“I - I - ” Blue stares desperately up at Anti, his mouth hanging slightly open as tears spring to his face.

“Sometimes his hands wisp but that’s all,” Red leaps to assure, panting rapidly.

“Anti, Anti,” begs Blue, tears running down his face, and Anti, infuriated by the sight of yet another one of his puppets breaking down, turns away from him, digging harder at his hair. “I’m trying so hard, Anti, I am, but it burns me, you don’t understand, I need a way to let some of this free. I’m a kettle boiling over, Anti, a cup filling up, I can’t help that it overflows, I - ”

“Don’t fucking say that!” screams Anti, and before Blue even registers the hand coming at him he is crashing back against the wall, yelping from the bruise exploding across his cheek. He hears Red cry out and then his brother’s body is before his own, between him and Anti, grabbing at the demon’s shoulder and crying out for him to stop, to wait, at least, to just talk about this for a moment, please!

Anti’s shaking his head hard, fury steaming from his mouth, but he grants Red his wish and turns, instead of to Blue, towards Dok and Dapper’s room, striding in even as Red cries out.

“Red, stop him, stop him,” moans Blue, staggering back up to his knees and brushing his twin’s concern away. It’s just a bruise. He’s had worse. Doesn’t know why it stings so much coming from Anti, but it’s no matter. “Monochroma is hurt, don’t let him - Anti, please, don’t grab him like that!”

Dapper whistles shrilly as he is pulled up by the hair, clawing wildly at Anti’s hands and reaching out for Doktor intermittently.

nikkilbook asked: Hey Anti. Here’s an idea. All your tech must draw in an obscene amount of power, and I bet the weird surges from your glitching don’t really help this whole in cognito thing you go going on. Why don’t you try burying THAT, forget that power even exists, cut it out of yourself like some kind of sparky appendix. Can’t be that hard.

“I know how to hide my own fucking power! I know how to hide my signal from everyone, from everything! And Dapper’s too, though it took me months to learn, months and months to learn, and this little brat still thinks he gets to run around the city changing time however he wants to!”

Dapper whistles, staggering to his feet, clutching at the bandages around his bare chest. “No, no, no!” cries his free hand.

“But I had to learn to hide him, because I need his power! But you!”

He whirls on Blue.

There is a light in his eyes like someone losing his mind, and Blue, for all his bravado, finds himself shrinking slightly back towards Red, who steps forward yet again, reaching for the youngest.

“Anti, please,” he whispers.

“I don’t need your fucking spells and bullshit tricks! I need you to be Red’s little sidekick, their little caretaker, and my little slave! And now you’re endangering the rest of my family, after I took you in and gave you back to your brothers, took care of you like a privileged pet and trusted you with everyone else to look after?”

“I’m doing my best,” wails Blue, reaching out for Dapper. “Anti, put him down!”

“I can’t hide all three of us!” screams Anti. “Don’t you fucking understand? I can’t hide this much power!”

nikkilbook asked: Then let them go..

“Are you stupid?” snaps Anti, panting, lowering Dapper slightly back down towards the ground. “You think I’d ever do that? What, do you boys want that? For me to split all of you up and send you away from each other? For you to have to try and hide on your own, and live like Blue used to, like a rat on the streets? No, we… we have to stay together, don’t we?”

He drops Dapper, his face beginning to look more grey than white. Doktor rushes forward to grab his little brother, pulling him back towards the mattress, hiding him against his chest.

“Anti’s right.”

Blue looks up at his big brother, eyes wide.

“He’s the only one who has any hope of keeping us safe from the first master and the others who stalk us. Besides, we’re family.

“We have to stay together,” repeats Red hoarsely, and when Anti looks up again to meet his gaze, there is gratitude in his black, endless eyes.

Anonymous asked: In summation, "suppress your emotions! We can't let people know we F E E L !!"

“Can’t let people know we’re a family of Harry Potter characters,” mumbles Doktor, his eyes flashing. Dapper is huddled against his chest, trembling hard but still rubbing a soothing hand along Doktor’s arm.

Anonymous asked: If Blue can't control his power entirely, maybe try to utilize it in someway. Surely you can find a use for another brand of magic? I get you'll have to invest some time and your own power into masking it, but in the end there's got to be a benefit to that, right? Last thing you need is Blue melting down on top of everything else.

“I - but you don’t understand, I - ” Anti is coming forward towards Blue again, and Red flinches, biting his lip as he tries to decide whether he should put himself between them again, but Anti only bends down to touch Blue’s cheek, staring his newest pet in the eyes. “It’s not like I have a power to hide them, I use electrical signals, I use my computers, I disrupt everything Dap and I send off. And by now I recognize his signals and his energy so well, and I have magnets and conductors and codes that took weeks made just for him, and I monitor both of us constantly but Blue, I - Blue I don’t know anything about, and I don’t - he’s more erratic, you know, he’s… you’re…”

“I’m sorry,” whispers Blue.

Anti draws his hand away from his face and rubs his own instead, tired out of his mind.

“Blue, you have to keep it hidden better.”

“I - I - okay, Anti. Yes, Anti. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. Yeah. Just… let’s talk about this later. I’ll think about this later. I’m so - ”

He grits his teeth, glancing over at Dapper. Truth is, he slept better with him beside him. Maybe he could put him next to Trick tonight, except -

“Fucking hell,” sighs Anti. “I’ve still got to deal with you. Alright, little brat. You better have a good reason you were making the world spin wrong today.”

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Guys, you all need to calm down. I'm sure you all being at each other's throats is not helping with hiding ANY power.

“Yeah, Anti,” Blue beseeches, rising to his knees. “Please just be gentle with him, I’m sure he had a good reason.”

Dapper has yet to look up at Anti in answer.

Despite Anti’s question.

Like he’s ignoring it.

Oh, hell, oh, hell, oh, hell, chants Blue’s mind. He chews rapidly on his lip and exchanges looks with Red, beginning to feel panicked.

“Dapper,” he calls. “You answer your brother like a good boy.”

Not today, Dap. Don’t get in any more trouble. You can’t take it, you tiny hurricane. Just be good, please!

Anonymous asked: Dapper, hiding from something doesn't mean it's not there. You got hurt, you made a mistake, just say something, the waters testy as it is.

Dapper’s breath is hot against Doktor’s shoulder. His eyes are tightly closed and his teeth are gritted. He glances at the message and at the light outside his window, and then closes his eyes tight again.

Anti’s eyes narrow on Doktor. His throat closes.

“Dap,” urges Dok, pushing slightly against him. “Come on, you must talk to your big brother. Will be okay, just answer the question.”

Dapper buries. Dapper buries.

Doktor presses their faces as close as he can, knocking their noses together, whispering as small as he can. His voice is desperate.

“Dapper, if you are not good for Anti, we will never get Trick back.”

And Dapper knows he doesn’t mean to say that he’s trying to exchange his training wheels for the full model he used to have, doesn’t mean to say he’s trying to get an A+ on his little-brother-caretaking test so he can get the real one back, doesn’t mean to say he’d rather Dapper be locked up in that one little room, petted and puppied for months on end, instead of Trick, but -

Anti really is the only one who wants him. He may as well try to help Dok get his Trick back.

White-faced and bitter, Dapper turns his face towards Anti, and frees his hands.

“I’m sorry, Anti,” he says. “I walked too far down an alleyway and a dog jumped out and scared me badly. I turned back without thinking. I was a coward. Next time I will drive it away.”

Anti draws back slightly.

Assessing.

florenceisfalling asked: anti, isn't this a good thing? better than him letting animals touch him or get near him, right?

“Mm-hm, mm-hm,” murmurs Anti, chewing on his lip. “If he’s telling the truth.”

Dapper does not pale. Dapper does not tremble. Dapper does not look away.

Dapper looks his master in the eyes and lies.

nikkilbook asked: It was our fault. You left us alone with them for twenty minutes and we did what we did best. We poked and we prodded until the boys broke, and Dapper put them back together again. Better this mess than that one.

“Broke? My Red, my Blue? My strong boys?” He glances back at the twins, standing in the doorway. “No, no… I don’t think that’s right.”

Anonymous asked: Oh shoot, Dap, you actually told him the truth! It's okay, Anti will understand. It's good you did tell him what happened. And next time you'll know.

“Hm, hm,” says Anti, beginning to circle the mattress. Dok avoids his gaze, whitening as he comes closer, holding Dapper to his chest. The color of Dapper’s eyes is less like starlight and more like steel. “Yes, yes, next time you’ll know… you know better than to lie to Anti, don’t you, Dapper?”

“Yes, Anti.”

Anti’s eyes change from black to a very vivid green.

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Anti, it was an honest to goodness mistake on Lil' Dap's part. He isn't reckless with his abilities, is he?

“Lil Dap,” repeats Anti, and a smile fills up his face. “Haha! Aww, you are my little Dapper, aren’t you? Baby, puppy? Tiny little boy, cute little mute baby.”

Dapper is digging his nails into the palms of his hands.

cest-mellow asked: anti you can’t blame him for getting scared, it honestly came from no where, scared me too! i’m just glad he didn’t get bit, feral dogs can have rabies you know

“Ugh, yuck,” hisses Anti, drawing slightly back, wiping his hands on his pants. “This city is fucking filthy. I hate those fucking dogs everywhere. With the skin and the bugs in their - ugh.”

He shakes his head and snarls, turning away.

“Little brother,” says Red gently. “Maybe we should do this later.”

“No,” snaps Anti, grabbing at his hair again. “Shut up. Go to your room and finish eating your dinner. I’ll need you again tomorrow and the two of you at least must be good, or I’ll throw all of you little bastards out. Now.”

Red and Blue exchange glances but not protests. Red pulls Blue away. His twin’s eyes are fixed on Dapper’s.

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Would you be able to tell if he's lying, Anti?

“I can tell everything about him,” whispers Anti.

His voice is an echo. It drips from the ceilings. It swims through the air. It bounces from wall to wall, disembodied.

“I know the person he was and the person I made him into. I know every valley of his brain, know the pattern of his thoughts, know the taste of his fear. Know the ways he comes and goes, sane some days, a little psycho the next.”

Doktor’s breath hitches slightly and he turns away, afraid to show anger to Anti.

Dapper’s too tired to be hurt. He stares up at Anti, blank-faced.

“You always have been a good little liar,” says Anti distantly, coming to stand right above him. “But not to me, child. Not to me.”

Anonymous asked: Wait Anti a while back when you said you like own time and forced it to kiss you...ew.... were you referring to dapper?? and why do you even do that in the first place that's messed up dude just sayin

Anti crouches down beside Dapper and Doktor.

His youngest puppet is pressed back against the doctor. Someone else might mistake it for hiding, but Dapper is no longer holding Dok for the comfort. His body is in front of his brother’s. He protects Doktor. He protects Doktor from Anti.

For a long time, Anti just looks him in the eyes.

“Yes, I was referring to Dapper,” he says. “Of course I was. My little time traveler. Yes, I’ve made time kiss me. I’ve made it sing my praises and give up everything it used to love for my sake. It didn’t have much of a choice, but that is not what matters. What matters now is that it belongs to me.”

Anti sets his hand on Doktor’s thigh and leans close over the both of them, his chest flush with Dapper’s. The youngest brother can no longer bear the weight of his green-eyed gaze; flushing, Dapper turns away, avoiding the eyes of the snake.

“Doesn’t it, Jay?”

Something visceral and agonizing rises up like acid in Dapper’s throat, and in that moment he is so close to remembering everything that hovers around the edges of his time-travel-hazed mind, so close to putting back a piece of himself that he’s been trying to find for weeks now, so close to being a person who does not belong to Anti.

Fuck, does it hurt.

Memories of his lips pressed to Anti’s cheeks, his hands teasing and begging for affection, being cradled like a child to Anti’s chest, hiding behind his big brother for comfort, letting him cut into him and tie him to his bed post, a raven he loved being shoved out a window, and a half-dozen faces only vaguely familiar, stained bright in red - only some of the people Anti told him to kill, and fuck, but his knife was glad to have something to do other than sitting in that room.

“Give me a kiss,” says Anti. “And I’ll put this behind me.”

His voice is sugar-sweet and Dapper could gag. He knows he’s being mocked. He knows that Anti can feel the dissatisfaction, the revolution, sitting painful in his chest. But if he can be convinced to obey despite a little discontent, despite a little doubt, Anti will believe that he is not a threat, and Dapper can go back to playing puppet, and maybe it won’t hurt so much.

