#*blue mouse puppet screaming*

[ariel-seagull-wings]

TOP 10 BEST CHARACTERS FROM 31 MINUTOS

@thealmightyemprex @goodanswerfoxmonster @angelixgutz @the-blue-fairie @themousefromfantasyland @princesssarisa @softlytowardthesun @tamisdava2 @faintingheroine @moonbeamelf​ @world-of-puppets​​

Every one has a show that they love, who hasn’t nearly enough people talking about it... so we take as our duty to obsess over it and scream about it to the four corners of the world until someone gets annoyed.

In my case, this obsession is the chilean puppet comedy show 31 Minutos (31 Minutes in english): the show explores the lives of a group of characters from the fictional city of Titirilquén, who work in the title show’s morning news, both showing their presentations of the different segments and the internal backstage drama that goes in the production.

With each episode being a self contained story, you can watch in any order and understant the general formula of the series and the characters personalities. Its strenght lies mainly in two things: the handmaid quality charm of the puppets, who rather than all being perfectly crafted animals, humanoid or monsters can vary from a literal socker ball with a mustache and glasses to the basic sock puppet, without ever looking lazy, and the caotic humour born out of the many, many flaws of the characters, who are still pretty likable.

Sometimes we laugh WITH them.

Sometimes we laugh AT them.

One thing is sure: you will rarely be bored with this colorfull cast of characters, and now I shall present the ranking of top 10 best of them.

What is the criterion that makes them the best? Only the most important criterion: my personal preferences.

10º Mico, el Micófono.

A microfone with plastic eyes and Mickey Mouse like high pitch voice that is a field reporter. An idea so silly that it must be a stroke of genius. Mico is the reporter who opens the morning show with the survey sections, asking people the most random question like “What is your nickname”, “What are you afrayed of?” and “What is the ugliest world that you know?”. 

Are the surveys usefull for something? Not really. But the citizens of Titirilquén sure find flattering that someone is asking them their opinions on SOMETHING. Overall, Mico is very polite and sweet. However, he is no innocent: if you dare to make him angry, he will stop at nothing to get his revenge.

The mascot of 31 Minutos shows that you shall never underestimate the little person... and that is why i love him so much.

09º Jackson Aceituno.

A racoon with huge black eyes that resemble giant olives (hence his surname Aceituno, wich is spanish for olive), originally he was a field reporter that covered the events in the city of Titirilquén, before receiving the ungratefull promotion of war correspondent, covering the conflict between the warring nations of Salsacia and Conservia, whose inhabitants are literary made of metal cans. During those years, his face was hurt so bad that he has been hiding it under a white and red scarf ever since, wich becamed the characters definitive look.

Far from malicious, hard working and resilient, no matter that he doesn’t know the languages of the warring nations to be helpfull at diplomacy, and how much times he receives lost bullets and is made a hostage: he will always be ready to keep audiences informed of what is happening in the war torn lands.

That suicidal level of professionalism is a rarity in 31 Minutos, and so its really worthy of admiration.

08º Mario Hugo.

Full name: Ernesto Felipe Mario Hugo.

Originally, this white chihuahua was only a field reporter whose only real quirk was being slightly stiff and having a ridiculously long list of pet dogs he'd say hello to. However, around the start of season two, he started gaining a lot more screen time and even got his own section in the show called La Dimensión Hermosa y Desconocida (The Beautifull and Unknown Dimension), where he talks about the things that surprise and bewilder him in nature and in people, gaining a more phylosophical personality.

Combine this with his unrequited crush on fellow field reporter Patana, and you will have in Mario Hugo the figure of a quixotesque misguided romantic, who you can’t help but pity and want to give a hug.

The melancolic dreamer is a character type that I always find fascinating, and Mario Hugo is one of its greatest representatives, wich is why he becamed one of my favorite characters in the show.

And since i talked about Mario Hugo’s crush on his colleague...

07º Patana.

Full birth name Patricia Ana Tufillo Triviño, this green lady bird is the niece of 31 Minutos anchor Tulio Triviño. Sent to Titirilquén by her mother to get a job in the news show, originally her uncle abhored her due to her initial trend to scheme pranks, giving her jobs like cleaning the floor and serving coffee. Seeing that her uncle wouldn’t give her a good job, Patana decides to take things in her own hands, going into the dangerous scenario of a house robbery to show she can be a competent field reporter. And she did, not only informing audiences of what was happening in real time, but managing to make the robber and the house’s owner befriend each other and stop the crime! 

Talk about being a badass!

This made her colleagues and the boss impressed, so she becamed a field reporter in the show, dashingly going into adventurous scenarios, and also coming up with creative sections like the reality show Patana’s Refrigerator, where several food itens compete to stay longer in the titular refrigerator.

Speaking of impressing the boss...

06º Eusebio Manguera.

This black rolled up hose tube in a suit is the owner of the channel where 31 Minutos is transmited. A dangerous greedy milionary mobster who can fire and rehire on a whim, everyone who works on the show knows that he is a monster, and fear let him pissed of. And what makes him specially intimidating is his voice: he has a very, very deep voice that he doesn’t need to raise to convey his anger when things don’t go his way.

And while he is a dangerous criminal, he also has standards of quality, demanding dignity, eficiency and competence of the staff to produce a good TV morning news show.

While his right to call out anyones moral’s is really questionable, its interesting to see the token evil character assume a leadership position and how much he cares about doing a good job, so you can’t help find this hateable boss fascinating to watch.

05º Policarpo Avendaño.

The wig wearer, cylindrical, energetic and renowned music critic and cultural producer, host of the "Ranking Top" section of 31 Minutos, where he lists the Top 3 current best songs. Usually called to host major-scale events like the Top Top Awards.

A shameless oportunist, Policarpo always flatters those with power and chooses to side with them when he feels this can benefit him, while secretly resenting them and letting his friends be screwed alone.

His nepotism to judge the Top 3 current best songs is also a recurring joke, because the winners are always “The godchild of the cousin of my neighbour”, or something alike. But the fact that he always returns to embrace his friends, clearly sounds passionate about the topic of music and gives such a joyfull presentation of his section makes impossible to hate him.

He is simply great fun to be around, and that is why he is one of my favorite characters.

04º César Quintanilla/Calcetín Con Rombos Man.

His nickname literary means Sock With Holes Man.

The superhero of the universe of 31 Minutos. An orphan sock with diamond patterns who is also a superhero for Ciudad Comoda (Nightstand City). Originally treated as the fictional character of an in universe superhero show that is exhibited as one of the segments of 31 Minutos, soon he was shown interacting with the shows crew, changing his status from fictional hero to an in universe real character who is a known public figure in Titirilquén, where the characters look after him for moral guidance, specially because rather than using violence, he will rather solve problems trough the use of dialogue, teaching the characters and the audience about UNICEF’s Convention of the Rights of The Child to help people in need.

In a show where a mobster is a powerfull media mogul and several characters act out of greed and selfishness, the sock with sweeming glasses superhero is a nice reminder that is still worthy to be genuinelly good, wich keeps a balance of perspective and helps the show to avoid falling into edgy cynicism.

That’s why he wins a place as one of my favorite characters.

03º Tulio Triviño.

The main character for most episodes, the puppet of unknown species Tulio Triviño Tufillo is the anchorman and host of 31 Minutos. He started out as the straight every person, a bit naive, but still generous, and caring of making a good job. After the series got a better production value and a larger cast, the writing of Tulio evolved to make him more flawed: while well articulated in his way of talking and concerned to keep the order in the studio, he is also greedy, selfish, self absorbed, with a tendency of overspending his salary with superfluous expensive things and pretends to be more inteligent than he actually is. 

So watching the karma bite him in the ass after he screws up is always great to watch, while he is nicely humanized by ocasionally seeing the error of his ways and reluctantly apologizing

He can understand the difference of right and wrong and since he is basically a subordinate of actual dangerous mobster Eusebio Manguera, you understand that Tulio is not really the problem, but rather someone who lashes at others bellow him because he is trapped under an actual evil power.

Mix to this his charisma as a host, and you end up enjoying the character of Tulio.

02º Juanín Juan Harry.

The last of a species known as the Juaníns, Juanín Juan Harry is the producer and organizer of 31 Minutos, who, while extremely passive and an easy target of peer pressure to mess up, is decently competent and the most innocent, gentle and responsable member of the crew, always concerned in keeping the studio organized and remembering what the hosts and reporters have to say.

Whereas someone like Calcetín Con Rombs Man is the idealized powerfull good guy who always wins against the villains, Juanín represents the goodness in the little person who, while in a situation where they are submissive to mean people in the work place, still keep being his pure and kind self, wich we all know sometimes can be an even greater battle. 

And my Number One favorite character from 31 Minutos is...

01º Juan Carlos Bodoque.

A red rabbit, and a reporter with a strong reputation in and out of the show, Juan Carlos delivers the "Nota Verde" ("Green Note"),  ecological and historical report initially about Chilean ecology and culture, but eventually branching out to cover more general topics mostly relating to environmentalism and animal preservation.

Bodoque is a deadpan snarker cynic, agressive, quick to anger, and full of debts due to his gambling adiction. However, he still cares in making the ecological reports and also started to work on the census section and make reports about the quarantine. 

Being a wildlife and enviromentalist reporter, he has a strong set of morals and is quick to correct himself upon learning new information, all the while not punishing himself with an exagerated guilt complex nor acting like a holier than thou preacher to the other characters or the audience (at worst he only sighs with a “I am surrounded by idiots” mood).

He always treats the subjects he reports as a nice and light hearted, if sometimes melancholic, conversation.

Bodoque is the great example of an Anti Nihilist character: he shows that while life can be bad and meaningless and we are usually a mess, we still can do the best that we can to do good and save this shitty little world, because is the only one that we have, so its better to value it.

This complexity free of pretense is why Bodoque has become the break out character of 31 Minutos, and my personal favorite.

[justaltruix227]

||Under the Surface - c!Tubbo||

Song: Surface Pressure - Encanto

Fandom: DSMP

(Fanart by smackbear)

*Bang! Bang!*  echoed through the heated room as the forge burned through its fuel. In the middle was the sturdy figure, covered in heat protection gear as he handled the hot iron swords. 

A sigh left his body as he finally gives into his emotions, remembering everything. 

"I'm the strong one, I'm not nervous." Grinding out the sides of the sword to reduce the chips and make the sharp edge, now only in a sweater and heat protection gloves he works the fine blade.

"I'm as tough as the crust of the Earth is." He removes the gloves after finally being done with the swords for the day. Easily lifting the heavy swords into their stands, the scarred figure turns to leave the large forge.

"I move mountains, I move churches." He grabs his winter coat to protect him from the coldness of Snowchester. "And I glow, 'cause I know what my worth is." The yellow radioactive symbol standing out  as it took most of the coats back. 

He opens the forges door to be met by the cold breeze. "I don't ask how hard the work is." He turns a corner, standing on top of the wall. "Got a rough indestructible surface."

"Diamonds and platinum, I find 'em, I flatten 'em." His feet lay tracks in the snow of where he once was, he turns to look out at the sea, knowing one or two of his mates are out there messing around. "I take what I'm handed, I break what's demanded, but-" A firework full of colours went off out at sea.

"Under the surface." He was still in his suit, standing behind Quackity and Jschlatt. "I feel berserk as a tightrope walker in a three-ring circus." Quackity leans in close to make the boy unsteady as Schlatt drops a large pile of paper work in his hands.

"Under the surface." Nervously the smaller ram crinkled the paper as Schlatt played with him like a cat toying with a mouse, "Was Hercules ever like, "Yo, I don't wanna fight Cerberus?""

"Under the surface." Tubbo hurrys down the hall with the papers that was given to him from Schlatt with 'TOP SECRET' on it, passing it to the man in front of him. "I'm pretty sure I'm worthless if I can't be of service." Wilbur took the papers with a smile.

"A flaw or a crack" He smiles back at Wilbur before panicking hearing the bigger rams voice, as if he's haunting the young ram. 

"The straw in the stack" Feeling as though the President has a grasp around him dragging him down, he struggles. 

"That breaks the camel's back." Jschlatt ushering Technoblade with the crossbow. Wilbur having his hands around Tommy's mouth so he doesn't scream out. Hands and body pressed against the box he was now in as the bow was steadied and aimed at him.

"What breaks the camel's back, it's-" 

[Tubbo_ went off with a bang due to a firework from [Subscribe to Technoblade] from Technoblade]

Blue, red and white filled the air.

"Pressure, like a drip, drip, drip that'll never stop, whoa" The blood pouring from his face as the wounds stayed when he came back.

"Pressure that'll tip, tip, tip 'til you just go pop, whoa, oh, oh" Tears began to flow from his eyes, as he bandages himself.

"Give it to your sister, your sister's older." He shuffles to Tommy, the blonde beaming with joy as people cheered. Tubbo taking the pressure off Tommy he accepts the role. 

"Give her all the heavy things we can't shoulder." Becoming the President just like he was.  

"Who am I if I can't run with the ball?" He shakes his head before standing at the podium about to give his speech. 

"If I fall to" He whispers as he begins to change from his normal clothes back into a suit. 

"Pressure like a grip, grip, grip, and it won't let go, whoa." He turns to see Dream with Tommy, giving an ultimatum.

Feeling as though Dream has him tied like as puppet. "Pressure like a tick, tick, tick 'til it's ready to blow, whoa, oh, oh." Tubbo cracks.

"Give it to your sister, your sister's stronger." He runs to Tommy, "see if she can hang on a little longer."

"Who am I if I can't carry it all?" He questions his choices and option as he turns to Dream. 

"If I falter" Dream turns away with a hard hand on Tommy's shoulder. 

"Under the surface." He paces around Fundy and Quackity, "I hide my nerves, and it worsens, I worry something is gonna hurt us." Paranoid Technoblade would come back. 

"Under the surface." He runs and runs trying to escape Dreams grasp but he never can. "The ship doesn't swerve as it heard how big the iceberg is." As Techno and Dream began to team up.

"Under the surface." He stumbles over only to see the obsidian grid above him, "I think about my purpose, can I somehow preserve this?"

"Line up the dominoes" The tnt becoming placed.

"A light wind blows" The sound of flint and steel igniting can be heard. 

"You try to stop it tumbling" He clutches his head.

The constantly igniting and falling of tnt, "but on and on it goes." Technoblade summoning the withers.

"But wait," Hes back at Snowchester. "If I could shake the crushing weight of expectations." Ranboos standing there with Micheal in his hands, waving at him. 

Micheal being let down. He runs straight for Tubbo, tackling the rams legs so he staggered and fell. "Would that free some room up for joy."

Ranboo follows suit and falls next to him in the snow. "Or relaxation, or simple pleasure?" Giggles and soft smiles coming from all three. 

"Instead, we measure this growing pressure." Tubbo turns to get up, hands clenching.

"Keeps growing, keep going," His short steps became longer and quicker 

"'Cause all we know is." Las Nevadas. He begins to make walls, creating Walltown. 

"Pressure like a drip, drip, drip that'll never stop, whoa" The cookie outpost becoming heavily fortified. 

"Pressure that'll tip, tip, tip 'til you just go pop, whoa-oh-oh." Quackity and him discussing the outpost and agreeing to give it too him instead.

"Give it to your sister, it doesn't hurt, and" He turns to Ranboo expressing how he can help with anything. 

"See if she can handle every family burden" He flexes jokingly as he turns to the door with a large nuclear symbol on it.

He enters and quickly approaches the button. "Watch as she buckles and bends but never breaks." His hand just above the button, ready to push it.  His open palm closes into a fist. "No mistakes, just." He turns to leave. 

Standing outside the prison. "Pressure like a grip, grip, grip, and it won't let go, whoa." Sams sword going straight through the hybrids chest as red and green began to drip onto the grass below. A scream came from the young ram. 

"Pressure like a tick, tick, tick 'til it's ready to blow, whoa, oh, oh." Tears feel heavily from the ram as the fight continued around him. 

"Give it to your sister and never wonder." He yells at Ghostboo, "If the same pressure would've pulled you under." Realising the tears flowing more from the ghost he pulls away, tugging at his own hair. 

"Who am I if I don't have what it takes?" He screams

"No cracks, no breaks"  Technoblade giving him the picture of Micheal Ranboo was holding before death. 

"No mistakes, no pressure." He readies himself to reek havoc on those who's wronged his family.

[gifs-of-puppets]

Bear in the Big Blue House (1997-2006)

[macadam]

I love the botbots but in the same way a dog loves a squeaky toy. Short term dopamine rush, high pitched sounds, deep desire to chase them and squeeze them in my jaws a little. Not to kill them though just catch and release, I cherish them

Very fair and very valid.

I am now thinking about how powerful botbots would be in the late 90s/early 00s puppetry kid show style. Because that is what I associate with the squeaky toy dopamine rush you speak of.

[honestlyfrance]

It Rains Every April 10th

ship: sam/bucky

warning: grief, depression, mcd, hurt/comfort

summary:

"I love you, baby," Sam had spoken, three words so sweetly spoken, an angel could've said it, and Bucky wouldn't mind if that meant that he had crossed to the other side and reached heaven, because it was Sam Wilson.

Bucky had twirled Sam once, the two of them sharing a laugh before he pulled the man closer by the waist. "I love you too, honey," he replied, making sure to put in much eye contact, to let his own eyes send the message his heart failed to say.

OR

A sneak peek in the life of Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson to know the real reason why they think April 10 was a bad date.

—■—■—

Depression hits like a wave on a cliffside — sometimes you see it coming, sometimes you didn’t see it, and sometimes you just let it happen. It sometimes gnaws at your skin, always there, but more of a ghostly hand hovering over you; there’s that presence but you think you don’t have enough proof to prove it existed. Times like these you try your best to move but you become unmotivated, absolutely immobile except for the moments your body decides to exhaust itself for unrelated things you shouldn’t be doing. It takes a toll on you you wouldn’t even realize, and even then, who else realized it? You’re just tired. You don’t cry. You’re just tired. 

It’s moments before dawn that the rain began to pick up, basking the entire scenery in a state of loneliness and tranquility, and it made everything more silent than before. Birds weren’t chirping, and all anyone could hear was the deafening downpour outside their windows. The bedroom is blanketed in blue lighting from the grey clouds outside, and the rain slips down the French windows and the slanting skylight. Bucky Barnes laid in bed, staring solemnly towards his windows with disdain, buried under his duvets. There are bags under his eyes, but they’re almost faint, and there’s a red tinge to his eyes, but he doesn’t feel discomfort from it; he felt as if whole, if anything. He’s just tired.

Bucky lets his eyes flutter shut, grunting as he buried himself deeper into the sheets, pulling his pillows to envelop every side of his body: his back, his chest, his head, his feet. He wanted warmth. It was too early to wake up.  The faint smell of something icky wafted through the cold air and suddenly, all Bucky could think of was how slow time had passed by — he woke up before two in the morning, but his body felt as if it was midnight. It was dawn now, and he still hasn’t sat up. He rose and went, his consciousness blanking ever so often, and all he could think of was how numbed he was to the point that he couldn’t remember how many times he slept and woke up.

Bucky sat down in his tub, the cool but refreshing water pouring from the faucet. The bathroom was dim-lit and the orange lights bounced off of every reflective surface in the room. Here he sighed, watching the excess water go into the side drain, setting his head on the side of the tub. All he could ever hear was the sound of gushing water and the ache of his own heart, and there's that dread of going downstairs and actually living.

His dog suddenly pitter-pattered through the open door, suddenly sitting by the side of the tub. Bucky lazily looked back at the golden retriever. His eyes were barely opened as he spoke, “Roger, go back outside…” His voice was gruff and worn down, like a path down memory lane; so distant and faded that even the memory couldn’t recognize itself.

Bucky turned his head back towards the ceiling, and with a heavy sigh, he grabbed the tub by the side with his one hand and slid himself with a strong push, he lowered himself under the water, and there he felt free. There was nothing waiting for him down there and there was nothing worried for him down there. All he had in that tub was himself and his thoughts, and all his thoughts said to him was, “It’s April 10. You need to wake up.”

He needed to wake up. 

Breakfast was quiet, and with every long drawn-out bite of his cereal was a much longer painful dread in Bucky’s chest, one that swallowed in itself for centuries before and centuries more. It’s a sickening twist to the plot and there’s nothing more emptying than feeling drowsy from one’s own solemn adventure. The outdoor lights filtered through the drawn open blinds and there they go, dancing on tabletops and the clean dishes left on the open sink like ballerinas, and there’s a piece of accompanying music that was dulled to a filtered flute of wind by the rain; water dripped against the windows and made the room look bluer than before, and the white walls seem to close in on Bucky, but he just kept on eating in his bathrobe, his one leg propped up on another chair as Roger sat on his hind legs beside him.

Bucky sighed with his mouth full as he waved his dog off. Roger goes dashing through the open doorway and into the other which led to the expansive library. Bucky didn’t want to look out into the window and see how beautiful the morning was, now that there was something so elegant to see when the whole world just drained itself out of color, and it all seemed unfair — a misuse of justice. Roger brought in a book, and Bucky couldn’t even look at the cover. The Masque Of The Red Death. His hands gripped the pocketbook, his mind fuming and his lips searing at the seams; he fumbled with the book and his muffled sobs, and he suddenly thrashed — he threw the book across the room, successfully breaking another picture frame that was hung on the opposite wall. Roger whimpered and set his head on Bucky's stomach, pawing at his hands until all Bucky gripped was the dog’s coat, gently and softly, feeling his heart squeezed out of life but he’s lightheaded. He’s not better now, but he feels like he could be. 

Bucky whispered something to Roger's ear and he pets him, even gave him an extra treat. 

It’s an unmistakable kind of brokenness that is almost like a “tell,” you know something is wrong, but they don’t fess up to it. Ending up with a game of cat and mouse, and both of you are chasing each other's tail, not knowing who is the culprit and the victim; both of you victimized yourselves because it was the only solution left. You weep at the mess you’ve made and that’s all that you can do. It’s all anyone’s ever done these days, and you shouldn’t apologize for it.

People should start screaming from the top of their rooftops and get that anger out of them, find a victim to mesmerize, and leave them for dead or nothing. Bucky wanted to drive off to the nearest cliff and scream his guts out, vomit his spine out, and just gouge his eyes out, because in a world where the skies seem bleaker — it wasn’t a world. It sounded like a page ripped off of the book of legends, burnt to a crisp, never to be seen again, and Bucky had hoped he would never see it, but then again, here he lies, almost dead and unhinged, mesmerized by the beauty of death to the point that he’d let her sleep in his room for the night.

Bucky would let death spend the night and pick at his skin, peeling it off of him like some sadist, wear his skin, even — let him have a bit of life, even if he was a puppet. There’s nothing more shameful than thinking of such atrocities, yet what other choice does he have? He couldn’t handle it anymore. He was pained, mourning, and helpless. If an angel went down from the skies and told him to jump off a cliff, Bucky would jump off a bridge; if a second angel came down and told him to get lost at sea, Bucky would get lost in a swamp; if a third angel came down for him and told him to suck a dick, Bucky would suck a shoe. Bucky thought he didn’t deserve the gentleness of suffering, so he let himself hurt worse than what was anticipated. So, he lost his leg, had another prosthetic, then he’d lost his sanity. 

Out on the couch at the back porch that overlooked the vast fields of his property, he could feel the tiniest of pinpricks of rain whipping him in his face if it was not for the wall of crawling vines dangling from his rooftop. He set his foot on the coffee table, and right beside him was Roger, resting his head on Bucky’s lap. Bucky’s hand ran through his dog’s fur as he read another random chapter of Pride and Prejudice. He couldn’t say. He didn’t even notice. He’s been so out of it, he wouldn’t even realize the title of the book until he’d put it back into the bookshelf. Bucky’s mind had been empty except for anxious thoughts that he had become numb with the idea of surprises. He left his phone buried in the backyard because he didn’t want any unexpected calls. 

His hands were calloused over the years of stressful work, eventually leaving him with thin and rugged fingers that feel pinpricks almost every second. His hands were once a thing of beauty, and ever since the accident, he couldn’t think much of it. All Bucky now wanted was to decay faster, to lie down on the grass, and feel moss crawl on his skin and declare himself one with the earth. Now that would be a thing of beauty. 

His breath was slow and steady, turning into nothingness a few seconds here and then. Holding onto his breath was the only thing he knew he could hold onto and never let go of. It was the only thing he remembered to be tangible. It didn't use to be like this. Then again, April 10 didn't exist back then.

Sam Wilson would walk into the back porch right now, holding two mugs of hot chocolate, because he adored the rain with his whole heart, and as much he loved nature, that's how much he loved Bucky Barnes. Sam would now then sit right beside his husband and they'll stay snuggled together, bare legs intertwined together, and they'd be giggling like children at the warmth in their chests.

"Look, baby," Sam had said, pecking a quick kiss on Bucky's lips. Bucky's eyes would be overcome with stars that he'd become dizzy at the sensation, "Rain. Do you think it'll rain all day? The weatherman said only a 30% chance,"

Bucky had hummed into Sam's cheek, feeling the way Sam's skin tasted right on his lips. Bucky's mouth would trace the edges of Sam's jaw and the man would let him do more. "Maybe. Perhaps," he had breathed out, "Do you want to stay like this forever?"

Sam had laughed into Bucky's mouth, leaving another kiss that lasted a second longer now. It was sweet, and there were stars dispersing in their hearts. "What else am I going to do all day?"

They had spent the whole day like this: sneaking kisses like teenagers and sipping on hot chocolate like children. Their hearts grew as the rain poured stronger. The pitter-patter of downpour had drummed against their roof like bullets and all they could feel is how safe they were in the war with each other's arms wrapped around each other. It was their own kind of shield, and it was perfect .

That kind of day was now replaced with Bucky and Roger. Bucky would read a random book as Roger would look out into the backyard, longing to run around the rain, but Bucky needed Roger right beside him, and that's what the dog shall do.

READ MORE ON AO3

[my-brothers-corrupted]

Chapter Four - Part 5

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

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

Part 5 - Haloperidol

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

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

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

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

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

Dapper doesn’t let go of him.

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

“I won’t,” signs Dapper.

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

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

“If I don’t?” he dares to sign.

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

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

In Trick’s eyes, all is well.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Something in his eyes softens like butter.

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

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

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

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

Anti smiles. Cold and bitter in the darkness.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

.

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t know! Something!”

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

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

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

“No,” answers Dok firmly. “No. Not anymore. We have to do something.”

Red sighs again, even deeper, glancing out at the window. He can’t go to the store or the hospital while the monster’s in the woods.

“Going to go take Blue swimming,” mumbles Dok, his eyes shadowed and angry. “Just… I’ll think. Please, Red. You promised me back in Peru you’d always help me make sure he has his medicine. It’s torture for him without it. You know that.”

Anonymous asked: red, this is a genuine question, what do you think will happen if you go along with what anti says?

Red bites at his nails, thinking, his eyes flickering across the floor.

“My job has always been to minimize the damage,” he says quietly. “But even when I haven’t been able to do that, the worst things I’ve ever seen Anti do are steal Blue’s magic, chain Dok up by the throat, separate twins from each other, sometimes cut or beat us up. But I don’t remember before Norway.”

He steps out into the hall, looking around. He can hear Trick’s side of what must be a conversation with Dapper in the kitchen and Dok trying to get Blue out of bed - without much success. The thought makes his stomach twist.

“I’m scared to see Dapper psychotic again,” he says. “The last time he was…”

Red closes his eyes, putting a hand on his heart, as if that can keep it quiet against the memory of his little brother hanging off over the side of that cliff. He’s been having nightmares. He’s been having nightmares most all the time. He’s tired and he misses Max.

“Well, you were there,” he sighs. “And now I’m starting to get really scared for Blue. I’m scared that if I go along with Anti, even if I do everything I can to minimize… I might still… I might still…”

He steps towards the bedroom. Blue is barely even responding to Dok’s attempts to wake him. He lies stiff in his bed, pale and worn, hugging a pillow to his chest. Dok shakes him gently. Blue does not move.

“I might still lose a sibling. And I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.”

He turns around again. You see his eyes, dark and alight at the same time.

“If I asked you to,” he says. “Do you think you could find a way to cause a distraction?”

Anonymous asked: maybe. a distraction for what? who would we be distracting? we'd have to know before agreeing.

“Who would you be distracting? Who do you think? I’m on camera here, I need you to make a couple assumptions. Actually… now that I think about it…”

Red wanders back to the living room, flipping the laptop Anti gave him open again. He rereads Anti’s note.

Gigi will try to get into the camera system. The code for you to access it is 3110.

Camera system, huh? Red glances up at you, eyes wary. A few minutes of typing later, he looks up again.

“Tell me if this does anything,” he mumbles, hitting enter.

