#Wilford does not know how to handle these thoughts and memories | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

my-brothers-corrupted · 3 years ago

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Book Four - Part 10

Anti brings the others to help him get Dapper back from Dark, leading to an all-out battle with a half-dozen different sides.

Tws for imprisonment, physical fighting, and fire.

Part 10 - the Houses in the Woods

Anonymous asked: Trick? Dok? You going down too?

“Come on,” says Trick, taking his hand.

“Can’t they handle it?” asks Dok nervously.

“Bud, come on, I’m not going to let him hurt anybody.”

Dok looks at him as they head down the stairs together. He doesn’t know when Trick made it his responsibility to stop Anti from hurting them, but, proud as he is that Trick is stepping up, he doesn’t think he likes it.

Anonymous asked: Dok, we need your necklaces Trick we need you to be behind your true family. We're nearing the climax, and the heroes will either win or lose against the beast among them.

Trick and Dok exchange glances as they reach the door. Trick’s eyes flicker to the necklaces on Dok’s throat. Dok squeezes his hand, frowning. After all they’ve been through together, Trick can feel the rift in the air between them like a physical force.

We’re not on the same side, he realizes a little numbly.

Dok pulls away from him to check on Red, crouching down beneath Anti timidly and taking Red’s head into his hands, examining the goose bump forming on the back of his skull. Trick goes to Anti, clutching his hands and pulling him back from Red.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he says. “Can’t be hitting him.”

Anti’s eyes seem to burn, and not just from Blue’s stolen fire. He clutches Trick to his chest and glares around at his siblings, bitter and violent.

“You’ve got fifteen minutes to get ready to go,” he spits at Blue and Red. “We’ll go get Dapper back. If you fail me, maybe I don’t have any use for the two of you little traitors anymore.”

“What am I going to do?” asks Blue, bewildered. “I can barely walk most of the time.”

“Dark’s whole territory is hidden in a mirror dimension, just like that stupid convent where the magicians kept Dok. You have to open the mirror so we can get in.”

“But - I don’t know how,” protests Blue, blinking.

“Well, you better find a way to jog your fucking memory, hadn’t you?” snaps Anti. “Otherwise maybe I’ll have to worm into that head of yours and dig the recollection out.”

Blue and Red exchange looks, alarmed. Anti stalks past them, pulling Trick with him as he goes.

“Whoa, Anti, hold on, I want to talk to - ”

“Dok can have you back when he has those necklaces off his goddamn throat,” spits Anti, yanking him down the hallway.

“But that’s my - ”

“You want to start causing me problems too, Trick?” shouts Anti, whirling on him.

Trick’s lip trembles. He lets Anti lead him back towards their room.

Anonymous asked: You can have your true name soon, Ro. It'll all be okay soon. Hold on for us, Jackie. Losing a small battle doesn't mean you're losing this war.

Red pulls Blue to his feet and they stand together, turning to see Dok padding listlessly after his twin. Blue moves to go after him, but Red pulls him back.

“Do you remember anything about mirror dimensions?” asks Red.

“No,” answers Blue. “No, it’s totally random, out of nowhere. How would I know anything about that?”

“He seems to think you would.”

“Well, if I did, he took the memories from me.”

Red sighs. “Maybe it’s a muscle memory thing? Those are different than memories of actual events or memories of everyday facts. Maybe once we get to the mirror it’ll be an everyday fact thing.”

Blue shakes his head, biting down hard on the nail of his thumb. “He’s going to possess me again if I don’t remember,” he whispers.

“You’ll remember,” Red insists, but even as he says it it doesn’t feel true. If Anti doesn’t know and Blue doesn’t remember, who would?

Anonymous asked: Do you remember the early days Trick? Where you and Dok desperately tried to save the Henrik and Chase within you, having to watch Anti tear the two of you apart day after day. The snake in the rabbit's den. Don't let him steal your heart from your family. Trick, you need to find the Chase within you that you and your twin fought so hard to save in the early days. You need to be their guard, their hero, before Anti kills them or worse.

Trick’s face scrunches up with distress. He pulls on Anti’s hand, looking back at Dok, staring miserably after him from the back of the hallway.

“Let me go with you and the others,” pleads Trick.

“What? No. You could get hurt.”

“So could they!”

“I don’t care about that,” spits Anti, pulling him to his chest. “You’ll stay in your room.”

“I want to be there if something happens to you,” Trick insists, gripping his hands. “I’ll stay back and I’ll cover you with my gun. Anti, you’re upset, you’re getting into a fight, you don’t even trust the others right now. Let me go with you. As a guard. That’s all.”

Anti softens a little, gazing at him. He pushes Trick gently towards the stairs. “I’ll… think about it. Go get dressed. We’ll see.”

Trick obeys, moving to get his gun and some better clothes.

Things are complicated in his head right now, but you’re right about one thing: he needs to be their guard.

scunneredzombie asked: Red, do you remember at all the password that Henrik used when you were sent back in time last time? Or Dok, do you remember anything you were told by the magicians?

Dok frowns, turning back to the others. “I remember… Nina would speak to the mirror? And it would let her step through it. I remember that when you’re in the mirror, it’s like a loop no matter how far you walk.”

Red nods slowly, glancing between the pair of them. “Right. When Dapper and I went back to the - I mean, I remember something. I think we lived in a mirror like that too, one Blue made for us to be safe in. I remember we had to speak to it too to get out. Like a password. ‘Amo, vale.’“

Blue laughs weakly. “That means ‘I love you, goodbye.’ Or almost, anyway.”

“But when Nina left the mirror, she said something in Spanish,” says Dok. “Not ‘te amo’ or anything like that, I don’t think. If it is like a password, I bet it’s unique to every mirror.”

“So how do we figure out the password?”

Anonymous asked: Hey Shep, no idea if you have a camera right now, but you know anything about mirror dimesons by any chance? Just random curiosity!

“Well, I don’t know anything about them, exactly, except that Dark and Wil made one for the houses,” answers Shep.

He’s walking around the forest, still looking for Noodle. Determined.

“It’s cool, I guess. Kind of weird. You can really get stuck in a place like that. And we’re supposed to be really careful with it, because if we break the mirror, you can sever the connection to the real world and lose whatever’s inside.”

Anonymous asked: Is there anything funny Wilford says every time he goes into the mirror? He's always really funny, I'd love to hear more of him! Or something Dark says? I'm really curious about you guys.

“Come on, guys,” laughs Shep. “I know you have to say something to get in there. It’s my home too. I’ll give you a hint… Dark’s told you their password before. Did you think that the only thing it would give you access to was a website? They always wanted you to come and find them. Find the truth, they said.”

Shep steps up onto a log, balancing on one foot. “Oh, yeah. And it’s also a son of a bitch to have to read that out every time I want to go home!”

Anonymous asked: Geez, I'm getting whiplash from your overwhelming favoritism, Anti. Don't want your favorite boy to get hurt? So you'll probably lock him in the room again, all alone and miserable? What will happen to him if you don't come back from Dark's place, uh? If you lose, you're just going to let him pathetically wither away, is that it?

Anti shrugs, glancing at Trick as he walks away. “If I can’t have him, he may as well die.”

Anonymous asked: Lmao sorry Shep, not trying to treat you like you're dumb, we're just used to dealing with a very manipulative demon. I am genuinely curious about you all, and thanks so much for hunting for Noodle, you epic hero man. Big hearts your way!

“I didn’t take any offense, no worries,” answers Shep mildly. “And yeah! Ask me anything anytime. I like talking to you… for a long time I figured nobody was interested and maybe that’s why I got thrown aside. Yes, I’ll look for the cat, and then you’ll have something to remember me by this time!”

Anonymous asked: Jackie, Marvin, this might be a long shot, but when you get to the mirror, try reading out this: Lh3EeEeR9z59YWcUB2b7ViHJ8ALQ637

“What sort of a fucking password?” Blue demands.

“Dok, will you memorize this for us?” asks Red.

Dok turns and reads it over. “Okay, got it.”

“That Dark thing really is cruel if it’s making everybody read that out to get in there,” grins Blue.

Anonymous asked: Oh my god, the heist code is the mirror code? It's so convoluted though! How are you guys not getting locked out with that?

“Wilford never remembers a letter of it,” laughs Shep. “But he can transport in and out anyway. And the twins, they usually come in and out with someone there to help anyway, because they’re developmentally delayed. All the rest of us, we write it in our phones or memorize it. It’s actually only the first eight letters that are the code, so it’s not so bad.

It’s just how Dark does things. They’re obsessive over all of Mark’s projects… they hate him, but they fixate on his videos and stories. When Mark found out they actually gave out the password to our home, he only laughed, though. Dark just wants direct contact with the audience, and Mark will never give it to them, but they try at every turn.”

Shep pauses, glancing at you, the camera tucked into his pocket as he searches for Noodle.

“I don’t care that you know, but just don’t tell Dark you heard anything from me.”

Anonymous asked: Remember guys, it's a tool of gaslighting when your abuser tries to convince you that you're a "traitor" the second you stand up to the abuse. Don't let his manipulation sway your thoughts. You are not traitors. You are escaping an abuser who has pummeled you into dirt for years, years of pain and torture. It is not traitorous to stand up for yourself.

“And he can’t mock me for being autistic like that,” grumbles Red, pushing at his hair. “I struggle with myself enough already.”

“He can’t just take Trick away from me,” agrees Dok, his eyebrows drawn unhappily together. “He’s just being a control freak, punishing me for trying to stay away after he said he would kill me!”

“The only reason Dapper is gone in the first place is because Anti was bargaining with our lives for his and Dark’s entertainment,” adds Blue. “We can’t let this keep happening. He doesn’t really care about anyone but himself. Even his favorites are getting hurt and now Trick is being locked up like Dap. We have to find a way to get all of us away and finish Anti the fuck off.”

Red flinches, still not comfortable with the idea of killing Anti, but Blue and Dok just meet each other’s gazes, steadfast.

Anonymous asked: Jackie, why are you uncomfortable with it, if I can ask? He just confirmed he never loved you, he's threatening to kill all of you, saying Trick is better dead than free, he let Dapper get stolen and taken away from safety and his medicine. He's going to be the death of all of you unless you get to him first. It's looking like it's the only way to save them. Be their warrior, protect them now when they need it most.

Ro turns away from you, a flash of anger in his face. He doesn’t answer.

“Roser,” says Blue.

Red waves him off, stepping out of the room and walking back down the hallway.

Anonymous asked: Also, guys, be very very careful, you can't break the mirror while JJ is in there, or apparently you risk losing everything and everyone inside.

“Oh, fuck, okay,” says Blue, nodding his head. “Yeah, we’ll be real careful. Thanks, guys… I don’t know how this would have worked out without you. I think we’ll go pretty soon. Are we… ready for that? Last words before a big fight?”

He looks at Dok, who looks back, not able to give him a smile. He touches Dok’s head and pulls him to his shoulder, knocking their heads together.

“Nothing’s going to happen to you,” he says.

“You don’t know,” answers Dok frailly.

“I’m going to find a way to get you away from him.”

“We’re still not all on the same page,” murmurs Dok, closing his eyes. “That’s what the magicians told me, again and again. That we have to all be fighting him. And we’re just not, Blue. Trick still loves him. Dapper doesn’t even seem to remember what it’s like to hope for something better. Are the three of us enough to do this?”

Blue sighs, rubbing his shoulder. “We’re just going to see how this turns out, honey.”

Anonymous asked: Trick, sometimes when life is scary, you’ll want to go back to where you understood it. But you can’t go back, whether you want to or not. Understanding will come, but you have to fight tooth and nail for it. Fight through the haze and claim your mind for yourself again.

Trick sits on his bed, staring at Anti as he moves around their room.

Anti plays with his appearance in the mirror for a few minutes, looking pensive, but then you see frustration and pain on his face, and he just transforms back to his usual self - green hair, black tee, ripped jeans. He glitches again and again as he moves, out of control and looking tired and pale, rummaging through the drawers in case there are any weapons he wants to hand out before they go.

“Anti,” says Trick quietly.

“What?” asks Anti.

“You would never really kill one of the others, would you? That’s just your temper.”

Anti plays with a whip, turned away from him. “Sure,” he says flatly.

Trick sighs, rubbing at his head. He gets to his feet and moves to Anti’s side, trying to get his attention. Anti dives back into the drawers. Trick grabs his arm and pulls him back.

“Hey,” he says. “Talk to me. What is going on with you lately?”

Anti sulks, shaking his head, but he doesn’t yank away from Trick’s grip. He plays quietly with the holster on Trick’s waist, tapping at the gun.

“Just angry,” he grumbles.

“Yeah, I’d be angry too if someone I was into started acting like they don’t know who I am, but that doesn’t mean you get to take it out on us.”

“Well, they ran away!” shouts Anti.

Trick grabs his face between his hands and kneels down beside him, drawing his gaze.

“I love you,” he says. “But the reason they ran away is because the way you’re treating them isn’t right.”

Anti wilts a little, glaring at the floor.

“We’ll figure it out afterwards,” he growls, getting to his feet.

Trick sighs. “Go easy on them for my sake if nothing else.”

“Yeah, sure,” mutters Anti. “Whatever.“

Trick squeezes his eyes shut. He doesn’t want to feel like this - like you’re understanding Anti better than he himself is these days. He doesn’t want you to be more true than his brother.

But he also doesn’t want to believe that he’s not thinking for himself anymore. This is what he really feels, isn’t it? This is worth putting up with? This is family?

“Are you sure about this?” he asks.

“About what?”

“Going after Dark? Shouldn’t we maybe, like, talk to them before starting an actual fight?”

“They made the choice they made,” says Anti quietly. “And they took Dap. No more talking unless they’re groveling beneath my heel.”

Anonymous asked: You might not all be on the same page, and hell, maybe a couple of you are in different chapters entirely, but you're all in the same story. The others will have to go at their own pace as best they can to reach a good ending for all of you, okay? It won't be easy and it won't be perfect but the most we can do is try.

“And that’s what we’ve wanted all along, right?” murmurs Blue, touching Dok’s hair. “A chance to try. To get away. To protect each other.”

Dok nods, trying to smile.

“Today,” says Blue softly, reaching down to touch a necklace on Dok’s throat. “I think we might get a chance to use some of these.”

“Okay,” says Dok, nodding again. “Okay. It’s going to be okay.”

He’s scared to be tortured again. He doesn’t know if he could survive that. But Blue is here, gripping his hand, and he knows that at the very least the two of them have each other.

It’s going to have to be enough for now.

Anonymous asked: Anti can and would kill them. He /has/ killed them. He used to kill Red and force Dapper to turn back as punishment. He stabbed Dok in the lungs for trying to protect Dapper. As long as he has time travel, he'll kill them without a second thought just to punish the others.

Trick sits back on the bed and shudders.

“We can’t keep living like this,” you hear him whisper, as Anti busies himself around the room.

Anti steps back towards him. “Ready to go?”

Trick sits up, looking pale.

“Yes, Anti,” he says.

Anonymous asked: Trick, sad to say you'll be living like this for as long as you belong to Anti. Anti will never change, and he will never stop hurting you to make himself feel stronger, locking you in rooms to feel like he owns you, killing and torturing your brothers as punishment. He cannot, and will not ever control his temper. You're going to be stuck here until he's gone. You will not escape abuse unless you leave the abuser.

Anti steps close to Trick on the bed and takes the camera from him, turning with a sudden force to throw it against the wall, smashing it into pieces. Trick flinches and Anti laughs, touching his cheek and leaning down to kiss the side of his face and knock their foreheads together.

“Come on, then,” he says, stroking his hand down green hair as you watch from the camera in the corner of the ceiling. “Let’s go. I need to know I have at least you on my side.”

Trick looks up at him, eyes wide. For a moment, his eyes flicker over to you.

He takes Anti’s hand and they move down the stairs.

The farther they wander, the darker the trees.

“Is this Dark’s doing?” whispers Red. “Or did they just pick the blackest, deadest part of the forest they could find?”

“It’s Dark’s doing,” hisses Anti. “Now shush.”

The trees stare down at them, sunless monoliths looming like gods over their heads. Birds flitter about like rodents through gutters, but not one of them sings, and the buzzing of insects appears only for a moment before a bigger creature comes to snap grasshoppers and flies up like deviled eggs eaten in one mouthful.

“Are we close?” asks Dok, stepping over the ashy graveyard of what was once a great redwood. “Blue is tired.”

“Why are you here again?” snaps Anti.

“Dapper’s sick, Anti,” Trick reminds him. “Dok needs to look after him.”

“I’m sick of the lot of you,” answers Anti, which makes Red snort despite himself, trying not to laugh. Anti raises an amused eyebrow at him.

“Come on,” he sighs. “Here’s the shed.”

Inside a shed in the forest - which Anti has mostly smashed open in the hopes of ticking off Dark - there is a mirror taller than they are standing against the back corner. Anti pushes his way inside and spiders scutter away from the dim light. Dok leaps back, nearly running back the way they came, and stands back from the shed, watching his feet.

“It’s okay, man,” calls Trick, helpfully squashing spiders beneath his heel. “I got it.”

“Go on then,” says Anti, shoving Blue’s shoulder. “Top magician. Jack’s special boy. Didn’t do you much good in the end.”

“Step off, Anti,” Blue spits back, stalking towards the mirror. “You’re just lucky the cameras helped us with this.”

Anti leans against the wall, picking at spiders while Blue and Dok and Red try Dark’s password. After the first eight letters, the mirror changes. There is no longer a reflection of Blue, tired and pale, in the glass - instead, it looks out like a window onto a trio of houses in a grassy field.

Red and Blue exchange glances. Anti and Red exchange glances. Dok sees a spider by his foot and yelps.

Red puts his hand to the mirror, curious. Slowly, his fingers pass through the glass like water. He draws back again, eyebrows raised, and turns to look at Blue.

Blue is gone.

Anti straightens up in his skin, cracking his neck. “Ready?” he asks.

Red gapes, shaking his head.

Anti punches his shoulder and grabs his sleeve. “Come on, so,” he says.

“Go in there? Get Dapper?”

“I should never have reset you. You and I used to go sneak into shit and take what we wanted together. I hate that the violence is gone from you. You were more fun before I gave you Blue. Don’t know when I managed to ruin you so badly.”

Something about his tone makes Red flush, his heart aching. He looks away, mouth taut, and sucks in a breath. Looking up again, he finds Anti looking back at him through his twin’s captive eyes.

“Fine, then,” says Red, straightening. He turns his body towards the mirror and grips his hands into fists. “I will get him, then.”

Anti passes him a fighting staff. Red blinks and takes it into his hand, remembering the weight and feel of it from a time he no longer recalls.

“After you,” says Anti, pulling a knife from Blue’s jacket.

Red moves through the mirror and into Dark’s home.

“Be good,” calls Anti, clucking Trick’s chin once before following after their older brother. “I’ll be back very soon.”

And then Trick and Dok are alone in the twilight forest.

Anonymous asked: Don't let your loyalty become slavery, Trickshot. Know when to let go, know when you're being held back instead of driven forward, know when their desires drown out your own. Never compromise on self-respect.

“All these messages are for you,” mumbles Henrik, sitting down on a rock in the earth and looking the camera over in his hands.

“They’ve been talking to me a lot lately,” Trick answers just as quietly, but he won’t look back at his twin. He waits at the door of the shed. In his hands, Dok’s gun.

“But you don’t listen,” Dok guesses.

Trick doesn’t answer.

“You’re letting Anti treat you like his toy,” says Henrik, turning away from him. “Won’t see the truths they tell you.”

“Dok, let’s not start, not now, c’mon. Been days since I seen you. I thought… maybe Dark had you.”

Anonymous asked: If you don't confront it and talk through it with us now, then when will you, Trick?

“Mhh,” groans Trick, looking away. “We’re busy…”

“You don’t want to ever face it,” says Henrik. “But one day, it will be in front of you, and you will already be too late to act.”

“I won’t fail to protect you again, Dok.”

“You cannot see the things that hurt me. You are blind to them. They will hurt me again. You will watch.”

“I mean it,” says Trick, loud. “I don’t want to talk about this right now. For real.”

Anonymous asked: Be strong Trick, and more importantly be /you/. Be the man who would do anything for his family, the person who lets his twin massage him when he's been guarding for hours on end, the person who whispered secret names across the room to your brother. You need to protect your family, your real family. You have a choice coming up, man. Your brothers, or your abuser.

Henrik watches his brother for a long time. Eventually, Trick glances back at him, eyes uncertain.

Henrik smiles.

Trick relaxes a little and comes to his side, sitting down with him. After a moment, he puts his head on Dok’s shoulder and fixes his eyes on the shed.

Watching. Waiting. Guard dog.

Dok massages his back so he won’t get stiff. Trick smiles. They sit in the wind of the trees together.

“We are making decisions these days, aren’t we, mein zwilling?”

“Not between you and Anti, though,” murmurs Trick. “Not making decisions like that.”

Henrik sighs, his hand around his arm. The distance between them has never gaped quite like this.

“It’s sunset,” says Trick. “Are you going to say the Shema?”

Henrik blinks. “I haven’t said my blessings in a long time.”

“Oh. I thought maybe you still said them in your head. After you stopped saying them with me.”

Henrik shrugs.

“You don’t anymore?”

“I feel far away from the Lord,” he says, very softly, staring down at the earth beneath his feet. “And lately I am not the sort of man who is strong enough to keep my eyes on Him while the valley of the shadow of death is around me. I am dry bones in the desert. The blessings begin to feel pointless. I can’t even keep track of my own holidays. Candles on Hanukah… it’s nothing. Or very little. I can barely remember the inside of a synagogue. I feel far away from my community. I feel far away from everything.”

Trick shuffles, frowning at him. “You didn’t tell me you were feeling like that.”

“No. I guess not.”

“You usually talk to me.”

“You’re not a Jew, my friend.”

“But you tell me things like that. You used to. We would say the blessings together.”

“I feel far away from you too,” whispers Henrik.

Anonymous asked: In abuse there's always a 'honeymoon phase' where the abuser apologizes and makes promises to change. But the tension builds, some false law is disobeyed, and another abusive incident happens. Fish and chips, a warm kitten, treats and gifts and Hanukkah candles are all false apologies for behavior that will never change. One reason it's so hard to leave is because you always want to believe they can change. But all the self-improvement in the world won't fix the way they hurt you in the past.

Trick bites down on his lip, his hands soothing along his gun. He looks between you and Dok. “It’s not a honeymoon phase… Dok-Dok, I’ll talk to Anti about you going to services - ”

“Don’t,” says Henrik dryly. “Don’t, I don’t want you to. They’re right. He doesn’t care.”

Trick shakes his head, putting his chin in his hand as he looks up at his brother on the stone beside him. He doesn’t know if he should say he’s sorry or get angry at him or reassure him or what. He never seems to know lately. Feels cold in the air between them. He hates that. All he’s thought about for days is the things that Dok would do to cheer him up if they were stuck in that bedroom together, and now he can’t even comfort him.

He closes his eyes. For long minutes, they wait.

“I’ll say it for you, then,” says Trick.

Dok looks up. “What?”

“The blessing,” Trick says, mouth set. “If you don’t feel like you can have faith right now, I will.”

Dok’s lips twitch. He shakes his head at Trick, trying not to grin. “You don’t know it without me.”

“I do!”

“No way.”

“Shema, Yisrael,” begins Trick. “Uh.”

Dok laughs. Trick laughs too, but he’s determined. He keeps going.

“We’ve said it together often enough. Shema, Yisrael, Adonai Eloheinu. Adonai echad…. wa-hafta… w… v'ahav'ta eit Adonai Elohekha m'odekha…”

Dok looks at him, beginning to smile.

He doesn’t pronounce all of it right. He might skip a word or two, and, as always, he stammers. But he fumbles through the Hebrew with his mouth full of love for him.

And as he goes he begins to hear Henrik whispering the English alongside him.

“And you shall bind them as a sign on your hands… and between your eyes… and you shall write them on the doorposts of your home and on your gates.”

They are looking at each other. Trick grins. There is sunset light in his eyes.

Henrik puts his arm around him again and they sit side-by-side.

Anonymous asked: I know you can feel the divide between you and Henrik, even as anti-blinded as you are, Trick. You know you'll have to make the choice between them eventually. It isn't a betrayal to escape your abuser. It isn't traitorous to hate the person who's hurt you. The choice will ultimately be yours, but you have to realize and wake up to the distance between you before you can even come to that. Anti won't change, Trick. How many times has he promised to be better, only to hit you the very next day?

“He has hurt you,” says Trick, his voice very low. “Hasn’t he?”

Henrik presses his head against his shoulder, hiding just a little. “And you too.”

“No… not on purpose.”

“If you have to start by believing that he hurts me, then yes,” says Henrik. “Yes, he has, and he will not stop.”

Trick sighs. “Well. Then… I think you should go.”

Henrik sits up straight, staring at him. “What?”

“I think you should go. Like you want to. You’re an adult, Dok. We all are. We should get to choose. Right?”

Henrik touches his hair. Henrik beams.

“Yeah… yes, of course. But not without - ”

“No,” Trick cuts him off. “Not now, bud. Okay? Let’s just… chill for a bit. It’s going to be okay. And if Anti hurts you again, I’ll stop him.”

“That’s not your job,” says Henrik, as though wounded.

Trick squeezes his hand. “Are the others okay?” he asks you.

Anonymous asked: Red, how goes it? Find anything yet? Dapper is in a clinic room with barred windows last time we saw him

“Stay back here,” Red warns Anti, pushing him back into the trees. “You might use him like he’s at a hundred percent, but Blue’s sick. Be gentle with his body.”

“Get the boy back for me and I won’t have to use him rough,” says Anti, stepping back into the shadows.

“Okay,” sighs Red. “Anything I should be worried about?”

“Everyone in there is either an imbecile, a powerhouse, or both,” answers Anti. “Have fun.”

Red turns towards the house, clutching his fists together. Okay. He’s got this.

Red stalks around the house, swift and quiet, darting through the grass and staying out of the sight of windows. There are three houses. On one of them, he can see Dark and Wilford on the porch, talking and playing with an enormous dog. There’s a movie playing in another, and Red can see a man inside driving a toy car around the carpet. The third house is still until a little brown cat slips out of it and darts away. Red will check out all three in turn if he has to.

Anonymous asked: Hey Shep! You should tell us about you guys' houses. Where is everything, and why does everyone live in separate places?

“That’s it, I’m coming home,” laughs Shep, turning back towards the houses. To be fair to him, he’s been out in the heat for hours and he’s a sweaty mess. “Uh, well, Dark lives in their house ‘alone’… we all know Wil sneaks in there half the time and Google spends most of his days guarding the place like a loyal little puppy. He takes so much pride in being Dark’s weapon, he’s nuts. Won’t listen to anyone else, though.

“We come and go with the other houses. They’re damn empty these days. But Host and Google and Wil and I have our house, and sometimes Ippy comes back to stay for a while. Eric and the twins are all that’s left in the other house. Sometimes Illinois, but he’s in Mexico right now. I miss Bing, shit. I miss a lot of them.”

Anonymous asked: Dapper, you awake? Back in the early days of us talking to you, you said you would only be free if all of your brothers were as well. Well, Dapper, we're doing our best for you, because we care for all of you so much. Jackie, Henrik, and Marvin are on the side of freedom so far. We will keep you safe, and we will protect you any way we can. Wish us luck, Jameson.

Dapper is drawing on the walls.

It’s been his favorite pastime for a long time, ever since he realized Anti wouldn’t punish him for making the house his canvas. His biggest piece was in a defunct pen manufacturer in Sweden, where they stayed for about two weeks, during which time he covered an entire industrial wall in an image of the very ugly aliens from A Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.

Today he draws Anti in cheap pencil lead along the wall of Ippy’s clinic, coursing the point along the curve of Anti’s curving smile. He looks happy in the picture. His hands are empty and open.

Dapper turns at the sound of the beeping and smiles at you, though you see a glassy film over his fevered eyes and a tremble in his artist’s fingers. His face softens as he reads.

“I care for you too,” he tells you heartfully, touching his chest. “All of you, thank you - for being here, for keeping me company, for all of it. And you know I’d always wish you luck, my dears.”

Anonymous asked: Hey uh, dapper? Are you feeling alright? You look a little bit... off

“I am not really recovering from this whole sickness thing that is happening,” he answers unhappily, rubbing at his eyes. “I’m tired and hot and my head aches. I can’t keep any food down, including most of my medicine. And Dark was right… Anti helps with my psychosis.”

Anonymous asked: Jackie, methinks you should avoid the house with Dark on the porch unless you can't find Dapper in the other two. Google is guarding, and Silver Shepheard is on his way back. Try to avoid a fight and be sneaky if you can.