Doktor is shaking against him.

Anti grabs his chin in his hands, tight enough to bruise, and he yanks Dapper’s head back towards him, forcing him to meet endless green eyes.

“Give me a kiss,” says Anti, smiling so fucking wide, so fucking cruel, and something in Jameson’s chest hates him. “Give me a kiss and you can have a quiet night with your Dok-Dok, and nobody has to get h - ”

Dapper strikes him, hard, in the face.

whydoilovesomanyvillians asked: Jameson jackson you absolute savage

Anti reels away from his youngest puppet, halfway tumbling off Doktor’s lap, blood dripping down his nose as his form flickers. Doktor screams aloud, shocked, and grabs Dapper tighter to his chest, pinning his arms down as best he can.

His little brother is laughing like a maniac, without sound, without joy.

Anonymous asked: FUCK. DAP REVERSE. REVERSEREVERSEREVERSE

“No,” giggles Dapper, squirming in Doktor’s grip. “I don’t think I will.”

“You fucking bitch!” screams Anti, and a hunting knife appears in his hands, thicker than his arm is wide. “I’m going to kill you!”

Doktor cries out and curls his body over Dapper’s, panic exploding through his chest. “No, Anti, please, please! Blue! Red! Somebody, please!”

“Why the hell are you screaming for them? Like they can save you from me? Stupid little brat!”

Anti grabs Doktor’s shirt and drags him off Dapper’s body, digging his fingers into Dapper’s hair and pulling him to his feet. Dapper screams by drawing air in, clawing at his hair as Anti pulls him up for the second time tonight, this time pressing a blade into the center of his collarbone, drawing a stream of blood.

Anonymous asked: Oh god Anti you broke him

“He’s always been goddamn broken!” shrieks Anti, throwing him onto the mattress and giving Dapper back the blow that he gave him twice as hard, slapping him so that his handprint appears on his cheek. Dapper whistles shrilly and turns to his side, but he will not turn back, he will not turn back. Wouldn’t fix anything anyway, he’d just be in more trouble for the power surge.

And anyway, he fucking deserves it.

“Kill me, then, fucking coward!” signs Dapper, and Anti grabs him again and throws him back onto his back. “Think I’m scared to die, master?”

“Traitorous little weapon! You think I won’t kill you? Is that what you think? You think I can’t make you beg me to take you back into my bed again, huh? If I think for a moment that you are past saving, if you belong to that stupid fucking boy again, I will fucking crucify you and make your brothers laugh at the sight of you nailed to our doorway. Do you understand me?”

“I understand that you’re a bitch.”

And then he’s being struck, again, and again, and again, and the wound on his side is weeping, and so are his blueing eyes, as he comes to understand that everything he has denied about the brother he adores is true - Anti is cruel, Anti keeps him captive, Anti would kill him to prevent him from ever being free.

“I served you well,” sob his hands, though he doubts Anti is reading. “I’ve always served you well. You are the one who took your love away, master. You are the one who betrayed me.”

“Anti!” screams Doktor, by now in full-blown hysterics. “Anti, Anti! Please, oh, God, Sh’ma, Sh’ma! Red! Blue! Trickshot, help me!”

pixie-in-trebleland asked: Dok, you gotta move and get the two of you out of there.

“I have to - I have to stop this, I can’t get him out, I can’t - what can I say to - ”

Realization hits Doktor like a train and he acts without further thought. In a second he is clinging to Anti’s shoulders as his brother beats Dapper’s blood into the mattress, crying out. “Anti, it’s not him! It’s not him, it’s not his fault! It’s one of his episodes, he’s psychotic, he can’t help it! He might even think you’re his old master!”

Anti’s hand is pressing Dapper down by the throat. He does not look up at Doktor. His pupils are blown, his face frigid white, his mouth shaking. But his pressure, at least a little, relinquishes.

“One - one of his episodes? A snap, you mean?”

Dapper trembles beneath his hands, his blue eyes hurting.

Anonymous asked: Oh shit. Dapper I hope you know what you’re doing!

Dapper stares up at Doktor and Anti, towering over him.

He whines and closes his eyes and sinks back down into the mattress, tears sliding down his cheeks. His anger is cold and it stings at his face; his hurt is deeper, burrowing down far into his chest. His master really does hate him, and he’ll never be or even remember the person that he used to be, and Doktor - Doktor - Doktor shouldn’t use his psychosis like that, like it makes his decisions any less his own. It’s not his to use as a lie. Dapper’s head is clearer than it’s been in months. The only thing fogging his head now is grief and this great wall of power that has so long blocked out chunks of memories and control. He’s beginning to understand where Trick was coming from more and more with every day.

He wishes he were here now. That’s who he wants, Trick, who hated it when Dapper was treated like a puppy just as much as Dapper does. Trick who loved him as an equal but protected him like a brother.

No, he doesn’t know what he’s doing.

But he doesn’t want to get hit anymore. So he closes his eyes, and turns his face from Anti’s, and lets Doktor speak on his behalf, because no one is listening anyway.

“But he’s not hallucinating or thinking we’re someone we’re not,” Anti is protesting, glancing between Dapper and Doktor.

“Well, it’s hard to be sure,” coaxes Doktor, sounding professional, though his voice trembles minutely. Maybe Dap isn’t the only good liar around. “And you know sometimes it’s not hallucinations, sometimes with him it’s paranoia. Yes? You remember when he was so convinced Red would hurt him, the last time.”

“He nearly killed him,” mumbles Anti, brushing disarrayed hair from his eyes.

“But we got him back on his medication and helped him get down from the snap, and he was back to being okay again. Trusting you and everything, you know. Most likely he is just psychotic again. It’s not his fault, really. Besides, Anti, look, look, this wound in his side - you will hurt him more badly than you intend, master.”

Anti draws back from Dapper a little more, his eyes fading to blue. “But he’s on his medication,” he protests, and suddenly his voice is weak as a blade of grass. “You told me you were making sure he takes it. You - how can I - if both of them are broken like this - ”

“Maybe we can try something new,” suggests Doktor, trying to be reassuring. He dares to rub his hand over Anti’s shoulder, and Anti, looking distinctly frazzled, leans slightly back into the warmth of his palm.

Doktor puts his head against Anti’s shoulder. The pressure is warm and secure.

“Can’t look after everyone,” admits Anti, in a whisper.

“I’ll help you,” promises Doktor, just as soft, and the earnestness in his voice is almost painfully raw. “If you just let me, Anti. Just let me see - ”

“No,” Anti cuts him off, his voice clearer, and Doktor sinks wearily against his back, sighing. “No. Maybe someday. But not now. I can’t risk it. I can’t risk any of this. I finally have everything I want. I’m going to keep it.”

One of his hands resumes a little pressure on Dapper’s throat. The other is running through his hair, meant to be soothing.

“Poor boy, breaking down again,” mumbles Anti. “I’ll put it right again. I’ll fix you again. I’ve done it more than once now, haven’t I? Stupid boy. It’s okay. We’ll fix you.”

Anonymous asked: Do it Anti, and you lose your most valuable weapon. No more reversing time, no more do overs. The boys leave or die they're gone, no way to fix it. So prove you're not a coward, Anti. Carpe diem, glitch bitch.

Anti gets to his feet, glancing at the camera for a moment, his eyes skimming the message. He turns to look between the temporary set of twins - Doktor rushes forward to try and tend to his little brother, rubbing at Dapper’s shoulders.

Anti crouches back down again, just for a second, and he pulls Dapper’s face towards him, and looks him in the eyes.

“I want you to know something,” he says, his voice very, very low. Dapper shakes beneath his grip.

“You are a very powerful child. You are my favorite weapon and I benefit greatly from your help. That is all true.

“But if I ever think for a single moment that I cannot save you from - from - ”

Anti doesn’t know what to call him.

“The boy,” offers Dapper softly. “The boy you are afraid of.”

It pauses Anti for a moment.

And then he leans forward again.

“I am afraid of him enough that if I ever believed he was taking you from me, I will kill you.”

Doktor is clinging to Dapper’s shoulder. There are tears running down his face.

“I will kill you before I let him turn you against me. That is also true. Do. You. Understand?”

Dapper’s had enough.

Dapper’s had enough for one night.

“Yes, Anti.”

“Good.”

Anonymous asked: Dok whatever happens please do not leave Dapper’s side

“Aww, that’s sweet,” purrs Anti, stepping back. “You want to stay by your little brother, Dok, is that it? Huh?”

“Y-yes, Anti, I need to clean him up.”

“You do, yes. And start thinking about his medication, I want something to fix this by tomorrow. But after you’ve got him all patched up, you’ll hand him over to me, and then his twin has to be punished.”

Doktor pauses, looking up at Anti. “His twin?”

“Yeah.”

“I thought… Dapper didn’t have…”

Anti stares at him, impatient with his stupidity. Something cold rushes over Doktor’s chest.

“Is Trick your twin right now?” asks Anti, like he’s explaining something to a five-year-old.

“No, Anti,” whispers Doktor.

“Who did I give you to look after?”

“Dapper, Anti.”

“And when you fail to look after your twin, and your twin does something stupid and gets in trouble, how do we correct things around here?”

His throat is so fucking dry.

“You punish the twin, Anti.”

“Clean him up. You can spend the night in the shed. Should have known you weren’t capable of having a twin anymore. Tonight, Dapper will stay with me and Trickshot. We’re going to play puppies again. They’re right, Trick needs someone else to be with, and it can’t be you, Dok, so we’ll go back to the way things were in the beginning, when my two littlest boys were so head-over-heels for me they could barely breathe without my permission. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

Doktor can’t breathe at all.

“Doesn’t it?”

“Yes, Anti,” he wheezes, and his hands shake as he pulls the first aid kit away from its place against the wall.

Anonymous asked: What, so Dok is going to be twinless after tomorrow? It's like you're trying to fix glass with a jackhammer.

“Red was twinless for a long time. And he was fine afterwards. I can rearrange again when Trick and Dapper are behaving better.”

Anonymous asked: Anti wait, he did protect him! He stopped you from killing him! He’s cleaned up dapper and made sure that he’s as healthy as he possibly can be considering his wounds, y’know the ones YOU gave him? He can only protect him as much as he can, especially when you’re the one attacking him! If anything he’s been faithful enough to let you have your way with Dap until there was a possibility that you would have gone too far.

“He should have kept Dapper in line in the fucking first place! Everyone in this house knows that Dapper’s been slipping more and more every day, and what did Doktor do about it? Coddle him and let him roam wild while he grieved over a brother who’s still alive!”

Anti backs away, resisting the urge to kick them both.

“That’s enough. Clean him up. That’s the only thing you’re halfway good for.”

And he vanishes as though he was never there, leaving only the smell of electricity behind.

nikkilbook asked: My dudes, you can be together and AWAY FROM HIM. What does he even do? Slap you around and stab you for doing literally what he told you to do? Drive you to suicide and punish you for it? What can he give you that you can’t give each other? Dude’s a royal prick if you ask me.

“Sh, sh, please,” whispers Doktor. “We can’t just… Anti is temperamental, but we can’t just… there’s no choice, we… please, sh, sh…”

He glances over his shoulder, but Anti has vanished, and he is alone with Dapper, shaking beneath his hands, his eyes shell-shocked and grieving. He pulls the old, bloodied bandage off Dapper’s back, eliciting a low, agonized whine.

“I’m so sorry,” Dok mumbles, brushing his hands over his hair. You don’t know who he’s talking to.

Anonymous asked: Honestly though, that took a lot of gut back there to do that Dapper and I’m super proud of you. Learning to stand up for yourself is super important, and just so we’re clear, it is not a psychotic tendency.

Dapper’s bleeding mouth opens into a small smile. “Thank you,” he signs frailly, trying to focus on anything but the sensation of Dok patching his skin back together. “No, it’s not psychosis. Sometimes Anti says snap and he means psychosis, but sometimes he says snap and what he means is self-defense.”

“Dap, please,” begs Doktor. “Stop, stop talking like that.”

“What’s he going to do? Beat me again?”

“Yes,” snaps Doktor, brushing his hand over his hair. To his surprise, Dap pulls away slightly, closing his eyes.

“Angry with me?” asks Dok, in a whisper.

Dapper doesn’t answer. Tears are sliding down Dok’s cheeks.

“Like everybody else?”

