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cleoluvrr · 2 years ago

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The Last Days of Summer XIII (Rafe Cameron x Heyward!OC)

Warnings: violence, underage drinking, drug use, verbal abuse, jealousy, forbidden relationship, enemies to lovers, gaslighting + manipulation

Synopsis: Stuck in a situation she never dreamed of, Neriah Heyward blurs the line between Kook and Pogue; Rafe Cameron a witness.

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word count: 5.4k+

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Though I was used to not hearing from my brother for days at a time, it was odd to not hear a peep from Rafe.

He had barely texted me over the past few days, short, vague texts sitting in my phone stating that he’s been “busy.” I didn’t ask what, assuming that it was family business and not wanting to intrude. I’d been busy myself, helping my parents with Heywards’s and preparing for college application season in just a few short months.

It was a bittersweet feeling, wanting so badly to get off the island for so many years and finally having the opportunity to do so, yet having to leave behind a place you grew up in your whole life. Leaving your family, your friends; your home.

I’d been locked up in my room since the moment I got home, finishing up work before the long weekend started and enjoying the rare alone time I ever had in the house. My parents were having a date night and left me to my own devices, and Pope was gone as usual. The sun set a while ago, the moonlight shining through my curtains as I laid down in my bed wide awake. I count the pink heart stickers on the glowing on the ceiling mindlessly, listening to each steady breath that I take in and release.

I am startled out of my counting by the feeling of my phone vibrating next to me, the sound of the buzzing pulling my attention away from the glow-in-the-dark decorations. I feel around in the dark for the device and wrap my fingers around it loosely. The digital clock on my nightstand reads 9:56 PM in bright red numbers.

Who could be calling me this late at night?

“Hello?” I say, not even bothering to check the caller ID before I answered. I hear an engine going in the background, the person on the end driving some sort of vehicle.

“Neriah..” A male voice answers. “What are you doing right now?”

My head jerks back at the sound of Rafe’s voice over the phone. Any feelings of irritation I had were replaced by both relief and curiosity.

“Rafe?” My tone is just as confused as I feel. “I’m at home, why?”

“Are you alone?” He asks.

“Yeah, my parents are gone until the morning. Rafe, are you okay?”

He doesn’t answer me for a few seconds, the only sound from his end coming from the car rather than his mouth. The silence only worries me more, face scrunching up at his non-response.

“Rafe.” I call out again. “What’s wrong?”

“Can you sleepover at Tannyhil?” His voice is quiet and almost blends in with the humming of the engine. “Rose is gone and left Wheezie here, but I don’t wanna hang out with a kid all weekend.”

“You called me to ask if-” I start, cutting myself off once the realization hits. “Wait! You left your little sister home alone? Rafe, it’s almost ten o'clock!”

“She’ll be fine, we live behind a brick wall.” He says, brushing off my concern. “Can you please?”

I sigh heavily, looking at the clock again as I think about my answer. It’s not like my parents would really care, and they couldn’t stop me if they did because they aren’t home. Normal people my age spend their weekends out with friends partying and drinking their lives away, while I sit in the dark of my room doing nothing in my freetime. Even Pope hasn’t touched his own bed in two days.

I think about my outright refusal to spend the weekend alone with him at one of the Cameron’s empty properties. I only said no because I didn’t want to do something…out of character, but if Wheezie is there, I doubt anything we do will be more than PG.

What’s the harm, really? I get uninterrupted time with my boyfriend without having to worry about being caught by anyone.

“Okay…” I finally answer, trying my best to sound reluctant so he doesn’t think I gave in so easily. “But no funny business.” He chuckles at me and I’m sure he’s smiling behind the phone.

“I’ll be there in, like, ten minutes.”

“Ten minutes?” I say in confusion. “What are you doing on this side of town so late?”

“To pick you up.”

“What if I said no?” I stand out of my bed and switch the light on. I walk to my closet and grab a small suitcase from the back corner.

“I would’ve convinced you, one way or another.” He answers vaguely. I don’t ask what he means. “See you soon.” And with that he hangs up, leaving me in silence.

I toss my own phone onto the bed and fling open the suitcase, not even sure what to bring. I’ve always been a chronic overpacker, though I’m not sure if it’s because of my clothing addiction or my anxiety of forgetting something that I might need. I picked out a few outfits fitting for the warm, early fall weather, sleep clothes, and enough pairs of underwear to fill a victoria’s secret because my mother taught me that you can never bring too many.

As I’m shoving my makeup and skincare into a smaller bag, I hear a car pull up outside. It honks twice and I cringe at the loud sound that has probably disrupted someone’s sleep. I thank God that I’m alone. I slip an inconspicuous, black hoodie over my head, my pink biker shorts peeking out of the bottom of the oversized item of clothing.

I almost trip over myself shoving my shoes onto my feet, rushing as the owner of the vehicle blares the horn another two times.

I storm out of the house with my bags in hand, locking the door behind me. I left a note on the table for my parents to see when they got back, not wanting to bother them while they’re out tonight. Parked outside my house is Rafe’s familiar truck, the blonde inside distracted with his phone. I yank open the back door of the car, startling him as I toss my luggage on the floor of the backseat.

“Damn, you can’t knock?” Rafe says jokingly as I climb into the passenger’s seat next to him.

“My bad.” I buckle my seatbelt and set my phone down in the cup holder in the center console.

“I missed you.” He leans over the console and pecks my lips sweetly. The action gives me butterflies, leaving me smiling shyly when he pulls away. “So much.”

The engine turns over and the car pulls off into the darkness of the night. The car is playing music from the town’s radio station, the noise filling the silence in the air. Rafe drives with one hand, the other one occupying the space on my thigh. He taps along to the beat of the song, the feeling ticklish against my skin.

I shoot Pope a text as we arrive at Tannyhill to let him know that I’m going to be gone for the weekend, not specifying where.. Rafe pulls my bags out of the backseat once the truck is parked, insisting on carrying them into the house for me. I follow him inside, in awe of the size of the colonial styled home. He instructs me to stay downstairs before he makes his way upstairs with my belongings in hand.

I walk around the first floor, feeling slightly out of place in the residence. Other than the extreme display of wealth, it felt strange to be inside a dead man’s house.

I spot the kitchen not too far away and make my way towards it. The house is dead silent and dim, I’d think it was empty if I didn’t know Rafe and his sister were here.

“Who are you? What are you doing here?”

I nearly jump out of my skin at the voice, forcing the yelp threatening to escape my mouth back down. I whip around to face the source of the sound and am met with a young brunette girl. My heart beats steady again at the sight of Rafe’s youngest sister.

“Oh my God, Wheezie. You scared me.” I say, slapping my hand on my forehead as I let out a light laugh.

I’d tutored the girl in the past, recommended to Rose by one of the parents at her stepdaughter’s school. She was a nice girl, very intelligent for her age. She’d taken a liking to me and was upset when I told her that I wouldn’t have time to tutor her anymore at the end of the school year, right before summer started.

“Riah?” Her brows shoot into her hairline, surprised to see my face when I turned to face her. She walks up to me and wraps her short arms around my body. I’m surprised by the action, I didn’t know she felt that comfortable with me. “It’s you!”

“It’s me!” I repeat, hesitantly returning the hug.

“What are you doing here?” She says as she pulls away from me. She wears a puzzled expression on her face.

“Go away, Wheeze.” Rafe says as he comes into the kitchen. “Stop bothering my girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend?” The girl looks between Rafe and I with an incredulous look on her face before they finally land on me. “You’re here with him? Willingly?”

I throw my head back at her genuine disbelief, the sound of my laughter filling the air. Rafe rolls his eyes at her, walking to the fridge and grabbing two bottles of water.

“Yes, I’m here with him. Willingly is a stretch, though.” I responded jokingly.

“Bye, Wheezie.” Rafe says, grabbing my hand and pulling me upstairs to his bedroom.

I was met with pale green walls covered in miscellaneous picture frames and a King sized bed in the center of the room. The comforters and pillow cases were a matching shade of a deep red, one similar to the color of red velvet cake.

He barely sits down on the bed with me before his phone rings. The young man groans, kissing me on the forehead before he snatches his phone out of his pocket and steps out of the room. He shuts the door, leaving me alone in his space. I take a gander round the room with my eyes, noting the surprising tidiness of it, at least for someone like him. It was a rarity to see a guy his age have a made bed and visible floor.

After almost an hour of sitting in his room alone and scrolling through my phone, I hear voices outside. I knit my eyebrows together in confusion, getting up to press my ear against the door. I hear two male voices, one Rafe’s, and a woman that isn’t Rose. I open the door just a crack, peeking out into the empty hall before slipping out. The voices are coming from downstairs, but I can’t see anything from where I stand over the railing.

“Look, lady. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I hear Rafe’s voice say in the distance, sounding mildly annoyed with whoever he’s speaking to. “There is no ‘Island Room’ here.”

“Oh, but I think there is.” The woman says. “I know there is; and you’re going to help me find it.”

Rafe sighs heavily and the air is filled with silence for a long moment. I thought that they had left at that point, assuming Rafe turned them away. That is until I hear multiple sets of footsteps enter the residence.

“Thank you very much. I knew you’d let me in.” The woman says. ”Come on, Renfield. We have no time to waste.”

I lean over the railing a bit more, catching a glimpse of three people walking through the foyer. Rafe, a brunette man, and a nicely dressed blonde woman being supported by crutches. I lean back with a quickness when a floorboard beneath my foot creaks under my weight, the man I assumed is named Renfield whipping his head in my direction as they walk beneath the stairs.

“Did you hear that?” He asks suspiciously,

“It’s an old house. It makes noises.” Rafe replies annoyedly. “Can somewhere explain to me what the ‘Island Room’ is supposed to be? I don’t really have time for this.”

“Who are those people?” Wheezie pops up behind me again suddenly.

“Oh my God, Wheezie, stop doing that!” I whisper harshly, whipping around to face the younger girl. “Do I need to buy you a bell?” She chuckles lightly, moving to stand next to me and peek over the rail as well.

“Sorry.” She says, turning her head to look at me sheepishly. “Who was Rafe talking to?”

“I have no idea. Some lady came to the door talking about an ‘Island Room.” She hums at me, nodding her head as she looks back over the railing.

“Hm. Wanna go follow them?” She asks.

“You are so nosy, Wheezie.” I say jokingly, nudging the girl on her shoulder. “No, I don’t, but knock yourself out.”

“Suit yourself.” She shrugs, quiet feet making their way to the staircase.

I shake my head at the girl as I watch her silently descend down the steps, smiling softly to myself. I retreat to Rafe’s bedroom once again, shutting the door behind me before flopping down on his bed. I grab my phone from its spot on the bed, sending Rafe a curious text asking who was downstairs with him.

I waited five minutes, then fifteen, then an hour. I could hear nothing from the room, the time passing by silently as I watched the clock going further into the night.

After the clock went from twelve to four, I decided it was time for me to follow after Wheezie and check on what the group was doing downstairs. I stuff my phone into the hoodie of my jacket and jump off the bed, silently opening the door once again and stepping out into the hall. I descend the stairs, following the sounds of the voices. The house was so big and I had no idea where I was going, I might as well be relying on echolocation.

I pass the kitchen and catch a flash of pink moving around in the corner of my eye. I froze in my spot, backtracking to the room I was in a few hours ago before Rafe all but dragged me out. I watch Rose at the sink, leaning over the metal bowl looking quite stressed. Puzzled, I continue on quietly and quickly, not wanting the woman to notice my presence.

What is she doing here? Rafe said Rose was out of town, and her car wasn’t in the front when we pulled up. I didn’t hear anyone pull in either, not that I would be able to anyway from this deep in the house.

“Maybe she came back early…” I say quietly to myself as I travel further down the hall.

At some point I found the three of them in one of the bedrooms on the first floor and stood in the open doorway, bewildered. The room was practically torn apart, no crevice left unchecked by both Rafe and the Renfield man. The blonde woman was instructing them to look harder, watching them work from a corner she made herself comfortable in.

I stood there for a while, watching them go over the room two more times before they finally gave up. I guess that I made a noise because the blonde woman looks in my direction with a sharp eye. Rafe turns to look too, his irritated expression melting away when he sees me. I look between the three of them in confusion and back away from the door as the blonde woman makes her way towards me.

“And who might you be?” She tilts her head at me curiously, crutches planted firmly on the floor in front of me. “You look very familiar…”

“Neriah, baby, what are you doing down here?” Rafe moves around the lady to grab my hand.

“You’ve been gone forever and haven’t answered any of my texts.” I answer, not taking my eyes off the woman. She doesn’t look familiar to me at all.

She studies my face for a while, the hall filled with nothing but silence as we stare at each other. I raise my eyebrows at her, cutting my eyes at Rafe as he watches the non-verbal interaction between the two of us. Suddenly the woman gasps, a bright smile appearing on her face out of nowhere. Her eyes light up as she looks at me which only manages to make me more uncomfortable.

“Neriah Heyward!” She says excitedly. I back away from her, leaning into Rafe when she takes another step towards me. I look up at my boyfriend, silently expressing my discomfort with him before facing the older woman again.

“I don’t think I know you…” I trail off. The woman shakes her head, laughing at my worry and clear hesitation to talk to her.

“Oh, but I know you. Academic accomplishments seem to run in the family.” She smiles warmly at me, but something about it just didn’t seem right. “I interviewed your brother, Pope, for a scholarship just a few weeks ago. You were also a potential candidate.”

The realization comes to me almost immediately and it takes everything in me not to make a face at the woman.

This must be the lady my brother went to see down in Charleston, the one that he claims tried to kidnap him. It also hits me that Pope wasn’t just having a mental break and was probably telling the truth about Denmark Tanny being related to us. The woman being here and mentioning her association with my brother only proves it further.

“Oh! That’s cool…” I reply awkwardly, unsure of how I should interact with the woman.

“You come from a very special family, Ms. Heyward.” The smile that stretches across her face makes me itch, my stomach churning at the sight. I hum, nodding at her and giving a tightlipped smile.

A thousand thoughts run through my head at what she could possibly mean by that.

“Baby, go back upstairs. I don’t think I’ll be done for a while.” Rafe speaks up and interrupts the conversation. I silently thank him, ripping my eyes away from the off-putting woman and setting them on the hovering blonde next to me.

“Why’d you say Rose was out of town? I just saw her in the kitchen.” I threw the question at him and he clearly wasn’t expecting it, head jerking back in confusion.

“I never said she was out of town, I said she was gone.” He clarifies. “I guess she’s back.” He shrugs.

“Rafe-”

“Just go back upstairs, please.” He cuts me off.

“No.” I pulled my hand away from his, crossing my arms together as I looked up at him annoyedly. “You’ve been gone for like, hours, and you aren't answering my texts even though you clearly see me messaging you. What the hell are y’all doing down here?”

Rafe pinches the bridge of his nose at my blatant refusal and lets out a deep sigh of frustration. He excuses himself from the two older adults before grabbing my arm, dragging me to the stairs despite my resistance. He says nothing as he guides me, my defiance being met with his silence.

He manages to get me up the stairs with much struggle as I fight against his pulling.

“Get off me.” I wrench my arm away when we reach the top of the staircase, shoving the boy away from me roughly.

“Go in the room, Neriah.” Irritation drips from his voice now, clearly not in the mood to deal with my attitude. I scoff at him, feet planted firmly into the wooden floor. “I really don’t have time for this right now. At all.”

“I don’t care, Rafe, that’s not really my problem.” I snip at him.

“Okay. So what the fuck is your problem, then?” My head recoils at his language choice, the force behind the words something I wasn’t used to hearing directed at me.

It’s not like he hasn’t cursed around me or at me before, in fact he’s done much worse than that. But I can’t remember the last time he’s spoken to me so aggressively.

“My problem is that you brought me here to hang out with you, but I’ve been all alone in your room for hours while you dick around with some random, old people.”

“We can hang out tomorrow. It’s not a big deal.” He grabs my arms again, pulling me in the direction of the closed door leading to his room. “I’ll come back when I’m finished.”

“No, Rafe-”

“I’m not in the mood for your attitude, Neriah. Just going inside.” I plant my feet firmly into the ground when he swings the door open.

He curses silently to himself, head raised to the ceiling as I resist his efforts once again. His eyes fall on my frame, beyond irritated with me. The grip on my arm tightens, his other hand grabbing the arm not in his hold. He pulls me into the room with great force, shoving me onto the bed when I lose my balance. He shuts the door behind him, pushing me back down when I try to stand once again.

What the hell is his problem? What right does he have to be in the mood for something?

“Move-” I start, my words cut off by Rafe grabbing my jaw and forcing me to look at him. His face is hard and mildly angry, eyes dark as they stare into mine.

“Shut the fuck up. I don’t have time to deal with your attitude right now. You can be mad at me all you want, but you do not speak to me like that in front of anyone. Do you understand me?”He grits out. I flinch at his words but any movement is stopped by his grip on my face. I nod slowly after a moment, my defiant spark put out as quickly as it was lit.

You would think the girl that cursed at him not even two minutes ago was a different person, my demeanor taking a complete one-eighty in just a split second.

I could feel his fingers digging into my cheeks, the skin pressed up against my teeth uncomfortably. He looks more than a bit vexed, and if he wasn’t busy with the blonde lady and her tool downstairs I’m sure that he’d be dealing with me instead. I can see it on his face.

He releases my face once I respond, standing up straight to his full height. He hovers over me closely, jaw tense as he watches me pout at him. I avoid his eyes, folding my arms across my chest as I stare at the closed door behind him. He exhales loudly and I can practically hear him roll his eyes at my childishness.

“Look at me. I won’t say it again.” I tilt my head up at him, tearing my eyes away from the door. My jaw was just as hard as his, silently fuming as he angles his head down at me. “You can pout all you want, I don’t care. I’m going back downstairs, and you’re gonna stay in here. You’re going to go to bed, or play on your phone, or be miserable. I don’t really care what you do, but you aren’t gonna leave this room.”

“How are you gonna tell me what I’m going to do?”

“Neriah.” His eyes are just as sharp as my name in his mouth. “I just said I’m not going to deal with your attitude right now. You don’t have to like it, but that’s what you’re going to do.”

“Who exactly do you think you are, Rafe?” I push myself up off the bed and follow behind him as he approaches the door. “No, I don’t like it. And no, I’m not going to do anything, because you don’t fucking direct me. I’m an adult, and you aren’t my father. You’re not gonna tell me what the fuck I’m gonna do as if that’s not for me to decide.” I poke into his chest with my index finger at the end of each sentence, the force behind it barely enough to sway him but enough to get my point across.

What right does he have to be mad at me? He’s the one that left me to rot away in his room all night after dragging me out of my own home in the middle of the night. I could have stayed there if I knew this is what he’d be doing.

He smacks my hand away, shoving me hard enough that I stumble backwards. He rubs at his chin with his hand, looking between me and the open door. He shakes his head and drops his hands from his face, stepping out of the room silently. He just stands there for a moment, watching me. He finally speaks after our anger fueled staring contest goes on for what seems like an eternity.

“Go to fucking bed, Neriah. I’m not going to argue with you, because I don’t care right now.” He leaves the room fully, closing the door behind him as he leaves. “So fucking childish…” Is the last thing I hear him say before he walks away.

I resist the urge to follow after him, everything in my body screaming at me to tear into him.

I listen to his footsteps descend the staircase on the other side of the wooden slab separating the two of us, teeth gritted together as I’m left silently seething in his bedroom. Instead, I huff loudly, sitting down on the edge of the bed behind me.

I guess I fell asleep shortly after that because suddenly the sun was high in the sky, light peeking through the open blinds of the window behind the bed. I don’t remember lying down, and I definitely don’t remember wrapping myself in a thick, black throw blanket either.

I sit up straight, stretching and rubbing the sleep out of my eyes as I look around the room in confusion. It took me a second to remember where I was, the unfamiliar room slowly becoming more familiar as I woke up. I immediately start feeling around for my phone, the device lost somewhere in the maze of pillows behind my head.

“Jesus Christ…” I whisper to myself when I find the device. The three numbers on the screen read 1:27. It was well past morning at this point, half of my day unknowingly slept away. I enter my passcode and click on the missed text message from earlier this morning.

RC: You were asleep when I checked on you

RC: I’m going out, it’s important. I’ll be back later.

RC: I love you.

I roll my eyes and stuff the phone into my pocket, throwing the blanket off my body and standing up out of the bed. I quietly pad to the door and yank it open to reveal an empty hallway and a quiet house. I descend the staircase to search for any signs of life but am met with nothing as I peruse around the first floor of the residence. Both Rafe and Rose’s cars are gone from the front yard, only further proving that I was alone in the house.

“Wheezie!” I called out, almost forgetting about the youngest Cameron child. I roam around a while longer downstairs, calling out again before moving back up to the second floor after receiving no response.

The old house groaned as I walked through, the wood expanding as the heat of the fall sun glaring down onto it. I checked every room and was met with nothing every time which only puzzled me further. Where could the girl go without a car?

“Maybe she’s outside…” I thought to myself.

As I reach the end of the hall, I spot one of the doors slightly cracked open. I approach it curiously, my footsteps careful and quiet. Pushing it open completely, I cautiously enter the space and am met with a great mess.

The wallpaper has been ripped off the walls, the blue patterned paper now littering the floor beneath my feet as I journey further into the room. There was a large wooden table in the center covered in a tea set, clearly only there for decoration. There was a medium-sized hole in the wall next to the window as well, but none of this grabbed my attention.

What did spark my interest was what has been uncovered.

I circle around the table, eyes glued to the exact replica of Kildare island painted on the four walls surrounding me. The paint faded only slightly, but was otherwise perfectly preserved. It looks old, like it was a part of the original Tannyhill before renovations. Trailing my fingers along the wall, I study every part of the painting closet with great curiosity.

Was this the Island Room? Is this what that lady came here looking for? It had to be, it looked like they ripped the wallpaper off and left with great urgency, not even bothering to clean up behind themselves.

I trace the shape of the large oak tree in the center of the painting, eyes trained on the keyhole at the top of the trunk. Angel Oak.

I am ripped out of my trance by the sound of a car pulling up to the house. I briskly walk to the window and pull the curtain back, immediately dropping it and backing away when I spot who has arrived. Five familiar teens pile out of Twinkie, John B’s run down, brown van, and rush to the entrance of the house. Sarah leads the other four, turning back to talk to them as she walks.

“Shit.” I whisper.

I speed walk around the table, paper crumpling under my feet as I step over it. I hear the Pogues walk through the front door, voices loud as they enter the first floor of the house. I journey to Rafe’s room as quickly as I can, barely making it before I hear the five of them running up the stairs. I shut his bedroom door and lock it, backing away silently as their voices get closer and closer.

“This place still freaks me out.” I hear in passing, John B’s voice distant as they walk further down the hall.

I sit down on the bed, quiet as a mouse with my brother and his friends just down the hall. My heart races and blood rushes to my head, the sound of waves filling my ears as the fear of getting caught washes over me. I hear them talking over each other, the jumbled mess of words hard for me to decipher from this far away and behind a closed door.

More panic filled my body when I realized that Rafe and those old people could come back at any time. If the Pogues were here when he got back, nothing good would happen between them. However, I couldn’t go out and warn them, not without risking exposure myself.

Before I could think any more about it, I heard their voices rushing out of what I assume was the Island Room, footsteps pounding against the floor as they ran through the hall. I don’t move an inch until I hear the car door outside slam, the vehicle speeding off of the property with all five kids inside.

What the hell were they doing here? And what were they doing in that room?

It is Sarah’s house, but from what I’ve gathered over the past few weeks, she’d rather die than step foot in this place. So why would she bring anyone else here with her? And why was everyone so interested in the newly discovered room just a few yards away.

I shake the thoughts out of my head, laying back down on the soft bed.

Whatever these people have going on is none of my business, and even if it is, I won’t involve myself in it. I refuse to take part in whatever has gotten my brother kidnapped by that white lady running around with my boyfriend. Thinking about the way she smiled at me when she realized who I was gives me goosebumps and an unsettled feeling in my stomach.

#drew starkey #obx2 #outer banks #rafe cameron x kook!reader #rafe cameron x oc #rafe cameron x pogue!reader #rafe cameron x reader #obx fanfiction #obx1 #rafe cameron #obx3 #pope heyward #outer banks imagine

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marinaandthenimons · 1 month ago

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Marina's Top 8 Albums of 2024

I listened to a ton of new music this year and I want to talk about it! So I wrote up a self-indulgent, comically long-winded list of my top 8 (+1) new albums I listened to this year. Check it out!