“Kinda want to poke the bear, though,” admits Red, narrowing his eyes at Dark. “They have to pay for this, the fucking cock-jockey.”

His own insult gives him a burst of confidence as he slides past Dark’s house. A black and brown cat watch him disdainfully, waving their tails at him.

“I’ll check the other two first. Thanks, guys. I just need to find a way to get in and get him out… or get him out from outside.”

Anonymous asked: Anti helps superficially, but you know what would help more, JJ? Seeing a psychiatrist to get a mood stabilizer to assist your Haldol, seeing a behavioral therapist to help deal with symptoms, and being free from a constantly traumatizing environment. You need stability and the help of doctors. Things are probably extra bad right now due to being a hostage in a strange environment. You're not hopeless without Anti, millions of people like you & I cope and live good lives w/o mind demon's 'help'.

Dapper shrinks in on himself a little, playing with his hands. He stares at Anti’s eyes on the wall.

“I remember… getting better while we were all at home, without him,” he signs quietly. “Even the paranoia - and the paranoia is always the worst - even that was better. And whenever I started talking to my hallucinations, the others would have me go stand in the laundry room, and then after a while I could take ten minutes in the laundry room and come out and the hallucinations would be so much easier to deal with. Just from having that organization in my life. And I took a couple medications and nobody got mad at me if I was delusional or disorganized or acting really weird. And I had a therapist who signed. And I went to church and the priest would give me confession and I didn’t feel like I was going to hell. And nothing ever hurt me.”

He looks down at his hands.

“It was easier.”

The admission seems to have taken a lot out of him. He slips back down onto the bed, sighing.

scunneredzombie asked: Dapper, is there a window or door near you? Red is here to get you, but he needs a way to get you out!

“Yes, there’s a door, but it’s locked, and a big window, but it’s barred.” He frowns at you and makes prayer hands. “Tell him come bust me out. I sure can’t fit through those bars unless someone wants to shrink me and put me in their pocket. Like a little hedgehog…”

He begins sketching a hedgehog by Anti’s foot.

scunneredzombie asked: Rojo, be on the lookout for large, barred windows, probably the second of the houses?

Ro creeps around the first house, narrowing his gaze at Dark, his hands still aching for a fight. For now, though, he’ll have to focus on getting Dap to safety.

He moves around the second house, slipping down beside a cracked window to listen inside. There’s a television playing a loud cartoon. Lifting his head a little, he can see the man with the toy car driving it around the carpet and talking to himself. There is a whole crate of toy cars. On the couch, a second man sorts patiently through them, occasionally holding a little figurine up to the light or racing it along the arm of the couch, making vrooming and beeping noises. Red sits back a little, rubbing his palms together as he thinks. He wants to wreck some havoc, but not in front of a pair of twins who aren’t causing any harm and don’t look like they’d be able to comprehend someone trying to hurt them. They’re all clean and content-looking, playing with their cars. Red sighs. Having innocents around makes things harder.

It always does, he thinks to himself, and he feels more than recalls a memory from two weeks ago - Anti taking him and Dapper to kill the man who owns the house they’re staying in now. His stomach churns and he digs his nails into his palms. He still remembers the blood-craze in Dapper’s eyes as Anti helped him bury a knife in the man’s chest - and then, moments later, the hopelessness.

“Come on, Red, come on,” he mutters to himself, creeping around the back of the house.

He doesn’t see any barred windows. He glances into the clearing between the three houses as he waits for his chance to dart over to the third house.

Dark is on the porch of the first house with another one of his soldiers, someone with a voice so loud and booming Ro can hear it from here. His hand is on Dark’s waist as he chatters at them. Ro remembers the weight of Max’s hand on his waist… the smell of him…

“Goddamn,” he hisses, slapping himself. Lately he can’t focus on anything. He’s just… sad. He pinches his arms until he gets some clarity back, gnawing on his lips.

“Dapper Dapper Dapper,” he chants to himself, and it’s this thought that carries him over to the third house, where, at last, he spots a little barred window in a window well to the basement.

Anonymous asked: Jackie, we believe in you! Hero of the day, the hero of all time!

Ro gives a shaky little laugh, but you’ve put a grin on his mouth. He darts over to the window, feeling sneaky and maybe even a little bit competent, which is nice. Maybe he’s even acting a little like Jackie would act. The thought gives him a strange, nervous satisfaction.

“Dap,” he whispers, tapping his knuckle cautiously against the window. He can get his hands through the bars, but not much further.

Something shifts in the room. He squints his eyes through the dim light of the basement room and sees a nervous pair of big blue eyes looking back at him.

“It’s me, dude,” he whisper-hisses, glancing around.

Dapper’s eyes water with relief. He pushes the window open, leaving only the bars between them. At this angle, Red can only just brush his hand against his shoulder, reaching down into the window well, and he can hardly see his hands.

“Are you okay? Shit, I was worried, Carve. I’m so sorry I wasn’t here.”

Dapper grips his hand and squeezes in forgiveness.

“How do I get you out?”

There’s those big puppy dog eyes. They’re familiar, sure, reassuring and maybe even cute, but not problem-solving. Red squeezes his hand back and tries to think.

“I’ll have to come inside… or get the bars off. Unless you can shrink? Have any Borrower friends in there that could help? Maybe some mice and birds, Cinderella-style?”

Dapper pinches Ro’s hand and he laughs despite his rising heart rate, more and more anxious the longer he crouches here.

Anonymous asked: Dapper was right Anti, you're such a fucking creep. Dying his hair green and roleplaying like he's Jack but still forcing him to love you unconditionally. Touching him like you love him when he's just an object to you. You don't deserve any of the love any of them have given you. You're disgusting.

“He belongs to me,” answers Anti coldly, leaning back against a tree as he keeps an eye on the houses, waiting to see if Red will fuck up or bring Dapper back to him quietly. “I can do what I want with him. Jack never gave me anything but lemons - fine, I’ll make lemonade. Besides, let’s not pretend Chase would be anything at all without me. He’d just be childless and drinking himself to death in the backroom of their house like he was before I kidnapped him. This whole crusade the lot of you have, trying to set them free… pointless. You won’t make them any happier. He’d be miserable with a taste of freedom. You know, if Jack wanted his little protagonist to actually be able to save the day, maybe he shouldn’t have made him so helpless. Huh, like fucking Chase Brody could have ever done anything about me… well, he’s mine now, so there’s your story, Jack. There’s your fucking story.”

Anonymous asked: Hey Anti, this is important. Dapper /needs/ to see a proper psychiatrist, just once or twice, so that he can get a mood stabilizer and other medicines to assist his antipsychotic. You can't neglect him like this, he's schizophrenic/psychotic, treatment and constant medication updates are the only way to truly help him be better. Constant mind manipulation only makes things worse for him if he's away from you even for a short time.

Anti’s eyes flicker over to you and then away again. He’s playing with fire on the ends of Blue’s fingers, eyes flickering from the white light of it.

“Mh,” he shrugs, uncertain. “I don’t think I want him talking to anybody outside of the house. If he needs a mood stabilizer, talk to Dok and have him talk to me. It’s like American health care! You gotta get a referral. Besides, if being away from me makes things worse, then I’ll just have to be better about making sure he isn’t away from me again. Not even for a short amount of time.”

He drops a flame to the earth and then stomps it out with his foot, his gaze watching as though infatuated as even a moment of fire singes a whole patch of earth and sets leaves to blazing. He bets he could burn down this whole forest if he wanted to… maybe set all of California ablaze. Again.

“Letting Dark take Dapper was my fault,” he tells you quietly. “I overestimated how much they cared about me. Let them fool me. It was stupid. It won’t happen again. Not with anyone. Dapper and Trick… they’re reliable. No one else. Almost makes you wonder… if anyone else is even worth trucking with… mh.”

Anonymous asked: Without Blue, you'll have no one to possess: Dapper might snap and Trick can't handle it. Killing Dok would be the worst possible thing you could do if you still want Trick on your side. And like it or not, Red is your watchdog and the others protector. If you kill any of them, the others will turn.

Anti glances at you, his stance softening a little. He shrugs.

“I guess you’re right,” he says. “Just lately feels like more trouble than they’re worth. I think Jack made five to make sure it was too much for me. Maybe it’s just time I started admitting that. Trick and Dap would be cute twins. I could make Trick forget, and I think Dapper would only be sad for a while, cause it’s not like it changes much for him.”

He pauses, digging his heel into the ash of the forest floor.

“No… you’re right, though. I think. Yeah, I can still use them. They all take care of each other - yucky, but necessary.”

Anonymous asked: Anti what will you do if Dapper breaks? And I don't mean just emotionally or mentally because obviously you only see that as minor maintenance. What happens if he can't use his time travel again? Will his loyalty still matter or is it just his power that you use him for? Is he only worth as much as his usefulness to you?

Anti plays with the bark of a tree, picking at it until new growth sprouts from the side of the trunk. He peels it off again and grumbles to himself for a moment.

“I’d still want him around,” says Anti. “I guess. I mean, he’s - like… he’s the only one who… I don’t know. He’s comforting. Fine. But I don’t know if that’s because of the power or because he’s always been mine. I’ve hated not having him with me these last few days. It’s like the whole world is wrong. And when he was in Columbia, I felt like I was going to implode. Like I was going to die. And I was sick at the time, with Blue’s power eating me up. I wondered if maybe I would die before I could ever find him, and not even know if he was okay.”

He plucks apart a leaf from the offshoot he created, tearing it into pieces, which drift towards the forest floor.

“I wasn’t sure if he’d grieve,” he adds. “If he’d grieve if I died.”

Anonymous asked: They don't belong to you, Anti. You don't own them, they're adults that are fully capable of making their own decisions. They have the right to leave you whenever they want, because you abuse them and refuse to learn to control your temper. You're immature and treat them like toys, but they are autonomous human beings that deserve to make their own decisions. Why don't you test it, if you think they love you so much. Just let them go and see if they crawl back like you say they wil. I doubt it.

Anti grits his teeth. The truth is that Red was willing to leave him the moment someone else showed him that he could have a life outside of Anti, and the thought devours him. Blue was only ever here for his siblings.

“Look, I don’t pretend to not be a monster,” he snarls. “Fine, some of them don’t love me. No matter how much I use the hypnosis… it’s not real. But guess what? I don’t care. They still have to belong to me. They’re not getting away from me. Not with air in their lungs.”

Anonymous asked: Dok isn't a psychiatrist, Anti. It's two completely different fields of medicine. JJ needs to see specifically a psychiatrist. Hell, I don't care if you go to the appointment with him, but you need to let him see someone to get his medicine adjusted. Think about it this way, how much use is he to you if you're constantly having to mess with his brain and ward back his psychosis, when you can easily get the same effect with just a few trips to a psychiatrist and a less stressful environment?

“Dok’s supposed to be Jack’s genius. If he can’t handle Dapper’s issues, nobody can. Dapper has always done fine, with only a couple exceptions. Actually, I think the paranoia sometimes makes him sharper, more alert, and the hallucinations keep him scared and confused. He won’t leave me when I make him feel both sane and terrified, when he thinks he’s too much for anyone else to handle. As long as he doesn’t snap completely, his illness is a benefit to me.”

Anonymous asked: Anti, I think you're so insistent that they would never be happy with freedom because you can't stand the thought, the truth, that every single one of them would be better off without you.

“How about you all stop trying to piss me off before I decide maybe you aren’t all worth dealing with either?” snaps Anti, pointing at you in accusation. “Fuckers. All you do is plot against me lately. It’s barely even fun. Maybe I’ll torture the lot of them just to see you whining and begging again.”

Red squeezes Dapper’s hand one more time before sneaking around the back of the house, where a glass-paned door looks into the kitchen.

He could try and get in here. He could try and get the bars off Dapper’s window somehow. Or he could ask for help.

It’s as he’s thinking that he notices movement -a figure entering through the front door, their gait thudding and their shoulders set like a statue’s. Red catches a gleam of light through their glasses. Gigi moves like a bear, his every footstep heavy and determined. Ro narrows his eyes.

“Well, then,” he mumbles, tucking you deeper into his pocket. “Do I tangle with that or try something else?”

Anonymous asked: I would try something else instead of trying to tango with Gigi. He's a robot, so he wouldn't go down like a regular human, and the commotion caused by that fight would draw too much attention.

“Oh, boy,” says Ro, drawing back from the door. “A robot, okay. Well…”

He could maybe climb the house. He sees an open window. If he listens, he can even hear a deep, sonorous voice speaking from inside it, as though narrating.

“Mh,” he says. “Could maybe get up there. I can see places to put my feet already. Or maybe… Dok’s necklace? For Dapper?”

Anonymous asked: The voice from the window is a blind man who sees All. Probably not a good idea to try sneaking by him. And... as for the necklaces, if you use it for Dapper, then you won't have it for Anti. Make sure you've exhausted all other options before that, Jackie.

“Okay,” murmurs Jackie. “Well, I think we’re looking at either man-who-sees-all or robo boy. If I have to fuck with one of them, who do I go for?”

Anonymous asked: Dapper's mental health got better when he had both mood stabilizer and other medicines to help with his other symptoms. You need him /healthy/, him being paranoid and hallucinating isn't good for him. You switch so fast between caring about him and tossing aside his issues. Anti, it would take a very simple set of changes in yourself & your personality for them to stop running and conspiring. You can change. You're not incapable of it. Start small, let him see a psychiatrist. Small things first.

“I’ll think about it, alright?” Anti says, turning his head away. “I got bigger fish to fry right now.”

Anonymous asked: Hey, Trick & Dok? Do you think it would ever be possible to get Anti to let Dapper see a psychiatrist and get medicated properly? I know you don't remember, but before Anti took you all away from your home, Dapper was getting better. He wasn't stuck being constantly psychotic and afraid, he was healing. He needs therapy and proper medications. I don't think Anti would ever give him that, he has too much fun abusing him, but... could you try?

“I’ll help convince him,” promises Trick right away, nodding. “If he needs that, then he should have it. You can get his medication fixed, right, Dok?”

“No,” says Dok, exasperated. “I’ve never really known what the hell to do with him.”

“Oh. Well - ”

Something snaps in the forest. Trick is on his feet, gun pointed.

Silence. A flicker of movement. Dok and Trick are taut as the bow of a violin.

Anonymous asked: Shep? Is that you?

You can see Shep on the other side of the trees, frozen as stiff as the twins. His gaze flickers nervously over to you and then back to the twins, his fists clutched. He doesn’t even have his knuckles with him. He didn’t actually think someone would be here. No one’s ever come to their house before. He pulls out his phone, backing away from the trees.

“Who’s there?” shouts a voice. He stills, staring at Trick through the trees.

Red should sneak into Host’s room.

Dec. 12 2020

3 notes

Red should go in through the backdoor with Gigi.

Dec. 12 2020

1 note

Red should try something else.

Dec. 12 2020

2 notes

Anonymous asked: Trick don't shoot. It's someone who lives in Dark's house, but he's unarmed. Just be careful and try to come up with an explanation for why you're there?

Trick lets his gun falter, glancing over at Dok.

“He already knows who you are, right?” signs Dok. “Will he try to kidnap you again? Kidnap us?”

Trick grits his teeth and steps closer to Dok, blocking him from Shep’s view.

“You leave us alone!” he shouts. “You come any closer and I’ll shoot!”

Shep backs away again, nervous. He opens Gigi’s name in his contacts.

Anonymous asked: I dont know if there's anything else you could try, Red. But if there is, def look at it. Otherwise, between Gigi and Host, I think at least Host could possibly be reasoned to/ spoken with? Gigi is a no-go. Hes 100% loyal to Dark, and an android, so he'd be HELLA hard to fight. And also he'd alert Dark. Host, im not quite sure exactly where his loyalties lay, but im sure he's hella powerful. So use your words before you try and fight him.

Ro presses himself against the side of the door and hoists his body up. This isn’t like the house where he and the others are staying, lined in decorative brick to give him footholds. Instead, windows make his only path up. While his hands find a grip on the tops of the windows, he suspends the rest of his body with his side against one jutting windowframe and his feet pressing against another, and slowly leaps and drags himself up the side of the house, his worn sneakers threatening more than once to make his foot slip and his body fall. The black and brown cats are watching him from the ground, blinking up at him as he goes.

But he won’t. Today, he’s Jackie, and he doesn’t think Jackie would fall, so neither will he.

“On another day,” comes that chasm-deep voice from the open window on the second floor, “he might have been fine. The Host is not always looking. Today, he is.”

Ro pauses, hiding against the side of Host’s window, one foot on the side of its sill.

“Is he going to turn back?” asks Host in a murmur. Craning his neck, Ro can see the man bent over braille paper and a recorder “Or will he still try to sneak past him? In a trance this deep, it’s possible Host won’t be able to do anything about it anyway. He does not like to interfere with other people’s stories.”

Anonymous asked: Shep, wait, please don't call anyone who would hurt them. Theyre only here because they're following orders.

“What do you want?” calls Shep, a faint shake in his voice.

“How about the little brother you stole?” spits back Trick. “No, stay back! Stay back there, I swear to God.”

“You need to get out of here before I call Gigi,” says Shep. “Or worse, Dark.”

“No, don’t,” protests Trick. “Please, we just want Dapper. Nobody has to get hurt. We’ve had enough, okay?”

Anonymous asked: Just let Jackieboy Man's story play out, please, Host-we-love-the-most. He deserves to be the hero again after all he's been through.

Directly addressed, Host comes out of his narration a little, brushing scattered hairs out of his face. He runs his fingers over his papers, jerking back a little.

“Fuck, what a mess,” he mumbles. “Too many players in this game. How long have I been writing?”

Ro’s foot slips for a second and he catches himself quickly, thudding against the side of the house. He winces hard, closing his eyes in panic.

Host chuckles inside the house.

“Come in, then,” he says. “I’m not meant to interfere, you know…”

“Who are you?” cries Ro, heart pounding.

“Ignore me,” answers Host. “I’m just the storyteller. You are the action-taker.”

Ro rolls his eyes, biting down hard on his lip. “You’re really not going to snitch if I come in your room right now?”

“No.”

Ro pauses. Scratches at his beard. Glances at the trees, where a pair of squirrels are judging him from a few feet away.

He slips into Host’s room.

Anonymous asked: Trick, should you just take Dok back to the house? Shep can and will call help if you don't leave. I don't want you guys to have to get in unnecessary fights. I'm pretty sure Jackie and Anti can handle it from here, yeah?

“If we go back we’ll be in so much trouble,” breathes Trick, frightened just at the thought of it. “He told me to guard the way, so I can’t let anyone in or out.”

“Why do you have to do what he tells you?” asks Shep.

“Why do you have to do what they tell you?” answers Dok bitterly, standing up beside his brother. “At least Trick doesn’t notice when he’s being used as a pawn. You know you’re that monster’s little soldier and you still do horrible things just because they tell you to. Pathetic. You stole our sick, speechless little brother just because Dark and Anti decided our lives were board game pieces to be played with. You just let yourself be used, no mind control needed.”

“Hey!” snaps Shep. “You better watch your tongue, little man! I make my own goddamn choices. Your brother is the one who would have killed Gigi if he were human just because Dark wouldn’t kiss him.”

“Dark and Anti are not creatures to be trucked with,” says Dok quietly. “But we have yet to find a way to escape our monster. Turn back. We’re smaller than you, but we are far from helpless with or without a firearm.”

“Look,” answers Shep, biting down harsher words. “Nobody wants a big fight here, right? Seems like Dark and, uh. Anti? Seems like they had a misunderstanding themselves. Maybe we can work this out.”

Dok and Trick exchange glances.

Anonymous asked: Trick, if Shep were to promise to not snitch on you being out here to Dark, then would you let him through? And Shep, would you uphold that promise? Both of you have lost things, you're even in bad deeds. Gigi was destroyed and Dark's back was injured, and Dapper was stolen. No one else needs to get hurt if you try compromising with each other, right?

“I won’t tell Dark for now,” says Shep evenly, hands raised in surrender. “But I don’t think you understand. Dark is an essence and those houses belong to them. They’re always creeping around. If your other brothers are in there, the chances that Dark hasn’t spotted them yet - slim to none.”

Trick and Dok frown at each other, worried. Dok shuffles a foot closer to him.

“I’ll let you through the mirror,” says Trick. “If you let us come with you. I have a bad feeling about what comes next… I think maybe it’s better if we can try to work together. You’re right. No one else needs to get hurt today.”

Anonymous asked: Hey Henrik, answer when the time is appropriate, but advice about Dapper from a training pharmacist, I would try prescribing him Depakote or a common antidepressant to work alongside his Haldol if Anti will let you! I know it must be very hard to have to be a psychiatrist when it wasn't your field of study :(

“Oh, thank you, yes,” answers Dok, his shoulders loosening a little. “Yes, well. He wasn’t on anything when I first… remember. And he didn’t do very well. He would smoke to ease his paranoia, but then he would be paranoid about getting cancer every time he’d cough, so it did him little good. He’d stopped trying to fight his own delusions. Anti was most of his treatment plan, but he acts so dreamy and lost when he’s in his head. Honestly I just kept trying medications til they worked, which probably wasn’t very good for him either. But at least I was allowed to see him and Trick then, coming upstairs to check on him everyday. We were in Sweden at the time, I think. Or Denmark? Before Norway. I was not even sure if we were brothers. He doesn’t speak so much when he’s really ill. He was just my little patient in the attic. He was the one who called me Doktor first.”

He rubs his hands together, glancing up. Shep and Trick talk quietly by the mirror, faces tense and hands always waiting for the other to throw the first blow. Dok sighs, though a faint laugh falls from his mouth with it.

“Oh. I would like to see all of them well for once in my life.”

Red steps uncertainly towards the Host.

“Shy?” asks the deep voice, and it seems to echo through his head. It reminds him too much of Anti and Dark. He slinks back against the wall, cowed despite himself.

“Hmm,” hums Host. “You’re not who I thought you were.”

“Who did you think I was?” asks Red quietly.

“I write a lot of stories,” says Host, brushing his fingers across pages and pages of snow-white braille. “I see a lot of stories. It takes only a side glance. A moment of contact. Stories for everyone I meet. Stories for the people who meet the people I meet. Not all true. Not all real. But possible… possible. Alternatives to the reality we survive in now. I saw, once, a story from a young man Mark shares business with. I thought, for a moment, that you were the protector in that story. The strong man… the hero. Not the protagonist, true. But almost as important. The courage to his tired hands. Defender.”

Ro plays with his hands, his eyes flickering around for a way to slip past Host without coming close to him.

“But you are alternate too,” says Host. “You’re not Jackie. Not quite.”

It makes his blood hot, but only for a moment. For the most part, he feels shame. His head drops. He turns away from an unseeing gaze.

“Guess not,” he answers. “But I still have to try to be… that.”

“Jackie?”

“Yes. Jackie.”

“Well, stop,” answers Host dryly, turning away. “Stupid boy.”

“Hey! What is your problem?”

“Stop living in a story you don’t even fucking remember,” spits Host, already striking his typewriter hard enough to fill the room with click-clacking once again. “Pathetic. You’re wasting a perfectly good character arc on trying to be someone you’re not. You have your own part to play. Jackie couldn’t save his family, Ro. Not for lack of trying, but he did fail, in the end, and that’s why he’s dead and you’re not. If you want to give him life again, it’s time to stop wallowing in your doubt and your fear and your shame in yourself and start being Ro like a real hero would. You better start acting like a hero – today, Roser. Too long the five of you have been stuck in the same painful narrative. Take up arms. Stop trying to remember and be.”

Host turns to him again, and Ro has never seen so much expression in a blindfolded face.

“Or lose more than even Jackie did.”

A cat slips in through the door, mewling, and comes weaving her way through Host’s legs, pinning Ro with a yellow gaze. He steps back nervously, staring at the cracked door. His throat bobs in a swallow. He grips his fists, straightening up at Host.

“What if he’s not enough?” he asks quietly.

“Who?” says Host.

“Me,” he answers.

“Of course he’s not enough,” spits Host, shaking his head. “How dull would it be for a character to be enough all on his own.”

Ro opens his mouth to reply, but Host beats it to him.

“Google!” he calls, turning towards the door.

“Fucking snitch!” cries Ro, terrified.

“There’s a closet across the hall. Run inside. You can sneak past him when he comes in to check on me. This is the only help I will give you. Go.”

He’s too frantic to argue. In a flash, he’s leaping out of the door of Host’s room and shoving himself into a closet full of cleaning supplies on the other side of the hall.

“Host?”

Those thudding footsteps move up the stairs. A fist pounds a knock against Host’s door. “Are you stuck in a vision? If you haven’t left your room since I checked on you this morning, you’ve been static for four hours and twenty-three minutes, including our usual breakfast hours and…”

Ro darts out of the closet on near-silent feet, racing down the stairs with his heart pounding. He throws himself against the wall for a second, thinking someone’s coming in the front door, but it’s just the second cat he saw, a big black cat like a shadow against the wall, letting out a hiss at the sight of him. He races down the second set of stairs and through the little hallway that frames Dapper’s door.

“Dapper!” he calls. “It’s me, I’m here.”

Faint whistling from the other side of the door. Red shoves his shoulder against it, tearing at the handle. It will not open.

“Fuck this,” he mumbles, and a moment later he finds himself ducking into a bathroom nearby, tearing the lid off the toilet tank, and slamming the porcelain into the handle of the door until both shatter and give. The door slides open.

“Dapper…”

There’s his little brother, curled up all lonely on the bed. In the light, Ro can see him clearly at last, and the relief of finding him comes charged with a painful nausea for how ill he looks. It’s worse than a hollowness, because Jamie has always been skinny. It’s worse than fatigue, because Dapper has always been tired. It’s worse than shadow, because his youngest brother has long felt alone. Now, he looks chewed up and spat out, cut open and removed from himself, faint and white and exhausted. He does not rise to hold Red. He can barely raise a hand to greet him.

“Bud, no,” says Ro, because his first thought, in that moment, is that Jameson is going to die.

He moves forward to scoop him up for a moment, pressing him to his chest. He can feel the heat on him before he’s even touched him. Sweat beads against Red’s fingers where he cards his hand through Dapper’s mussed brown hair, gone limp and tired, no longer curling at the fringe.

“Can you walk?” asks Ro, drawing back to hold his shoulders in his hands.

“Not sure,” answers Dapper, touching his wrist. “I feel really quite unwell, Red.”

“They haven’t taken care of you.”

“No, they tried,” protests Dapper. “They’ve given me medicine for my fever and things like that. Kept my wrist clean. I’m much better off than I was a few days ago.”

“Fuck… you could have died if that’s true.”

“I think maybe I would have if I stayed with Anti,” says Dapper, lying his head down on his brother’s shoulder and letting his eyes slip shut.

Red hugs him, grateful for the thudding of his heartbeat. As much as he knows they need to go, he needs even more to feel his chest moving with air, if only for a moment.

“You really are just not having a fun life, are you, Dippin’ Dots?” he says, the weight of it sitting on his chest.

“There are parts of it that are nice,” replies his brother, his hand resting on Ro’s shoulder.

“I’m going to get you out of here,” says Ro. “Like I promised.”

“Okay, Reddy. I’m really quite tired.”

“Okay. Okay. Here we go.”

He raises him into his arms, pressing him close against his body. He’s always tried to stay strong no matter how little he had to eat – not always successfully or healthily – but as the months have gone on he’s been finding his old strength. After wasting away in Norway, he built up corded muscle in Peru with long, difficult hikes up the mountain every day, bringing water and medicine and Christmas presents to his family, and in the past few weeks, with both Max and Anti, he has had good food and plenty of time for the exercise his body has craved. Host was right: now is the time to be strong.

He’s stepping out of the clinic room when he sees the big black cat again, darting away from him now, its fluffy back turned to him.

“Hey,” he laughs. “Did you follow me down here?”

And then, at the top of the stairs – black shoes and dress pants. The thud of a cane against the wood of the floor.

Ro back away, mouth taut, and he watches as that black cat, so dark that the light does not shine gold on its fur, dissolves away into the crowd of shadows that swarm like a cloak around Dark’s dead, rotting body.

“Spy cat,” Ro says. “Pretty sure that’s cheating.”

“I could see you the moment you stepped foot into my territory,” answers Dark, in a voice like a wind through cold water. “Your soul is so frantic it burns just to look at it. Even the ocean of silver power from the little one does not wash your color away.”

“Oh, what color?” asks Ro, curious.

“Not red,” comes the dry reply.

Dark takes a step down the stairs. Their body seems to jolt for a second, and then they must sit down, pain tightening their features.

“Heard my other little brother fucked you up pretty good,” says Ro, taking another step back towards the clinic. “Still not fully recovered, huh? I think I’d be a douchebag if I made fun of you for having a broken spine, but I’d like to offer a generalized ‘fuck you’ if that’s alright. You can’t even get down these stairs to get me, can you?”