At that, Dapper turns, his eyes flickering, and suddenly the grief in his brother’s eyes looks like it will consume him, and Dapper’s pain seems to vanish, replaced by fear for his Deutsch.

“I was trying to protect you,” chokes Dok, his face losing all color as the band-aid flutters out of his hands. He can no longer hold it. “I’m always - always trying to protect you and everyone, heal when I c-can - but I can’t do anything right and - I can’t - f-forgive me, I - ”

Dapper drags his aching body up and throws himself at Doktor, pulling him tight to his chest and hugging him close, close, close, and Doktor breaks down against his shoulder.

Dapper took a beating to avoid kissing Anti’s face. Now, he buries himself against Doktor and smothers his face with kisses, clutching him close, suddenly vividly aware of the fact that the two of them are, for all that Anti plays at Dapper being the smallest, exactly the same size.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” cries Doktor.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” answers Dapper. “I’m so sorry that what I did hurt you, that’s not what I wanted. I don’t want to go away from you. Maybe I can convince Anti to give me back soon?”

“No, no,” whimpers Doktor, rubbing tears from his eyes. “You must do nothing to anger him, nothing to object. Don’t worry about big brother for a moment, that’s not your duty.”

“It is my duty. Just because I’m a little younger does not make me any less your guardian. The hierarchy here is just another something Anti made up to - ”

“Sh, sh, please,” begs Doktor. “Please, for my sake, stop. Just lie down, honey. Let me take care of you, just for a moment. It may be the last time for a long time that I have the chance, and it is the only thing now that I can do for you.”

Distressed, Dapper nevertheless lies down. “I love you,” promise his hands, fixed atop his heart. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” whispers Doktor. “Whatever Anti makes you forget, do not forget that, my brother.”

cest-mellow asked: red? blue? did you hear any of that??

You find Red and Blue in their room, side-by-side and looking exhausted. Blue is hidden beneath Red’s arm, clutching at his bruising throat. They are curled around each other in the corner. Red’s eyes roam from the door to the window, from the door to the window, from the door to the window, cause these days all he does is expect an attack and protect what he can.

He meets your gaze.

“We didn’t hear anything,” he tells you lowly, clinging to Blue’s shirt. Outside the window, you can hear Doktor crying out.

Anonymous asked: What’s the shed? Is it kinda like the basement in the old house?

The shed sits just behind the house, a metallic structure more like an upside down trash and recycling unit than anything else. There isn’t a real door, just a wooden slat placed in front of a gaping hole and locked up tight when Anti doesn’t need it open. In the daytime, the metal is hot as hell, and the walls can’t be touched, and being inside it is like being baked alive. The boys try not to complain, though - the shed is a temporary place of residence, and there are people in these mountains who live in even smaller ones for their whole lives, nursing children on the dirt outside to avoid the crushing heat.

Anti leaves a camera to keep an eye on Doktor, and so you find him before you - strung up by a chain collar like he’s been hung, but low enough that the front pads of his feet can stand on the dirty ground. With the help of his arms, he can pull himself up enough to get a few deep breaths of air every few minutes.

He does not cry. His face is calm. The ground around him is littered with glue traps, and you can see mice squirming through their death throes at his feet.

“Yeah, you’re right on,” he mumbles, trying to push himself up, his calves already aching. “Seems no matter where we go, some things never change.”

Anonymous asked: Be safe, please.. -PF!H

Doktor tries to stay calm, because he knows that you’re watching. He stands strong and works to take deep, steady breaths. He will be able to stand this for some hours, as he knows from experience, but he hopes that by morning he will be let down - otherwise he may begin to suffocate.

spicydanhowell asked: uhh dok... do you ever think about suicide? i'm just wondering... you've kind of been through a lot

“Mmh,” groans Dok, straining, glad for any company, for anyone to talk to, even if he will only be able to keep it up for a few hours. “Well, everybody thinks about that sometimes, don’t they? But we have to keep living. What would happen to the others without me? What would happen to Trick? No, you don’t have to worry about that with me, you must focus on the others. Don’t worry, don’t worry. Not going to do anything like that, not anywhere other than my dreams, anyway. And even then, I don’t mean it, and it makes me cry, to see my body stretched out on the ground like that - ungh, fuck…”

He lets himself back down again. Deep breath in. Deep sigh out. “Don’t worry, don’t worry,” he mutters, rubbing his own shoulders like he’s hugging himself.

Anonymous asked: Great job, Anti. Are you really going to hurt your baby brother over something he can't control? He always wanted to do his best by you, and this is how you repay that love?

You find Anti, to your surprise, in the entry area, where Dok’s set up his clinic. He’s sorting through Red and Blue’s backpacks, a computer set on the table beside him. Every time he pulls out another bottle of pills or package of gauze or iodine ointment, you see a new line pop up on the screen. He’s taking inventory, apparently.

“Are we really doing this again?” he snaps, not even looking up at you. You don’t know how he read the message. “‘Oh, Anti, you’re so evil and rude and you mistreat your poor little idiots so much!’ Get over yourselves! Stop pretending I give a fuck about your opinions!

Anyway, Dapper’s been acting like a fucking brat for weeks now. Guess he can’t stand that Trick’s taken up all his time with his master, spoiled little whore. No, he’s never cared about what’s best for anybody but himself. Half the time I think he only plays nice to keep himself alive. He’s a little actor, that child. You should have seen him when I first kidnapped him. He was a slyer opponent than any of his brothers, I admit it. He could make himself seem like a naive, helpless, terrified little animal while hiding a knife behind his back at the same time… no, he won’t slip away from me now, no matter the cost…”

cest-mellow asked: anti, sometimes no matter how close doctors watch their patients medication, they can still take a random turn. one day the meds work fine and the next they don’t work, maybe dap’s body got so used to the haldol that he just needs a med change. this isn’t doktors fault, you KNOW how protective he is of his brother’s and how loyal he is to you. do you really think he’d ever do something like that, or let something like that happen, on purpose?

“And I - well, I know that,” admits Anti, grumbling, a little abashed. “But he should have taken that into account! And he’s been letting Dapper run around with Blue and Red and letting him spend most of the day wandering outside or even - ugh, I caught him chasing after some of those damn chickens that are wandering around. With the dirty little children, even. He should have been keeping a much closer eye on him, but all he can think about is Trick.

“Besides, it doesn’t matter if it’s his fault or not. Dapper did something wrong, so the twin bears the punishment. It’s the most effective part of this system, you know. That’s how I finally got Red in line. He wouldn’t stop fighting me until he couldn’t bear to watch Dapper cry anymore.”

Anonymous asked: Please don’t punish dok too harshly, he really did try to take care of dapper the best he could

“Not well enough. That is all that matters.”

Anonymous asked: Anti, don’t you think you’re being a little hard on Dok? I mean he’s giving his all and he’s human, he’s bound to make mistakes but he seems to be determined to fix them. You have to remember that he’s mental sorta fellow, he likes to talk facts y’know? He’s the reason you have what you have in the first place, he basically got Marvin to come home right? He’s not a failure, we just all work differently and he might not be in the right environment to excel the way you want him to.

“I… I feel like none of them are in exactly the right environment anymore. I don’t know what changed, but it changed with that night on the beach and Trick snapping… If I can just put him back together, things will go back to being better again. But for now I can’t do anything more for Doktor. Trick and Dapper have to be my focus. Dok’s functional enough.”

Anonymous asked: anti you just really like being in control huh? you know, none of the others are going to think any less of you or "fear" you less if you let dok go. seriously they'll be so much more thankful to you if you don't hurt him. dap might be extra appreciative too?

“Mmhhh,” grumbles Anti, beginning to be agitated. “No. Rules are rules. He will still resent me even if I give his Doktor back. He would just have someone to commiserate with, to rant at. Doktor’s probably been fueling his paranoia with his useless whining for Trick all day. No wonder Dapper’s brain begin to tell him I was the enemy.” He hisses, gnawing on his lips.

Anonymous asked: "Aren't you one to talk since you and your puppets sound so unhappy all the time you have to threaten them to make them stay with you.. I hate to break it to you, but in regards to your response to my master's message you're too biased to have an opinion on how he's doing. And that's coming from me." -PF!H.

“Well, little one, then you form your own opinion, and let me know if you find anything less than the grief and the regret that I see in your precious master.”

spicydanhowell asked: you're punishing dok because he's not controlling carver.... but aren't you supposed to be controlling carver??? are you admitting that he's too much for you to handle? and then you expect /doktor/ to be able to handle him?? that really makes no sense at all. you're just pinning your own failure on someone else rather than owning your incompetence.

“That’s why I’m taking him back to my side,” replies Anti coolly. “I had hoped Dok would be able to look after somebody, but clearly not. You’re quite right. Dapper should be under my arm and no one else’s. That’s the last time I give him someone else to play with.”

Anonymous asked: okay but red isn’t dok they’re not the same person

“So you admit Doktor is weaker than Red?”

Anonymous asked: You're really keen on saying you don't care when you're going so out of your way to explain it, you know. Just saying.. -PF!H

Anti growls, shoving another handful of medicine into a cabinet with a padlock on it.

juju-on-that-yeet asked: Maybe Dapper's brain is telling him that you're the enemy because...ya know...you are. You really can't pretend you aren't, not to us.

Anti’s mouth curls up into a small, self-satisfied smile.

“Mmh… haha. Kind of funny, I almost miss the days when at least some of them knew I was worth hating. Maybe I’m too deep in my own head. What would it really matter if I lost Trick? I’d figure it out with the other four. Be a shame not to have the full set, but might be better than trying so hard to fix something so shattered.

“Yes, I guess I should remember myself a little. But I’m sure Dap’s just having a psychotic episode. Even a little world-shaker like that kid couldn’t get his head free from all the work I’ve done on him for more than a year now.”

Anonymous asked: Anti, please listen to me. You think Jack made you to be hated, and useless, and wrong. He didn't, I promise you he didn't. He made you to be awe-striking. He made you to be powerful, and alluring, and beautiful. He made you to be loved, loved so much that we would write stories for you, stories where you are happy. Draw pictures of you, make videos about you, make you known in our world. We love you so much, Anti. There has to be something in you that can return that.

Anti snickers without humor. “Ha, you’re funny… He didn’t even mean to create me. Everything that’s worthwhile about myself actually comes from - ”

He cuts himself off, his mouth thinning.

“You’re all stupid little children.”

And then he’s mocking you, his mouth in a wide smile, his eyes flashing, and he looks like Jack, he looks like Jack just to fucking taunt you -

“’Oh, Anti, we love you so much, look how we adore you, look how your mouth fills up with power every time we say your name, every time your image curves across a sketch pad or fills up the lines of a document’ - don’t you think you’re all a little obsessive? Do you remember the first time you saw me?”

And he is a boy with dark green hair and a black t-shirt, holding a long kitchen knife in one hand, his eyes blank as he lifts it towards his throat and begins to dig -

“You were afraid,” says a voice that does not come from his mouth, as he slowly slits open his own throat. “But most of all, you were thrilled, and you shouted and rejoiced, drew me and wrote my name, even fucking thirsted after me, hahaha! It was so funny, the power almost made me suffocate! And it was wonderful and warm and I had everything I ever wanted, and that was because of you, little fools, that was all because of you.”

He drops the knife suddenly and the illusion falters.

And he is himself again, panting on the floor of the clinic, hurt by his own reminiscing.

“Love,” he hisses, just soft, to himself. “Love.”

the-weirdest-fan asked: Kind of a random question, but Anti, when you possess someone, can you see his thoughts? Can you just dig through someone's brain to get any information you want or..? Sorry for all the questions, you and your powers are just really fascinating!

Anti quiets a little, drawing himself back up and returning to his inventory.

>Three rolls of bandages.

>One oxygen mask.

>Large box of syringes.

“In a sense, yes, and in a sense, no. It’s more like a feeling. Nothing about thought is explicit, you know. To me, everything just looks like neurons firing, and it comes with this… sensation of thought, I suppose. So if Trickshot was distressed while I was wearing him, I would be aware of that, and I could most likely understand why enough to guess at his thoughts - I turn our gaze to Dok, he feels fear, I guess that he’s afraid his brother will be hurt. And I could actually dig down to memory sensations, if I wanted, and get images and sensations and that sort of thing out of someone’s brain. But then again, you have to be careful with memories. Humans never remember anything quite right. It’s always changed by the way they perceived it, the way they stored the memory, the things they learned afterwards that have warped it in their minds… but for the most part, yes, a person is quite transparent to me when I’m inside their head.”