Half your screens black out. Upstairs, Anti sits up, blinking.

“Red!” he shouts. “What the fuck are you doing!”

“Sorry!” calls back Red quickly. “Just trying to figure this out!”

Anonymous asked: half the screen went black. i doubt that's what you were trying to have happen?

You hear Red’s fingers clacking against the keyboard. Your screens blink back to life. There’s almost fifty of them across the whole of the house - enough that, to see all of them, you have to take the time to flick between different parts of the house.

“Turn the cameras off? Me? Becoming invisible in my own home? Of course that wasn’t what I was trying to have happen… why would I?”

He grins nervously at you, his eyes scanning for cameras.

nikkilbook asked: You beautiful clever boy

Red blinks in surprise, straightening up a little. After a moment, he blushes and shrugs, a smile blooming across crimson cheeks. “Aw, no, ha, no. Thank you, uh. Ha.”

Anonymous asked: now it's back. what are you gonna do next?

“I don’t know,” sighs Red. “Maybe this is dumb. Just causing more trouble.”

“Red!” calls Dok from the other room.

“What, my man?”

“Can you come help me with Blue? He threw up.”

Red gets onto his feet, hurrying towards his twin.

Can’t lose him. Can’t lose him. Can’t lose any of them.

No matter what it takes.

pine-storm-season asked: Blue, you okay?

“I do not feel good at all,” complains Blue thickly, draped half over the bed, held up by Dok’s hands. “I do not… ‘m going to throw up again.”

He lurches forward and is sick, relieved when Red appears and pushes a piece of tupperware beneath his chin, helping Dok hold him. Neither of them react to the vomit, and he’s grateful. This is so fucking humiliating already. Tears drip down his face as he vomits and coughs, hugging his churning, aching stomach.

“It’s okay, Zul, it’s okay,” whispers Red, brushing at his hair and his back. Dok monitors his heartrate carefully, his fingers warm against Blue’s neck. “It’s not your fault, buddy, it’s okay. Here I am.”

“I feel bad all the time,” cries Blue, rocking over the bed. “Why is it getting worse? Why won’t it stop?”

“I think he should see a working doctor,” whispers Dok. “He’s right, he’s getting worse.”

“You know we can’t do that,” Red whispers back, holding Blue’s sweaty head against his chest. “It’s okay, Blue, it’s alright.”

pine-storm-season asked: Has it been getting worse for a while, Blue?

“I was better for a while,” he moans. “But then he started wearing me every night and I - I think I’m losing my mind, I…”

He’s not getting sick anymore, but he’s only crying harder, breaking down despite himself. Everything stinks of sick. He’s disgusting and ugly and weak and useless. He hides against Red’s stomach and cries, listening to his brothers’ reassurances and promises to get him all cleaned up. He can feel Red’s fear and frustration in his own chest and he grips weakly at his twin’s hand, sorry for causing him so much grief.

nikkilbook asked: Okay, this might be an absolutely rubbish idea that could backfire in over a thousand ways, but... I think I might know where you could find a doctor off the grid who has access to everything he’d need.

“I have an off-the-grid doctor with everything we need,” grumbles Red.

“Red.” Dok rolls his eyes. “I’m a heart specialist with next to no resources. I want to take him to a hospital.”

“Man, I love you, but that’s a joke. Trick told me you once got shot and Anti didn’t take you to a hospital.”

Dok flushes, touching the scar in his stomach. “I was fine,” he answers crabbily. “Trick kept me alive. And we knew what the problem was and how to fix it. It wasn’t some weird progressive magic shit I have no idea how to handle.”

“Loving the optimism,” croaks Blue, wiping his mouth on a tissue.

“Red, what if he gets worse?” hisses Dok, trying to lower his voice. “What if his heart gives out or he stops breathing right or he really does start to lose his mind, what then?”

The fear in Red’s eyes is enough to make Dok almost regret saying it. Worse, his older brother has no answer. Red just shakes his head and strokes Blue’s short hair, staring down at him.

“Won’t let that happen,” he mumbles after a long moment.

“There’s nothing we can do to stop it if we’re just complacent,” answers Dok weakly, falling back. “Red, we can’t survive like this. We’re helpless.”

Helpless. Helpless. Red hatesthat. He clings to Blue’s fingers, shaking his head. He’ll find something to do. He’s not helpless. He’ll prove it.

Anonymous asked: Red I have an idea. You're going to hate it, and I don't know if it's a stupid or wrong thing to do, and it may just be trading one demons word for another... but it may get Anti out of the house long enough for someone to run upstairs for the medication.

Red looks up, reading the message carefully.

“I’ll go get stuff to clean this up,” he tells his siblings, stepping out of the room.

“I’m listening,” he tells you. “I was also thinking… well.”

He steps out of the house for a moment and pretends to take in the sights of the forest. Admittedly, it’s beautiful out here - the trees are tall and green and swaying and he can see a shining river cutting through the earth not far away, just past their property and winding deep into the woods. But there’s something else he’s showing you, too - the stones of the outside of the house, the rain gutter, and the great window of the master bedroom, above him.

But not too far above him.

He slips discreetly back into the house. You can hear Dapper whistling in the kitchen, trying to keep his spirits up as he helps Trick make muffins.

pine-storm-season asked: We'll see what we can do, okay, Blue? We'll do our best to make stuff better for you. You're gonna be okay, even though I know it really sucks right now.

“Thanks,” he tells you thickly, blowing his nose and accepting a glass of water from Dok. “Sorry I’m so lame lately.”

“We will look after you,” Dok insists. “We’ll do what it takes, okay?”

Blue looks up at his little brother gratefully, touching Dok’s beard. “My poor tired brother. Probably hurting just as much as I am, aren’t you, darling?”

“Only for moments at a time,” answers Dok, shaking his head. “I don’t spend every hour ill like you do.”

“Either way,” says Blue. “We gotta have each other’s backs.”

“And I do,” says Dok. “I have your back. I love you, Blue.”

“I love you too, Deutsch. It’s not your fault you can’t help right now.”

Dok looks away guiltily, shaking his head.

nikkilbook asked: If you decide to go for it, wait for this Gigi person to try and access the cameras. When they do, ask if you can talk to Dr. Edward Iplier.

“Hold on, hold on,” protests Red. “That’s a step past sneaking around the house. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we got a couple trust issues in this family. Far as I’m concerned, Gigi’s with Dark, and they’re not on our side. I gotta be cautious. I’m trying to get my siblings out of the frying pan without stepping right into the fire.”

Anonymous asked: Okay, I'll rip off the band-aid: run off into the woods with your laptop and screw with the cameras as much as possible before shutting them all off. That should send anti off to find you so he doesn't lose his bet. If you can, double back to the window, or have one of the others get the meds if you don't make it back. I know dark is a huge huge risk, but we're running out of options and time. Remember that this is entirely your choice though, Red.

Red’s eyes widen in alarm. He steps back from the door, staring.

“Just… run into the woods. Where that thing is.”

Their rotting face and cold smile. The great pillar of darkness like a plague sent by angels. The fear they made him feel.

He can’t do that. He can’t. Can he?

“R… right now I just… just need to get Dapper his medicine,” he says, backing away from the door once again. Red has no desire to encounter Dark ever again. His desire to keep his brothers away from Dark is still stronger than his desire to keep them away from Anti.

Anonymous asked: Jackie we don’t know how much longer you can play this safe, Marvin’s on borrowed time right now- anything is better than nothing. But ultimately it’s your decision and whatever you think is best we’ll help you as much as we can.

“I’ll think about it, I’ll think about it,” mumbles Red, picking at his lip. “I, uh. Did set up a pretty fucking clever security system this morning, if I do say so myself. Anti has his own security and then I add a more human flair to it… keep ‘em guessing. But I could maybe shut that down if I needed to. Er - sorry. Let’s not talk about this on camera. Just… if you could distract… a certain someone. The others would help you, I bet. I don’t know. I need to get…”

He glances up at the big master bedroom window again before he moves off to get the cleaning supplies he promised Blue.

Anonymous asked: you don't have to do it, red. and you definitely don't have to do it now. we'll see how stuff goes, okay? it makes sense to not run the risk of coming face to face with them again. i agree, they're kinda terrifying.

“It’s not… a bad idea. It would distract Anti. I won’t forget.”

nikkilbook asked: I honestly don’t know who the fire is in this scenario, bud. I’ve seen a thousand different versions of Dark, and I don’t know which one this is. I know Dap’s scared of him, but I don’t know anything beyond that. I do feel confident saying, though, that there are good people who live under Dark’s protection. A little wacky at times, but good.

“Yeah,” sighs Red. “Well… my family’s a little wacky too. A little fucked up sometimes. But still good.”

Anonymous asked: Yeah but stepping into that fire might make a lot of noise that could help you get them away from Big Brother, alright? I’m not entirely aware how the relations are between those on the other side of the camera but this might be your only chance at getting your voice heard. You might even be able to reach Jack.

“J - he doesn’t even remember who we are,” says Red. “I don’t know if he would help us if we could contact him. Dapper says they were friends. But Anti? Well, he’s told me some pretty messed up stories. And he has good points. Why do we deal with so much shit if someone created us? If he was nice, he would have been nicer to us. Anti says the scar in Chase’s head is from the first day of his life. That’s messed up. But we probably shouldn’t get into it now. We seriously need to shut up. Gah, I’m such a blabbermouth. I know I’m on camera and I still go off. Geez. Let me help get Blue cleaned up and then… if you can help me get where we need to go… yeah.”

He passes Dapper and Trick, smiling at the sight of them arguing over how long the muffins should be in the oven for. Everyone’s okay, for now. But in a couple days?

He really will be helpless. The thought makes his stomach burn.

Anonymous asked: Hey Trick, where's Noodle right now out of curiosity?

“Aw, he stays in the pool room most of the time, I got a little sandbox and everything set up for him. Don’t want him running upstairs while I’m not looking. I’ve seen Anti kick stray cats. He gets scared.”

Trick goes to the door that leads downstairs, where you have a single camera with a view on the pool table and a little TV set up with a couch. Noodle is asleep on the cushions. Trick imitates a meow and his cat perks up instantly, trotting to the stairs to mewl back at him. Noodle runs up to him and Trick pulls him into his arms, hugging his kitten tight and burying his face in his fur as Noodle purrs.

pine-storm-season asked: Yeah, you're both doing really well right now. It's a fucked-up situation, and it sucks, but I think you both are handling it really well. Hopefully stuff gets better very soon.

“Yeah, we’re doing our best, aren’t we?” murmurs Red as he comes back into the room, spreading some of Noodle’s litter on the throw up to dry it out so he can clean it up later. He strips the sheets off the bed and gives Blue a washcloth to clean his face and nose.

“Why don’t I move you to the couch so you can lie down somewhere without a mess instead of just hanging out on the mattress?”

“No, please,” begs Blue, snuggled against his pillow again. “I can’t get up, Red. I’m so tired. Just let me sleep here.”

Red sighs and pushes at his twin’s hair. “Okay, buddy. I’ll crack a window. It’s going to be okay.”

Anonymous asked: Do you think using Blue as a distraction would be enough to get Anti out of his room? I think he might expect you to be by his side though, Red, so maybe Dapper or Trick could climb up?

“Use Blue? Hm. I’d have to tell him what’s going on and see if he’s okay with it, but I could. I think he’d do whatever Dapper needs. What would he do to distract him?”

bupine asked: red, do you think if we bothered anti with the information we know about his past, that could work as a distraction? i want your permission before we do so, because it could backfire and have disastrous consequences. but it also could work to make him yell at us while you did something, i'm not sure. what do you think?

“Yes, that would be okay, as long as you can get him out of his room,” says Red. “I don’t care if he gets mad - he will be mad, really mad, when he finds the you-know-what missing. I’ll tell him I took it then, so he doesn’t punish Dapper.”

Anonymous asked: I think Blue being in the state that he is, just being this sick and getting worse should at least be enough to get Anti's attention. I don't think anti will agree to taking him to a hospital per se, but if he comes down long enough to at least entertain the argument from you and Dok it may be enough time to send trick or dap upstairs and back. And hell, at least putting the idea that blue is immensely I'll in his head has to be good for something, right?

“Yeah, maybe I should go ask him to look Blue over, ask if we can go to the hospital,” murmurs Red, chewing on the nail of his thumb. “Okay… okay.”

He steps cautiously towards the stairs and climbs up one at a time on quiet feet, neglecting his usual enthusiastic stomping around the house. He pauses at the top of the stairs, peering into Anti’s room. His brother is on the couch playing with his laptops, wearing a green-haired form in a band t-shirt.

bupine asked: hey there, anti. how are you? still sick from all the magic stealing?

“Shut up,” growls Anti, who has, in fact, been almost as sick as Blue this morning. He needs a body of his own and never gets one. He kicks his blankets off of himself irritably, shifting into a sulking dog on the bed as he watches old videos of Dapper.

“Hey, Anti,” comes a soft voice.

Anti looks up, irritated to be disturbed by anyone other than his little brother.

“I want to take Blue to the hospital,” says Red, trying to stand his ground sturdily. “Dok says he’s not doing well.”

The dog rolls its eyes, shaking its head. “Don’t be stupid, Red.”

“He’s really looking bad, Anti,” says Ro, squirming in place. “I’m scared.”

“Oh, you’re scared? Stupid fucking…” Anti gets up, turning back into a human and slamming his laptop shut, pacing out to stand at the banister above the stairs, glaring.

Anonymous asked: anti, blue really is getting worse. if it's not possible to take him to a hospital, could you at least see if there's another way to get him medicine or something that he would need? he's really not okay.

“Well, what does Dok say?”

“I don’t know, he’s downstairs with him!”

Anti rolls his eyes hard and grabs Red by the shirt, dragging him downstairs. Anti appears in the doorway of the bedroom and Dok jolts away from Blue, the hair on his arms standing up. He wraps his arms around his belly and backs away for a moment, only to come hurrying back to stand in front of Blue, trembling.

“What’s going on?” asks Trick, passing by with a soda in hand.

“Go get Blue some Sprite for his nausea,” says Anti, crossing his arms over his chest. “He’s just got a bad stomach.”

“Sprite won’t help,” spits Dok - or tries to spit, his voice coming out frail.

“Shut the fuck up, Dok. No, actually, tell me what the hell’s got you little idiots so concerned.”

Red backs carefully away, heading towards his laptop and flipping it open in the living room.

pine-storm-season asked: Dok, could you say what's going wrong with Blue? And if you have ideas how to fix it, could you say those too?

“This weakness and constant sickness is absolutely relentless on him. He can’t take all this - ”

“It’s like a chronic illness, Dok. I’m not saying it’s fun, but he has to learn to handle it.”

“If it’s a chronic illness, there’s no reason he should be suffering through it without a proper examination and medicine, and the fact that it’s chronic does not mean it couldn’t be… couldn’t be… deadly.”

Blue shivers on the bed. He just wants to hide from all this. He doesn’t want Anti to touch him. He wraps his blankets over his head and tries to go back to sleep.

“You don’t even know what’s wrong, do you?” sneers Anti, taking a step towards Dok. “Some doctor.”

“I read books while I was with the magicians - ”

“Oh, come on!”

“He won’t get better, Anti! He won’t! He needs help. He struggles in the world. You’re the one who did this to him. He needs his lungs and his digestion and his heart all looked at, I’m scared what might happen!”

“You’re always scared.”

Anonymous asked: (remember, red; when you look for what you need, do you need what holds it? or just the thing itself? if you can leave its container where it is, someone else might see it and assume all is well)

“We’ll have to look at it when we get up there. I think it’s one of those clear bottles, the orange ones.”

He messes with the keyboard and for a second, your screens go black again. He’s turned off three of them - the two in the master bedroom and the one that watches the back side of the house.

“Hold on, I might be able to…”

Your vision returns across the screens, but the three he turned off now have a small symbol in the corner - an eye with a slash through it.

“You should be able to see it,” he mumbles. “But I don’t think he will. Maybe.”

He’s never had time to test it. He does know that if Anti notices the screens are off, he’ll be able to turn them back on immediately, no matter if he has his laptops with him or not. Red can spend time in the camera system, but Anti lives there.

“I’ll hurry,” he whispers, and races out the back door, flipping up his blue hood over his eyes. The river in the woods whispers at him and you see a flash of movement in the trees.

Anonymous asked: Anti if something goes wrong medically due to a chronic condition, I highly doubt Dap will be able to go back far enough to prevent it from being deadly if that's what it ends up becoming. Ignoring symptoms won't improve them.

This makes Anti pause, shuffling on his feet. He’s not used to their injuries being something Dapper can’t fix. Hell, Dapper tells him he’s killed them before just for the hell of it, and he believes it of himself. It makes him laugh.

But permanently losing one of them… well, he wouldn’t want it to happen accidentally. He steps over to the bed, smirking as Dok cowers away from him like an under-sized dog, though he refuses to step away from Blue’s body. Anti sits down on the side of the bed and draws the covers back. Blue doesn’t bother to open his eyes. Anti rakes fingers through his hair, gripping his chin and turning his head back and forth.

“Feel his heart,” mutters Dok.

Anti pushes at Blue’s throat and finds his pulse, weak and erratic. He frowns.

“He was fine in Singapore,” he says. “Just a little weak.”

“He is getting worse,” growls Dok.

“He shouldn’t be,” answers Anti, raising an eyebrow. “Sure you’re not mercy-killing him or something, Dok?”

“Don’t even joke,” hisses his older brother.

“No, I wouldn’t put it past you,” sneers Anti. “Little sadist. You know, they say most serial killers are medical staff.”

Trick comes back with Blue’s Sprite and Anti turns his head to him, cutting himself off before saying anything else.

Anonymous asked: Anti, possessing Blue only helps you feel better because it's his magic you stole. If he dies, sure, you can possess anyone else, but you won't have Blue! The magic's just gonna get worse and worse! Even for purely selfish reasons, you need to invest in Blue's continued survival, and that means q more holistic medical approach than Dok can provide.

“Well, look, as I’ve told you, I don’t have any way to give the magic back, so don’t stop harping on me about that again,” says Anti. “I, uh - I don’t regret it, but I will admit it was poorly-researched.”

“Ohhh,” says Dok, in a tone like he’s about to say more, but Anti shoots him a look and he falls silent, glaring at the floor.

“But here’s what you’re all forgetting - if this is because of the magic withdrawal, there’s nothing a doctor can do.”

“I don’t think that’s true,” protests Dok. “You said he improved at the hospital in Singapore! If nothing else they could give us more time to figure out how to fix this. And why discard it when we haven’t even tried?”

Anti turns away, thinking.

On the other side of the house, Red leaps up and positions himself between the gutter and the stone of the house. He finds his foothold, adjusts his grip, and begins to climb up towards the master bedroom, his feet finding places in crevices and cracks when they have to, moving like he’s climbing mountains.

pine-storm-season asked: He's scared for a reason, Anti. There's a not-that-low chance that it could kill Blue, he's just getting worse. Anti, he needs help or he might die. and even if you in particular don't care that much about it, the others do. a lot. Blue needs help and you're in charge of getting him some.

Anti sits for a moment, looking at Blue, petting his hair.

“He is so ugly these days, isn’t he?” he murmurs, tilting his head at him. “I tore that dignified pretty boy with all that lovely hair down to scraps and pieces.”

Blue does not move. You’re not sure if he’s awake or not. Dok glances over at Trick, who’s busying himself with adjusting the blinds to let Blue sleep. His brother sees him looking and smiles at him.

“But he is still… hmm.” Anti draws his hand away from Blue’s hair, looking down at him.

Here is someone who has destroyed and hurt him in the past. Seeing him brought low, seeing him cower at his feet, killing Marvin - that was one of the greatest satisfaction’s of Anti’s life. And he’s enjoyed torturing him since. But he belongs to him and he isn’t allowed to slip away or escape, not even by dying. He’s a piece of the puzzle.

“Well, we’re stuck in the forest for a while yet, though I’m sure I could sneak one of you past Dark if I really had to,” says Anti, checking a watch that he makes appear on his wrist. “Four more days of the game, or until he catches one of you. I don’t much mind either way.”

“Anti, please - ”

“He can hold on four more days,” growls Anti, warning Dok into silence. “Don’t fuss so much. He’s just tired. Let him rest. And then - oh, yes, perfect! Ippy can look at him. He’s as nuts as you are, my darling, but at least he has a real clinic set-up, last I checked. He can get a real check-up then.”

Dok opens his mouth to protest, uncertain, but four days is a better promise than nothing.

Upstairs, Red opens the window to the master bedroom and slips inside the room, searching for Dapper’s Haldol.

“Where is it, where is it…”

pine-storm-season asked: So four days or less, and then Blue gets help? Now, I apologize if I'm mistaken, but I don't exactly trust you to keep to that, Anti.

“I don’t exactly give a fuck about any of your opinions,” answers Anti cheerfully.

“Anti,” laughs Trick, appearing behind him and draping himself over his shoulders. “Be nice to the cameras.”

“You two really are twins.” Anti leans back to kiss his cheek, pulling his head close to his own. “What are you up to? Huh?”

“Haha, just cooking most of the time. And playing pool.”

“Mh, yeah. You like playing around, huh? My Trickshot.”

Trickshot laughs as he’s pampered, pressed close to Anti’s body.

pine-storm-season asked: Trick, do you want Anti to stay here a bit? He's usually upstairs, isn't he?

“Hey, yeah, come shoot pool with me!”

“I’m not going to shoot fucking pool, haha. I don’t play pool, Trick.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know, that’s dumb.”

“Are you embarrassed you can’t play?”

Anti turns around and flips him over his side, laying him out on the ground. Trick shrieks and then bites down on his lip, laughing.

“We’re going to wake Blue up!”

“Get your ass out of here,” scolds Anti, getting up and pulling Trick after him, shoving him towards the door.

“You are always upstairs, though, you never hang out with me.”

“You can come upstairs,” says Anti fondly. “I’ll let you play games on the computer or something.”

“Okay!”

Anonymous asked: Cam you at least look into stealing some medical equipment or Something in the meantime, Anti? Thank you giving the chance for an actual checkup in four days, because I think that'll help a lot, but is there nothing you can do before then? Like, even a heart monitor so it's easier to keep track of how Blue's doing, or an oxygen machine, or any of the setup he might get in a hospital? I don't know if you have to stay here to try to keep Dark from winning the game or something

“I’ve been through the shit in the medicine cabinet,” says Anti, turning to look back at Dok. “I’ll unlock for you as long as you don’t get into the fucking sleeping pills like you used to. There’s at least some basic stuff in there for the nausea and headaches, and I think a blood sugar kit and that sort of thing.”

“Okay,” says Dok quietly.

“He’ll be fine, Dok.”

Dok looks up. For a second, it almost sounded like Anti was trying to comfort him.

Anonymous asked: agsjdjdksf trick you're a delight. do you just play pool by yourself? i thought it was usually a multiplayer game. ill be honest i love the idea of seeing anti with a pool cue tryna put some balls into holes. seems a very analog form of entertainment for him hahaha

“Haha, you should play with me, you would like it!”

“No.”

“I’ve been playing with Dap and sometimes Red and Dok. Not going to lie, Dap’s pretty good - but there’s a reason they call me Trickshot, baby.” He winks at you and then laughs.

bupine asked: why are you watching old videos of dapper, anti? don't you have more important things to be doing, like making sure your brothers don't die? like blue, the one you hurt? he's really fucking sick, anti. he's going to die if you don't do anything.

Anti turns on you, his face dark. “None of your business,” he spits, pulling Trick closer to him. “Nosy little bastards. I wouldn’t have a camera in my room if Dap didn’t stay in there, I’ll have you know. Need to start turning the damn things off. Prying eyes.”

Upstairs, Red pauses, looking at the images on Anti’s screen. There’s a young man in a black and white suit pressed against the back of what might be a big dog kennel, trying to keep away from the fingers that are petting at him. He has teal hair and blood on his fingers. Red’s heart aches for a second. His baby brother. It’s like he’s never had a day of relief in his life.

Anonymous asked: Dok, I know we're probably not gonna do much better than 4 days and he just called you a serial killer but Red needs a little time, can you do something to keep Anti down a few moments longer? For dap and Reds sake?

Dok blinks, alarmed. “What’s…?”

He peers out the hallway after his brothers, worried now. Blue mumbles something as Dok gets up and moves after them, trying to think, and almost immediately bumps into Dap.

“Dok? What’s wrong? Look worried.”

“It’s - I don’t know, the cameras said to distract him or something? I don’t know if something’s going on.”

“Oh. Distract Anti? Easy.”

Dapper pulls a knife out of his pocket and slams Dok into the wall with a bang, pressing the blade to his throat. Dok yells in alarm, terrified, and Anti and Trick turn around on the stairs.

“Dapper!” screams Trick, gripping at his chest.

“Carver, stop,” snarls Anti, stalking towards him.

“It’s not Dok! It’s not Dok! It’s not Dok!” screams Dapper’s free hand, his eyes gone wild, and Dok bites down on his lip to hold back an incredulous laugh.

Anonymous asked: Red, we're doing our best to start. If it's not upstairs, it may be on Anti's person in which case we may need a whole new plan but look a little longer, okay? Whether or not we get to the bottom of this, it's not for nothing.

Red scurries around the room, tearing open drawers and searching through the bedsheets, but he doesn’t see it for long minutes. He checks the bathroom - “whew, flower smell! a lot of flower smell!” - and then returns to the main room, leaning down to search beneath the -

“Yes!” he cheers, snagging the pill bottle from under the bed.

pine-storm-season asked: Red, be quick. I think Anti's coming back now. Only take a bit and put it back, too.

“Thank you, a-thank you very much,” says Red in a slightly Irish Elvis impression, quickly pouring some of the pills into his hand, enough to last Dap the week. It doesn’t leave much in the bottom of the bottle, unfortunately, but it’s the best he can do right now. “Okay, let’s get out of here.”

He shoves the medicine into his pocket and leaps out the window, beginning to slide down the side of the house.

Anonymous asked: Dok: What do you have? Dap: A KNIFE! Anti: NO!

“Oh, VERY FUNNY,” shouts Anti, putting his hands on his little brother’s shoulders and yanking him away from Dok.

“It is a little funny actually,” says Trick weakly.

“Trick!”

“Sorry.”

Anonymous asked: whoa, dap, hey, it's okay!! it's alright. i know stuff's scary right now but it's okay. you don't have to hurt anyone, right? you're not in danger right now

“What’s wrong with you?” snaps Anti, striking the knife out of Dapper’s hands and pushing his wriggling brother into the wall. “Hey, you cut that out! Stop it, now! I know you’re not having an episode yet! You’ve been off your meds for about twenty minutes!”

“Medication can only do so much,” pants Dok, relieved to see Trick hurrying to his side. His twin wraps him into a tight hug and they stand side-by-side, holding onto each other. “He sometimes has symptoms even when he’s medicated. Especially if he’s been under duress.”

“This is why you should be upstairs with me,” hisses Anti. “You’re out of control.”

“It’s Dark, it’s Dark, making themselves look like my brother!” screams Dapper. “Dark, they’re in my house!”

“Dapper, stop!”

Right behind them, Red drops to the pavement of the patio and slides quickly into the door, pushing his hood off again and trying to stop panting.

Anonymous asked: Uhh Dok you know more about Dap's psychosis and delusions than we do but would it help if you just kinda,,, left the room for a second? So Dap can calm down and not think Dark's in the house? Maybe you can go find Red, last we saw he was having kind of a rough time in the other room, he was worried about Blue. And then when you come back maybe Dap'll have an easier time, especially if Red's with you and trusting you?

“I’m not leaving him alone with Anti if I don’t have to,” says Dok.

“Hey,” says Trick quietly.

“No, don’t try to talk me out of - ”

“Dok, I’ll stay here with him. Go check on Red, okay?”

With Anti there, Dok can’t explain to his twin that Dapper’s pretending. And with the way Trick’s been, Dok can’t explain to him that even if he’s here, Anti could hurt Dapper. He doesn’t think Trick would even recognize that if it happened. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know who Trick is these days.

“Hey,” says Trick, and his voice is the same as when he found the dark bruises on Dok’s wrist. “Hey, trust me.”

Dok is trying. Dok is trying.

“Okay,” he murmurs. “Okay.”

He lets go of Trick and slinks away, finding Red in the living room. The two of them stay close at hand, listening for trouble, Red’s hand resting gratefully between Dok’s shoulder blades.

Dapper takes Dok leaving the room as his cue to draw the performance to a close. He lets his breathing slow and the snarl fade from his teeth, though his body still shakes and his eyes stare dead ahead, angry and cold.

“You’re losing it,” growls Anti. “Get a hold on yourself. This is pathetic.”