Dark vanishes back into smoke and bursts into being at the bottom of the stairs, bone shifting in their broken face. Red yelps and puts Dapper on his feet, turning to wrap his body around him.

“Your little monster will pay for his over-powered tantrum,” says Dark.

“You stay the hell away from us!”

“I’ve never seen anyone as simultaneously intriguing and annoying as he is. But no matter. Soon, I’ll snuff his bright lights out and tear up both the natural and the stolen powers inside his chest, and then he will stop haunting me.”

“You take one more step towards me and I’ll call for him!” shouts Red, extending his fighting staff and whirling on Dark. “And this time he’ll fuck up more than just your back!”

“Call for him, then,” sneer a dozen echoing voices at once, and as Dark’s power begins to fill Red with terror and revulsion and confusion and grief, he puts his hands over his ears, opens his mouth, and screams for Anti.

And in the woods, Anti hears.

Anonymous asked: Anti, don't be brash and let your temper control you. Fight with the wit even Jack knew you had.

Wit – wit, yes, well, this at least keeps his gait steady as he moves Blue’s body through the trees, eyes fixed on the house where he can see his oldest gripping his camera. What you say is true, as he was always Jack’s little killer, clever and powerful, manipulative and built with an instinct for fighting more commonly found in a marten who plans to make a porcupine twice its size into dinner. He was patient, in the beginning, and sensational when the time came for him to cut that porcupine open, and it was his wit, yes, that lead him to capture all five of the brothers Jack created, one after the other, remorselessly.

And yes, even Jack knew he had it.

He remembers the sound of his voice the first time he made his eyes bleed. He wiped the sleeve of a black hood across his stained cheek and met his own gaze in the mirror, and he saw Anti more clearly than he ever had before.

“This one’s wild. Already smart enough to try and get through to the audience. Like it knows…”

His fingers touched his reflection in the glass.

“Hey. I see you. I’m here.”

His fond mouth smiled.

“Don’t be scared.”

Anti remembers.

Does Dark not?

Does Jack not?

It hurts to bear the thought of it, the thought that they really and truly forgot him. He hates it. He hates that you mentioned it. That Dapper keeps saying it. That he doesn’t know what’s happening anymore and he feels alone.

That he sometimes wishes he were still just a notion curled, warm, in the back of Jack’s head, listening to him chatter and breathe.

No. No use for nostalgia now. What he wants are the people he can still have – his Trick, his Dapper, his brothers.

He’s done a lot of bad things to them. Cruel, unbearable things, without reason. But if you give him credit for one thing, let it be this –

Oh, Anti taught his boys to be fang-toothed.

“Where’s my little soldiers at, so?” he sings to himself. “Dok, Trick.”

You see the twins perk up and look over as Anti sends his own message through the cameras now.

“Go find your big brother, Trickshot, and start fucking laying waste. And you, Deutsch – get my little Carver, now. And if anyone tries to put their hands on him – teach them why I use you for torture.”

Steel makes their fond mouths harden. They glance at Shep, and then away.

“If that is what it takes,” says Dok.

“Then consider it done,” Trick finishes.

And he touches his reflection in the clear glass of the mirror, and moves.

Anonymous asked: Alright so we're just going in guns blazing. Dok, Trick, you have any idea of where to go?

“Well, I am guessing it is this house which is all shadowy and dramatic,” says Dok, lifting his chin at the third house, where Dark’s power has cast everything in late-night lighting.

“Hey, you’ll regret it if you go rushing in there at Dark,” warns Shep, shoving himself forward. Trick steps up to him before he can reach Dok, raising his head in warning.

“I have left my little brother to rot too many times in his life,” shouts Dok, moving towards the house even as Wilford steps out of Dark’s house to see what’s going on, smoking languidly as darkness curls around his feet. “He asked me to fight for him! So I will.”

“If you’re coming, then come,” says Trick. “But don’t try and stop us getting Dapper.”

“Fine! Just try not to piss Dark off anymore, for all our sakes!”

Anonymous asked: Hey Silver, I think you should probably go with Trick and Doc. If things get crazy (and they probably will, lbr), it'd be good to have someone reasonable around. I know you can't go against Dark, but I also don't think you want to see anyone get hurt. This is admittedly a big step up from asking you to look for a lost cat, but can you do it for us?

Shep stares at the wash of shadow growing over the corners of his home. He runs after Dok and Trick, expression torn, and when Anti glitches into existence in the doorway of his house, you see him fall back in alarm, eyes wide.

“What’s going on?” he hears Gigi shout from somewhere inside. A sudden thrill of fear pours adrenaline into Shep’s blood, remembering all too clearly the way Anti shattered the android last time they met.

But Anti glitches away before Gigi can reach him. Google snarls, slamming his fist against the door and stepping out to look around. Trick and Dok have already hidden, tucked against the side of one of the other houses. They’ll sneak around the back and get in through the door there, hoping to find Dapper. Shep stares around in a mild panic - but eventually, you see him set his mouth and glance at you. He follows after Dok and Trick.

Host trails out onto the porch after Google, lighting a cigarette with a cold grin.

“This,” he says, “is going to be good.”

ari-trash asked: So you're just going to watch the chaos unfold, Host? You're just going to stand back and let it all happen? Well... at the very least I hope it'll be entertaining enough for you

“Been boring as shit lately,” mutters Host, smoke wafting from his mouth as he breathes out. “I been waiting for Dark to bring me home some fucking chaos. Whole reason I stick around. Nobody gets in to as much bullshit as this family. Google, do you remember when Bim hired an assassin to kill you?”

“Host!” shouts Gigi. “Who’s in the house!”

“I’m blind, Inspector Gadget, figure it out for yourself.”

“Dammit, Host!”

Anonymous asked: Ro, you're gonna be okay. Just keep with Dapper okay? Help is coming

“We’re okay, we’re okay, we’re okay,” chants Red like the words are stuck in his mouth, over and over again. He backs away, wrapped around Dapper, hiding his face in his chest. Dark steps towards them with the thud, thud of their cane, eyes white as spoiled milk. “Help is coming, help is coming, help is - ”

“Hey!” shouts Anti.

Dark stops.

Anti stands at the top of the stairs, haloed in his own venomous, glitching light in the midst of Dark’s shadow. Green and red and cold blue light. He is beautiful and hollow. He is a grave waiting to be filled.

“Stop,” he says quietly. “Back off.”

Ro sees Dark’s mouth curve like a planet.

“Hi, handsome,” they taunt softly, inclining their head, gaze still boring into Ro.

Anti does not taunt back. His shoulders are drawn back, his head low. Blue’s eyes are like the broken edges of a piece of shattered glass.

“Done playing,” says Anti. “Get away from them.”

“I just want to talk,” they answer, extending grey hands like a crucifixion.

“Liar,” says Anti.

Dark turns to him.

“What do you want?” asks Anti, revealing just a moment of weakness.

Dark meets his gaze like a predator circling.

“I don’t know anymore,” they tell him. “For you to stop bothering me?”

“Liar,” replies Anti, very quietly. “Liar.”

Dark grits their teeth.

“I would like you to stop being the ghost that follows me everywhere I go.”

Dapper shivers in Red’s grip, his legs giving out slightly. Dark and Anti glance at him as he crumples and Anti reaches for him for a moment, gaze breaking.

“Back off,” says Anti, stepping down the stairs. “That’s mine. Enough. Enough games. Done playing. Why don’t you come pick on someone a little less mortal, you fucking slug?”

Dark extinguishes all light in the room. Red shouts, scooping Dapper right off the ground. In the shadow, only Anti is visible, Blue’s face lit with his myriad of spasming colors.

“Fine then,” comes Dark’s voice, and you hear their echo give a hissing laugh. “As you wish.”

“Red,” says Anti. “Get him out of here.”

And then he is under attack.

Anonymous asked: Trick, Dok, how bad is it looking out there? I think you guys have a chance but you'll have to hurry, maybe ask Shep which house had Dapper. He's still following behind, yeah?

Shep sighs, reaching out to take Trick’s sleeve, pulling him towards his home. “Come on,” he says, hissing to keep his voice low. “We’ll go round through the back door and get your brother. You can take him while Dark and Anti keep each other busy.”

“Into the darkness?” asks Dok.

“Dude, it’s pitch in there,” agrees Trick, eyes wide. “We won’t be able to see.”

“Can’t you call for each other?”

Dok and Trick cross their arms over their chest, glaring.

“Oh, that’s right… uh, well, he can whistle or something, right?”

“We don’t have much other choice,” sighs Dok, letting his arms fall. “He’s probably scared in there. Maybe even having an episode. He could snap.”

“I bet Red’s found him and they’re keeping each other safe. But we need to get them both out - Dark has a pretty strong effect on the both of them.”

Dok bites down on his lip, reaching tentatively for the handle of the back door to Shep’s house, behind which, nothing but darkness awaits. He hears a slam and the telltale buzz of Anti’s power, so loud it almost feels like it’s making his whole head vibrate. Dark shouts and Anti snarls back at him, indecipherable from the other side of the house.

“Okay,” he says. “Let’s go.”

You plunge into shadow together.

Anonymous asked: Duck and run Red, get yourself and Dap out of there

“Come on, bud, let’s go.”

In the darkness, Dapper is almost completely unable to communicate with him. He feels him trying to sign, but they don’t have time to stumble through it, much as he hates to ignore him. He throws Dapper’s arm over his shoulder and moves towards the back door. Black as it is, Ro does not stumble for a moment. He saw the hallway once and that’s all he needs, same way he can take one look at a building before leaping up the side of it like a pine marten or a slightly over-sized squirrel.

There’s only a second where he pauses.

Dapper’s fever-heat warms his shoulder. He can hear his little brother panting in the darkness. Behind them, Anti shouts and snarls, locked in battle, and Red - oh, he can’t place it, much as he wants to, but a part of him knows he’s been here before. Not here, in this house, but… here.

“We were… trying to get away?” he hears himself mutter. “And you were sick… I needed to get you… home. To England.”

Dapper turns his head towards him in the shadows, mouth parted.

“But I couldn’t get away from Anti. Jackie couldn’t get you away from Anti. And then… Red stopped trying.”

And in the darkness, in the pitch black, Ro feels his little brother move his hands against his chest.

“He did not stop trying,” JJ tells him. “He just… needed to forget for a little while. Because he was in pain. He never stopped trying.”

Ro feels something sharp and tight in his chest.

“Here now,” signs Jameson, touching his heart. “You. Here now. Don’t be sorry. No more being sorry.”

No more being sorry.

“Come on,” murmurs Red, pulling him through the darkness again. “I gotta get you out of here.”

No more being sorry. It’s a waste of time. He needed to forget for a little while, but not anymore. Time to be what they need him to be. Doesn’t matter if that’s Jackie or Ro or Red or a little bit of all of them.

He won’t fail again.

Anonymous asked: Red, take Dapper towards the back door, if you remember where it is. Trick and Dok are trying to find you. Escape while Dark is distracted.

Red crashes into Shep headfirst and you hear them both yelp, drawing back from each other, but then Trick is hissing Ro’s name and reaching out blindly for his brother. Ro recoils when his fingers find his face and Trick knows it’s him, letting out a weak laugh. Ro grins at the sound of it, relaxing, and moves towards him.

“I’ve never been so glad to see you,” whispers Trick. Ro grabs his wrist with a grateful squeeze and feels how good it is to be on Trick’s side like they were always meant to be.

“We gotta go,” he says. “Come on, back towards the door.”

“Dark and Anti are going to hurt each other,” protests Shep. “Are we just… not doing anything about that?”

“Let’s just get out of here first,” hisses Dok, pulling them all back towards the door, and moments later, they stumble out into the light with sighs of relief.

aether-mae asked: Maybe you boys should stay out of anti and darks squabble. Let them brawl it out in the dark like the heartbroken lovesick monsters they are

“I think they’re right,” agrees Dok, already taking Dapper’s face in his hands to look him over. “Oh, my poor buddy.”

Dapper smiles wearily at him.

“Let’s get you home, yes?”

“We are far away from home,” signs Dapper, slumping against his shoulder. “But I would like to go back to bed.”

“I’m getting him out of here. Come, we should all go. Better to be far from this.”

Ro glances at Trick, and then at Shep, eyes narrowed. He can’t read Shep’s face at all - it’s never been a talent of his - but Dok and Trick must have let him come along for a reason.

“I just want everyone to be okay,” grumbles Shep, looking away from Red’s intense gaze. “Anti and Dark fighting like this - it’s stupid. And other people are going to get hurt if this keeps up.”

“Then we should run,” insists Ro. “Right?”

“You might be able to get your family clear, but I have friends in all of these houses,” says Shep quietly.

Ro nods, biting down on his lip. He pauses for a moment to meet Trick’s gaze, and if Shep’s expression is a mystery to him, Ro thinks he recognizes the determination in his brother’s face.

“We’ll stay to make sure Dark and Anti don’t hurt anyone,” he says. “They’re both out of control and we’ve let them play games with us for too long.”

“I’ll stay too,” agrees Trick. “Anti asked me to help Ro. But, Dok - here.”

Trick holds out the handgun. Dok blinks, shaking his head. “It’s yours. You might need it.”

Trick shakes his head back at him. “You have to protect Dap. If someone comes after you, he’s too sick to fight back. Take it and keep him safe.”

Dok takes the gun from him, mouth tight with worry. Trick touches his shoulder and then draws back from him, moving to Ro’s side.

“I need to get the twins before they get scared,” says Shep, glancing back at the second house, where a pair of matching faces are staring out at the growing shadow. “I’ll meet up with you back here and we can figure out what to do once they’re safe, okay?”

Red and Trick nod, stood side-by-side.

“Wait,” says Dok. “If I’m taking the gun, then - ”

He unhooks one of his necklaces and wraps it around Red’s neck. His brother startles, eyes wide.

“Dok, this is your - ”

“Break it and re-tie it if you need it,” says Dok quietly. “It will light up the darkness. It’s a weapon too. If you don’t need it, you can give it back to me. Just… take it, okay? I’ll feel better.”

“Why me?” asks Ro. “Use it to keep Dap safe. Or give it to Trick since I’m the stronger fighter.”

But Dok shakes his head.

“It was always for you,” he says. “Take it.”

The raven rests against Ro’s heart.

Anonymous asked: Keep your peepers people-d, lads.

“Bye,” says Trick quietly, meeting Dok’s gaze.

“I love you,” answers Dok.

“I love you too.”

And for a second, Trick just hates it - the memory it evokes in him, the memory of parting with Dok on the shores of a river in South America, the memory of losing him to the magicians and not knowing if he was dead or alive.

“Hey,” laughs Dok warmly, touching his cheek. “I’ll see you in an hour, yes?”

“Yes,” agrees Trick weakly. “Okay. I love you.”

“We already did that.”

“Well, it’s true.”

“I love you too.”

Dok and Dapper move back towards the shed, hand-in-hand, leaving Ro and Trick alone behind the house.

But only for a moment.

“How touching,” sneers a deep, dangerously steady voice. “That you really believe you can leave this place alive after daring to enter.”

Ro turns slowly, standing in front of Trick.

Gigi glares back at him, hands clenched into fists at his side. A terrible glow rises in his deep brown eyes.

“Is that what we were keeping our eyes open for?” asks Trick.

Red extends his fighting staff.

“That would be it, Trickster.”

Inside the house, Anti refuses to tolerate being blinded.

Fire lights up around him in a circle. He burns in the center of it, eyes glowing dangerously with the light of Blue’s flame.

“You can barely even fucking control that,” says Dark quietly. “It isn’t yours. What a fucking parasite you are.”

Anti leaps forward like a snake and strikes at Dark hard, only for his enemy to vanish into smoke. He makes no witty rejoinder and does not taunt Dark anymore. Dark tries to appear from the darkness to grab him, but Anti is lining the floor of the house in flame, illuminating the shadow. Dark flicks his hand and the fire douses. Anti shouts and redoubles his efforts: his fury overcomes Dark’s power and fire grows in the room once more.

“These floors were nice before you got here.”

“I’ll do the same thing to your rotting flesh!” shouts Anti, lashing out again.

Dark blocks his blade with the stern line of a wooden cane, letting Anti score a gash into the side of it and kicking at Anti’s legs, but Anti is swift and vicious and he leaps back with a snarl on his mouth. The speed with which they fight is alarming, so fast that at some points you can’t tell whose strike is slashing forward. Dark vanishes and reappears constantly, and Anti, though solid in Blue’s form, is so coated in glitching and so quick-paced he almost looks to be transporting himself. Dark is stronger, but their back hurts them, and any blow to their spine or chest could down them. Anti is the more savage of the two, but he is bound to Blue’s skin right now, choosing the comfort of incarnation over the freedom of his natural form.

“You look like a demon coated in fire like that,” hisses Dark, circling him for a moment.

Yes, Anti looks like a demon today.

“But you smell like a fairy. And you fight like a human.”

“I’m worse than all three,” whispers back Anti.

“What, then?”

“Nothing,” says Anti. “But that was always what intrigued you, wasn’t it?”

“Stop acting like you’re something irresistible,” snarls Dark.

“You used to tell me I was,” answers Anti, and for a second, you hear something like melancholy through the anger in his voice. A moment later, it’s gone. He lunges forward again and Dark blocks his knife with the cane before striking him hard in the face, sending blood pouring from Blue’s nose. Flowers burst up between the floorboards where the red blood falls.

“Control your fucking power before you tear the house down!” shouts Dark.

“No,” says Anti. “If you want me to stop, kill me.”

“Little monster, it will be my pleasure.”

But it is now that Dark hears Gigi shouting outside, and not just at Trick and Ro. A glance to the window shows them flame growing around the house as well as inside. The fire begins to lick at the trees. Gigi and Trick are hollering at each other, both blaming the other’s master for the damage.

“I’ll burn this whole fucking forest down,” howls Anti. “You think you can act like you forget me?”

Dark vanishes and reappears behind him, shoving him towards the door, and as Anti staggers they gift him a second blow to the face, sending him crashing to the floor. Dark reaches down and puts their hands around Anti’s waist, gripping him too tight as they haul him bodily out the door and over the porch, sending him crashing down onto the stairs that lead up to the porch. Anti lets out a short gasp, touching the back of Blue’s skull, where blood buds up to stain his fingers like ink. He blows out a breath and leaps back to his feet, trying to buy himself time by duplicating – creating false doubles of himself that look real, until Dark is surrounded by a circling trio of Marvins with hatred burning like stars in their eyes.

But Dark doesn’t press their advantage. Their face is flickering again, revealing short glimpses of that same emotion that Anti couldn’t accept when they were in the woods together: confusion, raw and genuine. Their hands are still held out in front of them, remembering Anti’s waist between their palms.

“Get out of my head,” they warn.

“You get out of my heart!” shrieks Anti.

“I’m not manipulating you,” growls Dark, raising their hands slightly – perhaps the beginning of a gesture asking for a pause.

“Well, neither am I. I got enough going on possessing this body for me to be messing around in anybody else’s head,” answers Anti bitingly, setting his three pairs of identical feet.

“Come on,” sighs Dark. “Do you really expect a soul-sight like me to be tricked by your glitches?”

“Which one’s me then?” shouts Anti, stepping forward, all three pairs of himself moving close, into Dark’s space. “And you know I’m not lying if you’ve still got any sight at all! You know that and you’re still – fucking – acting like this!”

A tree behind the house bursts into flame and you hear shouts and the scattering of squirrels.

But Dark doesn’t flinch.

Anti pants in front of them. After a second, his right hand, duplicated three times, reaches out and grabs Dark’s shirt – the shoulder, the back, and the lapel of their fine black suit.

Dark sets their hands on Anti’s waist.

Squeezes.

Hard.

Feels his solidity beneath their fingers.

Anti closes his eyes, a flicker of pain in his face, but, if only for a moment, you see some of the panic drain away from his white face. The double and triple flicker out of existence.

Anti breathes.

He looks up at Dark and he pulls in air, Blue’s heart racing. Ash in his mouth and hands on his waist.

“Asshole,” he chokes, striking Dark’s chest with a faltering fist. “You liar. You do remember me.”

Dark’s gaze breaks, eyes sliding closed. They squeeze his waist again. Loosen. Squeeze. Loosen. Breathe.

“I think… I do.”

“Why’d you pretend?” cries Anti. “Is it true what you said – my soul doesn’t look the same anymore? Can you see Blue’s power instead of mine?”

“I didn’t remember you,” mumbles Dark. “I still… it’s like if I had been a character in a play, and so were you, and then suddenly here you are, telling me to remember the lines we read. But the part of you I remember – you don’t look like yourself at all. You’re not the character. You’re someone else. Someone I know even less.”

Anti grips their wrist, shaking his head. “Don’t say that.”

“You can’t admit it to yourself,” Dark murmurs, withdrawing slightly. Around them, the heat and smoke is only rising. “That I don’t remember all of it. I can see the fear it puts in you.”

“What am I supposed to believe? Who could have done something like this? Not my Dapper. That’s a lie. Not him. The others have already – have already done what they’ve done. But not him and not Trick. Those are mine. You – you were mine, Dark, fuck you!”

He shoves Dark back and grabs their jacket, pulling them close.

“Tell me you remember me! And you were pretending! And you know me and now you’ll start acting like yourself again! Tell me that, now!”

But Dark is pulling away from him, shaking their head.

“Dark! Tell me that and mean it, goddammit!”

“You are a piece of something now far away from me,” says Dark. “But right now, all you are is a threat, and I will play games no longer.”

“Pangur Dubh!” screams Anti, voice breaking. “It’s me!”

“Wilford,” says Dark.

Anti hears the cock of a gun.

He throws Blue’s body back, falling back onto the porch again just in time for the bullet to miss him. Dark vanishes back into shadow and Anti turns his eyes to Wilford, who isn’t even reloading – just looking at him with a sort of strange pity in his eyes.

Anti –

Oh, fuck.

Shit, he –

He’s had enough.

He’s had enough. He’s had it. Humiliation washes over him so hot and loud it almost makes him dizzy, and Blue’s fragile little body aches against his trapped form even as it protects him from the side effects of stealing Marvin’s power, and he’s tired, and he’s scared, and he wants to go home.

But only for a moment.

Because, for a long, long, long time, he has learned one very dangerous skill:

Turn all of that into rage, and let it swallow you whole.

“Anti, you’re going to burn the whole fucking forest down! Dapper can’t reverse right now!”

“There are still people nearby! Dapper and Dok and others who haven’t hurt us!”

“Make him stop, please, please! Dark, do something, Wil, shoot him, make him stop!”

“Dark, you have to stop this. Where did you go?”

Trick and Red and Shep and Gigi’s voices are lost in the pounding of the blood in Anti’s head. Even Host is retreating now, stepping away from the porch and out onto the grass as the fire spreads, the amusement disappearing from his mouth. Anti chokes on his anger, eyes watering with the force of it, and blood gushes from his throat so fast he’s faint. At this point, he doesn’t think he could control the fire if he wanted to. He remembers Blue’s burst of power at the top of the mountain, sending plant life exploding through the rocks and sand.

Now I’m the one who’s out of control, he realizes faintly.

And a voice in his head answers, pleads, begs:

Anti. Give it back to me and I will make it stop.

Marvin, he answers. I wasn’t lying. I don’t know how.

All six of us and all of these people here are going to DIE, Anti.

Anti feels heat on his face. Ash on his white hands. Smoke in the air. Smoke like flame in the air. And he breathes. He breathes.

So be it.

#chapter four

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sweater-daddiesdumbdork · 5 years ago

Text

Life After Snowpiercer: End of the Line

Summery- Matts Alive! Curtis is given a choice, learns the truth about the kids, You are attacked, and also still alive! Some non con implied, but all mild.

Word Count- 5806

Chapter 4 / Masterlist

Curtis just shook his head in disbelief at the man before him, certainly grown up from the eleven year old boy he knew, but somethings never change. His eyes, Your eyes looking back at him, but they held a bit of coldness in them that yours didnt. “H-ow? What is going on. They TOOK you Matt.”Although Curtis always assured you to hold out hope Matt was alive, he knew the likelihood was not good, but he could have hope to keep you from feeling hopeless. Then after you had healed, accepted that it was a possibility, you still had the nightmares, crying in the dark for your brother, Curtis waking to your sobs and cradling you in close to protect you... of course he couldnt let you suffer like that. But here Matt was, alive.

“Yea, Wilford saved me Curtis from a life of shit. You all did this to yourselves back there. Always plotting and scheming to take control of what isnt fucken yours.” Matt looked his nose down at Curtis, glancing away at Claude and smiling fondly at her. “She knew that I wasnt like that, did you sweetheart?” He caressed the womans face and leaned down to peck her lips. “Nams still alive out there, can you watch over him and his daughter till were finished in here.” She complied with a soft nod, leaving the three men alone.

Wilford cleared his throat. “Oh trust me Curtis, Matt took a while to understand what the truth was. But he came around, didnt you son?” Smiling almost loving at Matt. “He understands what the train needs from him, and Im an old man now, I wont be here forever. You and Matt working together, well this train is my legacy and will continue on forever. With some help of course.” He moved to open a cupboard and Timmy crawled out, Curtis eyes widening at this next shock. Timmy to was alive! The boy just ignored Curtis though and proceeded to go up the stairs, and enter in a car.

“Timmy? What are you doing, get back here?!” Curtis called to the boy, but he merely buckled himself in and whoosh, he was gone. Curtis turned to look at Wilford and Matt “Where the fuck did he go?!”

“Into the engine of course, it builds up crud, and kids like Timmy, they clear it out, also run some of the gears that need help. Reason we need all those kids from the tail end is although the train is self sustaining, the parts wear out. Many have gone extinct, and we have no way to replace them anymore. We ran out of metal for workers to mold. So we need someone who can fit into tight spaces. Gotta be about 4 or 5, you tail enders are always so scrawny. When they outsize, we replace them.”

Jesus fucking christ... how many kids have they taken over the years? At least over 2 dozen. Oh Curtis.... He could hear your sorrow now, it broke your voice, picture the tears streaming down your face as you mourned for all those babies you all lost in the tale end. Curtis growled out “What happens once they age out?”

Matt rolled his shoulders nonchalant like “Well if someone here wants one, they can just take them as there own, or if no one else can use them in there service, we execute them. Originally we were just gonna bring them back, but hell over crowding has started becoming an issue. You all really need to learn more creative fucking methods. What was the term you used the other day Wilford? ‘Like a bunch of god damn rabbits back there?” He chuckled at his attempt of wit.

What the fuck did they do to you Matt?!

They have no idea, thought Curtis, all the people they broke taking the children. The parents weve found that died because it broke there heart, shattered there will to live. How many women in the tail end lived in FEAR, not at the dangers of child birth, but that they might lose there children and can not stop it. How many times you confessed to him that you just couldnt get pregnant, it was just to dangerous to bring a life into all this, although he knew that you want nothing more then to be a mom one day. They had no idea they caused all that pain.

Curtis, they fully know. They just dont care. Your voice flat, the truth.

Wilford shook his head, chuckling “Now now, we need them more now then ever. As I said before, the front end and tail end work together. We provide them with shelter, food and safety, they provide us with necessary replacement train parts and the occasional entertainment of cleaning up the excess baggage the train carries. Already were running smoother then before thanks to The Great Curtis Revolution.” That fucker is was still trying to make that a thing, Curtis could already see you rolling your eyes.

Matt cheerfully turned back towards Curtis. “And I heard that Y/N will be coming up to the front, since you two seem to be an item now. I say Curtis you will have more options now then just her if you want. Im sure after all this time your getting bored of her. Although I cant say Im surprised about you two, she always followed you since she met you like a little whimpering puppy. How is she anyways? I haven't thought about her in a while till Wilford brought you up. I suspect shes well.”

Curtis brows came together in anger at the mans words, at everything. That was his sister and he talked about her as if she was just a item Curtis happened to have possession of. “You havent thought about her? Your fucken kidding right? That woman constantly thinks about you, every damn day. Everything she does for others in the tail end is in your memory Matt. Even after all these years she has nightmares about how she couldnt save you, She thinks you will hate her because she cant get to you. And you havent thought about her this whole time?!” Curtis started laughing, shaking his head at all of it. Anger just making him snap at this point. “I cant believe im having this conversation with you of all people Matt. Fuck my life, they brainwashed you man. Everything about this.” Curtis waved his hand around and looked back at Matt, the laughter having died, now it was just cold facts he was raging out. “All this, its maybe more messed up then us starving and eating people, we were just trying to survive. You all think your some kind of gods for supposedly saving us and were a fucking game, you cant see why its so fucked up though, can you?!.”