Anonymous asked: Antiiiiiiiii wHeN wIlL yOu LeArN ThAt yOuR aCtIoNs hAvE CoNsEquEnCeS— stop saying you’ll fix him!!! He’ll end up just like Trick!

“No, you’re wrong!” snaps Anti, looking, for all his talk, a little frightened again. “You don’t understand anything! Dapper’s always been my little pet, ever since I broke him in. Nothing’s going to take him away from me, least of all his own hands.”

For a moment, he softens again, digging peacefully through the backpack. “You know,” he says, almost fondly. “He actually is such a tough little creature, for all that I tease him. You should see him tussle. Even with me, he’s a little ferocity, snapping his teeth and - ”

Anti gasps aloud, dropping the bottle of pills he’d just picked up back into the bag as if it had burned him.

He kneels over the backpack, panting, clutching at his chest.

On the computer screen: >One bottle of Percocet.

Anti sits there for a long time, gripping at his jeans, his eyes clear and blue.

And then he heaves like he’s going to throw up, and turns away from you gagging, trying, without success, to drag himself to his feet.

Anonymous asked: Can't take the blame, can you? Figued as much. You're too much of a coward to face that the damage that's been done to your self-proclaimed family was only worsened when you took them from their old lives. Broke them. Made them into hollow shells of who they were meant to be. The funny part, you know.. Is that you think this eill make you feel like you're important, or worth something. Noboy wanted you so your forced people to. Kind of sad, isn't it? - PF!A

Anti screams aloud, slamming his fist down on the clinic floor. Glitches pierce through the air as well as the camera screen, making the whole house shudder, and you hear scrambling as Blue and Red hide beneath their mattresses in the other room, tucked close together, and they love each other more than Anti has ever been loved by a single thing in his whole life.

Blood spits down Anti’s chin as he shakes.

His hatred is eating him alive.

Anonymous asked: ...Look.. ..I do pity you, you know. God knows I understand having such a terrible upbringing like you did. As much as your actions make me want to hate you.. I don't. I really don't. There's still time to fix all this. ACTUALLY fix all this. You know that. This way of living isn't just hurting the others, but you as well. It doesn't have to be this way. That love the fans gave you was hollow, you know. It doesn't have to be, if you decide to change for the better. -PF!A

Anti is bent over the clinic sink, heaving as blood drizzles down his chin. His eyes are black as starlessness and his arms shake as they struggle to hold him up.

“I don’t want,” he whispers, licking copper from his mouth. “Your fucking pity.”

And his body flickers out of your sight, gone from every camera in the house.

 End Section Two of Chapter Two.

Find the next section here.

[cathwritestragediesnotsins]

A deal with the devil

Dean Winchester x reader

occurs after crossroad blues!!

word count: 2,930

Summary: Y/N is pissed at Dean after he considers selling his soul

As soon as we arrive at the motel I hop out of the car. Both boys had noticed I was a little off after the hunt but weren't sure if they should mention it. It became very clear how pissed I was when I slammed the door of the Impala as hard as I could. The duo shares a look before getting out and following me.

I marched straight to my room, pulling out my key and fumbling with it in the poor lighting for a moment before fitting it into the slot. But just as I was about to close the door a hand reached out and snatched at the edge, preventing me from pulling it closed.

I spin around, fully prepared to yell at Dean, only to see Sam looking at me with his sad eyes. "What?" I huff in annoyance, I back down a bit but put my hand that isn't resting on the doorknob onto my hip to emphasize just how furious I am. But Sam doesn't back down.

"You should talk to him." he says simply, giving me a sympathetic look before releasing the door from his giant hand and walking away toward his own room. I watch him go for a moment before I see Dean approaching the doorway and quickly remember the night's events. I turn, leaving the door open behind me for my boyfriend but not acknowledging him at all other than that.

I grab my bag and begin to peel off my dirty, sweaty and bloodied clothes from the hunt and dress for bed without a word to Dean. Finally, he snaps.

"Ok, are you going to tell me why the hell you're mad at me or are you going to break up with me?" Dean snarks, aggressively throwing his shirt onto the floor. I roll my eyes as I turn down the sheets. "Seriously? You don't get to mad at me." I retort. He groans in response. My voice rises to be heard over his grumbling. "I'm not the one who tried to sell my soul to the devil." I comment off-handedly. "That's what this is about?!" he says incredulously. "Yes, Dean. Yes. I'm upset that my boyfriend almost sold his soul. Sorry!" I sass, tossing a pillow at him. He catches it and glares at me "Well I didn't do it so I don't see what the big deal is!" he shouts at me.

I scoff in anger fueled by a deep hurt. "The big deal, Dean, is that you didn't even stop to think for a moment about how that would destroy me. And Sam? Did either of us even cross your mind?" I shout but my voice is beginning to break with pain and tears gather in my eyes. "I still can't believe you actually considered it! How could you do that Dean?! How could you do that to me?? How could you even think about leaving me alone here?" The tears are streaking down my cheeks now and my lip quivers as I fight against the urge to sob.

"Y/N..." Dean sighs, running a hand through his hair.

"No! Don't 'Y/N' me! I just-I can't with you right now Dean. You fucked up, majorly. You were selfish and immature..." I trail off and my voice switches from a firm, chastising tone to an unbearably vulnerable one. "I just don't understand......"

I'm quiet for a long moment as I try to keep from breaking down completely. Dean watches me guiltily but I can tell he still doesn't understand why I'm so upset. I shake my head and look down in despair, watching my tears drop onto the carpet, leaving wet spots. I thought I made him understand. I thought I could make him understand. And it hurts that I was wrong.

I grip another one of the pillows, that I hadn't noticed I'd picked up off the bed, against my chest. "I think...I need some time. I'm going to stay in Sam's room tonight." I whisper, still avoiding looking up at him. I know if I look up and see the beautiful man that I love and almost lost I won't be able to hold myself together anymore.

I can hear him open his mouth to say something but when nothing comes I drop the pillow, grab my phone from the nightstand and breeze past him on my way out the door. I realize my hands are shaking when I step out into the heavy, humid summer night. I stand there in mild shock for a moment, allowing the heat to chase away the chill in my bones and the chirping of the crickets to lull me into a calmer state. I clutch my hands to my chest and shuffle down the porch to Sam's room a few doors down. All I want to do at this very moment is lay down on the floor and never move again. The weight of the pain feels like it's crushing me. Nothing feels certain anymore. Our problems feel un-fixable.

When I reach room number 19 I lean my head wearily against Sam's door, suddenly unsure if I should knock.  Not because I doubt that he'd let me in. But because it's been an equally stressful day for him. And because I am too drained to talk about things. I am running on empty and my only safe-haven is unavailable to me. It's the worst feeling in the world. So despite my doubts, I knock.

I can hear rustling and the bed creaking before the lock turns and Sam appears in place of the door. "Hey, Y/N, are you alright?" he questions and my composure slips. I shake my head as my chest heaves and I bite my lips to keep from crying. Without another word he steps back from the doorway and ushers me into his room, identical to the one I was just in.

I stop and stand there dumbly in the middle of the room. 'What is happening?' is all I can think, because this hurts like some horrible nightmare. I feel a blanket being draped over my shoulders and I grip it tightly, welcoming the comfort it provides. Sammy grabs me by my shoulders from behind and guides me to the bed. He pulls down the quilt and climbs in ahead of me, situating himself before reaching out for me. I comply, slipping into the double bed beside him with my blanket still tucked around me.

He wraps his arms around me and tugs me closer to his large chest. I nuzzle my face into the pillow in sadness. I love Sam, he's like a brother to me but his arms are not my home, his smell is not the one that brings a smile to my lips. "He's an idiot." Sam whispers, kissing lightly behind my ear. I laugh sadly, though his joke helps me to relax a bit. "Yeah...but he's our problem." I feel Sam nod from where his chin is fitted to rest on my head. "I just don't understand Sam. He really still doesn't get it. Even after everything he still thinks he means nothing to us. He still doesn't understand that I need him. And I knew he didn't know it but... I never thought it was bad enough that he would die willingly."

Sam breaths in and out heavily before answering. "Dean's always been so focused on taking care of everyone else that it never really occurred to him that he was important too." the younger Winchester explains. "Even growing up, he pushed anyone he got close with away. Not because he didn't want them, but because he was afraid he was toxic to them. Or that they would somehow get in the way of him being there for me."

"I know. I understand. I've been there. But at some point you either choose your self-hate over everything and everyone else or you let them love you. His self-loathing is his worst quality. Probably the only thing I hate about him. And it's frustrating because I know it's possible to overcome it. And I'm trying so hard to get him to work on it. But he hates himself enough that he thinks it's not even worth the effort. But he's the most amazing person I've ever met. And it hurts, it feels like I'm failing him if I can't show him that."

"You're not failing him Y/N. I think it's just going to take him a long time before he realizes he is his own worst enemy. Until then we just have to keep fighting an uphill battle." Sam says, sounding weary both physically and emotionally. I nod in agreement.

We're both quiet for awhile and I am on the verge of sleep when a thought comes to me. I snort out an amused laugh.

"I wish we could 'It's a wonderful life' his ass" I state, quietly in case Sam is already asleep.

I know he's not though when I feel his body start to shake with laughter and his familiar, deep, rumble of a laugh peals through the silence.

                                                                     ----------------

I woke up that morning, my head buzzing with clarity. I suddenly knew exactly what I needed to do.

I slipped out of the room while Sam was in the shower, careful to avoid being seen by either of the brothers and started the walk to my destination. After all there was no sense in taking the Impala on a one way trip.

The sun had risen high in the sky and it scorched the back of my neck with it's heat. I reached the place I was headed for within the hour and walked exactly to the center of the crossroads. I kneeled down and dug away at the dirt with my fingers. It was still loose from last night and a chill ran up my spine at the reminder of what had almost been done. My fingers clanged against metal and I locked them around the small tin.

I pulled it out of the hole and brushed the dirt from it  before opening it. It's contents had all clearly been there for quite some time, with the acception of Dean's picture. I removed it and traded it out for a picture of my own, one Sam had taken on the road. The window was down and I was clearly laughing, looking with admiration in my eyes to the driver's seat where Dean was no doubt sitting. I looked so happy. My heart became heavy at the happy memory.

I shook the thoughts away and placed the picture inside the container before swinging the lid shut and putting it back in the ground. I didn't have to wait long after I'd covered it with dirt.

"You called?" a deep voice said and I spun around quickly to see a tall, lean, muscular man with dark hair that swept down over his eyes. Hmm. Dean had said the woman that appeared to him was very beautiful, guess they took the form of a visually appealing person. I rolled my eyes. He was flawless to look at but I knew that perfect vessel held a twisted soul. And I had seen what real beauty looked like. I had given my heart to him.

"Obviously. I need to make a deal." I said, cutting right down to business. I would not be toyed with.

The demon smirks and quirks a brow in interest. "Go on..."

I gulp in anxiety but grit my jaw to cover it. I will not allow my weakness to be prayed upon by this beast. My whole body is alight with panic. It tingles and dances over my skin but I am detached from it.

"My soul for Dean Winchester's happiness. That is all I want. For him to not have to live in torment anymore." I state, stepping forward.

He barks out a taunting laugh at my request. He flashes me a bright, white smile. "You are so amusing, you humans. So pathetic. You will really sell your soul just to make him happy? Ha!"

"Is that a no then?" I say, raising my brows in challenge. He sobers up a bit, though I still see the spark of amusement in his eyes. He hums, pretending to think it over. I roll my eyes for the second time, "I don't have all day."

He laughs again before stepping towards me and extending his hand for me to take. "Sounds good to me." he says, licking his lips. I subconsciously do the same as I mentally prepare myself for what comes next. I swat away his hand and step forward, rising onto my tip toes to reach him. He smirks at me once again and leans down, closing his eyes. Our lips are mere inches from touching, sealing the deal.

"Hey!"

I yank away from the demon to see Dean marching toward us furiously. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" he shouts. My faces drains of color. I wasn't planning on this. I turn back and look at the demon who places a hand on my cheek in an attempt to lure me in again. I look to Dean. "I have to do this." I explain. I can see his eyes widen in surprise before I return to my previous position. He won't reach us in time. I know it, he knows it and the demon knows it. "Let's finish this." I whisper, having to take a moment to regain my courage after the interruption. I wring out my hands nervously and spring up to kiss him when suddenly the sound of a shot rings out and the demon is flung back from me. I gape in shock. I turn and see Dean lowering his rifle. "Stay away from my girlfriend!" he roars, stomping past me to get to the demon who looks at me and hisses. "You planned this didn't you!"