“You’re the one who brought me back to that monster,” snarls Dapper. “And you were the one who made them scare me so badly I had the first psychotic episode of my life. Dark was the stress that broke my diathesis and you brought me back to them like it means nothing to you. You brought me back to them when I might not be schizophrenic if I never met them. You - ”

Anti slaps Dapper so hard his head crashes against the wall of the house. Trick screams in alarm, rushing forward without even knowing what to do, putting a hand on both Dapper and Anti.

Dapper lets out a dry croak, tears welling in his eyes. All his training, imprinted into him from years of conditioning, seems to rush back to him in an instant. He cowers against the wall, shaking for real now, tears running down his face.

“You’re a fucking brat,” hisses Anti.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” cries Dapper.

“Anti!” shrieks Trick. “Stop it, leave him alone!”

pine-storm-season asked: Anti, he can't control it. Leave him be, okay? He's trying. He's just human.

Anti can feel Trick’s heart pounding in the space where his hand lies on his arm, holding him back from Dapper.

“Whatever,” spits Anti, stepping back. “Whatever.”

Dapper hides his face. Trick pants, staring at Anti, his free hand moving to linger over his heart, the fingers curling uncertainly.

Anti moves back towards the stairs, scowling. His palm stings from slapping Dapper. In the hallway, he sees Red staring back at him. His oldest’s eyes are cold and glittering. Anti bites his teeth, growling.

“Whatever,” he repeats in a mumble, turning away.

bupine asked: anti, this isn't dapper's fault. he's scared and seeing things, ok? he's not in his right mind and if what he just said is true, which i obviously believe it is, you did bring him back to the most triggering person you possibly could have brought him to. can you blame him? it would be like if you were brought back to your old master, put at his mercy. wouldn't that be scary, anti? can you understand now why dapper is afraid?

Anti pads up the stairs, gripping the banister. As soon as he’s on the second floor, he hears Red and Dok and Dap and Trick all rushing towards each other and murmuring together. Holding each other’s hands and kneeling down to be close.

“Jack was the one who made him schizophrenic,” says Anti. “Jack was. It wasn’t my fault. It wasn’t Dark’s fault. I love… I love… it wasn’t our fault. It was Jack. It was Jack!”

He strikes his door as he passes it and angry cherry blossom branches snarl across the wood, tearing holes in the door that guards his room.

He sinks down beside his bed, pulling a computer onto his lap. He fast-forwards through the video without having to touch it, his eyes flickering as it settles on a few days forward. Dapper, five days old, crawls carefully out of the little cage and takes an orange slice from Anti’s hand. Anti touches his hair. Dapper smiles nervously and puts the orange in his mouth.

Anti slumps down against the bed, holding his head in his hands.

“It’s Jack’s fault,” he mumbles.

Anonymous asked: (hey red, don't forget to undo what you did in the first place that made this whole thing feasible)

“Right, right, thank you.”

Red races to his computer, letting Dok and Trick look after Dapper, and quickly turns all the screens back on. The crossed-out eye disappears. Anti can see everything again.

And then Red disappears too, slinking away, out of the view of the cameras, and when he comes back, he has only one pill in his hand, and the rest are gone somewhere you cannot see.

Anonymous asked: Hey, Dap, Anti's gone now. He went back upstairs. Take as much time as you need because that was scary and awful as fuck, but he's away for a bit. He's not going to hit you again. It's okay.

“He always gets his hands on me again.” Dapper wraps his arms around himself and rocks against the wall, crying hard, though he can barely even tell why. His pain tolerance is high and the slap didn’t hurt, but it scared him. “He always hits me again.”

“You’re okay, you’re okay,” Dok is whispering, prodding gently at his face. “This will bruise, but that’s all, that’s all.”

Trick stands numbly besides them, his hand resting on Dapper’s shoulder. He doesn’t feel very well.

bupine asked: this isn't all jack's fault, anti. you and all of us know that. you are aware that jack could have actually loved you, right? just because you were a mistake as a creation doesn't mean you weren't wanted. i believe you're just scared to admit that all of this could have been prevented. that you could have been happy.

“Don’t!” screams Anti. “Say that to me! No, no! No, that’s not true!”

It’s like a storm’s been unleashed across his computers, and for once, Blue’s power does not rise in him at all. Just his own. Just Anti. Every screen is flickering and glitching and every one of the computers in his room shows a different image - Jack laughing at the fake blood on his neck, Jack hugging a younger man with the same soft, downy brown hair as he has to his chest, Jack in a cat mask, Jack and Chase.

The truth is that, because of what Dapper did, many of the images no longer exist and never did in this timeline, but Anti doesn’t know that. He is digital in his nature, down to his core, and his memories transfer into images whether they exist on the internet or not. Maybe that’s why, after a moment, every smiling image seems to turn cold and angry, every version of Jack’s mouth turns down, every glimpse of his blue eyes glares.

“He was a coward! He didn’t want me! He threw me away!”

Anti throws his laptop across the room, shattering it in half, and he tears at his hair, screaming. The antlers are growing out of his skull again, breaking through the bone, and he howls as he tries to snap them off, though today he seems unable to manage it. His eyes are black and blood pours from his throat so fast you hear him begin to hyperventilate, his whole neck splitting open. His head might fall right off his shoulders.

“He made them all just to hurt me, just to protect himself! When he was all I knew! When he was everything I had! Traitor, traitor! He sent them after me and then he watched! He watched as they beat me into essence! He watched and I was screaming for him!”

The lights in the house burst and across your cameras you hear everyone but Blue gasp in surprise as the power goes out. Anti himself yelps, jolting against the bed, and goes quiet as a faint plume of smoke drifts from one of his laptops, curling towards the window.

Anti sits at the foot of his bed, holding himself, staring dead ahead.

“He didn’t… do anything,” he says after a long moment. “Just… just held Dapper. Cause I guess… he was someone worth saving, but not me.”

Anti picks at his lip, his eyes fixed on the wall.

A pause, and then the bitterness comes back to him, like it always does.

“Well, he’s mine now,” he whispers, turning away from you, his eyes dark. “He’s mine now and Jack will never get him back again. He’s mine.”

He tries to sound intimidating, but he is a twenty-three year old with barely any beard and short brown hair, his eyes huge on a pale face, his accent embarrassed and uncertain, alone in a cabin in the woods.

Anonymous asked: Dap, are you calming down? You're okay, buddy.

“Here, come on, we’ll go hide,” whispers Red, returning to his brothers. “Let’s go downstairs with the cat and we’ll hide out, okay? We’ll be real quiet while brother is mad, it’s okay. Dok, take them downstairs, yeah?”

“Yes,” agrees Dok anxiously, shaking from the power outage, pulling his little brothers to their feet. “Yes, come on.”

Neither Dapper nor Trick protests, looking numb and shell-shocked. Red lets them go, glancing around the house. He doesn’t know how long they might have to hide for. If Anti finds out about what he did, things will only get worse. He grabs his laptop and some nuts and bread and fruit and sets them on the stairs that lead to the basement before going back for the most important cargo of all - Blue.

“Here, buddy, I got you,” he murmurs, scooping Blue, blankets and all, into his arms. His twin does not stir. Red quiets the fear in himself and carries Blue gently downstairs, where a small guest bedroom will hold him instead.

“Are we okay?” he murmurs, coming back to his younger brothers, huddled together on the couch in front of the TV.

Dok nods uncertainly, gripping the both of them. Red kneels in front of Dapper and presents him with the pill. “Ta-da!” he says gently, patting his knee.

Dapper lights up immediately, the anxiety washing off him. He clicks his tongue joyfully and throws himself at Red, wrapping a hug around him and making Red laugh, holding his back in return.

“I got you, little man,” he says, patting his ribs. “I always got you.”

Dapper puts the pill in his mouth and swallows, feeling better already. “That was worth it if it gets me my medicine.”

But Trick, on the other side of the couch, doesn’t seem to agree. He’s sitting still and stiff, crying quietly, hugging Noodle to his face.

tristarlolly asked: I can't help but be reminded of the first ask I ever sent through the cameras, Anti. I complemented you on your "dollhouse" and asked about Jack because I knew you were the only one who could answer anything about him. You told me you were happy with what you have and you didn't need him. I don't think that was true then, and I don't think it's true now. You don't know what happiness is and your pursuit of it has only led you in violent circles.

“Oh, fuck,” says Anti, very tired. “I hate circles.”

Anonymous asked: Hey. Anti. Don't get me wrong, I don't particularly care about how distressed you are, but you need to calm down. It's scaring the others, and sometimes I really fucking pity you, so here; Anti, you've won, you've gotten your revenge. You're in control, and you know this, yeah? Calm down.

“They should be scared. I want to go beat the shit out of that little brat. But it’s never fun anymore. I don’t know when it stopped being fun. Even with Dok, it barely makes me laugh now. Why make me like this and then not even make it fun anymore? I hate him… I hate everything. I want… I… I want Dark. I want Dark to tell me I’m perfect.”

He gets to his feet, almost staggering. “Maybe they’re in the forest. Yeah, I - I’m in control. And you’re… you’re wrong, it is enough. It is enough. I don’t need Jack. I don’t want him. As soon as I’m in control again, it will be enough. I’ll be happy. Fuck, the fact that some of you have been here since the beginning… fuck.”

Anonymous asked: Trick?... How you holding up? If you want to talk, we're here. Your brothers are here. If you need a little time that's fine too.

“I’m having a panic attack,” cries Trick, grasping for Dok. “I’m having a panic attack.”

Dok gets up and surrounds his brother in an instant, alarmed. Trick hasn’t had a panic attack in weeks.

“I’m here. I’m right here, okay?”

“Does he need - is he - ?”

“Just give us some space, alright?”

“Okay, right.” Red backs off, retreating to Blue’s little bedroom, though he listens carefully by the door. Dapper sits uncertainly on the other side of the couch, touching Trick’s wrist.

Anonymous asked: Anti.... if strangers from the internet can't validate your actions and you feel like you can't do the same either.... By all means, feel free to look elsewhere, rinse and repeat, as you've always done, but self-reflection and change aren't outside the realm of possibilities for you to be happy.

Anti just shakes his head, his mouth parted slightly like he can’t find the right words, pacing out towards the woods. These are things he is sometimes - sometimes - aware of. But the fact that he could change is always, always over-shadowed by his fear: that Dapper would leave if he didn’t force him to stay. That all of them would leave if he didn’t force them to stay. That they would go back to Jack and he would be alone for the rest of his life, knowing that they’re happy and he never will be. Besides, there were times when living like this did make them happy, and he never did grasp the idea that cruelty is a fleeting satisfaction. He keeps trying to pursue it and it never sticks around, but he won’t change. He won’t let himself see that. He’s afraid.

“I won’t,” he says.

You hear it as he moves away from the house.

“I won’t. I won’t.”

He slips into a dog’s form and pads away, the grass soft beneath his paws.

He promised Red, didn’t he? This is the last time we try this. And if it doesn’t work… then there’s nothing left for him to stick around for.

And he won’t let the others go running back to Jack, either.

“I won’t.”

bupine asked: anti, i am truly so fucking sorry for what happened to you. that you felt so unloved you'd do all of this. and i so wish there was a way you could have seen how he would have cared for you if you'd given him the opportunity. i wish it wasn't too late for that. because jack didn't hate any of his creations, anti. you just didn't let him love you.

For a moment, it makes him pause.

At the edge of the woods, the body of the huge black dog, tall and proud and beautiful, beautiful, because not everything about Anti is bad. Not everything about anyone is bad, and you are right. About most everything. You are right.

That dog stands at the edge of the woods.

The shadows are cool and deep and dangerous, but he always seems to burn in the sun anyway.

He slips away, and is gone from your view.

Anonymous asked: trick, you okay, buddy? it's gonna be okay, love, just breathe. you have your brothers with you, everyone's okay.

“I can’t think!” Trick cries, gripping at his head. “I can’t - I - there’s walls inside my skull, Deutsch, help me!”

“Hey, you’re alright, you’re alright.” Dok holds his shoulders, shooting a worried look at Dapper, but his little brother has gone quiet and distant, touching the stinging handprint on his cheek and staring right ahead, his posture small.

“No, I’m not alright, everything’s wrong!” screams Trick. “This isn’t right, I can’t think, I can’t see?”

“You can’t see?”

“I think I’m possessed, I’m possessed!”

Dok takes his head in his hands and forces his gaze up, examining Trick’s eyes, but there’s no sign of Anti or anything else. “Trick, I think you just got a shock. My brother, it’s alright now. Everyone’s here and no one’s hurt.”

“No, no, no, that’s not true, that’s lies, that’s lies in between my skull, I think I’m possessed!”

“Just let it out, alright, and then we’ll work on calming down, calming down…”

And Dok is there, as he always is - no, that isn’t right, because wasn’t he gone away from him for a time? But where? And how long? It seems like those days passed in strange blips of time, his memory of it coming and going, his recollection blinking in and out, Blue asking him what’s wrong with him again and again while his brain skips over the thought of his twin and his heart keeps hurting. He digs his nails into his cheeks, weeping; he can feel the imprint of Anti’s hand against his face as he goes crashing to the floor, Blue standing over him and shouting for Anti to leave them alone, and none of it is true, and none of it is right, but all of it is true, and all of it is against the rules.

“No, no!” he hears himself shrieking over the sound of soothing voices. “No, I don’t know, I don’t remember, what’s wrong with me?”

“Trick,” someone begs, and it isn’t even his name. He doesn’t even remember his name. He doesn’t even remember his babies. Soft skin and bumpy infant heads, huge dark eyes and a slobbering mouth using his finger as a pacifier. Cigarette smoke and acrylic nails. The thud of Dapper’s head against the wall.

And it’s gone again.

“Why can’t I think?”

“Trick, you have to stop shouting!”

“My darling, what’s wrong? I’m here, it’s alright.”

“Ohhh, please make him stop, I can’t stand anymore screaming today.”

“Red, go upstairs if you’re over-stimulated, everything’s okay. Trick, we’re okay, we’re just taking a break, we’re okay…”

“In my skull…”

“Trick.”

Firm hands dig into his muscles and push and knead and comfort. Ah, this he remembers. Dok’s hands on him on nights when he’d been sitting so stiff for so long. So desperate to please Anti. Plastered to the window with the great sniper in his hands, watching, watching while Dok massaged at his aching muscles and tried to keep him company, to keep him comfortable. To stay with him. I’m with you.

“Trick. Chase.”

“H… Dok. I can’t…”

“Just be alright. We’re just alright. It’s okay. Here’s your cat. Calm down.”

“He’s not even my real baby.”

Noodle mewls.

Red paces upstairs, rubbing at his face. He needs a break. Trick’s been freaking out for almost two hours.

Anonymous asked: your brothers are here, trick, they'll keep you safe, they'll help you. you're gonna be okay. i know, it's terrifying and confusing and hard. but your brothers are right here, henrik is right here, you're going to be okay. breathe in, and breathe out, buddy. it's gonna be okay, i promise.

“It’s not alright,” cries Trick, gripping at his brother’s shoulders. “It’s… it’s not…”

“I know,” says Henrik quietly. “I know. It will be.”

“He slapped him… he slapped me…”

“He’s not kind.”

“No, no, that’s not right either, it’s not right. I must have - I must have made him do it, I - ”

“No, Trick,” croaks Henrik, curled around him. “Don’t go away again. You don’t have to start thinking like that again. Please?”

“Maybe if Dapper would just fucking behave - ”

“Trick!”

“He tried to hurt you!”

“No, that’s not what happened! Stop it!”

“There h-has to be a reason! There has to be! I have to make this make sense! Dok, I can’t breathe!”

Dapper stares up at them both from beside the couch. Blue is up on his feet between the four of them. He reaches down to touch Dapper’s head.

Anonymous asked: anti made that decision on his own, trick. it's no one else's fault that he did that. the reason is that he wanted to. it's not your fault, bud. it's no one's fault but anti's.

“Well, then it’s like he says, like he was made like that. His creator made him like that. He has a bad temper and he can’t control it. That’s all that’s all that’s all that’s all. He’ll be nice again tomorrow, I know. I know I know I know.”

Trick isn’t aware that he’s babbling or that his siblings have gone quiet around him. Dok is wide-eyed and silent. He never knows what to do anymore. He can never fix anybody who needs him.

“You’re all such fucking brats,” snarls Trick suddenly, and his voice sounds so much like Anti’s for a moment that Dok can’t help the wave of revulsion that shudders its way up his body. Blue must notice. He tugs Dok away from Trick. Dok wishes he weren’t grateful.

“Asshole, acting like you’re here to comfort us,” growls Trick, eyes squeezed shut, hands digging into Noodle’s fur. His cat mewls in discomfort, squirming on his lap, but Trick doesn’t let go. Noodle is his and he’ll stay where he wants him. “You think I forgot, Blue, when you mashed that pole into my skull just so you could watch Anti fucking burn without me? Fucking traitor. You don’t care about anyone but yourself.”

“Trick,” Dok begins, but Blue just shakes his head, gripping his shoulders.

“No point trying to reason with him while he’s like this,” he says. “Trust me, we tried in Singapore, the cameras and I. They’re not even his own thoughts.”

“I want my baby,” cries Trick, his voice shattering into a wave of stammering, his heart pounding hard in my chest. “I’m trying to be good, I am! Will he give me my baby back then?”

“Let’s just give him a little time,” murmurs Blue, but Dok doesn’t move, staring at his brother.

He’d rather Trick were as sick as Blue. He’d rather Trick were locked upstairs on his own. He’d rather Trick was with that monster in the woods. Anything but watching him turn into someone else. Anything but this. He touches his necklaces. For the day he’s ready to kill Anti. Anything but this.

Anonymous asked: hey, trick, buddy. it's going to be okay. i don't think he wants to do that now, no matter how much you do what he wants you to, trick. but you're going to be okay, love. can you tell us what's wrong? you're a little all over the place at the moment, so i don't know what would help you best.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” cries Trick. “There’s something in my head and nothing makes sense.”

“Dissociating?” asks Dok gently, creeping forward again to try and touch him. Blue frowns, but he knows better than to get between twins. He glances down at Dapper and tuts at the sight of the handmark on his face, reaching down to touch his beard fondly.

“No, no, I - well, maybe, maybe dissociating, maybe, maybe, cause nothing is right, nothing’s right, I’m f-freaking out, Dok, I’m freaking out. I just want… I just want… I don’t know, I don’t know what I want.”

He presses himself against the side of the couch, groaning and clutching at his cat.

“You want brownies?” offers Dok weakly.

Trick lets out a bewildered, frantic laugh, sharp enough to make Dok jump. “I… maybe brownies?”

“Bet Red would get you one of the ones you made from upstairs,” says Dok. “We just need to ground ourselves, yes? Something to touch and something to see and taste and hear and smell. I’m here, Trick. I’m here.”

cest-mellow asked: will antis magic wear off on him? what’s gonna happen to him?

“There are two problems,” mumbles Blue. “One - Anti still has access to him. Even if Trick is getting free of him moment to moment, nothing can wear off while Anti keeps getting his hands on him again and again. And two - this isn’t just magic, a spell that will fade given time. Anti is actively getting inside his head and changing the way he thinks. Something has to happen to snap Trick out of it, and then he needs space from Anti to stayed snapped out of it. But I… I don’t know.”

“It’s a good thing he’s having a breakdown,” cries Dok, desperate for good news. “Right? It means he’s fighting!”

“Anti’s power combined with the need to please him that Trick has always had - Dok, I don’t know how he’s supposed to get free on his own.”

“Well, I’m here,” vows Dok, turning his attention back to his twin. “Here I am to help, my brother.”

“You know, Anti’s right about you,” snaps Trick. “You need other people to be in pain around you or you can’t even feel good about yourself.”

Dok’s face falls.

Anonymous asked: are you having trouble remembering, bud? is that the problem?

“It’s like… I can’t think straight… like I’ll have a thought and then it’s right, but then a second later it’s wrong, and then it’s right, and then - and no, I c-can’t remember, but I keep getting these flashes, and I can’t hold on to them, and I’m just…”

He buries his face in the couch, shaking his head. “My depression has never felt like this before, my panic attacks have never felt like this before - am I psychotic, Dok? Does schizophrenia run in families?”

“It’s not that, I promise.”

Anonymous asked: try not to figure out if the memories are right or wrong, okay, trick? just try to see what they are, if you can, and don't try to figure out whether the memories are right or not. and if you can't hold onto a memory, let it go, okay? it'll come back. trust dok, okay? i think he knows which memories are right. i promise he just wants to help you.

“You’ll remember for me, won’t you?” he babbles, and you aren’t sure if he’s talking to you or Dok. “He has big big eyes and he’s perfect and warm. And I was braiding hair, I can braid hair, her dark hair. And I was in Singapore and Blue hit me. But Anti hit me too, haha. And I forgot, the next morning, and he kissed the side of my face. And there are fires and knives and girls with dark eyes.”

“Breathe,” Dok reminds him. “Breathe. You know how to get through a panic attack.”

“I can feel you touching me, like you always do when I’m s-scared, and I can hear the air conditioning, and I can smell your coat with green apple detergent, green apple detergent because we finally have a l-l-laundry room. I can feel you touching me like you always do when I’m scared.”

“That’s better,” says Dok. “That’s good.”

Blue hears the door to the backyard swing shut above him. He blinks, looking up to the ceiling.

Anonymous asked: Can someone Please take Nooddle away from Trick, before even his own cat starts to be afraid of him?

“They’re right, Trick, please,” says Blue calmly, reaching forward. “Please give me the cat, alright?”

“He’s my cat!” shrieks Trick. Noodle chirps as he tugs at his fur, barely even aware of the way his kitten is squirming beneath him. “He’s my cat, he’s mine, he’s supposed to be with me - ”

“He doesn’t want to be held!” Dapper signs suddenly, springing off the floor, and he reaches forward and snags Noodle from Trick’s lap before his brother can even make a leap for him. Dapper darts away towards the guest bedroom, Noodle pressed into his shoulder. Trick screams after them, striking the side of the couch with his hand, but he’s too shaken to get up and go after them, and he doesn’t want Dok to be apart from him.

immabethehero asked: Trick be nice! Dok wants to help you! Even if you don’t agree, that doesn’t mean you should be rude!

“Oh, the cameras always know what’s right, don’t they?” snarls Trick, sitting up again, another violent mood-swing back into anger. “You sit a million miles away and you all tell us what to do. Like you know anything about what we’ve been through. Like you know anything about my family! You’ve never liked Anti, I know, I’m not stupid, even if everybody thinks I am. I notice things. I know you were with Dok with the magicians and you told him to stay. I know you say all sorts of things to get him wrapped around your fingers. I know he wouldn’t get in trouble if he would just take these fucking things off!”

Trick wraps his hand around Dok’s throat, necklaces and all, yanking him forward. Blue yells and steps forward, grabbing his hands, but Trick is stronger than he is. His blue eyes bore into his twin’s. Dok stares back at him, eyes wide, choking for air, but his hand only rests on Trick’s, waiting, patient, here. Here I am. Here I am. It’s okay.

Trick blinks. His anger falters away. He lets go of Dok’s throat, shocked.

“Oh, no, Henrik,” he whispers, voice broken. “I didn’t mean…”

Anonymous asked: don't do that, okay, trick? dok's just trying to help. you're doing great otherwise, bud. breathe in, and breathe out, okay? i know, this must be really hard right now. but you're going to be okay. try to stay calm, bud. you're going to be okay.

Trick is just shaking his head. Blue is still standing above him, touching his hands, and Trick reaches for his big brother for a minute, a faint whimper on his mouth, and Blue doesn’t even know how to respond.

“I’m going to take a break,” says Dok, quiet and hoarse.

“Dok,” says Trick.

He means to tell him “I’m sorry,” but his stammer is so bad he can’t get the words out.

Dok gets up. Straightens out his coat. Pads up the stairs. Disappears.

Trick’s hand rests over his heart.

Anonymous asked: I don't mean this to sound mean but I really feel like someone else other than blue should be with trick rn. If he swings back into anger I don't know if blue will be alright to deal with this alone ":(

Blue stares down at Trick. He knows what you’re saying is true. But Dapper’s in the other room if he needs him, you’ll call for help if something happens, and, moreover - Trick looks like he’s broken clean in half.

“You know what,” says Blue.

You have not heard bitterness on his tongue for anyone but Anti in a long time. Trick looks up at him, stunned to hear vitriol in the voice of the sibling who’s meant to be his caretaker. The siblings who’s never called him anything but “my darling,” “my heart,” “my brother.”

“I think he’s done,” says Blue darkly.

Trick turns his face away from him.

Anonymous asked: Blue please don't leave him alone. Don't leave him with only anti to turn to for answers

Blue rocks on his heels, seething through his teeth, trying to find the right course of action.

He wants to leave Trick alone. He’s mad. He knows it’s Anti’s fault, too, but he can’t take that. Trick can’t start doing this. Blue won’t accept it. Won’t pretend nothing just happened. He can’t. He wants to cry. To scream? To hit something? He wants to go back to bed. He wants to leave Trick alone and he hopes that his little brother feels bad. Venomously, he hopes that his little brother feels bad.

But he doesn’t leave him alone.

Blue sits down on the other side of the couch, his hand in his palm, a sigh falling out of his mouth. He’d never forgive himself if Trick hurt himself or scampered back off to Anti.

“Just breathe, Trick,” he says, exhausted. “Can you tell Red it’s quiet again now? Maybe he’s ready to come back downstairs and then I can go off and calm down for a minute.”

Anonymous asked: On one hand, I understand that the bitterness and isolation is justified. But also, guys... if you all leave trick alone how do you expect him to not keep going back to Anti? If you're not careful this is probably going to fuel more ways for him to slither even deeper into his head

“We do what we can,” says Blue. “We’re all doing what we can. I’m ill and I’m angry and I’m still here, aren’t I? We do what we can and if it isn’t enough, we don’t take blame for that. We just don’t. Trick’s actions and decisions are nobody’s fault… well, a little Anti’s, in this unique case, but still. Dok doesn’t have to stay with him after he hurt him. Hell, if he wanted to go and not forgive Trick at all… well, he’d be allowed to do that, and what Trick does afterwards would not be his fault. Dok has to take care of himself too. I think Dok will forgive him, but both of my brothers are hurting right now, both of them are vulnerable - all of us are vulnerable - and we’re all just doing what we can. And if that’s not enough… well.”

He turns his head bitterly away. “It never is, is it?”

pine-storm-season asked: Red, it's quiet now, could you come sit with Trick?

“Hm?” says Red.

From the camera in the backyard you can see him.

Gone very stiff.

Standing on the porch.

Eyes wide.

“Can I… oh, yeah, just, uh… a second, one second…”

He’s staring out the window, towards the forest. Dok pads into the living room and blinks to see him standing there.

“Uh, Red?”

“Hm?”

“What are you looking at?”

Red doesn’t answer.

Dok steps up behind him, letting the backdoor swing open and then closed again, adjusting his glasses and squinting.

“Is there someone in the woods?”

“You see him too?” breathes Red, his cheeks rising with a passionate blush, his eyes shining.

Dok takes another step forward. The pool laps quietly between them.

“Is that… that man you were with? In the marketplace?”

Red is aglow. Red is holding his own heart. Red takes a step forward.

“He found me again,” he says, his voice trembling, but not with despair. “He found me again. I could… Anti is away, we could just… he forgave me. He came back.”

Dok tilts his head, confused, but it looks to be true - there, hiding a little behind the trees, eyes wide and earnest, smiling at Red -

Max.

Jackie takes off at a run down the porch steps.

Anonymous asked: Oh god, this probably isn't Max...

“Shit,” hisses Dok, with one glance at you. “Shit!”

Red isn’t even listening to you, leaping down and racing across the grass. Dok snarls like a wild thing and leaps after him, desperation making his blood pump, reaching out to grab Red, only a few feet past the pool, the trees closer than he’s ever seen them. “Red!” he screams. “It’s not Max!”

“I know him now!” cries Red. “I forgot him once. I won’t do it again.”

“He’s a trick, Red! Don’t you think it’s a little too good to be true that the one person you’ve been longing for for weeks is just suddenly here in the middle of nowhere, grinning at you from our enemy’s hiding place?”

“He was too good to be true!” cries Red, struggling against Dok’s grip. “Dok, please, I’m begging you! He feels real, Dok. My heart!”

It stings at Dok, but he doesn’t let go.

pine-storm-season asked: Red. It's not Max. That's Dark. You remember Dark, right? How would Max get through these woods? He couldn't, Red. That's Dark. Red, come back to the house now.

“They’re right.” Dok grips at his arm, yanking him back towards the house, drawing a low cry out of his brother. “It’s Dark.”

