#I think there was a brown recluse in my bathroom

[roguemonsterfucker]

*chants to self* spiders are not vengeful and won’t try to murder you after you failed to kill it spiders are not vengeful and won’t try to murder you after you failed to kill it spiders are not vengeful and won’t try to murder you after you failed to kill it

[258punkweight]

i think there's a brown recluse in my bathroom

[onenicebugperday]

@suzthelizard submitted: Hello, I have finally found the (possible) name of this spider that I always find wandering the floors in my house, but I can find zero information on them. According to DuckDuckGo this is a “Gnaphosa sericata”, found in central Alabama. Is this so? Do you know if they’re especially venomous? No hurry, no worry, I just want to know what the name is, what their normal habitat might be (it can’t be my bathroom floor, though that’s where I always find them). They’re slow but skittish, and don’t climb well. Cup is a 3 oz dixie cup, so it’s not large.

A friend! It doesn’t look like Gnaphosa to me. I’m thinking one of the meshweavers. Either way, no, its venom is not medically signifcant for humans. The only spiders in your area that you’d even remotely need to be worried about are black widows and brown recluses, and even then, likely you’d be fine if, on the off chance, you were bitten.

If I had to make an educated guess on the species of this fella I’d put my money on a male South American toothed hacklemesh weaver, but it’s hard to say since there are quite a few species that look vaguely like this. Maybe Amaurobius? Either way, spiders with this body type are definitely ground-dwellers more than climbers, and outside they would be found around fallen trees and leaf litter and that sort of thing where they’d hunt other arthropods. So if you wanted to put them outside, around a wood pile or something similar would be perfect :)

[deluxebug]

🕷 This one really small spider I found in the bathroom about a month ago molted recently. I was sweeping and swept up a dead bug from the corner, and found a tiny spiderling running after it. It had been scavenging. So I put it in a small box with a little soil and a small capful of water. I've been feeding it. I know everybody always thinks they have a brown recluse, but I do think it looks and acts like one. It's mostly a solid tan color, the legs are arranged in similar proportions to a recluse, and it's made a sort of messy set of cobwebs it rests in. When I feed it, it actively hunts instead of using the web to catch prey.. It's just so small I still can't see the eye arrangement, and I don't see the fiddle. Even after molting, it's still barely as big as my fingernail. I'd take a pic but it's too small and I can't get proper focus. I will just keep feeding it 😤 Grow FASTER

[beth500]

TW: Spiders

I tried tagging it as many ways as I could and I think I figured out how to cut the post it please be aware that there is a picture of a spider at the end of the post so people can see what I saw!

Spiders are cool and all. But I do not like to perceive them at 5:30 in the morning when I go to wash my hands after going to the bathroom. If I must perceive a spider, I would like to do it in a controlled environment or through a screen, thanks. I do not like seeing spiders in my house because, while most spiders are generally harmless, I do live in brown recluse territory. I'm very much not down to clown with that, thanks.

For anyone who doesn't know, the brown recluse is more dangerous and aggressive than the black widow. It has a higher kill rate and a more potent venom than the widow. I am not about to fuck with that.

On the bright side, what I encountered was most likely a Yellow Sac Spider. While still unpleasant of it bites, you won't die from it!

[dykeofalltrades]

real talk how concerned should i be abt seeing a brown recluse in my bathroom?? i dont think i need to be too concerned since theyre mostly chill and big enough to see and avoid. i dont exactly want an exterminator to come kill all of our spiders since they do good work. really im most concerned abt a cat getting bit for harassing one

[void-tiger]

...and apparently I play with spiders.

[stagbeetleboy]

Yeah we found the brown recluse nest :) my bathroom!

It was making a web so definitely nesting. I had disposed of one from that spot before so my sink is a breeding ground. Oh the funniest thing is I wear flip flops and that’s where I brush my teeth.

My sister yelled at me bc she thinks I keep them around like pets. WHICH I DONT. I can tell which are potentially harmful.

[solari-writes-things]

Confide

🛑 WARNINGS: Language, mentions of blood. 🛑

✨ Requested by: @jackjawcaptain

✨ Pairing: Frank Castle x Reader

✨ Summary: Frank is having a bit of a hard time, and you're there to remind him that he can let go.

✨ Solari Says: This has been sitting in my inbox for some time friend, and it's about time that I put it out there. Enjoy! :>

Prompt -

Rose Quartz - Learning to trust again.

gif credit: to the OP.

MORE FRANK | MORE MARVEL | > MASTERLIST < |

He had pulled another disappearing act again.

Not that you could be any form of frustrated with him, Frank Castle always had something to do. Something in his head that he needed to work out--let it be with talking to Curtis or with the barrel of his pistol. You learned that rather quickly after coming into a comfortable relationship with him.

At least, you felt that it was comfortable. Frank had given signs that he was fighting with himself about it. Distant staring, averting eyes. You couldn't count his quiet nature, that's just how he had always been since you've met.

The only reason that you did not twist his arm about it was because Curtis had been the one to inform you that it was not your fault. That Frank had been through a lot of different things before finding you, stuff that made this sort of involvement a little more complicated. His deflection, his disappearances, were only reactionary to the constant battle that was happening in his mind.

So you were idly sitting on the sofa, twiddling your thumbs as you watched the different figures dancing across your screen. You couldn't remember what movie you put on, what exactly that you were doing in the living room rather than going to bed. You stretched out your hand, grasping your cell phone and pulling it up to take a look. You clicked the button on the side, waking up the screen to see what time it had been.

2:48am.

You sigh.

There were no missed calls. You knew that Frank occasionally had burners when he was on his trips, so something inside was hopeful that you would get a call from a mysterious New York area code. But when you saw nothing, your heart dropped a little bit.

You sigh again.

You decide to click off the screen of your phone and stand, coming to the conclusion that the background noise that the movie was creating wasn't helping your brain shut down. You always found it hard to, when Frank left without any warnings. You should've bothered Curtis before it got so late, maybe he'd seen Frank at some point.

You reach for the remote that had been next to your cell phone, pointing the black controller towards the screen and clicking the power button. It abruptly turns back, leaving your living space dark. You stand, but wait for just a moment so that your eyes could adjust to the darkness. Little by little, silhouettes of the surrounding furniture were tangible to you and you begin weaving around to approach the small hallway that led to your bathroom and bedroom.

You run a hand through your hair, and just before you turn the corner to your bedroom you hear a gentle knock on your front door.

You freeze, furrowing your brows and turning slowly towards it.

You approached quickly and quietly, and when you were against the door you peer through the hole to see who it had been.

On the other end, there was a figure in black clothes with his hands in his jacket pockets. They were quiet, shuffling their weight between their feet as they waited for some form of response from you.

When you didn't respond, however, they decided to speak.

"[Y/N]... It's me," they said simply, and the raspy nature of his tones filled you with some form of relief.

Frank.

You quickly unlock the door, pulling it open and meeting your eyes with his. "Frank. Where in the hell were you?"

"I-uh..." he averted his eyes downwards to the ground between his boots. Under the porch light, you could see a hint of discoloration on his black hoodie--something almost brassy.

He had gotten into an altercation.

"You...?" you try. crossing your arms.

"I had some business I had to finish," he answered simply. "I know you're... probably fuckin' pissed. I-I'm sorry for that."

Your expression softens, just a little, not really noticing that you had a tad bit of a frown in the first place. So you step back a couple feet, so that he had adequate room to file inside. "Come on. Let's get you out of that hoodie, I can see the blood when the light shines on it."

Frank nods his head slightly, shuffling his feet so that he could come in. Once he closes the door behind himself and locks it, he begins to pull his arms inside of his jacket to pull it over his head.

You watch him closely, as he drapes the fabric over his forearm gently and turns to you.

"Where did you want this..?" he asked quietly, his eyes flitting around the room as if something was going to jump out and bite him.

"Just go toss it in the hamper with the rest of my clothes," you say to him, moving to the side so that he could move past you to go to your bedroom.

Once you let him pass, you turn on your own heels and follow him. He pushes past the doorframe that led to your room, having no trouble navigating in the dark. You reach over once you get to your doorframe, flicking the light switch up so that your room bathed in light.

You could finally look at his face. There was a couple spots of dried blood on his knuckles, and on his jeans that he donned for the night. Ultimately, he had no scratch on him--which was a miracle considering how accident prone he usually was.

If you could even call it that.

"Where did you end up going, Frank?" you ask him, your voice soft so that he knew you weren't there to lecture him.

"I went to talk to Curt," he answered honestly, as he tossed his hoodie in the white basket hiding in the closet of your room. "Afterwards, we went to have a drink."

"And where does the blood come into play?"

"Someone decided they didn't want to shut their mouth," he sighed, turning around so that he could go sit on the edge of your bed.

"Frank, you don't do this without a reason... What did they say that had you so miffed, huh?"

"Bah, it's nothin', alright? Handled and done," he tried to avoid, waving it off.

As much as you believed the "handled" part of that sentence, something underneath the browns of his eyes led you to think that it was still sitting in his head. Writhing and endlessly taunting.

"Don't give me that shit, Frank," you tell him, moving so that you could sit next to him on the space that was left at the end of your bed. "You have to remember you're in a fuckin' relationship with me, man. I understand it hasn't been a thing for very long but... you also need to understand that I'm here for you. That I'll listen to anything that you feel that you need to talk about.

Whatever happened at that bar, it's eating at you. I know you well enough to tell the signs," you place a gentle arm around his waist, bringing him in a little closer.

He's silent for a moment, putting an arm around your shoulder and closing the gap of space that you both had between your bodies. You say nothing, feeling that he was sorting through his thoughts before he decided to speak once more.

"Did I ever tell you about Maria? My kids?" he asked quietly, staring at the floor of your bedroom.

"No," you answer.

"They were killed. All of them," he said quietly, causing a hole in your gut to begin to manifest. No wonder Curtis told you what he had. Why Frank was as reclusive as he was.

He lost his family. Nothing could ever heal you completely from that.

"Shit, Frank... I'm sorry," you say to him quietly, joining his gaze to the floor.

"Yeah... The douchebag at the bar overheard a something I said to Curtis and decided to open his fuckin' mouth," he informed. "When I told him to keep his mouth shut, he didn't. You can put together what happened."

"I'd kick his shit in too if I was you," you answered. "Although... that makes me wonder."

"Hm?"

"Why aren't you in the slammer?" you ask, as a way to take the topic off of his grief--even if it was just for a moment.

"I beat his ass away from prying eyes," he answered simply with a small shrug, earning a chuckle from you.

You push yourself up just a bit so that you could plant a kiss on his cheek, resting your face in the crook of his neck. "You know, Frank... telling me that shit... I know it must've been a lot for you to muster. Thank you..."

Frank hums a bit, rubbing your bicep with his hand gently. "It's something I have to learn how to do... If there's one thing I remember about being married to Maria, it's that playing cards close to my chest can be hurtful..."

"And you're completely right about that..." you agree, your finger dragging against his waist.

You notice in your peripheral that he was observing you. Focused, with a small smile playing at the edge of his lips. Before you could speak up about it, he drops his arm from around your shoulders.

"I'm tired," he says simply. "I'm gonna settle here tonight... if that's okay with you."

"Of course it is, Frank... I'm just glad to see that you're okay," you respond simply, smiling at him before standing.

You move yourself so that you could flick the light switch once more. You look over your shoulder at Frank, watching as the tension in his body slowly began to dissipate. A smile slowly stretches across your face.

And then you turn the lights out.

__

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[soysaucevictim]

“aching, shaking, breaking (like humans do)”

Summary: Remus thinks Hypnos has abandoned him for good (metaphorically speaking), Patton is there to help. (Sanders Sides, Gym Rat AU. One-shot. Ao3 link.)

Genres: Slice of Life, Hurt/Comfort, Sickfic

Characters: Patton and Remus centric. Logan, Virgil, and Roman mentioned.

Relationships: Intruality (platonic), Logicality (platonic), Background Intrulogical (platonic/ambiguous), Background Dukexiety (romantic/QPP), Background Moxiety (paternal/platonic)

Warnings: Remus angst, extreme insomnia, (unintentional) self-injury, medications, mental health issues, grim imagery, Remus Has Intrusive Thoughts, Remus Is A Mess, Patton Is A Good Friend, Interfaith Friendships, Implied (Extended) Family Problems

-

Patton was pedaling on one of the exercise bikes, which was one of his favorite activities to do at the gym. Relatively low impact and he usually took a “something is better than nothing” approach to his routines nowadays. Just appreciating the people watching and socializing with his workout famILY.

That was odd.

Remus hadn’t been to the gym for the whole week. Even when the kiddo overdid it – usually he’s not out of commission this long for it. Unless-

Something hit him in the gut when he realized that. He stopped on his bike and immediately buzzed his number.

Ring.

Ring.

Nothing.

He could shoot him a text, but it was just not settling right with him. Logan had been doing one of his HIIT circuits on the bike next to him. He took a deep breath, gently tapping Logan’s shoulder. Despite Logan’s concentration, he desisted immediately, turning off his music to respond, “What is it?”

“Have you seen a certain Pottymouth at your work recently?”

Logan paused, with a look of concerned realization, “Come to think of it, no. No, I haven’t. Well, he was getting particularly erratic and called in sick… 3 days ago.”

“I think I should go check in on him. My Other Son’s been swamped with work lately, sooo…”

If Logan was perfectly honest, it was often confusing when Patton referred to half their crew as his son, “Other son? Did you mean Virgil?”

Patton nodded.

“Probably prudent. Unfortunately, no one can stand in for me at the firm tonight. And. You’re better at the… emotions stuff.”

“I appreciate the vote of confidence! Hopefully I’m just worried for nothing.”

Patton rose up from his bike and was about to leave with his things. Logan smiled faintly, “Hey, if you would, could you tell me how he’s doing when you find out?”

Patton smiled back, a little forced if he was honest, “I’ll make sure to have him tell you that himself!”

-

It wasn’t a very far trip across the city to get to Remus’s apartment complex from the gym.

Once Patton parked his car and took another deep breath, he stepped out toward it.

After getting buzzed in and jogging up a couple flights of stairs, thanking his stars for basic training, he was at the door in a jiffy.

Patton wasn’t in the business, but he was reminded of the time Remus was raising heck to get Unit 404 from this building. He remembered seeing Logan trying desperately not to laugh when he heard about it.

He knew to knock to the phrase “Shave and a Haircut”, to alert Remus. He drummed out a few calls, waiting for Remus to make a sound on the other side, hoping he would.

It was a thing in their group, ever since they all watched “Roger Rabbit” together for a movie night, years ago.

Once. Twice. Thrice…

Patton heard the sound of chaotic crashing noises and an off-script, but still in the right cadence, “Fuck OFF!”

“Remus!? Kiddo, it’s me. I wanted to check on you!”

He heard some stumbling noises and a hoarse, “P-padre?”

“Can I come in?”

There was a dramatically loud sigh before the door was unlatched, unlocked, and open.

“Thanks- oh.”

Patton wasn’t exactly sure what he was expecting, but Remus looked even more harried than he usually was. The darkness around his eyes even more pronounced, his face was so drained. His makeup smudged, tear-streaked, and hanging on for dear life. His gaze wild and jumpy. Remus didn’t do much more than stand in the living room, staring at Patton once he entered.

Patton saw that Remus had knocked over one of his glass cabinets. He noticed Remus looked pretty scratched up and was bleeding in places, mostly his hands and knuckles.

Patton furrowed his brow, asking mostly to avoid presumptions, “How are you feeling?”

Remus sounded breathless too, “What does it fucking… look like!?”

Patton paused and looked around some more, there was a lot of trash strewn about the floor. Granted there usually was, Remus would just call it “organized chaos”. But Patton did note that there was an alarming number of energy drink cans piled around a hopelessly full trash bin. Monsters, NOS, Red Bulls, 5 Hours, yerba mate, the works.

Patton slumped a little bit in worry, “Not exactly peachy keen, I take it?”

Patton had a hunch that Remus was screaming not that long ago, based on just how raw his voice sounded, “No SHIT!”

“Um, would you like to sit down for a bit? It might help to talk it out.”

“Can’t.”

“Too restless, huh?”

“Yeah.”

At that point Remus was mindlessly digging his fingernails into his arm. Patton winced a little and decided to ask, “Can I take care of those injuries, at least? I just want to make sure they don’t get-”

Remus glanced at but barely registered the wounds, “Infected?”

“Yeah.”

“F-first aid kit’s in the bathroom. Not like it matters. It would be just my luck to have a brown recluse bite or resistant staph or necrotizing fasciitis. You know where shit rots and liquefies and you get all septic?! Imagine the SMELL.”

Patton slowly worked his way to the bathroom to get the kit, not taking his eyes away from Remus, “Well, if it looks like it’ll be that way, I WILL be taking your butt to the ER.”

Remus didn’t seem to register that, droning on, “Oh. What if I lose a finger? Or several! Or my entire hands! Everybody says I might die of a heart attack before I hit 30? My ticker feels like it’s going to EXPLODE, Teddy Roosevelt. Imagine a live grenade strapped to it – BOOM. Sounds like fun.”

Patton flinched, thinking that was to get a rise out of him, “Kiddo, I think that’s the opposite of fun.”

Remus weakly laughed, pointing at his chest thoughtlessly, “Better than worrying about cancer or some shit!”

Eventually Patton had to break line of sight to grab the kit, but he kept talking, “When… when did you last get some sleep?”

There was a pause that made Patton’s own heart ache a little bit. Remus muttered after some hemming and hawing, “Uh… 3? 4?  4 days ago? I think. I don’t even fucking know.”

Patton took a moment to look over the medicine cabinet while he was there. Just to see if Remus had anything that could help him get much needed snooze time. There was a bottle of trazodone, mostly full, Benedryl, also mostly full… no suspiciously empty bottles of anything around. So that was a hopeful sign.

“Would you mind if I asked you to take something to help you sleep? After I patch you up?”

“You remember that story where a whole batch of Tylenol was tampered with and killed like seven whole people?”

“… I’ll ask again a little later, then.”

Patton returned to the living room, kit in hand, both relieved and disconcerted about Remus just standing in the same spot he was in. His hands were clenching and unclenching, like he was fighting to stay awake even longer. “Okay, it would be easier on both of us if you sat down while I dress those wounds.”

Remus didn’t move, so Patton tried to gently nudge this poor kid toward the sofa anyways. Thankfully, he didn’t resist at all. Patton noticed just how wobbly a gait he had in that short distance. Once seated, Patton also saw that both his knees were scuffed. Patton winced, imagining that he took at least a few falls very recently.

Without prompting, Remus whined, “Everything hurts, Padre.”

“Well, going without sleep as long as you have can give you a bad case of the body aches. Seen some of my old combat buddies deal with that on our worst deployments…”

Patton started to wipe down Remus’s knuckles first with some cotton balls and alcohol. He just wanted to get a better sense of how deep these cuts were. He was relieved that they were surprisingly shallow, “I think these will only need some simple bandages and antibiotic cream… but I’m definitely going to check on you later, to see how your hands are doing.”

Remus nodded, and started to blather a bit again, “I feel like Hypnos himself has forsaken me. A curse! A bane! Pat? Is his brother going to come for me? Am I going to ride down Styx and meet the big H himself?”

“… you’re not going to die, if I can help it. I swear to God Himself.”

“Gross.”

Patton sometimes forgot that their positions of faith were so far removed. But that didn’t dissuade him from caring a lot. He hated seeing his friend suffering so much. He took another breath, and addressed the gouges and cuts in Remus’s arms. They were rough, probably unintentionally from his own hands. He approached those similarly. “You feeling any sleepier, yet?”

“Mmm… no.”

Remus looked like he was about to pass out, Patton was reasonably sure just the fact he was seated and getting some TLC helped push him closer to shutting his eyes. “Well. I’m going to hang around for a few, just to make sure you’re alright, okay? Mind if I turn on the TV?”

Remus started to slur his speech considerably, “Knock yourself out, Holy Ghost.”

Patton thinly smiled about the blasphemous sentiment, but he shook that off, it didn’t matter really. He was just glad to see Remus doze off like he desperately needed it.

Patton decided to tune into Nickelodeon and watch some cartoon reruns, eventually hearing some loud snoring coming from Remus. Patton sighed and smiled at the sight.

-

“Oh GEEZ, Patton. Were you – were you here all night?”

Patton blinked awake from the shouting and looked outside to see it was bright out, “I-I guess I was?”

Virgil was there to see his boyfriend sleeping like the dead and Patton next to him.