"No! Dean, c'mon this is none of your business. Go home. Let me make my deal."

My boyfriend turns to me and the look of anger mixed with betrayal feels like a bullet lodging in my chest. "None of my business?!" he says and I flinch at his tone. He turns back to the demon and mercilessly empties more salt rounds into it until it disappears completely. We both take a moment to watch it's form disintegrate into black dust and dance on the wind up into the sky. Once he is sure it's been taken care of he turns on me.

"Explain. Now." he growls. My eyes dart around, avoiding his piercing gaze as I try to find the words. "I just, wanted to help you. And I didn't know how else to." I say. I hate how small my voice sounds but the words wring with vulnerable truth.

"Well certainly not like this!" he yells, throwing his hands up and gesturing wildly with frustration. "Ok," I shout back, shocked at his reaction and suddenly angered by his words. "Then please tell me how I can help because I have no fucking idea!" I run a hand through my hair roughly and start to pace. "You won't talk to me anymore, you won't listen to me. Ever since John died all you think about is him and I know you're hurting but that's really fucking unfair Dean. I've lost people too. But you don't live your life focused on the dead. Because they're dead! So don't push away the people who are still here and actually care! Your Dad died because he knew, just like everybody else, that you are special, Dean; you're important. No one made him sell his life for yours. He chose to because he loved you! But you never allow yourself to see any of that. You walk around, carrying all of this shit that's not even your fault and you're so consumed by it that you push away the people who love you! And dammit Dean I fucking love you. I will say it over and over and over again because I know what it's like to be insecure but I also know that there's a difference between being insecure and punishing yourself. So if you aren't going to let me love you then... I can't keep doing this." my voice lowers dramatically as I say those last words because even though I know I'm doing the right thing it hurts so much.

He stops short, taken aback. He looks scared. He covers the distance between us and pulls me into him, hugging me tightly as if he's afraid I'll disappear. "I can't lose you." he whispers into my neck where he is hiding his face. My body sags with relief. I return the embrace and reach up a hand to card through his blond hair. "Then don't" I whisper, pleadingly.

He rocks us back and forth, still not letting me go. "I'll do better." he promises. I hear tears in his voice. "I love you so much Y/N. I won't lose you. Please stay. I'm sorry."

I stroke my palm over his neck to calm him down as he works himself up. It feels good to be the calm one for once; to see him let out all of his pent up hurt and show that our relationship matters to him as much as it does to me.

"I love you too Dean. I'm not going anywhere. I love you. Thank you."

[omarbelloutiworld]

A Letter to Those Who Don’t Understand Depression

Not knowing what to say to other people about your depression is totally understandable. If this is a struggle for you, you’re most certainly not the only one. Aside from the nearly impossible task of explaining what it feels like to have depression, it’s also super difficult to ask your friends and family for help. Even when you do work up the courage to ask them for help, how the hell are you supposed to know what to tell them when they ask you how they can be supportive?

   Society is flooded with misconceptions about depression. We are constantly bombarded with the message that we should be thankful, motivated, and happy because of all that we have in life. We are told that we should be able to easily shake off adversity to continue on our paths. It’s no wonder people give such terrible advice when they hear that you are depressed. It can be frustrating and exhausting to try to explain it to people. All of the effort that you have at your disposal is being spent on keeping yourself afloat while you struggle through this. Sometimes it just feels like too much to bother trying to make someone understand. This can lead to irritation and telling people things like “I’m fine”, “Don’t worry about it”, or “Never mind”. I want to try to ease this burden for you a little bit.

Dear ___________,

You are getting this letter because you are an important person in my life, and I want you to understand more about what I’m going through. I know that I can be difficult and I’m sorry for that. I know that I probably don’t

need to be sorry, but I am. In fact, I feel guilty for feeling sorry in the first place. Ridiculous, I know. That’s how my brain works because I have depression... and yes, my mind is an exhausting place. I want to give you this letter to help you understand a little more about what I am going through, ask for some grace as I work this crap out, and to suggest a few ways that you can best support me if you are willing.

        The first thing I want you to know is that I am trying. Or, rather ... I am trying to try. You see, 1 and 1 don’t always add up to 2 with depression. There are legitimate biological differences between me and someone who doesn’t live with depression, which makes this a really difficult uphill battle. I am literally fighting against my biology which tries to tell me that none of this is worth it and that I shouldn’t even try. When people say things like,“Just think positively,” or “It’s all in your head,” it does not help at all. I know it’s in my head, but unfortunately it is not as easy as flipping a switch and suddenly feeling better. I know that probably have 1000 reasons to be happy, and sometimes I feel like the worst person ever for being so down all the time despite them.

          Fighting off depression is not a simple task. If it was, I would have done it already. Trust me when I say that I am so tired of feeling like crap all of the time. I am actively trying to take steps to better myself and steal some of my life back from this depressive monster that has crept in like a black cloud raining over all of my thoughts and feelings. The process will involve challenging my negative thought patterns, pushing myself to re-engage with things that I used to enjoy, working to forgive myself for letting things get so out of hand, and finding people that I trust to be on my team. That’s why you are reading this. I want you to be on my team. I know that I have not been the easiest person to be around recently. Maybe my actions or inactions have even hurt you in some way. The thing is, I need support to dig myself out of these patterns. I don’t need a yes or no answer from you right now, but I want to share a few things that do and do not help me in case you are ever willing to lend a hand.

           For now, this has to be on my terms. I am feeling more broken and fragile than I would like to admit. Down the line, I might need a bit of a push, but for now, tough love is not what I need. That means that unsolicited advice that worked for you or someone else is probably not helpful. Unfortunately, there

is no one size fits all approach to depression. It’s a very individualized sort of beast. Also, being told that what I am going through is not that bad is very hurtful for me. I know that it might not be logical for me to feel this way given my life circumstances. I know it could be worse and that there are many others in the world who have it worse. That’s just how depression works. Intellectually knowing something and feeling it are two very different experiences. I’m working to make them more in sync.

         Though my instinct tells me otherwise, it’s probably not the best idea for me to be alone all of the time right now. So, please have a little grace and forgiveness with me if I get irritated or act in off-putting ways. I do want you to be here, and I really appreciate you continuing to try. I feel like a lot of people have given up on me. I don't want you to be one of them.

           Probably the most helpful thing that you can do for me is to let me know that you are here. I forget sometimes, so please don't assume that I already know. Tell me that you are here if I need you. I won’t always know the best ways that you can help me, and you don’t have to either. I mostly just need to know that I’m not on this journey alone.

        Like I said, a big part of this process of recovery is finding ways to fight back against these unhelpful patterns of thinking that I have fallen into. Sometimes, it can be really helpful to have someone that I can rely on as a “logical barometer.” Basically, I can tell you what my train of thought is regarding a situation, and you can tell me whether you think it makes sense or not. You can share how you, as a non-depressed person, might interpret it. That helps me to practice reeling in the overgeneralizing, personalizing, and overall amplification of negative thoughts. My thoughts usually start outrooted in reality, but they get way blown out of proportion, and you could definitely help me out by nonjudgmentally letting me know how far off my thinking has gone. You don’t have to be “right” to help me out with this. There are really no right or wrong answers, but I will be much better off if I have a few people that I can get input from when I am doubting my initial interpretation of things.

         I am trying to do more. This might mean that I am trying to get back to doing things that I used to enjoy, because everything feels very bland right now. It also might mean that I am trying to get off of my butt and be more physically active. It is so incredibly hard to find the motivation inside myself to do these

things. One change that can give me more motivation to follow through with plans is when I have a buddy to do them along with me. Maybe you could be that person. I don’t mean that you need to do everything with me, but if there is something that you enjoy that I might benefit from, maybe consider inviting me along. Speaking of inviting me along, I won’t always say yes. Even if it is something as simple as going to dinner or the movies, sometimes it feels like the weight of my symptoms are literally crushing me, and I will pass on almost any invitation. Please keep inviting me. You don’t need to waste all of your time trying to convince me, just don’t give up on me. Keep offering, please.

        Finally, I would be so grateful if you would help other people understand what I am going through. Hopefully at this point, you “get it” a little more. Depression is something that we are told to keep a secret, and it is really hard for me to share my feelings sometimes. You are reading this letter because I trust you and want you to be on my team. It is exhausting for me to reach out to each person and ask for help, so if you could help other friends and family understand when they ask what is wrong with me, I would really appreciate it.

       If you are reading this far, that means that I was right about you. You are amazing and a perfect addition to my depression fighting team. Like I said before, I really am trying. This is a tough battle, and I don’t know how long it will take, but having allies like you will certainly make the process that much easier. I am not asking for a blank slate. I know that I can sometimes say ordo things that make me not so pleasant to be around. That's the nature of the beast. You are allowed to be upset, angry, hurt, or annoyed at those things. I just ask that you try to understand that these things are an expression of my depressive symptoms. They may be a part of me, but they are not the whole me. I hope this letter helps you to understand a little more about the other part of me that is dying for a chance to get out into the world.

Sincerely,

     ______________________

[shellheadtm-a]

@shieldslinger​ | ❝ you don’t have to talk, we can just sit together. ❞

“No, I want to.”  It’s not a want.  Not precisely.  It’s a need.  There’s a weight that gets heavier on his chest every day that goes by; it feels dishonest, a thing he’s sworn, when this got started, he wouldn’t do anymore.  That he’d do his absolute best, not to keep anything from Steve.  That he wouldn’t hide anymore, he wouldn’t lie, he wouldn’t...Be that Tony anymore.  It’s not a decision he’s made lightly, or easily:  He’s been lying to Steve, in some way or another, since the beginning.  His identity, his heart problem, the fact that he’s been in love for him what’s been...Nearly his entire adult life, even if at times it seemed so obvious and that the whole world had to be aware of it, though Steve never said a word.  Other, bigger things:  The Illuminati, the infinity gems, the inversion, the bombs.  Too many lies and half truths told over the years while swallowing back bile because the guilt churns in his stomach every time he tells himself he has to, that it’s better that way.  That he’ll find a way to make it right, to make it up to Steve.  

And when this started, he had opened up - mostly - let Steve see all the dark and dirty parts of his soul that he could stand to expose.  Had finally admitted how much he missed Steve, when they were at odds, when they weren’t speaking, when...Well.  When there were times that it felt like Steve hated him, would never speak to him again, and how Tony very well knew it was all his fault.  It had hurt, doing that.  Had terrified him.  He’d wanted to cling back so very hard and at the same time knew he couldn’t, not without doing that.  Not without clearing the air then as much as he could.

And for the most part, he’s stuck to that promise he’s made.  He has to catch himself, sure, to not start hiding things.  To not close down and shutter himself off.  To remember that if Steve says he has his back, then Steve has his back, and he can take that to the bank.  But it still leaves him feeling raw, feeling vulnerable.  Unsteady and shaky, exposing that much of himself, with none of the masks and shields up.  And for all that, it’s been worth it.  Every bit of it.  He doesn’t deserve this, after everything he’s done, what he can and can’t remember, but he’s selfish.  He wants it.  Needs it like air.  And in the end, splitting himself open and letting what’s...Broken be seen is a small price to pay to have it.

Steve still deserves worlds better.  But he tries not to say things like that anymore.  Tries not to think things like that, tries to make himself believe otherwise.  It’s an uphill battle most days, he’s Sisyphus against the Zeus that is his own brain, trying and trying to finally reach the top of the mountain so that he can actually believe it.  So that he can maybe one day stop the days where he’s on edge, waiting on Steve to cut his losses and run, as far as he can, from the disaster that is Tony, and just...Enjoy it.  Enjoy them.  He just hopes it doesn’t take him another ten, fifteen years to get there.  He has so much lost time he wants to make up for, even if that train of thought is never going to lead him to anywhere good.

“I want to,” he says again, and stops himself from reaching out to take Steve’s hands.  “And...I want you to just listen, okay, Winghead, just...Let me...Get this out first.”  Being honest, neither of them are great at talking like this.  It’s caused so many problems and misunderstandings.  And he doesn’t...Want to live like that anymore.  No matter where it takes him.  If he can be honest, that’s what matters, in the end.