8. One Hand Clapping - Paul McCartney and Wings

The specific position of One Hand Clapping on this list has more to do with the fact that I'm not sure it really "counts" or not. One Hand Clapping was technically released for the first time this year but it was actually recorded in 1974, around the height of Paul McCartney's career as a solo artist (imo) and the peak of Wings' popularity. I've been on the verge of a Paul McCartney phase for a while now and this album was the perfect entry point to his discography. These are live in-studio recordings of classic McCartney, Wings, and even a few Beatles tracks but not like you've heard them before. The recordings are fresh and vital, dynamic and brimming with personality. You feel like the musicians are right there in the room with you, which depending on the track feels like Paul sitting next to you strumming a guitar or like a full orchestra playing right in your ear. I can't recommend it enough, even if you've never listened to McCartney's solo work. The energy is infectious!

7. The Long Way - Nicolette and the Nobodies

It might be recency bias that put this pick on the list, I did only start listening to it this week (after seeing it on music publication Exclaim's top 50 albums list). But I usually know if I'm going to like a new album in the first listen and I was locked into this one from the first few seconds. I don't listen to a whole ton of country but when I do, my favorite style is what I would (possibly erroneously) call "honky-tonk". This year The Long Way is the album that scratched that itch. From the first slamming piano chords on opener "Better Days" to the swinging chorus on "Rodeo" to the comfortably meandering title track "The Long Way" this album grabbed my attention, held it the entire (long) way and left me wishing I knew how to line dance. Of the artists on this list, Nicolette and the Nobodies seem to have been least successful in finding their audience so far (only 800 monthly listeners on spotify at time of writing?? a crime) but I really hope they stick with it. They've got something special here and I'd love to hear more from them.

6. Where We've Been, Where We Go From Here - Friko

My favorite album of 2023 was 3D Country by Geese, partly because it sounded like the future of rock music- at once familiar and new, packed with creative hooks and instantly addictive. Where We've Been, Where We Go from Here by Friko isn't quite there yet but it's definitely thinking some of the same thoughts. These kids are just starting out but they've already got a great sense for a memorable musical line. I love the way lyrics from the opening track fade back in at the end of the penultimate track, tying the album into a cohesive whole. I admire the singer's faith in his ability to hold the audience's attention with the stripped-back acoustic "For Ella". And the chorus on "Get Numb to it" just rips. Of all the indie rock I listened to this year, this is the album that stuck. I look forward to hearing where they go from here.

5. The Moon is in the Wrong Place - Shannon and the Clams

The Moon is in the Wrong Place is about grief. Very specifically, it's about grieving the lead singer's fiancé, who died very suddenly shortly before their wedding. This is not a secret, it's actually printed on a hype sticker affixed to the physical releases of the album (a little weird but okay), but the first time I listened to the album I did not know about this background. Without the context I thought the album was okay but a little disjointed and confusing. With the context, however, it transforms into a tragic spiral of foreboding to regret to cerebration to despair to remembrance. The track list jumps between songs set before and after the loss, mirroring the non-linear process of grief itself, gradually all melting together until we land at acceptance. And through it all Shannon still manages to deliver captivating songs in her signature fuzzy psychedelic garage rock style. It's beautiful, enchanting, cathartic, and definitely worth a listen.

4. Imaginal Disk - Magdalena Bay

When Brat came out this year I thought it was super overrated and my opinion hasn't really improved since then. I chalked it up to me not really being into pop as genre. So my first impression of listening to Imaginal Disk was that it was just another pop album I wasn't going to get. But then near the end of the track list I started getting sucked into the rich, layered production and decided it was probably worth another listen. And then another listen. And then another. And somewhere along the way it became one of my top albums of the year. It's a hazy, cosmic, extraterrestrial party packed with synths and some of the best dance beats of the year. Is it even possible to stay still on the drop on "That's My Floor" or the bang-bangs in "The Ballad of Matt and Mica"? It's a musically complex album that rewards multiple listens while also just being a whole lot of fun.

3. Where's My Utopia? - Yard Act

I think "Dream Job" might just be a perfect song. Sure, music is subjective, but there are some songs almost everyone agrees are all-timers. Mr. Brightside, Sweet Caroline, and now... Dream Job (why yes, I am white. How could you tell?). It's funky, it's smart, it's an undeniably crowd-pleaser. I don't think there's anyone I wouldn't recommend it to. I'm not sure I'd say that for the rest of Yard Act's Where's My Utopia, but the sheer number of times I listed to this album alone earns it a place on this list. Yard Act's mixed media approach to music, reminiscent of The Gorillaz, delivered with a smarmy attitude which evokes post-punk contemporaries like Viagra Boys, works better on some tracks than others. I love the way they pile hooks on top of hooks in songs like "The Undertow" but find it a bit overwhelming on tracks like "Grifter's Grief". I also really love album closer "Vineyard for the North", which proves that Yard Act stripped of all their tricks and bits can still write a great song. Of all my picks on this list, I think this album is the least consistent but god damn those highs are so so high.

2. It's Sorted - Cheekface

Comparisons to other heady nerd rock bands like They Might Be Giants and Cake are inevitable... and warranted. I saw someone describe Cheekface as a band made entirely of twitter drafts (but like, back when twitter was fun not twitter now) and that is also pretty accurate. But what you might miss from these comparisons alone is that grooves on It's Sorted also totally rip ass! Yes, "Grad School" and "Life in a Bag" feel like they're staring directly into my soul but they're also fantastic jams you can't help but sing and dance along to. I wore out every track on this album, and also the album that preceded it. Cheekface has a new fan.

1. All Hell - Los Campesinos!

Okay, okay. If you know anything about my music preferences, this pick might seem like kind of a cop-out. Obviously a new album (the first in 7 years!) from my favorite active band was going to place highly on this list, but I swear I was fully prepared to give this record a middle spot if I wasn't totally in love with it. Unfortunately, it really is just that good! Los Camp! are still very much themselves on All Hell. Every song is packed with their nervous energy and lead singer Gareth's wordy lyrics continue to lament adventures in love, politics, football, and vomiting. There's a lot for long-time fans to appreciate, but I also thing this might be one of their most accessible albums to date. You don't have to be a groupie to vibe to the opening guitar rift on "Holy Smoke (2005)" or the sugar-sweet lyrics to the chorus of "Moonstruck" (I have not been able to look at a full moon since this album came out without thinking "I am moooooonstruck/ it's a welcome fate"). And one reason I love about Los Camp! is that they are so good at evolving their sound in a way that feels organic. Each subsequent new album has introduced interesting new musical ideas while still making something that fells like it slots into the rest of their discography. All Hell continues this trend, and never more so than on "Long Throes", a sweeping orchestral scream of frustration at the state of modern (British) society and my #1 song of the year. The way the song loops and dips is utterly unique in Los Camp! discography and instantly demands you sing along. All Hell is everything I wanted from a new Los Camp! album and more. You can catch me at every single LA gig they are willing to play from now until one of us dies. LC!4LYF!!!

Btw, best lyrics of the year for me are from "Holy Smoke (2005)" - "Don't get me wrong I love my friends' kids, sure they'll grow to be good leftists Bet they'll make their parents proud and make the best of what they're left with But they don't buy the beers I drink, and they don't drink the beers I buy No children and no profession, walking dead at 37"

+1 Secret to Life - Fizz

One more! I wanted to give a shout out to my favorite album of this year that didn't come out this year. Secret to Life by Fizz came out in 2023 but somehow I completely overlooked it. I'm so glad I got ot rectify that mistake in 2024! If I were to make a band with my friends, Secret to Life is the kind of music I see us making. It's a little all over the place: sometimes a little goofy, sometimes heartrendingly earnest, sometimes just the right amount of sleazy, but always a lot of fun. This is a band made up of people who clearly just love creating music together... and also are obviously in their mid twenties. They're just like me fr. Fizz has already broken up to return to solo projects but I hope they find their way back together again someday.

Aaaand some honorable mentions:

Prelude to Ecstasy - The Last Dinner Party: Another great debut! Lots of dark academia riot grrl goodness. Looking forward to hearing more from them.

I Saw the TV Glow Soundtrack: Would have made the list if Imaginal Disk didn't also do everything I loved about this album while also having some of the best dance tracks of the year.

As it Ever Was, So it Will Be Again - The Decemberists: An epic, sprawling masterpiece that somehow manages to weave together folk, prog, samba, and indie rock into a fairly cohesive album. I liked it when it came out, but after the election it was pretty much the only thing I wanted to listen to for like a week. If you liked The Crane Wife but haven't checked out much else from The Decemberists, this one will probably work for you too.

Mountainhead - Everything Everything: I reaaaally wanted to love this one, but after about half a dozen plays, I had to admit it just wasn't that interesting to me. The singles and opening track are still bangers though.

GLOOM DIVISION - I Don't Know How But They Found Me: IDKHow is one of my favorite bands of the last few years so I thought this would be an automatic add to the list. I honestly can't tell you why it isn't. The songs are pretty good, I loved seeing them in concert, and yet I just don't really seem to come back to it. Still, if you like early P!atd and you haven't checked out IDKHow yet, you should! It's good.

Big Ideas - Remi Wolf: Didn't love enough of this record for it to make the main list, but it's still the best funk album I listened to this year. "Toro" is an all-timer.

The Past is Still Alive - Hurray for the Riff Raff: Folksy indie americana rock seems to be catnip for music critics. Most music publications' year end lists were packed with Waxahatchee and Adrianne Lenker and Kacey Musgraves and I found them all extremely boring. I think I need to admit this type of music is just not something I enjoy. This one did kind of work for me, though. Hurray for the Riff Raff actually infuses some energy into their songs and in a genre so focused on the micro I find their willingness to zoom out and talk about things outside of their immediate emotional state refreshing. Cool name, too.

And if you somehow made it to the end of this ridiculously long post (I love you) and want to check out any of the albums I mentioned, I put together a spotify playlist of my fave songs from each record, plus a few extra great tracks from this year. Check it out!

Let me know if you loved any of these albums or have any favorites from this year you'd like to share! I love discovering new music, and I guess technically there's still time for this list to change :D

Thanks for reading!

#music #los campesinos!#cheekface #paul mccartney #new music

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neonponders · 2 years ago

Text

For @billyhargrovebingo 📚

~ read on ao3 ~

C2 - Bookstore AU

• • •

Billy had meant to buy a new car. His old blue beauty was still going strong, even if she creaked through left turns and the air conditioning went out every summer.

The price was right, and Billy might not know a lot about real estate, but he knew books. And the whole location, location, location thing.

There just wasn’t a bookstore where both kids and adults could be taken seriously, ie. comic books as well as the New York Times’ hoity toity favorites list. Billy had distinct, annoyed memories of having to travel across his California home town just to get the stack of Spider-Man and novels that he wanted. Not to mention the amount of times he’d had to listen to his stepsister complain about walking into a comic book store like the grown ass men had never seen a woman before...

So he bought it.

It was a real fixer-upper, but he bought it, and that felt great. The ground floor was the store, and he could renovated the second floor too, but he didn’t have the money to rent an apartment and get a business off the ground.

So he lived on the second floor’s barebones floors while the electrical and plumbing got sorted out. The summer heat had certainly sweetened the price on this place - air conditioning units were a small fortune - but as they say, some like it hot, and Billy never shied away from heat.

That gave him an idea. Aside from his pillow and mattress right on the floor, the first thing to go into his new shop was the movie poster for Some Like it Hot. It went right onto the one finished wall of the place: a typical brick wall. Terrible for insulation, and Billy didn’t give one rat’s ass about it.

Slowly but surely, his money dripped into the repairs on the place. He collected more and more pictures for the walls, a whole stack of frames upstairs just waiting to be mounted. The place was going to be a real queer dump when he was through with it:

Plants everywhere. Pictures of men in drag for movies and stage. If things finally settled, he’d get a shop cat. Or a dog. The laziest geriatric the shelter had. A record player was a must. Between the books, ambiance, furry shopkeeper, and plants, if some stiff even noticed all the queer on the walls, then Billy could keep a sheet of gold star stickers for his ass to get kissed on their way out.

That was the dream. Dreaming is easier than building.

Maybe the heat did get to his head, because somewhere in July, Billy officially lost it. The floor of the upstairs wasn’t finished, meaning that he had to be very careful with his showers, or else create water damage in both his home and business. He was officially in debt, because goddamn books were expensive the longer her held onto them because the shop wasn’t ready yet. He was walking on unstable floorboards in his own home, so how the hell was he supposed to bring a hookup over to blow off some steam?

Welcome to my place. If you fall through my bookshop’s ceiling, you’re paying for it.

The final straw was a bug. Admittedly, Billy didn’t know what termites looked like, but a small bug crawling out of one of those goddamn boards just did him in. He ripped the floor up, throwing down shards and heavy boards of wood. Soon, he didn’t have a second floor at all. Just a staircase that didn’t even connect to a loft holding up a poor excuse for a kitchenette -

“Uh, hello?”

The short curl right at the top of Billy’s forehead stuck to his sweaty skin as he stood up straight, and looked into the fresh face of a tall guy with huge brown eyes and a crown of soft, glossy hair on his head. “What d’you need?” Billy said gruffly.

That cupid’s mouth gaped like a fish until he scrounged together, “I work next door at the ice cream shop. I heard the noise, I thought you were being robbed.”

That explained why the guy somehow didn’t sweat in July. Billy shamelessly opened his arms at his travesty of an investment. “Steal what?”

Those big doe eyes wandered, clearly looking for an answer. He pointed at the Marilyn Monroe poster. “Anything with Marilyn on it sells.”

“It’s a poster,” Billy clipped.

“A big one,” the guy corrected, stepping onto the staircase to touch the corner of the frame. “The kind that might’ve been in the theaters when the movie released. You’d be surprised how much movie nerds would pay for this.”

“Well that’s great. Really great. Will it pay for a new floor and ceiling? Otherwise Marilyn isn’t buying me shit.”

That closed the guy’s mouth and he preoccupied himself with reading over the names on the poster. Then from memory, he recited, “And why would a guy wanna marry another guy?”

“For security,” Billy huffed.

All at once, the ice cream man smiled at him. And...Billy should’ve invested in ice cream.

“The movie hasn’t aged well, but I always liked that joke. Sometimes Hollywood accidentally gets things right. So,” his shoes clapped the floor as he stepped off the stairs, “you need some fresh lumber. It’s good that you rage-ripped these up. If they were from old trees, they’d be sturdy, but these were cheap when they were put in.”

Billy cocked a brow at him. “You know construction?”

“My dad’s a contractor. Well, that’s the easy way of putting it. He’s a real snob about architecture and real estate.”

“Then why aren’t you working for him? Sounds like there’s real money there.”

“Because in my dad’s effort to make me a respectable man like him, he made me too much like him. We can’t exist in the same room together for more than fifteen minutes.”

Billy huffed a laugh and kicked a plank of wood out of his way. “Yeah. I get that.”

“Do you have power tools?”

“I have one drill and a spare battery.”

“I know a guy who can loan you saw horse and an electric saw. Hell, show him your lack of a ceiling, and he might just build it for you. He’s a retired guy who needs the chores. Just pay for the supplies and lunch, and he’s in.”

“I’m not interested in an old man breaking his leg for my pursuits. That’ll only make the property value go down further when I try and get rid of this place.

The guy put his hands on his hips and looked around, visibly thinking hard on something. “What about two losers who don’t have anything better to do?”

Billy smiled. “Who’d you have in mind?”

That’s how Billy met Robin Buckley. And Steve. His name was Steve.

Billy couldn’t be sure which was more frightening: a retired carpenter with rickety bones, or a lesbian with a power drill walking over the beams overhead. But the three of them got the floor reinstated that afternoon, and the following morning, Robin and Steve arrived with linoleum and caulk to finish and waterproof his floor.

Even more, Steve got the fire department and city to repair the fire escape in the alley between the bookshop and the ice cream parlor. He shrugged when Billy asked him about it. “Some things have to be built to code. Code name: Harrington. Are those fries?”

Billy smiled and slapped the fast food bag against his abdomen. Steve took it eagerly and stuffed four fries into his gullet. Billy couldn’t believe his luck at having one of the city’s precious heirs getting humbled in the ice cream shop next door.

Steve’s opening day gift to him was a movie projector. After hanging up a white sheet in the back of the shop, they played Some Like it Hot while Billy rang up the first purchases from his shelves.

And yet...even with money finally dripping back into his pockets, Billy looked forward to 4pm, when the ice cream shop closed and Steve and Robin strolled into his place with a carton of chocolate-chocolate chunk, and a gift collar and leash for the old German shepherd mutt waiting to be picked up that Friday.

As the movie said, “It’s not how long you wait, it’s who you’re waiting for.”

#harringrove #book shop!au #neonponders #billyhargrovebingo #billy bingo #ficlet

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mochidreambubble · 2 years ago

Text

From Golden Grove, Love Sunset Bird

Ao3 version here

previous - next

Two: Now and Forever Step 1 Prologue ~ Pretty Smiles, Pretty Words

Dear Mermaid of Sunset Bird,

Sorry for making you wait so long for my letter. I really miss getting letters from you too, so know one of the first things I’m doing is writing to you.

It’s pretty right? I was nervous, since Mama said it’s so different from our last home in the city, but everything here feels like it’s right out of a storybook. I’m still just a tiny bit nervous. I left all my friends behind. I still have Mama, but…

Kids my age already have friend groups right? What if no one wants me to play with them…

I’m glad I have you at least. I wish you were here. I wish I could go to Sunset Bird! I want to meet you! I want to meet Cove! I know so much about him, but it’s different when you meet face to face!

Mama says I should think of this as an adventure, like in my favourite books, but

“Sweetie! Come over and take a look.”

You stop writing and stand back up from your crouch, clipboard securely in your arms again, your camera dangling from your neck, and you rush over to Mama’s side. You place your clipboard, the half written letter securely collapsed, and gently place it atop one of the carry on bags on the porch. Good thing too, as Mama starts insisting you explore. Tempting of course, as you’d bet you’d take some pretty nifty pictures. Mama also always has good reasons for suggesting things.

Maybe Mama just had magic, or could see the future. For it led to a mystery of a paper plane thrown your way. Gave you a bit of a shock. Mama considered it a mystery, one you were obviously up to ask for. It was just like your Stony Girls or Herlock Sholmes mystery novels!

You take snapshots of the forest path, the beautiful colours of fall. A crossroad, a choice to make.

A boy named like the season, the prettiest person you’ve seen.

A sparkly surprise from a very pretty girl!

You think there has to be some kind of record for meeting very pretty people back to back.

The boy, Qiu or Autumn - he said both were fine right? - was a funny kid but he was also a bit… Airheaded? No, not quite right. Scatterbrained? Who’s to say?

“Next time I’m not gonna tell you about it…”

Definitely. You were so totally not gonna tell him about lost pages. (A lie, of course. Not that you would know it just yet.)

Qiu smiles, in the way only someone who breathed and lived confidence could. Smug even?

“I don’t know about that,” He grins, hands casually supporting the back of his head. “You seem really nice. You’d help me out again. Thanks.”

The girl - with such a pretty name!! - Tamarack, made you really curious. She lived with her Omi and Opa - her grandparents. You never know what it was like to live without your Mama…

But she was so sparkly and bright you couldn't help but feel drawn to her. And she said she liked the earmuffs your Mama got for you! So she was a certified good bean in your book~

You tell your Mermaid Friend as much, as you huddle in your sleeping bag. You hesitate, for a moment, to tell them about the weird butterflies you get when you see Qiu. It’s different from the sparkling joy you know you have when you think Tamarack may be your first gal pal in Golden Grove.

It’s kind of confusing I guess. Maybe you have words of wisdom, oh Mermaid of the Sunset Seas.

(You decide to tell them after all.)

Anywhoosies ;3

Write to me soon! I miss hearing from you. Let me know if you want me to send you a postcard next time instead. I think I may find some pretty ones.

Love,

Golden Grove~ (Because yay!!! Mama and I officially moved in!!)

#our life beginnings & always #my fic #my writing #our life now and forever #qiu lin #tamarack baumann #From Golden Grove Love Sunset Bird fic #We're still friends even if we're miles apart fic series

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inkwell-and-dagger · 1 year ago

Text

Ring-Bound Notebook

Hey! Yeah, uh- you! Before you proceed, this written work may contain:

blood, torture, prolonged captivity, multiple whumpers, whumper-turned-whumpee, amputation, multiple failed escape attempts, immortal whumpee, potential re-living trauma??, impalement, phrase repetition, slight rescue / recovery whump at the end, suicidal ideation / thoughts

Vanté Ramirez, Vesker Faithern and Fletcher O'Harris belong to my wonderful mutual, @er0s-1s-whump1ng / @paranoia-exe!! go check him out!!!!

—> —> —> —> —> —>

Looking down at the bloodied notebook he'd resented for so long stuffed into his bedside table, Rayan sighed. He swore to never re-read the notebook, reluctant to live out the years of captivity he went through, but.. he just couldn't handle it.

Vigorously snatching the notebook up, he flopped down onto his bed, drawing his knees up to his chest and wrapping bandaged arms around them. He despised how the damned thing felt so right in his hands; it fit in his grasp perfectly, cold and familiar.

He'd never admit it, but it took him a while to even start the first page, let alone open the notebook itself. He just stared at the cover, at the stickers — worn down with time, scratched or even peeling and ripped— caked in dried blood. His dried blood.

But eventually, to his own dismay, his finger clasped tighter around the notebook, and with strangely baited breath he flicked open to the first page. It seemed as though a nice little trip down memory lane was in order.

Zayn never exactly had a purpose for a notebook. Ring bound with multiple stickers he'd collected during their childhood stuck onto the cover, he just didn't know what to do with it. The useless thing was just.. laying around; plus, he had a diary of his own now. Esrana told him to give it to "the thing in the basement". And her reasoning behind giving it to Rayan? It was because both of them were useless. Great.

"Hey. I've got this for you. Es told me to hand it to you since I don't need it. It'll keep you occupied!" Rayan distinctly remembered Zayn telling him that before setting the notebook down in front of him, his soft Welsh accent ringing pleasantly in his ears.

Alas, Zayn handed it to Rayan during one of their visits, along with two pens. One's ink was in black, the other was in blue, since the former didn't know which colour he preferred. Looking back, it seemed to Rayan that he preferred blue, and the black pen he must've used to doodle and scribble in the margin of each page or wherever else he could fit it.

They promised to give Rayan new pens whenever they ran out and, as usual, he stuck to it; not once did Rayan see even a hint of the ink on either of the pens running dry.

The first few pages were worn and torn, some having been ripped out entirely. The ones that weren't were filled with notes in Zayn's unusually neat script about god knows what — from his time in school to his mother and Esrana, from simple reminders to full paragraphs of rambles. Rayan didn't have the heart to judge them, even now.

A couple pages after, and it was the start of Rayan's own ramblings. Oh, how Rayan dreaded this moment.

He set the notebook down in his lap, evergreen eyes skimming over the pages.

Date: ?

Time: ?

I don't know how this is meant to benefit me. Sure, the notebook's nice and all, I like it. I don't know. There's not much I can write in here, since my captivity isn't very special. I guess I can just I think nevermind. I'll just ramble about fuck all.

I hate this place. I can hardly sleep because I keep hearing footsteps from the floor above this fucking basement. I don't know how many of them there are. I know about the guy with the bat, and the one who keeps staring at me and who I've never really seen blinking yet, and the girl who's Zayn's sister. That's all. I swear there's more of them, though.

I can't be sure. But, at least Zayn gives me food and also gave me a blanket and some pillows so I can sleep. Sure, the ground isn't comfortable, but I can somewhat lay on the pillows, which is good enough. Totally not as if my back hurts already and this is just making it worse. Totally not. Why am I even mad at Zayn?

I'm gonna try and sleep. Emphasis on try. Everything hurts.

"God's sake.." Rayan mumbled hoarsely, pinching the bridge of his nose. He had to admit, that one wasn't all bad. But, he knew worse was to come.

He flicked over to the next page.

Date: ? sometime in October (Zayn told me)

Time: ?

There's more of them. It's- this is ridiculous. Fucking Ezra???

I can't believe he'd side with them. Hell, I don't know what to say anymore. Fuck this shit.

I also keep getting hurt by the bat guy; their names Foster, apparently. I don't wanna explain what they did with that stupid fucking bat of theirs, other than they hit me somewhere on the back and it really hurts because they screwed fucking nails into the bat. I hate this.

I don't even know what I did wrong.

Rayan scoffed. "'I don't even know what I did wrong', my ass.."

His attention turned to the next page. A little more blood was splattered across the paper, and there were obvious signs he'd been crying when he wrote this.

Date: ?

Time: ?

Everything fucking hurts. More and more of them keep coming down and torturing me and hurting me and I'm just sick of this shit. I can't get even a moment of fucking peace anymore. What did I do?

He was surprised how short this one was. He couldn't remember why he had cut it so short in the first place.

The next page.

Date:

Time:

Oh my god. Oh my god. Fuck. He- Holy shit.

I can't even fucking what the fuck. It hurts so bad. Fuck. Okay. I need to calm down.

Oh, no.

Rayan flicked to the next page with shaking hands.

Date:

Time:

Writing this whilst Zayn bandages me up. I'm so tired. So much has been going on.