Matt looked appalled over the outburst and Wilford spoke up “God Curtis your so over dramatic, cant you loosen up? Your acting like the fate of the world rests on you. Trust me, you have no control over that, and sounds like a good thing. I doubt you could handle that pressure. Look at you, so tightly wound.” Wilford made a motion like he had gone stiff, shaking.

Matt snorted in anger at the situation. “You act like you all werent happy for me, that it was my fault I earned my place by Wilfords side.” he basically spat out this next line. “That I should even care about what happened to either of you. That I deserved to be in that same shit hole as you? Wilford you really cant be serious about having Curtis be our Minister. He still lives in the old world view, has yet to embrace new world values. We are FUCKING GODS Curtis, make no mistake. Our word is the law on this train. People like my sister, all this for the people bullshit yall preached back there all the time, have no real place here. You both will get it soon enough.”

This was the final straw, Curtis couldnt, he just couldnt deal with the vile they were spewing, the lives they themselves sacrificed to try to kill him, and it was all a game to them, let alone the friends Curtis dragged into danger to get him here. With a twist, he tackled Wilford first, he had a pistol in his robes, it made sense. His right hand reared back and he caught the man unaware. When Curtis fist impacted, Wilfords head snapped back with a gush of blood exploding from his mouth and nose, those iced blue eyes rolled back and yes, it was that easy to just knock his senses askew.

Matt on the other hand had the upper hand, and he tried locking Curtis arms to his side, but a quick whip with his head backwards cracked against Mats face, and he howled out in anger and pain, releasing his hold against Curtis and cupping his face. “Your Fucker! You son of a bitch, I will kill you!” he screamed out. Clearly Matt forgot anything he learned in the tail end, cause he didnt even prepare for Curtis kick of his heavy treaded boots, hitting squarely in the chest and threw him back into the kitchenette.

Reaching wildly, Matt was able to grasp hold of a butcher knife from a black, slashing it so completely out of sync, that as Curtis ascended on him, he ducked backwards quickly when it wildly arched to him and his hand grabbed Mats wrist, twisting and crushing it in his single hand as he drew in close to the man, his hand grabbing his other hand to keep him from hitting him. “I would like to see you try, I came up here expecting alot more then over privileged cum stains like yourselves. Your finished.” He twisted Matts wrist further till he heard a snap, the knife clashing to the metal floor. Matt howled, not one of those cries out of pain, no this was a howl that almost sounded animalistic, he wrung his hand out of Curtis grasp and cradled it to his chest. Wasting no more time, Curtis ended up bashing his head into the overhead cupboards till he felt him go limp, releasing him to the floor. “Y/N, your brothers a fucking dick...” he muttered to himself.

One last issue to really take care of, Claude, she was out there guarding Yona and Nam. He heard her voice from outside of the gate, and going up behind it, he waited till he could see her yellow arm stretch beyond the gate, gun pointing inwards “Mat? answer me hon” and at that moment, Curtis pushed the door as hard as possible, crushing her into the door frame. She yelped out in pain and Curtis reached around to fist his hand in her hair and drag her into the room, kicking at her hand until it knocked the gun out. “Yona get in here now.” Claude hissed as she twisted and turned to get loose from Curtis and he gave her a vigorous shake to stun her, her hands trying to tug his loose from her scalp. “Your dead buddy, wait till Matt finds out you even touched me with your filthy paws.”

“I dont think hes doing much for a while sweetheart” Curtis promised her when Yona appeared in the room, wrinkling her nose at the scene before her. “We thought they would have killed you Curtis” She said softly while Nam followed along behind, sluggish. His face was pale and the rag he had pressed in his chest was soaked, still dripping big heavy drops of blood, gravity making a steady drip drip drip echo softly in this metal dungeon. “Not yet, they had other ideas apparently. Yona, can you sense where Timmy is? He went into the engine and we got to pull him out.” She had displayed hints of Clairvoyance throughout there journey, and she nodded, turning away to start searching. Claude chose this moment to start up again, smacking Curtis right in his gut and groin causing him to cuss out and tighten his grip in her hair to keep from releasing her.

“Fucken bitch” he hissed and having had enough of her, he knocked her upside the head, her screaming the whole time till she to went silent as her partners, she to was simply dropped to the floor with a thump. Still trying to catch his air once again, the ache going dull easy to ignore. Dont underestimate them Curtis a familiar whispered voice came to him, taking quick glances at the other two. He went to check Wilford, collecting his pistol still in his robe, and hobbled over to where Claude lost hers near the door. Handing one off to Nam, he spoke softly to him, to keep Yona from breaking concentration. “Are you okay?”

“Yea im fine.” The man grunted in his language, loosely translated by the box hanging off his neck. Just then he coughed and spat a wad of blood. It was clear he wasnt fine, just from the way he was wheezing, Curtis guessed at this point his lungs were filling with fluid. He had heard it before with others in the tail end. No one here was trained to drain it either, sure now that anyone who could was probably dead. He gave Nam a knowing look and the man cast a downwards glance. “Dont tell Yona, not yet.”

It was then Yona sprawled to the floor, clawing to pry up a tile “Curtis, hes here! Hes right under the tile.” her fingers scrambled against the smooth tile, and Curtis grabbed the abandoned butcher knife, wedging the tip into a crack, pushing till it popped open. What they opened was unlike anything Curtis had seen before. The small boy was squatting among the gears, digging his hands into chunks of oily gunk and digging it out, flinching every now and then when a piece of metal gear would cut shallowly into him, his arms were covered in bloody shallow knicks. Robotic like motions, he plunged his hand into the gunk and scooped out a handful. “Timmy! Timmy look up!” The little boy looked up, but it wasnt like he was seeing Curtis, more like through him. Curtis whats wrong with him? “Timmy you gotta get out of there, can you go back out?” I dont know Baby, I dont know what they done to him.

The boy just ignored him, his sightless gaze going back to the task at hand, and it was then Wilford made his presence known with a heavy groan, pushing himself up to a sit, swiping at his face. “Maybe I made a mistake with you Curtis... “ His gaze bleary as he sought out Curtis and Yona kneeling over the hole. “You just dont get what were doing here, cant see the bigger picture.” He moved to get up and Nam came between them, wheezing worst then before but ready to defend them. They were running out of time and Curtis knew it. A glance at his hand was the resolve he needed. I mean, it was the sacrifice he originally was going to make in a sense anyways. And into the gears his arm shot, stopping everything in its tracks, almost immediantly the gears all locked up, the train shuddered and wobbled unsteady.

Nam was blocking Wilford from ascending, but was struggling, surprise the gun had no fucking bullets in it, Yona reached in the gaps and stretched to reach for Timmy, who still seemed oblivious to what was going on above them. “Please Timmy, take my hand.” She turned her head to the side and stretched further, facing Matt whom now was starting to groan as well, Yona started to panic “Curtis, fuck hes waking up!” Panting through the pain of his arm getting crushed in the gears, he glanced to see Matt roll to his back, covering his face with a series of curses. Curtis, get my baby out of there, please! This time it was Tonyas voice yelling at him to save her child. Pushing Yona back with his free hand, he shot it into the one slot Timmy might fit through and grasped the boys skinny arm, hauling him up and pushing him to Yona who wrapped him up in her arms and started to pull back.

Matts foot connected squarely with Cutis jaw, wrenching his arm out of the gears, half skinning it in the process, his whole body flinging backwards. The enraged man landed on Curtis, trying to choke him out with his single hand, his broke wrist still cradling against his chest. Even with both short the use of an arm, Curtis was able to overpower him, pushing him to sprawl backwards. In there scuffle, the gun Curtis had tucked away in his jacket fell out and in both of there lunge to retrieve it, they scuffled it across the floor to land in the open hole. Matts eyes widened a bit “Oh shit!” It took a second for Curtis to understand what the issue was, yes that gun was loaded and it was currently twisting into the gears, making the entire train shudder, then a ping ping ping!

The pressure had set off the bullets in the weapon, and all around them steam shot out of the pipes. Everyone stopped what they were doing, looking around with fear at the reaction, and there was another mighty shudder. “Its gonna go off the tracks, good job fuckers!” Wilford hissed out in a panicked rage. Another shudder and the nose of the train must have hit something, an ice block on the tracks Baby your voice sounding scared in his confused mind, cause it jerked upwards, loosing traction on the track, without the wheels working in tandem to keep the forward momentum. It scrambled everyone, slamming them to the left side, Curtis skidded on his backside, crashing into Matt, who slammed into the kitchenette cabinets. The kids they went flying backwards towards the half opened gate, falling into the car just behind, Wilford and Nam entangled together smashed into the bolted down kitchen table. Claude, she screamed in fear at just waking up to everyone being whipped around spinning backwards across the floor. The engine started to tip to its side. The side of the Engine suddenly was ripped away with a screech of metal and sparks, having hit cliff side rocks. Wilford and Nam got sucked out of the giant hole, and thats when Curtis went black, something falling and smashing him in the skull.

During this time, in the tail end, James was dragging you back down the aisle, your body bouncing against random bunks and junk scattered around from where they had torn everything apart. Finally he tossed you to sprawl on the ground and fell on your stomach, bouncing enough to knock the air out of you. “I thought we already talked about this hunny, just be a good girl and spread them. Not that I dont like it when you all fight a bit.” Thinking he had subdued you, he pulled back to hike up your coat and shirts to what he claimed as his prize. .

Taking a chance you twist and shoot a foot out to hit him in his chest to topple backwards and start to crawl away, but a large hand encircled your ankle and jerk you to fall on your belly with a omph! Panicked, your hands shoot out under a bunk to see if theres anything to hold onto. Your hand closes around a small shard, fitting in the palm. You snatch it as he keeps dragging you back, flipping you to your back with a smirk.

Calm down Y/N, wait for the right opportunity. Of course it was Curtis calm voice, the one he used when he was bringing you back from a panic attack. You take a deep breath, and change tactics on James, stopping trying to fight, you hold up a hand in surrender. “Please, I give! What do you want?” James hand fisted in your mess of hair, tipping your head back till your throat was exposed. Dragging his tongue over you, you fight back a wave of bile burning your throat at the feeling of the man all over you. “well what do you think sweetheart, I want your sweet pussy gripping the best dick you ever had and begging for more.” God how the fuck do you not gag at that. Concentrate Baby. Praise how good he is. you shudder in the mans grip as he starts to palm a bruised breast, twisting it painfully like before. Do I really have to Curtis?

Trust me Babygirl

“You made me feel so damn good last time, and I was so ungrateful.” trying to make your voice husky with false lust and looking up at him wide eyed. Reaching up you cup James face and bite your lip, giving it your all. “But how about this time you let me make you feel good? A thank you.” Leaning up your brush your lips against his, really putting your all into drawing him into the kiss. Fucker fell for it, and he got caught up in what you were doing with your tongue, where your hands were running all over him, palming his crotch through his pants. “Biggest ive ever had” Cant believe Im saying this. God I hate you bastards. You were fighting everything in you to not start crying in disgust. Finally when he was panting against your lips, you push him hard enough to make him roll, his hands grasping your hips to have you follow, and now.... now you fucking dick head, I have you right where I want you, you think triumphant when you straddle his stomach.

That you do baby, you know what to do next. Curtis hissed in your mind. Dont hesitate, hard and quick.

Arching up, you smile so sweetly at James looking up at you hazily. “God I knew you were a good fuck, but this is even better then I thought it could be.Tell me im the best, better then whatever his name was.” Tracing his chest, and winking at him to respond. “Oh baby, Curtis was nothing like you.” And with a quick twist of your wrist, you shove that shard of metal in his eye, pressing down hard and quick with your palm as you could. You literally felt it pop, and the warmth of blood shoot against your palm. “Hes every fucking thing a man should be!” Smashing your hand against the next vulnerable part of him, his nose, he bucks in pain underneath you, shooting you off. Tumbling, you scramble up and start running towards the back as James is screeching, dodging the unsuspecting hands of other guards reaching out of the bunks they were laying in, some of them following James choices and there captives started to fight back in the confusion you caused. “GET THAT WHORE!” James screeching, his hand covering his eye as he struggled up, red gore oozing between his fingers.

You were looking for anyplace to hide when thrown off your feet violently.

It wasnt another person, the train started rattling on its tracks and screeching, fishtailing back and forth. One violent turn and you were flung into the bars of a bunk, screaming out as pain blossomed white hot through your spine, tumbling now. Bottom was above you, crashing onto what should have been the roof of the train, items pelting you, bouncing off and crushing you. Your cries of shock and pain turning ragged when it all rolled once more, going right side up, the kids and other survivors going through a similar experience, whipping around and around as it kept rolling and bouncing. The back end of the train had gone off the side of a cliff and falling into a valley under the tracks. everyone whipped around and around, till it crashed to a stand still.

Groaning you push up under a bunch of random debris, and try to focus. Leaning over and puking from the dizziness, you push away from the mess and look around at other passengers and guards pushing themselves out of the mess, somewhere bright light was streaming in. Fuck fuck fuck fuck, you have to figure out how to get one of there guns before they take control again. Pushing up, you stumble around people, some of them eerily still, twisted bodies and blank stares. Not all survived. Relief flooded you as you saw more and more kids scrambling to your side. “Quick, find anything we can use as a weapon.” urging them with a hushed voice, they scattered to fulfill your request. Coming across a dead guard, your quick to strip him off anything valuables. Shouldering a rifle over your shoulder, more children and some of the women came back, fight in the adults eyes, most of the kids holding something they could use.

“Hey, Yall get yer asses back here!” some fucker drawled heavy accented, and a look over your shoulder saw that they had rejoined ranks. “Quick, get out that hole!” You urge your group, scrambling back the opposite way where the light was, bullets whizzed at you, ducking just in time, it clipped a woman next to you, fuck it was the woman who helped you before, Sara. Sara cried out grabbing her shoulder. Grabbing her waist, you tug her to follow along and aim the automatic rifle in your hand, just randomly shooting behind you as she climbed up to fall out of the hole with a yelp. No one followed you as you to scrambled out, maybe for once luck was on your side, there seemed to be alot less of them then there was of you survivors.

Crashing rather ungracefully over the edge of the train car, you land in the snow, and blinded you try looking around, drawing in for the first time in 18 years, fresh air. It burned your lungs,the intense cold and just that it was so god damn clean. Looking around your surrounded by cliffs, and as your eyes go into focus you can see where you all went over the edge, snow still rolling down, and scattered around you was a few more cars, above one hung precariously over the edge. Fuck, how did you all survive that? “Y/N, what do we do?” What do you do? What would Curtis do? You all had never discussed being on the outside. “We have to get away from here, they will be coming out any second after us.” Everyone shivered around you, wrapping arms around themselves. The entire group surrounding you wouldnt make it for long without shelter and heat.

“Curtis” You voice was soft, he missed that.

“Hey baby” He looked over his shoulder and smiled.

“Curtis” You looked lost to him, confused.

“Im right here Babes” He held out an hand to reach for you.

“CURTIS” Why wouldnt you take his hand?

”Babygirl, whats wrong?” Striding over to reach for You, his brows coming together in confusion.

“CURTIS!” Fear and Panic etched all over you

He sat straight up with a gasp, Yona falling back from where she had been leaning over him, her face a look of fear and shock, tears tracking down her face. “What the fuck happened?!” Curtis cussed as he wildly looked around, Timmy was rocking on his heels next to Curtis, and he reached over to touch the boy, make sure he was real. “Yona... wheres Nam?” The girl shook her head, and straightened from where he knocked her over.

“Wilford and Dad are not here. That guy and girl are, over there.” She pointed among the mess. “But they wont wake up, I checked.” Curtis moved to get up, wincing. There was something broken, just ribs hopefully. He wouldnt be taking deep breaths anytime soon. And then his gaze went to his mangled hand, Okay this is more serious. Wincing as he pulled his sleeve over it to protect it, it had at least clotted enough to stop bleeding but had no idea what the real damage was yet on it. Timmy just stayed rocking nearby, Curtis debating what to do, the boy had obviously been traumatized by what had happened. But at this point, there was more pressing matters. “Yona, grab that butcher knife” Somehow they still had it.

Going to a panel, Curtis inspected it and with the knife, they managed to pry it off, and tossing the panel to the side. Ahhh, bingo, Curtis tested the wires and finding them not live wires, he started to pull and yank them out. “Cut these, a good three feet at least” He stretched it out, and Yona started slicing back and forth. Right now his first worry was Matt and Claude coming around before they could be tied up. He probably should just kill them after everything, but Curtis was just done with death. At least for now, and if You ever found out he had killed your brother, He simply couldnt. Claude, well we will see what ends up happening with that bitch. You snigger. Curtis had to hide a bit of a laugh, apparently his imagination made you a bit dark.

Yona, well he would be royally screwed without the girl, she was nimble and quick with her knots, the two of them dragging the still unconscious duo to a wall, tying them tight and far apart so they couldnt help one another, Curtis finally sighed in relief. At least for now he didnt have to worry about them at the moment. Yona again came to the rescue,having found coats in the other car, wrapping her and Timmy up.

“Theres a way out in the other car Curtis, a few are outside, just... standing around. I think they are high still.” Her own eyes bleary, it occurred to Curtis she to was coming down from the kronoles and alcohol she consumed on the trudge to the front. His voice soft “Are you okay yourself?” She twitched a bit and nodded. “Just after effects, nothing I havent felt before.” Curtis didnt like it, but he had to trust her, completely out of options. Yona took Timmys hand and together the three of them worked there way out of the Engine, and the next car, well it wasnt much better off then theres was, completely flipped over, several dead. Curtis was still questioning how they even made it out. What about the tail end? You? The anxiety of not knowing.... A deep breath was drawn in, and made him instantly regret that, fuck my ribs.

Popping his head out, rubbing at his face, he took it in. Oh God your voice echoes, and before him, stretched across the blinding whiteness of where you all ended up, was just destruction, chaos, and more death. Twisted metal cars, split open to spill out its contents to scatter across the snow, it seemed like the end wasnt to bad off the further he looked down the line, but shouldnt there be more?

Wheres the rest of the train Curtis?

Were going to go find out Y/N, Im not leaving you out there alone.

Nearby there was a small group of people, most of them were hiding in heavy fur coats, and watching them for a moment, Curtis pegged Yona to be right. These fuckers are high as a god damn kite. There were a few though, that looked more put together, and Curtis recognized one of them, his eyes narrowing. Right now he didnt have any of the typical gear on, but it was one of the men who would bring there protein bars. Wonder how many you I got to deal with? Curtis sighed, fuck he was so tired suddenly. “TImmy climb on my back” He ordered and squatted enough for the boy to wrap his arms around his neck. Going to the edge, he deemed it safe enough and jumped down, stifling a groan at the jolt in his ribs. His hand, god that was just a steady throb.

Yona inched to the edge, her feet coming over the edge, and she slid off as much as possible till she landed on Curtis shoulder, his arm wrapping around her thighs to keep her from tipping over and easing down for her to get off. As he straightened the men whom he dared guessed were some of the guards came over, they were scuffed, but not bad off as Curtis nearly was, and he braced himself for the typical aggression he knew from them, but they all held up there hands in a peace sign.

“Seriously man, were not going to do anything.” Curtis took a step back from them anyways, keeping the kids behind him. Yona peaked around him warily, studying them.

“Curtis right? weve heard of you. Listen, we have to look for survivors, this group over here is kind of useless right now, and these cars might have people trapped.” One started, another picked up.

“Front, Back.... it makes no difference now, Theres probably not enough left to make it count.”

“Right... suddenly im supposed to believe you all have a good conscious?” Curtis sure as hell wasnt going to trust them, 18 years of entrapment will do that to a man. Yona tugged on his jacket, and he spared her a look.

“Good, they will help us.” He nodded encouragment, and his gut twisted. The girl hadnt been wrong yet, but his mistrust and instinct was still was over riding that. He trusted another, and betrayed everything he believed in.

Curtis she hasnt been wrong yet, shes special.

Alright Alright, he thought, holding out his uninjured hand, he growled out. “truce for now... we wont give you any trouble. Were making our way towards the back to check on our people.” One of the guards winced.

“The back? We were coming over a bridge when the train derailled. Honestly the fact any of this is still here is shocking. Im sure the back end came off the rest of the train and went over the cliff side. A fall like that in a hunk of metal.” The man shrugged in a im sorry motion “The chances are not great anyone in those cars would survive such a fall. The tail end, its gone. Any survivors will be making there way up this way.” He looked over his shoulder and sure enough, people were slowly coming in groups. “Slim, the chances are slim, but... maybe...”

Slim, the chances were slim, but... maybe... it was all Curtis heard after he said those words.

@what-is-your-plan-today @curtisbbq @jtargaryen18 @p8tn0lish @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123

#curtis everett x reader #curtis everett #snowpiercer #chris evans #omg fresh air #they are outside!#so many die though #this one was exhausting #so much thoughts in my head

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falseroar · 6 years ago

Text

Dark Laughter Part 3: Mirror Images

((Here’s a link to Part 2: I’m Trying and a link to the beginning of the series, Part 1: What Dark Saw.))

Dark spent over an hour pacing the third floor of the house, examining every inch of the hall where he thought—where he knew he saw you earlier, allowing his aura to stretch and expand in search of something, anything, to prove that he was right.

But there was nothing, no sense of anything off or out of the ordinary.

In response to his anger, the lights overhead flickered and hummed, any illumination they provided already struggling to do any more than highlight the oppressive darkness that hung heavy in the air for several feet around him.

Dark closed his eyes and breathed out, allowing his aura to recede and the normal colors of the hallway to return.

This was pointless and getting him nowhere. He would get his answers eventually, but not like this. To start, he needed to get away from this area and clear his head.

Dark made his way down the stairs to the second floor, where bedroom doors lined the hall to either side. Most of the rooms were silent and dark at this hour of the night, although Ed Edgar’s snores could be heard long before Dark passed the ego’s room. Blue light came out from beneath a door plastered with stickers of various memes and brand names, Bing no doubt playing whatever battle royale game had caught his attention this week. Dark thought he heard sniffling from behind one of the doors that had yet to be decorated, but when he paused there the noise stopped.

Aside from these small things, the house was relatively quiet, and there was no one to stop Dark on his way to his office, or to interrupt him with some pointless question or remark. It was his own restless thoughts that made him pause at the door, one hand on the doorknob, before continuing on down the hall to the stairs at the other end. Downstairs, Dark saw a single light on in the infirmary and heard the doctor tapping away at his keyboard. In the living room he spotted an ego sprawled out on the couch, their face covered by a book but the suit and cape giving away Silver Shepherd’s identity. His mask lay on the cushion beside him, and Dark briefly considered it before deciding to give the opportunity a pass.

Instead, he made his way to the kitchen, where the only light came from the small bulb above the sink. Soft breathing came from the pantry door in the corner, where Chef Iplier was known to keep a cot despite the ample number of bedrooms upstairs. No one questioned him on that, or anything else the ego was known or suspected to do when left alone here in his domain.

Dark peered out the back window, but the distant forest line was just a suggestion at this time of night. Somewhere out there the King of the Squirrels kept a nest or a tree fort or some kind of hideaway that no one else had been able to find, where he spent most of his nights unless the weather became particularly bad. The last time that happened, Dr. Iplier had taken advantage of the opportunity to, with the combined effort of Google and some of the stronger egos such as Silver Shepherd, “convince” the King to take a rare bath. For their effort, they all earned several scratches and bites, and somehow despite the massive amounts of flea and tick shampoo, the King still came out smelling vaguely of peanuts.

Dark smiled to himself at the memory as he left the kitchen, feeling…more in control of his emotions, at least. Perhaps, and it dealt a severe blow to his pride to admit even in the privacy of his own mind, perhaps the Host and Google were right to dismiss his concerns. What he saw in the hall couldn’t have been real—you were safe and asleep miles away. He told himself that maybe it was a trick of memory or—

Something moved to Dark’s left and he spun around before realizing that he was looking at the wide mirror hanging on the wall. It was a replacement for the one you had broken when you “arrived” last year, but in a rare moment of self-interest, the Host had asked that it not be put back in the same place. He hadn’t explained why, and for several months after he had still gone out of his way to avoid that stretch of hall near the conference room.

Now it hung here on the ground floor, where it made this area a little lighter and provided the egos a chance to check themselves out and make any last-minute adjustments before leaving or joining the others for a meal.

In the relative darkness of the hallway, it took Dark a half second to realize just how wrong the reflection was. There was a door behind him, yes, but it did not have the same shape and make as the front door of the ego house. Black and white checkered tiles in the mirror did not match the flooring behind him, and there was certainly no staircase to his right twisting up and out of sight.

And, more importantly, it was not his own reflection that stared back out at him.

You stood opposite him, your reflection just as he had seen it at the end of the hall earlier: head tilted at a wrong angle, blood staining old clothes he hadn’t seen in over a year, but for a split second he could clearly see your face.

Until a bloodied hand slammed against the other side of the glass.

Dark cried out and backed away, but it was his own reflection looking back at him from the mirror, face pale as he let his outstretched hand drop to his side where it trembled until he gripped it with his other hand. His mirror image betrayed the horror that flashed through his eyes, but he did not see what it turned into when he spun around at the sound from down the hall.

“Who’s there?” Dark asked.

Silence met his question, and continued until he almost doubted what he had heard.

Almost.

Dark did not bother with the stairs, choosing instead to disappear into his aura.

In the empty hallway, something stirred in the mirror and, from a distance, the laugh Dark heard repeated itself, mocking now.

---

The Host leaned close to the microphone, speaking low and soft in the complete confidence that it caught every word that flowed through him and swept up his listeners in their wake. And, for one very special listener, was more than just a story.

Tonight, it was his reality.

“—He fumbles with the handle, aware of the footsteps coming ever closer. If this key doesn’t work, there are no second chances for our dear Phillip. After all, we all know second chances are far too kind for what he has done. No, there is only the creature, the manifestation of his wrongs, drawn by the smell of fear that clouds his judgment, creeping ever nearer with every precious second he wastes praying that he chose correctly, it more than ready to—”

The Host paused, aware of the sudden change in the atmosphere of his recording studio. His smile of pleasure quickly turned into a thin-lipped frown, but he recovered quickly and continued, “No, the key fits, the door unlocks, and Phillip is stumbling out into the cold night air, free of the warehouse. He slams the door behind him, but nothing follows. Listeners, let’s leave Phillip alone to his thoughts, to consider what he’s learned this night. He will have more than enough time walking the long miles back into town, assuming he remembers the correct way to go. He is so given to ‘forgetting,’ after all. And I will leave you now, until next time. Good night, my dearest listeners.”

The Host smiled at those last words out of habit, but as he turned off the equipment and removed his headphones to be greeted by a terrible ringing sound, that expression soured.

“The Host is aware that his ‘On Air’ light is still on.”

“You left the door unlocked,” Dark answered.

“Because the Host is aware that Wilford planned to drop by, and he has grown tired of replacing the lock on that door. The Host is also aware that Darkiplier did not use the door, so the point is moot.”

“Then if you’re so aware of everything, you should know why I’m here.” Dark heard his ringing hit a new a pitch and tried to reign his aura in before it damaged the sensitive equipment that filled the studio. A courtesy he hardly thought the ego deserved, but one he attempted all the same.

“The Host is not omniscient,” he answered, but his lips moved briefly before he spoke up again. “Darkiplier saw something again?”

“I saw them, I saw Y/N,” Dark said. “In the mirror, downstairs, and just like before they were—something was wrong with them.”

“The Host has told Darkiplier, Y/N is at Mark’s house, there’s nothing wrong—”

“I know, I called, but that doesn’t change what I saw. I want you to look back, right now, and tell me what happened with your narration.”

“Darkiplier does not give the Host orders, not anymore.”

“I’m asking,” Dark said, baring his teeth at the word. “Host, this is for Y/N—”

“And since when has Darkiplier cared about Y/N?” Bitterness coursed through the Host’s words but it quickly turned to a quiet fury as he said, “Darkiplier has the audacity to be offended by the Host’s words, as if he has not constantly tried to use Y/N for his own benefit, from attempting to take advantage of their visions to nearly getting them destroyed in a vain attempt to save himself—”

“That was Anti—”

“Who you made a deal with in the first place just to get closer to Y/N! You possessed them to try and kill the Host!”

“Please. You and I both know you egos are harder to kill than that. You should know that more than anyone here, Author.”

The Host reached up, his fingertips brushing against the bandages around his eyes. “The Host is aware that just because we can survive something, it doesn’t mean there aren’t scars left behind. And he has seen so many of the scars that Darkiplier has left upon Y/N.”