He takes a steadying breath, and pushes forward.  “I’ve lied to you.  I know...I know, we’ve been through this, it’s over, it’s done, it’s the past.  There’s no point in talking about it anymore, I know that.  I have to live with what I’ve done, and I’m...I’m doing that.  I shouldn’t be rewarded for it, and sometimes it feels like...Maybe I am.”  He clasps his hands together, putting them between his knees, because otherwise he knows he’s going to start to fidget.  This probably has come out all wrong, sounds dire.  He doesn’t know how to fix that except to keep soldiering on.

“But I never...I’ve never confessed to the biggest lie I’ve told.  And I need to.  I need to get this...Last...Sin.  At least out of my own head.”  Okay.  Alright.  It’s fine, everything is going to be fine.  And even if it’s not, he can deal with that.  He has to.  It’s what he does.  His hands are clenched so tight around each other his knuckles stand out sharply, white, in contrast.  It’s stupid.  All the lies he’s ever told and this is the one that has him twisted up in knots the most.  He knows why.  It’s not that it’s a lie.  It’s what he’s lied about.  And he can’t...He can’t go forward, one way or another, if...Steve still thinks that.  He can’t.

“You...I used you.”  He had.  He’d confessed to it, when caught out in it.  When Steve had gotten his memories back.  He can still remember the feeling of that well-deserved swing colliding with his face like a freight train.  He’d known Steve would react that way, when they’d done it.  When Stephen had cast the spell.  It had only been meant as a temporary measure, and he knew the day would come when Steve would come for him.  “And I told you...I told you I’d do it again.”

So smug, like it hadn’t hurt, deep down, to tell him that.  So matter of fact.  The Tony Stark song and dance.  He’d been out of options and well past believing anything, anything at all, could ever happen.  That after that, Steve Rogers would give him one more chance.  The world was going to end and they had no morally viable ways to stop it, and he’d decided to say fuck it, burn his bridges as fast as he could and run.

He was going to die anyway, he was going to die alone, it didn’t matter anymore.

And he’d been wrong.

“I wouldn’t.  I can’t.  It was a lie then and it’s a lie now and...It just sits there in the back of my head like a...Like a fucking intrusive thought, you know, things will be great, we’ll...We’ll be doing something so goddamn innocuous and I’ll look at you and all I can think about is telling you that and how you probably think I meant it and I never did.  Not once, not ever.  The world was ending and I couldn’t fix it, I couldn’t...I couldn’t save anyone but I couldn’t save you and I thought...I thought maybe it would be better if you believed that.  I didn’t...I didn’t want you to be there, to watch me fail.”

They should have been together, then, back to back, as the world ended.  He sees that now.  Not...Not what ultimately happened.  They should have gone down together.  But Tony had been scared and guilt-riddled and cornered and he’d done the one thing he always does in that situation once making himself small fails to save him; he provoked.  And then everything that had followed...It didn’t bear thinking about.  Not now.  Not anymore.  He understands it.  Part of it was a mind whammy he’d done to himself.  Part of it was sheer terror.  Part of it was simple shame.  He’d failed.  He’d failed so hard.

“I just-”  He pauses for a moment, forcing his hands to unclench from around each other.  “I never meant it.  I don’t...I don’t want...To be that, anymore.  I don’t want you to think that anymore.  I want it all to be over, but it can’t be, or couldn’t be, until I...Until I did this.”  And now it’s done, one way or another.  He forces himself to look up then, to meet Steve’s eyes, to not duck back down, look away, and not fill the rest of the space with the deflection he usually likes to throw in after this kind of confession, and it’s hard.  It’s very hard.  He’s Iron Man.  He’s...Probably helped save the world a hundred times over the years, faced things he’d never wish on his worst enemies, but holding back the babbling to fill that space, and being brave enough to actual look up, keep his gaze steady, is maybe the hardest thing he thinks he’s ever had to do.  “And...That’s it.  Tony Stark’s last great sin.  I wanted...I wanted you to think...You mean less to me than you do, when the truth is...Nothing else has ever meant as much as you do.  Ever.  Not since...Not since the day we met.”

soft caring starters | accepting

[pyropsychiccollector]

            It hadn’t been a short and easy battle. Irene Belserion was the strongest woman in Alvarez – and a dragon on top of that. Erza had done the brunt of the fighting, even in her weakened state, but her attacks had only been effective because Wendy had entered the fray to assist her with support Enchantments. On top of that, it took Sting stepping up when Erza got to be on her last legs, and when Wendy was endangered.

            Two Dragon Slayers and Fairy Tail’s strongest woman. And they still nearly lost that battle. If it hadn’t been for Gildarts’s timely arrival, they would’ve been crushed by a meteor that Irene summoned… The battle would’ve continued, too, if it wasn’t for August’s interference when the battle was winding down.

             “That’s quite enough, Irene. Stand down.” August ordered as he stood between Irene and her enemies. Despite being in her battered state, Irene glared at the Magic King ferociously.

            “August…!” The redhead snarled before clutching at her side painfully. She was bleeding profusely, the blood caked her gloved hand as she held her side and breathed laboriously.

            August merely shook his head.

            “The war amongst the humans is over, Irene. Despite the odds stacked against them, Ishgar has earned the right to live. It is not our place to cause them any more grief.”

            Irene clenched her bloodstained hand as it remained at her side; the glare she was sending August intensified by a lot.

            “It’s not over…” Irene hissed, taking one shaky step forward. “… until every last soldier on one side is dead…! We still outnumber these fools, and you alone could crush every last one of them like ants! Why do you hesitate in avenging His Majesty’s death?!”

            August didn’t answer right away, but when he did, he looked the redheaded Dragon Slayer dead in the eyes.

            “Because His Majesty desired death. Or did you forget that was one of his goals?” August gave Irene’s opponents a side glance. “Whether you admit it or not, we will need to ally with Ishgar to exterminate Acnologia. Neither you nor I have the power to kill him, and should I allow this fight to play out to the bitter end, we may very well lose potential resources because you are too proud to admit that you have lost. Humans stand no chance against a dragon… And Dragon Slayers have only marginally better chances; even God Serena was struck down in a single blow.”

            Irene quivered in rage.

            “With the Fairy Heart, I can fight Acnologia by myself…! We don’t need their help to win Ragnarok!”

            August closed his eyes and breathed out his nose exasperatedly.

            “If you continue to act so foolishly, I will let them execute you. With the blood you have spilled, you know they will not restrain themselves; they will kill you.” He looked to Erza and Wendy especially, both looking grieved and angered over Mira’s loss. He turned back to Irene with a stony expression. “This is your only warning. As Commander of the Spriggan 12, I am formally surrendering to Fairy Tail. If you make another move against them, it will be treated as an act of rebellion, and you will be ousted and branded as a traitor.”

            None of Irene’s rage subsided. She looked every bit as murderous as she did during the whole fight. Nevertheless, she did not attempt to call August’s bluff. With her body still tense, though, she did press for more information.

            “… And so? What is your noble plan for ‘cooperation’? The Spriggan 12 has been whittled down to just me and you. Fairy Tail has exhausted themselves to even reach this point. I can’t hold up Universe One forever, so Acnologia will most certainly be arriving very soon. If Acnologia could kill God Serena with a single blow, what chance do these far less experienced Dragon Slayers have? They are but children, taught by the husks of dragons that Acnologia slaughtered long ago. They have no chance against that malevolent force of nature.”

            “Not on their own, no.” August calmly conceded that point. “As of now, our only hope lies with them, because they are Dragon Slayers. You are correct that Fairy Heart would possess the power that we need to overcome Acnologia… But you are shortsighted in regards to who should be given that power.”

            Irene’s eyes narrowed into slits as she processed August’s words.

            “You truly are hedging your bets on them…” Irene muttered in displeasure.

            “You are no longer in a state where it would be safe to absorb the complete Fairy Heart.” August intoned. “We were fairly confident that His Majesty could handle the strain of that power, as he was immortal. But you are on your last legs, and are struggling to maintain Universe One as it stands.”

            “You planned this.” Irene accused with such certainty. August shook his head at her evident frustration and bitterness. Her misguided frustration and bitterness.

            “I had not planned for Invel to usurp control of the Twelve from me. You and Invel both brought this upon yourselves.” Seeing a waspish objection on the tip of her tongue, August cut her off. “I did stand aside to let you and Fairy Tail battle it out… Though it was more of a test for them. To see if they had the strength to stand beside us as allies.”

            Irene stewed in her spiteful bitterness, but did not challenge that assertion. Instead, deciding to challenge the plan itself.

            “… What makes you think they would stand the strain better than I could?”

            The answer surprised Irene, as well as the Fairy Tail Wizards and Dragon Slayers within earshot.

            “Because you are going to bestow portions of Fairy Heart onto each of the Dragon Slayers – not the whole of it on one individual.”

            ~*~

            The war had ended on that day, within a matter of a couple of hours. It was an uphill battle… and they nearly didn’t make it. There were more casualties, and Acnologia didn’t hold back in the slightest. He fought to exterminate dragons and humankind together, but in the end, he did fall. He fell to six Dragon Slayers that were far younger, far more inexperienced than him; and he was foiled by a woman that he had never known was a dragon until her final moments, when he slaughtered her in order to remove the “bigger” threats.

            Acnologia spread himself too thin, attempting to kill everyone that fell within his field of vision. He was destruction incarnate, a “grim reaper” far more terrifying than Bloodman had been, when he was brought back as a Historia. He left such a broad swathe of carnage in his wake, there were contingents of Fairy Tail Wizards and Alvarez soldiers set aside for evacuating Magnolia’s citizens while the battle raged on. Brandish, as exhausted as she was, minimized the death toll as much as she could, but it was a bloodbath regardless.

            Jellal… Jellal had been one of the casualties. He was the only member of Crime Sorciere to have perished in the final battle, but he had done so to buy some Fairy Tail members, as well as Kagura Mikazuchi, enough time to evacuate some civilians. His act of kindness was met with a claw piercing through his chest, heart and all. Though Kagura still never forgave the man for murdering her brother all those years ago, she did thank the man in death for his noble sacrifice.

            A mere day after that battle had ended, Fairy Tail took the time to mourn and bury their dead before they set about repairing all the damage to Magnolia. Natsu… Mira… Master Makarov… Macao… Wakaba… Droy… Warrod Sequen, as well as the other Gods of Ishgar… They lost so much in this war. They thought the war with Tartaros had been the worst that they would ever go through, but they were so, so wrong…

            “I can’t believe I lost my other sister…” Elfman’s voice cracked as he, Lisanna, Cana, and a few others stood huddled in front of the new graves in Kardia Cathedral’s cemetery. Natsu’s grave was right next to Mira’s, so it wasn’t uncommon to see such a large crowd paying their respects as the day went on. Both Natsu and Mira easily made up a large part of the backbone of the guild; it really hurt Erza to inscribe the names on those graves, but she wouldn’t have anyone else do it. That burden was hers alone. Laxus took responsibility for his Grandfather’s grave, after all…

            “I can’t believe she’s gone, either, Elf…” Lisanna’s eyes drooped mournfully as she rubbed his back consolingly. Now she knew exactly how Mira and Elfman felt, when they thought she died all those years ago.

            Cana rubbed her arm gingerly as she stared down at the grave, glancing at Natsu’s out of the corner of her eye.

            “It sucks… Out of everyone that could have died, why did it have to be them?” Cana didn’t even resist when Gildarts appeared out of nowhere and wrapped her up in a bone-crushing hug. She was too drained from crying, and for being there for Lucy, who cried enough for everyone.

            “It’s going to be a very different Fairy Tail, that’s for sure…” Laxus murmured from his place over by the Thunder Legion, which was close by Makarov’s grave. The Dragon Slayer had stepped aside so that others could pay their respects to his Gramps.

            “We’re going to need a new Master…” Freed breathed a heavy sigh. He looked to Laxus with a weary smile. “Laxus, perhaps you could…?”

            But the blond shook his head slowly.

            “No way I’m cut out for it. Even if you don’t count the stunt I pulled at the Fantasia Parade, I still wasn’t able to do anything to stop that knucklehead from running off and getting himself killed… And ironically, Mira ended up doing pretty much the same thing.” Laxus gave a long, tired sigh as he looked down at the ground, a hand gripping his elbow in frustration as he crossed his arms. “I hear Erza turned down the role, too… Though I can’t say I blame her.”