Madir, he. He cut off my fucking leg. I had tried to escape by attacking Foster and getting out of the basement, and I was so fucking close when Madir got me (Madir's the one who keeps staring. I don't know what his problem is). Then.. I don't even wanna remember.

The torture's been getting worse. Esrana threw me out a window at one point. They've also found out that, despite me being immortal, I can somewhat die if they slit my throat. They keep doing it, and from what I understand they play some sort of game where they compete and the winner is the person who keeps me "dead" for the longest. So far, I think Ezra has.

I should've never started killing people. I've already served my time in prison, and now this? I don't deserve this I think I deserve it, though.

Next page, and this time Rayan had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from tearing up.

Date:

Time:

There's so much blood. The floor is stained with it, my restraints are stained with it, Hell, even my bed. Thankfully, Zayn let me out of the restraints so I can write.

I swear, this is the only thing I can rely on to not lose my fucking mind. The smell of blood and.. other stuff is intoxicating, I hate it. I hate this. I hate Esrana, and Foster, and Zayn, and Madir, and Ezra, and Fletcher— God, fucking Fletcher! We were friends! And now he just watches me waste away here?!

I've felt too sick to eat and sleep. I don't care anymore. I doubt people even remember me. I hope Maddie's okay. And Vee. And.. I don't know. Who do I have?

I'm gonna try and escape. I can't walk, given my leg from the thigh down is missing, but.. whatever. I'll manage.

Next page. This one seemed more recent.

Date:

Time:

It didn't work as well as the other times. There's a fucking- I don't what it is, but it's stuck in my other leg and practically keeping me impaled and pinned onto the floor. It hurts so bad.

I've given up trying to fight by now. I just want to make it stop. I wish I could die. I wish I never existed. I wish I never began killing people. I wish I could kill myself.

I deserve this.

Rayan's spare hand ran over his prosthetic leg, sighing. He never realized how much he himself had suffered. It all felt unreal. It's why he thought about it as if it were just a story, or a silly nightmare. Everything was silly at this point.

He flicked past the other pages, skimming through them, until one near the end of the notebook caught his eyes. Reading cautiously, he placed his chin on his hand and couldn't help but notice his handwriting was more neat. And no blood was splattered on the page.

Date: 26/10

Time: 3:26 PM

It's my birthday! I forgot how old I am. I'm in the hospital right now, I think. It's a long story, but I'm alone right now, save for Maddie sleeping and Vee idly talking to me. I've got plenty of time.

The Survivors got arrested. I escaped from the police - they scare me, okay? I thought they were gonna hurt me - and went to god-knows-where. I stayed homeless for a time, occasionally couch surfing or staying at a new friend's house. She's called Evelyn. She's nice.

Anyway. Maddie and Vee eventually found me, and took me home and then (after seeing how shitty I looked) took me to the hospital instead. It's been a funny couple of days, especially with me learning that these doctors don't want to hurt me and that the things being put into my body won't harm me, but.. at least I'm free. They're gonna get me a prosthetic soon.

I get to see Vesk again. I get to see Theo. And Maddie's fiance, Vivian. Maddie's reluctant to invite me to the wedding, since she knows I need time to recover, but I can tell she really does want to.

Something feels wrong, though. That I don't deserve to rest. I keep imagining restraints around me. I keep hearing them laugh. I keep.. nevermind. It's fine, though.

I don't think I'm gonna be sharing what's in this notebook. It's better to keep it a secret. I don't want people worrying about me more than they already are. Especially Maddie.

Maddie's waking up, I think. I'm home now. I think. I'm gonna be okay now. I think. I don't know. I hope so.

Rayan suddenly glanced up as he heard his bedroom door creak open, squinting up at Vanté. He was a mere silhouette against the absurdly bright hallway light. The notebook slammed shut.

"Hi, Vee." They both grinned.

"Hey," The demon responded, his deep voice rumbling pleasantly in Rayan's ears. "Mum's called you down three times, cause we're going out for dinner today. She said you can bring Tadhg if you want to, too. You coming?"

He chuckled, getting up with a soft groan and setting his notebook down, grabbing a jacket as he spoke. "Yeah, yeah, I'll be down in a sec. Is this—" he gestured to his outfit— "too flashy?"

"Of course not," Vanté waved off his question with a smile. "It's perfect."

"Oh, hush."

Both of them couldn't help but laugh. Vanté's diamond eyes glanced downwards, noticing the notebook. "What's that?"

"Huh-? Oh, that?" Rayan chuckled nervously, quickly shoving the book under his pillow. "Just a uh- a thing."

The demon didn't respond directly, but gave him a knowing smile. Rayan had an inkling the demon had experienced something similar to what he himself was feeling.

Before the silence could get more uncomfortable than it already was, the demon grabbed the immortal's hand and dragged him out of the room, earning a surprised laugh from the latter. "Come on, lazy ass. Don't bother getting platforms, it's a long walk.

"Awwhh, we're not driving there?"

"It's not that bad, kid."

"Hey- I'm not a kid!"

"You are to me!"

They both laughed. Maybe life wasn't that bad after all.

—> —> —> —> —> —>

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my-brothers-corrupted · 1 year ago

Text

My Brothers, Corrupted

Book Five: Section Two

As they arrive in Ireland, the brothers try to find a place to settle and handle some crises as best they can. Masterlist

Tws for rejection-sensitive dysphoria, discussion of past abuse, arguing and shouting between brothers, and stress over money/poverty. Tws may not be completely exhaustive - keep in mind the heaviness of the fic and look out for yourself.

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

Anonymous asked: Hey guys, not to be a downer on your plans, but didn't Anti burn down the house inside the mirror portal? I swear I remember him bragging about that.

“He did,” signs Dapper quietly, even as Blue looks up at you and shrugs.

“We need that safe space, that’s the important part. If we have to rebuild we can. Or just get a fucking tent, ha. Go camping permanently. Do you - do you remember the mirror dimension I made, Dap?”

Dapper looks up at him, nodding. “Sometimes. It was nice there. I showed the cameras once. There are trees all around and the house in the middle.”

“But Anti burned it?”

“I remember him setting it alight. I don’t know what happened after that.”

Blue sets his chin in his hand, his mouth twisted up as he thinks. He gazes out the window as the flight attendant gives a speech about what to do if everything crashes and burns.

aether-mae asked: Is noodles okay? Don’t put him in a suitcase or anything, poor baby

“Here’s my sweet boy,” says Chase, lifting up a cat carrier inside which a very restless golden cat is scraping at the bars. “I’ll get you your harness once we dig it out, baby, yes I will.”

Jackie is burrowing in a blue gym bag, tossing things out as he looks for the harness. He’s just handed you to Henrik, who picks at a sticker on the side without speaking.

“Camera’s up and running,” sighs Jackie, pushing at his hair. “Let’s just find Blue and Dap and get somewhere to stay for the night. Hi, by the way. Fuck, that flight. Glad we’re here. Yeah, Chaser?”

Chase raises his eyebrows at you. Being stuck between a dead silent twin and a very bored, nervous Jackie for twelve hours was not his idea of a good time.

“Yep.”

“Here, snacks.”

He hands Chase a pack of peanut butter crackers and they tear it open like raccoons, their stomachs growling, and split the crackers between them.

Anonymous asked: Hey maybe jacks old cabin is vacant?

“What’s that?” asks Chase through a mouthful of crackers.

“I’d love to have a cabin to stay in right about now,” says Jackie. “But anything that doesn’t have warding against other magicians finding us isn’t safe. We really need to find that house we used to stay in again. But in the meantime, I mean. I guess we just lay low and hope that Blue and Dapper can hide their power. And that the Irish magicians are less aggressive than the British ones.”

nikkilbook asked: Random nature fact, but it turns out that Lapwing-the-literal-actual-bird things tend to chill in a lot of the wetlands, and that there’s an estuary where loads of the native duders live—as opposed to the summer and winter visitors from the continent—called Shannon Calloway where there can be tens of thousands of the little guys.

It happens to be in County Offaly.

Don’t know to what degree magicians mimic their birds, but if we’re avoiding Lapwings right now, maybe don’t go to Jack’s old cabin just yet.

Jackie giggles, handing Chase the harness and shoving a book out of the bag. “I hope they can all turn into little fat birds and fly around. I wish Blue could do that. His only fault, hahaha. Well, maybe we can see some real lapwings while we’re here.”

Henrik sets you beside him, bending down to pick up the book that has spilled out of the bag. It’s the little golden novel they bought in a shop in Norway - Thornton Wilder’s the Bridge of San Luis Rey. He strokes the cover, turning his eyes towards the trees.

“Want to see some birds?” Jackie asks him fondly, reaching out to tug playfully on his hair. After hours trapped on a plane, he’s about vibrating with energy. “You still like to go for walks, huh, Dok? We can go for walks now.”

He tugs on Henrik’s hair and clothes and hands, chattering incessantly. Chase’s gaze darkens the longer it goes on.

“Jackie, give him a break.”

“We can go all over if you want, Dok-Dok.” Jackie ruffles up his hair, laughing and knocking their heads together, and Henrik just sits there, blinking. “Whatever you want, bud.”

“Stop touching him like that, Jackie, cut it out,” snipes Chase, eyes flashing. “He’s not a toy just because he doesn’t talk anymore.”

Jackie draws back, startled. He turns away. They fall into silence. The birds are chirping.

nikkilbook asked: Hey, guys? Can we have a quick conversation?

Jackie, can you explain, as best you can, why you decided to physically engage with Schneep?

Chase, can you explain why you felt his behavior was objectionable?

Even though the two of you are brothers, and even though you both have so much love to give, you speak different languages most of the time. I suggest we set up some kind of quick-and-dirty translation guide for the both of you, before anything blows up.

“You don’t just have to - grab at him like that,” grumbles Chase, clutching Noodle to his chest. “Are we just going to pretend he’s normal forever? Just our weird silent brother now? Is that what we’re - oh, fuck, Jackie, don’t - fuck.”

He’s turned away from him and crying, his hood tugged low over his eyes. Chase groans and sinks down on the bench, rubbing his face. “You’re kidding, you’re kidding.”

Now he just feels bad.

nikkilbook asked: (So who’s going to give the camera little robot arms so I can start handing out hugs? I feel like this is a long-overdue modification.)

Jackie, what are you feeling right now? Try and doodle it on something if you can’t find the words. Whatever you’re feeling, it’s okay, but I think it might need to exist outside of the echo chamber that is your head.

You too, Chase. What thoughts and emotions triggered your statement? What’s the connection between physically touching Schneep and pretending like this is normal? And why is that something bad? Neither of you are mind readers.

“He’s my twin, okay?” says Chase. “Not yours. He’s my job. And he’s hurt right now! He can’t tell you if he wants you to touch him or not while he’s like this. Probably he doesn’t! So I just wanted you to keep your hands off, okay? Cause he’s not himself and I don’t know why we’re all just pretending he is.”

He looks up at Henrik, aching for a second for anything familiar to register through his brother’s eyes.

Henrik is buried in that book, his fingers sliding over the pages, his eyes taking nothing in. Esteban, reads the chapter title, and Chase feels something burn in his eyes. He takes the book from him and slams it shut, shoving it into the suitcase.

“I’m here, Dok,” he mumbles, touching his brother’s hands. “I’m not going to let anybody hurt you again.”

Jackie cringes, pulling at his hoodie strings. He’s exhausted and overwhelmed and the airplane was loud and hot and crowded and his ears popped. Now he’s being a bad brother again. Too touchy, too stupid, too mean. Chase still thinks he’s going to hurt them again. He probably will. He’s just rage and anxiety and dumb decisions.

“Jackie, I’m sorry, I just overreacted and snapped a little. I’m not actually mad. You don’t gotta cry, man.”

He’s bad. He can feel it down to his chest, so intense it stings. He needs to throw up. He chews on the strings of his hoodie, clenching his fists in and out. In and out. In and out. He should have stayed with Blue and let the others go together so only his twin would have to see him like this - the wreck he really is.

crystalninjaphoenix asked: No harm was meant here. Chase is protective and just lashed out. Jackie didn't understand that contact would lead to a reaction. You're both on edge. Just remember no harm was meant.

“I’m sorry,” mumbles Chase. “But don’t freak out, okay? I just lashed out, they’re right.”

Jackie nods frantically, hiding beneath his hood. He wants to not be upset. He knows he’s overreacting and it doesn’t help for a second.

Chase sighs. “Want Noodle?” he offers weakly.

Jackie pauses, sniffing. After a second he nods. Chase hands the cat over and lets his brother hide his face and bury his fingers there in the golden fur of the kitten.

“I’ll guard,” he sighs, and you see him straighten and compose himself, finding a comfortable position and settling down to watch for danger so Jackie can rest. This is what he was meant to do.

nikkilbook asked: Jackie, listen to me for a second. Focus on the little words on my little camera face.

Your brain is trying to protect you from something. It has noticed something and has decided that it’s a threat. It’s trying to help. What is it trying to warn you about? What’s the threat? What is going to happen to you?

Now, what evidence can you find—actual things you can observe or remember observing—that confirm that? What evidence can you find that contradicts it?

Your brain is trying to help you, Jackie. It’s just been through a lot and the wires are kind of messy now. The red alert button is the only thing it can find sometimes. You and me, we have to spend a bit of time trying to unravel the messages. What is your brain trying to tell you right now?

“That I’m a bad brother,” cries Jackie. “And when I’m bad I - ”

His own thought process stops him short suddenly. He bites his lip and stays buried low against Noodle, who just purrs enthusiastically.

“You’re not… a bad brother. I just got mad,” sighs Chase, picking unhappily at a peanut butter cracker. “Jackie, you’re like the toughest guy I know, but sometimes when we say little tiny things, you take them really really hard and think about them forever. The - the evidence, if that’s what you need, is that I told you I forgave you for what happened between all of us weeks ago, and I like you a lot, and I know you’re trying to take care of us. Look, you got me crackers and you’ve been looking out for us this whole time.”

Jackie sighs and sets his face to the side, calming down a little.

“All I said was that I didn’t want you touching him too much, and that was a little harsh, and there was nothing about you being a bad brother in there.”

“I make everyone angry,” mumbles Jackie. “Like that guy on the plane who yelled at me for kicking his seat.”

“Whatever, Jackie, he was a dick,” says Chase, scowling now. “He was probably just grouchy from being stuck on a plane like we were.”

“That’s all? You were just grouchy?”

“Just grouchy and worried about Henrik.”

Jackie scratches at his beard, nodding slowly. That does make more sense than Chase secretly hating him. But the truth is that the logic won’t do much to stop the self-hatred from burning into him later, cause Chaser is right - he takes everything too hard. It’s not something he can help.

“Sorry I’m a baby.”

“You’re not a baby,” laughs Chase, and it actually perks Jackie up a little just to hear him say it. “Dude, you just get a little freaked when you think someone’s mad at you. And, um. I get it, you know? Cause I know… I know what would happen when Anti would get mad at you. ”

Ah. There it is. Jackie and Chase go quiet again, kicking their feet against the pavement.

“Maybe we can talk about something else,” suggests Jackie.

“Sure,” agrees Chase wearily. “Yeah, sure.”

nikkilbook asked: I remember him bragging too, but I don’t trust that he was telling the truth anymore. He struggled so much to keep Marv’s magic at bay that I wonder how much he could do to a place like that. He bragged that he killed your cats, and I believe Max saw their bodies, but I don’t think I trust that either, because they weren’t ordinary flesh-and-blood cats. He used Athanasius’ name as a code word for Dap at one point, though I don’t know what that means. Basically, I don’t trust a word of what he said about anything, because he was a liar, even if he used statements that were factually correct. Anti always lied.

“He did lie a lot,” mumbles Jackie.

“Thought we weren’t talking about this?”

“But do you get that too?” asks Jackie, almost desperate as he whirls on him. “Do you get scared that you’re going to get hurt whenever someone raises their voice or snaps at you? Whenever someone moves too fast somewhere in your vicinity or you smell oil? Do you get that too?”

Chase stares at him for a second, mouth pursed with uncharacteristic reluctance. He turns away again, quietly clearing a leaf off Henrik’s shoulder. “Anti didn’t really hurt me like that, Jackie.”

“What?”

Chase shrugs, too interested in Henrik’s torn white coat.

“Sure he did. He screamed at you and kicked you around and smacked you. I saw him, lots of times.”

Something flickers through Chase’s eyes, faint and timid. He shakes his head a little, mouth taut.

Jackie turns away again, frowning. Dok always used to tell them that they shouldn’t challenge Dapper too much on his delusions if they were helping him cope. Maybe this is the same. Maybe he just needs to let Chase cope a little, and come back to it when he’s seeing a therapist or something.

“I get scared when I hear the rest of you calling out,” says Chase after a long moment, and Jackie turns back to him, wide-eyed. “You… nightmare in your sleep, Jackie, did you know that? You shout. And then I can’t move. Even if I want to wake you up. I just lie really still and hold my pocketknife and hide under the covers with Dok. Cause… that’s what I’ve always done. And I’m sorry for that.”

Jackie stares at him, head turned.

“I’m sorry that you had to be everybody’s protector and I just hid and stared out the window all those years.”

“Not your fault,” murmurs Jackie, as if on instinct. “Being able to protect any of you, even just for one night - that’s the only thing that ever kept me functioning, Trick.”

“Chase,” he reminds him gently.

Jackie blinks, nodding. “Right, sorry. Sorry. Chase.”

Chase brushes his shoulder gently and sighs out.

“Okay. Topic change again. That’s all I got in me for now.”

nikkilbook asked: For later, when you have the space in your brain and heart to think about this, this is what I gathered from what you said:

Threat: people are mad at you because you are a bad brother/person, and that means that you are about to be physically hurt or attacked.

Evidence for: when Anti lost his temper with you, he told you that you were being a bad brother, and then he punished you for it. When Trick was angry at you or scared of something you had done, he lashed out verbally and reinforced the idea that you were a bad brother.

Evidence against: Chase has forgiven you for what you did while you were trying to be Red, and has said that he does not believe you are a bad brother and that he knew some of your aggressive actions were actually to protect him and the others from Anti. Your actual brothers have never physically harmed you for being “bad,” unless Anti’s shenanigans were involved. Since you defeated Anti, no one has physically harmed you or “punished” you, unless they were douchecanoe xenophobic Robins in another timeline.

Conclusion: Anti punished you when you were bad by his standards. Anti is dead, and your brothers do not share his standards. Their anger does not result in physical harm or punishment. Nothing you have done has been out of malicious intent, regardless of whether or not it ended up backfiring in some way.

You’re a good person, Jackie, and a good brother. If you’re up to it, maybe talk to the others and find out what their boundaries are, so you know what their definition of a good brother is. It’s nice to know what the rules of engagement are, at least until you feel more confident in your new dynamic.

“Douchecanoe,” Jackie laughs, and you see Chase relax again at the sound of it, because when Jackie’s okay, everbody’s okay, and that’s been the way things have gone for a long time. “Huh, yeah… all written out like that, yeah…”

He pauses, picking at his beard. “Nobody’s… hurt me at all since he died.”

Chase gazes down at the ground, eyes dark. They look at each other a moment later and both try to smile.

Henrik glances between the two of them, patient in his silence. He’s picked his book up again at some point, and it’s open to the same chapter: Esteban.

“He’ll come back to himself when he’s ready,” adds Jackie after a moment.

Chase pushes a strand of hair from Henrik’s face. “I hope you’re right,” he says.

“What’s that book about, anyways?”

Chase shakes his head. “It’s sad. I don’t know. It’s about some people dying. It’s short and he memorized it the first time he read it through, but he still always kept it.”

“It’s about people dying?”

“Yeah… about some people who all fall on a bridge. And this monk tries to figure out why, but then it’s more complex than he thought. Cause even the good people had secrets and the bad people loved other people. And at the end… it’s just about death, I guess, and how you love people as long and as hard as you can even though you’re going to lose them some day.”

“Who’s Esteban?”

Chase stares down at the chapter. “Just… one of the people who dies. That’s all.”

Henrik’s fingers are resting against the word.

“I got to use the bathroom. I’ll run inside with him if you’ll watch Noodle. Be right back.”

“Hey, wait, just leave him with me,” laughs Jackie, touching Henrik’s shoulder - gently now, though, not plucking or teasing. “He’s fine for just a minute.”

Chase pauses, staring down at his twin, but after a terse smile, he goes inside. He knows Jackie won’t hurt him.

“Want me to read?” asks Jackie gently.

Henrik looks at him. He’s got those big starry eyes like Dapper has these days. Jackie tugs fondly at a strand of his ear and then leans over the book, and begins to read, slow and jilted. He isn’t much of a reader - always found the focusing and the spelling to be both impossible and humiliating, and literary devices escape him for the most part - but he’d read for hours if Henrik asked him to.

Or even if those big star eyes seemed to soften just a little as he spoke.

“On Friday noon, July the twentieth, 1714, the finest bridge in all Peru broke and precipitated five travelers into the gulf below…”

“Dammit, Rojo, you promised me we would stay out of illegal shit. Promised me! If we get caught - ”

“We won’t get caught!”

“You are so wanted they’d ship us off to America or Italy or Peru before they could even figure out which one of us is which.”

“We don’t have the cash to stay anywhere else, Blue!”

The five of them found each other at the library two days ago and, exhausted from traveling, ended up crashing in an abandoned bus halfway across town. Jackie’s grateful it’s summer, but sitting cramped against chewed-up cushions and spending the whole night listening to the others try to convince Dapper that the bus was not, in fact, driving them towards Purgatory or about to fall in on itself was not particularly restful.

Then again, breaking into this house just because a couple neighbors told him that the Humphreys are out of town for a month or two isn’t exactly safe either if they get caught.

“Honey, focus, please.” Blue plucks wearily at the dog tags on his brother’s hoodie, his eyes hollow with fatigue. “Let’s just go back to the bus. That’s not breaking and entering.”

“Dapper needs somewhere safe and quiet, Blue. Hell, you’re the one who was worried he was going to attack the lady on the plane just for handing him a Coke. We all need somewhere stable. We need real rest.”

Chase and Henrik watch in silence as their siblings argue, Noodle chasing a bug around the garden nearby. Dapper is lying across Chase’s lap, eyes closed.

“We could spring for a hotel just for a couple nights,” suggests Blue. “Just until we can make some cash or find another place.”

“How are we going to make any money, huh?”

“We’ll figure something out, Jackie.”

“I don’t know.”

“Let’s not fight,” sighs Blue, touching his shoulder. “We’re on the same team. Let’s just ask the cameras.”

“Okay. Sure, yeah.”

Anonymous asked: Did we miss the flight? Well I guess it would be hard to keep cameras with you on an airplane. Where are you boys now?

“I don’t even remember what fucking city,” sighs Blue, rubbing at his head. “Yeah, we’ve been here a day or two.”

“We’re in Waterford,” says Jackie, moving towards the house despite their ongoing disagreement and beginning to inspect the locks. “Suburban neighborhood with a little space in between the houses. We can hide out here just fine. No sight of any magicians yet, thank God.”

“It’s not good if we can’t find anyone to help us get to the mirror dimension.”

“We can figure it out on our own.”

nikkilbook asked: Jackie, I just did some research—when you get to Ireland, try and make it to Malin Head on the Inishowen Peninsula, at the northern tip. (Hopefully there won’t be any UK Robins there, I don’t know how much magicians pay attention to colonial boundaries). Apparently that is the best place in Ireland to see the Northern Lights, and if I’ve got my realities straight, the aurora brings magic to the surface. Marvin may have gone to see it regularly before.

“When I was young, it felt so out of control. But I would come up here where the aurora summons all magic to the surface, and suddenly I could feel how it was a part of me… how it belonged to me.”

If that fails, try going to the University College Dublin, to the National Folklore Collection. You might be able to find naturally magical places that way. Look for fairy forts, raths, sidhe mounds, fairy roads, etc. I know Marvin’s magic isn’t exactly the same as the folkloric magic, but it might be worth a shot. Maybe look for ones near Offaly, where Jack grew up.

“See, maybe that could be something,” says Jackie, pointing back at the camera. “A library that might have info for us instead of talking to any asshole magicians. We could maybe take a trip up North sometimes. Although, right now we just need to get a little settled.”

crystalninjaphoenix asked: I say its too risky to try and break into a house. For now, at least. We don't want any run-ins with police or magicians

“Thank you,” sighs Blue. “Boys, let’s go back to the bus or find a hotel. I think there are even shelters in the area, if - ”

“You know how I feel about shelters,” snaps Jackie. “Too many eyes on you. I don’t care how sweet the nuns are. Someone will notice how off we are and then Schneep’s in the psych ward or people are asking too many questions - just no.”

“Okay, geez, I get it. Let’s just keep it in mind.”

“Blue, I said no,” says Jackie, louder now.

Blue stares at him for a second, eyes hard. After a second he scoffs and turns away. “C'mon. Let’s go.”