“Dark made me afraid!” Red protests. “Just being near to them, it was like my heart was shaking.”

“Red, that’s what they’re doing now too. Don’t you get that? They manipulate emotions. That’s why you were so scared of them, and that’s why you’re convinced it’s Max now. Red. Red. They’re making you feel that way. It’s not real.”

The energy drains out of Jackie in a moment. He stares at Dok, mouth trembling. “I just… I just…”

“I know, my brother,” says Dok.

Anonymous asked: On another hand... If that is Max you need to shout to him to get out of here, I definitely don't think he's safe in these woods.

“Max, go!” cries Red, something in his chest snapping open and oozing out hurt. “A chuisle mo croi! Before he hurts you!”

He wants him to go. He wants him to turn around and go, and prove that it is him, it’s Max, he’s going and he’ll come back!

But the little figure of Max in the forest does not turn away from him. Red shakes his head, turning to stare at Dok, begging him to make things different. Dok just shakes his head at him, eyes apologizing.

Anonymous asked: red, tell max to come into the house for a minute. okay? harmless request, buddy. just have him come into the house for a few seconds.

“Yes, tell him to come over here,” says Dok, holding Red tight.

“He wouldn’t want Anti to know he was here…”

Dok covers the camera with his hand, blocking your view. “Tell him to come over now,” he suggests.

Red is silent for a long moment. There’s a shift of light as Dok’s body relaxes, letting go of Red’s arm.

He could call out for the fake Max to come over here, but he already knows the truth. Dok moves his hand away. Red is still staring out at the woods, eyes wide.

“Hey,” laughs Max’s clear rich voice, accent and all. “Hey, come over here. I miss you. Hey, come here.”

“My little brother was right about you!” Red reaches down to snag a rock and chucks it towards the woods. “You’re a creep!”

“Well, that’s not very nice,” says Max, laughing too long and too deep. “That’s not very nice, really. Don’t you think it would be fun? Wouldn’t you like to? I think you’d like to.”

“I think you’d love to,” repeats an echo of his voice, and then it wells up in Red so powerfully that it makes him double over, falling to his knees in the grass - affection, warmth, joy, love! Max, his Max!

“Leave him alone!” cries Dok, stepping in front of his brother. “Stop it!”

“What’s this?” purrs Max’s voice, growing deeper and deeper, the accent smoothing out, Americanizing. “What’s this? He doesn’t want to play? Why don’t you feel it, little doctor? Is that what you are? A doctor in his tattered coat? Maybe you’d rather sulk a little.”

Red’s joy turns to grief. He gasps against a wave of sorrow, deeper than oceans, about to tear him open. Dok grabs at him, alarmed, but he doesn’t feel the despair.

“Or anger?”

Red hollers, tearing out handfuls of grass with his hands, shaking his head, gritting his teeth so hard he might break them. Dok pants, nervous in the face of his fury, but he doesn’t move.

“No, how strange,” says Dark, tilting his head back, the daylight around them turning darker and darker. “How strange, that he doesn’t seem to want to share anything at all. What’s protecting you, little doctor?”

“Leave us alone,” snaps Dok. “We’re going back to our house.”

“Are you?” asks Dark.

“Are you?” laughs their echo.

Anonymous asked: blue, it's okay to be angry, and it's okay for dok to need space to calm down, but i think you need to be gentler with trick right now. you said it yourself that he's not fully in control of himself, and can't you see that he's sorry? i know you're tired of this, but he's terrified, and he needs some kindness. he deserves to be forgiven because it's not his fault that he's doing or saying hurtful things right now. he's sick, and anti did this to him.

“Come on!” protests Blue. “I am sitting here with him. What else do you want me to do, dude? Cuddle up with him and tell him it’s okay that he just assaulted the person who loves him most in the world? Tell him lies about how this is all going to be okay? I don’t have any comfort to give right now! I have limits. Aren’t I allowed have limits? Or am I supposed to be their caretaker to the point that I have to crucify myself on their altars even when they’re not in danger? Am I supposed to forgive him before he’s even taken a moment to look at what he did and stop it from happening again? Do I have to pretend it didn’t happen? I’m - I’m mad!

“Maybe you’re right, but I have to feel how I feel about this and Trick’s surviving for now. Can you give me ten minutes at least to be mad before you expect to come in here and kiss it better? I’ll comfort him when my head is clear and I don’t feel like my body is trying to destroy itself, alright? Please… I’m angry. I don’t have any hope to give him right now… I could use some comforting too, you know… but then again that’s all I need lately.”

He buries his face in his hands. “I wish I could make just one of them happy.”

Anonymous asked: Dapper, Dark is outside trying to get Red and Dok to go to him. He's disguised, and screwing with Red's emotions on a bad way. Do you know anything that might help them?

Dapper sits upright so fast that Noodle flies off his lap. The kitten, disgruntled by his long day, mewls as he lands on his feet and licks Dapper’s ankle in protest.

“Outside? With Red and Dok?”

Leaping out of bed, Dapper charges up the stairs without pausing to explain a word to Blue and Trick. He swipes his golden Christmas knife off the ground where Anti slapped it from his hand and races towards the doorway.

“Anti!” cry his hands, slashing across his throat. “Anti, come home now! I need you.”

bupine asked: dark? may we speak to you? we want to know how much you remember of anti. he told us much about you, much of his memories, but we'd like to hear what your side of it is. if that's alright by you.

“If it’s answers you want, I can provide. Just tell these little humans to come closer,” Dark entices, sliding forward, shape-shifting slowly as they go. They are masculine, feminine, feline, shadowed, shifting, but always terrifyingly beautiful, with eyes like dead stars. “I’ll talk to you, little doctor. Come on, don’t be so scared. You don’t look very well, you know. Has someone been hurting you? Skinny thing, pale thing, bruised beneath its shirt. I have food and medicine and shelter. Would you like to have a drink with me? Rich red wine til you’re drunk on it. I’ll give you whatever you need and make you stop wanting for anything at all.”

“You stay away from me!” shouts Dok, dragging Red back towards the house. “We don’t want anything to do with you here!”

“What’s around your throat, little creature? I’d like to see it up close.”

Anonymous asked: red, love, trust dok, go with dok, okay? dok is safe, let's keep you safe too, red. go with dok back into the house and you'll be safer.

“Red, come on,” begs Dok.

His brother is clutching his head, shaking, silent, curled taut against the ground.

“I know it’s a lot, I just need you to stay with me a moment longer! We have to get back to the house!”

“I think we’re close enough to the house,” manages Red in a whisper. “If they were going to attack us…”

“They would have done it by now,” finishes Dok, a little relieved. “Wouldn’t they have?”

Dark lunges forward in a cloud of shadow. Dok yelps as darkness blacks out your camera entirely. Dapper is whistling frantically from the porch.

Anonymous asked: Red and Dok, get in the house, now!

Dok staggers back in the direction he thinks the house is, dragging Red completely, who can’t do much else but holler and shake his head a little too hard to be safe. He slams into someone’s chest and recoils, but hands are already grabbing him and pulling him back. Terror burns across his chest until his fingers are pressed to - hair? Oh! Dapper’s mustache.

“Dapper,” he croaks, gripping his shirt.

“We have to get out of here!” answers a clear British voice. “It’s this way.”

“Oh, nice try, idiot,” snarls Dok, driving his elbow into Dark’s ribs. The fake Dapper falls back, snarling, and transforms. Red shrieks in alarm as gold panther’s eyes burn into them from the shadows - and then Dark is tearing forward, and the teeth of the panther latch into Red’s hoodie and yank.

“Red!” screams Dok in a blackness so deep he can do nothing but stumble forward as he feels his oldest brother tugged away from him. Red screams so hard his throat stings, completely paralyzed by everything happening all at once.

A body slams into both Dark and Red. For a moment, Dapper’s golden knife glints in the light of his own silver irises.

“Get the hell away from my brother!”

Dark lunges at Dapper and bites.

pine-storm-season asked: I know, Blue. I'm sorry. You're trying your hardest, and thank you for that. And it's okay to get fed up with them, and to need a break. You're human. No one should expect you to care for them every minute of every day. This sucks, I know. You're doing incredibly well in an awful situation, but you shouldn't have to be doing this at all. It'll get better, Blue, I promise. I know that's hard to hold on to, and I'm sorry for everything that's happened to you. But it won't be this bad forever.

“No, you don’t have to…” He lets out a deep sigh, shaking his head. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to coddle me or anything like that, I’m just being a fucking mess as per usual. Oh. I mean… thank you, though. Thank you, really, I…”

He runs his hands through his short hair, his fingers loving at the places it’s begun to grow out again. He has an intense desire, almost suddenly, almost painfully, for his old hair back. But… then again, he can’t remember what that was like. He woke up one day in a bathtub, his hair dyed blue, Anti’s fingers against his scalp. There were strangers downstairs and a twin at his side and he was told to look after them. That’s all there ever was. The truth is, he remembers less than anyone of the person he used to be before this all started. He has no glimpses of past lovers, no connections to old friends still searching for him, no random memories to which he can travel for a few minutes of peace, and what time has he had to remember and explore the person he was and will be without Anti hanging over his throat? He’s their caretaker. That’s all.

“And not even a good one,” he mutters, letting his white hair go. “Not even a good one.”

A sharp scream makes him jolt up straight. For a second, there is a flash in his eyes like he might know magic once more - but it’s just the vitriol that lights up in him when he hears his twin cry out.

“Red!”

Anonymous asked: Blue there's something of a ruckus going on out back. With the emotional and physical state you and Trick are in, I don't know the best way to help out or if it's worth putting you two at risk as well. We don't really have a guage on the situation. I thought dap might explain but he just took off

“Fuck! I love that little shit, but he’s gotten way too used to having to clean up everybody’s messes all on his own. Trick, wait!”

Trick is on his feet, staggering towards the stairs. Blue grabs his arm, pulling him to his chest. “You need to sit down!”

“If that thing takes him away I’ll never get a chance to make this right!”

“We’ll go, but carefully!”

“No, I’ll go. You can barely get up the stairs on your own. Stay here, Blue!”

“Hey!”

Trick yanks away from his siblings and races up the stairs, panting and pale, leaving Blue limping after him.

“Where’s my fucking cane?” he hisses, staring in despair at the mountain of the stairs. “You gotta be joking.”

pine-storm-season asked: Trick, Trick, do you have your gun? Your brothers are in danger outside

Trick does have his gun. He always knows where it is. Always, always. Dok’s silver handgun fits venomously against his palm. He pushes outside - nothing but darkness.

The world has gone cold and silent. He stands in the doorway, pupils blown by the shadow, heart thumping in his chest. You can see his back illuminated. His front disappears into darkness.

He can’t see a goddamn thing.

Until Anti’s fire goes up in a blaze of white light, and a huge black dog races towards the jungle cat dragging a struggling figure back towards the trees, a howl of joy and adrenaline and anger all at once tearing from its fiery throat.

bupine asked: dark, you you earlier that we should bring the boys to you. how can we trust you when you're hurting them? i believe there's no way you can be worse than anti, although maybe i shouldn't speak too soon, but you need to stop this, please. don't hurt them.

“Don’t tell them anything!” Dapper says - or you think so. It is difficult to tell with half his arm mangled in the mouth of the panther. “They’re always learning and they’ll use it against every - ”

He cuts himself off as the teeth dig deeper into his wrist, tearing sinew. He throws his head back, eyes rolling from the pain, but not for a second does he stop struggling.

And then Anti is there.

“I’ll show you worse,” laughs his voice from every side, the dog crashing into Dark and biting its yellowed teeth. “You clever old gobshite, going for my strongest. I’ll tear your pretty white throat open for that, hahaha. Come on, get a better form out and let’s fight like the mangled excuses for living beings that we are.”

Anti shifts back into Jack’s form, his eyes blazing with color, his throat sopping blood, a huge white smile on his fanged teeth. From the porch, the bang of a gun, and Dark’s shadowed form falls back, dissipating into a heavy, buzzing smoke.

“Dance with me!” shrieks Anti, and he leaps forward, burning with fire and thorn. Whether or not Dark remembers, here is one truth - Anti has learned new tricks since last he saw them.

bupine asked: dapper, get back. are you alright? stay away from dark, get with your brothers to safety. let anti handle it.

“Dap!” Dok wraps his arms around him. Dapper gives a heaving gulp of air in lieu of a scream, struggling. It isn’t Dok’s job to save him. It’s Dapper’s to save them. He can reverse this if he just - if he just -

The pain stabs through him, disorienting any plans for time travel. Dok pulls him back towards the house as Trick grabs at Red, both of them moving towards the porch and hunkering down together, holding each other.

“I don’t want Anti to die,” confesses Dapper. “Especially not to leave us with the Darkness!”

“Stop trying to use your wrist!” cries Dok. “I need to clean this up! Anyway, it looks like he’s burning them down to ash.”

“He’s going to set the forest on fire,” fears Trick.

“They’re learning things about us! If they had really wanted to take one of us, they could have, I’m sure of it! They wouldn’t have come alone - they’re hiding their allies while they learn about all of us!”

“Stop goddamn signing, Dapper, I’m not joking! You’re losing blood! Can we just get inside the house?”

pine-storm-season asked: He's not going to die here, Dapper. Dark won't kill him.

“I don’t trust Dark with anything, anything, anything - ”

Dok pins his arm down against the kitchen table, trying to see the wound through the rapid blood flow. Trick sets an unresponsive Red down on the couch, pulling his brother’s hood up over his eyes before turning back to Dok.

Dok looks at him, putting all else aside for the moment. “I need - ”

“To stem the bloodflow before you can stitch it. I’ll get you a towel and try to find something for the pain.”

Outside, the foliage thickens as plants burst up from the ground, trapping a shadowy figure beneath bluebell and redwood, though it won’t last long.

pine-storm-season asked: Anti's said that Dark won't kill him. They know each other. He's not going to die here and leave you to them, okay? It's okay. You're in the house, you're safe.

“Safe from Dark,” moans Dapper, squirming. “But he has pets of his own.”

“I’ve got you. Just try to stay calm,” says Dok. “I’ll sedate you if I have to, wild man, don’t doubt me.”

“I don’t like them.”

“Dapper, we are all so, so aware of that fact. Acutely aware. Now hush. Doesn’t this hurt?”

It does. But it’s just pain, and Dapper’s had worse. He looks around at the others, checking their bodies for wounds even as his head swims.

bupine asked: dapper, you should all get inside. anti will be fine - he's survived everything up til now, and unfortunately, i doubt this old acquaintance of his will be the one to kill him. i'll be greatly surprised if so. but you guys need to be safe, because while anti can fight him, you can't. get dapper fixed up, doc, can you? everyone else, stay inside and wait for anti to come back.

Dok slams the door shut behind them and locks it - for all your reassurances, he can’t help but wish Dark would just kill Anti, or maybe that they’d both kill each other, like digging your teeth deep into something poisonous. But Dapper seems a little convinced, his eyes roaming the messages, and he goes stiff against the kitchen table, his eyes sliding shut as Dok takes a towel from Trick and applies agonizing pressure to his wrist.

“He can’t lose his hand,” says Trick quietly. “He kind of needs that.”

“You think I am not aware of this? Get me water.”

They always tell patients it’s to make sure they stay hydrated, but it’s mostly psychological - this will help! You’re doing something to stay alive! Good work! Focus on that! Trick knows the drill.

pine-storm-season asked: Everyone's safe for the moment, right? All five of you in the house?

Blue slams open the door to the basement, panting hard, and shoots a glare around at his brothers, though the venom dies in his eyes within seconds and his worry makes him gentle again. He swoops forward on shaking legs to kneel at his twin’s side, staring up at Red’s scrunched-up face.

“Did he scare you again, love?”

Red doesn’t answer, gripping his hood over his eyes. Blue gets up to dim the lights and find blankets.

“We’re okay, we’re okay,” he chants in a loving rhythm. “Here we are, we’re alright. Fuck’s sake.”

He looks out the window, but either the fight has gone quiet or Dark and Anti are too deep in the woods for him to see anything. The birds have begun chirping again, unsure as they peep back out into the open.

bupine asked: trick, are you ok? talk to us if you need to, i understand this is a lot to handle.

“I’m okay, I’m okay,” he says quickly.

He is good in a crisis, truly. It’s part of the reason he and Dok have always gotten along - trauma and all.

“Just need to help Dap and Red and make sure Anti gets back okay. And he will. That thing doesn’t stand a chance against him. I’ve seen Anti wipe out police squads and gangs in one night. Especially when he’s protecting us.”

For a second, his hand swipes past Dok’s stomach, meeting that familiar old bullet wound in his belly. It’s almost subconscious. Like Dok’s skin is his own. Trick pauses for a moment, staring at the bruises in his brother’s neck. Bruises. He gripped him hard enough to leave bruises. And Dok was just quiet with him. Dok let him grab him.

“Just need to help Dap and Red and make sure Anti gets back okay, yeah,” mumbles Trick, bringing water to Dapper’s mouth. “Here I am, little man. Take a drink. You’ll feel better.”

pine-storm-season asked: Red, you okay? Okay-ish, anyway?

Red is well past the point of answering, stiff and silent on the couch, hiding from everything. Blue does not try to touch him. Red does not hum or rock or fidget. He just wants the buzzing in his head to stop. It’s so much at once that it’s painful. Nobody should be able to feel as much as intensely as he just did. He wants to be under his bed and alone and in the dark - but not dark too deep. Not dark too deep.

“I think he’ll just need a couple minutes,” says Blue. “He usually steadies out pretty fast unless he’s hurt or sick or something. He’ll just be a little brain-dead. I mean – just tired, mentally, you know?”

Red reaches out without opening his eyes to put his hand on Blue’s shoulder. Blue lets him massage at the fabric of his shirt in silence, unmoving beneath his brother’s palm.

Anonymous asked: Dok, what I'm about to say doesn't excuse Trick from what he did to you, this isn't meant to be eye-for-an-eye bullshit or an apology on his behalf (only he can give you that) but you know you've done the same to him months and months ago, because whoever you were seeing wasn't your brother in your eyes. You two have changed drastically but have always stuck by each other and communicated to resolve things. Maybe words aren't as helpful as they once were, but silence and violence won't help

“Okay, you know what, what the hell?” Dok bursts out, turning away from Dapper’s bloodied arm for a second to stare at you in bewilderment. “Silence and violence? I have not for a single second been violent with him today. I walked away from a brother who had just physically attacked me so that I could calm the fuck down and not start sobbing all over him, and you think I did something wrong? Should I have stayed there and kissed it all better? What the fuck?”

“Dok, you have to concentrate,” Trick pants, wiping blood from Dapper’s wrist. “Please?”

“I have attacked him before and I’ve attacked myself too,” cries Dok. “You’re the only one here who’s still holding old grudges, camera. Trick and I moved past that. And goddamn, I’ll move past this too, but I did what was best for all of us by not yelling at him or excusing his behavior or telling him it’s okay, because it isn’t okay! It isn’t okay! None of this is okay, it’s not - ”

“Dok!” cries Blue.

“Can I have five goddamn minutes to step away from him after he fucking throttled me for not being obedient to Anti before you expect me to be telling him he’s perfect? Fuck! I don’t care if he’s changed. He made a goddamn choice and I’m allowed to believe that was wrong! He fucking hurt me! Just like Anti does, just like we’ve always comforted each other through! I used to believe Trick was the only thing in the world that would never mean to hurt me. That’s so fucking unfair to act like I’m the one in the wrong here!”

Trick gives a dry sob, bent over Dapper’s arm, but he doesn’t protest. He doesn’t want you to defend him either. He shouldn’t have done what he did and it’s alright for Doktor to step away from him when he’s being violent with him. Dok responded as appropriately as he could have - and they were genuinely only separate for about ten minutes before Dark attacked, so he doesn’t really know what you mean.

Anonymous asked: Dok I sincerely didn't mean that as an accusation. You aren't wrong for feeling your feelings. All I meant is you guys should talk things out but I'm timing my words poorly and not giving you guys time to process since so much has been happening. My mind is on worst-case-scenario mode and I'm sorry if I'm trying to solve things before I even know what the damage is. I'm sorry for over-stepping

“Some of you are young,” says Dok, his voice shaking. “I don’t want you to think that someone hurting you isn’t a big deal. In most circumstances… I wouldn’t tell you to let that person back into your life. And it’s never your responsibility to make sure other people are making up with each other - I don’t want you to carry the burden of other people’s relationships. Be careful with what you tell people to do just because you want things to go back to normal. Normal isn’t always healthy.”

“I’m worried shit is torn in here, Dok,” says Trick lowly, trying to be careful with Dapper’s arm even as he pushes at the wound. “That was like a whole big cat in his arm.”

“On the contrary, I would expect wounds from a big cat to be far worse,” answers Dok tersely, re-focusing. “Wild it may sound, but Dark was gentle with him.”

Anonymous asked: Whether Dark was being gentle or not, you can fix Dapper up, right? Or does he need to be added to the waiting list for the hospital in four days?

Dok laughs weakly. “Waiting list for the hospital… ah. No, no, it’s alright, I believe. I may not be able to do much, but I can still stitch, disinfect, and bandage as well as any real doctor.”

Trick looks up, blinking. “You are a real doctor.”

Dok is bent low over Dapper’s arm, holding it carefully in place.

“We’ll just have to keep it very clean,” he says after a moment.

pine-storm-season asked: Trick, is everything going okay? Dok knows what he's doing, I'm sure, but is Dapper okay?

“How are you holding up, buddy?” asks Trick, gripping Dapper’s shoulder. He can see the adrenaline fading off his little brother, his eyes getting glassy. Blood soaks into Trick’s socks.

Dapper holds onto his sleeve, blinking slowly.

“Dok, let’s lie him down.”

“On the carpet, then.”

They take him carefully towards Blue and Red. Dapper doesn’t protest when they put him down on the ground, his eyes rolling dazedly back.

“It’s quite a lot of blood.”

“He’ll be alright.”

Trick squeezes Dapper’s good hand. “Just hang in there, tough guy. You can sleep if you need to, it’s okay. Dok’s got you.”

bupine asked: anti, you ok out there?

“They’ll send PEOPLE to the house next, you mark my fucking WORDS.”

Everyone jolts - exception Dapper - as Anti glitches back into the house shouting as loud as he can. And as loud as he can is pretty damn loud.

“What are you going on about?” snaps Dok, hovering over Dapper’s body as Anti leaps through the kitchen towards them, his whole body shivering with computer-error colors.

“Dark!” he yells, clapping his hands together, his hair shifting rapidly between different shades of green and brown. “That was just the pre-game show! Aren’t they clever? Aren’t they FIERCE?”

Blue rolls his eyes, standing up to cover Red’s ears with his hands.

“They’ll send people here?” asks Trick. “I thought you said they wouldn’t come near the house, Anti.”

“No, they won’t, but they have soldiers of their own, and now they have an idea of what’s going on in this house, because SOMEONE had to go looking for his little boyfriend, didn’t he?”

Blue hugs Red to his chest, scared Anti will come over and punish him for it.

“Well, it doesn’t matter now,” babbles Anti, bouncing on his feet and whirling around, flipping his knife in his hand. “Had to happen, had to happen. If it wasn’t Red, it would have been one of the rest of you.”

“Anti, you’re bleeding,” says Trick.

“What’s blood to me?” hollers Anti, throwing his knife straight up, where it impales in the ceiling and stays. He laughs, rocking back on his heels. “What’s blood at all? Nothing ever kills me, nothing ever makes me die. All part of the game, my darling, and finally there’s someone worth playing with. Ah! I’m not watching the cameras! Be quiet and don’t go in the forest again, you little morons, unless you want to get stolen away, away, away!”

He vanishes in a flash of blinding color, glitching back to his room.

Dok, Trick, Red, and Blue look around at each other, eyes wide.

Anonymous asked: Wait, Anti, do you know if people they send will be able to come into the house? I want to know how alert they need to be to stay safe.

“Why not?” asks Anti. “Only spirits and humans like Jameson are bound by spirit rules. Though, I must tell you, it is never clever to enter a place where a spirit lives without permission. You ever seen that movie Spirited Away? Shit is fucked, man. But anyway, I’m not quite a spirit, am I? Not quite anything. Thank you, creator, for having absolutely no clear ideas in mind when you created me. Now I’m bound to so little, so little. Species have rules they have to follow - fairies fear iron, changelings choke on rowan, spirits respect each other’s spaces, magicians grow weary, demons run from priests, tricksters fool themselves, gods are forgotten, mortal things age and choke and rot away. Me, I’m a glitch in the system. The N/A, does not apply, none of the above option. Fuck you, Jack.”

Glitches buzz down his body. He shifts between Jack’s form and Trick’s, surrounded by a circle of laptops.

“Now lemme alone! I got work to do.”

Anonymous asked: Blue, everything has been so one-thing-after-the-other these days and you've been so sick through it all... I feel like we haven't been able to talk with you in a while. And don't you dare brush yourself of as not as important as the others because I want you to know that despite everything going on, you still are.

“Oh,” says Blue, smiling weakly at you as he sits back down beside Red on the couch. “That’s nice, thanks. It’s not your fault I’ve been tired so much.”

“Speaking of which,” says Trick, looking up at his sibling as Blue leans against Red, the two of them resting together.

“Yeah, it might just be nap time,” sighs Dok, swiping away the last of the blood from Dapper’s arm.

“Is he alright?” asks Blue.

“I think he’ll be fine. Just got to change his bandages a couple times a day and make sure the wound stays clean. He’s always been a fast healer.”

.

They go quiet after that. Red and Dapper sleep. Trick goes back to the kitchen and cooks - again. The fridge is full of tupperware. The counters are lined with bread and desserts. He still feels scared that they’ll be hungry again soon.

It’s quiet.

No, wait -

How good are your ears?

Turn up the volume. Listen close. On the other side of Dapper’s bed, where Dok is sitting, turned away from you, watching over his patients.

“Guess our first plan isn’t going to work,” whispers Blue.

“None of this is working,” whispers back Dok. “We just need to run, Blue.”

“How can we run from a thing like him?” Exhaustion in his voice. An ache in his voice. “He’ll always find us again.

“Well, how the hell do we killa thing like that?”

No answer from Blue. No answer from anyone.

“Get some rest, Blue. I’m sorry I can’t do more.”

“Me too,” answers Blue quietly. “Me too, Dok. But it’s nobody’s fault. We’ll get through this.”

“Will we?”

No answer. No answer.

“We’ll talk more tomorrow. You need a rest too.”

“Alright. Okay.”

“I love you.”

“I love you.”

On the bed, Dapper is not entirely unconscious.

.

There’s a knock on the door of the bedroom in the basement.

Dok looks up, letting Noodle slip off his lap to go greet the newcomer. “Yeah?” he calls.

Trick opens the door, an uncertain smile on his face. His cat yowls and winds around his legs, licking at his calf and purring like a little motorboat.

“Oh. Hi,” says Dok.

“Hi,” answers Trick. His eyes are slightly red. He steps into the room with a plate full of food. “I, um. I made bratwurst.”

Dok blinks. “Bratwurst?”

“Yeah. And brought you… a beer? And some chocolate cake with strawberry. Which was as close as I could get to, um. Black Forest Gateau.”

A lingering anxiety can’t stop the slow smile that builds across Dok’s face. “Cause I’m German?” he teases.

“Cause you’re German,” Trick teases back quietly, looking down at the floor. “But you don’t have to - ”

“I do,” says Dok, already anticipating what he’ll say. “I’d like to.”

“Do you want me to leave it here or can I eat with you?”

“You can eat with me, my brother.”

Trick sits down on the bed beside him and hands him a fork, setting the beer down on the table. Noodle leaps up behind them both and begins shoving his head into both of their backs, pawing for a bit of bratwurst.

“Should we talk about what happened?” whispers Trick.

“I don’t know,” whispers back Dok. “It wasn’t real, was it?”

Trick bows his head over the bratwurst and cake like it’s a funeral reception meal, picking at his sausage.

Anonymous asked: Apologies, Dok, but do you mind explaining what you mean by that? I don't understand.

“Mmh.” Dok rubs at his face. Maybe he should let the cameras turn away for a few, but ever since Norway he’s felt nervous without you nearby, like something will happen and he won’t find out in time to help. “It just doesn’t feel like it could have really happened. It was too - it was too horrible to have really happened.”

“Es tut mir leid, Deutsch, I’m sorry.”

Trick means it. Dok seems to melt, resting his head against his brother’s shoulder, letting the two of them sit quiet for a moment, close. Noodle seems pleased, sitting between their thighs and purring, the only noise in the quiet.

“Don’t do that to me again, Trick,” pleads Dok. “You are killing me.”

Trick hides against his hair, hugging him to his shoulder.

Anonymous asked: Do you both want a distraction, maybe? We could probably think of something to talk to you about.