“What are you talking about? I never—”

“How many years, trapped in that mirror?” The Host asked aloud. “How long left alone in that house? How many more, left as a splintered and broken echo of themselves? How many sleepless nights since then, how many nightmares? How many memories locked away because of the pain? How deep is the scar left by the face of a friend used to betray them, to take away their very body, only to have it happen again? Darkiplier, of all people, should know what that violation of Y/N’s person meant when he used them, and all just for a single act of spite.”

Dark’s aura was silent as it pressed in tight around him, leaving him almost monochromatic as he let those words sink in. His voice was low, controlled, and restrained as he said, “Do you feel proud of yourself, after that little speech? The righteous and put-upon Host, defending his little brothers, defending Y/N from the big bad Darkiplier? As if your hands are clean.”

Dark paced around the recording studio, taking in the equipment as he said, “Such a shame Y/N has never been able to catch your little show, isn’t it? I wonder how they would feel, knowing how you twist your words around your latest ‘characters’, hearing that love of control in your voice as you play with them for your dear listeners. You know it’s funny, that tone you have when you tell a story, from the very first book of the Author’s that I read, I always felt like there was more of me in you than Mark. You used to be my favorite, but I’m sure you knew that.”

“The Host is nothing like Darkiplier.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” Dark said with a shrug as he played with one of the dials on a speaker. “But either way, I respect you, Host, and your abilities. That’s why I’ll ask again: what was that thing in the hallway, if it wasn’t Y/N?”

“Earlier, Darkiplier stood alone in the hallway, brooding over his loss of control over the egos.” The Host smirked and continued, “As he walked down the hallway, he looked up and saw…”

The Host frowned and tilted his head. “The Host cannot read what was there. Darkiplier saw something in the mirror later, but again the Host cannot read anything except that Dark was alone with his fear. He…was afraid. He is afraid.”

Dark grasped his hand with the other to still the tremors that ran up and down it as he said, “Your narration is failing you, Host. I wasn’t the only one there, it looked like Y/N, but—”

“But it couldn’t have been them,” the Host finished for him. “Darkiplier appears tired. How long has it been since he slept?”

Dark scowled. “I don’t see how that matters.”

“The Host might think it were Dark’s own guilt playing tricks on his mind, if he were capable of feeling such a thing.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Does Dark ask if the Host means he is incapable of feeling guilt, or expressing the belief that he should have nothing to feel remorse for?”

Dark would not have dignified that with an answer, if he hadn’t heard the small, humorless chuckle that came from the Host. He was laughing at him?

“I know what I’ve done, and I don’t regret a single thing. You never had a problem with it before, when I was the only one looking out for you and the other useless copies. How many of you wouldn’t even be here today if it weren’t for me, making sure his precious fans remembered you?”

“Because it gave Darkiplier pleasure, to be in control. To have so many ‘copies’ of the man he hated dependent on him, in fear of him. Now he cannot accept the fact that the egos no longer need him to survive. How does it feel, to be so powerless and alone, Darkiplier?”

“I am far from powerless,” Dark answered, allowing his aura to seep out from around him and wrap around the ego seated in his chair. Dull, distant creaks came from within as the recording studio became a distant echo of the dark reality stretching around them. “But I’d be more than happy to gag that mouth of yours and let you find out what true helplessness feels like.”

He tilted his head and with a crack of his neck the darkness retreated, leaving the normal studio in its wake. Dark leaned on the desk that separated him from the Host and smiled down at him, but there was no humor in his eyes as he said, “If only Wilford had shot you in the mouth instead.”

The Host rose to his feet, hands planted on the desk as he leaned forward, bandaged eyes meeting Dark’s own as his face twisted with fury.

“Darkiplier shuts his mouth, because the Host is sick and tired of listening to him.”

Dark tried to speak, but his lips refused to part.

“Whatever is haunting Darkiplier, the Host does not care but is sure that he deserves it. He has done enough to hurt the people of this house for his own selfish reasons, and no ego will help him relieve his own guilt and fear, not anymore. Darkiplier turns away from the Host’s desk and walks out of the studio. He does not return.”

Dark felt his body move without input from his brain, turning and walking out the door just as the Host narrated. The second the door shut behind him he felt the release of the Host’s power, only for it to be replaced by sheer rage.

Every sleeping ego in the house was startled into wakefulness by the terrible ringing and indistinguishable voices that escaped from Dark’s aura until he turned and walked into his own darkness. Once he disappeared, the noise gave way to an uneasy silence as the others waited to see if anything would follow.

((End of Part 3. Thank you for reading! And for the record, Phillip absolutely deserved it. Probably. Either way, hitchhiking in the middle of the night on a little-used back road is definitely not recommended for so many reasons, but he’ll figure that out for himself.

Here’s the link to the next part, Part 4: Be Good to Yourself!

Tagging: @silver-owl413 @skyewardlight @withjust-a-bite @blackaquokat @catgirlwarrior @neverisadork @luna1350 @oh-so-creepy @purpstraw @weirdfoxalley @95fangirl @lilalovesinternet-l @thepoolofthedead @a-bit-dapper @randomartdudette @geekymushroom @cactipresident @hotcocoachia @purple-anxiety-blog @shyinspiredartist @avispate ))

#markiplier #fanfic #wkm y/n #Darkiplier #The Host #Two so alike yet not #Oh how the Host and Dark fought #Anger blinds and fear controls #At stake an attorney's souls

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reverseblackholeofwords · 6 years ago

Text

Markiplier Manor (pt. 2)

Getting Into Trouble

“My reputation precedes me, I’m sure, Miss Nelson, and I realize that this is the reason you are so… on your guard.” Dark leans back in his chair as he eyes her curiously. To no avail, Amy makes a conscious effort to relax the tension building in her shoulders. “But I wish to ease your frazzled nerves just a little. I can assure you that I have no wish to harm you in any way. I am in need of your help, after all.”

Amy opens her mouth but finds that no words offer themselves. She feels another tug at the leash in her hands as Henry turns to look at something in one corner of the room. He gives one small bark, and then a silky black cat pads out of the shadows and leaps onto Dark’s desk, brushing its head against one of his hands.

Dark reaches up and strokes the little cat fondly and smirks at Amy when he sees the obvious surprise on her face. “Come now, Miss Nelson. Even a monster like me can enjoy a little company from time to time. It can get so lonely being a dark side.”

“Don’t the others...?” Amy asks. “I thought that…”

“Of course you would, but no, the others do not care to be around me.” Dark glances up at a picture hanging over his desk of the Egos all gathered together in a board room. “They’re broken, you see, and despite my efforts, they refuse any and all of my help.”

“I wonder why,” Amy says incredulously, going over to look at the photo. They’re all there, though none appear happy that they are. This photo is nothing more than a business meeting memorialized in film, and it shows on every face. Amy looks back over her shoulder at Dark. “Why do you care about them?”

Dark’s eyes shine in the same way that ice does in moonlight. “You might say I’m sentimental, but I have a special affinity for broken things.” He gestures to his cat who turns its head up at Amy to reveal one, glittering green eye. The other has been scarred and turned a milky white. “People will do terrible things to those that they fear or don’t understand, even to a little creature like Charlotte.”

“That’s why I need you, of course.” Dark folds one leg over the other and tips back in his chair so that he can regard her from a different angle. “This place has been so devoid of the trifles of a feminine touch for ages, and you’re somewhat… open-minded about all this because of your relationship with Mark. So, you seem the perfect candidate to help the boys learn how to play nicely with each other.” Dark purses his lips in thought for a moment before he releases a long, labored sigh. “Despite all my bluster and my harsh edges, I do wish to protect the others and give them a purpose… a family.”

There’s a pause. The tension settles around Amy like static cling against her skin, making the hairs on her arm raise. Then she shakes her head. “You’re one to talk so tenderly about family and broken things.” She leans her hands on his desk and towers over him. Dark’s eyes sharpen to daggers as he glares up at her. “You rip families apart. You break people for fun. I know who you are, Darkiplier, and I refuse to believe that the only reason you want to bring the Egos together is to give them a family. So, why don’t you tell me the truth and stop wasting my time and yours?”

A single heart beats between them, and only Amy is forced to hold her breath as the corpse in the chair in front of her simply stares in mild annoyance. A moment later, Dark’s face softens into amusement as he stands. “How about that, Will? Does that convince you?” Amy turns and follows Dark’s gaze past her to a couch at the back of his study, which was, only a moment before, empty. But now, Wilford Warfstache is lounging there with a drink in hand and a smug smile curled beneath his pink mustache.

Wilford tips his glass towards her. “That was quite the performance, if I do say so myself.” He reappears beside Amy, leaning in to get a good view of her. “Splendid really, but are you certain she can handle our more peculiar personality traits?” The closer he comes, the better she can see that there are flecks of fresh blood on his cheeks.

Amy swallows the lump of fear in her throat. Watching the videos Mark made of these two never did them justice; up close, they are so much more intense. Nevertheless, Amy meets Wilford’s gaze with as much courage as she can muster. “You don’t scare me because you can’t touch me.” Her eyes flicker back to Dark for a moment. “Because he knows that if you do, you’ll lose the support of the fans, and then where would you be?”

Wilford wiggles his mustache at her and then appears beside Dark. Charlotte the cat darts off of Dark’s desk and disappears into the shadows again. “Bully! Pretty and full of spunk! But don’t forget, gumdrop.” He winks at Amy. “I don’t play by Darkipoo’s rules. The fans might protect you from him, but there’s no telling what I’ll do...” Turning to look at Dark, Wilford nearly splashes his drink everywhere as it sloshes about in his glass like a storm-tossed sea of blood. “I approve of her, old boy. What say you?”

Dark, never once taking his eyes off of Amy, folds his hands behind his back, leans forward, and replies, “I think she’ll suit the job perfectly. And what about you, Miss Nelson? Are you up for the task, even if you have to work me as well?”

Amy feels Henry tug at the leash again. He whines, trying to back away from the smiling figures before them. “Stay calm, puppo. We’re going to be okay.” Amy tosses her hair over her shoulder with a flick of her head and smiles at the boys. “You two won’t scare me away so quickly. I’m up for it, if you are.”

Wilford nods, raising his glass. “Now, that’s the spirit! Say, do you dance?”

“Now, now, Will. Miss Nelson is here to work. You can worry about recreational activities once I’ve given her a little tour of the house.” Dark side-steps his desk with ease and takes Amy by the arm. A wave of cold with an added hint of nausea washes over Amy when Dark touches her, and Henry yelps and barks as Dark pulls them out of the study and into the hall.

Dark ignores both Amy’s look of revulsion and the dog’s uneasiness. Never once losing that smug look of determination.“Right this way, Miss Nelson. Now that you’ve officially agreed to work here, why don’t I introduce you to the others?”

#darkiplier #wilford warfstache #amy nelson #markiplier #peebles #markiplier manor #markiplier manor part 2

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egossideblog · 6 years ago

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heather for the dead (3)

me, a lil void, a year ago: there will be a new chapter in three weeks my depression: not so fast

warnings: hanahaki disease, blood, angst writer who has no idea what they’re doing

ships: dr iplier/the host, bim trimmer/???

tags: @revolutionary-dork @smoky-anon@tiger1029 @the-anti-average-family @lana–22 @fioxis @little-frying-pan @chaoticbookfan (you dudes even remember you wanted to be tagged in this?)

Bim Trimmer cleared his throat. “I just came here to ask how it went,” he said, smiling. “And for some painkillers, maybe?”

Doctor didn’t respond, too busy staring at the flower in the game show host’s hand. Bim had never looked sick before, but now he seemed barely alive. He was shaking, the blood running down his chin was dripping onto his shirt. He fixed his glasses and, when Edward looked up from his hand, his smile. It didn’t even look fake. “What happened?” Doctor asked, gesturing at Bim to sit down. “You know, I got shot a few hours ago. It hurts a bit.” Bim shrugged, then moved his hand to wipe the blood off. “I mean the flowers.”

Bim sighed deeply and sat down on the closest chair, putting the flower on Doctor’s desk. “It’s just love, probably. I’ll be okay.” “Matthias?” Bim looked down, still smiling. Edward really wanted to ignore the emptiness of his expression. “These were… removed,” the game show host waited for Doctor’s reaction, but he didn’t comment, just moved a bit closer to sit on his desk and examine the flower. “I- I really wanted to keep my show, you know? And I couldn’t. It got to the point when opening my mouth without the flowers falling out was impossible. So Wilford asked me to get rid of them and I did.” “I thought you didn’t have a show now.” “I don’t. Not because of that.” “Okay, but who is this for?” Bim looked up when Edward put the flower back on the desk. “I have no idea.” “How?” “Doc, look. I get crushes on everyone who can be nice to me for longer than ten minutes. I have no idea which one… evolved.” “I’m sorry, Bim-” “I know, I’m dying. Just give me the painkillers and I’ll go,” he said with a wide smile back on his face and got up.

Doctor moved to the other side of the desk and reached into one of the drawers. “How did you even manage to hide it for this long?” “You always seem to forget I have powers.”

Edward cleared his throat and looked at Bim. He was right; he seemed non-threatening just enough for no one to remember he could manipulate reality. His version of this was different than Wilford’s; he had full control over it. And when he wasn’t using it for the shows, it was probably for small things, like looking better or conjuring coffee. He couldn’t have changed this much within a few hours.

“Wait, I’ll tell Wilford to-” “Don’t. I want to keep my job. See you.” Bim disappeared before Edward had a chance to react. He didn’t take the painkillers with him, just vanished. Doctor didn’t know what he was supposed to do about this, but trying to convince the game show host to remove the flowers again didn’t seem like a good idea. He had seen the sadness just a few seconds ago, it was like Bim wouldn’t be able to handle this happening again.

He was not sure what to do about himself either. As a doctor, he knew removing the flowers would be the best solution, it worked for Bim, even though only for a moment. He didn’t want to think about it just before The Host would show up, he had a suspicion the blind Ego was able to feel some of his most recent thoughts; the one about drinking herbicides to kill the flowers probably would make him realise Edward wasn’t sane enough to help him.

He cleared his throat but the pressure didn't go away.

He could feel The Host's troubled energy before he heard a quiet knocking on the door. It was more disturbing than before and much weaker, suggesting… Doctor wasn't sure what it could be but the flowers in his chest seemed to like it a bit too much.

It felt like his lungs were eating themselves while being on fire and having a knife fight at the same time. But with flowers. “The office smells like heather and blood,” Doctor heard as the door opened. “How do you know what heather smells like?” he asked, looking up from the documents he was reading. “The Author used to live in the woods. Edward seems surprised but he shouldn't be, he knows The Host still has some memories of his previous form.”

The Host had a small smile on his face, even though he looked about to die. Blood from his eyes was running down his face, he was much more pale than when Doctor had seen him a few hours before. His coat was also covered in blood, some of it seemed old. His energy was calmer, though, as if whatever darkness was surrounding the lights of his mind had disappeared as soon as he’d entered the room and he was just waiting for the soft buzzing of electricity to come back.

“Sit down, please.” Doctor tried to hide the shakiness of his voice, no matter how pointless it was. He needed to be more professional about this. “When was the last time you've changed the bandages?” he asked, watching The Host nervously fidget with a button of his coat. It must have hurt.

“The Host is unable to answer this question, he isn't sure for how long he's been himself. He would like to know when was the last time Doctor operated without gloves. They both are aware that ideas can't die from infected wounds.”

It was The Author. It was The Author sassing him from beyond the grave. Hearing it hurt. Not because the only time it actually happened he had been trying to fix a cut in this fucker's arm when one of his protagonists had almost killed him. It just sounded so much like him.

Edward cleared his throat, the blood in his mouth tasted like flowers. “So you… Don't have eyes. At all?” “The Host laughs quietly,” his expression was blank, “and informs Doctor it doesn't work like this.” “You said wounds.” “Doctor radiates with curiosity and The Host can’t deny he’s curious, too.” Edward stood up, trying to stop his hands from shaking and moved to stand in front of The Host. He suddenly felt anxious. The flowers were moving in an attempt to get closer to the blind Ego. “What are you curious about?” There was no answer. The Host looked like he wanted to say something but Doctor decided it was just him trying to keep the narration in. “I will remove your bandages now.”

The Host flinched when Doctor touched his face and then smiled. Edward could almost feel the Is not wearing gloves your thing now? thought in his mind for a second. He was still tense, the energy surrounding him was changing too fast for Doctor to fully register the process. Some of it still felt like narration, but broken to the point of not making logical sense.

The bandages were heavy with blood and unpleasantly stiff to touch. He was scared. Removing them could cause damage to The Host's skin but it was the only option. He needed to see it, he had to know how much he had to kill Darkiplier. Each removed layer of blood-stained material seemed to remove a layer of his will to live. The temperature in the room was rapidly dropping and it was getting darker. The only still bright thing were The Host's eyes.

Doctor coughed, the flowery Chestburster seemed to be trying to free itself from his lungs; he removed the last layer.

The room was dark and everything slowed down as Doctor was trying to comprehend the sight. The Host's eyes looked like a cracked light bulbs; they were white, their weak glow illuminated blood that was streaming from the cracks. His eyelids had probably been violently removed, pieces of skin were grown into his new eyes. It was too cold for Doctor to touch and when he tried to get closer to them, their colour changed to somehow even whiter. He's never seen anything like that before, he felt something similar in Darkiplier's distortions whenever the other Ego tried to keep his anger in. His energy also seemed full of cracks with something otherworldly seeping through. “What happened?” he asked, wiping the blood from The Host's cheeks. “The Host can't remember, his last memory of The Author is craving the power. Now he's gone and what remained of him can't give it up. His new powers… He can’t say they aren’t better, enjoying them is not possible, though.”

Doctor reached for a roll of clean bandages from his desk and replaced the one removed from over The Host’s eyes. There was silence. He wanted to scream, to ask questions, but wasn’t sure how. “You've been gone for weeks,” he said finally. “How did you-” “The Host can't die. Darkiplier left him for some time, learning to use this power is something done on one's own.” “He blinded you and then left you there?” Edward’s anger make the flowers grow, he could feel the stalks in his throat. “No, The Host did it himself. Darkiplier just helped him to fully immerse in his new powers.” “Your fingers?”

The Host nodded. His usually emotionless face looked almost sad. Doctor gently took his hand, just to inspect his injuries. He couldn’t help but notice how the blind Ego’s skin still felt the same, just colder. It had always been weirdly soft for someone running around with a baseball bat. The ink stains on The Author’s hands and under his fingernails had been replaced with The Host’s blood. His fingers looked just wrong. He couldn’t exactly tell what seemed off about them but the angles were awkward.

“Grip my hand, please.” The Host exhaled loudly. His lips were still moving, as if he was narrating himself through the process. The expression on his face went from slightly sad to painful. “I would have to re-break them.” The Host doesn’t want it. It does not matter anymore,” he said, his face returning to usual expressionlessness.The lights in the room flickered. “This sacrifice had to be made for this to be possible. The Host could have died without it.”

He let go of Edward’s hand and moved back in his chair. Then he got up, touched the fresh bandages for a few seconds and smiled sadly. “Thank you,” he said. For Edward, it all was happening too fast. He barely registered The Host moving, his chest felt too full. He started coughing. And it wouldn’t stop.

#dr iplierst #void writes shit #the host #the author #bim trimmer #dr iplier

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mangled-dreams · 6 years ago

Note

Jameson goes "missing" and the egos are freaking out. Anti confronts the Ipliers and finds Jameson and Wilford cuddling while asleep on the couch. Oof pl3ade

Supporitve

Anti isn't quite pacing near the front door, not yet, but hismovements is starting to get on the nerve of the others in the room.Sure, JJ is late coming home but that doesn't automatically meanthere is anything wrong. The others have told Anti that... severaltimes.

Making another pass near the door Anti glances at the clock. Theminiature grandfather clock chimes midnight. Chase groans loudlyenough to bring attention to him. Anti glares at Chase.

“Anti! JJ is a grown man, he can decide not to come home if hewants.” Chase remarks hiding his won thoughts on the subject. Sure, JJ is theyoungest of the family and he wants to make sure he's okay but JJ is old enough to handle himself, to make his own choices.

“I'm with Anti. JJ is the most responsible of us, Chase. He'd behome by now or at the very least text one of us letting us know he'slate.” Marvin chimes in before Anti can pounce on Chase. Everyoneunderstands where Chase is coming from. That doesn't change the panicthey feel at JJ's disappearance.

Henrik, Marvin, Anti, and even Chase has either called or text JJasking where in the world he'd gone off too and if he is okay. No onereceived a message back and when Anti tried to call JJ's phone itwent straight to voicemail.

“I'm leaving.” Anti grouses forgoing his jacket stalking to thedoor. The others are at their feet instantly following after him.Anti glances at Chase but refrains from making any passing remarks.Holding the door for his siblings Anti smirks when Chase walks by. He knows Chase is worried too.

“Where are we headed Anti?” Marvin asks slipping into the backseat.

Taking a few moments Anti closes his eyes and expands his magic. Hedoesn't know why this idea hadn't come to him within the first fewhours of JJ's absence but he's using it now. It doesn't take longbefore he feels a familiar blip of aura. Anti takes the helm andstarts the car. “Dark's.” He says pulling out of the driveway.

Lights are flicked to life as Dark walks through the blackenedhallways to the main door. His silk pajamas crumpled a little fromsleep. Leaning against the wall for a little bit of support Darkopens the door glowering at Anti and his like.

“Someone better be dying, and even then I may not care.” Darksays running his hands through his hair to sooth the bed head evenjust a little.

Anti returns the look. “Where is JJ?” It's a growl and a demand.

Dark yawns unaffected by the display. “On the couch with Wilford.”He responds his leg kicking out instantly to hold the door when Antiattempts to push his way in. “I don't remember giving youpermission to enter my home. Jameson is a guest of Wilford's, you arenot.” Dark warns keeping the door partially closed. The only way togain entrance to the house would be to go through Dark and only Antiwould have a chance to win that battle.

“Darkie-pie, let them in.” Wilford's voice calls from the smallentertainment den. Dark looked like he would argue with Wilford butsighs and retracts his foot. He's too damn tired to deal with thedrama.

“Close the door after yourselves.” Dark growls before turningface and retreats back to his room. He knows they won't attackWilford, not with JJ in the house. Even Anti knows better than toattack Dark's family without good faculty. “Do not wake theothers.” Dark warms Wilford as he passes.

Wilford waves his hand dismissing Dark's warning. “Jamie's phonedied an hour ago, and he fell asleep nearly four hours ago.”Wilford says holding up JJ's smartphone.

Anti takes the phone glaring at Wilford as he rounds the couch.Everyone pauses at the sight before them. JJ lays cuddled up againstWilford's lap. “He looks peaceful.” Anti comments out of shock.How could any Septic Ego find comfort with a Iplier Ego? And yet,here is JJ looking comfortable and at peace.

“Ah, Jamie comes over when he's over loaded. Little scamp likes tosit on the couch and watch TV drama.” Wilford says fighting a yawn.He loses. “I would have answered your messages but Jamie asked thatI didn't interact with you while he's here. Little guy detests allthe fighting.” Wilford explains running a hand over JJ's hair.

It's odd and more than half the group expects Wilford to produce aknife from somewhere and cut Jameson. Wilford's hand passes withoutincident. It looked almost intimate and caring. Chase looks to Antiwith uncertainty in his eyes. He doesn't understand.

“Why does Jameson come here?” Marvin finally asks for the group.

Wilford looks up at Marvin dead in the eye. “Because we love him.”Someone gasps at the admission, at the truth in Wilford's usuallywild eyes. “Did you not know?”

Chase speaks up first. “Know what?”

Wilford holds up his hand. On the third finger from the thumb on hisleft hand sits a well made black colored band with a single diamondin the center. Eyes bounce to JJ's hand and they see the nearidentical ring sits on his hand. “Jamie and I are married.”

Jaws dropped to the ground in shock and disbelief. “No.” Shockgives way to confusion at the hurt look on Wilford's face.

“Vhat... Vhat's going on vith your face?” Henrik asks.

Wilford looks down to JJ. “He said he told you.” Wilford offersfeeling heartbroken JJ would lie to him about something so important.

Chase looks at JJ then to Wilford. He didn't realize it meant so muchto Wilford to have them know. “I knew.” Chase finally admitsending the silence. Eyes bounce to Chase in question.

“Chase?” Marvin and Henrik ask. Anti finally understands whyChase wasn't as concerned about JJ's whereabouts.

“You knew he was here?” Marvin asks earning a nod.

“Did you know about zhe marriage?” Henrik asks next.

“I was there for the ceremony.” Chase admits softly. He'd beenwearing a diguise but he'd been there, cried when he heard the vowsbeing exchanged, and felt horrible for not showing his support out inthe open like JJ had needed. “JJ had brought up a partnership withWilford before and Anti shot it down saying that he'd disown anyonethat made any kind of partnership with Wilford or his like.” Chaseexplains quietly. He doesn't want to wake JJ and give him a fright atthe looks he's getting right now.

“I warned him to keep it a secret. At first just having me know andbe supportive wasn't enough and I started to cover for him spendingmore time away from the house. Wilford has been a good husband to JJ.He's been supportive and understanding about the things JJ doesn'twant to discuss and has even been understanding of JJ not wanting tomove into a place of their own.” Chase adds.

Henrik looks at JJ helplessly. He never would have ever wanted hisbrother to hide such a large life changing event from them. “E...Evenif ve did not like zhe groom, I vould have supported JJ.” Hewhispers hating their blind dislike for Wilford and his familyclouded them from seeing how happy JJ is with them.

Wilford runs his hand through JJ's hair absently for comfort. SinceJJ he's felt more the man he once was. The madness as slowly recededand memories of his actions had come to light. JJ's helped him withall the fears and horrible acts he's done in his past. “Jamei and Ihave been talking about moving to the east coast.” Wilford finallyoffers.

“What? H—he wouldn't...” Marvin denied, but even as he says thewords he feels like it's not true. Everyone's notice how tired JJ hasseemed over the past few months, he hid his marriage to Wilford fromthem, part of him knows JJ would do it. JJ would probably feel guiltyfor it the rest of his life, but he'd do it to be happy with Wilford.

“No!” Henrik cries. Jameson is a kindred spirit one Henrik couldnot imagine loosing. “Please, do not take him form us.” Henrikpleads.

Wilford shakes his head. “It wasn't my idea.”

When they arrive home near three in the morning everyone is somberand feeling the pain. Jameson is married to someone they distrust forno other reason than because Dark and Anti are at odds because ofpower. No one puts the blame on Anti, things have gotten better, butnot enough for Jameson to believe he could tell them he's in love, orthat he's gotten married.

“We have to make it up to him.” Marvin announces in the quietspace. Faces turn to look at him with question. “JJ, we can't lethim live this double life. I... I don't trust Wilford, but JJ loveshim. They've been dating for nearly three years before they gotmarried! What else could JJ be hiding? I... I can't just pretend Idon't know everything I do now. JJ is our brother. He's lying toprotect us and himself. We can't keep going on like this.” Marvinsays looking from face to face. He already sees their agreement.

“Ve must show him zhat ve stand vith him.” Henrik agrees.Everyone nods, even Anti with some hesitation.

When JJ arrives home late in the morning the house is empty andquiet. Part of him worries the others are out looking for him.Wilford never mentioned his brothers stopping by but did say therewere a ton of messages and phone calls that he'd have to go through.JJ thanked him, kissing him goodbye before leaving.

Looking around JJ hurries to his bedroom. Showering quickly JJchanges his clothing and walks down stairs for a late breakfast. It'shalfway through his bowel of cereal when his phone pings with a newmessage. Unlocking the phone JJ reads the text before respondinghe'll be there shortly. Anti's telling him they're all going togather at the park for an afternoon family lunch. It's not completelyout of the ordinary but after being gone for a whole night it's alittle worrisome.

Always dressed for an impromptu formal event JJ picks up his bowlerhat, placing it carefully atop his head, grabs his fashionable cane,and leaves the house quick to lock the door behind him. It's a shortwalk from the house to the park named in the text. He pauses by asmall grocery store JJ picks up a few bags of chips as requested andhead out again.

As he comes to the park there is a small buzzing of people gatheredaround a gazebo. It doesn't really surprise him, any time all theegos get together or even just go out individually there is a groupof people snapping photos and asking for autographs. The closer hegets to the buzz of people Jameson notices there isn't just hisfamily but the Iplier's as well... even Mark and Sean.

Shifting through the crowd JJ walks over to Sean and Mark. “What isgoing on? Is there a video I forgot?” JJ asks looking between thetwo.

“No, nothing like that, Jay.” Sean laughs being mirrored byMark. JJ glances at both again uncertain what is happening. “Jay,look, you know we both adore you, right?”

JJ nods his head still not sure what's about to happen. “Sean,Mark... I...”