“No,” says Jackie. “No.”

Chase glances up at them, exchanging a look with Dapper a moment later.

nikkilbook asked: Jackie, you doing okay? You’re repeating yourself, and getting a bit monosyllabic. I can see you’re looking out for your brothers’ wellbeing, and I’m really proud of you for that. Are there any other options we can talk through before actually breaking and entering, just to make sure you’ve covered all possible bases? If this is the only option then it’s the only option, and we’ll go for it. But we’ve still got some spaghetti in the pot that we haven’t thrown at the wall yet, we can take a second to see what what else might stick.

Blue lets out a deep breath, centering himself before he moves back towards Jackie and lays a hand on his shoulder, rubbing circles into his sleeve. “I know you haven’t been getting much sleep and that you’re under a lot of stress,” he says. “But I’m afraid of what would happen if the cops found us and we could get a hotel or go back to the bus, okay? What makes you not want to do that?”

“Money,” mumbles Jackie. “And the bus is not… good.”

“Good? What do you mean?”

Jackie shakes his head, eyes focused on the lock on the door.

“What’s wrong with the bus, Jackie?”

“I want a house. I’m not… I want you to have… to have a house.”

“There are more important things right now, aren’t there?”

“No.”

“Is everything okay?” asks Chase.

“Yeah, fine, sugar,” sighs Blue. “Just give us a second. Look, the cameras seem to agree with me, and they usually lead us well, yeah?”

“Hmm.”

Anonymous asked: First off, this is great communication, I'm proud of both of you. Second off, Jackie, what is it about specifically a house that is important? Can you tell us that?

Jackie winces, shaking his head. Blue’s just looking at him and so is everybody else, it feels like. He drags his eyes away from his twin’s, rocking on his heels.

Dapper looks back up at the stars, blinking through a wash of memories.

He was Anti’s first in England, and they stayed in a small home in the country where Anti broke so many laws they eventually had to run even from non-magical cops. There was an apartment in Japan and then, gaining Jackie, they moved through Italy and parts of the surrounding world in villas and townhouses and once even a castle that Anti rented just for fun, cackling as he ran his hands over the ancient strength of the walls. A cabin in Norway and an old medical building in Peru, complete with a kitchen and bathrooms and beds. A mansion in California.

On occasion they would stop in a warehouse or spend the night waiting for an airport layover. But Anti always found them somewhere stable to stay soon enough, glitching out information to make it looked like he owned the property, paying for it with stolen money, or just over-throwing cameras to keep them well-hidden. It was a talent of his. Anti always found them somewhere stable to stay.

Jackie looks miserably back at his siblings. Anti was a monster, but he could always get them food and medication and security and a place to stay if he just decided to care. He doesn’t know why he can’t do that. He pushes at the door like it will swing open and welcome him inside.

nikkilbook asked: Jackie, what is it about a house that is so important? What does a house have that a shelter/hotel/bus/tent doesn’t?

“Trying to be… good,” mumbles Jackie. “I don’t want to be a bad big brother anymore. And I hate that bus anyway. Scratchy and loud and there’s bugs and rain. I want - I want something to be ours. Mine. I just…”

He wishes Dapper had never taken him back in time and shown him that perfect little house where his whole family was healthy and happy. Where he had a room all his own and everything was neat and quiet and exactly where he wanted it. He just wants that now, now, now. He’s so tired of waiting when things never get better. He sinks down against the porch of the house, holding his head in his hands.

Blue sits down beside him.

“You told me things would be better after he died,” Jackie whispers.

“This is better!”

Jackie looks up at him, anguished.

And dammit, Blue can’t hold his gaze. He closes his eyes, letting his head thunk back against the door of that house, exhausted.

nikkilbook asked: I’m so, so sorry, Jackie. I’m sorry it isn’t better yet. I’m sorry it’s still so hard. And I’m sorry, but this house won’t be your house either. It doesn’t have your room, it doesn’t have things where you want them, and you’d have to be so careful about not leaving a trace of you and looking over your shoulder and hiding from everything still. It’s a house, but it’s not your house. And I’m sorry for that.

Jackie’s mouth tenses, his head tilted aside. He glances at his siblings just for a second. White bandages and a torn doctor’s coat. Hollow faces and circled eyes. Mussed hair and faded, worn-out shoes.

He thinks he understands why Dapper always used to call them ghosts.

He had hoped revelations like that would stop after they cut their infection out, but the wound that festered is still lying in their flesh, barely even wrapped up, still oozing blood. He wonders if maybe that wound will still kill them.

“Jackie,” says Blue, that firm, warm hand on his shoulder again. “Don’t get too deep in your head. I need you right now, okay? We - ”

Jackie gets up and breaks the lock in one vicious shove of his arm. Blue jerks back, mouth gaping.

“No, it’s not my house,” says Jackie calmly, dropping the broken handle. “But we’ll stay here for a couple days. Come on.”

“Ro!” snaps Blue. “Are you kidding? The cameras and I both said - ”

“I’m the one in charge!” screams Red, whirling on him.

Silence in the garden. Chase and Henrik stare at him with huge eyes. Dapper might be laughing, splayed across Chase’s lap, his chest shaking and a manic grin on his mouth.

“I’m big brother. I make the decisions. Not you. Not the cameras,” says Jackie, taking one cold step towards his twin. “So I want everyone to stop acting like I don’t know what’s right for them. I can be a better brother than Anti, fuck! I’m in control and you’re the caretaker. That’s what you do. So how about, instead of questioning me, you get my brothers inside and take care of them because that’s your damn job.”

Blue’s hands are clenched, his teeth gritted. He seethes even as his eyes water up. Jackie turns away from him, mouth only trembling for a moment.

“What if I don’t?” spits Blue.

“You will,” Jackie answers sharply.

He does not look back as he disappears into the house.

nikkilbook asked: Hey Jaimer, a thought for you: do our cameras have a viewport you could look through? Or ways for you to take a picture and what we see? What are we, like a GoPro or a DSLR or something? I remember we sent you a picture of a shaggy highland cow once, back in Peru.

If there is a way for that to work, the next time you see Anti, point us at him and take a picture. This might not work the way it works with other people’s hallucinations, since Anti’s code is part of why we exist in the first place, but it’s worth a shot.

And Jaimer? Next time he shows up, tell us what he’s doing. Specifically, tell us how he’s interacting with your brothers, if at all. And then tell us how you think he would have interacted in the past, before the forest. I almost wonder if having somewhere to write this down would be helpful. For science, ya know?

“I saw him just now,” answers Dapper dreamily. “Did you see him? He was yelling at my brother.”

Anonymous asked: Family isn't a job. Family isn't a cast list of roles to play and those roles only. Your decisions are your own but they make their own decisions too. Sometimes you need to make decisions together, and most often, you'll need to compromise. But forcing your decisions to override everyone else's in the name of family due to a familial "rank" ... That doesn't sit right, Jackie. What you want, what you need, and what you have might not align right now, but rash decisions and clashing amongst yourselves won't achieve those goals any faster.

“No, this is how things are!” shrieks Jackie, striking the wall with his palm and making Henrik jump. “That’s how it goes, that’s what we do, that’s what it is, don’t - don’t try to change every - just - you don’t get to tell me - ”

“Stop fucking yelling!” screams Blue, charging into the house after him. “You are scaring my little brothers!”

They stare at each other, both panting, stances poised. Jackie sucks in one harsh breath and turns to rush away from him, shoving into the first bedroom he finds and slamming the door shut behind him.

Blue shakes in the doorway, swallowing hard, tears dripping down his face. He turns to look back at the others. All three of them stare at him in silence.

“It’s okay now,” says Blue.

They’re all just blank-faced and quiet, looking at him or picking at the grass. He supposes they’re just used to it by now. Or at least that they know how to keep a low profile and bury their panic until it’s safe to let out.

Fuck, they are fucking all this up.

“Let’s go, guys, come on.”

And they get up and follow him in.

Anonymous asked: Oof. Jackie, I understand you're stressed and overwhelmed and things are bad... but maybe take a second look at that interaction. Not now, maybe, but just... at some point in the future. And just... remember that you're all more than your "roles."

“Yeah, not now,” whispers Blue, helping his brothers pick up their bags. “Not now. That’s why he ran off. Cause he knows he’ll just yell and get angrier, cause he can’t take it right now and he knows himself well enough. He’s just trying to protect us from his own temper. He didn’t mean to yell.”

“I think we have a lot of problems,” says Chase steadfastly.

Blue laughs weakly. “What gave it away?”

“But we don’t really work on them.”

“What?”

“We have to talk about all this at some point,” says Chase.

Blue closes his eyes, sighing. “Amata… Jackie really needs some structure. Once we’re settled - ”

“Yeah, once we’re settled, once we’re medicated, once we’re safe, whatever,” mutters Chase, sliding an arm around Henrik’s shoulders and walking towards the door. “I get it.”

“None of us are stable enough to have big conversations right now, Chase!”

Chase looks back at him, and Blue sees that frustration in him, that exhaustion. Blue reaches out, worried for him, and touches his cheek, letting their eyes meet.

Something odd happens in that moment. Blue isn’t sure what when he looks back. But Chase’s expression changes - his eyes blink and then glaze just a little, and his body relaxes, and his mouth goes soft and quiet.

“Yeah. Maybe you’re right. Just… well, tomorrow’s another day.”

Blue frowns, drawing back from him as he moves towards the house. “Um. Yeah. Right. Tomorrow.”

Dapper’s at his side, looking up at him. “Something the matter?”

“What, on top of everything?” he grouses.

Dapper doesn’t answer, and Blue turns to him in apology, putting his arm around his shoulder in mimicry of the twins. “Come on. Let’s get you some sleep. Doing okay?”

“Fine,” signs Dapper flatly, and his face is as blank as his signs, his body stiff and twitchy. Blue knocks their heads together for a moment, sighing.

“Tomorrow I’ll see about getting you to see a clinician. If our identities are in the health care system we can go right to an urgent care place. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Anonymous asked: Jackie, the difference between you and Anti, while it partially lies in powers, is that you chose to care. Most of the time Anti didn't chose to care for you all. He treated it like love and stability was something you had to "earn". You know that's not true though, I can tell. You want to protect them simply because you love them, and you care very much. You can do this, you're strong and resilient, and you love with all your heart. You can make it through this darkness, Jackieboy Man.

He’s tense in the darkness of an unfamiliar house, and he’s already awake by the time he hears the crying in his doorway.

“Blue… hey, I’m… I’m sorry…”

He rubs at his eyes, turning over to see the silhouette of his twin slinking towards him in the darkness and pausing anxiously at the foot of his bed.

“I know you are, Rose,” he sighs, making room in the bed. “I know. Come on, then.”

Jackie crawls into bed beside him and wraps around him like an octopus, still fully dressed, burying his face in Blue’s shoulder. He cries into his shirt for long minutes, contrite and exhausted, repeating apologies again and again: “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you. I’m sorry I yelled. I’m not good at this. I’m a bad brother.”

“You’re not a bad brother. Just worn out. I know. I know.”

He’s run out of energy for anger. Honestly he isn’t even that concerned for Jackie right now. Too tired to feel much else but this deepset and painful apathy. He stares up at the ceiling and rubs Jackie’s back.

“Are we failing at this, Blue?” whispers Jackie after long minutes, when his crying has trailed off and his breathing is steady. “Weren’t we supposed to save them from all this? Wasn’t that the plan?”

Blue doesn’t know what to say.

“We’ll get through this, Ro,” he answers finally, because you don’t always have to believe in comfort to pass it on. “We’ll get through the darkness.”

They spend the night side by side.

nikkilbook asked: Jaimer... which brother was he yelling at?

There’s a figure curled around a mug on the back porch of the home, blowing carefully on his tea as he waits for it to cool. “Does it matter?” he signs shortly, setting the mug beside him. “He’s always gone again when I come to. Or look through the cameras, like you said…”

He picks up the little camcorder and gazes out at the trees, one eye pressed to the sight. “See? Now all the monsters are invisible. Just talking to me, that’s all they do.”

nikkilbook asked: Hey Jaimer—do you remember in Peru, I think right after Christmas, after Jackie got in trouble, when your meds were still super weird? I remember you playing a game with yourself and talking to Bro Average, and you kept talking to/about your brothers and saying they were ghosts, that Anti had killed them. That’s why you got so upset with Red at the gas station, because you felt like he had killed Jackie, that he was more Anti than Jackie now.

When you see Anti now, what happens to your other brothers? Do they stay and he’s separate from them, or does he take their place? Is it like at the front door just then, where he was yelling at your brother? I believe that you see him. I believe you more and more each time.

I have a thought that I’m still putting together, and I was wondering if you remembered.

Dapper pauses, staring away from you. His blue eyes have morning light in them. He takes a pensive, tired sip of his tea, steeping the bag up and down, up and down, before setting it aside again.

“I don’t usually see him as himself. He doesn’t appear with a bleeding throat or mismatched eyes or the black clothes and gauges. My proud, vain twin. Sometimes he comes to me like that when I’m alone, but usually… no, I don’t see him like that.

I can’t tell where he is, you know? He’s hiding somewhere. Under someone’s skin. He whispers to me all the time so I know he’s close. But where is he hiding? He changes. Somedays he’s wearing Blue or Red or Trick or even Dok, when he’s quiet, and I see his eyes fixate on something cold or very red. But mostly I think he’s in all of us, and if he really wanted to make me hurt someone, he could still do it. I’m not in control. Just voices, and I can’t find JJ under Dapper and Anti and Carver and all the other monsters who have eaten me up over the years. I think JJ did die. I’m not sure if the others did - Jackie and Marvin and Chase and Henrik. Sometimes I see them, but only acting sometimes like themselves, and sometimes it’s Anti pretending, so who’s to say? Everybody’s always talking to me. Sometimes Red is right beside me but Jackie is yelling in my ear, screaming that he’s going to save me, that he’s going to save the both of us, that we’ll go home. But the radio is so loud too…”

Dapper rubs at his forehead for a second, expression vaguely pained. “I’m losing it. I’m losing my mind again. I always do. Crazy Dapper.”

nikkilbook asked: Have you ever heard the poem “The Future”? The poet, Neil, he talks about all the irrational things he’s done because of his mental illness. That particular poem he mentions being bipolar, but in a different poem he mentions schizophrenia. There’s this one particular stanza that has always stuck with me—

They keep telling me seeing things that aren't technically there

is called "disturbed cognitive functioning." I call it

"having a superpower." Once, I pulled over on the 110 freeway

and jumped out of my old Jeep because I saw it burst

into flames twenty seconds before it actually burst

into flames.

I’ve had this theory for the last several months, or maybe since I first heard that poem years ago. I’ve heard that part of schizophrenia is that sensory information goes in, something scrambles, and a completely different message makes it to the “this is what’s what” part of the brain. And I’ve wondered, what if the message that comes out the other side is still trying to tell you something about your environment that is rooted in reality? Like, if my sensory receptors smell smoke or oil or hear something or see something, and my brain can’t figure out how to translate that into Swahili so it just starts pantomiming and trying to get the point across by coming up with a visual hallucination.

And I don’t want to be the reason you completely clock out from reality. It’s like I told Jackie—if my brain sends a red alert, it is trying to warn me of something based in reality, but that doesn’t mean that reality actually warrants a red alert. I just wonder what it is you’re noticing around you that influences what you see.

We know there’s an echo of Anti left behind in us. We’ve seen him. I made him disappear in a poof because he’s been reduced to a couple of pixels and the emotional maturity of a toddler. He has no power in us—he can’t turn us off or direct our gaze.

But I think maybe there’s an echo left in each of you, too. And sometimes it comes out.

“Sometimes my delusions and hallucinations are pieces of real warnings,” Dapper signs gently, the wind brushing against that slightly-overgrown hair at his nape. “Maybe sometimes I do see pieces of him still alive in them. A part of me would like that, but I usually see him in anger, mocking me, shouting, losing his temper, making threats. I guess when you come down to it that’s the echo he left me.”

It burns in JJ’s eyes for a second, angry and hurt.

“I always knew he was a monster. But he was the monster that was real and tangible and predictable in a sea of terrors I could never get a read on. Because some of my hallucinations and delusions and psychosis - they come no matter how safe and cared for I am. The big red monster who stares at me from the closet, the birds that pick at my face and my legs in my sleep, the over-powering paranoia that everything in the world wants to hurt me - they don’t connect to anything. They’re just my brain. Just my psychosis. Just my demons. And those won’t leave me even if I could convince myself my brother is dead.”

A bitter sip of his tea, full of sugar. He closes his eyes.

It’s now that pounding footsteps come racing towards the door, and Blue races out onto the porch, yelping as he almost trips over his youngest brother. “Dapper! Red’s gone. Have you seen him? Oh, fuck.”

Anonymous asked: Blue, JJ, be kind to each other and be mindful of each other. You're both dealing with Anti's death in very different ways, and it could result in arguments or in-fighting, when what you both need most right now is a brother to be there for you.

“Blue,” signs Dapper, tugging on his shirt as he tries to race away from him. “Wait, wait.”

“What?” snaps Blue, whirling on him. “What, where’s my brother?”

Dapper sinks in on himself, his expression torn somewhere between timid and dangerous, a unique cocktail he’s perfected over the years. “He just went for a run, Blue. He’s fine.”

“Oh, so I have to break into a house when he tells me to but he’s allowed to go off for a run without telling anybody whenever he wants?” shouts Blue, advancing on him. “How does that fucking work, huh? Tell me that, Dapper.”

“He told me,” signs Dapper, shrinking away from his sibling.

“I mean someone who could do something about it if he was in trouble,” Blue shoots back.

Dapper looks away, burying himself in his tea. Blue stands shaking for a moment, his hair askew and his face still lined with pillow indentations, before he glances down at your message and feels guilty. A deep breath enters him automatically and he sinks down on the porch, sighing out again as he sits.

“I didn’t mean that,” he says.

“You did,” answers Dapper calmly. “You’re right. I’m useless right now.”

“Dapper. You’re not.”

“Yeah? What am I good for then?”

Blue stares at him, face heated with embarrassed regret. “You don’t have to be good for something, baby.”

“Stop calling me baby!” signs Dapper, striking his hands together hard. “I’m not your goddamn baby!”

They fall into shocked silence, both surprised by their own behaviors.

“Sorry,” whispers Blue after a moment.

“Me too,” signs Dapper. “You and Red just have such bad tempers lately.”

“I… I know. I’ll try harder.”

Anonymous asked: Chase is right though. There are so many issues plaguing your family right now, you're all exhausted, traumatized, messes. You need to talk things out when you get the chance. Holding back all these feelings from each other will only drive you apart and make things more difficult. Check up on each other and be willing to listen. I know it sounds like a broken record, us cameras, but maybe the reason for that is that some of us know a thing or two about healing, and we care about you in a way that makes us want to help. You boys need each other badly. Don't let your family be torn apart over miscommunication and hidden emotions.

The door behind them creaks meekly open and a tousled head of yellow-brown hair appears behind them.

“Guys?” asks Chase softly. “What’s the yelling about?”

Blue beckons his little brother forward, and of course Henrik follows after him, eyes lighting up a little at the wind and the smell of last night’s rain. He tries to walk down the porch and Chase pulls him gently back, sitting him down on the swing chair and rocking them both along, until Henrik’s gaze is fixed on the movement of their feet.

“How’s he?” asks Blue.

“Mh,” hums Chase, carefully re-adjusting a bandage on his twin’s cheek. “Slept good. Bruises fading a little. Does not like waking up to fighting, though. It makes him shake.”

Blue closes his eyes, shaking his head. “Yeah. Okay. Maybe you were right.”

“About what?” asks Chase. “What, me? What was I right about?”

Blue chuckles, running his hands over the smooth wood of the porch. “I guess we all need to talk, huh?”

Chase glances at Dapper, who hides against his tea again, blinking up at him.

“Okay,” says Chase. “Let’s talk.”

nikkilbook asked: My dudes, Not-a-Therapist here, but in all honesty—you need some kind of first step. You’ve got plans that are twenty miles down the road, and I don’t think you even know WHICH road. You’ve got a couple milestones here and there that might maybe point you in the right direction, but you don’t have a first step. Which is why you are in someone else’s house with a busted doorknob now.

I’m seeing two threads here: get your brains screwed back on right, and get to your mirror house. They’re interconnected, but I don’t think you should wait on one before you start on the other. You need some kind of first step, something that will point you even vaguely in the right direction.

I don’t know, maybe you AREN’T in a space where you can have huge heavy conversations, but you can have small ones. Chase and Jackie had one like a day ago. You need professional help, but that doesn’t mean you can’t start working on some of this yourself.

I’m worried about what will happen if you don’t. You’ve each got a little Anti left inside you, I think, and I don’t know what happens if you don’t figure out what to do with it.

“I think that’s a really good idea,” says Blue, getting to his feet. “We need to know where we go from here. We need a plan.”

He moves into the house even as Jackie appears down the path from the trees, fully hoodied and gloved even in the heat, the heel of one of his torn old running shoes flapping beneath him. “Hey,” he calls, surprised to see them all up and together. “What’s going on? See you made yourself at home, Dap.”

Dapper sips vengefully at his tea. “You’re the one who broke in, mister. And this is real tea. Finally.”

Jackie laughs and pats his head as he passes, meeting his twin in the doorway, his face ruddy and bright from the exercise and the freedom, still as refreshing as it was the day he burned his faux brother to ash. “What are we doing, Azul?”

“We’re talking about our plan from here, honey,” says Blue, plucking at his twin’s dog tags for a second before sitting down on the steps beside Dapper again. He’s fetched a few napkins and a pen. “We want to decide at least our first steps for what we need to do for ourselves and what we need to do to get back home.”

“Don’t worry about it, dude,” says Jackie, plopping onto the swing beside Henrik and Chase. “I got a plan.”

“And what is that?”

“I got some ideas,” says Jackie, frowning slightly. “We can talk about it together, just the two of us.”

Blue blinks around at his brothers, but nobody else protests.

Anonymous asked: Uhhhhhh you sure about that 'just the two of us' bit, Jackie? I mean, we're trying to stick together, right? Y'all are a unit, you need to work with each other.

Jackie throws his hands up for a second, glancing uncomfortably around and you and his siblings in turn. “Blue, can we talk about this for like, two seconds?”

And Blue’s mad.

Blue’s mad, so mad it hurts in his chest, so mad he recognizes the emotion, a moment later, as pure grief for something Anti took from his brothers.

Why won’t Chase or Dapper say anything when Jackie does that? Why didn’t they say anything yesterday when he and Jackie were arguing about where to stay without asking them once what they wanted to do? Is that part of the reason Henrik is so far away from them now, because no one was listening anyway? How long did it take Anti to convince the youngest three that they couldn’t make their own decisions?

“No, Jackie,” he says, meeting his eyes directly. “No. We’re all in this mess as a family, so we’re going to deal with it as a family. Why are you so opposed to all of us figuring this out, huh?”

“Blue,” says Jackie, a little sharper. “Please just come talk to me for a second.”

“Why don’t you tell your little brothers why you don’t respect their opinion instead of expecting me to keep your secrets for you?”

“I respect - ”

“Do you?”

“Fine!” shouts Jackie, striking the swing so hard that Henrik grips the armrest tight. “I’ll tell them if you want! All three of you are too fucking fragile, alright? All you should have to do right now is heal because you can’t handle anything else! Chase and Dapper have both tried to fucking kill themselves in the last year and Henrik is barely even there anymore! You’re broken the fuck in half and I’m not going to stop taking care of you now just because he’s gone!”

The silence is so deeply strained that Blue is surprised that all five of them don’t break out into a cold sweat. The birds sing and they glance at each other, stare at the wood of the porch, or pretend the others aren’t there. Jackie keeps Blue’s gaze, too long, too intense, before crumpling back against the swing, closing his eyes.

And Blue just wishes - Chase, say something. Dapper, say something. Henrik, wake up for a moment, please.

But Chase is quiet and Dapper drinks his tea as Henrik rocks himself, gently, on the swing.

“I’m in charge,” says Jackie, voice trembling. “I am, I make the decisions, I’m in control. Blue helps. But the rest of you… fuck. Please just get better. Please. Cause I can’t watch you collapse in on yourselves again. I already… already lost Dok.”

“Not lost,” whispers Chase.

Dok rocks. Rocks. Rocks. Smiling faintly, his eyes faraway.

nikkilbook asked: Jackie, everyone needs to be in on this. You’re all brothers—and, if I may be so blunt—none of you are actually twins. That was an invention of Anti’s to make you codependent. There is no inherent division between you, and everyone needs to be equally involved in what the plan is. And it’s not just the “find the house” plan, here. It’s the “find out who the heck y’all are now” plan. You’re brothers, and you’re equals. You’re all adults, capable of making decisions, and you all deserve the agency to make those decisions, especially after who knows how long with Anti taking that away from you. You know this, Jackie. It’s just like with Jaimer at the airport. Just because you’re big brother and you’re looking out for them doesn’t mean you get to control them or keep them in the dark. Remember, Jackieboy—you love by telling the truth.