“Logan told me to check on Remus and I just got back here. And-”

“Remus is going to be okay, I think. Do you have any idea what may’ve started this episode?”

Virgil sat down on the recliner nearby and looked tired but contemplative.

“His “family” tried contacting him. All I know was it devolving into a messy fight and it rattled him. He… stubbornly didn’t want to talk about it.”

Patton understood what he meant at this point.

The only blood relative Remus had anything nice to say about was Roman. Someone who should probably know what happened, if he wasn’t already aware.

All to address later, once Remus recovered a little more.

Patton ran his fingers through Remus’s greasy hair. Not the most pleasant, but he hoped it helped to soothe him as he continued to slumber.

Virgil smiled at both of them, his own concern never quite gone, “Thanks for this, Pop Star.”

[my-brothers-corrupted]

Chapter Four: Part 1

Anti finds a new home for himself and his puppets and makes a couple violent power plays.

Tws: physical abuse/beatings, stabbing, imprisonment, temporary major character death, and extreme distress

-

Part 1 - Reversal

It’s an awkward car ride, to say the least.

Red hot-wired the truck from the parking lot and Trick climbed into the driver’s seat with Anti still wearing Blue’s body beside him. Dapper sits between Red and Dok, enduring periodic lovingly-concerned glances from both of them in quiet silence, his head against Red’s shoulder. Trick and Red won’t meet each other’s eyes in the rearview and Dok rubs absent-mindedly at his side and at his necklaces, trying to decide his next move.

“Turn here,” says Anti, once they’ve got about an hour away from the motel. The trees grow huge and beautiful around them and everything smells of earth and water. Red perks up. Staying somewhere around here would rock.

Trick turns the car and they keep on down an unkempt dirt road until -

“Okay,” says Anti, pointing. “Here you go.”

“Motherfuck,” whispers Trick.

“What he said,” agrees Red, leaping out of the truck as he parks. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“It’s a nice house,” says Anti.

“It isn’t a house,” murmurs Dok. “That’s a motherfucking mansion.”

Huge windows stare out into the forest around them from the square and stylish body of a grey-stone house, the doors curved like those of old Roman buildings, lights dangling from every other piece of rock. Balconies protrude from room windows and a tall proud brown fence surrounds a big piece of land in the backyard. Squirrels and birds flicker overhead in the warmth of the early morning, the trees sighing in the wind.

“Red, ditch the car later,” Anti commands, heading towards the door. With a blink of his eyes, he unlocks the electronic handle and opens the way for his pets. “The man who lived here was a paranoid recluse. The whole house is coated in cameras and there’s all the medical supplies we could ever need in the bathroom. It will be the perfect place to get their attention from. Come on, then, darlings. Don’t you want to explore?”

.

Dapper walks into the house alone, behind his siblings, almost envious of Blue’s cane, as he feels, for whatever reason, the need to collapse.

Blue does collapse, the moment Anti is gone from his body. One moment they’re standing together at the foot of the great dark stairway with its twisting rail - a moment later the body collapses, and Red is racing forward to catch his twin. Blue slumps back into his arms, bleeding a little from the right eye, and Red is quick to pull him away into a big sitting room, dragging him onto a couch.

“Roser,” Dapper hears Blue murmurs.

“Azul,” replies Red quietly, knocking their foreheads together.

The two of them have had little time together. Since Peru, all Blue seems to do is sleep. Red just lets him. All they want is to take care of each other. Now they’ll at least get a couple minutes to catch up.

Dok and Trick are entertaining themselves with ransacking the house, even Henrik looking happy with the change, though Dapper sees how he limps as he tries to keep up with his over-excited twin.

“There’s a motherfucking pool!” Trick shouts from one side of the house.

“The pantry is stuffed!” answers Dok from the kitchen.

“Hey, ping pong, haha!”

“Oh… a library.”

“And all sorts of instruments, Dok, come look!”

“Fuck, a whole alcohol cabinet. Trick, you’re going to - ”

“Stay away, I know, I know!”

“The doors all lock electronically anyway,” answers Anti mildly, examining the garage, where a couple old-fashioned cars in need of repairs are exhausted against the earth or jacked up on a long-abandoned raise. He shuts the garage and turns away, his dark gaze flickering over Dapper for a moment, who stares back without challenge in his eyes. “So don’t go trying to pull a fast one on me, I’ll lock you in.”

He steps closer to Dapper, patting his back as he passes.

“Upstairs is all for you and me, love,” he says. “We can stay in the master bedroom. Isn’t that nice?”

Dapper nods, glancing up at the stairs. No. He doesn’t think he likes this house. But he knows to say yes.

“It’s good,” Anti re-iterates, tilting his head at him.

Dapper feels the need for more of a response waiting in the air between them, but Anti just looks at him.

“Thank you,” he says after a moment.

Even this does not seem to satisfy Anti. His brother draws back uncertainly, touching his back again, looking at him.

“Your moods will steady out again soon as the medicine kicks in,” says Anti, tugging on a curl of his hair. “Go, go upstairs and get settled.”

Dapper glances at Blue and Red whispering together on the couch and Dok and Trick playing with the settings on the fridge.

He turns and heads upstairs.

Just settle, something in his head is telling him. Be excited. It’ll be nice here. You’ll be spoiled because of the attempt. Just settle down again. Settle. Settle.

He wants to. He always has before. And it has kept him alive and favored and sometimes even sane.

But he doesn’t know how to settle again. There was, for just a moment, on the side of that cliff, a taste of freedom.

The craving has not died.

.

Anonymous asked: red, blue, how are you two doing?

“How are you feeling?” asks Red, rubbing his thumb over Blue’s beard.

“Better now that you’re here,” answers Blue, grinning up at him.

Red purses his mouth in an exaggerated kissy face and leans in. Blue bursts into laughter and swats at his head, pushing him away - but his laughter devolves into deep coughing and he ends up splayed across Red’s shoulder, his head down on his back, wheezing through the fit.

“The cameras said you were sick,” says Red. “And all I could do was just know about it and do nothing. And know it was my fault.”

Blue’s face contorts. “No… it wasn’t your fault.”

“I left you behind.”

“You were scared,” says Blue, stroking the back of his head. “I understand.”

“No, Blue, really, please… I’m sorry. Okay? I want you to know you’re important to me. You’re more important than - ”

“Don’t,” whispers Blue, cutting him off. “Don’t say things that will get you in trouble.”

Red sighs, gripping his hand. “I am sorry.”

“Thank you,” murmurs Blue. “I was angry for a while. But mostly I’ve just missed you.”

“Dumb old me?”

“Dumb old you,” chuckles Blue.

“I’m never going to leave you behind again,” says Red. “I swear.”

He draws him into a tight hug. For a long moment, they just rest together, and they hold each other.

“I think there was something else you were going to tell me all about,” adds Blue after a moment.

“Hm?”

“Something about… a boyyyy?”

Red flushes even deeper than the night before, burying his face in Blue’s shirt, and his twin just laughs and holds him tight, rocking them against the fancy couch.

Anonymous asked: Blue, is he possessing you EVERY night? Like have you been allowed any recovery time between possessions at all?

Blue coughs again and rubs at his bleeding eye. “It’s been at least every morning,” he says. “It’s horrible. And then I’m so tired I just sleep all day… but yeah, night and morning is when his sickness is the worst, he says, so if he wears me, he doesn’t get sick. The magic just thinks it’s back in my skin. Where it should be.”

“Morning sickness,” says Red wisely. “Like a pregnant lady.”

“Fuck, imagine a baby Anti.”

“That’s just Dapper.”

“You take that back!” snorts Blue, punching him in the arm. “How fucking dare you - I am enraged - he is the sweetest - fuck you, Ro!”

Red laughs, getting up to adjust Blue on the couch, trying to make him more comfortable. “No, he isn’t. I’m just kidding. Dapper isn’t really like Anti at all. But he did tear the guy who owned this house to shreds last night.”

“He’s got a little of Anti’s ferocity in him,” sighs Blue, listing back against the pillows. “If he could, he’d use it for nice things.”

“Maybe I can convince Anti to possess me at night sometimes instead of you.”

“I don’t think it’s the same.”

“There’s only so much more of this you can take, Blue.”

Blue shrugs, rubbing at his face. “At least Dok’s allowed to look after me.”

Anonymous asked: Hey dapper, are you doing alright? Relatively, anyway.

“Doing alright, doing alright,” he answers politely. “Just… yes. Fine…”

He climbs the stairs step-by-step, weaving his way up to the second floor. He glances over the side of the banister as he reaches the top, and then just as quickly draws away, stepping back, blinking rapidly. He puts an uncertain arm around his stomach and turns away from the ledge, his mouth twisting.

Anonymous asked: dapper? are you ok?

“Never been nervous about heights before,” he signs, laughing a little, though his arm wraps protectively around his stomach again as soon as he’s done talking. He spots the fanciest door yet and nods his head at you, drawing you towards it.

“Big master bedroom!” he signs. “Big, big!”

He holds his arms out comically wide and smiles at you. This is, you suspect, his attempt at being cheerful, but it’s pretty weak, especially considering how sunken his eyes seem.

It is a big room, though, and the bed is just as unnecessarily enormous, spreading across one whole wall, a big California king.

Dapper killed the man who used to sleep there just yesterday. His hands reach gently out and smooth over the pillow, pushing the wrinkles away, leaving it smooth and white and blameless.

It’s a clean white room with some dressers and drawers. There’s a big bathroom attached, with a tub and everything, but he doesn’t much care. At least there’s a wide window with a nice sill. He pushes the glass open and sticks his head out for a moment, taking a deep, deep breath.

“It’s gorgeous out here,” he tells you. “See, look.”

Ah, the world spreads wide from out this window, as if every beauty there is to be had can be found somewhere in the gaps between the trees and the glowing of the sun over the leaves and the movement of the birds in the air. The forest sweeps faraway from him, gold and red and glowing. The wind ruffles his soft hair.

Dapper sinks down onto the ledge of the window and folds his arms beneath his chin.

Do you remember the days when you would sit with him on the sill of his window in Norway, and he would wait for the Northern lights to come? Do you remember the faint smile on his face and the way he would chatter to you and the joy in his eyes over things like fish and chips and trips to the store? Do you remember the smudged wall where he drew something he once loved and then covered it up once again, because remembering was so much more trouble than it was worth?

He is not that man now.

He does not speak to you. He does not smile. His eyes are fixed on the sky, but he knows there is nothing coming.

Anonymous asked: Dap, I don't mean to pry if you don't want to talk, but remember you have support in your brothers and with us no matter how strange things get. I know things have changed (again) And we can't tell you HOW to feel, only it is OKAY to feel.

He turns to glance at you and he tries to smile again, bringing you fondly to his chest, the better for you to see the world outside.

“I feel sad,” he admits after a long moment. “But what’s the point in that?”

“How do you like it?”

Anti’s voice startles him and Dapper jolts, slamming his head into the top of the window. Anti gives a sharp “oh!” and glitches even closer, cupping his face in one hand and running the other through Dapper’s hair, looking for a goose egg.

“Poor thing,” he says, frowning down at him. “That’s no fun, smacking your little head.”

Dapper shakes his head wearily, his face scrunched up with pain.

“But you like the room?”

“Yes, Anti.”

“Well, you can have the whole top floor to yourself, except Blue and Dok will be around at night. And brother, of course.”

“Of course.”

Anti stands behind him for a second, petting his hair, looking out at the world with him.

“Pretty, huh?”

“I hate all these fucking squirrels,” says Anti. “And the birds. Yuck.”

“You’re the worst,” signs Dapper, with an odd sort of fondness.

Anti kisses the side of his head. “No more hurting yourself, right?”

“Yes, Anti.”

“Okay. Cause if you ever scare me like that again - ” Anti’s grip tightens around his chin. “You’ll really regret it, alright, little man?”

“Yes, Anti.”

He smiles and lets him go, moving around the room and beginning to explore.

Anonymous asked: you don't need to pretend, dapper. you can be honest with us. i take it you're still feeling bad, and i can't blame you after all that happened. at least this house is nice? a tiny silver lining in amongst everything else.

“I’m hoping I will feel better soon,” Dapper agrees, watching Anti move around the room. “I was hoping he would get me a kitten or a puppy or a mouse or something since Trick got a kitten after his attempt, but I don’t think anything would convince Anti to let a pet in his room. But, yes, the house is nice. We will not be cold or too hungry I’m hoping!”

“This bathroom stinks,” complains Anti, throwing his head and retreating from inside. “That’s horrible.”

“It smells bad?”

“There’s like a million lotions and bath bombs and soaps and dumb shit in here. That’s so strong. It reeks of rose.”

Dapper blinks, getting up from the sill and stepping over towards Anti. He steps into the bathroom.

The flowery scents are almost overwhelming and Dapper’s pretty sure Anti’s nose is stronger than a normal human’s. But to him, it still smells pretty nice. The tub is huge, coated in little baskets of soaps and bath fizzies and shampoos and things. There’s even candles and bubble bath. It’s a little pretentious, but pretty fun too.

“Does it smell that strong to you?” asks Dapper, turning to frown at his brother.

Anti gags, backing away from the room. “Feel like I walked into a Bed, Bath, and whatever. Better keep that door shut. Check there’s nothing rowan, too. I’m going to go look around the forest.”

“What? You’re going down to the forest? You hate nature.”

“Apt. But I have someone I need to find, and if I don’t start looking, they’ll just find me first.” Anti grins coyly, eyes trailing away. “It’s an excellent game to play.”

“Okay. I - ”

Anti has already glitched away.

Dapper pauses, looking around the room.

An idea starts to form in his head.

cest-mellow asked: jameson, things are gonna be okay. you can have your family again, you’ll get them back. but you all have to work together in this. don’t. settle. just wait for the moment to strike. all five of you need to be in on this.

Dapper can tell when Blue and Doktor are plotting.

A change has come over them from the last time he saw them. It isn’t something he can put his finger on - more of a feeling.

More like deja vu. Like he’s seeing someone he hasn’t seen in a long time.

But the point is that when they come up the stairs at ten o clock exactly, he knows from the way they exchange looks and brush each other’s hands - they are thinking of something they should not be thinking of.

He knows he should tell them off, but he doesn’t have the heart.

“I don’t think Trick acts normal at all. I worry he’s only getting worse.”

“Red is a wreck since Anti took him back. He can’t focus.”

“And Dapper?”

“I haven’t spent much time with him yet - I never do - but he’s melancholy, he’s tired, he’s - sitting at the top of the stairs watching us! Hi, buddy!”

Dapper smiles softly, letting his head rest against the bars of the stairs. “You two are not very sneaky,” he signs.

“We’re not sneaking,” protests Blue, pausing for a breath halfway up the stairs. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Dok doesn’t seem to think it’s funny, though. His face is lost and afraid. He doesn’t want to wait. He doesn’t want to scheme. He wants to act.

His family can’t take any more of this. It’s only a matter of time before the cracks become chasms.

But you’re right, and that’s the worst part. He can’t save his siblings from themselves. He needs all five.

Dok and Blue make it to the top of the stairs and give their little brother a hug, feeling him meld against their bodies. This is the only way they have to promise it right now - you can have your family again. Here we are.

“Boring day?”

“The cameras and I did some exploring.”

“Good. Come on, then. Let’s get ready for bed.”

Anonymous asked: Are there others allowed upstairs here? Are you allowed down? I know Trick is technically "in charge" now but I don't know if any rules have changed with the hierarchy.

“Anti told us to come up at ten, so we did,” says Blue, sitting on the bed. Dapper sits down by his feet, scooping his puppets into boxes. Though he endures bouts of clarity, he felt himself justified in spending most of the day distracted, day-dreaming with his toys.

Dok paces in the doorway, eyes narrowed, mouth taut as a drawn bow.

“Dok, relax,” says Blue quietly.

Henrik shakes his head hard, fists gritted. “He should stay away from you.”

Blue’s face contorts with stress. He wraps his arms around himself, trying to immortalize the feeling of his body belonging to him before it’s taken away yet again. And again, and again, and again…

Dapper rests his head against his knee and hugs his calf, staring up at him.

Anti, if you switch through the many cameras connected to your system in the great house, is coming back out of the forest. He has been gone most of the day, letting them have their peace, but Henrik knew that wouldn’t last.

“Where was he?” asks Henrik.

“I fear to ask,” answers Dapper. “I fear to imagine. There are few people in the world Anti would call his ally, and I wouldn’t like to meet any of them ever again.”

“Anti’s never introduced us to anyone.”

“Anti’s never introduced you to anyone,” Dapper corrects him coolly.

Blue’s back slams against the door of the shower, pinning him hard along the glass. He cries out and hears Henrik shouting on the other side of the bathroom, screeching for Anti to stop. Dapper is noiseless, but, opening his exhausted eyes, he can see his youngest brother staring back at him from the doorway, eyes wide.

“Dok, don’t fight, don’t fight,” he croaks.

Anti’s foot connects with the side of Blue’s head. Henrik shrieks and throws himself at Anti, tearing at his face with his long white nails, and Anti slams him into the bathroom sink hard. Henrik grips at his jarred hip with a gasp, crumbling to his knees on the cold tile of the floor.

Everything smells like blood and rose.

“You are the one who’s fighting,” laughs Anti, turning his attention back to Blue with something burning like a flame in blackened eyes, as a match already consumed by its fire. “So weak. So frail. And still he thinks he can resist me by closing his eyes and walling up his mind.”

Anti grabs Blue by the collar and hauls him to his feet. He starts to shake Blue, shoving him against the shower door, and Blue can only gasp as his head is struck back against the door.

“You two think you have any control?” hisses Anti, slamming him back again. “You think you have anything? You think you can do anything? I’m in control. I’m in control! Stop - trying - to fight me!”

The defenses in Blue’s mind crash to the ground and he cries out in his last moment of being his own for the night. He hears Dapper make a soft, mournful noise, and perhaps even sees his white hands reach out for Anti as though to tell him to stop - but it isn’t enough to save him.

Oil floods beneath Blue’s skin. Heat crawls across his face and buries itself in his stomach. His thoughts paralyze and then sink, and he is drowned back into the back of his mind, struggling to breathe but feeling Anti’s lungs moving instead, struggling to speak but feeling Anti’s lips part with words, struggling to stay conscious but sinking, sinking, sinking down into a place with no awareness.

It is Anti who opens his eyes.

“Monster!” Henrik is howling, trying to get up from the floor, his side bleeding anew. “Fucking monster, fucking creep! We’re not yours! We don’t belong to you! You can’t steal his own skin from him like that! You’re a monster, fuck you!” He curses at him in German, throwing himself forward again. Anti intercepts his punch. Dok never has been his strongest fighter.

“Anti, don’t hurt him,” Dapper’s hands beg. “Please! He’s just scared!”

Anti slams Henrik’s head into the clean white porcelain of the sink.

“Blame it on the magicians, Anti, he isn’t himself!”

Anti slams Henrik’s head into the blood on the porcelain of the sink.

“Trickshot can probably hear this, Anti!”

The sight of the name on his hands in the mirror stiffens Anti’s shoulders.

Henrik groans, his glasses broken on one side of his face and blood dripping through his hair. Anti lets go of him and he slumps to the ground, dazed and nauseous, gripping meekly at the wound in his head, a whimper falling from his mouth. Dapper moves forward to be with him, but, without even turning to look, Anti snags his throat and shoves him away.

“Go get in your fucking bed,” he growls, his eyes dark. He’s flickering through the cameras. Did Trickshot hear that? Did Red? He’ll break the pair of them down to atoms too if he has to, but he’d prefer to let good dogs be good dogs, and not incite their snapping.

Trickshot is in the kitchen in a pair of new shorts Anti bought him and a shirt covered in cacti, nibbling on a Poptart. He hasn’t reacted to the banging or the shouting. He might not have heard it. Red, for his part, is picking at the poetry books in the library, his eyes faraway and dreamy. Anti relaxes.

“Motherfucker,” Henrik slurs. He tries to get back to his feet, but only succeeds in slumping back down to the tile. Anti regards him coldly.

“You really did let yourself get stupid,” he says. “You really have forgotten just how much better it is to be obedient than rebellious.”

He reaches down to grab Henrik by the hair, dragging him up. Henrik moans, struggling to balance himself, staggering as Anti pulls him towards the door.

“I broke you in once,” hisses Anti. “And you hated me more then, believe it or not. You hated me more then and I shattered you like the broken thing you were always meant to be. Come on, Henrik. If this is the game you want to play, let’s play. I’ll take you to your room.”