            Evergreen reeled back in shock.

            “Titania refused, too?!”

            Bickslow rubbed the back of his head as he grunted sourly.

            “I think you guys are bein’ too hard on yourselves! I mean, if any of the rest of us does it, we’ll be makin’ way worse mistakes!”

            Laxus gave a subdued smirk at that.

            “It’s not about being ‘qualified’… I mean hell, it’s not like I expect Happy to step up or something.” Laxus rolled his eyes at the absurd thought. “Besides, it’s not like me and Erza are retiring! I’ll always be happy to lend the new leader a hand in getting everyone to settle down, and I’m sure Erza will, too. Erza and I… we just won’t have the heart to keep it up for long. As selfless as we are, we’re not impervious to pain; we’re going to need time to grieve and make peace with ourselves. And considering what we lost this time… that may take a while. Especially for Erza.”

            The Thunder Legion grew pensive as Laxus brought up that point. It’s not like they didn’t know Erza had lost a great deal… they had all lost the same precious people, after all. To them, however, Erza had always been this unbreakable, indomitable knight that stood at the helm when everyone else needed time to recover. Recognizing that this would be one of those rare times when she just wouldn’t be able to bounce back and take charge… it was an eye-opener for them.

            Laxus carried on as they ruminated on that.

            “I can also probably guess that Gildarts isn’t going to accept, either… He’s gonna put up a front as best as he can, but he’s shaken just as much as me and Erza are. Natsu was like a son to him, and he always had a soft spot for Mira. Not to mention how close he was with Gramps… I wouldn’t be surprised if he hit the road tomorrow on another journey. He’s always been a free spirit, but this time it might be his way to cope as well.”

            That gave them even more food for thought… And it really begged the question, who was the next Guildmaster going to be? It was looking to be pretty slim pickings, at this point…

            ~*~

            Toward the back of the throng of mourners, Gajeel leaned against the wall of Kardia Cathedral as he stared at his fellow Dragon Slayer curiously.

            “You’re stickin’ around?” The iron eater asked, his voice betraying slight shock.

            Erik leaned against the gate to the cemetery, head tilted back as his lips twitched between a smirk and a grimace, eyes closed.

            “Not just me. I think Rich and Meredy are going to, as well… Macbeth is thinkin’ about it. Sawyer definitely wants to keep traveling, so he’ll be out of here by the end of today. Sorano’s gonna go join Sabertooth, where her sister is.” He cracked open his good eye and stared at Gajeel shrewdly. “Don’t get the wrong idea. We’re not indebted to you guys. You wouldn’t have won the war without us, so any debts went out the window ‘cause you had our backs, too. Still, can’t deny you guys lost a lot of powerful members, but that’s war for ya. Even if you were pulled in unwillingly, you should’ve been prepared for losses.”

            Gajeel grunted and stared out at the throng of people, packed into the cemetery. Based on the weather, it looked like it was going to rain soon. He wondered if it was brought on by Juvia, wherever she was in that crowd, or if it was just an uncanny coincidence that it was going to rain on such a day.

            “I get it’s not a debt thing… You guys are too proud for that crap. But still, why stick around? Figured you’d all be like Sawyer, wantin’ to keep your freedom.”

            Erik looked back up at the clouds blanketing the sky. It was faint, but he could hear thunder off in the distance. After a long moment, he summed up his thoughts.

            “Rich knows his brother will be stopping by sometimes, and he figures it’s a good a guild as any to join; he thinks Wally might warm up to the idea of joining up, too, since Erza’s here. Meredy’s buddy-buddy with that rain chick of yours.” He paused in his musings as he rubbed his chin. He stared at a head of purple toward the back of the crowd, but he did so in a way that Gajeel wouldn’t be able to catch it. “… And you don’t need to worry about me. I have my reasons.”

            “Huh. Didn’t know the Rain Woman had a friend in Crime Sorciere… I musta forgot all about that.” The Iron Dragon Slayer mirrored Erik in rubbing his chin, but turned his gaze and face downward. Eventually, he couldn’t help heaving a tired sigh. “It’s gonna be so damn different around here…Why’d that spitfire hafta go and be an idiot like that? Wouldn’t be nearly as bad if I could punch his face in for offing the Black Wizard… The most I did was help take down Acnologia. That Pyro took down Zeref all on his own.”

            Erik rolled his eye at the obvious aggravation. Misplaced though it seemed, Erik could tell that Gajeel was grieving in his own way right now. Gajeel was one of the ‘tough guys’ – he wasn’t “supposed” to show his more tender side so easily, much less to a former enemy. Erik respectfully didn’t call him out on the act, though he could have.

            “He was definitely a stubborn, scrappy bastard…” Erik cracked a small grin as a small memory came to mind. “He could be funny when he wanted to, though. Probably the only enemy I ever faced that got me to crack up, mid-battle at that… Might not have known him well, but it’ll be a shame not seein’ his dumbass get fried for the crap he pulls.”

            Gajeel cracked up a little as he returned the grin.

            “He was definitely a dumbass. … But he was our dumbass, I guess…”

            At that moment, a drizzle started to fall down from the sky. The grins dropped, and Gajeel turned his head away; but Erik didn’t miss the tears that were mixed in with the rain. Considering that Salamander was the one to kick his ass back when Phantom Lord was making war with Fairy Tail, Erik wasn’t all that surprised at the Iron Dragon Slayer getting emotional over the Pyro’s death. Makarov’s, too. They were both pretty instrumental in how Gajeel ended up in Fairy Tail – at least, that’s how Erik perceived the grief rolling off of Gajeel in waves.

            No wonder he was toward the back like this, avoiding everyone. Gajeel was a wreck. And it didn’t look like that was going to get fixed anytime soon…

            ~*~

            A week passed by.

            “It’s really too bad Invel won’t play nice…” Dimaria sighed as she supervised a contingent of Alvarez soldiers. Nearby, Brandish was reducing the size of rubble so that it could be easily disposed of. “He’s better at this organization crap.”

            “I don’t really care…” Brandish grunted. It wasn’t hard to see why she was bitter towards the now former Chief of Staff. He used her as a tool, and she murdered indiscriminately because of it.

            The Ice Mage was very lucky August decided he would be put on trial and punished back home. Extremely lucky.

            “He really was just fighting so that we could win the war, Randi.” Dimaria lightly chided her friend, though it lacked any real heat behind her words.

            “A war that Grandpa decided was over…” Brandish caustically reminded the blonde, knowing Dimaria harbored her own grudge against the Ice Mage, but still needed to vent her frustration. Well-intentioned or no, Invel still controlled Brandish, and that pissed Dimaria off like no other.

            “Randi…” Dimaria sighed again. She wasn’t going to get into it with the mass mage. She didn’t even want to squabble over beliefs and ideals. After His Majesty passed, there was a quick and dirty fight for leadership over their forces; at the time, August had submitted to Invel because Irene backed him up, but now August was the undisputed General of the Spriggan 12 once again.

            Lady Irene was gone now. Invel was screwed, and everyone knew it.

            In another area of Magnolia, Neinhart was being made to work alongside a number of Alvarez soldiers. He didn’t like grunt work. His Historias were so much more proficient for menial labor, and he rather missed the respect and glory that came with being a top-ranking elite.

            … But he’d brought it upon himself, really. Apparently sentimentality outweighed resourcefulness, when people saw loved ones returned and forced to do construction work, amongst other chores.

            He’d been immediately demoted, and forced to dispel the Historias… well, except for one, and that one was taken away to speak privately with Lady Irene’s daughter. Which irked him, because that meant he had to keep channeling Magic to a Historia that was just talking…

            “Oi, you just gonna stand there all day, Neinhart? Get back to work!”

            Said purple-haired man twitched at the taunt. Jacob was up on the rooftop of a two-story building, supervising all of the soldiers. Ajeel was also nearby, filling holes in the ground with sand, as well as making sandbags. Neinhart knew that the real reason they were stationed here was to keep an eye on him… Not that he really cared to try anything. He was not going to end up like Invel. If that meant toughing it out and putting up with his demotion, so be it. He would follow all his orders and climb back up to his elite rank; it’s not like they would be able to deny him it for very long – Alvarez lost half of its elite fighting force and its Emperor, so he would be needed for managing all of their guilds and people back home. He belonged in administration!

            That’s what the proud knight told himself, anyway. Repeated in his mind like a mantra. He had to keep himself from attacking Jacob, somehow.

            Jacob, meanwhile, grinned at the clear displeasure etched on Neinhart’s face as he went back to carrying crates around. He should probably sympathize more with his fellow countryman, but Neinhart was a well-known layabout. The little git had this sort of thing coming.

            … That said, Jacob was also well aware that August could have stripped him of his rank, as well. He hadn’t stood against Invel – none of them had, except for Brandish, who Invel disciplined. Jacob knew that the only thing keeping him from being punished like Invel or demoted like Neinhart was August’s mercy. The man had decided Jacob was loyal enough that he had only been following orders when Invel took temporary control – it wasn’t a personal attempt to defy the Magic King on Jacob’s part.

            And Ajeel was a similar case. True, Ajeel had wanted to destroy Ishgar and Fairy Tail all by himself, but he had since gained perspective on wars. It wasn’t a certain thing yet, but August was at least considering naming Ajeel the next Emperor. He wouldn’t be ready for the role right away, but if August decided to make him the successor to Emperor Spriggan, August would be acting as the surrogate Emperor until Ajeel was fully groomed for the role.

            The biggest change for Alvarez would be the peace treaty they would be enacting with Ishgar. That would ensure no more wars between the two continents, at least not in the near future. But more importantly, trading would increase between the two continents because of Alvarez’s changes in international polices. Though it would be a strange shift, Jacob would respect August’s decision and help ensure the others fell in line, too. If August said not to start anything, Jacob was going to make damn sure the Magic King’s vision was carried out. Alvarez needed stability right now – they were in turbulent enough times as it was.

            They didn’t need a bloody revolution like the kind that Invel seemed to crave.

            ~*~

            Despite everything that had happened, Mavis had survived the extraction of Fairy Heart from her body. The intense magical power had been split amongst the six remaining Dragon Slayers, and had for the most part been used up in the fight against Acnologia. Nevertheless, trace amounts remained in the Dragon Slayers and kept their respective Magics intensified. It really was a miraculous power.

            Still, surviving didn’t mean Mavis was in perfect health. She was actually quite drained, and felt more mortal than she had in decades. She was also emotionally impacted by the deaths of Warrod, Makarov, Natsu, and Mira; she’d cried and wailed mournfully for days. All in all, it just left her feeling tired. So very tired.

            … Which was probably why she had agreed so easily to meet with August in private, a week after the war ended. If he tried anything, at least she’d be reunited with her precious loved ones.

            … And with Zeref, who she still felt the need to resolve matters with.

            “You’re my… what?!” Mavis’s voice rose as she stared at the Magic King in shock. August stared back at her seriously, making clear this was no joke.

            “Many decades ago, when Precht was trying to study your condition and save you, he discovered you had another life growing inside of you. He safely delivered the baby from your womb when it came time for him to be born, yet Precht was troubled by how much magic power that babe possessed. Precht abandoned him, sending him down a river… No one took that baby in, so the child eventually wandered. And as fate would have it, the child eventually found his father, who took him to a faraway land and taught him how to control that immense magic power…”

            A wealth of emotions passed through August’s eyes as he regaled Mavis with his story. And Mavis, too, was caught up in the maelstrom of emotions that came with the implications of the story.

            “That child never experienced love from his parents. Both father and mother were unaware they had a child; and so that child grew up, watching countless families lead happy lives, but never knowing that form of love from either of his parents… never understanding what familial bonds were, and why they were so powerful.” August shook his head remorsefully. “… But even so. Even if it was just one time, the child at least wanted to meet his mother. To experience that love for himself. That part may be an impossible dream now, after all that has happened… But I still at least wanted to tell you while I had the chance to… mother.”

            And as if that broke the trance Mavis was in, fresh tears sprang anew, and she barely held herself back from running right up to her son and embracing him. The only thing holding her back…

            “I… I want to hug you so bad…!” Mavis sobbed, using the back of her hand to wipe at the tears in one eye. “But I’m cursed by Anksheram, too…! I kill people just by caring about them!”

            Mavis shook her head mournfully, doing her best to stop crying in front of August. She stiffened when she found herself swept up in a comforting embrace, anyway. She looked up at August with glistening, shell-shocked eyes.