There’s a slight rearing back from the camera from the four oldest, while Dapper just fixes his haunted eyes on you, mouth taut.

“Hey, hold on,” laughs Red nervously. “I am Blue’s twin. Always.”

Blue chews on the end of his nail, looking at the grass. “But not literally.”

“What’s the difference?” snorts Red, shaking his head. “We don’t remember anything before Anti reset us and we’re pretty much identical.”

“But so are all of us,” adds Blue.

“Look, this is the way things are,” says Jackie, his anger turning more and more rapidly into distress. “Why are we trying to change things? You’re my twin, and Dok and Trick are twins, and Dapper’s the little brother, okay? And I make the decisions when Anti’s not around. That’s how it goes. That’s how it goes!”

“Ro,” protests Blue. “Look, I know you got used to us living one way, but it was a monster who taught us to live like that.”

“I don’t care,” snarls Jackie, his eyes starting to burn. “I don’t care, that’s - that’s how things are. That’s how they are!”

Blue rubs at his face, shaking his head. The others are beginning to notice something wrong now too, Chase laying his hand on his older brother’s shoulder. Jackie pushes him away, his fists clenching and unclenching.

“You’re just parroting things Anti told us,” says Chase. “I don’t think you even believe that I’m too dumb or broken to make my own decisions, and I think you already knew we weren’t all biologically twins. I think that’s just the way things have always been.”

And Jackie does not like change. Blue grits his teeth as Jackie strikes the swing a second time, scaring Henrik again.

“Jackie, you have to stop. We can’t keep doing this day after day. You have to stop. I don’t know what to do to help you be less overwhelmed. I know making change is hard but - ”

“Stop telling me what to do,” protests Jackie, his shouting turning into whimpers. “Stop, stop. That’s not how this goes.”

He clutches his head, eyes squeezed shut. Chase reaches for him again and Jackie shoves him away, drawing a gasp out of Henrik.

“Stop cause you’re scaring Dok,” says Blue firmly. “Jackie, take a break.”

Jackie seethes through his teeth, eyes still closed, and for a second Blue thinks his brother is going to lose it again, lashing out, wild and out of control, but Jackie just sinks to his knees on the porch and curls down over himself, his forehead against the wood, bowing to the forest and hugging his knees.

“Okay, let’s just breathe for a second,” whispers Blue. “Okay. We’re okay.”

nikkilbook asked: Not sure how else to say this, but yes, you are messed up. That would be the trauma. The pathways and frequencies in your brain have been significantly altered because your brain has stored a whole mess of memories in unhealthy places, and that’s on top of the atypical wiring your brain already had. Regular stimuli goes in and who the frick knows what’s coming out the other side. It’s hard, and it’s upsetting, and yeah, it’s messed up. It’ll be okay—we’ll make sure of that—but that doesn’t make it less messed up in the moment. Jesus rose on the third day, but he was also kinda dead for the other two.

“Do… you guys really think Dok is just… lost?” asks Chase weakly, when long minutes of slow breathing have passed, and the wind has been the only one speaking.

Blue opens his mouth with optimism, because it’s his job to comfort Chase, to reassure him, to make him feel better -

No. That was his job. Now he’s his equal. His sibling. His friend. And maybe he needs to be a little more honest, not just for Chase’s sake, but for his own, because he thinks this despair might just eat him alive if he keeps it in any longer.

“No.”

He sees the movement of Dapper signing in his periphery and blinks as he realizes that a moment of silence from him and Red has allowed their youngest brother to speak.

“No, he’s still Dok. Henrik. He’s still him.”

Chase blinks at him, moved more than he thought he would be. “Really?”

“Yeah,” knocks Dapper a little shyly, shrugging his shoulders. “I know what it’s like to just be stuck in your own head. To be stuck in your room or in your catatonia or in your fear. But it’s still you. You just have to do what you have to do to protect yourself. Dok hid because he was strong enough to find a way to protect himself. He didn’t give in. He hid, but that’s not weakness. Sometimes all you can do is survive another day.”

Jackie hears himself let out a shuddering breath. That’s something he understands, at least. Sometimes all you can do is survive, even if you fail at every other thing you wanted to do and be. Even if you can’t even speak or take care of yourself or connect with the world anymore. Survival is strength too. Henrik is surviving.

Chase touches Henrik’s chin gently, trying to get his attention, fleeting though it might be, and Henrik gazes back at him, quiet and calm. There’s no message in his eyes and no words in his mouth. But after a long moment, his hand rises slightly and, as if by instinct, presses against the muscles of Chase’s shoulders just like he always used to do, to ease his pain through the long night.

“I do still see him,” murmurs Chase. “But I’m just scared that… maybe he’ll be like this for the rest of his life.”

Jackie has slumped back against the door to the porch, exhausted.

“I guess we’re all pretty fucked up right now,” Chase offers weakly, and faint laughter comes from his siblings, all gathered together.

“We’re all a little messed up,” says Blue. “Even big brother?”

Jackie snorts, rubbing at his face. “Yeah. Definitely.”

“And maybe everyone should have some help making decisions, not just little brothers?”

Jackie tries to smile for his sake, looking away. “It’s going to take me some time to get there, if that’s what you want.”

“I know you want the others to be allowed to be themselves again,” Blue entreats him, scooting closer to him on the porch. “What if that starts with us letting them make some of their own choices? Even if you are a good leader - and dammit, Jackie, you are, you really are - we still have to make sure that we don’t do what Anti did. We have to start seeing each other as equals again. As capable despite what we’ve been through.”

“Then I’ll do it,” mumbles Jackie, but under his breath, he adds: “It might just kill me, but I’ll do it.”

“Maybe this is what it is to be dead for three days before you can rise,” says Dapper. “For all of us. Darkness before dawn. Or winter before spring?”

“And a beautiful summer afterwards,” sighs Chase, looking out at the green trees and cool sky.

“Well,” Blue says, clicking his pen and settling himself down there in the middle of all his brothers. “If Dok is this way forever, then we’ll take care of him. But in the meantime, I think we should try everything we can. What if we just started our plan - our one step - with what Dok needs. That’s something we can all work on together, right? One thing we can do this week for Dok, and what we should aim for in the future. What do we think?”

crystalninjaphoenix asked: Well that's... a lot. But, believe it or not, I think it's good to get these feelings out in the air, even if this wasn't the most... delicate way of going about it. And please, please take care of yourself, too, Jackie.

“I want to stop scaring Henrik,” says Chase, sudden and loud, and when everyone looks at him, he sinks back again, squishing his shoulder to Henrik’s.

“Like… the yelling?” asks Blue.

“Yeah, like the yelling,” sighs Chase. “And the hitting stuff when we’re angry. And being loud or angry around him. I know he seems so spaced out - I know that - but I can tell he still gets scared. Last night when it rained, he was thrashing around and crying, and I could just think about him abandoned out on that porch, chained up in the rain or the heat while the bugs ate at him and Anti just… attacked him again and again.”

Chase turns away, teeth gritted, pressing his face against Henrik’s shoulder. His brother rocks, rocks, rocks, and for once - for the first time in a long time - everyone else is quiet as they wait for a brother to speak.

“So I wish we could stop the yelling,” continues Chase meekly, when he’s ready. “And the lashing out. And fuck, Jackie, I know you try so hard with your temper, man, and Blue, I know you have some shit going on too, and Dapper sometimes gets a little out of control when he’s psychotic or triggered, but guys, we just have to set down some rules, cause this is too much.”

“I don’t like the yelling either,” Dapper adds. “None of you listen to me when you’re yelling. Sometimes you won’t even look over because you can all be loud and I can’t, not like that. Everyone stops paying attention to me. And it’s hard enough for me to keep track of everything I hallucinate hearing when things are quiet, let alone when everyone’s screaming. So I think that when we’re angry, we should sign instead of speaking out loud. When we start to get angry at all, we should sign. Less scary for Dok. Less loud for me. Easier to stay calm for everyone.”

Jackie is staring at Dapper, eyes wide. The look in his eyes could, at first, be mistaken for awe that his little brother could contribute like that, or shock that he spoke up at all, but if you look at him closely, you will see that look for what it is - recognition of a brother he has met once or twice before, clever, competent, talented Jameson. The same man who cleaned him up after a gunshot wound in Colombia or lead him carefully through a past he had forgotten or shared his pain for so long before they found the others.

But there is still the fear underneath. How long until he loses himself again? When will it become too much for him? I have to protect him so I never have to see him in pain again.

And operating within the system Anti forced onto them is the only way he remembers to do that.

“Dap,” says Blue. “That’s a really good idea.”

“Yeah, I’m up for it,” says Chase.

And Jackie’s little brothers all look at him, because despite the temper, despite the fear, despite his desperate clinging to the system he was taught with blood and pain for so long, they still trust him to be their leader.

Fuck, he would die for them in a heartbeat.

“Yes,” he says. “It’s a really good idea. Please remind me if I get angry and forget to do it. I’m sorry for my freak-outs. I love you all.”

nikkilbook asked: Hey, guys—have we considered giving Schneep an AAC board? Like, nothing too terribly complex, maybe just yes and no to start with, but I have a feeling. Judging by what I’ve seen so far, it’s like parts of his brain and personality and fine motor skills have gone to sleep, for protection, but he still responds to certain things including the cameras. I looked it up, and Esteban, from his book, is a twin who lost his brother and whose well-intentioned choices always seemed to backfire. I think he can still recognize things on a conceptual level. He may not always use it, but it gives him the option of a voice.

“Does he still respond to things?” asks Blue. “You said he was scared of the rain.”

“Yeah, he responds to, like, stimuli,” says Chase, frowning. “But I don’t know about communicating. He doesn’t nod or shake his head when I give him options or anything like that. He kind of smiles at me when I talk to him sometimes, like he can tell someone’s talking to him, but he just doesn’t know what they’re saying or what’s going on.”

“Well… maybe we could start with more yes and no questions,” suggests Blue. “Try to get him back in the habit of responding. And then maybe a board with pictures? And we can do things like give him options and show him the options? We need to get him responding again if we can.”

“If we think the problem is that he’s still hiding because of what happened to him, then we need to get him feeling safe again,” says Jackie. “Which means having enough to eat and finding a stable home.”

“Those are kind of long-term things,” says Blue. “Is there something we can do right now other than signing instead of yelling?”

“I say we stop beating around the bush and skip to the obvious,” says Jackie stubbornly. “He needs a brain scan and a psychologist. I was planning to take him as soon as I check that we have fake identities set up in the health care system. And that those identities aren’t, you know, going to get us arrested when we show up.”

“Can you do that today?” asks Chase hopefully.

“Sure. I’m already in the wifi. Only thing is I’ll need to use that, uh, phone.”

“The one that was in Anti’s room?” asks Blue nervously. “It could still have stuff of his on there.”

“I know,” sighs Jackie. “But I don’t have any other means of checking and we can’t afford a new phone right now.”

“It’s important that we get some health care, for sure. Just… be careful, okay?”

“Won’t the doctors be suspicious of all his cuts and bruises and everything if we get him checked out?” asks Chase.

“That’s a good point,” says Blue. “Cause we all need physicals. None of us are in great condition. Jackie at least has been working out.”

Jackie perks up from his weariness for a second, puffing his chest up a little and sitting up.

“We can all go to different doctors. That will help ease suspicion.”

“But… what do we tell them about all these scars and injuries and everything?”

nikkilbook asked: it’s weird, Jackie probably wouldn’t tell Chase or Henrik if they asked. But he’s looking at his little brother and thinking about how Jameson was taught not to speak about this sort of thing and that affection and support are petty and ridiculous and stupid, and he feels like he owes it to JJ to look at him as his complete equal and give him the full truth.

so he just melts

and starts telling JJ everything that’s on his mind, everything that scares him, sinking in on himself, knowing he looks weak, and JJ gets this bizarre though “huh, we’re actually the exact same height, I always thought he was taller than me??” and then five minutes in they’re going “oh, i totally feel the same way sometimes” and “wow i get that too and it’s like i want to yell at my brain to stop freaking out because I KNOW how stupid it is - ” “ - but I just can’t! yeah, exactly! what the FUCK, brain??” and they’re kind of laughing and kind of shaken and kind of have never trusted each other more and eventually Jackie falls asleep against JJ’s shoulder and Jameson gets to be the one who’s on watch, who’s on guard duty, waiting for Chase to come home and Henrik to need him and making sure that Jackie’s okay. and it’s empowering for him as a person, and teaches him a lot about healthy coping and friendship, and he’s never been more devoted to Jackie, because while Anti demanded this overwhelming adoration, Jackie is willing to trust JJ in return. and JJ recognizes it, immediately, as a better kind of love than anything Anti ever asked for - love that shares, trusts, validates, love that knows how to show weakness sometimes.

Jackie’s eyes fall, ashamed, while Blue and Chase continue to exchange options. For a moment, he looks up, and there’s Dapper looking at him.

“Do you really think that I’m too broken to be my own anymore?” Dapper signs, and Jackie realizes that there’s nothing accusatory in the question, nothing demanding. He’s really asking.

Jackie bites his lip, looking away again.

“Dapper… it’s my job to look after you. You’re so sick… could you live on your own right now?”

“Could you?” Dapper answers.

Oh.

Jackie sits back for a second, blinking.

Oh. He couldn’t. No.

He stares at Dapper, open-mouthed, and his little brother stares back, grief in his eyes.

“So what’s the difference then?” asks Dapper wearily.

Jackie rubs his face. He has to decide if he really wants to say what he’s thinking or if he should let it go. But they’re trying to be honest, right? Is that a form of love? Is that a form of equality?

“Dapper,” he signs. “I helped kill Anti. You didn’t.”

Pain flashes across Dapper’s face, so intense that Jackie almost reaches out to keep him from collapsing. But Dapper just jerks away from him and turns his head.

“Dap,” Jackie demands, snapping for him to look. “Dap, I just - I just need to protect you, okay? And you’re not well right now.”

“You think I don’t feel that too?” asks Dapper, eyes shining now, damp and watering. “Don’t you know that for more than a year now all I have wanted is a chance to take care of one of my brothers? To take care of anyone? But I was stuck all alone in that room, helpless to even hold you, listening to you all scream and beg and suffer. Don’t you know how much it meant to me when Anti let me look after Chase after his attempt or when you let me bandage you when you were shot? Oh, God, all I could do was pray and survive! Jackie, do you know what I would do to have the privilege of being the big brother for just ten minutes?”

Jackie is speechless. Jackie is silent. No, he didn’t know.

“Jackie,” whisper Dapper’s hands. “Red. I don’t know if I can take care of myself or make good decisions anymore. Maybe after so long being treated like a baby, I just forgot how. And maybe I need a lot of help when I’m unmedicated. But I know one thing for sure - if you don’t start believing in me, I don’t have a chance in hell of making any progress if you want to make me your little locked-away, safe-from-the-world baby brother like Anti did.”

“I can’t see you get hurt again,” whispers Jackie, forgetting to sign now, dropping his hands. “I can’t. If I have to lock you away…”

He remembers handcuffing him in Colombia. The betrayal in his brother’s face. The grief. And worse than the grief - the acceptance of his fate. Worse than death.

“Let’s talk about this now when you’re medicated,” signs Jackie, sitting back. “For now, please let me take care of you.”

“For now, I don’t think I could do much else.”

“Okay. Kiss, hug, love.”

“Love,” Dapper signs back, forgiving. “Love, love.”

nikkilbook asked: You told Jaimer you were going for a run. You trusted him to let the others know, and to do something if something went wrong. You can let him and the others be the big brother in small things, too, like be the shield between you and a crowd when you’re overwhelmed or watch over you when you need to lie down and let the world stop for a second. Big brother doesn’t have to mean “the one who’s in active danger all the time so that the others are hidden behind he-who-is-nothing-more-than-a-shield-of-ablative-meat.” Sometimes it just means “he-who-is-doing-the-hugging.”

Jackie keeps watching Dapper even as he turns back to Blue and Chase’s conversation. He can’t focus now, not on anything but this.

It’s true, he supposes. Anti is gone. No one is here who will force him to be their shield, their protector, the attack dog. It’s freedom again, the same as when he goes for a run in the morning without being scared that anyone will punish him for it when he goes home.

But this does not feel like the running does. This is the other side of freedom.

Because if that isn’t what big brother means, then what does it mean?

If that isn’t who he is, who is he?

Too much. Too much, too much. This is not how things are supposed to be. This is not how things are. He leans back against the door and watches quietly as his brothers keep talking, distressed every moment that they will not let him make the decisions for them.

nikkilbook asked: Do you know if it would help for, when your “regular” monsters are attacking, to tell us about it? I get the feeling that maybe the others would put more of their energy into trying to tell you that they aren’t real, or that you’re safe, and from what you’ve said and what I’ve seen, that doesn’t seem to be what you need? Cuz you’re smart, Jaimer. You know they aren’t the kind of real that your brothers can see or the kind of real that will leave physical marks on your skin. But that doesn’t really matter, because they are your current reality. Maybe you can tell us about the red man and the birds and what the monsters whisper to you, and if you need reassurance that they aren’t the hurt-you-kind-of-real, you can look through our viewport.

And can you let us know what Anti whispers to you? And what he says while he is wearing the others? Because I think you might be the only one to be seeing that reality clearly.

“Okay, so for Dok we have: seeing a neurologist, letting him make some easy choices if we can, and keeping the fighting… less intense. Right?”

“Right,” says Chase, who seems to have taken a liking to the list idea, curled over Blue’s shoulder as he writes on the little napkin. “Yeah, and talking to him, just don’t talk to him like he’s dumb. He’s still there, he’s just sleeping, kind of.”

“Okay,” agrees Blue, ink seeping onto his knees as he writes against them. “Dapper, what do you think you need?”

“What?” Dapper’s drawn out of his conversation with Jackie, turning back to his siblings.

“What do you want for, like - like what’s the plan for you, you know? We’re going to go through with everybody, okay?”

“I just want my medication.”

“What, that’s it?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I’ll get an appointment scheduled once Jackie’s checked that we’re in the system. We can get that. But don’t you want to work on other stuff?”

“I can’t work on anything while I’m unmedicated.”

“That’s really not true, honey,” protests Blue. “Come on, how about telling us when you’re hallucinating?”

Dapper shrugs, closing his eyes.

“You don’t think that would help?”

“No.”

“Dapper, come on - ”

“I just need my medication,” he signs, slow and whining, looking up at Blue with those big eyes and long eyelashes, his mouth pouting. “I just need my - ”

“How about working on the fact that you still act like a fucking six-year-old?” snaps Blue, clicking the pen shut.

The childishness falls out of Dapper’s face. His mouth twitches coldly, his eyes narrowing, and he smiles, just a little. Or maybe sneers.

Blue turns away from him. He’s not guilty, not yet. He just can’t look Anti in the face like that.

nikkilbook asked: Hey, JJ—I think you’re right, we’re in addiction territory. I’m not an expert or a professional, but I did learn recently that with some drugs it’s insanely dangerous to quit cold turkey. Is there something we or your brothers could do to fill the gap until you’re a little more even-keeled and ready to make a decision about who it is you want to be?

“Just get your infant brother his fucking meds, how about that?” signs Dapper bitterly, getting to his feet. “Oh, and by the way - this isn’t me breaking down. You wait until I snap in half, Blue, and on that day you can turn away from me like I’m something you killed a long time ago.”

“You’re not going to snap in half,” mutters Blue, his irritation overwhelmed by his desire to be able to help his little brother, because he has to, because he loves him, because that’s his job. “I’ll get you whatever you need.”

“I want my brother,” cries Dapper, throwing his head back for a second. “If he’s going to talk to me all the time why can’t I just have him? Why’d you kill him, you just took away the touch of him…”

“I’ll get you your meds, Dap. I will. Okay?”

“I want my brother… How are you all going to control me when I’m really sick? Somebody has to be around to control me.”

“You can figure this out on your own with a little help,” says Blue. “Just… please help me make some goals here, okay? Please.”

Dapper stares at him, eyes hollow. Chase makes a face at him from the swing, mouthing a little plea of his own, and Dapper sinks back onto the porch, tired.

“I just want medication and to be left alone, okay? Don’t you know how much safer I feel when somebody else is… look, I just… can’t do this, can’t think, I’m tired…”

Blue bites down hard on his mouth, eyes flickering to the ground. Fuck, he couldn’t express in words how much he hates it - watching him grieve Anti, watching him act the way Anti taught him, seeing the remnants of him in his little brother. The truth is that lately, he doesn’t think he would even know what Dapper would look like or act like or speak like if he ever got rid of that influence on him. He thinks he would be a lot less fucking pathetic, that’s for sure. How can he goddamn stand to keep acting like this?

“Okay, fine, okay,” he says, because he’s the one who makes the decisions when it comes to their brothers being okay, and he knows Jackie will leave this to him. “We’ll talk about it more later. And if you just kind of need to keep pretending nothing’s changed for a while, okay. But we’re going to have to start facing this, and soon. Would you just - dammit, Dap. Can you just tell me why you even cling on to this version of yourself?”

Dapper stares off at the trees, face cool again.

“He still calls himself Blue,” laughs Anti from somewhere beside him, close as he ever was, mouth next to his ear. “He’s projecting because you two are the only ones who remember the day I killed every other version of yourselves that ever existed.”

Anonymous asked: "Big brother" has been tainted and coded by blood and pain. All of you need to unlearn many survival behaviours, but unlearning the 'big brother' system is one of the most important. You need equality and to treat each other like capable adults. None of you are above the other. Rebuild your brotherhood with good things and happy memories. You've all changed, sure, but you never had to stay the same. Make yourselves anew and build off good things! Change should be welcome and good.

“Do you want to do some goals, Jackie?” asks Blue.

Jackie meets his eyes and knows he needs him to have his back on this one. Okay, get it together. “Right,” he says. “Uh, yeah, sure. I know I got shit to work on, I always have. I just think that when my temper’s getting out of control, I just need some space. So please don’t try to follow me or anything. I’m going to figure out how to control this, but right now I just need to be gone when I’m mad. Because I never want to be… yeah, well. I’m going to get better at it.”

“Okay, yeah. We can do that, right?” asks Blue, and Chase gives him a big smile in agreement.

“Sure, Blue.”

“Thanks, angel,” purrs Blue, squeezing his wrist fondly.

Jackie fake gags and rolls his eyes. “Anyway, I also just want to keep working on the material stuff. I’m going to keep trying to find us some housing and I’ll keep food on the table, okay? I’m going to get a job!”

Blue blinks, hand falling from Chase’s wrist. “Whoa, what?”

“I was thinking like something in technology,” says Jackie. “Doesn’t have to be something fancy, we just need to get some money coming in.”

“I thought we were filing for unemployment,” protests Blue. “Maybe even disability for Dap and Dok. There’s good benefits around here. You don’t have to get a job right away, Jackie.”

“I’m going to,” says Jackie. “What are you talking about? I’m going to take care of it. I don’t want us to have to worry.”

“Well, I’ll work then,” protests Blue, sitting up straighter.

“We both can. Sure. Maybe together! I’m going to go look for jobs later. And a safer place to stay.”

Blue’s mouth feels dry. He doesn’t know why it makes him nervous. Chase sets his chin down on the top of his head and he laughs weakly.

“I just - they’re right about the big brother stuff, you know? You don’t have to - ”

“I want to,” says Jackie. “I thought you knew I wanted to do that? I want a job.”

“Um. Okay. Okay. I’ll put it on your list, then. I… yeah.”

Jackie nods firmly, uncurling from the ball he was in and smiling again. Chase looks at Blue, a worried little grin on his mouth.

“Maybe Ro’s not the only one with some big brother issues,” he mutters.

“Hey, I’m not being overprotective,” Blue grumbles back. “You keep your cute mouth shut.”

Chase laughs. “Okay, dude, whatever you say.”

crystalninjaphoenix asked: A bit of a tone issue there, Marvin, but I do agree with the concept. Dapper, acting like a kid has helped you with Anti, we know. It's a coping mechanism that's served you well in the past. But it's going to cause problems in the future. Medication is good, but it won't help you with that particular issue. And Marvin: you lash out a lot. It can hurt people. We need to acknowledge both these things in a more peaceful way before we can work on them.

“I wouldn’t lash out if you just - ”

Chase thwacks him gently in the back of the head and shuts him up.

“Hey, I think that’s really fair, saying that,” Chase agrees. “If we can come back to it for a second. A coping mechanism. Because that’s… what it becomes. As someone who’s… been where Dapper was, if not for as long. You act - you act how you have to act to get even just a mouthful of attention…”

“But - but Anti’s gone,” protests Blue. “How long will it take for that to set in with him?”

“I’m not a hundred percent sure Dapper knows that,” replies Chase quietly, dropping his voice again. “So just cut him a little slack. It’s, um. Really hard to wake up from that.”