Anonymous asked: Trick, Trickshot, go upstairs, go upstairs right now, Anti is hurting Dok, Anti is beating your twin, please if this gets through go help him

“No, no, no, no no no!” laughs Anti, snatching a camera from Dapper’s hand as he marches Dok down the hall. “This is a new era, ladies and gents and all my lovely prefer not to answers out there! I’m sick of your bullshit. You’re here for my entertainment and I am the ONLY one in control. I am the only one here with any power over what happens next. Good luck fucking wrestling it from me. I’m a god among ants. If I say this message doesn’t go to Trick, then it doesn’t go to Trick. Not that he’d come upstairs anyway. He knows the rules and the master who sets them.”

Dapper races out onto the first floor after them, whistling for Anti’s attention, trying to catch up. Anti moves two doors down and finds the third at the back of the floor, a white door, tightly closed. He throws it open and pushes Henrik inside.

It isn’t a finished room. Clearly someone - someone a very long time ago, it seems - had plans to redo it, because half of the carpet has been stripped down to hard grey flooring and the room is bare and cold and undecorated. Henrik sees something skitter in the side of the room. He is too concussed for his pupils to shrink in fear.

“Tr-iiick,” he slurs out, grasping at Anti’s hands. “Trick, plea…”

“He can’t help you now,” snaps Anti. “Unless you want to tell him what I’m doing and have him take your place?”

“No!” cries Henrik. “No, leave him ‘lone. Bruder… he’s lost in his hhhead…”

Anonymous asked: henrik, is he still hurting you right now?

Anti opens a white closet and shoves Henrik to his knees, slamming the door behind him. It takes him only a second to fetch chain, ignoring Dapper’s protests the whole time. He chains together the wooden doors of the closet, stepping back to admire his handiwork.

“I don’t like this, I don’t like this, I don’t want to do this anymore!” Dapper is screaming at him, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him. “Please, he doesn’t need to be hurt!”

“Stop it, Dap!” snaps Anti, whirling to grab his wrist. “If you start causing me problems you’re going to get the same treatment, damn your freak snaps! I’m not losing what’s mine now. He’ll be Dok before you know it and then everything will go back to normal again, and you and I can be brothers like we were.”

He steps into Dapper’s space, grabbing his chin and walking him back towards their room, his eyes boring into him. “Isn’t that what you want? Don’t you want to be brothers again? Don’t you remember when we were friends?”

“The person you showed me you were since the time when I loved you is more terrible and cruel than I ever let myself imagine. A child loved you. I am a man.”

Something more horrible than rage burns in Anti’s eyes. He does not let go of Dapper’s chin, backing him up, up, up, towards their bedroom, ink and blood dripping from his canine mouth.

“I am going to forget you said that,” he whispers, his eyes crimson. “Just. This. Once. Do you understand?”

Dapper closes his eyes, his back thumping against the door of the bedroom.

Anonymous asked: If he can't get into your brain then he's fucking powerless compared to you, Henrik, you are strong beyond wildest imagination. The only reason he got you the first time was because he wormed and hypnotized his way into you mind but he can't do that now. Remember the necklaces he's useless to remove. You have power. You have strength. You have control. He can never take the "Henrik" out of you completely.

Henrik is so concussed he can barely see straight.

It takes him long minutes to find you in the dim light of the closet, slowly leaning against the wall and hoisting himself up until he’s reached an approximation of a sitting position, his head swaying when he takes it away from the wall even for a moment. He can’t quite read the message on the camera in the corner of the closet, but he thinks he gets the gist. You see his hands enclose around the triplet necklaces on his breast, coughing.

“I am Henrik no matter what he tries to mmmake of me,” he whispers, slumping down against the wall. “I… am…”

His eyes are closed.

cest-mellow asked: anti, obviously torturing and hurting the boys hasn’t worked so far, what in the HELL makes you think it’ll work now?? they will ALWAYS rebel. always. you will go down and all five of them will be dancing on your grave.

“I saw the lights go out of their eyes one-by-one,” he hisses, his eyes like those of a dog’s. “I saw them die in the blood on my hands. I made Jameson kiss me and Jackie risk his life for mine. I made Marvin a loyalist and Henrik a torturer. I made Jack’s perfect, loyal, loving little copycat boy mine.”

He pushes Dapper onto the bed. His little brother stares back at him. In the moonlight, Dapper’s eyes, for one moment, look as black as Anti’s.

“It worked,” says Anti, turning his back on him to fetch him PJs from their backpack. “It worked. It just needs a refresher. I am already dancing on the graves that I buried them in.”

pine-storm-season asked: Anti, what are you doing to him?

“I won’t do anything if you’re good,” says Anti, with the much-too-level voice of an aggressor who thinks that non-violence is mercy. “I told you - I think we should be friends again. You’re a good boy and I’ve always liked you. You’ve been under too much stress lately and you’re very ill, that’s all that’s wrong. You’ll come back to yourself soon enough. You and I, after all, are intertwined.”

He leans into Dapper’s face. Dapper can smell Blue’s toothpaste.

“Don’t make me meld you back into me through fire,” warns Anti, a bright orange begonia curling around his ear.

Anonymous asked: Dapper you need to reverse, please. You can prevent this, change this.

“Don’t you dare,” warns Anti, pointing back at him. Dapper does not quake underneath his gaze. “Don’t you even think about it. I’ll know. Your eyes will be silver for at least twenty minutes and you’re not getting that long alone tonight. Besides, I’d smell you. That smell that imprinted on you when you were new to the world. I would know the smell of your magic anywhere. You better watch what those cameras tell you, Mr. Monochroma… one of these days, they’re going to get you in trouble.”

He throws red fleece pants and a penguin t-shirt at Dapper.

“Get changed, puppy,” he orders. “I’m tired. Let’s sleep.”

Blue’s body sways and Anti shakes his head out, dizzied. It’s a lot of strain for this body.

cest-mellow asked: dapper do you think if you turned back time and just stabbed anti before he could take over blue it could do anything? especially when he’s sick, just a good JAB right in the heart?? i am being 100% serious.

“Yeah, try that, Dapper,” mocks Anti, pushing into his space again. “Put a dagger into my heart. Go on, do it.”

Dapper turns his head away. He won’t hurt Anti while he’s wearing Blue.

“But even if I wasn’t in this skin, could you do it then?” asks Anti. “Could you stab big brother who raised you?”

“You and I both know stab wounds can’t kill you,” snarl Dapper’s hands, his blue eyes flashing. “Nothing ever kills you.”

Anti laughs, throwing his head back. Dapper sees Blue’s molars.

“You are a clever boy,” he murmurs with a strange, hateful sort of affection, wrapping a hand gently around Dapper’s throat. “Much cleverer than you know, most of the time. Tomorrow you’ll be like a child again - or a fucking nutcase.”

Anonymous asked: You’re gonna lose them all if you aren’t careful Anti. Keep pushing them and you’ll lose all of them sooner than rather than later. -🍂

“Red and I made the rules very clear,” says Anti, his eyes seeping to black. He pushes Dapper again and his little brother takes the hint, lying carefully down on the bed, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. Anti circles the bed, watching him for any sign of aggression. “One more try, we said. If I can’t tame them this time, it’s finished. I’ll set the house on fire and burn them all down. So let them break from me if they want to - either way, I’m finishing this charade we play.”

Anonymous asked: Reverse, Dapper. Roses and rowan.

“Rowan? Don’t threaten him. He’s allergic.” Anti crawls into bed beside him, sitting up against the headboard and staring down at Dapper, still at his side. “You know if you reverse I’ll see your silver eyes and I’ll beat you til you have to eat through a straw.”

Anonymous asked: Interesting fuckin philosophy there. Do buried and dead people commonly resurface like every month and try and murder you, run away, find themselves, love each other more then they've ever loved you, abandon you like you deserve, and consistently hate you in whatever fantasy land you live in Anti?

“You always all try to rile me up,” says Anti. “Sometimes you’ve succeeded, I’ll give you that. I was not created for anger management. But in the end, you are powerless spectators. Harassing me is all you can do. You know I’m in control.”

Anonymous asked: You just left Henrich there?? Anti he's so concussed he passed out and he has a major bleeding head wound what the fuck are you thinking? I wouldn't be surprised if you find him dead tomorrow, just leaving him there!

“Then Dapper can have the password and reverse,” says Anti happily, snuggling down into the covers beside him. “It’s happened before, hasn’t it, love?”

“Yes… Red bled out after you tortured him, back when I was young… sometimes you would kill him for fun, just to make me reverse it.”

“Your memory is clear right now. You are incredible, Dapper. No one else ever gets memories back after I take them.”

Anonymous asked: Anti, I'd genuinely like to know, what is your plan here? I don't think you can change how they feel about you by hurting them worse, especially since that's what caused it in the first place. You can't fix the effects of what you've done by just doing it more fiercely.

“I told you I came here to get help,” says Anti. “They like to play hard to find… I suspect we might have to get their attention, haha. Worth it, though. They’re the only one who was ever any fun.”

He reaches down and tangles his fingers in Dapper’s hair, scratching warmly at his scalp. “Them and my pets, of course. You’re all naive to say violence couldn’t turn them to my side. That’s what worked in the first place. The only thing that worked. Violence and the need to belong and the conviction that I was a part of their family. The violence comes easy to me, the need to belong is created by the separation from their twins, and the conviction that I belong - well, you saw what I did to Trick is Singapore. It’s mind games, baby. I’ve got my little brother to cover my tracks if anything goes wrong. Only I got the password to this little ace in my sleeve.”

He tugs on Dapper’s hair, smiling down at him. “I’ve been lax, that’s all. I’ve been lax. I won’t be again. If someone steps a foot out of line - ”

Glurk.

Anti’s throat splits open so wide you can see his spine and he bursts into laughter, the threat written in the blood dripping down his neck.

cest-mellow asked: you can make up a story, dapper. theres rats in that white room, one got out and into the bed and anti panicked so bad and it scared you snd you turned back. no password needed.

“Wow, they really want you to,” says Anti, smiling at him. “Go on, then. Do it, Dapper. Reverse. Go back. Make up a story. As if I would ever buy that you’d be afraid of a rat instead of trying to keep it as a pet. As if the first thing I always scream when I’m scared isn’t the password to let you go back and save me. As if I didn’t just promise that the slightest slip-up in behavior - the slightest bend in the rules - would lead you to a beating.”

Dapper swallows dryly.

“I’ll kill all four of your siblings in front of you and make you watch,” whispers Anti, leaning in close, his breath warm against Blue’s ears. “I’ll take you off your medicine. I’ll feed you your fingers and make you murder Henrik with your own two - ”

Dapper goes back in t

This post was reblogged with the following addition.

Anonymous asked: Are there others allowed upstairs here? Are you allowed down? I know Trick is technically "in charge" now but I don't know if any rules have changed with the hierarchy.

my-brothers-corrupted:

“Anti told us to come up at ten, so we did,” says Blue, sitting on the bed. Dapper sits down by his feet, scooping his puppets into boxes. Though he endures bouts of clarity, he felt himself justified in spending most of the day distracted, day-dreaming with his toys.

Dok paces in the doorway, eyes narrowed, mouth taut as a drawn bow.

“Dok, relax,” says Blue quietly.

Henrik shakes his head hard, fists gritted. “He should stay away from you.”

Blue’s face contorts with stress. He wraps his arms around himself, trying to immortalize the feeling of his body belonging to him before it’s taken away yet again. And again, and again, and again…

Dapper rests his head against his knee and hugs his calf, staring up at him.

Anti, if you switch through the many cameras connected to your system in the great house, is coming back out of the forest. He has been gone most of the day, letting them have their peace, but Henrik knew that wouldn’t last.

“Where was he?” asks Henrik.

“I fear to ask,” answers Dapper. “I fear to imagine. There are few people in the world Anti would call his ally, and I wouldn’t like to meet any of them ever again.”

“Anti’s never introduced us to anyone.”

“Anti’s never introduced you to anyone,” Dapper corrects him coolly.

Addition:

Dapper’s calm facade shatters in a second.

“Whoa,” says Blue, seeing the sudden change in his face. “Honey, are you - ?”

Dapper throws himself forward and wraps himself like a hungry octopus around Blue’s body, tackling him onto the bed and burying himself in his chest, hiding, hiding, holding him.

“Dapper,” cries Blue, worried. “Dap, Dap… it’s okay, baby. It’s okay. What’s wrong? Oh, love.”

Dok murmurs his concerns beside them, coming up to put his hand gently on Dapper’s back. He clucks his chin once, twice, but Dapper won’t look up. Dapper won’t let go. He hides.

Blue whispers reassurances to him. Henrik strokes the back of his head. They exchange scared looks.

Anonymous asked: blue, hen, he rewound. if you need to disguise his magic, the bathroom full of stuff will cover the scent. if you knock a few things over and make it look like an accident and get it on him, that might work. i don't know how to hide his eyes, though.

On the path that leads up to the forest, you see Anti stop short.

“I’m sorry, he did what?”

Anonymous asked: Go into the bathroom before Anti gets here. Boy that soap and bath salts and lotion sure does sound smelly and potent *coughcough*

“Fuck!” snarls Anti, stalking towards the house. “That fucking bathroom covers the smell of him, doesn’t it? I’m going to waterboard him. That little shit. He thinks he can stop me? He thinks anyone else can control me? I’ll lock him into a fucking box like I did when he was small.”

pine-storm-season asked: Anti, Henrik wasn't cooperating and you decided to punish him, but you hurt him really badly and Dapper panicked and rewound without thinking.

“No, he thought,” says Anti, face shifting with rage, teeth building in his mouth. “He thought because I have ingrained into him throughout the course of his entire life that he should never, never, never rewind without thinking. He just pretends. You let him fool you. He’s always thinking. Snake child… he takes after me.”

Anonymous asked: blue fell and hit his head so dapper rewound, yes

“Uh-oh,” sings Anti, smiling coldly at you. “Two conflicting stories, how strange - and I bet if I went and asked Dapper right now, he would tell me a third. It almost makes me wonder if you’re not all fucking liars.”

cest-mellow asked: trick, do you think you could distract anti? just for a little bit? blue isn’t ready to be possessed again, it’s making him so so sick and anti just won’t pay attention :((

Trick looks up from his Poptart, blinking at you, worried.

He was already stressed about being separated from Dok for the night, and the thought of Blue being possessed makes him want to throw up. He drops his Poptart immediately, turning to see Anti stepping in through the back door.

“Anti!” calls Trick, moving towards him. “Hey, what’s going on? You look pissed. Hold up, please. Blue’s not well.”

Anti blinks, pausing. “Come on, Tricky. You’re letting them manipulate you.”

Trick’s eyes water. “Look, Anti, it’s just - there’s been, like, a lot of change lately, and now I can’t be with Dok even though we were apart for like, weeks, and Blue is really seriously sick, but you’re still p-possessing him, and - you know that I don’t really like possession, it makes me feel - ”

Trick shakes his head quickly, a little green in the face. Anti tilts his head at him, alarmed, but his eyes keep looking up to the stairs. “Trick, come on, my love. You can handle this just fine. I need to go talk to Dapper.”

“It just makes me feel really scared, and I don’t want to be alone! I don’t want to, don’t - can’t I have Dok, Anti, please? I hate this new plan, I’m sorry, I’ll do what you say, but - ”

“Trick,” growls Anti, but it turns into a sigh. “Fine. Have Dok for tonight. I need to go teach Dapper a lesson.”

Anonymous asked: Fine, here's the story that's the truth and it's the one he'd tell you if you got the true one. You hurt Henrik and Blue so badly that Henrik might have died locked in a room alone, bled out. You were being a stubborn asshole and refused to check up on Henrik or do anything to keep him from potentially dying. It scared your audience, scared Dapper too, so we convinced him to rewind without your permission.

“What? That doesn’t make sense. Dapper could have just waited til the morning to see if Dok was fine and rewound then if he wasn’t. Why would he just disobey me like that if he wasn’t being rebellious? He knows I’d let him rewind if anything deadly ever happened to them.”

pine-storm-season asked: Henrik, he rewound because you got badly hurt from not cooperating and he panicked and did it without thinking, as far as we could tell. Anti might be mad though.

Henrik looks up, alarmed, but a moment later only fury is flashing through his eyes.

“He does mean to torture me,” he says, voice low. “It’s true, then.”

Dapper grabs Dok’s face between his hands for a second, demanding his attention. Henrik stares back into his silver eyes, startled by the intensity he finds there.

“I know what I said,” signs Dapper rapidly, tears coursing down his cheeks. “That I didn’t want you to fight. But I was lying, Healing. I was too scared of what he would do to you. But the truth is I can’t live like this anymore! I need you to fight for me, Henrik. I need you.”

Fire lights up Henrik’s blood. He grips Dapper’s arms, staring at him, something vibrant and warm and familiar crossing through his chest. He laughs and doesn’t know why.

“For you,” says Henrik, shaking his head in astonishment. “For you, let him torture me.”

Anonymous asked: He rewound, you didn't get back in time to tell him the password. That's why he's so terrified.

“Still naughty of him. He should know better.”

Anonymous asked: Maybe this time around don't nearly murder Henrik and we won't be so rash. You claim to have control but can't control your own outbursts.

Anti stares at you dead in the eye of the camera.

“Trick,” he says. “Sit down.”

“What?”

“Sit down,” repeats Anti coldly.

Trick sinks to the floor, frightened.

Anti stalks up the stairs.

Henrik turns around, standing over Dapper and Blue on the bed.

Anti takes one step forward

and Henrik straightens up, proud

and Anti shanks Henrik through the ribs.

Blue screams like he’s the one being murdered, staggering to his feet, his cry shrill enough the birds scatter. Dapper lurches forward as if he’ll be ill, clutching at his throat, closing his eyes desperately. Anti stares down at him, his eyes piercing through him.

And Henrik?

He tumbles to the ground, staining red the carpet, and he chokes as his lungs fill.

“Is this what you wanted?” shouts Anti, slapping Dapper’s face and shoving him off the bed. “Is that what you prefer, that outcome?”

Dapper sobs, burying his face in his hands and backing rapidly away from Anti, his hands clutching at the golden hilt of the knife in his pocket. He’ll kill him for this!

“And you!” snarls Anti, whirling on the camera, pointing the life-blood-stained blade up at your one black eye. “Never tell me what to do again. Never tell me what to do ag

This post was reblogged again with a third addition.

Anonymous asked: Are there others allowed upstairs here? Are you allowed down? I know Trick is technically "in charge" now but I don't know if any rules have changed with the hierarchy.

my-brothers-corrupted:

my-brothers-corrupted:

“Anti told us to come up at ten, so we did,” says Blue, sitting on the bed. Dapper sits down by his feet, scooping his puppets into boxes. Though he endures bouts of clarity, he felt himself justified in spending most of the day distracted, day-dreaming with his toys.

Dok paces in the doorway, eyes narrowed, mouth taut as a drawn bow.

“Dok, relax,” says Blue quietly.

Henrik shakes his head hard, fists gritted. “He should stay away from you.”

Blue’s face contorts with stress. He wraps his arms around himself, trying to immortalize the feeling of his body belonging to him before it’s taken away yet again. And again, and again, and again…

Dapper rests his head against his knee and hugs his calf, staring up at him.

Anti, if you switch through the many cameras connected to your system in the great house, is coming back out of the forest. He has been gone most of the day, letting them have their peace, but Henrik knew that wouldn’t last.

“Where was he?” asks Henrik.

“I fear to ask,” answers Dapper. “I fear to imagine. There are few people in the world Anti would call his ally, and I wouldn’t like to meet any of them ever again.”

“Anti’s never introduced us to anyone.”

“Anti’s never introduced you to anyone,” Dapper corrects him coolly.

First time jump

Dapper’s calm facade shatters in a second.

“Whoa,” says Blue, seeing the sudden change in his face. “Honey, are you - ?”

Dapper throws himself forward and wraps himself like a hungry octopus around Blue’s body, tackling him onto the bed and burying himself in his chest, hiding, hiding, holding him.

“Dapper,” cries Blue, worried. “Dap, Dap… it’s okay, baby. It’s okay. What’s wrong? Oh, love.”

Dok murmurs his concerns beside them, coming up to put his hand gently on Dapper’s back. He clucks his chin once, twice, but Dapper won’t look up. Dapper won’t let go. He hides.

Blue whispers reassurances to him. Henrik strokes the back of his head. They exchange scared looks.

Second time jump

Dapper is sick beside the bed, vomit dripping from his lips, his eyes a fervent silver.