Trick and Dok grin, their heads press close together. Sharing a plate and a cat, their bodies side-by-side, they do look like twins. If Dok didn’t have glasses and Trick didn’t have that lawn on his head, you might not be able to tell them apart - though I expect there are intimacies of the both of them you have come to recognize. Burn scars on the back of a pale hand. An uprightness to Dok’s spine. Ice or skylines in respective blue eyes.

“Sure, distract us,” chuckles Dok, putting a piece of cake in his mouth, and it’s rich and soft and sweet.

Anonymous asked: Hmmm... I could tell you a funny thing one of my chickens did when she was a baby? We had a little cardboard tunnel for her and the other chickens, and she was walking along the top of it very elegantly, and she stretched out a wing, and she turned to look at some parsley we had hung nearby, and she kept walking... and then she walked right off the edge of the tunnel like a goddamn cartoon character. (She was completely fine though, just very indignant that she'd fallen.)

“Hahaha. Chickens are dumb, is funny.”

“That sounds like Mr. Pot Noodle,” says Trick, kissing his cat’s head once, twice. “But when he falls off things he just cries like a baby for Papa to come scoop him up, don’t you? Don’t you, baby?”

Dok rolls his eyes at his brother’s coddling, amused.

“Trick!” echoes a voice through the floorboards. “Trickshot?”

Dok’s growing relief vanishes instantly. He shrinks against the headboard of the bed, eyes wide, and even Trick looks worried, setting Noodle down.

“Anti, I’m down here,” he calls back evenly. “I’m okay, what’s wrong?”

Footsteps thump down the stairs. Dok shakes his head rapidly, reaching out to grab Trick’s fingers.

“What’s wrong?”

Dok just shakes his head, mouth gone thin and pale, eyes closed.

Anonymous asked: Anti, is it Dapper? That's the only reason I can think of for you needing Dok.

“I said Trickshot! Pay attention, damn!”

Anti pushes open the door to the guest room. His form, for once, is mostly stable, an older version of his creator with his hair tied back and glasses on.

“Fine, you’re forgiven. What, can a creature not want to see his little brother? Trick, come on, let’s go watch that movie like we were talking about. I mentioned Spirited Away and now I wanna see that big black monster go apeshit and eat a bunch of frogs.”

Trick laughs nervously, glancing back at Dok, who stares up at Anti with wide eyes.

“What?” Anti mocks him, smiling wide. “You wanna come upstairs too, Arzt? You wanna go to your room and hang out with me?”

Dok shakes his head quickly, hugging Noodle against his chest.

Anonymous asked: Dok, you okay, bud? Do you want to go be with Red and Blue, if Trick goes with Anti to watch that?

“Don’t go,” croaks Dok. “Come on, stay with me.”

Doesn’t Trick know he feels farther away from him everyday?

“Dok, I - we’re just going to watch a movie, man. I… I just - we’re just going to watch a movie.”

Doesn’t Dok know he doesn’t have a choice?

Dok lets go of his fingers and turns away. Trick turns back to Anti, who smiles sweetly and takes him by the hand, jumping back as Noodle darts forward to try and follow Trick. Dok sees Trick looking back at him for a moment more before Anti slams the door on Noodle and takes his brother away.

Dok stares down at his sausage and cake. He isn’t all that hungry anymore.

Anonymous asked: I think Trick will come back when they've finished the movie, okay? Do you want to go be with Red and Blue, or stay here and talk to us, or just be alone for a bit?

Dok sighs and picks up his plate, wandering upstairs. Red and Blue, at least, are having some fun time together, playing Mario Kart on the couch and laughing their asses off.

He finds his littlest brother in the bedroom that’s meant to be Red and Trick’s, still napping. Gently, Dok sets his plate down and wakes Dapper.

“Need to clean up your bandages,” he murmurs. “Fresher we keep them, the better.”

Dapper smiles wearily up at him and lets him work.

“How’s the pain?”

“Not as bad as yours, I’ll warrant,” he answers.

“How dramatic you are,” chuckles Dok, brushing a curl of brown hair from his eyes, but Dapper doesn’t smile.

“This is what he does,” he signs slowly, his fingers and hand and wrist all aching.

“What is? Who?”

“Anti. He shows you a false version of himself, first - someone loving and affectionate, if complicated and bad tempered. And you can fall for him. You can love him, really. And then, once you’re in deep already, he starts to show you the awful parts of himself. Slow. One at a time. He normalizes everything, bit by bit. Uses hypnosis when he has to. But more than anything else, it’s just that love of him. Every day you convince yourself, more and more strongly - ‘he’s not really as bad as he acts sometimes. Just a bad temper. Remember how kind he was to me the other day?’ And you get sucked down deeper and deeper. Until you can let him use your hands to murder innocent people, and it won’t even make you hate him.”

Dok can’t meet his eyes. Can barely watch his hands. Slow tears drip down his face.

He thinks maybe Dapper is crying too. He isn’t sure he’s ever seen Dapper cry.

“Is that what happened to you?” asks Dok.

“It’s happening to Trick.”

“I know that,” he whispers. “So tell me how you escaped it.”

“Oh, love,” says Dapper, with a tenderness like a hearth in winter. “Oh, love. I am still stuck, most of the time. But I am trying to hope again. And that, I suppose, is where freedom begins.”

Dok wraps his injured wrist in clean, white bandages, soft linen surrounding the torn arm of his youngest brother. He wants to cry. He wants to surrender.

But he won’t.

He can’t do everything he wants to right now. Can’t save everyone. Can’t heal everyone. Can’t take everyone to safety and show them how much he loves them and how little they need someone like Anti.

But he can wrap Jameson’s wrist up, so he does.

In the clean bandages, his hope, for the moment, sustains itself.

Anonymous asked: Yeah. This is probably one of the hardest things that you all will have to do, getting free of him. But it'll happen, yeah? I believe in you guys. You're doing incredibly well handling all this, and I believe in you.

“Sausage?” asks Dapper.

A smile twitches on Dok’s mouth. “Yeah. Help me eat it?”

He hands Dapper Trick’s fork and his little brother digs in earnestly, splitting the pair of bratwursts with Dok. There are more in the kitchen if Trick comes back, so Dok doesn’t count it as a betrayal. Besides, nobody loves meat better than Dap. He feels he’s owed it after the day he’s had.

In reparation for yelling at Dapper the other day for getting drunk, Dok gets him a beer and they drink together on the bed, tired and worn, but holding together. Dok eats the last of the chocolate cake on his own, focusing on the warmth of the cat on his lap and the close-by younger brother.

“But you don’t know how to get free?” asks Dapper, returning without preamble to the previous conversation.

Dok blinks, looking up at him.

“You want to kill him?”

“Fuck,” hisses Dok, pushing you slightly away. “Dap, be careful, okay? I - I just want to get away from him. And stay away from him forever. And I think maybe the only way to do that is… is… yeah. Yeah.”

The clock on the wall ticks. JJ stares at him, his deep blue eyes rimmed in long, black eyelashes.

“If you did know how to kill him,” he signs slowly. “You would.”

Dok doesn’t know how to answer. He sticks the last bite of cake in his mouth.

“But you don’t know how. You don’t know how.”

“You were listening earlier,” Dok accuses. “When Blue and I were talking.”

Dapper barely seems to register the words.

“You don’t know,” he taps distantly, eyes faraway as he thinks. “You don’t know how.”

“Do you?”

Dapper shakes his head. “No… no.”

Dok deflates again, turning his head away. “Then there’s no point in talking about it, my friend. Let’s not give the master a reason to hit us again tonight.”

Dapper watches him take the plate to the kitchen, leaving him alone in the room. He stares at the floor, lost in thought.

No, he doesn’t know how. He’s seen his brother survive most everything - fire, bullets, knives, being turned into an animal, prolonged starvation, self-harm, electricity, iron and running water, magicians, Jackie and Marvin. No. He doesn’t know.

Could he find out?

“Can I sleep in here with you tonight?” asks a small voice at his door.

Dok has come back. Trick has not. Dapper’s heart hurts with pity for him.

“Yes, of course.”

Dok crawls into bed beside him. Their bodies lock together. Dok sleeps.

Dapper thinks long and hard, but eventually the warm purring of a kitten and the nearness of a safe brother’s body lulls him into deep and unanswering sleep.

[noblesandsstories]

The Paranormal Research Journals of Doctor Jaime Anderson: The Electrical Lavender Mouse

The 5th of September, Around 9 P.M.

My official investigation of the attraction center Amped Up Arcade was meant to be just that, a simple investigation so I could see for myself just what was happening and figure out what to do from there. However, I had theorized that a place recorded to have held so much suffering may require more immediate action. 

The facts of the case were very blurry, but a concrete fact was Amped Up was founded by two gentlemen: Mr. Issac Kingston and Mr. Kevin Stilmen. Kingston was in charge of the advertising, publicity, and the overall look of the place while Stilmen focused on the inside, keeping the building up to code and maintaining the arcade games and attractions. The place boomed and ran smoothly for a few years. But soon the place fell into a small pit where they needed to be more cost efficient, resulting in them cutting corners, which resulted in a slight loss of business. 

In the end, that was not what caused the biggest issues. The biggest problems were the missing children reports that began piling up. Kids would suddenly disappear from around the building, and police investigation led to partial remains of the kids being found all around the city.

Kingston was already pushing the idea of closing the place and starting again somewhere else, however Stilmen was against it.

Then about 15 years ago, almost to the day, Stilmen’s daughter went missing. Her missing persons report was barely out in the public for 48 hours when they announced the building was closing to the public and the two looked for a different location. Stilmen came into possession of the property; however, he refused to do anything with it, allowing it to fall into disrepair. 

Over the years, there has been a handful of reports of paranormal activity happening inside the building. Most of them were just the sounds of children and strange electrical phenomena from inside, but the most believable report was of a blood curdling scream that would be heard, if only once in a blue moon.

I personally dismissed them as hoaxes (as they usually are) until an acquaintance of mine told me that I should look into it.

That was how I had found myself in front of the building after getting the city’s mayor to allow my investigation. The building itself was quite large for an attraction in a medium sized town, and that wasn’t even including the outdoor area for the go carts. One could only assume it had grown over time. Most of the windows were boarded or were covered by tarps or sheets in an attempt to keep people from poking around. The brick of the building didn’t show much in terms of damage, but I figured that conclusion would be better left till I got inside.

One thing was for certain however. I could feel the presence of lost souls, and I wasn’t even in the building yet.

It took me a few minutes to bust the doors open at the front, since there was no key to get in from the outside and the hinges were rusted almost beyond repair. Once I entered the front lobby, I decided to start with my usual investigation procedure. I activated the calming rune on my arm so if I met any wary or benign spirits, they would not view me as an immediate threat. I began to explore.

From what I could see of the interior, the building looked to be well in order. Besides some rather tattered looking decorations and chipping paint, the place looked like it was still decently well kept. No signs of cobwebs or extreme amounts of dust.

I decided I would check the front offices before I went deeper into the attraction center to see if I could find a map, blueprints, or anything else helpful for my investigation. There were two main offices directly across from each other, one with Kingston on the door and one with Stilman. I figured that the information I would most be interested in would be in the latter of the two.

The door was unlocked, and on the desk, there were a couple of notes that seemed to track things that needed maintenance. In fact, there was a giant binder full to the brim of nothing but maintenance complaints. I was not all that surprised, since I understand how hard it can be to keep a large place that has a good deal of people coming in and out up to code. But I was interested in the numerous reports of electrical issues. I only skimmed through the papers, but it seemed like there would always be weird phenomena that would occur where the power would cut off randomly for only seconds before coming back on or the power surged and people would end up getting slightly shocked by the machines. According to the notes to the sides, they could never find out what was going on and even Stilmen was stumped.

I quickly erased the idea that it was anything paranormal related as I would have felt any disturbances that could cause such results. As I flipped through more papers and through the desk’s contaminants, I did not find anything else on the power issue beyond the usual complaint and confusion. 

I did, however, find a series of notes that talked about another interesting thing that brought amusement to the attraction, their robots. Mr. Stilmen had a talent for engineering, and would build, design, and operate robotic animal puppets. This was the one thing that they never cut back on when they started lowering expenses. Looking at the notes, it seems like Kingston wanted to assign a mascot for the attraction. But he was not fond of all of the robots they had so far and pushed Stilmen to come up with something. I couldn’t find out what they agreed on.

After searching a little longer and not finding anything else helpful, I went and looked at Mr. Kingston’s office. However, the office was completely empty. There was not even any furniture. 

(That did not entirely phase me, as Kingston* had almost completely removed himself from the attraction center all together by the time the place had closed.)

I moved on from there and just decided to wander my way around. I activated my wrist compass’ charm. This allowed me to be able to track any spirits that have a simple amount of power.

The compass started to glow faintly and then a small spear of light, acting as the needle, started to spin before pointing in a direction.

I went down the hallway attached to the lobby and found that the direction my compass was guiding me towards was the arcade. The arcade was a well and large room that was practically packed with arcade games of all kinds. Of course, none of them were on, as the power coords on all of them were unplugged. 

I followed the cords and upon inspection, realized that all of them connected at some point to the far outside wall. The outlets were in fact more like multiplugs (very heavy duty, in fact) that came from cut out holes in the wall. I knocked lightly on the wall, and sure enough, it sounded hollow. There were probably passage ways of some sorts throughout the building so that they could keep the wiring out of sight of the guests so they would not get damaged or tampered with.

I was quite impressed with this discovery, but before I could start searching for an entrance to these passages, I sensed a presence. In fact, I sensed quite a few. How odd.

I slowly scanned the room from where I stood, hoping to spot some sign of who (Yes who for it was not powerful enough to be a what) was with me. I ended up looking around for a small while before I caught a glimpse of someone small tucking to hide behind a machine. 

I quickly glanced at my wrist and saw that this was not who the compass needle was pointing to. Nevertheless, I slowly strode over to where I saw the person. I was a few feet away, but before I could get closer,  I heard the distinct crackle of electricity.

I quickly turned its direction and saw a purple streak of lightning hit an arcade game on the far end of the row of games I was in. 

The game sparked to life for a second, flashing frames of pixels and notes of digital music, and then the purple lightning went into the next game and the next, distorted speakers and bright strobes of color making its way down the line rapidly towards me.

I could quickly tell that whoever it was was not pleased to see me and that they definitely meant to do harm. I moved away from the machines and made a bolt to the archway that led to the next room, hoping to get away from the electrical machines. As I crossed the room, I was suddenly having projectiles thrown my way. Prizes from the ticket booth and tokens where chucked my way as I ran. I glanced over to see what looked to be the apparitions of children, looking as if they were on the warpath. (Obviously they were doing no damage, but it truly is the intention that counts.)

I was no longer being battered by their vicious attacks when I got out of the arcade and into the next room, however, I was unsure if the electrical being was able to pursue me in their stead.

Looking around, I was in what seemed to be a giant playground that consisted mostly of suspended tunnels that had translucent plastic bubbles made for windows and there were a few slides. There were also many places for children to climb up in many different manners. All in all, it looked like a hamster pen. 

Getting over my initial confusion, I promptly started looking to see if there was anything electrical off the bat. There were two security cameras and light fixtures on the ceiling, but I could view nothing else.

I turned back to the way I came in to observe the behavior of the lightning, but it was nowhere to be found. The arcade was as dark and silent as before. The only sign of anything happening was the items strewn about on the ground.

It didn’t need explaining to me that whatever that purple lightning was was what my compass was most likely pointing to, unless there was another being of similar power, which I highly doubted. 

In my experience, children's spirits are harder to work with, especially if you are not trained to work with them. They can be very emotional and one wrong move can greatly upset them. Another issue is that they seem to have a great struggle trying to explain what is wrong and what they are feeling. However, it is balanced out with the fact that not many children stay behind in our world, and usually when they do it is for a simple reason that usually caused or led up to their deaths.

To see what appeared to be a good handful of children that all were immediately aggressive and/or terrified is very concerning. This means that all of them were either killed or were here before they died. By the quick glances I got, they all could not be any older than 10 years of age. So now the question is, how do I help them?

Their instant aggression shows that they are not very trusting of me, probably because I’m a stranger and an adult. But that means it will be difficult trying to find a way to figure out what they need to pass on. I decided to keep investigating the building to see if I could find any clues as to what may have happened. 

The playground area was a bit smaller than the arcade and, at first glance, definitely seemed to be the most unassuming place so far. I wanted to see if I could find any more signs of the passageways in the walls, so I went about checking the perimeter of the room, careful as to not get close to the doors of the arcade, just in case. It was then I felt the presence of another soul in the room; however, I did not address it. 

I instead observed that there was a hidden opening, no more than half a foot wide. Upon pearing in I saw what looked to be a door that would lead into the wall. The opening looked like it could keep most full grown adults out and since there was nothing else there, no child would stay around it long, as long as the door stayed shut and locked. It was also positioned behind other equipment in the back, therefore it would be almost unnoticeable unless you were practically in the playground. 

As I was investigating, I could feel the soul creep closer to me and by the time I had finished my observations from above, they were only a few feet away. I started to slowly move, causing the soul to freeze in their tracks. I walked slowly around, pretending I was interested in something or another, keeping my back towards them. I slowly made my way to one of the benches on the opposite side of the wall from the playground and sat, leaning my head back and closing my eyes. 

 After a minute, the soul began creeping closer to me again. This time when they were only about a few feet away, I quietly addressed them.

“You really needn’t try to be so sneaky. I promise I don’t mean any harm.”

I felt the soul flinch at my words and quickly retreat behind the plastic slide in front of me.

“Don’t be scared,” I cooed softly. “I’m not going to do anything. Look, I even have my eyes closed. You don’t have to come out if you don’t want to. I understand that strangers can seem threatening.”

The soul stayed in their place, and for a small moment it was completely still. And then the soul came out from the slide.

“Can you see me?”

It was such a small voice, one that could only belong to a child.

“Yes I can.”

“How?”

“I don’t know. I’ve always been good at seeing people.”

I felt them come only a hair closer.

“Nobody has ever seen me after I died. Are you a ghost hunter?”

That was an alarming statement. Children ghosts rarely ever fully knew that they were dead. This meant that either they were told or that what ever had killed them made it hard for them to deny what happened.

“No. I’m a ghost helper. I help ghosts find a way home.”

“So, you can help us leave?”

“Yes, indeed I can.”

“How?”

“It depends. I will need to know more.”

“Know more about what?”

“I need to know more about you and your friends and what happened.”

By this point, the child had crept over and was only about a foot in front of me. I slowly opened my eyes and looked down at the child.

“Would you be ok with that? Me asking questions?”

The child sat for a second and then gave a nod.

“If you want, I can show you where everyone is.”

“That would be nice. Thank you.”

The child gave me a small smile, and then proceeded to lead the way. We left the playground, and into the main hallway. Across from the doors, there was another hallway, but there were signs indicating that it was only for employees. The child went down this hallway anyways, and kept going until we came to a door that was labeled “Maintenance Room.” 

Before I even opened the door, I could feel the amount of spirits inside. Once I did, I noticed that they all were sitting down, almost in a huddle. Upon seeing me, their eyes went wide and they all tensed up. The child who led me quickly glided over to where they were, while I decided to sit down at the door.

“Don’t worry, don’t worry! He said that he could help us go home!” At his pleading, the other children still seemed to be nervous about me being there. The child then walked back over and sat beside me. “See look! He’s not hurting me!”

I smiled warmly. “You’re alright. I promise I don’t want to hurt you. I just want to talk about what happened to you.”

One of the children, a young one at that, started to burst into tears.

“Oh, no no nononono, I’m sorry.” I quickly backpedaled. “You don’t have to think about it. I’m sorry.”

Suddenly, one of the lamps in a different corner of the room flickered before a trail of electricity moved over to the children. Once it was almost among them, it shifted form and went up the upset child.

The new apparition was that of a robotic mouse that was about the size of a large rabbit. Her spirit glowed a faint lavender hue. A protection spirit. 

“Shhhhh, it’s ok, it’s ok. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.” Her voice was different from other spirits, having more of a robotic sound to it. Almost like she was talking through a voice changer of some sorts. But even then, it was far more comforting than I could have possibly been. Once the child was calmed, she then turned towards me. 

She stared at me for a bit, like she was assessing the situation. 

After a moment, she spoke.

“Is it true that you can help them?”

“Yes. I can.”

At that, she moved away from the children and closer to me. The child that had sat beside me moved over to where the others were and watched the events unfold. She stood before me, looking deeply into my eyes.

“How?”

I gave her a smile and explained, quiet for only her to hear, “I know practically everything there is to know about helping ghosts move on. All I need to know is more about how you ended up this way and from there I can determine the proper technique to use.” 

She gave me a curt nod, sat on her hind legs in front of me, and took a deep breath before she whispered, “Murder. They were all murdered by a man from this place.” Her voice trembled slightly.

“Are there any objects that they could potentially be attached to?”

“No, no. It’s just...them.”

I nodded and then gave her a smile. “Thank you. That’s all I need.” I stood up and slowly walked over to where the children sat. “Now the question is, who wants to go first?”

The hand of the first child I met popped up. I smiled and gave him a nod. “Ok then. Wait a moment while I get ready.”

For privacy purposes, I went to the father corner of the room, which was hidden by a table and some boxes of spare parts. As I took off my coat and began folding up my sleeves, I heard the faint whispers of goodbyes from the children. I sat down and waited for them to come over when they were ready. As they came over, I motioned for them to sit in front of me.

“May I take your hands?”

They gave me a small nod and put out their hands. I took them in mine, and positioned them where the child’s were on top.

“Are you ready?”

“Will it hurt?”

“Not at all. It’ll be like falling asleep.”

The child gave me another small nod.

“Now, close your eyes for me and just relax.”

Once I felt he was calm, I activated the wings tatoos on my back and directed the power to my hands. Soon the child started glowing faintly.

“What’s your name?”

“Jack.”

“Well, Jack, what do you want to do when you leave?”

“I want to go find my little sister. She got left on the playground alone and got scared. I was going to help her out.” His spirit started to dim slightly.

“You’re a very good big brother Jack, but I’m sure she’s home and safe now.”

“You mean it? She’s okay?”

“Absolutely. Now relax. Remember, like falling asleep.”

Jack took a deep breath in and as he exhaled, his spirit completely faded away into a small light. Using a small amount of power, I moved it towards me and sealed it into a bead on my holding charm. This would make it easy to transport their spirits outside, where they can be let go and carried away into the next place beyond.

After a moment to make sure his spirit was secure, I spoke out, “Who ever wants to go next can come over?”

And just like that the process repeated until all of them, besides the lavender spirit remained. (I later looked into a list of all of the children that went missing and matched the ones I met here to that list, which I will have at the end of this entry.)

I could tell she was practically besides herself with emotion, witnessing the children she’s cared for finally being freed from this place. She was completely silent and stared at the spot where they were all once huddled together.

“Are you ready?”

She paused and then spoke slowly. “Is there anything else you have to do now?”

“I have to take what’s left of the spirits outside so they can completely leave. But that can wait until you’ve been helped.”

She didn’t respond for a small time, then she turned to me. “Go ahead and take care of them. Then come back for me. I have something to show you.”

“Very well then.”

I picked up my coat and was putting it on when a thud came from the halls.

I looked to the spirit, only to find she had gone back to her lightning form and zapped into the wall.

I braced myself and quietly slipped out the door (which was left ajar) and peered into the hallway. While there was no sign of a physical presence, yet, I heard the sound of movement from the direction of the lobby. It was then brought to my awareness that spirits in the charm (which I had looped into my belt) were reacting in a manner of fear. As I quickly added another seal over the charm to keep them from accidentally slipping out, I began to think of a plan.

I had no means of defense if whatever was there was a physical threat and not supernatural. This meant that I would be in trouble if the encounter got confrontational. I would have to try to avoid that by all means necessary.

As I looked across the hall, into the room with the playground, I noticed a lavender glow, though I couldn’t see where it was coming from. After checking to make sure the hallway was empty, I quietly slipped in.

I was partially expecting to see the lavender spirit, however the source of the glow came from behind the hidden opening I had found earlier. When I went to look in, I saw that the door at the end had been opened. 

He shouldn’t be able to get me in here.

An echo of a whisper, barely audible to the point where most people would ignore it, not realizing it wasn’t just a random thought in their head, but a memory of sorts. What they were hearing was someone’s thoughts and/or words right before their death. Echos rarely occur for no reason, mostly being triggered by a similar event or the presence of someone who was present before the spirit’s demise.

By the sound of it, she was being chased by someone. 

I decided that it would be best to follow the echo, instead of risking getting caught by whatever was now here. I managed to squeeze into the opening and began shuffling towards the door. As I got to the end, I heard the unmistakable sound of heavy footsteps. I turned around and through the sliver of the opening, saw a tall figure, who was definitely not dead.

Come on sweetheart, it’s not safe back there!

I had nearly missed the faint voice of an adult male in my attempt to stay out of sight. As quietly as I possibly could, I opened the door a hair farther and slipped inside, shutting it behind me. 

The passageway was barely 5 feet wide in total and had long thick wires running along the floor’s edges. The floor itself was about an inch or two below the level of the building. The light was only bright enough to illuminate the immediate area around the door.

However, before I could observe it more, it bolted down the hall, and I had to nearly sprint to keep up with it. Once I was about where the arcade would be, I noticed the amount of wires had nearly doubled. So much so at some points there were wires across the center which were torn from the amount of times they had been walked on.

The air itself became damp and there were a few times I could have sworn I saw moss. The farther along I went, the more I started to hear dripping from the roof.

Eventually the light came to a stop at a tiny opening that was at the corner of the building. From there on out, the passage was almost more of a crawl space. But here I could see where all the wires led to. There was a small chain of older power generators that was connected by various cords.

The arcade machines were powered by the generators which were connected to the main power system by vast amounts of wiring. Between the age of the generators, the leaks in the roof, and the constant treading on the wires, the place was almost beyond hazardous.

And it was at that, everything clicked.

Penelope!

I’ve got to hide.

It was then I saw the faint ripple of a figure in the light. It quickly moved into the crawl space. I was so focused on following the girl’s spirit, that I didn’t sense the pursuer until they were almost on me.

“You’re not supposed to be back here.”

I spun around and came face to face with the monster of this place, whom I had seen many photos of in my research.

“Mr. Stilmen. It's a pleasure to make your...” He cut me off with a growl.

“Don’t be smart with me. You’re trespassing on my property and you need to leave.” Before I could reply, he raised a gun and pointed it in my direction.

“I’m doing no such thing. The city gave me permission to investigate these grounds for activity.”

“What activity? The place is closed.”

“I understand that. I just was trying to look into the mysterious activity and the children that were murdered.”

He growled, “No kids died. They went missing!”

“No. They were killed, you can’t deny that to me now. I’ve seen enough.”

“Seen what? What could you have seen that would suggest that?”

“I’m going to go out on a limb and say that you were suffering from depression. Your wife did die from childbirth and not only that, you lost the baby too.”

“How-”

“It must have hurt you then. To see so many young children not pay heed to their mothers. I mean, technically, it was a child that took your wife away.

“The first time was probably an accident. That’s how it usually starts. But then you got carried away. And soon you had a lot of blood on your hands. Figuratively, of course.  Not only that, but what were you going to do with the remains? Well you had to dump them of course. But I’m sure you know how that went.”

He gave a small chuckle before tightening his grip on the gun. “And how did you figure all of that out? Huh?” It was hardly there, but I caught the slight waver in his voice.

“I pity you Mr. Stilmen. You really are a man who is followed by misfortune. But that will never excuse you for what you did.” 

“SHUT UP! That’s enough talking from you!” He screamed, pain laced in his voice. And then he pulled the trigger.

I braced myself for the hit, but instead a bolt of electricity struck the bullet and shocked his hand, making him drop the gun. 

A lavender girl stood between us, small sparks coming from her hands. As soon as Stilmen looked at her, his face went pale.

“Y-you… you can’t be…” His eyes held a look of surprise as he moved a half step towards her, turning his head in an attempt to get a better view of her face. “Penelope?”

“Daddy…” she choked out. I didn’t need to see her face to know what she felt, her voice was full of pure grief. “Daddy…” 

“Yes? Sweetheart, what is it? Whatever it is,” his words tumbled out, a faint shake in his voice.

“Daddy… please stop it.” Despite her originally trying to put on a brave face, she began to start sobbing. “I don’t want you... to hurt people... anymore. I just want you… to be… happy again.”

At her words, he broke falling to his knees with a sob. I then walked a bit closer to her, but to the side.

“You didn’t mean for her to know. But she eventually found out didn’t she?” I channeled my power into the air and space around me.