“JJ, Mark, Sean to your places!” Marvin shouts drawing JJ'sattention to an abnormally large curtain around the gazebo. How didhe not notice that? It's bright red and covers the whole damn thing.

“Places?” JJ echoes. Sean and Mark take one of JJ's arms each andescorts him closer to the the covered gazebo. There are securitykeeping the crowd of people from pressing closer to the gazebo.

“Marvin, what's going on?” JJ asks looking at the magician.

“You'll see.” Marvin promises with a wink. A little unsettled JJdoesn't fight Sean and Mark as they stop at the bottom of the gazebostairs. “Without further ado!” Marvin calls waving his hands.Within seconds the curtain falls and a gazebo filled with flowers andribbons greet JJ and the crowd. People awe and coo at the beauty ofit all.

JJ stands speechless with tears in his eyes. “Wh—what...”

“Since you didn't have your full family at your first wedding, wecouldn't let that stand.” Sean says patting JJ on the back. “Theymay not understand your choices, but they support you, Jay. They loveyou more than you could imagine.” Sean whispers handing JJ ahandkerchief.

Wilford stands in his absolute best suit waiting for JJ at the alter.Everyone is dressed to the nines, smiling, crying, happy for thisunion. JJ can't help but laugh a little as he cries. “Thank you.”He whispers as the music begins and his two fathers walk himdown to his husband. Anti stands waiting with Wilford as theofficiator of the ceremony and it means more to JJ than the eldestego could ever know.

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yanderegameplaysprotectionsquad · 7 years ago

Text

WTFS: The Show Begins!

Part 1/ Part 2

Hello everyone, welcome to part 2 of the ”Welcome To The Freak Show” series! Once again, this series was inspired by art by the talented @scythlyven-art . Her art is lovely. She is just lovely and I hope you all go check her out.

Art Inspiration: Hosty Boy / Google / Yandere / Bim / Dr.Iplier

Description: Grab you ticket and gather the family, The Freak Show is in town! One night only! Danger! Mystery! Adventure! Step right up to the best show in town!

“What do you mean by tha-” Ezra stopped as he turned to see Night had vanished. The reporter felt confused, all around. Senpai? Madness? Through his tense demeanor, he sat down in the lone balcony seat.He tried his best to shake it off, grabbing his small notepad from his pocket. He checked his watch to see he only had five minutes to attempt to gather his thoughts. He quickly jotted what he could put into words. Wilford Warfstache. Monochrome. Madness. His body tensed after merely jotting down the name. It couldn’t be him, he never made it. Offed himself, right? Right?

Suddenly the lights darkened and a small cheer rose from the crowd. A single light shined down into the center of the stage. Willow walked out, smiling as the people cheered. His demeanor seemed much different then before. He was energetic and overly excited, unlike the calm chuckling man Ezra shook hands with. Ezra felt an icy blast shoot down his spine, an unlikely occurrence in the Florida heat.

“ Good evening ladies, gentlemen, and all configurations of being”, Ezra suddenly felt as though he might vomit.” In store for you tonight is danger, action, and thrills unseen by most! So sit back, relax, and enjoy!” Willow let out an eerie laugh as the audience applauded.

“ Now introducing, The very spirit of magick, the magician, you all know and love, Hallow!” the crown cheered as the purple jacketed man took Willow’s place in the spotlight.

“ Tonight, ladies and gentlemen, we shall give you an evening you will never forget. We will show you the darkest of humanity. The weirdest. The true freaks, if you will” Ezra found himself more invested than he had ever felt, merely by the man’s words.” But we will also show you the brightest of the bright. The true joy we crave day to day” as he said this, a single dove appeared on his hand, earning a gasp from the crowd.

“This creature, an innocent white rabbit, is everyone’s favorite magician’s trick” Ezra suddenly felt confusion wash over him once more, breaking him from his amazed trance. How could that be a rabbit? It was clearly a dove. He quickly jotted the occurrence down only to look up to see empty hands, yet the crowd seemed so invested as he spoke of the bunny. Ezra remained frozen in anticipation as Hallow told a story, seemingly providing much imagery Ezra could not see judging by the constant cheers of the crowd. As he carried on his cloth seemed to darken.

“ Now I must take my leave before our second act begins, but for now, enjoy the evening and remember, nothing is as it seems” Hallow then made a very dramatic gesture as he practically spun out of the spotlight. The audience stood in an ovation which Ezra partook in, fearing someone would be angered if he didn’t.

“ How did you find the first act, Mr. Evans?” Ezra jumped at the sound of Night’s voice behind him. This time Night seemed much less casual. Dark red lipstick and black heels accompanied his look as well as a single feather ear ring on his right ear.

“ It was... interesting” Ezra mumbled nervously as the younger man sat on the arm of his chair.

“ Interesting? Oh, senpai, you haven’t seen interesting yet” Night giggled to himself.

“ What does that mean? That name?” Ezra asked earning another giggle from the red head.

“ Oh dear, if I told you that, it would take the fun out of it. Now hush, the second act is about to start and I’ve heard the performer is quite enticing!” Night smirked.

“ Who is this performer?” Ezra asked, genuinely curious.

“ Me, of course” He laughed, standing from the arm of the chair. Ezra nodded as Night disappeared behind the curtain, beginning his decent downstairs. Almost as soon as he heard the curtain hit the ground, Willow was on stage once more.

“ Now that you have seen what most cannot, you have heard what most will never hear, it is time to experience fear and wonder more than you ever have before. Presenting, the tamer of danger, the hell raiser himself, Night!” As he spoke, the stage went completely black. A large red hue fell over the room, revealing a thin tight rope in the air. The ground below littered with swords. All of them seemed to be blade up except for two that remained handle up, in the center of the pile.

Night stepped onto the rope from the shadows, the crowd remaining in a scared silence. He moved gracefully across the tight rope, his white eyes seeming to glow in the dim red of the stage. Suddenly he stopped halfway and turned towards the audience to bow. People cheered and whistled in excitement. Suddenly he smiled at the audience before falling forward, off of the rope. A cry rang through the crowd as he fell towards the pile of blades. Even Ezra felt his heart speeding up. Suddenly Night put his hands in front of him, gripping on to the two handle up blades, in a hand stand. The crowded gawked at the save. No way he could fall that far and not shatter bones. Suddenly, another gasp came from the crowd as Night backflipped over the pile, keeping the two swords in his hands.

“ Fear is a fickle thing” Night began “ You were all in fear I would fall, then you were in fear that I would die. Now fear has left you. All in merely a minute. Now you’re left with a beating heart, maybe some relief, and curiosity. Well tonight we will be pushing that fear to the limit.” Night smirked, leaning his head back before beginning to push the sword down his throat. Ezra rolled his eyes, sword swallowing was a simple party trick. Anyone could do it. But what regained his fear was when Night bowed, sword still down his throat. Through his act Ezra noticed a pattern. He would begin to do something mundane, simply, then he would twist it or he would let it fail as if he never felt any pain from it.

“ Now ,ladies and gentlemen, as much as I hate to go, I must take my leave but remember, my darlings, nothing is as it seems” Night bid farewell, blowing kisses and winking as he walked off stage and the crowd went wild. Ezra barely had time to write two words before his notebook was snatched from his hand.

“What do we have here, Senpai?” Night laughed, “Madeness, Monochrome...Wilford War- how do you know that name, Senpai?”

Ezra could see the slight change in his face,” Everyone knows him”.

“ But how do you know him?” Night’s tone had changed. No longer light and curious, now it was condescending and slightly scared. How does one explain that? Such a tale as to how he knew Wilford Warfstache?

“He was a... a good friend...” Ezra felt his throat closing up. He couldn’t even attempt to explain. Night’s face was pale. Seemingly paler than when he first met him.

“Excuse me for a moment, Senpai” Night smiled, handing him his notebook.

Suddenly Willow appeared back on stage,” Now you’ve seen magic, you’ve seen danger, now you will see pure terror. This next act will leave everyone on the edge of their seat. Introducing, Barry Tremor!”

A man in a purple suit appeared on stage, full of smiles and waves,” Good evening everyone! My name is Barry Tremor and today we are going to be playing a bit of a game! Now for this game, I’m going to need a volunteer from the audience... how about you? On the balcony?” He smiled, looking towards Ezra. Ezra felt his mouth dry out before Night wrapped an arm around him, giving a nod to Barry before dragging Ezra down the stairs. He soon found himself on stage. He stood in the center on a small platform. Beside him, stood a table with 4 knives. on the end of the stage stood 4 wooden targets.

“ Now what might be your name?” The man asked, smiling at him in a way that left Ezra feeling odd.

“ Ezra, Ezra Evans” He tried to smile but he felt nothing but fear.

“ Well Mr. Evans as you can see you have 4 knives and 4 targets. In this game, you will throw a knife at each target. At the end of the game, if you did not hit a target, the knifes will fire back at you, do you understand? Great! Let’s begin!” The entire crowd cheered as the Barry stepped out of the spotlight.

Ezra’s hands shook as he grabbed the knife. Then he heard it, in the back of his head. The trick is to step as you throw light a softball. And how do you know that, Warfstache? We all had our own interests in college, Ez. He took a step back, pinching the bottom of the knife. He then stepped forward as he released the knife sending it flying into the middle of the target.

“Well, looks like we have us a natural, everybody!” Barry laughed as the audience cheered. He did this two more times. Cheers and quirky comments from Barry, until he missed. The knife grazed the target before landing next to it on the fake wall behind the row of targets. The audience fell silent as a smile grew on Barry’s face.

“It seems our Ninja in red has lost” Ezra had no time to think before the knives flew back his way, three missing him. One piercing his stomach .Pain rang through his body. The audience gasped before the platform opened and he fell down a long shoot. He heard a cheer from the audience as his memory begin to blur together.

“Trimmer! You weren’t supposed to pick him! That’s the one we need!”

“Is he okay? Let me see him! Do remember I’m the doctor here!”

“Get Schneep!”

“If he dies, you die, Trimmer!”

“Ezra!”

Flashes of monochrome, red, blue, and pink swirled together. Bright lights and pokes and prods. Loud beeps and shocks. Then the sweet peace of anesthetic. Sleep.

Taglist:

@scythlyven-art

@sam-moss

#welcome to the freak show #Yannie.Writes #yandereiplier #darkiplier #Wilford Warfstache #markiplier #team markiplier #markiplier egos #Bim Trimmer #Dr.Iplier #Host

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sun-flower-siren · 7 years ago

Text

His Closet

Hey so welcome to a Schneepford/Schneeplestache fic I have on my ao3 and wanted to post here. Weird pairing, I know. But it’s got my whole heart right now. Try not to judge me too harshly! Basically, though, I gotta do a bit of warning here as well as the tags so! TRIGGER WARNING: IMPLIED SUICIDE AND DEATH!!!! If you cannot handle these kinds of things, do not read on! If it’s cool with you, though, read on!

“Hey, Vill? How long do you zhink ve vill be like zhis?”

“Like what, Henrik?”

“This… close. Happy. How long do you zhink it vill last?”

“Forever.”

Wilford had no idea how wrong he would be back then. It had been years ago that he made that promise to Henrik and now… was it all really for nothing? All the fights, serious and playful, all those ‘tea parties’... and nothing he ever did was enough. Nothing he ever did… it never seemed to matter after that.

“Hello,Vilford.”

Wilford had been lying underneath the big oak tree outside of Headquarters, trying to relax. It worked, as usual. Until he heard the voice and felt something small fall softly onto his stomach. He sat up and saw Henrik von Schneeplestein… hanging….upside down…in a tree. As if that wasn’t enough of a shock, the septic wasn’t wearing his scrubs or lab coat, either. Once the initial two seconds of shock wore away, he looked down to see Henrik’s glasses in his lap. The pink-haired man chuckled now and set the glasses back on his friend’s face.

“What are you doing in that tree?”

“Having fun? I realized I haven’t in… a long, long time. Und I guess I just really vanted to? Vhat are you doing out here?”

The doctor pulled up and back down, flipping himself out of the tree to sit in front of Wilford. He grinned a bit sheepisly as he realized he’d gotten some bark and leaf bits in his hair and tried to brush them out and then off his clothes.

“I come out here to relax sometimes! I like the air and the sunlight, you know?”

The memory faded as Wilford looked between the old photos on the floor and all over the walls. It was the one place he could pretend that everything was okay. The one room in his life that still had any color to it. It was the one place that Wilford felt like maybe… maybe he was still here. He was just in his office, stitching up Anti again… waiting for Wilford to tell him to take a break.

Of course, Wilford knew that he wasn’t. Well, not his Henrik, anyway.

Henrik walked slowly through the corridor. Maybe he hadn’t really helped Anti a whole lot, but… at least he wasn’t having a panic attack anymore. He closed his door behind himself gently, approaching Wilford’s sleeping form. He couldn’t help but smile warmly at the sight, though as he looked his boyfriend over, he felt his cheeks start to heat. Wilford was wearing one of his shirts. He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Wilford in just a t-shirt, but… somehow, it suited him.

Henrik slipped into the bed beside Wilford, humming happily as the pink-haired man cuddled closer against him almost immediately. The doctor wrapped an arm around his middle, pulling him closer still. He could feel the iplier’s heartbeat thrumming in his own chest. Wilford had always had a stronger heartbeat, he’d supposed. It was comforting, honestly.

Henrik woke in his office with a start, looking all around the room. It was quiet. Probably the middle of the night, perhaps even early morning. Actually, definitely early morning. He could hear a slight commotion as he waved his arm up in the air to turn the motion lights back on, and regretting it immediately. Between the intensely bright lights and the stiffness from how awkwardly he had slept, Henrik was already in hell.

But that dream he’d just had… He couldn’t remember who it was in the dream with him… All he remembered was that he loved them very much. And that… he really missed them… His chest actually began to ache as he tried to pry the information out of his brain but there… there was just some sort of block there. He had dreams like this a lot… and whoever this person was. They obviously meant the world to him but… why couldn’t he remember?

But that’s when Jack stepped into the room, asking if Henrik had seen Marvin’s wand lying around anywhere. Henrik couldn’t help but chuckle; of course the magician had lost it. The poor kid would lose his head if it weren’t attached to him. Only seconds later, said magician crashed into Jack. After a moment or two contemplating where the wand could have gone, Henrik decided to accompany Jack to the kitchen to make breakfast… if only he’d known how drastically his life would change afterwards. He’d learn that Anti wasn’t a complete assbucket, as well as adopt half of his ego family.

He got another son out of it, at least… but… he’d also gotten… something else out of it… something… darker. Something… something he’d never wanted to even think about.

A monster.

That soft, doubtful voice in his head that had somehow come out. That had attacked people, living and dead. That voice in his head that never seemed to go away or just shut the fuck up. And it could come out without Henrik ever being able to stop it. He had no idea how in the hell to even try to stop it.

Wilford woke to Henrik sitting upright in bed, dripping in a cold sweat. He frowned, taking his boyfriend’s hand and pulling it against his own chest. “Henrik? What happened?” he asked, sitting up soon after. Henrik turned to look at him, eyes immediately flooding with relief. He smiled toward the bubblegum man and hugged him tightly.

“Nozhing zhat isn’t better now, sveetheart.” he hummed quietly as Wilford pulled him into an even closer embrace. Henrik nuzzled his nose into the crook of Wilf’s neck, letting his eyes slip shut once again. Wilford nudged him once, twice.

“Talk to me, babe,” Wilf spoke a bit more firmly now, though it was entirely from concern. Henrik finally budged and explained that he’d only had a nightmare. Wilford frowned slightly more at this, but allowed the doctor to curl more into him as they lay back down.

“Are you okay, gumdrop?”

“I am now, yes. More zhan okay, really. I have you, vhy vouldn’t I be?”

The pair spent a moment arguing over who was luckier before Henrik piped up with, “Of course it’s true! Vhy vould I lie to you?” Henrik had really thought nothing of it until he noticed the Iplier’s face begin to fall. He hadn’t meant to strike a nerve there..

“I… because everyone does, everyone always has… No one has ever said this stuff to me and meant it.”

Henrik felt his heart break for a moment. He felt physical pain at all the vunerability and pain he could hear in Wilford’s voice… and he couldn’t have that. Nope. Goddammit, he was a doctor and he was going to make this better.

Henrik rolls over on top of Wilford to hold him down, tickling ruthlessly at his sides and stomach. “Dammit, Vil! Give me zhat smile back!”

Wilford lets out a shaky sigh as he sits inside Henriks closet, eyes still glued on the pictures. It was okay, of course. Henrik would never notice him here—he never came into his room anymore. Most days Henrik slept in his office or on the couch with Marvin.

The bubblegum man sniffles sadly as he shuffles some polaroids around the carpeted floor, looking around at all the old photos of him and Henrik together. Some outside, some at a nearby park, a few just on the couch because Henrik just loved to take pictures… but… it didn’t matter anymore. And, as he played a simple gold ring in his fingers, he knew that was his fault.

It was tearing him apart. Wilford could see how the sickness was tearing his husband apart and god, he just wanted the pain to stop. He wanted Henrik to just be happy again but he didn’t know how to help. And now the man he’d loved… he was falling apart, always making himself sick, always so scared and paranoid and… He didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe.

He just wanted Henrik to be happy.

And that was what drew him to the Author, the man anyone could go to for a favor. The only catch? They also owed him one. To be fair, Wil had asked Host several times to help and he always said no. That he couldn’t help him because the consequence would be too great. So Wilf waited. And waited. And tried to help as much as he could… and then it happened.

“Hello Wilford. You needed me?”

Wilford jumped as felt the Author’s presence in his room. He sits up sleepily, rubbing at his eyes as he looks toward the voice. The Author smirks in the dark, speaking a nearby lamp into coming on.

Wilford looks toward the sleeping man beside him, smiling weakly at his husband. His face falls more serious, however, as he looks back to Author.

“I want a deal.”

Author scoffs, already turning toward the door.

“I’m not making deals today, Wilford. Go back to sleep.”

“Author please! I’ll do whatever you want, but please just help me. I need your help, just please…. please… I’ll do anything.”

Henrik stirs gently, rolling to face Wilford and curling up into him. It was obvious he was still out like a light, but… like this, it was easy to forget all the pain he’d been through. All the pain he’d brought on to everyone else… but this was for Henrik…

“I’m listening.”

“I want Henrik to stop hurting. I need you to take his schizophrenia away from him. Please, Author..”

Author smirks to himself, knowing fully that the only way to get rid of the doctor’s illness is to take away a large part of Henriks memories. He would have to take him back to before the pond. Before the day he snapped and walked straight in, even knowing he couldn’t swim. Of course, another traumatic experience would bring the darker part of him right back, but.. this would be far too… entertaining.

“I’ll help you. But you need to know that the only way to get rid of that is… you won’t like it.”

“I don’t care! I just want him to be happy again… please, Author!”

The Author takes a hard look down at the two, but his smirk remains, if only halfway plastered onto his face. He extends his hand to Wilford, who takes it eagerly.

“When the sun rises, Henrik will no longer be burdened with mental illness. The dark in Henrik will disappear, as well as every memory since the day he drowned. And Wilford now owes Author… nothing. This is entertainment enough.”

Wilford chokes as he lets Authors hand slip out of his own. His… memories? Gone? Henrik wouldn’t remember him after morning… well, he would but… not their relationship. Their love, their fights, their marriage… all gone.. but.. it was for Henrik! And who said Henrik wouldn’t love him again? He could try again! He was sure it could happen. Henrik would love him again. He had promised he always would… right?

Right?

Wilford wipes his eyes numbly as he remains in Henrik’s closet. It was all his fault. Henrik never came back to him… not the way he had.. he pulled the chain from around his neck, staring now at the two rings that hung loosely on it. And hey, even better, the joke of the fucking year: the voice was back… Henrik’s darkness was back and the doctor still didn’t remember him… He just had to come to terms—he’d done this to himself.

His Henrik was gone forever.

Henrik sat numbly at his desk. He knew what had to happen: he’d been fighting it all day because no matter what they may have said, they needed him. His sons needed him. But… he couldn’t fix himself. That damn flower had merely destroyed him, was still festering in his chest.

He was dying.

He finally managed to make himself send the text to both his remaining sons, now simply waiting. There was no backing out now.

Wilford was the first to arrive here, sliding onto the once clean desk.

“Hey, dad. What’s up?”

Henrik just smiled, waiting as he heard the static around Antis arrival. The demon glitches into the room, snacking on a bag of marshmallows. The doctor had to remind himself that Anti was grown and that he didn’t need to be scolded by his adopted father before…. before Henrik asked them what he needed to ask them.

Anti gave a usual, sarcastic greeting but seemed to notice that Henrik was looking more… well, dead to be honest.

Henrik smiles warmly between the two of them, offering that he needed to tell them both something. And while he wanted to badly to explain that he should have stayed dead the first time, he just… couldn’t. How could this man tell the two he was so desperately close to that they had fucked up by bringing him back to life? So, he forced himself into asking the two of them for a favor.

Both his sons at this point are starting to feel that something is off. Wilford, especially.

Wilford knew right away something was wrong. He knew Henrik didn’t feel well. He knew that his doctor’s body was tearing itself apart because someone hadn’t taken into account that a dead body would continue to decay. And now, he knew that Henrik was dying.

Of course he knew. And while he had platonically “adopted” Wilford, Wilf still knew who he really was. Wil knew that Henrik still loved him like before… but perhaps that he wasn’t sure where to place it. And god that broke Wils heart. He just wanted his husband back. It had been fucking years. Years.

But now… now he realized it would never happen. He knew it wouldn’t happen this time and that fucking… he just kept his mouth shut for the time being.

But when Henrik asked him and Anti to kill him… he lost it. All that composure, all that strength he’d had before Henrik had given him the lab coat he always wore. Literally always. And he’d given it to Wil, told him to keep it warm for him… and all the calm exterior he’d had crumbled.

Wilford jumped at Henrik, unable to contain himself as he wrapped his arms around the other man. God, even his heartbeat felt different now.

Of course Wil knew how bad he was. He already knew the Doctor was dying. Who do you think it was that checked up on him all the time? Who laid blankets over him when he fell asleep in his office, which, by the way, was every night. At least, when he slept at all. Some mornings, Henrik even woke up with breakfast already there.

Always Wilford. Because he knew he would never have his husband back the way he used to, but still felt that need to take care of him. Those vows weighed heavy on him, to the point where Wilford was sure that his promise was making his and Henrik’s wedding bands lay heavier against his skin. For better or for worse, right?

Henrik hissed in response. Wild knew he had to be in excruciating pain, but he needed to hug him if this was… if this was the end. Thankfully, Henrik wrapped his arms tightly around him, too. Even if they both knew it was hurting him like a bitch.

“Please…” Wil begged as Henrik pulled back from him. He felt the tears hot in his eyes as they ran down his cheeks, too. “Please, you can’t do this. Please…”

Henrik cupped his cheek and smiled bittersweetly. “Just… make it qvick, yeah?”

“Henrik… I’m..”

Anti hesitates for a moment before glitching begins the doctor. He’d asked, right? He asked them to kill him. Some shit, a father asking his sons to murder him, he supposed… but… there was something else here. Something else between Henrik and Wilford. And…

Oh god.

He remembered them.

He remembered everything. Anti remembered the old house. He remembered the two of them through fucking everything. Always being gay as fuck together.

…

Anti remembered being Henriks fucking best man at their wedding.

Anti choked on the memories flooding back into him as he glitched his knife against Henriks throat, pausing just another moment before digging it into the skin and slashing his throat.

All those memories. All the good times, every breathing moment of those two incredibly gay assnuggets’ marriage. He remembered it all, right then.

What had happened?

“I’m sorry.”

Henrik smiled again as he felt the blade against his skin, offering an apologetic look to Wilford as he spoke again.

“No, no.. it’s.. it’s better zhis vay. Zhank you, Anti.”

This was it. This was the end; he would die soon. But not soon enough. Fuck, he couldn’t even feel the knife at his neck around the searing pain covering his entire chest.

He looks again to the pink haired man, not noticing how the candyman reached for the chain under his button up. “Wil.. Wilford, please kill me.”

He knew what would happen. It was Wils one weakness. He literally couldn’t say no if he was asked to kill. There was something there, some part of his brain that just wouldn’t let him refuse that specific request. And Henrik watched as the barrel of Wilfs favorite gun was now pointed to his head.

Tears slipped from both of their eyes as they stared at each other, blood still pouring from the Doctors neck.

“I’m sorry..” Wilford muttered quietly, looking into his once-husbands eyes for the last time before squeezing his eyes shut and pulling the trigger.

Henrik didn’t even register the shot. But as Wilford grew more distant, though still the last thing in his sight before his eyes slipped shut, he could feel his head getting warmer. And he.. oh.

Memories spilled back into Henriks head uncontrollably. Wilford.

All of Wilford.

The first time they met, their old house, their first kiss, how Wilford always stole his shirts, and how a few times he stole Wilfords.

Wil would always tell him he looked good in pink, so he wore it for their day. Their wedding day. He remembered the small gold ring he’d proposed with. The one he now knew Wilford was wearing under his shirt because he could remember seeing the outline of it underneath.

But it was over too soon.

Henrik hit the floor with a quiet thud and Wilford abandoned the room as quickly as he could, one hand curling Henriks lab coat around him, the smoking pistol still firm in his other hand.

Wilford had murdered his own husband.

Wilford couldn’t hold back the tears anymore as he sat in Henriks closet, still clutching the lab coat tightly against his chest. Always clutching the lab coat.

Wil just wanted to see him again. Kept calling his phone just to hear him fumbling over the voicemail box. ‘You ah… I.. zhis is Henrik von Schneeplestein. Leave a message. Or don’t. Vhatever.’ And then Wils voice behind him, and a few rushing cars. ‘There, that’s good, gumd—.’ It cut off, as time was too short.

Henrik had never changed it… they’d made that together just after their wedding, on their way to the airport. Henrik was never much good with the everyday technology. Amazing with robotics, but could never deal with a phone or a normal desktop computer.

||TRIGGER WARNING: SUICIDE||

He couldn’t do this anymore, he thought. He looked up toward the rafter in the top of this closet, the same noose as always hanging there. He was happy that Henrik had never used it, though he knew the doctor had thought about it several times.

And as Wilford continued to stare at the noose, he found it all the more.. inviting. Maybe he’d end up wherever Henrik was.

He… the realization reached him. And he knew it was a bad idea, because Henrik wouldn’t have wanted this… Host would be upset and he knew that well, but… Well, if Host really wanted to, he could stop this.

Wilford stood gently, hand gripping the loop of rope before his eyes. Henrik had kept it here around the end… just for bad days, really.

He could be with Henrik.

All reason left him now. Because he could be with Henrik again. He needed to be with Henrik again.

He needed Henrik.

He could do this when he knew Henrik was there. Even if the doctor was never quite the same, he was still there. It was still Henrik.

Wilford pulled the necklace out of his shirt and off his neck, staring at the chain pooled in his palm. He shifted his hand, and there they were. Both their wedding bands laid against each other in his hand, and Wilford only now felt the tears returning against his cheeks. His chest hurt from crying so much.

Everything hurt from crying so much.

And that’s how it would end.

Here.

In Henriks closet.

With nothing left to lose.

I know this is a weird ship--trust me I know. But I love them and if ya’ll want there may be a part two? Let me know what you think, though!

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iamvegorott · 7 years ago

Text

Not My Memories

A random story idea that popped into my head while writing a Danti angst the other day.

Summary: William's laugh is contagious. His eyes are bright and filled with life. The only problem with these thoughts is that Wilford is not William and Dark is not Damien.

Not My Memories

William always had to most contagious laugh. One chuckle and the rest of the room would laugh with him. His smile is always big, showing his teeth without a second thought and almost impossible to not smile with him. William is always making jokes. He loves to make others feel better and would go out of his way to make sure that everyone was happy. He is a caring person. He is kind.

His voice is deep and soothing. His words are soft and kind. He is never afraid of physical contact and is just, in general, a great guy.

He is also very creative and wiser than what he believes. He is always coming up with unique ideas to solve problems. He is also skilling in many traits. He is the only one that could use any gun that you handed him. One little look over and William would know exactly what to do. There is a running joke that since William knew how to handle a gun so well, he most likely knew how to handle other things just as good.

William has a habit of forgetting that he is attractive. He is a well-built man with a sharp sculpted face. His eyes are a dark chocolate that could melt anyone if he wanted. His lips are full and even with the thick mustache above it, there is no denying that he is definitely a great kisser.

The rest of his body is also a sight to behold. His chest is firm, stomach flat with little bumps of his abdominals, legs that would make a professional cry with jealousy and his rear is something that couldn’t be described.

William…

“Hey, hello.”

William…

“Earth to Darky!”