“I was just thinking about that,” laughs Jackie. “Like when Dapper’s acting kiddish it pisses you off, Blue, but then Chase is just your lil Amata, haha. You don’t want Dapper to be a baby but Chase just acts like he’s Trick again when you two are hanging out.”

Chase and Blue both freeze in unison. Chase jerks back from Blue, staring at Jackie.

Anonymous asked: I know change is absolutely terrifying Jackie, as a fellow autistic person I know that it can feel like hell. Your brothers need you to loosen the reigns. They need to be able to think for themselves. In Peru at one point, someone asked JJ what would happen if Anti was gone. He said "Red would become the new Anti." And frankly with the way you're headed you will just become the new Anti. Give your brothers freedom to choose for themselves, like Anti never did. Be everything he wasn't for them.

“Wait, what?” shouts Red. “You said that about me? Dapper?”

“I’m not still acting like Trick,” whimpers Chase, sinking back against the swing. “I’m not, I’m - I’m being good, I’m - ”

“Amata, stop it, guys, we need to sign if we’re going to get mad or Dok will get stressed - ”

“Dapper? You think that, you really think that about me, is that - hey! Look at me at least!”

“Guys - ”

“And yeah, Chase, you do, man, come on, I thought you knew that? You don’t let Dok out of your sight and you’re still pretending like everything’s fine. You think we don’t all hear you crying your heart out at night? Then you’re just Anti’s little sunshine boy again in the morning.”

“Red! Fuck you! That’s - ”

“Don’t call me Red!”

“Okay, okay!” screams Blue, and the porch splits open as bitter milkweed bursts up from the ground. “Stop it! That’s enough hard truths for one day, just - Jackie, alone time, that’s what you said you - ”

“Yeah, I guess it is better for me to be alone,” shouts Jackie, his eyes burning. “Since you just think I’m going to - that I - fuck, don’t you know I’m sorry, I - I’m going for a run.”

“You just went for a - ”

“I said I’m going for a run!”

And he’s off like a shot even as Blue is distracted by Chase grabbing Henrik and rushing back into the house, wiping at his face frantically.

“Chase, honey.”

“I’m not your honey, Blue!”

The wind parts the grass. A cuckoo bird repeats its trill again and again. A car passes by.

Blue slumps against the door, rubbing his face.

“Well, that went great,” he whispers.

Dapper’s still there on the stairs, his head lowered and his hands clutching his ears.

“Come inside, Dap,” whispers Blue, moving towards him. “Hey, come on.”

“If I go to my room, I won’t ever come out again.”

Blue’s chest aches. He closes his eyes and presses his palms into his face, feeling almost faint.

“You do get mad at me but not Trick,” signs Dapper slowly. “Because you don’t like me.”

“No,” cries Blue, sitting down beside him. “Hey, don’t say that. I love you. Dapper! I love you, I love you.”

And he wants to hold him like he holds Chase, to grip his wrist or stroke his hair or hug him or anything, anything, but he just - he just doesn’t.

He just can’t.

He realizes a moment later that Dapper can’t either, because his pale, scarred hand is hovering in the air like he might just touch clasp Blue’s shoulder -

But he doesn’t.

He doesn’t.

And Blue doesn’t know why, but he realizes that in the end, it might just be true, this contradiction, this bitterness, this tension in the air between them. Because he loves Dapper, yes.

But fuck, does he hate him too.

Revulsion and grief wash over him in waves. Dapper stares at nothing, face dark and empty. Just the broken thing Anti left behind. Just the brother Blue didn’t save in time.

He gets to his feet and he disappears into the house.

Dapper sits in the wind. He does not move for a long time.

#chapter five

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your-jester-whimsi · 3 months ago

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my mom and i drove by my grandpa’s ranch today. my family and i used to drive there every fall and go fishing and watch the willy wonka with gene wilder.

we had our playlist on shuffle, and as we drove past, "it's your love" by tim mcgraw came on. my dad used to sing that to me when i was little to get me to sleep

i can never hear it without crying.

so we listened to it as we drove past the cabin. it looks so different and yet the same. i saw the fence i used to hop. the creek i lost my plastic fish that came with my disney princess fishing rod.

i felt so sad and bitter

i wanted to flip it off because i was so mad at him

because i loved it so much and now i can't go there because he's a jerk and we had to go low contact with him

and it's so crazy because i'm in high school and dad is retired. i always thought we would live there now.

and suddenly i was there. pink lasso, jeans and long blonde hair. and then i was back to now. i have great friends, i competed in a shakespeare competition, made so many new connections and memories, but i am still stuck in my hometown.

i cried like ten times just on the drive home

we revisited all the places we used to go when i was little- the cowboy store i bought my pink lasso and cow girl hat. i used to lasso my dog and he was so traumatized.

we drove past the burger place that always looked like diabetes but was sooo good. we tried to go to the ice cream and movie theatre spot, but it was closed and they took down the giant concrete ice cream cone. i suddenly felt all the time go by. why am i trying to grow up so fast? why do i have a list of colleges i want to go to and a list of jobs i want when i’m not even a senior in high school yet? i went through old photos of me. i was so pretty and happy for a while. then you know, life hits. i got anxiety and all that jazz. i did learn to cope though, and i’ve gotten so far.

three songs went through my head. “skinny” by billie eilish,

”but the old me is still me and maybe the real me and i think she’s pretty”

“love like you” from steven universe

”look at you go, i just adore you. i wish that i knew what makes you think i’m so special”

and “boy” by lee brice

“boy, you’re gonna hate this town, wish you could burn it down. that fire in your eyes is 20 counties wide but boy, you're gonna love 17 and boy, you'll do some stupid things you're gonna drive and kiss and throw a punch and grow up way too fast”

i wonder if she would think i’m pretty.

update i guess: my family was in the kitchen cooking for a little lunch thing with a couple friends and i am recovering from a cold so i was just in my room. my little sister came into my room and said, in a very goofy manner, “bad news, come to the kitchen for a ✨family meeting✨.” so i’m like damn okay probably just telling us to like make sure the house is clean or something. so i’m leaning against the kitchen counter while everyone is cooking and my dad finally finishes his task and says, “so i just got off the phone with grandpa.” shit what’s wrong? did he fall? is he dying? did ellie die?(a topic for another day) “he’s selling the cabin. he told me and it seems like basically a done deal.” fucking bastard. i have never held a deep resentment for a family member before except about little things, until now. i sat, trying not to cry. i didn’t say anything. what do i say? oh golly that sucks? ok? asshole? how do you respond to that? so i just stared, sipping my drink. my mom knows that would fuck me up and was like “you okay?” once i finally moved. i said yeah and left. i really really really resent him. my mom promised me that one day we’d go back there when we drove past it. but now, like my plastic fish, i doubt i’ll ever go back. how do we go forth from here? my dad’s truck has a sticker with the name of the ranch on it. i thought i was going to live there. i don’t know why i’m so upset, but god am i pissed

#chronophobia #vent #personal vent #sad #time passing #skinny by billie eilish #boy by lee brice #high school #love like you #angry #angry rant #sad rant #grandpa

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radiation-risk · 1 year ago

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Modern Monstrosities - Into the Night - 2

TWs for depictions of a wound. That should be it, but if there’s more that needs tagged, please let me know.

I wrote this before the New Year, but now that I’ve calmed down a bit from Sudden Sickness and the popularity has died down a bit, I feel safe posting this in hopes someone notices.

At home, Microphone went through the process of setting up the device on the neighbor’s internet. It was what the family used, and the neighbor didn’t care at all. In the meanwhile, she was also debating what accessories to get with the extra money she had.

She had $33.65. She had saved $310 for the device, in case she wanted to get an extra game. Looking through the monthly catalogue for Rhinestone, a popular accessory company, she stumbled across some amazing stickers.

They weren’t stars or hearts, they were dots that would go under your eyes. There were also spirals for the sides of your face that were accents for a specific seasonal set, Lollipop. Lollipop as a full set was cool, but the dots were better than the entire set. As well, there were a couple bracelets being sold to go with the collection the dots went with, Wolf Song.

Microphone loved the Wolf Song collection, especially after seeing the film. The film was about a clipboard who went to live her life free from the bounds of society and lived with wolves. She too wished she could be like Clipboard. Wolves seemed much more competent than objects.

Microphone’s mother knocked on her door. “Come in.” Microphone said, looking at the features on her new DualWield. Microphone’s mother, an synthesizer, opened the door. “I wanted to see how you were doing. I know you got that new device. Is it set up yet?”

Microphone smiled. “Yes, it’s just finishing up getting the thing I wanted downloaded.”

Microphone’s mother’s face went from a smile to a more neutral expression. “That’s just great, but I hope you understand you need to take out the trash. It’s been a few days and the trash can is getting full.” Microphone nodded and set down the DualWield.

Walking outside to take out the trash was barely an issue. Taking it out to the dumpster of the complex, she heard something rustling in the dumpster. Thinking it was just a stray cat, she reached her hand in and set the bag down.

She heard a loud yelp, and time seemed to go in an instant, ending up with Microphone having a bite on her arm. She screamed in pain, walking back up to the specific apartment she lived in.

Microphone’s father, a speaker, seemed a bit worried when she walked in. “You were screaming out there. Are you okay?” Microphone was trying to hold back tears. All that came out of her mumbled crying that was coherent was a singular “No.” She stuck out her arm, showing off the wound.

“Stray dog, I see. I’ll call up the local pound to deal with that. For now, let’s get a bandage on your arm.”

A wet rag was put onto the wound, as Microphone winced. She felt odd, somewhat dizzy even. As the rag was lifted, gauze was put over the bite, with some medical tape on each edge of the gauze to hold it in place. “I know it hurts, Mic, but stay strong. Hell, it could even be a werewolf bite.” Microphone’s father laughed it off. Microphone laughed too.

After a couple more minutes of talking, Microphone went back to her room and went to make her first animation.

#osc #Inanimate insanity #II2 #writing #II Fanfic

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clarajblogdsaa · 1 year ago

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The book, a living object! - part 2

I love going to book fair to find surprising books. My favorite kind is the one playing with book’s characteristics and materiality to tell a story. This liking compelled me to discover an interesting literature genre: ergodic literature. This designation was theorized by Espen J. Aarseth in Cybertext一Perspectives on ergodic literature in 1997 and describe books where the reader need to produce a “non-trivial” effort to go through the work. Indeed, for Aarseth, a trivial effort while reading a book is the simple action we do like turning the page or sweeping the page with our gaze as those actions are unconscious and do not disrupt the reading experience. On the other end, a non-trivial effort would be to have to turn around the book to follow its story or having to go back and forth with the pages like the narration codes from Choose your own adventure games.

One notable example of this genre is House of Leaves written by Mark Z. Danielewski, and it is by the means of Danielewski’s work that I discovered the book I want to present today. Simply titled S. this ergodic novel was written by Doug Dorst, starting from JJ. Abrams’s initial concept of an annotated book which could deliver a story within the story. S. is a black box containing a book, Ship of Theseus, published in 1949 and written by V.M Straka, the most mysterious authors of the 20th century. No one knows who he is, and many want him dead because of his political underlying, as his novels have sparked many revolutions against capitalist powers. S. looks like a library book, it has a classification tag on its spine and a return date sticker on the last flyleaf.Inside is the whole novel which is the core layer of the story. Ship of Theseus tells the story about a man who lost his memories and is kidnapped on a ship, stuck with a monstrous crew. Through this journey, he will try to uncover his memory and survive. Then the second layer of S. is F.X. Caldera, Straka’s translator. Footnotes are inhabited by Caldera’s commentary on Strakas complex ideas… The other layers are placed in the book margins. Two students talk together through the book. Jen, an undergrad student who found the book in the college library and is curious about all the mysteries around Straka’s identity and Erick, a grad student who studied the book since he was fifteen and got his thesis work on Straka stolen by his director.

A close-up view of S. with Jen and Erick handwritten notes, the novel Ship of Theseus, F.X Caldera footnotes on the bottom left and one of many ephemera, a post card. S. Doug Dorst and JJ. Abrams, 2013, Mulholland Books.

This narrative construction is a prime example of the utilization of metatextuality to showcase the rhizomatic nature of books. Precisely, S. even transcend this with the addition of transmediality to his diégèse* but first, I will address the case of metatextuality.In this novel, every element of content is implemented to establish a game of make believe as to give an thrilling adventure for the reader. Doug Dorst, the author, started by writing the entirety of The Ship of Theseus so Straka’s work appeared as an actually good book worth analyzing, then the annotation came along. As a reader, seeing the metatextual conversation of Jen and Erick convey a sense of intimacy and offer a new perspective on Straka’s mystery.The characters ubiquity thanks to the multiple temporalities and the multiple ephemera and encrypted codes give the reader all the tools to partake himself, in the solving of S. On one hand, it will encourage the reader to also write their clues and researches in the margins and on the other hand, the reader becomes part of the diégèse as The Ship of Theseus and Straka’s work is supposed to be part of our world. This experience and this blurred definition of authorship with the reader highlight the rhizomatic and living connection this book produces. Yet the last stretch this work holds is his transmediality and how it makes reality enter its diégèse and showcase its living system. In fact, the internet has disrupted quite a lot of the way artworks are perceived and interacted with. For the case of S. official forum where created to expand the book universe like some people had made a website dedicated to Straka’s work, yet readers have met there and started to discuss the mysteries of The Ship of Theseus, sharing their clues like Jen and Erick were doing! Many other creations around S. were made and as they used the book elements to talk about his mystery we can say that they are allowed into S. diégèse and are canon thus reality colliding into fiction and placing this story as a (maybe) never-ending system…

At last, I would like to reflect S. metatextuality through the lens of type design. In the original english version, “handwriting actors” were hired to give specific handwriting to Jen and Erick. This process can seem too much because of the time it takes yet its effect is powerful. This really exploits the strength and subtlety that are inherent to calligraphy. With S. story, this greatly participates in the feeling of intimacy the reader obtains and helps his dispensation of disbelief.

Detail from the french edition showacasing the script fonts choosed for the characters. The cursive one is for Jen and all caps one is for Erick.

The place in the margins of Jen and Erick's commentary is already enough for the reader to assume that within this universe, those are supposed to be real people writing notes to each other. In this manner, the use of a script type is absurd and doubting the reader's intelligence. In the initial publication of S., the handwriting participates in the game of narrative and material makes belief in the book it builds upon. As previously explained, it blurs the boundary between fiction and nonfiction mimicking what the reader could do. On the other hand, the french version uses Script typefaces…They most likely wanted to cut costs and work faster while keeping the idea of written footnotes yet those are nothing but a dealbreaker. Script typefaces already tend to look horrendous as they are very stiff and systematic which is the opposite of an actual handwriting. It makes them look uncanny and ironically more unnatural than other kinds of typefaces. Moreover they disrupt the sense of intimacy and narrative metatextuality S. deliver as it delivers cheap looking notes and by that give place for this whole process to seem like a gimmick and not an actual thoughtful narrative experience. I am convinced that a more industrial approach can be properly done simply by using typefaces that are not from the script family, but are reminiscent of the Jen and Erick personality. For example, Erick has a more stiff and nerdish communication style thus a type like IBM Plex Sans which encompasses a geometric and computer,library feeling would fit him. For Jen, as she is more snarky and cheerful yet, write delicately, a dynamic yet robust type like the Swift by Gerard Unger would be, in my humble opinion, a good fit!

IBM Plex Sans Type designed by Mike Abbink, Paul van der Laan & Pieter van Rosmalen for IBM in 2018.

Swift Type designed by Gerard Unger in 1989 for Linotype.

In conclusion, S. is a fascinating work to better feel and see how metatextuality and transmediality can be a wonderful creative tool for narration. Especially as a graphic designer, it is crucial to keep an eye on those kinds of literary projects that are able to efficiently subvert ways of reading thanks to thoughtful book design and to be wary of dubious type choices…

*diégèse is a term coined by Gérard Genette and describes the spatiotemporal universe encompassed in the story and how it is defined. What is part of the diégèse does not have to be explicitly written about in the story but rather to follow the rule of this universe.

5247 signs

Additional content:

S. video trailer to promote the story (38) S. (From J.J. Abrams and Doug Dorst - Bad Robot Productions) - YouTube

S. book trailer S. El barco de Teseo - J. J. Abrams & Doug Dorst | Booktrailer - YouTube

Doug Dorst and J.J. Abrams speech about the creation of S., 2014 J.J. Abrams & Doug Dorst Interview on S. | A Multi-Layered Book Experience - YouTube

Côme Martin speech Transmédialité et interactivité : de l'objet-livre à la fiction rhizomatique at l'ESAD, 2015 Côme Martin — Textures de l’objet livre 2015 on Vimeo

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vertical-dreams · 2 years ago

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5.30.23

All right. I wrote this out once and accidentally erased it. Here was the gist of it, for more or less.

wow, here we are

back on my bullsh*t

I don’t think I would have imagined myself right here right now.

But that’s okay.

I don’t know why I had a crush on the guy that I did (I didn’t even know him) but then again, we didn’t stray too far from the past.

I saw that guy the day before yesterday, and btw best friend, you absolutely could have. Please stop undervaluing yourself. Recognize your worth. Maybe, just maybe, go for it? (in the future, not that context! because honestly...)

So, dear friend. You’ve had a crush for about two years now on a man (... on the idea of a man. This is important.) you met twice in the late summer of 2020. It feels silly, I hope it hasn’t been a waste of time. But I guess nothing is a waste of time, it’s just shaping you into who you are (so use it wisely--or not; maybe just have fun with it). I saw him 3 days ago, on a Saturday. It was exciting. It was different than I imagined it would be. I have spent so long trying to remember what he sounded like, how tall he stood, how he acted, and when the moment came I was so overwhelmed that I didn’t notice much of it at all. He sounded more confident than when we last met, which I think was more intimidating. He said the word “porch” so oddly, in a downeastern accent (he is not from downeast). He lives in the neighboring town now, about 12 minutes away. I waved at him when he walked in the room, he waved back. My wave was eager and fast, his was slow, hesitant, awkward, in conjunction with a surprised yet mild “he-ey.” He knelt down beside his grandfather to speak to him, on one knee rather than the two I had been on in the same exact spot shortly before his arrival. I helped him move an exercise bike (well, he was helping me to move it/doing it all by himself). I got it stuck on the door and mumbled “sorry” and he said “it’s all right” or something to that effect. It was kind of awkward, and kind of sweet. I feel so far behind him. I feel like I’ve missed out on a chance for a sweet, awkward, naïve love. He turned on a light for me in a dark corner, mumbling something about “let me get that for ya.” And, as I so often do, I shied away, avoiding eye contact, not saying the thank you I had meant to. I don’t understand why I do that.

*edit: I saw him, once, twice, since then. Maybe the last I ever will. :-/ Once, in early July, on a Monday afternoon at the local grocery store (I think. Judging by the beans sticker, which was alongside a darth vader sticker and another odd symbol I could not place with multiple lines that created a triangle shape). He was carrying a brown bag out to his silver canyon. The most recent, on the fourth of August, at his grandfather’s service. I released soooo many fluids from my face holeeessss. Was in desperate need of a tissue. Could not obtain. Anywho, he had the bottom half of his head shaved. Inch-resting choice, he seemed sweet like before. I took peeks at him, seeing him wipe is eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose from above his glasses. He was wearing a blue shirt and bean boots (??? in the middle of summer). I overheard bits and pieces of his conversation with a cousin (not intentionally! I think) about his work schedule affecting throwing his sleeping schedule out of whack and about his roommate letting him... ??? maybe play in his band I couldn’t hear (not that I was trying, obviously! :-) .) He walked up beside me later on to join his sisters and my family. I smiled and he smiled back. He thanked my grandfather for being such a good friend to “Grampy,” to which my Grampy responded with a light chuckle and “my pleasure”. My grandfather mentioned the cat and our dogs being put down, and he said something to the effect of “I’m sorry” and “what happened? why did you have to put them down?” I kinda zoned out but also zoned in. idk! Before that I had also said a comment about “If you move into [his grandfather’s] house (which was supposed to be a thing!), I hope you like cats.” with a smile and he smiled and said he does. and then something about how he thought all of his grandparents cats just seemed to stumble on into that house. I smiled and the subject moved on to Buddy, but that was all that I had said. except for something about my grandfather eating too much corn, that it couldn’t be healthy for a human (but I wasn’t the one who brought that up!). He picked up flowers from the grave and brought them back to his truck (?) to go to the house. I would like greatly to see him again, many times again. Lord, may I have that chance. *

*edit no. 2* coming in hot on december 12, 2023 baby! ok so. feels weird writing this but hey it’s not like i have a ton of friends to tell so i will tell it to my empty blog instead. that was not him at the grocery store, my man drives a chevy (just a boy in a chevy truck, had a tendency of getting stuck on back roads at night) ok ok i am here. i guess a lot of guys just look like that (good for me, hello options)! sooooo i embarrassingly told his FATHER that i wanted to be his FRIEND in september and asked about him moving in. I talked about a lot of stuff, practically pulled a punisher on the guy (according to ms brittany broski--like when you corner someone at a party talking about something). so that was mighty embarrassing and I shudder at the thought that THAT is how that man will remember me by (because I might not see him again! life is strange) (but also he is just a man. so is his son. everyone is just some guy. huh). anywhooooo, i was proud of myself for doing ~something~ even if that thing was. hey. so embarrassing. that guy did move in next door btw, in like early november. annnnnnnnnd on Friday the 8th? of December, you did go talk to him. On thursday the 7th, however, you made cookies, checked to see that he was there, hyped yourself up for like 10 minutes, and went over and he was GONE but fear not, your footprints around the house stayed ❤️ but on friday you went over and knocked 4 times and said hi (hi) and asked if this was a bad time (no) and are you sure and can i *points in house* (yeah) and the house was messy and that kind of make me feel better and this man was in a gray ROBE over like some PJs and he had shaved MORE of his head so he just has like. a short little ponytail in the middle of his head? told him i had a few questions mostly about the cat -- do you know where he went to the vet? i think he said he needed shots this month but don’t know where or which ones. (no i don’t know) also do you still have the cat carrier (yes, right here and this is how it works and this one is broken but it still works etc. etc.) do you mind if i take it (no) and about the vet thing, i wasn’t sure if there was an appt set up for this month (let me check, can’t find anything) sorry for just barging in and if you find out can i just give you my number so you can text me and i don’t have to barge in again (sure, i know i have paper, here’s paper, and let me get) oh from his cup of pens (yeah haha oeeeee *bc he dropped something and squee’d*) here annnd this one is embarrassing but i’ll regret if i don’t ask... do you or your dad or your uncle have the bean soup recipe (no, that was one thing that i forgot to ask him before he left, idk i can ask uncle eddie on fb. i think it’s pretty simple) yeah but idk what the base is (i know it’s a matter of soaking the beans overnight and i think he was planning on making it again bc he had this *got into freezer and pulled out* salt pork) oh that might have been me because i was talking to him about it, but i wouldn’t have known that was in there. (yeah and there’s ham, my dad doesn’t like this so he added ham to it, too)

actually what am i doing right now i am so smart and accomplished and funny and beautiful and i am writing a blog post? all forlorn like? ridiculous. kinda sweet. but still!! anyway might as well finish because here we are

yadda yadda do you like pumpkin? (my voice was like at a whisper here, couldn’t help it, it was quivering when i was trying to talk louder) and he leans his head down, eyes up at me and says in a whisper to match mine “yes, i love pumpkin” and so i asked ‘do you want these? they are pumpkin chocolate chip’ and he said ‘yes, i would’ or something like that. then i said also another thing is you might be fine here but if you ever want to hang out sometime i am like. 30 feet that way. and i am in need of friends who still live in the state. (btw you know what response i got to that? not a ‘yeah, for sure, sounds good, etc. i got a “yeah, it’s nice to have friends so close” ... damn okay? wtf did i do to hurt you?? like seems like he might as well have said no. maybe he is just as painfully awkward as i am. or maybe i am just naïve. anyway i am like ‘okay i think that’s it’ and grab the cat carrier and head out the door. and while i’m stepping over the threshold he goes ‘oh hey, nice boots’ and i go ‘thanks! the color surprised your grandpa, he said i thought they only made those in brown, and i was like ... surprise’ (i think it was something to that effect idk) and he goes ‘yeah they make them in a lot of colors. i saw a pair that had like a teal stripe and a white like base’ and i said ‘awww, cute!!’ (thinking what a weird thing to be talking about in the doorway?) and he goes ‘do you want them? they are like a 9, 9 and a half. do you think they’d fit?’ and i go ‘probably not. i got big ol’ feet cuz i’m a big ol’ girl’ (hey love. checking in. why did you say that? whatever, it was kinda cute in a very you way) and he laughed with his nose scrunched and his head turned to the left and then i said ‘bye!’ and he said bye and that was it. and just as when i was walking in, as i was walking out the wind blew and a light dusting of snow fell from the tree near the staircase and i paused and looked up and admired it for a second as it fell on my face and all around me and then i went on my way. and he texted about the vet and i said sweet, thank you! and i have already made it embarrassingly clear twice that i want to hang out with him so i think i have done my part, and whatever happens happens. i know i will find what is meant for me.*

*edit no. who cares: 12/17/23 hey, checking in just to say that this has all been fine and lovely and whatever it has been. but you do not want to be with somebody who does not want to be with you. you do not want to be with somebody who does not want to be friends with you. (also he didn’t even say anything about the cookies 🍪 wtf! girl you put in werk. and they were yummy!) if he is not interested in being your friend, you are not interested in being his lover. your sweet, beautiful soulmate is out there. maybe it will take some trial and error to find them. that is perfectly okay. but they will know enough kindness to befriend you, and you should not have to worry about seeming desperate or lame, because you are so many beautiful, lovely things and *I* love you for all of those things, little dove. someone else will too and they will make that clear. it will all be okay, my love.*

Maybe one day I will have that love. For now, my own will do just fine.