            And despite the potential danger he was in… August smiled softly.

            “Not even death will stop me at this point… Because I do not know if I will ever see you again, and I will not let this chance slip by.” Slowly but surely, the conviction in August’s voice calmed Mavis down. “I have caused you much grief, helping fulfill father’s ambitions while he was alive. But now that he rests in peace… now that I have a choice… I wish to do everything I can to repair all the damage that has been done. Perhaps together, Fairy Tail and Alvarez can build a new future together. It is an ideal to work toward, but not one without merit.”

            Slowly, Mavis closed her eyes, squeezing them shut nervously as she returned August’s embrace.

            … Nothing happened. No fatal outburst of Magic. They stayed locked in that tentative yet firm embrace, each of them silently promising to not let the other go.

            Mavis didn’t think she had the heart to just let her son return to Alvarez, alone. And after everything she lost… she didn’t have the selflessness within her to stay here in Ishgar, working to rebuild Fairy Tail.

            It was her guild. The one she founded with Yuri, Warrod, and Precht. But even so, it was a resilient guild; one that didn’t need her to stand upright. And in a way… she wasn’t defecting or abandoning them; by going to Alvarez with August, she could help stabilize the peace between Alvarez and Ishgar. Fairy Tail wouldn’t have to worry about history repeating itself.

            And she could… have a family. Fairy Tail was her family, too, but August was her flesh and blood that she never knew she had. Mavis felt like she needed this, that she deserved this much at least!

            Mavis was going to miss seeing the daily life of her rowdy guild… But she knew they were going to be just fine.

            ~*~

            Natsu couldn’t help sighing with exaggerated exasperation after Erza had dragged him off from the work Neinhart had him doing. He had already said everything he needed to say to the scarlet knight, back when they defeated Neinhart… so why drag him off now? Was she really so clingy? He told her she’d have to live without him! He knew Erza had that strength, so why was she clinging onto him?

            … It was only when she reunited him with Happy and all their friends that he understood her intent. It wasn’t for herself… Erza already had her last moment with him, but everyone else hadn’t. And they’d all wanted to say goodbye to him, this time. Even people like Laxus, Gajeel, and Erik – they all wanted to see him off. Lucy and Wendy cried. Gray vented at him for being a suicidal moron, but eventually caved and cried as well… Happy and Erza were the only ones who could muster up smiles when he’d muttered his final goodbyes.

            “Y’know? As long as someone lives on in your memories, they’re never truly gone?” Natsu told Erza with a disarming grin, feeling himself begin to fade as Neinhart cut off the Magic circulating to his Historia. “I had to learn that when Igneel died. And I know you’ll learn that, too, Erza. Take care of everyone.”

            Erza took a deep breath as she held back the tears as best as she could.

            “… I will. I suppose I’ll leave Master and Mira to you?”

            Natsu just laughed.

            “Gramps is just glad to finally be retired! And Mira says you better not follow us so soon. She wants ‘alone’ time with me.” He snickered at the scarlet knight’s sour expression. His expression softened as he kept smiling. “I got to see Igneel again. I might not have meant to die, but I don’t have any regrets, Erza – you shouldn’t either. Take care of everyone, but also take care of yourself. I’ll be watchin’.”

            Erza managed to keep herself composed until Natsu fully faded away for good. She’d cried plenty when she first heard about his death, but now only a single tear rolled down her cheek. Because she was going to honor his request. She was going to remain strong and watch over everybody left behind.

            If Natsu embodied the will of Fairy Tail, she was going to carry on that will. They all were.

~*~

Author's Note: I suppose you could call this an epilogue to that "Natsu dies" AU I cooked up. I left a lot of things open for me to write about later, if I wanted to come back to this AU; the battle with Acnologia, how other certain characters are faring after the war ended, the next FT Guildmaster (personally, I'm leaning toward Cana being the next Master in this AU, but I left it open for now), and even Mavis going over to Alvarez. Lots of ideas I could dink around with, but I dunno if I will do that in the near future. Just felt like getting this epilogue out, at least. Hope you enjoyed it a little. :3

[thetravellingvagrant]

Day 12: Cusco - In Which I Do Not Kill Us Both

We had been messaged, late last night, by the purveyors of the ATV tour we were due to embark upon today, informing us that our meeting time had been amended from 6:45, to 7:00am. This extra fifteen minutes of sleep, you'd imagine, should have come as something of a boon to us, though given that until the point at which we received that message, we had believed, with full conviction that we were supposed to meet at 9, it actually came as something of a withering blow. Regardless, we pulled ourselves out of bed at six in the bastard morning, like the heroes we are and some time later, after a very sad breakfast, left our apartment to endure the twenty minute walk to the office, in the freezing morning mountain air.

We didn't have to wait long before our minibus arrived, to whisk us away to the other, higher mountains to begin our day. Or we wouldn't have done, at least if we had boarded the correct bus. Somehow, despite confirming with the driver that we were indeed going on an ATV tour with the correct company at the correct time for us to be picked up, we (they) had managed to beef the situation pretty hard, leaving us bound for the incorrect place, on the incorrect bus. Fortunately, the mistake was rectified after only a couple of blocks and we were unceremoniously dumped back on the street, left to trudge unhappily back to the offices. A good start, I think we can all agree.

Not long after that, we were picked up by the actually correct driver (at least we thought so; he called me by name, so he was either the right guy, or it was the most sophisticated scam I've ever been targeted by) and, after whizzing around the city to pick up some fellow quadders, none of whom were particularly interesting enough to mention, we were finally embarking on our adventure, on the right bus, to the right place and everything.

The bus ride was longer than expected, clocking in at just over an hour, winding through bumpy, uneven country paths, up into the even-more-mountainous bit of Cusco. Sam, who suffers quite badly from travel sickness, strangely did not enjoy the journey as much as me, and was left feeling rather peaky, to put it as crudely as I have been permitted to, by the end of it. Now all pale and shaky and one sad breakfast lighter, Sam no longer felt comfortable riding her own ATV and so, instead opted to jump into the passenger seat of mine and cling onto me like a sloth, for the duration, as demonstrated in this not at all terrible selfie.

#clout

Now having been given the added stress of having an additional person to try not to kill, we were instructed to try out a few practice laps along an empty stretch of road, which I did expertly, only Austin-Powersing the ATV at a particularly narrow turning point once, in the process.

Now a bonafide quad-bike expert and none of you can say otherwise, we set off for our first destination of the day; the Maras Salt Flats.

I found myself paying very, very little attention to the, frankly quite impressive scenery on the way

This is nothing to me

Instead opting to focus mostly on not running our bike into a ditch or crashing into a bush. Though, generally, despite my initial nervousness, I settled into the driving fairly quickly, only filling my pants once or twice, when passed by huge, speeding buses, travelling the opposite way along the narrow, dusty road, which we shared Somehow not dead, though, we arrived at the salt flats and disembarked our bikes for a quick look around, down ten soles which we had to pay for the entrance fee, even though you'd definitely expect that to be covered by the agency under almost any other circumstance.

The flats were, however, pretty cool and probably well worth the entrance fee, despite the relatively little time we were given to gawk at them

Kind of.

though after around fifteen minutes of staring out at this bizarre and genuinely quite impressive alien landscape,

Spooky. And salty.

we were quickly ushered away to the a series of market stalls, essentially operating as the gift shop, where we were left to mill around for substantially more time than we were given to look at the actual flats themselves - in a move which I felt was perhaps a little crass and inorganic. I still bought myself some salty chocolate, though, so I guess I'm a capitalist pig, too.

Back at the bikes, our group was given a choice, we could either go with Moses, our guide, to see Moray; an impressive, sprawling set of Inca ruins, set deep in the heart of the sacred valley, or...we could side with the other guide, whose name I never got, and go to a big splashy lake, yaaaay. Entrance to Moray costing seventy extra soles which we frankly, could not spare and also my disproportionate love of having a bit of a paddle coming into play, we opted to go to the lagoon.

We quadded there without issue and soon arrived at a genuinely pretty lovely little lake

Moist.

where we were given another (woefully inadequate) fifteen minutes to explore, nearly all of which I spend knee deep in weirdly freezing lake-water

After what must have been actually closer to ten minutes, we were called back to the ATVs and so, with a heavy heart, I dredged myself out of the water and, now with the added bonus of having cold, wet feet, popped myself back on the bike.

We drove back to base-camp, again without incident, meaning that I had completed the entire day without crashing the bike and/or horribly injuring either myself or my girlfriend – which I'd call an unexpected win – and, with the package now complete, we were loaded back onto the minibus to Cusco, with almost negative fanfare, if such a thing is even possible, and fucked back to the city, like a bag of shitty nappies.

We were dropped off...almost at the main square – pretty much as close to it as the driver could be bothered going, I think – and headed to the first place we could find, for some much needed lunch. The first place we could find, as it turned out, was actually quite a fancy hotel, right in the middle of the tourist-zone. This meant not only that we were basically paying UK prices for, admittedly very nice, sandwiches, but also, given that we were dressed for ATVing (a difference from the norm which much more noticeably effected Sam, than I) and covered from head to toe in dust, from our earlier efforts, meant we stood out like sore, dirty, tired, scummy thumbs. Regardless, we endured the stares and tuts from the other eatery patrons- an act at which, by now, I am an expert – munched through our food and paid in full, like we were in Pretty Woman, or something. I don't know, I haven't seen it, but that sounds about right.

After our lunch, we were left with little in the way of plans. It was only around mid-day and we didn't fancy going back to the apartment, quite yet, as good as going back to sleep definitely sounded to both of us. We had read of some Inca Ruins just a little bit outside the city centre called Saqsaywaman (very amusingly pronounced “sexy woman”). At just a fifteen minute walk from the Plaza Del Armas, we thought we'd be foolish not to go and have a look. Sure entrance, much like Moray, cost seventy soles, but apparently you could get a genuinely good-enough view of them from outside, peering over the fence, like some nonce from the 80s, and that sentence, as frequent readers of my blog will know, is like catnip to me. Looking at things from the outside, without paying, that is. Not the nonce part...

As it turned out, Google Map's estimation of the walk taking fifteen minutes was optimistic at best and a flat out lie at worst. It may have taken that long if it were at sea level, and the entirety of the trek wasn't straight up and I could breathe properly and didn't have to take a five minute break after every flight of stairs, but all of those things were the case and, as it stood, it actually took closer to forty. That forty minute walk, incidentally, was to Saqsaywaman's first entrance; the one from which you could peer over no fences and see no ruins, and so we had to keep walking, for close to an hour, also uphill, to get to the auxiliary peeping entrance. A walk which, by the way, shouldn't have taken that long, even at high altitude, though we had to stop every few seconds, so Sam could  have a right good complain, and, honestly? that really tacked on some travel time, if I'm being real.

After a very wearying amount of both walking and snipping, we finally arrived at entrance two, which we milled about, genuinely suspiciously, attempting to figure out the best way to steal a glimpse of the ruins. As it turned out, that would be by walking another two or so minutes along the road to a gap in the hedge. Sam, being the Lawful Good sort she is, was very concerned that we would be stopped, fined and/or get in trouble from the Saqsay tour guides, though I, being somehow the more relaxed of us two, was less concerned about this, given that ten feet away from where we had parked up, a double decker tour bus had stopped to lets its passengers take as many pictures of the ruins as they liked, over the hedge.

Having had our fill of sexy women, we made the significantly easier walk back downhill, taking a clever shortcut, sort of, to get back to our flat, without having to endure too many stairs. If I'm totally honest, the end result of all the walking to the ruins, probably wasn't really worth the energy expended in getting there, but don't tell Sam, though. She'll think it means she wins.

After an early start and close to twenty thousand steps, most of which were at a frankly silly incline, by the time we were home, I was absolutely ruined, as I seem to be every evening on this trip, except far, far worse. I made us dinner, because I am a hero and clambered back into bed- the only warm(ish) part of the entire flat – to eat it while watching a terrible film, expecting my shortness of breath, tightness in my chest and heart palpitations to abate after a short while. They did not, which was quite worrying, to be honest. I briefly considered that I might be having a stroke or something, but didn't voice my concerns for fear that it might have made Sam thought that she had won, and so, bravely soldiered on in silence, until I managed to fall asleep, instead. I wasn't having a stroke, by the way. Or if I was, I dealt with it incredibly well and can't see what the big deal is about, really...