The echoed footsteps of a young girl running towards us soon played. It then turned to sloshing as she came closer from where the tunnel had a small layer of water. A faint figure of a girl came running into the area, and then stopped, breathing heavily. In her arms she held a robotic mouse close to her chest.She appeared terrified for her life. She then turned her head, as if hearing someone calling for her.

But instead, she slipped into the crawl space.

There was a sudden loud pop from the generators. And then...

A blood curdling scream. Loud enough to be heard from outside of the thin exterior walls. 

As the vision faded, the man sat there in silence with nothing but pain and grief. He then choked out, “I couldn’t get to her fast enough. Once I got there...” He looked up from the ground to Penelope, who was now crying. “I’m so sorry. Let me make it up to you. Whatever you want, I’ll do it. I promise.”

“All I want,” she whispered,” is for you to get better.”

“I’ll do it then. I’ll turn myself in. I’ll answer for my crimes,” he rambled. 

Then she gave a faint smile. “Thank you.”

Stilmen went along with the police with full cooperation and as they were loading him in the car, I saw his face. His expression was that of pure relief, as well as sorrow as he looked back to the old amusement building.

Once everything was said and done, he was probably going to hand it over to Kingston for him to do with it as he wished. But before they drove him away, he had one wish.

“Dr. Anderson… Can you take care of Penelope for me?”

“It would be my honor. Don’t worry. She will be in safe hands.”

Afterwards, of course, the police wanted my full report; however, as you may know, I have a strict policy regarding the privacy of my patients so I gave them a very short statement.

“I found him as I was walking and I managed to talk him down.”

After a while, the police gave up on me and began to prepare to scout the building.

I asked the person in charge to allow me a few minutes inside to grab some things, so they would not be considered evidence accidentally, and while they were more than disgruntled about it, they gave me permission.

By that point, the sun was starting to rise, and even with the windows boarded, the building was a bit more illuminated.

I made my way back to the area with the generators, this time using the official door that was in the back wing, next to the maintenance room. When I arrived, I saw Penelope sitting on the ground. 

“I was hoping you would come back in.” She looked up at me and gave me a small smile. “I’ve been thinking about...me… moving on.”

I smiled back towards her. “Yes. I was wondering about that myself. How do you feel?”

She hesitated, and then replied thoughtfully, “I don’t think I’m ready to go. But I can’t stay here. There is no reason to, and besides, they will probably tear the place down eventually. I don’t know where I want to go.”

“Hmm, well…” I hummed, pausing briefly. “You could come stay with me.”

Her face lit up instantly. “Really?”

“Yes, of course. There is always space in my home for more. And you won’t be the only ghost, or child, on the premises. Not to mention, if the need arises and if you wish to, you can travel with me sometimes for work.”

She sprung up to her feet in a jolt of lightning, laughing cheerfully as she zapped across the room. 

“I’ll take that as a yes?”

“Yes! Yes! I want to go with you!”

I chuckled as she ran up to me, returning her hug in earnest. “Now, means of getting you out of here.” I looked off to the side in thought.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I can’t keep you in the charm, and it’s hard for a spirit to move on their own. It’s a lot more helpful when a spirit is connected to something, like a book or a tool.”

“Well… if it helps, I’ve been sleeping in something like that, but I don’t think I can move it.”

I instantly knew what she was talking about. Ghosts don’t exactly sleep, per say, but some of them need to rest in order to recharge their power. But if she was resting in something, that meant…

“What were you sleeping in?”

“Oh, it’s with... my body.”

“Alright then.” I pulled out my flashlight and set it on the dimmest mode. “Would you mind going back into it and exert a small amount of power through it? That will cause it to glow slightly.”

She nodded and then, turning back into a volt of electricity, she went down the wires into the crawlspace. Then there was a faint glow from just inside.

I used my flashlight to make sure I didn’t accidentally grab the wrong thing and began reaching for the glowing object. I tried not to focus on the mass that was next to it, and I managed to just grab it.

I could feel Penelope’s excited presence within it as I pulled it out. And once I brightened my light, I saw a small lavender mechanical mouse.

~Fin~

[spell-cleaver]

"I can't do this anymore," Luke said, running a hand through his hair. His hands shook, but his voice was still steady, although by the sound of it, not for long. "If you were just waiting to see me break, there you go. Bring it on, all you promised me my whole childhood: imprison me, torture me, cut off all my limbs, hear my screams as I die. I'm sick of being constantly on guard, seeing you watch me like a hawk hunting a mouse. Cut off the chase already; we both know your prey is trapped."

 Previous parts linked on the masterpost here!

“I can’t do this anymore,” Luke said, running a hand through his hair. His hands shook, but his voice was still steady, although by the sound of it, not for long. “If you were just waiting to see me break, there you go. Bring it on, all you promised me my whole childhood: imprison me, torture me, cut off all my limbs, hear my screams as I die. I’m sick of being constantly on guard, seeing you watch me like a hawk hunting a mouse. Cut off the chase already; we both know your prey is trapped.”

When Vader finally was let into the medbay, their conversation did not go well.

Luke was trembling as he spoke, fists clenched and gaze down, and Vader… wanted to step forwards, to lay a hand on his shoulder and— and beg, and plead, and—

But Luke’s stiff stare, the way he sat on that little chair next to the desk, sleeve rolled up to his elbow and bacta patch on his wrist, halted him in the door.

His other hand dropped from his hair to his knee and clenched into a fist. Vader winced.

“Stop just standing there,” Luke muttered. “Stop—just stop. I’m tired of all of this. Take this whole kriffing Empire for yourself. If you want to torment me, do it. Kill me, hurt me, just do it, because the wait is unbearable. Depose me and become Emperor yourself. And if you have no interest in torturing Palpatine’s worthless brat after he fails as your puppet emperor, then please just let me go. I’ll find my own way out there. I can’t stay here like this.”

Vader… didn’t know what to say. “I have sworn my loyalty to you, Majesty.”

“You have a terrific way of showing it, Lord Vader.” His voice cracked, tears slipped down his cheeks, and that was worse—

“I know, Majesty,” Vader said. He had the sudden idea that seeing him loom might not help Luke very much, so he seated himself instead on another free chair, praying it didn’t collapse under his wait. The indignity of that.

Although… if it made Luke laugh…

“You aren’t sorry then?” His son’s voice cut him out of his thoughts like a saber through ice. “Did you just come here to explain again why I must endure that sort of thing, and yet never give me a convincing argument?”

“No, l— Luke, I… did come to apologise.” He hung his head; he couldn’t meet those blue, accusing eyes. “I am sorry for what I have done to you. I am sorry for everything. I swear I will try—”

“Try?” Luke snapped. “You swore to protect me—which I never believed, so I cannot say I am surprised at this—and yet you attack me and wound me the moment I actually deign to put effort into your ridiculous training regimes. Make up your mind, Vader. If you want me to be your puppet, or your whipping boy, or just dead, just say the word.”

Vader stared at him. There was nothing he could say.

He’d lost control.

He could’ve killed his son, in the same heady rush of darkness that— that had—

That had killed Padmé.

He’d lost control.

“And if you do just want a whipping boy, then stop playing games.” Luke’s voice was shaking again, Vader was dismayed to hear, tears flooding his eyes as he flexed his left hand, his right still too painful to shift. “My father is dead; you are the master, or whatever you Sith call it. You need justify yourself to no one, and you have no need to keep up the charade of training any longer.”

Vader wanted to bury his head in his hands. He wanted to scream. He wanted to shake the boy, Palpatine, himself, the universe, until everything fell into its rightful place again and his relationship with his son was good—

“I have no wish to torment you, Majesty,” he choked out. “I told you: I am a terrible person, and I would’ve hurt you were you not who you are, but you are, and I have no wish to hurt you because of it.”

“That is not reassuring, Lord Vader.”

“I know.” Nothing was reassuring to a traumatised boy in his son’s shoes. “I lost control of myself, Majesty, and fell back into old habits. I will do my best not to do so again.”

But Luke stared, and uttered, “Your best isn’t good enough.” He shook his head. “I will not be training with you again, Vader.”

He let his respirator fill his lungs. “You must—”

“Yes, you said so before. But I won’t.” He lifted his chin. “You may leave, Lord Vader. The guards will escort me back to my rooms.”

“Majesty—”

“I said,” Luke said, voice cracking, “leave.”

Vader… didn’t want to see Luke cry again.

“Yes, Majesty,” he acquiesced, before he said pointedly,  "I will see you again tomorrow morning, at the same time, in the training hall.“

Luke just glared. Vader felt the look follow him all the way out the door.

Send me the first sentence of a scene from this AU and I’ll continue it!

Beginning | Previous | Next

[maine-writes]

24. Vonvon Camps

Deep in the dark woods of Gravity Falls, Oregon, Vonvon and Stevonnie sat around a campfire, cooking their lunch. The slightly metallic smell of canned, spiced ham filled the air, accentuated by slices of garlic, soy sauce, and brown sugar. A pot of rice boiled away at the foot of the fire.

"It's weird being back here." Stevonnie said, flipping the slices of mystery meat with long chopsticks.

"You came to Gravity Falls before?"

"A long time ago, spent a summer here." They continued. "It was fun."

Nearby, they had their tent set up, it was a large construction, capable of comfortably housing at least six people.

After lunch, the pair spent the afternoon fishing in the nearby river. As expected, they failed to catch any of the strangely masked fish. Stevonnie didn't seem too bothered by the fact that the fish had disturbingly human-like faces. Vonvon, however, lost their appetite upon seeing it.

That night, they retired to their cozy tent, the campfire blazing away outside. As the wood of the fire crackled and popped, the trees rustled and groaned in the whispering breeze. Distant calls of owls and crickets created a soothing symphony of night.

Suddenly, Vonvon was stirred awake by the sounds of eerie, whispering voices. Looking around, they saw Stevonnie peacefully slumbering by their sword, and shadows cast upon the tent walls by the light of the fire. Small, amorphous shapes seemed to distort in the light just outside the tent.

Quiet as a mouse, the child gently shook Stevonnie awake, pointing at the ominous shadows. With a knowing nod, Stevonnie drew their blade and crept to the tent opening.

With great speed, they unzipped the tent and jumped out with a ferocious cry. Sitting around the fire was a raccoon, an opossum, and a regular human guy eating a bowl of grapes sitting around the fire. The odd thing was that the critters were wearing clothes, ordinary human clothes appropriately sized for woodland critters.

"Oh crap." Muttered the raccoon, dropping the plate of spam he held.

"Scatter!" Cried the opossum, slapping the bowl of grapes off of the guy's lap before skittering away into the dark.

In the confusion, the seemingly regular guy disappeared and the raccoon wrote himself out of the situation.

Then they heard a scream coming from the tent. When they returned, they found the child backing up into a corner.

"There's something in there!" Vonvon yelled, pointing at a googly-eyed sock puppet on the tent floor.

Cautiously, Stevonnie approached it, jumping back as something inside it suddenly moved. They then jabbed it with their sword, and whatever it was inside the sock let out an yelp.

From out of the sock appeared a blue, sweater-wearing rat.

The rat screeched, running away through a hole in the tent they had gnawed.

Vonvon and Stevonnie stood in shocked and confused silence. As they simultaneously realized something, they turned to each other.

"Gravity Falls."

@artsycooky13

@kenji-arts

@raisansgrapeon

[jxdedfeelings]

"Have you seen what the mind is capable of with just a little push?" With whoever you want -River

“Thank you for coming on such short notice.” Polished shoes cross the corridor, pick up in pace whilst the other male pitter-patters beside him. Fingers move fluidly, forming silent words. Appreciative as always, Henrik picks up on it and nods. “It’s been a while since your last check-up.” The one topped with a bowler hat looks at him curiously. He supposes he hadn’t really thought about it. His health was in perfect condition, right? No ailments had come his way, nor did his strength dwindle. He hadn’t experienced a cold for as long as he could remember.

Henrik seems to catch on as they enter the allocated room; door decored with his studious accomplishments. He guides his patient to the seats beside his desk, waits until Jameson’s seated comfortably before he moves to his own station. A fiddle with the mouse has his screen beaming to life and with some browsing and clicks, he pulls up the file ‘Jameson Jackson’. Henrik murmurs under his breath as he scans the past results, conditions, skims over the historical record. He grows silent for a second and Jameson twiddles with his thumbs.

“There’s no rush, my friend. You are the last patient. It is just you and I now, no one to interfere.” He shoots a rare but reassuring smile. Jameson nods and readjusts to the scene, composes with his own small smile. Henrik takes it as a sign to get back to the examination, and so he scrolls for a short time. A few crosses later and he’s pushing back from his desk, letting the roll of the wheels echo out before he extends a hand to retrieve the box of gloves at his left. If Henrik had a mantle, it would be for hygiene.

With them now on, he wriggles his digits, stretches out the material. Having the stethoscope still around the column of his neck, the doctor faces back to the one waiting. He gestures for Jameson to move to the bed in the corner and follows suit as the dapper rises. Jameson knows what to do, he’s done this charade before. He recalls the time Chase had stolen Henrik’s medical equipment, attempted poorly to use it and concluded Jameson had no heartbeat. An angry doctor and a smack to the back of his head followed. Jameson had never laughed so hard.

The metal presses to his chest. Henrik’s not saying a word and the male can’t read the expression on his face, can’t gather if he’s satisfied that Jameson had already sucked in before he’d requested him to do so. It’s placed on his back then, staying for the same interval as the front. “Lift your shirt please.” Fingers curl up the fabric. He’s thankful that his outfit is loose enough to scrunch up. Perhaps the doctor is too.

Jameson watches with wide blues as Henrik brings the instrument back around his neck. “All in order. Good, good.” He nods with his words as if to reaffirm his thoughts. Jameson’s relieved, though he’s unsure why he was nervous at all. He’d known he was in tip-top condition. He dismisses it and waits for the next procedure.

The popsicle he expects, but Henrik’s instead ruffling through the drawers, collecting a device he’s never seen before. He’s a tad nervous now, but it has been a while, maybe this is an update to the equipment?

The German bustles as he brings out a few items, lays them on a tray and wheels it over. “Lie down please.” Jameson’s arching a brow now. Since when had he needed to…? Henrik’s cutting off his train of thought with another smile. “Ah, this is a new addition to the usual exam. Nothing to fret over. Now please, lie down for me, hm?” A hesitant nod and a lowering of his body has Jameson prepared to Henrik’s liking, evident by the hum of approval.

There’s a rip of material being unbuckled and pulled through the loop that the male notices. Henrik’s calm, loosening the restraints. “A precaution, nothing to be worried about. Trust me. The new procedure has had various responses from patients. It’s extreme but we mustn’t risk it, yes?” Jameson delays his reaction, but then he’s nodding slowly. “I was against it too, dear friend.” He’s guiding a hand to the binds, strapping it in then repeating his steps on the other. “It will only take a few minutes, I promise.” There’s another flashed smile. Like clockwork, Jameson’s wearing one too.

A flick of his lab coat has Henrik turning. Hands rove over his selection and as instructed, he plucks the item. Another is fetched in his hand and he locks eyes with his patient. “I need you to open your eyes.” Widened ceruleans respond and Henrik leans down, revealing one of the collected implements to assist his procedure. Jameson irks as the speculum is fitted. Henrik doesn’t utter a word as he fiddles with it, ensures it’s secure and snug. It’s then that his other tool is unveiled and fear courses through the other’s veins.

A rattle at the restraints is the only noise that’s made when Henrik begins. Horror is spread across Jameson’s face. A look that screams agony. The ice pick is only just drilling through the socket when he decides to show up. Hands caress the lab coat, trails up his arm and rests at his shoulder. With his other darting pupil, the dapper spies the grin. Spies who it belongs to.

“H̷av͢e̕ ̕y̛o҉u̕ ͟śe̵en w̕hat͞ the m͜in̶d͡ ̢is̨ capa͠ble o̸f ͜with͡ ͞j̸ust a ͢li̕ttl̨e p͜ush?̀”

Aside from the hit of the pick, another noise shatters the room. It sounds more like distortion than a voice.

“I di̛dn̨’t ̷a͝pp̛r̨e͟ciate ̷tha͠t̕ li͟tt̕l̶e ͘s҉tưnt̵ ͟of ̨y̷o̷urs̡ ba͜c̕k t̶h̕ere̕.”

Jameson’s too fixed on crying bloody murder to reply. Henrik hammers. Splits the first layer. Bang.

“So͡,̧ Ì'̀ve̴ ̢had̛ Henrìk͢ ͟h͢e̢r͡e, ǫur ̡v̕er̢y g̡ene̸rous docto͢r̸,͠ ͠t̷a̶ke c͟ar͘e o̡f͝ yo͞u̧ f̕or ̨me̴.”

Hands brushed down his arms again, feather-light in his touch as he practically phases through the doctor at work.

“I͜t̵'s̸ a͜máz̀ìn͜g҉ w͠h͏a͠t a͏ l͠i̕ttl̛ȩ ́twe͏akįn̨g̢ ͟ca̴n do̕.”

A giggle reverberates, grates against his ears. He can feel the metal drive into him and as expected his hands are trembling, disjointed with each knock that Henrik gifts the pick. Gifts Jameson with an induced seizure.

“Díd̨n͝'t҉ thin̢k ́I̷'͢d͡ c͜atch on̸to͜ ̨t͝haţ ̕s͢m͘al͟l͟ c̀ŕy̢ ̡f̨o͜r he͜l͏p,͠ ̡did̀ ̴yo͡u?”

He’s going limp as Henrik now twists the device, moves it around and explores other regions of the brain.

“Le҉t͢'s͜ ̷ma͠ķe sur҉e th͡at̕ never̛ h̨a͟p͡pe͘ńs̴ a͜gain.”

He’s drilling it deeper and deeper, leaving Jameson with a plastered expression and dry tears. Unresponsive now, Anti smiles and leads the doctor’s hand away. Yanks the instrument out harshly. discards it to the tray, slick with fluids. He’s free to relish in the sight that is the dapper twitching. It brings a joyful glint to the glitch’s eyes.

A glance to the side has another smirk riding across. There’s the culprit. With a flick, it ticks away at its slow beat. Mechanical. Repetitive.

Henrik’s already undoing the straps around Jameson’s wrists that glare at them, bitten red. Anti clasps his hands then returns to the pair. He marvels at his handiwork, admires his choice of punishment. 

He lifts the mute’s arm, shakes it from side to side with pure mockery and giggles as he releases it, witnesses it flopping back. That’s one issue taken care of. Although he’s out now, Jameson will wake eventually and a lobotomy won’t be fatal. No, no. He has plans for this specific puppet.

Jameson always did like listening to the clock. A ticking metronome should do the trick.

After all, it had worked on Henrik.

Tag List: @antis-gauge, @coffee-bean-boi, @miishae, @n-anon, @10th-no-name-person, @pumpkin-demon, @egopocalypse, @immabethehero, @mmmirkabat​

[petuniarobinson]

Statistics

tw: alcohol mention, death mention

BASICS

Full Name: Petunia Rosaleen Robinson (née Taylor) Nickname(s): Pet, Petty, Tuney Age: 57 Date of Birth: December 22nd, 1962 Zodiac Sign: Capricorn Place of Birth: Jacksonville, Florida, USA Ethnicity: Caucasian Nationality: American Gender: Cisgender Woman Pronouns: She/Her Sexual Orientation: Bisexual Romantic Orientation: Biromantic Religion: Loosely Christian Occupation: Freelance Hairdresser Financial Status: Rich AF, thanks Cornelius. Education: She has a high school diploma and went to cosmetology school Language(s) Spoken: English & Bad Spanish Accent: It’s honestly such a mixed bag. She says most things in a generic American accent (the kind you hear in every tv show) but she has lived in New Zealand and Swynlake so she’s picked some stuff up.

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

Face Claim: Lea Thompson Hair Color: Red (Ginger) Eye Color: Light Brown Height: 5′4″ / 162.5cm // 1′ / 30.5cm Weight: 117lbs / 53kg // 5lbs / 2.2kg Build: Lean/Muscular for her age Piercings: Ears Tattoos: None (that you can prove)

PERSONALITY

Label: Can I just say Karen? Positive Traits: Fearless, Methodical, Tidy Negative Traits: Hot-Tempered, Inflexible, Grumpy Goals/Desires: Break her curse, spend time with her family, start her own salon! Fears: Heights, Water (Swimming) Hobbies: Shopping & Singing Quirks: Well ignoring her puppet quirk when her heartrate goes up... She tends to flatten her skirt/shirt when she gets nervous or overwhelmed.

FAVORITE/LEAST FAVORITE

Colors: Petunia has a love-hate relationship with the color pink. A natural ginger, it is a color that she knows she should avoid but it reminded her of her childhood and her innocence. You will still find more light blues or minty greens in her wardrobe but she will always have a soft spot for pink.

Weather: Petunia has a love-hate relationship with the color pink. A natural ginger, it is a color that she knows she should avoid but it reminded her of her childhood and her innocence. You will still find more light blues or minty greens in her wardrobe but she will always have a soft spot for pink.

Music: Petunia is a pop kind of girl, though she loves Franny’s music as is required of all Robinsons. Top 40s Pop Music is what you’ll catch her playing most of the time while cutting hair. There is also some country music sprinkled in there but she won’t admit that it’s her music.

Movies: RomComs! Anything with a romantic plotline is her absolute favorite. Petunia knows Casablanca by heart, every word perfectly performed if you ask her. She will bear with the family watching science fiction but she often worries that, perhaps, Cornelius is just looking for crazy ideas. Not that she minds his inventions, she simply doesn’t understand them.

Beverage: Wine. Petunia is your local wine mom, it’s rare that you’ll find her drinking much else. The only other thing you can ever catch her drinking is water during one of her workouts. She has been known to dabble in protein shakes but the texture is too unbearable to do more than take a photo with and then toss. She is not on board with that fad.

Foods: Petunia tells people she’s a health nut, that she could do keto, but she’s not. She really likes sweets. In her acting days she tried not to indulge in her sweet tooth but now, when she’s not in front of a camera, she is a sucker for cookies and other pastries. She can’t help herself.

Animals: Petunia doesn’t mind animals but she’s never fully desired one, either. She admires the aesthetic of cats because they’re beautiful and aloof. She is scared of rodents and will scream dramatically at even the hint of a mouse’s tail.

HEADCANONS:

Petunia is terrible at painting. She watches her son with all of his talent and can’t help but feel a hint of envy that mixes with pride. She’s glad at least someone is using the arts to further themselves. If she couldn’t succeed in her intended field then she would do everything to help her son in his. She will paint with him if he asks and has saved every painting he has ever given her. How is she supposed to get rid of them? They’ll be worth millions one day!

Petunia Robinson doesn’t know how to swim and, at this point, she’s too afraid to ask. She hasn’t mentioned it to most of the Robinsons as she’s rather embarrassed by this. She was from Florida for god sake, she cannot be scared of the ocean! Yet here we are, 57 years old, unable to swim. She will sit in the shallow end of a pool or lounge in an inflatable kiddie pool during the summer but the ocean is made for tanning on the shore, not diving in.

Petunia learned Spanish for a role once. She’s not fluent by any means but she’s not… Well… She’s pretty terrible, actually. She thinks she’s better at it than she is. She likes to brag that she’s very cultured. She’s trying her best.

CURSE EXPLANATION

Whenever Petunia Robinson experiences an extreme emotion she will transform from a human form to a wooden puppet that is a rather crude caricature of herself. She becomes about two feet tall and can move, though it is clunky and slow. Her voice takes on a hollow wooden sound and she cannot change back until she has fully calmed down. The curse does not care if the emotion she was experiencing was positive or negative, simply the intensity. They believe it is probably linked to heart rate but they have no idea really how to control it.

FAMILY

Father: Elmer Taylor Mother: Eloise Taylor (née Page) (Deceased) Sibling(s): Joe Robinson (brother-in-law), Billie Robinson (sister-in-law) Spouse: Fritz Robinson Children: Laszlo Robinson & Tallulah Jeane Robinson Nibling(s): Cornelius Robinson (nephew), Darareaksmey Franny Sor Robinson (née Framagucci) (niece-in-law), Wilbur Robinson (grandnephew), Art Framagucci (nephew-in-law), Gaston Framagucci (nephew-in-law) Pet(s): None (that are hers at least)

TESTS

Myers-Briggs: ESTP-T Enneagram: Eight - The Challenger Hogwarts House: Slytherin Primary, Gryffindor Secondary

[krattgirl124]

Core Activated Chapter 7

“Oh, Belle.” William sobbed. He ran to his room after his near breakdown in Michael and Chris’s room. He sat at the edge with his face in his hands.

“Belle. I’m nothing without you.” William sobbed. “You took my heart, soul, and happiness with you.” Blackness filled into the room. Darker than the already dark room.

“Aww.” a mocking voice said. “Can’t live without my sister?” Willow appeared in front of William. William lifted his head and jumped in surprise.

“Aww. What’s the matter?” Willow asked. “Aren’t you glad to see your sister-in-law?” William growled at her and clenched his fists. “You. Took. Away. My. Life.” Willow laughed.

“You’ll pay for what you did!”

“Oh? What did I do?” Willow asked. William didn’t answer.

“Wow. You are more weak and broken than I thought.” Black tendrils coiled around William. He struggled but they soon held him fast.

“I’d kill you. But that would be too kind.” Willow said walking closer to her prey. “Listen here little mouse. You are worthless. Nothing without my sister. And let me tell you-” Willow ran a knife along Williams jawline and pushed his chin up to meet her crazed gaze.

“I enjoyed her screams. And look at you. You couldn’t save her. I bet she blames you for her death.” Willow let out an insane laugh. William didn’t have anything to say. He just sobbed and writhed in his tight bounds.

“Now, I would kill you now, but I think I’ll let you suffer instead, by killing your family off one by one.” She formed a long blade in her hand and swiped it on his throat, supposedly slitting it. William clenched his eyes tight but there was no pain, not even a scratch. Instead, he felt something else. He slowly opened his eyes, they were dark and glowing.

“Now tomorrow is my niece’s birthday, isn’t it?” Willow cooed, “I can’t wait to see what you have planned for them. And you should keep your little miracles away from your creations,” She faded away without another word and William lost all consciousness.

When morning arrived, the Aftons went to William’s and Henry’s new location, Circus Baby’s Pizza World, to celebrate Elizabeth’s 6th birthday. Michael was sitting away from the little kids, talking to his friends, who also were able to come. Everything was going well, except….

“Daddy, can I please go see Circus Baby?” Elizabeth whined, “Didn’t you make her just for me?”

“Elizabeth, not right now.” William told her, “There’s a little problem, and I don’t want you to get hurt.” The warning Willow gave him rang fresh through his head. Most of the animatronics didn’t have anything that could hurt his little angel, but Circus Baby had a claw for ice cream, and that could be used as a serious weapon.

“But she can make balloons! Have you seen her make balloons?”

“Elizabeth, I said no.”

Elizabeth folded her arms and went to the table where Chris and Charlie were waiting. The three of them had grown to become such close, good friends that Charlie was like a sister to them.

“Still no luck?” Charlie asked, eating some birthday cake that was given to them earlier.

“Nada, I don’t understand why he won’t let me go.” Elizabeth pouted, sitting down and fumbling with the bow in her hair.

“I wouldn’t blame him. Those things give me the creeps.” Chris mumbled, hugging the Fredbear plush he’s had since Fredbear’s first opened.

“Everything gives you the creeps Chris.” Charlie playfully punched him in the shoulder, “I’m going to the puppet box to see if anything cool is there.” She got up from her seat and headed to the large puppet box that responded to what color wristband you had, and with Charlie always having a green wristband, it always responded when she was near.

“It’s no fair Chris. Daddy made Circus Baby for me yet he won’t let me go see her!” Elizabeth whined.

“It might be for the best sis, dad doesn’t let us near Fredbear and Springbonnie back at the other place.” Chris pointed out.

Without saying another word, Elizabeth grabbed Chris by the hand and ran to Circus Baby’s Gallery.

“What are you doing!?” Chris yelled, dragging his feet as his younger sister somehow continued to drag him closer to the stage.

“This is so I’m not alone, so you can stop me from doing anything stupid.”

“You’re doing something stupid now!” Chris broke free from his sister’s grasp, “I’m finding dad and I’m telling him what you’re doing.”

As Chris left the room, everything seemed to get colder. All the children left when they heard their parents call for them, so it was only Elizabeth and Circus Baby. Elizabeth smiled to herself and walked closer to Circus Baby.

“Hello,” Elizabeth said. A dark figure stood just behind Circus Baby, grinning to herself. Circus Baby opened her core and held out an ice cream cone with some ice cream on it. Elizabeth reached for the ice cream as the dark figure touched Circus Baby’s back. Circus Baby dropped the ice cream and grabbed Elizabeth just as William rushed in with Chris behind him.