Dark snapped out of his thoughts and found that he was sitting at the Iplier meeting table. The egos were all looking at him, some with concern and others with curiosity.

“You were out of it!” Wilford laughed, lightly slapping the table.

“Apologies.” Dark murmured, sniffing as he adjusted himself to be sitting upright after realizing that he had been slouching.

“What were you thinking about?” Wilford asked, leaning his hand against a fist with the elbow resting on the table.

“Nothing,” Dark answered with a straight face while his brain screamed at him. “I say that we should conclude the meeting for the day.”

“Time to party!” Bing yelled and stood, but Google’s hand on his arm yanked him back down.

“We haven’t finished discussing everything,” Google stated.

“We’ll take care of that tomorrow. I’m calling this meeting over.” Dark said and stood.

“What’s eating at ya? You never end a meeting early.” Wilford asked.

“Nothing, just enjoy the extra free time.” Dark avoided looking at the other man.

“Come on, chum. You can tell me.” Wilford stood as well.

“No. I can’t.” Dark sighed.

“Bully! You can tell me anything!” Wilford huffed.

“Not now, William!” Dark stiffened when that name came out of his mouth.

“William?” Wilford scrunched his eyebrows in confusion while the other Ipliers quickly scrambled out of the room.

“It was just tongue slip.” Dark stared at the wooden table. “It was nothing.”

“You’re acting like it’s a lot more than just a tongue slip.” Wilford cocked his head.

“It’s nothing!” Dark snapped and started to leave.

What were those thoughts? Those could not have been his. He did not think of Wilford like that. Wilford is not William.

“Dark!” Wilford suddenly appeared in front of Dark. “Don’t you run away from me, young man,” Wilford added in a teasing tone, using the smile that could melt ice. Dark said nothing and tried to push past the pink madman “Is what you were thinking about really messing with you this badly?”

“They weren’t my thoughts,” Dark said. “They couldn’t be.” He added in a soft voice Wilford couldn’t hear.

“Then whose?”

“Damien.” Dark and Wilford were both silent for what felt like ages. Wilford put his hands on Dark’s shoulders and rubbed them.

“Why does that name sound so familiar?” Wilford asked. “Why does it cause a weird feeling in my gut?” Dark took a step back, Wilford’s hands slipped off of him.

“It’s nothing. Just forget about it and move on.” Dark spoke in a steady voice.

“I can’t. Something about this feeling reminds me of something or someone.” Wilford started to move towards Dark and the demon moved back. “Of you.” The back of Dark’s knees met his chair and he fell back into it. “It’s…” Wilford trapped Dark in his seat by putting his hands on the armrests. “Sweet?”

“Wil…”

“What were you thinking about? What was Damien thinking about?”

“No-”

“If you say nothing, I will thump you,” Wilford warned, a small smile on his lips.

His lips.

“Memories of you,” Dark said before he could stop himself.

“What about me?” Wilford asked.

“About how your laugh is contagious. How your eyes are filled with life and joy.” Dark couldn’t stop. He wouldn’t shut up. “How your lips…” Dark found himself staring at what he was speaking about. What was happening to him? What was making him suddenly spill his guts out?

“How they?” Wilford tried to pry for more, but Dark was gone. Wilford smirked before taking his hands off of the armrests and put them to Dark’s face, leaning forward to press his lips against the demon’s. Dark blinked a few times after they parted, a cloud still fogging up his mind.

“Did you hypnotize me?” Dark asked as Wilford crawled into his lap.

“I could never do that to my little demon.” Wilford chuckled. “Literally, I can’t. I’ve tried before and it just gave you a headache.”

“Then what’s this feeling in my chest and head?” Dark let out a soft breath as Wilford rubbed his hands against his chest.

“I think you just like me, Dark-lord.” Wiford winked and it made Dark chuckle lightly at the nickname.

“I don’t have those kinds of emotions.” Dark weakly protested. Wilford’s hands were now massaging his neck. His thumbs were moving his circles right under his ears.

“Then stop me,” Wilford whispered before giving Dark another kiss. Dark didn’t fight back. He didn’t want to fight back. “Those memories sound plain and boring,” Wilford said, moving his hands so he could place Dark’s on his hips. “Let’s make new ones. More exciting ones.” Wilford had a hint of mischief in his eyes.

Wilford was right. Wilford was not William and Dark was not Damien. Those memories mean nothing. They are part of a past that no longer exists. They weren’t even his memories, they were someone else’s

“Then let’s get started, shall we?” Dark chuckled.

“I like the way you think, Darky-boy.” Wilford grabbed Dark by the tie and pulled him up so their lips could meet again.

“I think I left my-holy shit! Google! You owe me ten bucks!” Bing yelled as he ran in and out of the meeting room.

“I’m going to kill him,” Dark growled.

“Later, we have a meeting to finish up,” Wilford said as he started to remove Dark’s tie. “And I don’t plan on letting you end it early this time.”

“Should I cancel my next appointment, then?”

“Cancel all of them.”

#darkiplier #wilford warfstache #darkstache

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logan-are-you-okay · 7 years ago

Text

The first-

It’s been two months since Chase moved in with his kids to Bing’s house. It’s been very peaceful, the kids going to school! Going to work and meeting with all the other egos was fucking sick! Also being with Bing everyday was... so... ANYWAYS right now Chase was talking to Wilford about the next episode of ‘Bro Average’ one episode every week!

“Nononono no! I am not doing that.” Chase says while crossing his arms. Why the FUCK would he want to do that!

“It creates drama and action! Tons of people would jump to there seats to watch it!” Wilford says while moving his hands while he talked.

“I COULD DIE! I have kids to worry about, man!”

“You’ll Be Fine in a couple hours if you did!”

“You have NOOOOO clue how dying works, do ya?” Chase just rolls his eyes and walks out of the ‘Ideas’ room. Walking down the hallways, it’s not hard to smile and the crazy atmosphere. The energy of Jim, Jim, and Jim running around with that insanely large video camera. Bim trimmer practicing catchphrase for ‘Hire My Ass’! Then many more! Chase’s smile gets even larger as he starts thinking about the next shoot that they’ll do in the morning! He loved making an impression of people, and being able to see the responses! Were he used to live, he couldn’t see all the positive impacts. They only broadcasted the show in America, and now that he was here people where coming all over the place to ask for autographs and advice!

Chase Quickly looks down at his watch that he had on his wrist that his daughter made for him. It was brown leather, but inside of the glass was a drawing of him and her. He quickly smiles before looking at the time. 6:45. Alright, since it was the winter it’s going to be dark outside. Thankfully he didn’t have to pick up his kids from school! Bing had one of his workers pick them up today, because the shoot was going to take longer today. Usually Chase would pick them up, but Bing was so sweet! Hiring someone just for his children’s was so kind, thoughtful, sexy, hot... wait what? Nope! You can’t think like that anymore Chase! Love from afar! If you think like that, one day it’s all going to go south and you’ll just slip up!

He walks over into the dress room to fetch his coat so he can start his walk home. He still didn’t have the expenses for buying a car, so he needed to walk home this night. He could always ask for a ride home with Bing, but with it being as late as it was Bing might’ve wanted a drink. But, he can’t have a hangover. He needed to be a good example for his kids.

Once he walks into the room, he goes over to the rack of different outfits and looks for his coat. It should be in here somewhere... AHAH! There it is, sneaky little coat! Chase throws the coat over his arm and starts to walk out of the room. However, he stops as his eye caught a glance in the changing room mirror of something that looked... red? What the hell was that? Chase then walks up to the glass and looks at himself. The red was... from one of his scars? Oh no.. that can’t possibly be good. Quickly Chase moves the top of his shirt to the side to try and see it better. It really didn’t help, fuck it. Quickly Chase takes his shirt off and tosses it in some random direction, not caring where it landed. He probably shouldn’t have done that... his whole expression changed upon looking at past scars and deep bruises that have yet to heal. He slowly touches one on top of his chest. A memory quickly flashes in front of his eyes as he quickly moves his hand away. No.. more... Stacy, she-she can’t hurt him here. No need to think on what’s in the past... no fucking need!

“Yo, Chase! Ya, in here?” The door slowly starts to open as Chase’s eyes dart around the room. Fuck where did he throw his shirt!? Whoever it was Can’t see his scars, or they’ll ask questions! They would kick him off the show, or they would tell the cops! Or much much much worse things!

“Oh there you are!” Chase grabs ahold of his jacket and holds it in front of him trying his best to cover himself up. Once he sees who it is his heart practically starts running a marathon. Why does Bing always appear at his most desperate hours unannounced!?

“Bing! Don’t you know that you’re not suppose to walk in on someone?” He says while taking a step back. He really didn’t want Bing to see any of his scars. If he saw, he’d ask questions and Chase didn’t think he could handle that. Bing then closes the door behind him and walks towards Chase.

“I think you’d be use to that by now. We live in the same house for Christ sake.” He then stops a couple feet away from Chase. However, Chase’s heart starts to pump faster. He was literally SHIRTLESS in front of Bing! Don’t freak out! Don’t say anything that’ll make him hate you! Don’t make anything sound like you are crazy!

“W-Well yeah, but it’s not l..like I’d get use to it!” God damnit! He said that way higher pitch then what he planned! WAY FUCKING HIGHER!

“You Alright there, Bro? Ya seem kinda nervous.” Bing says while taking a step closer to Chase, which Chase immediately ceases interaction and takes a step back. Which makes him flinch, was he really that close to the wall!? The coldness hit him really quick as his body freezes up on contact.

“Y-yeah... I’m cool, as c-cool as a cucumber!” Come on Chase snap out of it! He’s just worried about you is all! That’s why he was walking closer! Totally not something to freak out about! H-He’s just being nice! However Bing walks even closer and is now only a foot away, by this point Chase’s heart was going a thousand miles a second! Any faster he swear he might have a heart attack!

“Well dude, you’re face is completely red. Do I need to get ya ice or something?” Was he fucking blushing!? How did he not notice!? Oh shit! Oh fucking god! And they live in the same place! If he doesn’t answer now, they are going to have to discuss this in some point in time!

”W-Well I j...just! Imeanyaknow? Like how w-would... umm...” He couldn’t even manage a sentence! Basically just random sound and words thrown together. Chase then squeals as Bing Quickly places his hands on the wall right next to Chase’s Head. Chase’s eyes grow wide with terror and absolute confusion! Bing was so close that he could feel Bing’s warm breath on his neck.

“B-bing! W...what are y-you doing!?” He asks way faster then he should, and his face only gets hotter. Which may or may not make Bing chuckle, which also may or may not have made Chase shrink closer to the wall. Slowly bing removed one hand from the wall, snakes it down the side of Chase’s neck and puts it on Chase’s chin. Chase lets out a struggle sigh from the action as he looks through Bing’s sun glasses. Even from here Chase couldn’t tell if it was lust or ambition.

“I’m going to make your blushing go away.” Chase Was absolutely petrified in fear and anxiety, what the fuck is he going to do!? And WHY was he this close to him!?

“HMM!” He squeaks as he’s met with two pair of lips against his own. No...nonono this wasn’t happening! It’s just a dream, his crush wasn’t actually kissing him right now! With his shirt off! And at MARKIPLIER TV STUDIOS! Slowly his eyes fall lidded as he completely melts into the kiss. Oh god... this was the best fucking dream there ever could be. Chase starts to feel Bing’s hands go down to his waist as he slowly pulls away from the kiss to which Chase slowly opens his eyes.

“Look, the blushing went away. But there’s still more left. May I make sure it goes?” Bing asks with a groggy voice. Chase slowly nods his head as Bing moves his hands. However, he randomly stops right when Chase lets in a harsh breath through his teeth. Oh shit... Bing touched one of Chase’s scar. Oh nononono now he’s going to ask! Bing then moves Chase’s coat away from the front oh him and gasps.

“Where did all these scars come from?” Nononono! Chase Pushes Bing away from him, throws on his Jacket, runs out of the dressing room and outside into the night running down the street crying. He’s so stupid! He should’ve just ended it as soon as Bing got close to him! He knows about the mother fucking scars! How can he ever face him again!? He such an idiot! He got to selfish for drinking in the sudden attention and didn’t stop when he should’ve! Chase then stops to a halt letting the tears run down his face while zipping up his coat. The best fucking thing in his life had to get ruined by his stupidity of not standing up to his ex... god why was he so selfish? What are his kids going to ask when he comes home crying? He slowly starts walking back home as he wipes away his tears. God he’s so stupid... maybe this was actually a dream? And in two minutes he’ll just wake up and everything would be fine...

Suddenly someone places a hand over his mouth and lets out a muffled scream. Not even a second later another scream as he falls to the ground with an absolute pain in his chest. With shaking hands he reaches down, then pulls his hand back up. Blood...

( @alaughingfreak you liked my last one so... here ya go)

#chase brody #bingiplier #wilford warfstache #bim trimmer #ships #jim #septicart #it counts fanficton is still a form of art

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din-skywalker · 7 years ago

Text

Memories

(Eeeyyyy this is pure angst like @alliedoesstuff @cheers-love-tracer-is-bae and @i-am-a-fan was wanting! I hope y'all enjoy and cry over this because while I enjoyed writing it, it was kind of hard to capture their emotions fully. Tell me if I did well and if this is what y'all were wanting):

He can already feel them resurfacing, the emotions that he's tried so hard to ignore, to bury. He can feel them rising, climbing into his throats and making it hard for him to breathe or think. The fact that the Colonel- no… why does he still make that mistake?- Wilford is currently speaking, rambling about one of his other crazy, ridiculous ideas, further showing that he is completely gone.

That they lost him forever.

He clears his throat, gaining the eyes of all currently in the room. Colone- Wilford pauses, cutting himself off abruptly to stare curiously at him. He knows that Colon- Wilford has not trusted him to the furthest extent, that he doesn't all remember what happened… that night. He can just tell that Wilford doesn't know what to fully think of him, glaring or giving him longing side glances.

It hurts him to remember how the four of them used to be.

He pushes those thoughts aside for now, pulling at the sides of his suit to straighten it out. He can already feel his shell cracking, hear how it creaks. He won't be able to stand or sit much longer. He needs to get out of here.

“As much as I love to listen to you speak, Will,” he began, placing a placating hand on the table before him. He knows how the eccentric man can get sometimes. He needs a calming hand, a soothing voice. So of course he keeps his voice low, trying to help keep Wilford as calm as possible as he informs everyone he needs to leave.

Wilford has always seemed to be most clingy to him. No one else understands why. No one else knows of their past. Their bloody and heart tearing pst that he hates to remember.

He can normally forget everything, only remembering information that is sometimes important in the moment. But sometimes, like now, the memories are crowding his mind. His vessel and shell are weakening, making it harder for him to do this. He clenches the hand still hanging beneath the table, grinding his teeth together. He swallows heavily to keep down a sob from Damien and his shell shaking worsens. It's on the verge of cracking.

“I must excuse myself,” he informed, nodding his head respectfully. But he can already see the panic, the desperation growing in Wilford’s eyes and his heart cracks. Damien is crying harder, finding it hard to handle this spur of emotion. Selene is seething, pacing. His eye twitches. “But do not worry, Will. We can speak again at a later time.”

That seems to please Wilford because he gives a thumbs up and nods, looking to the Host to speak to next.

He takes his leave quickly, stumbling into his room and barely closing the door before he crashes to his knees.

He claws at his face, both Damien and Selene screaming in frustration and pain now. His vessel, his shell, is cracking, shaking, and he too is trembling. He lets out the scream that had been building up and the world around him turns to static before fully blackening.

“It was all my fault!” He screamed, hands moving down to his neck, clawing and squeezing and trying to remove the pressure from his brain and chest. Damien and Selene had appeared before him, their blue and red colors glowing brightly in the dark void. The two had switched roles; Damien is growling, hands clenching and his hair very much disorderly, messed up and sticking up terribly. Selene is sobbing quietly, once more softly calling out to Mark like she had done so before.

“Of course it wasn't our fault!” Damien yelled, his voice amplifying as he seethes in his anger, his fiery emotion hitting Dark in a wave. He can feel his vessel aching, burning and he bows his head, letting out a sob of his own. “It was Mark’s! He planned everything, fooled us all and stole my body!”

“But it wasn't Mark!” Selene cried. They normally agree, go with one another’s words, keep Dark balanced. But on rare days such as this one they argue, yell and scream at one another and throw him into chaos. Dark curls further inwards, the clouds of burning hatred and freezing pain makes his vessel grow weaker. The poor human’s body is hardly strong enough to hold all of them still. It grows weaker every day and he fears if they continue to argue and fight such as this then it will break, wilt away and become nothing.

That he will become nothing.

“Mark was the one that was killed!” Selene continued, turning to face Damien with all of her might, all of the fury she currently holds towards him. Dark looks up to her, his vision fuzzy. “He couldn't have done what you accuse him of!”

Damien turns to face her in return, a dark look of anger and hatred mixing in his shaded eyes. He's not mad at Selene, though. No no, he would never be angry with Selene.

He's pissed at Mark.

“You yourself that anything involving the dead could happen!” Damien yells, taking a warning step towards her. She takes a step back and Damien realizes that she is afraid of him. He clears his throat and steps back, smoothing out the front of his shirt and brushing his hair back down. He speaks much more smoothly now, meeting her eyes with a calmer expression. A wave of relief hits Dark and he sighs in relief. “You know it was his fault, Selene.”

Selene looks down at what would be the ground if they were not in the void, sighing heavily. She looks over to Dark and Damien’s gaze follows, landing at the manifestation that they had created together. He looks up in return, shell and vessel finding great relief as they once more agree. He relaxes in the slightest, wetting his lips precariously.

“How is our friend-” Damien cuts off and his eyes dart away. Just like Dark had been slipping up with Wilford’s new name, Damien must be forgetting the state of who he currently speaks of. A look of guilt flashes across both Damien’s and Selene’s faces. Both still feel terrible what they did to their old friend years ago… “How is the vessel?”

Dark clears his throat and swallows bile which had been rising while they had been fighting and slowly pushes to his feet, knees nearly giving out beneath him. He looks from Selene to Damien and then looks to the floor. “I had been meaning to speak of this… problem-” Damien coughs and Selene glares- “for sometime now. The vessel is growing weak. It will break beneath the amounts of stress you are exerting if you do not cease your fruitless bickering.”

Damien’s eye twitches and he steps forward, grabbing the collar of Dark’s suit. Dark chokes for a moment before drawing in a deep breath.

Selene and Damien have never seemed to enjoy him despite the fact that he is them.

“What do you mean?” Damien demands and his eyes looks Dark’s body up and down, a layer of concern shaded over by his anger and annoyance. “Why did you not warn us of this problem before?”

“Because, I did not have the time. Wilford-”

“The Colonel,” Selene hisses in the background.

“He does not go by-”

“I don't care what the fuck he calls himself now!” Selene yells, suddenly losing her temper as well now. Dark’s eyes widen and he gasps, their anger tearing at his chest. “He will always be the Colonel! That's who he is and always will be!”

Damien slowly releases Dark, taking a step back towards her. “I cannot believe this,” he said and his voice is soft once more, more lost and confused. Selene looks over at him in concern, hearing his chance in voice immediately. “I knew that becoming or vessel would have repercussions on them… but Selene…” he looks to her, gets in his eyes, “we’re killing them.”

Selene gasps and her hands fly to her mouth as it drops open. Dark watches as they both try to handle their own grief. “But we were supposed to save them by helping them,” Selene pointed out and Dark can hear the tightness in her voice. Tears are gathering in his own eyes and his vessel aches so terribly. “We were supposed to help them stay alive- not only kill them more slowly and painfully!”

“Maybe…” Damien begins. “Maybe we should-”

But then a hand is rested on Dark’s shoulder. He jolts, void snapping and disappearing from around him and he glances over his shoulder, finds the Host to be knelt behind him, lips drawn down into a frown. “You were slipping again…” the short informed softly and Dark’s eye twitches. How dare he enter his room without his permission! And then he assumes what is happening?! Sure the Host has a good understanding of what happened, but he doesn't know fully. “You knows it's not-”

Dark turns and slaps the Host’s hand away, leaping to his feet all in one smooth movement. The Host doesn't move, only angles his chin upwards. “How dare you presume!” Dark tells and he knows that he's letting his anger and other negative emotions out on the Host. But he was the first person here and Dark needs to let off some steam. “You have no idea what you speak of!” He can hear both Damien and Selene screaming, his vessel and shell having a hard time containing them once more with another bout of anger. At least they all agree on this in one shape or another. He wipes at his leaking eyes. “Leave me,” he orders despite losing volume and strength in his voice, slowly bending back to his knees. “Just leave. I need to be alone.”

The Host hesitates for a moment but thankfully leaves. Dark is just glad it hadn't been Wilford to stumble into his room, searching for him-

The Host shuts the door and before anyone else could enter, Dark bends over, forehead pressing against the floor as he weaves his fingers tightly into his hair, finally letting out the sob he'd been holding onto.

He doesn't know how long he cries after that.

#mine #long post #writing #fanfic #fanfiction #markiplier #who killed markiplier #markipliertag2 #wilford warfstache #the host #darkiplier #damien iplier #mayor damien #Selene seer #the seer

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falseroar · 6 years ago

Text

Broken Memories Part 6: Nightmare

((Here’s a link to the last part, Part 5: Just Dessert.

Warning: While not going into detail, this part does mention a physical attack with a sharp object.))

It was dark by the time the car pulled into the driveway at the ego house. From out here it looked like every light in the house was on, and you could see shapes moving in some of the upper windows. Amy turned around in her seat while Mark put the car in park and said, “Sorry we didn’t get to spend more time together. We’ll have to make it up to you this weekend, right, Mark?”

“What?” Mark blinked blankly at Amy and even in the dark of the car you could see the look she shot him when realization dawned. “Oh, right, that—I mean, if we have time and all. Really busy, you know.”

“I’ll…try not to make any plans?” you said, wondering what they had planned but knowing Mark wouldn’t spill anything, at least not while Amy was there to keep him in check.

You were halfway out of the car when Mark added, “Call Amy or me if you need anything!”

“Will do.” You shut the door behind you, wincing a little when you remembered Chase’s dad comment earlier.

Mark and Amy waited until you reached the door and waved back at them before they started backing out of the driveway. You turned back to the door just as it shot open and a hand reached out to grab you by the shoulder and usher you into the light while a voice boomed in your ear.

“Y/N! It’s about time you showed up!”

“About time? I told you I’d be staying at Mark’s for a couple of days,” you said, like you didn’t have some version of this conversation practically every time Mark dropped you off here. “But good to see you too, Wilford.”

Wilford Warfstache grinned and spun you around to walk you down the hall, humming as he went.

You tried to keep pace with the man and asked, “How have things been going here?”

“Good! Great! Don’t go into the kitchen for a couple of hours.”

“What happened in the—”

“No time for that, we have so much to catch up on!”

“I just left yesterday,” you pointed out, but Wilford paid no mind to that as he led you into the living room and plopped you down on a couch, handing you a glass out of nowhere. You looked around and waved at Marvin, who was curled up on the other end of the couch with a book, and the Jims, who were reviewing some footage on a computer in the corner.

“And nothing happened at all?” Wilford asked, a knowing look in his brown eyes. Just before you could admit to anything, he carried on, “Well, I had a fantastic night. Drink up, drink up!”

You looked at the contents of your glass and barely had to sniff to recognize the smell. “Wilford, you do know this is pickle juice, right?”

“Well, I made a whole pitcher of margaritas last night, but someone went and drank it all!”

Marvin looked up from his book and you could see his brow furrow behind his cat mask. “You mean you.”

Wilford smiled to himself and stroked his pink mustache. “Yeah, it was a good night.”

“Debatable,” Marvin muttered.

“Aw, don’t be a grumpy pussy,” Wilford said, throwing his arms out over the back of the couch so that they were behind both you and Marvin. “Y/N, I talked this guy into being on my show! Mr. Marvin the Magnificent!”

“You’re…not going to give him an interview, are you?” you asked.

“Well, yeah, of course! Why wouldn’t I?”

You pulled Wilford closer and whispered so that Marvin wouldn’t hear, “Wil, if you do this, no guns, and absolutely no knives. You understand, right?”

“I hear the words coming out of your mouth, and they are definitely words. Hey, Marvin, show Y/N that card trick!”

Marvin tilted his head. “You and Bim keep asking me to do that. You both know I can do real magic, right?”

“But the cards! How do you know?”

As much as Marvin complained, he grinned to himself every time Wilford oohed and aahed over his simple card tricks or the bit with the rings. While this was going on, other egos walked in and out of the room, with some like Yandereplier and the King of the Squirrels stopping to watch Marvin and chat for a bit, giving him an audience even after Wilford’s attention strayed. Wilford wandered from one side of the room to the other, absentmindedly sipping at the glass he had swiped from you at some point, but you did not trust the look in his eyes at all. The last time he had that look, you both wound up with a lifetime ban from the local zoo.

Wilford hadn’t started anything yet and you were laughing as Jameson mimed a face behind the fuming magician, who had just guessed the wrong suit, when you heard the distinctive tone of Google’s voice out in the hall. It was not a happy sound.

“Uh, you know, I think I’m going to head to my room,” you said as you quickly stood up.

“What? Already?” Wilford asked. He lowered his voice and added, “If you’re thinking this party could use some livening up, I’ve got just the idea.”

“It’s been a long day for me Wilford, and I haven’t even dropped my bag off,” you said, speeding up as you heard the androids’ voices getting closer. “I should really get some sleep, night!”

You made it out of the other door just before Google entered the room, and you didn’t think he saw you. True, trying to avoid any of the egos for very long never seemed to work, but you really didn’t have the energy to deal with Google or think about the van right now.

Upstairs, you passed Bim Trimmer and Ed Edgar having some kind of argument involving a hair comb and skirted around the improvised target set up in the middle of the hall that Chase and Bing were shooting darts at, finally making it into your room and shutting the door with a sigh of relief. You really were tired now that you had said it out loud, and it was a relief just to let your backpack drop to the ground.

There was something different about your room though, and it only took a second for you to latch on to the mirror hanging on the wall opposite your bed, which had definitely not been there yesterday. As far as you knew, the egos didn’t make it a habit of going into your room (well, aside from Wilford, who still hadn’t caught on to how locked doors worked), but you had noticed during your time here that things tended to change if you weren’t paying attention. The walls might be a slightly different shade of paint in the morning than they were the night before, or the door to your room was just a little further away than you remembered. Sometimes you’d walk to a room like you always had and only later realize that it was on the wrong floor.

Kind of like Markiplier Manor.

As soon as the thought crossed your mind, you walked over to the mirror and pulled it off the wall. You weighed it in your hands before setting it down on the ground, its face against the wall. It didn’t look like the mirror from the house, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t find somewhere else for it to go in the morning.

Until then, you turned off the light and threw yourself onto the bed for some much needed sleep.

You stood and turned around slowly, taking in the ruined remains of the room around you. It was Markiplier Manor, there was no doubt about that, but fire had ravaged the place, leaving broken timbers and blackened walls to separate the once grand rooms. Ashes swirled around your feet as you walked toward the front door, which barely stood with half of its hinges ripped out of the wood.

The second you touched the door pain shot through your hand and you heard a distant, high-pitched laugh.

You backed away from the door and heard the crunch of glass beneath your feet. Looking down, you saw shattered pieces of the mirror on the floor, the frame facing up with a single hole right in the middle of it. Just the sight of it made your head swirl and you staggered as if about to collapse.

There was a back door, in the kitchen. You knew every way out of this place, one of them had to work.

Except when you reached the door frame that once marked the entrance to the kitchen, you saw the back door was gone, burned out with more than some of the wall around it. And standing in the middle of the gaping hole was the silhouette of a man.

You didn’t even remember turning and running, just the laughter and dread that followed you as you took to the burnt stairs which creaked and groaned beneath your weight, one actually snapping and almost taking you down with it, and there was no railing left to hold onto so you had to scramble and crawl up the last few steps. Anything to put as much distance between you and that thing as possible, but you could feel its presence at your back, hear the static in your ears as he grew closer.

Down the hall, ignoring the missing chunks to either side where there was a steep drop and a one-way trip back to the ground floor, heart pounding as you ran straight to the one door left standing, the one you knew should have been locked.

You heard the laughter again when you slammed into the door, saw the twitching figure at the end of the hall out of the corner of your eyes, but the handle turned, he was too far away—

Except he was suddenly there, one arm turning you around and pushing you up against the door, the other coming up with something in his hand, but it wasn’t a knife. The sharp edge of the mirror shard caught the light and the glitches coming off of him as you raised your hand to block the blow.

Pain pierced your hand and Anti grinned, his green eyes turning solid black as he leaned closer.