You are so kind, smart, beautiful, funny, and loving, you sweet, sweet girl.

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treatian · 2 years ago

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The Chronicles of the Dark One: Hadestown

Chapter 8: Unfinished Business

He followed Milah across the street to…

He smirked at the sight of it. It was a beat-up VW van from what looked like the '70s. There was a large dent in the side, the paint, which had apparently once been bright orange, was missing in places, and one of the back windows was shattered. It looked like it had been in an accident, which was probably what brought it to this world if his theory about "dead things" rang true. Someone had probably totaled this piece of garbage in The Land Without Magic decades ago. And yet there was Milah, getting into it and putting on a seatbelt…like it mattered.

He moved around the van, ignoring the peeling peace sticker on the backside, and tried to open the door only to find that it stuck. It wouldn't open. He was about to use magic when he saw Milah lean over in her seat and stretch to pull the handle from the inside and give it a little push for him. Without a word from her, he climbed in and examined the interior. The seats were nearly worn through, the curtains in the back looked as though they were moth eaten, and it smelled like mold and water. Perhaps it hadn't been an accident that did it in. Maybe it drowned in a hurricane, or someone had simply grown weary of the thing and pushed it into a lake for the insurance money after claiming it was stolen. That was what he probably would have done.

Beside him, Milah let out a judgmental huff as she put the key in the ignition. "Shut it!" she ordered at him with a roll of her eyes.

"I didn't say anything."

"You didn't have to," she snapped. "It's written all over your smug face."

That comment only made his smirk grow. When she'd known him, he had no talent for acting or putting on a show. Now he was an expert at it. Nothing showed on his face unless he wanted it to. Not that she knew that.

"My apologies, it must have slipped out," he commented as she attempted to turn over the engine. It shuttered but quickly died.

"We can't all live in fancy mansions or have magic…" she rambled on as she tried again. It made him look past her to the place where his "mansion" now sat. Well…there was a failure on his part. He would hardly have called it "fancy" when he'd stumbled upon it, but after the repairs that he'd made, even he had to admit that it stood out. On a street where every house was boarded up or had broken windows, fallen roofs, and chipped paint, his now felt like it let out a soft glow of newness in the morning smog. Perhaps he hadn't been as discreet as he'd wanted to be in fixing it. But he had to admit...he was rather proud of it.

"Certainly a long way from a hovel, wouldn't you agree?"

Milah let out a small huff before looking over at him with a glare that would have frozen his blood when they'd been a couple. "I'm sure it's just as overrated as the hovel was."

He stilled his face and fought back a grin. Words like that two hundred and some odd years ago would have hurt. He'd poured his heart and soul into building that hovel and only ever wanted to make it something for his family to grow into. She'd hated it, of course, though she'd been conservative in her opinion back then and never said the words. That was a good thing. Years ago, that comment would have scarred his very soul. But over the years, he'd grown to despise it just as much for what it represented, just as he'd come to hate her. But now, all she had to throw at him were harmless words and silly insults that a schoolgirl could come up with. He wasn't impressed with her, or her wishy-washy indecisiveness. A mansion was too much, but the hovel was too little…he knew a fairy tale that started like that.

"I'll endeavor to be more average then," he commented as she turned the key again and finally got the van started.

"Do what you want…" she muttered as the car jerked forward.

It was an awkward ride, bouncy, he figured, due to poor suspension, and rough, probably due to a lack of alignment in the wheels, but that was also just his guess. He didn't bother to speak his suspicions out loud, just let Milah drive them through streets and roads that were both familiar and yet not as he took in his surroundings, making mental notes for later. It seemed like almost an exact copy of Storybrooke, right down to the houses and mailboxes, hell even the street names were identical. But the dilapidation he saw…it was like what Storybrooke would look like if it was completely abandoned.

His breath caught at that thought. Storybrooke had been abandoned. If Regina had done things right, it shouldn't be there anymore. It should only be the forest it had been before the Curse took root. But then again, if Regina had done things right, Emma would be with Neal right now. For all he knew, this reflected the real Storybrooke, and that, unlike Milah's words, truly did bring an unexpected pang to his chest. He'd known that he'd cared for his home. But he hadn't known he'd cared that much.

"The cemetery?" he questioned as Milah pulled to a stop just inside some gates that looked like the Storybrooke cemetery only…it wasn't. Finally, there was a difference. The Storybrooke cemetery was small, it was easily traversable, full and crowded with stones and plaques, but this…this was different.

It seemed unending, this cemetery. It looked like it could go on for miles. There were headstones as far as the eye could see and yet so much room for so many more. And in a world where everyone was already supposed to be dead, it didn't seem necessary.

"I don't understand," he admitted.

"Exactly, and if there's one thing everyone here should know about, it's the cemetery," Milah suggested on her way out of the van. He got out of the car and followed after her as she took off to a specific corner of it where the graves looked…pathetic, to say the least. They were old. The rocks were worn and rough with age. Nearly all of them were either cracked or toppled over, and most of them had moss or other wildlife growing on them. And then Milah stopped. She looked over a gravestone, one of the few that was still standing, and kneeled before it. He watched suspiciously as she wiped it down, and almost tenderly plucked some grass from around its edges as if it could help. He moved to stand beside her, and it took everything inside of him to contain a gasp of surprise when he saw Milah's name printed on it.

A gravestone with his ex-wife's name on it...

"What the hell is this place?" he muttered.

"Well, it's not hell, that much I can tell you," she explained, standing up. "This is the town directory. Everyone who comes to this place, every soul that passes through, gets their very own tombstone. People think that they're random, but I've noticed there does seem to be some method to it. Look over there…"

She pointed out a small tomb with a large crack through it. The name was nearly worn out of it, but he thought it looked like…

"That's my father," she confirmed. "And over there…" this time, she pointed to another tomb, perhaps a row or two away from her father's. There wasn't so much a crack in it as a crevice, it was practically in two. "That's one of my brothers. But if you look that way, it's hard to see from here, a long one, laying on its side…that's my mother. Age, geography, and connection all seem to play a role in where these tombs pop up. I figure that if I'm here, then you'll probably be here somewhere too. Though it is odd, usually new stones look new. A brand new one like yours should be easy to pick out."

He heard the suspicion in her voice but ignored it. And for good reason. "Everyone who comes to the Underworld gets one?" he clarified.

"Yes," she answered, beginning to walk among the rows. He followed her, feigning interest in the names he saw. If his theory was correct, then he most certainly would not have a tombstone in this place. But only if it was correct. This might be the perfect way to see if his theory was right! Though looking out over the vast amount of them…he wasn't sure it was possible to search the entire place.

"They're all so damaged," he commented, realizing that Milah's was about the only one in this section that still stood upright on its base, her name still legible. Most of them were destroyed or had fallen down and were becoming part of the ground.

"That's why this is an accurate directory and not just a cemetery," Milah explained as they walked. "This isn't hell, and thank the gods, it's certainly not heaven. We call it the Underworld because it's more like an outpost for both. This is the place where every soul with unfinished business comes after death. The Ferryman picks us up and brings us here, and then…we work through our issues."

"Your unfinished business..."

Milah nodded. "After you've worked through whatever issues your soul might be grappling with, you then go on to Mount Olympus or to a place much worse than this."

Heaven and hell, he had a feeling he knew which one awaited him, and he had to admit that if that was a place worse than this, he couldn't blame his father for not being in a rush to get there.

"Can't imagine a place worse than this," he muttered.

"Well, it hasn't always been like this. The design changed recently. Before it was…"

His mind knew that Milah was saying something important, knew that he should probably focus, but in walking by the tombstones, his eyes landed on one that made his heart stop and his mouth go dry. It was an old stone, and it lay on its side with moss growing over it like a blanket that kept the impression of the name clean. His instinct was to reach down and wipe it off, but there was a certain serene beauty to it that stopped him. It reminded him of how she looked the few times she'd ever accidentally fallen asleep beside him.

"Margery…" Milah commented, breaking his concentration. Apparently, as he'd been staring, she'd wandered over and now looked at the stone herself. "Why does that name sound familiar?" she questioned with genuine confusion that made him want to reach out and take her heart again. Of course, she wouldn't have remembered Margery. She'd only had an affair with her husband!

"She was Rolf's wife," he commented through gritted teeth.

"Margery…the meek little thing who lived down the road."

"Oh, she wasn't meek," he spat back out at her. "She knew herself far more than you ever did. She was…" he had to stop himself, physically bite his tongue to hold in his words. He wasn't going to defend her against Milah. He'd already spent too much time telling Belle there was no comparison. He wasn't going to keep comparing apples or oranges to a sour old raisin.

"Hang on…" Milah squeaked out before he could drop the conversation and move on. The suspicion in her words rang out clearly, and he wanted to kick himself. He'd said one thing too many. Fucking emotions…

"You…you slept with Rolf's wife?!" she accused, forcing him to lift his eyes up off of the tombstone and onto the face of his ex-wife, who looked at him as though she'd just been slapped.

"It was after you'd gone," he clarified, though he was greatly aware that he had no need to. "Not that I need to justify it to you, given your behavior."

"So, you thought I was dead off with Killian, and you were shacking up with Rolf's widow!"

"It wasn't like that," he argued, though he knew Margery likely would have argued it was exactly that. "And I'll remind you that while you allowed me to think I'd sentenced you to certain death, you were 'shacking up' with Hook, who you found as a replacement for Rolf, in the first place."

"How would you know about that?"

"Oh, Milah, the entire village knew about that. You weren't exactly discreet."

Milah let out a huff and crossed her arms over her chest "Well…were you and Miss Meek any better, or did you marry."

"You can't honestly be jealous right now."

"Don't be stupid. Jealous of you and Margie together? I'm just trying to figure out how the two quietest people in the village managed any conversation."

"We weren't exactly talking most of the time," he lied with a wicked sneer just to see her nose turn up. With an opinion like that, there was a part of him that was dying to let her know how loud he could make Belle scream, but it was a fruitless masculine urge that he denied the beast within. Belle would be one secret he'd keep here.

"Well?"

"Well, what?"

"Did you marry her?" she pressed with wide eyes because she could apparently go off and have her affairs, but if he did it, then it was adultery.

He didn't know why, he owed her nothing, but all the same, he let out a sigh and shook his head. "No. No, we never married, though there was a time I wanted to and a time I suspect that if I'd asked, she'd have agreed. But I waited too long. She moved on, and found another man to marry her."

The memory of their encounters played over in his head. Memories of how their interactions changed and their relationship had grown. The warm place he'd once held for her in her heart seemed to glow once more as he recalled their brief private dalliances and the way he'd worried terribly the day that he'd said goodbye to her before she took her kids and went to marry in another country. He'd worried so much that he'd nearly done something stupid.

"I checked on her a few years later and found they were happy, and she was pregnant." And he'd stayed in the shadows, too worried about what she'd think if she could see what he'd become in her absence. Now that he had Belle, he was happy to admit that their encounter had been a good thing. He'd rather have Belle and he was certain that Margery belonged with the man that she'd married. They were better off living their best lives with the loves of their lives rather than two people stuck together just making it work as he and Milah had done for years. But still, the memory of that night made his throat swell with sorrow to think of it. To think of what she'd wished for him in her own happiness...

"Her one and only hope for me was that I'd find someone just as she had..."

"And have you?" she pressed.

He refused to answer. There was nothing he could say that wouldn't point her in the direction of Belle, so instead, he decided to just stare back down at Margery's grave as if she'd been everything to him and let her interpret his own personal moment of silence for loneliness and regret.

"Well, I suppose the fact that she's moved on is a compliment, then."

"Excuse me?" he questioned, trying to decipher what the hell she'd just said.

"The tombstones...they tell a person's story here in the Underworld. When you arrive, you get one, and it stays there, intact as long as you are here. Then you work through your unfinished business, and once you've finished your journey, you leave. Tombstones with a crack through them mean they moved on to the worse place, but stones that have fallen over, like Margie's here, indicate that they've moved on to Mount Olympus."

Mount Olympus. Heaven. Margery was somewhere good. She was at peace. That made him release a sigh that he didn't know he'd been holding onto only…

"Why exactly is that a compliment?"

"Because if she was ever really worried about you, then you would be her unfinished business, and she'd still be here. The fact that she was able to move on shows that she didn't worry you'd find someone because she knew you would, with complete confidence. It's amazing the things the mind can convince itself of," Milah sneered before turning away.

He nodded, choosing to ignore the backhanded remark and instead focus on the good thing that she'd said. It sounded like Margery. She always believed that he'd find someone. It had taken him hundreds of years, but he finally had found the right person to spend the rest of his life with. And if he was right and he still had a life to live, then he had to get back to it so he could spend it with her.

#rumbelle #rumpelstiltskin #rumple #dark one #mr. gold #belle #Milah #ouat #ouat fanfiction #fanfic

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rogersideup · 2 years ago

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Late Night Talking

Mrs. Rogers

Series Masterlist

Next: The Smiley Sticker

Word Count: 7,843

Summary: Your relationship with the Avengers was a little more than one would call mysterious. Though you were officially appointed to the team, Tony and Pepper were the only ones who knew your real name and have met you in real life. You lived and operated in the compound, the same place most of the team lived yet somehow and some way none of them have ever even bumped into you in common areas... or so they thought.

Warnings: My blog is 18+ only. All minors or blogs without an age in bio will be blocked. Minors DNI.

"Hey pretty baby" Your sultry voice of the team's eyes away from battle soothed Steve's mind as it filled his communication device. "Did you miss me?"

He couldn't help the smile on his face, regardless of being mid battle. You could hear the rumble of his motorcycle engine followed by a few gunfire shots, and you watched the green dot of his location on your monitor screen move quickly, little red dots slacking on his trail.

"Oh I'm always missing you, sweet cheeks. I was starting to wonder when you'd show up to save the day" Steve spoke back, still focused on dodging bullets coming from behind him.

"I'm going to start by saving your life. Take a right" You told him.

He saw a clearing in the dense trees and the path he was on split into two, so he cut his wheel and and took a hard turn. Just as his back wheel made it to the new path, an explosion sounded exactly where he would've been.

"What would I ever do without you?" He asked, really thankful you caught something he didn't.

"Can't have you dying on me yet, Love. Gotta keep you alive long enough to meet you at least once" Your giggle through comms warmed his soul. "Keep riding that path straight through, you'll cross with Nat in about a quarter mile then you guys can make a run for the Jet together"

Your relationship with the Avengers was a little more than one would call mysterious. Though you were officially appointed to the team, Tony and Pepper were the only ones who knew your real name and have met you in real life.

You lived and operated in the compound, the same place most of the team lived yet somehow and some way none of them have ever even bumped into you in common areas... or so they thought. Even if they did they would have no way of knowing other than recognizing your anonymous voice.

Generally, you got along well with all of them, and your skills in hacking into enemy's intelligence saved all of their lives more times than you could count. Though they all tried to make you feel welcome and involved in their social bubble, you never accepted the invites to any post work occasions. Steve desperately wished you would.

The two of you got along like two peas in a pod. With your voice in his ear you guys would rip through missions easy-peasy. The constant banter and persistent flirtatious nicknames started through all of the Avengers listening to how you spoke to each other on comms. All of them insisted that you interacted like a married couple so frequently that you started flirting with Steve as a joke. That joke stuck so well that the only time you guys wouldn't speak to each other with pet names or romantic gestures was in serious situations.

"In order to meet me, you gotta show up" Steve told you.

"Babe, if I ever saw you in real life I think your gorgeousness would melt me into a puddle right on the spot. I gotta keep myself alive too" You were almost too quick and witty for Steve to keep up with, sometimes you even had to give him a few extra moments to formulate a response.

"I'll mop you off the floor?" He offered.

"Then who's going to be around to keep you alive?"

"This is a really slippery slope" He smiled.

He passed by Nat on the bike, so she cut in behind him and followed him straight through.

"Widow is riding your ass, she's just like me" You joked.

"Harharhar" Steve rolled his eyes. "If you want a piece of my ass, you know where I live"

"Wow, you wanna meet me so bad you're offering up America's ass? I feel so special"

"You should, honey, It's reserved just for you."

"Your Jet reservations expire in about a minute. Lay heavy on that pedal for me, Love" Right as you instructed, his little green dot started moving faster. Nat sped up to keep up with him.

"We'll make I-"

"Nuh uh. Dont focus on me, focus on getting on getting out of there safely"

"Awwww, you worried about me?"

"It's kind've my job" You could hear the smile in his voice.

"Almost there"

There was about a minute of nothing but the sound of heavy breathing and motorcycle engines, you watched them move closer and closer as the metaphorical clock counted down.

"And we're on" He informed you, and his location confirmed his statement.

"You got me holding my breath over here, Rogers" You let out a sigh of relief now that you've accomplished your mission of getting all of them rounded up for a speedy escape.

"Couldn't have done it without you, Mrs. Rogers. Thank you" He really was constantly grateful for your guidance.

"Wish you could see him, Smiles. Steve's cheeks are pink" Tony informed you once all of their comms connected into the same channel since they were all in range.

Smiles was the nickname Tony used for you and it kind've just stuck with the team. They could constantly hear the smile in your voice as you spoke to them through the channels, and Tony confirmed that's just how you was in real life too. Constant toothy smiles.

"You know I just ran like 17 miles, right?" Steve rolled his eyes at Tony.

"They weren't pink 'till she called you Love" Nat cut in earning an eruption of giggles from all the Avengers.

"You should've seen my face when he called me Mrs. Rogers. I think i'm giving red roses a run for their money" You added to bare some of Steve's burden.

"Red looks great with your complexion, sweetheart" Tony complemented.

"How about white and blue?" Steve asked Tony, earning her glorious laugh right in all their ears.

"That was a good one." You gave Steve credit where it was due. "Alrighty guys, I gotta go. You all did great. Get home safe, rest up. Love you all"

A variety of different goodbyes and love you's flooded your ears.

"Still coming over for dinner later?" Tony asked. Sometimes he liked to show off that he was the only one who got to know you in real life, so giving them breadcrumbs and hints of your friendship always had them all asking a flood of questions about what you were like in person that he would always refuse to answer.

"Depends, is Pepper going to be there?"

"Yes"

"Then yes. Tones, I'll see you at six. Everyone else, I'll smell ya later." You disconnected the call and ripped the headset off your ears before letting your head fall backwards to take some long, deep breaths. No matter how long you worked this very position, your sever anxiety never let up.

When Tony first recruited you for a position on the Avengers, your immediate response was absolutely not. Never in a million years. But after almost a full year of persistence and boarder-line harassment from Tony, you explained why you could never be an Avenger.

Every ounce of skill you had was clouded by huge, thick fog banks of anxiety. Though most of it was managed through therapy and medication, it still lingered and created an excess amount of discomfort.

The high stakes and celebrity status that came along with being an Avenger would do nothing but heighten that. It would simply kindle the flame and reverse all the work you did to make yourself functional on a daily basis.

Fortunately for you, Tony knew first hand what it was like to have that looming grey cloud. So, he made accommodations.

Private workspaces, anonymity from your colleagues, an apartment in the compound away from the Avengers private living quarters.

After lots of reassurance, you accepted.

And now with over a year and a half under your belt,you were just now starting to feel guilty for your lack of presence around the people you absolutely loved talking to.

You so badly wished that she could join Wanda and Nat for Sunday morning brunch, or go out for flights with Sam. But the worst of all, you felt like your heart was being ripped out every time Steve practically begged to meet you.

Every time you thought you were making progress towards introducing yourself to them in person, you would see one of them in passing and immediately feel a weight in your chest and your head would spin.

At this point, you felt like they all had romanticized your anonymity so much that you would be nothing but a disappointment to them. In their heads, they probably imagined a supermodel in a spandex suit and a cape. Maybe perfectly outgoing with a flirty demeanor, an extrovert who only denied time with them for lack of interest.

In your mind, you didn't fit the bill of what an Avenger typically was. When it came down to it, you were a sensitive, introverted soul. Most of your time away from work was spent on whatever special interest would provide a creative outlet, and binging movies with your friend who worked in the compound IT department. Though you were physically strong and had stamina, you certainly didn't have the superhero physique. Soft and squishy around the edges was a good compromise for yourself, you could never imagine devoting her whole life to maintaining a level of fitness and diet that took away from living you day to day life how you wanted.

Taking all of that into consideration, you didn't want to feel like who you really were would let them down. You knew that they had created a grand conspiracy about what you might've looked like and who you might've been just by you voice alone. It scared the shit out of you.

Although later that night Tony and pepper reassured you over dinner and a few bottles of wine that none of them suspected you at all, you couldn't help but to feel like they all knew. Every walk down the hallway, trip down the stairwell, and polite smile in the lobby was an interaction closer to becoming a suspect in the grand conspiracy of the mystery Avenger.

The wine flowing through your veins certain didn't help as you got dropped off from dinner at Tony's and had to make the walk through the compound to get to your apartment.

Your phone rang in your back pocket, and Tony's name popped up.

"Can't get enough of me, huh?" You answered the phone in a state of giggly drunkenness.

"You wish. I forgot to tell you about the thing tomorrow night"

“The thing?" You questioned while pressing the elevator call button. "Pretty non-descriptive for a genius, don'tcha think?"

"I'm starting to regret even telling you about the thing now." Tony stated, you could almost hear him rolling his eyes. The elevator doors opened as you laughed as his statement. Thing. What a funny word. "You still with me? Did I give you too much to drink?"

"Oh yeah" you stumbled into the elevator, blissfully ignorant of the human already inside. "I can barely even handle one glass let alone the 3 refills I caught you pouring when you thought I wasn't looking. Hey, I'm in the elevator I might lose service. "

"Cool, let me make this quick. Tomorrow night, private Avengers party in the compound. You're going. If anyone asks, you're a systems analyst technician. 8 o'clock, wear your prettiest dress. See you then, bring your friend from IT!"

"Tony! What? I'm not going to that thing!" You tried telling him but you were cut off by beeping, letting you know the call had failed.

"Floor?" A strong voice asked beside you.

You jumped a mile high and clutched your hand to your chest to try and keep your heart from running away.

"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to scare you" The voice apologized.

Your drunken brain barely allowed you to see straight, but when you looked up at the man just to identify him as Steve, your heart only ran away quicker and dropped straight into the pit of your stomach.

Suddenly, you felt like you were going to puke. But also, you were right. His extremely good looks had you melting into a puddle.

Self consciousness took over as you realized how you were dressed. Leggings, a big cozy sweater, sneakers, and hair in a ponytail with not a speck of makeup on your face. After a long mission, casual dinner at Tony's was tradition. You both didn't ever want to worry about wearing uncomfortable socially acceptable clothes after hours of stress. You didn't deserve to be in the presence of Steve in an outfit like this.

"I'm s-sorry" Your anxious stutter got in the way of even acting like you were fine. "Seven please"

He gave a little nod before pushing the button with a number seven on it, meanwhile you prayed that it was the end of your interaction.

You had only ever seen him in quick, few seconds long intervals. Sometimes you guys passed each other on the way to your private office, and other times you would see him walking in and out of the building while you sat at your favorite coffee shop right next door, but you had never gotten close enough to notice the small details.

The way his voice sounded straight from the source instead of muffled through the comms, his real height, the smell of his cologne, his strong energy.

Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit.

"I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but Tony as in Stark?" He questioned with an obvious friendly demeanor.

While your mind was on overdrive, his was only thinking about how the woman in the elevator with him was one of the most beautiful people he's ever seen, and he definitely wasn't going to let you get away without at least some small talk so he could make an impression.

"That's the one" You spoke quietly and kept looking down at the floor, praying he wouldn't recognize your voice.

"And he wanted you to go to a thing?" Steve kept pressing.

You so badly wished that this conversation was happening over the comms, so you could tell him to stop talking to strangers in the elevators. Maybe even smooth talk him, butter him up by calling him your baby and that his habit of being overly friendly was kind've creepy.