“Elizabeth!” William screamed and rushed forward. Elizabeth’s screams echoed around him but no one came to help.

“Willow!” William screamed while trying to deactivate Circus Baby.

“See?.” Willow hissed. “You can’t stop me no matter what you do!” 

Kay was forced to watch. Willow had displayed it like a movie.

“No!” Kay cried. She sobbed and howled before deactivating. Chris's screams reactivated Kay. She sprang to her paws, her pelt bristling. She looked towards the end of the basement.

She growled and padded down the basement hallway. She already lost one child, she won't let it happen again. She turned left and looked at the wooden stairs. She paused unsure if it could hold her weight or not.

She rested a forepaw on the first step and slowly put weight on it. It snapped almost at once and Kay pulled her paw away. She heard Chris's screams again. She crouched down and judged the distance she needed to jump. She leaped, her front paws grabbing hold of the cement step right in front of the door. Her lower body crashed into the wooden steps causing it to shatter. She dangled there for a moment. The broken wood lay beneath her like spikes.

She hauled herself up onto the tiny cement step. She had to stand on her hind legs to fit. Darkness followed by laughter swarmed her.

“Oh, my dear sister wants to save her family?” Willow asked folding her arms. She floated in the blackness, her eyes gleaming menacingly.

“Don't bother me, Willow,” Kay growled as she started to claw at the old wood.

“You're going to try to save your dying family? Oh, this will be interesting.” Willow laughed. Kay growled and grabbed the door handle in her jaws. She tugged it free and threw it at Willow. Willow grabbed it in mid-air. Black tendrils grabbed Kay and threw her down into the remains of the wooden staircase. The wood stabbed Kay in her chest. Kay yowled in pain and got shakily to her paws.

She whimpered as the wood tore her chest fur away, leaving a metal ribcage.

“Do you want to play fetch?” Willow asked, a blade forming her hand. Kay lunged at Willow. Willow stepped to the side and swiped at Kay’s face. Kay hissed and ducked before sinking her teeth into Willow’s arm. Willow screamed and stabbed Kay in the right eye. Kay screeched and tumbled back, clawing at her eye struggling to remove the blade. Willow snarled and rested her hand on the wound. Magic swirled around it and when Willow removed her hand the wound had healed.

“Nothing would give me more pleasure than to have you watch your ‘husband’ become your worst fear. A killer.”

“Willow you won't get away with this,” Kay said before collapsing. Willow rolled her eyes and walked over to the broken wolf.

“Listen here, Kay or Belle.” Willow snarled grabbing the blade. “I hate you, Belle. You, your family, your husband. I want to curse your family forever.” Willow yanked the blade out. Kay screamed as her eye came out with it. Willow smirked and created a hole on top of Kay's muzzle with another blade. Willow stood and looked at the robotic, blue eye. She smiled and took the eye looking at it in the broken basement light.

“I think I'll keep it,” Willow said. She smiled and put a string through the eye. She hung the eye around her neck like a prized necklace. Kay whimpered and backed away. Tears ran down her single eye, staining the fur on her cheek.

Just as Willow disappeared, Kay heard Michael’s voice, which had grown deeper since she last heard it.

“Hey guys, I think the little man said he wants to give Fredbear a big kiss!”

“N-No!! Please!” Chris’ voice gave Kay enough strength to try to break free one more time. She leaped onto the cement step and started clawing at it.

“On three! One…”

Kay busts one of her paws through the door.

“Two!”

She head-butted the door until her head poked out.

“Three!”

Kay burst through the door and ran to the stage, her remaining eye widened and her ears fell back. Chris’ head was in Fredbear’s mouth, while Michael and his friends were wearing their masks and laughing at him as he squirmed.

“You idiots! I leave for five years and I come back to this?!” Kay yowled.

Troy looked back at her, under his Bonnie mask, one of his eyes were glowing brightly.

Chris stiffened as he heard his mom’s voice for the first time in so long, “MAMA—“

Crunch

Everyone fell silent, Fredbear’s jaw had bitten through Chris’ skull, while still performing with Springbonnie as if nothing was happening.

“Chris!” Kay howled, leaping on the stage and knocking the big yellow bear down. She carefully picked up Chris in her jaws and carried him off the stage.

By now, William had arrived a few minutes too late, but he saw the wolf remove his son from the bear, “No, no no no! CHRIS!” He yelled, “Not you too!”

Kay slowly walked up to William and carefully placed Chris down at his feet, letting out a soft whine. She stiffened up in surprise as William wrapped his arms around her neck and sobbed into her fur.

The glow in the teens’ eyes faded, and Michael was the first to take his mask off, “D-Dad. I’m sorry…!”

Kay noticed William’s eyes form a glow she did not like. He glared at his eldest son, “You’re Sorry?! You think that you can just apologize for the months you spent torturing your brother?! For the mental pain, he was already facing?! How many times did I tell you and your friends to knock it off?! How many times did you not listen?!” He got up and Kay flinched in shock when she saw her husband smack their eldest son across the face.

“You’re dead to me.” William growled, then he glared at Kay, “And you….”

“W-William,” Kay said softly, her voice box changing to Belle’s tone.

The glow in William’s eyes faded, “Belle…?”

“It’s me William, all this time.”

William broke down into another sob fest while Michael called an ambulance. Kay wrapped her forepaws around William’s neck and nuzzled him, staring at the other teens in disappointment.

Emma and Derek were freaking out over the situation while Troy….he looked broken. Not just from the situation, but probably from other things he was dealing with in life. Kay wiggled free from William’s grasp and padded up to the teen, already getting worried as she smelled blood, not Chris’, but Troy’s.

Michael soon walked up to them with his cheek bright red from where he was slapped, “Th-the ambulance will be here soon.”

[likesomekindofcheese]

It’s a helluva town (Joe Mazzello x fem! Brazilian! Reader oneshot)

A/N: This was requested by @johndeaconlover​. Here, Joe Mazzello introduces his Brazilian girlfriend to the American metropolis of New York City.

Genres: fluff!

Word Count: 2075

Warnings:  lack of editing, other than some swearing and a hint of mentions of sex, none really.

“Start Spreading the neeeeeeeewwwwwwws, I’m leaving todaaayyyyy!”

 Liza Minelli’s croon was honeying its way out your eardrum and you knew if it weren’t for the claustrophobic plane, someone else’s would too.

“We are all a…”

Joe turned his head to yours with an eyebrow wiggle and a grin on the BAM.

You mouthed “a great big part of it!”

“New! York!”

“New! York! New! YOOOOOOOOOOOOORK!”

The plane was so close to landing. It was not a long plane ride from the place you met, but Sao Paolo and New York City were a long way away.

You tapped anxiously, peering out the window for any sight of the Statue of Liberty. But you were in the middle seat with Joe in the aisle. The desired window seat was taken by a businesswoman in a blue suit and an eye mask who needed the plane trip for a mask, so mouthing along to your NYC playlist had to do to kill time.

It was fair, your boyfriend, Joe, had indulged you in making and listening to a Brazil playlist when you both went over to Sao Paolo to meet your family. Now it was time you saw some of his countries in his favorite city. The city that defined the country of America, even! Every superhero movie, every nineties rom-com, every movie seemed to take place in that mythical, large empire of a town that was both the best and the worst place to be in the world.

As the plane began to tilt to land, the next song popped up from one of Joe’s guilty pleasure musicals.

“New York New Yoooork, a helluva town!”

People began unbuckling their seatbelts and your view from the window was blocked.

“New York, New York, a helluva town

The Bronx is up, but the Battery's down

The people ride in a hole in the groun'

New York, New York, it's a helluva town!”

“C’mon, Y/N! Got your stuff!?” Joe asked, his toes and feet were tapping away as if he had too much coffee.

“Got everything!” you assured him, pointing up to where your carryon was stored. 

You both raced down the airport, large and neverending. The lyrics to that song were still ringing in your ears and those same emotions with it.

Finally, you hopped on the elevator and made your way up, up, up. People were already everywhere. You even noticed a gay couple kissing boldly while riding the escalator down. Buildings and skyscrapers loomed over your head, far taller than your hand could reach, was New York such a place?

“Y/N, I keep forgetting all those words you taught me, what’s the word for sorry?”

“Desculpe, Joe! And it’s okay! It’s not your home tongue.”

“Desculpe! But you’re a wizard at English and it’s not fair my Portuguese is crap,” he said with his hand reaching for yours.

This was the thing with Joe. Despite everything that could have kept you apart, from a city, an ocean, and even a language, you loved each other and wanted to learn everything about the other, and nothing would change that.

Even if it meant a taxi nearly drove right at you, which it did. 

You hopped to the sidewalk with a scream. You had been so transfixed by the buildings you were nearly hit. 

“Are you alright, dear?”

“Yes, I am! Obrigaga!”

“Obrigada! Dammit, Obrigado!” Joe corrected, switching to what he was supposed to say as a man.

You giggled and assured him it was alright with a kiss on the cheek.

People, people were everywhere. Subways were packed. You clutched onto your purse and backpack nervously, you knew there were thieves that would take advantage of travelers. Joe kept his arm around you. It was a little too public, but you felt safe and that was all that mattered to him.

On the ride, you both agreed you would go to Times Square and get food before settling into the hotel. You had insisted. Times Square was the beating heart of this nightmarish fairy tale and you needed to see it was real. Then finally, here it was. Times Square had a hundred screens in front of you, ads for movies and Broadway shows. There were large department stores with entire music videos showing off their fabulous clothes in front of you. The bright red sign for Coca Cola would alter to become a moving ad for the latest Broadway show. People dressed up as Elmo or Micky Mouse but in rather filthy character costumes lined up all around the area. You clutched Joe’s warm hand and felt your mouth drop a little.

Joe is so happy; everything is perfect at this moment. He flat out takes you to a place empty of people and spins you around. You squeal in happiness, feeling the air rush through you and your hands clutching together. But though the colors and wind swished around you, there was still Joe, clear and in the center of it all.

You had paused, a little breathless. But the wind picked up and you were shivering.“It’s so cold here! How do you not freeze?” you ask, walking away from the little area.“Like this” Joe responds, placing two arms around you.

You nodded and smiled, then leaned over and pecked him chastely. The thought of one bold troublemaker yelling something about a couple kissing made your heart freeze a little.

By the time it was over, you were breathless and laughing very, very hard at all the other tourists with phones, just as excited. Both of you smiled and kissed in again once you had walked away. You both stopped at a small pizzeria. Joe kept insisting that the smaller, local places were the diamonds in the rough people forgot. The pizza itself was so warm it made your nose run a little and you had to use a napkin as a handkerchief. 

“Am I being rude?” you asked demurely, looking to see if any other diner would judge you.

“No, this is rude!” Joe said, he took two extra straws, placing them slightly up his nose.

“Look, I’m a Walrus!” he joked.

You giggled so much you had to catch yourself to breathe. Then you both finished the cheese pizza slices, peeling off the extra melted cheese from the plate and feeling a little sleepy with travel and grease.

As you both passed by the street where your hotel would be, you noticed all of the shops you had passed by. There were more cafes than you could count. Taxies were slowly going through the traffic like big, yellow turtles. But the clothes shops were the most fascinating.

There were shops you had seen in malls and then there were upscale New York shops. Joe had promised he wouldn’t take you to someplace that was unsafe or dirty (or if you did wander off, he would protect you)Those shops, which you could tell were always yellow or white inside their walls. They had tall crystal chandeliers inside, glittering and tinkering. Soft music played in bits when you passed them. You asked Joe to let you pause and admire them for a little bit

But the most spectacular of all were the clothes! Purses as smooth as cream dangled from a mannequins fragile arm. Blouses the color of the ocean bedecked white, blank bodies. But most of all were the dresses. Dresses for jobs, picnics, bars, nice parties, weddings, dinner, meeting celebrities, and other even more glamorous events than you could imagine. 

You paused especially in front of one window displaying the most beautiful gown you had ever seen. It was for the evening with one roman strap draped across the shoulder with diamonds attaching it. The waist was a little cinched and the skirt gently fell down in ripples that would reveal its true size if you twirled around, with layers puffing out around you. 

The best part was the color, it was a rich, royal purple.“It’s so beautiful.” You cooed with eyes wide. You walked over and tried to align your reflection with the display to see what you would look like wearing it.

“I think so too. I love the color.” Joe agreed, scanning over it.

Your head whipped around, snapped from the dream.

“What is your favorite color, Joe? I can’t believe all these months I never asked!” you cried.

Joe nodded with a little laugh and went “purple!”

“Me too!”

You began laughing and high fiving him.

“I never knew!”

You both headed to the hotel and checked in. Your feet ached. You both had ordered Chinese, ate it while watching trashy tv, and then crashed into the bed, falling deep asleep.

The next day, Joe promised a slew of adventures. Sightseeing, museums, dinner.

But that involved lines. And maps. And subways. And people.

Numerous people. More people than you ever thought possible. It was annoying to have crowds squished up next to you as you sat. It was annoying to get a front view of a stranger’s rear end as they held onto the handle on the ceiling as you sat. It was annoying to sit with a couple arguing and duck as a shoe flew past your head in an argument. And it was especially annoying that a whole family took over one cab and kept yelling “selfie!”

Yet Joe was there, nodding patiently and holding your hand. “That’s New York.”

First, there were Rainbow Bagels. They were so warm they brunt your fingers and almost too pretty to eat. Like every hyperactive child’s dream. But you scrapped butter on it and ate it, and Joe made jokes about finding the gold at the end and almost swallowed his whole bagel to find it.

Then there was the Museum of the Moving Image. There was a line. You both waited out in the cold, huddled together, watching the ’94 World Cup on your phone while sharing headphones. Joe kept swearing and cheering at the tiny Brazilians bringing victory much to the cynical amusement of the other people in line and those passing by.

Looking into the museum, he knew just as much as the guides. It was filled with large white walls, and Joe saw an exhibit for Jim Henson and almost ran there. He nearly had his face pressed against the glass where the Big Bird puppet was kept. He pointed and smiled at everything like a child at Disney.

And so did you.

As you passed, you realized that the cacophony had its own music. From the sound of a saxophone accepting coins in a hat to the honks of cars. Visually, it was cacophony too. But beautiful. You noticed a rainbow painting on a building with a punching fist on it and it seemed as grand as any Botticelli.

As you both sat in the subway, dead tired from all the activity, you listened to Rumors by Fleetwood Mac.

Joe poked his head around, turning right and left slowly. There were only a small family and a businessman who hopped off at the last spot.

Now the subway picked up again you were alone.

He looked at you with a wide grin and skipped on your phone to “The Chain.”

“Joe?” you squeaked nervously.

He began to hum along and do air guitars. Then you both were singing at the top of the lungs:

“You would never break the chaiiin!” You both wiggled and did little dances in your seat, sometimes shifting a bit in your seat to the beat. You smiled so wide. You loved this man so much.

But right when it skipped to “Oh Daddy”, Joe was so deep amid his jam session he did not account for the group of teenagers hopping on and staring through their long bangs and frowning braces.

You tapped his shoulder and he looked and then stopped immediately.

But when you got back, you changed into PJs and laughed between laying on the bed, holding each other and exchanging kisses.

“Well, what do you think?” he asked, he pulled you down onto his chest. One warm hand was wandering on your thigh, teasing promises for later.

“Expensive, crazy, tiring.”

“Baby, you’re not wrong” Joe agreed smugly.

“But…beautiful, exciting. Magical and just…American, I guess” you sigh. You lay a hand next to your head to gently touch his chest.

Then you give him a glance and smile, getting closer to a kiss, adding “just like you. But you’re better.”

“I’m glad,” he said, sealing it.

[halfgclden]

ANGLE OF REPOSE 

trigger warnings: sleep deprivation, body horror, violence, death

For in that sleep of death what dreams may come...

•

When working in the infirmary, L truly understood why ‘may you live in interesting times’ was a curse. 

A few days prior, Chase Peterson had come in, begging to be kept away from his siblings and to be kept awake. That day, she called his brother to let him know where he was, but couldn’t convince him to go to sleep. The only thing that she was able to treat was Chase’s fever, and she had to swear to him that the pills she was giving him were nothing more than advil. He watched her open the bottle, inspected the tablets as if he would really be able to tell from sight if they were sleeping pills, and then swallowed them dry. She watched as he’d lie on his side and hoped that he would drift off, but instead he just rocked back and forth until he was able to stand again.

Chase drifted around the infirmary like a ghost. He ate when food was given directly to him, responded when spoken to, and spent hours shaking and reacting to things that weren’t there. L took him outside so that he could sit with her dogs, which licked his face and seemed to calm him down. He spoke to them more willingly and honestly than he spoke to anyone that came to visit him. He seemed to register them more, as though they were foreign but supposed to be, while the glassy look in his eyes when he spoke to Jesse made L’s chest tight and her eyes well up with tears. 

Jacob showed up at one point, asking if L knew anyone that changed colour. When she learned that it was because of a vision, she felt less despair over the situation, as though it was willed by something and therefore could be cured. She walked her brother over to Chase and listened as he explained wearily that his dreams were bad, that no, there was no man, yes, there was an old woman, yes, she’d spoken to him. What had she said to him? Well, she killed his brother, she killed his brother, she was making him kill his brother with the dreams, puppet dreams, sleepwalking, couldn’t sleep. L walked away before she could ask Jacob what he was looking for and if he was satisfied by the responses. 

L didn’t work at the infirmary every day, but she felt irresponsible leaving Chase there despite the fact that she could do nothing for him. She’d go in, exchange a sad look with Jesse when his brother said that he’d slept that night but still wasn’t ready to go home. She’d bring her dogs, watch as they licked his tired eyes, push food and drink into his hands, watch more of him slip away by the hour. When she found him passed out in one of the chairs, she frantically checked his pulse and then cried out of relief before employing Jesse’s help to bring him to one of the beds. 

After an hour, they shook him, which he responded to by rolling over and falling asleep again, not really registering the fact that he had been woken up at all. Another hour passed, they repeated the same thing. Hour three and Chase didn’t move. Jesse brought Caspar to the infirmary, who laid a hand on Chase’s side, causing him to bolt upright. He breathed quickly, looked around at the people around them, and slumped again, apparently overtaken by exhaustion. They continued this for three more hours, and each time L watched anxiously as Chase shot up, looked around, and fell back into unconsciousness. She left to rest and told his siblings to do the same, because all he needed at that point was to go to sleep, and them losing hours wasn’t going to make him gain any.

In the morning, L found an unconscious Chase handcuffed to his bed. The satyrs working there overnight had to force him down as he thrashed in his sleep. Caspar had tried to wake him up to no avail. L wondered if Jacob’s vision said anything about this. She kept track of his blood pressure, heart rate, breathing. All fine, and yet he wouldn’t wake up. She waited for a few hours, then a few more, and finally it was decided that Chase should be moved to the hospital in town that night.

•

It was a weird sort of way to fall asleep, from your middle first, but that’s where Chase felt it begin. It seemed to spread out from his core, and then his eyelids were too heavy to lift, and then his head began to nod. It was day seven or eight, maybe nine— by that point all of the days were starting to blur together. He was talking to Rhys when it happened, explaining to him everything that had changed at camp since he’d left, when his brother tapped his chin, sending his head backwards against the wall. His eyelids hadn’t even shut all the way when he’d started to sleep.

Immediately, Chase knew that he was dreaming. He wrapped his arms around himself and imagined a small force field to keep him from anything that would get him. He stayed there, suspended in some part of the astral sea until something pushed at him. Eyes closed, he turned over and shook his head, not letting anything in. It happened again, and he repeated the process. The third time, Chase made the bubble around him stronger, fearing that if he opened his eyes or forced himself out of this state, he’d wake up in his own body, either unable to move or unable to control his actions.

However, in dreams, it didn’t matter if your eyes were closed or not.

He sat up and stared frantically at Jesse, L, Caspar, Ellie, before returning back to the sea. His heart pounded. He couldn’t tell why he was receiving visions of people watching him, but it happened again and again until finally it didn’t, and then he couldn’t remember it happening at all. 

He drifted for what felt like days before washing up on a shore. He pushed the hair from his eyes, wiping sand across his forehead as he stared at the lighthouse before him, calling to him like a beacon. He made his way out of the water fully and started up an incline he hadn’t realized was there, as the beach shore turned steep as a cliff face. He shoved his hands into the sand, trying to grip at something, and slowly dragged himself up. He climbed until he touched pavement, and then was standing on a road, surrounded by colourful houses. 

Something felt off. Chase knew that he was not alone, and yet there was nothing but him and the houses. He looked up when he remembered the lighthouse, and was blinded as the beam turned toward him. In his daze he heard a soft sob, and an accusation, “Liar.” 

Chase spun around to face Jesse, who frowned at him. “You haven’t slept.” Chase didn’t say anything back. "Jesus Christ, Chase, you don’t have to sneak around and hide things from me!” 

The light blinded him again. “Liar.”

He turned again and there was Milo, neck tilted at an awkward angle. “You said you’d be there.” He spoke out of a wound in his neck instead of his mouth. “You said that we’d always have each other’s backs.” Chase took a step backwards and felt something snap below him. He looked down and the light flashed once more before he realized he was standing on a wrist.

Chase gagged and stepped back, looking at a girl who he’d made promises to that he’d never keep, and then at a girl over her, clutching her long cold hand. “Liar!” Blue screamed at him. "Give me one reason why I shouldn’t knock you out right now, Peterson.”

Chase took another step back, then another, and then he turned and ran, back towards the beach, towards the sea where he could wrap a bubble around himself and drift.

He ran as far as his legs would take him. The closer he got to the edge of the water the more it felt like he was moving through molasses. He jumped off the side of the cliff and landed on his knees in front of the lighthouse. He was not alone. Something called to him inside, something itched in the back of his mind, telling him to go forward, progress, get through it, but instead he turned around as he heard a small sound behind him. His stomach flipped as he saw Caspar lying on the beach. Everything inside him told him not to go, that it was a dream, and yet he moved towards his brother and looked down at him, skin as pale as his hair. Chase dropped to his knees again and stifled a sob.

“LIAR!”

Chase looked up to see Ellie screaming at him. He shook his head.

“You said that we could lean on you, and then you fell.”

Chase held Caspar’s hand, limp and frail.

“Don’t touch him!” Ellie walked over to Chase, punched him, and then spit on him when he landed on his back. "Stop acting like you are the victim. You are the reason for this.”

Chase laid on the beach, gasping for breath as the wind was knocked from his lungs. Long fingers wrapped around his throat and pulled him backwards as he was swallowed by the sand. The fingers gripped tighter, like a vice, and Chase squirmed, now on pavement. Buildings sprung up around him like weeds, pushing their way into the sky. He couldn’t even gasp for breath as he looked up at Ben, walking toward him, sword in hand.

Ben was crying, muffling the words he was speaking that didn’t make sense to Chase anyway. He said to Ben with his eyes what he couldn’t say with his mouth, begging him not to kill him, he didn’t want to die, not like this, not at all, please please please. The pain of a boot colliding with his face kept him conscious for a few seconds more, and his head was tilted back, neck exposed and waiting, as Ben brought his sword down.

•

The Morpheus kid was flipping out.

Ime was walking by his room when his heart monitor sounded frantically. They stepped in to find him writhing, struggling like a mouse caught in a trap. They turned on the light and called for a doctor as marks streaked across Chase’s neck like bruises. 

They were at his side a moment, checking for anything that could be causing this sudden suffocation. His airways were clear, but as they moved closer to inspect him, it almost seemed like the marks were getting deeper. The bruises grew darker, purple then black, and he stopped moving as much. As Ime tilted his head back, they heard an audible crack, and Chase’s nose crumpled. Blood poured across his face and down his neck.

“Fuck.”

•

Everything was dark.

Chase tasted blood. He swallowed and his neck flared up in pain. He was afraid to open his eyes, afraid that he was still dreaming, maybe more afraid that he wasn’t. 

“Chase.”

His eyes were open in a flash, and a sense of calm washed over him. “Dad?” 

Before Chase was a god, but one that was familiar despite the fact that he couldn’t remember what he looked like every time he thought about it. Morpheus shimmered as he moved, and each angle he turned at, he seemed to wear a different face. Before him was a path, slick as the mouth of a river, and past that was the open cosmos, galaxies and stars in detail that he’d never seen before.

The calm was replaced by a sudden grip of fear, and something settled in his stomach. Sadness, maybe? He knew he was dead, and he couldn’t help but think about all the things that he’d wanted to do before he died. He thought of his siblings too, of course, and how they might even be sitting there in the infirmary as his heart finally gave out, overtaken by the beast that tormented him. He thought he might cry, but found that there was nothing left. He was empty.

“Come sit with me, Chase.” 

Chase walked forward to take a seat next to his father on a ledge made from his mind and they stared out at the plethora of stars stretched out before them. Morpheus wrapped an arm around his child and Chase sank into him, allowing himself to feel protected as he closed his eyes again. “I’m sorry, dad. I didn’t mean to fall. I thought they could lean on me.”

Morpheus pulled away and patted his child's head. “I think you need to give your siblings more credit. They can take care of you when you need it.” He smiled and ruffled his hair. 

Something about the way his father spoke stuck with him, and he looked out at the stars, scanning over the constellations he knew from sitting out on his roof. “Am I… dead?” The word wasn’t even all the way out of Chase’s mind when Morpheus started chuckling. 

“Oh, no, no. Gave me a good scare though, you did. I snatched you up right before you bit it, I think. I didn’t know that old hag had it in her.”

Chase thought his father was acting fairly blasé about his mortality, but figured that might come with being a god. “Um, cool, really cool, thanks. Thank you, for not letting me...” He drew his brows together and bit his lip, almost afraid to ask his next question. “Why am I having nightmares, dad?”

Morpheus sighed. “Ah… That would be because of a hag that I used to have problems with. She acts upon people as a curse, immobilizing them in their sleep.” Chase’s chest tightened and he nodded.

“That’s what she did to me. She also moved my body.” He swallowed. “I attacked Jesse, dad."  

“I know,” Morpheus said quietly, closing his eyes. He wore a hundred faces before opening them again. “And she’s made the mistake that many seem to, targeting my children.” His voice was harder than before, and he seemed more serious about the events that had unfolded. “There is someone using a power I’ve seen before, and using the hag’s power along with it. I think they were draining you, trying to use your manipulation of the mist to their own benefit.” He frowned and looked at his child, eyes flashing. “Do you still have the sword I gave you, Chase? Because you’re going to need it."

Chase felt like he was spinning, the once endless world around him turning into a snow globe. “The scimitar?” He felt everything fading, fading, and Morpheus held his face in his hands. 

“You have to go to Newfoundland, Chase.” He brought his hands down to rest on his child’s chest, and a necklace appeared around Chase’s neck. “This will protect you.”

It felt like Chase was underwater suddenly, as everything seemed to blur and his father’s voice distorted. “Dad, wait. I… I have to ask you more, please. I have so many questions.”

“I know. I know you do, but right now, you have to wake up.”

•

Chase sat up in the hospital bed, eyes golden like ichor, a thin chain shimmering around his neck.

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 233: At Least He Has Some Spares

Previously on BnHA: Twice made a duplicate League of Villains to take on Re-Destro. Re-Destro took this in stride and very calmly inflated his left fucking arm and slapped the whole lot of them so hard that most of them literally died. But the clone Shigaraki survived somehow and scuffled with RD for a bit while RD told him the story of how his great-great-granddad was born with a quirk and his mom was like “please be kind to my baby” and society was like “nah” and then they killed her too just for good measure. Anyway so this was of course the original Destro’s Origin Story, and his mother later on became a kind of martyr figure once society began rethinking their whole outlook on the whole superpower thing, and they even borrowed the term “quirk” from her as a way of trying to honor her I guess. But Destro and his descendants weren’t happy with the fact that quirks are still regulated and ~suppressed~ and blah blah blah, so I guess in RD’s mind this gives him justification to be a massive dick and wantonly murder people left and right. It’s all very political and complicated. Anyway, so in the end the Actual Tomura came over to RD’s tower and used his quirk and the tower came crumbling down, and now Tomura and Re-Destro are gonna fight.

Today on BnHA: We jump around Deika City getting updates on the rest of the League. Twice is currently trying to save Toga while Skeptic sneaks up on them both. Spinner is duking it out with Hanabata and his squad of Dudes With Spikes All Over Them And Stuff. We learn that Spinner’s quirk really is just “Lizard Quirk. That’s It. That’s The Quirk”, which, fine, whatever then. Dabi and Blue Bunny and Compress are off somewhere, presumably. Slidin’ Go is directing traffic and about to be flattened by Gigantomachia (or so we can hope). Giran is running off with one of the clone Twices (“running off” as in to safety, as opposed to them getting married or something. although). And Tomura is having his hand ripped off by a Hulkified Re-Destro and his newly revealed Stress quirk! Just, plucked right the fuck off, like a flower petal. It’s pretty horrific! And meanwhile Horikoshi is dipping out to go take an honestly well-deserved vacation, so there won’t be a new chapter next week. So basically just good news all around. Anyhow, so Tomura seems to have his hands full here and it may be time for him to hand in the towel and hand things off to Machia before things get out of hand even more well anyways enjoy the chapter guys.