Anonymous asked: Fight, but be rational Henrik. Be safe, wait for the perfect opportunity. I know you and us both can't wait to take down the evil, but caution is a must. You nearly died in the last go through.

“No!” cries Dapper, lurching up from the bed, both of his siblings rearing back in alarm, still calling worried questions at him. Over the both of them, he is signing. “No, Dok, I take it back, don’t fight, don’t - I can’t - coward, I’m a coward!”

“Dapper, what’s going on?”

“Carve, it’s okay, just take a deep breath - Carver!”

Dapper races away from them, his stomach churning.

Anonymous asked: Oh no Dapper you're sick! Better go into the bathroom and lean over the toilet. Blue, Henrik, help him there?

Tearing away from them, he is sick again in that rose bathroom, his eyes reminding him of Blue crumpled against the shower and Dok bleeding against the sink as he gags, just one more memory for no one but him to hold on to. He breathes in panicked gasps, shoving himself back to his feet and locking the door before Blue and Dok can come racing after him. He nearly collapses over the sink, washing his beard and face harshly with a soft cloth and golden milk and honey soap, crying in short bursts, his eyes red and silver. With frantic hands, he starts the bath and leans over the tub, heaving and tearing off his shirt, his heart thumping terribly in his chest.

He covers his face with his hands, sinking down over the side of the tub before he can finish stripping, whimpering in a weak exhale of air.

Anonymous asked: Dap, take deep breaths, okay? Why are you doing this?

Dapper tugs on his hair, shaking his head, too distressed to speak for a long time.

“Why? Why?” he manages finally, swiping at the rapid tears on his face. “You know time travel takes a toll on me and you saw what just happened! What do you mean, why? No matter how many times I watch them die, it never gets easier.”

He buries his face in his arms, feeling broken and useless and stupid and weak.

“I’m not a mistake-fixer, not really. I try to be, Anti wants me to be, but I’m not! I can’t make every situation that goes badly right, no matter how much I want to. I just can’t. If that’s how Dok and Blue are planning to get out of this, tell them it won’t work. I’m not strong or brave and even if I were, time travel never makes everything alright. It’s a trick. It’s a lie. It’s just a curse.”

cest-mellow asked: trick, can you keep anti downstairs for a while? blues gonna be possessed again and it’s making him really really sick. maybe you should get jackie to go upstairs to spend some time with him while he can until his time tonight is gone :((

Trick looks up from his Poptart, blinking at you, worried.

He was already stressed about being separated from Dok for the night, and the thought of Blue being possessed makes him want to throw up. He drops his Poptart immediately, turning to see Anti stepping in through the back door.

“Anti!” calls Trick, moving towards him. “Hey, what’s going on? Where were you?”

“Heya, lil man,” says Anti, tugging Trick to his chest and pressing their foreheads together. Trick grins, relieved to find him in a good mood. “What do you want, trouble-maker?”

“Anti,” grumbles Trick with a laugh. “What am I, a four-year-old?”

“You’re about six, actually.”

“Haha.”

Anti grins at him and draws away, clucking his chin. “I’m going to go get ready for bed. You and Reddy can have whatever room you want down here. Night, my watcher.”

“Anti - wait. Hey, please. Um…”

“What?”

“I think Blue’s really sick, Anti. I’m worried. Can’t Red stay with him?”

“I’m also really sick, Trick, it’s just that Blue’s keeping it under control for me. I need him right now.”

“He’s getting worse, Anti. I hate to say it, but… I think you’re being too rough with his body.”

Anti stares at Trick.

Trick shuffles on his feet, his eyes flickering around the room.

Anti sighs.

“I’ll be gentle, alright?” he says. “For you. I promise.”

“But what if that isn’t enough?”

“You’re paranoid about possession,” says Anti gently. “You always have been. It’s going to be okay. Go get some sleep, okay?”

“Okay, Anti,” murmurs Trick, chewing on his lip.

“And don’t tell Red to go upstairs, alright? You and him aren’t allowed up there. I catch you up there, I’ll throw you right back down.”

“Okay.”

cest-mellow asked: jackie, you’re gonna need to help your twin and dok and dapper upstairs. hes gonna kill one of them these days. dapper is in serious trouble and antis probably gonna possess blue again, make him even more sick. you saw how he was today. can you imagine the toll it’s taking on him? you have to protect him!

Red sits in the library.

He looks up at your beeping and you see his eyes.

From a distance, his gaze was dreamy, faraway, enchanted, perhaps.

From up close?

Red looks sad.

He reads your message once and he blinks. He glances up at the ceiling. For a moment, he breathes. He thinks. He grieves.

“Blue,” he says once, with feeling.

But he doesn’t move. Looks down at his hands. His hands on the pages of a book.

“Listen to this,” he says, and he reads:

It is as if everything else had slept Many an age, unforgotten and lost – The men that were, the things done, long ago, All I have thought; and but the moon and I Live yet and here stand idle over a grave

Where all is buried.

He stares down at the poem.

“I don’t really get it,” he says. “But I think Blue will like it.”

He tears the page from the book. He folds it into a paper airplane. He can’t go upstairs.

Anonymous asked: Yeah I'd say the moral of most time travel stories is "don't screw with time travel." Anti only sees you as an advantage but it's blown up in his face before, I just wish there was a way that the consequences ONLY fall on him without the rest of you getting hurt.

“If I was cleverer I could make that happen,” signs Dapper miserably, wiping at his face. “If I was all the things Jack made me to be. He was the only friend I ever managed to save.”

Anonymous asked: Anti, maybe you could leave Blue himself for just tonight? He's already weak, and the possession is making it worse. His magic doesn't like your body, so I can sort of see why you possess him, but it's making him sicker. Give him a night as himself, and it's quite possible he'll recover a bit.

“I really don’t know how to express to all of you how little I care about Blue’s recovery. I’m inclined to think that him being sick makes him easier to manage, and all I need the body for is sleeping.”

pine-storm-season asked: That's true, but there's going to be a point where he's weak enough that he's harder to manage simply because of the limits of his body. If you let him have occasional nights to recover, I don't think he'll end up getting there.

“Let me know when he gets to that point and maybe I’ll give a fuck then,” answers Anti mildly.

Anonymous asked: Time travel may be Anti's go-to fix for things he doesn't know how to deal with but it doesn't have to be yours, Dap. His over-reliance on your time travel, Blue's magic and body, and his hypnosis to twist things to his liking is going to be his downfall. Despite his efforts, memories linger and he can't hide his tracks in blood.

“I hope that’s true,” signs Dapper.

The lock clicks behind him.

He turns.

He isn’t collected enough to hide the evidence. He isn’t calm. He isn’t determined. He isn’t in control. He never seems to be. Anti sees his silver eyes before he can think to hide himself.

The monster steps forward, staring at him.

He touches JJ’s chin.

“I see you’ve learned a lesson,” says his broken, glitching voice.

Dapper turns away from him, ashamed.

“Yes,” he nods.

“Good, then,” purrs Anti, slapping lightly at his chin. “Silly boy. Stay here. Have your bath. And if you ever try anything like this again…”

He leans in close, eyes flashing. “I will - ”

“Kill all four of my siblings in front of me. Take me off my medicine. Feed me my fingers and make me kill Dok with my own two hands.”

Anti smiles.

Success.

Control.

“Good boy,” he murmurs. “I’ll be back soon.”

He goes.

Anonymous asked: Oh Dapper, JJ, buddy... You're not weak or a coward, not in the slightest. It'll be okay. I know that sounds empty, but it will be, it will. You did good, look what you've prevented now. Those deaths will only be memories, they don't exist in this here-and-now. Chin up, have a bath if you still want one. Baths make good cover-ups for other emotions, other... smells.

Dapper sniffles.

Then snorts out a laugh, looking up at you with his teary eyes.

“Other… smells,” he repeats, finding it funny despite everything, despite his whole life. He stares down at the water in exhaustion.

And Dapper does have a bath. He turns you away - he is, despite everything, a firm believer in the importance of being a gentleman - and he steps into the bath, pouring in the bubbles and the soaps, letting the smell wash across his skin, letting the blood and dust wash away.

Coward, his brain tells him.

Yes, he nods.

And when Anti goes to get Blue and Dok, and Dok raises his hackles, and Blue isn’t complying - well, Anti is gentle with Blue. He promised Trick. But when Anti hurts Dok the same way he hurt him the first time, when Dok is bleeding from the head, when Dok is calling for Trick to help him -

Well.

Dapper doesn’t do anything but sit in his bubbles and let his salt drip into the warm, rosey, coward’s bathwater.

Until, after a moment, he turns you back to him, trusting the bubbles to cover him.

“Hey,” he says, very small and very sad. You hear Henrik give one short cry of pain. “Will you come with me somewhere?”

Anonymous asked: yeah, we'll come with you. and i don't think you're a coward, dap. there are very few things you could do to help, and several of them would put you directly in danger. you're keeping yourself safe. i don't think that makes you a coward.

He breathes out a long sigh, resting his head against the back of the tub. He lets his body relax. His mind drift and search and reminisce. This is a new era, after all, and Anti is sick of uselessly wiping his memories. After all, he doesn’t know that they give Dapper any power.

He finds his clock in the pocket of his discarded pants and wraps his fingers around it. He finds the body of the camera. He touches your side.

Yeah, we’ll come with you.

Okay, he nods. Okay.

For the third time that day, Jameson goes back.

cest-mellow asked: where are we going, jamie?

In his mind, memories are like scrambled eggs.

To place them where they came from is almost impossible. His mind, he feels, has been tossed and turned and stirred into a mess of mashed-together knowledge and recollection, leaving him largely lost and often confused.

But there are moments he recalls. Sometimes. Some days. More and more often, there are moments he recalls.

He can only travel down the timeline, and to do so without splitting the delicate spiderweb of reality requires that he remember something and move towards it. And right now, he just wants to be at peace for a moment. He just wants to feel safe and not to have to see his family in pain.

He goes to the darkness of a closet.

It’s a faint memory in his mind. More than anything, what he recalls is feeling safe.

Dark clothes hung around him. Soft carpet beneath his hands. Something warm pressed to his chest and a pillow at his back. Aloneness and the crack of light through the bottom of the closet door.

The silver rush of time changing around him does not make him sick like it did Red. He is a surfer on a steady wave. When he opens his eyes again, he is in darkness, and you are beside him, and his clock gives a soft light as its silver timer begins to count down.

He sighs and closes his eyes, hugging a stuffed dog to his chest. No one screams. No one raises a hand at him. He sits in the darkness of the closet.

Anonymous asked: Yikes forever :(

He lets out a soft, tired sigh, sinking down onto the pillow and blankets beneath him. Yikes forever is right.

aether-mae asked: Where to J-spirit?

“I guess I don’t know where we are…”

He stares around the closet, blinking.

“It doesn’t feel like one of Anti’s prisons. But this was reckless of me. I probably shouldn’t have come.” He runs a hand through his hair. It’s the same length it is in the present, or at least it feels that way between his fingers.

Anonymous asked: Where are we now, Jameson? Do you know?

“I don’t know if I even want to find out,” he signs in the lowlight, closing his eyes. “Maybe I’ll just stay right here as long as I can. Take a nap with no one touching me. With no one shouting or screaming.”

An interruption in the light beneath the door startles him. He sits up, staring at the socked feet standing in front of the door.

Someone knocks, just gentle.

“Hey. It’s me. Are you okay?”

Anonymous asked: ooooh, jj, are you okay? that can't have been easy to go back again, are you safe where we are?

“I feel safe,” he says. “But sometimes that’s a lie.”

bupine asked: you ok, dap? what are you doing?

“I don’t know,” he says, squeezing his eyes shut like he’s in pain. “I just want everything to leave me alone. I want everything to stop.”

He’s curled down low against the blankets and pillows, hiding his face in their warmth.

“Can I come in?” asks the voice at the door, soft and careful. They sound Irish, though the accent, he thinks, isn’t quite as thick as Red’s. Maybe Blue or Trick. Or Anti, of course. It could always be Anti. “Henrik just cut his thumb, okay, he’s fine. The blood’s all gone now. You don’t have to hide in here if you don’t want to. Wouldn’t you prefer your room, buddy?”

pine-storm-season asked: Do you want to see who that is? I think they're a safe person, but we can't know for sure.

Dapper stares at the door, a shred of light making the blue of his right eye seem endless and clear, golden at the edges, like the eyes of a cat reflecting light. He watches the doorway, at war with himself. He doesn’t want to open the door and find someone who will hurt him. But he wants to be comforted, too. He would like to be comforted even though he knows he doesn’t deserve it. But it could be Anti. It could just be Anti, or Red to pull him by the hair back to his room, or someone he doesn’t even remember who wants to hurt him. He sits up, feeling anxious, grateful for the softness of the toy in his hand. He doesn’t care if it’s childish right now. He just wants to feel okay.

Anonymous asked: We'll be with you wherever you go, Dapper

He nods once. Right. You’re with him. Okay.

bupine asked: who's that at the door? think it's one of your brothers? i don't think it's anti, but i could be wrong. are you gonna open it?

Dapper climbs to his feet even as the figure at the door lets out a sigh. He tiptoes towards the door and feels the other still, noticing his movement on the other side, waiting patiently for Dapper to make his move. He puts his hand on the doorknob and pushes it gently open, staring out with one big blue eye.

The face looking back at him is familiar, and he’s grateful despite the fact that Anti too shares this face with him. His brother cocks his head at him, smiling real gentle at him, trying to be comforting and slow. Dapper’s glad. He feels like he could fall apart.

The room they’re in is a hectic mess. It almost makes him laugh. Clothes and papers and trash and dishes are scattered over the furniture and floor, a Switch and a DS somewhere in the mix and a row of nice caps lined up on the top of one drawer. One wall is lined in baby and toddler pictures of a pair of small, dark-haired kids JJ doesn’t recognize. Someone’s kicked off their Converse by the door.

Dapper smiles and looks back at the person who’s come to get him. His hair is short at the sides and fluffy on the top. He wears a black hood and colorful shorts. He doesn’t remember exactly what all of his siblings used to look like - this person seems so much younger even if only a few years separate this moment from the present - but between his appearance and this room, Dapper thinks he must know who this is. Trick.

No… that wasn’t his name.

It was something different, he doesn’t… he doesn’t quite recall.

“There’s my guy,” says not-Trick fondly, smiling at him. “Doing okay, tough stuff?”

Dapper can’t help the small smile on his face. He rolls his eyes, clicking his tongue in disapproval at being teased, and not-Trick chuckles, stepping back from the door to let him step out.

Anonymous asked: I think I have a hunch on who the person behind the door is, but I really hope i'm wrong

Dapper’s eyes flicker with fear. He turns to glance at you, confused.

“What have you got there?” asks not-Trick. “Camera?”

Dapper shrugs, not sure how to explain. He stares up at his brother, trying to remember his name, chewing on his lip.

“Still nervous?” he asks gently.

Dapper can’t help but nod. He is. He really is. All the time, he feels like. He just wants… he just wants…

He holds out his arms uncertainly. His brother smiles and, without hesitation, moves forward to pull him into a hug, wrapping his arms around him, letting him bury his face in his shoulder.

“I’m really glad you’re here, JJ,” he says. “You know that, don’t you? We all are.”

JJ whimpers and curls his fingers into the soft brown hair at the nape of his neck.

bupine asked: i think that might be chase, if you need to remember his name. be careful, dap.

Chase, that’s it, Chase. He likes the sound of it. He turns his face into his neck and makes his best approximation of the name, hissing air from between his teeth. “Ayy-sssss.”

“Ssssh,” answers his brother, chuckling. “That’s right, that’s me.”

cest-mellow asked: chase, i think you call him c- happy? that’s his name. and he loves you very, very much.

Dapper grins. Stop that, that’s sappy. But it makes him really glad. He hugs him tighter and makes him laugh.

“Okay, little man?” he asks.

“Okay, yeah.”

“You are tough stuff, wasn’t joking. Is there anything you need?”

He shrugs, looking around. He doesn’t know. Maybe to see the others? If they’re here? If they’re safe? If they’re not having their heads beaten in against the counter of the sink?

“It’s okay,” he murmurs, rubbing JJ’s back. “Stay with me, Jay. It’s okay.”

pine-storm-season asked: His name is Chase, Jameson. Do you remember more about him now?

Hmm. He glances around.

Certainly he thinks this room is familiar, now that he sees it. He thinks the babies are Chase’s babies, but he doesn’t remember them, not even a flash of their memory. It hurts his chest. The room is messy and loud and enthusiastic in its own way. He thinks that’s things that Chase used to be. But Trickshot - though he’s happier these days than he has been in some time - is often quiet and nervous and bitter, keeping everything arranged in his nests, close at hand, protected. He doesn’t have the wildness he used to have. Dapper stares down at the ground, curling his fingers through Chase’s hair, wishing he could hold on to the memory of him forever.

cest-mellow asked: is anyone else in this place with you? are you in a house?

“Are the others here?” asks Dapper.

He squints his eyes up apologetically, tilting his head as he tries to think. “Ah, sorry, man, you know I’m still so slow with sign.”

Dapper doesn’t mind. He’s here and he’s learning, so that’s all that matters. He takes his hand and tugs him towards the door.

In this hallway, there are two more doors, a closed one across from Chase’s room and a bathroom at the end of the hall. On the other side, stairs. Dapper lets his feet rub against the soft carpet, pleased to see that his past self has picked out a white t-shirt and a pair of blue shorts with flamingos patterned all over them instead of something formal and uncomfortable. Fun but not too childish. Comfortable but not humiliating. It’s nice.

He moves down the stairs with an optimistic timidity, peeking his head out before he lets his body appear. His brother follows patiently behind him, letting him go at his own pace.

He can hear, in the kitchen, a pair of his siblings arguing cheerfully, teasing each other and clanking dishes as they wash them in the sink. The dining room smells of curry powder and the living room is coated in the gold light of the setting sun. A fluffy white cat is kneading her claws into a grey one. She meows when she sees them, leaping off the couch to come and wrap herself around them, purring at their legs.

Now there’s no doubt that the person next to him is not Anti. Dapper lets out a low sigh, feeling warm and content, and closes his eyes.

Anonymous asked: Can you ask to see the others JJ? Would that follow the timeline properly?

Yes, he wants to see the others. He moves into the kitchen, finding two siblings standing together at the sink, washing and drying together.

“Hellooo,” calls Blue. “Everybody feeling okay?”

Not Blue. Marvin. Dapper feels his face light up in a smile.

He looks so happy.

His hair is long and clean and lovely, tied up neatly on the back of his head, and his face is full of health and self-satisfaction. He hands the last pan to his brother and steps towards them, smiling, a cover-up with elephants printed on the thin fabric flickering in the wind from the open back door. Outside, Jameson sees a forest - but this one is not like the one he came from. Instead of pines, deciduous oak and willow and birch. JJ feels the wind in his hair.

“I think we’re doing okay.” Jameson feels him squeeze his hand. “Right, JJ?”

JJ nods, letting Marvin come closer, smiling at him.

“Good!” Marvin chirps. “But you have something behind your ear.”

He reaches beside Jameson’s hand. When he pulls away again, he is holding a big yellow rose. JJ grins shyly and takes it from him, and Marvin, his eyes glowing blue, presses a kiss into his cheek.

“Love you, James.”

“Love you,” he answers gently, patting Marvin’s hand.

“Chase, your room’s a fucking mess, by the way,” says the person holding his other hand.

JJ stops short, alarmed, turning to him.

“It’s organized chaos!” protests the person at the sink, turning to him. He has short hair too, but he wears a backwards hat and his wrists are covered in bracelets, gauges pinned into his ears. “I know where everything in there is, it’s just… everywhere.”

The person at his side laughs. Dapper supposes it must be Jackie. He relaxes again, drifting against his side, enjoying the sound of his laughter. It’s good to see Red and Trick get along. Usually, in his experience, they are enemies.

Anonymous asked: Oh thank god my hunch was wrong, that's a relief. Anyway, whatcha gonna do now Dap? Stay with Chase for some more time?

“I want to see H-healing,” says JJ, looking around at his siblings.

“He’s okay, buddy,” promises Chase, drying off the last dish and placing it in the rack. “He just cut his finger. But I bet he wouldn’t mind a visit from you.”

“Here, I’ll take you upstairs,” promises the brother holding his hand. “And we can go check on him. He should be hanging out instead of working in his room anyway, huh?”