"Yeah, tomorrow night" You nodded. Even in your terribly anxious state, you still drunkenly laughed at the word thing.

But the pit in your stomach grew to be a lump in your throat. You didn't know if you needed more alcohol or less. Either way, you were holding back tears and vomit at this point.

"Oh nice! The Avengers party! Why aren't you going?"

This man really didn't know how to read body language, huh?

“Just busy at work, I'm sure you know how that is. Plus I'm not really much of a social butterfly" You explained.

"Stark will work you to the bone if you don't step away. Maybe going to the party and putting yourself out there can help with both those things" Steve shrugged.

Things. Why did everyone keep using that word? And why did it get funnier every time?

"What's so funny over there?" He asked with a lopsided smile.

Oh shit. Were you laughing out loud?

"Sorry- nothing. It's just........ the word thing." You explained, hoping that this elevator ride from hell would end soon.

Luckily for you, they came to a stop and the doors opened again for you to get off. You practically ran out but Steve held the door open with his forearm.

"It's a great word" He agreed. "So, will I see you tomorrow night?"

"Probably not" You shook her head and he gave you a fake hurt expression, dramatically clutching his chest.

"Right, cause you're going too busy at your job as a..."

"Systems analyst technician" thanks Tony.

"Got it. Steve Rogers by the way" He extended his hand to shake yours.

Another invasive giggle took over at the thought of him introducing himself to you. This was the same man calling you Mrs. Rogers but had no clue.

You reached out a shook his hand in a giggly anxious daze.

"Kind've put that one together. I'm-" just as you were about to say your name, you had to stop and think about it. "Drunk. Very, drunk"

He raised an eyebrow, obviously amused by the confession.

"Nice to meet you, Drunk. Hopefully you'll reconsider your choice and join us at the thing tomorrow" he smiled as the doors closed leaving you alone in the hallway.

Your artificial smile dropped as you raced back to your apartment. With shaky hands and nausea running rampant, you unlocked the door and found solace in the solitude of your own private space and your grey and white cat, Eeyore.

Your brain buzzed calculating all the possible outcomes of this situation. The only thing you could think of doing was calling Tony again.

It only rang once before he picked up.

"Seems like you’re obsessed with me" His voice did little to calm you down.

"Anthony Edward I swear to god-" you threatened.

"Woah there, Frowns. What's got your 'tude in a twist?"

"Remember that little elevator ride I was telling you about?"

"So what? You're stuck? Press the emergency call button, not me. You know, you really suck at basic survival skills" Tony said as if it was a matter of fact.

"No. You know who was in the elevator? Rogers" Your voice called attention to every ounce of panic you were feeling.

"No shit" You could hear Tony's amusement through the line. "Finally met your husband, he's a handsome guy isn't he? How red did he turn when he realized who you were?"

"This isn't funny! He didn't. At least I don't think he did. I hope he didn't, I'm panicking over here metal man"

"Oh he's more of an idiot than I thought" Tony mused.

"He kept asking me questions, why does he ask so many questions?"

"It's just what he does"

"He's going to figure it out, Tony. I can't go to that party tomorrow. He heard us talking on the phone, he knows I know you, he knows I'm drunk, and he thinks I'm a systems analyst technician whatever the fuck that means"

"Realistically, you know how many new people he meets every single day? He will probably forget all about it by tomorrow morning. You're fine, everything is going to be just fine"

"Okay, okay. Maybe you're right" You agreed.

Those words replayed over and over in your head like a mantra until the next day at two o'clock when you put your headset on to join in on an meeting about yesterday's mission.

You tried your hardest to push past the sinking feeling twisting your insides while you waited for their voices to come through, and when they did your heart sank.

"Awwww I think Steve is in looooove" Sam's voice taunted in a little song.

"Let's ask Tony about her when he gets here! You said she was on the phone with him right? I'm sure he can give you all the information you need" Natasha suggested.

"When you say she's pretty, how pretty do you actually mean?" Bucky questioned doubtfully.

"Stunning. I can't believe I've never seen her around before" Steve laid Bucky's words to rest.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Maybe you should just hang up and call out for the day. You knew they were all trying to get Steve to date, they were probably all so excited that he was talking about a girl like that.

Wait... they were talking about you.

Steve Rogers thinks you're stunning.

He thought you were stunning when you looked like that.

Instant heartburn.

How were you supposed to cut into this conversation without seeming suspicious? Act. Normal.

"Who are you talking about, my love? Me?" You joked trying your hardest to not pass out on the spot. Little did he know...

"Oooooohhhh caught red handed" Clint shouted like a grade school student.

"Steve fell in love with a drunk girl in an elevator last night" Bucky explained bluntly.

"A stunning drunk girl?" You questioned with a forceful smile, you needed to sound as normal and undisturbed as possible.

"From what we've heard" Natasha confirmed.

"Is she willing to share with me?"

"You'll always be my one and only, sweetheart" Steve reassured.

Ironic.

"Keep talking like that and you're going to have no choice but to actually marry me"

"I'll go buy you a ring as soon as this meeting lets out" he said confidently.

You could hear the door of the meeting room open and close followed by Tony's voice. "Keep it in your pants love birds, let's get to work"

The rest of the meeting went smoothly, but that didn't do anything to still your fidgeting fingers and keep your bouncing leg in place. You knew that the closer they got to the end, the sooner the banter would start up again.

Tony's routine meeting conclusion of "I think that covers it. Anything else we should touch on?" Sparked the exact conversation you were dreading.

"Yeah! Yes." Sam jumped on it as if it was slowly killing him to keep the knowledge Steve's new love internalized. "Who's the girl you were talking to on the phone last night?"

"I talk to lots of people all the time. I have no clue what you're talking about" Tony played dumb.

"Stevie boy got in the elevator with a girl who was on the phone with you. Allegedly she was beautiful and captivating enough to spark a cute little middle school crush" Nat tried to refresh his memory.

"You invited her to the party tonight" Steve added.

"Ah right, I don't think she's coming" Tony deflected.

"But who is she? What's her name?" Wanda questioned.

"Eva" Tony said bluntly nearly giving you a heart attack. Thankfully, it wasn't your real name. "Leave her alone, she's really shy and pretty tentative. I'm sure a hoard of nosy Avengers all up in her business is the last thing she wants"

"Oooh, I like her already" Clint smiled.

"I do agree that everyone should leave her alone" Steve's strong voice commanded.

"So it's settled. Leave her be. Anything else?" Tony asked.

Everyone looked around at each other, all of them shrugging their shoulders or shaking their heads.

"Alright, no more work for the day. I expect to see all of you in your best outfits tonight" Tony dismissed them.

You quickly hung up after a speedy goodbye in anticipation of hanging out with your bestie tonight. It was Friday and a half work day, of course you were absolutely buzzing to get out of there.

By the time you had made it from your office to your apartment to get ready for the rest of the day, your phone was buzzing in your pocket from texts sent by Steve.

SR: Hey Princess! You left so quick I didn't even get a chance to talk to you! How are you?

SR:Hopefully an invite to the party was extended to you for tonight? I already know you aren't going to come, but that doesn't mean I'll ever stop inviting you :P

You: Always so thoughtful, sweet boy. Maybe if I didn't already agree to sushi and sake with my bestie I would come sweep you off your feet ;)

You: Also I'm sorry! Wouldn't have left so quick if I knew you were trying to talk to me. Im doing aye okay! Have you recovered from yesterday's mission?

SR: Honestly, sushi and sake sounds so yummy and way better than another Stark party :,). I'm almost recovered but I'm so tired I feel like I could sleep for another 70 years

You: Take a nap!!! Want me to come snuggle you to sleep?

SR: I could probably benefit from some cuddles to be honest

You: Couldn't we all?

SR: Hope you have the best sushi ever

You: Hope you have the best nap ever. Sweet dreams! Love you long time :p

SR: Love you lots!!!

Once again, you put down your phone and focused on yourself. You raced to get ready and had to stop yourself from running out of the compound to fill up your starving belly.

Dinner and drinks ended up being the perfect stress reliever, but walking around and doing some shopping in the city after was definitely healing your soul. Filling in your best friend about all the recent drama within the team over warm cinnamon rolls from their favorite corner bakery left you feeling so thankful you had at least one person outside of the team you could trust and talk you through everything happening in your life. You also loved hearing all about her drama within the IT department.

By the time you were walking home, your phone was flooded with texts in the team group chat from drunk avengers who were very obviously talking about you at the party.

Sam: Smiles we're placing bets about you right now. Are you tall or short? We have $10 on the line!

Nat: has anyone seen Clint? I think he ran away

Nat: Smiles is short for sure

Clint: I'm literally looking at you right now?

Bucky: I think she's tall

Wanda: Tiny but mighty

Tony: I planned a whole party and you guys are using it as a betting race for Smiles' height? Only mildly irritating.

Bucky: Steve is grumpy. Someone find a way to get him drunk

Pepper: Smiles is short :)

Sam: ????????????????? Pepper you know her why are you placing a bet?????????

Pepper: oops

You: Oh? Should I feel offended by this?

You: Why is Steve grumpy? What did you guys do to him?

You: Did anyone find Clint?

Sam: what's your height?

Bucky: He's grumpy because he's tired and hungry LOL

You: someone feed him!!! Y'all suck

You: You guys are all in the same room! Put your phones down, weirdos!

Clint: it's a very big room

Nat: maybe he's sad that Eva isn't here :(

You: Steve blink twice if you need help

Steve: You can't see it but I'm blinking

Steve: I'm sad because Smiles isn't here

Bucky: me too tbh

Wanda: did I miss the result of the bet?

You: Sweet sweet Wanda I love you!!!

You: Im 5"2

Tony: I think that's generous

Sam: TINY

Bucky: a whole foot smaller than me

Nat: I just know you're adorable!!!!!

Tony: now everyone place bets on if you think she's pretty or not

You: Tony you suck

You: Kiss my ass

Tony: <3

Pepper: don't do that. She's beautiful. Promise

You: Is this what y'all do when I'm not around to listen? Lolololol

Bucky: How pretty?

You: Omg

Tony: Smiles and Steve would make a cute couple

Steve: that's good! We already are a cute couple so this conversation is pretty unproductive

You: You tell 'em baby <3

Clint: what color hair do you have?

Sam: and eyes

You: Wanna know my bra size too?

Sam: well Steve does need to know what size lingerie to buy you for your wedding night ;)

You: We're already married

Steve: got her name changed to Smiles Rogers last week

Bucky: Steve is still grumpy

Nat: Clint is still missing in action

Clint: I'm at the bar

You: Don't worry, Stevie baby. I'll take care of you <3

You: Clint I'm going to put a location tracker on your ass

Sam: thank god. Someone needs to turn his frown upside-down.

You: You guys put your phones down and enjoy the party, I'll brb ;)

A few more stops around the city and a stealthy walk around the compound praying you wouldn't get caught, you curated the perfect plan to get Steve exactly what he wanted.

After making sure everything was in place, you quickly fled the scene to insure you wouldn't get spotted by any avengers as it happened since you had to approach a waitress at the entrance of the party to make it happen.

Sure, Steve was admittedly grumpy. But that didn't stop him from plastering a fake smile across his face while socializing with people he barely knew for hours on end. It's not like his shortening fuse and grumbling tummy was plaguing the rest of the mood for everyone else, so why Bucky kept choosing to bring it up was completely unbeknownst to him.

Besides, he was justified. Who would throw a party with just alcohol? No food, no snacks.

Maybe if he was a little better slept, being hungry wouldn't have made him so irrational. But what he wasn't admitting out loud was that he hadn't had any peaceful sleep since their last mission. His last night of sleep was full of constant interruptions and an occasional nightmare, and the nap he tried to take to make up for it had the same result.

So when a waitress approached him frantically with furrowed eyebrows and a shaken look on her face, he didn't even know if he was annoyed that his superhero status made him so approachable for help, or if he was happy to leave the party by any means.

"I'm so sorry to interrupt, Captain Rogers but something weird is happening and I don't know what is is or wh-" She rambled with a seemingly nervous buzz.

"It's alright, what happened?" He comforted the girl who couldn't have been older than seventeen. She looked like a young child to him.

"There's a person walking up and down the halls of where all the avengers rooms are. I think it was a girl but they had a hoodie on I couldn't really tell. They were being super creepy, jiggling all the doorknobs and trying to enter codes into the keypads. None of the doors opened but they left a package and I'm just really worried about it" She spoke at a hundred miles per hour. He could barely even get his brain to focus on her words through the thumping music and loud chatter around the room.

"I'll go look into it right now. Thanks for letting me know" He reassured her before pushing his way through the sea of people and exiting the noisy crowd into the solitude of their private living space.

The thumping of the music was now only a distant mumble and his shoes against the floor were the loudest noise around him. It brought him an odd amount of comfort as he snuck through the very halls the waitress had seen the suspicious person wandering.

Sure enough, the person was gone but there was a package. A brown paper bag right in front of his door.

He approached slowly, full of apprehension as his brain though of all the worst case scenarios of what could possibly be inside.

Was it a bomb? Perhaps disembodied limbs? A death threat?

But the closer he got, he noticed a little card with his name written in the neatest handwriting he's ever seen sticking out of the top.

It eased his suspicions a bit, but he still stood back as far as he could while peeking his head forward to look inside the bag.

Sushi and sake.

He threw his head back with a smile and a sigh of relief when he realized who it was from, and the concerned waitress was just a trap.

He unlocked the door and walked in his room before kicking off his shoes and opening the card inside.

My dearest husband, Steve~

Sorry for the little production, had to find a way to get you out of there! Hope this helps your bad case of the grumpies ;) Love you, mean it!

~ your wife, Mrs. Smiles Rogers

Steve happily accepted the excuse to end his appearance at the social event and spend the rest of his night eating alone and indulging in a good book.

However, after his belly was full and he had showered, he could barely even get his mind to focus on the book in his hands. His mind kept running off to the conversations the team regularly had about Smiles. In hindsight, he felt guilty.

There had to be a reason why you chose to stay hidden away from them, and there were so many valid reasons to choose that for yourself. He couldn't imagine that being easy, and he also knew that even with distance between them, you made the avengers feel loved and cared for.

You had the sweetest soul and just your voice alone had the ability to sooth the nerves of in-battle superheroes while also being commanding enough to get shit done. Smiles felt special regardless of what you looked like, he knew that with full confidence.

So when the whole team placed stupid bets on your height, or hair color, and even regularly begging Tony to tell them more about the way you looked, he couldn't help but to feel a little angry at them. Sure, it was fun to visualize what a person they loved could possibly look like, but boiling your worth down to physical attributes was wrong.

He didn't know if it was his own guilt or faulting mood that craved the comfort of a conversation with his favorite teammate, but either way his hands were dialing your number faster than his brain even thought about it.

"Hello?" The familiar voice came through, instantly putting a smile on his face.

"Hey, baby" He giggled, it was obvious you didn't check collar ID before picking up.

"Oh! Hi, cutie" Your smile was obvious now and your mood seemed to have dramatically changed. "Didn't realize that was you calling. I just assumed it was Sam or Bucky calling me again"

"Again?" Steve asked.

"Yeah, they called like 10 minutes ago. Something about wanting to know if I had curly or straight hair." You explained.

"Oh man, they're really laying in on you tonight huh, Sweetheart?" Steve sighed.

"It's alright" You shrugged even though you knew he couldn't see it. "I'd be curious too, I can't really blame them. How are you feeling? Better?"

"So much better, all thanks to you. I feel like I owe you a billion dollars for getting me out of there alone. Thank you so much"

"Oh stop it" You giggled. "I know how much it sucks to be stuck in a social situation when you aren't feeling the best. It's our duty to look out for each other."

"Well I think you're an angel sent from heaven above, and I appreciate you more than you'll ever know"

"You're making me blush over here! Anything for you, baby."

Both of your laughter took over before you caught you composure again and a small comfortable silence took over. It was like you guys were both weighing out the pros and cons of bringing up the slightly heavier topics you wanted to talk about. But, you pushed past the slight racing in your heart and tried to be brave for the sake of making sure he was genuinely alright.

"Bucky mentioned you were tired, what happened to that nap you were supposed to take?" You questioned sympathetically.

It was almost like you already knew the answer, yet for some reason, Steve always felt safe talking to you. Sometimes he found himself telling you about things he didn't even tell Bucky.

"To be quite honest, I don't really know." He sighed. "No matter how tired I get I just can't sleep, and when I do sleep it's not great."

"You should ask Tony to install an off and on switch connected to your brain" You suggested.

"You're so right. That's brilliant. Do you have one?" He questioned.

"Nope. Unfortunately for me my brain is always on. I'm very familiar with sleep issues" You explained. "Bold of me to assume your dreams haven't been too sweet?"

"Not bold at all. I think that mission got to me, I'm not even really sure why. It's not like it was a particularly bad one" He admitted.

"I'm pretty sure all missions are bad missions" You though out loud. "You know...... not to be drab or anything"

“You're right, maybe I'm just desensitized to it"

"Ground work is not fun, it makes me sad you guys have to do it so often. And I hope that nothing ever gets bad enough that I have to join you guys out there" Your tone was sympathetic, but it was interrupted a few times by tiny high pitched meows.

"Hold on, there's so much to unpack" Steve laughed. "Do I hear.... a cat?"

"Yes Sir" He could hear that constant smile come back. "A very needy and annoying cat that's trying to convince me that he's starving even though I see food in his bowl right now"

"What?! I thought we weren't allowed to have pets?" He jealously questioned.

"You guys aren't allowed to have pets, but apparently Tony thinks I'm special"

"Apparently! What's his name?" Steve couldn't help but to smile at the wholesome image of you on the phone with a little cat stepping all over you trying to earn some attention.

"Eeyore! He always has this little grumpy expression on his face, hence the name" You explained.

"I'm so jealous! I wish I could have a cat" He pouted like a child as the meows turned into content purrs.

"Have you asked Tony?"

"I ask him like once every two months"

"Did you know if you see a therapist you can get a note and qualification for an emotional support animal? Then legally Tony can't say no" You said smugly.

"Is that how you got to be so special?" He asked with a chuckle.

"Therapy all the way, baby" You confirmed his suspicions.

"Okay, next question. Have you ever done groundwork?"

"Only twice and decided right on the spot that my particular set of skills is more beneficial in an environment I can concentrate in. I'm fully trained for emergencies though, so if all of humanity is on the avengers shoulders you guys will be seeing me up close and personal" You explained.

"Well in that case I hope I never meet you" He joked.

"Same here! I'll just keep admiring you from a distance"

"That implies you see me on the regular" Steve poked, wondering how often he's around you while being completely unaware.

"You know what? Not as often as you might think!"

"No? I'd assume at least once a day."

"I don't even remember the last time I saw you." You lied in hopes of dissolving any tiny suspicions that elevator Eva might've been you. "Are you sure you even still live here?"

"Oh I'm positive. Because if I didn't, maybe if actually be getting some sleep." He pointed out.

"Touché."

"I have a question for you, and I hope it's okay to ask, but does it bother you when everyone asks questions about what you look like?" He sounded hesitant and boarder-line sad about it.

"Most if the questions don't bother me, but I'm not particularly a fan of Tony asking everyone if they think I'm ugly. He's lucky I knew he was joking or else I'd actually beat his ass" Your answer earned a hum in agreement from Steve as you contemplated on letting him in more.

You knew he had a heart of gold, nothing you could say to him would be held against you and he certainly wouldn't use it to dig around to find more information about you.

"The part that actually bothers me is that I can't answer. It makes me sad to rain on the parade. I wish I could answer all the questions and be with you guys all the time but I can't." You elaborated.

"Well I certainly don't think you're raining on any parades, sweetheart." The amount of sincerity in Steve's voice made you smile and your tummy flip. "If it starts to bother you too much, just let me know and I'll yell at them."

"I don't think any yelling needs to happen." You giggled, followed by some shuffling sounds.

"Whatcha doinnnnnn?"

"Mmmmmmmm I'd tell you but I think you're going to make fun of me." Your sweet voice contemplated.

"Me? Make fun of my wife? Never!" He was fake offended.

"Okay, then I'll tell you."

"Let's hear it!"

"I just got into bed and buried myself into a mountain of blankets." You admitted.

"Okay then I can't really make fun of you even if I wanted to because I'm doing the same exact thing right now." Steve smiled.

"Wow, we really are soulmates. Huh, handsome?"

"Seems like it, Lovie."

Even as it started getting late, you guys stayed on the phone for hours. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, your chit-chat was helping him ease all the residual anxiety and preemptive nerves of a night full of terrible dreams. But eventually, he fell asleep.

When the comfortable silence turned into even, soft and steady breaths, you knew he had lost the battle. Nothing made you happier knowing that you had lulled such a gentle giant to sleep- even if it was unintentional.

That night, the nightmares never showed up which Steve was thankful for. When he woke up the next morning slightly confused as to when exactly he fell asleep, he realized that talking to Smiles was the absolute highlight of his day.

Over the course of a few months, that same phone call became routine. Right before bed, you would wait for your phone to ring and the two of you would talk about everything under the sun and absolutely nothing at all. You guys spoke about your days, simple pleasures, complex issues, how much you loved your work, how much you hated your work, and even your love lives (or lack there of).

The more comfortable you became around him, the more you contemplated on adding him to the small group of people who knew your true identity. It was getting especially hard to keep him away when he would ask the cutest questions with his raspy, sleepy voice as he drifted off to dreamland.

Each question always started with a genuine "you don't have to answer, but...". And each one usually involved when you would see him. He wondered where you saw him walking around the most, if you had ever even been to the Avengers private sector of the compound, and most importantly if you two had ever had a face to face conversation.

Since it had been a few months post elevator incident and he had finally stopped talking about 'Eva' you answered with an honest yes but nothing more descriptive than that. He respectfully asked more about that interaction but nothing that would give away exactly when and where it had happened. It was playful, and he loved teasing you about it.

"I know you're lying to me" Steve laughed with a smile, thankful you couldn't see his face turning red.

"I'm not, but you can believe whatever you want Pretty Princess" You made fun of the nickname Steve was stuck on tonight.

"Sweetheart, I'd recognize that pretty little voice anytime of the day. There is no way I looked you in the eyes and held a conversation without knowing" He insisted.

"Oh so you do know me! Where'd we meet?" You questioned while shaking your head with a smile.

"We didn't. You're lying"

“I shook your hand too" You happily added fuel to the fire.

"You shook my hand?!?!?" His voice was twice as loud as he shouted that statement. Drama queen. "Now you're really lying"

"How many hands do you shake a day, baby?"

"A lot." He said bluntly. "What color was I wearing?"

"White" You immediately answered knowing he was trying to call your bluff.

"I always wear white" he complained.

"It looks good on ya!" You complemented. "I just winked by the way."

"I gathered that." He reassured.

You readjusted your blankets for maximum comfort, completely unaware of the silence that fell over them. Your tired eyes stayed closed and your phone resided on the unoccupied pillow next to your head.

"You falling asleep on me, sweet girl?" He questioned.

"Mhm, I'm drowning under the weight of my own lies" You mumbled into the pillow as Eeyore made himself cozy on your back. He curled up into a little ball so you were pretty much stuck laying on your stomach.

"Punk"

"Jerk" you rolled your eyes.

Comfortable silence took over, both of your brains were running far away into the vast planes of dreamland, minds forming half conscious thoughts at a mile a minute... too lazy to verbalize any of them.

That was until you had one that you couldn't quite keep to yourself. He just made you too damn happy. "Honey?" You whispered, hoping he wasn't asleep yet.

"Yes, sweetheart?" He questioned, voice deep and raspy.

"One day, I'm going to be able to give you the biggest hug in the world." You told him.

A big smile smeared across his sleepy face at your words. "That'll be the best day of my life."

"Your life?!" You emphasized.

"The whole entire thing." He confirmed. "And whenever you come give me the biggest hug in the whole world, I'm going to give you the biggest hug in the universe... you know that?"

"Sounds amazing." You pulled the blankets around you even tighter. "You know I would if I could."

"I know, I know." Steve reassured sympathetically. "There is never any pressure, Baby. I find comfort knowing you're only one call away, really, that's already so close."

"And when our phones go out in the middle of the night, we're only a few floors away in the same four walls." You agreed.

"To me, that feels like a hug." Steve let you know. "The biggest one in the whole wide world."

"Maybe the universe." Those three words were the last you managed to mumble out before sleep forcefully washed over you.

Although Steve knew deep down he was going to be let down eventually, he couldn't help the warm and fuzzy feeling that basked in his brain and swirled around tummy at the act of falling asleep to such a lovely voice every single night. It felt domestic and vulnerable, like it was always meant to be that way.

He didn't even know when it happened, but at a certain point he didn't even have to try anymore. The romantic sentiments and pet names just rolled off his tongue without second thought. At its height, he found himself daydreaming about what it might be like to actually meet you one day. He knew it probably would never happen, but for now he was happy knowing that the distance between you was so small that it was practically an illusion.

Next: The Smiley Sticker

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