(All comments are my unspoiled reactions from my initial readthrough of the chapter. I did a quick edit for grammar and clarity immediately afterward, and added a few ETAs in the process, but aside from that there are no changes.)

so once again I got an Intriguing Anonymous Ask, but I only skimmed it because it seemed to delve into some of the details of the chapter, albeit in a very vague way that probably didn’t actually reveal anything. but one thing I did pick up on was that there may possibly be a break after this week’s chapter? if so I will cry but then I’ll get over it I GUESS

(ETA: well enjoy your hiatus then Horikoshi you knave.)

anyway so let’s get into it

quick observation before I actually start reading the chapter itself -- so apparently the title is “Bright Future”? correct me if I’m wrong, but I thought we already had a chapter with that same title though. chapter 161, also known as the Nighteye Fucking Dies chapter. is the kanji slightly different or something, perhaps? if not that is odd

(ETA: so after reading the chapter, serious question: is this Horikoshi’s idea of a joke, or. ...

but yeah, the kanji is different. or rather, this chapter’s title isn’t written in kanji at all, but in katakana, whereas 161 was written in kanji like normal. as for the why of it, though, your guess is as good as mine. right now “mangaka has a fucked-up sense of humor” is basically at the top of my reasons list.)

anyways, clicking to the actual chapter now, and... oh wow

okay I think I mentioned the movie The Island a few recaps back, and my sincere apologies to everyone for making repeated references to a typically dumb and explosion-y Michael Bay movie where Ewan McGregor tries and fails to speak in an American accent and everything explodes for no reason and the protagonists cause so much collateral damage while being hunted down by the bad guys that you almost start to wonder if it wouldn’t actually be better for everyone if they did just die. but anyway, so I’m sorry to keep coming back to this movie, but -- and spoiler alert for a 14-year-old Michael Bay film you guys -- the plot is basically that scientists figured out how to clone people, and so Rich People immediately proceeded to make clones of themselves to keep for spare parts so that if they ever needed organ donors or the like, they’d have a perfect match available

and anyway, so you can see the connection here, right? basically this is a super-pragmatic application of Twice’s quirk, and I have to applaud the logic and ingenuity, but also bro that’s kind of a fucked-up thing to do though, sob. let’s just make a spare Toga so we can immediately harvest her blood, oh boy. though in fairness it is Toga, so maybe she won’t mind since Harvesting Blood is like her thing

also can we take a moment to appreciate how thoroughly wrecked this Skeptic!Puppet!Twice is, though. the one that’s just lying there dead. like, his leg’s all bent the wrong way and he no longer has a face and I fucking can’t stop staring at it though. I feel better knowing that it wasn’t actually a real person because that’s seriously all kinds of fucked up

anyway now the Twice clones are arguing over who gets to measure Toga. and Horikoshi has honestly built up a lot of goodwill with me over the course of this Mineta-less arc filled with hot Girans and LoV character development, but all the same he’d better watch himself though, because all of that could be gone just like that in an instant if he tries to get cute! so don’t push it dude

(ETA: and not to harp on this or anything, but Twice did clone Toga back during the My Basement Academia arc (in chapter 147), so there wasn’t really a need for this scene to begin with. but whatever, he didn’t really go overboard at least.)

okay good, actual!Twice (? is he the real one?? he’s the only one without a mask and he’s not using his arms so I think it’s him, at any rate) is shouting at the others to get their shit together

Twice Status: Still Hot. wow, and barely two seconds after I made that remark about Horikoshi needing to focus up. should I take my own advice perhaps. eh

oh my god

nooooo now I’m actually really upset that one of them’s gonna get sacrificed for the other! noooo Toga

and now we’re getting additional background information on Twice’s quirk, specifically about the fact that his clones’ appearances and personalities/memories are based on the last time the clone target was measured and the last time Twice saw said target, respectively. makes sense. so anyway because of that the clone Toga is also all beat up

friendly reminder that Toga is only seventeen and still just a kid, albeit a freaky sort of horror movie-type kid. but anyway, so I’m feeling really fucking protective of her though, and I need them to hurry up and save her already!

oh my god

yes, Dabi is the poster boy for great plastic surgery results. staples left in and everything. then again I don’t know how bad off he looked before, though. we still don’t actually know what the original injury was, aside from it obviously having something to do with the whole “his quirk fucking burns him from the inside out” thing we recently learned. you know what might help with that, Horikoshi? a flashback, omg

yuh oh

gonna go out on a limb here and guess that this is Skeptic coming to fix his screw-up before Re-Destro snaps his neck like so many Mitsubishis. or whatever that damn mouse’s name was. Miyashita?? actually I think that was it lol

anyways so let’s now turn the page and confirm if it actually is Skeptic

...confirmed

also, holy shit. just, holy shit to everything. that freaky close-up of the puppets’ faces; that blobby image of one of the puppets being formed; Skeptic’s crazy eyes in the bottom panel; him screaming I HAVEN’T FAILED!!! over and over again, etcetera. just, everything. good lord

and now we’re cutting somewhere else. looks like it’s Spinner and a bunch of the clone Twices dealing with Hanabata’s over-inspired lackeys

Spinner what is your quirk

okay so as he’s fighting he’s doing that shounen thing where he uses his keen observational skills to come up with a strategy on the fly

yes, please feel free to take him out! he’s annoying and he hasn’t done anything interesting, so really he’s just dead weight as far as this arc goes. feel free to use your quirk, too, buddy. if you even have one, holy shit. Horikoshi’s probably keeping it safe in the same place as Kacchan’s hero name

anyway so now he’s fighting his way through the waves of redshirts and trying to reach Hanabata’s van

he’s thinking that his job is to “lighten Shigaraki’s burden, if only a little”

awww. League of Loyal Bastards. I can’t believe there was ever a question of you possibly betraying these guys, Spinner. I’m sorry for doubting you, guy

Hanabata seems worryingly unconcerned, though

who the hell wears their watch on their right hand? what time is it, Hanabata? it’s time for you to fucking die already that’s what

-- oh

so it’s some kind of Magic Quirk Watch then, eh. should have figured as much

also, “A MAN WITH A WEAK SUPERPOWER SUCH AS YOURSELF” oh? please do tell us more about this quirk! also how is it that you of all people know Spinner’s quirk. Giran’s intel, I guess? I’m suddenly really annoyed that the Liberation Army apparently knows more about the LoV than we do. bastards

anyway so now Hanabata’s own quirk is being revealed, so I guess let’s see what that’s all about

okay so this is exactly what we all thought it was based on what we’ve seen of him so far. so I guess this weird mask is basically just a big microphone thing. imagine if his and Mic’s quirks were combined

at any rate if it’s not clear, I really couldn’t give two farts about Hanabata or his quirk and I just want to see Spinner take him out, and then have Gigantomachia show up and save Toga and Twice, and see Tomura kick RD’s ass. oh and Dabi still needs to beat up Rita’s Italian Ice too, I guess

(ETA: okay but Horikoshi would it really be too much to ask for at least one of these things to actually happen oh my god. my poor villain children.)

-- OH MY GOD

EVERYONE SHUT UP SPINNER’S QUIRK IS FINALLY BEING REVEALED AHHHH

lmao was I too invested in this perhaps. all this time and all this mystery and it really does end up being some little lizard quirk that lets him cling to walls? and this is how it’s revealed of all ways? he doesn’t even get an official Quirk Reveal Box?

I mean, this can’t possibly be it. he’s gonna do something badass and unexpected, and then we’ll get his Quirk Box and we’ll all be like, “OH SHIT! SPINNER!” and so forth. right??

(ETA: I seriously can’t decide if this will actually be the case, or if this is another Sports Festival scenario where I’m firmly expecting the typical shounen thing and Horikoshi has something else planned entirely.)

wow

as opposed to you? your power is literally just “I can get stupid people all hyped up.” it’s probably given you an overinflated sense of your own importance, and I can’t wait for you to get one-upped by this lil lizard boy with his ninja turtles costume and the tactical knife he bought on Amazon

oh shit lol

so I guess that’s as good a way as any of syncing up all of this action to one timeline again

heh Hanabata’s panicking a bit

I’m enjoying this, ngl

oh shit!

this motherfucker really popped through a magic quirk hole in the wall and grabbed onto Spinner and suddenly got all spiny just like that oh shit

AHHH

SOMEONE HELP OUR BOY, HE’S BEING PORCUPINED BY FUCKING REDSHIRTS. WHAT IS THIS

now Hanabata’s directing all of the remaining cannon fodder to go and help Re-Destro. well at least that’ll get some of them off of Spinner’s back

YESSSSSSS

GET HIM SPINNER GO FOR THE JUGULAR!!

AHHH SPINNER FLASHBACKS YESSSSS, THE MY FLASHBACKS ACADEMIA ARC CONTINUES

I’ve suddenly been struck by the urgent need to go do my dishes from last night omg. Spinner would it kill you to take the fucking trash out at least

oh shit you guys he’s making a speech!

IT’S HAPPENNIIIIIIING. go, Spinner! speech! and then kick some ass! and then Quirk Reveal Box and “OH SHIT! SPINNER!” just like we planned!!

sob why am I empathizing with this guy who’s getting inspired by Stain and then by Tomura’s “let’s destroy everything! :)” rant of all things. what has this arc done to me. Spinner I can’t relate to you at all omg. but, just like every other member of the League of Villains, at your core you’re really just someone who was searching for a place to belong, and damned if that’s not the most quintessentially human struggle of all

so to sum, you sure picked some questionable role models there but I support you, kid

sure Horikoshi, go ahead and just fling Spinner’s super-weak and boring quirk in my fucking face then! lol okay I get it! it was never meant to be some big reveal to wow us all at a dramatic moment; the whole point is that he’s utterly unremarkable, and it doesn’t matter because despite what the MLA believes, quirks don’t define who a person is. all right, all right. that’s cool then

no you dingus he’s trying to say that even if he doesn’t have a big flashy quirk, y’all ain’t shit either and he’s still going to kick your ass

-- OH SHIT YOU GUYS!!

WE INTERRUPT THIS PROGRAM TO ADVISE YOU ALL THAT OUR HANDSOME BOY GIRAN SURVIVED THE TOWER FALL AND IS FINE AND DANDY! and still handsome! so we all can rest easy now on that account, thank god

omg omg omg

Tomura VS Re-Destro hype intensifies!!

also lmao because I genuinely think he’s asking him for real because he can’t quite sort out reality from his sleep-deprived hallucinations right now

or maybe that shouldn’t be “lmao” on my part, because that’s actually a legitimately concerning thing, there. but I can’t help it guys, he’s so tired and fully and entirely out of fucks, and RD is so fucking screwed and doesn’t even know it and it’s going to be so goddamn satisfying I can’t fucking wait

anyways, no, Tomura. he was not. but he’s apparently got some sort of Hulk quirk. so you just do your best and you sic your own Hulk on him then if need be

yessss he’s talking trash, yes, Tomura!! you’re doing great!!

IT PROBABLY FEELS BAD! I BET! HAHAHA. SUCK IT

LOOK AT THIS YOU GUYS OMG

ranged attacks and everything, now! I wonder if he’s always had this sort of capability and we’ve just never seen it before, or if this is another new development. probably the latter. those six weeks of training really leveled him up

wow even his fucking shoes are disintegrating now

so GiranTwice are getting the fuck out of Dodge, and Giran’s right arm just sort of ends in this big mess of bandages omg

don’t worry Giran, Twice is gonna get Dabi’s plastic surgeon on the job. you will be fine

holy shit you guys would you look at this fucking shounen bullshit

I’m starting to get an inkling that this will be the kind of fight that’s going to look amazing in anime form, but will basically just be a lot of flying rocks and smashing panels in manga form. and I’m prepared for that if that is indeed the case! I have not forgotten what genre this actually is, and that this is still a manga where the main character’s attacks all end in “SMASH!!!”, and every so often we get to a point where the characters who are at the center of the current conflict just have to punch it out. so I’m not going to complain

but I do hope that won’t be all there is to this, though. and ngl, I have higher expectations for BnHA’s fights than for any other manga’s fights, and I’m still expecting a few twists here

(ETA: oh lord I should just learn to keep my fucking mouth shut.)

oh shit

poor Spinner. fucking Re-Destro gets a Quirk Reveal Box before he does

also it does seem to be a Hulk quirk then, huh. so it’s safe to say that once Gigantomachia shows up and they hash things out, there won’t really be a town here afterwards. like, this entire city is about to be straight up wiped off the map. that’s lowkey terrifying to think about

-- HEY WHAT THE

(ETA: sob he looks so shocked. that’s right Tomura, it’s the hard knocks path to redemption for you too, buddy boy. probably when you go talk to Ujiko to get it patched up after the arc is over it’ll trigger some more character development somehow. just, my point is that you are an important character in a shounen manga, and so, unlike people in real life, you at least can be somewhat assured that your pain is probably happening for a reason.)

fuckING -- IS THAT REALLY -- DID THEY JUST

DID THIS MOTHERFUCKING INKBLOT HULK MAN REALLY JUST PINCH MY BOY’S HANDS BETWEEN HIS GIANT THUMB AND INDEX FINGER AND JUST FUCKING PLUCK HIS FUCKING FINGERS OFF HOLY GODDAMN FUCK

DID HE DO THAT TO GIRAN. IS THAT WHAT HE FUCKING DID TO GIRAN I’M ABOUT TO FUCKING -- I CAN’T --

IS THIS FUCKING ATTACK ON TITAN, GODDAMN!? WHAT THE WHY

THERE REALLY IS A HIATUS SOB I CAN’T. I HOPE HE HAS A GOOD TIME ON HIS VACATION OR WHATEVER, THEN!! BE THAT WAY! I KNOW YOU’RE A HUMAN BEING AND ENTITLED TO TAKE SOME TIME OFF AND GET SOME GODDAMN SLEEP AND GO TO CONVENTIONS OR WHATEVER, BUT I’M ALSO ONLY HUMAN, AND WHEN YOU TAKE MY WEEKLY FIX AWAY WITH NO PRIOR NOTICE, I’M GOING TO GET CRANKY ABOUT IT. I CAN’T HELP IT OKAY

GOD DAMN IT

fuck

sob. okay sorry guys, I’m done being dramatic now. so let’s go back and finish up those last four panels that I haven’t actually read yet orz

lol there already practically isn’t a town there anymore. Giganto you better hurry up and come finish it off. this asshole is out here playing the most vicious game of eenie meenie miney moe the world has ever seen with your boss’s hands and it’s very upsetting

who the fuck is this

lmao what. someone’s actually trying to visit the city? turn your van around, pal. we are closed for business for real here

and then our last two panels are Slidin’ Go being all punchable, and then getting shaken up by a sudden earthquake omg

I WONDER WHAT THAT COULD BE omg. :) :’D

well shit. so! 

a wild Gigantomachia approaches

Slidin’ Go is living on borrowed time presumably (good riddance)

Skeptic is trying to harass Twice again while he’s busy trying to save poor Toga’s life, like excuse you dude, no, please fuck off

Dabi is currently MIA and still fighting Dippin’ Dots while trying to keep his organs from getting any more roasted. maybe a flashback would help you there, Dabi. I don’t know how, but it couldn’t hurt, surely. I promise I have no ulterior motives in suggesting this

Spinner is trying to work out how to score a really satisfying victory to show us all that Quirks Aren’t Everything

Giran and his bandaged arm are running off to safety with Twice, which is the only thing that really matters in the end here

and Shigaraki Tomura has just had his own hand Luke Skywalkered in the manga’s latest and greatest instance of Cruelty Against Limbs. but at least this presumably means that he himself is about to get a hell of a lot hotter if Giran and Twice are anything to go by

so yeah. a lotta stuff going on. so really it’s the perfect time for a hiatus. lol

well, friends. I’ll see you all in two weeks I guess. hopefully someone will lend Tomura a hand. ba dum crash

[rena-rain]

The Shortcut Home ch. 10

Chatper 9

For the first time in four years, Gabriel Agreste picked up the box that contained his miraculous. He didn’t open it, but closed the portrait in his office and journeyed underground. He found his wife looking exactly the same as she had since she’d fallen asleep. It was only dedicated work and a miracle that kept her alive.

Gabriel placed his palm on the glass, sighing deeply with longing. Remembering her voice was hard these days. He missed the way she’d quirk an eyebrow at him and laugh like she knew something he didn’t. He needed her to be his stubborn, stubborn anchor again.

“Our son is getting married, Emilie.” The words were soft. “He’s having a baby. I wish you could see him now.”

The way her face looked smooth as stone disconcerted him.

“I was ready to give you up. Adrien has come too close to the line of fire too many times. But now I have more reason than ever to bring you back. I swear to you, you’ll meet your grandchild.”

Gabriel gave himself another moment with Emilie. Then he straightened, opened the box, and watched Nooroo flash into existence.

“Master?”

Gabriel fastened the brooch to his shirt. “It is time that you serve me again, Nooroo.”

--

Adrien leapt out of bed and threw on a pair of pants.

“What are you doing?” Marinette sat up.

“I’m going downstairs to make sure Nino and Alya are okay.” He hated how easily the lie rolled off his tongue. It steeled his resolve to tell Marinette who he was. Just not now.

“Adrien,” Marinette pleaded, catching his arm and pulling him back towards her. “Stay with me, please. It’s dangerous out there.”

He looked anguished. “Mari…” Gentle fingers brushed her hair behind her ears. “I want to explain, but now’s a very, very bad time and I have to go. I’ll be right back, I promise.”

“Just don’t go.”

“Trust me.” Adrien regretfully let go of her face and turned to leave only to be pulled back again. He thought he’d have to keep making his case – which he did not have enough brain power to do just now – but Marinette sealed their lips together and gripped him tight. He kissed her back, trying to reassure her. They pulled away slowly, and as soon as they parted, Adrien’s eyes fluttered open. Hers were still closed, her face desperate.

“I’ll be back,” he breathed. He kissed her forehead then forced himself out of her hold.

--

The room suddenly felt cold with Adrien gone. Marinette opened her mouth and looked around, only to remember that Tikki wasn’t here. She hadn’t felt so helpless since Stoneheart.

The only thing she could do was stop Adrien from doing something stupid. She scrambled out of bed and yanked open the half-closed bedroom door. A bright green flash nearly blinded her in the dark room.

Marinette stared, dumbfounded, as Chat Noir leapt out an open window, his back to her.

--

Alya startled awake at the explosion outside. She kicked away the covers and rushed to her apartment window, where a giant pink and purple cloud of something was quickly engulfed in flame.

She turned to Tikki. “I don’t suppose that was a freak accident.”

The kwami looked worried. “That’s definitely an akuma. It looks like we made this switch not a moment too soon. We need to go!”

“Tikki, spots on!” Tikki spiraled into her earrings and a pink light flashed down her body. Alya pushed open her window, flung out the yoyo, and shot off into the night.

I hope Chat Noir’s already on the way, she thought. She sprinted across the rooftops and halted behind a chimney that was right above the site of the explosion, trying to figure out what was going on. The street looked like it had been bathed in bright, multicolored paint.

“What are we looking at?”

Alya screamed and swung a punch at the voice behind her. Chat Noir, whom she could only see because of his glowing eyes and shiny bell, flipped out of her way before her fist could make contact. “Well that wasn’t very ladylike.”

“You scared me! Make a noise or something next time, you kinda camouflage in these shadows.”

“Cat snuck up on the fox – put that one in the history books.” He leapt up onto the brick chimney and perched there. “So what’s this one’s deal? I haven’t heard any more explosions.”

“I don’t know yet. We need to take a closer look.” They leapt to the ground. The damage was much more brutal up close. Radiating scorch marks littered the street. A car was upturned, on fire, and its windows were broken. The air smelled burnt and toxic.

Most disturbing was the graffiti. An entire mural of screaming and running people were plastered to the buildings, and while it was obviously spray painted, each face looked lifelike.

“Chat Noir, I think these paintings are actual people. Civilians.”

“Looks like we’re on the same page, Ladybird. And I’m guessing somebody had a lighter or a cigarette and set all the aerosol on fire, causing the car to explode.”

“But where did they go?” Alya – Ladybird yoyoed to the top of a lamppost. Now that she knew what she was looking for, she spotted a trail of particularly garish paintjobs amongst the normal Parisian street art. She called down, “They left a trail! Let’s go!”

Whoever this akumatized sucker was, they’d been busy. Chat Noir and Ladybird passed dozens, possibly hundreds of citizens turned into murals. After several minutes, she looked over to her new partner while they ran. “Why do I feel like we’re being lured into a trap?”

Ladybird flew past him when Chat Noir stopped dead in his tracks. She skidded to a halt and backtracked to him. His eyes narrowed. “Probably because it’s a trap. I don’t know how, but I think you’re right.”

“I know it’s been a few years, but Hawk Moth’s puppet used to demand the miraculous by now.”

“And if he’s suddenly come out of hiding, he must be especially desperate for them now.” He jumped onto his baton and extended it up, up, way farther up than was reasonable for any stick to hold him. He extended his arm. “Come up here.”

Ladybird slung the yoyo around his wrist and joined him at his perch. He pointed out the crazy paint trails all over the city that she couldn’t have made out before. It looked like a maze with no solution. “Maybe not a trap. More like a wild goose chase.”

“All the better to ambush us, I bet. So that must mean they have a very high vantage point, too…” Ladybird looked up. “Oh shit. The Eiffel Tower. Drop!”

They fell back to the street and rushed to an alley as far away from any paint as they could.

“I hate it when the akumas play cat and mouse,” Chat Noir complained.

Ladybird flicked his bell. “Good thing I have the cat, then. Let’s find a way to get the mouse down from its house.”

Chat Noir snorted. “That was terrible.”

“You’re really in no place to judge.”

“We need to get to the Tower without being seen, so we should stay on the ground, and avoid as much paint as we can.” A bright pink blast of orange particles beamed from the top of the Eiffel Tower and coated an entire block. “While there are any normal streets left, that is.”

Ladybird was jealous of Chat’s costume because it let him blend in with the dark streets more easily. She felt like a siren in the bright red suit – at lease her Rena Rouge costume, while orange, was soundless and easier to sneak around in. They wound through alleyways, sprinted across boulevards when they had to, and even made a detour through a sewer. By the time they reached their destination half of Paris had been turned neon colors. God knew how many people were now paint.

They almost made it. But the Eiffel Tower, for better or worse, was a major tourist attraction night and day. As such somebody screamed “Is that Ladybug and Chat Noir?!” just before they got up the damn thing. Immediately the excited couple got smushed to the sidewalk with a fountain of blue spray paint.

Ladybird flicked her yoyo to the top. “So much for the element of surprise.”

“At least we got here, didn’t we?” Chat Noir scampered up the side of the tower on all fours, somehow keeping pace with her as she shot up. They touched down onto the railing at the top.

This victim was a young woman, her hair in a messy bun the color of a blank canvas, paint brushes stuck in it like chopsticks or pencils. Her paint-splattered overalls were glowed and had way, way, way, way too many pockets stuffed full of even more paint brushes. Her skin was covered in rainbow rings. She whirled around when Chat Noir cleared his throat, aiming the spray-paint can in her hand.

“What’s with all the evildoing, Graffiti Girl? Get kicked out of art school?”

Ladybird froze, then groaned from deep within her soul. “That one’s just in bad taste!”

“Yeah, I heard it as soon as I said it.”

The purple Hawk Moth mask glowed around her eyes, and she demanded, “Hand over your miraculous before the rest of Paris spends eternity as a mural!”

“I bet the akuma’s in that spray can,” Ladybird muttered.

“Summon the Lucky Charm,” Chat whispered back. “I’ll distract her.” He leapt at the akumatized woman and attempted to sweep her with his baton. She jumped over the attack, pulled out two paint brushes, and started trying to stab him.

While they fought, Ladybird looked uncertainly at the yoyo for a moment. Ladybug’s plans were always so ridiculous – how was Alya supposed to live up to the same level of mad genius?

Well, here goes nothing. She flung the yoyo over her head. “Lucky Charm!”

A pair of red and black spotted handcuffs fell into her grasp. “What the fuck?” She looked around furiously, trying to think what Ladybug would do. Graffiti Girl and Chat Noir were still engaged in some vicious hand to hand – or brush-knife to baton – combat. Ladybird suddenly realized that she kept making grabs for Chat’s right hand. The ring. Of course.

The idea was stupid, but hopefully it would work. “Chat Noir! Extend your arm!”

“What?”

“Towards me!”

He clearly thought she was crazy, but he grabbed the baton with his left hand and threw out his right. Ladybird sprinted at a central pillar, jumped onto the side, and launched herself at her partner. As expected, Graffiti Girl had snatched Chat Noir’s hand and tried to simultaneously put him in an arm lock and take off his miraculous. Ladybird slapped the woman’s wrist with one cuff, slid to the side so she twisted her body, and forced her other hand into the other cuff.

“I’ll take that.” Ladybird plucked the spray out of her grip and offered it to Chat Noir like a silver platter. “Would you like to do the honors?”

“With pleasure. Cataclysm!” She tossed him the can and he caught it, the black energy crumbling it to dust. A little black and violet butterfly fluttered up from the ashes like the worst phoenix metaphor ever.

Ladybird swiped her yoyo like she’d seen her predecessor do a hundred times and captured the akuma. It came out with its wings bright white. She watched as it disappeared among the stars.

Chat Noir held up his fist with a proud smile. “Pound it?”

Ladybird grinned gratefully back at him. “Pound it!”

--

“Marinette,” Master Fu said. “I wasn’t expecting company this evening.”

“I’m sorry for barging in. I’m not used to just sitting by during akuma attacks, and my apartment is empty and I miss Tikki and I really didn’t want to be alone.”

“I understand. I’m deeply troubled by the appearance of this akuma tonight.”

“So am I, Master. That’s not why I’m here though.” She stood with her arms crossed. “I accidentally saw Chat Noir transform in my living room this evening.”

Fu’s only response was to go back into the kitchen and pick up a teapot. Marinette swore she saw the corners of his lips quirk up.

She threw up her hands. “You must think this is very funny, don’t you?”

“You two have paced circles around each other for thirteen years. Would you not be just as amused in my position?”

“I can’t believe I’m having Chat Noir’s baby! Do you have any idea how many kitten jokes I’ll have to endure?”

Master Fu handed her a cup of steaming tea. “Drink this. It is good for the nerves. On a more somber note, I must ask you to tell Adrien your identity very soon, Marinette. I hate to trouble you with this theory, but it concerns him as well.”

“What’s going on?” They both sat down.

“Hawk Moth released an akuma for the first time in four years. It bothers me that it’s coincided with your maternity leave.”

Marinette sighed. “It doesn’t sound like a coincidence to me either.”

“It may be he thinks his chances are better against a new ladybug. You were wise to choose someone with experience already. Whatever the reason, it’s become more imperative than ever to retrieve the missing miraculous, and now that Hawk Moth is active again, we have our chance to find him. I went back to the old academy for the Order of the Guardians, as you know. While there I recovered a number of old texts and I’ve found a single strange record about the Butterfly, so brief I almost missed it. There was once a holder who was able to detransform then akumatize himself.”

“The butterflies stay active while Hawk Moth is his civilian self?” Marinette yelped.

“Few have attempted such a thing. One succeeded in transferring powers to herself, that I now know of.”

“So Hawk Moth could have akumatized himself at some point.”

“Exactly. I’ve spent years searching for him. Every clue I find on some level implicates the same person. But I’ve never found a smoking gun, and I’ve always dismissed him because he was once akumatized into The Collector.”

“The Collector…” Marinette whispered, sifting through her memories. She remembered each akuma persona, all right, but the whacky names and civilians behind the butterfly often got mixed up in her head. “A previous suspect…oh no.” Her eyes widened. “No, no, no, tell me it can’t be Adrien’s dad.”

Master Fu just looked at her sadly.

--

When Adrien got back, Marinette was asleep. He sighed in relief; he needed sleep before he had this conversation with her, and after the way he jet off tonight, he had to tell her. In the morning.

He changed into a pair of sweats and slid under the covers next to her. He noticed that she’d changed into pajamas in his absence. Adrien wrapped her in his arms, one hand against her growing belly, and closed his eyes.

Chapter 11

Ko-fi