Yeah. Dapper nods, letting himself be lead back towards the stairs. As you go, you see a familiar hallway on the ground floor - a door with newspaper clippings and pictures and notes plastered all over it, and beyond that, the room where Red and Marvin talked. Chances are you recall the sight better than Dapper does.

Anonymous asked: Oh, they all look so happy and healthy... So this was your family? This seems like the dream life. I'm even more impassioned to help you get them back in any way we can, JJ. You all deserve health and love and light again.

“This,” he says, looking around, looking back at his family, looking at the house and the forest and the cats and the sun. He takes his hand back to speak. “This… this isn’t something that I can have again.”

He holds the rose Marvin gave him carefully, petting at the flowers for a moment before sticking it into his pocket, his face downcast.

“Even if I can get them back, we won’t be the same.”

He closes his eyes for a second, moving towards Henrik’s room.

“Max thought I was hopeless,” he says. “But these days, I can’t tell the difference between that and realism. The truth is, this isn’t my family anymore. Most of us aren’t family at all. The twins love each other. That’s what remains of us. The love between them and, every now and then, in small ways, the recollections between the rest of us - the ghosts of what it was to love each other for who we were at this moment in time, and the disappointment that follows when we realize we are no longer the people that we once were, and that that love did not survive the change.

“But for this moment… for this moment, I can have it again. It’s alive inside of me. For a moment. For a moment. It’s alive.”

darkiplurrr asked: *hugs Dapper* You’re doing great and we’re proud of you!

“Thank you,” he chuckles, smiling. “That’s very nice whether or not it’s true. Thank you.”

Anonymous asked: Where are you taking us JJ? A memory? And... do you think Henrik will be okay?

“I… don’t know that H-healing will be okay in the future. I don’t know. I think, perhaps, he will not be. But for now…”

“Here, bud,” says his friend, following him up the stairs to knock on Henrik’s door.

“Come in,” answers a voice, unpained and unafraid, calm and safe.

For now he can be okay.

Dapper pushes open the door and Henrik smiles back at him from the bed, putting aside his laptop to see him. “Hey, Jamie. Is everything - ”

JJ leaps into his arms and tackles him back onto the bed, wrapping his arms around him. Henrik yelps and then laughs, hugging him with one arm and pinching him in protest with the other.

“Little terror!” he snipes, digging his fingers into his side, and Dapper squirms from being tickled. “I am under attack.”

“Yes, you are stuck,” Dapper pauses to sign before wrapping his arms around his neck again.

“I’m okay,” murmurs Henrik after a moment, rubbing gently at his back. “You know that, right? We’re safe here. You and me are safe.”

JJ feels tears welling in his eyes. To think that they all used to feel safe.

“It’s not fair, H,” he says, pulling back. “I just want to keep all of you safe. But I don’t know if you even know that. And the truth is I still love him too no matter what he does to me. I don’t know why. I’m a coward.”

“What are you talking about? You’re going too fast for me. James?”

He sighs and buries himself in Henrik’s shirt. He just wants to stay here.

“I’m sorry, H.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong, my heart.”

“I’m sorry.”

Anonymous asked: Sorry, but you're wrong Dap. Love did survive it. You saw how hard Henrik fought for Blue not to be possessed. You saw Red care for you, fight for you, be happy and loved as himself for those days with Max. We saw the love still alive between Trick and Blue while you all were separated, even though they're not "twins". It's still there, in familiar and different ways. It's still inside all of you.

Dapper sighs, stroking his fingers through Henrik’s beard. His brother stares back at him, worried. It isn’t so different from sitting on the bed with Blue while Dok paces, trying to find ways to protect him.

Maybe pieces. Maybe pieces are still there.

Anonymous asked: Time changes people. Trauma changes people. It can't be easily reversed if it can be reversed at all. But time can heal, even if it's only a little. The family around you now is just a memory but recovering just a fraction of who they were will be worth it. It's hard to move forward when you don't know if things will be okay but you'll accomplish a lot more moving forward than going back. Even if things are never returned to normal, it's still worth more than what Anti has tried to reduce you to

Henrik’s bed is warm and comfortable. Henrik’s body is steady beside him, his hands gentle on his own body. And he feels safe and well and alright, and Henrik is here, and Henrik is okay, and Henrik loves him.

Things have changed, yes. But maybe… maybe with the bits and pieces that remained, the bits and pieces that have been strong enough to survive torture and amnesia and separation, the bits and pieces that have been stronger even than Anti and his hatred - maybe they can be the foundation to rebuild.

JJ stares at Henrik. Dapper stares at Henrik. The longing in his chest has not gone quiet - the longing not for death, as he thought it was, but for happier times to come. The longing that he mistook for suicidality. He never wanted to die. He just wanted to hope again. Just a little. Just enough.

For a moment, that longing is content.

Anonymous asked: You're right, Jay, you all can't go back to this. But you are where you are now, loved and with family, and you can enjoy that. And given time, with the brothers of your own time and all the friends you still have, you'll be able to move forward. But for now, you're here, and you can focus on that. Here you are. :)

“Want to just lie with me a while?” asks Henrik.

He can just be here. He can just be here for a moment.

“Yes, please.”

“Okay,” murmurs Henrik, stroking his hand across his hair once before turning back to the door, smiling at the figure still standing there. “You heading out soon?”

“If you’ve got everything covered,” he answers warmly, smiling at the both of them.

“You look tired.”

“Mh, a little. I’m okay.” He shrugs and stretches out his arms, digging his knuckles slightly into his eyes.

Dapper jolts, sitting up straight.

The man stares back at him, frowning.

“You okay, Jameson?”

On his left arm, a neat, symmetrical map of a tattoo JJ does not remember.

A neat, symmetrical map of a tattoo Jackie does not have.

This isn’t his brother.

Anonymous asked: Jamie, we think that might be Jack, the creator. But don't panic, it's okay. He's nice right now.

What does he say to him?

What does he do?

He remembers -

He remembers -

Anti moving towards him.

“Leave them the fuck alone! You give them back to me now or I’m going to make you regret I ever fucking created you!”

He remembers -

Blood on his face and a fierce scream of rage, his right eye neon green, the iris glowing like Marvin’s used to, the left iris silver and ringed in pure black. Brown eyes, blue eyes, green, mismatched, unnatural, supernatural, changing, constantly, as fast as Anti’s can.

“You can’t kill me, Anti, not in any way that means anything.”

He remembers -

Shaking in the corner, that fucking rope around his throat, his hands bound, his mind storming and his brain unmedicated, hallucinating and delusional and so confused and afraid he thought it might kill him. He knew it would kill him if he didn’t act.

But Anti told him no!

He remembers something breaking inside of him.

He remember the snap.

And then -

Blankness in his eyes, just for a moment.

Horror in his eyes.

“Jamie, what did you do?”

Jameson is tearing himself off of Henrik’s bed almost without realizing it, his breaths panting from his mouth, his heart racing in his chest.

“I didn’t mean to!” scream his hands. “I didn’t mean to! I didn’t mean to make you forget!”

“JJ! Stop! Calm down, man, calm down. It’s okay!”

“I was scared that he would hurt you! That was all! That was all!”

He catches Jameson’s hands and pulls them to his chest. They are left staring at each other, twin confusion in their eyes, twin distress.

“Jack.” He pulls against his grip to sign it. “Jack.”

“Jamie.”

“I didn’t mean to.”

“Jamie, I’m here.”

Jack holds his head between his hands and draws him close, and their foreheads fall together, and Jameson is known in the gaze of the man who created him.

cest-mellow asked: how much time do you have left here, jameson?

He grips his clock in a shaking hand, blinking his eyes rapidly.

The countdown is continuing. He has twenty, maybe fifteen minutes left.

But he can’t use them. This was a mistake.

“I’m sorry,” he cries. “You don’t know how much. I broke everything and now you’re not here to help my brothers get free.”

“Tell me what’s wrong,” says Jack, and if Jameson didn’t know better, he would think for a second that his friend’s eyes were silver instead of blue. “And I will make it better.”

“I have to go.”

“Talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong. I will fix it for you. I am always going to be there to fix it if you need me.”

“That’s not true! It’s not your fault but that’s not true. It’s my fault.”

Anonymous asked: It's okay, Jameson. You're safe. I don't know what you're remembering, but you're safe.

“No one’s here but you and me,” says Jack. “You and me and the others. You’re okay and I will keep it that way.”

Jameson huffs out a breath, closing his eyes.

“I would tell you not to blame yourself,” he says. “But the truth is, you won’t even remember who I am to feel guilt for me.”

He stops the time on his stopwatch and lets the silver river devour him whole again, whisking him back to the present. And that - that’s the end of it. He’s gone. That’s it.

Or it should be.

But in the river beside him, in the crashing waves of his power, in the screaming of the storm, there is still someone beside him, his eyes glowing twin silver.

“Listen to me!” Jack shouts, standing steadier even than Jameson in the belly of the storm, the wind whipping his hair. “Listen! You are exactly what I created you to be! Do you understand?”

Jameson crashes to the ground, stunned, gritting his eyes against his own power.

“You are all what I created you to be! Don’t let anyone try to take that from you because it will always, always, always be true, Jameson!”

“It’s not enough!” Jameson signs back desperately, not even sure if he can see, not even sure if he can understand, not even sure if he’s here at all. It’s impossible, isn’t it? Impossible that he can see him through time, impossible that someone else can move through this place the way he can. Impossible that someone else understands what is to hold power like this. “It’s not enough to be what you made me to be! I’m not enough!”

“You are worthwhile all on your own,” answers Jack, fierce as the sky around them. “But if you are in trouble and I am not there, I didn’t make any of you to fight alone. Be enough together. I’m not perfect, Jay, but I promise you - I did everything I could to make the five of you into enough to be safe from him. To give you the weapons and the story to be safe from him, even if it gets derailed sometimes. I meant you all for happy endings, JJ. Trust your brothers. Trust yourself. You are exactly what I created you to be! And you are always, always, always my - ”

Jameson sits up straight in the rose-scented bathwater, gasping for air.

Jack is gone.

The bathroom is silent.

He sits up straight in the bath, staring at the wall, his mouth open in shock. The last ray of sunset turns one eye clear and gold and endless. As though he can see another world in front of him.

I meant you all for happy endings, JJ.

He puts a hand over his heart. He can feel it beating fast. He can feel himself alive.

cest-mellow asked: are you okay james? what are you gonna do now?

“I… I…”

The bathroom door slams open.

Anti stands there staring at him.

Eyes huge. Chest heaving.

When he speaks, his voice is a shattered whisper.

“I heard someone,” he says. “I heard someone talking.”

JJ stares at him, panting. He shakes his head slowly.

“I heard someone!” repeats Anti, a little louder. His hand rises, falters, rests over Blue’s heart. “I heard… I heard…”

The water laps softly at JJ’s body, gone lukewarm. The lights buzz quietly and the crickets sing. The dark shape of a bird flickers past the window and Anti shudders, backing away, shaking his head.

“I thought I heard…”

“It’s just me, Anti,” says Dapper. “It’s just me in the bath.”

Anti closes his eyes, shaking his head. He puts a hand over his eyes for a moment and lets out a long, trembling breath.

“Come to bed,” he says. “Five minutes. I need to lie down. Blue’s mind plays tricks on me and I’m tired.”

“Okay, Anti. I’m coming.”

“Good,” says Anti, glancing at him as he turns to leave. “Yes, good, just… come quickly.”

“Okay.”

He leaves him alone with you. There is water lapping, and crickets singing, and the flicker of a bird.

JJ turns you away and climbs out of the bathtub.

Anonymous asked: What did you hear Anti?

“Nothing,” he spits at you, whirling on you with bright blue eyes. “Nothing, just… it was nothing.”

The door to the bathroom pushes open and Dapper steps out, looking small and sweet in his big dinosaur hoodie. Anti relaxes a little, sitting on the bed and waiting for him. “Come here,” he beckons, snapping his fingers at him. “Come on, bedtime. Geez, you smell like shampoo. Don’t use so much of those scented things next time.”

“Can’t help it, Anti. That whole bathroom smells like nice stuff.”

“Just lie down,” says Anti, tugging him towards him.

Anti finds a comfortable position and lets out a long sigh, wrapped around his little brother’s body.

“Your heart’s beating fast,” he mumbles.

Dapper doesn’t answer. They fall back to silence.

It’s dark by the time Anti speaks again.

“Do you ever think this isn’t what we were meant to be doing?”

Dapper stares at the ceiling, not sure what to say.

“Maybe I was supposed to die that night Marvin and Jackie beat me down to a wisp of a spirit and took you from me. Maybe that was supposed to be it.”

Dapper doesn’t know. Dapper doesn’t remember.

“Do you remember when it was just the two of us?” whispers Anti, lying close to him on the pillows. His hands are around his waist. “Do you ever think about it?”

Dapper looks over at him.

“Sometimes,” he signs meekly.

“Hm.” Anti rubs at his sides mindlessly, his eyes distant. “It was a different time.”

“It was a different story.”

“Yes,” says Anti. “I guess it was. This is a better one, isn’t it, my brother? All six of us together?”

Dapper doesn’t know what to say.

Anti does not seem to expect an answer.

“But sometimes I think about when it was just the two of us,” murmurs Anti. “Sometimes I think about that.”

Dapper feels something in the pocket of his hoodie. He blinks and reaches down for it, trying not to disturb his brother, and pulls it out. In his hands, a single yellow rose.

Dapper looks over at Anti. Anti is asleep.

[yeet-me-dad-dy]

The Witch in the Woods

Note: Placeholder Title

Summary: You have one last hope for saving your sister, and it lies with the reclusive witch that lives deep in the forest.

Warnings: Mentions of blood

Characters: Marvin, Gender Neutral Reader

Words: 2,788

You trudged through the thick green underbrush of the overgrown forest outside of town, muttering to yourself in frustration as you fought with the branches that snagged your clothes and the pickers that got stuck in the bottoms of your shoes. You had been searching for two weeks now, spending whatever free time you had wandering the woods with your satellite GPS and a crude camping site map, intent on finding help.

Help…

You hoped he would be able to help; the barista who told you about him insisted he would. You weren’t sure what you would do if he couldn’t. You were out of options.

Out of options, out of time, and out of patience.

As the watch on your wrist ticked over to show 3 o’clock in the afternoon, you leaned against a gnarled old tree with a heavy sigh, panting and sweating from the exertion of trying to find your way through a forest with no footpaths. You were starting to think that this miracle worker you had heard rumors of was just that… rumors. Rumors, squashed hopes, and disappointment. You shrugged your backpack off of your shoulders and took a moment to sit against the tree to have a drink. It was as you tipped your head back to take a swig from your water bottle that you saw something you definitely hadn’t expected to see.

There, above the trees in the distance, was smoke. Not the kind of smoke from a forest fire, but the kind of smoke from a chimney. A chimney meant a house, and a house meant people, but… a house? Out here? Who on earth would build a house in the middle of this wild place?

Regardless, you put your water away and pulled your backpack back on, then set off in the direction of the smoke. If nothing else, maybe the residents would have a bathroom you could use.

Roughly half an hour later, you stepped out of the densely packed trees and into a small clearing. Across from you, on the edge of the clearing with its back against the trees, only fifty meters or so from you, was a little square stone cottage. It was the very picture of serenity, there in the sunlight, with a little wind chime hanging from the porch roof above a rickety looking old garden swing, a hammock set up on a wooden frame to the right of the house with a small table beside it, a variety of odd looking decorations hanging from the trees on the edge on the clearing. The cottage itself was small, made mostly of stone, with vines crawling up the sides, wooden shutters, and yellowing old glass in the windows. A chimney stuck up from the right, reaching into the clear blue sky and puffing out gray smoke like an old boat captain with a pipe.

Despite its fairy tale appearance, you approached cautiously. You had come into this forest to find a powerful witch, and this was the home of a witch if ever there was one.

The three wooden steps that lead up to the porch creaked and groaned beneath your weight, and for a moment, you thought you might collapse beneath you and trap your legs, leaving you at the mercy of the witch in the woods, stuck and helpless. The steps didn’t collapse, however, and your heart pounded in your chest as you stopped before the front door. It was painted a very deep shade of royal purple and there was a strange symbol painted roughly head height in black pigment. You swallowed your apprehension and knocked.

You couldn’t stop the flood of images that rushed through your brain as you waited for someone to answer. You were scared of who or what exactly was going to answer the door. You expected some gnarled old man, clad in dirty brown robes, with a twisted jewel-topped staff and one blind eye, with a crow perched on his shoulder. Or perhaps a withered old hag with a wart on her long, crooked nose, and a feathered shawl, with a mean black cat at her feet.

Minutes passed, and you had knocked three times with no answer. You had no intention of leaving, not after you had come this far. You were considering going and relaxing in the hammock while you waited for the cottage’s owner to arrive, but the door swung open before you had a chance to turn around.

The person who answered the door was absolutely not what you were expecting.

He was young and fit, with long brown hair that you were sure would fall well past his shoulders if he didn’t have it up in a very messy bun. He wore a puffy white Shakespearean shirt and high-waisted black trousers, all very vintage, but also very comfortable-looking. His outfit, however, was not what caused you to take a step back in surprise.

No, that would be the skeletal cat mask he wore, with piercing green eyes gazing out at you through the eye sockets.

“What?” he asked sharply, and you jumped.

It was as you struggled to remember who you were and why you were here that you noticed how tired and quickly put together he looked.

“If you woke me just to stare at me, I will absolutely turn you into a toad for it.”

“No!” you answered quickly. You definitely want to be toaded. “No, sorry, I was just…” You cleared your throat. “I came to ask for your help.”

“Yeah, that’s usually why people end up here,” he responded, more softly now.

He pulled the door open and stepped back, gesturing you to come in with a flourish of his hand.

“Come in then.”

You took a deep breath and stepped over the threshold into the cottage.

Before you was a very quaint little home, with one large main room and a much smaller one in the back left corner, the perfect size for a lone witch living in the depths of the forest to exist comfortably in. Directly in front of you was a table and chairs, just big enough for two people, and to the right of that, the fireplace sat smoldering against the wall. It was a comfortable temperature, despite the heat outside and the burning coals. The witch made his way into the kitchen to the left, which was nothing more than a long counter with a sink and oven, and a fridge at the end. It was as you watched him open the fridge and pull out a pitcher of what you assumed was strawberry lemonade that it dawned on you that this place had electricity… somehow.

“Make yourself comfortable,” the stranger said as he made his way back to you with the lemonade in one hand and a tray with cakes and honey in the other. He set both down, and you took a seat. He took the one across from you, poured himself a drink, and stuffed nearly an entire cake in his mouth at once.

You shifted nervously in your chair and eyed the food. Your stomach rumbled, but you would be damned if you were going to eat anything a strange forest witch offered you.

“It’s not gonna poison you,” he said, as if reading your mind.

Your face heated up in embarrassment and you chuckled dryly.

“I didn’t think it would…” you replied, only half lying.

“So have some.” He pushed the tray toward you.

“Thanks. Um, I’m not hungry.”

“Yes you are, I can hear your stomach. Eat.”

You swallowed hard.

“I’m… I’m not really…”

It was rude to refuse food, especially from a witch, right? What would he do if you said no again? What would happen if you ate the food? There didn’t seem to be a good answer to this.

He leaned back in his chair and studied you with those bright green eyes of his. And then his lips twisted into a grin and he began to laugh. You stared at him, utterly confused at this sudden outburst.

“What-?”

“You think it’s like faeries, don’t you? You think if you eat the food you’re never gonna be able to leave, right?”

“I-” You didn’t finish your sentence. You weren’t even sure what that sentence would be. He was right, you couldn’t argue that.

“I’m not fae, I’m a witch. And why would I want to keep you here anyway? I want you to LEAVE so that I can go back to bed. I’m not offering you food to try and steal you away to some fantastical realm, I’m offering you food because it’s here, I’m eating it, and it would be rude not to.”

He grinned as he nudged the tray even closer to you.

You hesitated only a moment before you gave in and enjoyed one of his cakes. You’re glad you did. Not only did it taste wonderful, but you had run out of snacks a few hours ago and you were starving. He poured you some lemonade and you washed the crumbs down before you finally got to the reason you were here.

“My sister is sick,” you started.

He nodded and devoured another cake, seemingly uninterested.

“The doctors can’t seem to tell us what’s wrong with her, but she’s in so much pain she can barely sit up in her bed, let alone do anything else. It’s gotten so much worse lately, and she’s fallen into a deep depression. She won’t eat, she can’t sleep because of the pain, and she’s starting to go septic because she can’t get out of the bed and she’s in too much pain to roll over.