“S̸̛̛̙̠̥̮̟͊̉̂́͆̚͝ò̵̡̲̰̝ǫ̴͙̪̜̲̗͓̺̇̔̍͂̆̔͆n̴̺͎̮̽.”

You woke with a start and immediately curled in around your aching hand. In the dark you could just tell that there was nothing there, but where Jack and you had brushed hands earlier you now felt the pain of that shock again, worse now than when it first happened.

You forced yourself to get up and turn on the light, and then stood there in your room for you weren’t sure how long, trembling and rubbing your hand just to get it through to your head that you were fine.

Well, except you weren’t.

This was worse than your usual nightmares, and even the thought of curling up in the closet for the rest of the night set you on edge. You needed to get out of this room, to talk to someone.

With that in mind, you walked out into the now empty hall and before long stood outside of another door.

At the same moment that you knocked, the Host’s voice called from within, “Come in, Y/N.”

The Host was seated at a desk in his study, where books and papers covered every surface, filled the shelves to either side, and still spilled out onto the floor in stacks that made navigating the room a test in dexterity.

“Y/N enters the Host’s study and looks around, taking in the clutter. The Host apologizes for the mess, but is more concerned with why they are here at this hour.”

You hadn’t even thought about what time it was, but it didn’t surprise you that the Host was still awake. From here you could see that the bandages around his eyes were only slightly red, but judging from the state of his hair and his clothes you wondered how long it had been since he had taken care of himself at all.

“The Host has a lot on his mind at the moment,” he said, as if in response to your thoughts. “As does Y/N. What is wrong?”

“I had a nightmare,” you said, trying not to feel silly even as the words came out of your mouth. It was almost to admit it to yourself that you added, “I’ve been having a lot of them lately, but this one was really bad. And…I had two visions today.”

“The Host stands up to clear off one of the chairs for Y/N, the comfortable one.”

“Thank you,” you said as you sat down, watching as the Host went back to his seat without coming close to knocking one of his stacks of books over. He listened patiently as you explained what you saw with both Mark and Abe, his mouth becoming a tight line at the mention of seeing Darkiplier in the mirror.

“What do you think it means?” you asked once you were done.

“Y/N asks the Host, but the Host believes they have already come to their own conclusion.”

You took your time answering, touching the spot on your hand again even though the pain was now just a memory. You thought about the visions, about the constant nightmares that all led up to the same door.

“…I think I have to go back to the house.”

((End of Part 6. Thank you as always for reading! I feel like every time Anti shows up in the flesh there’s going to have to be some kind of warning. I hope that doesn’t spoil anything and I know there wasn’t a lot of detail in this case, but I’d rather be on the safe side.

Link to Part 7: Is It Worth It?

Tagging: @silver-owl413 @determinedrevolutionary @cherrybomb-jaguar @blackaquokat @catgirlwarrior @neverisadork @luna1350 @oh-so-creepy @purpstraw @weirdfoxalley @95fangirl @lilalovesinternet-l @thepoolofthedead @a-bit-dapper @randomartdudette @geekymushroom ))

#markiplier #jacksepticeye #fanfic #wkm y/n #wkm Mark #Wilford Warfstache #marvin the magnificent #anti #The Host #broken memories #nightmare #mirror mirror on the wall #who's the edgiest of them all #just kidding #we all know it's either Darkiplier or Anti

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kitkat1003 · 7 years ago

Text

The Dark Diamond Court

@snarkyowl my stepdad turned on my internet so I could do my hw but before that here’s tHIS

Padparadscha Sapphire. Dark can hardly believe he managed to cultivate such a gem, because the resources required were numerous and the procedure was delicate, to the point if he wonders if it was worth his time. They aren’t much different from regular Sapphires from what he knows, but they’re extremely rare, considering he’s never found a recorded instance of such a gem existing.

The gem that forms has short black hair and a long black and orange dress, with black fingerless gloves, but when it looks up at him with one eye he’s given a view of golden light, bright like a star and full of power.

“Hello?” The new gem speaks up confused and out of place. Right. Since he’d had to cultivate the gem from scratch, he hadn’t been able to program the societal norms into its premade memory like with other gems.

“Greetings,” He calls from above, bending down and holding out his hand. Tentatively, the gem gets up, brushing himself off and walking over to said hand, climbing onto Dark’s palm on all fours. It’s amusing, seeing a gem act so clumsy, and Dark feels something almost fond as he raises his hand back up, bringing his new creation to eye-level. “I am Dark Diamond. You, however, will address me as ‘My Diamond’ and salute me on arrival,” His voice is calm and soothing, because he feels the Sapphire tremble in his hand, tiny fingers brushing back the black bangs to stare into large eyes. Dark has to admit-with a little bit of pride-that he can be intimidating, so if he ruffles the Sapphires hair? Simply to ease some fear, because he doesn’t want his new creation to be terrified of him just yet.

“O-okay, My Diamond,” Padparadscha grins a little easier. His voice is smooth, if a bit lax when it comes to a formal tone, but also kind. Dark wonders what this new creation will do for him.

“Your designation number is 81-NG,” He states, and the Sapphire thinks for a moment.

“Bing!” He cries, and in a flash the word appears on the top part of his chest, with its own logo, no less. Dark tilts his head to the side, brows furrowed, before understanding the reasoning behind the name. Interesting choice.

“It suits you,” He replies easily, and Bing beams.

What an odd creation.

He leaves Bing with his most trusted advisor, Sapphire G-000g13, Google to those closer to the gem, so just Dark. His instructions are to teach Bing the rules of gem society, who his superiors are, his social standing, the gem salute, ect. Google doesn’t look thrilled, but he bows anyway, stiffly replying “Of course, My Diamond,” before grabbing Bing and walking off.

Dark leaves the two to themselves and goes off to survey a planet surmised to be a new colony, one that Wilford, Pink Diamond, would control. Earth, a small planet in an eight planet solar system. It’s a promising place for a colony, all things considering. Great soil deposits for gems, very insignificant lifeforms with little technology, so it’s not as if they could fight back, and all in all a great resource and gem building colony.

Still, something feels off, as if the planet has something wrong with it he can’t see, but can feel deep in his gem. It unsettles him, to the point where he takes a peek at his own gem to check for cracks. Pristine as ever, but he still feels odd when looking upon the planet.

There’s no good reason he shouldn’t allow a colony to be made on the planet, but he tells the peridot to turn them around anyway, striking the planet from the list of many, many others thought to be viable future colonies.

When he gets back to Homeworld, he decides to check on Bing and Google, and when he finds them, Bing rushes over.

“You didn’t take it, did you? The colony?” Bing looks far too worried about something Dark didn’t think he knew about, and Dark raises an eyebrow. After a beat, Bing remembers with a jolt, doing a hasty salute and bow, whipping back up with a sheepish smile. “Sorry, My Diamond, I just was hoping to know if you took the Earth as a future colony,” Dark once again bends down and holds out his hand, and Bing hops onto it with much more ease than before, nervously wringing his hands and looking very tired, sweat slicking his brow and the beginning of bags under his one eye. When Dark glances over at Google for an explanation, the Sapphire shrugs.

“No, I did not take the colony, Bing,” Bing visibly relaxes at his reply, letting out a sigh of relief and giving another bow.

“Good, cause that would have been terrible,” Google tilts his head to the side at the admittance, staring up at Bing with a calculating eye, and Dark sighs.

“Google, you’re dismissed,” He waves the Sapphire off, and Google gives him a bow before leaving. Turning back to Bing, he walks to his throne, leaning back in the chair while holding Bing up to his face.

“My Diamond?” Bing questions, tilting his head in question.

“How did you know the Earth colony would be a catastrophe?” He asks, and Bing perks up.

“I saw it!” He responds, and the gem on his stomach glows, a large map of sorts bursting through it. The large diagram shows a tree like structure, many paths branching out from larger trunks, an intricate web that leads up and out of the diagram. To one side, there is a darkened path, nearly black, and Bing points to it. “That’s the path you would’ve taken if you’d chosen the Earth as a colony,” Bing explains, and Dark notices how the branch is severed.

“It’s cut from the rest,” He states, and Bing nods.

“Yeah, I saw the way it was going and I cut it. Took a lot out of me, but it was worth it since you didn’t take the colony,” He grins, and Dark feels the realization hit him like a hammer.

“You…severed it?” He nearly chokes on his words because of what they mean, and Bing nods again, oblivious to how groundbreaking his actions are. The sudden feeling of unease when staring at Earth now makes sense with startling clarity, and the fact that Bing could influence him, a Diamond, so easily is astonishing.

“I didn’t want you to go down the path. It would’ve been really, really bad,” Bing starts to realize himself that he might have made an error because of Dark’s expression, and his words come out like a justification.

Dark takes a deep breath and collects himself, because he needs all the information. Bing’s definition of wrong could mean many things, and he wants to know what he’s been supposedly saved from.

“What would have been so bad about the colony?” He asks after a moment, and Bing thinks for a moment.

“Well, despite the lifeforms there being very…primitive, the need for a destruction of their home in order to create a there colony would insight a mass rebellion originating in Pink Diamond’s court,” The mention of a rebellion is enough for Dark to decide that Bing made the right decision, because handling a rebellion would be messy and despite his scary appearance, Dark isn’t one for shattering gems. Not like Anti, he might add, but then Bing drops the true reason.

“The rebellion would peak with Pink Diamond being shattered by a Rose Quartz,” He states, and all air leaves Dark’s chest. He tries to imagine a world without Wilford, and the thought is so painful that he has to rip it away from his mind. “I saw that you would be really sad about that, and you’re My Diamond, so it’s my job to make you happy, right?” Bing gives him a nervous smile. “Uh, sorry if I wasn’t supposed to do that, I just wanted to help, yknow?” Dark nods absently, because he’s still trying to push away the remnants of what could have been, if not for this new gem. If not for Bing.

The thoughts slither back, and he can find himself holding Wilford’s pieces, can imagine going into a such a rage that it would never stop, because Wilford wouldn’t be there to calm him down. Can imagine going mad, destroying the Earth and shattering gems left and right, can imagine Host hiding in his room for years, and he feels sick.

Looking down at the large golden eye peeking up at him, he gives him a small smile.

“Your actions were not technically allowed by regular standards, but this one is an exception,” He’s in awe, still, of what Bing has done, and Bing rocks back and forth on his heels.

“I don’t think I can do it often, though. I nearly passed out from it earlier,” Bing says, and Dark nods. A limitation makes sense, considering the scale of what Bing can do, and he decides that this new sapphire was definitely worth the trouble.

He walks Bing to his room, setting the gem on his shoulder and listening to his ramblings about how Google is a bit rough around the edges, but is pretty nice once you get to know him, and when Bing does get to his room and is set down, he gives Dark’s finger a hug.

“See you tomorrow, My Diamond,” He grins cheekily with a bow and a salute, before walking straight into the door.

Dark laughs, a bark of surprise as Bing gets up from where he fell, rubbing his face. Dark gestures to the panel to his left, and Bing presses a few buttons before running in, face burning dark orange in embarrassment.

Definitely worth the trouble.

He walks to his room, still chuckling at Bing’s clumsiness, and when he opens the door to his room he finds Wilford there, waiting for him.

The thoughts of what could’ve been come back with a frightening quickness, and Dark imagines a night where Wilford wouldn’t be there waiting for him, and he steps forward deliberately, cutting off Wilford’s hello with a rushed kiss.

When he comes up for air, Wilford’s eyes are wide, wild orbs tracking Dark’s movements in pleased but questioning confusion.

“Not complaining, but what was that?” He asks, and Dark rolls his eyes.

“I’ll tell you later,” he says, and kisses him again.

He does tell him, in the privacy of being under the covers. He tells him about Bing, about what might have happened, how he fears that what might have because dammit Diamonds are supposed to be timeless and Wilford isn’t allowed to leave.

Wilford hums thoughtfully and grins at him, his eyes understanding, and he doesn’t let go until Dark has to move.

The next day arrives with Dark finding Google and Bing at their posts, setting each one on his shoulders. He’s grown fond of Sapphires, and makes a mental note to cultivate more. Not a Padparadscha, no, simply because they’re far too powerful for his liking and they’re incredibly difficult to make, but more like Google would be sufficient.

He introduces Bing to Wilford, and Bing bows respectfully.

“You look very different in my visions,” He states, and Wilford laughs.

“For better or for worse?”

“Better,” Bing grins, and Wilford turns to Dark with pleading eyes.

“Can I keep this one? Please?” Dark rolls his eyes at the question, and puts Bing back on his shoulder.

A few months go by like seconds, and Google and Bing become close. At one point they decide to fuse, because Google wants to educate Bing on the practice, with Dark’s permission of course.

Their first fusion is a messy mishmash of color, and but they get better over time, fusing because Bing says it feels fun and Google because…well, Dark isn’t certain Google would admit his reason, but it’s most likely because Google is rather fond of Bing. The two act like brothers sometimes, bickering on either side of his shoulder as he walks through the halls, but there’s and undercurrent of fondness between them.

At the end of the few months, Dark introduces his new three sapphires based on Google; Red, Green, and Yellow. Bing dubs the Yellow one Oliver on the spot, and the gem latches onto the name like a lifeline, responding to nothing else unless Dark calls him Yellow.

They follow him throughout his day when he needs them, though Dark lends them to Wilford-he loves Red because the color is close to pink which Dark supposes makes sense- and Host-Oliver loves hiding in the Chocolate Diamond’s coat from him, and after a few times Dark almost finds it endearing-when need be, and even Jack. He doesn’t trust Anti with any of his court, but Jack is kind and protective and as long as he promises not to let Anti near them he allows the better half of Green Diamond twins to occasionally borrow one of his court.

Bing is never lent to anyone, because Dark doesn’t trust anyone with the sort of power Bing has. He’s only used Bing’s power twice since the first time, because Bing only gets premonitions of big events. The small event predictions are clear, but they often come much too close to the event for Bing to alert Dark to them, and that’s what Blue is for. Red is assigned as a guard for Bing whenever Dark has to go away for long, Oliver comes to diplomatic events to help give Wilford tact and to occasionally help Dark with what to say, and Green is around for technological assistance, as well as his predictions.

It happens when he gets back from a particularly long trip.

Going around and checking over the colonies is a chore, but he’s a leader of many, and public appearances boost morale, which also boosts productivity, and he does care about his subjects, believe it or not. This time it takes longer because Wilford wants to check on his colonies as well.

When they get back, Dark is greeted with Oliver sprinting to him, clutching something red in his hands. He holds it up, panting and looking close to tears.

Red’s gem.

His mind goes to Bing, and he scours the quadrant for him, panic deep rooted in his soul, because if someone dangerous got a hold of him, then they could do terrible things. He reaches the security detail, and they show him a clip. It isn’t much, because the recording fades into static only three seconds into the action, but Dark catches a glimpse of sharp toed green boots.

Anti.

He doesn’t have time for a palanquin, a ship is too much to get there without alert, and the warp to Anti’s quadrant is conveniently closed, so he ends up sprinting, desperately hoping that Bing has enough willpower to say no.

And also holding onto the hope that Bing won’t end up shattered for saying no.

Bing is having a good time with Red when a huge, sharp, clawed finger came down, pushing on Red’s head until he poofed, disappearing into smoke and leaving nothing but his gem behind. Red isn’t the ost emotional or one to like to have fun, but with a little prodding Bing can get him to play a game or two. He just has to lose, because if he doesn’t Red will quit playing. He’s a sore loser, but Bing doesn’t mind not winning as long as he can have fun. He’ll make up grand plans to lose, laughing to himself with each radical plan to dramatically fail, but it gets tedious after a while. When Dark isn’t around it’s quite boring, and Oliver had left a while ago because of a meeting Host was going to. Blue and Green are overseeing a build in another colony, so that leaves him with Red, who is now currently just a gem on the floor.

Before Bing can shout for help, for alarm, the large hand wraps itself around him, pulling him up to see septic green eyes in a sea black. A shrill giggle envelopes Bing in panic, and all that comes out of his mouth is a squeak.

“Now,̧ ̴l͝e͘t͘’s̡ ̨se͜e wh̷a̸t you càn̴ ͟d̡o for̛ m̧e̸,” The gem says, and his voice is like static, with a million whispers worming their way into his ears. Bing’s one free hand shakes, and he’s whisked away to a warp while the madman holding him in his hands gives him nothing but a sharp toothed smile.

The room Bing is taken to is dark green and foreboding. Dark’s quadrant is filled with comforting grays and blacks, more like living in a soft shadow than the rotting, decrepit feel this gem’s room emits.

“W-who are you?” he manages, and the gem’s smile drops to a snarl.

“Y̠̯̏̏͛̍̒o͚̦͈̞̲͉ͫͦu̓̐̂ͤ̕ ̵͍̻̥͗̿ͮ̐̂͆̚d̤͈͕͔̖ͥ͌ͧ̆ͨ͝o͓͙̲̰͒͒ͬ̀̇͊͞n̷̓ͪ̾͑͒̔̐’͏̯̺̠̦̤t̸̀̅͊ ̗̝̠̫̎̊͝k̛͔̞̥͖̣̪͉͛ͤņ̝͎o̙w̬͖͕̥̍͂̈͛̾̓͝ ̜̗̋ḿ̙̦̤̗̗̬̣̿̓̑̄ͬ͟ḛ̖̬͕̌̏?͆��͎̦̙͉̹̭̪ͤ̓̏ͩͬ!̗̋́” He shouts, bringing Bing up close to his face, large eyes glowing in fury and Bing leans back from the acrid breath and sharp expression.

“S-s-sorry!” He cries desperately, one eye clenched closed in fear. The gem tilts his head to the side, and tosses Bing on the table with an aggravated sigh. Bing hits the table hard, tumbling across it and groaning while the monster makes his way to him.

“I ̷a̢m ̀Anti, b͘ut̛ you͏ ̴w͜ou̷l͠d ͘a͟d̴d̷réss me as̷ ̡Gr̸ee͢ǹ Di̧amond,” Is the response Bing is given, and suddenly he is turned on his back, staring back into the eyes of the second Green Diamond twin. “Now̛, I̷’vȩ hear͞d ̷th́at̸ ͏y̛ou c͜an ̸c̷hang҉e ͠the ̴f̛ut̢u҉re̸,” Bing flinches, fearful because only Dark is supposed to know, and perhaps Pink.

“How-“

“I͏ hav͜e̕ a͏ ̷lot͡ ̷o҉f ̢f̨re͟e ti͜m̢e̢ a̧ǹd I ̷l͡ike s̸pyin͠g,” Anti interrupts, before leaning in close. “S͡ho͏w͠ me ͝t́he ҉ti͘m͠el͏i̵n̸ęs.”

Bing obeys, mostly out of fear, and Anti leers at the map of time with glee, peering into each branch as if he can tell where they go. Bing knows where they all go, watching time flow through each of them. He’s only shifted them in dire situations, to spare countless lives or to stop mass extinction of certain benefactors, but something tells him that Anti isn’t going to tell him to change something for that.

“S-so, is that all, or…”

“I ́w̛a͢n͜t ͡y͝o͡u̡ ͟t͟o̧ m̶ak͘e̶ ͘me l͝ead̵er o͠f t̡h̀e Di͘a͘mo̕ńds,” Anti states plainly, and Bing gets up, looking over how many paths he’d have to cut for that to happen, hands tracing the branches of time with trembling fingers. Dark is the defacto leader at the moment, not that he takes that title to heart unless it’s needed, and when Bing sees what Anti would do as leader his stomach turns.

Just to get Anti to the top, Dark would have to be shattered, and then Pink would follow suit, leaving Host to crack and fall apart. That would leave Jack, who would valiantly try to lead the broken-hearted smaller gems to a new era, only for Anti to go mad and shatter him. The energy that it would take to sever so many branches could kill him, not to mention the emotional trauma.

From there, dictatorship would be an understatement, with Anti working every gem to the point of cracking, countless being corrupted and others running and scattering themselves across the galaxy, only to later die out. Becoming leader of the Diamonds requires there to be no more Diamonds other than Anti, and that is only the beginning of the horrors Bing sees all in split seconds.

Anti is asking him to doom all of gemkind.

“I-I can’t,” he stutters out, back away from the inevitable blow up, and Anti growls, arm snaking forward and grasping Bing tight, pulling him close.

“C̢a̽̎̿n’̉̍̓ͧͧ͡t͑̄̀̔ͮ͠,͒ͨ̈́͌ͥ̏ͧ ̾͒̚ǫ̊ͧ̿͌ͮr̐ͧ̿̆́ͧ ̛ͥͦͪ͑ͪw̡̿̋̂̌o̿ͣnͣ̽̓̐’ͧ̉̌̾ͯ͒ͤtͬ͒͛?͐̐͑͊” Is the question, and Bing struggles in the tight hold that becomes painful, desperately trying to push himself out of Anti’s hand.

“B-both! You’ll shatter everyone!” He cries, but Anti won’t listen, and all Bing can do is struggle until he gets an idea.

With a burst of bravery, he leans forward, and chomps down on Anti’s index finger.

“O̓̂ͥͧ͋ͬ̄ͭ҉w̔ͫͬͬ͌̈́̕!͌ͮ͌ͪ͊̌͐͐͏͝͞ ̓ͦͪ͊̎́͘͠͝ ̌̌̊̂F̴̆ͩ̄̀͂͝u̿ͯ̚͟͜c̡̧͆̌͂̀k̊̐ͧ͋̀͡!̷͑ͮ̍͗ͦ͋̉̌ͣ” Bing hits the table harshly once more when Anti drops him, but he doesn’t have time to waste on pain as he rushes far away, tiny legs sprinting across the table as Anti recovers.

“Yo̵u̷͜ ́͢c͢lod͟!̴ ̷ If̡͏ ̨y͏ǫ̛͢u͢ ͝w̛ǫ̷n͝’ţ̵ m̴̧a͢ḱ̶e m͘͘͜y͠ ̸͜͡f̡̛u̵̢tu͜r̸͠҉è͠ ͟b͡e̕͠t̕͝͝t̨er̨,̧͘҉ ̵̕͡ý͜͠ǫ͟ų̧́ ̛w̴͠ơ͟͞n̕͜’̵t̨ ͘͝l͘͠i͏͜͡ve ̴͡t́͢ờ ҉̵se̛͞e ̷a̸̴ ̶̶̧f͞u͠҉t̛̀u̸̸̧r͠e ̷̛a̵t̡ à̶ļ̷̕l̶!̷” Bing hears, before he becomes rooted to the spot.

The beginning of a haunting tune fills the air, one single note that sends him to his knees because of the white hot pain splitting his head in two from a knot right behind his eye, but before Anti can continue, Dark bursts through the door.

Dark wastes no time when he gets to the room, his shadows jolting forward and slamming into Anti and stopping his sound with so much force that the Diamond in slammed into the wall ten feet away. Anti gets up with a snarl, but Dark holds him down with his miasma, searching for Bing with worried eyes.

He finds the Sapphire curled up in a ball, hands covering his eye, and there are patches of corruption tainting his skin, leaving him a shaking mess as he cries out for it to stop. The cries are interspersed between sobbing and moans of pain, and an occasional call for ‘My Diamond’.

Dark wants to shatter Anti right then and there, but this is time sensitive, so he picks up Bing with surprising gentleness, before bolting back out to Wilford’s quadrant, saying nothing as Wilford sees him, because Bing is falling apart in his arms.

When he gets to the Rose Quartz fountain, he practically throws Bing into it, submerging him completely in the healing tears. The quartz gems are always on his watch because of what he knows could’ve been, but now he thanks the stars for their existence, watching the small patches of corrupted skin ebb away.

Thank the stars he only heard the first note, because if he had heard the whole thing than Dark isn’t sure he could’ve healed him.

“Anti?” Wilford asks from behind him, staring down at Bing with pity and traces of concern.

“Anti,” Dark nods, hackles raising with sharp fury, and after a few more moments of holding Bing in the healing fountain he closes his fist, bubbling the gem after he feels Bing’s form vanish. He hands the bubble to Wilford, summoning his palanquin and taking his time to plan his speech to Anti while he has the time to think.

He walks into the room and finds it destroyed. Anti has broken the table, thrown the bits across the room, and scratched up the walls in fury over his supposed defeat. Dark’s heels clack again the tile as he continues to the figure standing in the middle of the destroyed room.

“So, let’s talk,” he says, and Anti turns around, swinging a fist that Dark dodges before his anger bursts, shadows crackling with dark red energy as they speed to grab Anti’s arms and legs, and Dark steps forward easily, backing Anti into the wall. “You tried to corrupt one of my gems,” He spits through gritted teeth, and Anti grins, laughing because he doesn’t care.

“Y͟oųr ̨póin͏t? ͢ He̢ ̢di̸ḑń’t ̀ļi̸st͡en to ̶me͞. ̢ ̨Yo͘u͢ ouģh̡t̡tà sh̨átt̛er ţhe͏ ͝def͝ect̡,” Is the response Dark gets, but he doesn’t respond, instead squeezing the shadow around Anti’s neck tighter.

“Might I remind you what I can do should you try this aga-,”

“Ye̵a͜h,̡ ye̶a͞h, y̡ou’̕l͜l ̕s͏hatter me͝, ̡I͏ get̷ i̸t̕. ͏ T́ell̷ m͞e ̶ag͞ai̧n ̡wh̸e̷ǹ ̧I̕ ̛g̛i̵ve ̀a ̴s̢hit͠,” Anti interrupts, and this time it’s Dark’s turn to smile, wicked and knowing as he chuckles to himself.

“Oh, I won’t shatter you. That would be too kind,” He leans in next to Anti’s ear to whisper. “I’ll shatter Jack,” Anti’s eyes widen, and Dark gives him a bow.

“You͞ ͞wo̷uldn͘’̡t҉.”

“Wouldn’t I? I could always blame it on you. You were always the violent one, and as much as I enjoy Jack’s company, I would rather kill him to destroy you than keep him alive so you could be happy,” Anti looks like he either wants to choke himself or kill Dark, and Dark gives him a serene grin. “Now, of course, if you want me to promise not to hurt Jack, I do have a deal I could offer,” Anti is hanging onto every word, and Dark smiles.

He leaves there with the cuffs made specifically for the crazy gem on Anti’s wrists, and the remote for them in hand. Should Anti try to corrupt anyone else without good reason, he can poof the idiot with a push of a button.

When he makes it back to his room, his semi chipper mood drops, because Wilford is there with the gray bubble by his side, and suddenly Dark remembers why he was pissed at Anti in the first place.

He grabs the bubble from the air gently, popping it as softly as he can, and watching as Bing reforms, the sapphire falling into his palm with a thump.

“M-my Diamond?” Comes a quiet, tired voice, and when Bing looks up at him, Dark nearly flinches.

Bing’s eye has lost its white color, a ring of gold swimming in a sea of black, and when Bing stares up at him blearily, with nothing but trust and happiness, Dark has to reign in his anger with an iron fist, sitting down on the bed next to Wilford with a sigh.

“Bing, I would like to apologize, because Anti won’t,” Bing flinches at the name, but Dark continues. “I managed to heal most of the corruption, but there’s still this,” He holds Bing up to his mirror, and has to look away when Bing starts to cry.

Bing’s eye isn’t the only thing damaged, they find after a few days. His future vision, particularly the one regarding small, everyday events has gone terrible. He can still see the broad future, and he still can cut off branches, but Dark relies on Blue more for the day to day things. Bing still tries, and his hazy predictions are both amusing and sad.

He wears a visor now, to hide his eye. None of the Googles know what truly happened, only that Dark is now extra protective of the sapphire now, and Bing doesn’t tell them when they ask. Red apologizes for hs failure, because his job was to guard Bing and he failed, but Bing waves him off with a smile. He stops fusing with anyone as well, even when the one time Blue offers-such a rare occurrence that Bing almost says yes-and hides a flash of hurt when Bing says no. He doesn’t tell them what he can see, what every timeline shows him no matter what happens or what he tries to change.

Corruption never stops. It clings to anything it has the slightest hold on. The note he heard is still ringing in his head, still ever present and painful, and whether it is a millennia or an hour from now he is going to eventually hear a sound that connects the song into one terrible melody, a melody that will rip him apart. Fusing would spread that melody, and Bing would rather hurt his friends emotionally than have them turn out how he will.

Bing isn’t going to be okay someday, and he’s scared because he knows, but he also knows what he can do to make it so it hurts them less, so they’ll be okay. He worries about the way Blue looks at him, as if he knows, but he’s never confronted, a relief.

He wonders if Anti knows, and if he does Bing wonders if he cares. He wonders if the timelines could change so he would be okay.

He knows; he doesn’t; they can’t.

#gemiplier #gemsepticeye #bingiplier #googleiplier #darkiplier #kitkat1003

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