“Mmhmm.” He took a sip of his lemonade.

“I don’t want her to be in pain anymore.”

“So put her out of her misery.”

“What?” You were taken aback that he would even suggest something so barbaric. “I’m not gonna kill her! I want her to be better! I don’t want her to be in pain anymore! I want her to be able to do the things she used to do, like riding horses, and hiking. I want her to be able to go back to school or hang out at the mall with her friends!”

The witch sighed and leaned back in his chair.

“Alright, alright, calm down. I have something.”

“Good,” you snapped angrily.

“I assume you brought some form of payment?”

“Of course I did.”

You reached over and unzipped your backpack, then dipped an arm in to rummage around. Your hand brushed against the soft fabric bag you put the “payment” in, and you pulled it out.

“Here.” You handed it to him.

He took it from you without hesitation, loosened the drawstring to open the bag, and dumped its contents out in the palm of his hand. It was a knife in a well-worn leather sheath.

He tossed the bag aside, nearly into the honey cakes, undid the button to pull back the sheath’s safety strap, and pulled the knife free. He froze when he saw the blade in its entirety.

“It was my great grandfather’s. When he died, my grandmother put it away with some of his other things. It hadn’t been touched until I fished it out of the old trunk. The blade is silver and the handle is made of elk bone. It’s a full tang hunting knife.”

“A silver hunting knife…” the witch mused. “What exactly was your grandfather hunting, I wonder… There didn’t happen to be wooden stakes in that trunk of his, did there?” he joked with a smirk.

You didn’t return the gesture.

“Yes,” you answered plainly. “There were.”

The man’s smile dropped and he looked again at the blade, still as sharp as the day that your grandfather had last sharpened it.

“That knife has killed quite a few monsters, I suspect,” you said.

“Yes, I suppose it has…”

He ran the edge of the blade down his thumb. He didn’t even wince when it cut into the flesh, just sucked his finger into his mouth to lick it clean. He slipped the blade back into its sheath and then tucked it respectfully into the bag.

“This is sufficient payment. Stay here.”

He rose from the table and made his way to the back of the cottage, toward what looked like a little library area. You watched as he stopped in front of a bookshelf, crowded with old, dusty tomes and all manner of oddities, from carved figurines of animals to something that you didn’t want to know the identity of floating in a jar of murky liquid.

As the witch rummaged around in his belongings, your eye was drawn to the rickety little staircase - if it can be even called a staircase - near the kitchen that led up into a loft. You thought you could see the end of his bed, with a handmade quilt bunched up, hastily thrown back by whoever had been lying there. It seemed you had indeed woken him, and you felt a pang of guilt. He looked disheveled and tired when he answered the door.

“Here,” his voice came from the back, drawing your attention back to him.

He was kneeling on the ground on an ornate looking rug, surrounded by pillows, with his hand in a large black wooden box. He clutched something in his right hand, something you couldn’t quite see, and used his left to close and latch the box. He pushed himself to his feet, set the box back on its dusty shelf, and then returned to you.

He didn’t sit back in his spot, just stopped beside you and held out his hand. In his palm was a small glass vial with a liquid inside that looked suspiciously like blood. Hesitantly, you took it from him and turned it over and over, inspecting it uncertainly.

“What is it?” you asked, that same uncertainty evident in your voice.

“It’s your cure,” he stated plainly as he tucked his hands into his pockets.

“Looks like blood.”

“It’s got blood in it, but that’s not all it is.”

“Whose blood?”

He sighed heavily and rolled his eyes behind his cat mask.

“Look, if you don’t want it, then give it back.”

Quickly, you held it close. “No!”

“Then quit asking questions. It’s what you wanted.”

You rose to your feet to stand before him.

“Look, I’m in the middle of the woods in a creepy witch’s cottage. Excuse me for being a little bit uncertain!”

He huffed.

“YOU came to find ME. I’m just giving you what you asked in return for the payment you gave me. Alright?”

You squinted at him, not entirely sure you wanted to argue.

“How do I know it’ll work.”

“Oh my gods,” he mumbled, and wiggled his fingers up under his mask to rub his eyes. He dropped his arms back to his side and took in a deep breath. “You gave me the knife, I give you the potion,” he said more calmly, though there was still an edge of frustration in his voice. “Give it to your sister or don’t. I don’t care. Just get out of here so I can go back to bed.”

You hesitated.

“It’s not gonna kill her?”

“It’s not gonna kill her.”

“How long will it last?”

“Forever.”

You hesitated again, then nodded and reached down for your bag. You set it on the table, pushing the honey cakes aside so that you could unzip it and tuck the vial safely inside.

“Don’t break it,” the witch warned. “Unless you want to pay for another one.”

You didn’t respond. There were other things you could give, sure, but you really didn’t want to make the trek back through the forest again. You weren’t even sure you would be able to find this place a second time.

You shrugged your backpack on and held out your hand.

“Thank you for your help and the food. I hope you get some sort of use out of the knife.”

He looked down at your hand, but didn’t move to shake it.

“Sure, uh… You’re welcome. I hope I never see you again.”

You scoffed, but weren’t able to contain the playful smile that pulled at the corners of your lips.

“Ditto,” you chuckled. “Here’s to never meeting again.”

You returned your hand to your side and then turned to go. He followed you to the door, and you could feel his eyes on the back of your neck as you stepped out of the clearing and back into the shadows of the trees.

It was a few minutes later, as you were struggling once more through the underbrush that you had forgotten to ask the witch if you could use his bathroom.

[fal-carrington]

Stuck with the mother-in-law

Pairing: Kamilah x Mc

Disclaimer: Characters belongs to PB

Tag list: @kamilahtopme @gavryllo @made-me-deep-blue @sapphics-choices @nighthuntresskatherine @cheeto-choices @beccaislove @whoinvitedalx @thepotatobleh @toyhenoctus @shanuuh @wildsayeed @voltos9 @iam-the-fuckin-queen @ilovekamilahsayeed @soundtrackforlife @thecleveridiot09 @otakufangirl-12 @scarlet-letter-a0114 @justejuste727 @deereboy97 @h-doodles @slytherinthoughts7

Prompt: Kamilah thought she had gone through more approvals than any other living being, with 2000+ years old, she thought she had seen it all, but when Mia's mother decide to pay a visit and stay for a few days in New York, Kamilah has to deal with her mother-in-law... Who happens to be a bloodkeeper and don’t like her at all.

The wooden floor was cold against her skin, but she didn't care, she had promised herself that she wouldn't leave, no matter how cold and hard the floor was. The little girl could hear clearly the low cry of her mother coming from behind the door, she had already been there for two days, two days without leaving the room. Two days without Mia being able to see her mother.

At this point she should have been used to, the "bad days" were becoming frequent that month. "Bad days" was what Mia's father used to call the days when Mia's mother became reclusive, cold, and extremely prone to explosive surges. Mia always thought that this was a very strong headache, but she hoped that her mother would heal soon. She missed her mother more than anything else in the world.

Mia never understood how a person could be so kind and loving at one moment, but explosive and cold at another.The little girl lay on her stomach against the floor, spying under the door where a dim light came from her mother's room.

"Mommy?" Mia called her.

No answer.

"Mommy, it's me. Please open the door." Mia asked, without answer again.

The little girl stretched her little fingers to the box of tissues she was carrying and took two, stretching them under the door.

"Please, Mommy don't cry." A little smile came over her face as the tissues were pulled. She sat down and leaned her back against the door, holding a portrait in one hand.

In the portrait lay a photograph, Mia wiped the tears that fell from her green eyes, looking at the photograph of her parents with her. The latin features and the seriousness in the severe brown eyes and black hair highlighted the beautiful young face of her mother. Hugged by her father, a beautiful young blond man with green eyes hidden behind his thick glasses. Together, both were holding a little girl.

"Mia?" Her father's thick voice called out to her, making her look up.

"Hi, Daddy." Mia said wiping her eyes, her father looked briefly at the door and a glance of recognition appeared on his face. Mia looked at her father, knowing full well from his clothes that he had just come from his work. The loose tie on his tweed suit, the tired eyes behind his glasses, and the leather bag strap on his shoulder.

"Is Mama on a bad day?" her father asked, Mia shook her head in affirmation.

"Daddy, do you think that... Mommy's sad because of me?" Mia hesitated to ask.

"What? Why?"

"Maybe because I didn't do very well on my math exam, I know she was expecting a lot from me." A tear ran down her little face, her father sighed tired, getting down on his knees in front of his daughter.

"Isabella Amelia Cortéz Evans" He touched her face looking deep into her inherited eyes. "Your mother is not like that because of you, you could never disappoint her, you are our greatest pride. Your mother... " He took a break before he went on. "She's just going through a bad phase, that's all, but I'm sure it will soon pass."

"... In the meantime, why don't you and I go in the kitchen and get dinner ready? How about we make lasagna and then watch cartoons on TV, okay?" He messed up her blonde hair with a smile on his face, making a dimpled smile appear on his daughter's face.

"Right!" Mia took her father's hand and followed him down the stairs. "Can I call Rebecca and Alex to join us for dinner?"

"How about just the two of us tonight? I'm sure you can call your cousins for the weekend."

"Okay."

...

Mia looked over at her side as she listened to her father's snoring, who was immersed in a deep sleep, he fell asleep after dinner on the couch next to her while watching cartoons on TV. Mia got up and took a blanket and covered her father, gently removing his glasses and leaving them on the coffee table.

An idea popped into her mind, her mother even though she didn't attend dinner tonight, maybe she was still hungry. Mia went to the kitchen and heated up the rest of the lasagna in the microwave and took it upstairs on a tray.

What the little girl didn't expect was her mother's bedroom door to be open.

"Mommy?" She called, opening the door a little wider so she could see her mother clearly.

And there she was, her black hair caught in a loose coke, wearing only a sweater and sweatpants, with her back to Mia, sitting on the bed.

"Mama, I brought your dinner. Daddy and I made lasagna." Mia approached with caution.

"Thank you, sweetie." Her mother answered with a weak smile, Mia left the tray on the bed and approached hesitantly watching her mother's red eyes and pale face.

"Don't cry." Mia lifted the sleeve of her blouse and wiped her mother's eyes, receiving a weak laugh.

"I'll be all right, darling." Her mother touched her face. "Mommy's just..." Suddenly her mother stood still, eyes glazed and distant.

"Mommy?" Mia touched her mother, not expecting a wave that invaded her body, images and faces of people appearing in her mind. A man with blue eyes, long hair and a cruel expression on his face, a woman accompanied him, with black hair, tanned skin and brown eyes, people screaming and running and blood everywhere. "Who... Who are these people?" Mia asked scared.

What she didn't expect was a strong push from her mother who knocked her down.

"STAY AWAY FROM ME!" Her mother screamed angry, an expression of terror and anger on her face.

"Mama?" Mia called her tears in her eyes, being greeted by a look of hatred, being ignored by her mother who locked herself in the bathroom. “MAMA!”

Sweat dripped from her forehead, with her breathing panting and her heart racing, Mia sat on the bed. The girl sighed, passing her hand across her face.

"It was just a nightmare..." She said to herself, trying to calm down. “...Or a really fucked-up memory." She was used to her frequent nightmares — which usually involved Gaius, Rheya, Lily's death, or some of her many traumas. They were frequent and agonizing, but she was already used to them. Now seeing her parents... She didn’t know which one of them, was the worse.

The girl looked to her side, finding Kamilah, who was lying on the left side of the bed, her tanned chest descending and ascending, immersed in a light sleep. The silk sheet partially covered her naked body, memories of last night wrapped Mia's mind, and a smile came over her face as she silently observed the features of Kamilah's gorgeous, calm and serene face.

She still had no idea how she had managed to marry Kamilah, but the thought that after 2000 years she was the only one who had managed to put a ring on Kamilah's finger made her chest fill with pride.

The thoughts involving her wife were interrupted by the memory of her nightmare involving her mother. The girl sighed and looked at her watch, there were still 4 hours left for her to go to work, and she was sure she wouldn't be able to get any more sleep.

Mia got out of bed carefully so as not to wake Kamilah, and went to the bathroom. Under the hot water shower, the girl leaned her face against the marble wall, letting the warm water fall under her face.

"It was just a memory, that's all." She said to herself.

...

Raines Corporation, 19:30pm

Sitting in her leather armchair in her Raines Corporation office, Mia leaned back while talking to one of her newest clients.

"...You have to admit that the potential of this contract to benefit both us is extremely high..." She supported the phone on her shoulder as she spoke. "Danny, at the end of the day you and I are the same, we think and see the profit this will bring us.”

“...Exactly, we can run this country. Japan? Who cares about Japan? You and I will close this deal together and be partners." With her attention focused on the origami swan that she patiently made in her desk, she noticed her assistants entering her office silently.

"...Really? I am so happy that you and your investors liked the whiskies and cigars I sent. Seriously, it was from the heart." She laughed. "Sure, I'll see if I can convince Kamilah, for us to go spend the holiday in Hamptons.”

She gestured for the assistants to leave the contracts on her desk.

"Danny, you're the man. I knew you'd understand, I'll see you and your investors on Wednesday, with a celebration." She smiled victoriously when she saw that she had managed to close another deal. "Okay, I'll tell Kamilah you sent her a hug, tell your wife and kids, I sent a hug too.”

When she turned it off, she raised her eyes to her assistants.

"Guess who closed another deal?" She pointed to herself. “That's right, me. Booom, it's Britney bitch" She gestured by pretending to knock over a microphone.

"Um, by the way, we have something else." Natalie mentioned it.

“Yeah? What?" Mia turned her attention to her origami swan.

"Your mother called. She asked you to return the call." Tyler told her while collecting some papers, making Mia stop at the same moment.

"My mother? What does she want?"

"She didn't say, she just asked you to call back," Natalie told her.

At the same moment her heart began to beat fast. Was her dream a warning she chose to ignore? If she'd mentioned it to Kamilah, maybe she'd say yes.

"All right. You two can go." Mia said and picked up the phone, sighing patiently before calling her.

The phone rang a few times before her mother answered.

"Hello, hija," Her mother said at the other end of the line. “It’s has been so long.”

"Hey, mom." Mia said sheepishly.

...

"You are so quiet today," Kamilah commented in a low tone, as if making a mere observation.

Of course she had noticed, she always notices all things, Kamilah would not let go of a behavior that differed from her usual behavior, but as always, patient, Kamilah waited for her to pronounce herself.

"Huh?" Mia looked at her.

"Distant and distracted too." Kamilah completed her observation.

"It's nothing." Mia lied looking at her plate. "Didn't you enjoy your dinner?" She asked.

"I'm not the one not eating." Kamilah told her, drinking a sip of her glass of wine. "And you know I like it when you make puttanesca paste."

"Do you want to tell me what's bothering you?" Kamilah asked, as if she was stretching out a hand so she could pick it up.

"I had a bad dream yesterday." Mia started talking. "It was a memory, like I was reliving this childhood memory, you know?"

Kamilah nodded, silently. Her brown eyes warm and understanding.

"I couldn't sleep afterwards. I didn't want to wake you so I came to the kitchen and arrived early at work. My day was going so well today, I kicked ass at meetings, closed two deals today, and even made Aiko lose a contract. I was so happy, and then my mom called."

At the same moment Kamilah's expression changed, she was watching her cautiously now.

"And what did she want?"

Mia bit her lower lip, looking at Kamilah with fear, her brown eyes looked for an answer that Mia feared to give her.

"Mia?"

"She called to say she's coming to New York. She wants to stay a few days... A few weeks with us." She waited, she waited for an answer from Kamilah, when she looked at her, she saw the expression on Kamilah's face, the same one she saw in old memories that made thousands run for their lives.

"Your mother... wants to stay with us." Kamilah said it like she was trying to absorb the information. "She automatically invited herself to stay here?"

"Yes."

"I think I've lost my appetite"

"Babe..."

"Why? I don't understand."

"She said she wants to spend some time together. She wants to get closer and improve our relationship." Mia told her, taking a sarcastic laugh from Kamilah.

"She's up to something." Kamilah said more to herself than to Mia.

"Babe..."

"I don't understand why she decided at the last minute to come here and stay in our house." Kamilah dropped her napkin on the table. "You invited her?"

"No!"

Kamilah sighed, Mia touched her hand over the table.

"Mia, your mother hates me." Kamilah told her.

"What? She doesn't hate you!"

"She specifically told me that she was against our marriage, that I wasn't good enough for you, and that we wouldn't last. Aside from all the comments she made during, before and after the ceremony to make you quit."

"Alright, I agree, but my dad loves you, he's crazy about you. And he supports our relationship, as does my whole big family."

"Except your mother."

"My mother doesn't like anyone. It's not personal."

"I guess in that case it is. Your mother's a Bloodkeeper, she's seen all my past and knows all the terrible things I've done, I never expected her to approve of our relationship, but I also didn't imagine she'd make my life hell. She criticizes me at every possible moment, and I can't kill her because she's my mother-in-law.

"She made my life hell too, but now she seems to want to fix things, maybe it's different. Babe, I did not want that either, but please, just this once, if she does something, I will send her away. But make an exception for me." Mia looked into her eyes, looking for a breach.

Kamilah sighed, thoughtful.

"Alright, for you." She knew perfectly well that there was nothing she didn't agree with when it came to Mia, she could deny it and roll her eyes and say it was stupid and kill anyone who told her, but she knew that if Mia asked her to stop a moving train, she would. And even if she had to accept the devil woman itself in her house, she would accept to please her wife.

[mrs-hollandstan]

Make Me Love You || Frat Boy!Tom [one]

Pairing: Frat Boy!Tom x Student!Reader

Warnings: language, alcohol consumption, mentions of sex that almost aren't mentions of sex, fuckboy Tom, mentions of domestic issues, a small confrontation

Word Count: 7,299

Author's Note: The teaser did really well for it being a teaser and I am SO glad. If you enjoy, lemme know what you think of it! 

Series Masterlist || Add yourself to one of my taglists

There are drastic differences between Los Angeles and Seattle like the weather, traffic, even the population, but there are also many similarities that make a transition from one city to the next, just the smallest bit easier. They always say that finding friends in Seattle is harder because the non-stop gloom, for a record breaking five months straight makes the locals reclusive. Of course, the heat in LA makes people just as reclusive, but the chance of meeting someone with your interests and mentality in the nearly 4 million population is more likely and easier to obtain compared to Seattle's 742,000. That is of course if you don't have ties already in one of the cities already.

One of the easiest transitioning factors for you, transferring from a community college in Los Angeles to a four year college up north in Seattle was your older brother Cole, who'd seemingly abandoned the half assed family you claimed and the muggy city the both of you had grown up in. It was nothing personal against you and you knew that, but the new person your father had become after the death of your mother shifted the feeling of your once love filled, perfect family, home to hostile and toxic. Your father and Cole hadn't gotten along the few months leading up to Cole leaving for Seattle and as you neared the transfer period for college, it was either tagging along with your dad and his new girlfriend to busy New York, or reunite with Cole after two long years and live in chilly Seattle. Not that either were a bad idea, but it came down to which of the men you grew up around was more tolerable and which school was best for you and your major. The end choice was Cole and Seattle, both of which seemed to invite you with open arms.

The plane ride saw a lot of rain and landing in a cold and dreary Seattle airport to be met with the soft, kind features of your older brother was something that excited and comforted you. His muscular arms encircled you and you squealed as he sighed, holding your body extremely close with a kiss to your temple. After gathering the rest of your belongings that hadn't already been shipped to Cole's house, he leads you out to the same car he drove up in, driving you to the small house you'd only seen in pictures and showing you to what would be your room when you stayed with him and not in your dorm with the roommates you'd already started conversing with. Despite being very protective and loving, Cole was willing to let you take the reigns on your own life and make all the adult decisions needed to get you your degree, whilst also supporting you and providing you the necessities to live if need be. Because he knew what it was like to be pressured and he made damn sure that you would never feel that with him. Which is part of the reason you chose him and Seattle over your father and Manhattan.

                                                        ---

"So you said you've already talked to these girls like via text? They're cool? Because-"

"I have your place if I need it and I can always transfer to a different university if I feel pressured. I know Coleslaw." You complete your older brother's statement, his eyebrows knitting in a line at the nickname as you glance over your shoulder at him. You smile and bump his shoulder as you carry a box up towards your dorm room, navigating the endless, tan hallways of a place you'll be calling a second home for the next two years.

"Yes Cole, I'm in a group chat with the three of them. We're already good friends and I haven't even moved in yet." You explain to him as he hauls two more boxes after you, pausing to bring his knee up and get a more firm grip on the boxes in his hands. Dark curls fall onto his forehead, escapees from the mop atop his head that you've been begging him to cut for two months,

"What are their names? I-I can only remember Scarlett." He asks, hazel eyes trained on the bobbing lid of the top box he holds. You nod,

"Scarlett, Phoebe, and Ivey. Supposedly one of them has a boyfri- oh my god I'm so sorry!" You squeal, bouncing back into your brother who has the wind knocked out of him as you run into the front of a tall, dirty blonde boy, stunning crystalline eyes darting between you and Cole,

"S'alright love, no harm done. To me at least." The boy speaks up in a thick British accent, punctuating the statement with a chuckle as he watches Cole lean your boxes against a wall, supporting them on a knee again. He gives a tight lipped smile to the other boy as you glance between them,

"Sorry... I should really watch where I'm going." You reply through a small laugh. The blonde shakes his head as he looks down, chuckling softly, playfully,

"I'm alright. Came around the corner a little fast. You're all good." You nod and smile, brushing past him. You turn to each other, flashing one more kind smile before he passes Cole with a small greeting and heads down the hall you just came up. Cole nods at the boy before sighing and rolling his eyes,

"If that was your first introduction to college, I'd hate to see what the rest of it consists of." He mumbles. Narrowing your eyes, you cock you head and gesture to the boxes now bowing at his weight,

"I knew I shoulda stacked a third on there for you." You joke. He cocks his head, mockingly laughing along with you before he gestures down the hall and starts to follow again, watching you pause and check a small piece of paper in your hand before knocking at a grey door. It swings open with almost no time in between and a girl about your height with ombre hair that goes from an almost black to auburn and blonde at the tips and down the front of her shoulders, smiles,

"Y/N?" She asks as you set the box you carry on the floor and nod, her smile widening before she steps out into the hallway and pulls you into a hug, rocking you back and forth and squealing,

"Its about time you showed up." She says. Leaning back, she glances over your shoulder at Cole,

"Come on in you guys, your room's the first room on the right." She says as you step aside for Cole and follow him in once you pick up your own abandoned box. He sets the two he carries on the tan carpet, placing his hands on his hips with a sigh,

"Its nice. It's real open." He says as you set your own box beside his. You nod and smile, turning to your roommates as they crowd in the room. The two other girls share their hugs with you as Phoebe introduces herself to Cole now that she's already met you both at the front door. Ivey's skin is tan and the dark brown hair that's cut to rest at her shoulders, frames a beautiful, caked face that sparkles with every move. Scarlett's dark skin is just as shiny and beautiful as Ivey's and her hair is tied up with a bandana wrapped around the crown of her head. They stand back, one of Scarlett's hands in yours, one of Ivey's hands rested on your arm as you have your first, in person interaction with them. The small group shifts to Phoebe and Cole, Ivey and Scarlett introducing themselves to the taller boy. You stand in a small, comfortable circle before Scarlett sighs,

"Well... you're getting your first taste of peer pressure. We're taking you to a frat party tonight. It's like their little intro party before club rush and initiation and all that. This party sort of shows guys what its like before they make the pledge." She explains, watching you nod. Cole scoffs,

"Like she'll need the peer pressure. Can she pledge? She could be there keg king." He jokes, making the other girls in the room laugh as you look at him and mockingly laugh,

"Oh ha ha, wonder where I learned that shit? Got it from my party animal big brother." You say, watching Cole stick his tongue out as you playfully punch his ribs. He chuckles and runs the area before heading for the door,

"Why don't you guys finish getting acquainted and get Y/N comfortable while I get the two other boxes." He says. You nod, as do the other girls before he leaves the room and the three of them turn back to you,

"Are you excited? Finally living on campus and getting into that college life. Its cool right?" Ivey asks. You nod,

"Yeah, it's a little scary being... away from home, but LA isn't even where my dad is living anymore so, home is technically here now. Mostly with Cole but... here too, with the three of you." You nervously explain. They all smile at you as you look between them, already warm and inviting. Phoebe holds her hand out and you take it, letting her pull you through your door and further down the hall. She points to a closed door on the left at the very end of the hallway,

"My room," She says as she opens it to show off an already decorated and beautiful white room, fairy lights lining the roof, "this is where we have movie nights cause I have a projector." She says, her nose crinkling. You nod and smile, spinning on your heels to follow her as she opens the door across from her own,

"Scarlett's room. This is where you'll most likely find hair or makeup products you need. Maybe your own, who knows." She jokes, smiling wider as Scarlett scoffs and you look around the room, nodding at the organized vanity and makeup selection set up strategically in a corner of the room. Leaving that door open as well, Phoebe brushes past you to open the second door down,

"Bathroom. Nothing too special. We kinda all share body washes and toothpastes and stuff. It's a community." Phoebe says with a shrug, closing the door before walking to the room just across from yours,

"And here," She says in a sigh, "is Ivey's room. She's got a boyfriend so... we have to warn you in advance that any howling or screaming you hear isn't a virgin being sacrificed, it's just Ivey and her thing. Also, we have to warn that anything you find that might be disturbing is... grounds for therapy so, we're here for you." She jokes yet again, laying a hand over your shoulder. You giggle as Ivey swipes a hand over her face, mumbling explicits and disgraced words. She crosses her arms with a flat expression,

"We very rarely do anything here and there is nothing that we do that will get us caught by any of you. In the two years we've lived together, I have never been caught." She explains. You, Scarlett, and Phoebe smile and giggle at her before she swallows,

"We haven't been caught here at least. But to be fair, his brothers are nosey and don't knock." She justifies as the other two girls giggle and snicker. You frown,

"Brothers?" You quiz. Ivey nods, moving back and forth from her toes to her heels,

"He's in a frat. The frat party we're going to tonight, it's his frat." She explains. You nod and turn to Scarlett as she starts to speak,

"His brothers are pretty hot but goddamn they're like little boys. Some of them have that whole douchebag thing goin, but for the most part they're all pretty hot." She says with a wink. You nod again as she looks you over, glancing up when Cole returns with two more boxes,

"You don't happen to have a smashing dress to wear in those boxes, do you?" Scarlett asks. You shrug, glancing back at Cole when he emerges from your room before you turn back the the group with a shake of your head,

"Guess not. I have some cute clothes but I don't know if they're frat boy impressing worthy." You say. The girls smile as Cole sighs behind you,

"We're already looking for frat boys to impress?" He asks, somewhat breathless. You shrug,

"Ivey's boyfriend is part of the frat that's throwing the party tonight and the girls all say his brothers are pretty good looking." You explain. He nods, looking between the four of you. Scarlett cocks her head,

“You’re so much more willing and open-minded than most older brothers who hear this kinda stuff talked about with their younger sisters.” She says. His eyes linger on her for a moment before he shrugs,

“I’m living my own life. I don’t have time to live vicariously through her too.” He says. You smile, binding your arms around his waist. He kisses your temple,

“BUT… I will kill someone that hurts her. I will kill a frat guy.” He adds making the girls smile. You glance up at him, crinkling your nose. There’s a moment of silence before Phoebe sighs,

"Well, going back to the outfit thing, if you wanna borrow some of our clothes to piece together a rockin outfit, you're more than welcome. We can take you shopping soon." She says. You smile and nod, thanking the group collectively before Cole reaches up to rub your shoulders,

"Wanna come get your bag from my car, walk me out?" He asks. You nod, turning with him and following him down the same hallways as before until you're standing at the curb, closing the passenger side door after retrieving your duffel and regular backpack. Cole sighs, hands tucked in his pockets,

"So when do I get custody?" He jokes. You smile, playfully leaning in to punch his stomach this time,

"I'll uhh... I'll come back Sunday maybe. I dunno yet. Depends on how I cope with all this new life stuff." You say with a shrug. He nods, chewing the inside of his cheek. He looks up, searching your face for a moment as you think,

"Just have fun tonight if you go. Let loose and make new friends, ya know? Don't think that college is strictly academic. But... just be careful. Don't set your drink down anywhere, anything like that. Ya never know who you're dealin with." He warns. You nod along to him, rolling your eyes,

"Common sense Cole." You say. He nods, pulling you into him, arms wrapped around your shoulders,

"I know, I know, but if you're drugged the first day you're here with me, dad'll most definitely force you up there in New York." He tells you. Holding him with your arms wrapped around his waist, you sigh,

"I'm not gettin drugged. I'll be careful." You reason. He nods again, kissing your temple before he releases you,

"Just do me a favor and text me when you go places if you can remember. Try to remember to text me like... at least five times a day so I know you're alive." You smile up at your mother hen like older brother who holds your hand, dragging out the last few moments you have together, today. You purse your lips,

"Yeah Cole, I will. When dad texts me asking if I'm alive every twenty minutes I'll make sure to shoot you a text." He chuckles softly,

"Alright, good. I love you." You stand on your toes to kiss his cheek,

"Love you too. I'll maybe see you Sunday." You remind. He nods as he let's go of your hand and starts to round the car,

"Maybe Sunday." He repeats before climbing into his car and starting it, driving off as you stand at the curb. Despite the short distance from his house to the college, your heart aches a little. Not just because he's leaving you after only having you in his home for a day and a half, but because after he left California, you two practically never talked. He texted you and called you every once in a while but that older brother that you talked about was all a myth once he came to Seattle and you were fearful of the same thing happening this time around.

Not dwelling on it to long, you make your trip back up to your dorm room with ease, nudging the door open with your shoulder. As you kick the front door closed and head down the hall, Ivey peeks her head out of her room, smiling at you. The rest of her body appears and she sighs,

"We're all just gonna be in our rooms. When you're ready you can come raid our closets. Something cute that shows you're available but still shows that you... mean business." She explains with a shrug. You nod and set your bags just inside the door,

"Cool. Thanks. I uhm... I'm gonna do some unpacking you say, suddenly nervous now that Cole's comfort and protection isn't there. She smiles again, nodding back,

"We're leavin here at six thirty, just be ready, okay?" You give a silent okay back before heading into your own room and unpacking what you can before they bombard you with twenty questions on what you're wearing. Settling on an oversized jean jacket and white tube top from Ivey and an army green suede skirt from Scarlett, the four of you are taking mirror selfies and heading out to Scarlett's car in record time, your heart thumping loudly in pure nerves as you head into the unknown. The second you pull up in front of the Psi Sigma Tau frat house, you seem to get lightheaded as your nerves amp up. Climbing from the car, Ivey rubs your shoulders,

"The boys are gonna love you. And trust us... none of them are... too bad of assholes. Tom is probably the worse but he won't fuck with new blood." Ivey informs. You nod, following Scarlett and Phoebe up to the open front door, watching Scarlett open the screen door and walk inside, the three of them never leaving you as they lead you to the kitchen. A group of boys turn, one of them, the same you and Cole ran into earlier. He smiles as Ivey approaches him, wrapping her in his arms. They share a kiss before he looks up, eyebrows furrowing as he spots you,

"You ran into me earlier." He reminds you, watching a smile cover your face as Ivey looks to you and he chuckles,

"You did?" She asks. You nod, tucking your hands in the pockets of the jean jacket you wear,

"Uhh, yeah, I did. Cole and I were coming around a corner, the same time he was and I bumped into him." You reminisce, your cheeks burning at the thought of always seeing him now that you know one of your roommates is dating him when you made a complete ass of yourself. He chuckles again, draping his arm around Ivey's shoulders as she wraps her arms around his lean torso,

"'S alright. I told you that already. No harm, no foul." He says, smirk never leaving his lips as his frost colored eyes linger on you. You smile and nod as Ivey sighs, reaching up to proudly place her hand over his stomach,

"This is my boyfriend, Harrison. He and his best friend Tom came here together from London." She explains, looking up at him. His eyes pull away from you to look down at her. He purses his lips as he hums, satisfied,

"Got watched by this one in English so I snatched her up. Left Tom as eligible bachelor. He was pretty pissed about that one but," he glances up at you again, "he's a little bit of a ladies man. Decent enough to be the douchebag one night stand guy." He says. You nod to show that you've been listening before Harrison looks you over,

"And… not that he has a particular type or anything, but you fit the curriculum for someone he'd be into." He adds. You shake your head,

"I'm not a one night stand type of girl. If anything, I want a boyfriend. So," you look around the kitchen and living room, "which one is Tom so I know to steer clear?" You ask, letting Phoebe turn you and point through the small crowd that's already started to form in the dark, strobe lit living room. Through it, you can see a perky blonde in a tight dress leaned against a wall, talking to a striking young brunette, tight fitted tee and jeans clinging to every muscular limb that he has to offer, a black cap hanging off his head, backwards, his cute yet prominent ears poking up past the hat. You swallow your tongue at the sight of him. He's gorgeous and you can already tell that it's easier said than done with that one when it comes to steering clear of him. As if he can hear your thoughts, he glances up, spotting you and Phoebe. Your heart stops as a smile crosses his lips and he waves softly, excusing himself from the blonde to head your way. Phoebe hums before releasing you and stepping forward to hug him when he steps into the kitchen. He sets his drink down on the counter, pressing his free hand to her lower back, the two of them talking back and forth, too quiet for you to hear over the music. All you can do is stare at his beautiful face in the new light.

He truly is stunning, cream colored face stealing your breath straight from your lungs. His skin, specifically his somewhat crooked nose and full cheeks are littered with cocoa colored freckles. He practically lacks an upper lip, but his bottom lip is somewhat plump and berry colored, kissable if need be. His nose is perfect despite the bend and cute, but his eyes are what really set you off. He has beautiful dark brown eyes that are accentuated through long, angelic lashes that flutter every few words uttered from his lips or to him from Phoebe's and they almost meet his thick, trimmed eyebrows, the end of one of them tapering up wildly. His forehead is nearly covered by the dark brown hair that is voluminous and fluffy and looks completely inviting despite the snapback he wears.

His eyes cut to you suddenly like he can feel yours on him, a soft, almost demonic, hungry smile crossing his face as his tongue comes out to wet his lips. The shift in focus to you has Phoebe turning to face you, eyes still locked on Tom to gauge his reactions to you. His adam's apple bobs as he swallows, looking you over, the piercing dark eyes he's blessed with making you feel small in that one moment. And then he speaks in a somewhat deep voice enriched with a similar, tranquilizing European accent to Harrison's that makes your knees weak,

"And who do we have here?" You're broken from your thoughts by him. Phoebe turns to you,

"This is Y/N, Tom. It's the roommate Scar, Ivey, and I were talking about coming in today. She's at her first frat party ever." She replies, sultrily as Tom's eyebrows raising,

"Wow, look at you darling. Little daredevil like your roomies. Well... welcome. Your girls are some of the best here, I suppose you won't be any different." He directs to you. You swallow and smile, watching Phoebe cock her head,

"He doesn't bite Y/N." She says, her hand pressed to his stomach similar to the way Ivey did to Harrison. Tom closes his mouth to give a tight lipped smile,

"Unless you want me to." He jokes making Phoebe giggle. You nod and reach up to tuck hair behind your ear,

"Sorry... uhm... yeah, I wasn't gonna not come. I actually... think I need a drink." You say, suddenly flushed. Tom hums, looking over your shoulder,

"Why don't we slam some shots then, yeah?" He poses, pressing his hand to your lower back when you nod and follow, watching him and Phoebe pour out a row of shots. The three of you, Harrison, Scarlett, Ivey and a few other boys raise them. Phoebe sighs,

"To our ever growing group of friends." She says. You all say cheers before clinking the glasses and downing your shots. Most of the group shivers and retches at the sting, but you and Tom are primarily the only ones that don't and you don't catch it, but Tom watches you, his heart skipping a beat when all you do is set the shot glass down and lick your lips to ensure you got all of the alcohol your glass contained. You sigh before looking up wide eyed at Tom when he snaps at you,

"You're my kinda girl, get your pretty little ass over here and let's do a shot together." He demands. You glance around the group that's starting to break out into laughter before snorting,

"What?" The group laughs along with you, Tom's own face turning up into a smile,

"You didn't even flinch when you took that. Most people do. I like when a girl doesn't overreact. So let's take another shot together." He elaborates. After another moment, you nod, switching spots with Phoebe and watching Tom pour two more shots before he hands you one. You take it, only to have him lock arms with you, raising his eyebrows before the both of you throw your shots back, only hissing as it burns your chests. He steps back, tongue darting out to wet his lips before he looks at you again,

"Where the fuck have you been all my life?" He asks. You giggle, taking an opened beer from Scarlett and raising it to your lips,

"California, little British boy." You reply back snarkily, raising your eyebrows as he does, letting him watch you take a swig from the bottle you hold. A beer is offered to Tom, but he shakes his head,

"Nah, I got a game Sunday morning. With my luck I'll still be hungover for it,  won't be able to focus." He explains, his attention shifting to the party in full swing out in the living room. You walk to lean back against the counter beside Ivey, the both of you leaning so she can be the only one to hear you whisper.

"Game? So he's the stereotypical douchebag frat boy that plays football or something?" You pose. She giggles, shaking her head,

"No, he's actually pretty cool, really. He and Haz play golf so they a game Sunday. I should force you to come so we can support them." She replies with a knowing smile. You hum, sipping more from your beer bottle as Phoebe and Scarlett talk Tom up, allowing you to get a better view of him without him knowing you're staring. You swallow, Ivey giggling again as she watches you watch him. You glance at her, searching her face,

"What?" You ask. She shakes her head,

"Nothin. Need a distraction from a cute little British boy?" She asks, raising an eyebrow. You nod quickly, Ivey moving from under Harrison's arm, tugging him after her and headed straight for Scarlett and Phoebe,

"Girl dilemma ladies, its dance time." She informs the two other girls, both of their eyes landing on you before they nod and the group is excused from Tom to the middle of the living room where you find your rhythm with your roommates and Harrison, you holding Scarlett's arms around you as the two of you start to dance together.

Unbeknownst to you, Tom never strayed far. After the group abandoned him, he wandered to lean against the kitchen's doorway, eyes glued to your figure, lost in the music and your roommates. You've forgotten about him temporarily, but his mind is still fixed on you. He can't believe that the one girl that he wants more than anything just based off the concoction of sheer beauty, intelligence, boldness and valor, has just almost brushed him off. Most girls throw themselves at him and he doesn't have to ask for it, but you're different. And that's what attracts Tom the most. You're independent, tenacious and confident. You know what you want and he knows that you're the type to get it, thanks to your dad's own stubbornness you seemed to have inherited. If you were any other girl, he could've had his quick fix and been onto the next, but the way you entice him without even meaning to is what draws him in and keeps him in your clutches.

"Its impolite to stare." Another frat brother, Jeremiah jokes, bumping Tom's shoulder and effectively breaking him from his thoughts. His eyes don't leave you, but he licks his lips, Jeremiah following his eyes to your figure. Jeremiah hums,

"Who's the new girl?"

"Her name's Y/N." Tom replies almost immediately. Jeremiah blinks in surprise at the suddenness, looking Tom over. His eyes sparkle in the rainbow strobe lights that light the living room up as he watches you dance with your roommates. Jeremiah chuckles, Tom finally looking at him,

"What?" He asks. Jeremiah shrugs,

"You're the type to seduce a girl, take her to bed for one night and never talk to her again and here you are starin at this one like a fuckin tiger watchin a gazelle. What's so special about her?" Jeremiah asks. Tom shrugs, crossing his arms,

"She didn't even... care about me. Did two shots together and she didn't even care about how I started to come onto her." He mutters. Jeremiah hums, sipping the concoction in his cup, eyes crinkling at the sting,

"So she's smart. She stays away from you, she doesn't have to deal with the shit." Tom clicks his tongue, frowning as he looks at Jeremiah again,

"I'm not that bad."

"You made Delilah Rhodes cry like a middle schooler two weeks ago because you didn't call her back and she'd given you everything, including her virginity. You told her that you'd always be there for her just to get into her pants and the second you did, you dropped her." Jeremiah recalls, eyes finding you the same Tom's do. You're prettier than some of the girls Tom chooses. But he knows Tom. The second he gets you into his bed, he'll get over you. But it's about getting you there that Tom's obsessed with. Seducing you, knowing he's good enough to get any girl he wants and if he can't have you, his ego is gonna suffer a severe beating. Tom nods after a moment,

"I know, I remember." He replies nonchalantly. Jeremiah scoffs,

"What makes her different than Delilah then? Why couldn'tyou have stayed with her?" He asks. Tom's eyes linger on you for a few moments more before he looks to Jeremiah, eyes sparkling in mischief as he clears his throat,

"She doesn't want me right now like all the other girls, including Delilah did. You get that girl a little tipsy and she's out." He informs. Jeremiah looks his friend over, watching his attention divert to you again before he looks that way, sighing to himself,

"Poor girl isn't gonna know what hit her when you're done." He mutters, finishing off the drink in his hand before turning to the array of bottles behind him to make a new one. Tom is still entranced by you, unable to pull his eyes from your figure in the almost half an hour. A number of his brothers approach him and leave him to his stalking, and eventually Ivey is the first to spot him staring, leaning back to whisper in Harrison's ear. Gis hands wandering her body as he looks at his best friend, giving you a quick look over before he gives a soft chuckle and let's her lean forward into you, Scarlett, and Phoebe,

"Don't all look at once but... there's a creep watching you, Y/N, at your three o'clock." She informs. Glancing to your right, you catch Tom's eye, watching him lick his lips and purse them before looking away, almost as if he's embarassed that he's been caught. Scarlett clears hair from your shoulder,

"So what's the plan here babes? Are you giving him a show or inviting him?" She asks in your ear. You're panting, breathless from dancing. You let Phoebe slip your jacket from your shoulders, letting it hang in your elbows, her eyes locked in yours. The corners of her lips quirk,

"Fuck him... let him gawk." She says. You nod, holding her hands and feeling Scarlett's hands wander your hips. Your heart beats a little faster and you can't tell if it's because of the fact you're being watched by someone like Tom or because of the way you've been dancing since you got out here. One thing is for certain, you need another drink. Pulling Phoebe's hands, you tell her, watching her nod and hold your hand, leading you in Tom's direction. If he'd claimed that his heart didn't skip a beat when you and Phoebe beelined for him, he'd definitely be lying and he was convinced it showed in his face. Phoebe raised an eyebrow as you passed him, Tom's body turning with you, watching you sort through the alcohol on the counter and pour a drink of your choice in your cup. She leans across the counter across from him, crossing her arms and looking him over as he watches you again.

"Its creepy to stare Tom. Especially if it's a girl that doesn't know how you operate. How do you know she wants to be stared at?"

"There's nothing wrong with looking at her." Tom defends himself, eyes cutting back to her and then to you again when you shift to see the both of them. You look between them before throwing back the alcohol in the bottom of your cup before filling it with more and walking forward,

“So what, I’m like another target for you? New concubine because I don’t know who you are?” You ask. His eyebrows knit together before he scoffs and pushes himself off of the cupboard behind him, turning to face you and Phoebe,

"Did I say that? Just cause I'm looking, doesn't mean I wanna fuck you."

"So if I asked you to take me upstairs to your room, you wouldn't and then tomorrow morning, after I leave, you wouldn't completely ditch me?" You ask, standing against the counter full of alcohol. He looks between you before shaking his head softly,

“What makes you think you're my type to take you upstairs in the first place?"

"Oh please, you'd fuck a hole in a wall Holland." Phoebe chastises. Tom scoffs again, crossing his arms defensively,

"You know what, fuck you both.” He bites back before pushing through the crowd and heading upstairs, disappearing down the hall. You and Phoebe look to each other, your roommate giggling softly before she shakes her head in unsaid words. You feel instant remorse, concluding something about a man you’d just met. You were just following the lead of your girls, but it wasn’t right to be teasing him so early on. Especially when you didn’t know what he actually thought of you. Phoebe waits until you set your cup down to reach out,

“Come on. Forget about it, he’ll get over it.” She says, seeming to read your mind. You’re weary, but you take her hand and follow her back out to the dance floor, finding Scarlett, Ivey, and Harrison immediately,

“What was said?” Ivey asks worriedly, gesturing up the stairs. Harrison is just as interested and as you look between them, Phoebe catches on and steps in front of them, dragging your hands up to her shoulders,

“Drop it. He’s a sensitive little pussy and just like everything else, he’ll get over it.” She replies, eyes locked in yours. You focus back on her and Scarlett as she holds your hips again. And for another hour, you’re lost in the fun of a frat party with your new friends. There’s a dozen songs and a dozen drinks that your small group goes through. Phoebe, presenting herself now as the Tom of your small group discovers a guy that seems to take a liking to her, ditching you and Scarlett, not far, for him. Ivey and Harrison whisper back and forth a few times before they sneak off and its the three of you, plus one, tiredness starting to sink in not long after. You, Scarlett, and Phoebe find solace on a couch, sweaty and panting, Phoebe’s dancing partner long gone. She sighs, checking her phone,

“Should go find Ivey and get out of here.” She says, looking to you and Scarlett. You nod, standing,

“I’ll do it. I have to pee anyways.” You mutter, finding your way to the staircase and to a bathroom. Afterwards, you look between the two closed doors that line the hallway. Choosing the closest to the stairs, it clicks open and you push through it just slightly to peek in. Tom sits at a desk, small side lamp on. He looks up at the disturbance, frowning as you stand there, mouth slightly ajar. He surprised that seeing your face doesn't bother him considering your last interaction. But considering the number of fights he and Phoebe have had and they're still friends, he's not too surprised.

“Oh… uhm… sorry, I was looking for Harrison and Ivey.” You start. He hums and nods in understanding. He gestures over his shoulder with his chin,

“Next door. But uhm… I don’t recommend barging in like that. His headboard’s bumped the wall a few times already and trust me... walking in on them is terrifying. It's not like in the movies. They don't hide it.” He informs. You giggle, nodding, hand tightening around the doorknob as you anticipate what to say next as he focuses back at the work before him for a moment. He glances back up when you don’t move from the room. Swiveling in his chair, he faces you with furrowed brows,

“Was there something else?” He asks. Not wanting to push your boundaries too far, you straighten your body out, closing the door a small bit behind you for more privacy from the drunks in the hallway,

“Yeah. Uhm… I wanted to apologize for earlier. I-I thought it’d just be a joke, what I said, but… it was insensitive. I don’t know you and I’m sorry for joking with you and making it so personal.” You smooth out. He leans forward slightly, clasping his hands together. He gives a gentle nod,

“‘S alright. I shouldn’t have been staring. I was bein a creep.”

“No… no, I don’t mind. It’s kind of endearing and I just… I slandered you. My brother would’ve smacked the shit out of me for that one. So… I’m sorry. Hopefully we can… start over and get off on the right foot.” You clarify. He smiles softly, standing and starting towards you as you lean against the wall at your back. He sighs, pausing a few steps away,

“I appreciate it and I accept your apology. I think you and I will be A okay love. Just gotta get a little more socializing behind us.” He says, somewhat quietly. You smile and nod, pivoting on your feet,

“I like the way that sounds. You seem really cool.” You say. You share a smile, standing staring at each other for a moment. He tucks his hands in his pockets, shoulders tensing as he looks at his feet,

"I do want to officially apologize to you and I want you to accept my apology. It was creepy of me to stare and I shouldn't have been. So I'm sorry for that. I promise not to be a creep in our future endeavors." He swears. You smile and nod, reaching up to tuck hair behind your ear,

"Of course I accept your apology. We're starting over." You reassure, letting silence permeate for a few moments after Tom chuckles and nods  before you sigh,

“Well… I’ll uhh… I’ll see you around then. I gotta… get Ivey.” You remind, watching him nod before you turn and open the door, closing it behind you and heading further down the hall. Knocking at the other closed door, you wait a few minutes until Harrison pulls it open, somewhat breathless and shirtless, skin flushed,

“Hey Y/N, what’s up?”

“Hey, uhm… I’m looking for Ivey. The other girls are ready to go home so… I just thought I’d come and see if she was uhh… ready or anything?” You explain, face reddening at how stupid the explaination sounds considering you know what your roommate and her boyfriend are up to and he knows you know. He smiles, glancing over his shoulder, behind the door,

“Uhm… yeah, I think I’ll bring her home later. We’re kinda busy at the moment.” He responds with a soft chuckle. You swallow and nod, cheeks burning in embarrassment,

"Right, yeah, sorry. Uhm... just... tell her I'll see her later and uhh... goodnight to you." You reply kindly, Harrison nodding and coolly reassuring you he will before he closes the door and leaves you to head back into the crowds downstairs, finding Phoebe and Scarlett, jackets back on and leaned against cabinets, waiting for you. When you approach, they both stand up straight,

"So what's up? Did you join them or something? You were gone a while." Phoebe chastises. You click your tongue, shooting her an unamused look as Scarlett giggles softly,

"No, I ran into Tom before I found them. He and I... cleared things up. We're starting over and giving a friendship another go." You say proudly, both girls nodding, impressed,

"Nice. He's a good friend to have but uhh... you better put your hormones back in their box. You end up as more than friends, he could break your heart." Scarlett warns. You nod, pivoting on your feet and soaking the information in. She sighs to break the silence between the three of you,

"Anyways, let's get home. We're takin you shopping tomorrow once Prince Charming drops Ivey off." She says, headed for the door with you and Phoebe in tow.

It was fun letting loose for the night before classes start. Your welcome party was successful and less drunk and destructive as the movies make it out. Though somewhat dramatic with Tom, you enjoyed meeting new people and establishing relationships you wouldn't have if you'd been a hermit. But Scarlett's words weigh on you somewhat. No matter what, you and Tom would have some sort of relationship. Whether you took the bait or not and spiraled into a love affair with the beautiful curly haired boy would change your life completely. It scared you, but the idea of getting in some trouble excites you and who knows, maybe you could establish a friends with benefits type of relationship with him for a little bit of fun without the stress of a strings attached relationship. To focus on school and all of the other life changing things that were being thrusted your way, maybe it would be nice to have someone to fool around with and rant to if need be. And why not make it the pretty little British boy that you know has his eyes on you? There wouldn't be any harm in that, right?

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[kedreeva]

I was at work and had to go to the bathroom. This little guy was under the sink. I was able to eventually Corral him outside and he took a break for it and ended up between a milk crate and the wall and got stuck so we had to rearrange everything to get him out again and then he ran into the kitchen behind the janitor sink thing and we eventually got him back outside so I grabbed a bucket and he climbed the wall I got him in the bucket put him in the flower bed outside. Feisty little lizard. I have found a few of him outside my work. The last ones tail was red I think.

I found a brown recluse at work also. We've even had a chipmunk run inside. We were able to get him out too.

-----

They look like little 5 lined skinks! Very cute. Has your work considered perhaps an atrium doorway system to keep wildlife from attempting to apply for jobs

[thiswasinevitableid]

Picture Perfect (Indruck)

A friend on discord @morganeashton asked for this meet ugly for Indruck: 09. we’re strangers who meet at a bar, get drunk, and wake up to announcements of our new engagement all over our social media - what did we do???

Duck’s woken up with worse hangovers. He’s also woken up with far worse people in his bed. The man next to him is slim and angular, silvery hair falling across his face as he sleeps. Yep, just as cute today as he was yesterday. 

Now if only he could remember if they slept together. 

He groans quietly as he climbs out of bed; he’s in a fluffy hotel robe with nothing beneath it. So one point in the “we fucked” category.

Duck tugs the curtains, already mostly closed, all the way shut to block out harsh daylight. The man, Indrid, makes a chirping noise and rolls over, still asleep.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

“I was not aware this was that kind of bar.”

“It’s, uh, I mean, it ain;t, but, uh, you, uh, you looked kinda lonesome and , uh, well, fuck, nevermind, sorry-”

“It’s alright” the man grins reassuringly, setting a hand with black painted nails on Duck’s arm, “it would be good for me to spend the night with something other than my own thoughts.”

Duck hops onto the stool next to him, signals the bartender for drinks

Padding out into the next room, the suite is just as impressive as last it was last night. Whoever Indrid is, he’s loaded. 

“So, uh, what do you do?”

“I’m a photographer.”

“Really? Damn, I, uh, I dabble in it as a hobby, mostly nature stuff, and I’m fuckin’ amazed by anyone who can do it as a job. Shit’s hard.”

“It is rather challenging at times, though I enjoy it. What do you do?”

“I’m a ranger in the national forest. Live in Kepler, that dinky little town by it, came the half hour here for a work conference.”

“That sounds fascinating, tell me everything” Indrid leans closer, grinning.

“Uh, okay. Usually folks are itchin to make some joke about trees. Or Smokey the Bear.”

“I suppose you are bear-like.”

“Heh-”

“I like it.”

“Guh.”

He finds a room service menu on the table by the T.V the size of his first car, reads it over as he wanders back to the bedroom. Peeking into the trash, he doesn’t see any condoms or condom wrappers. One point in the ‘we didn’t fuck” category.

“That was last call, sugar.”

“No, unacceptable, I want to hear the bear-box story you, hic, --excuse me-- promised me.”

“And I wanna tell it, jus’ can’t be here.”

“Come, come back to my room. It’s big, we can talk, please come?”

“Course, darlin, whoa, damn, think we better take the elevator, little drunker than I meant to get.”

“I’ll, hic, admit I was paying more attention to you than my, hic, drink quantity, my sweet.”

He sets the menu down, wanders into the bathroom but finds no pain killers. Settles for filling two glasses with tap water and carrying them to a side table. When he slides back under the blankets and rests against the headboard, Indrid sighs, wiggles closer and snuggles so his nose is bumping Duck’s thigh.

“Morning?”

“Yep.”

“Ugh.”

“Here, this’ll help.” He hands Indrid the water as he blearily sits up. The taller man downs it in one, handing the empty glass back to him with a smile.

“Thank you. Such lovely southern manners.”

“You’re welcome. And, uh, speakin of manners, do you remember if we…”

“No, we did not. There was some kissing, I recall, but we decided we were too drunk. A wise decision all told, though the temptation was great.” Indrid slowly looks him over, smile turning from sleepy to sultry.

“Well uh, this was they day I set aside for sight-seein. Think I could be persuaded to see some sights right here.” His phone buzzes. He ignores it.

“Really now.” Indrid purrs, leaning in to kiss his cheek. On the other nightstand, his phone dings. He ignores it. 

“Oughta get some breakfast in us first, fuckin on a hangover stomach ain’t fun.” Another buzz.

“Mmm, very wise. Their breakfast is quite good, you can order whatever you like.” Indrid is nearly in his lap. His phone dings twice more. 

“Ain’t you the polite host--for fucks sake.” Duck reaches over and grabs his phone, Indrid sighing and mirroring him when his dings three more times. 

He has texts from Juno, Aubrey, and Ned, two calls from Jane, and one from Joe, and all seem to be about…

“Oh no” Indrid covers his mouth with one hand, brown eyes wide, “oh no, oh Duck, oh I’m supremely sorry.”

“Married? What the fuck? We didn’t get married, we cant, there ain’t a spot for it here, what the fuck-”

“Why do they think this, it must be oh, oh dear” he turns his phone. It’s an Instagram profile, at the top of which is a photo of the two of them in  their robes in this very bed, lounging together with goofy smiles as Indrid kisses Duck’s cheek. The caption is even worse.

“Best man ever. Internet, say hello to my husband. Isn’t he handsome?” Duck reads aloud, Indrid making a prolonged noise of alarm as the phone continues dinging. 

“I’m so sorry, I, I don’t know, I must have been trying to type future husband? Which is still hyperbolic, I was drunk, but it would have been more salvageable.”

“Okay, right, we all done some boneheaded shit havin’ had a few too many, but why the fuck does everyone and their goddamn uncle know?”

“I....I never said my last name last night, did I.”

“No.” Duck’s stomach sours.

“I’m Indrid Cold.”

Duck blinks at him, and even in the midst of the panic he smiles a little.

“I didn’t get the sense you knew of me, which was part of your already considerable charm. I, I am the man you call for your Rolling Stone spread or your Vanity Fair cover, the one magazines fight over to have cover the MET Gala or the Oscars. My social media followers meet the same number as some countries populations, and I am notoriously reclusive and private about my life. Hence the uproar.” He rubs his forehead, “I am fairly certain I just wanted a picture of us; I was having so much fun, you, you made me feel so wonderful and I assumed this would be a fling, and I, I wanted a memento. In my compromised state, I must have misjudged where to put it.” 

“Huh.” Duck stares at his phone, still lighting up with new messages. He’s torn between being flattered and being really, really pissed. 

“I, ah, I will call my publicist and sort things out now. Excuse me.” 

Duck watches Indrid leave. His phone is buzzing with unfamiliar numbers now, and when he answers one it’s a reporter from a fashion site he’s never heard of. 

Indrid is handsome, and intriguing, and Duck desperately wants to see as much of him as he can. But there’s no way in hell he can handle this kind of attention, even if it’s misplaced. So while Indrid speaks, hurried and hushed, in the other room, he slips on yesterday’s clothes and disappears out the door. 

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

He almost doesn’t look at the phone when it buzzes. For starters, he’s at work, but also the last two weeks have made him never want to speak to another living human again. When he pulls it from his pocket and looks at the message a half-dozen emotions hit him at once.

Indrid: I’m fairly certain we exchanged numbers, so I hope this is the right one. Duck, if this is you, I hope you’re well. And if you’re interested, I was wondering if you’d like to meet again.

Duck: Yeah, it’s me. And my answer might be different if I hadn’t spent the last two weeks being hounded by fucking reporters.

Indrid: So my clarification did nothing.

Duck: convinced them there’d been some kind of drama, so now they all want to know if it was a money grab or I’m an escort or some shit like that.

Indrid: I’m sorry, Duck. I’ll make things right, somehow. 

Duck: Don’t do it thinking it’ll get you a second date. Because the thought of that much attention all at once again give me fucking hives.

There’s no response, so Duck jams the phone back into his pocket and trudges up the trail.

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

Alright, maybe following Indrid’s Instagram was a bad idea. Because, unlike any other celeb on the platform, he never posts pictures of himself. Duck just wants to see his face again. 

He looks down, notices four new notifications; an account with only five posts and an icon that’s just two red circles followed him a few days ago, and whoever it belongs to really likes his photos. 

Refreshing the app brings a new post from Indrid, black background with red text.

Mr. Cold invites members of the press to learn how they can gain access to exclusive images and information. 

“Good for him.” Duck mutters, before rolling over and shutting off the light.

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Duck sits on the pebbled shore by the lake, skipping stones without counting their jumps. He’s off shift, could go home, but some evenings what he likes best is sitting here, watching the world change from afternoon to dusk. 

Someone is coming up the trail and he sighs; hardly anyone comes to this lake, and yet someone has to at the exact same time he’s trying to decompress. 

“It’s even lovelier in person.” 

Pebbles scatter as he spins.

“Indrid, what the fuck are you doing here? Uh, I mean” he scrambles for his words when he sees Indrid wince at the tone, “not that I ain’t happy to see you but...why?”

“I wanted to ask you if you were still being bothered.” The lilt is shy, nearly drowned out by the cicadas.

“Nope. Stopped about a week ago.”

“Ah good. That means my plan worked. You see I, ah, I offered every large press and small freelancer the chance to access never before seen pieces of my work, all for free. In exchange, they signed a contract that they would leave you alone indefinitely, regardless of your relationship to me, and that any writing on me and a partner would only be done with permission from both myself and them. Anyone who violated those clauses would face a very painful lawsuit.”

“You realize that didn’t do much to make people think I meant nothin to you.”

Indrid shrugs, “That was not the point. I wanted them to leave you alone.”

“Oh.” He looks back across the water, watches an Osprey skim the surface, “how’d you know I’d be here?”

“It’s a spot you shoot often, so I showed your friend at the station the photos and she pointed me the right way.”

“...You’re the person who’s been likin all my pictures, ain’t you?”

“Yes. I, ah, you post plenty of yourself, or your friend the Lady Flame tags you, and I, ah, I missed you, I thought about you so much that I wanted to see you. Perhaps that’s, ah, creepy. I thought it better than constantly trying to contact you.”

“Yeah, good call.”

Indrid shifts, awkwardly, “may I sit?”

Duck nods, and Indrid sinks onto the ground next to him.

“You really ain’t dressed for hikin, are you?”

“No. It’s not something I do often, though you make it sound very appealing.”

“We oughta go together then.” He sets his hand, upturned, on the warm rocks in between them.

“I would like that.” Indrid takes it, “perhaps we could go to lunch afterwards.”

“Sounds real nice.” Duck scoots closer, setting their joined hands on his thigh and resting his head on Indrid’s shoulder.

“To be certain I do not make a fool of myself again; are you saying you would like to try dating me?”

“That I would. But you gotta promise one thing.”

“Anything.”

“No pictures until the third date.” He grins and Indrid chuckles, leaning in for a kiss as warm and slow as the setting sun.